THESISTERS
Therewasnohopeforhimthistime:
itwasthethird
derrame
stroke.NightafternightIhadpassedthehouse(itwasvacationtime)andstudiedthelightedsquareofwindow:
andnightafternightIhadfounditlightedinthesameway,faintlyand
uniformemente
evenly.Ifhewasdead,Ithought,Iwouldseethe
reflexo
reflectionofcandlesonthedarkenedblindforIknewthattwocandlesmustbesetattheheadofacadáver
corpse.Hehadoftensaidtome:
“Iamnotlongforthisworld,”andIhadthoughthiswordsidle.
NowIknewtheyweretrue.
EverynightasIgazedupatthewindowIsaid
suavemente
softlytomyselfthewordparalisia
paralysis.Ithadalwayssoundedstrangelyinmyears,likethewordgnomonintheEuclidandthewordsimonyintheCatechism.
Butnowitsoundedtomelikethenameofsomemaleficentand
pecador
sinfulbeing.Itfilledmewithfear,andyetIlongedtobe
perto
nearertoitandtolookuponitsmortal
deadlywork.OldCotterwassittingatthefire,smoking,whenIcamedownstairsto
jantar
supper.Whilemyauntwasladlingoutmystirabouthesaid,asifreturningtosomeformer
observação
remarkofhis:.“No,Iwouldn’tsayhewasexactly...
buttherewassomethingqueer...
therewassomethinguncannyabouthim.
I’lltellyoumyopinion....”
Hebegantopuffathis
cachimbo
pipe,nodoubtarranginghisopinioninhismind.Cansativo
Tiresomeoldfool!Whenweknewhimfirstheusedtoberatherinteresting,talkingoffaintsandworms;
butIsoongrewtiredofhimandhisendlessstoriesaboutthedistillery.
“Ihavemyowntheoryaboutit,”hesaid.
“Ithinkitwasoneofthose...
peculiarcases....
Butit’shardtosay....”
Hebegantopuffagainathis
cachimbo
pipewithoutgivingushistheory.Myunclesawmestaringandsaidtome:.
“Well,soyouroldfriendisgone,you’llbesorrytohear.”
“Who?”
saidI.
“FatherFlynn.”
“Ishedead?”
“MrCotterherehasjusttoldus.
Hewaspassingbythehouse.”
IknewthatIwasunder
observação
observationsoIcontinuedeatingasifthenewshadnotinterestedme.MyuncleexplainedtooldCotter.
“The
jovem
youngsterandheweregreatfriends.Theoldchaptaughthimagreatdeal,mindyou;
andtheysayhehadagreatwishforhim.”
“Godhavemercyonhissoul,”saidmyauntpiously.
OldCotterlookedatmeforawhile.
Ifeltthathislittlebeadyblackeyeswere
examinando
examiningmebutIwouldnotsatisfyhimbylookingupfrommyplate.Hereturnedtohis
cachimbo
pipeandfinallyspatrudelyintothegrate.“Iwouldn’tlikechildrenofmine,”hesaid,“tohavetoomuchtosaytoamanlikethat.”
“Howdoyoumean,MrCotter?”
askedmyaunt.
“WhatImeanis,”saidoldCotter,“it’sbadforchildren.
Myideais:
letayoung
rapaz
ladrunaboutandplaywithyoungladsofhisownageandnotbe....AmIright,Jack?”
“That’smy
princípio
principle,too,”saidmyuncle.“Lethimlearntoboxhiscorner.
That’swhatI’malwayssayingtothatRosicrucianthere:
takeexercise.
Why,whenIwasanippereverymorningofmylifeIhadacoldbath,winterandsummer.
Andthat’swhatstandstomenow.
Educationisallveryfineandlarge....
MrCottermighttakeapickofthatlegmutton,”headdedtomyaunt.
“No,no,notforme,”saidoldCotter.
Myauntbroughtthe
prato
dishfromthesafeandputitonthetable.“Butwhydoyouthinkit’snotgoodforchildren,MrCotter?”
sheasked.
“It’sbadforchildren,”saidoldCotter,“becausetheirmindsaresoimpressionable.
Whenchildrenseethingslikethat,youknow,ithasaneffect....”
IcrammedmymouthwithstiraboutforfearImightgiveutterancetomyanger.
Tiresomeoldred-nosedimbecile!
ItwaslatewhenIfellasleep.
ThoughIwasangrywitholdCotterforalludingtomeasachild,Ipuzzledmyheadto
extrair
extractmeaningfromhisunfinishedsentences.InthedarkofmyroomIimaginedthatIsawagaintheheavy
cinzento
greyfaceoftheparalytic.IdrewtheblanketsovermyheadandtriedtothinkofChristmas.
Butthe
cinzento
greyfacestillfollowedme.Itmurmured;
andIunderstoodthatitdesiredto
confessar
confesssomething.Ifeltmysoulrecedingintosome
agradável
pleasantandviciousregion;andthereagainIfounditwaitingforme.
Itbeganto
confessar
confesstomeinamurmuringvoiceandIwonderedwhyitsmiledcontinuamente
continuallyandwhythelipsweresomoistwithspittle.ButthenIrememberedthatithaddiedof
paralisia
paralysisandIfeltthatItoowassmilingfeeblyasiftoabsolvethesimoniacofhissin.ThenextmorningafterbreakfastIwentdowntolookatthelittlehouseinGreatBritainStreet.
Itwasanunassumingshop,registeredunderthe
vago
vaguenameofDrapery.Thedraperyconsisted
principalmente
mainlyofchildren’sbooteesandumbrellas;andonordinarydaysanoticeusedtohanginthewindow,saying:
UmbrellasRe-covered.
Nonoticewas
visível
visiblenowfortheshutterswereup.Acrape
buquê
bouquetwastiedtothedoor-knockerwithfita
ribbon.Twopoorwomenanda
telegrama
telegramboywerereadingthecardpinnedonthecrape.Ialsoapproachedandread:.
Julho
July1st,1895TheRev.JamesFlynn(formerlyofS.Catherine’sChurch,MeathStreet),idade
agedsixty-fiveyears.R.I.P.Thereadingofthecard
convenceu
persuadedmethathewasdeadandIwasperturbado
disturbedtofindmyselfatcheck.HadhenotbeendeadIwouldhavegoneintothelittledarkroombehindtheshoptofindhimsittinginhisarm-chairbythefire,nearlysmotheredinhisgreat-coat.
Perhapsmyauntwouldhavegivenmea
pacote
packetofHighToastforhimandthispresentwouldhaverousedhimfromhisstupefieddoze.ItwasalwaysIwhoemptiedthe
pacote
packetintohisblacksnuff-boxforhishandstremiam
trembledtoomuchtoallowhimtodothiswithoutderramar
spillinghalfthesnuffaboutthefloor.Evenasheraisedhislargetremblinghandtohisnoselittlecloudsofsmokedribbledthroughhisfingersoverthefrontofhiscoat.
Itmayhavebeentheseconstantshowersof
tabaco
snuffwhichgavehisancientpriestlygarmentstheirgreendesbotado
fadedlookfortheredlenço
handkerchief,blackened,asitalwayswas,withthesnuff-stainsofaweek,withwhichhetriedtobrushawaythefallengrains,wasquiteinefficacious.IwishedtogoinandlookathimbutIhadnotthecouragetoknock.
Iwalkedawayslowlyalongthe
ensolarado
sunnysideofthestreet,readingallthetheatricaladvertisementsintheshop-windowsasIwent.IfounditstrangethatneitherInorthedayseemedina
luto
mourningmoodandIfeltevenirritado
annoyedatdiscoveringinmyselfasensação
sensationoffreedomasifIhadbeenfreedfromsomethingbyhisdeath.Iwonderedatthisfor,asmyunclehadsaidthenightbefore,hehadtaughtmeagreatdeal.
HehadstudiedintheIrishcollegeinRomeandhehadtaughtmeto
pronunciar
pronounceLatinproperly.HehadtoldmestoriesaboutthecatacombsandaboutNapoleonBonaparte,andhehadexplainedtomethemeaningofthedifferentceremoniesoftheMassandofthedifferentvestmentswornbythepriest.
Sometimeshehad
divertia
amusedhimselfbyputtingdifficultquestionstome,askingmewhatoneshoulddoincertaincircumstancesorwhethersuchandsuchsinsweremortalorvenialoronlyimperfections.HisquestionsshowedmehowcomplexandmysteriouswerecertaininstitutionsoftheChurchwhichIhadalwaysregardedasthesimplestacts.
ThedutiesofthepriesttowardstheEucharistandtowardsthe
segredo
secrecyoftheconfessionalseemedsogravetomethatIwonderedhowanybodyhadeverfoundinhimselfthecouragetoempreender
undertakethem;andIwasnotsurprisedwhenhetoldmethatthefathersoftheChurchhadwrittenbooksasthickasthePostOffice
Diretório
Directoryandascloselyprintedasthelawnoticesinthenewspaper,elucidatingalltheseintricatequestions.OftenwhenIthoughtofthisIcouldmakenoansweroronlyavery
tola
foolishandhaltingoneuponwhichheusedtosmileandacenar
nodhisheadtwiceortrês vezes
thrice.SometimesheusedtoputmethroughtheresponsesoftheMasswhichhehadmademelearnbyheart;
and,asIpattered,heusedtosmilepensivelyand
acenar
nodhishead,nowandthenpushinghugepinchesoftabaco
snuffupeachnostrilalternately.Whenhesmiledheusedto
descobrir
uncoverhisbigdiscolouredteethandlethistonguelieuponhislowerlip—ahábito
habitwhichhadmademefeeldesconfortável
uneasyinthebeginningofourconhecimento
acquaintancebeforeIknewhimwell.AsIwalkedalonginthesunIrememberedoldCotter’swordsandtriedtorememberwhathadhappenedafterwardsinthedream.
IrememberedthatIhadnoticedlong
veludo
velvetcurtainsandaswinginglâmpada
lampofantiquefashion.IfeltthatIhadbeenveryfaraway,insomelandwherethecustomswerestrange—inPersia,Ithought....
ButIcouldnotremembertheendofthedream.
Intheeveningmyaunttookmewithhertovisitthehouseof
luto
mourning.Itwasaftersunset;
butthewindow-panesofthehousesthatlookedtothewest
refletiam
reflectedthetawnygoldofagreatbankofclouds.Nanniereceivedusinthehall;
and,asitwouldhavebeenunseemlytohaveshoutedather,myauntshookhandswithherforall.
Theoldwomanpointedupwardsinterrogativelyand,onmyaunt’snodding,proceededtotoilupthe
estreita
narrowstaircasebeforeus,herbowedheadbeingscarcelyabovethelevelofthebanister-rail.Atthefirstlandingshestoppedandbeckonedusforwardencouraginglytowardstheopendoorofthedead-room.
Myauntwentinandtheoldwoman,seeingthatI
hesitava
hesitatedtoenter,begantobeckontomeagainrepetidamente
repeatedlywithherhand.Iwentinontiptoe.
Theroomthroughthe
renda
laceendoftheblindwassuffusedwithduskygoldenlightamidwhichthecandleslookedlikepalethinchamas
flames.Hehadbeencoffined.
Nanniegavetheleadandwethreekneltdownatthefootofthebed.
IpretendedtopraybutIcouldnotgathermythoughtsbecausetheoldwoman’smutteringsdistractedme.
Inoticedhowclumsilyher
saia
skirtwashookedatthebackandhowtheheelsofherpano
clothbootsweretroddendownalltooneside.Thefancycametomethattheoldpriestwassmilingashelaythereinhis
caixão
coffin.Butno.WhenweroseandwentuptotheheadofthebedIsawthathewasnotsmiling.
Therehelay,
solene
solemnandcopious,vestedasforthealtar
altar,hislargehandslooselyretainingachalice.Hisfacewasverytruculent,
cinzento
greyandmassive,withblackcavernousnostrilsandcircledbyascantywhitepelagem
fur.Therewasaheavyodourintheroom—theflowers.
Weblessedourselvesandcameaway.
InthelittleroomdownstairswefoundElizaseatedinhisarm-chairinstate.
IgropedmywaytowardsmyusualchairinthecornerwhileNanniewenttothesideboardandbroughtoutadecanterofsherryandsomewine-glasses.
Shesettheseonthetableandinvitedustotakealittleglassofwine.
Then,athersister’sbidding,shefilledoutthesherryintotheglassesandpassedthemtous.
ShepressedmetotakesomecreamcrackersalsobutI
recusei
declinedbecauseIthoughtIwouldmaketoomuchnoiseeatingthem.Sheseemedtobesomewhatdisappointedatmy
recusa
refusalandwentoverquietlytothesofá
sofawhereshesatdownbehindhersister.Noonespoke:
weallgazedattheempty
lareira
fireplace.MyauntwaiteduntilEliza
suspirou
sighedandthensaid:.“Ah,well,he’sgonetoabetterworld.”
Eliza
suspirou
sighedagainandbowedherheadinassent.Myauntfingeredthe
caule
stemofherwine-glassbeforesippingalittle.“Didhe...
peacefully?”
sheasked.
“Oh,quite
pacificamente
peacefully,ma’am,”saidEliza.“Youcouldn’ttellwhenthebreathwentoutofhim.
Hehadabeautifuldeath,Godbepraised.”
“Andeverything...?”
“FatherO’RourkewasinwithhimaTuesdayandanointedhimandpreparedhimandall.”
“Heknewthen?”
“Hewasquiteresigned.”
“Helooksquiteresigned,”saidmyaunt.
“That’swhatthewomanwehadintowashhimsaid.
Shesaidhejustlookedasifhewasasleep,helookedthatpeacefuland
resignado
resigned.Noonewouldthinkhe’dmakesuchabeautifulcorpse.”
“Yes,indeed,”saidmyaunt.
Shesippedalittlemorefromherglassandsaid:.
“Well,MissFlynn,atanyrateitmustbeagreat
conforto
comfortforyoutoknowthatyoudidallyoucouldforhim.Youwerebothverykindtohim,Imustsay.”
Elizasmoothedherdressoverherknees.
“Ah,poorJames!”
shesaid.
“Godknowswedoneallwecould,aspoorasweare—wewouldn’tseehimwantanythingwhilehewasinit.”
Nanniehadleanedherheadagainstthesofa-pillowandseemedabouttofallasleep.
“There’spoorNannie,”saidEliza,lookingather,“she’sworeout.
Alltheworkwehad,sheandme,gettinginthewomantowashhimandthenlayinghimoutandthenthe
caixão
coffinandthenarrangingabouttheMassinthecapela
chapel.OnlyforFatherO’RourkeIdon’tknowwhatwe’dhavedoneatall.
Itwashimbroughtusallthemflowersandthemtwocandlesticksoutofthe
capela
chapelandwroteoutthenoticefortheFreeman’sGeneralandtookchargeofallthepapersforthecemitério
cemeteryandpoorJames’sinsurance.”“Wasn’tthatgoodofhim?”
saidmyaunt.
Elizaclosedhereyesandshookherheadslowly.
“Ah,there’snofriendsliketheoldfriends,”shesaid,“whenallissaidanddone,nofriendsthatabodycantrust.”
“Indeed,that’strue,”saidmyaunt.
“AndI’msurenowthathe’sgonetohis
eterna
eternalrewardhewon’tforgetyouandallyourbondade
kindnesstohim.”“Ah,poorJames!”
saidEliza.
“Hewasnogreattroubletous.
Youwouldn’thearhiminthehouseanymorethannow.
Still,Iknowhe’sgoneandalltothat....”
“It’swhenit’salloverthatyou’llmisshim,”saidmyaunt.
“Iknowthat,”saidEliza.
“Iwon’tbebringinghiminhiscupofbeef-teaanymore,noryou,ma’am,sendinghimhis
tabaco
snuff.Ah,poorJames!”
Shestopped,asifshewerecommuningwiththepastandthensaidshrewdly:.
“Mindyou,Inoticedtherewassomethingqueercomingoverhimlatterly.
WheneverI’dbringinhissouptohimthereI’dfindhimwithhisbreviaryfallentothefloor,lyingbackinthechairandhismouthopen.”
Shelaidafingeragainsthernoseand
franziu
frowned:thenshecontinued:.
“Butstillandallhekeptonsayingthatbeforethesummerwasoverhe’dgooutforadriveonefinedayjusttoseetheoldhouseagainwherewewereallborndowninIrishtownandtakemeandNanniewithhim.
Ifwecouldonlygetoneofthemnew-fangledcarriagesthatmakesnonoisethatFatherO’Rourketoldhimabout,themwiththerheumaticwheels,forthedaycheap—hesaid,atJohnnyRush’soverthewaythereanddriveoutthethreeofustogetherofaSundayevening.
Hehadhismindsetonthat....
PoorJames!”
“TheLordhavemercyonhissoul!”
saidmyaunt.
Elizatookouther
lenço
handkerchiefandwipedhereyeswithit.Thensheputitbackagaininherpocketandgazedintotheemptygrateforsometimewithoutspeaking.