Zanoni — Edward Bulwer-Lytton
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with a shriek to the ground, cold and lifeless. With difficulty, and not until after the most earnest prayers, did she answer the agonized questions of Glyndon; at last she owned that at that hour, and that hour alone, wherever she was placed, however occupied, she distinctly beheld the apparition of an old hag, who, after thrice knocking at the door, entered the room, and hobbling up to her with a countenance distorted by hideous rage and menace, laid its icy fingers on her forehead: from that moment she declared that sense forsook her; and when she woke again, it was only to wait, in suspense that froze up her blood, the repetition of the ghastly visitation. The physician who had been summoned before Glyndon’s return, and whose letter had recalled him to London, was a commonplace practitioner, ignorant of the case, and honestly anxious that one more experienced should be employed. Clarence called in one of the most eminent of the faculty, and to him he recited the optical delusion of his sister. The physician listened attentively, and seemed sanguine in his hopes of cure, He came to the house two hours before the one so dreaded by the patient. He had quietly arranged that the clocks should be put forward half an hour, unknown to Adela, and even to her brother. He wasa man of the most extraordinary powers of conversation, of surpassing wit, of all the faculties that interest and amuse. He first administered to the patient a harmless potion, which he pledged himself would dispel the delusion. His confident tone woke her own hopes, — he continued to excite her attention, to rouse her lethargy; he jested, he laughed away the time. The hour struck. “Joy, my brother!” she exclaimed, throwing herself in his arms; “ the time is past!” And then, like one released
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from a spell, she suddenly assumed more than her ancient cheerfulness. “ Ah, Clarence! ” she whispered, “forgive me for my former desertion, — forgive me that I feared you. I shall live! —I shall live! in my turn to banish the spectre that haunts my brother!” And Clarence smiled and wiped the tears from his burning eyes. The physician renewed his stories, his jests. In the midst of a stream of rich humor that seemed to carry away both brother and sister, Glyndon suddenly saw over Adela’s face the same fearful change, the same anxious look, the same restless, straining eye, he had beheld the night before. He rose, — he approached her. Adela started up. “ Look — look — look!” she exclaimed. “She comes! Save me, — save me!” and she fell at his feet in strong convulsions; as the clock, falsely and in vain put forward, struck the half-hour. The physician lifted her in his arms. “ My worst fears are confirmed,” he said gravely; “the disease is epilepsy.” 2 The next night, at the same hour, Adela Glyndon died.
1 The most celebrated practitioner in Dublin elated to the editor a story of optical delusion precisely similar in its cireumstances and its physical cause to the one here narrated.
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CHAPTER VI.
La loi, dont le regne vous épouvante, a son glaive levé sur vous: elle yous frappera tous: le genre humain a besoin de cet exemple.! — CouTHon.
“On, joy, joy!—thou art come again! This is thy hand — these thy lips. Say that thou didst not desert me from the love of another; say it again,— say it ever! —and I will pardon thee all the rest! ” “So thou hast mourned for me?” “ Mourned!— and thou wert cruel enough to leave me gold; there it is,— there, untouched!” “Poor child of Nature! how, then, in this strange town of Marseilles, hast thou found bread and shelter?” “ Honestly, soul of my soul! honestly, but yet by the face thou didst once think so fair; thinkest thou that now ¢” “Yes, Fillide, more fair than ever. But what meanest thou?” “There is a painter here —a great man, one of their great men at Paris, I know not what they call them; but he rules over all here, — life and death; and he has paid me largely but to sit for my portrait. It is fora picture to be given to the Nation, for he paints only for glory. Think of thy Fillide’s renown!” And the girl’s wild eyes sparkled; her vanity was roused. . The law, whose reign terrifies you, has its sword raised against you; it will strike you all: humanity has need of this example. 24
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p. 367
with a shriek to the ground, cold and lifeless. With difficulty, and not until after the most earnest prayers, did she answer the agonized questions of Glyndon; at last she owned that at that hour, and that hour alone, wherever she was placed, however occupied, she distinctly beheld the apparition of an old hag, who, after thrice knocking at the door, entered the room, and hobbling up to her with a countenance distorted by hideous rage and menace, laid its icy fingers on her forehead: from that moment she declared that sense forsook her; and when she woke again, it was only to wait, in suspense that froze up her blood, the repetition of the ghastly visitation. The physician who had been summoned before Glyndon’s return, and whose letter had recalled him to London, was a commonplace practitioner, ignorant of the case, and honestly anxious that one more experienced should be employed. Clarence called in one of the most eminent of the faculty, and to him he recited the optical delusion of his sister. The physician listened attentively, and seemed sanguine in his hopes of cure, He came to the house two hours before the one so dreaded by the patient. He had quietly arranged that the clocks should be put forward half an hour, unknown to Adela, and even to her brother. He wasa man of the most extraordinary powers of conversation, of surpassing wit, of all the faculties that interest and amuse. He first administered to the patient a harmless potion, which he pledged himself would dispel the delusion. His confident tone woke her own hopes, — he continued to excite her attention, to rouse her lethargy; he jested, he laughed away the time. The hour struck. “Joy, my brother!” she exclaimed, throwing herself in his arms; “ the time is past!” And then, like one released
Ve
p. 368
from a spell, she suddenly assumed more than her ancient cheerfulness. “ Ah, Clarence! ” she whispered, “forgive me for my former desertion, — forgive me that I feared you. I shall live! —I shall live! in my turn to banish the spectre that haunts my brother!” And Clarence smiled and wiped the tears from his burning eyes. The physician renewed his stories, his jests. In the midst of a stream of rich humor that seemed to carry away both brother and sister, Glyndon suddenly saw over Adela’s face the same fearful change, the same anxious look, the same restless, straining eye, he had beheld the night before. He rose, — he approached her. Adela started up. “ Look — look — look!” she exclaimed. “She comes! Save me, — save me!” and she fell at his feet in strong convulsions; as the clock, falsely and in vain put forward, struck the half-hour. The physician lifted her in his arms. “ My worst fears are confirmed,” he said gravely; “the disease is epilepsy.” 2 The next night, at the same hour, Adela Glyndon died.
1 The most celebrated practitioner in Dublin elated to the editor a story of optical delusion precisely similar in its cireumstances and its physical cause to the one here narrated.
p. 369
CHAPTER VI.
La loi, dont le regne vous épouvante, a son glaive levé sur vous: elle yous frappera tous: le genre humain a besoin de cet exemple.! — CouTHon.
“On, joy, joy!—you are come again! This is your hand — these your lips. Say that you did not desert me from the love of another; say it again,— say it ever! —and I will pardon you all the rest! ” “So you have mourned for me?” “ Mourned!— and you were cruel enough to leave me gold; there it is,— there, untouched!” “Poor child of Nature! how, then, in this strange town of Marseilles, have you found bread and shelter?” “ Honestly, soul of my soul! honestly, but yet by the face you did once think so fair; think you that now ¢” “Yes, Fillide, more fair than ever. But what meanest you?” “There is a painter here —a great man, one of their great men at Paris, I know not what they call them; but he rules over all here, — life and death; and he has paid me largely but to sit for my portrait. It is fora picture to be given to the Nation, for he paints only for glory. Think of your Fillide’s renown!” And the girl’s wild eyes sparkled; her vanity was roused. . The law, whose reign terrifies you, has its sword raised against you; it will strike you all: humanity has need of this example. 24
p. 370
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