the nabob-第41部分

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f　the　prince；　it　was　terrifying　to　see　this　aerial　crag　approaching；　throwing　its　shadow　before　it；　to　watch　the　play　of　the　perspective　which　gave　the　cloud　a　slow；　majestic　movement；　and　the　shadow　the　rapidity　of　a　galloping　horse。　〃What　a　storm　we　shall　have　directly！〃　was　the　thought　which　came　to　every　one；　but　none　had　voice　to　express　it；　for　a　strident　whistle　sounded　and　the　train　appeared　at　the　end　of　the　dark　funnel。　A　real　royal　train；　rapid　and　short；　and　decorated　with　flags。　The　smoking；　roaring　engine　carried　a　large　bouquet　of　roses　on　its　breastplate；　like　a　bridesmaid　at　some　leviathan　wedding。

It　came　out　of　the　funnel　at　full　speed；　but　slowed　down　as　it　approached。　The　functionaries　grouped　themselves；　straightened　their　backs；　hitched　their　swords　and　eased　their　collars；　while　Jansoulet　went　down　the　track　to　meet　the　train；　an　obsequious　smile　on　his　lips；　his　back　curved　ready　for　the　〃Salam　Alek。〃　The　train　proceeded　very　slowly。　Jansoulet　thought　it　had　stopped；　and　put　his　hand　on　the　door　of　the　royal　carriage；　glittering　with　gold　under　the　black　sky。　But；　doubtless；　the　impetus　had　been　too　strong；　and　the　train　continued　to　advance；　the　Nabob　walking　beside　it；　trying　to　open　the　accursed　door　which　was　stuck　fast；　and　making　signs　to　the　engine…　driver。　The　engine　was　not　answering。　〃Stop；　stop；　there！〃　It　did　not　stop。　Losing　patience；　he　jumped　on　to　the　velvet…covered　step；　and　in　that　fiery；　impulsive　manner　of　his　which　had　so　delighted　the　old　Bey；　he　cried；　his　woolly　head　at　the　door；　〃Saint…Romans　station；　your　Highness。〃

You　know　the　sort　of　vague　light　there　is　in　dreams；　the　colourless　empty　atmosphere　where　everything　has　the　look　of　a　phantom。　Jansoulet　was　suddenly　enveloped　in　this；　stricken；　paralyzed。　He　wanted　to　speak；　words　would　not　come；　his　nerveless　hand　held　the　door　so　feebly　that　he　almost　fell　backward。　What　had　he　seen？　On　a　divan　at　the　back　of　the　saloon；　reposing　on　his　elbow；　his　beautiful　dark　head　with　its　long　silky　beard　leaning　on　his　hand；　was　the　Bey；　close　wrapped　in　his　Oriental　coat；　without　other　ornaments　than　the　large　ribbon　of　the　Legion　of　Honour　across　his　breast　and　the　diamond　in　the　aigrette　of　his　fez。　He　was　fanning　himself　impassively　with　a　little　fan　of　gold…embroidered　strawwork。　Two　aides…de…camp　and　an　engineer　of　the　railway　company　were　standing　beside　him。　Opposite；　on　another　divan；　in　a　respectful　attitude；　but　favoured　evidently；　as　they　were　the　only　ones　seated　in　the　Bey's　presence；　were　two　owl…　like　men；　their　long　whiskers　falling　on　their　white　ties；　one　fat　and　the　other　thin。　They　were　the　Hemerlingues；　father　and　son；　who　had　won　over　his　Highness　and　were　bearing　him　off　in　triumph　to　Paris。　What　a　horrible　dream！　All　three　men；　who　knew　Jansoulet　well；　looked　at　him　coldly　as　though　his　face　recalled　nothing。　Piteously　white；　his　forehead　covered　with　sweat；　he　stammered；　〃But；　your　Highness；　are　you　not　going　to〃　A　vivid　flash　of　lightning；　followed　by　a　terrible　peal　of　thunder；　stopped　the　words。　But　the　lightning　in　the　eyes　of　his　sovereign　seemed　to　him　as　terrible。　Sitting　up；　his　arm　outstretched；　in　guttural　voice　as　of　one　accustomed　to　roll　the　hard　Arab　syllables；　but　in　pure　French；　the　Bey　struck　him　down　with　the　slow；　carefully　prepared　words：　〃Go　home；　swindler。　The　feet　go　where　the　heart　guides。　Mine　will　never　enter　the　house　of　the　man　who　has　cheated　my　country。〃

Jansoulet　tried　to　say　something。　The　Bey　made　a　sign：　〃Go　on。〃　The　engineer　pressed　a　button；　a　whistle　replied；　the　train；　which　had　never　really　stopped；　seemed　to　stretch　itself；　making　all　its　iron　muscles　crack；　to　take　a　bound　and　start　off　at　full　speed；　the　flags　fluttering　in　the　storm…wind；　and　the　black　smoke　meeting　the　lightning　flashes。

Jansoulet；　left　standing　on　the　track；　staggering；　stunned；　ruined；　watched　his　fortune　fly　away　and　disappear；　oblivious　of　the　large　drops　of　rain　which　were　falling　on　his　bare　head。　Then；　when　the　others　rushed　upon　him；　surrounded　him；　rained　questions　upon　him；　he　stuttered　some　disconnected　words：　〃Court　intriguesinfamous　plot。〃　And　suddenly；　shaking　his　fist　after　the　train；　with　eyes　that　were　bloodshot；　and　a　foam　of　rage　upon　his　lips；　he　roared　like　a　wild　beast；　〃Blackguards！〃

〃You　forget　yourself；　Jansoulet；　you　forget　yourself。〃　You　guess　who　it　was　that　uttered　those　words；　and；　taking　the　Nabob's　arm；　tried　to　pull　him　together；　to　make　him　hold　his　head　as　high　as　his　own；　conducted　him　to　the　carriage　through　the　rows　of　stupefied　people　in　uniform；　and　made　him　get　in；　exhausted　and　broken；　like　a　near　relation　of　the　deceased　that　one　hoists　into　a　mourning…coach　after　the　funeral。　The　rain　began　to　fall；　peals　of　thunder　followed　one　another。　Every　one　now　hurried　into　the　carriages；　which　quickly　took　the　homeward　road。　Then　there　occurred　a　heart…rending　yet　comical　thing；　one　of　the　cruel　farces　played　by　that　cowardly　destiny　which　kicks　its　victims　after　they　are　down。　In　the　falling　day　and　the　growing　darkness　of　the　cyclone；　the　crowd；　squeezed　round　the　approaches　of　the　station；　thought　they　saw　his　Highness　somewhere　amid　the　gorgeous　trappings；　and　as　soon　as　the　wheels　started　an　immense　clamour；　a　frightful　bawling；　which　had　been　hatching　for　an　hour　in　all　those　breasts；　burst　out；　rose；　rolled；　rebounded　from　side　to　side　and　prolonged　itself　in　the　valley。　〃Hurrah；　hurrah　for　the　Bey！〃　This　was　the　signal　for　the　first　bands　to　begin；　the　choral　societies　started　in　their　turn；　and　the　noise　growing　step　by　step；　the　road　from　Giffas　to　Saint…Romans　was　nothing　but　an　uninterrupted　bellow。　Cardailhac　and　all　the　gentlemen；　Jansoulet　himself；　leant　in　vain　out　of　the　windows　making　desperate　signs；　〃That　will　do！　That's　enough！〃　Their　gestures　were　lost　in　the　tumult　and　the　darkness；　what　the　crowd　did　see　seemed　to　act　only　as　an　excitant。　And　I　promise　you　there　was　no　need　of　that。　All　these　meridionals；　whose　enthusiasm　had　been　carefully　led　since　early　morning；　excited　the　more　by　the　long　wait　and　the　storm；　shouted　with　all　the　force　of　their　voices　and　the　strength　of　their　lungs；　mingling　with　the　song　of　Provence　the　cry　of　〃Hurrah　for　the　Bey！〃　till　it　seemed　a　perpetual　chorus。　Most　of　them　had　no　idea　what　a　Bey　was；　did　not　even　think　about　it。　They　accentuated　the　appellation　in　an　extraordinary　manner　as　though　it　had　three　b's　and　ten　y's。　But　it　made　no　difference；　they　excited　themselves　with　the　cry；　holding　up　their　hands；　waving　their　hats；　becoming　agitated　as　a　result　of　their　own　activity。　Women　wept　and　rubbed　their　eyes。　Suddenly；　from　the　top　of　an　elm；　the　shrill　voice　of　a　child　made　itself　heard：　〃Mamma；　mammaI　see　him！〃　He　saw　him！　They　all　saw　him；　for　that　matter！　Now　even；　they　will　all　swear　to　you　they　saw　him！

Confronted　by　such　a　delirium；　in　the　impossibility　of　imposing　silence　and　calm　on　such　a　crowd；　there　was　only　one　thing　for　the　people　in　the　carriages　to　do：　to　leave　them　alone；　pull　up　the　windows　and　dash　along　at　full　speed。　It　would　at　least　shorten　a　bitter　martyrdom。　But　this　was　even　worse。　Seeing　the　procession　hurrying；　all　the　road　began　to　gallop　with　it。　To　the　dull　booming　of　their　tambourines　the　dancers　from　Barbantane；　hand　in　hand；　spranga　living　garlandround　the　carriage　doors。　The　choral　societies；　breathless　with　singing　as　they　ran；　but　singing　all　the　same；　dragged　on　their　standard…bearers；　the　banners　now　hanging　over　their　shoulders；　and　the　good；　fat　priests；　red　and　panting；　shoving　their　vast　overworked　bellies　before　them；　still　found　strength　to　shout　into　the　very　ear　of　the　mules；　in　an　unctuous；　effusive　voice；　〃Long　live　our　noble　Bey！〃　The　rain　on　all　this；　the　rain　falling　in　buckets；　discolouring　the　pink　coaches；　precipitating　the　disorder；　giving　the　appearance　of　a　rout　to　this　triumphal　return；　but　a　comic　rout；　mingled　with　songs　and　laughs；　mad　embraces；　and　infernal　oaths。　It　was　something　like　the　return　of　a　religious　procession　flying　before　a　storm；　cassocks　turned　up；　surplices　over　heads；　and　the　Blessed　Sacrament　put　back　in　all　haste；　under　a　porch。

The　dull　roll　of　the　wheels　over　the　wooden　bridge　told　the　poor　Nabob；　motionless　and　silent　in　a　corner　of　his　carriage；　that　they　were　almost　there。　〃At　last！〃　he　said；　looking　through　the　clouded　windows　at　the　foaming　waters　of　the　Rhone；　whose　tempestuous　rush　seemed　calm　after　what　he　had　just　suffered。　But　at　the　end　of　the　bridge；　when　the　first　carriage　reached　the　great　triumphal　arch；　rockets　went　off；　drums　beat；　saluting　the　monarch　as　he　entered　the　estates　of　his　faithful　subject。　To　crown　the　irony；　in　the　gathering　darkness　a　gigantic　flare　of　gas　suddenly　illuminated　the　roof　of　the　castle；　and　in　spite　of　the　wind　and　the　rain；　these　fiery　letters　could　still　be　seen　very　plainly；　〃Long　liv'　th'　B'Y　'HMED！〃

〃Thatthat　is　the　wind…up；〃　said　the　poor　Nabob；　who　could　not　help　laughing；　though　it　was　a　very　piteous　and　bitter　laugh。　But　no；　he　was　mistaken。　The　end　was　the　bouquet　waiting　at　the　castle　door。　Amy　Ferat　came　to　present　it；　leaving　the　group　of　country　maidens　under　the　veranda；　where　they　were　trying　to　shelter　the　shining　silks　of　their　skirts　and　the　embroidered　velvets　of　their　caps　as　they　waited　for　the　first　carriage。　Her　bunch　of　flowers　in　her　hand；　modest；　her　eyes　downcast；　but　showing　a　roguish　leg；　the　pretty　actress　sprang　forward　to　the　door　in　a　low　courtesy；　almost　on　her　knees；　a　pose　she　had　worked　at　for　a　week。　Instead　of　the　Bey；　Jansoulet　got　out；　stiff　and　troubled；　and　passed　without　even　seeing　her。　And　as　she　stayed　there；　bouquet　in　hand；　with　the　silly　look　of　a　stage　fairy　who　has　missed　her　cue；　Cardailhac　said　to　her　with　the　ready　chaff　of　the　Parisian　who　is　never　at　a　loss：　〃Take　away　your　flowers；　my　dear。　The　Bey　is　not　coming。　He　had　forgotten　his　handkerchief；　and　as　it　is　only　with　that　he　speaks　to　ladies；　you　understand〃



Now　it　is　night。　Everything　is　asleep　at　Saint…Romans　after　the　tremendous　uproar　of　the　day。　Torrents　of　rain　continue　to　fall；　and　in　the　park；　where　the　triumphal　arches　and　the　Venetian　masts　still　lift　vaguely　their　soaking　carcasses；　one　can　hear　streams　rushing　down　the　slopes　transformed　int