THESISTERS
Therewasnohopeforhimthistime:
itwasthe
troisième
thirdstroke.NightafternightIhad
passé
passedthehouse(itwasvacationtime)andétudié
studiedthelightedsquareoffenêtre
window:andnightafternightIhadfounditlightedinthesameway,faintlyandevenly.
Ifhewasdead,Ithought,IwouldseethereflectionofcandlesonthedarkenedblindforIknewthattwocandlesmustbesetattheheadofacorpse.
Hehad
souvent
oftensaidtome:“Iamnotlongforthisworld,”andIhadthoughthiswordsidle.
NowIknewtheyweretrue.
EverynightasIgazedupatthe
fenêtre
windowIsaidsoftlytomyselfthewordparalysis.Ithadalwayssoundedstrangelyinmyears,likethewordgnomonintheEuclidandthewordsimonyintheCatechism.
Butnowitsoundedtomelikethenameofsomemaleficentandsinfulbeing.
Itfilledmewith
peur
fear,andyetIlongedtobenearertoitandtolookuponitsdeadlywork.OldCotterwassittingatthefire,
fumer
smoking,whenIcamedownstairstosupper.Whilemy
tante
auntwasladlingoutmystirabouthesaid,asifreturningtosomeformerremarkofhis:.“No,Iwouldn’tsayhewasexactly...
buttherewassomethingqueer...
therewassomethinguncannyabouthim.
I’lltellyoumyopinion....”
He
commencé
begantopuffathispipe,nodoute
doubtarranginghisopinioninhismind.Tiresomeoldfool!
Whenweknewhimfirstheusedtobe
plutôt
ratherinteresting,talkingoffaintsandworms;butIsoongrew
fatigué
tiredofhimandhisendlessstoriesaboutthedistillery.“Ihavemyowntheoryaboutit,”hesaid.
“Ithinkitwasoneofthose...
peculiarcases....
Butit’shardtosay....”
Hebegantopuffagainathispipewithoutgivingushistheory.
Myunclesawmestaringandsaidtome:.
“Well,soyouroldfriendisgone,you’llbesorrytohear.”
“Who?”
saidI.
“FatherFlynn.”
“Ishedead?”
“MrCotterherehasjusttoldus.
Hewas
passait
passingbythehouse.”IknewthatIwasunderobservationsoI
continué
continuedeatingasifthenewshadnotintéressé
interestedme.MyuncleexplainedtooldCotter.
“Theyoungsterandheweregreatfriends.
Theoldchap
appris
taughthimagreatdeal,mindyou;andtheysayhehadagreatwishforhim.”
“Godhavemercyonhissoul,”saidmy
tante
auntpiously.OldCotterlookedatmeforawhile.
IfeltthathislittlebeadyblackeyeswereexaminingmebutIwouldnotsatisfyhimbylookingupfrommyplate.
Hereturnedtohispipeand
finalement
finallyspatrudelyintothegrate.“Iwouldn’tlikechildrenofmine,”hesaid,“tohavetoomuchtosaytoamanlikethat.”
“Howdoyoumean,MrCotter?”
askedmy
tante
aunt.“WhatImeanis,”saidoldCotter,“it’sbadforchildren.
Myideais:
letayoungladrunaboutandplaywithyoungladsofhisown
âge
ageandnotbe....AmIright,Jack?”
“That’smyprinciple,too,”saidmyuncle.
“Lethim
apprendre
learntoboxhiscorner.That’swhatI’malwayssayingtothatRosicrucianthere:
takeexercise.
Why,whenIwasanippereverymorningofmylifeIhadacoldbath,winterand
été
summer.Andthat’swhatstandstomenow.
Educationisallveryfineand
grande
large....MrCottermighttakeapickofthat
jambe
legmutton,”headdedtomytante
aunt.“No,no,notforme,”saidoldCotter.
My
tante
auntbroughtthedishfromthesafeandputitonthetable
table.“Butwhydoyouthinkit’snotgoodforchildren,MrCotter?”
sheasked.
“It’sbadforchildren,”saidoldCotter,“becausetheirmindsaresoimpressionable.
Whenchildrenseethingslikethat,youknow,ithasaneffect....”
Icrammedmy
bouche
mouthwithstiraboutforfearImightgiveutterancetomyanger.Tiresomeoldred-nosedimbecile!
ItwaslatewhenIfell
endormi
asleep.ThoughIwasangrywitholdCotterforalludingtomeasachild,Ipuzzledmyheadtoextractmeaningfromhisunfinishedsentences.
InthedarkofmyroomI
imaginé
imaginedthatIsawagainthelourd
heavygreyfaceoftheparalytic.Idrewtheblanketsovermyheadandtriedtothinkof
Noël
Christmas.Butthegreyfacestillfollowedme.
Itmurmured;
andIunderstoodthatitdesiredtoconfesssomething.
Ifeltmy
âme
soulrecedingintosomepleasantandviciousregion;andthereagainIfounditwaitingforme.
It
commença
begantoconfesstomeinamurmuringvoix
voiceandIwonderedwhyitsmiledcontinuallyandwhythelipsweresomoistwithspittle.ButthenIrememberedthatithaddiedofparalysisandIfeltthatItoowassmilingfeeblyasiftoabsolvethesimoniacofhissin.
Thenextmorningafter
petit déjeuner
breakfastIwentdowntolookatthelittlehouseinGreatBritainStreet.Itwasanunassuming
magasin
shop,registeredunderthevaguenameofDrapery.Thedraperyconsistedmainlyofchildren’sbooteesandumbrellas;
andonordinarydaysanoticeusedtohanginthe
fenêtre
window,saying:UmbrellasRe-covered.
No
avis
noticewasvisiblenowfortheshutterswereup.Acrapebouquetwastiedtothedoor-knockerwithribbon.
Twopoorwomenandatelegramboywerereadingthe
carte
cardpinnedonthecrape.Ialsoapproachedandread:.
July1st,1895TheRev.JamesFlynn(formerlyofS.Catherine’sChurch,MeathStreet),agedsixty-fiveyears.R.I.P.
Thereadingofthe
carte
cardpersuadedmethathewasdeadandIwasdisturbedtofindmyselfatcheck.HadhenotbeendeadIwouldhavegoneintothelittle
sombre
darkroombehindtheshoptofindhimsittinginhisarm-chairbythefire,nearlysmotheredinhisgreat-coat.Perhapsmy
tante
auntwouldhavegivenmeapacketofHighToastforhimandthiscadeau
presentwouldhaverousedhimfromhisstupefieddoze.ItwasalwaysIwho
vide
emptiedthepacketintohisblacksnuff-boxforhishandstrembledtoomuchtopermettre
allowhimtodothiswithoutspillinghalfthesnuffaboutthesol
floor.Evenasheraisedhis
grande
largetremblinghandtohisnez
noselittlecloudsofsmokedribbledthroughhisfingersoverthefrontofhiscoat.Itmayhavebeentheseconstantshowersofsnuffwhichgavehisancientpriestlygarmentstheirgreenfadedlookfortheredhandkerchief,blackened,asitalwayswas,withthesnuff-stainsofaweek,withwhichhetriedtobrushawaythefallengrains,wasquiteinefficacious.
IwishedtogoinandlookathimbutIhadnotthecourageto
frapper
knock.Iwalkedawayslowlyalongthesunnysideofthestreet,readingallthetheatricaladvertisementsintheshop-windowsasIwent.
Ifoundit
étrange
strangethatneitherInorthedayparaissions
seemedinamourningmoodandIfeltevenannoyedatdiscoveringinmyselfasensationoffreedomasifIhadbeenfreedfromsomethingbyhisdeath.Iwonderedatthisfor,asmyunclehadsaidthenightbefore,hehad
appris
taughtmeagreatdeal.Hehad
étudié
studiedintheIrishcollegeinRomeandhehadappris
taughtmetopronounceLatinproperly.HehadtoldmestoriesaboutthecatacombsandaboutNapoleonBonaparte,andhehad
expliqué
explainedtomethemeaningofthedifferentceremoniesoftheMassandofthedifferentvestmentswornbythepriest.Sometimeshehadamusedhimselfbyputtingdifficultquestionstome,askingmewhatoneshoulddoincertaincircumstancesor
si
whethersuchandsuchsinsweremortalorvenialoronlyimperfections.HisquestionsshowedmehowcomplexandmysteriouswerecertaininstitutionsoftheChurchwhichIhadalwaysregardedasthesimplestacts.
ThedutiesofthepriesttowardstheEucharistandtowardsthesecrecyoftheconfessional
semblaient
seemedsogravetomethatIdemandais
wonderedhowanybodyhadeverfoundinhimselfthecouragetoundertakethem;andIwasnot
surpris
surprisedwhenhetoldmethatthefathersoftheChurchhadwrittenbooksasthickasthePostOfficeDirectoryandascloselyprintedasthelawnoticesinthenewspaper,elucidatingalltheseintricatequestions.Souvent
OftenwhenIthoughtofthisIcouldmakenoansweroronlyaveryfoolishandhaltingoneuponwhichheusedtosourire
smileandnodhisheadtwiceorthrice.SometimesheusedtoputmethroughtheresponsesoftheMasswhichhehadmademe
apprendre
learnbyheart;and,asIpattered,heusedto
sourire
smilepensivelyandnodhishead,nowandthenpoussant
pushinghugepinchesofsnuffupeachnostrilalternately.Whenhesmiledheusedtouncoverhisbigdiscolouredteethandlethistonguelieuponhislowerlip—ahabitwhichhadmademefeeluneasyinthe
début
beginningofouracquaintancebeforeIknewhimwell.AsIwalkedalonginthe
soleil
sunIrememberedoldCotter’swordsandtriedtorememberwhathadhappenedafterwardsinthedream.IrememberedthatIhad
remarqué
noticedlongvelvetcurtainsandaswinginglampofantiquefashion.IfeltthatIhadbeenveryfaraway,insomelandwherethecustomswerestrange—inPersia,Ithought....
ButIcouldnotremembertheendofthedream.
Intheeveningmy
tante
aunttookmewithhertovisiter
visitthehouseofmourning.Itwasaftersunset;
butthewindow-panesofthehousesthatlookedtothewestreflectedthetawnygoldofagreatbankofclouds.
Nanniereceivedusinthehall;
and,asitwouldhavebeenunseemlytohaveshoutedather,my
tante
auntshookhandswithherforall.Theoldwomanpointedupwardsinterrogativelyand,onmyaunt’snodding,proceededtotoilupthenarrowstaircasebeforeus,herbowedheadbeingscarcely
au-dessus
abovethelevelofthebanister-rail.Atthefirstlandingshestoppedandbeckonedus
avant
forwardencouraginglytowardstheopendoorofthedead-room.My
tante
auntwentinandtheoldwoman,seeingthatIhesitatedtoenter,commencé
begantobeckontomeagainrepeatedlywithherhand.Iwentinontiptoe.
Theroomthroughthelaceendofthe
aveugle
blindwassuffusedwithduskygoldenlightamidwhichthecandleslookedlikepalethinflames.Hehadbeencoffined.
Nanniegavetheleadandwethreekneltdownatthefootofthebed.
Ipretendedto
prier
praybutIcouldnotgathermythoughtsbecausetheoldwoman’smutteringsdistractedme.I
remarqué
noticedhowclumsilyherskirtwashookedatthebackandhowtheheelsofherclothbootsweretroddendownalltooneside.Thefancycametomethattheoldpriestwassmilingashelaythereinhiscoffin.
Butno.WhenweroseandwentuptotheheadofthebedIsawthathewasnotsmiling.
Therehelay,solemnandcopious,vestedasforthealtar,hislargehandslooselyretainingachalice.
Hisfacewasverytruculent,greyandmassive,withblackcavernousnostrilsandcircledbyascantywhitefur.
Therewasaheavyodourintheroom—theflowers.
Weblessedourselvesandcameaway.
InthelittleroomdownstairswefoundElizaseatedinhisarm-chairinstate.
IgropedmywaytowardsmyusualchairinthecornerwhileNanniewenttothesideboardandbroughtoutadecanterofsherryandsomewine-glasses.
Shesettheseonthe
table
tableandinvitedustotakealittleverre
glassofwine.Then,athersister’sbidding,shefilledoutthesherryintotheglassesandpassedthemtous.
ShepressedmetotakesomecreamcrackersalsobutIdeclinedbecauseIthoughtIwouldmaketoomuchnoiseeatingthem.
She
semblait
seemedtobesomewhatdisappointedatmyrefusalandwentoverquietlytothesofawhereshesatdownbehindhersister.Noonespoke:
weallgazedatthe
vide
emptyfireplace.MyauntwaiteduntilElizasighedandthensaid:.
“Ah,well,he’sgonetoabetterworld.”
Elizasighedagainandbowedherheadinassent.
My
tante
auntfingeredthestemofherwine-glassbeforesippingalittle.“Didhe...
peacefully?”
sheasked.
“Oh,quitepeacefully,ma’am,”saidEliza.
“Youcouldn’ttellwhenthebreathwentoutofhim.
Hehadabeautifuldeath,Godbepraised.”
“Andeverything...?”
“FatherO’RourkewasinwithhimaTuesdayandanointedhimandpreparedhimandall.”
“Heknewthen?”
“Hewasquiteresigned.”
“Helooksquiteresigned,”saidmy
tante
aunt.“That’swhatthewomanwehadinto
lavé
washhimsaid.Shesaidhejustlookedasifhewas
endormi
asleep,helookedthatpeacefulandresigned.Noonewouldthinkhe’dmakesuchabeautifulcorpse.”
“Yes,indeed,”saidmy
tante
aunt.Shesippedalittlemorefromher
verre
glassandsaid:.“Well,MissFlynn,atanyrateitmustbeagreatcomfortforyoutoknowthatyoudidallyoucouldforhim.
Youwerebothverykindtohim,Imustsay.”
Elizasmoothedher
robe
dressoverherknees.“Ah,poorJames!”
shesaid.
“Godknowswedoneallwecould,aspoorasweare—wewouldn’tseehimwantanythingwhilehewasinit.”
Nanniehadleanedherheadagainstthesofa-pillowand
semblait
seemedabouttofallasleep.“There’spoorNannie,”saidEliza,lookingather,“she’sworeout.
Alltheworkwehad,sheandme,gettinginthewomanto
laver
washhimandthenlayinghimoutandthenthecoffinandthenarrangingabouttheMassinthechapel.OnlyforFatherO’RourkeIdon’tknowwhatwe’dhavedoneatall.
ItwashimbroughtusallthemflowersandthemtwocandlesticksoutofthechapelandwroteoutthenoticefortheFreeman’sGeneralandtook
charge
chargeofallthepapersforthecemeteryandpoorJames’sinsurance.”“Wasn’tthatgoodofhim?”
saidmy
tante
aunt.Elizaclosedhereyesandshookherheadslowly.
“Ah,there’snofriendsliketheoldfriends,”shesaid,“whenallissaidanddone,nofriendsthatabodycantrust.”
“Indeed,that’strue,”saidmy
tante
aunt.“AndI’msurenowthathe’sgonetohiseternalrewardhewon’tforgetyouandallyourkindnesstohim.”
“Ah,poorJames!”
saidEliza.
“Hewasnogreattroubletous.
Youwouldn’thearhiminthehouseanymorethannow.
Still,Iknowhe’sgoneandalltothat....”
“It’swhenit’salloverthatyou’llmisshim,”saidmy
tante
aunt.“Iknowthat,”saidEliza.
“Iwon’tbebringinghiminhis
tasse
cupofbeef-teaanymore,ni
noryou,ma’am,sendinghimhissnuff.Ah,poorJames!”
Shestopped,asifshewerecommuningwiththepastandthensaidshrewdly:.
“Mindyou,I
remarqué
noticedtherewassomethingqueercomingoverhimlatterly.WheneverI’dbringinhissouptohimthereI’dfindhimwithhisbreviaryfallentothefloor,lyingbackinthechairandhis
bouche
mouthopen.”Shelaidafingeragainsther
nez
noseandfrowned:thenshe
poursuivi
continued:.“Butstillandallhekeptonsayingthatbeforethesummerwasoverhe’dgooutforadriveonefinedayjusttoseetheoldhouseagainwherewewereall
nés
borndowninIrishtownandtakemeandNanniewithhim.Ifwecouldonlygetoneofthemnew-fangledcarriagesthatmakesnonoisethatFatherO’Rourketoldhimabout,themwiththerheumaticwheels,forthedaycheap—hesaid,atJohnnyRush’soverthewaythereanddriveoutthethreeofustogetherofaSundayevening.
Hehadhismindsetonthat....
PoorJames!”
“TheLordhavemercyonhissoul!”
saidmy
tante
aunt.Elizatookoutherhandkerchiefandwipedhereyeswithit.
Thensheputitbackagaininherpocketandgazedintothe
vide
emptygrateforsometimewithoutspeaking.