雙語·灼人的秘密 三重唱

As was clearly demonstrated a few hours later, the baron’s plan proved highly successful. Intentionally he came rather late to luncheon;and the boy, who was already seated at table, sprang up to greet his new friend with enthusiasm. He plucked his mother’s sleeve, whispered a few words in her ear, and drew her attention to the baron with hands and eyes. The lady reproved him for his unseemly behaviour, blushing the while and evidently put out of countenance. Yet she could not help glancing in the young gentleman’s direction, and this gave her suitor an opportunity. He bowed respectfully—henceforward they “knew” one another, the necessary introduction had been made. She, in her turn, felt obliged to recognize his civility with a gracious nod, but for the remainder of the meal she kept her eyes glued to her plate. With Edgar it was otherwise. He was constantly spying in the baron’s direction, and once even went so far as to address his newly-found friend—for which piece of effrontery his mother reproved him smartly. So soon as luncheon was over, he was ordered to go upstairs and lie down. Edgar begged and prayed to be let off. In the end his mother permitted him to take leave of the baron. The latter spoke a few pleasant words to the lad, and Edgar’s eyes glistened with joy. Then, with a nonchalant air, the young man stood up, turned towards the neighbouring table, and, addressing the lady, complimented her upon having so intelligent and jolly a little chap as son, and referred to the pleasant morning he and Edgar had passed in one another’s company. Meanwhile the boy stood by, blushing with delight. The baron plied the lady with questions concerning Edgar’s health, so that in the end she was compelled to reply. Gradually, as the barriers were broken down, the two elders engaged in a lengthy conversation to which the boy listened entranced. Then Sternfeldt introduced himself formally, mentioning his name and title—to which, it would seem, the lady was not wholly indifferent. Take it all in all, she was most gracious in her manner towards her new acquaintance. Nevertheless, she soon moved to withdraw, excusing herself from further conversation because of her son’s delicate health.

The boy entered a lively protest, saying that he was not in the least tired, and was quite prepared to sit up throughout the afternoon and far into the night. But his mother had already proffered her hand to the baron who deferentially bent his head over it and kissed it gallantly.

That night Edgar slept badly. His brain was in a whirl of ecstasy and despair. Something new had suddenly entered his life. For the first time in his experience he had participated in the destinies of fully grown persons. As he swayed between sleep and waking he forgot his own childhood and deemed himself an adult. So far, his existence had not been a particularly happy one, since he was an only child and his health was constantly giving trouble. His parents had been the only target for his affections, and they paid little heed to him. The boy’s other companions were the household servants. Thus his feelings had been pent up to bursting point, and at the first chance were likely to overwhelm the object which seemed worthy of a great love. Edgar lay in the dark, happy but puzzled, wishing to laugh aloud and finding the tears streaming down his face. He loved his new friend more deeply than father, mother, or even God Almighty. An intense and passionate longing went up from his heart, and wove a glamour around the image of this fascinating companion.

“I’m certainly not worthy of his friendship,” he thought. “A kid like me, barely twelve, all my schooldays before me, sent off to bed long before anyone else thinks of going...What can I ever be to him? What have I to offer him?...”

This torturing sense of inability to show his friend what he felt made Edgar miserable. Before, when he had chummed up with a schoolfellow, he had always been able to show his liking by the gift of a stamp from his album, or some other object dear to a youthful heart. But now things of the sort seemed idiotic, utterly valueless. How could he present such paltry tokens of affections to his new friend? What means could he employ to show his regard? He was tormented by the recognition of his immaturity. How rotten to be nothing more than a kid of twelve! Never had he so yearned to be grown up, to be big and strong, to be a real man.

These uneasy musings were interwoven with premonitions of an awakening manhood, rosy dreams which passed gradually into the realm of sleep. But even as he slept, a contented smile played about his lips....Tomorrow he would see his friend again....Had they not fixed it up for a walk together?...

At seven he awoke with a start. Had he overslept himself? Quickly he got into his clothes, and ran to bid his mother the customary good morning. She was amazed to find him up so early. Usually it was all she could do to drag him out of his bed and get him washed and dressed in time for breakfast.

Before she could question him as to his unwonted behaviour, he had already bolted from the room. Forgetting all about breakfast, Edgar prowled up and down the lounge till nine eagerly watching the lift, determined not to miss his friend and the promised walk....

At last, a little before ten, Baron Otto von Sternfeldt strolled unconcernedly into the hall. The tryst had long since escaped his memory. But when the boy rushed up to him and passionately recalled the previous day’s promise, the baron proved affable, and cordially entered into Edgar’s plan, smiling the while at so excessive a demonstration of friendliness. Linking his arm in that of his companion, he sauntered to and fro, quietly but firmly refusing to quit the hall immediately. He seemed to be waiting for someone, and scanned both lift and doors attentively. Of a sudden he stiffened. Edgar’s mother sailed towards the twain with a smile of greeting. She fell in with the idea of a walk, and the three set out together.

This was far from being the treat Edgar had expected. He had reckoned upon a tete-a-tete, and was sorely disappointed. Biting his lips, the boy slouched sulkily in their wake. The promised walk, he thought, was his own special privilege. It had only been out of kindness that he had introduced his mother to this wonderful friend, but he could not conceive why he should share the baron’s friendship with anyone. A dash of jealousy intermingled with his loving adoration. He could not help noticing how attentive and considerate the man was towards this interloper....

As the trio made tracks for the woods, the talk was almost wholly directed towards Edgar. His frail health, his paleness, were commented upon by the woman with loving anxiety, while the baron insisted upon the sprightly wit and pleasant ways of his “Friend”, as it pleased him to call the lad. This created an idea of his own importance in Edgar’s mind, contributing to his sense of self-esteem—a dangerous feeling to arouse in a child’s heart. Thus flattered, he regained his good humour. Never before had people conceded him any rights. Now he felt he had been given his due. He was allowed to enter into the conversation on equal terms, instead of being told that little boys were to be seen but not heard. Moreover, he spoke of certain wishes he had long been forced to repress, and they were now given serious consideration. What was there to be surprised at that such treatment should make him feel grown up? Childhood with its artless dreams lay behind him, a relic of the past, discarded like a worn-out garment.

The lady invited Sternfeldt to share her table at luncheon. A casual acquaintanceship had ripened into friendship. Our trio was now in full swing, the voices of woman, man, and child mingling harmoniously together.