villa rubein and other stories-第54节

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〃At　three　o'clock　they　start　in　a　carriage　on　the　road　to　Linzthey

have　bad　horsesthe　Herr　also　rides　a　white　horse。〃



Swithin　at　once　hailed　a　carriage　and　started　at　full　gallop　on　the

road　to　Linz。　　Outside　the　Mirabell　Garden　he　caught　sight　of

Kasteliz　and　grinned　at　him。　　'I've　sold　him　anyway；'　he　thought；

'for　all　their　talk；　they're　no　good；　these　foreigners！'



His　spirits　rose；　but　soon　fell　again。　　What　chance　had　he　of

catching　them？　　They　had　three　hours'　start！　　Still；　the　roads　were

heavy　from　the　rain　of　the　last　two　nightsthey　had　luggage　and　bad

horses；　his　own　were　good；　his　driver　bribedhe　might　overtake　them

by　ten　o'clock！　But　did　he　want　to？　　What　a　fool　he　had　been　not　to

bring　his　luggage；　he　would　then　have　had　a　respectable　position。

What　a　brute　he　would　look　without　a　change　of　shirt；　or　anything　to

shave　with！　　He　saw　himself　with　horror；　all　bristly；　and　in　soiled

linen。　　People　would　think　him　mad。　　'I've　given　myself　away；'

flashed　across　him；　'what　the　devil　can　I　say　to　them？'　and　he　stared

sullenly　at　the　driver's　back。　　He　read　Rozsi's　letter　again；　it　had

a　scent　of　her。　　And　in　the　growing　darkness；　jolted　by　the　swinging

of　the　carriage；　he　suffered　tortures　from　his　prudence；　tortures

from　his　passion。



It　grew　colder　and　dark。　　He　turned　the　collar　of　his　coat　up　to　his

ears。　　He　had　visions　of　Piccadilly。　　This　wild…goose　chase　appeared

suddenly　a　dangerous；　unfathomable　business。　　Lights；　fellowship；

security！　　'Never　again！'　he　brooded；　'why　won't　they　let　me　alone？'

But　it　was　not　clear　whether　by　'they'　he　meant　the　conventions；　the

Boleskeys；　his　passions；　or　those　haunting　memories　of　Rozsi。　　If　he

had　only　had　a　bag　with　him！　　What　was　he　going　to　say？　　What　was　he

going　to　get　by　this？　　He　received　no　answer　to　these　questions。　　The

darkness　itself　was　less　obscure　than　his　sensations。　　From　time　to

time　he　took　out　his　watch。　　At　each　village　the　driver　made

inquiries。　　It　was　past　ten　when　he　stopped　the　carriage　with　a　jerk。

The　stars　were　bright　as　steel；　and　by　the　side　of　the　road　a　reedy

lake　showed　in　the　moonlight。　　Swithin　shivered。　　A　man　on　a　horse

had　halted　in　the　centre　of　the　road。　　〃Drive　on！〃　called　Swithin；

with　a　stolid　face。　　It　turned　out　to　be　Boleskey；　who；　on　a　gaunt

white　horse；　looked　like　some　winged　creature。　　He　stood　where　he

could　bar　the　progress　of　the　carriage；　holding　out　a　pistol。



'Theatrical　beggar！'　thought　Swithin；　with　a　nervous　smile。　　He　made

no　sign　of　recognition。　　Slowly　Boleskey　brought　his　lean　horse　up　to

the　carriage。　　When　he　saw　who　was　within　he　showed　astonishment　and

joy。



〃You？〃　he　cried；　slapping　his　hand　on　his　attenuated　thigh；　and

leaning　over　till　his　beard　touched　Swithin。　　〃You　have　come？　　You

followed　us？〃



〃It　seems　so；〃　Swithin　grunted　out。



〃You　throw　in　your　lot　with　us。　　Is　it　possible？　　Youyou　are　a

knight…errant　then！〃



〃Good　God！〃　said　Swithin。　　Boleskey；　flogging　his　dejected　steed；

cantered　forward　in　the　moonlight。　　He　came　back；　bringing　an　old

cloak；　which　he　insisted　on　wrapping　round　Swithin's　shoulders。　　He

handed　him；　too；　a　capacious　flask。



〃How　cold　you　look！〃　he　said。　　〃Wonderful！　Wonderful！　you　English！〃

His　grateful　eyes　never　left　Swithin　for　a　moment。　　They　had　come　up

to　the　heels　of　the　other　carriage　now；　but　Swithin；　hunched　in　the

cloak；　did　not　try　to　see　what　was　in　front　of　him。　　To　the　bottom　of

his　soul　he　resented　the　Hungarian's　gratitude。　　He　remarked　at　last；

with　wasted　irony：



〃You're　in　a　hurry；　it　seems！〃



〃If　we　had　wings；〃　Boleskey　answered；　〃we　would　use　them。〃



〃Wings！〃　muttered　Swithin　thickly；　〃legs　are　good　enough　for　me。〃









X



Arrived　at　the　inn　where　they　were　to　pass　the　night；　Swithin　waited；

hoping　to　get　into　the　house　without　a　〃scene；〃　but　when　at　last　he

alighted　the　girls　were　in　the　doorway；　and　Margit　greeted　him　with

an　admiring　murmur；　in　which；　however；　he　seemed　to　detect　irony。

Rozsi；　pale　and　tremulous；　with　a　half…scared　look；　gave　him　her

hand；　and；　quickly　withdrawing　it；　shrank　behind　her　sister。　　When

they　had　gone　up　to　their　room　Swithin　sought　Boleskey。　　His　spirits

had　risen　remarkably。　　〃Tell　the　landlord　to　get　us　supper；〃　he　said；

〃we'll　crack　a　bottle　to　our　luck。〃　　He　hurried　on　the　landlord's

preparations。　　The　window　of　the；　room　faced　a　wood；　so　near　that　he

could　almost　touch　the　trees。　　The　scent　from　the　pines　blew　in　on

him。　　He　turned　away　from　that　scented　darkness；　and　began　to　draw

the　corks　of　winebottles。　　The　sound　seemed　to　conjure　up　Boleskey。

He　came　in；　splashed　all　over；　smelling　slightly　of　stables；　soon

after；　Margit　appeared；　fresh　and　serene；　but　Rozsi　did　not　come。



〃Where　is　your　sister？〃　Swithin　said。　　Rozsi；　it　seemed；　was　tired。

〃It　will　do　her　good　to　eat；〃　said　Swithin。　　And　Boleskey；　murmuring；

〃She　must　drink　to　our　country；〃　went　out　to　summon　her；　Margit

followed　him；　while　Swithin　cut　up　a　chicken。　　They　came　back　without

her。　　She　had　〃a　megrim　of　the　spirit。〃



Swithin's　face　fell。　　〃Look　here！〃　he　said；　〃I'll　go　and　try。　　Don't

wait　for　me。〃



〃Yes；〃　answered　Boleskey；　sinking　mournfully　into　a　chair；　〃try；

brother；　try…by　all　means；　try。〃



Swithin　walked　down　the　corridor　with　an　odd；　sweet；　sinking

sensation　in　his　chest；　and　tapped　on　Rozsi's　door。　　In　a　minute；　she

peeped　forth；　with　her　hair　loose；　and　wondering　eyes。



〃Rozsi；〃　he　stammered；　〃what　makes　you　afraid　of　me；　now？〃



She　stared　at　him；　but　did　not　answer。



〃Why　won't　you　come？〃



Still　she　did　not　speak；　but　suddenly　stretched　out　to　him　her　bare

arm。　　Swithin　pressed　his　face　to　it。　　With　a　shiver；　she　whispered

above　him；　〃I　will　come；〃　and　gently　shut　the　door。



Swithin　stealthily　retraced　his　steps；　and　paused　a　minute　outside

the　sitting…room　to　regain　his　self…control。



The　sight　of　Boleskey　with　a　bottle　in　his　hand　steadied　him。



〃She　is　coming；〃　he　said。　　And　very　soon　she　did　come；　her　thick　hair

roughly　twisted　in　a　plait。



Swithin　sat　between　the　girls；　but　did　not　talk；　for　he　was　really

hungry。　　Boleskey　too　was　silent；　plunged　in　gloom；　Rozsi　was　dumb；

Margit　alone　chattered。



〃You　will　come　to　our　Father…town？　　We　shall　have　things　to　show　you。

Rozsi；　what　things　we　will　show　him！〃　　Rozsi；　with　a　little　appealing

movement　of　her　hands；　repeated；　〃What　things　we　will　show　you！〃　　She

seemed　suddenly　to　find　her　voice；　and　with　glowing　cheeks；　mouths

full；　and　eyes　bright　as　squirrels'；　they　chattered　reminiscences　of

the　〃dear　Father…town；〃　of　〃dear　friends；〃　of　the　〃dear　home。〃



'A　poor　place！'　Swithin　could　not　help　thinking。　　This　enthusiasm

seemed　to　him　common；　but　he　was　careful　to　assume　a　look　of

interest；　feeding　on　the　glances　flashed　at　him　from　Rozsi's　restless

eyes。



As　the　wine　waned　Boleskey　grew　more　and　more　gloomy；　but　now　and

then　a　sort　of　gleaming　flicker　passed　over　his　face。　　He　rose　to　his

feet　at　last。



〃Let　us　not　forget；〃　he　said；　〃that　we　go　perhaps　to　ruin；　to　death；

in　the　face　of　all　this　we　go；　because　our　country　needsin　this

there　is　no　credit；　neither　to　me　nor　to　you；　my　daughters；　but　for

this　noble　Englishman；　what　shall　we　say？　　Give　thanks　to　God　for　a

great　heart。　　He　comesnot　for　country；　not　for　fame；　not　for　money；

but　to　help　the　weak　and　the　oppressed。　　Let　us　drink；　then；　to　him；

let　us　drink　again　and　again　to　heroic　Forsyte！〃　　In　the　midst　of　the

dead　silence；　Swithin　caught　the　look　of　suppliant　mockery　in　Rozsi's

eyes。　　He　glanced　at　the　Hungarian。　　Was　he　laughing　at　him？　　But

Boleskey；　after　drinking　up　his　wine；　had　sunk　again　into　his　seat；

and　there　suddenly；　to　the　surprise　of　all；　he　began　to　snore。

Margit　rose　and；　bending　over　him　like　a　mother；　murmured：　〃He　is

tiredit　is　the　ride！〃　　She　raised　him　in　her　strong　arms；　and

leaning　on　her　shoulder　Boleskey　staggered　from　the　room。　　Swithin

and　Rozsi　were　left　alone。　　He　slid　his　hand　towards　her　hand　that

lay　so　close；　on　the　rough　table…cloth。　　It　seemed　to　await　his

touch。　　Something　gave　way　in　him；　and　words　came　welling　up；　for　the

moment　he　forgot　himself；　forgot　everything　but　that　he　was　near　her。

Her　head　dropped　on　his　shoulder；　he　breathed　the　perfume　of　her

hair。　　〃Good…night！〃　she　whispered；　and　the　whisper　was　like　a　kiss；

yet　before　he　could　stop　her　she　was　gone。　　Her　footsteps　died　away

in　the　passage；　but　Swithin　sat　gazing　intently　at　a　single　bright

drop　of　spilt　wine　quivering　on　the　table's　edge。　　In　that　moment

she；　in　her　helplessness　and　emotion；　was　all　in　all　to　himhis　life

nothing；　all　the　real　thingshis　conventions；　convictions；　training；

and　himselfall　seemed　remote；　behind　a　mist　of　passion　and　strange

chivalry。　　Carefully　with　a　bit　of　bread　he　soaked　up　the　bright

drop；　and　suddenly　he　thought：　'This　is　tremendous！'　　For　a　long　time

he　stood　there　in　the　window；　cl