Mark Twain: Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc, The Prince and the Pauper & A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. Марк Твен
constantly. He talked about his old father, and his brother Arthur, and told of many things which illustrated their high and generous characters; he went into loving frenzies over his Edith, and was so gladhearted that he was even able to say some gentle and brotherly things about Hugh. He dwelt a deal on the coming meeting at Hendon Hall; what a surprise it would be to everybody, and what an outburst of thanksgiving and delight there would be.
It was a fair region, dotted with cottages and orchards, and the road led through broad pasture lands whose receding expanses, marked with gentle elevations and depressions, suggested the swelling and subsiding undulations of the sea. In the afternoon the returning prodigal made constant deflections from his course to see if by ascending some hillock he might not pierce the distance and catch a glimpse of his home. At last he was successful, and cried out excitedly —
“There is the village, my Prince, and there is the Hall close by! You may see the towers from here; and that wood there — that is my father’s park. Ah, NOW thou’lt know what state and grandeur be! A house with seventy rooms — think of that! — and seven and twenty servants! A brave lodging for such as we, is it not so? Come, let us speed — my impatience will not brook further delay.”
All possible hurry was made; still, it was after three o’clock before the village was reached. The travellers scampered through it, Hendon’s tongue going all the time. ”Here is the church — covered with the same ivy — none gone, none added.” ”Yonder is the inn, the old Red Lion, — and yonder is the marketplace.” ”Here is the Maypole, and here the pump — nothing is altered; nothing but the people, at any rate; ten years make a change in people; some of these I seem to know, but none know me.” So his chat ran on. The end of the village was soon reached; then the travellers struck into a crooked, narrow road, walled in with tall hedges, and hurried briskly along it for half a mile, then passed into a vast flower garden through an imposing gateway, whose huge stone pillars bore sculptured armorial devices. A noble mansion was before them.
“Welcome to Hendon Hall, my King!” exclaimed Miles. ”Ah, ‘tis a great day! My father and my brother, and the Lady Edith will be so mad with joy that they will have eyes and tongue for none but me in the first transports of the meeting, and so thou’lt seem but coldly welcomed — but mind it not; ‘twill soon seem otherwise; for when I say thou art my ward, and tell them how costly is my love for thee, thou’lt see them take thee to their breasts for Miles Hendon’s sake, and make their house and hearts thy home for ever after!”
The next moment Hendon sprang to the ground before the great door, helped the King down, then took him by the hand and rushed within. A few steps brought him to a spacious apartment; he entered, seated the King with more hurry than ceremony, then ran toward a young man who sat at a writing-table in front of a generous fire of logs.
“Embrace me, Hugh,” he cried, “and say thou’rt glad I am come again! and call our father, for home is not home till I shall touch his hand, and see his face, and hear his voice once more!”
But Hugh only drew back, after betraying a momentary surprise, and bent a grave stare upon the intruder — a stare which indicated somewhat of offended dignity, at first, then changed, in response to some inward thought or purpose, to an expression of marvelling curiosity, mixed with a real or assumed compassion. Presently he said, in a mild voice —
“Thy wits seem touched, poor stranger; doubtless thou hast suffered privations and rude buffetings at the world’s hands; thy looks and dress betoken it. Whom dost thou take me to be?”
“Take thee? Prithee for whom else than whom thou art? I take thee to be Hugh Hendon,” said Miles, sharply.
The other continued, in the same soft tone —
“And whom dost thou imagine thyself to be?”
“Imagination hath nought to do with it! Dost thou pretend thou knowest me not for thy brother Miles Hendon?”
An expression of pleased surprise flitted across Hugh’s face, and he exclaimed —
“What! thou art not jesting? can the dead come to life? God be praised if it be so! Our poor lost boy restored to our arms after all these cruel years! Ah, it seems too good to be true, it IS too good to be true — I charge thee, have pity, do not trifle with me! Quick — come to the light — let me scan thee well!”
He seized Miles by the arm, dragged him to the window, and began to devour him from head to foot with his eyes, turning him this way and that, and stepping briskly around him and about him to prove him from all points of view; whilst the returned prodigal, all aglow with gladness, smiled, laughed, and kept nodding his head and saying —
“Go on, brother, go on, and fear not; thou’lt find nor limb nor feature that cannot bide the test. Scour and scan me to thy content, my good old Hugh — I am indeed thy old Miles, thy same old Miles, thy lost brother, is’t not so? Ah, ‘tis a great day — I SAID ‘twas a great day! Give me thy hand, give me thy cheek — lord, I am like to die of very joy!”
He was about to throw himself upon his brother; but Hugh put up his hand in dissent, then dropped his chin mournfully upon his breast, saying with emotion —
“Ah, God of his mercy give me strength to bear this grievous disappointment!”
Miles, amazed, could not speak for a moment; then he found his tongue, and cried out —
“WHAT disappointment? Am I not thy brother?”
Hugh shook his head sadly, and said —
“I pray heaven it may prove so, and that other eyes may find the resemblances that are hid from mine. Alack, I fear me the letter spoke but too truly.”
“What letter?”
“One that came from over sea, some six or seven years ago. It said my brother died in battle.”
“It was a lie! Call thy father — he will know me.”
“One may not call the dead.”
“Dead?” Miles’s voice was subdued, and his lips trembled. ”My father dead! — oh, this is heavy news. Half my new joy is withered now. Prithee let me see my brother Arthur — he will know me; he will know me and console me.”
“He, also, is dead.”
“God be merciful to me, a stricken man! Gone, — both gone — the worthy taken and the worthless spared, in me! Ah! I crave your mercy! — do not say the Lady Edith — ”
“Is dead? No, she lives.”
“Then, God be praised, my joy is whole again! Speed thee, brother — let her come to me! An’ SHE say I am not myself — but she will not; no, no, SHE will know me, I were a fool to doubt it. Bring her — bring the old servants; they, too, will know me.”
“All are gone but five — Peter, Halsey, David, Bernard, and Margaret.”
So saying, Hugh left the room. Miles stood musing a while, then began to walk the floor, muttering —
“The five arch-villains have survived the two-and-twenty leal and honest — ’tis an odd thing.”
He continued walking back and forth, muttering to himself; he had forgotten the King entirely. By-and-by his Majesty said gravely, and with a touch of genuine compassion, though the words themselves were capable of being interpreted ironically —
“Mind not thy mischance, good man; there be others in the world whose identity is denied, and whose claims are derided. Thou hast company.”
“Ah, my King,” cried Hendon, colouring slightly, “do not thou condemn me — wait, and thou shalt see. I am no impostor — she will say it; you shall hear it from the sweetest lips in England. I an impostor? Why, I know this old hall, these pictures of my ancestors, and all these things that are about us, as a child knoweth its own nursery. Here was I born and bred, my lord; I speak the truth; I would not deceive