Скорбь сатаны/The Tribulation of Satan (Мари Корелли). Страница 73 из 279

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"

You

would

have

cause

to

rejoice

!

"

I

said

.

He

moved

two

paces

towards

me

,

and

laid

his

hands

gently

on

my

shoulders

.

"

No

,

Geoffrey

"

--

and

his

rich

voice

had

a

strange

soft

music

in

it

--

"

No

,

my

friend

!

If

I

were

Satan

I

should

probably

lament

!

--

for

every

lost

soul

would

of

necessity

remind

me

of

my

own

fall

,

my

own

despair

--

and

set

another

bar

between

myself

and

heaven

!

Remember

--

the

very

Devil

was

an

Angel

once

!

"

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His

eyes

smiled

,

and

yet

I

could

have

sworn

there

were

tears

in

them

.

I

wrung

his

hand

hard

--

I

felt

that

notwithstanding

his

assumed

coldness

and

cynicism

,

the

fate

of

young

Lynton

had

affected

him

profoundly

.

My

liking

for

him

gained

new

fervour

from

this

impression

,

and

I

went

to

bed

more

at

ease

with

myself

and

things

in

general

.

During

the

few

minutes

I

spent

in

undressing

I

became

even

able

to

contemplate

the

tragedy

of

the

evening

with

less

regret

and

greater

calmness

--

for

it

was

certainly

no

use

worrying

over

the

irrevocable

--

and

,

after

all

,

what

interest

had

the

Viscount

's

life

for

me

?

None

.

I

began

to

ridicule

myself

for

my

own

weakness

and

disinterested

emotion

--

and

presently

,

being

thoroughly

fatigued

,

fell

sound

asleep

.

Towards

morning

however

,

perhaps

about

four

or

five

o'clock

,

I

woke

suddenly

as

though

touched

by

an

invisible

hand

.

I

was

shivering

violently

,

and

my

body

was

bathed

in

a

cold

perspiration

.

In

the

otherwise

dark

room

there

was

something

strangely

luminous

,

like

a

cloud

of

white

smoke

or

fire

.

I

started

up

,

rubbing

my

eyes

--

and

stared

before

me

for

a

moment

,

doubting

the

evidence

of

my

own

senses

.

For

,

plainly

visible

and

substantially

distinct

,

at

a

distance

of

perhaps

five

paces

from

my

bed

,

stood

three

Figures

,

muffled

in

dark

garments

and

closely

hooded

.

So

solemnly

inert

they

were

--

so

heavily

did

their

sable

draperies

fall

about

them

that

it

was

impossible

to

tell

whether

they

were

men

or

women

--

but

what

paralysed

me

with

amazement

and

terror

was

the

strange

light

that

played

around

and

above

them

--

the

spectral

,

wandering

,

chill

radiance

that

illumined

them

like

the

rays

of

a

faint

wintry

moon

.

I

strove

to

cry

out

--

but

my

tongue

refused

to

obey

me

--

and

my

voice

was

strangled

in

my

throat

.

The

Three

remained

absolutely

motionless

--

and

again

I

rubbed

my

eyes

,

wondering

if

this

were

a

dream

or

some

hideous

optical

delusion

.

Trembling

in

every

limb

,

I

stretched

my

hand

towards

the

bell

intending

to

ring

violently

for

assistance

--

when

--

a

Voice

,

low

and

thrilling

with

intense

anguish

,

caused

me

to

shrink

back

appalled

,

and

my

arm

fell

nerveless

at

my

side

.

"

Misery

!

"

The

word

struck

the

air

with

a

harsh

reproachful

clang

,

and

I

nearly

swooned

with

the

horror

of

it

.

For

now

one

of

the

Figures

moved

,

and

a

face

gleamed

out

from

beneath

its

hooded

wrappings

--

a

face

white

as

whitest

marble

and

fixed

into

such

an

expression

of

dreadful

despair

as

froze

my

blood

.

Then

came

a

deep

sigh

that

was

more

like

a

death-groan

,

and

again

the

word

,

"

Misery

!

"

shuddered

upon

the

silence

.

Mad

with

fear

,

and

scarcely

knowing

what

I

did

,

I

sprang

from

the

bed

,

and

began

desperately

to

advance

upon

these

fantastic

masqueraders

,

determined

to

seize

them

and

demand

the

meaning

of

this

practical

and

untimely

jest

--

when

suddenly

all

Three

lifted

their

heads

and

turned

their

faces

on

me

--

such

faces

!

--

indescribably

awful

in

their

pallid

agony

--

and

a

whisper

more

ghastly

than

a

shriek

,

penetrated

the

very

fibres

of

my

consciousness

--

"

Misery

!

"

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With

a

furious

bound

I

flung

myself

upon

them

--

my

hands

struck

empty

space

.

Yet

there

--

distinct

as

ever

--

they

stood

,

glowering

down

upon

me

,

while

my

clenched

fists

beat

impotently

through

and

beyond

their

seemingly

corporeal

shapes

!

And

then

--

all

at

once

--

I

became

aware

of

their

eyes

--

eyes

that

watched

me

pitilessly

,

stedfastly

,

and

disdainfully

--

eyes

that

like

witch-fires

,

seemed

to

slowly

burn

terrific

meanings

into

my

very

flesh

and

spirit

.

Convulsed

and

almost

frantic

with

the

strain

on

my

nerves

,

I

abandoned

myself

to

despair

--

this

awful

sight

meant

death

I

thought

--

my

last

hour

had

surely

come

!

Then

--

I

saw

the

lips

of

one

of

those

dreadful

faces

move

...

some

superhuman

instinct

in

me

leaped

to

life

,

...

in

some

strange

way

I

thought

I

knew

,

or

guessed

the

horror

of

what

that

next

utterance

would

be

,

...

and

with

all

my

remaining

force

I

cried

out

--

"

No

!

No

!

Not

that

eternal

Doom

!

.

.

Not

yet

!

"

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