Eld, full of enthusiasm, stood with his chest out, waving his hat vigorously towards the crowd on the shore: "Who cares, even if the First Sea Lord himself cos to greet us, it’s only right. We’ve suffered so much on the ship, so what’s wrong with a grand welcoming ceremony? Look, there’s even a little girl holding a bouquet over there; I wonder which noble family she belongs to. Ha, there’s even a flower-giving segnt; the Navy Departnt really put so thought into this."
Just as Eld was smugly waving his hat, intending to make eye contact with the ’noble young lady,’ there was a clunk as the gangway was secured onto the ship.
Victoria stood in the shadow of a parasol, her expression uncertain. Her eyes were fixed on the mast and the ensign of the Beagle, and for so reason, a subtle unease stirred in her heart.
She quietly turned her head to glance at her mother beside her, the Duchess of Kent, whose face still wore that eight-tenths appropriate, two-tenths distant social smile, standing amidst several Navy Departnt officials and chatting with them, while Lady Leisen happened to be looking down at a protocol book, not noticing her expression.
Uncle’s ship had already docked.
Yet...
No one moved.
No one went forward to greet him.
And no one ntioned her Uncle Leopold.
Victoria suddenly felt that familiar sense of being isolated from the adult world.
In front of the things she cared about most, adults always chose to play deaf and dumb.
She bit her lip and looked down at the bouquet in her hands, which she had carefully picked in the garden an hour ago, with pink roses, blooming daisies, and marigolds, all in her Uncle Leopold’s favorite colors.
She glanced back at the indifferent adults, trembling all over as she clenched her fist tightly, then slowly relaxed it. She resigned herself to it.
But sohow, from the noisy crowd, it was as if so familiar background noise suddenly erged.
It was as if she heard a thread of sound gently erging from the depths of distant mories through the gaps in the crowd.
Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.
— Shakespeare, "Cymbeline"
Arthur’s comntary thundered in her ears: "Your Highness, as Shakespeare said, the world does not lack intelligent people, what is lacking is the courage to take a step forward."
She glanced at her mother standing beside her, then at Lady Leisen in the near distance, and sothing hard in her heart seed to suddenly shatter quietly, like a small flower blossoming through the cracks.
She waited no longer, but lifted the bouquet and gently stepped forward, one step after another, quietly crossing the edge of the parasol, out of the sequence of protocol, stepping into the sunlight of reality.
Her feet, not yet fully grown, were clad in ill-fitting ceremonial boots, treading unhurriedly on the stone pier, forging a path toward the gangway.
And the adult world behind her seed not to imdiately notice the exceptionality of this action.
She intended to personally hand that bouquet to her uncle.
Just then, Eld on the deck keenly spotted a small figure approaching the gangway, instantly noticing the brightly colored bouquet.
Instinctively, he naturally assud it was the welcoming bouquet arranged by the Navy Departnt for the ’triumphantly returning soldiers,’ and couldn’t help but beam with delight.
Eld shook his head and sighed softly: "Having a lady walk such a long way to present flowers is not in line with gentlemanly conduct."
Before Darwin could react to what was happening, Eld had already bolted down, clutching his hat.
"Your Highness, please stop! Be careful of the gangway!" The ceremonial soldier on the pier finally realized sothing was wrong, but just as he shouted out, Eld already had both feet on the ground, reaching out respectfully and excitedly toward Victoria.
"Ah, miss, you’re just in ti. These flowers, are they for ... oh, no, they’re for us, right?"
Then, Eld stood up straight, took a step forward, and with a smile, without any room for refusal, took the bouquet from Victoria’s hands.
Victoria was taken aback.
She instinctively wanted to pull back but it was too late because there was nothing left in her arms.
Eld looked as if he was ’moved to tears,’ bowing deeply to Victoria, his voice loud enough for even the distant military band to hear clearly.
"Thank you, kind lady. On behalf of the entire crew of the Beagle, I accept your respect! May God bless your pure heart!"
With that, he waved his hat to the cheering crowd around, about to take a deep breath and pay his respects toward the platform where the senior officials were.
But before Eld could finish enjoying himself, a young and cold voice ca quietly from behind him.
"Who are you?"
Eld was stunned as he turned his head, seeing the young girl staring at him, her blue-grey eyes devoid of the earlier shyness, now filled with a kind of displeasure that the Kensington Palace servants recognized as the kind of royal arrogance.
She said nothing more, just gazed steadily at him, not angry, but with an extrely complex expression.
Aggrieved, surprised, disappointed, and perhaps even... sad.
Eld stood there, sowhat dazed and staring into the girl’s eyes, not understanding why she was so upset.
User Comments
0 comments from readers