Silvia Doria

Beyond the blue hills, within riding distance, there is a country of parks and beeches, with views of the faded, far-off sea. I remember in one of my rides coming on the place which was the scene of the pretty, old-fashioned story of Silvia Doria.Through the gates, with fine gate-posts, on which heraldic beasts,fierce and fastidious, were upholding coroneted shields, I could see, at the end of the avenue, the facade of the House, with its stone pilasters, and its balustrade on the steep roof.

More than one hundred years ago, in that Park, with its Italianized house, and level gardens adorned with statues and garden temples, there lived, they say, an old Lord with his two handsome sons. The old Lord had never ceased mourning for his Lady, though she had died a good many years before; there were no neighbours he visited, and few strangers came inside the great Park walls. One day in Spring, however, just when the apple trees had burst into blossom, the gilded gates were thrown open, and a London chariot with prancing horses drove up the Avenue. And in the chariot, smiling and gay, and indeed very beautiful in her dress of yellow silk, and her great Spanish hat with drooping feathers, sat Silvia Doria, come on a visit to her cousin, the old Lord.

It was her father who had sent her—that he might be more free, some said, to pursue his own wicked courses, —while others declared that he intended her to marry the old Lord’s eldest son.

However this might be, Silvia Doria came like the Spring,like the sunlight, into the lonely place. Even the old Lord felt himself curiously happy when he heard her voice singing about the house; as for Henry and Francis, it was heaven for them just to walk by her side down the garden alleys.

And Silvia Doria, though hitherto she had been but cold toward the London gallants who had courted her, found, little by little, that her heart was not untouched.

But, in spite of her father, and her own girlish love of gold and rank, it was not for Henry that she cared, not for the old Lord, but for Francis, the younger son. Did Francis know of this? They were secretly lovers, the old scandal reported; and the scandal, it may be, had reached her father’s ears.

For one day a coach with foaming horses, and the wicked face of an old man at its window, galloped up the avenue; and soon afterwards, when the coach drove away, Silvia Doria was sitting by the old man’s side, sobbing bitterly.

And after she had gone, a long time, many of the eighteenth-century years went by without change. And then Henry, the elder son, was killed in hunting; and the old Lord dying a few years later, the titles and the great house and all the land and gold came to Francis, the younger son. But after his father’s death he was but seldom there; having, as it seemed, no love for the place, and living for the most part abroad and alone,for he never married.

And again, many years went by. The trees grew taller and darker about the house; the yew hedges, unclipped now, hung their branches over the shadowy paths; ivy almost smothered the statues; and the plaster fell away in great patches from the discoloured garden temples.

But at last one day a chariot drove up to the gates; a footman pulled at the crazy bell, telling the gate-keeper that his mistress wished to visit the Park. So the gates creaked open, the chariot glittered up the avenue to the deserted place; and a lady stepped out, went into the garden, and walked among its moss grown paths and statues. As the chariot drove out again, ‘Tell your Lord,’ the lady said, smiling, to the lodge-keeper, ‘that Silvia Doria came back.’

希尔维亚·多丽亚

青青的小山那边，在骑车可及的那一带，是一片有公园和山毛榉树林的乡野，望得见远处淡淡的海洋。记得有一次我骑车到了那地方，那个有关希尔维亚·多丽亚的好听又老套的传说的发生地。庭园大门口立着精美的门柱，上面的纹章兽凶巴巴一丝不苟地擎着贵族的徽盾。我朝门里望去，看得见林荫道尽头大楼的正面，其上嵌着石头壁柱，陡峭的屋顶上有圈栏。

一百多年前，在这座公园里，在那意大利风格的宅第中，在装点着雕像和花园神殿的那些平整的庭园间，他们说，住着一位老勋爵和他两个英俊的儿子。老勋爵无时不在为他死去的夫人伤心，尽管他夫人去世已经很有些年头了。他不造访邻居，也鲜有生人踏足高墙围着的大庄园。然而，在一个春日里，正是苹果花怒放的时节，镀金的园门推开了，一部伦敦来的双轮马车腾腾腾跑上了林荫道。马车上，一袭黄色丝裙，一顶垂着羽毛的、宽大的西班牙帽子，喜笑吟吟地坐着希尔维亚·多丽亚，真是美丽非常；她这是拜访她的表哥老勋爵来了。

是她父亲要她来的——有人说，这样那老头就能更自由地去胡作非为了，也有人声称她父亲是要让她嫁给老勋爵的大儿子。

不管怎样，希尔维亚·多丽亚就像春天，就像阳光，来到了这孤寂的地方。就连老勋爵，听到宅院四处响着她曼妙的声音，也会觉得自己莫名其妙地高兴起来；至于亨利和弗兰西斯，只要能同她并肩走在花园小径上，便飘飘欲仙了。

希尔维亚·多丽亚呢，虽然迄今为止对伦敦那些追着她献殷勤的风流哥儿们爱理不理，却渐渐地，发觉自己并非毫不动心。

但是，不管她父亲旨意如何，也抛开她自己那份女孩子家对金钱地位的喜爱不论，她所属意的，不是亨利，也不是老勋爵，而是弗兰西斯，那个小儿子。弗兰西斯知道吗？他们暗中相爱，当时传言是这么说的；而这传言，也许吧，就传到了她父亲耳朵里。

因为有一天来了一部四轮马车，车前马喷白沫，车内露出恶狠狠的一张老人脸，那车呼呼呼跑上了林荫道。过不久马车离开时，希尔维亚·多丽亚就坐在老头身旁，伤心地啜泣。

她走了，之后好久好久，十八世纪的好多个年头过去了，一切不变。然后，亨利，那个大儿子，打猎出事死了；几年后老勋爵也死了，爵位、巨宅、所有的田园和钱财就都传给了小儿子弗兰西斯。可是自从他父亲去世后，他很少在那儿居留；似乎对那地方毫无眷恋之情，大部分时间他都住在国外，单身一人，从未娶妻。

就这样，又过去了好多年。楼四周树木长得更高，树荫遮得更暗了。紫杉树篱长年未修，枝条垂遍了树影森森的小路；常青藤几乎窒息了那尊尊雕像；黯然失色的花园神殿，泥灰大块大块剥落。

但是终于有一天，一部双轮马车来到了大门前。一名男仆拉响摇摇欲坠的门铃，告诉守门人他的女主人想看看这庭园。于是大门吱吱呀呀地打开了，马车亮晃晃地跑上了林荫道，来到那空无一人的大楼前。只见一位女士步出车外，走进花园，在苔痕斑斑的小路和雕像间徜徉。马车驶出门离开时，“告诉你们勋爵，”那女士微笑着对守宅的人说，“希尔维亚·多丽亚回来了。”