酷兔英语
    当前位置:
  1. 首页
  2. 文章
  3. 娱乐英语
  4. 原版小说
  5. 正文

Within the Tides-Part22_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

0 收藏 0 分享 0 赞

章节正文
文章总共2页


terror had possession of him now, a namelessterror which had

turned his heart to ashes.



He sat upright in the straight-backed chair, the lamp burning at

his feet, his pistols and his hanger at his left elbow on the end



of the table, his eyes turning incessantly in their sockets round

the walls, over the ceiling, over the floor, in the expectation of



a mysterious and appallingvision. The thing which could deal

death in a breath was outside that bolted door. But Byrne believed



neither in walls nor bolts now. Unreasoning terror turning

everything to account, his old time boyishadmiration of the



athletic Tom, the undaunted Tom (he had seemed to him invincible),

helped to paralyse his faculties, added to his despair.



He was no longer Edgar Byrne. He was a tortured soul suffering

more anguish than any sinner's body had ever suffered from rack or



boot. The depth of his torment may be measured when I say that

this young man, as brave at least as the average of his kind,



contemplated seizing a pistol and firing into his own head. But a

deadly, chilly, langour was spreading over his limbs. It was as if



his flesh had been wet plaster stiffening slowly about his ribs.

Presently, he thought, the two witches will be coming in, with



crutch and stick - horrible, grotesque, monstrous - affiliated to

the devil - to put a mark on his forehead, the tiny little bruise



of death. And he wouldn't be able to do anything. Tom had struck

out at something, but he was not like Tom. His limbs were dead



already. He sat still, dying the death over and over again; and

the only part of him which moved were his eyes, turning round and



round in their sockets, running over the walls, the floor, the

ceiling, again and again till suddenly they became motionless and



stony-starting out of his head fixed in the direction of the bed.

He had seen the heavy curtains stir and shake as if the dead body



they concealed had turned over and sat up. Byrne, who thought the

world could hold no more terrors in store, felt his hair stir at



the roots. He gripped the arms of the chair, his jaw fell, and the

sweat broke out on his brow while his dry tongue clove suddenly to



the roof of his mouth. Again the curtains stirred, but did not

open. "Don't, Tom!" Byrne made effort to shout, but all he heard



was a slight moan such as an uneasysleeper may make. He felt that

his brain was going, for, now, it seemed to him that the ceiling



over the bed had moved, had slanted, and came level again - and

once more the closed curtains swayed gently as if about to part.



Byrne closed his eyes not to see the awful apparition of the

seaman's corpse coming out animated by an evil spirit. In the



profound silence of the room he endured a moment of frightful

agony, then opened his eyes again. And he saw at once that the



curtains remained closed still, but that the ceiling over the bed

had risen quite a foot. With the last gleam of reason left to him



he understood that it was the enormous baldaquin over the bed which

was coming down, while the curtains attached to it swayed softly,



sinking gradually to the floor. His drooping jaw snapped to - and

half rising in his chair he watched mutely the noiseless descent of



the monstrouscanopy. It came down in short smooth rushes till

lowered half way or more, when it took a run and settled swiftly



its turtle-back shape with the deep border piece fitting exactly

the edge of the bedstead. A slight crack or two of wood were



heard, and the overpowering stillness of the room resumed its sway.

Byrne stood up, gasped for breath, and let out a cry of rage and



dismay, the first sound which he is perfectly certain did make its

way past his lips on this night of terrors. This then was the



death he had escaped! This was the devilish artifice of murder

poor Tom's soul had perhaps tried from beyond the border to warn



him of. For this was how he had died. Byrne was certain he had

heard the voice of the seaman, faintlydistinct in his familiar



phrase, "Mr. Byrne! Look out, sir!" and again uttering words he

could not make out. But then the distance separating the living



from the dead is so great! Poor Tom had tried. Byrne ran to the




文章总共2页
文章标签:名著  

章节正文
Copyright © 2023 Qeto All rights reserved.
商务合作 | 联系我们 | 关于我们 | 版权声明 | 隐私条款 | 如果智培

京ICP备05059198号-1 京公网安备 11011202003401号