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The Prisoner of Zenda-Part1_Anthony Hope(1863-1933)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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the blemishes on honourable lineage are a delicate subject,



and certainly this heredity we hear so much about is the finest

scandalmonger in the world; it laughs at discretion, and writes



strange entries between the lines of the "Peerages".

It will be observed that my sister-in-law, with a want of



logic that must have been peculiar to herself (since we are

no longer allowed to lay it to the charge of her sex), treated my



complexion almost as an offence for which I was responsible,

hastening to assume from that external sign inward qualities of



which I protest my entire innocence; and this unjust inference

she sought to buttress by pointing to the uselessness of the life



I had led. Well, be that as it may, I had picked up a good deal

of pleasure and a good deal of knowledge. I had been to a German



school and a German university, and spoke German as readily

and perfectly as English; I was thoroughly at home in French;



I had a smattering of Italian and enough Spanish to swear by.

I was, I believe, a strong, though hardly fine swordsman and a good shot.



I could ride anything that had a back to sit on; and my head was as

cool a one as you could find, for all its flaming cover. If you say that



I ought to have spent my time in useful labour, I am out of Court

and have nothing to say, save that my parents had no business to leave me



two thousand pounds a year and a roving disposition.

"The difference between you and Robert," said my sister-in-law,



who often (bless her!) speaks on a platform, and oftener still as if

she were on one, "is that he recognizes the duties of his position,



and you see the opportunities of yours."

"To a man of spirit, my dear Rose," I answered, "opportunities are duties."



"Nonsense!" said she, tossing her head; and after a moment she went on:

"Now, here's Sir Jacob Borrodaile offering you exactly what you might



be equal to."

"A thousand thanks!" I murmured.



"He's to have an Embassy in six months, and Robert says he is

sure that he'll take you as an attache. Do take it, Rudolf--



to please me."

Now, when my sister-in-law puts the matter in that way,



wrinkling her pretty brows, twisting her little hands,

and growing wistful in the eyes, all on account of an idle scamp



like myself, for whom she has no natural responsibility, I am visited

with compunction. Moreover, I thought it possible that I could



pass the time in the position suggested with some tolerable amusement.

Therefore I said:



"My dear sister, if in six months' time no unforeseen obstacle has arisen,

and Sir Jacob invites me, hang me if I don't go with Sir Jacob!"



"Oh, Rudolf, how good of you! I am glad!"

"Where's he going to?"



"He doesn't know yet; but it's sure to be a good Embassy."

"Madame," said I, "for your sake I'll go, if it's no more than



a beggarly Legation. When I do a thing, I don't do it by halves."

My promise, then, was given; but six months are six months,



and seem an eternity, and, inasmuch as they stretched between

me and my prospective industry (I suppose attaches are industrious;



but I know not, for I never became attache to Sir Jacob or anybody else),

I cast about for some desirable mode of spending them.



And it occurred to me suddenly that I would visit Ruritania.

It may seem strange that I had never visited that country yet;



but my father (in spite of a sneaking fondness for the Elphbergs,

which led him to give me, his second son, the famous Elphberg



name of Rudolf) had always been averse from my going, and,

since his death, my brother, prompted by Rose, had accepted



the family tradition which taught that a wide berth was to be given

to that country. But the moment Ruritania had come into my head



I was eaten up with a curiosity to see it. After all, red hair

and long noses are not confined to the House of Elphberg,



and the old story seemed a preposterously insufficient reason

for debarring myself from acquaintance with a highly interesting



and important kingdom, one which had played no small part

in European history, and might do the like again under the sway



of a young and vigorous ruler, such as the new King was rumoured to be.

My determination was clinched by reading in The Times that Rudolf the Fifth



was to be crowned at Strelsau in the course of the next three weeks,

and that great magnificence was to mark the occasion. At once I made



up my mind to be present, and began my preparations. But, inasmuch

as it has never been my practice to furnish my relatives with an






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