雙語(yǔ)·灼人的秘密 最后的夢(mèng)

Yes, it was his mother. Through inquiries made at Simmering station, she had traced the direction of his flight. She had wired to her husband in Vienna, to Grannie in Baden. He was expected. Why had he not arrived ? Frau Blumental, taking the express, had outstripped him. They led him in subdued triumph to the sitting-room. True, he was scolded; but the scoldings did not wound him, for in the eyes of those that scolded he saw nothing but joy and love. Even their assumed anger could not last; it fizzled out almost before the reprimand had been made. Now Grannie was hugging him again, and crying over him. No one reproached him. Wonderful! He felt as though he were a prisoner of love. The maid pulled off his thin coat and muffled him in a warm shawl; asked him if he were not hungry, or if there was anything she could bring him. He had hated being looked upon as a child; but now he revelled in the bliss of being cared for. The arrogance and presumption of the last few days vanished.

The telephone buzzed in the neighbouring room. His mother answered the call. “Yes...Edgar’s come...it’s all right... Why was she not furious with him, he wondered. Her dear eyes caressed him with a strange expression. His immediate impulse was to disregard all the coddling his Grannie and his Aunt Bertha were lavishing upon him and to throw himself into Mummy’s arms, to tell her how sorry he was, to promise anything she liked. He got up. But Grannie asked in alarm:

“Where are you going, pet?”

Anxious, were they, if he so much as moved? They fancied he was running away again. So he had given them all a jolly good fright? How could he ever make them understand that no one regretted this flight so much as he.

They served him an impromptu supper. Grannie sat by him, and never took her eyes off him. She and Auntie and the maid formed a loving circle round him. The warmth of their affection solaced him marvellously. But why was his mother not present? He felt uneasy at her absence. If she could only guess how utterly crushed he was...

A carriage drew up outside. Grannie left the room. Amid a medley of voices he recognized his father’s. Auntie and the maid had also gone out into the hall. Edgar was again alone, and again he was frightened by solitude. His father had always treated the boy with the utmost severity, and had made himself feared. Now Edgar listened to his father’s voice on the other side of the door. He appeared to be excited, and spoke in loud and angry tones. Grannie and Mummy seemed to be using their best endeavours to appease him. Resolute footsteps approached. The door opened.

Herr Blumental was a very tall man, so that Edgar felt as tiny as a doll when he was asked, in a harsh voice:

“What possessed you to run away and give your mother such a fright, you young scoundrel?”

The man was genuinely angry; but Mummy came in directly behind her husband. Her face was in shadow so that the boy could not take his cue from her and therefore, did not answer.

“Well? Lost your tongue? What was wrong? Own up, don’t be afraid. There must be some reason for running away. Anybody hurt your feelings?”

Edgar hesitated to reply. Anger and pique revived in him. Should he justify himself? He raised his eyes and looked at his mother. She was still in her husband’s huge shadow, but the boy saw her make an unwonted gesture. She slowly raised a finger to her lips, and her eyes implored silence.

The child’s heart warmed. He understood that she was begging him to keep her secret. How proud and happy he felt that she should ask him this service. Pulling himself together, he said:

“No, Dad! I was having a lovely time. Mummy was ever so good to me. But suddenly I felt I had to do something thoroughly naughty. So I ran away.”

Herr Blumental looked at his son dubiously. He had expected anything but this, and was disarmed by so abject a confession.

“Well,” he answered, “If you’re sorry, there’s no more to be said. Another time I trust you will reflect before behaving so rashly.” He gazed kindly down at the boy and his voice took on a softer tone. “You’re looking a bit pale, but you’ve grown a lot since you left home. Don’t be up to any more childish pranks. You are no longer a kid, and must try in future to be reasonable....”

Edgar gazed fixedly at his mother. There was a gleam in her eyes he had never seen before, they were moist and bright, while round her mouth played an elfin smile which seemed full of gratitude.

He was now sent off to bed, but he felt no resentment, neither did he mind being left alone once more. His head buzzed with thoughts. All the suffering of the last few days was swallowed up in the freshness and delight of this first real experience, and he looked forward undauntedly to further encounters with reality. The trees without soughed and swayed in the wind, but he was not saddened by the noise. Life was rich and manifold; he had seen it naked before him, bereft of lies and subterfuges, full of a perilous beauty. Hatred for persons or things seemed to him now a childish stupidity and misapprehension. Even the baron, his enemy, shared in the boy’s exuberant gratitude, because it had been through this false friend that the door into a wonderland of the emotions had been opened.

He lay in the dark, contented, proud, and happy. Sleep had almost enfolded him, when he became aware of someone moving softly in the room and of a hand gently stroking his hair. Tears dropped on to his cheeks...and, without a word, his mother kissed him fondly. Not until many years later did Edgar understand the full meaning of these tears and kisses. They were a vow that henceforward Mummy would devote all her energies, all her love to him; that there would be no more adventures in her life; that she had said farewell to the pleasures of the flesh. She was grateful to her child for saving her from a futile and unworthy liaison; and, in a bitter-sweet compunction, she pledged herself to her boy’s service. Though Edgar could not, child that he still was, grasp the significance of all this at the time, he nevertheless felt that it was glorious to be loved so much, and he surmised that in some incomprehensible manner such love was inextricably interwoven with the major secret of life.

After she had withdrawn and closed the door behind her, Edgar felt her presence and the warm glow of her lips upon his cheek. As he gradually dropped off to sleep, he drowsily wished he might often feel the pressure of soft lips against his own. A final and confused vision of the last eventful days swept before him; fate turned the pages of the Book of Youth; the child fell asleep, and the profound dream of life began to unfold itself.