the lifted veil-第13章

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flame　had　leaped　out；　and　was　being　extinguished　the　faster。　　The
wretched　woman's　heart…strings　had　been　set　to　hatred　and
vengeance；　the　spirit　of　life　had　swept　the　chords　for　an　instant；
and　was　gone　again　for　ever。　　Great　God！　　Is　this　what　it　is　to
live　again　。　。　。　to　wake　up　with　our　unstilled　thirst　upon　us；　with
our　unuttered　curses　rising　to　our　lips；　with　our　muscles　ready　to
act　out　their　half…committed　sins？

Bertha　stood　pale　at　the　foot　of　the　bed；　quivering　and　helpless；
despairing　of　devices；　like　a　cunning　animal　whose　hiding…places
are　surrounded　by　swift…advancing　flame。　　Even　Meunier　looked
paralysed；　life　for　that　moment　ceased　to　be　a　scientific　problem
to　him。　　As　for　me；　this　scene　seemed　of　one　texture　with　the　rest
of　my　existence：　　horror　was　my　familiar；　and　this　new　revelation
was　only　like　an　old　pain　recurring　with　new　circumstances。

*　*　*

Since　then　Bertha　and　I　have　lived　apartshe　in　her　own
neighbourhood；　the　mistress　of　half　our　wealth；　I　as　a　wanderer　in
foreign　countries；　until　I　came　to　this　Devonshire　nest　to　die。
Bertha　lives　pitied　and　admired；　for　what　had　I　against　that
charming　woman；　whom　every　one　but　myself　could　have　been　happy
with？　　There　had　been　no　witness　of　the　scene　in　the　dying　room
except　Meunier；　and　while　Meunier　lived　his　lips　were　sealed　by　a
promise　to　me。

Once　or　twice；　weary　of　wandering；　I　rested　in　a　favourite　spot；
and　my　heart　went　out　towards　the　men　and　women　and　children　whose
faces　were　becoming　familiar　to　me；　but　I　was　driven　away　again　in
terror　at　the　approach　of　my　old　insightdriven　away　to　live
continually　with　the　one　Unknown　Presence　revealed　and　yet　hidden
by　the　moving　curtain　of　the　earth　and　sky。　　Till　at　last　disease
took　hold　of　me　and　forced　me　to　rest　hereforced　me　to　live　in
dependence　on　my　servants。　　And　then　the　curse　of　insightof　my
double　consciousness；　came　again；　and　has　never　left　me。　　I　know
all　their　narrow　thoughts；　their　feeble　regard；　their　half…wearied
pity。

*　*　*

It　is　the　20th　of　September；　1850。　　I　know　these　figures　I　have
just　written；　as　if　they　were　a　long　familiar　inscription。　　I　have
seen　them　on　this　pace　in　my　desk　unnumbered　times；　when　the　scene
of　my　dying　struggle　has　opened　upon　me　。　。　。

（1859）





End