the turn of the screw-第14章

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girls　could　be　slavish　idolaters　of　little　boys。　　What　surpassed

everything　was　that　there　was　a　little　boy　in　the　world　who　could　have

for　the　inferior　age；　sex；　and　intelligence　so　fine　a　consideration。

They　were　extraordinarily　at　one；　and　to　say　that　they　never　either

quarreled　or　complained　is　to　make　the　note　of　praise　coarse　for　their

quality　of　sweetness。　　Sometimes；　indeed；　when　I　dropped　into　coarseness；

I　perhaps　came　across　traces　of　little　understandings　between　them　by

which　one　of　them　should　keep　me　occupied　while　the　other　slipped　away。

There　is　a　naive　side；　I　suppose；　in　all　diplomacy；　but　if　my　pupils

practiced　upon　me；　it　was　surely　with　the　minimum　of　grossness。

It　was　all　in　the　other　quarter　that；　after　a　lull；　the　grossness　broke　out。



I　find　that　I　really　hang　back；　but　I　must　take　my　plunge。

In　going　on　with　the　record　of　what　was　hideous　at　Bly；

I　not　only　challenge　the　most　liberal　faithfor　which　I

little　care；　butand　this　is　another　matterI　renew　what　I

myself　suffered；　I　again　push　my　way　through　it　to　the　end。

There　came　suddenly　an　hour　after　which；　as　I　look　back；

the　affair　seems　to　me　to　have　been　all　pure　suffering；

but　I　have　at　least　reached　the　heart　of　it；

and　the　straightest　road　out　is　doubtless　to　advance。

One　eveningwith　nothing　to　lead　up　or　to　prepare　it

I　felt　the　cold　touch　of　the　impression　that　had　breathed

on　me　the　night　of　my　arrival　and　which；　much　lighter　then；

as　I　have　mentioned；　I　should　probably　have　made　little

of　in　memory　had　my　subsequent　sojourn　been　less　agitated。

I　had　not　gone　to　bed；　I　sat　reading　by　a　couple　of　candles。

There　was　a　roomful　of　old　books　at　Blylast…century　fiction；

some　of　it；　which；　to　the　extent　of　a　distinctly　deprecated　renown；

but　never　to　so　much　as　that　of　a　stray　specimen；　had　reached

the　sequestered　home　and　appealed　to　the　unavowed　curiosity

of　my　youth。　　I　remember　that　the　book　I　had　in　my　hand

was　Fielding's　Amelia；　also　that　I　was　wholly　awake。

I　recall　further　both　a　general　conviction　that　it　was　horribly

late　and　a　particular　objection　to　looking　at　my　watch。

I　figure；　finally；　that　the　white　curtain　draping；

in　the　fashion　of　those　days；　the　head　of　Flora's

little　bed；　shrouded；　as　I　had　assured　myself　long　before；

the　perfection　of　childish　rest。　　I　recollect　in　short　that；

though　I　was　deeply　interested　in　my　author；　I　found　myself；

at　the　turn　of　a　page　and　with　his　spell　all　scattered；

looking　straight　up　from　him　and　hard　at　the　door　of　my　room。

There　was　a　moment　during　which　I　listened；　reminded　of

the　faint　sense　I　had　had；　the　first　night；　of　there　being

something　undefinably　astir　in　the　house；　and　noted　the　soft

breath　of　the　open　casement　just　move　the　half…drawn　blind。

Then；　with　all　the　marks　of　a　deliberation　that　must　have

seemed　magnificent　had　there　been　anyone　to　admire　it；

I　laid　down　my　book；　rose　to　my　feet；　and；　taking　a　candle；

went　straight　out　of　the　room　and；　from　the　passage；

on　which　my　light　made　little　impression；　noiselessly　closed

and　locked　the　door。



I　can　say　now　neither　what　determined　nor　what　guided　me；　but　I　went

straight　along　the　lobby；　holding　my　candle　high；　till　I　came　within　sight

of　the　tall　window　that　presided　over　the　great　turn　of　the　staircase。

At　this　point　I　precipitately　found　myself　aware　of　three　things。

They　were　practically　simultaneous；　yet　they　had　flashes　of　succession。

My　candle；　under　a　bold　flourish；　went　out；　and　I　perceived；　by　the　uncovered

window；　that　the　yielding　dusk　of　earliest　morning　rendered　it　unnecessary。

Without　it；　the　next　instant；　I　saw　that　there　was　someone　on　the　stair。

I　speak　of　sequences；　but　I　required　no　lapse　of　seconds　to　stiffen

myself　for　a　third　encounter　with　Quint。　　The　apparition　had　reached

the　landing　halfway　up　and　was　therefore　on　the　spot　nearest　the　window；

where　at　sight　of　me；　it　stopped　short　and　fixed　me　exactly　as　it　had　fixed

me　from　the　tower　and　from　the　garden。　　He　knew　me　as　well　as　I　knew　him；

and　so；　in　the　cold；　faint　twilight；　with　a　glimmer　in　the　high　glass

and　another　on　the　polish　of　the　oak　stair　below；　we　faced　each

other　in　our　common　intensity。　　He　was　absolutely；　on　this　occasion；

a　living；　detestable；　dangerous　presence。　　But　that　was　not　the　wonder

of　wonders；　I　reserve　this　distinction　for　quite　another　circumstance：

the　circumstance　that　dread　had　unmistakably　quitted　me　and　that　there

was　nothing　in　me　there　that　didn't　meet　and　measure　him。



I　had　plenty　of　anguish　after　that　extraordinary　moment；

but　I　had；　thank　God；　no　terror。　　And　he　knew　I　had　notI　found

myself　at　the　end　of　an　instant　magnificently　aware　of　this。

I　felt；　in　a　fierce　rigor　of　confidence；　that　if　I　stood

my　ground　a　minute　I　should　ceasefor　the　time；　at　least

to　have　him　to　reckon　with；　and　during　the　minute；　accordingly；

the　thing　was　as　human　and　hideous　as　a　real　interview：

hideous　just　because　it　WAS　human；　as　human　as　to　have

met　alone；　in　the　small　hours；　in　a　sleeping　house；　some　enemy；

some　adventurer；　some　criminal。　　It　was　the　dead　silence　of　our

long　gaze　at　such　close　quarters　that　gave　the　whole　horror；

huge　as　it　was；　its　only　note　of　the　unnatural。　　If　I　had　met

a　murderer　in　such　a　place　and　at　such　an　hour；　we　still　at

least　would　have　spoken。　　Something　would　have　passed；　in　life；

between　us；　if　nothing　had　passed；　one　of　us　would　have　moved。

The　moment　was　so　prolonged　that　it　would　have　taken　but　little

more　to　make　me　doubt　if　even　_I_　were　in　life。　　I　can't

express　what　followed　it　save　by　saying　that　the　silence　itself

which　was　indeed　in　a　manner　an　attestation　of　my　strength

became　the　element　into　which　I　saw　the　figure　disappear；

in　which　I　definitely　saw　it　turn　as　I　might　have　seen　the　low

wretch　to　which　it　had　once　belonged　turn　on　receipt　of　an　order；

and　pass；　with　my　eyes　on　the　villainous　back　that　no　hunch

could　have　more　disfigured；　straight　down　the　staircase

and　into　the　darkness　in　which　the　next　bend　was　lost。







　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　X





I　remained　awhile　at　the　top　of　the　stair；　but　with　the　effect

presently　of　understanding　that　when　my　visitor　had　gone；　he　had　gone：

then　I　returned　to　my　room。　　The　foremost　thing　I　saw　there

by　the　light　of　the　candle　I　had　left　burning　was　that　Flora's

little　bed　was　empty；　and　on　this　I　caught　my　breath　with　all

the　terror　that；　five　minutes　before；　I　had　been　able　to　resist。

I　dashed　at　the　place　in　which　I　had　left　her　lying　and　over　which

（for　the　small　silk　counterpane　and　the　sheets　were　disarranged）

the　white　curtains　had　been　deceivingly　pulled　forward；

then　my　step；　to　my　unutterable　relief；　produced　an　answering　sound：

I　perceived　an　agitation　of　the　window　blind；　and　the　child；

ducking　down；　emerged　rosily　from　the　other　side　of　it。

She　stood　there　in　so　much　of　her　candor　and　so　little　of　her　nightgown；

with　her　pink　bare　feet　and　the　golden　glow　of　her　curls。

She　looked　intensely　grave；　and　I　had　never　had　such　a　sense　of　losing

an　advantage　acquired　（the　thrill　of　which　had　just　been　so　prodigious）

as　on　my　consciousness　that　she　addressed　me　with　a　reproach。

〃You　naughty：　　where　HAVE　you　been？〃instead　of　challenging

her　own　irregularity　I　found　myself　arraigned　and　explaining。

She　herself　explained；　for　that　matter；　with　the　loveliest；

eagerest　simplicity。　　She　had　known　suddenly；　as　she　lay　there；

that　I　was　out　of　the　room；　and　had　jumped　up　to　see　what　had

become　of　me。　　I　had　dropped；　with　the　joy　of　her　reappearance；

back　into　my　chairfeeling　then；　and　then　only；　a　little　faint；

and　she　had　pattered　straight　over　to　me；　thrown　herself　upon

my　knee；　given　herself　to　be　held　with　the　flame　of　the　candle　full

in　the　wonderful　little　face　that　was　still　flushed　with　sleep。

I　remember　closing　my　eyes　an　instant；　yieldingly；　consciously；

as　before　the　excess　of　something　beautiful　that　shone　out　of　the　blue

of　her　own。　　〃You　were　looking