THESISTERS
Therewasnohopeforhimthistime:
itwasthethirdstroke.
NightafternightIhadpassedthehouse(itwasvacationtime)andstudiedthelightedsquareofwindow:
andnightafternightIhadfounditlightedinthesameway,faintlyand
jämnt
evenly.Ifhewasdead,Ithought,IwouldseethereflectionofcandlesonthedarkenedblindforIknewthattwocandlesmustbesetattheheadofa
lik
corpse.Hehadoftensaidtome:
“Iamnotlongforthisworld,”andIhadthoughthiswordsidle.
NowIknewtheyweretrue.
EverynightasIgazedupatthewindowIsaidsoftlytomyselftheword
förlamning
paralysis.Ithadalwayssounded
konstigt
strangelyinmyears,likethewordgnomonintheEuclidandthewordsimonyintheCatechism.Butnowitsoundedtomelikethenameofsomemaleficentand
syndig
sinfulbeing.Itfilledmewithfear,andyetIlongedtobe
närmare
nearertoitandtolookuponitsdödliga
deadlywork.OldCotterwassittingatthefire,smoking,whenIcamedownstairstosupper.
Whilemyauntwasladlingoutmystirabouthesaid,asifreturningtosomeformer
anmärkning
remarkofhis:.“No,Iwouldn’tsayhewasexactly...
buttherewassomethingqueer...
therewassomethinguncannyabouthim.
I’lltellyoumyopinion....”
Hebegantopuffathis
pipa
pipe,nodoubtarranginghisopinioninhismind.Tiresomeoldfool!
Whenweknewhimfirstheusedtoberatherinteresting,talkingoffaintsandworms;
butIsoongrewtiredofhimandhis
oändliga
endlessstoriesaboutthedistillery.“Ihavemyowntheoryaboutit,”hesaid.
“Ithinkitwasoneofthose...
peculiarcases....
Butit’shardtosay....”
Hebegantopuffagainathis
pipa
pipewithoutgivingushistheory.Myunclesawme
stirra
staringandsaidtome:.“Well,soyouroldfriendisgone,you’llbesorrytohear.”
“Who?”
saidI.
“FatherFlynn.”
“Ishedead?”
“MrCotterherehasjusttoldus.
Hewaspassingbythehouse.”
IknewthatIwasunder
observation
observationsoIcontinuedeatingasifthenewshadnotinterestedme.MyuncleexplainedtooldCotter.
“The
unge
youngsterandheweregreatfriends.Theoldchaptaughthimagreatdeal,mindyou;
andtheysayhehadagreatwishforhim.”
“Godhavemercyonhissoul,”saidmyauntpiously.
OldCotterlookedatmeforawhile.
Ifeltthathislittlebeadyblackeyeswere
undersökte
examiningmebutIwouldnottillfredsställa
satisfyhimbylookingupfrommyplate.Hereturnedtohis
pipa
pipeandfinallyspatrudelyintothegrate.“Iwouldn’tlikechildrenofmine,”hesaid,“tohavetoomuchtosaytoamanlikethat.”
“Howdoyoumean,MrCotter?”
askedmyaunt.
“WhatImeanis,”saidoldCotter,“it’sbadforchildren.
Myideais:
letayoung
pojke
ladrunaboutandplaywithyoungladsofhisownageandnotbe....AmIright,Jack?”
“That’smy
princip
principle,too,”saidmyuncle.“Lethimlearntoboxhiscorner.
That’swhatI’malwayssayingtothatRosicrucianthere:
takeexercise.
Why,whenIwasanippereverymorningofmylifeIhadacoldbath,winterandsummer.
Andthat’swhatstandstomenow.
Educationisallveryfineandlarge....
MrCottermighttakeapickofthatlegmutton,”headdedtomyaunt.
“No,no,notforme,”saidoldCotter.
Myauntbroughtthedishfromthesafeandputitonthetable.
“Butwhydoyouthinkit’snotgoodforchildren,MrCotter?”
sheasked.
“It’sbadforchildren,”saidoldCotter,“becausetheirmindsaresoimpressionable.
Whenchildrenseethingslikethat,youknow,ithasaneffect....”
IcrammedmymouthwithstiraboutforfearImightgiveutterancetomyanger.
Tiresomeoldred-nosedimbecile!
ItwaslatewhenIfellasleep.
ThoughIwasangrywitholdCotterforalludingtomeasachild,Ipuzzledmyheadto
extrahera
extractmeaningfromhisunfinishedsentences.InthedarkofmyroomIimaginedthatIsawagaintheheavy
gråa
greyfaceoftheparalytic.IdrewtheblanketsovermyheadandtriedtothinkofChristmas.
Butthe
gråa
greyfacestillfollowedme.Itmurmured;
andIunderstoodthatitdesiredto
bekänna
confesssomething.Ifeltmysoulrecedingintosome
trevlig
pleasantandviciousregion;andthereagainIfounditwaitingforme.
Itbeganto
erkänna
confesstomeinamurmuringvoiceandIwonderedwhyitsmiledständigt
continuallyandwhythelipsweresomoistwithspittle.ButthenIrememberedthatithaddiedof
förlamning
paralysisandIfeltthatItoowassmilingfeeblyasiftoabsolvethesimoniacofhissin.ThenextmorningafterbreakfastIwentdowntolookatthelittlehouseinGreatBritainStreet.
Itwasanunassumingshop,registeredunderthe
vaga
vaguenameofDrapery.Thedraperyconsisted
huvudsakligen
mainlyofchildren’sbooteesandumbrellas;andonordinarydaysanoticeusedtohanginthewindow,saying:
UmbrellasRe-covered.
Nonoticewas
synlig
visiblenowfortheshutterswereup.Acrape
bukett
bouquetwastiedtothedoor-knockerwithband
ribbon.Twopoorwomenanda
telegram
telegramboywerereadingthecardpinnedonthecrape.Ialsoapproachedandread:.
Juli
July1st,1895TheRev.JamesFlynn(formerlyofS.Catherine’sChurch,MeathStreet),agedsixty-fiveyears.R.I.P.ThereadingofthecardpersuadedmethathewasdeadandIwasdisturbedtofindmyselfatcheck.
HadhenotbeendeadIwouldhavegoneintothelittledarkroombehindtheshoptofindhimsittinginhisarm-chairbythefire,nearlysmotheredinhisgreat-coat.
Perhapsmyauntwouldhavegivenmea
paket
packetofHighToastforhimandthispresentwouldhaverousedhimfromhisstupefieddoze.ItwasalwaysIwhoemptiedthepacketintohisblacksnuff-boxforhishandstrembledtoomuchtoallowhimtodothiswithout
spilla
spillinghalfthesnuffaboutthefloor.Evenasheraisedhislargetremblinghandtohisnoselittlecloudsofsmokedribbledthroughhisfingersoverthefrontofhiscoat.
Itmayhavebeentheseconstantshowersofsnuffwhichgavehisancientpriestlygarmentstheirgreen
blekna
fadedlookfortheredhandkerchief,blackened,asitalwayswas,withthesnuff-stainsofaweek,withwhichhetriedtoborsta
brushawaythefallengrains,wasquiteinefficacious.IwishedtogoinandlookathimbutIhadnotthecouragetoknock.
Iwalkedawayslowlyalongthe
soliga
sunnysideofthestreet,readingallthetheatricaladvertisementsintheshop-windowsasIwent.IfounditstrangethatneitherInorthedayseemedinamourningmoodandIfeltevenannoyedat
upptäcka
discoveringinmyselfasensationoffreedomasifIhadbeenfreedfromsomethingbyhisdeath.Iwonderedatthisfor,asmyunclehadsaidthenightbefore,hehadtaughtmeagreatdeal.
HehadstudiedintheIrishcollegeinRomeandhehadtaughtmeto
uttala
pronounceLatinproperly.HehadtoldmestoriesaboutthecatacombsandaboutNapoleonBonaparte,andhehadexplainedtomethemeaningofthedifferentceremoniesoftheMassandofthedifferentvestmentswornbythepriest.
Sometimeshehadamusedhimselfbyputtingdifficultquestionstome,askingmewhatoneshoulddoincertaincircumstancesorwhethersuchandsuchsinswere
dödliga
mortalorvenialoronlyimperfections.Hisquestionsshowedmehow
komplexa
complexandmysteriouswerecertaininstitutionsoftheChurchwhichIhadalwaysbetraktat
regardedasthesimplestacts.ThedutiesofthepriesttowardstheEucharistandtowardsthesecrecyoftheconfessionalseemedsogravetomethatIwonderedhowanybodyhadeverfoundinhimselfthecourageto
åta sig
undertakethem;andIwasnotsurprisedwhenhetoldmethatthefathersoftheChurchhadwrittenbooksasthickasthePostOfficeDirectoryandas
noggrant
closelyprintedasthelawnoticesinthenewspaper,elucidatingalltheseintricatequestions.OftenwhenIthoughtofthisIcouldmakenoansweroronlyavery
dumt
foolishandhaltingoneuponwhichheusedtosmileandnodhisheadtwiceorthrice.SometimesheusedtoputmethroughtheresponsesoftheMasswhichhehadmademelearnbyheart;
and,asIpattered,heusedtosmilepensivelyandnodhishead,nowandthenpushinghuge
nyp
pinchesofsnuffupeachnostrilalternately.Whenhesmiledheusedto
avslöja
uncoverhisbigdiscolouredteethandlethistonguelieuponhislowerlip—avana
habitwhichhadmademefeelobekväm
uneasyinthebeginningofourbekantskap
acquaintancebeforeIknewhimwell.AsIwalkedalonginthesunIrememberedoldCotter’swordsandtriedtorememberwhathadhappenedafterwardsinthedream.
IrememberedthatIhadnoticedlongvelvetcurtainsandaswinging
lampa
lampofantiquefashion.IfeltthatIhadbeenveryfaraway,insomelandwherethecustomswerestrange—inPersia,Ithought....
ButIcouldnotremembertheendofthedream.
Intheeveningmyaunttookmewithhertovisitthehouseofmourning.
Itwasafter
solnedgången
sunset;butthewindow-panesofthehousesthatlookedtothewest
reflekterade
reflectedthetawnygoldofagreatbankofclouds.Nanniereceivedusinthehall;
and,asitwouldhavebeenunseemlytohaveshoutedather,myauntshookhandswithherforall.
Theoldwomanpointedupwardsinterrogativelyand,onmyaunt’s
nickade
nodding,proceededtotoilupthesmala
narrowstaircasebeforeus,herbowedheadbeingknappast
scarcelyabovethelevelofthebanister-rail.Atthefirstlandingshestoppedandbeckonedusforwardencouraginglytowardstheopendoorofthedead-room.
Myauntwentinandtheoldwoman,seeingthatI
tvekade
hesitatedtoenter,begantobeckontomeagainrepeatedlywithherhand.Iwentinontiptoe.
Theroomthroughthelaceendoftheblindwassuffusedwithduskygoldenlightamidwhichthecandleslookedlikepalethinflames.
Hehadbeencoffined.
Nanniegavetheleadandwethree
knäböjde
kneltdownatthefootofthebed.IpretendedtopraybutIcouldnotgathermythoughtsbecausetheoldwoman’smutterings
distraherade
distractedme.Inoticedhowclumsilyher
kjol
skirtwashookedatthebackandhowtheheelsofherclothbootsweretrampade
troddendownalltooneside.Thefancycametomethattheoldpriestwassmilingashelaythereinhis
kista
coffin.Butno.WhenweroseandwentuptotheheadofthebedIsawthathewasnotsmiling.
Therehelay,
högtidlig
solemnandcopious,vestedasforthealtaret
altar,hislargehandslooselybehålla
retainingachalice.Hisfacewasverytruculent,
grått
greyandmassive,withblackcavernousnostrilsandcircledbyascantywhitepäls
fur.Therewasaheavyodourintheroom—theflowers.
Weblessedourselvesandcameaway.
InthelittleroomdownstairswefoundElizaseatedinhisarm-chairinstate.
IgropedmywaytowardsmyusualchairinthecornerwhileNanniewenttothesideboardandbroughtoutadecanterofsherryandsomewine-glasses.
Shesettheseonthetableandinvitedustotakealittleglassofwine.
Then,athersister’sbidding,shefilledoutthesherryintotheglassesandpassedthemtous.
ShepressedmetotakesomecreamcrackersalsobutI
avböjde
declinedbecauseIthoughtIwouldmaketoomuchnoiseeatingthem.Sheseemedtobesomewhatdisappointedatmy
avslag
refusalandwentoverquietlytothesofawhereshesatdownbehindhersister.Noonespoke:
weall
stirrade
gazedattheemptyfireplace.MyauntwaiteduntilEliza
suckade
sighedandthensaid:.“Ah,well,he’sgonetoabetterworld.”
Eliza
suckade
sighedagainandbowedherheadinassent.Myauntfingeredthe
stammen
stemofherwine-glassbeforesippingalittle.“Didhe...
peacefully?”
sheasked.
“Oh,quite
fridfullt
peacefully,ma’am,”saidEliza.“Youcouldn’ttellwhenthebreathwentoutofhim.
Hehadabeautifuldeath,Godbepraised.”
“Andeverything...?”
“FatherO’RourkewasinwithhimaTuesdayandanointedhimandpreparedhimandall.”
“Heknewthen?”
“Hewasquiteresigned.”
“Helooksquiteresigned,”saidmyaunt.
“That’swhatthewomanwehadintowashhimsaid.
Shesaidhejustlookedasifhewasasleep,helookedthatpeacefulandresigned.
Noonewouldthinkhe’dmakesuchabeautifulcorpse.”
“Yes,indeed,”saidmyaunt.
Shesippedalittlemorefromherglassandsaid:.
“Well,MissFlynn,atanyrateitmustbeagreat
tröst
comfortforyoutoknowthatyoudidallyoucouldforhim.Youwerebothverykindtohim,Imustsay.”
Eliza
jämnade
smoothedherdressoverherknees.“Ah,poorJames!”
shesaid.
“Godknowswedoneallwecould,aspoorasweare—wewouldn’tseehimwantanythingwhilehewasinit.”
Nanniehadleanedherheadagainstthesofa-pillowandseemedabouttofallasleep.
“There’spoorNannie,”saidEliza,lookingather,“she’sworeout.
Alltheworkwehad,sheandme,gettinginthewomantowashhimandthenlayinghimoutandthenthe
kistan
coffinandthenarrangingabouttheMassinthechapel.OnlyforFatherO’RourkeIdon’tknowwhatwe’dhavedoneatall.
ItwashimbroughtusallthemflowersandthemtwocandlesticksoutofthechapelandwroteoutthenoticefortheFreeman’sGeneralandtookchargeofallthepapersforthe
kyrkogården
cemeteryandpoorJames’sinsurance.”“Wasn’tthatgoodofhim?”
saidmyaunt.
Elizaclosedhereyesandshookherheadslowly.
“Ah,there’snofriendsliketheoldfriends,”shesaid,“whenallissaidanddone,nofriendsthatabodycantrust.”
“Indeed,that’strue,”saidmyaunt.
“AndI’msurenowthathe’sgonetohis
eviga
eternalrewardhewon’tforgetyouandallyourvänlighet
kindnesstohim.”“Ah,poorJames!”
saidEliza.
“Hewasnogreattroubletous.
Youwouldn’thearhiminthehouseanymorethannow.
Still,Iknowhe’sgoneandalltothat....”
“It’swhenit’salloverthatyou’llmisshim,”saidmyaunt.
“Iknowthat,”saidEliza.
“Iwon’tbebringinghiminhiscupofbeef-teaanymore,noryou,ma’am,sendinghimhis
snus
snuff.Ah,poorJames!”
Shestopped,asifshewerecommuningwiththepastandthensaidshrewdly:.
“Mindyou,Inoticedtherewassomethingqueercomingoverhimlatterly.
WheneverI’dbringinhissouptohimthereI’dfindhimwithhisbreviaryfallentothefloor,lyingbackinthechairandhismouthopen.”
Shelaidafingeragainsthernoseandfrowned:
thenshecontinued:.
“Butstillandallhekeptonsayingthatbeforethesummerwasoverhe’dgooutforadriveonefinedayjusttoseetheoldhouseagainwherewewereallborndowninIrishtownandtakemeandNanniewithhim.
Ifwecouldonlygetoneofthemnew-fangledcarriagesthatmakesnonoisethatFatherO’Rourketoldhimabout,themwiththerheumaticwheels,forthedaycheap—hesaid,atJohnnyRush’soverthewaythereanddriveoutthethreeofustogetherofaSundayevening.
Hehadhismindsetonthat....
PoorJames!”
“TheLordhavemercyonhissoul!”
saidmyaunt.
Elizatookouther
näsduk
handkerchiefandwipedhereyeswithit.Thensheputitbackagaininherpocketand
stirrade
gazedintotheemptygrateforsometimewithoutspeaking.