第 11 节
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随便看看 更新:2022-07-12 16:23 字数:9321
ghastly impression of it on his mind。 He drew the curtain very gently;
and sighed involuntarily as he closed it。 'Poor fellow;' he said; almost as
sadly as if he had known the man。 'Ah; poor fellow!'
He went next to the window。 The night was black; and he could see
nothing from it。 The rain still pattered heavily against the glass。 He
inferred; from hearing it; that the window was at the back of the house;
remembering that the front was sheltered from the weather by the court
and the buildings over it。
While he was still standing at the window … for even the dreary rain
was a relief; because of the sound it made; a relief; also; because it moved;
and had some faint suggestion; in consequence; of life and companionship
in it … while he was standing at the window; and looking vacantly into the
black darkness outside; he heard a distant church…clock strike ten。 Only
ten! How was he to pass the time till the house was astir the next
morning?
Under any other circumstances; he would have gone down to the
public…house parlour; would have called for his grog; and would have
laughed and talked with the company assembled as familiarly as if he had
known them all his life。 But the very thought of whiling away the time in
this manner was distasteful to him。 The new situation in which he was
placed seemed to have altered him to himself already。 Thus far; his life
had been the common; trifling; prosaic; surface…life of a prosperous young
man; with no troubles to conquer; and no trials to face。 He had lost no
relation whom he loved; no friend whom he treasured。 Till this night;
what share he had of the immortal inheritance that is divided amongst us
all; had laid dormant within him。 Till this night; Death and he had not
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THE LAZY TOUR OF TWO IDLE APPRENTICES
once met; even in thought。
He took a few turns up and down the room … then stopped。 The noise
made by his boots on the poorly carpeted floor; jarred on his ear。 He
hesitated a little; and ended by taking the boots off; and walking
backwards and forwards noiselessly。 All desire to sleep or to rest had left
him。 The bare thought of lying down on the unoccupied bed instantly
drew the picture on his mind of a dreadful mimicry of the position of the
dead man。 Who was he? What was the story of his past life? Poor he
must have been; or he would not have stopped at such a place as The Two
Robins Inn … and weakened; probably; by long illness; or he could hardly
have died in the manner in which the landlord had described。 Poor; ill;
lonely; … dead in a strange place; dead; with nobody but a stranger to pity
him。 A sad story: truly; on the mere face of it; a very sad story。
While these thoughts were passing through his mind; he had stopped
insensibly at the window; close to which stood the foot of the bed with the
closed curtains。 At first he looked at it absently; then he became
conscious that his eyes were fixed on it; and then; a perverse desire took
possession of him to do the very thing which he had resolved not to do; up
to this time … to look at the dead man。
He stretched out his hand towards the curtains; but checked himself in
the very act of undrawing them; turned his back sharply on the bed; and
walked towards the chimney…piece; to see what things were placed on it;
and to try if he could keep the dead man out of his mind in that way。
There was a pewter inkstand on the chimney…piece; with some
mildewed remains of ink in the bottle。 There were two coarse china
ornaments of the commonest kind; and there was a square of embossed
card; dirty and fly…blown; with a collection of wretched riddles printed on
it; in all sorts of zig…zag directions; and in variously coloured inks。 He
took the card; and went away; to read it; to the table on which the candle
was placed; sitting down; with his back resolutely turned to the curtained
bed。
He read the first riddle; the second; the third; all in one corner of the
card … then turned it round impatiently to look at another。 Before he could
begin reading the riddles printed here; the sound of the church…clock
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THE LAZY TOUR OF TWO IDLE APPRENTICES
stopped him。 Eleven。 He had got through an hour of the time; in the
room with the dead man。
Once more he looked at the card。 It was not easy to make out the
letters printed on it; in consequence of the dimness of the light which the
landlord had left him … a common tallow candle; furnished with a pair of
heavy old…fashioned steel snuffers。 Up to this time; his mind had been
too much occupied to think of the light。 He had left the wick of the candle
unsnuffed; till it had risen higher than the flame; and had burnt into an odd
pent…house shape at the top; from which morsels of the charred cotton fell
off; from time to time; in little flakes。 He took up the snuffers now; and
trimmed the wick。 The light brightened directly; and the room became
less dismal。
Again he turned to the riddles; reading them doggedly and resolutely;
now in one corner of the card; now in another。 All his efforts; however;
could not fix his attention on them。 He pursued his occupation
mechanically; deriving no sort of impression from what he was reading。
It was as if a shadow from the curtained bed had got between his mind and
the gaily printed letters … a shadow that nothing could dispel。 At last; he
gave up the struggle; and threw the card from him impatiently; and took to
walking softly up and down the room again。
The dead man; the dead man; the HIDDEN dead man on the bed!
There was the one persistent idea still haunting him。 Hidden? Was it
only the body being there; or was it the body being there; concealed; that
was preying on his mind? He stopped at the window; with that doubt in
him; once more listening to the pattering rain; once more looking out into
the black darkness。
Still the dead man! The darkness forced his mind back upon itself;
and set his memory at work; reviving; with a painfully…vivid distinctness
the momentary impression it had received from the first sight of the corpse。
Before long the face seemed to be hovering out in the middle of the
darkness; confronting him through the window; with the paleness whiter;
with the dreadful dull line of light between the imperfectly…closed eyelids
broader than he had seen it … with the parted lips slowly dropping farther
and farther away from each other … with the features growing larger and
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moving closer; till they seemed to fill the window and to silence the rain;
and to shut out the night。
The sound of a voice; shouting below…stairs; woke him suddenly from
the dream of his own distempered fancy。 He recognised it as the voice of
the landlord。 'Shut up at twelve; Ben;' he heard it say。 'I'm off to bed。'
He wiped away the damp that had gathered on his forehead; reasoned
with himself for a little while; and resolved to shake his mind free of the
ghastly counterfeit which still clung to it; by forcing himself to confront; if
it was only for a moment; the solemn reality。 Without allowing himself
an instant to hesitate; he parted the curtains at the foot of the bed; and
looked through。
There was a sad; peaceful; white face; with the awful mystery of
stillness on it; laid back upon the pillow。 No stir; no change there! He
only looked at it for a moment before he closed the curtains again … but
that moment steadied him; calmed him; restored him … mind and body … to
himself。
He returned to his old occupation of walking up and down the room;
persevering in it; this time; till the clock struck again。 Twelve。
As the sound of