The Rassendylls--With a Word on the Elphbergs"I wonder when in the world you're going to do anything, Rudolf?"said my brother's wife.

　　"My dear Rose," I answered, laying down my egg-spoon, "why in theworld should I do anything? My position is a comfortable one. I have anincome nearly sufficient for my wants (no one's income is ever quitesufficient, you know), I enjoy an enviable social position: I am brother toLord Burlesdon, and brother-in-law to that charming lady, his countess.

　　Behold, it is enough!""You are nine-and-twenty," she observed, "and you've done nothingbut--""Knock about? It is true. Our family doesn't need to do things."This remark of mine rather annoyed Rose, for everybody knows (andtherefore there can be no harm in referring to the fact) that, pretty andaccomplished as she herself is, her family is hardly of the same standing asthe Rassendylls. Besides her attractions, she possessed a large fortune, andmy brother Robert was wise enough not to mind about her ancestry.

　　Ancestry is, in fact, a matter concerning which the next observation ofRose's has some truth.

　　"Good families are generally worse than any others," she said.

　　Upon this I stroked my hair: I knew quite well what she meant.

　　"I'm so glad Robert's is black!" she cried.

　　At this moment Robert (who rises at seven and works before breakfast)came in. He glanced at his wife: her cheek was slightly flushed; he pattedit caressingly.

　　"What's the matter, my dear?" he asked.

　　"She objects to my doing nothing and having red hair," said I, in aninjured tone.

　　"Oh! of course he can't help his hair," admitted Rose.

　　"It generally crops out once in a generation," said my brother. "So doesthe nose. Rudolf has got them both.""I wish they didn't crop out," said Rose, still flushed.

　　"I rather like them myself," said I, and, rising, I bowed to the portraitof Countess Amelia.

　　My brother's wife uttered an exclamation of impatience.

　　"I wish you'd take that picture away, Robert," said she.

　　"My dear!" he cried.

　　"Good heavens!" I added.

　　"Then it might be forgotten," she continued.

　　"Hardly--with Rudolf about," said Robert, shaking his head.

　　"Why should it be forgotten?" I asked.

　　"Rudolf!" exclaimed my brother's wife, blushing very prettily.

　　I laughed, and went on with my egg. At least I had shelved thequestion of what (if anything) I ought to do. And, by way of closing thediscussion--and also, I must admit, of exasperating my strict little sister-inlawa trifle more--I observed:

　　"I rather like being an Elphberg myself."When I read a story, I skip the explanations; yet the moment I begin towrite one, I find that I must have an explanation. For it is manifest that Imust explain why my sister-in-law was vexed with my nose and hair, andwhy I ventured to call myself an Elphberg. For eminent as, I must protest,the Rassendylls have been for many generations, yet participation in theirblood of course does not, at first sight, justify the boast of a connectionwith the grander stock of the Elphbergs or a claim to be one of that RoyalHouse. For what relationship is there between Ruritania and Burlesdon,between the Palace at Strelsau or the Castle of Zenda and Number 305Park Lane, W.?

　　Well then--and I must premise that I am going, perforce, to rake up thevery scandal which my dear Lady Burlesdon wishes forgotten--in the year1733, George II sitting then on the throne, peace reigning for the moment,and the King and the Prince of Wales being not yet at loggerheads, therecame on a visit to the English Court a certain prince, who was afterwardsknown to history as Rudolf the Third of Ruritania. The prince was a tall,handsome young fellow, marked (maybe marred, it is not for me to say) bya somewhat unusually long, sharp and straight nose, and a mass of dark red hair--in fact, the nose and the hair which have stamped the Elphbergstime out of mind. He stayed some months in England, where he was mostcourteously received; yet, in the end, he left rather under a cloud. For hefought a duel (it was considered highly well bred of him to waive allquestion of his rank) with a nobleman, well known in the society of theday, not only for his own merits, but as the husband of a very beautifulwife. In that duel Prince Rudolf received a severe wound, and, recoveringtherefrom, was adroitly smuggled off by the Ruritanian ambassador, whohad found him a pretty handful. The nobleman was not wounded in theduel; but the morning being raw and damp on the occasion of the meeting,he contracted a severe chill, and, failing to throw it off, he died some sixmonths after the departure of Prince Rudolf, without having found leisureto adjust his relations with his wife--who, after another two months, borean heir to the title and estates of the family of Burlesdon. This lady wasthe Countess Amelia, whose picture my sister-in-law wished to removefrom the drawing-room in Park Lane; and her husband was James, fifthEarl of Burlesdon and twenty-second Baron Rassendyll, both in thepeerage of England, and a Knight of the Garter. As for Rudolf, he wentback to Ruritania, married a wife, and ascended the throne, whereon hisprogeny in the direct line have sat from then till this very hour--with oneshort interval. And, finally, if you walk through the picture galleries atBurlesdon, among the fifty portraits or so of the last century and a half,you will find five or six, including that of the sixth earl, distinguished bylong, sharp, straight noses and a quantity of dark-red hair; these five or sixhave also blue eyes, whereas among the Rassendylls dark eyes are thecommoner.

　　That is the explanation, and I am glad to have finished it: theblemishes on honourable lineage are a delicate subject, and certainly thisheredity we hear so much about is the finest scandalmonger in the world;it laughs at discretion, and writes strange entries between the lines of the"Peerages".

　　It will be observed that my sister-in-law, with a want of logic that musthave been peculiar to herself (since we are no longer allowed to lay it tothe charge of her sex), treated my complexion almost as an offence for  which I was responsible, hastening to assume from that external signinward qualities of which I protest my entire innocence; and this unjustinference she sought to buttress by pointing to the uselessness of the life Ihad led. Well, be that as it may, I had picked up a good deal of pleasureand a good deal of knowledge. I had been to a German school and aGerman university, and spoke German as readily and perfectly as English;I was thoroughly at home in French; I had a smattering of Italian andenough Spanish to swear by. I was, I believe, a strong, though hardly fineswordsman and a good shot. I could ride anything that had a back to sit on;and my head was as cool a one as you could find, for all its flaming cover.

　　If you say that I ought to have spent my time in useful labour, I am out ofCourt and have nothing to say, save that my parents had no business toleave me two thousand pounds a year and a roving disposition.

　　"The difference between you and Robert," said my sister-in-law, whooften (bless her!) speaks on a platform, and oftener still as if she were onone, "is that he recognizes the duties of his position, and you see theopportunities of yours.""To a man of spirit, my dear Rose," I answered, "opportunities areduties.""Nonsense!" said she, tossing her head; and after a moment she wenton: "Now, here's Sir Jacob Borrodaile offering you exactly what you mightbe equal to.""A thousand thanks!" I murmured.

　　"He's to have an Embassy in six months, and Robert says he is surethat he'll take you as an attache. Do take it, Rudolf-- to please me."Now, when my sister-in-law puts the matter in that way, wrinkling herpretty brows, twisting her little hands, and growing wistful in the eyes, allon account of an idle scamp like myself, for whom she has no naturalresponsibility, I am visited with compunction. Moreover, I thought itpossible that I could pass the time in the position suggested with sometolerable amusement. Therefore I said:

　　"My dear sister, if in six months' time no unforeseen obstacle hasarisen, and Sir Jacob invites me, hang me if I don't go with Sir Jacob!""Oh, Rudolf, how good of you! I am glad!""Where's he going to?""He doesn't know yet; but it's sure to be a good Embassy.""Madame," said I, "for your sake I'll go, if it's no more than a beggarlyLegation. When I do a thing, I don't do it by halves."My promise, then, was given; but six months are six months, and seeman eternity, and, inasmuch as they stretched between me and myprospective industry (I suppose attaches are industrious; but I know not,for I never became attache to Sir Jacob or anybody else), I cast about forsome desirable mode of spending them. And it occurred to me suddenlythat I would visit Ruritania. It may seem strange that I had never visitedthat country yet; but my father (in spite of a sneaking fondness for theElphbergs, which led him to give me, his second son, the famous Elphbergname of Rudolf) had always been averse from my going, and, since hisdeath, my brother, prompted by Rose, had accepted the family traditionwhich taught that a wide berth was to be given to that country. But themoment Ruritania had come into my head I was eaten up with a curiosityto see it. After all, red hair and long noses are not confined to the House ofElphberg, and the old story seemed a preposterously insufficient reason fordebarring myself from acquaintance with a highly interesting andimportant kingdom, one which had played no small part in Europeanhistory, and might do the like again under the sway of a young andvigorous ruler, such as the new King was rumoured to be. Mydetermination was clinched by reading in The Times that Rudolf the Fifthwas to be crowned at Strelsau in the course of the next three weeks, andthat great magnificence was to mark the occasion. At once I made up mymind to be present, and began my preparations. But, inasmuch as it hasnever been my practice to furnish my relatives with an itinerary of myjourneys and in this case I anticipated opposition to my wishes, I gave outthat I was going for a ramble in the Tyrol-- an old haunt of mine--andpropitiated Rose's wrath by declaring that I intended to study the politicaland social problems of the interesting community which dwells in thatneighbourhood.

　　"Perhaps," I hinted darkly, "there may be an outcome of theexpedition.""What do you mean?" she asked.

　　"Well,"said I carelessly, "there seems a gap that might be filled by anexhaustive work on--""Oh! will you write a book?" she cried, clapping her hands. "Thatwould be splendid, wouldn't it, Robert?""It's the best of introductions to political life nowadays," observed mybrother, who has, by the way, introduced himself in this manner severaltimes over. Burlesdon on Ancient Theories and Modern Facts and TheUltimate Outcome, by a Political Student, are both works of recognizedeminence.

　　"I believe you are right, Bob, my boy," said I.

　　"Now promise you'll do it," said Rose earnestly.

　　"No, I won't promise; but if I find enough material, I will.""That's fair enough," said Robert.

　　"Oh, material doesn't matter!" she said, pouting.

　　But this time she could get no more than a qualified promise out of me.

　　To tell the truth, I would have wagered a handsome sum that the story ofmy expedition that summer would stain no paper and spoil not a singlepen. And that shows how little we know what the future holds; for here Iam, fulfilling my qualified promise, and writing, as I never thought towrite, a book--though it will hardly serve as an introduction to politicallife, and has not a jot to do with the Tyrol.

　　Neither would it, I fear, please Lady Burlesdon, if I were to submit itto her critical eye--a step which I have no intention of taking.