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第49节

a mortal antipathy-第49节

小说: a mortal antipathy 字数: 每页4000字

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behind him。



All these dispositions were quickly and quietly made; and everything

was ready for the transfer of the patient to the house of the

hospitable physician。  Paolo was at the doctor's; superintending the

arrangement of Maurice's effects and making all ready for his master。

The nurse in attendance; a trustworthy man enough in the main;

finding his patient in a tranquil sleep; left his bedside for a

little fresh air。  While he was at the door he heard a shouting which

excited his curiosity; and he followed the sound until he found

himself at the border of the lake。  It was nothing very wonderful

which had caused the shouting。  A Newfoundland dog had been showing

off his accomplishments; and some of the idlers were betting as to

the time it would take him to bring back to his master the various

floating objects which had been thrown as far from the shore as

possible。  He watched the dog a few minutes; when his attention was

drawn to a light wherry; pulled by one young lady and steered by

another。  It was making for the shore; which it would soon reach。

The attendant remembered all at once; that he had left his charge;

and just before the boat came to land he turned and hurried back to

the patient。  Exactly how long he had been absent he could not have

said;perhaps a quarter of an hour; perhaps longer; the time

appeared short to him; wearied with long sitting and watching。



It had seemed; when he stole away from Maurice's bedside; that he was

not in the least needed。  The patient was lying perfectly quiet; and

to all appearance wanted nothing more than letting alone。  It was

such a comfort to look at something besides the worn features of a

sick man; to hear something besides his labored breathing and faint;

half…whispered words; that the temptation to indulge in these

luxuries for a few minutes had proved irresistible。



Unfortunately; Maurice's slumbers did not remain tranquil during the

absence of the nurse。  He very soon fell into a dream; which began

quietly enough; but in the course of the sudden transitions which

dreams are in the habit of undergoing became successively anxious;

distressing; terrifying。  His earlier and later experiences came up

before him; fragmentary; incoherent; chaotic even; but vivid as

reality。  He was at the bottom of a coal…mine in one of those long;

narrow galleries; or rather worm…holes; in which human beings pass a

large part of their lives; like so many larvae boring their way into

the beams and rafters of some old building。  How close the air was in

the stifling passage through which he was crawling!  The scene

changed; and he was climbing a slippery sheet of ice with desperate

effort; his foot on the floor of a shallow niche; his hold an icicle

ready to snap in an instant; an abyss below him waiting for his foot

to slip or the icicle to break。  How thin the air seemed; how

desperately hard to breathe!  He was thinking of Mont Blanc; it may

be; and the fearfully rarefied atmosphere which he remembered well as

one of the great trials in his mountain ascents。  No; it was not Mont

Blanc;it was not any one of the frozen Alpine summits; it was Hecla

that he was climbing



The smoke of the burning mountain was wrapping itself around him; he

was choking with its dense fumes; he heard the flames roaring around

him; he felt the hot lava beneath his feet; he uttered a faint cry;

and awoke。



The room was full of smoke。  He was gasping for breath; strangling in

the smothering oven which his chamber had become。



The house was on fire!



He tried to call for help; but his voice failed him; and died away in

a whisper。  He made a desperate effort; and rose so as to sit up in

the bed for an instant; but the effort was too much for him; and he

sank back upon his pillow; helpless。  He felt that his hour had come;

for he could not live in this dreadful atmosphere; and he was left

alone。  He could hear the crackle of fire as the flame crept along

from one partition to another。  It was a cruel fate to be left to

perish in that way;the fate that many a martyr had had to face;to

be first strangled and then burned。  Death had not the terror for him

that it has for most young persons。  He was accustomed to thinking of

it calmly; sometimes wistfully; even to such a degree that the

thought of self…destruction had come upon him as a temptation。  But

here was death in an unexpected and appalling shape。  He did not know

before how much he cared to live。  All his old recollections came

before him as it were in one long; vivid flash。  The closed vista of

memory opened to its far horizon…line; and past and present were

pictured in a single instant of clear vision。  The dread moment which

had blighted his life returned in all its terror。  He felt the

convulsive spring in the form of a faint; impotent spasm;the rush

of air;the thorns of the stinging and lacerating cradle into which

he was precipitated。  One after another those paralyzing seizures

which had been like deadening blows on the naked heart seemed to

repeat themselves; as real as at the moment of their occurrence。  The

pictures passed in succession with such rapidity that they appeared

almost as if simultaneous。  The vision of the 〃inward eye 〃 was so

intensified in this moment of peril that an instant was like an hour

of common existence。  Those who have been very near drowning know

well what this description means。  The development of a photograph

may not explain it; but it illustrates the curious and familiar fact

of the revived recollections of the drowning man's experience。  The

sensitive plate has taken one look at a scene; and remembers it all;





Every little circumstance is there;the hoof in air; the wing in

flight; the leaf as it falls; the wave as it breaks。  All there; but

invisible; potentially present; but impalpable; inappreciable; as if

not existing at all。  A wash is poured over it; and the whole scene

comes out in all its perfection of detail。  In those supreme moments

when death stares a man suddenly in the face the rush of unwonted

emotion floods the undeveloped pictures of vanished years; stored

away in the memory; the vast panorama of a lifetime; and in one swift

instant the past comes out as vividly as if it were again the

present。  So it was at this moment with the sick man; as he lay

helpless and felt that he was left to die。  For he saw no hope of

relief: the smoke was drifting in clouds into the room; the flames

were very near; if he was not reached and rescued immediately it was

all over with him。



His past life had flashed before him。  Then all at once rose the

thought of his future;of all its possibilities; of the vague hopes

which he had cherished of late that his mysterious doom would be

lifted from him。  There was something; then; to be lived for;

something!  There was a new life; it might be; in store for him; and

such a new life!  He thought of all he was losing。  Oh; could he but

have lived to know the meaning of love!  And the passionate desire of

life came over him;not the dread of death; but the longing for what

the future might yet have of happiness for him。



All this took place in the course of a very few moments。  Dreams and

visions have little to do with measured time; and ten minutes;

possibly fifteen or twenty; were all that had passed since the

beginning of those nightmare terrors which were evidently suggested

by the suffocating air he was breathing。



What had happened?  In the confusion of moving books and other

articles to the doctor's house; doors and windows had been forgotten。

Among the rest a window opening into the cellar; where some old

furniture had been left by a former occupant; had been left unclosed。

One of the lazy natives; who had lounged by the house smoking a bad

cigar; had thrown the burning stump in at this open window。  He had

no particular intention of doing mischief; but he had that

indifference to consequences which is the next step above the

inclination to crime。  The burning stump happened to fall among the

straw of an old mattress which had been ripped open。  The smoker went

his way without looking behind him; and it so chanced that no other

person passed the house for some time。  Presently the straw was in a

blaze; and from this the fire extended to the furniture; to the

stairway leading up from the cellar; and was working its way along

the entry under the stairs leading up to the apartment where Maurice

was lying。



The blaze was fierce and swift; as it could not help being with such

a mass of combustibles;loose straw from the mattress; dry old

furniture; and old warped floors which had been parching and

shrinking for a score or two of years。  The whole house was; in the

common language of the newspaper reports; 〃a perfect tinder…box;〃 and

would probably be a heap of ashes in half an hour。  And there was

this unfortunate deserted sick man lying between life and

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