With the flood of morning sunshine the value of much she had said evaporated. Her presence alone had supplied the key to the cipher3. But while the indigestible portions he rejected, there remained a good deal he had already assimilated. The discomfort4 remained; and with it the grave, unholy reality of it all. It was something more than theory. Results would follow — if he joined them. He would witness curious things.
The force with which it drew him brought hesitation5. It operated in him like a shock that numbs6 at first by its abrupt7 arrival, and needs time to realise in the right proportions to the rest of life. These right proportions, however, did not come readily, and his emotions ranged between sceptical laughter and complete acceptance. The one detail he felt certain of was this dreadful thing he had divined in Vance. Trying hard to disbelieve it, he found he could not. It was true. Though without a shred8 of real evidence to support it, the horror of it remained. He knew it in his very bones.
And this, perhaps, was what drove him to seek the comforting companionship of folk he understood and felt at home with. He told his host and hostess about the strangers, though omitting the actual conversation because they would merely smile in blank miscomprehension. But the moment he described the strong black eyes beneath the level eyelids9, his hostess turned with a start, her interest deeply roused: “Why, it’s that awful Statham woman,” she exclaimed, “that must be Lady Statham, and the man she calls her nephew.”
“Sounds like it, certainly,” her husband added. “Felix, you’d better clear out. They’ll bewitch you too.”
And Henriot bridled10, yet wondering why he did so. He drew into his shell a little, giving the merest sketch11 of what had happened. But he listened closely while these two practical old friends supplied him with information in the gossiping way that human nature loves. No doubt there was much embroidery12, and more perversion13, exaggeration too, but the account evidently rested upon some basis of solid foundation for all that. Smoke and fire go together always.
“He is her nephew right enough,” Mansfield corrected his wife, before proceeding14 to his own man’s form of elaboration; “no question about that, I believe. He’s her favourite nephew, and she’s as rich as a pig. He follows her out here every year, waiting for her empty shoes. But they are an unsavoury couple. I’ve met ’em in various parts, all over Egypt, but they always come back to Helouan in the end. And the stories about them are simply legion. You remember —” he turned hesitatingly to his wife —“some people, I heard,” he changed his sentence, “were made quite ill by her.”
“I’m sure Felix ought to know, yes,” his wife boldly took him up, “my niece, Fanny, had the most extraordinary experience.” She turned to Henriot. “Her room was next to Lady Statham in some hotel or other at Assouan or Edfu, and one night she woke and heard a kind of mysterious chanting or intoning next her. Hotel doors are so dreadfully thin. There was a funny smell too, like incense15 of something sickly, and a man’s voice kept chiming in. It went on for hours, while she lay terrified in bed —”
“Frightened, you say?” asked Henriot.
“Out of her skin, yes; she said it was so uncanny — made her feel icy. She wanted to ring the bell, but was afraid to leave her bed. The room was full of — of things, yet she could see nothing. She felt them, you see. And after a bit the sound of this sing-song voice so got on her nerves, it half dazed her — a kind of enchantment16 — she felt choked and suffocated17. And then —” It was her turn to hesitate.
“Tell it all,” her husband said, quite gravely too.
“Well — something came in. At least, she describes it oddly, rather; she said it made the door bulge18 inwards from the next room, but not the door alone; the walls bulged19 or swayed as if a huge thing pressed against them from the other side. And at the same moment her windows — she had two big balconies, and the venetian shutters20 were fastened — both her windows darkened— though it was two in the morning and pitch dark outside. She said it was all one thing — trying to get in; just as water, you see, would rush in through every hole and opening it could find, and all at once. And in spite of her terror — that’s the odd part of it — she says she felt a kind of splendour in her — a sort of elation21.”
“She saw nothing?”
“She says she doesn’t remember. Her senses left her, I believe — though she won’t admit it.”
“Fainted for a minute, probably,” said Mansfield.
“So there it is,” his wife concluded, after a silence. “And that’s true. It happened to my niece, didn’t it, John?”
Stories and legendary22 accounts of strange things that the presence of these two brought poured out then. They were obviously somewhat mixed, one account borrowing picturesque23 details from another, and all in disproportion, as when people tell stories in a language they are little familiar with. But, listening with avidity, yet also with uneasiness, somehow, Henriot put two and two together. Truth stood behind them somewhere. These two held traffic with the powers that ancient Egypt knew.
“Tell Felix, dear, about the time you met the nephew — horrid24 creature — in the Valley of the Kings,” he heard his wife say presently. And Mansfield told it plainly enough, evidently glad to get it done, though.
“It was some years ago now, and I didn’t know who he was then, or anything about him. I don’t know much more now — except that he’s a dangerous sort of charlatan-devil, I think. But I came across him one night up there by Thebes in the Valley of the Kings — you know, where they buried all their Johnnies with so much magnificence and processions and masses, and all the rest. It’s the most astounding25, the most haunted place you ever saw, gloomy, silent, full of gorgeous lights and shadows that seem alive — terribly impressive; it makes you creep and shudder26. You feel old Egypt watching you.”
“Get on, dear,” said his wife.
“Well, I was coming home late on a blasted lazy donkey, dog-tired into the bargain, when my donkey boy suddenly ran for his life and left me alone. It was after sunset. The sand was red and shining, and the big cliffs sort of fiery27. And my donkey stuck its four feet in the ground and wouldn’t budge28. Then, about fifty yards away, I saw a fellow — European apparently29 — doing something — Heaven knows what, for I can’t describe it — among the boulders30 that lie all over the ground there. Ceremony, I suppose you’d call it. I was so interested that at first I watched. Then I saw he wasn’t alone. There were a lot of moving things round him, towering big things, that came and went like shadows. That twilight32 is fearfully bewildering; perspective changes, and distance gets all confused. It’s fearfully hard to see properly. I only remember that I got off my donkey and went up closer, and when I was within a dozen yards of him — well, it sounds such rot, you know, but I swear the things suddenly rushed off and left him there alone. They went with a roaring noise like wind; shadowy but tremendously big, they were, and they vanished up against the fiery precipices33 as though they slipped bang into the stone itself. The only thing I can think of to describe ’em is — well, those sand-storms the Khamasin raises — the hot winds, you know.”
“They probably were sand,” his wife suggested, burning to tell another story of her own.
“Possibly, only there wasn’t a breath of wind, and it was hot as blazes — and — I had such extraordinary sensations — never felt anything like it before — wild and exhilarated — drunk, I tell you, drunk.”
“You saw them?” asked Henriot. “You made out their shape at all, or outline?”
“Sphinx,” he replied at once, “for all the world like sphinxes. You know the kind of face and head these limestone34 strata35 in the Desert take — great visages with square Egyptian head-dresses where the driven sand has eaten away the softer stuff beneath? You see it everywhere — enormous idols36 they seem, with faces and eyes and lips awfully38 like the sphinx — well, that’s the nearest I can get to it.” He puffed39 his pipe hard. But there was no sign of levity40 in him. He told the actual truth as far as in him lay, yet half ashamed of what he told. And a good deal he left out, too.
“She’s got a face of the same sort, that Statham horror,” his wife said with a shiver. “Reduce the size, and paint in awful black eyes, and you’ve got her exactly — a living idol37.” And all three laughed, yet a laughter without merriment in it.
“And you spoke41 to the man?”
“I did,” the Englishman answered, “though I confess I’m a bit ashamed of the way I spoke. Fact is, I was excited, thunderingly excited, and felt a kind of anger. I wanted to kick the beggar for practising such bally rubbish, and in such a place too. Yet all the time — well, well, I believe it was sheer funk now,” he laughed; “for I felt uncommonly42 queer out there in the dusk, alone with — with that kind of business; and I was angry with myself for feeling it. Anyhow, I went up — I’d lost my donkey boy as well, remember — and slated43 him like a dog. I can’t remember what I said exactly — only that he stood and stared at me in silence. That made it worse — seemed twice as real then. The beggar said no single word the whole time. He signed to me with one hand to clear out. And then, suddenly out of nothing — she — that woman — appeared and stood beside him. I never saw her come. She must have been behind some boulder31 or other, for she simply rose out of the ground. She stood there and stared at me too — bang in the face. She was turned towards the sunset — what was left of it in the west — and her black eyes shone like — ugh! I can’t describe it — it was shocking.”
“She spoke?”
“She said five words — and her voice — it’ll make you laugh — it was metallic44 like a gong: ‘You are in danger here.’ That’s all she said. I simply turned and cleared out as fast as ever I could. But I had to go on foot. My donkey had followed its boy long before. I tell you — smile as you may — my blood was all curdled45 for an hour afterwards.”
Then he explained that he felt some kind of explanation or apology was due, since the couple lodged46 in his own hotel, and how he approached the man in the smoking-room after dinner. A conversation resulted — the man was quite intelligent after all — of which only one sentence had remained in his mind.
“Perhaps you can explain it, Felix. I wrote it down, as well as I could remember. The rest confused me beyond words or memory; though I must confess it did not seem — well, not utter rot exactly. It was about astrology and rituals and the worship of the old Egyptians, and I don’t know what else besides. Only, he made it intelligible47 and almost sensible, if only I could have got the hang of the thing enough to remember it. You know,” he added, as though believing in spite of himself, “there is a lot of that wonderful old Egyptian religious business still hanging about in the atmosphere of this place, say what you like.”
“But this sentence?” Henriot asked. And the other went off to get a note-book where he had written it down.
“He was jawing48, you see,” he continued when he came back, Henriot and his wife having kept silence meanwhile, “about direction being of importance in religious ceremonies, West and North symbolising certain powers, or something of the kind, why people turn to the East and all that sort of thing, and speaking of the whole Universe as if it had living forces tucked away in it that expressed themselves somehow when roused up. That’s how I remember it anyhow. And then he said this thing — in answer to some fool question probably that I put.” And he read out of the note-book:
“‘You were in danger because you came through the Gateway49 of the West, and the Powers from the Gateway of the East were at that moment rising, and therefore in direct opposition50 to you.’”
Then came the following, apparently a simile51 offered by way of explanation. Mansfield read it in a shamefaced tone, evidently prepared for laughter:
“‘Whether I strike you on the back or in the face determines what kind of answering force I rouse in you. Direction is significant.’ And he said it was the period called the Night of Power — time when the Desert encroaches and spirits are close.”
And tossing the book aside, he lit his pipe again and waited a moment to hear what might be said. “Can you explain such gibberish?” he asked at length, as neither of his listeners spoke. But Henriot said he couldn’t. And the wife then took up her own tale of stories that had grown about this singular couple.
These were less detailed52, and therefore less impressive, but all contributed something towards the atmosphere of reality that framed the entire picture. They belonged to the type one hears at every dinner party in Egypt — stories of the vengeance53 mummies seem to take on those who robbed them, desecrating54 their peace of centuries; of a woman wearing a necklace of scarabs taken from a princess’s tomb, who felt hands about her throat to strangle her; of little Ka figures, Pasht goddesses, amulets55 and the rest, that brought curious disaster to those who kept them. They are many and various, astonishingly circumstantial often, and vouched56 for by persons the reverse of credulous57. The modern superstition58 that haunts the desert gullies with Afreets has nothing in common with them. They rest upon a basis of indubitable experience; and they remain — inexplicable59. And about the personalities60 of Lady Statham and her nephew they crowded like flies attracted by a dish of fruit. The Arabs, too, were afraid of her. She had difficulty in getting guides and dragomen.
“My dear chap,” concluded Mansfield, “take my advice and have nothing to do with ’em. There is a lot of queer business knocking about in this old country, and people like that know ways of reviving it somehow. It’s upset you already; you looked scared, I thought, the moment you came in.” They laughed, but the Englishman was in earnest. “I tell you what,” he added, “we’ll go off for a bit of shooting together. The fields along the Delta61 are packed with birds now: they’re home early this year on their way to the North. What d’ye say, eh?”
But Henriot did not care about the quail62 shooting. He felt more inclined to be alone and think things out by himself. He had come to his friends for comfort, and instead they had made him uneasy and excited. His interest had suddenly doubled. Though half afraid, he longed to know what these two were up to — to follow the adventure to the bitter end. He disregarded the warning of his host as well as the premonition in his own heart. The sand had caught his feet.
There were moments when he laughed in utter disbelief, but these were optimistic moods that did not last. He always returned to the feeling that truth lurked63 somewhere in the whole strange business, and that if he joined forces with them, as they seemed to wish, he would witness — well, he hardly knew what — but it enticed64 him as danger does the reckless man, or death the suicide. The sand had caught his mind.
He decided65 to offer himself to all they wanted — his pencil too. He would see — a shiver ran through him at the thought — what they saw, and know some eddy66 of that vanished tide of power and splendour the ancient Egyptian priesthood knew, and that perhaps was even common experience in the far-off days of dim Atlantis. The sand had caught his imagination too. He was utterly67 sand-haunted.
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1
subconsciousness
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| 潜意识；下意识 | |
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2
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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cipher
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| n.零；无影响力的人；密码 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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numbs
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的第三人称单数 ) | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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8
shred
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| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
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9
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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10
bridled
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| 给…套龙头( bridle的过去式和过去分词 )； 控制； 昂首表示轻蔑（或怨忿等）； 动怒，生气 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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12
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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13
perversion
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| n.曲解；堕落；反常 | |
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14
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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15
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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16
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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17
suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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18
bulge
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| n.突出，膨胀，激增；vt.突出，膨胀 | |
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bulged
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| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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21
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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22
legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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24
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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25
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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26
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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27
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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30
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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31
boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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32
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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precipices
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| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
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34
limestone
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| n.石灰石 | |
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strata
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| n.地层（复数）；社会阶层 | |
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idols
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| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
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idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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38
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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39
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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40
levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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41
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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42
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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43
slated
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| 用石板瓦盖( slate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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45
curdled
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| v.（使）凝结( curdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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47
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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48
jawing
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| n.用水灌注 | |
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49
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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50
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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51
simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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52
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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53
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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54
desecrating
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| 毁坏或亵渎( desecrate的现在分词 ) | |
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55
amulets
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| n.护身符( amulet的名词复数 ) | |
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56
vouched
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| v.保证( vouch的过去式和过去分词 )；担保；确定；确定地说 | |
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57
credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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58
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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59
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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60
personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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61
delta
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| n.（流的）角洲 | |
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62
quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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63
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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64
enticed
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| 诱惑，怂恿( entice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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66
eddy
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| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
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67
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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