a mortal antipathy-第55章

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behind　him。



All　these　dispositions　were　quickly　and　quietly　made；　and　everything

was　ready　for　the　transfer　of　the　patient　to　the　house　of　the

hospitable　physician。　　Paolo　was　at　the　doctor's；　superintending　the

arrangement　of　Maurice's　effects　and　making　all　ready　for　his　master。

The　nurse　in　attendance；　a　trustworthy　man　enough　in　the　main；

finding　his　patient　in　a　tranquil　sleep；　left　his　bedside　for　a

little　fresh　air。　　While　he　was　at　the　door　he　heard　a　shouting　which

excited　his　curiosity；　and　he　followed　the　sound　until　he　found

himself　at　the　border　of　the　lake。　　It　was　nothing　very　wonderful

which　had　caused　the　shouting。　　A　Newfoundland　dog　had　been　showing

off　his　accomplishments；　and　some　of　the　idlers　were　betting　as　to

the　time　it　would　take　him　to　bring　back　to　his　master　the　various

floating　objects　which　had　been　thrown　as　far　from　the　shore　as

possible。　　He　watched　the　dog　a　few　minutes；　when　his　attention　was

drawn　to　a　light　wherry；　pulled　by　one　young　lady　and　steered　by

another。　　It　was　making　for　the　shore；　which　it　would　soon　reach。

The　attendant　remembered　all　at　once；　that　he　had　left　his　charge；

and　just　before　the　boat　came　to　land　he　turned　and　hurried　back　to

the　patient。　　Exactly　how　long　he　had　been　absent　he　could　not　have

said；perhaps　a　quarter　of　an　hour；　perhaps　longer；　the　time

appeared　short　to　him；　wearied　with　long　sitting　and　watching。



It　had　seemed；　when　he　stole　away　from　Maurice's　bedside；　that　he　was

not　in　the　least　needed。　　The　patient　was　lying　perfectly　quiet；　and

to　all　appearance　wanted　nothing　more　than　letting　alone。　　It　was

such　a　comfort　to　look　at　something　besides　the　worn　features　of　a

sick　man；　to　hear　something　besides　his　labored　breathing　and　faint；

half…whispered　words；　that　the　temptation　to　indulge　in　these

luxuries　for　a　few　minutes　had　proved　irresistible。



Unfortunately；　Maurice's　slumbers　did　not　remain　tranquil　during　the

absence　of　the　nurse。　　He　very　soon　fell　into　a　dream；　which　began

quietly　enough；　but　in　the　course　of　the　sudden　transitions　which

dreams　are　in　the　habit　of　undergoing　became　successively　anxious；

distressing；　terrifying。　　His　earlier　and　later　experiences　came　up

before　him；　fragmentary；　incoherent；　chaotic　even；　but　vivid　as

reality。　　He　was　at　the　bottom　of　a　coal…mine　in　one　of　those　long；

narrow　galleries；　or　rather　worm…holes；　in　which　human　beings　pass　a

large　part　of　their　lives；　like　so　many　larvae　boring　their　way　into

the　beams　and　rafters　of　some　old　building。　　How　close　the　air　was　in

the　stifling　passage　through　which　he　was　crawling！　　The　scene

changed；　and　he　was　climbing　a　slippery　sheet　of　ice　with　desperate

effort；　his　foot　on　the　floor　of　a　shallow　niche；　his　hold　an　icicle

ready　to　snap　in　an　instant；　an　abyss　below　him　waiting　for　his　foot

to　slip　or　the　icicle　to　break。　　How　thin　the　air　seemed；　how

desperately　hard　to　breathe！　　He　was　thinking　of　Mont　Blanc；　it　may

be；　and　the　fearfully　rarefied　atmosphere　which　he　remembered　well　as

one　of　the　great　trials　in　his　mountain　ascents。　　No；　it　was　not　Mont

Blanc；it　was　not　any　one　of　the　frozen　Alpine　summits；　it　was　Hecla

that　he　was　climbing



The　smoke　of　the　burning　mountain　was　wrapping　itself　around　him；　he

was　choking　with　its　dense　fumes；　he　heard　the　flames　roaring　around

him；　he　felt　the　hot　lava　beneath　his　feet；　he　uttered　a　faint　cry；

and　awoke。



The　room　was　full　of　smoke。　　He　was　gasping　for　breath；　strangling　in

the　smothering　oven　which　his　chamber　had　become。



The　house　was　on　fire！



He　tried　to　call　for　help；　but　his　voice　failed　him；　and　died　away　in

a　whisper。　　He　made　a　desperate　effort；　and　rose　so　as　to　sit　up　in

the　bed　for　an　instant；　but　the　effort　was　too　much　for　him；　and　he

sank　back　upon　his　pillow；　helpless。　　He　felt　that　his　hour　had　come；

for　he　could　not　live　in　this　dreadful　atmosphere；　and　he　was　left

alone。　　He　could　hear　the　crackle　of　fire　as　the　flame　crept　along

from　one　partition　to　another。　　It　was　a　cruel　fate　to　be　left　to

perish　in　that　way；the　fate　that　many　a　martyr　had　had　to　face；to

be　first　strangled　and　then　burned。　　Death　had　not　the　terror　for　him

that　it　has　for　most　young　persons。　　He　was　accustomed　to　thinking　of

it　calmly；　sometimes　wistfully；　even　to　such　a　degree　that　the

thought　of　self…destruction　had　come　upon　him　as　a　temptation。　　But

here　was　death　in　an　unexpected　and　appalling　shape。　　He　did　not　know

before　how　much　he　cared　to　live。　　All　his　old　recollections　came

before　him　as　it　were　in　one　long；　vivid　flash。　　The　closed　vista　of

memory　opened　to　its　far　horizon…line；　and　past　and　present　were

pictured　in　a　single　instant　of　clear　vision。　　The　dread　moment　which

had　blighted　his　life　returned　in　all　its　terror。　　He　felt　the

convulsive　spring　in　the　form　of　a　faint；　impotent　spasm；the　rush

of　air；the　thorns　of　the　stinging　and　lacerating　cradle　into　which

he　was　precipitated。　　One　after　another　those　paralyzing　seizures

which　had　been　like　deadening　blows　on　the　naked　heart　seemed　to

repeat　themselves；　as　real　as　at　the　moment　of　their　occurrence。　　The

pictures　passed　in　succession　with　such　rapidity　that　they　appeared

almost　as　if　simultaneous。　　The　vision　of　the　〃inward　eye　〃　was　so

intensified　in　this　moment　of　peril　that　an　instant　was　like　an　hour

of　common　existence。　　Those　who　have　been　very　near　drowning　know

well　what　this　description　means。　　The　development　of　a　photograph

may　not　explain　it；　but　it　illustrates　the　curious　and　familiar　fact

of　the　revived　recollections　of　the　drowning　man's　experience。　　The

sensitive　plate　has　taken　one　look　at　a　scene；　and　remembers　it　all；





Every　little　circumstance　is　there；the　hoof　in　air；　the　wing　in

flight；　the　leaf　as　it　falls；　the　wave　as　it　breaks。　　All　there；　but

invisible；　potentially　present；　but　impalpable；　inappreciable；　as　if

not　existing　at　all。　　A　wash　is　poured　over　it；　and　the　whole　scene

comes　out　in　all　its　perfection　of　detail。　　In　those　supreme　moments

when　death　stares　a　man　suddenly　in　the　face　the　rush　of　unwonted

emotion　floods　the　undeveloped　pictures　of　vanished　years；　stored

away　in　the　memory；　the　vast　panorama　of　a　lifetime；　and　in　one　swift

instant　the　past　comes　out　as　vividly　as　if　it　were　again　the

present。　　So　it　was　at　this　moment　with　the　sick　man；　as　he　lay

helpless　and　felt　that　he　was　left　to　die。　　For　he　saw　no　hope　of

relief：　the　smoke　was　drifting　in　clouds　into　the　room；　the　flames

were　very　near；　if　he　was　not　reached　and　rescued　immediately　it　was

all　over　with　him。



His　past　life　had　flashed　before　him。　　Then　all　at　once　rose　the

thought　of　his　future；of　all　its　possibilities；　of　the　vague　hopes

which　he　had　cherished　of　late　that　his　mysterious　doom　would　be

lifted　from　him。　　There　was　something；　then；　to　be　lived　for；

something！　　There　was　a　new　life；　it　might　be；　in　store　for　him；　and

such　a　new　life！　　He　thought　of　all　he　was　losing。　　Oh；　could　he　but

have　lived　to　know　the　meaning　of　love！　　And　the　passionate　desire　of

life　came　over　him；not　the　dread　of　death；　but　the　longing　for　what

the　future　might　yet　have　of　happiness　for　him。



All　this　took　place　in　the　course　of　a　very　few　moments。　　Dreams　and

visions　have　little　to　do　with　measured　time；　and　ten　minutes；

possibly　fifteen　or　twenty；　were　all　that　had　passed　since　the

beginning　of　those　nightmare　terrors　which　were　evidently　suggested

by　the　suffocating　air　he　was　breathing。



What　had　happened？　　In　the　confusion　of　moving　books　and　other

articles　to　the　doctor's　house；　doors　and　windows　had　been　forgotten。

Among　the　rest　a　window　opening　into　the　cellar；　where　some　old

furniture　had　been　left　by　a　former　occupant；　had　been　left　unclosed。

One　of　the　lazy　natives；　who　had　lounged　by　the　house　smoking　a　bad

cigar；　had　thrown　the　burning　stump　in　at　this　open　window。　　He　had

no　particular　intention　of　doing　mischief；　but　he　had　that

indifference　to　consequenc