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The Scarlet Pimpernel-Part20_Baroness Emmuska Orczy(1865-1947)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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He already had one foot on the lowest of the terrace steps,



but at her voice he started, and paused, then looked searchingly into

the shadows whence she had called to him.



She came forward quickly into the moonlight, and, as soon as

he saw her, he said, with that air of consummate gallantry he always



wore when speaking to her,--

"At your service, Madame!"



But his foot was still on the step, and in his whole attitude

there was a remotesuggestion, distinctlyvisible to her, that he



wished to go, and had no desire for a midnight interview.

"The air is deliciously cool," she said, "the moonlight



peaceful and poetic, and the garden inviting. Will you not stay in it

awhile; the hour is not yet late, or is my company so distasteful to



you, that you are in a hurry to rid yourself of it?"

"Nay, Madame," he rejoined placidly, "but `tis on the other



foot the shoe happens to be, and I'll warrant you'll find the midnight

air more poetic without my company: no doubt the sooner I remove the



obstruction the better your ladyship will like it."

He turned once more to go.



"I protest you mistake me, Sir Percy," she said hurriedly, and

drawing a little closer to him; "the estrangement, which alas! has



arisen between us, was none of my making, remember."

"Begad! you must pardon me there, Madame!" he protested



coldly, "my memory was always of the shortest."

He looked her straight in the eyes, with that lazy



non-chalance which had become second nature to him. She returned his

gaze for a moment, then her eyes softened, as she came up quite close



to him, to the foot of the terrace steps.

"Of the shortest, Sir Percy! Faith! how it must have



altered! Was it three years ago or four that you saw me for one hour

in Paris, on your way to the East? When you came back two years later



you had not forgotten me."

She looked divinely pretty as she stood there in the



moonlight, with the fur-cloak sliding off her beautiful shoulders, the

gold embroidery on her dress shimmering around her, her childlike blue



eyes turned up fully at him.

He stood for a moment, rigid and still, but for the clenching



of his hand against the stone balustrade of the terrace.

"You desired my presence, Madame," he said frigidly. "I take



it that it was not with the view to indulging in tender

reminiscences."



His voice certainly was cold and uncompromising: his attitude

before her, stiff and unbending. Womanly decorum would have suggested



Marguerite should return coldness for coldness, and should sweep past

him without another word, only with a curt nod of her head: but



womanly instinct suggested that she should remain--that keen instinct,

which makes a beautiful woman conscious of her powers long to bring to



her knees the one man who pays her no homage. She stretched out her

hand to him.



"Nay, Sir Percy, why not? the present is not so glorious but

that I should not wish to dwell a little in the past."



He bent his tall figure, and taking hold of the extreme tip of

the fingers which she still held out to him, he kissed them



ceremoniously.

"I' faith, Madame," he said, "then you will pardon me, if my



dull wits cannot accompany you there."

Once again he attempted to go, once more her voice, sweet,



childlike, almost tender, called him back.

"Sir Percy."



"Your servant, Madame."

"Is it possible that love can die?" she said with sudden,



unreasoning vehemence. "Methought that the passion which you once

felt for me would outlast the span of human life. Is there nothing



left of that love, Percy. . .which might help you. . .to bridge over

that sad estrangement?"



His massive figure seemed, while she spoke thus to him, to




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