A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (Complete Edition). Марк Твен

One is quite justified in inferring that whatever one of these laws or customs was lacking in that remote time, its place was competently filled by a worse one.

      The question as to whether there is such a thing as divine right of kings is not settled in this book. It was found too difficult. That the executive head of a nation should be a person of lofty character and extraordinary ability, was manifest and indisputable; that none but the Deity could select that head unerringly, was also manifest and indisputable; that the Deity ought to make that selection, then, was likewise manifest and indisputable; consequently, that He does make it, as claimed, was an unavoidable deduction. I mean, until the author of this book encountered the Pompadour, and Lady Castlemaine, and some other executive heads of that kind; these were found so difficult to work into the scheme, that it was judged better to take the other tack in this book (which must be issued this fall), and then go into training and settle the question in another book. It is, of course, a thing which ought to be settled, and I am not going to have anything particular to do next winter anyway.

      MARK TWAIN

      HARTFORD, July 21, 1889

      A Word of Explanation

      It was in Warwick Castle that I came across the curious stranger whom I am going to talk about. He attracted me by three things: his candid simplicity, his marvelous familiarity with ancient armor, and the restfulness of his company—for he did all the talking. We fell together, as modest people will, in the tail of the herd that was being shown through, and he at once began to say things which interested me. As he talked along, softly, pleasantly, flowingly, he seemed to drift away imperceptibly out of this world and time, and into some remote era and old forgotten country; and so he gradually wove such a spell about me that I seemed to move among the specters and shadows and dust and mold of a gray antiquity, holding speech with a relic of it! Exactly as I would speak of my nearest personal friends or enemies, or my most familiar neighbors, he spoke of Sir Bedivere, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Launcelot of the Lake, Sir Galahad, and all the other great names of the Table Round—and how old, old, unspeakably old and faded and dry and musty and ancient he came to look as he went on! Presently he turned to me and said, just as one might speak of the weather, or any other common matter—

      "You know about transmigration of souls; do you know about transposition of epochs—and bodies?"

      I said I had not heard of it. He was so little interested—just as when people speak of the weather—that he did not notice whether I made him any answer or not. There was half a moment of silence, immediately interrupted by the droning voice of the salaried cicerone:

      "Ancient hauberk, date of the sixth century, time of King Arthur and the Round Table; said to have belonged to the knight Sir Sagramor le Desirous; observe the round hole through the chain-mail in the left breast; can't be accounted for; supposed to have been done with a bullet since invention of firearms—perhaps maliciously by Cromwell's soldiers."

      My acquaintance smiled—not a modern smile, but one that must have gone out of general use many, many centuries ago—and muttered apparently to himself:

      "Wit ye well, I saw it done ." Then, after a pause, added: "I did it myself."

      By the time I had recovered from the electric surprise of this remark, he was gone.

      All that evening I sat by my fire at the Warwick Arms, steeped in a dream of the olden time, while the rain beat upon the windows, and the wind roared about the eaves and corners. From time to time I dipped into old Sir Thomas Malory's enchanting book, and fed at its rich feast of prodigies and adventures, breathed in the fragrance of its obsolete names, and dreamed again. Midnight being come at length, I read another tale, for a nightcap—this which here follows, to wit:

       HOW SIR LAUNCELOT SLEW TWO GIANTS, AND MADE A CASTLE FREE

      Anon withal came there upon him two great giants,

       well armed, all save the heads, with two horrible

       clubs in their hands. Sir Launcelot put his shield

       afore him, and put the stroke away of the one

       giant, and with his sword he clave his head asunder.

       When his fellow saw that, he ran away as he were

       wood (demented), for fear of the horrible strokes,

       and Sir Launcelot after him with all his might,

       and smote him on the shoulder, and clave him to

       the middle. Then Sir Launcelot went into the hall,

       and there came afore him three score ladies and

       damsels, and all kneeled unto him, and thanked

       God and him of their deliverance. For, sir, said

       they, the most part of us have been here this

       seven year their prisoners, and we have worked all

       manner of silk works for our meat, and we are all

       great gentle-women born, and blessed be the time,

       knight, that ever thou wert born; for thou hast

       done the most worship that ever did knight in the

       world, that will we bear record, and we all pray

       you to tell us your name, that we may tell our

       friends who delivered us out of prison. Fair

       damsels, he said, my name is Sir Launcelot du

       Lake. And so he departed from them and betaught

       them unto God. And then he mounted upon his

       horse, and rode into many strange and wild

       countries, and through many waters and valleys,

       and evil was he lodged. And at the last by

       fortune him happened against a night to come to

       a fair courtilage, and therein he found an old

       gentle-woman that lodged him with a good-will,

       and there he had good cheer for him and his horse.

       And when time was, his host brought him into a

       fair garret over the gate to his bed. There

       Sir Launcelot unarmed him, and set his harness

       by him, and went to bed, and anon he fell on

       sleep. So, soon after there came one on

       horseback, and knocked at the gate in great

       haste. And when Sir Launcelot heard this he rose

       up, and looked out at the window, and saw by the

       moonlight three knights come riding after that

       one man, and all three lashed on him at once

       with swords, and that one knight turned on them

       knightly again and defended him. Truly, said

       Sir Launcelot, yonder one knight shall I help,

       for it were shame for me to see three knights

       on one, and if he be slain I am partner of his

       death. And therewith he took his harness and

       went out at a window by a sheet down to the four

       knights, and then Sir Launcelot said on high,

       Turn you knights unto me, and leave your

       fighting with that knight. And then they all

       three left Sir Kay, and turned unto Sir Launcelot,

       and there began great battle, for they alight

       all three, and strake many strokes at Sir

       Launcelot, and assailed him on every side. Then

       Sir Kay dressed him for to have holpen Sir

       Launcelot. Nay, sir, said he, I will none of

       your help, therefore