the haunted hotel(闹鬼的旅馆)-第26章
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what passed between you and the lady with the point and contrast of good
stage dialogue。 You have the dramatic instinct try if you can write a
play。 You might make money。〃 That put it into my head。'
Those last words seemed to startle Francis。 'Surely you don't want
money！' he exclaimed。
'I always want money。 My tastes are expensive。 I have nothing but
my poor little four hundred a yearand the wreck that is left of the other
money： about two hundred pounds in circular notes no more。'
Francis knew that she was referring to the ten thousand pounds paid by
the insurance offices。 'All those thousands gone already！' he exclaimed。
She blew a little puff of air over her fingers。 'Gone like that！' she
answered coolly。
'Baron Rivar？'
She looked at him with a flash of anger in her hard black eyes。
'My affairs are my own secret； Mr。 Westwick。 I have made you a
proposaland you have not answered me yet。 Don't say No； without
thinking first。 Remember what a life mine has been。 I have seen more of
the world than most people； playwrights included。 I have had strange
adventures； I have heard remarkable stories； I have observed； I have
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remembered。 Are there no materials； here in my head； for writing a play…
…if the opportunity is granted to me？' She waited a moment； and suddenly
repeated her strange question about Agnes。
'When is Miss Lockwood expected to be in Venice？'
'What has that to do with your new play； Countess？'
The Countess appeared to feel some difficulty in giving that question
its fit reply。 She mixed another tumbler full of maraschino punch； and
drank one good half of it before she spoke again。
'It has everything to do with my new play；' was all she said。 'Answer
me。' Francis answered her。
'Miss Lockwood may be here in a week。 Or； for all I know to the
contrary； sooner than that。'
'Very well。 If I am a living woman and a free woman in a week's
time or if I am in possession of my senses in a week's time （don't
interrupt me； I know what I am talking about）I shall have a sketch or
outline of my play ready； as a specimen of what I can do。 Once again；
will you read it？'
'I will certainly read it。 But； Countess； I don't understand'
She held up her hand for silence； and finished the second tumbler of
maraschino punch。
'I am a living enigmaand you want to know the right reading of me；'
she said。 'Here is the reading； as your English phrase goes； in a nutshell。
There is a foolish idea in the minds of many persons that the natives of the
warm climates are imaginative people。 There never was a greater mistake。
You will find no such unimaginative people anywhere as you find in Italy；
Spain； Greece； and the other Southern countries。 To anything fanciful； to
anything spiritual； their minds are deaf and blind by nature。 Now and then；
in the course of centuries； a great genius springs up among them； and he is
the exception which proves the rule。 Now see！ I； though I am no genius
I am； in my little way （as I suppose）； an exception too。 To my sorrow； I
have some of that imagination which is so common among the English
and the Germans so rare among the Italians； the Spaniards； and the rest
of them！ And what is the result？ I think it has become a disease in me。 I
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am filled with presentiments which make this wicked life of mine one long
terror to me。 It doesn't matter； just now； what they are。 Enough that they
absolutely govern methey drive me over land and sea at their own
horrible will； they are in me； and torturing me； at this moment！ Why
don't I resist them？ Ha！ but I do resist them。 I am trying （with the help of
the good punch） to resist them now。 At intervals I cultivate the difficult
virtue of common sense。 Sometimes； sound sense makes a hopeful woman
of me。 At one time； I had the hope that what seemed reality to me was
only mad delusion； after allI even asked the question of an English
doctor！ At other times； other sensible doubts of myself beset me。 Never
mind dwelling on them nowit always ends in the old terrors and
superstitions taking possession of me again。 In a week's time； I shall
know whether Destiny does indeed decide my future for me； or whether I
decide it for myself。 In the last case； my resolution is to absorb this self…
tormenting fancy of mine in the occupation that I have told you of already。
Do you understand me a little better now？ And； our business being
settled； dear Mr。 Westwick； shall we get out of this hot room into the nice
cool air again？'
They rose to leave the cafe。 Francis privately concluded that the
maraschino punch offered the only discoverable explanation of what the
Countess had said to him。
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CHAPTER XX
'Shall I see you again？' she asked； as she held out her hand to take
leave。 'It is quite understood between us； I suppose； about the play？'
Francis recalled his extraordinary experience of that evening in the re…
numbered room。 'My stay in Venice is uncertain；' he replied。 'If you have
anything more to say about this dramatic venture of yours； it may be as
well to say it now。 Have you decided on a subject already？ I know the
public taste in England better than you doI might save you some waste
of time and trouble； if you have not chosen your subject wisely。'
'I don't care what subject I write about； so long as I write；' she
answered carelessly。 'If you have got a subject in your head； give it to me。
I answer for the characters and the dialogue。'
'You answer for the characters and the dialogue；' Francis repeated。
'That's a bold way of speaking for a beginner！ I wonder if I should shake
your sublime confidence in yourself； if I suggested the most ticklish
subject to handle which is known to the stage？ What do you say； Countess；
to entering the lists with Shakespeare； and trying a drama with a ghost in it？
A true story； mind！ founded on events in this very city in which you and I
are interested。'
She caught him by the arm； and drew him away from the crowded
colonnade into the solitary middle space of the square。 'Now tell me！' she
said eagerly。 'Here； where nobody is near us。 How am I interested in it？
How？ how？'
Still holding his arm； she shook him in her impatience to hear the
coming disclosure。 For a moment he hesitated。 Thus far； amused by
her ignorant belief in herself； he had merely spoken in jest。 Now； for the
first time； impressed by her irresistible earnestness； he began to consider
what he was about from a more serious point of view。 With her knowledge
of all that had passed in the old palace； before its transformation into an
hotel； it was surely possible that she might suggest some explanation of
what had happened to his brother； and sister； and himself。 Or； failing to
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do this； she might accidentally reveal some event in her own experience
which； acting as a hint to a competent dramatist； might prove to be the
making of a play。 The prosperity of his theatre was his one serious object
in life。 'I may be on the trace of another 〃Corsican Brothers；〃' he thought。
'A new piece of that sort would be ten thousand pounds in my pocket； at
least。'
With these motives （worthy of the single…hearted devotion to dramatic
business which made Francis a successful manager） he related； without
further hesitation； what his own experience had been； and what the
experience of his relatives had been； in the haunted hotel。 He even
described the outbreak of superstitious terror which had escaped Mrs。
Norbury's ignorant maid。 'Sad stuff； if you look at it reasonably；' he
remarked。 'But there is something dramatic in the notion of the ghostly
influence making itself felt by the relations in succession； as they one after
another enter the fatal roomuntil the one chosen relative comes who will
see the Unearthly Creature； and know the terrible truth。 Material for a play；
Countessfirst…rate material for a play！'
There he paused。 She neither moved nor spoke。 He stooped and
looked closer at her。
What impression had he produced？ It was an impression which his
utmost ingenuity had failed to anticipate。 She stood by his side just as
she had stood before Agnes when her question about Ferrari was plainly
answered at lastlike a woman turned to stone。 Her eyes were vacant and
rigid； all the life in her face had faded out of it。 Francis took her by the
hand。 Her hand was as cold as the pavement that they were standing on。
He asked her if she was ill。
Not a muscle in her moved。 He might as well have spoken to the
dead。
'Surely；' he said； 'you are not foolish enough to take what I have been
telling you seriously？'
Her lips moved slowly。 As it seemed； she was making an effort to
speak to him。
'Louder；' he said。 'I can't hear you。'
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She struggled to recover possession of herself。 A faint light began to
soften the dull cold s
