Мхи старой усадьбы/Mosses of the old manor (Натаниэль Хоторн). Страница 59 из 106

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At

last

the

old

witch

clinched

her

fist

and

shook

it

at

the

figure

.

Not

that

she

was

positively

angry

,

but

merely

acting

on

the

principle

—

perhaps

untrue

,

or

not

the

only

truth

,

though

as

high

a

one

as

Mother

Rigby

could

be

expected

to

attain

—

that

feeble

and

torpid

natures

,

being

incapable

of

better

inspiration

,

must

be

stirred

up

by

fear

.

But

here

was

the

crisis

.

Should

she

fail

in

what

she

now

sought

to

effect

,

it

was

her

ruthless

purpose

to

scatter

the

miserable

simulacre

into

its

original

elements

.

"

Thou

hast

a

man

’

s

aspect

,

"

said

she

,

sternly

.

"

Have

also

the

echo

and

mockery

of

a

voice

!

I

bid

thee

speak

!

"

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The

scarecrow

gasped

,

struggled

,

and

at

length

emitted

a

murmur

,

which

was

so

incorporated

with

its

smoky

breath

that

you

could

scarcely

tell

whether

it

were

indeed

a

voice

or

only

a

whiff

of

tobacco

.

Some

narrators

of

this

legend

hold

the

opinion

that

Mother

Rigby

’

s

conjurations

and

the

fierceness

of

her

will

had

compelled

a

familiar

spirit

into

the

figure

,

and

that

the

voice

was

his

.

"

Mother

,

"

mumbled

the

poor

stifled

voice

,

"

be

not

so

awful

with

me

!

I

would

fain

speak

;

but

being

without

wits

,

what

can

I

say

?

"

"

Thou

canst

speak

,

darling

,

canst

thou

?

"

cried

Mother

Rigby

,

relaxing

her

grim

countenance

into

a

smile

.

"

And

what

shalt

thou

say

,

quoth

-

a

!

Say

,

indeed

!

Art

thou

of

the

brotherhood

of

the

empty

skull

,

and

demandest

of

me

what

thou

shalt

say

?

Thou

shalt

say

a

thousand

things

,

and

saying

them

a

thousand

times

over

,

thou

shalt

still

have

said

nothing

!

Be

not

afraid

,

I

tell

thee

!

When

thou

comest

into

the

world

(

whither

I

purpose

sending

thee

forthwith

)

thou

shalt

not

lack

the

wherewithal

to

talk

.

Talk

!

Why

,

thou

shall

babble

like

a

mill

-

stream

,

if

thou

wilt

.

Thou

hast

brains

enough

for

that

,

I

trow

!

"

"

At

your

service

,

mother

,

"

responded

the

figure

.

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"

And

that

was

well

said

,

my

pretty

one

,

"

answered

Mother

Rigby

.

"

Then

thou

speakest

like

thyself

,

and

meant

nothing

.

Thou

shalt

have

a

hundred

such

set

phrases

,

and

five

hundred

to

the

boot

of

them

.

And

now

,

darling

,

I

have

taken

so

much

pains

with

thee

and

thou

art

so

beautiful

,

that

,

by

my

troth

,

I

love

thee

better

than

any

witch

’

s

puppet

in

the

world

;

and

I

’

ve

made

them

of

all

sorts

—

clay

,

wax

,

straw

,

sticks

,

night

fog

,

morning

mist

,

sea

foam

,

and

chimney

smoke

.

But

thou

art

the

very

best

.

So

give

heed

to

what

I

say

.

"

"

Yes

,

kind

mother

,

"

said

the

figure

,

"

with

all

my

heart

!

"

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