章节正文
said I.
The waiter brought it and poured the water slowly
over the ice in the dripper.
"It looks exactly like the Mississippi River water
in the big bend below Natchez," said I, fascinated,
gazing at the be-muddled drip.
"There are such flats for eight dollars a week,"
said Kerner.
"You are a fool," said I, and began to sip the
filtration. "What you need," I continued, "is the
official attention of one Jesse Holmes."
Kerner, not being a Southerner, did not compre-
hend, so he sat, sentimental, figuring on his flat in
his sordid, artistic way, while I gazed into the green
eyes of the sophisticated Spirit of Wormwood.
Presently I noticed casually that a procession of
bacchantes limned on the wall immediately below the
ceiling bad begun to move, traversing the room from
right to left in a gay and spectacularpilgrimage. I
did not confide my discovery to Kerner. The artistic
temperament is too high-strung to view such devia-
tions from the natural laws of the art of kalsomining.
I sipped my absinthe drip and sawed wormwood.
One absinthe drip is not much -- but I said again to
Kerner, kindly:
"You are a fool." And then, in the vernacular:
"Jesse Holmes for yours."
And then I looked around and saw the Fool-Killer,
as he had always appeared to my imagination, sitting
at a nearby table, and regarding us with his reddish,
fatal, relentless eyes. He was Jesse Holmes from top
to toe; he had the long, gray, ragged beard, the
gray clothes of ancient cut, the executioner's look,
and the dusty shoes of one who bad been called from
afar. His eyes were turned fixedly upon Kerner. I
shuddered to think that I bad invoked him from his
assiduous southern duties. I thought of flying, and
then I kept my seat, reflecting that many men bad es-
caped his ministrations when it seemed that nothing
short of an appointment as Ambassador to Spain
could save them from him. I had called my brother
Kerner a fool and was in danger of hell fire. That
was nothing; but I would try to save him from Jesse
Holmes.
The Fool-Killer got up from his table and came
over to ours. He rested his hands upon it, and
turned his burning, vindictive eyes upon Kerner, ig-
noring me.
"You are a hopeless fool," be said to the artist.
"Haven't you had enough of starvation yet? I of-
fer you one more opportunity. Give up this girl and
come back to your home. Refuse, and you must take
the consequences."
The Fool-Killer's threatening face was within a
foot of his victim's; but to my horror, Kerner made
not the slightest sign of being aware of his presence.
"We will be married next week," be muttered ab-
sent-mindedly. "With my studio furniture and some
second-hand stuff we can make out."
"You have decided your own fate," said the Fool-
Killer, in a low but terrible voice. "You may con-
sider yourself as one dead. You have had your last
chance."
"In the moonlight," went on Kerner, softly, "we
will sit under the skylight with our guitar and sing
away the false delights of pride and money."
"On your own head be it," hissed the Fool-Killer,
and my scalp prickled when I perceived that neither
Kerner's eyes nor his ears took the slightest cog-
nizance of Jesse Holmes. And then I knew that for
some reason the veil had been lifted for me alone, and
that I bad been elected to save my friend from de-
struction at the Fool-Killer's bands. Something of
the fear and wonder of it must have showed itself in
my face.
"Excuse me," said Kerner, with his wan, amiable
smile; "was I talking to myself? I think it is getting
to be a habit with me."
The Fool-Killer turned and walked out of Far-
ronils.
"Wait here for me," said I, rising; "I must speak
to that man. Had you no answer for him? Because
you are a fool must you die like a mouse under his
foot? Could you not utter one squeak in your own
defence?
"You are drunk," said Kerner, heartlessly. "No
one addressed me."
"The destroyer of your mind," said I, "stood
above you just now and marked you for his victim.
You are not blind or deaf."
"I recognized no such person," said Kerner. "I
have seen no one but you at this table. Sit down.
Hereafter you shall have no more absinthe drips."
"Wait here," said I, furious; "if you don't care
for your own life, I will save it for you."
I hurried out and overtook the man in gray half-
way down the block. He looked as I bad seen him in
my fancy a thousand times - truculent, gray and
awful. He walked with the white oak staff, and but
for the street-sprinkler the dust would have been fly-
ing under his tread.
I caught him by the sleeve and steered him to a
dark angle of a building. I knew he was a myth, and
I did not want a cop to see me conversing with va-
cancy, for I might land in Bellevue minus my silver
matchbox and diamond ring.
"Jesse Holmes," said I, facing him with apparent
bravery, "I know you. I have heard of you all my
life. I know now what a scourge you have been to
your country. Instead of killing fools you have been
murdering the youth and genius that are necessary to
make a people live and grow great. You are a fool
yourself, Holmes; you began killing off the brightest
and best of our countrymen three generations ago,
when the old and obsolete standards of society and
honor and orthodoxy were narrow and bigoted. You
proved that when you put your murderous mark upon
my friend Kerner -- the wisest chap I ever knew in
my life."
The Fool-Killer looked at me grimly and closely.
"You've a queer jag," said he, curiously. "Oh,
yes; I see who you are now. You were sitting with
him at the table. Well, if I'm not mistaken, I heard
you call him a fool, too."
"I did," said I. "I delight in doing so. It is
from envy. By all the standards that you know he is
the most egregious and grandiloquent and gorgeous
fool in all the world. That's why you want to kill
him."
"Would you mind telling me who or what you think
I am?" asked the old man.
I laughed boisterously and then stopped suddenly,
for I remembered that it would not do to be seen so
hilarious in the company of nothing but a brick
wall.
"You are Jesse Holmes, the Fool-Killer," I said,
solemnly, "and you are going to kill my friend Ker-
ner. I don't know who rang you up, but if you do
kill him I'll see that you get pinched for it. That
is," I added, despairingly, "if I can get a cop to see
you. They have a poor eye for mortals, and I think
it would take the whole force to round up a myth mur-
derer."
"Well," said the Fool-Killer, briskly, "I must be
going. You had better go home and sleep it off.
Good-night."
At this I was moved by a sudden fear for Kerner to
a softer and more pleading mood. I leaned against
the gray man's sleeve and besought him:
"Good Mr. Fool-Killer, please don't kill little Ker-
ner. Why can't you go back South and kill Con-
gressmen and clay-caters and let us alone? Why
don't you go up on Fifth Avenue and kill millionaires
that keep their money locked up and won't let young
fools marry because one of 'em lives on the wrong
street? Come and have a drink, Jesse. Will you
never get on to your job?"
"Do you know this girl that your friend has made
himself a fool about?" asked the Fool-Killer.
"I have the honor," said I, "and that's why I
called Kerner a fool. He is a fool because he has
waited so long before marrying her. He is a fool
because be has been waiting in the hopes of getting
the consent of some absurd two-million-dollar-fool
parent or something of the sort."
"Maybe," said the Fool-Killer -- " maybe I -- I
might have looked at it differently. Would you mind
going back to the restaurant and bringing your friend
Kerner here?"
"OH, what's the use, Jesse," I yawned. "He can't
see you. He didn't know you were talking to him
at the table, You are a fictitious character, you
know."
"Maybe He can this time. Will you go fetch
him?"
"All right," said I, "but I've a suspicion that
you're not strictly sober, Jesse. You seem to be wa-
vering and losing your outlines. Don't vanish before
I get back."
I went back to Kerner and said:
"There's a man with an invisible homicidal mania
waiting to see you outside. I believe he wants to
murder you. Come along. You won't see him, so
there's nothing to be frightened about."
Kerner looked anxious.
"Why," said be, "I had no idea one absinthe
would do that. You'd better stick to Wurzburger.
I'll walk home with you."
I led him to Jesse Holmes's.
"Rudolf," said the Fool-Killer, "I'll give in.
Bring her up to the house. Give me your hand,
boy.",
"Good for you, dad," said Kerner, shaking hands
with the old man. You'll never regret it after you
know her."
"So, you did see him when he was talking to you
at the table?" I asked Kerner.
"We hadn't spoken to each other in a year," said
Kerner. "It's all right now."
I walked away.
"Where are you going?" called Kerner.
The waiter brought it and poured the water slowly
over the ice in the dripper.
"It looks exactly like the Mississippi River water
in the big bend below Natchez," said I, fascinated,
gazing at the be-muddled drip.
"There are such flats for eight dollars a week,"
said Kerner.
"You are a fool," said I, and began to sip the
filtration. "What you need," I continued, "is the
official attention of one Jesse Holmes."
Kerner, not being a Southerner, did not compre-
hend, so he sat, sentimental, figuring on his flat in
his sordid, artistic way, while I gazed into the green
eyes of the sophisticated Spirit of Wormwood.
Presently I noticed casually that a procession of
bacchantes limned on the wall immediately below the
ceiling bad begun to move, traversing the room from
right to left in a gay and spectacularpilgrimage. I
did not confide my discovery to Kerner. The artistic
temperament is too high-strung to view such devia-
tions from the natural laws of the art of kalsomining.
I sipped my absinthe drip and sawed wormwood.
One absinthe drip is not much -- but I said again to
Kerner, kindly:
"You are a fool." And then, in the vernacular:
"Jesse Holmes for yours."
And then I looked around and saw the Fool-Killer,
as he had always appeared to my imagination, sitting
at a nearby table, and regarding us with his reddish,
fatal, relentless eyes. He was Jesse Holmes from top
to toe; he had the long, gray, ragged beard, the
gray clothes of ancient cut, the executioner's look,
and the dusty shoes of one who bad been called from
afar. His eyes were turned fixedly upon Kerner. I
shuddered to think that I bad invoked him from his
assiduous southern duties. I thought of flying, and
then I kept my seat, reflecting that many men bad es-
caped his ministrations when it seemed that nothing
short of an appointment as Ambassador to Spain
could save them from him. I had called my brother
Kerner a fool and was in danger of hell fire. That
was nothing; but I would try to save him from Jesse
Holmes.
The Fool-Killer got up from his table and came
over to ours. He rested his hands upon it, and
turned his burning, vindictive eyes upon Kerner, ig-
noring me.
"You are a hopeless fool," be said to the artist.
"Haven't you had enough of starvation yet? I of-
fer you one more opportunity. Give up this girl and
come back to your home. Refuse, and you must take
the consequences."
The Fool-Killer's threatening face was within a
foot of his victim's; but to my horror, Kerner made
not the slightest sign of being aware of his presence.
"We will be married next week," be muttered ab-
sent-mindedly. "With my studio furniture and some
second-hand stuff we can make out."
"You have decided your own fate," said the Fool-
Killer, in a low but terrible voice. "You may con-
sider yourself as one dead. You have had your last
chance."
"In the moonlight," went on Kerner, softly, "we
will sit under the skylight with our guitar and sing
away the false delights of pride and money."
"On your own head be it," hissed the Fool-Killer,
and my scalp prickled when I perceived that neither
Kerner's eyes nor his ears took the slightest cog-
nizance of Jesse Holmes. And then I knew that for
some reason the veil had been lifted for me alone, and
that I bad been elected to save my friend from de-
struction at the Fool-Killer's bands. Something of
the fear and wonder of it must have showed itself in
my face.
"Excuse me," said Kerner, with his wan, amiable
smile; "was I talking to myself? I think it is getting
to be a habit with me."
The Fool-Killer turned and walked out of Far-
ronils.
"Wait here for me," said I, rising; "I must speak
to that man. Had you no answer for him? Because
you are a fool must you die like a mouse under his
foot? Could you not utter one squeak in your own
defence?
"You are drunk," said Kerner, heartlessly. "No
one addressed me."
"The destroyer of your mind," said I, "stood
above you just now and marked you for his victim.
You are not blind or deaf."
"I recognized no such person," said Kerner. "I
have seen no one but you at this table. Sit down.
Hereafter you shall have no more absinthe drips."
"Wait here," said I, furious; "if you don't care
for your own life, I will save it for you."
I hurried out and overtook the man in gray half-
way down the block. He looked as I bad seen him in
my fancy a thousand times - truculent, gray and
awful. He walked with the white oak staff, and but
for the street-sprinkler the dust would have been fly-
ing under his tread.
I caught him by the sleeve and steered him to a
dark angle of a building. I knew he was a myth, and
I did not want a cop to see me conversing with va-
cancy, for I might land in Bellevue minus my silver
matchbox and diamond ring.
"Jesse Holmes," said I, facing him with apparent
bravery, "I know you. I have heard of you all my
life. I know now what a scourge you have been to
your country. Instead of killing fools you have been
murdering the youth and genius that are necessary to
make a people live and grow great. You are a fool
yourself, Holmes; you began killing off the brightest
and best of our countrymen three generations ago,
when the old and obsolete standards of society and
honor and orthodoxy were narrow and bigoted. You
proved that when you put your murderous mark upon
my friend Kerner -- the wisest chap I ever knew in
my life."
The Fool-Killer looked at me grimly and closely.
"You've a queer jag," said he, curiously. "Oh,
yes; I see who you are now. You were sitting with
him at the table. Well, if I'm not mistaken, I heard
you call him a fool, too."
"I did," said I. "I delight in doing so. It is
from envy. By all the standards that you know he is
the most egregious and grandiloquent and gorgeous
fool in all the world. That's why you want to kill
him."
"Would you mind telling me who or what you think
I am?" asked the old man.
I laughed boisterously and then stopped suddenly,
for I remembered that it would not do to be seen so
hilarious in the company of nothing but a brick
wall.
"You are Jesse Holmes, the Fool-Killer," I said,
solemnly, "and you are going to kill my friend Ker-
ner. I don't know who rang you up, but if you do
kill him I'll see that you get pinched for it. That
is," I added, despairingly, "if I can get a cop to see
you. They have a poor eye for mortals, and I think
it would take the whole force to round up a myth mur-
derer."
"Well," said the Fool-Killer, briskly, "I must be
going. You had better go home and sleep it off.
Good-night."
At this I was moved by a sudden fear for Kerner to
a softer and more pleading mood. I leaned against
the gray man's sleeve and besought him:
"Good Mr. Fool-Killer, please don't kill little Ker-
ner. Why can't you go back South and kill Con-
gressmen and clay-caters and let us alone? Why
don't you go up on Fifth Avenue and kill millionaires
that keep their money locked up and won't let young
fools marry because one of 'em lives on the wrong
street? Come and have a drink, Jesse. Will you
never get on to your job?"
"Do you know this girl that your friend has made
himself a fool about?" asked the Fool-Killer.
"I have the honor," said I, "and that's why I
called Kerner a fool. He is a fool because he has
waited so long before marrying her. He is a fool
because be has been waiting in the hopes of getting
the consent of some absurd two-million-dollar-fool
parent or something of the sort."
"Maybe," said the Fool-Killer -- " maybe I -- I
might have looked at it differently. Would you mind
going back to the restaurant and bringing your friend
Kerner here?"
"OH, what's the use, Jesse," I yawned. "He can't
see you. He didn't know you were talking to him
at the table, You are a fictitious character, you
know."
"Maybe He can this time. Will you go fetch
him?"
"All right," said I, "but I've a suspicion that
you're not strictly sober, Jesse. You seem to be wa-
vering and losing your outlines. Don't vanish before
I get back."
I went back to Kerner and said:
"There's a man with an invisible homicidal mania
waiting to see you outside. I believe he wants to
murder you. Come along. You won't see him, so
there's nothing to be frightened about."
Kerner looked anxious.
"Why," said be, "I had no idea one absinthe
would do that. You'd better stick to Wurzburger.
I'll walk home with you."
I led him to Jesse Holmes's.
"Rudolf," said the Fool-Killer, "I'll give in.
Bring her up to the house. Give me your hand,
boy.",
"Good for you, dad," said Kerner, shaking hands
with the old man. You'll never regret it after you
know her."
"So, you did see him when he was talking to you
at the table?" I asked Kerner.
"We hadn't spoken to each other in a year," said
Kerner. "It's all right now."
I walked away.
"Where are you going?" called Kerner.
- mississippi [,misi´sipi]
n.密西西比(河) (初中英语单词) - procession [prə´seʃən] n.队伍 v.列队行进 (初中英语单词)
- imagination [i,mædʒi´neiʃən] n.想象(力) (初中英语单词)
- ambassador [æm´bæsədə] n.大使 (初中英语单词)
- horror [´hɔrə] n.恐怖；战栗 (初中英语单词)
- softly [´sɔftli] ad.软化地；柔和地 (初中英语单词)
- furious [´fjuəriəs] a.狂怒的；猛烈的 (初中英语单词)
- sleeve [sli:v] n.袖子；袖套 (初中英语单词)
- genius [´dʒi:niəs] n.天才(人物)；天赋 (初中英语单词)
- curiously [´kjuəriəsli] ad.好奇地；稀奇古怪地 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- absurd [əb´sə:d] a.荒谬的，可笑的 (初中英语单词)
- restaurant [´restərɔnt] n.饭店，菜馆 (初中英语单词)
- character [´kæriktə] n.特性；性质；人物；字 (初中英语单词)
- suspicion [sə´spiʃən] n.怀(猜)疑；嫌疑 (初中英语单词)
- vanish [´væniʃ] vi.消失；消散；消灭 (初中英语单词)
- invisible [in´vizəbəl] a.看不见的；无形的 (初中英语单词)
- spoken [´spəukən] speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- artistic [ɑ:´tistik] a.艺术的；有美感的 (高中英语单词)
- confide [kən´faid] v.委托；吐露；信任 (高中英语单词)
- regarding [ri´gɑ:diŋ] prep.关于 (高中英语单词)
- ragged [´rægid] a.衣服破烂的 (高中英语单词)
- hopeless [´həupləs] a.无望的，无可救药的 (高中英语单词)
- studio [´stju:diəu] n.画室；照相室 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- squeak [skwi:k] n.&vi.(发)尖叫(声) (高中英语单词)
- hurried [´hʌrid] a.仓促的，慌忙的 (高中英语单词)
- scourge [skə:dʒ] v.&n.鞭(打)；严惩 (高中英语单词)
- grimly [´grimli] ad.严厉地；坚强地 (高中英语单词)
- mistaken [mis´teikən] mistake的过去分词 (高中英语单词)
- differently [´difrentli] ad.不同地，有差别地 (高中英语单词)
- strictly [´striktli] ad.严格地 (高中英语单词)
- waiter [´weitə] n.侍者，服务员 (英语四级单词)
- sentimental [,senti´mentl] a.感伤的；多愁善感的 (英语四级单词)
- sordid [´sɔ:did] a.(指环境等)肮脏的 (英语四级单词)
- spectacular [spek´tækjulə] a.壮观的；惊人的 (英语四级单词)
- pilgrimage [´pilgrimidʒ] n.朝圣；远游；人生历程 (英语四级单词)
- starvation [stɑ:´veiʃən] n.饥饿；饿死 (英语四级单词)
- overtook [,əuvə´tuk] overtake的过去式 (英语四级单词)
- murderous [´mə:dərəs] a.行凶的；势不可挡的 (英语四级单词)
- briskly [´briskli] ad.轻快地；活泼地 (英语四级单词)
- besought [bi´sɔ:t] beseech过去式(分词) (英语四级单词)
- relentless [ri´lentləs] a.无情的；坚韧的 (英语六级单词)
- guitar [gi´tɑ:] n.吉他，六弦琴 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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