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开 本: 32开纸 张: 轻型纸包 装: 精装是否套装: 否国际标准书号ISBN: 9787222176270
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《消失的地平线》
打开《消失的地平线》，就像打开了心底一扇尘封的门
门这边是庸碌扰攘的生活，时钟滴答不停，人们脚步匆匆
门那边是辽远的香格里拉，日月交相辉映，星光照亮群山
”香格里拉”这四个字，让所有旅人魂牵梦萦
但你是否知道，这个梦幻般的远方正是出自《消失的地平线》这本书？
世界经典英文名著文库（GUOMAI ENGLISH LIBRARY）包含全世界范围内超受欢迎的原版经典图书：《小王子》《老人与海》《了不起的盖茨比》《月亮和六便士》《喧嚣与骚动》《瓦尔登湖》《欧·亨利短篇小说精选》《双城记》……
Lost Horizon，中文译名为《消失的地平线》，四名西方旅客意外来到坐落在群山之中的香格里拉秘境。原本各自身为外交家、银行家、修女与大学毕业生的四个旅人，被命运捆绑在一起，在香格里拉遭遇了种种离奇事件。
香格里拉宛如一座世外桃源，在那里没有繁杂的琐事和无谓的纷争，陪伴人们的是肖邦的失传之曲，永不老去的少女，窗外熠熠生辉的卡拉卡尔山，和缓缓流动的时光。日月光辉庇佑下的香格里拉，究竟埋藏着怎样令人震惊的秘密？在当地长老的带领下，四名旅客一层层揭开了香格里拉之谜……
PROLOGUE
TEXT
EPILOGUE
Cigars had burned low, and we were beginning to sample the disillusionment that usually afflicts old school friends who have met again as men and found themselves with less in common than they had believed they had. Rutherford wrote novels; Wyland was one of the Embassy secretaries; he had just given us dinner at Tempelhof-not very cheerfully, I fancied, but with the equanimity which a diplomat must always keep on tap for such occasions. It seemed likely that nothing but the fact of being three celibate Englishmen in a foreign capital could have brought us together, and I had already reached the conclusion that the slight touch of priggishness which I remembered in Wyland Tertius had not diminished with years and an M.V.O. Rutherford I liked more; he had ripened well out of the skinny, precocious infant whom I had once alternately bullied and patronized. The probability that he was making much more money and having a more interesting life than either of us, gave Wyland and me our one mutual emotion-a touch of envy.
The evening, however, was far from dull. We had a good view of the big Lufthansa machines as they arrived at the aerodrome from all parts of Central Europe, and towards dusk, when arc flares were lighted, the scene took on a rich, theatrical brilliance. One of the planes was English, and its pilot, in full flying-kit, strolled past our table and saluted Wyland, who did not at first recognize him. When he did so there were introductions all around, and the stranger was invited to join us. He was a pleasant, jolly youth named Sanders. Wyland made some apologetic remark about the difficulty of identifying people when they were all dressed up in Sibleys and flying helmets; at which Sanders laughed and answered: “Oh, rather, I know that well enough. Don’t forget I was at Baskul.” Wyland laughed also, but less spontaneously, and the conversation then took other directions.
Sanders made an attractive addition to our small company, and we all drank a great deal of beer together. About ten o’clock Wyland left us for a moment to speak to someone at a table nearby, and Rutherford, into the sudden hiatus of talk, remarked: “Oh, by the way, you mentioned Baskul just now. I know the place slightly. What was it you were referring to that happened there?”
Sanders smiled rather shyly. “Oh, just a bit of excitement we had once when I was in the Service.” But he was a youth who could not long refrain from being confidential. “Fact is, an Afghan or an Afridi or somebody ran off with one of our buses, and there was the very devil to pay afterwards, as you can imagine. Most impudent thing I ever heard of. The blighter waylaid the pilot, knocked him out, pinched his kit, and climbed into the cockpit without a soul spotting him. Gave the mechanics the proper signals, too, and was up and away in fine style. The trouble was, he never came back.”
Rutherford looked interested. “When did this happen?”
”Oh-must have been about a year ago. May, ‘thirty-one. We were evacuating civilians from Baskul to Peshawar owing to the revolution-perhaps you remember the business. The place was in a bit of an upset, or I don’t suppose the thing could have happened. Still, it did happen-and it goes some way to show that clothes make the man, doesn’t it?”
Rutherford was still interested. “I should have thought you’d have had more than one fellow in charge of a plane on an occasion like that?”
”We did, on all the ordinary troop carriers, but this machine was a special one, built for some maharajah originally-quite a stunt kind of outfit. The Indian Survey people had been using it for high-altitude flights in Kashmir.”
”And you say it never reached Peshawar?”
”Never reached there, and never came down anywhere else, so far as we could discover. That was the queer part about it. Of course, if the fellow was a tribesman he might have made for the hills, thinking to hold the passengers for ransom. I suppose they all got killed, somehow. There are heaps of places on the frontier where you might crash and not be heard of afterwards.”
”Yes, I know the sort of country. How many passengers were there?”
”Four, I think. Three men and some woman missionary.”
”Was one of the men, by any chance, named Conway?”
Sanders looked surprised. “Why, yes, as a matter of fact. ‘Glory’ Conway-did you know him?”
”He and I were at the same school,” said Rutherford a little self- consciously, for it was true enough, yet a remark which he was aware did not suit him.
”He was a jolly fine chap, by all accounts of what he did at Baskul,” went on Sanders.
Rutherford nodded. “Yes, undoubtedly … but how extraordinary … extraordinary …” He appeared to collect himself after a spell of mind-wandering. Then he said: “It was never in the papers, or I think I should have read about it. How was that?”
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