the notch on the ax and on being found out-第48章
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
pity thee！〃 The maniac never heeded him； she appeared to be
scrambling up a staircase to her children's room。 She exclaimed
she was scorched； singed； suffocated； her courage appeared to fail；
and she retreated。 〃But my children are there！〃 she cried in a
voice of unspeakable agony； as she seemed to make another effort；
〃here I amhere I am come to save you。Oh God！ They are all
blazing！Take this armno； not that； it is scorched and disabled
well； any armtake hold of my clothesno； they are blazing too！
Well； take me all on fire as I am！And their hair； how it
hisses！Water； one drop of water for my youngesthe is but an
infantfor my youngest； and let me burn！〃 She paused in horrid
silence； to watch the fall of a blazing rafter that was about to
shatter the staircase on which she stood。〃The roof has fallen on
my head！〃 she exclaimed。 〃The earth is weak； and all the
inhabitants thereof；〃 chanted the weaver； 〃I bear up the pillars of
it。〃
The maniac marked the destruction of the spot where she thought she
stood by one desperate bound； accompanied by a wild shriek； and
then calmly gazed on her infants as they rolled over the scorching
fragments； and sunk into the abyss of fire below。 〃There they go；
onetwothreeall！〃 and her voice sunk into low mutterings； and
her convulsions into faint； cold shudderings； like the sobbings of
a spent storm； as she imagined herself to 〃stand in safety and
despair；〃 amid the thousand houseless wretches assembled in the
suburbs of London on the dreadful nights after the fire； without
food； roof； or raiment； all gazing on the burning ruins of their
dwellings and their property。 She seemed to listen to their
complaints； and even repeated some of them very affectingly； but
invariably answered them with the same words； 〃But I have lost all
my childrenall！〃 It was remarkable； that when this sufferer
began to rave； all the others became silent。 The cry of nature
hushed every other cry；she was the only patient in the house who
was not mad from politics； religion； ebriety； or some perverted
passion； and terrifying as the outbreak of her frenzy always was；
Stanton used to await it as a kind of relief from the dissonant；
melancholy； and ludicrous ravings of the others。
But the utmost efforts of his resolution began to sink under the
continued horrors of the place。 The impression on his senses began
to defy the power of reason to resist them。 He could not shut out
these frightful cries nightly repeated； nor the frightful sound of
the whip employed to still them。 Hope began to fail him； as he
observed； that the submissive tranquillity （which he had imagined；
by obtaining increased indulgence； might contribute to his escape；
or perhaps convince the keeper of his sanity） was interpreted by
the callous ruffian； who was acquainted only with the varieties of
MADNESS； as a more refined species of that cunning which he was
well accustomed to watch and baffle。
On his first discovery of his situation； he had determined to take
the utmost care of his health and intellect that the place allowed；
as the sole basis of his hope of deliverance。 But as that hope
declined； he neglected the means of realizing it。 He had at first
risen early； walked incessantly about his cell； and availed himself
of every opportunity of being in the open air。 He took the
strictest care of his person in point of cleanliness； and with or
without appetite； regularly forced down his miserable meals； and
all these efforts were even pleasant； as long as hope prompted
them。 But now he began to relax them all。 He passed half the day
in his wretched bed； in which he frequently took his meals；
declined shaving or changing his linen； and； when the sun shone
into his cell； he turned from it on his straw with a sigh of
heartbroken despondency。 Formerly； when the air breathed through
his grating； he used to say； 〃Blessed air of heaven； I shall
breathe you once more in freedom！Reserve all your freshness for
that delicious evening when I shall inhale you； and be as free as
you myself。〃 Now when he felt it； he sighed and said nothing。 The
twitter of the sparrows； the pattering of rain； or the moan of the
wind； sounds that he used to sit up in his bed to catch with
delight； as reminding him of nature； were now unheeded。
He began at times to listen with sullen and horrible pleasure to
the cries of his miserable companions。 He became squalid；
listless； torpid； and disgusting in his appearance。
。 。 。 。 。
It was one of those dismal nights； that； as he tossed on his
loathsome bed；more loathsome from the impossibility to quit it
without feeling more 〃unrest；〃he perceived the miserable light
that burned in the hearth was obscured by the intervention of some
dark object。 He turned feebly toward the light； without curiosity；
without excitement； but with a wish to diversify the monotony of
his misery； by observing the slightest change made even
accidentally in the dusky atmosphere of his cell。 Between him and
the light stood the figure of Melmoth； just as he had seen him from
the first； the figure was the same； the expression of the face was
the same；cold； stony； and rigid； the eyes； with their infernal
and dazzling luster； were still the same。
Stanton's ruling passion rushed on his soul； he felt this
apparition like a summons to a high and fearful encounter。 He
heard his heart beat audibly； and could have exclaimed with Lee's
unfortunate heroine；〃It pants as cowards do before a battle； Oh
the great march has sounded！〃
Melmoth approached him with that frightful calmness that mocks the
terror it excites。 〃My prophecy has been fulfilled；you rise to
meet me rattling from your chains； and rustling from your strawam
I not a true prophet？〃 Stanton was silent。 〃Is not your situation
very miserable？〃Still Stanton was silent； for he was beginning to
believe this an illusion of madness。 He thought to himself； 〃How
could he have gained entrance here？〃〃Would you not wish to be
delivered from it？〃 Stanton tossed on his straw； and its rustling
seemed to answer the question。 〃I have the power to deliver you
from it。〃 Melmoth spoke very slowly and very softly； and the
melodious smoothness of his voice made a frightful contrast to the
stony rigor of his features； and the fiendlike brilliancy of his
eyes。 〃Who are you； and whence come you？〃 said Stanton； in a tone
that was meant to be interrogatory and imperative； but which； from
his habits of squalid debility； was at once feeble and querulous。
His intellect had become affected by the gloom of his miserable
habitation； as the wretched inmate of a similar mansion； when
produced before a medical examiner； was reported to be a complete
Albino。His skin was bleached； his eyes turned white； he could not
bear the light； and； when exposed to it； he turned away with a
mixture of weakness and restlessness； more like the writhings of a
sick infant than the struggles of a man。
Such was Stanton's situation。 He was enfeebled now； and the power
of the enemy seemed without a possibility of opposition from either
his intellectual or corporeal powers。
。 。 。 。 。
Of all their horrible dialogue； only these words were legible in
the manuscript； 〃You know me now。〃〃I always knew you。〃〃That is
false； you imagined you did； and that has been the cause of all the
wild 。 of the 。 。 。 。 。
。 of your finally being lodged in this mansion of misery； where
only I would seek； where only I can succor you。〃〃You； demon！〃
〃Demon！Harsh words！Was it a demon or a human being placed you
here？Listen to me； Stanton； nay； wrap not yourself in that
miserable blanket；that cannot shut out my words。 Believe me；
were you folded in thunder clouds； you must hear ME！ Stanton；
think of your misery。 These bare wallswhat do they present to
the intellect or to the senses？Whitewash； diversified with the
scrawls of charcoal or red chalk； that your happy predecessors have
left for you to trace over。 You have a taste for drawingI trust
it will improve。 And here's a grating； through which the sun
squints on you like a ste
