Chapter 11 first quarter

It was July 1861, and the Cambridge sun was scorching and the heat was unbearable.Longfellow was sitting in his study when he heard a horrific scream from the adjoining library.The two little girls cried out in terror.Fanny opened a window and hoped for a cool breeze to blow in.... No one saw what happened at that time, and no one had seen it happen so quickly and so unexpectedly. The most reasonable guess may be that A flake of glowing wax drifted into her loose summer gown.In an instant, she was lit. Longfellow was standing at the desk in the study, sprinkling black sand over a poem he had just written, and soaking up the ink.Fanny rushed in screaming, and all her clothes were burning, and the flames enveloped her like a dress of oriental silk.Longfellow wrapped her in a blanket and laid her on the floor.

Having put out the fire, he carried Fanny, who was convulsed, and went upstairs to her bedroom.Later that night, doctors quieted her down with ether.The next morning she bravely whispered to Longfellow not to worry, saying she felt no pain at all.She took a few sips of coffee and passed out.The memorial service was held in the library at Craigie Hall on the day that happened to be their eighteenth wedding anniversary.She was burned all over her body except her head, which had an orange wreath in her beautiful hair. Longfellow was burned himself when he rescued Fanny, and he had to lie in bed that day, but he heard the uncontrollable wailing of his friends.He knew that they were mourning for Fanny as well as for him.His face was also burned, and it looked as if he had to grow a thick beard, not only to hide the scars, but also because he could no longer shave.His arm was so burned that he couldn't straighten it up, and the red and yellow scar on his palm might not fade away until he healed the guilt and pain in his heart.

"Why didn't I revive her? Why didn't I revive her?" Longfellow was about to continue revising several chapters of the recently translated "Inferno" when he heard a muffled "bang" outside Craigie's mansion.Trapp barked. "Trapp? What's the matter, pal?" But Trapp, not finding the source of the sound, yawned and ducked back into the warm champagne-colored basket covered with straw.Longfellow stood in the unlit dining room and looked around, but saw nothing.Suddenly, two eyes emerged from the darkness, shooting a blinding flash.Longfellow's heart pounded with fright, not because he saw a face suddenly appear, but because he saw that face--if it was a face--and suddenly looked at him. Just disappeared, Longfellow's breath blurring the lenses of his glasses.Longfellow staggered backwards, bumped into a cupboard, and the whole Appleton set hit the floor with a series of shattering china and equally harsh echoes.The terrified Longfellow nearly lost his mind and screamed in pain.

Trapp burst out of the basket, barking and barking with all his pitiful strength.Longfellow ran out of the dining room, across the drawing room, to the dying fire in the library, and leaned against the window to see if the eyes would reappear.At this point, he wished Lowell or Holmes would show up at the door, apologizing for being late and inadvertently startling him.But Longfellow's writing hand trembled, and through the window he saw nothing but darkness. Lowell was soaking in the tub when Longfellow's scream reached Britto Street.Eyes slightly closed, he listened to the hollow sound of the bath water running away and wondered where life had gone.A small window above the head was opened by something, and the bathroom was quite cool.If Fanny came in and saw him, she would, of course, order him to crawl under the warm bed.

He smoked his fourth cigar of the day nonchalantly, not caring that the smoke from his puff would contaminate the bath water.He remembered that, just a few years ago, the tub had been more than enough for his body.He wondered how he could no longer find a few spare razor blades he had stashed on the upper shelf years ago.Could it not be that Fanny or Mabel, more sensitive than he imagined, guessed the dark thoughts that often occurred to him in the bath? Lowell twirled his beloved walrus beard, which was wet and curled at the ends, a bit like a sultan's beard.He thought of the North American Review, and the work he had put into it, and the regular teaching duties, all of which had already exhausted Lowell, who had no time to write.He felt more and more that the Harvard School Board had been watching him carefully, torturing, censoring, pecking with a pick, digging with a hoe, shoveling with a shovel, and digging with a backhoe like those countless immigrants panning for gold in California. , scratching (and, cursing) his head.

Lowell was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear light footsteps on the stairs or notice when the bathroom door opened.Fanny went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Lowell sat up quickly, a little guilty. "It's pretty airtight here, my dear." A look of displeasure flashed in Fanny's eyes, "Lowell????, the gardener's son is waiting for you. I asked him what happened, and he said he would tell you. The poor little guy was panting But I'm angry." Lowell wrapped up his nightgown, and rushed downstairs in three steps at a time.A shy young man with a big die under his upper lip was spinning around the piano very nervously.

"Excuse me, sir, to trouble you... I was wandering along Britto Street just now, and I vaguely heard a loud noise coming from the old Craigie house... I wanted to go to Longfellow Professor, ask him straight up if something's wrong--my companions say he's a professor--but I've never met him, so I'll have to..." Lowell was startled, and his heart beat suddenly accelerated.He grabbed the young man by the shoulder and shook, "What's that sound you heard, little one?" "A loud crash. Kind of like a pop." The lad tried to gesture for the sound, "A puppy—well, maybe Trapp? Hades could hear it. Then there was a loud shout, I think it was a shout, sir. I never shouted like that, sir."

Lowell told the lad to wait a moment, and then rushed to the wardrobe, put on his loafers and plaid trousers, which in normal times Fanny would have protested loudly, saying he was ugly. "Lowell, it's too late, don't go out." Fanny Lowell persuaded, "There have been a series of robberies and murders recently!" "I'll go to Longfellow," said he, "the boy thinks something may be wrong with him." Lowell promised Fanny to take his hunting rifle, which he slung over his shoulder, and followed the gardener's lead. The child ran to the Rue Brito.

Longfellow heard the knock on the door and went to open it, still trembling badly. When he opened the door and saw Lowell carrying a gun, he trembled even more.He apologized to Lowell for disturbing him, and then told him exactly what had just happened, repeating that it was only a momentary lapse of his imagination. "Carl," Lowell grabbed the gardener's boy by the shoulder again, "you hurry to the police station and find an officer." "Why, there's no need for that," said Longfellow. "There's been a lot of robberies lately, Longfellow. Let the police search the whole neighborhood and make sure it's safe. It's not just about you, it's about everybody else."

Lowell thought Longfellow would continue to object, but he didn't.Lowell nodded to Carl, and Carl ran to the Cambridge Police Station. Lowell sensed that it was not trivial things that frightened Longfellow. "Fanny may be upset," he laughed. "She calls my habit of opening the bathroom window when I shower 'bath suicide.'" Until now, whenever the name Fanny was mentioned to Longfellow, Lowell felt uneasy, and his voice changed the key unconsciously.The name would evoke the pain in Longfellow's heart, and his wound was still bleeding. Lowell leaned back in a comfortable chair. "I think the moon never sets in Cambridge, so there are surprisingly many lunatics here. At this time, you are still translating The Divine Comedy?" On the green desk was the proof that Longfellow had brought out earlier. "My dear friend, your pen is always full of ink at all times. You will wear yourself out in the long run."

"I'm not at all tired. Of course, there were times when it was like a big wagon with the wheels sunk deep in the sand. But something drove me to the job and wouldn't let me rest." Lowell picked up the proofs and read carefully, "'If the fire hadn't caught me, I would have jumped among them below. I believe my mentor will allow me to do so.' By the way, we must never forget, Dante Not only is he an observer of hell, he also endured mental torture on the way to travel." "It's hard to translate well, and I can't find the proper English wording. Some people may say that when translating, the original author's style should be changed to make the translation smooth. On the contrary, I think that people who do translation are like standing in the witness stand. Witnesses on the scene shall raise their right hands and swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." "Aha, the police are here," Lowell said, a little touched by how quickly they moved. Longfellow opened the front door. "Hey, accident, accident." He forced himself to say enthusiastically. "How do you say that?" Fields stood on the wide threshold, frowned, and took off his hat. "I was playing whist, and seeing that I was sure to win, a note came!" He smiled, and hung up his hat on the coat rack. "Tell me to come here at once. Are you all right, my dear Longfellow?" "I didn't send the note, Fields," said Longfellow apologetically. "Holmes wasn't with you?" "No, we waited for him for half an hour and we still didn't see him before we started to deal the cards." While speaking, there was the rustling sound of dead leaves.Not long after, a little Holmes was seen running along the brick corridor, his high-top boots stepping on the thick fallen leaves, making a clicking sound.Fields hurried to the side, and Holmes rushed past him like a gust of wind, rushed into the hall before stopping, gasping for breath. "Holmes?" said Longfellow. The crazy doctor saw Longfellow holding a stack of translations of "Divine Comedy", and he showed a look of horror. "My God! Longfellow," cried Holmes, "put that aside!" Holmes was sure that the door was securely shut, and then he said, "Everyone, go into the study. I am absolutely sure that you will keep a secret, so I tell you this matter, and you must swear you will not reveal a word." .” No objections were raised.It was rare for the little doctor to be so serious. "Today they found a murder," announced Holmes in a high-pitched voice, very low, as if afraid that the house would eavesdrop, and the books stacked on the shelves would eavesdrop.He took a few steps away from the fireplace, fearing inwardly that his words might come down the chimney. "I was working at the medical school," he said at last. "I was very busy, and a group of policemen came and wanted to borrow a classroom to conduct an autopsy. They brought in a body covered in dirt. Do you understand?" "What does this have to do with us, Holmes? Why should I come here?" Fields complained. "Shut up." Holmes waved his hand sharply, put aside the bread Amelia asked him to buy, and took out his handkerchief. "Corpse, dead man, his feet... Oh, how pitiful!" Longfellow's eyes were shining, and he had been watching Holmes' every move closely, and he said little. "A drink, Holmes?" he asked softly. "Yes, thank you," replied Holmes, wiping his sweaty brow with a handkerchief, "I'm sorry. I'm too anxious to wait for the cab to come, and I'm worried about meeting acquaintances in the carriage, like an arrow that leaves the string." , hurried here.” Longfellow walked toward the kitchen, looking serene.Holmes was waiting for a drink, Lowell and Fields were waiting for Holmes to speak, and everyone was speechless for a while.Holmes was still tense, and Lowell shook his head pityingly.Longfellow fetched a brandy on the rocks, Holmes' favorite drink.He reached for the wine glass, took a sip, and moistened his throat. "Come on, Holmes," Lowell urged. "Okay. I saw the body. Do you know what I mean? It was close up, as close as I am to Lowell now." Dr. Holmes said, approaching the chair Lowell was sitting on, "The dead were buried alive, with their feet up and their heads down. Gentlemen, it was horrible, both heels were charred and shattered when touched, and I will never... yes, I will never forget that scene, I will never forget it until I die!" "Dear Holmes..." Longfellow tried to cut in, but Holmes went on and on, and even Longfellow couldn't interrupt him. "Naked at all. I don't know if the police took his clothes off - no, from what they said, I believe he was found naked. You see, I saw his face. "Holmes picked up the wine glass and was about to take another big sip, but there was not much wine left, and he swallowed a piece of ice in his mouth. "He's a priest," said Longfellow. Holmes turned and stared at Longfellow blankly, his eyes showing surprise, but his mouth was biting ice cubes with a crackling sound. "Exactly. Exactly." "Longfellow, how do you know he's a pastor?" Although Fields still thought the story had nothing to do with him, he couldn't help turning his head and asking, "This matter can't have been published in the newspapers, if Holmes just saw it with his own eyes. Then..." Before he finished speaking, Fields suddenly figured out how Longfellow knew.Lowell also understood. Lovell rushed to Holmes, looking like he was going to hit someone. "How did you know the body was upside down, Holmes? Did the police tell you?" "Well, not exactly." "You've been looking for a reason for us to stop translating The Divine Comedy so you don't have to worry about Harvard giving you a hard time. All of this is just your guesswork." "I don't need anyone else to tell me what I saw," Dr. Holmes snapped. "None of you have studied medicine. And me? I have dedicated my life to it, in Europe and in the United States." Best years. If you or Longfellow were talking about Cervantes, I'd feel ignorant - oh no, I'd be all ears because you spent time on him!" Seeing that Holmes was really angry, Fields advised, "We understand, Holmes, please don't say that." Holmes then stopped to take a breath, otherwise he would have fainted. "The body was indeed upside down, Lowell. I saw the traces of tears and sweat running across his brow—on the brow, mind you. The bloody scabs on the terrified face, and as soon as I saw the face , I recognized at once that the deceased was none other than the Reverend Elisha Talbot." When Holmes uttered the name, everyone was startled, and a picture emerged in their minds: Cambridge, the domineering old priest, was thrown upside down in the dirt, unable to move at all except From time to time, he kicked his burning feet in despair, just like the priests described by Dante, those priests who abused their power to accept bribes... "There's more news if you're interested." Holmes chewed the ice quickly. "An autopsy policeman said the body was found in the graveyard of the Second Unitarian It's Talbot's church! Buried from the waist up, but nothing below the waist. Naked, head down, feet up, straight up in the air!" "When was it discovered? Who was there?" Lovell asked. "For God's sake," said Holmes Lang, "how do I know those details!" The clock moved its large hands lazily to eleven.Longfellow looked at the clock. "Healy's widow put a reward in the evening papers. Judge Healy did not die of natural causes. She thought he was murdered." "But Talbot's death was more than a simple murder, Longfellow! It's obvious, do you want me to say it every word? Dante! Someone killed Tal in imitation of the plot of "The Divine Comedy" Potter!" Holmes cried out in exasperation, his face turning red. "Have you read the last issue of the paper, my dear Holmes?" asked Longfellow patiently. "Of course I did! I think I did." In fact, he only glanced at the newspaper taped to the wall of the porch when he went to medical school to prepare his anatomy charts for Monday's class, but didn't look at them. Longfellow found the paper, and Fields took it and read it aloud. "'The latest discovery in the mysterious death of Justice Artemis S. Healy.'" Fields took it out of his waistcoat pocket. Pull out a pair of square-rimmed glasses and put them on. "Typical typo. Healy's middle name is Prescott." Longfellow said, "Skip the first paragraph, Fields, and read us the scene when the body was found—the meadow behind the Healys, not far from the Charles River." "'Blood all over the floor...shirts and underwear stripped...there was a crowd of people crawling...'" "Go on, Fields." "insect?" Flies, wasps, maggots—those were the three kinds of bugs that the papers were devoted to.A flag was also found not far from the yard of Great Oak Park, and the Healey family did not understand what was going on.Everyone circulated the newspaper, and there was a lot of discussion. Lowell wanted to refute it, but he leaned back and reclined in the easy chair, with his lower lip trembling. It was like this when he couldn't think of what to say. "Aptly enough," said Holmes, "for Healy he deserved what he deserved. But if Healy was punished as a fence sitter for his long-standing refusal to enforce the Fugitive Slave Act, what about Talbot's What crime has he committed? No one has ever talked about his abuse of power behind his back, not even gossip—help me, Sun God!" Holmes stunned when he spotted a rifle leaning against the wall. Jump. "Longfellow, why is that gun here?" Only then did Lowell remember why he came here, and couldn't help shivering. "Well, Holmes, Longfellow thought he saw a burglar hiding outside. We sent the gardener's son to call the police." "A burglar?" Holmes asked. "Illusion," said Longfellow, shaking his head. Fields jumped up awkwardly and stomped on the carpet. "It's better to hit the day than to pick the day!" He turned to Holmes. "Dear Holmes, by virtue of this, you will be remembered as a good citizen. When the police come, we will Say that we have information on these criminal cases, and tell him to go back and invite the chief of police." Fields gathered up enough courage, and spoke with confidence.He glanced at Longfellow for his approval, but his voice trailed off. Longfellow remained motionless, staring at his books with broken spines, wondering if he was listening to their conversation.There was a rare trance in his eyes, which made his friend uneasy. "Okay," Lowell said, trying to look like everyone was relieved to hear that from Fields. "Of course we will tell the police our theories about the case. There is no doubt that our theories are crucial to unraveling this mess." "No!" panted Holmes, "we must not tell anyone." The doctor said in a tone of despair, "Longfellow, we must keep it a secret! No one here will tell this, you Those who have sworn to keep the secret even if the sky falls!" "Come on, Holmes!" Lowell said, leaning over to the little doctor. "This is not the time for you to stand idly by! Two people have been killed, and they're both of our own!" "Yes, but what right do we have to take part in this horrific murder?" Holmes argued. "The police are investigating. Without our intervention, they will find out who did it!" "What right do we have?" Lowell repeated Holmes's words sarcastically. "If we don't say it, the police won't be able to figure it out, Holmes! As we sit here, they It must still be spinning around in place!" "Would you like them to investigate our wild guesses? How much do we know about this murder?" "Then why do you bother to tell us these things, Holmes?" "That way we know how to protect ourselves! I'm doing this for all of us," Holmes said. "Telling our suspicions to the police is tantamount to setting ourselves on fire!" "Lowell, Holmes, please..." Fields walked over and stood between them. "You go to the police, you can ignore my principled objections and objections," Holmes sat down and hissed, "but don't involve me in it." "Please note, gentlemen," Lowell said without hiding his emotion, patting Holmes lightly, "When the world needs him, Dr. Holmes will sit back and watch as he always does. do not care." Lowell turned around and tried his best to persuade Longfellow in a not-so-confident tone: "Dear Longfellow, we should write a short message in advance, and when the police arrive, ask him to forward it to the chief of police, He revealed what we discovered tonight. Then we let the matter go, as our dear Dr. Holmes wishes." Longfellow sighed softly. "Please, don't act blindly," said Longfellow. "First, tell me, who else in Boston and Cambridge has heard of these two murders?" "Well, this is indeed a problem." Lowell was stunned by Longfellow's words, and he even spoke harshly to Longfellow, the person he respected the most besides his late father, "In this No one in this damned city knows, Longfellow! First, all the papers had it on the front page," he snatched up the paper with the headline on Healy's death, "Before Dawn Well, the case of Talbot will be known. A judge and a minister! Keep the public secret, unless the fire is covered!" "Excellent. So who else in the city has heard of Dante? Who else knows 'the soles of their feet are burning'? And who at this time would imagine Nausea bug?"