stories by english authors in germany(旅德英国作家的故事)-第22节
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still lingering and shivering； and with no conscious repugnance of the
mind； yet with a tremor of the belly； he drew near the body of his victim。
The human character had quite departed。 Like a suit half… stuffed with bran；
the limbs lay scattered； the trunk doubled； on the floor； and yet the thing
repelled him。 Although so dingy and inconsiderable to the eye； he feared it
might have more significance to the touch。 He took the body by the
shoulders； and turned it on its back。 It was strangely light and supple； and
the limbs； as if they had been broken； fell into the oddest postures。 The
face was robbed of all expression； but it was as pale as wax； and
shockingly smeared with blood about one temple。 That was； for Markheim；
the one displeasing circumstance。 It carried him back； upon the instant； to
a certain fair…day in a fishers' village： a gray day； a piping wind； a crowd
upon the street； the blare of brasses； the booming of drums； the nasal voice
of a ballad singer； and a boy going to and fro； buried overhead in the
crowd and divided between interest and fear； until； coming out upon the
chief place of concourse； he beheld a booth and a great screen with
pictures； dismally designed； garishly colouredBrownrigg with her
apprentice； the Mannings with their murdered guest； Weare in the death…
grip of Thurtell； and a score besides of famous crimes。 The thing was as
clear as an illusion He was once again that little boy； he was looking once
again； and with the same sense of physical revolt； at these vile pictures； he
was still stunned by the thumping of the drums。 A bar of that day's music
returned upon his memory； and at that； for the first time； a qualm came
over him； a breath of nausea； a sudden weakness of the joints； which he
must instantly resist and conquer。
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He judged it more prudent to confront than to flee from these
considerations； looking the more hardily in the dead face； bending his
mind to realise the nature and greatness of his crime。 So little a while ago
that face had moved with every change of sentiment； that pale mouth had
spoken； that body had been all on fire with governable energies； and now；
and by his act； that piece of life had been arrested； as the horologist； with
interjected finger； arrests the beating of the clock。 So he reasoned in vain；
he could rise to no more remorseful consciousness； the same heart which
had shuddered before the painted effigies of crime； looked on its reality
unmoved。 At best； he felt a gleam of pity for one who had been endowed
in vain with all those faculties that can make the world a garden of
enchantment； one who had never lived and who was now dead。 But of
penitence； no； not a tremor。
With that； shaking himself clear of these considerations； he found the
keys and advanced toward the open door of the shop。 Outside； it had
begun to rain smartly； and the sound of the shower upon the roof had
banished silence。 Like some dripping cavern； the chambers of the house
were haunted by an incessant echoing； which filled the ear and mingled
with the ticking of the clocks。 And； as Markheim approached the door； he
seemed to hear； in answer to his own cautious tread； the steps of another
foot withdrawing up the stair。 The shadow still palpitated loosely on the
threshold。 He threw a ton's weight of resolve upon his muscles； and drew
back the door。
The faint； foggy daylight glimmered dimly on the bare floor and stairs；
on the bright suit of armour posted； halbert in hand； upon the landing； and
on the dark wood…carvings； and framed pictures that hung against the
yellow panels of the wainscot。 So loud was the beating of the rain through
all the house that； in Markheim's ears； it began to be distinguished into
many different sounds。 Footsteps and sighs； the tread of regiments
marching in the distance； the chink of money in the counting； and the
creaking of doors held stealthily ajar； appeared to mingle with the patter of
the drops upon the cupola and the gushing of the water in the pipes。 The
sense that he was not alone grew upon him to the verge of madness。 On
every side he was haunted and begirt by presences。 He heard them moving
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in the upper chambers； from the shop； he heard the dead man getting to his
legs； and as he began with a great effort to mount the stairs； feet fled
quietly before him and followed stealthily behind。 If he were but deaf； he
thought； how tranquilly he would possess his soul！ And then again； and
hearkening with ever fresh attention； he blessed himself for that unresting
sense which held the outposts and stood a trusty sentinel upon his life。 His
head turned continually on his neck； his eyes； which seemed starting from
their orbits； scouted on every side； and on every side were half rewarded
as with the tail of something nameless vanishing。 The four and twenty
steps to the first floor were four and twenty agonies。
On that first story； the doors stood ajarthree of them； like three
ambushes； shaking his nerves like the throats of cannon。 He could never
again； he felt； be sufficiently immured and fortified from men's observing
eyes； he longed to be home； girt in by walls； buried among bedclothes； and
invisible to all but God。 And at that thought he wondered a little；
recollecting tales of other murderers and the fear they were said to
entertain of heavenly avengers。 It was not so； at least； with him。 He feared
the laws of nature； lest； in their callous and immutable procedure； they
should preserve some damning evidence of his crime。 He feared tenfold
more； with a slavish； superstitious terror； some scission in the continuity of
man's experience； some wilful illegality of nature。 He played a game of
skill； depending on the rules； calculating consequence from cause； and
what if nature； as the defeated tyrant overthrew the chess…board； should
break the mould of their succession？ The like had befallen Napoleon （so
writers said） when the winter changed the time of its appearance。 The like
might befall Markheim： the solid walls might become transparent and
reveal his doings like those of bees in a glass hive； the stout planks might
yield under his foot like quicksands and detain him in their clutch。 Ay； and
there were soberer accidents that might destroy him； if； for instance； the
house should fall and imprison him beside the body of his victim； or the
house next door should fly on fire； and the firemen invade him from all
sides。 These things he feared； and； in a sense； these things might be called
the hands of God reached forth against sin。 But about God himself he was
at ease； his act was doubtless exceptional； but so were his excuses； which
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God knew； it was there； and not among men； that he felt sure of justice。
When he had got safe into the drawing…room； and shut the door behind
him； he was aware of a respite from alarms。 The room was quite
dismantled； uncarpeted besides； and strewn with packing…cases and
incongruous furniture； several great pier…glasses； in which he beheld
himself at various angles； like an actor on a stage； many pictures； framed
and unframed； standing； with their faces to the wall； a fine Sheraton
sideboard； a cabinet of marquetry； and a great old bed； with tapestry
hangings。 The windows opened to the floor； but by great good fortune the
lower part of the shutters had been closed； and this concealed him from the
neighbours。 Here； then； Markheim drew in a packing…case before the
cabinet； and began to search among the keys。 It was a long business； for
there were many； and it was irksome； besides； for； after all； there might be
nothing in the cabinet； and time was on the wing。 But
