The Secret Of The Night(Fiscle Part 3), Gaston Leroux [best pdf ebook reader TXT] 📗
- Author: Gaston Leroux
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Of The Blond Young Men, Who Seemed No Older Than Rouletabille,
Climbed On The Table And Slipped The Other End Of The Rope Through
A Great Ring-Bolt That Projected From A Beam Of The Ceiling. During
This Time The Man Struggled Futilely, And His Death-Rattle Rose At
Last Though The Continued Noise Of His Resistance And Its Overcoming.
But His Last Breath Came With So Violent A Shake Of The Body That
The Whole Death-Apparatus, Rope And Ring-Bolt, Separated From The
Ceiling, And Rolled To The Ground With The Dead Man.
Rouletabille Uttered A Cry Of Horror. "You Are Assassins!" He
Cried. But Was The Man Surely Dead? It Was This That The Pale
Figures With The Yellow Hair Set Themselves To Make Sure Of. He
Was. Then They Brought Two Sacks And The Dead Man Was Slipped
Into One Of Them.
Rouletabille Said To Them:
"You Are Braver When You Kill By An Explosion, You Know."
He Regretted Bitterly That He Had Not Died The Night Before In The
Explosion. He Did Not Feel Very Brave. He Talked To Them Bravely
Enough, But He Trembled As His Time Approached. That Death
Horrified Him. He Tried To Keep From Looking At The Other Sack. He
Took The Two Ikons, Of Saint Luke And Of The Virgin, From His Pocket
And Prayed To Them. He Thought Of The Lady In Black And Wept.
A Voice In The Shadows Said:
"He Is Crying, The Poor Little Fellow."
It Was Annouchka's Voice.
Rouletabille Dried His Tears And Said:
"Messieurs, One Of You Must Have A Mother."
But All The Voices Cried:
"No, No, We Have Mothers No More!"
"They Have Killed Them," Cried Some. "They Have Sent Them To
Siberia," Cried Others.
"Well, I Have A Mother Still," Said The Poor Lad. "I Will Not Have
The Opportunity To Embrace Her. It Is A Mother That I Lost The Day
Of My Birth And That I Have Found Again, But - I Suppose It Is To
Be Said - On The Day Of My Death. I Shall Not See Her Again. I
Have A Friend; I Shall Not See Him Again Either. I Have Two Little
Ikons Here For Them, And I Am Going To Write A Letter To Each Of
Them, If You Will Permit It. Swear To Me That You Will See These
Reach Them."
"I Swear It," Said, In French, The Voice Of Annouchka.
Part 1 Chapter 16 (Before The Revolutionary Tribunal) Pg 200
"Thanks, Madame, You Are Kind. And Now, Messieurs, That Is All I
Ask Of You. I Know I Am Here To Reply To Very Grave Accusations.
Permit Me To Say To You At Once That I Admit Them All To Be Well
Founded. Consequently, There Need Be No Discussion Between Us.
I Have Deserved Death And I Accept It. So Permit Me Not To Concern
Myself With What Will Be Going On Here. I Ask Of You Simply, As A
Last Favor, Not To Hasten Your Preparations Too Much, So That I May
Be Able To Finish My Letters>"
Upon Which, Satisfied With Himself This Time, He Sat Down Again
And Commenced To Write Rapidly. They Left Him In Peace, As He
Desired. He Did Not Raise His Head Once, Even At The Moment When
A Murmur Louder Than Usual Showed That The Hearers Regarded
Rouletabille's Crimes With Especial Detestation. He Had The
Happiness Of Having Entirely Completed His Correspond Once When
They Asked Him To Rise To Hear Judgment Pronounced Upon Him. The
Supreme Communion That He Had Just Had With His Friend Sainclair
And With The Dear Lady In Black Restored All His Spirit To Him. He
Listened Respectfully To The Sentence Which Condemned Him To Death,
Though He Was Busy Sliding His Tongue Along The Gummed Edge Of His
Envelope.
These Were The Counts On Which He Was To Be Hanged:
1. Because He Had Come To Russia And Mixed In Affairs That Did Not
Concern His Nationality, And Had Done This In Spite Of Warning
To Remain In France.
2. Because He Had Not Kept The Promises Of Neutrality He Freely
Made To A Representative Of The Central Revolutionary Committee.
3. For Trying To Penetrate The Mystery Of The Trebassof Datcha.
4. For Having Comrade Matiew Whipped And Imprisoned By Koupriane.
5. For Having Denounced To Koupriane The Identity Of The Two
"Doctors" Who Had Been Assigned To Kill General Trebassof.
6. For Having Caused The Arrest Of Natacha Feodorovna.
It Was A List Longer Than Was Needed For His Doom. Rouletabille
Kissed His Ikons And Handed Them To Annouchka Along With The Letters.
Then He Declared, With His Lips Trembling Slightly, And A Cold Sweat
On His Forehead, That He Was Ready To Submit To His Fate.
Part 1 Chapter 17 (The Last Cravat) Pg 201
The Gentleman Of The Neva Said To Him: "If You Have Nothing Further
To Say, We Will Go Into The Courtyard."
Rouletabille Understood At Last That Hanging Him In The Room Where
Judgment Had Been Pronounced Was Rendered Impossible By The Violence
Of The Prisoner Just Executed. Not Only The Rope And The Ring-Bolt
Had Been Torn Away, But Part Of The Beam Had Splintered.
"There Is Nothing More," Replied Rouletabille.
He Was Mistaken. Something Occurred To Him, An Idea Flashed So
Suddenly That He Became White As His Shirt, And Had To Lean On The
Arm Of The Gentleman Of The Neva In Order To Accompany Him.
The Door Was Open. All The Men Who Had Voted His Death Filed Out
In Gloomy Silence. The Gentleman Of The Neva, Who Seemed Charged
With The Last Offices For The Prisoner, Pushed Him Gently Out Into
The Court.
It Was Vast, And Surrounded By A High Board Wall; Some Small
Buildings, With Closed Doors, Stood To Right And Left. A High
Chimney, Partially Demolished, Rose From One Corner. Rouletabille
Decided The Whole Place Was Part Of Some Old Abandoned Mill. Above
His Head The Sky Was Pale As A Winding Sheet. A Thunderous,
Intermittent, Rhythmical Noise Appraised Him That He Could Not Be
Far From The Sea.
He Had Plenty Of Time To Note All These Things, For They Had Stopped
The March To Execution A Moment And Had Made Him Sit Down In The
Open Courtyard On An Old Box. A Few Steps Away From Him Under The
Shed Where He Certainly Was Going To Be Hanged, A Man Got Upon A
Stool (The Stool That Would Serve Rouletabille A Few Moments Later)
With His Arm Raised, And Drove With A Few Blows Of A Mallet A Great
Ring-Bolt Into A Beam Above His Head.
The Reporter's Eyes, Which Had Not Lost Their Habit Of Taking
Everything In, Rested Again On A Coarse Canvas Sack That Lay On The
Ground. The Young Man Felt A Slight Tremor, For He Saw Quickly
That The Sack Swathed A Human Form. He Turned His Head Away, But
Only To Confront Another Empty Sack That Was Intended For Him.
Then He Closed His Eyes. The Sound Of Music Came From Somewhere
Outside, Notes Of The Balalaika. He Said To Himself, "Well, We
Certainly Are In Finland"; For He Knew That, If The Guzla Is
Russian The Balalaika Certainly Is Finnish. It Is A Kind Of
Accordeon That The Peasants Pick Plaintively In The Doorways Of
Their Toubas. He Had Seen And Heard Them The Afternoon That He
Went To Pergalovo, And Also A Little Further Away, On The Viborg
Line. He Pictured To Himself The Ruined Structure Where He Now
Found Himself Shut In With The Revolutionary Tribunal, As It Must
Part 1 Chapter 17 (The Last Cravat) Pg 202Appear From The Outside To Passers-By; Unsinister, Like Many Others
Near It, Sheltering Under Its Decaying Roof A Few Homes Of Humble
Workers, Resting Now As They Played The Balalaika At Their
Thresholds, With The Day's Labor Over.
And Suddenly From The Ineffable Peace Of His Last Evening, While
The Balalaika Mourned And The Man Overhead Tested The Solidity Of
His Ring-Bolt, A Voice Outside, The Grave, Deep Voice Of Annouchka,
Sang For The Little Frenchman:
"For Whom Weave We Now The Crown
Of Lilac, Rose And Thyme?
When My Hand Falls Lingering Down
Who Then Will Bring Your Crown
Of Lilac, Rose And Thyme?
O That Someone Among You Would Hear,
And Come, And My Lonely Hand
Would Press, And Shed The Friendly Tear -
For Alone At The End I Stand.
Who Now Will Bring The Crown
Of Lilac, Rose And Thyme?"
Rouletabille Listened To The Voice Dying Away With The Last Sob Of
The Balalaika. "It Is Too Sad," He Said, Rising. "Let Us Go,"
And He Wavered A Little.
They Came To Search Him. All Was Ready Above. They Pushed Him
Gently Towards The Shed. When He Was Under The Ring-Bolt, Near
The Stool, They Made Him Turn Round And They Read Him Something
In Russian, Doubtless Less For Him Than For Those There Who Did
Not Understand French. Rouletabille Had Hard Work To Hold Himself
Erect.
The Gentleman Of The Neva Said To Him Further:
"Monsieur, We Now Read You The Final Formula. It Asks You To Say
Whether, Before You Die, You Have Anything You Wish To Add To What
We Know Concerning The Sentence Which Has Been Passed Upon You."
Rouletabille Thought That His Saliva, Which At That Moment He Had
The Greatest Difficulty In Swallowing, Would Not Permit Him To Utter
A Word. But Disdain Of Such A Weakness, When He Recalled The
Coolness Of So Many Illustrious Condemned People In Their Last
Moments, Brought Him The Last Strength Needed To Maintain His
Reputation.
"Why," Said He, "This Sentence Is Not Wrongly Drawn Up. I Blame
It Only For Being Too Short. Why Has There Been No Mention Of The
Crime I Committed In Contriving The Tragic Death Of Poor Michael
Korsakoff?"
"Michael Korsakoff Was A Wretch," Pronounced The Vindictive Voice
Part 1 Chapter 17 (The Last Cravat) Pg 203
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