the twins of table mountain-第20部分

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subdued；　and　mellow；　it　was　part　of　the　new　impression　he　was
receiving；　that　it　seemed　to　be　in　some　sort　connected　with　the
ivy…clad　wall　before　him。　　His　hat　was　in　his　hand　as　he　answered；

〃Guten　Morgen！〃

〃Was　the　Herr　seeking　anything？〃

〃The　Herr　was　only　waiting　a　longtime…coming　friend；　and　had
strayed　here　to　speak　with　the　before…known　proprietor。〃

〃So？　　But；　the　before…known　proprietor　sleeping　well　at　present
after　dinner；　would　the　Herr　on　the　terrace　still　a　while　linger？〃

The　Herr　would；　but　looked　around　in　vain　for　the　means　to　do　it。
He　was　thinking　of　a　scaling…ladder；　when　the　young　woman
reappeared　at　the　open　door；　and　bade　him　enter。

Following　the　youthful　hostess；　Mr。　Clinch　mounted　the　staircase；
but；　passing　the　mysterious　wall；　could　not　forbear　an　allusion　to
it。　　〃It　is　old；　very　old；〃　said　the　girl：　〃it　was　here　when　I
came。〃

〃That　was　not　very　long　ago；〃　said　Mr。　Clinch　gallantly。

〃No；　but　my　grandfather　found　it　here　too。〃

〃And　built　over　it？〃

〃Why　not？　　It　is　very；　very　hard；　and　SO　thick。〃

Mr。　Clinch　here　explained；　with　masculine　superiority；　the
existence　of　such　modern　agents　as　nitro…glycerine　and　dynamite；
persuasive　in　their　effects　upon　time…honored　obstructions　and
encumbrances。

〃But　there　was　not　then　what　you　callthisninitro…glycerine。〃

〃But　since　then？〃

The　young　girl　gazed　at　him　in　troubled　surprise。　　〃My　great…
grandfather　did　not　take　it　away　when　he　built　the　house：　why
should　we？〃

〃Oh！〃

They　had　passed　through　a　hall　and　dining…room；　and　suddenly
stepped　out　of　a　window　upon　a　gravelled　terrace。　　From　this　a　few
stone　steps　descended　to　another　terrace；　on　which　trees　and　shrubs
were　growing；　and　yet；　looking　over　the　parapet；　Mr。　Clinch　could
see　the　road　some　twenty　feet　below。　　It　was　nearly　on　a　level
with；　and　part　of；　the　second　story　of　the　house。　　Had　an
earthquake　lifted　the　adjacent　ground？　or　had　the　house　burrowed
into　a　hill？　　Mr。　Clinch　turned　to　his　companion；　who　was　standing
close　beside　him；　breathing　quite　audibly；　and　leaving　an
impression　on　his　senses　as　of　a　gentle　and　fragrant　heifer。

〃How　was　all　this　done？〃

The　maiden　did　not　know。　　〃It　was　always　here。〃

Mr。　Clinch　reascended　the　steps。　　He　had　quite　forgotten　his
impatience。　　Possibly　it　was　the　gentle；　equable　calm　of　the　girl；
who；　but　for　her　ready　color；　did　not　seem　to　be　moved　by　anything；
perhaps　it　was　the　peaceful　repose　of　this　mausoleum　of　the　dead
and　forgotten　wall　that　subdued　him；　but　he　was　quite　willing　to
take　the　old…fashioned　chair　on　the　terrace　which　she　offered　him；
and　follow　her　motions　with　not　altogether　mechanical　eyes　as　she
drew　out　certain　bottles　and　glasses　from　a　mysterious　closet　in
the　wall。　　Mr。　Clinch　had　the　weakness　of　a　majority　of　his　sex　in
believing　that　he　was　a　good　judge　of　wine　and　women。　　The　latter；
as　shown　in　the　specimen　before　him；　he　would　have　invoiced　as　a
fair　sample　of　the　middle…class　German　woman；healthy；　comfort…
loving；　home…abiding；　the　very　genius　of　domesticity。　　Even　in　her
virgin　outlines　the　future　wholesome　matron　was　already　forecast；
from　the　curves　of　her　broad　hips；　to　the　flat　lines　of　her　back
and　shoulders。　　Of　the　wine　he　was　to　judge　later。　　THAT　required
an　even　more　subtle　and　unimpassioned　intellect。

She　placed　two　bottles　before　him　on　the　table；one；　the
traditional　long…necked；　amber…colored　Rheinflasche；　the　other；　an
old；　quaint；　discolored；　amphorax…patterned　glass　jug。　　The　first
she　opened。

〃This；〃　she　said；　pointing　to　the　other；　〃cannot　be　opened。〃

Mr。　Clinch　paid　his　respects　first　to　the　opened　bottle；　a　good
quality　of　Niersteiner。　　With　his　intellect　thus　clarified；　he
glanced　at　the　other。

〃It　is　from　my　great…grandfather。　　It　is　old　as　the　wall。〃

Mr。　Clinch　examined　the　bottle　attentively。　　It　seemed　to　have　no
cork。　　Formed　of　some　obsolete；　opaque　glass；　its　twisted　neck　was
apparently　hermetically　sealed　by　the　same　material。　　The　maiden
smiled；　as　she　said；

〃It　cannot　be　opened　now　without　breaking　the　bottle。　　It　is　not
good　luck　to　do　so。　　My　grandfather　and　my　father　would　not。〃

But　Mr。　Clinch　was　still　examining　the　bottle。　　Its　neck　was
flattened　towards　the　mouth；　but　a　close　inspection　showed　it　was
closed　by　some　equally　hard　cement；　but　not　glass。

〃If　I　can　open　it　without　breaking　the　bottle；　have　I　your
permission？〃

A　mischievous　glance　rested　on　Mr。　Clinch；　as　the　maiden　answered；

〃I　shall　not　object；　but　for　what　will　you　do　it？〃

〃To　taste　it；　to　try　it。〃

〃You　are　not　afraid？〃

There　was　just　enough　obvious　admiration　of　Mr。　Clinch's　audacity
in　the　maiden's　manner　to　impel　him　to　any　risk。　　His　only　answer
was　to　take　from　his　pocket　a　small　steel　instrument。　　Holding　the
neck　of　the　bottle　firmly　in　one　hand；　he　passed　his　thumb　and　the
steel　twice　or　thrice　around　it。　　A　faint　rasping；　scratching　sound
was　all　the　wondering　girl　heard。　　Then；　with　a　sudden；　dexterous
twist　of　his　thumb　and　finger；　to　her　utter　astonishment　he　laid
the　top　of　the　neck；　neatly　cut　off；　in　her　hand。

〃There's　a　better　and　more　modern　bottle　than　you　had　before；〃　he
said；　pointing　to　the　cleanly…divided　neck；　〃and　any　cork　will　fit
it　now。〃

But　the　girl　regarded　him　with　anxiety。　　〃And　you　still　wish　to
taste　the　wine？〃

〃With　your　permission；　yes！〃

He　looked　up　in　her　eyes。　　There　was　permission：　there　was
something　more；　that　was　flattering　to　his　vanity。　　He　took　the
wine…glass；　and；　slowly　and　in　silence；　filled　it　from　the
mysterious　flask。

The　wine　fell　into　the　glass　clearly；　transparently；　heavily；　but
still　and　cold　as　death。　　There　was　no　sparkle；　no　cheap
ebullition；　no　evanescent　bubble。　　Yet　it　was　so　clear；　that；　but
for　a　faint　amber…tinting；　the　glass　seemed　empty。　　There　was　no
aroma；　no　ethereal　diffusion　from　its　equable　surface。　　Perhaps　it
was　fancy；　perhaps　it　was　from　nervous　excitement；　but　a　slight
chill　seemed　to　radiate　from　the　still　goblet；　and　bring　down　the
temperature　of　the　terrace。　　Mr。　Clinch　and　his　companion　both
insensibly　shivered。

But　only　for　a　moment。　　Mr。　Clinch　raised　the　glass　to　his　lips。
As　he　did　so；　he　remembered　seeing　distinctly；　as　in　a　picture
before　him；　the　sunlit　terrace；　the　pretty　girl　in　the　foreground；
an　amused　spectator　of　his　sacrilegious　act；the　outlying　ivy…
crowned　wall；　the　grass…grown　ditch；　the　tall　factory　chimneys
rising　above　the　chestnuts；　and　the　distant　poplars　that　marked　the
Rhine。

The　wine　was　delicious；　perhaps　a　TRIFLE；　only　a　trifle；　heady。　　He
was　conscious　of　a　slight　exaltation。　　There　was　also　a　smile　upon
the　girl's　lip　and　a　roguish　twinkle　in　her　eye　as　she　looked　at
him。

〃Do　you　find　the　wine　to　your　taste？〃　she　asked。

〃Fair　enough；　I　warrant；〃　said　Mr。　Clinch　with　ponderous　gallantry；
〃but　methinks　'tis　nothing　compared　with　the　nectar　that　grows　on
those　ruby　lips。　　Nay；　by　St。　Ursula；　I　swear　it！〃

No　sooner　had　this　solemnly　ridiculous　speech　passed　the　lips　of
the　unfortunate　man　than　he　would　have　given　worlds　to　have
recalled　it。　　He　knew　that　he　must　be　intoxicated；　that　the
sentiment　and　language　were　utterly　unlike　him；　he　was　miserably
aware；　that　he　did　not　even　know　exactly　what　it　meant；　he　was　also
hopelessly　conscious。　　Yet　feeling　all　this；feeling；　too；　the
shame　of　appearing　before　her　as　a　man　who　had　lost　his　senses
through　a　single　glass　of　wine；nevertheless　he　rose　awkwardly；
seized　her　hand；　and　by　sheer　force　drew　her　towards　him；　and
kissed　her。　　With　an　exclamation　that　was　half　a　cry　and　half　a
laugh；　she　fled　from　him；　leaving　him　alone　and　bewildered　on　the
terrace。

For　a　moment　Mr。　Clinch　supported　himself　against　the　open　window；
leaning　his　throbbing　head　on　the　cold　glass。　　Shame；　mortification；
an　hysterical　half…consciousness　of　his　utter　ridiculousness；　and
yet　an　odd；　undefined　terror　of　something；　by　turns　possessed　him。
Was　he　ever　before　guilty　of　such　perfect　folly？　　Had　he　ever　before
made　such　a　spectacle　of　himself？　　Was　it　possible　that　he；　Mr。
James　Clinch；　the　coolest　head　at　a　late　supper；he；　the　American；
who　had　repeatedly　drunk　Frenchmen　and　Englishmen　under　the
tablecould　be　transformed　into　a　sentimental；　stagey　idiot　by　a
single　glass　of　wine？　　He　was　conscious；　too；　of　asking　himself
these　very　questions　in　a　stilted　sort　of　rhetoric；　and　with　a
rising　brutality　of　anger　that　was　new　to　him。　　And　then　everything
swam　before　him；　and　he　seemed　to　lose　all　consciousness。

But　only　for　an　instant。　　With　a　strong　effort　of　his　will　he　again
recalled　himself；　his　situation；　his　surroundings；　and；　above　all；
his　appointment。　　He　rose　to　his　feet；　hurriedly　descended　the
terrace…steps；　and；　before　he　well　knew　how；　found　himself　again　on
the　road。　　Once　there；　his　faculties　returned　in　full　vigor；　he　was
again　himself。　　He　strode　briskly　forward　toward　the　ditch　he　had
crossed　only　a　few　moments　before；　but　was　suddenly　stopped。　　It
was　filled　with　water。　　He　looked　up　and　down。　　It　was　clearly　the
same　ditch；　but　a　flowing　stream　thirty　feet　wide　now　separated　him
from　the　other　bank。

The　appearance　of　this　unlooked…for　obstacle　made　Mr。　Clinch　doubt
the　full　restoration　of　his　faculties。　　He　stepped　to　the　brink　of
the　flood　to　bathe　his　head　in　the　stream；　and　wash　away　the　last
vestiges　of　his　potations。　　But　as　he　approached　the　placid　depths；
and　knelt　down　he　again　started　back；　and　this　time　with　a　full
conviction　of　his　own　madness；　for　reflected　from　its　mirror…like
surface　was　a　figure　he　could　scarcely　call　his　own；　although　here
and　there　some　trace　of　his　former　self　remained。

His　close…cropped　hair；　trimmed　a　la　mode；　had　given　way　to　long；
curling　locks　that　dropped　upon　his　shoulders。　　His　neat　mustache
was　frightfully　prolonged；　and　curled　up　at　the　ends　stiffly。　　His
Piccadilly　collar　had　changed　shape　and　texture；　and　reacheda
mass　of　laceto　a　point　midway　of　his　breast！　　His　boots；why　had
he　not　noticed　his　boots　before？these　triumphs　of　his　Parisian
bootmaker；　were　lost　in　hideous　leathern　cases　that　reached　half
way　up　his　thighs。　　In　place　of　his　former　high　silk　hat；　there　lay
upon　the　ground　beside　him　th