the queen of hearts-第32章

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reports　about　him　in　England。〃

〃I　speak　from　no　reports；　I　speak　from　what　he　has　said　and　done
before　me；　and　before　hundreds　of　other　people。　Surely　you　must
have　heard　of　it？〃

〃Never。　I　have　been　out　of　the　way　of　news　from　Naples　or　England
for　months　past。〃

〃Then　I　have　a　very　extraordinary　story　to　tell　you。　You　know；　of
course；　that　Alfred　had　an　uncle；　Stephen　Monkton。　Well；　some
time　ago　this　uncle　fought　a　duel　in　the　Roman　States　with　a
Frenchman；　who　shot　him　dead。　The　seconds　and　the　Frenchman　（who
was　unhurt）　took　to　flight　in　different　directions；　as　it　is
supposed。　We　heard　nothing　here　of　the　details　of　the　duel　till　a
month　after　it　happened；　when　one　of　the　French　journals
published　an　account　of　it；　taken　from　the　papers　left　by
Monkton's　second；　who　died　at　Paris　of　consumption。　These　papers
stated　the　manner　in　which　the　duel　was　fought；　and　how　it
terminated；　but　nothing　more。　The　surviving　second　and　the
Frenchman　have　never　been　traced　from　that　time　to　this。　All　that
anybody　knows；　therefore；　of　the　duel　is　that　Stephen　Monkton　was
shot；　an　event　which　nobody　can　regret；　for　a　greater　scoundrel
never　existed。　The　exact　place　where　he　died；　and　what　was　done
with　the　body　are　still　mysteries　not　to　be　penetrated。〃

〃But　what　has　all　this　to　do　with　Alfred？〃

〃Wait　a　moment；　and　you　will　hear。　Soon　after　the　news　of　his
uncle's　death　reached　England；　what　do　you　think　Alfred　did？　He
actually　put　off　his　marriage　with　Miss　Elmslie；　which　was　then
about　to　be　celebrated；　to　come　out　here　in　search　of　the
burial…place　of　his　wretched　scamp　of　an　uncle；　and　no　power　on
earth　will　now　induce　him　to　return　to　England　and　to　Miss
Elmslie　until　he　has　found　the　body；　and　can　take　it　back　with
him；　to　be　buried　with　all　the　other　dead　Monktons　in　the　vault
under　Wincot　Abbey　Chapel。　He　has　squandered　his　money；　pestered
the　police；　and　exposed　himself　to　the　ridicule　of　the　men　and
the　indignation　of　the　women　for　the　last　three　months　in　trying
to　achieve　his　insane　purpose；　and　is　now　as　far　from　it　as　ever。
He　will　not　assign　to　anybody　the　smallest　motive　for　his
conduct。　You　can't　laugh　him　out　of　it　or　reason　him　out　of　it。
When　we　met　him　just　now；　I　happen　to　know　that　he　was　on　his　way
to　the　office　of　the　police　minister；　to　send　out　fresh　agents　to
search　and　inquire　through　the　Roman　States　for　the　place　where
his　uncle　was　shot。　And；　mind；　all　this　time　he　professes　to　be
passionately　in　love　with　Miss　Elmslie；　and　to　be　miserable　at
his　separation　from　her。　Just　think　of　that！　And　then　think　of
his　self…imposed　absence　from　her　here；　to　hunt　after　the　remains
of　a　wretch　who　was　a　disgrace　to　the　family；　and　whom　he　never
saw　but　once　or　twice　in　his　life。　Of　all　the　'Mad　Monktons；'　as
they　used　to　call　them　in　England；　Alfred　is　the　maddest。　He　is
actually　our　principal　excitement　in　this　dull　opera　season；
though；　for　my　own　part；　when　I　think　of　the　poor　girl　in
England；　I　am　a　great　deal　more　ready　to　despise　him　than　to
laugh　at　him。〃

〃You　know　the　Elmslies　then？〃

〃Intimately。　The　other　day　my　mother　wrote　to　me　from　England；
after　having　seen　Ada。　This　escapade　of　Monkton's　has　outraged
all　her　friends。　They　have　been　entreating　her　to　break　off　the
match；　which　it　seems　she　could　do　if　she　liked。　Even　her　mother；
sordid　and　selfish　as　she　is；　has　been　obliged　at　last；　in　common
decency；　to　side　with　the　rest　of　the　family；　but　the　good；
faithful　girl　won't　give　Monkton　up。　She　humors　his　insanity；
declares　he　gave　her　a　good　reason　in　secret　for　going　away；　says
she　could　always　make　him　happy　when　they　were　together　in　the
old　Abbey；　and　can　make　him　still　happier　when　they　are　married；
in　short；　she　loves　him　dearly；　and　will　therefore　believe　in　him
to　the　last。　Nothing　shakes　her。　She　has　made　up　her　mind　to
throw　away　her　life　on　him；　and　she　will　do　it。〃

〃I　hope　not。　Mad　as　his　conduct　looks　to　us；　he　may　have　some
sensible　reason　for　it　that　we　cannot　imagine。　Does　his　mind　seem
at　all　disordered　when　he　talks　on　ordinary　topics？〃

〃Not　in　the　least。　When　you　can　get　him　to　say　anything；　which　is
not　often；　he　talks　like　a　sensible；　well…educated　man。　Keep
silence　about　his　precious　errand　here；　and　you　would　fancy　him
the　gentlest　and　most　temperate　of　human　beings；　but　touch　the
subject　of　his　vagabond　of　an　uncle；　and　　the　Monkton　madness
　comes　out　directly。　The　other　night　a　lady　asked　him；　jestingly
of　course；　whether　he　had　ever　seen　his　uncle's　ghost。　He　scowled
at　her　like　a　perfect　fiend；　and　said　that　he　and　his　uncle　would
answer　her　question　together　some　day；　if　they　came　from　hell　to
do　it。　We　laughed　at　his　words；　but　the　lady　fainted　at　his
looks；　and　we　had　a　scene　of　hysterics　and　hartshorn　in
consequence。　Any　other　man　would　have　been　kicked　out　of　the　room
for　nearly　frightening　a　pretty　woman　to　death　in　that　way；　but
'Mad　Monkton；'　as　we　have　christened　him；　is　a　privileged　lunatic
in　Neapolitan　society；　because　he　is　English；　good…looking；　and
worth　thirty　thousand　a　year。　He　goes　out　everywhere　under　the
impression　that　he　may　meet　with　somebody　who　has　been　let　into
the　secret　of　the　place　where　the　mysterious　duel　was　fought。　If
you　are　introduced　to　him　he　is　sure　to　ask　you　whether　you　know
anything　about　it；　but　beware　of　following　up　the　subject　after
you　have　answered　him；　unless　you　want　to　make　sure　that　he　is
out　of　his　senses。　In　that　case；　only　talk　of　his　uncle；　and　the
result　will　rather　more　than　satisfy　you。〃

A　day　or　two　after　this　conversation　with　my　friend　the
_attache；_　I　met　Monkton　at　an　evening　party。

The　moment　he　heard　my　name　mentioned；　his　face　flushed　up；　he
drew　me　away　into　a　corner；　and　referring　to　his　cool　reception
of　my　advance　years　ago　toward　making　his　acquaintance；　asked　my
pardon　for　what　he　termed　his　inexcusable　ingratitude　with　an
earnestness　and　an　agitation　which　utterly　astonished　me。　His
next　proceeding　was　to　question　me；　as　my　friend　had　said　he
would；　about　the　place　of　the　mysterious　duel。

An　extraordinary　change　came　over　him　while　he　interrogated　me　on
this　point。　Instead　of　looking　into　my　face　as　they　had　looked
hitherto；　his　eyes　wandered　away；　and　fixed　themselves　intensely；
almost　fiercely；　either　on　the　perfectly　empty　wall　at　our　side；
or　on　the　vacant　space　between　the　wall　and　ourselves；　it　was
impossible　to　say　which。　I　had　come　to　Naples　from　Spain　by　sea；
and　briefly　told　him　so；　as　the　best　way　of　satisfying　him　that　I
could　not　assist　his　inquiries。　He　pursued　them　no　further；　and；
mindful　of　my　friend's　warning；　I　took　care　to　lead　the
conversation　to　general　topics。　He　looked　back　at　me　directly；
and；　as　long　as　we　stood　in　our　corner；　his　eyes　never　wandered
away　again　to　the　empty　wall　or　the　vacant　space　at　our　side。

Though　more　ready　to　listen　than　to　speak；　his　conversation；　when
he　did　talk；　had　no　trace　of　anything　the　least　like　insanity
about　it。　He　had　evidently　read；　not　generally　only；　but　deeply
as　well；　and　could　apply　his　reading　with　singular　felicity　to
the　illustration　of　almost　any　subject　under　discussion；　neither
obtruding　his　knowledge　absurdly；　nor　concealing　it　affectedly。
His　manner　was　in　itself　a　standing　protest　against　such　a
nickname　as　〃Mad　Monkton。〃　He　was　so　shy；　so　quiet；　so　composed
and　gentle　in　all　his　actions；　that　at　times　I　should　have　been
almost　inclined　to　call　him　effeminate。　We　had　a　long　talk
together　on　the　first　evening　of　our　meeting；　we　often　saw　each
other　afterward；　and　never　lost　a　single　opportunity　of　bettering
our　acquaintance。　I　felt　that　he　had　taken　a　liking　to　me；　and；
in　spite　of　what　I　had　heard　about　his　behavior　to　Miss　Elmslie；
in　spite　of　the　suspicions　which　the　history　of　his　family　and
his　own　conduct　had　arrayed　against　him；　I　began　to　like　〃Mad
Monkton〃　as　much　as　he　liked　me。　We　took　many　a　quiet　ride
together　in　the　country；　and　sailed　often　along　the　shores　of　the
Bay　on　either　side。　But　for　two　eccentricities　in　his　conduct；
which　I　could　not　at　all　understand；　I　should　soon　have　felt　as
much　at　my　ease　in　his　society　as　if　he　had　been　my　own　brother。

The　first　of　these