THESISTERS
Therewas
geen
nohopeforhimthiskeer
time:itwasthethirdstroke.
Nacht
NightafternightIhadpassedthehuis
house(itwasvacationtime)en
andstudiedthelightedsquareofwindow:en
andnightafternightIhadvond
founditlightedinthedezelfde
sameway,faintlyandevenly.Als
Ifhewasdead,Idacht
thought,IwouldseethereflectionofcandlesonthedarkenedblindforIwist
knewthattwocandlesmustbesetatthehoofd
headofacorpse.He
had
hadoftensaidtome:“Iamnot
lang
longforthisworld,”andIhad
hadthoughthiswordsidle.Nu
NowIknewtheywerewaar
true.EverynightasIgazedupat
het
thewindowIsaidsoftlytomyselfhet
thewordparalysis.Ithad
altijd
alwayssoundedstrangelyinmyears,zoals
likethewordgnomonintheEucliden
andthewordsimonyintheCatechism.Maar
Butnowitsoundedtomeals
likethenameofsomemaleficenten
andsinfulbeing.Itfilledme
met
withfear,andyetIverlangde
longedtobenearertoiten
andtolookuponitsdeadlywerk
work.OldCotterwassittingat
het
thefire,smoking,whenIkwam
camedownstairstosupper.Whilemyauntwasladling
uit
outmystirabouthesaid,asifkeren
returningtosomeformerremarkofzijn
his:.“No,Iwouldn’tsayhewas
precies
exactly...buttherewas
iets
somethingqueer...therewas
iets
somethinguncannyabouthim.I’ll
vertellen
tellyoumyopinion....”Hebegantopuffathispipe,nodoubtarranginghisopinioninhismind.
Tiresome
oude
oldfool!Whenweknewhim
eerst
firstheusedtoberatherinteresting,sprak
talkingoffaintsandworms;maar
butIsoongrewtiredofhimen
andhisendlessstoriesaboutde
thedistillery.“Ihavemy
eigen
owntheoryaboutit,”hezei
said.“Ithinkitwas
een
oneofthose...peculiarcases....
Maar
Butit’shardtosay....”Hebegantopuff
weer
againathispipewithoutgeven
givingushistheory.My
oom
unclesawmestaringandzei
saidtome:.“Well,soyour
oude
oldfriendisgone,you’llbesorrytohear.”“Who?”
zei
saidI.“FatherFlynn.”
“Ishedead?”
“MrCotterhere
heeft
hasjusttoldus.Hewaspassingby
het
thehouse.”IknewthatIwas
onder
underobservationsoIcontinuedeten
eatingasifthenewshad
hadnotinterestedme.My
oom
uncleexplainedtooldCotter.“Theyoungster
en
andheweregreatfriends.De
Theoldchaptaughthimagreatdeal,mindyou;en
andtheysayhehadeen
agreatwishforhim.”“God
heb
havemercyonhissoul,”zei
saidmyauntpiously.OldCotter
keek
lookedatmeforatijdje
while.Ifeltthathis
kleine
littlebeadyblackeyeswereexaminingmemaar
butIwouldnotsatisfyhimbykijken
lookingupfrommyplate.Hereturnedtohispipe
en
andfinallyspatrudelyintohet
thegrate.“Iwouldn’tlike
kinderen
childrenofmine,”hesaid,“tohebben
havetoomuchtosaytoamanlikethat.”“Howdoyou
bedoelt
mean,MrCotter?”askedmyaunt.
“WhatImeanis,”
zei
saidoldCotter,“it’sbadforchildren.My
idee
ideais:letayoungladrunabout
en
andplaywithyoungladsofhiseigen
ownageandnotbe....AmIright,Jack?”
“That’smyprinciple,too,”
zei
saidmyuncle.“Lethim
leren
learntoboxhiscorner.That’swhatI’m
altijd
alwayssayingtothatRosicruciandaar
there:takeexercise.
Why,whenIwas
een
anippereverymorningofmylifeIhadeen
acoldbath,winterandsummer.En
Andthat’swhatstandstomenu
now.Educationisallvery
fijn
fineandlarge....MrCotter
kunnen
mighttakeapickofdat
thatlegmutton,”headdedtomyaunt.“No,
nee
no,notforme,”saidoude
oldCotter.Myauntbrought
de
thedishfromthesafeen
andputitonthetable.“But
waarom
whydoyouthinkit’snotgoed
goodforchildren,MrCotter?”she
vroeg
asked.“It’sbadforchildren,”
zei
saidoldCotter,“becausetheirmindsaresoimpressionable.When
kinderen
childrenseethingslikethat,youweet
know,ithasaneffect....”Icrammedmymouth
met
withstiraboutforfearIkunnen
mightgiveutterancetomyanger.Tiresome
oude
oldred-nosedimbecile!Itwas
laat
latewhenIfellasleep.ThoughIwasangrywith
oude
oldCotterforalludingtomeasakind
child,Ipuzzledmyheadtoextractmeaningfromhisunfinishedsentences.Inthedarkofmy
kamer
roomIimaginedthatIzag
sawagaintheheavygreygezicht
faceoftheparalytic.Idrew
de
theblanketsovermyheaden
andtriedtothinkofChristmas.Maar
Butthegreyfacestillvolgde
followedme.Itmurmured;
andI
begreep
understoodthatitdesiredtoconfessiets
something.Ifeltmysoulrecedingintosomepleasant
en
andviciousregion;andthere
weer
againIfounditwaitingforme
me.Itbegantoconfesstomein
een
amurmuringvoiceandIwonderedwaarom
whyitsmiledcontinuallyandwaarom
whythelipsweresomoistmet
withspittle.ButthenIremembered
dat
thatithaddiedofparalysisen
andIfeltthatItoowassmilingfeeblyasiftoabsolvede
thesimoniacofhissin.The
volgende
nextmorningafterbreakfastIging
wentdowntolookatthekleine
littlehouseinGreatBritainStreet
Street.Itwasanunassumingshop,registered
onder
underthevaguenameofDrapery.De
Thedraperyconsistedmainlyofchildren’sbooteesen
andumbrellas;andonordinarydays
een
anoticeusedtohanginthewindow,saying:UmbrellasRe-covered.
Geen
Nonoticewasvisiblenowforde
theshutterswereup.Acrapebouquetwastiedto
de
thedoor-knockerwithribbon.Two
arme
poorwomenandatelegramjongen
boywerereadingthecardpinnedonde
thecrape.Ialsoapproached
en
andread:.July1st,1895
De
TheRev.JamesFlynn(formerlyofS.Catherine’sChurch,MeathStreet),agedsixty-fiveyears.R.I.P.The
lezen
readingofthecardpersuadedmedat
thathewasdeadandIwasdisturbedtovinden
findmyselfatcheck.Hadhenotbeen
dood
deadIwouldhavegoneintothekleine
littledarkroombehindtheshoptovinden
findhimsittinginhisarm-chairbythevuur
fire,nearlysmotheredinhisgreat-coat.Misschien
Perhapsmyauntwouldhavegegeven
givenmeapacketofHighToastforhimen
andthispresentwouldhaverousedhimfromhisstupefieddoze.Itwas
altijd
alwaysIwhoemptiedthepacketintohiszwarte
blacksnuff-boxforhishandstrembledtooveel
muchtoallowhimtodoen
dothiswithoutspillinghalfthesnuffover
aboutthefloor.Evenasheraisedhislargetrembling
hand
handtohisnoselittlecloudsofsmokedribbleddoor
throughhisfingersoverthevoorkant
frontofhiscoat.Itmayhavebeentheseconstantshowersofsnuff
die
whichgavehisancientpriestlygarmentstheirgreenfadedlookfortherode
redhandkerchief,blackened,asitaltijd
alwayswas,withthesnuff-stainsofeen
aweek,withwhichheprobeerde
triedtobrushawaythegevallen
fallengrains,wasquiteinefficacious.I
wilde
wishedtogoinandkijken
lookathimbutIhad
hadnotthecouragetoknock.I
liep
walkedawayslowlyalongthesunnykant
sideofthestreet,readingalle
allthetheatricaladvertisementsintheshop-windowsasIging
went.Ifounditstrange
dat
thatneitherInorthedag
dayseemedinamourningmooden
andIfeltevenannoyedatdiscoveringinmyselfeen
asensationoffreedomasifIhadbeenfreedfromiets
somethingbyhisdeath.Iwonderedat
dit
thisfor,asmyunclehad
hadsaidthenightbefore,hehad
hadtaughtmeagreatdeal.He
had
hadstudiedintheIrishcollegeinRomeen
andhehadtaughtmetopronounceLatinproperly.He
had
hadtoldmestoriesaboutde
thecatacombsandaboutNapoleonBonaparte,en
andhehadexplainedtomede
themeaningofthedifferentceremoniesofde
theMassandoftheverschillende
differentvestmentswornbythepriest.Soms
Sometimeshehadamusedhimselfbyputtingdifficultquestionstomij
me,askingmewhatonemoeten
shoulddoincertaincircumstancesorwhetherzulke
suchandsuchsinsweremortalorvenialoronlyimperfections.Hisquestions
toonden
showedmehowcomplexandmysteriouswerecertaininstitutionsofde
theChurchwhichIhadaltijd
alwaysregardedasthesimplestacts.ThedutiesofthepriesttowardstheEucharist
en
andtowardsthesecrecyoftheconfessionalseemedsogravetomedat
thatIwonderedhowanybodyhad
hadeverfoundinhimselfthecouragetoundertakeze
them;andIwasnotsurprisedwhenhe
vertelde
toldmethatthefathersofde
theChurchhadwrittenbooksasthickasde
thePostOfficeDirectoryandascloselyprintedasde
thelawnoticesinthenewspaper,elucidatingal
alltheseintricatequestions.Often
als
whenIthoughtofthisIkon
couldmakenoansweroronlyaheel
veryfoolishandhaltingoneuponwhichheusedtosmileen
andnodhisheadtwiceof
orthrice.SometimesheusedtoputmethroughtheresponsesoftheMass
die
whichhehadmademeleren
learnbyheart;and,asIpattered,heusedtosmilepensively
en
andnodhishead,nowen
andthenpushinghugepinchesofsnuffupelk
eachnostrilalternately.Whenhesmiledheusedtouncoverhis
grote
bigdiscolouredteethandlethistongueliggen
lieuponhislowerlip—ahabitdie
whichhadmademefeeluneasyinhet
thebeginningofouracquaintancevoordat
beforeIknewhimwell.AsI
liep
walkedalonginthesunIherinneren
rememberedoldCotter’swordsandprobeerde
triedtorememberwhathadgebeurd
happenedafterwardsinthedream.Iremembered
dat
thatIhadnoticedlongvelvetcurtainsen
andaswinginglampofantiquefashion.I
gevoel
feltthatIhadbeenheel
veryfaraway,insomelandwaar
wherethecustomswerestrange—inPersia,Idacht
thought....ButIcouldnot
herinneren
remembertheendofthedroom
dream.Intheeveningmyaunt
nam
tookmewithhertovisitthehuis
houseofmourning.Itwas
na
aftersunset;butthewindow-panesofthehouses
die
thatlookedtothewestreflectedthetawnygoldofeen
agreatbankofclouds.Nanniereceivedusin
de
thehall;and,asit
zou
wouldhavebeenunseemlytohaveshoutedathaar
her,myauntshookhandswithherforall.The
oude
oldwomanpointedupwardsinterrogativelyen
and,onmyaunt’snodding,proceededtotoilupthenarrowstaircasebeforeons
us,herbowedheadbeingscarcelyabovethelevelofthebanister-rail.At
de
thefirstlandingshestoppeden
andbeckonedusforwardencouraginglytowardsde
theopendoorofthedead-room.Myaunt
ging
wentinandtheoldvrouw
woman,seeingthatIhesitatedtoenter,begantobeckontomeopnieuw
againrepeatedlywithherhand.I
ging
wentinontiptoe.The
kamer
roomthroughthelaceendoftheblindwassuffusedwithduskygoldenlicht
lightamidwhichthecandleslookedals
likepalethinflames.Hehadbeencoffined.
Nannie
gaf
gavetheleadandwethreekneltneer
downatthefootofthebed
bed.Ipretendedtopray
maar
butIcouldnotgathermythoughtsomdat
becausetheoldwoman’smutteringsdistractedme
me.Inoticedhowclumsilyherskirtwashookedat
de
thebackandhowtheheelsofherclothbootsweretroddendownalltoonekant
side.Thefancycametome
dat
thattheoldpriestwassmilingashelag
laythereinhiscoffin.Maar
Butno.Whenweroseen
andwentuptotheheadofhet
thebedIsawthathewasnotsmiling.Daar
Therehelay,solemnandcopious,vestedasforhet
thealtar,hislargehandslooselyretainingeen
achalice.Hisfacewas
zeer
verytruculent,greyandmassive,met
withblackcavernousnostrilsandcircledbyeen
ascantywhitefur.Therewas
een
aheavyodourintheroom—theflowers.Weblessedourselves
en
andcameaway.Inthe
kleine
littleroomdownstairswefoundElizaseatedinhisarm-chairinstate.Igropedmy
weg
waytowardsmyusualchairinde
thecornerwhileNanniewenttode
thesideboardandbroughtouteen
adecanterofsherryandenkele
somewine-glasses.Shesettheseonthetable
en
andinvitedustotakeeen
alittleglassofwine.Then,athersister’sbidding,shefilledout
de
thesherryintotheglassesen
andpassedthemtous.Shepressedmeto
nam
takesomecreamcrackersalsomaar
butIdeclinedbecauseIdacht
thoughtIwouldmaketooveel
muchnoiseeatingthem.Sheseemedtobesomewhatdisappointedatmyrefusal
en
andwentoverquietlytode
thesofawhereshesatdownachter
behindhersister.Noone
sprak
spoke:weallgazedat
de
theemptyfireplace.Myaunt
wachtte
waiteduntilElizasighedandthenzei
said:.“Ah,well,he’sgoneto
een
abetterworld.”Elizasighed
weer
againandbowedherheadinassent.Myauntfingeredthestemofherwine-glass
voordat
beforesippingalittle.“Didhe...
peacefully?”
she
vroeg
asked.“Oh,quitepeacefully,ma’am,”
zei
saidEliza.“Youcouldn’ttell
wanneer
whenthebreathwentoutofhem
him.Hehadabeautiful
dood
death,Godbepraised.”“Andeverything...?”
“FatherO’Rourkewasinwithhim
een
aTuesdayandanointedhimen
andpreparedhimandall.”“He
wist
knewthen?”“Hewasquiteresigned.”
“Helooksquiteresigned,”
zei
saidmyaunt.“That’swhat
de
thewomanwehadintowashhimzei
said.Shesaidhejustlookedasifhewasasleep,helooked
dat
thatpeacefulandresigned.Noone
zou
wouldthinkhe’dmakesuchamooi
beautifulcorpse.”“Yes,indeed,”saidmyaunt.
Shesipped
een
alittlemorefromherglassen
andsaid:.“Well,MissFlynn,atanyrateit
moet
mustbeagreatcomfortforyoutoweten
knowthatyoudidallyoukon
couldforhim.Youwere
allebei
bothverykindtohim,Imoet
mustsay.”Elizasmoothedherdress
over
overherknees.“Ah,poorJames!”
she
zei
said.“Godknowswedoneallwe
konden
could,aspoorasweare—wewouldn’tzien
seehimwantanythingwhilehewasinit.”Nannie
had
hadleanedherheadagainstthesofa-pillowen
andseemedabouttofallasleep.“There’s
arme
poorNannie,”saidEliza,lookingathaar
her,“she’sworeout.Allthe
werk
workwehad,sheandme,krijgen
gettinginthewomantowashhimen
andthenlayinghimouten
andthenthecoffinandthenarrangingover
abouttheMassinthechapel.Alleen
OnlyforFatherO’RourkeIdon’tweet
knowwhatwe’dhavedoneatall.Itwashim
bracht
broughtusallthemflowersen
andthemtwocandlesticksoutofthechapelen
andwroteoutthenoticefortheFreeman’sGeneralen
andtookchargeofallthepapersforthecemeteryen
andpoorJames’sinsurance.”“Wasn’t
dat
thatgoodofhim?”saidmyaunt.
Eliza
sloot
closedhereyesandshookherhoofd
headslowly.“Ah,there’snofriends
zoals
liketheoldfriends,”shesaid,“whenallissaiden
anddone,nofriendsthateen
abodycantrust.”“Indeed,that’strue,”
zei
saidmyaunt.“AndI’m
zeker
surenowthathe’sgonetohiseternalrewardhewon’tvergeten
forgetyouandallyourkindnesstohim.”“Ah,
arme
poorJames!”saidEliza.
“Hewas
geen
nogreattroubletous.Youwouldn’t
horen
hearhiminthehouseanymeer
morethannow.Still,I
weet
knowhe’sgoneandalltothat....”“It’s
als
whenit’salloverthatyou’llmissen
misshim,”saidmyaunt.“I
weet
knowthat,”saidEliza.“Iwon’tbe
brengen
bringinghiminhiscupofbeef-teaanymeer
more,noryou,ma’am,sendinghimhissnuff.Ah,
arme
poorJames!”Shestopped,asifshewerecommuning
met
withthepastandthenzei
saidshrewdly:.“Mindyou,Inoticed
er
therewassomethingqueercomingoverhimlatterly.WheneverI’d
bracht
bringinhissouptohimthereI’dvond
findhimwithhisbreviaryfallentode
thefloor,lyingbackinde
thechairandhismouthopen.”Shelaid
een
afingeragainsthernoseen
andfrowned:thenshecontinued:.
“But
toch
stillandallhekeptonzeggen
sayingthatbeforethesummerwasoverhe’dgooutforadriveonefinedag
dayjusttoseetheoude
oldhouseagainwherewewereallborndowninIrishtownen
andtakemeandNanniewithhim.Als
Ifwecouldonlygetoneofthemnew-fangledcarriagesdie
thatmakesnonoisethatVader
FatherO’Rourketoldhimabout,themmet
withtherheumaticwheels,forde
thedaycheap—hesaid,atJohnnyRush’soverde
thewaythereanddriveoutde
thethreeofustogetherofaSundayevening.He
had
hadhismindsetonthat....Arme
PoorJames!”“TheLordhavemercyonhissoul!”
zei
saidmyaunt.Elizatookoutherhandkerchief
en
andwipedhereyeswithit.Thenshe
zette
putitbackagaininherpocketen
andgazedintotheemptygrateforsometimezonder
withoutspeaking.