the children of the night-第7章

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His　painful　strength　at　the　sight　of　his　master；

And　when　he　was　past　I　cursed　him；　fearful

Of　that　strange　chance　which　makes　us　mighty

Or　mean；　or　both。　　I　cursed　him　and　hated

The　stones　he　pressed　with　his　heel；　I　followed

His　easy　march　with　a　backward　envy；

And　cursed　myself　for　the　beast　within　me。

But　pride　is　the　master　of　love；　and　the　vision

Of　those　old　days　grew　faint　and　fainter：

The　counterfeit　wife　my　mercy　sheltered

Was　nothing　now　but　a　woman；　　a　woman

Out　of　my　way　and　out　of　my　nature。

My　battle　with　blinded　love　was　over；

My　battle　with　aching　pride　beginning。

If　I　was　the　loser　at　first；　I　wonder

If　I　am　the　winner　now！　。　。　。　　I　doubt　it。

My　life　is　a　losing　game；　and　to…morrow　

To…morrow！　　Christ！　did　I　say　to…morrow？　。　。　。

Is　your　brandy　good　for　death？　。　。　。　　There；　　listen：　



When　love　goes　out；　and　a　man　is　driven

To　shun　mankind　for　the　scars　that　make　him

A　joke　for　all　chattering　tongues；　he　carries

A　double　burden。　　The　woes　I　suffered

After　that　hard　betrayal　made　me

Pity；　at　first；　all　breathing　creatures

On　this　bewildered　earth。　　I　studied

Their　faces　and　made　for　myself　the　story

Of　all　their　scattered　lives。　　Like　brothers

And　sisters　they　seemed　to　me　then；　and　I　nourished

A　stranger　friendship　wrought　in　my　fancy

Between　those　people　and　me。　　But　somehow；

As　time　went　on；　there　came　queer　glances

Out　of　their　eyes；　and　the　shame　that　stung　me

Harassed　my　pride　with　a　crazed　impression

That　every　face　in　the　surging　city

Was　turned　to　me；　and　I　saw　sly　whispers；

Now　and　then；　as　I　walked　and　wearied

My　wasted　life　twice　over　in　bearing

With　all　my　sorrow　the　sorrows　of　others；　

Till　I　found　myself　their　fool。　　Then　I　trembled；　

A　poor　scared　thing；　　and　their　prying　faces

Told　me　the　ghastly　truth：　　they　were　laughing

At　me　and　my　fate。　　My　God；　I　could　feel　it　

That　laughter！　　And　then　the　children　caught　it；

And　I；　like　a　struck　dog；　crept　and　listened。

And　then　when　I　met　the　man　who　had　weakened

A　woman's　love　to　his　own　desire；

It　seemed　to　me　that　all　hell　were　laughing

In　fiendish　concert！　　I　was　their　victim　

And　his；　and　hate's。　　And　there　was　the　struggle！

As　long　as　the　earth　we　tread　holds　something

A　tortured　heart　can　love；　the　meaning

Of　life　is　not　wholly　blurred；　but　after

The　last　loved　thing　in　the　world　has　left　us；

We　know　the　triumph　of　hate。　　The　glory

Of　good　goes　out　forever；　the　beacon

Of　sin　is　the　light　that　leads　us　downward　

Down　to　the　fiery　end。　　The　road　runs

Right　through　hell；　and　the　souls　that　follow

The　cursed　ways　where　its　windings　lead　them

Suffer　enough；　I　say；　to　merit

All　grace　that　a　God　can　give。　　　The　fashion

Of　our　belief　is　to　lift　all　beings

Born　for　a　life　that　knows　no　struggle

In　sin's　tight　snares　to　eternal　glory　

All　apart　from　the　branded　millions

Who　carry　through　life　their　faces　graven

With　sure　brute　scars　that　tell　the　story

Of　their　foul；　fated　passions。　　Science

Has　yet　no　salve　to　smooth　or　soften

The　cradle…scars　of　a　tyrant's　visage；

No　drug　to　purge　from　the　vital　essence

Of　souls　the　sleeping　venom。　　Virtue

May　flower　in　hell；　when　its　roots　are　twisted

And　wound　with　the　roots　of　vice；　but　the　stronger

Never　is　known　till　there　comes　that　battle

With　sin　to　prove　the　victor。　　Perilous

Things　are　these　demons　we　call　our　passions：

Slaves　are　we　of　their　roving　fancies；

Fools　of　their　devilish　glee。　　　You　think　me；

I　know；　in　this　maundering　way　designing

To　lighten　the　load　of　my　guilt　and　cast　it

Half　on　the　shoulders　of　God。　　But　hear　me！

I'm　partly　a　man；　　for　all　my　weakness；　

If　weakness　it　were　to　stand　and　murder

Before　men's　eyes　the　man　who　had　murdered

Me；　and　driven　my　burning　forehead

With　horns　for　the　world　to　laugh　at。　　Trust　me！

And　try　to　believe　my　words　but　a　portion

Of　what　God's　purpose　made　me！　　The　coward

Within　me　cries　for　this；　and　I　beg　you

Now；　as　I　come　to　the　end；　to　remember

That　women　and　men　are　on　earth　to　travel

All　on　a　different　road。　　Hereafter

The　roads　may　meet。　。　。　。　　I　trust　in　something　

I　know　not　what。　。　。　。



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Well；　this　was　the　way　of　it：　

Stung　with　the　shame　and　the　secret　fury

That　comes　to　the　man　who　has　thrown　his　pittance

Of　self　at　a　traitor's　feet；　I　wandered

Weeks　and　weeks　in　a　baffled　frenzy；

Till　at　last　the　devil　spoke。　　I　heard　him；

And　laughed　at　the　love　that　strove　to　touch　me；　

The　dead；　lost　love；　and　I　gripped　the　demon

Close　to　my　breast；　and　held　him；　praising

The　fates　and　the　furies　that　gave　me　the　courage

To　follow　his　wild　command。　　Forgetful

Of　all　to　come　when　the　work　was　over；　

There　came　to　me　then　no　stony　vision

Of　these　three　hundred　days；　　I　cherished

An　awful　joy　in　my　brain。　　I　pondered

And　weighed　the　thing　in　my　mind；　and　gloried

In　life　to　think　that　I　was　to　conquer

Death　at　his　own　dark　door；　　and　chuckled

To　think　of　it　done　so　cleanly。　　One　evening

I　knew　that　my　time　had　come。　　I　shuddered

A　little；　but　rather　for　doubt　than　terror；

And　followed　him；　　led　by　the　nameless　devil

I　worshipped　and　called　my　brother。　　The　city

Shone　like　a　dream　that　night；　the　windows

Flashed　with　a　piercing　flame；　and　the　pavements

Pulsed　and　swayed　with　a　warmth　　or　something

That　seemed　so　then　to　my　feet　　and　thrilled　me

With　a　quick；　dizzy　joy；　and　the　women

And　men；　like　marvellous　things　of　magic；

Floated　and　laughed　and　sang　by　my　shoulder；

Sent　with　a　wizard　motion。　　Through　it

And　over　and　under　it　all　there　sounded

A　murmur　of　life；　like　bees；　and　I　listened

And　laughed　again　to　think　of　the　flower

That　grew；　blood…red；　for　me！　。　。　。　　This　fellow

Was　one　of　the　popular　sort　who　flourish

Unruffled　where　gods　would　fall。　　For　a　conscience

He　carried　a　snug　deceit　that　made　him

The　man　of　the　time　and　the　place；　whatever

The　time　or　the　place　might　be。　　Were　he　sounding；

With　a　genial　craft　that　cloaked　its　purpose；

Nigh　to　itself；　the　depth　of　a　woman


Fooled　with　his　brainless　art；　or　sending

The　midnight　home　with　songs　and　bottles；　

The　cad　was　there；　and　his　ease　forever

Shone　with　the　smooth　and　slippery　polish

That　tells　the　snake。　　That　night　he　drifted

Into　an　up…town　haunt　and　ordered　

Whatever　it　was　　with　a　soft　assurance

That　made　me　mad　as　I　stood　behind　him；

Gripping　his　death；　and　waited。　　Coward；

I　think；　is　the　name　the　world　has　given

To　men　like　me；　but　I'll　swear　I　never

Thought　of　my　own　disgrace　when　I　shot　him　

Yes；　in　the　back；　　I　know　it；　I　know　it

Now；　but　what　if　I　do？　。　。　。　　As　I　watched　him

Lying　there　dead　in　the　scattered　sawdust；

Wet　with　a　day's　blown　froth；　I　noted

That　things　were　still；　that　the　walnut　tables；

Where　men　but　a　moment　before　were　sitting；

Were　gone；　that　a　screen　of　something　around　me

Shut　them　out　of　my　sight。　　But　the　gilded

Signs　of　a　hundred　beers　and　whiskeys

Flashed　from　the　walls　above；　and　the　mirrors

And　glasses　behind　the　bar　were　lighted

In　some　strange　way；　and　into　my　spirit

A　thousand　shafts　of　terrible　fire

Burned　like　death；　and　I　fell。　　The　story

Of　what　came　then；　you　know。



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　But　tell　me；

What　does　the　whole　thing　mean？　　What　are　we；　

Slaves　of　an　awful　ignorance？　puppets

Pulled　by　a　fiend？　or　gods；　without　knowing　it？

Do　we　shut　from　ourselves　our　own　salvation；　

Or　what　do　we　do！　　I　tell　you；　Dominie；

There　are　times　in　the　lives　of　us　poor　devils

When　heaven　and　hell　get　mixed。　　Though　conscience

May　come　like　a　whisper　of　Christ　to　warn　us

Away　from　our　sins；　it　is　lost　or　laughed　at；　

And　then　we　fall。　　And　for　all　who　have　fallen　

Even　for　him　　I　hold　no　malice；

Nor　much　compassion：　　a　mightier　mercy

Than　mine　must　shrive　him。　　　And　I　　I　am　going

Into　the　light？　　or　into　the　darkness？

Why　do　I　sit　through　these　sickening　hours；

And　hope？　　Good　God！　are　they　hours？　　hours？

Yes！