The hours passed. By slow degrees, the silence was eclipsed. Sounds of traffic, of hurrying footsteps,—life!—were ushers6 of the morn. Outside the window sparrows twittered,—a cat mewed, a dog barked—there was the clatter7 of a milk can. Shafts8 of light stole past the blind, increasing in intensity9. It still rained, now and again it pattered against the pane10. The wind must have shifted, because, for the first time, there came, on a sudden, the clang of a distant clock striking the hour,—seven. Then, with the interval11 of a lifetime between each chiming, eight,—nine,—ten.
So far, in the room itself there had not been a sound. When the clock had struck ten, as it seemed to me, years ago, there came a rustling noise, from the direction of the bed. Feet stepped upon the floor,—moving towards where I was lying. It was, of course, now broad day, and I, presently, perceived that a figure, clad in some queer coloured garment, was standing12 at my side, looking down at me. It stooped, then knelt. My only covering was unceremoniously thrown from off me, so that I lay there in my nakedness. Fingers prodded13 me then and there, as if I had been some beast ready for the butcher’s stall. A face looked into mine, and, in front of me, were those dreadful eyes. Then, whether I was dead or living, I said to myself that this could be nothing human,—nothing fashioned in God’s image could wear such a shape as that. Fingers were pressed into my cheeks, they were thrust into my mouth, they touched my staring eyes, shut my eyelids14, then opened them again, and—horror of horrors!—the blubber lips were pressed to mine—the soul of something evil entered into me in the guise15 of a kiss.
Then this travesty16 of manhood reascended to his feet, and said, whether speaking to me or to himself I could not tell,
‘Dead!—dead!—as good as dead!—and better! We’ll have him buried.’
He moved away from me. I heard a door open and shut, and knew that he was gone.
And he continued gone throughout the day. I had no actual knowledge of his issuing out into the street, but he must have done so, because the house appeared deserted17. What had become of the dreadful creature of the night before I could not guess. My first fear was that he had left it behind him in the room with me,—it might be, as a sort of watchdog. But, as the minutes and the hours passed, and there was still no sign or sound of anything living, I concluded that, if the thing was there, it was, possibly, as helpless as myself, and that during its owner’s absence, at any rate, I had nothing to fear from its too pressing attentions.
That, with the exception of myself, the house held nothing human, I had strong presumptive proof more than once in the course of the day. Several times, both in the morning and the afternoon, people without endeavoured to attract the attention of whoever was within. Vehicles—probably tradesmen’s carts—drew up in front, their stopping being followed by more or less assiduous assaults upon the knocker and the bell. But in every case their appeals remained unheeded. Whatever it was they wanted, they had to go unsatisfied away. Lying there, torpid18, with nothing to do but listen, I was, possibly, struck by very little, but it did occur to me that one among the callers was more persistent19 than the rest.
The distant clock had just struck noon when I heard the gate open, and someone approached the front door. Since nothing but silence followed, I supposed that the occupant of the place had returned, and had chosen to do so as silently as he had gone. Presently, however, there came from the doorstep a slight but peculiar20 call, as if a rat was squeaking22. It was repeated three times, and then there was the sound of footsteps quietly retreating, and the gate re-closing. Between one and two the caller came again; there was a repetition of the same signal,—that it was a signal I did not doubt; followed by the same retreat. About three the mysterious visitant returned. The signal was repeated, and, when there was no response, fingers tapped softly against the panels of the front door. When there was still no answer, footsteps stole softly round the side of the house, and there came the signal from the rear,—and then, again, tapping of fingers against what was, apparently23, the back door. No notice being taken of these various proceedings24, the footsteps returned the way they went, and, as before, the gate was closed.
Shortly after darkness had fallen this assiduous caller returned, to make a fourth and more resolute25 attempt to call attention to his presence. From the peculiar character of his manoeuvres it seemed that he suspected that whoever was within had particular reasons for ignoring him without. He went through the familiar pantomime of the three squeaky calls both at the front door and the back,—followed by the tapping of the fingers on the panels. This time, however, he also tried the window panes,—I could hear, quite distinctly, the clear, yet distinct, noise of what seemed like knuckles26 rapping against the windows behind. Disappointed there, he renewed his efforts at the front. The curiously27 quiet footsteps came round the house, to pause before the window of the room in which I lay,—and then something singular occurred.
While I waited for the tapping, there came, instead, the sound of someone or something, scrambling28 on to the window-sill,—as if some creature, unable to reach the window from the ground, was endeavouring to gain the vantage of the sill. Some ungainly creature, unskilled in surmounting29 such an obstacle as a perpendicular30 brick wall. There was the noise of what seemed to be the scratching of claws, as if it experienced considerable difficulty in obtaining a hold on the unyielding surface. What kind of creature it was I could not think,—I was astonished to find that it was a creature at all. I had taken it for granted that the persevering31 visitor was either a woman or a man. If, however, as now seemed likely, it was some sort of animal, the fact explained the squeaking sounds,—though what, except a rat, did squeak21 like that was more than I could say—and the absence of any knocking or ringing.
Whatever it was, it had gained the summit of its desires,—the window-sill. It panted as if its efforts at climbing had made it short of breath. Then began the tapping. In the light of my new discovery, I perceived, clearly enough, that the tapping was hardly that which was likely to be the product of human fingers,—it was sharp and definite, rather resembling the striking of the point of a nail against the glass. It was not loud, but in time—it continued with much persistency—it became plainly vicious. It was accompanied by what I can only describe as the most extraordinary noises. There were squeaks32, growing angrier and shriller as the minutes passed; what seemed like gaspings for breath; and a peculiar buzzing sound like, yet unlike, the purring of a cat.
The creature’s resentment33 at its want of success in attracting attention was unmistakable. The tapping became like the clattering34 of hailstones; it kept up a continuous noise with its cries and pantings; there was the sound as of some large body being rubbed against the glass, as if it were extending itself against the window, and endeavouring, by force of pressure, to gain an entrance through the pane. So violent did its contortions35 become that I momentarily anticipated the yielding of the glass, and the excited assailant coming crashing through. Considerably36 to my relief the window proved more impregnable than seemed at one time likely. The stolid37 resistance proved, in the end, to be too much either for its endurance or its patience. Just as I was looking for some fresh manifestation38 of fury, it seemed rather to tumble than to spring off the sill; then came, once more, the same sound of quietly retreating footsteps; and what, under the circumstances, seemed odder still, the same closing of the gate.
During the two or three hours which immediately ensued nothing happened at all out of the way,—and then took place the most surprising incident of all. The clock had struck ten some time before. Since before the striking of the hour nothing and no one had passed along what was evidently the little frequented road in front of that uncanny house. On a sudden two sounds broke the stillness without,—of someone running, and of cries. Judging from his hurrying steps someone seemed to be flying for his life,—to the accompaniment of curious cries. It was only when the runner reached the front of the house that, in the cries, I recognised the squeaks of the persistent caller. I imagined that he had returned, as before, alone, to renew his attacks upon the window,—until it was made plain, as it quickly was, that, with him, was some sort of a companion. Immediately there arose, from without, the noise of battle. Two creatures, whose cries were, to me, of so unusual a character, that I found it impossible to even guess at their identity, seemed to be waging war to the knife upon the doorstep. After a minute or two of furious contention39, victory seemed to rest with one of the combatants, for the other fled, squeaking as with pain. While I listened, with strained attention, for the next episode in this queer drama, expecting that now would come another assault upon the window, to my unbounded surprise I heard a key thrust in the keyhole, the lock turned, and the front door thrown open with a furious bang. It was closed as loudly as it was opened. Then the door of the room in which I was, was dashed open, with the same display of excitement, and of clamour, footsteps came hurrying in, the door was slammed to with a force which shook the house to its foundations, there was a rustling as of bed-clothes, the brilliant illumination of the night before, and a voice, which I had only too good reason to remember said,
‘Stand up.’
I stood up, automatically, at the word of command, facing towards the bed.
There, between the sheets, with his head resting on his hand, in the attitude in which I had seen him last, was the being I had made acquaintance with under circumstances which I was never likely to forget,—the same, yet not the same.
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1
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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2
extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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3
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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4
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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5
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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6
ushers
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| n.引座员( usher的名词复数 )；招待员；门房；助理教员v.引，领，陪同( usher的第三人称单数 ) | |
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7
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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8
shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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9
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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10
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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11
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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12
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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13
prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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14
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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15
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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16
travesty
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| n.歪曲，嘲弄，滑稽化 | |
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17
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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18
torpid
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| adj.麻痹的，麻木的，迟钝的 | |
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19
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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20
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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21
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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22
squeaking
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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23
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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24
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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25
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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26
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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27
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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28
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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29
surmounting
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| 战胜( surmount的现在分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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30
perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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31
persevering
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| a.坚忍不拔的 | |
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32
squeaks
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| n.短促的尖叫声，吱吱声( squeak的名词复数 )v.短促地尖叫( squeak的第三人称单数 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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33
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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34
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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35
contortions
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| n.扭歪，弯曲；扭曲，弄歪，歪曲( contortion的名词复数 ) | |
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36
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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37
stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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38
manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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39
contention
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| n.争论，争辩，论战；论点，主张 | |
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