THESISTERS
Therewasnohopeforhimthistime:
itwasthethirdstroke.
NightafternightIhadpassedthehouse(itwasvacationtime)andstudiedthelighted
quadrado
squareofwindow:andnightafternightIhadfounditlightedinthesameway,faintlyandevenly.
Ifhewasdead,Ithought,IwouldseethereflectionofcandlesonthedarkenedblindforIknewthattwocandlesmustbesetattheheadofacorpse.
Hehadoftensaidtome:
“Iamnotlongforthisworld,”andIhadthoughthiswordsidle.
NowIknewtheyweretrue.
EverynightasIgazedupatthewindowIsaidsoftlytomyselfthewordparalysis.
Ithadalwayssoundedstrangelyinmyears,likethewordgnomonintheEuclidandthewordsimonyintheCatechism.
Butnowitsoundedtomelikethenameofsomemaleficentandsinfulbeing.
It
encheu
filledmewithfear,andyetIlongedtobenearertoitandtolookuponitsdeadlywork.OldCotterwassittingatthefire,smoking,whenIcamedownstairstosupper.
Whilemyauntwasladlingoutmystirabouthesaid,asifreturningtosome
anterior
formerremarkofhis:.“No,Iwouldn’tsayhewasexactly...
buttherewassomethingqueer...
therewassomethinguncannyabouthim.
I’lltellyoumyopinion....”
Hebegantopuffathispipe,nodoubt
organizando
arranginghisopinioninhismind.Tiresomeoldfool!
Whenweknewhimfirstheusedtoberatherinteresting,talkingoffaintsandworms;
butIsoongrewtiredofhimandhisendlessstoriesaboutthedistillery.
“Ihavemyown
teoria
theoryaboutit,”hesaid.“Ithinkitwasoneofthose...
peculiarcases....
Butit’shardtosay....”
Hebegantopuffagainathispipewithoutgivingushis
teoria
theory.Myunclesawmestaringandsaidtome:.
“Well,soyouroldfriendisgone,you’llbesorrytohear.”
“Who?”
saidI.
“FatherFlynn.”
“Ishedead?”
“MrCotterherehasjusttoldus.
Hewaspassingbythehouse.”
IknewthatIwasunderobservationsoIcontinuedeatingasifthenewshadnotinterestedme.
MyuncleexplainedtooldCotter.
“Theyoungsterandheweregreatfriends.
Theoldchaptaughthimagreatdeal,mindyou;
andtheysayhehadagreatwishforhim.”
“Godhave
misericórdia
mercyonhissoul,”saidmyauntpiously.OldCotterlookedatmeforawhile.
IfeltthathislittlebeadyblackeyeswereexaminingmebutIwouldnot
satisfazia
satisfyhimbylookingupfrommyprato
plate.Hereturnedtohispipeandfinally
cuspiu
spatrudelyintothegrate.“Iwouldn’tlikechildrenofmine,”hesaid,“tohavetoomuchtosaytoamanlikethat.”
“Howdoyoumean,MrCotter?”
askedmyaunt.
“WhatImeanis,”saidoldCotter,“it’sbadforchildren.
Myideais:
letayoungladrunaboutandplaywithyoungladsofhisownageandnotbe....
AmIright,Jack?”
“That’smyprinciple,too,”saidmyuncle.
“Lethimlearntoboxhis
canto
corner.That’swhatI’malwayssayingtothatRosicrucianthere:
takeexercise.
Why,whenIwasanippereverymorningofmylifeIhadacold
banho
bath,winterandsummer.Andthat’swhatstandstomenow.
Educação
Educationisallveryfineandlarge....MrCottermighttakeapickofthatlegmutton,”he
acrescentou
addedtomyaunt.“No,no,notforme,”saidoldCotter.
Myauntbroughtthedishfromthesafeandputitonthetable.
“Butwhydoyouthinkit’snotgoodforchildren,MrCotter?”
sheasked.
“It’sbadforchildren,”saidoldCotter,“becausetheirmindsaresoimpressionable.
Whenchildrenseethingslikethat,youknow,ithasaneffect....”
IcrammedmymouthwithstiraboutforfearImightgiveutterancetomy
raiva
anger.Tiresomeoldred-nosedimbecile!
ItwaslatewhenIfellasleep.
ThoughIwasangrywitholdCotterforalludingtomeasachild,Ipuzzledmyheadtoextractmeaningfromhisunfinishedsentences.
InthedarkofmyroomIimaginedthatIsawagaintheheavygreyfaceoftheparalytic.
IdrewtheblanketsovermyheadandtriedtothinkofChristmas.
Butthegreyfacestillfollowedme.
Itmurmured;
andIunderstoodthatit
desejava
desiredtoconfesssomething.Ifeltmysoulrecedingintosomepleasantandviciousregion;
andthereagainIfounditwaitingforme.
ItbegantoconfesstomeinamurmuringvoiceandIwonderedwhyitsmiledcontinuallyandwhythelipsweresomoistwithspittle.
ButthenIrememberedthatithaddiedofparalysisandIfeltthatItoowassmilingfeeblyasiftoabsolvethesimoniacofhis
pecado
sin.ThenextmorningafterbreakfastIwentdowntolookatthelittlehouseinGreatBritainStreet.
Itwasanunassumingshop,registeredunderthevaguenameofDrapery.
Thedraperyconsistedmainlyofchildren’sbooteesandumbrellas;
andonordinarydaysanoticeusedtohanginthewindow,saying:
UmbrellasRe-covered.
Nonoticewasvisiblenowfortheshutterswereup.
Acrapebouquetwas
amarrado
tiedtothedoor-knockerwithribbon.Twopoorwomenandatelegramboywerereadingthecardpinnedonthecrape.
Ialso
aproximei
approachedandread:.July1st,1895TheRev.JamesFlynn(formerlyofS.Catherine’sChurch,MeathStreet),agedsixty-fiveyears.R.I.P.
ThereadingofthecardpersuadedmethathewasdeadandIwasdisturbedtofindmyselfatcheck.
HadhenotbeendeadIwouldhavegoneintothelittledarkroombehindtheshoptofindhimsittinginhisarm-chairbythefire,
quase
nearlysmotheredinhisgreat-coat.PerhapsmyauntwouldhavegivenmeapacketofHighToastforhimandthispresentwouldhaverousedhimfromhisstupefieddoze.
ItwasalwaysIwhoemptiedthepacketintohisblacksnuff-boxforhishandstrembledtoomuchtoallowhimtodothiswithoutspillinghalfthesnuffaboutthefloor.
Evenasheraisedhislargetremblinghandtohisnoselittlecloudsofsmokedribbledthroughhisfingersoverthefrontofhis
casaco
coat.Itmayhavebeentheseconstantshowersofsnuffwhichgavehis
antiga
ancientpriestlygarmentstheirgreenfadedlookfortheredhandkerchief,blackened,asitalwayswas,withthesnuff-stainsofaweek,withwhichhetriedtobrushawaythefallengrains,wasquiteinefficacious.IwishedtogoinandlookathimbutIhadnotthe
coragem
couragetoknock.Iwalkedaway
lentamente
slowlyalongthesunnysideofthestreet,readingallthetheatricaladvertisementsintheshop-windowsasIwent.IfounditstrangethatneitherInorthedayseemedinamourningmoodandIfeltevenannoyedatdiscoveringinmyselfasensationof
liberdade
freedomasifIhadbeenfreedfromsomethingbyhisdeath.Iwonderedatthisfor,asmyunclehadsaidthenightbefore,hehadtaughtmeagreatdeal.
HehadstudiedintheIrishcollegeinRomeandhehadtaughtmetopronounceLatin
corretamente
properly.HehadtoldmestoriesaboutthecatacombsandaboutNapoleonBonaparte,andhehadexplainedtomethemeaningofthedifferentceremoniesofthe
Missa
Massandofthedifferentvestmentswornbythepadre
priest.Sometimeshehadamusedhimselfbyputtingdifficultquestionstome,askingmewhatoneshoulddoincertaincircumstancesorwhethersuchandsuchsinsweremortalorvenialoronlyimperfections.
HisquestionsshowedmehowcomplexandmysteriouswerecertaininstitutionsoftheChurchwhichIhadalwaysregardedasthesimplestacts.
Thedutiesofthe
sacerdote
priesttowardstheEucharistandtowardsthesecrecyoftheconfessionalseemedsogravetomethatIwonderedhowanybodyhadeverfoundinhimselfthecoragem
couragetoundertakethem;andIwasnotsurprisedwhenhetoldmethatthefathersoftheChurchhadwrittenbooksasthickasthePostOfficeDirectoryandascloselyprintedasthelawnoticesinthe
jornal
newspaper,elucidatingalltheseintricatequestions.OftenwhenIthoughtofthisIcouldmakenoansweroronlyaveryfoolishandhaltingoneuponwhichheusedtosmileandnodhisheadtwiceorthrice.
Sometimesheusedtoputmethroughtheresponsesofthe
Missa
Masswhichhehadmademelearnbyheart;and,asIpattered,heusedtosmilepensivelyandnodhishead,nowandthenpushinghugepinchesofsnuffupeachnostrilalternately.
Whenhesmiledheusedtouncoverhisbigdiscolouredteethandlethis
língua
tonguelieuponhislowerlip—ahabitwhichhadmademefeeluneasyinthebeginningofouracquaintancebeforeIknewhimwell.AsIwalkedalonginthesunIrememberedoldCotter’swordsandtriedtorememberwhathadhappened
depois
afterwardsinthedream.IrememberedthatIhadnoticedlongvelvetcurtainsandaswinginglampofantique
moda
fashion.IfeltthatIhadbeenveryfaraway,insomelandwherethecustomswerestrange—inPersia,Ithought....
ButIcouldnotremembertheendofthedream.
Intheeveningmyaunttookmewithhertovisitthehouseofmourning.
Itwasaftersunset;
butthewindow-panesofthehousesthatlookedtothewestreflectedthetawnygoldofagreatbankofclouds.
Nannie
recebeu
receivedusinthehall;and,asitwouldhavebeenunseemlytohave
gritado
shoutedather,myauntshookhandswithherforall.Theoldwomanpointedupwardsinterrogativelyand,onmyaunt’snodding,proceededtotoilupthenarrowstaircasebeforeus,herbowedheadbeingscarcelyabovethelevelofthebanister-rail.
Atthefirstlandingshestoppedandbeckonedusforwardencouragingly
para
towardstheopendoorofthedead-room.Myauntwentinandtheoldwoman,seeingthatIhesitatedto
entrar
enter,begantobeckontomeagainrepeatedlywithherhand.Iwentinontiptoe.
Theroomthroughthelaceendoftheblindwassuffusedwithduskygoldenlightamidwhichthecandleslookedlikepalethinflames.
Hehadbeencoffined.
Nanniegavetheleadandwethreekneltdownatthefootofthebed.
I
fingi
pretendedtopraybutIcouldnotreunir
gathermythoughtsbecausetheoldwoman’smutteringsdistractedme.Inoticedhowclumsilyherskirtwashookedatthebackandhowtheheelsofherclothbootsweretroddendownalltooneside.
The
fantasia
fancycametomethattheoldpadre
priestwassmilingashelaythereinhiscoffin.Butno.Whenwe
subimos
roseandwentuptotheheadofthebedIsawthathewasnotsmiling.Therehelay,solemnandcopious,vestedasforthealtar,hislargehandslooselyretainingachalice.
Hisfacewasverytruculent,greyandmassive,withblackcavernousnostrilsandcircledbyascantywhitefur.
Therewasaheavyodourintheroom—theflowers.
Weblessedourselvesandcameaway.
Inthelittleroom
baixo
downstairswefoundElizaseatedinhisarm-chairinstate.Igropedmywaytowardsmy
habitual
usualchairinthecornerwhileNanniewenttothesideboardandbroughtoutadecanterofsherryandsomewine-glasses.Shesettheseonthetableand
convidou
invitedustotakealittleglassofwine.Then,athersister’sbidding,she
encheu
filledoutthesherryintotheglassesandpassedthemtous.Shepressedmetotakesome
creme
creamcrackersalsobutIdeclinedbecauseIthoughtIwouldmaketoomuchbarulho
noiseeatingthem.Sheseemedtobesomewhatdisappointedatmyrefusalandwentoverquietlytothesofawhereshesatdownbehindhersister.
Noonespoke:
weallgazedattheemptyfireplace.
MyauntwaiteduntilElizasighedandthensaid:.
“Ah,well,he’sgonetoabetterworld.”
Elizasighedagainandbowedherheadinassent.
Myaunt
dedilhou
fingeredthestemofherwine-glassbeforesippingalittle.“Didhe...
peacefully?”
sheasked.
“Oh,quitepeacefully,ma’am,”saidEliza.
“Youcouldn’ttellwhenthebreathwentoutofhim.
Hehadabeautifuldeath,Godbepraised.”
“Andeverything...?”
“FatherO’Rourkewasinwithhima
Terça
Tuesdayandanointedhimandpreparou
preparedhimandall.”“Heknewthen?”
“Hewasquiteresigned.”
“Helooksquiteresigned,”saidmyaunt.
“That’swhatthewomanwehadintowashhimsaid.
Shesaidhejustlookedasifhewasasleep,helookedthatpeacefulandresigned.
Noonewouldthinkhe’dmakesuchabeautifulcorpse.”
“Yes,indeed,”saidmyaunt.
Shesippedalittlemorefromherglassandsaid:.
“Well,MissFlynn,atanyrateitmustbeagreatcomfortforyoutoknowthatyoudidallyoucouldforhim.
Youwerebothverykindtohim,Imustsay.”
Elizasmoothedherdressoverherknees.
“Ah,poorJames!”
shesaid.
“Godknowswedoneallwecould,aspoorasweare—wewouldn’tseehimwantanythingwhilehewasinit.”
Nanniehadleanedherheadagainstthesofa-pillowandseemedabouttofallasleep.
“There’spoorNannie,”saidEliza,lookingather,“she’sworeout.
Alltheworkwehad,sheandme,gettinginthewomantowashhimandthenlayinghimoutandthenthecoffinandthen
arranjar
arrangingabouttheMassinthechapel.OnlyforFatherO’RourkeIdon’tknowwhatwe’dhavedoneatall.
ItwashimbroughtusallthemflowersandthemtwocandlesticksoutofthechapelandwroteoutthenoticefortheFreeman’sGeneralandtookchargeofallthepapersforthecemeteryandpoorJames’sinsurance.”
“Wasn’tthatgoodofhim?”
saidmyaunt.
Elizaclosedhereyesandshookherhead
lentamente
slowly.“Ah,there’snofriendsliketheoldfriends,”shesaid,“whenallissaidanddone,nofriendsthatabodycantrust.”
“Indeed,that’strue,”saidmyaunt.
“AndI’msurenowthathe’sgonetohiseternal
recompensa
rewardhewon’tforgetyouandallyourkindnesstohim.”“Ah,poorJames!”
saidEliza.
“Hewasnogreattroubletous.
Youwouldn’thearhiminthehouseanymorethannow.
Still,Iknowhe’sgoneandalltothat....”
“It’swhenit’salloverthatyou’llmisshim,”saidmyaunt.
“Iknowthat,”saidEliza.
“Iwon’tbebringinghiminhiscupofbeef-teaanymore,noryou,ma’am,sendinghimhissnuff.
Ah,poorJames!”
Shestopped,asifshewerecommuningwiththepastandthensaidshrewdly:.
“Mindyou,Inoticedtherewassomethingqueercomingoverhimlatterly.
WheneverI’dbringinhis
sopa
souptohimthereI’dfindhimwithhisbreviaryfallentothefloor,lyingbackinthecadeira
chairandhismouthopen.”Shelaida
dedo
fingeragainsthernoseandfrowned:thenshecontinued:.
“Butstillandallhekeptonsayingthatbeforethesummerwasoverhe’dgooutforadriveonefinedayjusttoseetheoldhouseagainwherewewereallborndowninIrishtownandtakemeandNanniewithhim.
Ifwecouldonlygetoneofthemnew-fangledcarriagesthatmakesno
barulho
noisethatFatherO’Rourketoldhimabout,themwiththerheumaticwheels,forthedaycheap—hesaid,atJohnnyRush’soverthewaythereanddriveoutthethreeofustogetherofaDomingo
Sundayevening.Hehadhismindsetonthat....
PoorJames!”
“TheLordhave
misericórdia
mercyonhissoul!”saidmyaunt.
Elizatookoutherhandkerchiefand
limpou
wipedhereyeswithit.Thensheputitbackagaininher
bolso
pocketandgazedintotheemptygrateforsometimewithoutspeaking.