anner.themummy-第4部分

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　Elliott　was　getting　drunk；　but　no　one　knew　it。　Except　Elliott；　who　leaned　on　the　gilded　rail　of　the　half…landing　again　in　a　rather　casual　manner　that　he　almost　never　assumed。　There　was　a　style　to　even　his　smallest　gestures；　and　now　he　carelessly　violated　it；　keenly　aware　that　no　one　would　notice；　no　one　would　take　offense。
　
　Ah；　such　a　world；　made　up　almost　wholly　of　subtleties。　What　a　horror。　And　he　must　think　of　this　marriage；　he　must　talk　of　this　marriage；　he　must　do　something　about　the　sad　spectacle　of　his　son；　quite　obviously　defeated；　who；　after　watching　Julie　dance　with　another；　came　now　up　the　marble　stairs。
　
　〃I'm　asking　you　to　trust　in　me；〃　　Randolph　was　saying。〃　I　guarantee　this　marriage。　All　it　takes　is　a　little　time。〃
　
　〃Surely　you　don't　think　I　enjoy　pressing　you；〃　　Elliott　answered。　Thick…tongued。　Drunk　all　right。〃　I'm　much　more　fortable　in　a　dream　world；　Randolph；　where　money　simply　doesn't　exist。　But　the　fact　is；　we　cannot　afford　such　reverie；　either　of　us。　This　marriage　is　essential　for　us　both。〃
　
　〃Then　I　shall　go　to　see　Lawrence　myself。〃
　
　Elliott　turned　to　see　his　son　only　a　few　steps　away；　waiting　like　a　schoolboy　for　the　adults　to　acknowledge　him。
　
　〃Father；　I　badly　need　consolation；〃　　Alex　said。
　
　〃What　you　need　is　courage；　young　man；〃　　Randolph　said　crossly。〃　Don't　tell　me　you've　taken　no　for　an　answer　again。〃
　
　Alex　took　a　glass　of　champagne　from　the　passing　waiter。
　
　〃She　loves　me。　She　loves　me　not；〃　　he　said　softly。〃　The　simple　fact　is　I　cannot　live　without　her。　She's　driving　me　mad。〃
　
　〃Of　course　you　cannot。〃　　Elliott　laughed　gently。〃　Now；　look。　That　clumsy　young　man　down　there　is　stepping　on　her　feet。　I'm　sure　she'd　be　very　grateful　if　you　came　to　her　rescue　at　once。〃
　
　Alex　nodded；　scarcely　noticing　as　his　father　took　the　half…full　glass　from　him　and　drank　down　the　champagne。　He　straightened　his　shoulders　and　headed　back　to　the　dance　floor。　Such　a　perfect　picture。
　
　〃The　puzzling　part　is　this；〃　　Randolph　said　under　his　breath。〃　She　loves　him。　She　always　has。〃
　
　〃Yes；　but　she's　like　her　father。　She　loves　her　freedom。　And　frankly　I　don't　blame　her。　In　a　way　she's　too　much　for　Alex。　But　he'd　make　her　happy；　I　know　that　he　would。〃
　
　〃Of　course。〃
　
　〃And　she　would　make　him　supremely　happy；　and　perhaps　no　one　else　ever　will。〃
　
　〃Nonsense；〃　　Randolph　said。〃　Any　young　woman　in　London
　
　would　give　her　eyeteeth　for　the　chance　to　make　Alex　happy。　The　eighteenth　Earl　of　Rutherford？〃
　
　〃Is　that　really　so　important？　Our　titles；　our　money；　the　endless　maintenance　of　our　decorative　and　tiresome　little　world？〃　　Elliott　glanced　around　the　ballroom。　This　was　that　lucid　and　dangerous　state　with　drinking；　when　everything　began　to　shimmer；　when　there　was　meaning　in　the　grain　of　the　marble；　when　one　could　make　the　most　offensive　speeches。〃　I　wonder　sometimes　if　I　should　be　in　Egypt　with　Lawrence。　And　if　Alex　shouldn't　peddle　his　beloved　title　to　someone　else。〃
　
　He　could　see　the　panic　in　Randolph's　eyes。　Dear　God；　what　did　the　title　mean　to　these　merchant　princes；　these　businessmen　who　had　all　but　the　title？　It　wasn't　only　that　Alex　might　eventually　control　Julie；　and　thereby　control　the　Stratford　millions；　and　that　Alex　himself　would　be　far　easier　than　Julie　to　control。　It　was　the　prospect　of　true　nobility；　of　nieces　and　nephews　roaming　the　park　of　the　old　Rutherford　estate　in　Yorkshire；　of　that　miserable　Henry　Stratford　trading　on　the　alliance　in　every　despicable　way　that　he　could。
　
　〃We're　not　defeated　yet；　Elliott；〃　　Randolph　said。〃　And　I　rather　like　your　decorative　and　tiresome　little　world。　What　else　is　there　when　you　get　right　down　to　it？〃
　
　Elliott　smiled。　One　more　mouthful　of　champagne　and　he　must　tell　Randolph　what　else　there　was。　He　just　might。。。
　
　〃I　love　you；　fine　English；〃　　Malenka　said　to　him。　She　kissed　him；　then　helped　him　with　his　tie；　the　soft　touch　of　her　fingers　against　his　chin　making　the　hairs　rise　on　his　neck。
　
　What　lovely　fools　women　were；　Henry　Stratford　thought。　But　this　Egyptian　woman　he　had　enjoyed　more　than　most。　She　was　dark…skinned；　a　dancer　by　profession…a　quiet　and　luscious　beauty　with　whom　he　could　do　exactly　what　he　wanted。　You　never　knew　that　kind　of　freedom　with　an　English　whore。
　
　He　could　see　himself　settling　someday　in　an　Eastern　country　with　such　a　woman…free　of　all　British　respectability。　That　is；　after　he　had　made　his　fortune　at　the　tables…that　one　great　win　he　needed　to　put　him　quite　beyond　the　world's　reach。
　
　For　the　moment；　there　was　work　to　be　done。　The　crowd　around　the　tomb　had　doubled　in　size　since　last　evening。　And　the　trick　was　to　reach　his　uncle　Lawrence　before　the　man　was　swept　up　utterly　by　the　museum　people　and　the　authorities…to　reach　him　now　when　he　just　might　agree　to　anything　in　return　for　being　left　alone。
　
　〃Go　on；　dearest。〃　　He　kissed　Malenka　again　and　watched　her　wrap　the　dark　cloak　about　herself　and　hurry　to　the　waiting　car。　How　grateful　she　was　for　these　small　Western　luxuries。　Yes；　that　kind　of　woman。　Rather　than　Daisy；　his　London　mistress；　a　spoilt　and　demanding　creature　who　nevertheless　excited　him；　perhaps　because　she　was　so　difficult　to　please。
　
　He　took　one　last　swallow　of　Scotch；　picked　up　his　leather　briefcase；　and　left　the　tent。
　
　The　crowds　were　ghastly。　All　night　long　he'd　been　awakened　by　die　grind　and　huff　of　automobiles；　and　frenzied　voices。　And　now　the　heat　was　rising；　and　he　could　already　feel　sand　inside　his　shoes。
　
　How　he　loathed　Egypt。　How　he　loathed　these　desert　camps　and　the　filthy　camel…riding　Arabs；　and　the　lazy　dirty　servants。　How　he　loathed　his　uncle's　entire　world。
　
　And　there　was　Samir；　that　insolent；　irritating　assistant　who　fancied　himself　Lawrence's　social　equal；　trying　to　quiet　the　foolish　reporters。　Could　this　really　be　the　tomb　of　Ramses　II？　Would　Lawrence　grant　an　interview？
　
　Henry　didn't　give　a　damn。　He　pushed　past　the　men　who　were　guarding　the　entrance　to　the　tomb。
　
　〃Mr。　Stratford；　please；〃　　Samir　called　after　him。　A　lady　reporter　was　on　his　heels。〃　Let　your　uncle　alone　now；〃　　Samir　said　as　he　drew　closer。〃　Let　him　savor　his　find。〃
　
　〃The　hell　I　will。〃
　
　He　glared　at　the　guard　who　blocked　his　path。　The　man　moved。　Samir　turned　back　to　hold　off　the　reporters。　Who　was　going　into　the　tomb？　they　wanted　to　know。
　
　〃This　is　a　family　matter；〃　　he　said　quickly　and　coldly　to　the　woman　reporter　trying　to　follow　him。　The　guard　stepped　in　her　path。
　
　So　little　time　left。　Lawrence　stopped　writing；　wiped　his　brow　carefully；　folded　his　handkerchief　and　made　one　more　brief　note：
　
　〃Brilliant　to　hide　the　elixir　in　a　wilderness　of　poisons。　What　safer　place　for　a　potion　that　confers　immortality　than　among　potions　that　bring　death。　And　to　think　they　were　her　poisons…　those　which　Cleopatra　tested　before　deciding　to　use　the　venom　of　the　asp　to　take　her　life。〃
　
　He　stopped；　wiped　his　brow　again。　Already　so　hot　in　here。
　
　And　within　a　few　short　hours；　they'd　be　upon　him；　demanding　that　he　leave　the　tomb　for　the　museujn　officials。　Oh；　if　only　he　had　made　this　discovery　without　the　museum。　God　knows；　he　hadn't　needed　them。　And　they　would　take　it　all　out　of　his　hands。
　
　The　sun　came　in　fine　shafts　through　the　rough…cut　doorway。　It　struck　the　alabaster　jars　in　front　of　him；　and　it　seemed　he　heard　something…faint；　like　a　whispered　breath。
　
　He　turned　and　looked　at　the　mummy；　at　the　features　clearly　molded　beneath　the　tight　wrappings。　The　man　who　claimed　to　be　Ramses　had　been　tall；　and　perhaps　robust。
　
　Not　an　old　man；　like　the　creature　lying　in　the　Cairo　Museum。　But　then　this　Ramses　claimed　that　he　had　never　grown　old。　He　was　immortal；　and　merely　slept　within　these　bandages。　Nothing　could　kill　him；　not　even　the　poisons　in　this　room；　which　he　had　tried　in　quantity；　when　grief　for　Cleopatra　had　left　him　half…mad。　On　his　orders；　his　servants　had　wrapped　his　unconscious　body；　they　had　buried　him　alive；　in　the　coffin　he　had　had　prepared　for　himself；　supervising　every　detail；　then　they　had　sealed　the　tomb　with　the　door　that　he　himself　had　inscribed。
　
　But　what　had　rendered　him　unconscious？　That　was　the　mystery。　Ah；　what　a　delicious　story。　And　what　if…？
　
　He　found　himself　staring　at　the　grim　creature　in　its　bindings　of　yellow　linen。　Did　he　really　believe　that　something　was　alive　there？　Something　that　could　move　and　speak？
　
　It　made　Lawrence　smile。
　
　He　turned　back　to　the　jars　on　the　desk。　The　sun　was　making　the　little　room　an　inferno。　Taking　his　handkerchief；　he　carefully　lifted　the　lid　of　the　first　jar　before　him。　Smell　of　bitter　almonds。　Something　as　deadly　as　cyanide。
　
　And　the　immortal　Ramses　claimed　to　have　ingested　half　the　contents　of　the　jar　in　seeking　to　end　his　cursed　life。
　
　What　if　there　were　an　immortal　being　under　those　wrappings　？
　
　There　came　that　sound　again。　What　was　it？　Not　a　rustling；　no；　nothing　so　distinct。　Rather　like　an　intake　of　breath。
　
　Once　again　he　looked　at　the　mummy。　The　sun　was　shining　full　on　it　in　long；　beautiful　dusty　rays…the　sun　that　shone　through　church　windows；　or　through　the　branches　of　old　oaks　in　dim　forest　glens。
　
　It　seemed　he　could　see　the　dust　rising　from　the　ancient　figure：　a　pale　gold　mist　of　moving　particles。　Ah；　he　was　too　tired！
　
　And　the　thing；　it　did　not　seem　so　withered　any　longer；　rather　it　had　taken　on　the　contour　of　a　man。〃　But　what　were　you　really；　my　ancient　friend？〃　　Lawrence　asked　softly。〃　Mad？　Deluded？　Or　just　what　you　claim　to　be…　Ramses　the　Great？〃
　
　It　gave　him　a　chill　to　say　it…what　the　French　call　a　frisson。　He　rose　and　drew　closer　to　the　mummy。
　
　The　rays　of　the　sun　were　positively　bathing　the　thing。　For　the　first　time　he　noticed　the　contours　of　its　eyebrows　beneath　the　wrappings；　there　seemed　more　expression…hard；　determined…　to　its　face。
　
　Lawrence　smiled。　He　spoke　to　it　in　Latin；　piecing　together　his　sentences　carefully。〃　Do　you　know　how　long　you've　slumbered；　immortal　Pharaoh？　You　who　claimed　to　have　lived　one　thousand　years？〃
　
　Was　he　murdering　the　ancient　language？　He　had　spent　so　many　years　translating　hieroglyphs　that　he　was　rusty　with　Caesar's　tongue。〃　It's　been　twice　that　long；　Ramses；　since　you　sealed　yoursel