THESISTERS
Therewasnohopeforhimthistime:
itwasthe
dritte
thirdstroke.NightafternightIhadpassedthehouse(itwasvacationtime)andstudiedthelightedsquareofwindow:
andnightafternightIhadfounditlightedinthesameway,faintlyandevenly.
Ifhewasdead,Ithought,Iwouldseethereflectionofcandlesonthedarkened
blind
blindforIknewthattwocandlesmustbesetattheheadofacorpse.Hehad
oft
oftensaidtome:“Iamnotlongforthisworld,”andIhadthoughthiswordsidle.
NowIknewtheyweretrue.
EverynightasIgazedupatthe
fenster
windowIsaidsoftlytomyselfthewordparalysis.Ithadalwayssoundedstrangelyinmyears,likethewordgnomonintheEuclidandthewordsimonyintheCatechism.
Butnowitsoundedtomelikethenameofsomemaleficentandsinfulbeing.
Itfilledmewith
angst
fear,andyetIlongedtobenearertoitandtolookuponitsdeadlywork.OldCotterwassittingatthefire,smoking,whenIcamedownstairstosupper.
Whilemy
tante
auntwasladlingoutmystirabouthesaid,asifreturningtosomeformerremarkofhis:.“No,Iwouldn’tsayhewasexactly...
buttherewassomethingqueer...
therewassomethinguncannyabouthim.
I’lltellyoumyopinion....”
He
begann
begantopuffathispipe,nozweifel
doubtarranginghisopinioninhismind.Tiresomeoldfool!
Whenweknewhimfirstheusedtobe
ziemlich
ratherinteresting,talkingoffaintsandworms;butIsoongrewtiredofhimandhisendlessstoriesaboutthedistillery.
“Ihavemyowntheoryaboutit,”hesaid.
“Ithinkitwasoneofthose...
peculiarcases....
Butit’shardtosay....”
He
begann
begantopuffagainathispipewithoutgivingushistheory.Myunclesawmestaringandsaidtome:.
“Well,soyouroldfriendisgone,you’llbesorrytohear.”
“Who?”
saidI.
“FatherFlynn.”
“Ishedead?”
“MrCotterherehasjusttoldus.
Hewaspassingbythehouse.”
IknewthatIwasunderobservationsoIcontinuedeatingasifthenewshadnot
interessiert
interestedme.MyuncleexplainedtooldCotter.
“Theyoungsterandheweregreatfriends.
Theoldchaptaughthimagreatdeal,mindyou;
andtheysayhehadagreatwishforhim.”
“Godhavemercyonhissoul,”saidmy
tante
auntpiously.OldCotterlookedatmeforawhile.
IfeltthathislittlebeadyblackeyeswereexaminingmebutIwouldnotsatisfyhimbylookingupfrommyplate.
Hereturnedtohispipeand
schließlich
finallyspatrudelyintothegrate.“Iwouldn’tlikechildrenofmine,”hesaid,“tohavetoomuchtosaytoamanlikethat.”
“Howdoyoumean,MrCotter?”
askedmy
tante
aunt.“WhatImeanis,”saidoldCotter,“it’sbadforchildren.
Myideais:
letayoungladrunaboutandplaywithyoungladsofhisownageandnotbe....
AmIright,Jack?”
“That’smyprinciple,too,”saidmyuncle.
“Lethim
lernen
learntoboxhiscorner.That’swhatI’malwayssayingtothatRosicrucianthere:
takeexercise.
Why,whenIwasanippereverymorningofmylifeIhadacoldbath,winterand
sommer
summer.Andthat’swhatstandstomenow.
Educationisallveryfineand
groß
large....MrCottermighttakeapickofthatlegmutton,”headdedtomy
tante
aunt.“No,no,notforme,”saidoldCotter.
My
tante
auntbroughtthedishfromthesafeandputitonthetisch
table.“Butwhydoyouthinkit’snotgoodforchildren,MrCotter?”
sheasked.
“It’sbadforchildren,”saidoldCotter,“becausetheirmindsaresoimpressionable.
Whenchildrenseethingslikethat,youknow,ithasaneffect....”
Icrammedmy
mund
mouthwithstiraboutforfearImightgiveutterancetomyanger.Tiresomeoldred-nosedimbecile!
ItwaslatewhenIfellasleep.
ThoughIwas
wütend
angrywitholdCotterforalludingtomeasachild,Ipuzzledmyheadtoextractmeaningfromhisunfinishedsentences.InthedarkofmyroomIimaginedthatIsawagaintheheavygreyfaceoftheparalytic.
Idrewtheblanketsovermyheadandtriedtothinkof
Weihnachten
Christmas.Butthegreyfacestillfollowedme.
Itmurmured;
andIunderstoodthatitdesiredtoconfesssomething.
Ifeltmy
seele
soulrecedingintosomepleasantandviciousregion;andthereagainIfounditwaitingforme.
Itbegantoconfesstomeinamurmuring
stimme
voiceandIwonderedwhyitlächelte
smiledcontinuallyandwhythelipsweresomoistwithspittle.ButthenIrememberedthatithaddiedofparalysisandIfeltthatItoowas
lächelte
smilingfeeblyasiftoabsolvethesimoniacofhissin.Thenextmorningafter
frühstück
breakfastIwentdowntolookatthelittlehouseinGreatBritainStreet.Itwasanunassuming
laden
shop,registeredunderthevaguenameofDrapery.Thedraperyconsistedmainlyofchildren’sbooteesandumbrellas;
andonordinarydaysanoticeusedtohanginthe
fenster
window,saying:UmbrellasRe-covered.
Nonoticewasvisiblenowfortheshutterswereup.
Acrapebouquetwastiedtothedoor-knockerwithribbon.
Twopoorwomenandatelegramboywerereadingthe
karte
cardpinnedonthecrape.Ialsoapproachedandread:.
July1st,1895TheRev.JamesFlynn(formerlyofS.Catherine’sChurch,MeathStreet),agedsixty-fiveyears.R.I.P.
The
lesen
readingofthecardpersuadedmethathewasdeadandIwasdisturbedtofindmyselfatcheck.HadhenotbeendeadIwouldhavegoneintothelittledarkroombehindthe
laden
shoptofindhimsittinginhisarm-chairbythefire,nearlysmotheredinhisgreat-coat.Perhapsmy
tante
auntwouldhavegivenmeapacketofHighToastforhimandthispresentwouldhaverousedhimfromhisstupefieddoze.ItwasalwaysIwhoemptiedthepacketintohisblacksnuff-boxforhishandstrembledtoomuchto
erlauben
allowhimtodothiswithoutspillinghalfthesnuffabouttheboden
floor.Evenasheraisedhislargetremblinghandtohis
nase
noselittlecloudsofsmokedribbledthroughhisfingersoverthefrontofhiscoat.Itmayhavebeentheseconstantshowersofsnuffwhichgavehisancientpriestlygarmentstheirgreenfadedlookfortheredhandkerchief,blackened,asitalwayswas,withthesnuff-stainsofaweek,withwhichhetriedtobrushawaythefallengrains,wasquiteinefficacious.
IwishedtogoinandlookathimbutIhadnotthecourageto
klopfen
knock.Iwalkedawayslowlyalongthesunnysideofthestreet,readingallthetheatricaladvertisementsintheshop-windowsasIwent.
Ifounditstrangethat
weder
neitherInorthedayschien
seemedinamourningmoodandIfeltevenannoyedatdiscoveringinmyselfasensationoffreedomasifIhadbeenfreedfromsomethingbyhisdeath.Iwonderedatthisfor,asmyunclehadsaidthenightbefore,hehadtaughtmeagreatdeal.
HehadstudiedintheIrish
hochschule
collegeinRomeandhehadtaughtmetopronounceLatinproperly.HehadtoldmestoriesaboutthecatacombsandaboutNapoleonBonaparte,andhehad
erklärt
explainedtomethemeaningofthedifferentceremoniesoftheMassandofthedifferentvestmentstrug
wornbythepriest.Sometimeshehadamusedhimselfbyputtingdifficultquestionstome,askingmewhatoneshoulddoincertaincircumstancesor
ob
whethersuchandsuchsinsweremortalorvenialoronlyimperfections.Hisquestionsshowedmehowcomplexandmysteriouswerecertaininstitutionsofthe
Kirche
ChurchwhichIhadalwaysregardedasthesimplestacts.ThedutiesofthepriesttowardstheEucharistandtowardsthesecrecyoftheconfessional
schienen
seemedsogravetomethatIwonderedhowanybodyhadeverfoundinhimselfthecouragetoundertakethem;andIwasnotsurprisedwhenhetoldmethatthefathersoftheChurchhadwrittenbooksasthickasthePostOfficeDirectoryandascloselyprintedasthelawnoticesinthenewspaper,elucidatingalltheseintricatequestions.
Oft
OftenwhenIthoughtofthisIcouldmakenoansweroronlyaveryfoolishandhaltingoneuponwhichheusedtolächelte
smileandnodhisheadzweimal
twiceorthrice.SometimesheusedtoputmethroughtheresponsesoftheMasswhichhehadmademelearnbyheart;
and,asIpattered,heusedto
lächelte
smilepensivelyandnodhishead,nowandthenpushingriesige
hugepinchesofsnuffupeachnostrilalternately.Whenhe
lächelte
smiledheusedtouncoverhisbigdiscolouredteethandlethistongueliegen
lieuponhislowerlip—ahabitwhichhadmademefeeluneasyinthebeginningofouracquaintancebeforeIknewhimwell.AsIwalkedalonginthe
sonne
sunIrememberedoldCotter’swordsandtriedtorememberwhathadhappenedafterwardsinthedream.IrememberedthatIhadnoticedlongvelvetcurtainsandaswinginglampofantiquefashion.
IfeltthatIhadbeenveryfaraway,insome
land
landwherethecustomswerestrange—inPersia,Ithought....ButIcouldnotremembertheendofthedream.
Intheeveningmy
tante
aunttookmewithhertobesuchen
visitthehouseofmourning.Itwasaftersunset;
butthewindow-panesofthehousesthatlookedtothe
westen
westreflectedthetawnygoldofagreatbankofclouds.Nanniereceivedusinthehall;
and,asitwouldhavebeenunseemlytohaveshoutedather,my
tante
auntshookhandswithherforall.Theoldwomanpointedupwardsinterrogativelyand,onmyaunt’snodding,proceededtotoilupthenarrowstaircasebeforeus,herbowedheadbeingscarcelyabovethelevelofthebanister-rail.
Atthefirstlandingshestoppedandbeckonedusforwardencouraginglytowardstheopendoorofthedead-room.
My
tante
auntwentinandtheoldwoman,seeingthatIhesitatedtoenter,begann
begantobeckontomeagainrepeatedlywithherhand.Iwentinontiptoe.
Theroomthroughthelaceendoftheblindwassuffusedwithduskygoldenlightamidwhichthecandleslookedlikepalethinflames.
Hehadbeencoffined.
Nanniegavetheleadandwethreekneltdownatthefootofthebed.
Ipretendedto
beten
praybutIcouldnotgathermythoughtsbecausetheoldwoman’smutteringsdistractedme.Inoticedhowclumsilyherskirtwashookedatthebackandhowtheheelsofherclothbootsweretroddendownalltooneside.
Thefancycametomethattheoldpriestwas
lächelte
smilingashelaythereinhiscoffin.Butno.WhenweroseandwentuptotheheadofthebedIsawthathewasnot
lächelte
smiling.Therehelay,solemnandcopious,vestedasforthealtar,hislargehandslooselyretainingachalice.
Hisfacewasverytruculent,greyandmassive,withblackcavernousnostrilsandcircledbyascantywhitefur.
Therewasaheavyodourintheroom—theflowers.
Weblessedourselvesandcameaway.
InthelittleroomdownstairswefoundElizaseatedinhisarm-chairin
staat
state.IgropedmywaytowardsmyusualchairinthecornerwhileNanniewenttothesideboardandbroughtoutadecanterofsherryandsomewine-glasses.
Shesettheseonthe
tisch
tableandinvitedustotakealittleglas
glassofwine.Then,athersister’sbidding,shefilledoutthesherryintotheglassesandpassedthemtous.
ShepressedmetotakesomecreamcrackersalsobutIdeclinedbecauseIthoughtIwouldmaketoomuchnoiseeatingthem.
She
schien
seemedtobesomewhatdisappointedatmyrefusalandwentoverquietlytothesofawhereshesatdownbehindhersister.Noonespoke:
weallgazedatthe
leeren
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’swhatthewomanwehadintowashhimsaid.
Shesaidhejustlookedasifhewasasleep,helookedthatpeacefulandresigned.
Noonewouldthinkhe’dmakesuchabeautifulcorpse.”
“Yes,indeed,”saidmy
tante
aunt.Shesippedalittlemorefromher
glas
glassandsaid:.“Well,MissFlynn,atanyrateitmustbeagreatcomfortforyoutoknowthatyoudidallyoucouldforhim.
Youwerebothverykindtohim,Imustsay.”
Elizasmoothedher
kleid
dressoverherknees.“Ah,poorJames!”
shesaid.
“Godknowswedoneallwecould,aspoorasweare—wewouldn’tseehimwantanythingwhilehewasinit.”
Nanniehadleanedherheadagainstthesofa-pillowand
schien
seemedabouttofallasleep.“There’spoorNannie,”saidEliza,lookingather,“she’sworeout.
Alltheworkwehad,sheandme,gettinginthewomanto
waschen
washhimandthenlayinghimoutandthenthecoffinandthenarrangingabouttheMassinthechapel.OnlyforFatherO’RourkeIdon’tknowwhatwe’dhavedoneatall.
ItwashimbroughtusallthemflowersandthemtwocandlesticksoutofthechapelandwroteoutthenoticefortheFreeman’s
General
GeneralandtookchargeofallthepapersforthecemeteryandpoorJames’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,noryou,ma’am,sendinghimhissnuff.Ah,poorJames!”
Shestopped,asifshewerecommuningwiththepastandthensaidshrewdly:.
“Mindyou,Inoticedtherewassomethingqueercomingoverhimlatterly.
WheneverI’dbringinhissouptohimthereI’dfindhimwithhisbreviaryfallentothe
boden
floor,lyingbackinthechairandhismund
mouthopen.”Shelaidafingeragainsther
nase
noseandfrowned:thenshecontinued:.
“Butstillandallhekeptonsayingthatbeforethe
sommer
summerwasoverhe’dgooutforadriveonefinedayjusttoseetheoldhouseagainwherewewereallgeboren
borndowninIrishtownandtakemeandNanniewithhim.Ifwecouldonlygetoneofthemnew-fangledcarriagesthatmakesnonoisethatFatherO’Rourketoldhimabout,themwiththerheumaticwheels,forthedaycheap—hesaid,atJohnnyRush’soverthewaythereanddriveoutthethreeofustogetherofaSundayevening.
Hehadhismindsetonthat....
PoorJames!”
“TheLordhavemercyonhissoul!”
saidmy
tante
aunt.Elizatookoutherhandkerchiefandwipedhereyeswithit.
Thensheputitbackagaininherpocketandgazedintotheemptygrateforsometimewithoutspeaking.