"Haggard, H Rider- She" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haggard H. Rider)

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.

Some years ago I, the editor, was stopping with a friend, "/vir
doctissimus et amicus neus/," 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 flaw--a 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.

"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!"

"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.

"All right," answered my friend, "nothing easier. I know Vincey; I'll
introduce you," and he did, and for some minutes we stood chatting--
about 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