Скорбь сатаны/The Tribulation of Satan (Мари Корелли). Страница 220 из 279

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So

that

on

the

whole

I

was

glad

she

did

not

spend

that

day

with

us

in

the

woods

;

--

of

course

,

if

I

had

paid

any

attention

to

the

"

trifles

which

make

up

the

sum

of

life

"

I

should

have

remembered

that

Lucio

had

told

her

he

would

"

meet

her

no

more

on

earth

,

"

--

but

I

judged

this

to

be

a

mere

trifle

of

hasty

and

melodramatic

speech

,

without

any

intentional

meaning

.

So

my

last

twenty-four

hours

of

happiness

passed

away

in

halcyon

serenity

--

I

felt

a

sense

of

deepening

pleasure

in

existence

,

and

I

began

to

believe

that

the

future

had

brighter

things

in

store

for

me

than

I

had

lately

ventured

to

expect

.

Sibyl

's

new

phase

of

gentleness

and

tenderness

towards

me

,

combined

with

her

rare

beauty

,

seemed

to

augur

that

the

misunderstandings

between

us

would

be

of

short

duration

,

and

that

her

nature

,

too

early

rendered

harsh

and

cynical

by

a

'

society

'

education

would

soften

in

time

to

that

beautiful

womanliness

which

is

,

after

all

,

woman

's

best

charm

.

Thus

I

thought

,

in

blissful

and

contented

reverie

,

reclining

under

the

branching

autumnal

foliage

,

with

my

fair

wife

beside

me

,

and

listening

to

the

rich

tones

of

my

friend

Lucio

's

magnificent

voice

pealing

forth

sonorous

,

wild

melodies

,

as

the

sunset

deepened

in

the

sky

and

the

twilight

shadows

fell

.

Then

came

the

night

--

the

night

which

dropped

only

for

a

few

hours

over

the

quiet

landscape

,

but

for

ever

over

me

!

We

had

dined

late

,

and

,

pleasantly

fatigued

with

our

day

in

the

open

air

,

had

retired

early

.

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I

had

latterly

grown

a

heavy

sleeper

,

and

I

suppose

I

must

have

slumbered

some

hours

,

when

I

was

awakened

suddenly

as

though

by

an

imperative

touch

from

some

unseen

hand

.

I

started

up

in

my

bed

--

the

night-lamp

was

burning

dimly

,

and

by

its

glimmer

I

saw

that

Sibyl

was

no

longer

at

my

side

.

My

heart

gave

one

bound

against

my

ribs

and

then

almost

stood

still

--

a

sense

of

something

unexpected

and

calamitous

chilled

my

blood

.

I

pushed

aside

the

embroidered

silken

hangings

of

the

bed

and

peered

into

the

room

--

it

was

empty

.

Then

I

rose

hastily

,

put

on

my

clothes

and

went

to

the

door

--

it

was

carefully

shut

,

but

not

locked

as

it

had

been

when

we

retired

for

the

night

.

I

opened

it

without

the

least

noise

,

and

looked

out

into

the

long

passage

--

no

one

there

!

Immediately

opposite

the

bedroom

door

there

was

a

winding

oak

staircase

leading

down

to

a

broad

corridor

,

which

in

former

times

had

been

used

as

a

music-room

or

picture-gallery

--

an

ancient

organ

,

still

sweet

of

tone

,

occupied

one

end

of

it

with

dull

golden

pipes

towering

up

to

the

carved

and

embossed

ceiling

--

the

other

end

was

lit

by

a

large

oriel

window

like

that

of

a

church

,

filled

with

rare

old

stained

glass

,

representing

in

various

niches

the

lives

of

the

saints

,

the

centre

subject

being

the

martyrdom

of

St

Stephen

.

Advancing

with

soft

caution

to

the

balustrade

overlooking

this

gallery

,

I

gazed

down

into

it

,

and

for

a

moment

could

see

nothing

on

the

polished

floor

but

the

criss-cross

patterns

made

by

the

moonlight

falling

through

the

great

window

--

but

presently

,

as

I

watched

breathlessly

,

wondering

where

Sibyl

could

have

gone

to

at

this

time

of

night

,

I

saw

a

dark

tall

Shadow

waver

across

the

moonlit

network

of

lines

,

and

I

heard

the

smothered

sound

of

voices

.

With

my

pulses

beating

furiously

,

and

a

sensation

of

suffocation

in

my

throat

--

full

of

strange

thoughts

and

suspicions

which

I

dared

not

define

,

I

crept

slowly

and

stealthily

down

the

stair

,

till

as

my

foot

touched

the

last

step

I

saw

--

what

nearly

struck

me

to

the

ground

with

a

shock

of

agony

--

and

I

had

to

draw

back

and

bite

my

lips

hard

to

repress

the

cry

that

nearly

escaped

them

.

There

--

there

before

me

in

the

full

moonlight

,

with

the

colours

of

the

red

and

blue

robes

of

the

painted

saints

on

the

window

glowing

blood-like

and

azure

about

her

,

knelt

my

wife

--

arrayed

in

a

diaphanous

garment

of

filmy

white

which

betrayed

rather

than

concealed

the

outline

of

her

form

--

her

wealth

of

hair

falling

about

her

in

wild

disorder

--

her

hands

clasped

in

supplication

--

her

pale

face

upturned

;

and

above

her

towered

the

dark

imposing

figure

of

Lucio

!

I

stared

at

the

twain

with

dry

burning

eyes

--

what

did

this

portend

?

Was

she

--

my

wife

--

false

?

Was

he

--

my

friend

--

a

traitor

?

"

Patience

--

--

patience

!

--

--

"

I

muttered

to

myself

--

"

This

is

a

piece

of

acting

doubtless

--

--

such

as

chanced

the

other

night

with

Mavis

Clare

!

--

--

patience

!

--

--

let

us

hear

this

--

--

this

comedy

!

"

And

,

drawing

myself

close

up

against

the

wall

,

I

leaned

there

,

scarcely

drawing

breath

,

waiting

for

her

voice

--

for

his

;

--

when

they

spoke

I

should

know

--

--

yes

,

I

should

know

all

!

And

I

fastened

my

looks

on

them

as

they

stood

there

--

vaguely

wondering

even

in

my

tense

anguish

,

at

the

fearful

light

on

Lucio

's

face

--

a

light

which

could

scarcely

be

the

reflection

of

the

moon

,

as

he

backed

the

window

--

and

at

the

scorn

of

his

frowning

brows

.

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What

terrific

humour

swayed

him

?

--

why

did

he

,

even

to

my

stupefied

thought

appear

more

than

human

?

--

why

did

his

very

beauty

seem

hideous

at

that

moment

,

and

his

aspect

fiendish

?

Hush

--

hush

!

She

spoke

--

my

wife

--

I

heard

her

every

word

--

heard

all

and

endured

all

,

without

falling

dead

at

her

feet

in

the

extremity

of

my

dishonour

and

despair

!

"

I

love

you

!

"

she

wailed

--

"

Lucio

,

I

love

you

,

and

my

love

is

killing

me

!

Be

merciful

!

--

have

pity

on

my

passion

!

--

love

me

for

one

hour

,

one

little

hour

!

--

it

is

not

much

to

ask

,

and

afterwards

--

do

with

me

what

you

will

--

torture

me

,

brand

me

an

outcast

in

the

public

sight

,

curse

me

before

Heaven

--

I

care

nothing

--

I

am

yours

body

and

soul

--

I

love

you

!

"

Her

accents

vibrated

with

mad

idolatrous

pleading

--

I

listened

infuriated

,

but

dumb

.

"

Hush

--

hush

!

"

I

told

myself

"

This

is

a

comedy

--

not

yet

played

out

!

"

And

I

waited

,

with

every

nerve

strained

,

for

Lucio

's

reply

.

It

came

,

accompanied

by

a

laugh

,

low

and

sarcastic

.

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