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diff --git a/924-0.txt b/924-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..65d3395 --- /dev/null +++ b/924-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,918 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, To be Read at Dusk, by Charles Dickens + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: To be Read at Dusk + + +Author: Charles Dickens + + + +Release Date: January 11, 2015 [eBook #924] +[This file was first posted on May 30, 1997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TO BE READ AT DUSK*** + + +Transcribed from the 1905 Chapman & Hall edition (_The Works of Charles +Dickens_, volume 28) by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: Book cover] + + + + + + TO BE READ AT DUSK + + + * * * * * + + By CHARLES DICKENS + + * * * * * + + LONDON: CHAPMAN & HALL, LD. + NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS + 1905 + + * * * * * + +ONE, two, three, four, five. There were five of them. + +Five couriers, sitting on a bench outside the convent on the summit of +the Great St. Bernard in Switzerland, looking at the remote heights, +stained by the setting sun as if a mighty quantity of red wine had been +broached upon the mountain top, and had not yet had time to sink into the +snow. + +This is not my simile. It was made for the occasion by the stoutest +courier, who was a German. None of the others took any more notice of it +than they took of me, sitting on another bench on the other side of the +convent door, smoking my cigar, like them, and—also like them—looking at +the reddened snow, and at the lonely shed hard by, where the bodies of +belated travellers, dug out of it, slowly wither away, knowing no +corruption in that cold region. + +The wine upon the mountain top soaked in as we looked; the mountain +became white; the sky, a very dark blue; the wind rose; and the air +turned piercing cold. The five couriers buttoned their rough coats. +There being no safer man to imitate in all such proceedings than a +courier, I buttoned mine. + +The mountain in the sunset had stopped the five couriers in a +conversation. It is a sublime sight, likely to stop conversation. The +mountain being now out of the sunset, they resumed. Not that I had heard +any part of their previous discourse; for indeed, I had not then broken +away from the American gentleman, in the travellers’ parlour of the +convent, who, sitting with his face to the fire, had undertaken to +realise to me the whole progress of events which had led to the +accumulation by the Honourable Ananias Dodger of one of the largest +acquisitions of dollars ever made in our country. + +‘My God!’ said the Swiss courier, speaking in French, which I do not hold +(as some authors appear to do) to be such an all-sufficient excuse for a +naughty word, that I have only to write it in that language to make it +innocent; ‘if you talk of ghosts—’ + +‘But I _don’t_ talk of ghosts,’ said the German. + +‘Of what then?’ asked the Swiss. + +‘If I knew of what then,’ said the German, ‘I should probably know a +great deal more.’ + +It was a good answer, I thought, and it made me curious. So, I moved my +position to that corner of my bench which was nearest to them, and +leaning my back against the convent wall, heard perfectly, without +appearing to attend. + +‘Thunder and lightning!’ said the German, warming, ‘when a certain man is +coming to see you, unexpectedly; and, without his own knowledge, sends +some invisible messenger, to put the idea of him into your head all day, +what do you call that? When you walk along a crowded street—at +Frankfort, Milan, London, Paris—and think that a passing stranger is like +your friend Heinrich, and then that another passing stranger is like your +friend Heinrich, and so begin to have a strange foreknowledge that +presently you’ll meet your friend Heinrich—which you do, though you +believed him at Trieste—what do you call _that_?’ + +‘It’s not uncommon, either,’ murmured the Swiss and the other three. + +‘Uncommon!’ said the German. ‘It’s as common as cherries in the Black +Forest. It’s as common as maccaroni at Naples. And Naples reminds me! +When the old Marchesa Senzanima shrieks at a card-party on the Chiaja—as +I heard and saw her, for it happened in a Bavarian family of mine, and I +was overlooking the service that evening—I say, when the old Marchesa +starts up at the card-table, white through her rouge, and cries, “My +sister in Spain is dead! I felt her cold touch on my back!”—and when +that sister _is_ dead at the moment—what do you call that?’ + +‘Or when the blood of San Gennaro liquefies at the request of the +clergy—as all the world knows that it does regularly once a-year, in my +native city,’ said the Neapolitan courier after a pause, with a comical +look, ‘what do you call that?’ + +‘_That_!’ cried the German. ‘Well, I think I know a name for that.’ + +‘Miracle?’ said the Neapolitan, with the same sly face. + +The German merely smoked and laughed; and they all smoked and laughed. + +‘Bah!’ said the German, presently. ‘I speak of things that really do +happen. When I want to see the conjurer, I pay to see a professed one, +and have my money’s worth. Very strange things do happen without ghosts. +Ghosts! Giovanni Baptista, tell your story of the English bride. +There’s no ghost in that, but something full as strange. Will any man +tell me what?’ + +As there was a silence among them, I glanced around. He whom I took to +be Baptista was lighting a fresh cigar. He presently went on to speak. +He was a Genoese, as I judged. + +‘The story of the English bride?’ said he. ‘Basta! one ought not to call +so slight a thing a story. Well, it’s all one. But it’s true. Observe +me well, gentlemen, it’s true. That which glitters is not always gold; +but what I am going to tell, is true.’ + +He repeated this more than once. + + * * * * * + +Ten years ago, I took my credentials to an English gentleman at Long’s +Hotel, in Bond Street, London, who was about to travel—it might be for +one year, it might be for two. He approved of them; likewise of me. He +was pleased to make inquiry. The testimony that he received was +favourable. He engaged me by the six months, and my entertainment was +generous. + +He was young, handsome, very happy. He was enamoured of a fair young +English lady, with a sufficient fortune, and they were going to be +married. It was the wedding-trip, in short, that we were going to take. +For three months’ rest in the hot weather (it was early summer then) he +had hired an old place on the Riviera, at an easy distance from my city, +Genoa, on the road to Nice. Did I know that place? Yes; I told him I +knew it well. It was an old palace with great gardens. It was a little +bare, and it was a little dark and gloomy, being close surrounded by +trees; but it was spacious, ancient, grand, and on the seashore. He said +it had been so described to him exactly, and he was well pleased that I +knew it. For its being a little bare of furniture, all such places were. +For its being a little gloomy, he had hired it principally for the +gardens, and he and my mistress would pass the summer weather in their +shade. + +‘So all goes well, Baptista?’ said he. + +‘Indubitably, signore; very well.’ + +We had a travelling chariot for our journey, newly built for us, and in +all respects complete. All we had was complete; we wanted for nothing. +The marriage took place. They were happy. I was happy, seeing all so +bright, being so well situated, going to my own city, teaching my +language in the rumble to the maid, la bella Carolina, whose heart was +gay with laughter: who was young and rosy. + +The time flew. But I observed—listen to this, I pray! (and here the +courier dropped his voice)—I observed my mistress sometimes brooding in a +manner very strange; in a frightened manner; in an unhappy manner; with a +cloudy, uncertain alarm upon her. I think that I began to notice this +when I was walking up hills by the carriage side, and master had gone on +in front. At any rate, I remember that it impressed itself upon my mind +one evening in the South of France, when she called to me to call master +back; and when he came back, and walked for a long way, talking +encouragingly and affectionately to her, with his hand upon the open +window, and hers in it. Now and then, he laughed in a merry way, as if +he were bantering her out of something. By-and-by, she laughed, and then +all went well again. + +It was curious. I asked la bella Carolina, the pretty little one, Was +mistress unwell?—No.—Out of spirits?—No.—Fearful of bad roads, or +brigands?—No. And what made it more mysterious was, the pretty little +one would not look at me in giving answer, but _would_ look at the view. + +But, one day she told me the secret. + +‘If you must know,’ said Carolina, ‘I find, from what I have overheard, +that mistress is haunted.’ + +‘How haunted?’ + +‘By a dream.’ + +‘What dream?’ + +‘By a dream of a face. For three nights before her marriage, she saw a +face in a dream—always the same face, and only One.’ + +‘A terrible face?’ + +‘No. The face of a dark, remarkable-looking man, in black, with black +hair and a grey moustache—a handsome man except for a reserved and secret +air. Not a face she ever saw, or at all like a face she ever saw. Doing +nothing in the dream but looking at her fixedly, out of darkness.’ + +‘Does the dream come back?’ + +‘Never. The recollection of it is all her trouble.’ + +‘And why does it trouble her?’ + +Carolina shook her head. + +‘That’s master’s question,’ said la bella. ‘She don’t know. She wonders +why, herself. But I heard her tell him, only last night, that if she was +to find a picture of that face in our Italian house (which she is afraid +she will) she did not know how she could ever bear it.’ + +Upon my word I was fearful after this (said the Genoese courier) of our +coming to the old palazzo, lest some such ill-starred picture should +happen to be there. I knew there were many there; and, as we got nearer +and nearer to the place, I wished the whole gallery in the crater of +Vesuvius. To mend the matter, it was a stormy dismal evening when we, at +last, approached that part of the Riviera. It thundered; and the thunder +of my city and its environs, rolling among the high hills, is very loud. +The lizards ran in and out of the chinks in the broken stone wall of the +garden, as if they were frightened; the frogs bubbled and croaked their +loudest; the sea-wind moaned, and the wet trees dripped; and the +lightning—body of San Lorenzo, how it lightened! + +We all know what an old palace in or near Genoa is—how time and the sea +air have blotted it—how the drapery painted on the outer walls has peeled +off in great flakes of plaster—how the lower windows are darkened with +rusty bars of iron—how the courtyard is overgrown with grass—how the +outer buildings are dilapidated—how the whole pile seems devoted to ruin. +Our palazzo was one of the true kind. It had been shut up close for +months. Months?—years!—it had an earthy smell, like a tomb. The scent +of the orange trees on the broad back terrace, and of the lemons ripening +on the wall, and of some shrubs that grew around a broken fountain, had +got into the house somehow, and had never been able to get out again. +There was, in every room, an aged smell, grown faint with confinement. +It pined in all the cupboards and drawers. In the little rooms of +communication between great rooms, it was stifling. If you turned a +picture—to come back to the pictures—there it still was, clinging to the +wall behind the frame, like a sort of bat. + +The lattice-blinds were close shut, all over the house. There were two +ugly, grey old women in the house, to take care of it; one of them with a +spindle, who stood winding and mumbling in the doorway, and who would as +soon have let in the devil as the air. Master, mistress, la bella +Carolina, and I, went all through the palazzo. I went first, though I +have named myself last, opening the windows and the lattice-blinds, and +shaking down on myself splashes of rain, and scraps of mortar, and now +and then a dozing mosquito, or a monstrous, fat, blotchy, Genoese spider. + +When I had let the evening light into a room, master, mistress, and la +bella Carolina, entered. Then, we looked round at all the pictures, and +I went forward again into another room. Mistress secretly had great fear +of meeting with the likeness of that face—we all had; but there was no +such thing. The Madonna and Bambino, San Francisco, San Sebastiano, +Venus, Santa Caterina, Angels, Brigands, Friars, Temples at Sunset, +Battles, White Horses, Forests, Apostles, Doges, all my old acquaintances +many times repeated?—yes. Dark, handsome man in black, reserved and +secret, with black hair and grey moustache, looking fixedly at mistress +out of darkness?—no. + +At last we got through all the rooms and all the pictures, and came out +into the gardens. They were pretty well kept, being rented by a +gardener, and were large and shady. In one place there was a rustic +theatre, open to the sky; the stage a green slope; the coulisses, three +entrances upon a side, sweet-smelling leafy screens. Mistress moved her +bright eyes, even there, as if she looked to see the face come in upon +the scene; but all was well. + +‘Now, Clara,’ master said, in a low voice, ‘you see that it is nothing? +You are happy.’ + +Mistress was much encouraged. She soon accustomed herself to that grim +palazzo, and would sing, and play the harp, and copy the old pictures, +and stroll with master under the green trees and vines all day. She was +beautiful. He was happy. He would laugh and say to me, mounting his +horse for his morning ride before the heat: + +‘All goes well, Baptista!’ + +‘Yes, signore, thank God, very well.’ + +We kept no company. I took la bella to the Duomo and Annunciata, to the +Café, to the Opera, to the village Festa, to the Public Garden, to the +Day Theatre, to the Marionetti. The pretty little one was charmed with +all she saw. She learnt Italian—heavens! miraculously! Was mistress +quite forgetful of that dream? I asked Carolina sometimes. Nearly, said +la bella—almost. It was wearing out. + +One day master received a letter, and called me. + +‘Baptista!’ + +‘Signore!’ + +‘A gentleman who is presented to me will dine here to-day. He is called +the Signor Dellombra. Let me dine like a prince.’ + +It was an odd name. I did not know that name. But, there had been many +noblemen and gentlemen pursued by Austria on political suspicions, +lately, and some names had changed. Perhaps this was one. Altro! +Dellombra was as good a name to me as another. + +When the Signor Dellombra came to dinner (said the Genoese courier in the +low voice, into which he had subsided once before), I showed him into the +reception-room, the great sala of the old palazzo. Master received him +with cordiality, and presented him to mistress. As she rose, her face +changed, she gave a cry, and fell upon the marble floor. + +Then, I turned my head to the Signor Dellombra, and saw that he was +dressed in black, and had a reserved and secret air, and was a dark, +remarkable-looking man, with black hair and a grey moustache. + +Master raised mistress in his arms, and carried her to her own room, +where I sent la bella Carolina straight. La bella told me afterwards +that mistress was nearly terrified to death, and that she wandered in her +mind about her dream, all night. + +Master was vexed and anxious—almost angry, and yet full of solicitude. +The Signor Dellombra was a courtly gentleman, and spoke with great +respect and sympathy of mistress’s being so ill. The African wind had +been blowing for some days (they had told him at his hotel of the Maltese +Cross), and he knew that it was often hurtful. He hoped the beautiful +lady would recover soon. He begged permission to retire, and to renew +his visit when he should have the happiness of hearing that she was +better. Master would not allow of this, and they dined alone. + +He withdrew early. Next day he called at the gate, on horseback, to +inquire for mistress. He did so two or three times in that week. + +What I observed myself, and what la bella Carolina told me, united to +explain to me that master had now set his mind on curing mistress of her +fanciful terror. He was all kindness, but he was sensible and firm. He +reasoned with her, that to encourage such fancies was to invite +melancholy, if not madness. That it rested with herself to be herself. +That if she once resisted her strange weakness, so successfully as to +receive the Signor Dellombra as an English lady would receive any other +guest, it was for ever conquered. To make an end, the signore came +again, and mistress received him without marked distress (though with +constraint and apprehension still), and the evening passed serenely. +Master was so delighted with this change, and so anxious to confirm it, +that the Signor Dellombra became a constant guest. He was accomplished +in pictures, books, and music; and his society, in any grim palazzo, +would have been welcome. + +I used to notice, many times, that mistress was not quite recovered. She +would cast down her eyes and droop her head, before the Signor Dellombra, +or would look at him with a terrified and fascinated glance, as if his +presence had some evil influence or power upon her. Turning from her to +him, I used to see him in the shaded gardens, or the large half-lighted +sala, looking, as I might say, ‘fixedly upon her out of darkness.’ But, +truly, I had not forgotten la bella Carolina’s words describing the face +in the dream. + +After his second visit I heard master say: + +‘Now, see, my dear Clara, it’s over! Dellombra has come and gone, and +your apprehension is broken like glass.’ + +‘Will he—will he ever come again?’ asked mistress. + +‘Again? Why, surely, over and over again! Are you cold?’ (she +shivered). + +‘No, dear—but—he terrifies me: are you sure that he need come again?’ + +‘The surer for the question, Clara!’ replied master, cheerfully. + +But, he was very hopeful of her complete recovery now, and grew more and +more so every day. She was beautiful. He was happy. + +‘All goes well, Baptista?’ he would say to me again. + +‘Yes, signore, thank God; very well.’ + +We were all (said the Genoese courier, constraining himself to speak a +little louder), we were all at Rome for the Carnival. I had been out, +all day, with a Sicilian, a friend of mine, and a courier, who was there +with an English family. As I returned at night to our hotel, I met the +little Carolina, who never stirred from home alone, running distractedly +along the Corso. + +‘Carolina! What’s the matter?’ + +‘O Baptista! O, for the Lord’s sake! where is my mistress?’ + +‘Mistress, Carolina?’ + +‘Gone since morning—told me, when master went out on his day’s journey, +not to call her, for she was tired with not resting in the night (having +been in pain), and would lie in bed until the evening; then get up +refreshed. She is gone!—she is gone! Master has come back, broken down +the door, and she is gone! My beautiful, my good, my innocent mistress!’ + +The pretty little one so cried, and raved, and tore herself that I could +not have held her, but for her swooning on my arm as if she had been +shot. Master came up—in manner, face, or voice, no more the master that +I knew, than I was he. He took me (I laid the little one upon her bed in +the hotel, and left her with the chamber-women), in a carriage, furiously +through the darkness, across the desolate Campagna. When it was day, and +we stopped at a miserable post-house, all the horses had been hired +twelve hours ago, and sent away in different directions. Mark me! by the +Signor Dellombra, who had passed there in a carriage, with a frightened +English lady crouching in one corner. + +I never heard (said the Genoese courier, drawing a long breath) that she +was ever traced beyond that spot. All I know is, that she vanished into +infamous oblivion, with the dreaded face beside her that she had seen in +her dream. + + * * * * * + +‘What do you call _that_?’ said the German courier, triumphantly. +‘Ghosts! There are no ghosts _there_! What do you call this, that I am +going to tell you? Ghosts! There are no ghosts _here_!’ + + * * * * * + +_I_ took an engagement once (pursued the German courier) with an English +gentleman, elderly and a bachelor, to travel through my country, my +Fatherland. He was a merchant who traded with my country and knew the +language, but who had never been there since he was a boy—as I judge, +some sixty years before. + +His name was James, and he had a twin-brother John, also a bachelor. +Between these brothers there was a great affection. They were in +business together, at Goodman’s Fields, but they did not live together. +Mr. James dwelt in Poland Street, turning out of Oxford Street, London; +Mr. John resided by Epping Forest. + +Mr. James and I were to start for Germany in about a week. The exact day +depended on business. Mr. John came to Poland Street (where I was +staying in the house), to pass that week with Mr. James. But, he said to +his brother on the second day, ‘I don’t feel very well, James. There’s +not much the matter with me; but I think I am a little gouty. I’ll go +home and put myself under the care of my old housekeeper, who understands +my ways. If I get quite better, I’ll come back and see you before you +go. If I don’t feel well enough to resume my visit where I leave it off, +why _you_ will come and see me before you go.’ Mr. James, of course, +said he would, and they shook hands—both hands, as they always did—and +Mr. John ordered out his old-fashioned chariot and rumbled home. + +It was on the second night after that—that is to say, the fourth in the +week—when I was awoke out of my sound sleep by Mr. James coming into my +bedroom in his flannel-gown, with a lighted candle. He sat upon the side +of my bed, and looking at me, said: + +‘Wilhelm, I have reason to think I have got some strange illness upon +me.’ + +I then perceived that there was a very unusual expression in his face. + +‘Wilhelm,’ said he, ‘I am not afraid or ashamed to tell you what I might +be afraid or ashamed to tell another man. You come from a sensible +country, where mysterious things are inquired into and are not settled to +have been weighed and measured—or to have been unweighable and +unmeasurable—or in either case to have been completely disposed of, for +all time—ever so many years ago. I have just now seen the phantom of my +brother.’ + +I confess (said the German courier) that it gave me a little tingling of +the blood to hear it. + +‘I have just now seen,’ Mr. James repeated, looking full at me, that I +might see how collected he was, ‘the phantom of my brother John. I was +sitting up in bed, unable to sleep, when it came into my room, in a white +dress, and regarding me earnestly, passed up to the end of the room, +glanced at some papers on my writing-desk, turned, and, still looking +earnestly at me as it passed the bed, went out at the door. Now, I am +not in the least mad, and am not in the least disposed to invest that +phantom with any external existence out of myself. I think it is a +warning to me that I am ill; and I think I had better be bled.’ + +I got out of bed directly (said the German courier) and began to get on +my clothes, begging him not to be alarmed, and telling him that I would +go myself to the doctor. I was just ready, when we heard a loud knocking +and ringing at the street door. My room being an attic at the back, and +Mr. James’s being the second-floor room in the front, we went down to his +room, and put up the window, to see what was the matter. + +‘Is that Mr. James?’ said a man below, falling back to the opposite side +of the way to look up. + +‘It is,’ said Mr. James, ‘and you are my brother’s man, Robert.’ + +‘Yes, Sir. I am sorry to say, Sir, that Mr. John is ill. He is very +bad, Sir. It is even feared that he may be lying at the point of death. +He wants to see you, Sir. I have a chaise here. Pray come to him. Pray +lose no time.’ + +Mr. James and I looked at one another. ‘Wilhelm,’ said he, ‘this is +strange. I wish you to come with me!’ I helped him to dress, partly +there and partly in the chaise; and no grass grew under the horses’ iron +shoes between Poland Street and the Forest. + +Now, mind! (said the German courier) I went with Mr. James into his +brother’s room, and I saw and heard myself what follows. + +His brother lay upon his bed, at the upper end of a long bed-chamber. +His old housekeeper was there, and others were there: I think three +others were there, if not four, and they had been with him since early in +the afternoon. He was in white, like the figure—necessarily so, because +he had his night-dress on. He looked like the figure—necessarily so, +because he looked earnestly at his brother when he saw him come into the +room. + +But, when his brother reached the bed-side, he slowly raised himself in +bed, and looking full upon him, said these words: + +‘JAMES, YOU HAVE SEEN ME BEFORE, TO-NIGHT—AND YOU KNOW IT!’ + +And so died! + + * * * * * + +I waited, when the German courier ceased, to hear something said of this +strange story. The silence was unbroken. I looked round, and the five +couriers were gone: so noiselessly that the ghostly mountain might have +absorbed them into its eternal snows. By this time, I was by no means in +a mood to sit alone in that awful scene, with the chill air coming +solemnly upon me—or, if I may tell the truth, to sit alone anywhere. So +I went back into the convent-parlour, and, finding the American gentleman +still disposed to relate the biography of the Honourable Ananias Dodger, +heard it all out. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TO BE READ AT DUSK*** + + +******* This file should be named 924-0.txt or 924-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/9/2/924 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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