el dorado-第15部分

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to　desecrate　the　traditions　of　his　race；　at　the　bidding　of　a
mender　of　shoesa　naval　officer　cashiered　for　misconduct　and
fraud。

Such　is　human　nature　in　its　self…satisfied　complacency　that　de
Batz；　calmly　ignoring　the　vile　part　which　he　himself　had　played　in
the　last　quarter　of　an　hour　of　his　interview　with　the　Committee's
agent；　found　it　in　him　to　think　of　Heron　with　loathing；　and　even
of　the　cobbler　Simon　with　disgust。

Then　with　a　self…righteous　sense　of　duty　performed；　and　an
indifferent　shrug　of　the　shoulders；　he　dismissed　Heron　from　his
mind。

〃That　meddlesome　Scarlet　Pimpernel　will　find　his　hands　over…full
to…morrow；　and　mayhap　will　not　interfere　in　my　affairs　for　some
time　to　come；〃　he　mused；　〃meseems　that　that　will　be　the　first　time
that　a　member　of　his　precious　League　has　come　within　the　clutches
of　such　unpleasant　people　as　the　sleuth…hounds　of　my　friend
Heron！〃



CHAPTER　IX
WHAT　LOVE　CAN　DO

〃Yesterday　you　were　unkind　and　ungallant。　　How　could　I　smile　when
you　seemed　so　stern？〃

〃Yesterday　I　was　not　alone　with　you。　　How　could　I　say　what　lay
next　my　heart；　when　indifferent　ears　could　catch　the　words　that
were　meant　only　for　you？〃

〃Ah；　monsieur；　do　they　teach　you　in　England　how　to　make　pretty
speeches？〃

〃No；　mademoiselle；　that　is　an　instinct　that　comes　into　birth　by
the　fire　of　a　woman's　eyes。〃

Mademoiselle　Lange　was　sitting　upon　a　small　sofa　of　antique
design；　with　cushions　covered　in　faded　silks　heaped　round　her
pretty　head。　　Armand　thought　that　she　looked　like　that　carved
cameo　which　his　sister　Marguerite　possessed。

He　himself　sat　on　a　low　chair　at　some　distance　from　her。　He　had
brought　her　a　large　bunch　of　early　violets；　for　he　knew　that　she
was　fond　of　flowers；　and　these　lay　upon　her　lap；　against　the
opalescent　grey　of　her　gown。

She　seemed　a　little　nervous　and　agitated；　his　obvious　admiration
bringing　a　ready　blush　to　her　cheeks。

The　room　itself　appeared　to　Armand　to　be　a　perfect　frame　for　the
charming　picture　which　she　presented。　　The　furniture　in　it　was
small　and　old；　tiny　tables　of　antique　Vernis…Martin；　softly　faded
tapestries；　a　pale…toned　Aubusson　carpet。　　Everything　mellow　and
in　a　measure　pathetic。　Mademoiselle　Lange；　who　was　an　orphan；
lived　alone　under　the　duennaship　of　a　middle…aged　relative；　a
penniless　hanger…on　of　the　successful　young　actress；　who　acted　as
her　chaperone；　housekeeper；　and　maid；　and　kept　unseemly　or
over…bold　gallants　at　bay。

She　told　Armand　all　about　her　early　life；　her　childhood　in　the
backshop　of　Maitre　Meziere；　the　jeweller；　who　was　a　relative　of
her　mother's；　of　her　desire　for　an　artistic　career；　her　struggles
with　the　middle…class　prejudices　of　her　relations；　her　bold
defiance　of　them；　and　final　independence。

She　made　no　secret　of　her　humble　origin；　her　want　of　education　in
those　days；　on　the　contrary；　she　was　proud　of　what　she　had
accomplished　for　herself。　　She　was　only　twenty　years　of　age；　and
already　held　a　leading　place　in　the　artistic　world　of　Paris。

Armand　listened　to　her　chatter；　interested　in　everything　she　said；
questioning　her　with　sympathy　and　discretion。　She　asked　him　a　good
deal　about　himself；　and　about　his　beautiful　sister　Marguerite；
who；　of　course；　had　been　the　most　brilliant　star　in　that　most
brilliant　constellation；　the　Comedie　Francaise。　　She　had　never
seen　Marguerite　St。　Just　act；　but；　of　course；　Paris　still　rang
with　her　praises；　and　all　art…lovers　regretted　that　she　should
have　married　and　left　them　to　mourn　for　her。

Thus　the　conversation　drifted　naturally　back　to　England。
Mademoiselle　professed　a　vast　interest　in　the　citizen's　country　of
adoption。

〃I　had　always；〃　she　said；　〃thought　it　an　ugly　country；　with　the
noise　and　bustle　of　industrial　life　going　on　everywhere；　and　smoke
and　fog　to　cover　the　landscape　and　to　stunt　the　trees。〃

〃Then；　in　future；　mademoiselle；〃　he　replied；　〃must　you　think　of　it
as　one　carpeted　with　verdure；　where　in　the　spring　the　orchard
trees　covered　with　delicate　blossom　would　speak　to　you　of
fairyland；　where　the　dewy　grass　stretches　its　velvety　surface　in
the　shadow　of　ancient　monumental　oaks；　and　ivy…covered　towers　rear
their　stately　crowns　to　the　sky。〃

〃And　the　Scarlet　Pimpernel？　　Tell　me　about　him；　monsieur。〃

〃Ah；　mademoiselle；　what　can　I　tell　you　that　you　do　not　already
know？　　The　Scarlet　Pimpernel　is　a　man　who　has　devoted　his　entire
existence　to　the　benefit　of　suffering　mankind。　　He　has　but　one
thought；　and　that　is　for　those　who　need　him；　he　hears　but　one
sound　　the　cry　of　the　oppressed。〃

〃But　they　do　say；　monsieur；　that　philanthropy　plays　but　a　sorry
part　in　your　hero's　schemes。　　They　aver　that　he　looks　on　his　own
efforts　and　the　adventures　through　which　he　goes　only　in　the　light
of　sport。〃

〃Like　all　Englishmen；　mademoiselle；　the　Scarlet　Pimpernel　is　a
little　ashamed　of　sentiment。　　He　would　deny　its　very　existence
with　his　lips；　even　whilst　his　noble　heart　brimmed　over　with　it。
Sport？　Well！　mayhap　the　sporting　instinct　is　as　keen　as　that　of
charitythe　race　for　lives；　the　tussle　for　the　rescue　of　human
creatures；　the　throwing　of　a　life　on　the　hazard　of　a　die。〃

〃They　fear　him　in　France；　monsieur。　　He　has　saved　so　many　whose
death　had　been　decreed　by　the　Committee　of　Public　Safety。〃

〃Please　God；　he　will　save　many　yet。〃

〃Ah；　monsieur；　the　poor　little　boy　in　the　Temple　prison！〃

〃He　has　your　sympathy；　mademoiselle？〃

〃Of　every　right…minded　woman　in　France；　monsieur。　Oh！〃　she　added
with　a　pretty　gesture　of　enthusiasm；　clasping　her　hands　together；
and　looking　at　Armand　with　large　eyes　filled　with　tears；　〃if　your
noble　Scarlet　Pimpernel　will　do　aught　to　save　that　poor　innocent
lamb；　I　would　indeed　bless　him　in　my　heart；　and　help　him　with　all
my　humble　might　if　I　could。〃

〃May　God's　saints　bless　you　for　those　words；　mademoiselle；〃　he
said；　whilst；　carried　away　by　her　beauty；　her　charm；　her　perfect
femininity；　he　stooped　towards　her　until　his　knee　touched　the
carpet　at　her　feet。　　〃I　had　begun　to　lose　my　belief　in　my　poor
misguided　country；　to　think　all　men　in　France　vile；　and　all　women
base。　　I　could　thank　you　on　my　knees　for　your　sweet　words　of
sympathy；　for　the　expression　of　tender　motherliness　that　came　into
your　eyes　when　you　spoke　of　the　poor　forsaken　Dauphin　in　the
Temple。〃

She　did　not　restrain　her　tears；　with　her　they　came　very　easily；
just　as　with　a　child；　and　as　they　gathered　in　her　eyes　and　rolled
down　her　fresh　cheeks　they　iii　no　way　marred　the　charm　of　her
face。　　One　hand　lay　in　her　lap　fingering　a　diminutive　bit　of
cambric；　which　from　time　to　time　she　pressed　to　her　eyes。　　The
other　she　had　almost　unconsciously　yielded　to　Armand。

The　scent　of　the　violets　filled　the　room。　　It　seemed　to　emanate
from　her；　a　fitting　attribute　of　her　young；　wholly　unsophisticated
girlhood。　　The　citizen　was　goodly　to　look　at；　he　was　kneeling　at
her　feet；　and　his　lips　were　pressed　against　her　hand。

Armand　was　young　and　he　was　an　idealist。　　I　do　not　for　a　moment
imagine　that　just　at　this　moment　he　was　deeply　in　love。　　The
stronger　feeling　had　not　yet　risen　up　in　him；　it　came　later　when
tragedy　encompassed　him　and　brought　passion　to　sudden　maturity。
Just　now　he　was　merely　yielding　himself　up　to　the　intoxicating
moment；　with　all　the　abandonment；　all　the　enthusiasm　of　the　Latin
race。　There　was　no　reason　why　he　should　not　bend　the　knee　before
this　exquisite　little　cameo；　that　by　its　very　presence　was　giving
him　an　hour　of　perfect　pleasure　and　of　aesthetic　joy。

Outside　the　world　continued　its　hideous；　relentless　way；　men
butchered　one　another；　fought　and　hated。　　Here　in　this　small
old…world　salon；　with　its　faded　satins　and　bits　of　ivory…tinted
lace；　the　outer　universe　had　never　really　penetrated。　It　was　a
tiny　worldquite　apart　from　the　rest　of　mankind；　perfectly
peaceful　and　absolutely　beautiful。

If　Armand　had　been　allowed　to　depart　from　here　now；　without　having
been　the　cause　as　well　as　the　chief　actor　in　the　events　that
followed；　no　doubt　that　Mademoiselle　Lange　would　always　have
remained　a　charming　memory　with　him；　an　exquisite　bouquet　of
violets　pressed　reverently　between　the　leaves　of　a　favourite　book
of　poems；　and　the　scent　of　spring　flowers　would　in　after　years
have　ever　brought　her　dainty　picture　to　his　mind。

He　was　murmuring　pretty　words　of　endearment；　carried　away　by
emotion；　his　arm　stole　round　her　waist；　he　felt　that　if　another
tear　came　like　a　dewdrop　rolling　down　her　cheek　he　must　kiss　it
away　at　its　very　source。　　Passion　was　not　sweeping　them　off　their
feetnot　yet；　for　they　were　very　young；　and　life　had　not　as　yet
presented　to　them　its　most　unsolvable　problem。

But　they　yielded　to　one　another；　to　the　springtime　of　their　life；
calling　for　Love；　which　would　come　presently　hand　in　hand　with　his
grim　attendant；　Sorrow。

Even　as　Armand's　glowing　face　was　at　last　lifted　up　to　hers　asking
with　mute　lips　for　that　first　kiss　which　she　already　was　prepared
to　give；　there　came　the　loud　noise　of　men's　heavy　footsteps
tramping　up　the　old　oak　stairs；　then　some　shouting；　a　woman's　cry；
and　the　next　moment　Madame　Belhomme；　trembling；　wide…eyed；　and　in
obvious　terror；　came　rushing　into　the　room。

〃Jeanne！　　Jeanne！　　My　child！　　It　is　awful！　　It　is　a