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the lifted veil-第11节

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Archer would not survive through the night; and endeavoured to
persuade her to leave the patient and take a night's rest。  But she
was obstinate; suspecting the fact that death was at hand; and
supposing that he wished merely to save her nerves。  She refused to
leave the sick…room。  Meunier and I sat up together in the library;
he making frequent visits to the sick…room; and returning with the
information that the case was taking precisely the course he
expected。  Once he said to me; 〃Can you imagine any cause of ill…
feeling this woman has against her mistress; who is so devoted to
her?〃

〃I think there was some misunderstanding between them before her
illness。  Why do you ask?〃

〃Because I have observed for the last five or six hourssince; I
fancy; she has lost all hope of recoverythere seems a strange
prompting in her to say something which pain and failing strength
forbid her to utter; and there is a look of hideous meaning in her
eyes; which she turns continually towards her mistress。  In this
disease the mind often remains singularly clear to the last。〃

〃I am not surprised at an indication of malevolent feeling in her;〃
I said。  〃She is a woman who has always inspired me with distrust
and dislike; but she managed to insinuate herself into her
mistress's favour。〃  He was silent after this; looking at the fire
with an air of absorption; till he went upstairs again。  He stayed
away longer than usual; and on returning; said to me quietly; 〃Come
now。〃

I followed him to the chamber where death was hovering。  The dark
hangings of the large bed made a background that gave a strong
relief to Bertha's pale face as I entered。  She started forward as
she saw me enter; and then looked at Meunier with an expression of
angry inquiry; but he lifted up his hand as it to impose silence;
while he fixed his glance on the dying woman and felt her pulse。
The face was pinched and ghastly; a cold perspiration was on the
forehead; and the eyelids were lowered so as to conceal the large
dark eyes。  After a minute or two; Meunier walked round to the
other side of the bed where Bertha stood; and with his usual air of
gentle politeness towards her begged her to leave the patient under
our careeverything should be done for hershe was no longer in a
state to be conscious of an affectionate presence。  Bertha was
hesitating; apparently almost willing to believe his assurance and
to comply。  She looked round at the ghastly dying face; as if to
read the confirmation of that assurance; when for a moment the
lowered eyelids were raised again; and it seemed as if the eyes
were looking towards Bertha; but blankly。  A shudder passed through
Bertha's frame; and she returned to her station near the pillow;
tacitly implying that she would not leave the room。

The eyelids were lifted no more。  Once I looked at Bertha as she
watched the face of the dying one。  She wore a rich peignoir; and
her blond hair was half covered by a lace cap:  in her attire she
was; as always; an elegant woman; fit to figure in a picture of
modern aristocratic life:  but I asked myself how that face of hers
could ever have seemed to me the face of a woman born of woman;
with memories of childhood; capable of pain; needing to be fondled?
The features at that moment seemed so preternaturally sharp; the
eyes were so hard and eagershe looked like a cruel immortal;
finding her spiritual feast in the agonies of a dying race。  For
across those hard features there came something like a flash when
the last hour had been breathed out; and we all felt that the dark
veil had completely fallen。  What secret was there between Bertha
and this woman?  I turned my eyes from her with a horrible dread
lest my insight should return; and I should be obliged to see what
had been breeding about two unloving women's hearts。  I felt that
Bertha had been watching for the moment of death as the sealing of
her secret:  I thanked Heaven it could remain sealed for me。

Meunier said quietly; 〃She is gone。〃  He then gave his arm to
Bertha; and she submitted to be led out of the room。

I suppose it was at her order that two female attendants came into
the room; and dismissed the younger one who had been present
before。  When they entered; Meunier had already opened the artery
in the long thin neck that lay rigid on the pillow; and I dismissed
them; ordering them to remain at a distance till we rang:  the
doctor; I said; had an operation to performhe was not sure about
the death。  For the next twenty minutes I forgot everything but
Meunier and the experiment in which he was so absorbed; that I
think his senses would have been closed against all sounds or
sights which had no relation to it。  It was my task at first to
keep up the artificial respiration in the body after the
transfusion had been effected; but presently Meunier relieved me;
and I could see the wondrous slow return of life; the breast began
to heave; the inspirations became stronger; the eyelids quivered;
and the soul seemed to have returned beneath them。  The artificial
respiration was withdrawn:  still the breathing continued; and
there was a movement of the lips。

Just then I heard the handle of the door moving:  I suppose Bertha
had heard from the women that they had been dismissed:  probably a
vague fear had arisen in her mind; for she entered with a look of
alarm。  She came to the foot of the bed and gave a stifled cry。

The dead woman's eyes were wide open; and met hers in full
recognitionthe recognition of hate。  With a sudden strong effort;
the hand that Bertha had thought for ever still was pointed towards
her; and the haggard face moved。  The gasping eager voice said

〃You mean to poison your husband 。 。 。 the poison is in the black
cabinet 。 。 。 I got it for you 。 。 。 you laughed at me; and told
lies about me behind my back; to make me disgusting 。 。 。 because
you were jealous 。 。 。 are you sorry 。 。 。 now?〃

The lips continued to murmur; but the sounds were no longer
distinct。  Soon there was no soundonly a slight movement:  the
flame had leaped out; and was being extinguished the faster。  The
wretched woman's heart…strings had been set to hatred and
vengeance; the spirit of life had swept the chords for an instant;
and was gone again for ever。  Great God!  Is this what it is to
live again 。 。 。 to wake up with our unstilled thirst upon us; with
our unuttered curses rising to our lips; with our muscles ready to
act out their half…committed sins?

Bertha stood pale at the foot of the bed; quivering and helpless;
despairing of devices; like a cunning animal whose hiding…places
are surrounded by swift…advancing flame。  Even Meunier looked
paralysed; life for that moment ceased to be a scientific problem
to him。  As for me; this scene seemed of one texture with the rest
of my existence:  horror was my familiar; and this new revelation
was only like an old pain recurring with new circumstances。

* * *

Since then Bertha and I have lived apartshe in her own
neighbourhood; the mistress of half our wealth; I as a wanderer in
foreign countries; until I came to this Devonshire nest to die。
Bertha lives pitied and admired; for what had I against that
charming woman; whom every one but myself could have been happy
with?  There had been no witness of the scene in the dying room
except Meunier; and while Meunier lived his lips were sealed by a
promise to me。

Once or twice; weary of wandering; I rested in a favourite spot;
and my heart went out towards the men and women and children whose
faces were becoming familiar to me; but I was driven away again in
terror at the approach of my old insightdriven away to live
continually with the one Unknown Presence revealed and yet hidden
by the moving curtain of the earth and sky。  Till at last disease
took hold of me and forced me to rest hereforced me to live in
dependence on my servants。  And then the curse of insightof my
double consciousness; came again; and has never left me。  I know
all their narrow thoughts; their feeble regard; their half…wearied
pity。

* * *

It is the 20th of September; 1850。  I know these figures I have
just written; as if they were a long familiar inscription。  I have
seen them on this pace in my desk unnumbered times; when the scene
of my dying struggle has opened upon me 。 。 。

(1859)





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