Читать книгу The Crystal Button - Chauncey Thomas - Страница 11

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The gentleman whom he thus unceremoniously confronted did not notice him at first, and he tried to attract attention by speaking, but not a word could he utter. At length, he laid his hand on the gentleman's shoulder, and with great effort managed to find his voice, though it startled him by its harsh and far-away sound; his words seemed to him to have that strained formality that one hears from a prisoner at the bar, addressing the judge.

"I beg pardon, sir, for this intrusion, which must appear to you wholly unwarrantable, but I have lost my clothes, and do not know where I am. Can you please direct me, sir?"

The old gentleman looked up without any visible surprise--certainly without any appearance of annoyance. He made no reply, but seemed as if waiting to have the question repeated. Paul again made an apology for his appearance, and again humbly asked for assistance in finding his way.

"Why, this is odd," said the gentleman at last, using a strange accent and a language that was not quite familiar to Paul, although he found that he could understand it readily enough,--"you are talking in Old English, and you speak as though you were well acquainted with it. I thought I was the only living man who could do that." Then he added, reflectively: "Poor fellow, he must have escaped from some madhouse. But he speaks Old English remarkably well--better, I admit it--much better than I can."

There suddenly occurred to Paul the similar thought, that he must have entered a retreat of some kind, and that he was now in the presence of one of the patients. But any apprehensions he might otherwise have felt on this account were relieved when the gentleman calmly continued:--"Yes, I will gladly help you all I can. You say you are lost. Tell me where your home is."

"Where my home is? That's it," said Paul, brightening,--"where my home is? Yes, yes." He felt his mind wandering a little, as every man's mind is apt to do when he is suddenly relieved from some great anxiety, and then confronted by the simplest possible question of every-day life. "I live on Cedar Avenue, number 201. And if you will be good enough to send for a hack, I can go home at once without troubling you further."

"Strange, very strange!" repeated the old gentleman--"such perfect command both of Old English words and also, of old phrase-forms! But, my dear sir, where is Cedar Avenue?"

"Why, don't you know? It's not far from the Common, and is nearly as old as the city."

"I never heard of it, or of the Common you mention; and it can't be in this city, for all our avenues are named systematically, and Cedar is a name that doesn't belong to the system."

This was somewhat bewildering. Remembrance of the great city through which he had recently prowled flashed across Paul's mind. It had not seemed like his native city. "Is this not Boston, sir?"

The gentleman again looked at him sharply, without replying; and Paul, who once more began to waver between doubts as to whether he had been transported or whether his questioner was demented, could only find words to add, in a hopeless sort of way: "If I am not in Boston, please tell me where I am, and how I came here, and how I can get away."

"Why, my dear sir, do you not know that you are in the good city of Tone? Such is the fact. You say you live in Boston. Is it possible that you do not realize that the ancient city of Boston, like the ancient language you speak, is merely an historical fact of the remote past? One would think you were a relic strayed from a former age. But allow me to ask you a few questions, and see how far we can understand one another."

"I will try to answer them, sir."

"What year is this?"

"Why, eighteen hundred and seventy-two," answered Paul quickly, glad to be thus led off with an easy one. "You see I have not altogether lost my wits."

"And who is the chief officer of state?"

"Ulysses S. Grant."

"Mention, if you please, some notable persons now living in other parts of the world."

"Well, in England there is Queen Victoria; Emperor William in Germany, Alexander in Russia, and Victor Immanuel in Italy. In France--I have forgotten who is at the head of affairs in France just now, or in Spain either, for they turn so many political somersaults that it is difficult to keep track of affairs in those countries."

"And you say that you live in Boston?"

"Yes," answered Paul, more at ease, and no longer annoyed at his questioner's reiteration, although now convinced that the other was hopelessly beside himself.

"And Boston is where?"

"In the good old Bay State, Massachusetts," said Paul, smiling for the first time.

"Marco!" called out the old gentleman,--"Marco, I wish you would come here for a few moments."

Through the curtains from an adjoining room soon advanced a handsome young fellow, about twenty years old, and an athlete in build, whose fine figure showed to advantage in his simple flowing garments. "This is my young friend Marco. And this is a stranger whose conversation interests me more than I can tell. I wish, Marco, you would look up a few facts for me. Please examine the chronological tables of Blackmole's Ancient History, and see in what year of the Christian Era there was a President of the ancient Republic of Washington, named Grant,--was it not Grant you mentioned?"

"Yes, Ulysses S. Grant."

"This stranger, Marco, who is no doubt a recent inmate of some asylum, but who appears quite harmless and is evidently a person of rare erudition, particularly interests me because he speaks with wonderful fluency and correctness the old English language, on which, as you know, I pride myself. It is of course possible that a demented person, and especially one versed in ancient history, might fancy himself transported to the field of his former researches, and living in the days of Grant and Queen Victoria; but what I now want to do is to see how far he is consistent in his imaginings."

While the old gentleman was thus speaking, Paul watched the young man as he swiftly ran over the pages of the book before him. He also glanced at them; but, to his astonishment, he was unable to decipher a word. They were evidently printed in some kind of shorthand, and the speed with which the searcher pursued his task seemed to indicate that the volume was either perfectly familiar to him, or he was able to catch its contents with lightning glances.

"Well, Professor," said the young man, "there was a President named Grant, who was elected soon after the close of the First Civil War,--the war that resulted in the extinction of negro slavery. He was previously chief in command of the Government forces. That was in Anno Domini 1868. The same Grant was reflected to the presidency in 1872."

"That must have been about the time when electricity was first introduced as an illuminator."

"I see no mention of electric lighting until a few pages later."

"And how about the enfranchisement of women?"

"That followed not many years afterward; but it is well along in the next century that I find a woman President named."

"Let us see, a moment," commented the Professor. "The present year being Anno Pacis 1372, and adding this to Anno Domini 3500, the Year of Peace, we are now, according to the old style, in the year 4872. Stranger, your friend Grant was President just three thousand years ago. You've had a good long nap, if you've been asleep ever since then."

Paul was now so thoroughly confused that he did not try to make any response, beyond a piteous sigh: "What am I to do?"

"Simply make yourself perfectly comfortable, and consider my home yours until further notice. I will see that you are supplied with everything you need."

"Thank you, sir--thank you with all my heart! And my companion here--my dog--can he also remain?"

"Certainly. Well, the most evident need you now have is clothing. Marco, take the necessary measures as to height, girth, and length of leg, and telephone to the East Central warehouse for full costumes--day and evening, and for both house and street."

This having been done, the old gentleman continued: "By the way, I do not yet know your name."

"Paul Prognosis."

"And mine is Prosper, Fellow of the Academy of Sciences--people generally call me 'Professor' for short; and my young friend's name is Marco Mortimer--a rather musical name, isn't it? My daughter likes it so well that she is preparing to link hers to it. Madam Prosper-Mortimer--isn't that a name to be remembered? Marco, you have no need to simulate nervous haste. Your blushes speak your modesty. But there's the signal from the parcel-delivery tube. Will you please attend to it, Marco? There's nothing like present duty as a cure for confusion."

In response to this request, the young man opened a circular bronze door in one of the alcoves, and into his arms swiftly dropped a number of compact parcels.

"There," continued the Professor, "I think you'll find the outfit complete; and Marco will now conduct you to our spare chamber, and afterwards see that you have breakfast. Try and eat a good hearty one, for I propose to give you a walk that will require your best energies. While you are employed upstairs, I will finish my correspondence."