the professor at the breakfast table-第41章

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Its　matins　from　the　branches　high；

And　every　minstrel　voice　of　spring；

That　trills　beneath　the　April　sky；

Shall　greet　her　with　its　earliest　cry。



When；　turning　round　their　dial…track；

Eastward　the　lengthening　shadows　pass；

Her　little　mourners；　clad　in　black；

The　crickets；　sliding　through　the　grass；

Shall　pipe　for　her　an　evening　mass。



At　last　the　rootlets　of　the　trees

Shall　find　the　prison　where　she　lies；

And　bear　the　buried　dust　they　seize

In　leaves　and　blossoms　to　the　skies。

So　may　the　soul　that　warmed　it　rise！



If　any；　born　of　kindlier　blood；

Should　ask；　What　maiden　lies　below？

Say　only　this：　A　tender　bud；

That　tried　to　blossom　in　the　snow；

Lies　withered　where　the　violets　blow。









XI



You　will　know；　perhaps；　in　the　course　of　half　an　hour's　reading；

what　has　been　haunting　my　hours　of　sleep　and　waking　for　months。　　I

cannot　tell；　of　course；　whether　you　are　a　nervous　person　or　not。

If；　however；　you　are　such　a　person；if　it　is　late　at　night；if　all

the　rest　of　the　household　have　gone　off　to　bed；if　the　wind　is

shaking　your　windows　as　if　a　human　hand　were　rattling　the　sashes；

if　your　candle　or　lamp　is　low　and　will　soon　burn　out；let　me　advise

you　to　take　up　some　good　quiet　sleepy　volume；　or　attack　the

〃Critical　Notices〃　of　the　last　Quarterly　and　leave　this　to　be　read

by　daylight；　with　cheerful　voices　round；　and　people　near　by　who

would　hear　you；　if　you　slid　from　your　chair　and　came　down　in　a　lump

on　the　floor。



I　do　not　say　that　your　heart　will　beat　as　mine　did；　I　am　willing　to

confess；　when　I　entered　the　dim　chamber。　　Did　I　not　tell　you　that　I

was　sensitive　and　imaginative；　and　that　I　had　lain　awake　with

thinking　what　were　the　strange　movements　and　sounds　which　I　heard

late　at　night　in　my　little　neighbor's　apartment？　　It　had　come　to

that　pass　that　I　was　truly　unable　to　separate　what　I　had　really

heard　from　what　I　had　dreamed　in　those　nightmares　to　which　I　have

been　subject；　as　before　mentioned。　　So；　when　I　walked　into　the　room；

and　Bridget；　turning　back；　closed　the　door　and　left　me　alone　with

its　tenant；　I　do　believe　you　could　have　grated　a　nutmeg　on　my　skin；

such　a　〃goose…flesh　〃　shiver　ran　over　it。　　It　was　not　fear；　but　what

I　call　nervousness；unreasoning；　but　irresistible；　as　when；　for

instance；　one　looking　at　the　sun　going　down　says；　〃I　will　count

fifty　before　it　disappears〃；　and　as　he　goes　on　and　it　becomes

doubtful　whether　he　will　reach　the　number；　he　gets　strangely

flurried；　and　his　imagination　pictures　life　and　death　and　heaven　and

hell　as　the　issues　depending　on　the　completion　or　non…completion　of

the　fifty　he　is　counting。　　Extreme　curiosity　will　excite　some　people

as　much　as　fear；　or　what　resembles　fear；　acts　on　some　other　less

impressible　natures。



I　may　find　myself　in　the　midst　of　strange　facts　in　this　little

conjurer's　room。　　Or；　again；　there　may　be　nothing　in　this　poor

invalid's　chamber　but　some　old　furniture；　such　as　they　say　came　over

in　the　Mayflower。　　All　this　is　just　what　I　mean　to；　find　out　while

I　am　looking　at　the　Little　Gentleman；　who　has　suddenly　become　my

patient。　　The　simplest　things　turn　out　to　be　unfathomable　mysteries；

the　most　mysterious　appearances　prove　to　be　the　most　commonplace

objects　in　disguise。



I　wonder　whether　the　boys　who　live　in　Roxbury　and　Dorchester　are

ever　moved　to　tears　or　filled　with　silent　awe　as　they　look　upon　the

rocks　and　fragments　of　〃puddingstone〃　abounding　in　those　localities。

I　have　my　suspicions　that　those　boys　〃heave　a　stone〃　or　〃fire　a

brickbat；〃　composed　of　the　conglomerate　just　mentioned；　without　any

more　tearful　or　philosophical　contemplations　than　boys　of　less

favored　regions　expend　on　the　same　performance。　　Yet　a　lump　of

puddingstone　is　a　thing　to　look　at；　to　think　about；　to　study　over；

to　dream　upon；　to　go　crazy　with；　to　beat　one's　brains　out　against。

Look　at　that　pebble　in　it。　　From　what　cliff　was　it　broken？　　On　what

beach　rolled　by　the　waves　of　what　ocean？　　How　and　when　imbedded　in

soft　ooze；　which　itself　became　stone；　and　by…and…by　was　lifted　into

bald　summits　and　steep　cliffs；　such　as　you　may　see　on　Meetinghouse…

Hill　any　dayyes；　and　mark　the　scratches　on　their　faces　left　when

the　boulder…carrying　glaciers　planed　the　surface　of　the　continent

with　such　rough　tools　that　the　storms　have　not　worn　the　marks　out　of

it　with　all　the　polishing　of　ever　so　many　thousand　years？



Or　as　you　pass　a　roadside　ditch　or　pool　in　springtime；　take　from　it

any　bit　of　stick　or　straw　which　has　lain　undisturbed　for　a　time。

Some　little　worm…shaped　masses　of　clear　jelly　containing　specks　are

fastened　to　the　stick：　eggs　of　a　small　snail…like　shell…fish。　　One

of　these　specks　magnified　proves　to　be　a　crystalline　sphere　with　an

opaque　mass　in　its　centre。　　And　while　you　are　looking；　the　opaque

mass　begins　to　stir；　and　by…and…by　slowly　to　turn　upon　its　axis　like

a　forming　planet；life　beginning　in　the　microcosm；　as　in　the　great

worlds　of　the　firmament；　with　the　revolution　that　turns　the　surface

in　ceaseless　round　to　the　source　of　life　and　light。



A　pebble　and　the　spawn　of　a　mollusk！　　Before　you　have　solved　their

mysteries；　this　earth　where　you　first　saw　them　may　be　a　vitrified

slag；　or　a　vapor　diffused　through　the　planetary　spaces。　　Mysteries

are　common　enough；　at　any　rate；　whatever　the　boys　in　Roxbury　and

Dorchester　think　of　〃brickbats　〃　and　the　spawn　of　creatures　that

live　in　roadside　puddles。



But　then　a　great　many　seeming　mysteries　are　relatively　perfectly

plain；　when　we　can　get　at　them　so　as　to　turn　them　over。　　How　many

ghosts　that　〃thick　men's　blood　with　cold〃　prove　to　be　shirts　hung

out　to　dry！　　How　many　mermaids　have　been　made　out　of　seals！　　How

many　times　have　horse…mackerels　been　taken　for　the　sea…serpent！



Let　me　take　the　whole　matter　coolly；　while　I　see　what　is　the

matter　with　the　patient。　　That　is　what　I　say　to　myself；　as　I　draw　a

chair　to　the　bedside。　　The　bed　is　an　old…fashioned；　dark　mahogany

four…poster。　　It　was　never　that　which　made　the　noise　of　something

moving。　　It　is　too　heavy　to　be　pushed　about　the　room。　The　Little

Gentleman　was　sitting；　bolstered　up　by　pillows；　with　his　hands

clasped　and　their　united　palms　resting　on　the　back　of　the　head；　one

of　the　three　or　four　positions　specially　affected　by　persons　whose

breathing　is　difficult　from　disease　of　the　heart　or　other　causes。



Sit　down；　Sir；he　said；sit　down！　　I　have　come　to　the　hill

Difficulty；　Sir；　and　am　fighting　my　way　up。　His　speech　was

laborious　and　interrupted。



Don't　talk；I　said；except　to　answer　my　questions。And　I

proceeded　to　〃prospect〃　for　the　marks　of　some　local　mischief；　which

you　know　is　at　the　bottom　of　all　these　attacks；　though　we　do　not

always　find　it。　　I　suppose　I　go　to　work　pretty　much　like　other

professional　folks　of　my　temperament。　　Thus：



Wrist；　if　you　please。　I　was　on　his　right　side；　but　he　presented

his　left　wrist；　crossing　it　over　the　other。　I　begin　to　count；

holding　watch　in　left　hand。　　One；　two；　three；　four；What　a　handsome

hand！　wonder　if　that　splendid　stone　is　a　carbuncle。　One；　two；

three；　four；　five；　six；　seven；Can't　see　much；　it　is　so　dark；

except　one　white　object。　One；　two；　three；　four；Hang　it！　　eighty

or　ninety　in　the　minute；　I　guess。　Tongue；　if　you　please。　Tongue

is　put　out。　　Forget　to　look　at　it；　or；　rather；　to　take　any

particular　notice　of　it；but　what　is　that　white　object；　with　the

long　arm　stretching　up　as　if　pointing　to　the　sky；　just　as　Vesalius

and　Spigelius　and　those　old　fellows　used　to　put　their　skeletons？　　I

don't　think　anything　of　such　objects；　you　know；　but　what　should　he

have　it　in　his　chamber　for？　　As　I　had　found　his　pulse　irregular　and

intermittent；　I　took　out　a　stethoscope；　which　is　a　pocket…spyglass

for　looking　into　people's　chests　with　your　ears；　and　laid　it　over

the　place　where　the　heart　beats。　　I　missed　the　usual　beat　of　the

organ。　How　is　this？I　said；where　is　your　heart　gone　to？He

took　the　stethoscope　and　shifted　it　across　to　the　right　side；　there

was　a　displacement　of　the　organ。　I　am　ill…packed；he　said；there

was　no　room　for　my　heart　in　its　place　as　it　is　with　other　men。　God

help　him！



It　is　hard　to　draw　the　line　between　scientific　curiosity　and　the

desire　for　the　patient's　sake　to　learn　all　the　details　of　his

condition。　　I　must　look　at　this　patient's　chest；　and　thump　it　and

listen　to　it。　　For　this　is　a　case　of　ectopia　cordis；　my　boy；

displacement　of　the　heart；　and　it　is　n't　every　day　you　get　a　chance

to　overhaul　such　an　interesting　malformation。　　And　so　I　managed　to

do　my　duty　and　satisfy　my　curiosity　at　the　same　time。　　The　torso　was

slight　and　deformed；　the　right　arm　attenuated；the　left　full；

round；　and　of　perfect　symmetry。　　It　had　run　away　with　the　life　of

the　other　limbs；a　common　trick　enough　of　Nature's；　as　I　told　you

before。　　If　you　see　a　man　with　legs　withered　from　childhood；　keep

out　of　the　way　of　his　arms；　if　you　have　a　quarrel　with　him。　　He　has

the　strength　of　four　limbs　in　two；　and　if　he　strikes　you；　it　is　an

arm…blow　plus　a　kick　administered　from　the　shoulder　instead　of　the

haunch；　where　it　should　have　started　from。



Still　examining　him　as　a　patient；　I　kept　my　eyes　about　me　to　search

all　parts　of　the　chamber　and　went　on　with　the　double　process；　as

before。　Heart　hits　as　hard　as　a　fist；bellows…sound　over　mitral

valves　（professional　terms　you　need　not　attend　to）。　What　the　deuse

is　that　long　case　for？　　Got　his　witch　grandmother　mummied　in　it？

And　three　big　mahogany　presses；hey？A　diabolical　suspicion　came

over　me　which　I　had　had　once　before；that　he　might　be　one　of　our

modern　alchemists；you　understand；　make　gold；　you　know；　or　what

looks　like　it；　sometimes　with　the　head　of　a　king　or　queen　or　of

Liberty　to　embellish　one　side　of　the　piece。　Don't　I　remember

hearing　him　shut　a　door　and　lock　it　once？　　What　do　you　think　was

kept　under　that　lock？　　Let's　have　another　look　at　his　hand；　to　see

if　there　are　any　calluses。



One　can　tell　a　man's　business；　if　it　is　a　handicraft；　very　often　by

just　taking　a　look　at　his　open　hand。　　Ah！　　Four　calluses　at　the　end

of　the　fingers　of　the　right　hand。　　None　on　those　of　the　left。　　Ah；

ha！　　What　do　those　mean？



All　this　seems　longer　in　the　telling；　of　course；　than　it　was　in

fact。　　While　I　was　making　these　observations　of　the　objects　around

me；　I　was　also　forming　my　opinion　as　to　the　kind　of　case　with　which

I　had　to　deal。



There　are　three　wicks；　you　know；　to　the　lamp　of　a　man's　life：　brain；

blood；　and　breath。　　Press　the　brain　a　little；　its　light　goes　out；

followed　by　both　the　others。　　Stop　the　heart　a　minute　and　out　go　all

three　of　the　wicks。　　Choke　the　air　out　of　the　lungs；　and　presently

the　fluid　ceases　to　supply　the　other　centres　of　flame；　and　all　is

soon　stagnation；　cold；　and　darkness。　　The　〃tripod　of　life〃　a　French

physiologist　called　these　three　organs。　　It　is　all　clear　enough

which　leg　of　the　tripod　is　going　to　break　down　here。　　I　could　tell

you　exactly　what　the　dif