"Spirits Of The Age" - читать интересную книгу автора (Masterton Graham)

His image wavered, in the same way that a television screen wavers when somebody moves the aerial. He turned this way and that, as if he couldn't understand where he was or what was happening.

'Albert,' Roger whispered. 'It's Albert, you've brought him back.'

The figure opened and closed its mouth but didn't seem able to speak. Michael kept squeezing his eyes tight shut and opening them again, because he simply could not believe that this was real.

It was then that the shadow-woman walked around the Shri-yantra and glided slowly toward Albert with both arms outstretched.

'My love,' was all she said. 'Oh, my love.'

Albert stared at her. At first it was obvious that he didn't recognize her. She came closer, and took hold of both of his hands, and said, 'It is I, my love. They've brought you back to me.'

'Back?' he whispered, his voice thick with horror. 'Back?'

'This is Osborne,' she said. 'You never lived to see this room. But this is Osborne. We can be happy again, my darling. We can stay here forevermore.'

Albert slowly pushed her away from him, still staring at her. 'What's happened to you?' he asked her. 'Can this really be you? What's happened to you? Your hair! Your skin! You've withered away! What kind of a devilish spell have they cast on you?'

Michael said, 'No spell, sir. Only time.'

Albert frowned at Michael like an actor peering into a darkened audience. 'Time?'

'You died at the age of forty-two, sir,' put in Roger. 'Your Queen here was eighty-one when she went.'

Victoria looked up at him in anguish. 'I am still myself, my love. And I have kept my love for you intact, for so many years.'

Albert's mouth opened and closed, but he still couldn't speak. Something glistened on his cheeks, and Michael realized that he was witnessing an extraordinary spiritual phenomenon - the sight of a spirit, crying.

'I am still your darling,' begged the shadow-woman, reaching out again to touch him. 'I am still your wife and the mother of your children.'

'And they?' asked Albert, his mouth puckered with grief.

'Dead, sir,' said Roger. 'All long dead. I'm sorry.'

Albert gradually sank to his knees, and his head dropped as if he were waiting for an execution that would never come. The shadow-woman put her hands on his shoulders, but he was inconsolable. She had lost her young husband, when he died, but now he had woken from the dead to discover that he had lost his sparkling young wife.

'Can you not find it in your heart to love me, now that I am old?' asked the shadow-woman.

Albert couldn't answer. All he could do was bury his face in his hands and remain where he was, too grief-stricken to move, while the candles in the Durbar Room guttered and died.


Michael saw them only once more, on the afternoon that he was due to leave. He was carrying his suitcase out to a waiting taxi when he happened to turn and look along the broad avenue that led to the shore of the Solent. It was difficult to see them, in the foggy half-light, but it looked as if they were walking very slowly toward the house. She was leaning on his arm for support. He had his face turned away from her.

Michael watched them for a while, then climbed into the taxi.

'Are you all right?' asked the taxi driver.

'Yes, why?' said Michael, and it was only then that he realized that his eyes were filled with tears.