Chapter 19 seventeen

During the six years, great changes have taken place in me.I became a person who was more or less like everyone else.Instinct and emotion, impression and reasoning, are at last almost in balance.This social education is done naturally.All I have to do is take the lessons learned and the advice of friendship.I am still far from being an educated man; but at last I am rapidly acquiring sure knowledge.I have the same definite basic ideas of all kinds of things as people at that time might have.From this moment I knew that the human sciences had made real progress; I followed it from afar, not at all thinking of denying it.Noticing that not all of my contemporaries acted so sensible, I hoped I was on the right track, since I never lingered in the dead end of error and prejudice.

It seemed that my intellectual and rational progress had pleased Edmee.she said to me: "I am not surprised by that; I have seen it from your letter; I am proud and happy like a mother." My good uncle no longer has the energy to engage in the heated arguments that he once did; My stubbornness made him very angry.He even tried to test me by some awkwardness; but I then considered it a crime to provide him with such dangerous entertainment.He was not very happy, thinking that I treated him too much for an old man.In order to comfort him, I turned the conversation to his past experience, and asked him many questions. It was obvious that his experience was more useful than my learning.In this way, I acquired some useful basic knowledge of dealing with people, and at the same time fully satisfied the self-esteem that an old man can understand.He befriended me out of goodwill, as if he had adopted me out of natural generosity and family spirit.He made no secret of the fact that his strongest wish before his death was to see me as Edmee's consort.When I answered him that this was the only purpose of my life, the only desire of my heart, he said:

"I know, I know; it's all up to her. I don't think she has any reason to hesitate any longer." He was silent for a moment, then said emotionally, "I don't see what excuse she can make now." From this sentence, the first of his utterances on the subject that most interested me, I concluded that he had long been in agreement with my wishes; if there was an obstacle, it was love Deme.My uncle's last reflections contained a question which I dared not try to understand, and was extremely disturbed.Edmee's sensitive pride terrified me so much, and her indescribable kindness so much respected, that I dared not ask her frankly to decide my fate.I resolved to act as if I had no hope but to be her brother and friend forever.

A long unexplained event distracted me for a few days.At first, I refused to take charge of Moprah Rock Castle.Uncle said to me: "Anyway, you must see the repairs I've done on your property, the well-cultivated fields, and the cattle I've grazed on each of your tenements. You should know The state of your affairs, show your sharecroppers that you care about their labor. Otherwise, after my death, things will go from bad to worse, and you will have to lease the land, which may bring you more income but less The value of your estate. I am too old now to take care of your estate. Two years ago I could not take off this annoying dressing-gown; Edmee was clear, but she could not make up her mind to go It would be childish to say that she still has lingering fears."

"I know I ought to show more courage," I answered, "but, my good uncle, what you want me to do is the hardest thing in the world for me. Hit me from the Mopra Rock, and will I haven't set foot in that accursed taxi land since the day Edmee was rescued from her captors. It's as if you're driving me out of heaven and sending me back to hell to visit." The knight shrugged his shoulders; the abbe begged me to do my best to satisfy the knight's wish; my insistence was a real displeasure to my good uncle.I obeyed, determined to convince myself, and said good-bye to Edmee for two days.The priest wanted to accompany me, and divert my attention from the gloomy thoughts that were about to haunt me; but I had scruples about letting the priest go away from Edmee, even for such a short time; I knew how necessary he was to Edmee. .Chained to the knight's chair as she was, her life was so solemn and reclusive that the smallest changes were keenly felt by her.Her solitude increased with each passing year, since the old knight had to abstain from drinking, and cease to laugh, quips, and sing like a child at the table; this solitary life had become almost entirely dead.He was once a famous hunter, and Saint-Hubert's Day ① happened to be his birthday, and all the local nobles surrounded him on this day.Year after year the yard resounded with the barking of the hounds; Floats, or rings beneath the hall windows with every toast of the feast.These good days are long gone now; the knight no longer hunts; Tired of not staying around his easy chair even with the hope of getting his daughter's hand in marriage.Edmee's obstinate refusal to marry, and M. de La Marche's postponement of marriage, had already caused great astonishment, and had given rise to many curious conjectures.A young man who had a crush on her, rejected like everyone else, and driven by a foolish, base arrogance to avenge himself on the woman of his class, who seemed to him the only woman who had dared to reject him, found love. Deme had been held hostage by brigands, and gossip spread that she had spent a night of debauchery at the Rock of Maupra.At best, he dared to say, she had to submit under violence.Edmee was too awe-inspiring and esteemed to be accused of flattering brigands; but she was soon identified as the victim of their brutality.Now that she has been stained with an indelible stain, she will no longer be pursued by anyone.My departure will only serve to further confirm this opinion.It is said that I saved her from death, but not disgrace, so I could not marry her; I fell in love with her, and shunned her lest I should not be tempted to marry her.All this seemed so probable that it was difficult for the public to accept the truth.Especially since Edmee was unwilling to act accordingly and put an end to the malicious slander by promising marriage to a man she could not love.That's why she was lonely; I only found out later.But seeing the solemnity of the knight's house, and Edmee's melancholy and serenity, I was afraid to let a dead leaf fall on this stagnant water, and begged the abbe to stay with her till my return.I took only the faithful sergeant Marcus; Edmee would not let him leave me, and arranged for him to share the fine cottage and the life of administration with Patiance in the future. ① St. Hubert's Day is scheduled for November 3 every year.Saint-Hubert is the patron saint of hunters.

I arrived at Mopra Rock on a foggy evening in early autumn; the sun was dark, and nature was drowsy in mist and silence;The crane outlines a huge triangular figure in the air; the crane flies over from an immeasurable height, and its mournful cry resounds through the clouds, like an elegy of farewell to summer echoing in the desolate wilderness.For the first time in the year, I felt the weather was cold; I think everyone is instinctively sad when the harsh season is approaching.There is always something in the first hoarfrost that reminds one of the impending disintegration of one's own life.

My companion and I walked together through the woods and heathlands without exchanging a word; I did not find myself courageous enough to see the Garzo Tower again, and we took a detour to avoid it.The sun was setting in a gray mist as we stepped through the mace gates of Mopra Castle.The Spike Gate is broken; the drawbridge no longer rises, and now only mild flocks and carefree shepherds pass.The ditches are half-filled, and the blue willows have planted their pliable branches in the shallow water; the hemp grows at the foot of the fallen tower walls; the fire marks on the walls still look fresh.The farm buildings have all been refurbished; the yard is full of livestock, poultry, children, sheepdogs, and farm implements, in stark contrast to the shadowy walls from which I still seem to see the red lights lit by the attackers rising. Flame, shed the black blood of the Maupra family.

I was received calmly and sincerely by the Berry farmer, who was somewhat cold.They don't try to please me, but they don't make me lack anything either.I was housed in an ancient building, the only one undamaged during the siege of the keep, and not abandoned since then to the ravages of time.This is the main house, with a crude architectural style dating back to the tenth century; the doors are smaller than the windows, which themselves provide so little light that candles must be lit to find your way in, even though the sun has just set.The building was restored to provide temporary accommodation for the new owners or their agents.My uncle Hubert used to come here to look after my interests as often as he could.I was shown to the room which he had reserved for himself, and which has since been called "the master's room."The best salvaged pieces of antique furniture are on display here.In spite of all the care, to make the cold and damp room habitable, Bernon's maid walked ahead of me, still carrying the unburnt wood in one hand, and the fagot in the other.

I was dazzled by the smoke she was spreading around me, and dazed by the new doors that opened on the other side of the courtyard and certain corridors that were blocked from repairs, and I finally got to this room, not recognizing anything .The courtyard was completely unrecognizable, and my memory was disturbed. My depressed and confused mind did not leave much impression on the outside world. I couldn't even tell which part of this ancient building I was in. While the maid was lighting the fire, I sank into an armchair, cupped my head in my hands, and fell into melancholy thought.My situation is not without charm.In the self-righteous mind of the young man who considers himself the master of the future, all the past naturally appears in a glorified or subdued form.The maid blew on the charred wood, and the room was filled with smoke; she went out to find coals, and left me alone.Marcus stayed in the stables and looked after our horses.Blair followed me, lying in front of the fire, looking at me from time to time disapprovingly, as if asking why the lodgings were so bad and the fire so bad.

Suddenly, I glanced around, and the memories of the past seemed to wake up in my heart.The fire, after hissing the green-skinned wood, sent a flame in the hearth, and the whole room was illuminated by this flickering and flickering light, and all the objects took on a strange appearance.Blalow stood up, turned his back to the fire, and squatted between my legs, as if waiting for some strange accident to happen. At that moment I recognized this place as none other than the bedroom of my grandfather Tristan, who had been occupied after his death by his second son, John the Hate, my cruelest oppressor, the most cunning and cowardly of robbers. for several years.I carried the furniture down to the bed with the spiral rails—with a wave of horror and loathing as I recognized the bed in which my grandfather, in his slow, protracted deathbed, returned his sinful heart. to God.The chair I was sitting in was the one in which John the Deformed (as he liked to call himself in his bantering days) sat planning his vicious deeds or issuing his odious orders.At this moment, I believe I caught a glimpse of all Mauprat's ghosts passing in front of me, hands stained with blood, eyes stupefied.I stood up, terrified, and was about to run away, when suddenly I saw a face raised in front of me, so distinct, so different, so alive from the phantasy that had just surrounded me. In fact, I fell on the chair again, dripping with cold sweat.Standing by the bed was John Mauprat.He had just come out, holding a corner of the half-open bed curtain in his hand.He seemed to me the same as before, only thinner, paler, and uglier; his head was clean-shaven, and his body was wrapped in a dark shroud.He glared at me like a demon, and a sneer of hate and contempt flitted across his thin dry lips.He stood motionless, his eyes fixed on me, as if he was about to speak to me.For the moment, I was sure I was seeing a living being, a man of flesh and blood; otherwise it was hard to imagine that I should feel cold in the limbs with such a senseless fear.I denied it in vain, and was unable to explain it to myself afterwards, and I was petrified.His gaze dazed me, his tongue stiffened.Blalow sprang at him; and he shook his ruffled mourning dress like shrouds polluted by the dampness of the tomb; and I fainted.

When I regained consciousness, Marcus was standing beside me, anxiously trying to lift me up.Stretched on the ground like a zombie, I managed to gather my thoughts; and as soon as I could stand, I hugged Marcus by the waist and dragged him hastily out of the accursed room.I nearly fell several times rushing down the spiral staircase; it was only the evening air of the yard and the wholesome smell of the barn that brought me back to my wits. I did not hesitate to regard what had just happened as a hallucination in my head.I've shown courage in the presence of an upright sergeant in wartime; I can admit the truth to him without blushing.I answered his questions bluntly, and described to him my terrible dream in detail. He was also shocked as if faced with the fact, and walked up and down the courtyard with me, repeating thoughtfully: "How strange, how strange! . . . it's incredible!" "No, it's not incredible," I felt completely restored. "I have come here through the most painful experience; for some days I have struggled to overcome the aversion to seeing the Maupra Rock again. Last night I had a bad dream and woke up weak and depressed, if I was not afraid to offend my Uncle, I'll put off this unpleasant revisit. I'm chilled when I come in; my chest is oppressed and I can't breathe. Or maybe the choking smoke that permeates that room is messing with my head In short, we have scarcely recovered from the perilous and tiring journey we have endured; and is it any wonder that, after the weariness of such a journey, I should have a nervous fit at the first moment of emotion?" "Tell me," Marcus was still musing, "did you notice Blairo at that time? What did Blairo do?" "I believe that when I saw Blalow leap at the ghost, it vanished; but that is as much the result of my fancy as anything else." "Well!" said the sergeant, "Blello was in a rage when I entered the room. He came to guard you, calling in his own way, making a mournful sound, running to the bed, scratching the wall with his paws, and running towards me. Come, run to you again. Strange, this thing! Incredible, Captain, incredible, this!" After a moment of silence, he shook his head and cried: "The dead don't rise! Never! Besides, why are you dead, John? Not dead! There are two Maupras alive. Who knows? Where the hell? No ghosts; my master is mad? Definitely No. Ill? No." After this secret conversation, the sergeant fetched the lamp, drew his ever-lasting sword from its sheath, whistled for Blalow, and bravely seized the rope that served as the banister of the stair, and asked me to wait below.In spite of my disgust at re-entering the bedroom, I did not hesitate to follow Markus over his advice.Our first thought was to examine the bed; but the maid had already spread the white sheet and was making the quilt while we were talking in the courtyard. "Who's been in the bed?" Marcus asked, as cautiously as ever. "No one," replied the maid, "this bed is only used when Monsieur Chevalier or the Abbe Aubert are here." "But, I mean, today or yesterday?" Marcus asked again. "Oh! there was no one yesterday or today, sir; Monsieur Chevalier hasn't been here for two years. As for Monsieur the Abbe, he never sleeps here when he comes alone. He comes in the morning, dines with us, and goes back in the evening." "But the bed is out of order," said Marcus, staring at her intently. "Ah! Of course! It is possible, monsieur," she answered; "I don't know what I left after my last sleep; I didn't pay attention when I made the bed; all I know is that M. Bernard's coat is on it." "My coat?" I exclaimed. "In the stables." "Well, mine, too," said Marcas, "I just rolled up both and put them on top of the oatmeal bin." "Do you have two coats?" said the maid again. "I must have taken one off the bed. It's all black and not new." My overcoat just happened to be reddish, trimmed with gold thread lace.The one from Marcas is light gray.So it could not have been one of our coats, which had been brought up by the steward for a while, and returned to the stable. "What did you do with your coat?" asked the sergeant. "Indeed, sir, I'm on that chair over there," answered the fat girl. "But did you take the coat back when I went to fetch the candle? I never saw it again." We searched all over the room; the coat was nowhere to be found.We pretend we need it and don't deny it's our clothes.The maid turned the mattress over in front of us, messed up the made bed, and asked the boy if he had touched the coat.Neither the bed nor the room found anything.The boy servant never even went upstairs.The whole farm was alarmed lest someone be accused of theft.We asked if any strangers had been to Mopra Rock and hadn't left yet.When we were sure that the good folk had neither stayed nor seen any strangers, we reassured them of the lost overcoat, saying that Marcus had inadvertently rolled it up among two other garments.Then we shut ourselves up in the bedroom and searched randomly; it is now generally clear that what I saw was by no means a ghost, but John Maupra himself, or someone who looked like him and I mistook for John. people. Marcus encouraged Blalo with voice and gestures, watching all its movements. "Please rest assured," he said to me proudly, "this old dog has not forgotten his old ways; if there is a hole here, a hole as big as a palm, don't be afraid...it's your turn, old dog!  … ...don't be afraid!..." Sure enough, Blairo sniffed here and there, scratching the walls where I had seen the ghost haunt; Wagging its bushy tail with an expression, it ran back towards its owner, as if telling him to focus there.So the sergeant went to examine the walls and the boiserie, and tried to insert his sword into a crack; no hollow was found.There was probably a door there, though, for a curlicue carved into the baseboard would conceal a cleverly cut chute.It was necessary to find a mechanism for starting the chute; but this was impossible, in spite of our best efforts during a period of two hours.We tried in vain to shake the baseboard, and it sounded no differently than any other basement; all sounded loud, showing that the baseboard was not directly affixed to the masonry, and the gap could only be a little.Finally, Marcus, dripping with sweat, stopped and said to me: "We are foolish; if there is no mechanism here, even if you find the daylight, you will not be able to find it; if there is a thick iron bar behind the door, as I have seen in other old small castles, even if you knock repeatedly, you will not be able to break through the door. of." "Knocking will help us find the exit," said I, "if there is one; but why do you insist that John, or someone like him, did not enter or exit through the door, just on the basis of your dog scratching the wall? " "Go in, as you please," replied Marcus, "but come out—impossible, on my honor! I was brushing my shoes on the stairs when the maid came down; , I quickly climbed to the third highest level and rushed to your side immediately. You are lying on the brick floor like a dead man, in serious condition; there is no one inside or outside the bedroom, on my honor!" "In this case, I dreamed of Uncle Devil, and the maid dreamed of a black coat; there must be no secret door here; and if there were a door, all the Maupras—living or dead—would have Keys, what business is it to us? Are we attached to the police to search for these bad guys? If they are found hiding somewhere, don't we rather help them escape than bring them to justice? We have weapons Well, don't be afraid they'll murder us to-night; if it's a game for them to frighten us, well, woe to them! I awoke from my sleep with no relatives. Get the omelets brought up, the good folks in the country have done it for you. We're ready; if we keep banging and scratching the walls, they'll think we're crazy." Marcus gave in more out of obedience than in belief.I don't know why he is so concerned about discovering this mystery, why he is so disturbed; he doesn't want me to be alone in this haunted room, saying that I may fall ill again, and faint in convulsions. "Ah! this time," said I, "I won't be frightened. That overcoat has cured my fear of ghosts; I won't let anyone bother me." Marcus had to leave me alone.I kept my guns loaded and within reach on the table; but these precautions were a mere waste of time, and nothing disturbed the tranquility of the room.The heavy red silk curtains, decorated with silver-gray coats of arms at the four corners, were not blown by the slightest air current.Marcus was back, pleased to find me as excited as before; he set to work on dinner, with the air of concentration as if the sole purpose of our coming to Mopra Rock was to cook a good meal.He told jokes about the capon and the wine, that the capon still sang on the iron rod, and the wine scrubbed his throat.The sharecroppers came to cheer us up, too, and brought us bottles of good Madeira, which the knight had left behind, and liked to have a glass or two before mounting.In return, we invited this noble man to dine with us, and to talk business as lightly as possible. "Very well," he said, "it is the same as before, when the peasants used to eat at the table of Lord Moprayan; you will do the same, Monsieur Bernard, and that is very good." "Yes, sir," I answered coldly, "but I do it with the man who owes me money, and not with the man to whom I owe money." This answer and the title "Sir" disturbed him, and he refused to sit down at the table; but I insisted that he listen to me, and wanted to make him understand my personality at once.I treated him as someone I supported, not as someone I would condescend to.I forced him to be modest in his banter, allowing him to be cheerful and witty only within the bounds of justifiable joy.This is an optimistic, straightforward person.I watched to see if he had any connection with the ghost who had left his coat on the bed.But this was by no means possible; he evidently had a strong dislike for robbers, and had he not respected my kinship, he would have spoken ill of them in my presence, as well as they deserved.But I couldn't bear his presumptuousness in this; I wanted him to report to me on my estate, and he did so with shrewdness, accuracy, and integrity. When he took his leave, I found that Madeira had done him a great deal, that he was so drunk that he had to cling to the furniture around him; yet he still had control of his mind, and he could reason correctly.I have always noticed that wine has a far greater effect on the muscles of the peasants than on their nerves; Live our wild excitement. Marcus and I were alone at last, and though not drunk, found that the wine gave us a joyful, carefree mood that we would never have had at Maupra Rock had we not had our adventure with the ghost. There may be.Both of us are used to being open and honest with each other, and after exchanging views we were sure we were in a much better mood than before dinner, enough to receive all the werewolves in Varenna. The word "werewolf" reminds me of my less than friendly encounter with Patience when I was thirteen.Marcus knew this, but he didn't know much about my character at the time.I relished telling him how I fled in panic after being beaten by a wizard. "It makes me think," I concluded, "that my imagination is easily excited; I am not indifferent to the horrific and supernatural. Like the ghost just now..." "It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter," Marcus checked the cartridges in my pistols and put them on my bedside table: "Don't forget that the robbers are not all dead. If John is still alive, he will never die. Until it was buried in the ground and was strictly guarded in hell." Wine untied the tongue of this Spanish nobleman, who had no shortage of ingenuity when he occasionally allowed himself to violate the habits of temperance.He would not leave me, and pitched his bed next to mine.My nerves were stimulated by the passions of the day; and I allowed myself to talk about Edmee, not in case she should hear me, so that I should be blamed for anything, but to someone whom I still regarded as a subordinate, and not as my friend later on. People, unscrupulously vent.I don't remember exactly what I said to him about my depressions, hopes, and insecurities; but these intimate words had disastrous consequences, as you will soon see. We talked and fell asleep, with Blalow lying at his master's feet, the long sword leaning against the dog on Malcus' lap, the lamp between us, the gun within reach of me, the hunting knife hidden in the Under my pillow, the latch is locked.Our sleep was not disturbed in any way.The roosters were crowing merrily in the yard when the sun woke us up; the peasants were exchanging crude jokes and tying up their cattle under our windows. ①The cattleman uses a belt to tie the yoke to the horns of a pair of cattle. ——Original note "It's the same anyway, there are articles in it!" These were the first words Marcas said when he opened his eyes, picking up where he had left off the night before. "Did you see or hear anything during the night?" I asked. "Nothing," he answered, "but all the same, Blairo was not asleep, and my sword fell to the ground; besides, there is no explanation for what happened here." "Explain whoever wants to," I replied, "I'm sure I don't care." "Wrong, wrong, you are wrong!" "Possibly, my good sergeant; but I don't like this room at all, it looks so ugly in broad daylight, and I need to go far away to breathe clean air." "Well, I am willing to accompany you, but I will come back. I will not let it go. I know that Johann Mauprat can do anything, and you are not like that." "I don't want to know; if there's any danger here to me or my kindred, I don't want you to come back." Marcus shook his head and said nothing.Before we left, we walked around the manor again.There was one incident that escaped my attention but made a strong impression on Marcus.The sharecropper tried to introduce me to his wife; but she wouldn't see me, and hid in the hemp fields.I attribute this timid attitude to the shyness of the young. "What a young beauty!" said Marcus, "as young as I am, past fifty! There's something in it, I tell you, there's something in it." "What the hell can there be?" "Hmph! She had a good time with Mauprat when she was young. She thought the cripple was what she wanted. I know that; I know a lot more, a lot more, believe me!" "The next time we're here again, tell me," I replied, "not right away. My career is going much better if I don't. I would appreciate it, Marcus, if you would not tell anyone what happened here. Not everyone respects your captain as much as you do." "He who disrespects my captain is a fool," said Marcus solemnly: "but I will say nothing if you command me." He kept his word.In any case, I would not trouble Edmee's head with such a silly story.But I can't stop Marcus from carrying out his plan.He disappeared early the next morning; I learned from Patience that he had left something at the Mopra Rock on the pretense of going back there.