A Castle in Spain. James De Mille
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Название: A Castle in Spain
Автор: James De Mille
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066175047
isbn:
"One thing will be against me," said she. "What shall I do about it?"
"What is that?"
"Why, my hair."
"Your hair!" repeated Brooke. "H'm—well, that is a puzzle!"
"It will interfere with anything like a real disguise, of course."
"Well, I suppose it would. In which case we can only hope not to come near enough to the enemy to be closely inspected."
"Had I not better cut it off?" said Miss Talbot.
"What!" exclaimed Brooke, with amazement in his face.
Miss Talbot repeated her question.
"Cut off your hair—that hair!" said Brooke. "What a horrible idea!"
"Will you cut it?"
"Never!" said Brooke, fervently.
"Shall I?"
Brooke drew a long breath and looked earnestly at her.
"Oh, don't ask me," said he, at length, in a dejected tone. "I'm floored! It's like throwing overboard a cargo of gold, and silver, and precious stones to lighten the ship. Yea, more—it's like the Russian woman who threw over her child to the wolves to make possible the escape of the rest of the family. But there are some who would prefer to be eaten by wolves rather than sacrifice the child."
"Well," said Miss Talbot, "your comparison of the child is a little too much; but if it comes to throwing the treasure overboard to save the ship, I shall not hesitate a moment."
Brooke made no reply, and Miss Talbot went into the tower.
Brooke then resumed his seat, and, looking thoughtfully into vacancy, sang in a low voice all to himself:
"Oh, a princess there was in the north countree,
And her hair reached down below her knee;
And lovers they gathered by thousands there,
For love of the maid with the golden hair."
CHAPTER XII. — HOW BROOKE AND TALBOT TAKE TO FLIGHT.
Brooke was roused from his meditations by a light footstep close beside him. He looked up, and saw Miss Talbot standing before him in her new costume. As he looked he rose to his feet and gazed at her fixedly without a word.
The change was wonderful.
It was no longer a young lady that he saw—it was a young priest. The broad hat came down low upon the head, and beneath it there was a face full of sweet dignity and gentle grace—a face serene, and noble, and pure. Such a face Raffaelle loved to reproduce while portraying the Angel of the Visitation, where youth, and radiant beauty, and unsullied purity, and divinest grace all appear combined in one celestial visage.
Brooke looked for some time with the an intent gaze, and in utter silence.
"How do you think I look?" asked Miss Talbot.
"Look?" repeated Brooke. He hesitated as if at a loss, and then went on in a way that was peculiarly his own. "Look? Oh, first-rate—very well—very well indeed. In fact, I had no idea that you could transform yourself so completely. I believe I was on the point of saying something about a vision of angels, but I'll be commonplace. All I can say is, that if I were to meet such a priest in real life, I'd down on my knees at once, make a confession, and—No, I wouldn't; I'd try to become a priest myself, so as to be always somewhere near him. And if he were a monk, I'd join the same monastery; and if he were a missionary, I'd go with him to the uttermost ends of the earth; if the cannibals ate him up, I'd make them eat me too; and, in any event, I should feel that in such company I should be nearer heaven than anywhere else. For, you see, you've always lived in a serene atmosphere, where you have known nothing of the evil of the world, and so your face has on it the stamp of Heaven itself, which it first received, and which has never been effaced. So, you see, you're just the one to go about as a priest. Oh, it's a great advantage to be as you are, and to have that angelic face! Like the old man in the song:
"'Oh, he never got drunk and he never swore,
And he never did violate the lor;
And so we buried him underground,
And the funeral-bell did merrily sound
Ding! Dong! Dell!'"
Thus far Brooke had rattled on in a strange, dry fashion; but suddenly he stopped, and then exclaimed,
"Good Heavens!"
"What's the matter?" asked Miss Talbot, who had seemed much amused at all this nonsense.
"Why, what have you done with your hair?"
Miss Talbot raised her hat from her head, and looked at him. Again he looked at her in silence.
Yes, it was all gone! That glorious hair, which awhile ago had been folded in great masses round her head, was there no longer. She had cut it off! It was short now, like the hair of a young man, and hung loose in wavy curls over her forehead. Yet so far from her appearance being marred or disfigured by such a mutilation, the result was actually more becoming to her as she stood there in her new costume. Few could have made such a sacrifice without serious injury to their appearance; but in this case there was merely a change from one character to another, and all the beauty and all the subtle fascination still remained.
"I couldn't have believed it," said Brooke, at length.
"What?"
"Oh, well—several things. In the first place, I couldn't have believed that any living girl could have made the sacrifice. In the second place, I couldn't have believed that the one who had passed through such an ordeal could come forth more glorious than ever. But the sacrifice was too much. However, it's done. Nay—never shake your gory locks at me. Thou cans't not say I did it. But where is it all?"
"It? what?"
"As if you don't know! Why, the treasure that you threw overboard—the child that you flung to the wolves, Russian mother!"
"Oh, you mean the hair! Why, I left it in there."
She pointed carelessly to the tower. At this Brooke went over and entered it. He saw a mass of hair lying there on the stone floor, where she had carelessly thrown it after cutting it off. This he gathered up very carefully and even tenderly, picking up even small scattered locks of it. Then he rolled it all up into the smallest possible space, after which he bound it tight in his handkerchief and put it in his pocket. He was, СКАЧАТЬ