the virgin of the sun-第1章
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The Virgin of the Sun
By H。 Rider Haggard
DEDICATION
My Dear Little；
Some five…and…thirty years ago it was our custom to discuss many
matters； among them； I think； the history and romance of the
vanished Empires of Central America。
In memory of those far…off days will you accept a tale that deals
with one of them； that of the marvellous Incas of Peru； with the
legend also that； long before the Spanish Conquerors entered on
their mission of robbery and ruin； there in that undiscovered land
lived and died a White God risen from the sea？
Ever sincerely yours；
H。 Rider Haggard。
Ditchingham；
Oct。 24； 1921。
James Stanley Little； Esq。
THE VIRGIN OF THE SUN
INTRODUCTORY
There are some who find great interest； and even consolation； amid the
worries and anxieties of life in the collection of relics of the past；
drift or long…sunk treasures that the sea of time has washed up upon
our modern shore。
The great collectors are not of this class。 Having large sums at their
disposal； these acquire any rarity that comes upon the market and add
it to their store which in due course； perhaps immediately upon their
deaths； also will be put upon the market and pass to the possession of
other connoisseurs。 Nor are the dealers who buy to sell again and thus
grow wealthy。 Nor are the agents of museums in many lands； who
purchase for the national benefit things that are gathered together in
certain great public buildings which perhaps； some day； though the
thought makes one shiver； will be looted or given to the flames by
enemies or by furious； thieving mobs。
Those that this Editor has in mind； from one of whom indeed he
obtained the history printed in these pages； belong to a quite
different category； men of small means often； who collect old things；
for the most part at out…of…the…way sales or privately； because they
love them； and sometimes sell them again because they must。 Frequently
these old things appeal； not because of any intrinsic value that they
may have； not even for their beauty； for they may be quite
unattractive even to the cultivated eye； but rather for their
associations。 Such folk love to reflect upon and to speculate about
the long…dead individuals who have owned the relics； who have supped
their soup from the worn Elizabethan spoon； who have sat at the
rickety oak table found in a kitchen or an out…house； or upon the
broken； ancient chair。 They love to think of the little children whose
skilful； tired hands wrought the faded sampler and whose bright eyes
smarted over its innumerable stitches。
Who； for instance； was the May Shore （〃Fairy〃 broidered in a bracket
underneath； was her pet name）； who finished yonder elaborate example
on her tenth birthday； the 1st of Maydoubtless that is where she got
her namein the year 1702； and on what far shore does she keep her
birthdays now？ None will ever know。 She has vanished into the great
sea of mystery whence she came； and there she lives and has her being；
forgotten upon earth； or sleeps and sleeps and sleeps。 Did she die
young or old； married or single？ Did she ever set /her/ children to
work other samplers； or had she none？ was she happy or unhappy； was
she homely or beautiful？ Was she a sinner or a saint？ Again none will
ever know。 She was born on the 1st of May； 1692； and certainly she
died on some date unrecorded。 So far as human knowledge goes that is
all her history； just as much or as little as will be left of most of
us who breathe to…day when this earth has completed two hundred and
eighteen more revolutions round the sun。
But the kind of collector alluded to can best be exemplified in the
individual instance of him from whom the manuscript was obtained； of
which a somewhat modernized version is printed on these pages。 He has
been dead some years； leaving no kin； and under his will； such of his
motley treasures as it cared to accept went to a local museum； while
the rest and his other property were sold for the benefit of a
mystical brotherhood； for the old fellow was a kind of spiritualist。
Therefore； there is no harm in giving his plebeian name； which was
Potts。 Mr。 Potts had a small draper's shop in an undistinguished and
rarely visited country town in the east of England； which shop he ran
with the help of an assistant almost as old and peculiar as himself。
Whether he made anything out of it or whether he lived upon private
means is now unknown and does not matter。 Anyway； when there was
something of antiquarian interest or value to be bought； generally he
had the money to pay for it； though at times； in order to do so； he
was forced to sell something else。 Indeed these were the only
occasions when it was possible to purchase anything； indifferent
hosiery excepted； from Mr。 Potts。
Now； I； the Editor； who also love old things； and to whom therefore
Mr。 Potts was a sympathetic soul； was aware of this fact and entered
into an arrangement with the peculiar assistant to whom I have
alluded； to advise me of such crises which arose whenever the local
bank called Mr。 Potts's attention to the state of his account。 Thus it
came about that one day I received the following letter：
Sir；
The Guv'nor has gone a bust upon some cracked china； the ugliest
that ever I saw though no judge。 So if you want to get that old
tall clock at the first price or any other of his rubbish； I think
now is your chance。 Anyhow； keep this dark as per agreement。
Your obedient；
Tom。
（He always signed himself Tom； I suppose to mystify； although I
believe his real name was Betterly。）
The result of this epistle was a long and disagreeable bicycle ride in
wet autumn weather； and a visit to the shop of Mr。 Potts。 Tom； alias
Betterly； who was trying to sell some mysterious undergarments to a
fat old woman； caught sight of me； the Editor aforesaid； and winked。
In a shadowed corner of the shop sat Mr。 Potts himself upon a high
stool； a wizened little old man with a bent back； a bald head； and a
hooked nose upon which were set a pair of enormous horn…rimmed
spectacles that accentuated his general resemblance to an owl perched
upon the edge of its nest…hole。 He was busily engaged in doing
nothing； and in staring into nothingness as； according to Tom； was his
habit when communing with what he； Tom； called his 〃dratted speerits。〃
〃Customer！〃 said Tom in a harsh voice。 〃Sorry to disturb you at your
prayers； Guv'nor； but not having two pair of hands I can't serve a
crowd；〃 meaning the old woman of the undergarments and myself。
Mr。 Potts slid off his stool and prepared for action。 When he saw；
however； who the customer was he bristledthat is the only word for
it。 The truth is that although between us there was an inward and
spiritual sympathy； there was also an outward and visible hostility。
Twice I had outbid Mr。 Potts at a local auction for articles which he
desired。 Moreover； after the fashion of every good collector he felt
it to be his duty to hate me as another collector。 Lastly； several
times I had offered him smaller sums for antiques upon which he set a
certain monetary value。 It is true that long ago I had given up this
bargaining for the reason that Mr。 Potts would never take less than he
asked。 Indeed he followed the example of the vendor of the Sibylline
books in ancient Rome。 He did not destroy the goods indeed after the
fashion of that person and demand the price of all of them for the one
that remained； but invariably he put up his figure by 10 per cent。 and
nothing would induce him to take off one farthing。
〃What do /you/ want； sir？〃 he said grumpily。 〃Vests； hose； collars； or
socks？〃
〃Oh； socks； I think；〃 I replied at hazard； thinking that they would be
easiest to carry； whereupon Mr。 Potts produced some peculiarly
objectionable and shapeless woollen articles which he almost threw at
me； sayin
