The effect of the changes which had come about in his appearance—for, after all, I told myself that it was impossible that I could have been such a simpleton as to have been mistaken on such a question as gender—was heightened by the self-evident fact that, very recently, he had been engaged in some pitched battle; some hand to hand, and, probably, discreditable encounter, from which he had borne away uncomfortable proofs of his opponent’s prowess. His antagonist7 could hardly have been a chivalrous8 fighter, for his countenance9 was marked by a dozen different scratches which seemed to suggest that the weapons used had been someone’s finger-nails. It was, perhaps, because the heat of the battle was still in his veins10 that he was in such a state of excitement. He seemed to be almost overwhelmed by the strength of his own feelings. His eyes seemed literally11 to flame with fire. The muscles of his face were working as if they were wholly beyond his own control. When he spoke12 his accent was markedly foreign; the words rushed from his lips in an inarticulate torrent13; he kept repeating the same thing over and over again in a fashion which was not a little suggestive of insanity14.
‘So you’re not dead!—you’re not dead:—you’re alive!—you’re alive! Well,—how does it feel to be dead? I ask you!—Is it not good to be dead? To keep dead is better,—it is the best of all! To have made an end of all things, to cease to strive and to cease to weep, to cease to want and to cease to have, to cease to annoy and to cease to long, to no more care,—no!—not for anything, to put from you the curse of life,—forever!—is that not the best? Oh yes!—I tell you!—do I not know? But for you such knowledge is not yet. For you there is the return to life, the coming out of death,—you shall live on!—for me!—Live on!’
He made a movement with his hand, and, directly he did so, it happened as on the previous evening, that a metamorphosis took place in the very abysses of my being. I woke from my torpor15, as he put it, I came out of death, and was alive again. I was far, yet, from being my own man; I realised that he exercised on me a degree of mesmeric force which I had never dreamed that one creature could exercise on another; but, at least, I was no longer in doubt as to whether I was or was not dead. I knew I was alive.
He lay, watching me, as if he was reading the thoughts which occupied my brain,—and, for all I know, he was.
‘Robert Holt, you are a thief.’
‘I am not.’
My own voice, as I heard it, startled me,—it was so long since it had sounded in my ears.
‘You are a thief! Only thieves come through windows,—did you not come through the window?’ I was still,—what would my contradiction have availed me? ‘But it is well that you came through the window,—well you are a thief,—well for me! for me! It is you that I am wanting,—at the happy moment you have dropped yourself into my hands,—in the nick of time. For you are my slave,—at my beck and call,—my familiar spirit, to do with as I will,—you know this,—eh?’
I did know it, and the knowledge of my impotence was terrible. I felt that if I could only get away from him; only release myself from the bonds with which he had bound me about; only remove myself from the horrible glamour16 of his near neighbourhood; only get one or two square meals and have an opportunity of recovering from the enervating17 stress of mental and bodily fatigue;—I felt that then I might be something like his match, and that, a second time, he would endeavour in vain to bring me within the compass of his magic. But, as it was, I was conscious that I was helpless, and the consciousness was agony. He persisted in reiterating18 his former falsehood.
‘I say you are a thief!—a thief, Robert Holt, a thief! You came through a window for your own pleasure, now you will go through a window for mine,—not this window, but another.’ Where the jest lay I did not perceive; but it tickled19 him, for a grating sound came from his throat which was meant for laughter. ‘This time it is as a thief that you will go,—oh yes, be sure.’
He paused, as it seemed, to transfix me with his gaze. His unblinking eyes never for an instant quitted my face. With what a frightful20 fascination21 they constrained22 me,—and how I loathed23 them!
When he spoke again there was a new intonation24 in his speech,—something bitter, cruel, unrelenting.
‘Do you know Paul Lessingham?’
He pronounced the name as if he hated it,—and yet as if he loved to have it on his tongue.
‘What Paul Lessingham?’
‘There is only one Paul Lessingham! The Paul Lessingham,—the great Paul Lessingham!’
He shrieked25, rather than said this, with an outburst of rage so frenzied26 that I thought, for the moment, that he was going to spring on me and rend27 me. I shook all over. I do not doubt that, as I replied, my voice was sufficiently28 tremulous.
‘All the world knows Paul Lessingham,—the politician,—the statesman.’
As he glared at me his eyes dilated29. I still stood in expectation of a physical assault. But, for the present, he contented30 himself with words.
‘To-night you are going through his window like a thief!’
I had no inkling of his meaning,—and, apparently31, judging from his next words, I looked something of the bewilderment I felt.
‘You do not understand?—no!—it is simple!—what could be simpler? I say that to-night—to-night!—you are going through his window like a thief. You came through my window,—why not through the window of Paul Lessingham, the politician—the statesman.’
He repeated my words as if in mockery. I am—I make it my boast!—of that great multitude which regards Paul Lessingham as the greatest living force in practical politics; and which looks to him, with confidence, to carry through that great work of constitutional and social reform which he has set himself to do. I daresay that my tone, in speaking of him, savoured of laudation,—which, plainly, the man in the bed resented. What he meant by his wild words about my going through Paul Lessingham’s window like a thief, I still had not the faintest notion. They sounded like the ravings of a madman.
As I continued silent, and he yet stared, there came into his tone another note,—a note of tenderness,—a note of which I had not deemed him capable.
‘He is good to look at, Paul Lessingham,—is he not good to look at?’
I was aware that, physically32, Mr Lessingham was a fine specimen33 of manhood, but I was not prepared for the assertion of the fact in such a quarter,—nor for the manner in which the temporary master of my fate continued to harp34 and enlarge upon the theme.
‘He is straight,—straight as the mast of a ship,—he is tall,—his skin is white; he is strong—do I not know that he is strong—how strong!—oh yes! Is there a better thing than to be his wife? his well-beloved? the light of his eyes? Is there for a woman a happier chance? Oh no, not one! His wife!—Paul Lessingham!’
As, with soft cadences35, he gave vent36 to these unlooked-for sentiments, the fashion of his countenance was changed. A look of longing37 came into his face—of savage38, frantic39 longing—which, unalluring though it was, for the moment transfigured him. But the mood was transient.
‘To be his wife,—oh yes!—the wife of his scorn! the despised and rejected!’
The return to the venom40 of his former bitterness was rapid,—I could not but feel that this was the natural man. Though why a creature such as he was should go out of his way to apostrophise, in such a manner, a publicist of Mr Lessingham’s eminence41, surpassed my comprehension. Yet he stuck to his subject like a leech,—as if it had been one in which he had an engrossing42 personal interest.
‘He is a devil,—hard as the granite43 rock,—cold as the snows of Ararat. In him there is none of life’s warm blood,—he is accursed! He is false,—ay, false as the fables44 of those who lie for love of lies,—he is all treachery. Her whom he has taken to his bosom45 he would put away from him as if she had never been,—he would steal from her like a thief in the night,—he would forget she ever was! But the avenger46 follows after, lurking47 in the shadows, hiding among the rocks, waiting, watching, till his time shall come. And it shall come!—the day of the avenger!—ay, the day!’
Raising himself to a sitting posture48, he threw his arms above his head, and shrieked with a demoniac fury. Presently he became a trifle calmer. Reverting49 to his recumbent position, resting his head upon his hand, he eyed me steadily50; then asked me a question which struck me as being, under the circumstances, more than a little singular.
‘You know his house,—the house of the great Paul Lessingham,—the politician,—the statesman?’
‘I do not.’
‘You lie!—you do!’
The words came from him with a sort of snarl,—as if he would have lashed51 me across the face with them.
‘I do not. Men in my position are not acquainted with the residences of men in his. I may, at some time, have seen his address in print; but, if so, I have forgotten it.’
He looked at me intently, for some moments, as if to learn if I spoke the truth; and apparently, at last, was satisfied that I did.
‘You do not know it?—Well!—I will show it you,—I will show the house of the great Paul Lessingham.’
What he meant I did not know; but I was soon to learn,—an astounding revelation it proved to be. There was about his manner something hardly human; something which, for want of a better phrase, I would call vulpine. In his tone there was a mixture of mockery and bitterness, as if he wished his words to have the effect of corrosive52 sublimate53, and to sear me as he uttered them.
‘Listen with all your ears. Give me your whole attention. Hearken to my bidding, so that you may do as I bid you. Not that I fear your obedience,—oh no!’
He paused,—as if to enable me to fully54 realise the picture of my helplessness conjured55 up by his jibes56.
‘You came through my window, like a thief. You will go through my window, like a fool. You will go to the house of the great Paul Lessingham. You say you do not know it? Well, I will show it you. I will be your guide. Unseen, in the darkness and the night, I will stalk beside you, and will lead you to where I would have you go.—You will go just as you are, with bare feet, and head uncovered, and with but a single garment to hide your nakedness. You will be cold, your feet will be cut and bleeding,—but what better does a thief deserve? If any see you, at the least they will take you for a madman; there will be trouble. But have no fear; bear a bold heart. None shall see you while I stalk at your side. I will cover you with the cloak of invisibility,—so that you may come in safety to the house of the great Paul Lessingham.’
He paused again. What he said, wild and wanton though it was, was beginning to fill me with a sense of the most extreme discomfort57. His sentences, in some strange, indescribable way, seemed, as they came from his lips, to warp58 my limbs; to enwrap themselves about me; to confine me, tighter and tighter, within, as it were, swaddling clothes; to make me more and more helpless. I was already conscious that whatever mad freak he chose to set me on, I should have no option but to carry it through.
‘When you come to the house, you will stand, and look, and seek for a window convenient for entry. It may be that you will find one open, as you did mine; if not, you will open one. How,—that is your affair, not mine. You will practise the arts of a thief to steal into his house.’
The monstrosity of his suggestion fought against the spell which he again was casting upon me, and forced me into speech,—endowed me with the power to show that there still was in me something of a man; though every second the strands59 of my manhood, as it seemed, were slipping faster through the fingers which were strained to clutch them.
‘I will not.’
He was silent. He looked at me. The pupils of his eyes dilated,—until they seemed all pupil.
‘You will.—Do you hear?—I say you will.’
‘I am not a thief, I am an honest man,—why should I do this thing?’
‘Because I bid you.’
‘Have mercy!’
‘On whom—on you, or on Paul Lessingham?—Who, at any time, has shown mercy unto me, that I should show mercy unto any?’
He stopped, and then again went on,—reiterating his former incredible suggestion with an emphasis which seemed to eat its way into my brain.
‘You will practise the arts of a thief to steal into his house; and, being in, will listen. If all be still, you will make your way to the room he calls his study.’
‘How shall I find it? I know nothing of his house.’
‘I will show it you.’
‘Shall you go with me?’
‘Ay,—I shall go with you. All the time I shall be with you. You will not see me, but I shall be there. Be not afraid.’
His claim to supernatural powers, for what he said amounted to nothing less, was, on the face of it, preposterous62, but, then, I was in no condition to even hint at its absurdity63. He continued.
‘When you have gained the study, you will go to a certain drawer, which is in a certain bureau, in a corner of the room—I see it now; when you are there you shall see it too—and you will open it.’
‘Should it be locked?’
‘You still will open it.’
‘But how shall I open it if it is locked?’
‘By those arts in which a thief is skilled. I say to you again that that is your affair, not mine.’
I made no attempt to answer him. Even supposing that he forced me, by the wicked, and unconscionable exercise of what, I presumed, were the hypnotic powers with which nature had to such a dangerous degree endowed him, to carry the adventure to a certain stage, since he could hardly, at an instant’s notice, endow me with the knack64 of picking locks, should the drawer he alluded65 to be locked—which might Providence66 permit!—nothing serious might issue from it after all. He read my thoughts.
‘You will open it,—though it be doubly and trebly locked, I say that you will open it.—In it you will find—’ he hesitated, as if to reflect—‘some letters; it may be two or three,—I know not just how many,—they are bound about by a silken ribbon. You will take them out of the drawer, and, having taken them, you will make the best of your way out of the house, and bear them back to me.’
‘And should anyone come upon me while engaged in these nefarious67 proceedings,—for instance, should I encounter Mr Lessingham himself, what then?’
‘Paul Lessingham?—You need have no fear if you encounter him.’
‘I need have no fear!—If he finds me, in his own house, at dead of night, committing burglary!’
‘You need have no fear of him.’
‘I say you need have no fear of him. I say what I mean.’
‘How, then, shall I escape his righteous vengeance69? He is not the man to suffer a midnight robber to escape him scatheless,—shall I have to kill him?’
‘You will not touch him with a finger,—nor will he touch you.’
‘By what spell shall I prevent him?’
‘By the spell of two words.’
‘What words are they?’
‘Should Paul Lessingham chance to come upon you, and find you in his house, a thief, and should seek to stay you from whatever it is you may be at, you will not flinch70 nor flee from him, but you will stand still, and you will say—’
Something in the crescendo71 accents of his voice, something weird72 and ominous73, caused my heart to press against my ribs74, so that when he stopped, in my eagerness I cried out,
‘What?’
As the words came from him in a kind of screech76, the lamp went out, and the place was all in darkness, and I knew, so that the knowledge filled me with a sense of loathing77, that with me, in the room, was the evil presence of the night before. Two bright specks78 gleamed in front of me; something flopped79 from off the bed on to the ground; the thing was coming towards me across the floor. It came slowly on, and on, and on. I stood still, speechless in the sickness of my horror. Until, on my bare feet, it touched me with slimy feelers, and my terror lest it should creep up my naked body lent me voice, and I fell shrieking80 like a soul in agony.
It may be that my shrieking drove it from me. At least, it went. I knew it went. And all was still. Until, on a sudden, the lamp flamed out again, and there, lying, as before, in bed, glaring at me with his baleful eyes, was the being whom, in my folly81, or in my wisdom,—whichever it was!—I was beginning to credit with the possession of unhallowed, unlawful powers.
‘You will say that to him; those two words; they only; no more. And you will see what you will see. But Paul Lessingham is a man of resolution. Should he still persist in interference, or seek to hinder you, you will say those two words again. You need do no more. Twice will suffice, I promise you.—Now go.—Draw up the blind; open the window; climb through it. Hasten to do what I have bidden you. I wait here for your return,—and all the way I shall be with you.’
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1
alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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decrepitude
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| n.衰老；破旧 | |
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3
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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4
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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5
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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6
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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7
antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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8
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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9
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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10
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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11
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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12
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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13
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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14
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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15
torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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17
enervating
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| v.使衰弱，使失去活力( enervate的现在分词 ) | |
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18
reiterating
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的现在分词 ) | |
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19
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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20
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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21
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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23
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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24
intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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25
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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27
rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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28
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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29
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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31
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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cadences
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| n.（声音的）抑扬顿挫( cadence的名词复数 )；节奏；韵律；调子 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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40
venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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41
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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engrossing
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| adj.使人全神贯注的，引人入胜的v.使全神贯注( engross的现在分词 ) | |
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43
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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44
fables
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| n.寓言( fable的名词复数 )；神话，传说 | |
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45
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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46
avenger
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| n. 复仇者 | |
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47
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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48
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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49
reverting
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| 恢复( revert的现在分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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50
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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51
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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52
corrosive
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| adj.腐蚀性的；有害的；恶毒的 | |
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53
sublimate
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| v.(使)升华，净化 | |
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54
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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55
conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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56
jibes
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| n.与…一致( jibe的名词复数 )；（与…）相符；相匹配v.与…一致( jibe的第三人称单数 )；（与…）相符；相匹配 | |
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57
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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58
warp
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| vt.弄歪，使翘曲，使不正常，歪曲，使有偏见 | |
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59
strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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60
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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61
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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62
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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63
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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64
knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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65
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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nefarious
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| adj.恶毒的，极坏的 | |
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68
gaol
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| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
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69
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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70
flinch
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| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
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71
crescendo
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| n.(音乐)渐强，高潮 | |
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72
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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75
beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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76
screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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78
specks
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| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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79
flopped
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| v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的过去式和过去分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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80
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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81
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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