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第37节

classic mystery and detective stories-第37节

小说: classic mystery and detective stories 字数: 每页4000字

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has remained so deep in oblivion; appears immediately on a glance

at the original。  The author; Charles Robert Maturin; a needy;

eccentric Irish clergyman of 1780…1824; could cause intense

suspense and horrorcould read keenly into human motivescould

teach an awful moral lesson in the guise of fascinating fiction;

but he could not stick to a long story with simplicity。  His dozens

of shifting scenes; his fantastic coils of 〃tales within tales〃

sadly perplex the reader of 〃Melmoth〃 in the first version。  It is

hoped; however; that the present selection; by its directness and

the clearness of the story thread; may please the modern reader

better than the involved original; and bring before a wider public

some of the most gripping descriptions ever penned in English。



In Volume IV of these stories comes a tale; 〃Melmoth Reconciled;〃

which Balzac himself wrote; while under the spell of Maturin's

〃great allegorical figure。〃  Here the unhappy being succeeds in his

purpose。  The story takes place in mocking; careless Paris; 〃that

branch establishment of hell〃; a cashier; on the eve of

embezzlement and detection; cynically accedes to Melmoth's terms;

and accepts his helpwith what unlooked…for results; the reader

may see。







Charles Robert Maturin





Melmoth the Wanderer





John Melmoth; student at Trinity College; Dublin; having journeyed

to County Wicklow for attendance at the deathbed of his miserly

uncle; finds the old man; even in his last moments; tortured by

avarice; and by suspicion of all around him。  He whispers to John:





〃I want a glass of wine; it would keep me alive for some hours; but

there is not one I can trust to get it for me;they'd steal a

bottle; and ruin me。〃  John was greatly shocked。  〃Sir; for God's

sake; let ME get a glass of wine for you。〃  〃Do you know where?〃

said the old man; with an expression in his face John could not

understand。  〃No; Sir; you know I have been rather a stranger here;

Sir。〃  〃Take this key;〃 said old Melmoth; after a violent spasm;

〃take this key; there is wine in that closet;Madeira。  I always

told them there was nothing there; but they did not believe me; or

I should not have been robbed as I have been。  At one time I said

it was whisky; and then I fared worse than ever; for they drank

twice as much of it。〃



John took the key from his uncle's hand; the dying man pressed it

as he did so; and John; interpreting this as a mark of kindness;

returned the pressure。  He was undeceived by the whisper that

followed;〃John; my lad; don't drink any of that wine while you

are there。〃  〃Good God!〃 said John; indignantly throwing the key on

the bed; then; recollecting that the miserable being before him was

no object of resentment; he gave the promise required; and entered

the closet; which no foot but that of old Melmoth had entered for

nearly sixty years。  He had some difficulty in finding out the

wine; and indeed stayed long enough to justify his uncle's

suspicions;but his mind was agitated; and his hand unsteady。  He

could not but remark his uncle's extraordinary look; that had the

ghastliness of fear superadded to that of death; as he gave him

permission to enter his closet。  He could not but see the looks of

horror which the women exchanged as he approached it。  And;

finally; when he was in it; his memory was malicious enough to

suggest some faint traces of a story; too horrible for imagination;

connected with it。  He remembered in one moment most distinctly;

that no one but his uncle had ever been known to enter it for many

years。



Before he quitted it; he held up the dim light; and looked around

him with a mixture of terror and curiosity。  There was a great deal

of decayed and useless lumber; such as might be supposed to be

heaped up to rot in a miser's closet; but John's eyes were in a

moment; and as if by magic; riveted on a portrait that hung on the

wall; and appeared; even to his untaught eye; far superior to the

tribe of family pictures that are left to molder on the walls of a

family mansion。  It represented a man of middle age。  There was

nothing remarkable in the costume; or in the countenance; but THE

EYES; John felt; were such as one feels they wish they had never

seen; and feels they can never forget。  Had he been acquainted with

the poetry of Southey; he might have often exclaimed in his after…

life;





     〃Only the eyes had life;

      They gleamed with demon light。〃THALABA。





From an impulse equally resistless and painful; he approached the

portrait; held the candle toward it; and could distinguish the

words on the border of the painting;Jno。 Melmoth; anno 1646。

John was neither timid by nature; nor nervous by constitution; nor

superstitious from habit; yet he continued to gaze in stupid horror

on this singular picture; till; aroused by his uncle's cough; he

hurried into his room。  The old man swallowed the wine。  He

appeared a little revived; it was long since he had tasted such a

cordial;his heart appeared to expand to a momentary confidence。

〃John; what did you see in that room?〃  〃Nothing; Sir。〃  〃That's a

lie; everyone wants to cheat or to rob me。〃  〃Sir; I don't want to

do either。〃  〃Well; what did you see that youyou took notice of?〃

〃Only a picture; Sir。〃  〃A picture; Sir!the original is still

alive。〃  John; though under the impression of his recent feelings;

could not but look incredulous。  〃John;〃 whispered his uncle;

〃John; they say I am dying of this and that; and one says it is for

want of nourishment; and one says it is for want of medicine;but;

John;〃 and his face looked hideously ghastly; 〃I am dying of a

fright。  That man;〃 and he extended his meager arm toward the

closet; as if he was pointing to a living being; 〃that man; I have

good reason to know; is alive still。〃  〃How is that possible; Sir?〃

said John involuntarily; 〃the date on the picture is 1646。〃  〃You

have seen it;you have noticed it;〃 said his uncle。  〃Well;〃he

rocked and nodded on his bolster for a moment; then; grasping

John's hand with an unutterable look; he exclaimed; 〃You will see

him again; he is alive。〃  Then; sinking back on his bolster; he

fell into a kind of sleep or stupor; his eyes still open; and fixed

on John。



The house was now perfectly silent; and John had time and space for

reflection。  More thoughts came crowding on him than he wished to

welcome; but they would not be repulsed。  He thought of his uncle's

habits and character; turned the matter over and over again in his

mind; and he said to himself; 〃The last man on earth to be

superstitious。  He never thought of anything but the price of

stocks; and the rate of exchange; and my college expenses; that

hung heavier at his heart than all; and such a man to die of a

fright;a ridiculous fright; that a man living 150 years ago is

alive still; and yethe is dying。〃  John paused; for facts will

confute the most stubborn logician。  〃With all his hardness of

mind; and of heart; he is dying of a fright。  I heard it in the

kitchen; I have heard it from himself;he could not be deceived。

If I had ever heard he was nervous; or fanciful; or superstitious;

but a character so contrary to all these impressions;a man that;

as poor Butler says; in his 'Remains of the Antiquarian;' would

have 'sold Christ over again for the numerical piece of silver

which Judas got for him;'such a man to die of fear!  Yet he IS

dying;〃 said John; glancing his fearful eye on the contracted

nostril; the glazed eye; the drooping jaw; the whole horrible

apparatus of the facies Hippocraticae displayed; and soon to cease

its display。



Old Melmoth at this moment seemed to be in a deep stupor; his eyes

lost that little expression they had before; and his hands; that

had convulsively been catching at the blankets; let go their short

and quivering grasp; and lay extended on the bed like the claws of

some bird that had died of hunger;so meager; so yellow; so

spread。  John; unaccustomed to the sight of death; believed this to

be only a sign that he was going to sleep; and; urged by an impulse

for which he did not attempt to account to himself; caught up the

miserable light; and once more ventured into the forbidden room;

the BLUE CHAMBER of the dwelling。  The motion roused the dying

man;he sat bolt upright in his bed。  This John could not see; for

he was now in the closet; but he heard the groan; or rather the

choked and gurgling rattle of the throat; that announces the

horrible conflict between muscular and mental convulsion。  He

started; turned away; but; as he turned away; he thought he saw the

eyes of the portrait; on which his own was fixed; MOVE; and hurried

back to his uncle's bedside。



Old Melmoth died in the course of that night; and died as he had

lived; in a kind of avaricious delirium。  John could not have

imagined a scene so horrible as his last hours presented。  He

cursed and blasphemed about three ha

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