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第44节

classic mystery and detective stories-第44节

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

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neighbors。  One of them was a puritanical weaver; who had been

driven mad by a single sermon from the celebrated Hugh Peters; and

was sent to the madhouse as full of election and reprobation as he

could hold;and fuller。  He regularly repeated over the five

points while daylight lasted; and imagined himself preaching in a

conventicle with distinguished success; toward twilight his visions

were more gloomy; and at midnight his blasphemies became horrible。

In the opposite cell was lodged a loyalist tailor; who had been

ruined by giving credit to the cavaliers and their ladies;(for at

this time; and much later; down to the reign of Anne; tailors were

employed by females even to make and fit on their stays);who had

run mad with drink and loyalty on the burning of the Rump; and ever

since had made the cells of the madhouse echo with fragments of the

ill…fated Colonel Lovelace's song; scraps from Cowley's 〃Cutter of

Coleman street;〃 and some curious specimens from Mrs。 Aphra Behn's

plays; where the cavaliers are denominated the heroicks; and Lady

Lambert and Lady Desborough represented as going to meeting; their

large Bibles carried before them by their pages; and falling in

love with two banished cavaliers by the way。  The voice in which he

shrieked out such words was powerfully horrible; but it was like

the moan of an infant compared to the voice which took up and

reechoed the cry; in a tone that made the building shake。  It was

the voice of a maniac; who had lost her husband; children;

subsistence; and finally her reason; in the dreadful fire of

London。  The cry of fire never failed to operate with terrible

punctuality on her associations。  She had been in a disturbed

sleep; and now started from it as suddenly as on that dreadful

night。  It was Saturday night too; and she was always observed to

be particularly violent on that night;it was the terrible weekly

festival of insanity with her。  She was awake; and busy in a moment

escaping from the flames; and she dramatized the whole scene with

such hideous fidelity; that Stanton's resolution was far more in

danger from her than from the battle between his neighbors

Testimony and Hothead。  She began exclaiming she was suffocated by

the smoke; then she sprung from her bed; calling for a light; and

appeared to be struck by the sudden glare that burst through her

casement。〃The last day;〃 she shrieked; 〃The last day!  The very

heavens are on fire!〃〃That will not come till the Man of Sin be

first destroyed;〃 cried the weaver; 〃thou ravest of light and fire;

and yet thou art in utter darkness。I pity thee; poor mad soul; I

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

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