๋จ๋ฝ์ ํด๋ฆญํ๋ฉด ์ดํยท๋ฌธ๋ฒ ํด์ค์ด ์ค๋ฅธ์ชฝ์ ํ์๋ฉ๋๋ค.
XXI. THE DEAD AND LIVING MEET
XXII. JOB HAS A PRESENTIMENT
XXIII. THE TEMPLE OF TRUTH
XXIV. WALKING THE PLANK
XXV. THE SPIRIT OF LIFE
XXVI. WHAT WE SAW
XXVII. WE LEAP
XXVIII.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โI inscribe this history to
ANDREW LANG
in token of personal regard
and of
my sincere admiration
for his learning and his works SHE INTRODUCTION In giving to the world the record of what, looked at as an
adventure only, is I suppose one of the most wonderful and
mysterious experiences ever undergone by mortal men, I feel it
incumbent on me to explain what my exact connection with it is. And so I may as well say at once that I am not the narrator but
only the editor of this extraordinary history, and then go on to
tell how it found its way into my hands.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โSome years ago I, the editor, was stopping with a friend, "vir
doctissimus et amicus meus," at a certain University, which for
the purposes of this history we will call Cambridge, and was one
day much struck with the appearance of two persons whom I saw
going arm-in-arm down the street. One of these gentlemen was I
think, without exception, the handsomest young fellow I have ever
seen. He was very tall, very broad, and had a look of power and a
grace of bearing that seemed as native to him as it is to a wild
stag. In addition his face was almost without flawโa good face as
well as a beautiful one, and when he lifted his hat, which he did
just then to a passing lady, I saw that his head was covered with
little golden curls growing close to the scalp.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โ"Good gracious!" I said to my friend, with whom I was walking,
"why, that fellow looks like a statue of Apollo come to life. What a splendid man he is!"
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โ"Yes," he answered, "he is the handsomest man in the University,
and one of the nicest too. They call him 'the Greek god'; but
look at the other one, he's Vincey's (that's the god's name)
guardian, and supposed to be full of every kind of information. They call him 'Charon.' " I looked, and found the older man quite
as interesting in his way as the glorified specimen of humanity
at his side. He appeared to be about forty years of age, and was
I think as ugly as his companion was handsome. To begin with, he
was shortish, rather bow-legged, very deep chested, and with
unusually long arms. He had dark hair and small eyes, and the
hair grew right down on his forehead, and his whiskers grew right
up to his hair, so that there was uncommonly little of his
countenance to be seen. Altogether he reminded me forcibly of a
gorilla, and yet there was something very pleasing and genial
about the man's eye. I remember saying that I should like to know
him.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โ"All right," answered my friend, "nothing easier. I know Vincey;
I'll introduce you," and he did, and for some minutes we stood
chattingโabout the Zulu people, I think, for I had just returned
from the Cape at the time. Presently, however, a stoutish lady,
whose name I do not remember, came along the pavement,
accompanied by a pretty fair-haired girl, and these two Mr. Vincey, who clearly knew them well, at once joined, walking off
in their company. I remember being rather amused because of the
change in the expression of the elder man, whose name I
discovered was Holly, when he saw the ladies advancing. He
suddenly stopped short in his talk, cast a reproachful look at
his companion, and, with an abrupt nod to myself, turned and
marched off alone across the street. I heard afterwards that he
was popularly supposed to be as much afraid of a woman as most
people are of a mad dog, which accounted for his precipitate
retreat. I cannot say, however, that young Vincey showed much
aversion to feminine society on this occasion. Indeed I remember
laughing, and remarking to my friend at the time that he was not
the sort of man whom it would be desirable to introduce to the
lady one was going to marry, since it was exceedingly probable
that the acquaintance would end in a transfer of her affections. He was altogether too good-looking, and, what is more, he had
none of that consciousness and conceit about him which usually
afflicts handsome men, and makes them deservedly disliked by
their fellows.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โThat same evening my visit came to an end, and this was the last
I saw or heard of "Charon" and "the Greek god" for many a long
day. Indeed, I have never seen either of them from that hour to
this, and do not think it probable that I shall. But a month ago
I received a letter and two packets, one of manuscript, and on
opening the first found that it was signed by "Horace Holly," a
name that at the moment was not familiar to me.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โ"โโ College, Cambridge, May 1, 18โ "My dear Sir,โYou will be surprised, considering the very slight
nature of our acquaintance, to get a letter from me. Indeed, I
think I had better begin by reminding you that we once met, now
some five years ago, when I and my ward Leo Vincey were
introduced to you in the street at Cambridge. To be brief and
come to my business. I have recently read with much interest a
book of yours describing a Central African adventure. I take it
that this book is partly true, and partly an effort of the
imagination. However this may be, it has given me an idea. It
happens, how you will see in the accompanying manuscript (which
together with the Scarab, the 'Royal Son of the Sun,' and the
original sherd, I am sending to you by hand), that my ward, or
rather my adopted son Leo Vincey and myself have recently passed
through a real African adventure, of a nature so much more
marvellous than the one which you describe, that to tell the
truth I am almost ashamed to submit it to you lest you should
disbelieve my tale. You will see it stated in this manuscript
that I, or rather we, had made up our minds not to make this
history public during our joint lives. Nor should we alter our
determination were it not for a circumstance which has recently
arisen. We are for reasons that, after perusing this manuscript,
you may be able to guess, going away again this time to Central
Asia where, if anywhere upon this earth, wisdom is to be found,
and we anticipate that our sojourn there will be a long one. Possibly we shall not return. Under these altered conditions it
has become a question whether we are justified in withholding
from the world an account of a phenomenon which we believe to be
of unparalleled interest, merely because our private life is
involved, or because we are afraid of ridicule and doubt being
cast upon our statements. I hold one view about this matter, and
Leo holds another, and finally, after much discussion, we have
come to a compromise, namely, to send the history to you, giving
you full leave to publish it if you think fit, the only
stipulation being that you shall disguise our real names, and as
much concerning our personal identity as is consistent with the
maintenance of the bona fides of the narrative.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โ