the ninth vibration-第2节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　he　authentic　if　it　isn't。　Don't　you　know　any　more？〃

〃Nothing。　Well　…　to　bed；　and　tomorrow　I'll　see　Rup　Singh。〃

I　was　glad　when　he　returned　with　the　permission。　I　was　to　be　very　careful；　he　said；　to　make　no　allusion　to　the　lost　palace；　for　two　women　were　staying　at　the　House　in　the　Woods　…　a　mother　and　daughter　to　whom　Rup　Singh　had　granted　hospitality　because　of　an　obligation　he　must　honor。　But　with　true　Oriental　distrust　of　women　he　had　thought　fit　to　make　no　confidence　to　them。　I　promised　and　asked　Olesen　if　he　knew　them。

〃Slightly。　Canadians　of　Danish　blood　like　my　own。　Their　name　is　Ingmar。　Some　people　think　the　daughter　good…looking。　The　mother　is　supposed　to　be　clever；　keen　on　occult　subjects　which　she　came　back　to　India　to　study。　The　husband　was　a　great　naturalist　and　the　kindest　of　men。　He　almost　lived　in　the　jungle　and　the　natives　had　all　sorts　of　rumours　about　his　powers。　You　know　what　they　are。　They　said　the　birds　and　beasts　followed　him　about。　Any　old　thing　starts　a　legend。〃

〃What　was　the　connection　with　Rup　Singh？〃

〃He　was　in　difficulties　and　undeservedly；　and　Ingmar　generously　lent　him　money　at　a　critical　time；　trusting　to　his　honour　for　repayment。　Like　most　Orientals　he　never　forgets　a　good　turn　and　would　do　anything　for　any　of　the　family　…　except　trust　the　women　with　any　secret　he　valued。　The　father　is　long　dead。　By　the　way　Rup　Singh　gave　me　a　queer　message　for　you。　He　said；　'Tell　the　Sahib　these　words　…　〃Let　him　who　finds　water　in　the　desert　share　his　cup　with　him　who　dies　of　thirst。〃　He　is　certainly　getting　very　old。　I　don't　suppose　he　knew　himself　what　he　meant。〃

I　certainly　did　not。　However　my　way　was　thus　smoothed　for　me　and　I　took　the　upward　road；　leaving　Olesen　to　the　long　ungrateful　toil　of　the　man　who　devotes　his　life　to　India　without　sufficient　time　or　knowledge　to　make　his　way　to　the　inner　chambers　of　her　beauty。　There　is　no　harder　mistress　unless　you　hold　the　pass…key　to　her　mysteries；　there　is　none　of　whom　so　little　can　be　told　in　words　but　who　kindles　so　deep　a　passion。　Necessity　sometimes　takes　me　from　that　enchanted　land；　but　when　the　latest　dawns　are　shining　in　my　skies　I　shall　make　my　feeble　way　back　to　her　and　die　at　her　worshipped　feet。　So　I　went　up　from　Kalka。

I　have　never　liked　Simla。　It　is　beautiful　enough　…　eight　thousand　feet　up　in　the　grip　of　the　great　hills　looking　toward　the　snows；　the　famous　summer　home　of　the　Indian　Government。　Much　diplomacy　is　whispered　on　Observatory　Hill　and　many　are　the　lighter　diversions　of　which　Mr。　Kipling　and　lesser　men　have　written。　But　Simla　is　also　a　gateway　to　many　things　…　to　the　mighty　deodar　forests　that　clothe　the　foot…hills　of　the　mountains；　to　Kulu；　to　the　eternal　snows；　to　the　old；　old　bridle　way　that　leads　up　to　the　Shipki　Pass　and　the　mysteries　of　Tibet　…　and　to　the　strange　things　told　in　this　story。　So　I　passed　through　with　scarcely　a　glance　at　the　busy　gayety　of　the　little　streets　and　the　tiny　shops　where　the　pretty　ladies　buy　their　rouge　and　powder。　I　was　attended　by　my　servant　Ali　Khan；　a　Mohammedan　from　Nagpur；　sent　up　with　me　by　Olesen　with　strong　recommendation。　He　was　a　stout　walker；　so　too　am　I；　and　an　inveterate　dislike　to　the　man…drawn　carriage　whenever　my　own　legs　would　serve　me　decided　me　to　walk　the　sixteen　miles　to　the　House　in　the　Woods；　sending　on　the　baggage。　Ali　Khan　despatched　it　and　prepared　to　follow　me；　the　fine　cool　air　of　the　hills　giving　us　a　zest。

〃Subhan　Alla！　（Praise　be　to　God！）　the　air　is　sweet！〃　he　said；　stepping　out　behind　me。　〃What　time　does　the　Sahib　look　to　reach　the　House？〃

〃About　five　or　six。　Now；　Ali　Khan；　strike　out　of　the　road。　You　know　the　way。〃

So　we　struck　up　into　the　glorious　pine　woods；　mountains　all　about　us。　Here　and　there　as　we　climbed　higher　was　a　little　bank　of　forgotten　snow；　but　spring　had　triumphed　and　everywhere　was　the　waving　grace　of　maiden…hair　ferns；　banks　of　violets　and　strangely　beautiful　little　wild　flowers。　These　woods　are　full　of　panthers；　but　in　day　time　the　only　precaution　necessary　is　to　take　no　dog；　…　a　dainty　they　cannot　resist。　The　air　was　exquisite　with　the　sun…warm　scent　of　pines；　and　here　and　there　the　trees　broke　away　disclosing　mighty　ranges　of　hills　covered　with　rich　blue　shadows　like　the　bloom　on　a　plum；　…　the　clouds　chasing　the　sunshine　over　the　mountain　sides　and　the　dark　green　velvet　of　the　robe　of　pines。　I　looked　across　ravines　that　did　not　seem　gigantic　and　yet　the　villages　on　the　other　side　were　like　a　handful　of　peas；　so　tremendous　was　the　scale。　I　stood　now　and　then　to　see　the　rhododendrons；　forest　trees　here　with　great　trunks　and　massive　boughs　glowing　with　blood…red　blossom；　and　time　went　by　and　I　took　no　count　of　it；　so　glorious　was　the　climb。

It　must　have　been　hours　later　when　it　struck　me　that　the　sun　was　getting　low　and　that　by　now　we　should　be　nearing　The　House　in　the　Woods。　I　said　as　much　to　Ali　Khan。　He　looked　perplexed　and　agreed。　We　had　reached　a　comparatively　level　place；　the　trail　faint　but　apparent；　and　it　surprised　me　that　we　heard　no　sound　of　life　from　the　dense　wood　where　our　goal　must　be。

〃I　know　not；　Presence；〃　he　said。　〃May　his　face　be　blackened　that　directed　me。　I　thought　surely　I　could　not　miss　the　way；　and　yet…〃

We　cast　back　and　could　see　no　trail　forking　from　the　one　we　were　on。　There　was　nothing　for　it　but　to　trust　to　luck　and　push　on。　But　I　began　to　be　uneasy　and　so　was　the　man。　I　had　stupidly　forgotten　to　unpack　my　revolver；　and　worse；　we　had　no　food；　and　the　mountain　air　is　an　appetiser；　and　at　night　the　woods　have　their　dangers；　apart　from　being　absolutely　trackless。　We　had　not　met　a　living　being　since　we　left　the　road　and　there　seemed　no　likelihood　of　asking　for　directions。　I　stopped　no　longer　for　views　but　went　steadily　on；　Ali　Khan　keeping　up　a　running　fire　of　low…voiced　invocations　and　lamentations。　And　now　it　was　dusk　and　the　position　decidely　unpleasant。

It　was　at　that　moment　I　saw　a　woman　before　us　walking　lightly　and　steadily　under　the　pines。　She　must　have　struck　into　the　trail　from　the　side　for　she　never　could　have　kept　before　us　all　the　way。　A　native　woman；　but　wearing　the　all…concealing　boorka；　more　like　a　town　dweller　than　a　woman　of　the　hills。　I　put　on　speed　and　Ali　Khan；　now　very　tired；　toiled　on　behind　me　as　I　came　up　with　her　and　courteously　asked　the　way。　Her　face　was　entirely　hidden；　but　the　answering　voice　was　clear　and　sweet。　I　made　up　my　mind　she　was　young；　for　it　had　the　bird…like　thrill　of　youth。

〃If　the　Presence　continues　to　follow　this　path　he　will　arrive。　It　is　not　far。　They　wait　for　him。〃

That　was　all。　It　left　me　with　a　desire　to　see　the　veiled　face。　We　passed　on　and　Ali　Khan　looked　fearfully　back。

〃Ajaib！　（Wonderful！）　A　strange　place　to　meet　one　of　the　purdah…nashin　（veiled　women）〃　he　muttered。　〃What　would　she　be　doing　up　here　in　the　heights？　She　walked　like　a　Khanam　（khan's　wife）　and　I　saw　the　gleam　of　gold　under　the　boorka。〃

I　turned　with　some　curiosity　as　he　spoke；　and　lo！　there　was　no　human　being　in　sight。　She　had　disappeared　from　the　track　behind　us　and　it　was　impossible　to　say　where。　The　darkening　trees　were　beginning　to　hold　the　dusk　and　it　seemed　unimaginable　that　a　woman　should　leave　the　way　and　take　to　the　dangers　of　the　woods。

〃Puna…i…Khoda　…　God　protect　us！〃　said　Ali　Khan　in　a　shuddering　whisper。　〃She　was　a　devil　of　the　wilds。　Press　on；　Sahib。　We　should　not　be　here　in　the　dark。〃

There　was　nothing　else　to　do。　We　made　the　best　speed　we　could；　and　the　trees　grew　more　dense　and　the　trail　fainter　between　the　close　trunks；　and　so　the　night　came　bewildering　with　the　expectation　that　we　must　pass　the　night　unfed　and　unarmed　in　the　cold　of　the　heights。　They　might　send　out　a　search　party　from　The　House　in　the　Woods　…　that　was　still　a　hope；　if　there　were　no　other。　And　then；　very　gradually　and　wonderfully　the　moon　dawned　over　the　tree　tops　and　flooded　the　wood　with　mysterious　silver　lights　and　about　her　rolled　the　majesty　of　the　stars。　We　pressed　on　into　the　heart　of　the　night。　From　the　dense　black　depths　we　emerged　at　last。　An　open　glade　lay　before　us　…　the　trees　falling　back　to　right　and　left　to　disclose　…　what？

A　long　low　house　of　marble；　unlit；　silent；　bathed　in　pale　splendour　and　shadow。　About　it　stood　great　deodars；　clothed　in　clouds　of　the　white　blossoming　clematis；　ghostly　and　still。　Acacias　hung　motionless　trails　of　heavily　scented　bloom　as　if　carved　in　ivory。　It　was　all　silent　as　death。　A　flight　of　nobly　sculptured　steps　led　up　to　a　broad　veranda　and　a　wide　open　door　with　darkness　behind　it。　Nothing　more。

I　forced　myself　to　shout　in　Hindustani　…　the　cry　seeming　a　brutal　outrage　upon　the　night；　and　an　echo　came　back　numbed　in　the　black　woods。　I　tried　once　more　and　in　vain。　We　stood　absorbed　also　into　the　silence。

〃Ya　Alla！　it　is　a　house　of　the　dead！〃　whispered　Ali　Khan；　shuddering　at　my　shoulder；　…　and　even　as　the　words　left　his　lips　I　understood　where　we　were。　〃It　is　the　Sukh　Mandir。〃　I　said。　〃It　is　the　House　of　the　Maharao　of　Ranipur。〃

It　was　impossible　to　be　in　Ranipur　and　hear　nothing　of　the　dead　house　of　the　forest　and　Ali　Khan　had　heard　…　God　only　knows　what　tales。　In　his　terror　all　discipline；　all　the　inborn　respect　of　the　native　forsook　him；　and　without　word　or　sign　he　turned　and　fled　along　the　track；　crashing　through　the　forest