【英文短篇小说】THE MONKEY'S PAW（3）

 

 
Chapter III.
 
IN the huge new cemetery 1, some two miles distant, the old people buried their dead, and came back to a house steeped in shadow and silence. It was all over so quickly that at first they could hardly realize it, and remained in a state of expectation as though of something else to happen--something else which was to lighten this load, too heavy for old hearts to bear.
 
But the days passed, and expectation gave place to resignation--the hopeless resignation of the old, sometimes miscalled, apathy 2. Sometimes they hardly exchanged a word, for now they had nothing to talk about, and their days were long to weariness.
 
It was about a week after that that the old man, waking suddenly in the night, stretched out his hand and found himself alone. The room was in darkness, and the sound of subdued 3 weeping came from the window. He raised himself in bed and listened.
 
"Come back," he said tenderly. "You will be cold."
 
"It is colder for my son," said the old woman, and wept afresh.
 
The sound of her sobs 4 died away on his ears. The bed was warm, and his eyes heavy with sleep. He dozed 5 fitfully, and then slept until a sudden wild cry from his wife awoke him with a start.
 
"The paw!" she cried wildly. "The monkey's paw!"
 
He started up in alarm. "Where? Where is it? What's the matter?"
 
She came stumbling across the room toward him. "I want it," she said quietly. "You've not destroyed it?"
 
"It's in the parlour, on the bracket," he replied, marvelling 6. "Why?"
 
She cried and laughed together, and bending over, kissed his cheek.
 
"I only just thought of it," she said hysterically 7. "Why didn't I think of it before? Why didn't you think of it?"
 
"Think of what?" he questioned.
 
"The other two wishes," she replied rapidly. "We've only had one."
 
"Was not that enough?" he demanded fiercely.
 
"No," she cried, triumphantly 8; "we'll have one more. Go down and get it quickly, and wish our boy alive again."
 
The man sat up in bed and flung the bedclothes from his quaking limbs. "Good God, you are mad!" he cried aghast.
 
"Get it," she panted; "get it quickly, and wish---- Oh, my boy, my boy!"
 
Her husband struck a match and lit the candle. "Get back to bed," he said, unsteadily. "You don't know what you are saying."
 
"We had the first wish granted," said the old woman, feverishly 9; "why not the second."
 
"A coincidence," stammered 10 the old man.
 
"Go and get it and wish," cried the old woman, quivering with excitement.
 
The old man turned and regarded her, and his voice shook. "He has been dead ten days, and besides he--I would not tell you else, but--I could only recognize him by his clothing. If he was too terrible for you to see then, how now?"
 
"Bring him back," cried the old woman, and dragged him toward the door. "Do you think I fear the child I have nursed?"
 
He went down in the darkness, and felt his way to the parlour, and then to the mantelpiece. The talisman 11 was in its place, and a horrible fear that the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before him ere he could escape from the room seized upon him, and he caught his breath as he found that he had lost the direction of the door. His brow cold with sweat, he felt his way round the table, and groped along the wall until he found himself in the small passage with the unwholesome thing in his hand.
 
Even his wife's face seemed changed as he entered the room. It was white and expectant, and to his fears seemed to have an unnatural 13 look upon it. He was afraid of her.
 
"Wish!" she cried, in a strong voice.
 
"It is foolish and wicked," he faltered 14.
 
"Wish!" repeated his wife.
 
He raised his hand. "I wish my son alive again."
 
The talisman fell to the floor, and he regarded it fearfully. Then he sank trembling into a chair as the old woman, with burning eyes, walked to the window and raised the blind.
 
He sat until he was chilled with the cold, glancing occasionally at the figure of the old woman peering through the window. The candle end, which had burnt below the rim 15 of the china candlestick, was throwing pulsating 16 shadows on the ceiling and walls, until, with a flicker 17 larger than the rest, it expired. The old man, with an unspeakable sense of relief at the failure of the talisman, crept back to his bed, and a minute or two afterward 18 the old woman came silently and apathetically 19 beside him.
 
Neither spoke 12, but both lay silently listening to the ticking of the clock. A stair creaked, and a squeaky mouse scurried 20 noisily through the wall. The darkness was oppressive, and after lying for some time screwing up his courage, the husband took the box of matches, and striking one, went downstairs for a candle.
 
At the foot of the stairs the match went out, and he paused to strike another, and at the same moment a knock, so quiet and stealthy as to be scarcely audible, sounded on the front door.
 
The matches fell from his hand. He stood motionless, his breath suspended until the knock was repeated. Then he turned and fled swiftly back to his room, and closed the door behind him. A third knock sounded through the house.
 
"What's that?" cried the old woman, starting up.
 
"A rat," said the old man, in shaking tones--"a rat. It passed me on the stairs."
 
His wife sat up in bed listening. A loud knock resounded 21 through the house.
 
"It's Herbert!" she screamed. "It's Herbert!"
 
She ran to the door, but her husband was before her, and catching 22 her by the arm, held her tightly.
 
"What are you going to do?" he whispered hoarsely 23.
 
"It's my boy; it's Herbert!" she cried, struggling mechanically. "I forgot it was two miles away. What are you holding me for? Let go. I must open the door."
 
"For God's sake, don't let it in," cried the old man trembling.
 
"You're afraid of your own son," she cried, struggling. "Let me go. I'm coming, Herbert; I'm coming."
 
There was another knock, and another. The old woman with a sudden wrench 24 broke free and ran from the room. Her husband followed to the landing, and called after her appealingly as she hurried downstairs. He heard the chain rattle 25 back and the bottom bolt drawn 26 slowly and stiffly from the socket 27. Then the old woman's voice, strained and panting.
 
"The bolt," she cried loudly. "Come down. I can't reach it."
 
But her husband was on his hands and knees groping wildly on the floor in search of the paw. If he could only find it before the thing outside got in. A perfect fusillade of knocks reverberated 28 through the house, and he heard the scraping of a chair as his wife put it down in the passage against the door. He heard the creaking of the bolt as it came slowly back, and at the same moment he found the monkey's paw, and frantically 29 breathed his third and last wish.
 
The knocking ceased suddenly, although the echoes of it were still in the house. He heard the chair drawn back and the door opened. A cold wind rushed up the staircase, and a long loud wail 30 of disappointment and misery 31 from his wife gave him courage to run down to her side, and then to the gate beyond. The street lamp flickering 32 opposite shone on a quiet and deserted 33 road.
 
(End.)