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The Arrow of Gold-Part36_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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as the girls had engagements in some Italian summer theatres, but



apparently they had secured a re-engagement for the winter and were

now back. I let Therese talk because it kept my imagination from



going to work on subjects which, I had made up my mind, were no

concern of mine. But I went out early to perform an unpleasant



task. It was only proper that I should let the Carlist agent

ensconced in the Prado Villa know of the sudden ending of my



activities. It would be grave enough news for him, and I did not

like to be its bearer for reasons which were mainly personal. I



resembled Dominic in so far that I, too, disliked failure.

The Marquis of Villarel had of course gone long before. The man



who was there was another type of Carlist altogether, and his

temperament was that of a trader. He was the chief purveyor of the



Legitimist armies, an honest broker of stores, and enjoyed a great

reputation for cleverness. His important task kept him, of course,



in France, but his young wife, whose beauty and devotion to her

King were well known, represented him worthily at Headquarters,



where his own appearances were extremely rare. The dissimilar but

united loyalties of those two people had been rewarded by the title



of baron and the ribbon of some order or other. The gossip of the

Legitimist circles appreciated those favours with smiling



indulgence. He was the man who had been so distressed and

frightened by Dona Rita's first visit to Tolosa. He had an extreme



regard for his wife. And in that sphere of clashing arms and

unceasing intrigue nobody would have smiled then at his agitation



if the man himself hadn't been somewhat grotesque.

He must have been startled when I sent in my name, for he didn't of



course expect to see me yet - nobody expected me. He advanced

soft-footed down the room. With his jutting nose, flat-topped



skull and sable garments he recalled an obese raven, and when he

heard of the disaster he manifested his astonishment and concern in



a most plebeian manner by a low and expressivewhistle. I, of

course, could not share his consternation. My feelings in that



connection were of a different order; but I was annoyed at his

unintelligent stare.



"I suppose," I said, "you will take it on yourself to advise Dona

Rita, who is greatly interested in this affair."



"Yes, but I was given to understand that Madame de Lastaola was to

leave Paris either yesterday or this morning."



It was my turn to stare dumbly before I could manage to ask: "For

Tolosa?" in a very knowing tone.



Whether it was the droop of his head, play of light, or some other

subtle cause, his nose seemed to have grown perceptibly longer.



"That, Senor, is the place where the news has got to be conveyed

without undue delay," he said in an agitated wheeze. "I could, of



course, telegraph to our agent in Bayonne who would find a

messenger. But I don't like, I don't like! The Alphonsists have



agents, too, who hang about the telegraph offices. It's no use

letting the enemy get that news."



He was obviously very confused, unhappy, and trying to think of two

different things at once.



"Sit down, Don George, sit down." He absolutely forced a cigar on

me. "I am extremely distressed. That - I mean Dona Rita is



undoubtedly on her way to Tolosa. This is very frightful."

I must say, however, that there was in the man some sense of duty.



He mastered his private fears. After some cogitation he murmured:

"There is another way of getting the news to Headquarters. Suppose



you write me a formal letter just stating the facts, the

unfortunate facts, which I will be able to forward. There is an



agent of ours, a fellow I have been employing for purchasing

supplies, a perfectly honest man. He is coming here from the north



by the ten o'clock train with some papers for me of a confidential

nature. I was rather embarrassed about it. It wouldn't do for him



to get into any sort of trouble. He is not very intelligent. I

wonder, Don George, whether you would consent to meet him at the



station and take care of him generally till to-morrow. I don't




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