anner.themummy-第10节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


t　get　to　the　tables；　and　though　he　didn't　feel　lucky…no；　not　lucky　at　all　tonight…well；　he　had　to　give　it　a　try。
　
　〃Just　wait　now；　sir。　Sit　down；　sir；〃　　Daisy　said；　ing　after　him。〃　Have　another　glass　with　me　and　then　a　little　nap。　It's　barely　six　o'clock。〃
　
　〃Let　me　alone；〃　　he　said。　He　put　on　his　greatcoat　and　pulled　on　his　leather　gloves。　Sharpies。　A　stupid　man；　Sharpies。　He　felt　in　his　coat　pocket　for　the　knife　he'd　carried　for　years。　Yes；　still　there。　He　drew　it　out　now；　and　examined　the　thin　steel　blade。〃　Oh　no；　sir；〃　　Daisy　gasped。〃　Don't　be　a　fool；〃　　he　said　offhandedly；　and　closing　the　knife　and　putting　it　back　into　his　pocket　he　went　out　the　door。
　
　No　sound　now　but　the　low　gurgling　of　the　fountain　in　the　conservatory；　the　ashen　twilight　long　gone；　the　Egyptian　room　lighted　only　by　the　green　shaded　lamp　on　Lawrence's　desk。
　
　Julie　sat　in　her　father's　leather　chair；　back　to　the　wall；　her　silk　peignoir　soft　and　fortable；　and　surprisingly　warm；　her　hand　on　the　diary　which　she　had　not　yet　read。
　
　The　glittering　mask　of　Ramses　the　Great　was　ever　so　slightly　frightening；　the　large　almond…shaped　eyes　peering　into　the　soft　shadows；　the　marble　Cleopatra　appeared　to　glow。　And　so　beautiful　the　coins　mounted　on　black　velvet　against　the　far　wall。
　
　She　had　inspected　them　carefully　earlier。　Same　profile　as　the　bust；　same　rippling　hair　beneath　its　gold　tiara。　A　Greek　Cleopatra；　not　the　silly　Egyptian　image　so　popular　in　programmes　for　Shakespeare's　tragedy；　or　in　the　engravings　which　illustrated　Plutarch's　Lives　and　popular　histories　galore。
　
　Profile　of　a　beautiful　woman；　strong；　not　tragic。　Strong　as　Romans　loved　their　heroes　and　heroines　to　be　strong。
　
　The　thick　scrolls　of　parchment　and　papyrus　looked　all　too　fragile　as　they　lay　heaped　on　the　marble　table。　The　other　items　could　also　be　easily　destroyed　by　prying　hands。　Quill　pens；　ink　pots；　a　little　silver　burner　meant　for　oil；　it　seemed；　with　a　ring　in　which　to　position　a　glass　vial。　The　vials　themselves　lay　beside　it…exquisite　specimens　of　early　glasswork；　each　with　a　tiny　silver　cap。　Of　course　all　these　little　relics；　and　the　string　of　alabaster　jars　behind　them；　were　protected　by　small；　neatly　inscribed　signs　which　read：〃　Please　do　not　touch。〃
　
　Nevertheless；　it　worried　her；　so　many　ing　here　to　view　these　things。
　
　〃Remember；　it's　poison；　most　definitely；〃　　Julie　had　told　Rita　and　Oscar；　her　indispensable　maid　and　butler。　And　that　had　been　enough　to　keep　them　out　of　the　room！
　
　〃It's　a　body；　miss；〃　　Rita　had　said。〃　A　dead　body！　Never　mind　it's　an　Egyptian　King。　I　say　leave　the　dead　alone；　miss。〃
　
　Julie　had　laughed　softly　to　herself。〃　The　British　Museum　is　full　of　dead　bodies；　Rita。〃
　
　If　only　the　dead　could　e　back。　If　only　the　ghost　of　her　father　would　e　to　her。　Imagine　such　a　miracle。　Having　him　again；　speaking　to　him；　hearing　his　voice。　What　happened；　Father？　Did　you　suffer？　Was　there　even　one　second　when　you　were　afraid？
　
　Yes；　she　wouldn't　have　minded　such　a　visitation　at　all。　But　no　such　thing　would　ever　happen。　That　was　the　horror。　We　went　from　the　cradle　to　the　grave　beset　by　mundane　tragedies。　The　splendour　of　the　supernatural　was　a　thing　for　stories　and　poems；　and　Shakespeare's　plays。
　
　But　why　dwell　on　it？　Now　had　e　the　moment　to　be　alone　with　her　father's　treasures；　and　to　read　the　last　words　he　wrote。
　
　She　turned　the　pages　now　to　the　date　of　the　discovery。　And　the　first　words　she　saw　made　her　eyes　fill　with　tears。
　
　Must　write　to　Julie；　describe　everything。　Hieroglyphs　on　the　door　virtually　free　of　error；　must　have　been　written　by　one　who　knew　what　he　was　writing。　Yet　the　Greek　is　entirely　of　the　Ptolemaic　period。　And　the　Latin　is　sophisticated。　Impossible；　Yet　there　it　is。　Samir　unmonly　fearful　and　superstitious。　Must　sleep　for　a　few　hours。　Am　going　in　tonight！
　
　There　was　a　hasty　ink　sketch　of　the　door　of　the　tomb　and　its　three　broad　paragraphs　of　writing。　Hastily　she　turned　to　the　next　page。
　
　Nine　P。M。　by　my　watch。　Inside　the　chamber　at　last。　Appears　to　be　a　library　rather　than　a　tomb。　The　man　has　been　laid　to　rest　in　a　King's　coffin　beside　a　desk　on　which　he　has　left　some　thirteen　scrolls。　He　writes　entirely　in　Latin；　with　obvious　haste　but　no　carelessness。　There　are　droplets　of　ink　all　over；　but　the　text　is　pletely　coherent。
　
　〃Call　me　Ramses　the　Damned。　For　that　is　the　name　I　have　given　myself。　But　I　was　once　Ramses　the　Great　of　Upper　and　Lower　Egypt；　slayer　of　the　Hittites；　Father　of　many　sons　and　daughters；　who　ruled　Egypt　for　sixty…four　years。　My　monuments　are　still　standing；　the　stele　recount　my　victories；　though　a　thousand　years　have　passed　since　I　was　pulled；　a　mortal　child；　from　the　womb。
　
　〃Ah；　fatal　moment　now　buried　by　time；　when　from　a　Hittite　priestess　I　took　the　cursed　elixir。　Her　warnings　I　would　not　heed。　Immortality　I　craved。　And　so　I　drank　the　potion　in　the　brimming　cup。　And　now；　long　centuries　gone　by…amid　the　poisons　of　my　lost　Queen；　I　hide　the　potion　which　she　would　not　accept　from　me…my　doomed　Cleopatra。〃
　
　Julie　stopped。　The　elixir；　hidden　amongst　these　poisons？　She　realized　what　Samir　had　meant。　The　papers　had　not　told　that　part　of　the　little　mystery。　Tantalizing。　These　poisons　hide　a　formula　that　can　grant　eternal　life。
　
　〃But　who　would　create　such　a　fiction！〃　　she　whispered。
　
　She　found　herself　staring　at　the　marble　bust　of　Cleopatra。　Immortality。　Why　would　Cleopatra　not　drink　the　potion？　Oh；　but　really；　she　was　beginning　to　believe　it！　She　smiled。
　
　She　turned　the　page　of　the　diary。　The　translation　was　interrupted。　Her　father　had　written　only：
　
　Goes　on　to　describe　how　Cleopatra　awakened　him　from　his　dream…filled　sleep；　how　he　tutored　her；　loved　her；　watched　her　seduce　the　Roman　leaders　one　by　one。。。
　
　〃Yes；〃　　Julie　whispered。〃　Julius　Caesar　first　and　then　Mark　Antony。　But　why　would　she　not　take　the　elixir？〃　　There　was　another　paragraph　of　translation：
　
　〃How　can　I　bear　this　burden　any　longer？　How　can　I　endure　the　loneliness　anymore？　Yet　I　can　not　die。　Her　poisons　can　not　harm　me。　They　keep　my　elixir　safe　so　that　I　may　dream　of　still　other　Queens；　both　fair　and　wise；　to　share　the　centuries　with　me。　But　is　it　not　her　face　I　see？　Her　voice　I　hear？　Cleopatra。　Yesterday。　Tomorrow。　Cleopatra。〃
　
　Latin　followed。　Several　scribbled　paragraphs　in　Latin　which　Julie　could　not　read。　Even　with　the　aid　of　a　dictionary　she　could　not　have　translated　it。　Then　there　were　a　few　lines　of　demotic　Egyptian；　even　more　nearly　impenetrable　than　that　Latin。　Nothing　more。
　
　She　laid　down　the　book。　She　fought　the　inevitable　tears。　It　was　almost　as　if　she　could　feel　the　presence　of　her　father　in　this　room。　How　excited　he　must　have　been；　what　a　lovely　scribble　his　handwriting　had　bee。
　
　And　how　lovely　the　whole　mystery　was。
　
　Somewhere　among　all　those　poisons；　an　elixir　that　conveyed　immortality？　One　need　not　take　it　literally　to　find　it　beautiful。
　
　And　behold　that　tiny　silver　burner　and　the　delicate　vial。　Ramses　the　Damned　had　believed　it。　Perhaps　her　father　had　believed　it。　And　for　the　moment；　well；　maybe　she　did　too。
　
　She　rose　slowly　and　approached　the　long　marble　table　against　the　opposite　wall。　The　scrolls　were　too　fragile。　There　were　tiny　bits　and　pieces　of　papyrus　scattered　everywhere。　She　had　seen　this　damage　done　as　die　men　lifted　them　ever　so　carefully　from　their　crates。　She　dared　not　touch　them。　Besides；　she　couldn't　read　them。
　
　As　for　the　jars；　she　mustn't　touch　them　either。　What　if　some　of　that　poison　were　spilled；　or　somehow　released　into　the　air？
　
　She　found　herself　suddenly　looking　at　her　own　reflection　in　the　mirror　on　the　wall。　She　went　back　to　the　desk；　and　opened　the　folded　newspaper　that　lay　there。
　
　Shakespeare's　Antony　and　Cleopatra　was　enjoying　a　long　run　in　London。　She　and　Alex　had　meant　to　go　and　see　it；　but　then　Alex　fell　asleep　during　serious　plays。　Only　Gilbert　and　Sullivan　entertained　Alex。　and　even　then　he　was　usually　nodding　off　by　the　end　of　the　third　act。
　
　She　studied　the　little　announcement　for　the　performance。　She　stood　up　and　reached　for　Plutarch　on　the　bookshelf　above　the　desk。
　
　Where　was　the　story　of　Cleopatra？　Plutarch　had　not　devoted　a　full　biography　to　her。　No；　her　story　was　contained　in　that　of　Mark　Antony；　of　course。
　
　She　paged　quickly　to　the　passages　she　only　dimly　remembered。　Cleopatra　had　been　a　great　Queen；　and　what　we　call　now　a　great　politician。　She　had　not　only　seduced　Caesar　and　Antony；　she　kept　Egypt　free　of　Roman　conquest　for　decades；　finally　taking　her　own　life　when　Antony　was　dead　by　his　own　hand；　and　Octavius　Caesar　had　stormed　her　gates。　The　loss　of　Egypt　to　Rome　had　been　inevitable；　but　she　had　almost　turned　the　tide。　Had　Julius　Caesar　not　been　assassinated；　he　might　have　made　Cleopatra　his　Empress。　Had　Mark　Antony　been　a　little　stronger；　Octavian　might　have　been　overthrown。
　
　Even　in　her　final　days；　however；　Cleopatra　had　been　victorious　in　her　own　way。　Octavian　wanted　to　take　her　to　Rome　as　a　royal　prisoner。　She　had　cheated　him。　She　had　tried　out　dozens　of　poisons　on　condemned　prisoners；　and　then　chosen　the　bite　of　a　snake　to　end　her　life。　The　Roman　guards　had　not　prevented　her　suicide。　And　so　Octavian