Sylvie & Bruno (Vol.1&2). Льюис Кэрролл

‘Good-night!’ with a pleasant smile, followed him.

      It was with a somewhat blank and lonely feeling that I betook myself to the van from which the luggage was being taken out: and, after giving directions to have my boxes sent after me, I made my way on foot to Arthur’s lodgings, and soon lost my lonely feeling in the hearty welcome my old friend gave me, and the cozy warmth and cheerful light of the little sitting-room into which he led me.

      ‘Little, as you see, but quite enough for us two. Now, take the easy-chair, old fellow, and let’s have another look at you! Well, you do look a bit pulled down!’ and he put on a solemn professional air. ‘I prescribe Ozone, quant. suff. Social dissipation, fiant pilulæ quam plurimæ: to be taken, feasting, three times a day!’

      ‘But, Doctor!’ I remonstrated. ‘Society doesn’t “receive” three times a day!’

      ‘That’s all you know about it!’ the young Doctor gaily replied. ‘At home, lawn-tennis, 3 p.m. At home, kettledrum, 5 p.m. At home, music (Elveston doesn’t give dinners), 8 p.m. Carriages at 10. There you are!’

      It sounded very pleasant, I was obliged to admit. ‘And I know some of the lady-society already,’ I added. ‘One of them came in the same carriage with me’

      ‘What was she like? Then perhaps I can identify her.’

      ‘The name was Lady Muriel Orme. As to what she was like—well, I thought her very beautiful. Do you know her?’

      ‘Yes—I do know her.’ And the grave Doctor coloured slightly as he added ‘Yes, I agree with you. She is beautiful.’

      ‘I quite lost my heart to her!’ I went on mischievously. ‘We talked—’

      ‘Have some supper!’ Arthur interrupted with an air of relief, as the maid entered with the tray. And he steadily resisted all my attempts to return to the subject of Lady Muriel until the evening had almost worn itself away. Then, as we sat gazing into the fire, and conversation was lapsing into silence, he made a hurried confession.

      ‘I hadn’t meant to tell you anything about her,’ he said (naming no names, as if there were only one “she” in the world!) ‘till you had seen more of her, and formed your own judgment of her: but somehow you surprised it out of me. And I’ve not breathed a word of it to any one else. But I can trust you with a secret, old friend! Yes! It’s true of me, what I suppose you said in jest.’

      ‘In the merest jest, believe me!’ I said earnestly. ‘Why, man, I’m three times her age! But if she’s your choice, then I’m sure she’s all that is good and—’ ‘—and sweet,’ Arthur went on, ‘and pure, and self-denying, and true-hearted, and—’ he broke off hastily, as if he could not trust himself to say more on a subject so sacred and so precious. Silence followed: and I leaned back drowsily in my easy-chair, filled with bright and beautiful imaginings of Arthur and his lady-love, and of all the peace and happiness in store for them.

      I pictured them to myself walking together, lingeringly and lovingly, under arching trees, in a sweet garden of their own, and welcomed back by their faithful gardener, on their return from some brief excursion.

      It seemed natural enough that the gardener should be filled with exuberant delight at the return of so gracious a master and mistress—and how strangely childlike they looked! I could have taken them for Sylvie and Bruno—less natural that he should show it by such wild dances, such crazy songs!

      ‘He thought he saw a Rattlesnake That questioned him in Greek: He looked again, and found it was The Middle of Next Week. “The one thing I regret,” he said, “Is that it cannot speak!”’ [•]

      —least natural of all that the Vice-Warden and ‘my Lady’ should be standing close beside me, discussing an open letter, which had just been handed to him by the Professor, who stood, meekly waiting, a few yards off.

      ‘If it were not for those two brats,’ I heard him mutter, glancing savagely at Sylvie and Bruno, who were courteously listening to the Gardener’s song, ‘there would be no difficulty whatever.’

      ‘Let’s hear that bit of the letter again,’ said my Lady. And the Vice-Warden read aloud:

      ‘—and we therefore entreat you graciously to accept the Kingship, to which you have been unanimously elected by the Council of Elfland: and that you will allow your son Bruno—of whose goodness, cleverness, and beauty, reports have reached us—to be regarded as Heir-Apparent.’

      ‘But what’s the difficulty?’ said my Lady.

      ‘Why, don’t you see? The Ambassador, that brought this, is waiting in the house: and he’s sure to see Sylvie and Bruno: and then, when he sees Uggug, and remembers all that about “goodness, cleverness, and beauty,” why, he’s sure to—’

      ‘And where will you find a better boy than Uggug?’ my Lady indignantly interrupted. ‘Or a wittier, or a lovelier?’

      To all of which the Vice-Warden simply replied ‘Don’t you be a great blethering goose! Our only chance is to keep those two brats out of sight. If you can manage that, you may leave the rest to me. I’ll make him believe Uggug to be a model of cleverness and all that.’

      ‘We must change his name to Bruno, of course?’ said my Lady.

      The Vice-Warden rubbed his chin. ‘Humph! No!’ he said musingly. ‘Wouldn’t do. The boy’s such an utter idiot, he’d never learn to answer to it.’

      ‘Idiot, indeed!’ cried my Lady. ‘He’s no more an idiot than I am!’

      ‘You’re right, my dear,’ the Vice-Warden soothingly replied. ‘He isn’t, indeed!’

      My Lady was appeased. ‘Let’s go in and receive the Ambassador,’ she said, and beckoned to the Professor. ‘Which room is he waiting in?’ she inquired.

      ‘In the Library, Madam.’

      ‘And what did you say his name was?’ said the Vice-Warden.

      The Professor referred to a card he held in his hand. ‘His Adiposity the Baron Doppelgeist.’

      ‘Why does he come with such a funny name?’ said my Lady.

      ‘He couldn’t well change it on the journey,’ the Professor meekly replied, ‘because of the luggage.’

      ‘You go and receive him,’ my Lady said to the Vice-Warden, ‘and I’ll attend to the children.’

      Chapter 7

      The Baron’s Embassy

      Table of Contents

      I was following the Vice-Warden, but, on second thoughts, went after my Lady, being curious to see how she would manage to keep the children out of sight.

      I found her holding Sylvie’s hand, and with her other hand stroking Bruno’s hair in a most tender and motherly fashion: both children were looking bewildered and half-frightened.

      ‘My own darlings,’ she was saying, ‘I’ve been planning a little treat for you! The Professor shall take you a long walk into the woods this beautiful evening: and you shall take a basket of food with you, and have a little picnic down by the river!’

      Bruno jumped, and clapped his hands. ‘That are nice!’ he cried. ‘Aren’t it, Sylvie?’

      Sylvie, who hadn’t quite lost her surprised look, put up her mouth for a kiss. ‘Thank you very much,’ she said earnestly.

      My Lady turned her head away to conceal the broad grin of triumph that spread over her vast face, like a ripple on a lake. ‘Little simpletons!’ she muttered to herself, as she marched up to the house. I followed her in.

      ‘Quite