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Miss Cayley's adventures (1899) by Grant AllenThe following is a Gaslight etext.... A message to you about copyright and permissionsBack to Gaslight's Grant Allen page Back to the Miss Cayley's adventures menu_MISS CAYLEY'S ADVENTURES_ (1899), ch. 9by Grant Allenpublished by Grant RichardsIXTHE ADVENTURES OF THE MAGNIFICENT MAHARAJAHOUR arrival at Bombay was a triumphal entry. Wewere received like royalty. Indeed, to tell youthe truth, Elsie and I were beginning to get just aleetle bit spoiled. It struck us now that ourcasual connection with the Ashurst family in itsvarious branches had succeeded in saddling us likethe Lady of Burleigh, 'with the burden of an honourunto which we were not born.' We were everywheretreated as persons of importance; and, oh dear, bydint of such treatment we began to feel at lastalmost as if we had been raised in the purple. Ifelt that when we got back to England we shouldturn up our noses at plain bread and butter.Yes, life has been kind to me. Have yourresearches into English literature ever chanced tolead you into reading Horace Walpole, I wonder?That polite trifler is fond of a word which hecoined himself--'Serendipity.' It derives from thename of a certain happy Indian Prince Serendip,whom he unearthed (or invented) in some obscureOriental story; a prince for whom the fairies orthe genii always managed to make everythingpleasant. It implies the faculty, which a few ofus possess, of finding whatever we want turn upaccidentally at the exact right moment. Well, Ibelieve I must have been born with serendipity inmy mouth, in place of the proverbial silver spoon,for wherever I go, all things seem to come outexactly right for me.The Jumna, for example, had hardly heavedto in Bombay Harbour when we noticed on the quay avery distinguished-looking Oriental potentate, in alarge, white turban with a particularly big diamondstuck ostentatiously in its front. He stalked onboard with a martial air, as soon as we stopped,and made inquiries from our captain after someonehe expected. The captain received him with thatodd mixture of respect for rank and wealth,combined with true British contempt for theinferior black-man, which is universal among hisclass in their dealings with native Indiannobility. The Oriental potentate, however, who wasaccompanied by a gorgeous suite like that of theWise Men in Italian pictures, seemed satisfied withhis information, and moved over with his statelyglide in our direction. Elsie and I were standingnear the gangway among our rugs and bundles, in thehopeless helplessness of disembarkation. Heapproached us respectfully, and, bowing withextended hands and a deferential air, asked, inexcellent English, 'May I venture to inquire whichof you two ladies is Miss Lois Cayley?''I am,' I replied, my breath taken awayby this unexpected greeting. 'May I venture toinquire in return how you came to know I wasarriving by this steamer?'He held out his hand, with a courteousinclination. 'I am the Maharajah ofMoozuffernuggar,' he answered in an impressivetone, as if everybody knew of the Maharajah ofMoozuffernuggar as familiarly as they knew of theDuke of Cambridge. 'Moozuffernuggar in Rajputana--not the one in the Doab. You must haveheard my name from Mr. Harold Tillington.'I had not; but I dissembled, so as to salve hispride. 'Mr. Tillington's friends are ourfriends,' I answered, sententiously.'And Mr. Tillington's friends are myfriends,' the Maharajah retorted, with a low bow toElsie. 'This is no doubt, Miss Petheridge. I haveheard of your expected arrival, as you will guess,from Tillington. He and I were at Oxford together;I am a Merton man. It was Tillington who firsttaught me all I know of cricket. He took me tostop at his father's place in Dumfriesshire. I owemuch to his friendship; and when he wrote me thatfriends of his were arriving by the Jumna,why, I made haste to run down to Bombay to greetthem.'The episode was one of those topsy-turvy mixturesof all places and ages which only this jumbledcentury of ours has witnessed; it impressed medeeply. Here was this Indian prince, a feudalRajput chief, living practically among his vassalsin the Middle Ages when at home in India; yet hesaid 'I am a Merton man,' as Harold himself mighthave said it; and he talked about cricket asnaturally as Lord Southminster talked about thenoble quadruped. The oddest part of it all was, wealone felt the incongruity; to the Maharajah, thechange from Moozuffernuggar to Oxford and fromOxford back again to Moozuffernuggar seemedperfectly natural. They were but two alternativephases in a modern Indian gentleman's education andexperience.Still, what were we to do with him? If Haroldhad presented me with a white elephant I couldhardly have been more embarrassed than I was at theapparition of this urbane and magnificent Hindooprince. He was young; he was handsome; he wasslim, for a rajah; he wore European costume, savefor the huge white turban with its obtrusivediamond; and he spoke English much better than agreat many Englishmen. Yet what place could hefill in my life and Elsie's? For once, I feltalmost angry with Harold. Why couldn't he haveallowed us to go quietly through India, two simpleunofficial journalistic pilgrims, in our nativeobscurity?His Highness of Moozuffernuggar, however, had hisown views on this question. With a courteous waveof one dusky hand, he motioned us gracefully intosomebody else's deck chairs and then sat down onanother beside us, while the gorgeous suite stoodby in respectful silence--unctuous gentlemen inpink-and-gold brocade--forming a court all roundus. Elsie and I, unaccustomed to be so observed,grew conscious of our hands, our skirts, ourpostures. But the Maharajah posed himself withperfect unconcern, like one well used to the fiercelight of royalty. 'I have come,' he said, withsimple dignity, 'to superintend the preparationsfor your reception.''Gracious heavens!' I exclaimed. 'Our reception,Maharajah? I think you misunderstand. We are twoordinary English ladies of the proletariat,accustomed to the level plain of professionalsociety. We expect no reception.'He bowed again, with stately Eastern deference.'Friends of Tillington's,' he said shortly, 'arepersons of distinction. Besides, I have heard ofyou from Lady Georgina Fawley.''Lady Georgina is too good,' I answered, thoughinwardly I raged against her. Why couldn't sheleave us alone, to feed in peace on dak-bungalowchicken, instead of sending this regal-manneredheathen to bother us?'So I have come down to Bombay to make sure thatyou are met in the style that befits yourimportance in society,' he went on, waving hissuite away with one careless hand, for he saw itfussed us. 'I mentioned you to His Honour theActing-Governor, who had not heard you were coming.His Honour's aide-de-camp will follow shortly withan invitation to Government House while you remainin Bombay--which will not be many days, I don'tdoubt, for there is nothing in this city of plagueto stop for. Later on, during your progress upcountry, I do myself the honour to hope that youwill stay as my guests for as long as you choose atMoozuffernuggar.'My first impulse was to answer: 'Impossible,Maharajah; we couldn't dream of accepting your kindinvitation.' But on second thoughts, I rememberedmy duty to my proprietor. Journalism first;inclination afterwards! My letter from Egypt onthe rescue of the Englishwoman who escaped fromKhartoum had brought me great �clat as aspecial correspondent, and the DailyTelephone now billed my name in big letters onits placards, so Mr. Elworthy wrote me. Here wasanother noble chance; must I not strive to rise toit? Two English ladies at a native court inRajputana! that ought to afford scope for somerattling journalism!'It is extremely kind of you,' I said,hesitating, 'and it would give us great pleasure,were it feasible, to accept your friendly offer.But--English ideas, you know, prince! Twounprotected women! I hardly see how we could comealone to Moozuffernuggar, unchaperoned.'The Maharajah's face lighted up; he was evidentlyflattered that we should even thus dubiouslyentertain his proposal. 'Oh, I've thought aboutthat, too,' he answered, growing more colloquial intone. 'I've been some days in Bombay, makinginquiries and preparations. You see, you had notinformed the authorities of your intended visit, sothat you were travelling incognito--orshould it be incognita?--and if Tillingtonhadn't written to let me know your movements, youmight have arrived at this port without anybody'sknowing it, and have been compelled to take refugein an hotel on landing.' He spoke as if we hadbeen accustomed all our lives long to be receivedwith red cloth by the Mayor and Corporation, andpresented with illuminated addresses and thefreedom of the city in a gold snuff-box. 'But Ihave seen to all that. The Acting-Governor'saide-de-camp will be down before long, and I havearranged that if you consent a little later tohonour my humble roof in Rajputana with your augustpresence, Major Balmossie and his wife willaccompany you and chaperon you. I have lived inEngland: of course I understand that two Englishladies of your rank and position cannot travelalone--as if you were Americans. But Mrs.Balmossie is a nice little soul, of unblemishedcharacter'--that sweet touch charmed me--'receivedat Government House'--he had learned the respectd... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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Cytat

Dobry przykład - połowa kazania. Adalberg
I ty, Brutusie, przeciwko mnie?! (Et tu, Brute, contra me?! ) Cezar (Caius Iulius Caesar, ok. 101 - 44 p. n. e)
Do polowania na pchły i męża nie trzeba mieć karty myśliwskiej. Zygmunt Fijas
W ciepłym klimacie najłatwiej wyrastają zimni dranie.
Gdybym tylko wiedział, powinienem był zostać zegarmistrzem. - Albert Einstein (1879-1955) komentując swoją rolę w skonstruowaniu bomby atomowej

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