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classic mystery and detective stories-第63章

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indulged in sauerkraut at dinner。  He advised me to take a little

brandy; but; affecting a fresh access of pain; I bade him good…

night。  He hoped I should be all right on the morrowif not; he

added; we can postpone our journey till the day after。



Once in my own room I bolted the door; and sat down on the edge of

the bed in a tumult of excitement。





V



FLUCTUATIONS





Alone with my thoughts; and capable of pursuing conjectures and

conclusions without external interruption; I quickly exhausted all

the hypothetical possibilities of the case; and; from having

started with the idea that Bourgonef was the assassin; I came at

last to the more sensible conclusion that I was a constructive

blockhead。  My suspicions were simply outrageous in their defect of

evidence; and could never for one moment have seemed otherwise to

any imagination less riotously active than mine。



I bathed my heated head; undressed myself; and got into bed;

considering what I should say to the police when I went next

morning to communicate my suspicions。  And it is worthy of remark;

as well as somewhat ludicrously self…betraying; that no sooner did

I mentally see myself in the presence of the police; and was thus

forced to confront my suspicions with some appearance of evidence;

than the whole fabric of my vision rattled to the ground。  What had

I to say to the police?  Simply that; on the evening of the night

when Lieschen was murdered; I had passed in a public thoroughfare a

man whom I could not identify; but who as I could not help

fancying; seemed to recognize me。  This man; I had persuaded

myself; was the murderer; for which persuasion I was unable to

adduce a tittle of evidence。  It was uncolored by the remotest

possibility。  It was truly and simply the suggestion of my vagrant

fancy; which had mysteriously settled itself into a conviction; and

having thus capriciously identified the stranger with Lieschen's

murderer; I now; upon evidence quite as preposterous; identified

Bourgonef with the stranger。



The folly became apparent even to myself。  If Bourgonef had in his

possession a rouge…pot and false beard; I could not but acknowledge

that he made no attempt to conceal them; nor had he manifested any

confusion on their appearance。  He had quietly characterized them

as masquerading follies。  Moreover; I now began to remember

distinctly that the stranger did carry a walking…stick in his right

hand; and as Bourgonef had lost his right arm; that settled the

point。



Into such complications; would the tricks of imagination lead me!

I blushed mentally; and resolved to let it serve as a lesson in

future。  It is needless; however; to say that the lesson was lost;

as such lessons always are lost; a strong tendency in any direction

soon disregards all the teachings of experience。  I am still not

the less the victim of my constructive imagination; because I have

frequently had to be ashamed of its vagaries。



The next morning I awoke with a lighter breast; rejoicing in the

caution which had delayed me from any rash manifestation of

suspicions now seen to be absurd。  I smiled as the thought arose:

what if this suspected stranger should also be pestered by an

active imagination; and should entertain similar suspicions of me?

He must have seen in my eyes the look of recognition which I saw in

his。  On hearing of the murder; our meeting may also have recurred

to him; and his suspicions would have this color; wanting to mine;

that I happen to inherit with my Italian blood a somewhat truculent

appearance; which has gained for me among my friends the playful

sobriquet of 〃the brigand。〃



Anxious to atone at once for my folly; and to remove from my mind

any misgivingif it existedat my quitting him so soon after the

disclosures of the masquerading details; I went to Bourgonef as

soon as I was dressed and proposed a ramble till the diligence

started for Munich。  He was sympathetic in his inquiries about my

colic; which I assured him had quite passed away; and out we went。

The sharp morning air of March made us walk briskly; and gave a

pleasant animation to our thoughts。  As he discussed the acts of

the provisional government; so wise; temperate; and energetic; the

fervor and generosity of his sentiments stood out in such striking

contrast with the deed I had last night recklessly imputed to him

that I felt deeply ashamed; and was nearly carried away by mingled

admiration and self…reproach to confess the absurd vagrancy of my

thoughts and humbly ask his pardon。  But you can understand the

reluctance at a confession so insulting to him; so degrading to me。

It is at all times difficult to tell a man; face to face; eye to

eye; the evil you have thought of him; unless the recklessness of

anger seizes on it as a weapon with which to strike; and I had now

so completely unsaid to myself all that I once had thought of evil;

that to put it in words seemed a gratuitous injury to me and insult

to him。



A day or two after our arrival in Munich a reaction began steadily

to set in。  Ashamed as I was of my suspicions; I could not

altogether banish from my mind the incident which had awakened

them。  The image of that false beard would mingle with my thoughts。

I was vaguely uncomfortable at the idea of Bourgonef's carrying

about with him obvious materials of disguise。  In itself this would

have had little significance; but coupled with the fact that his

devoted servant wasin spite of all Bourgonef's eulogies

repulsively ferocious in aspect; capable; as I could not help

believing; of any brutality;the suggestion was unpleasant。  You

will understand that having emphatically acquitted Bourgonef in my

mind; I did not again distinctly charge him with any complicity in

the mysterious murder; on the contrary; I should indignantly have

repelled such a thought; but the uneasy sense of some mystery about

him; coupled with the accessories of disguise; and the aspect of

the servant; gave rise to dim; shadowy forebodings which ever and

anon passed across my mind。



Did it ever occur to you; reader; to reflect on the depths of

deceit which lie still and dark even in the honestest minds?

Society reposes on a thin crust of convention; underneath which lie

fathomless possibilities of crime; and consequently suspicions of

crime。  Friendship; however close and dear; is not free from its

reserves; unspoken beliefs; more or less suppressed opinions。  The

man whom you would indignantly defend against any accusation

brought by another; so confident are you in his unshakable

integrity; you may yourself momentarily suspect of crimes far

exceeding those which you repudiate。  Indeed; I have known

sagacious men hold that perfect frankness in expressing the

thoughts is a sure sign of imperfect friendship; something is

always suppressed; and it is not he who loves you that 〃tells you

candidly what he thinks〃 of your person; your pretensions; your

children; or your poems。  Perfect candor is dictated by envy; or

some other unfriendly feeling; making friendship a stalking…horse;

under cover of which it shoots the arrow which will rankle。

Friendship is candid only when the candor is urgentmeant to avert

impending danger or to rectify an error。  The candor which is an

impertinence never springs from friendship。  Love is sympathetic。



I do not; of course; mean to intimate that my feeling for Bourgonef

was of that deep kind which justifies the name of friendship。  I

only want to say that in our social relations we are constantly

hiding from each other; under the smiles and courtesies of friendly

interest; thoughts which; if expressed; would destroy all possible

communionand that; nevertheless; we are not insincere in our

smiles and courtesies; and therefore there is nothing paradoxical

in my having felt great admiration for Bourgonef; and great

pleasure in his society; while all the time there was deep down in

the recesses of my thoughts an uneasy sense of a dark mystery which

possibly connected him with a dreadful crime。



This feeling was roused into greater activity by an incident which

now occurred。  One morning I went to Bourgonef's room; which was at

some distance from mine on the same floor; intending to propose a

visit to the sculpture at the Glyptothek。  To my surprise I found

Ivan the serf standing before the closed door。  He looked at me

like a mastiff about to spring; and intimated by significant

gestures that I was not allowed to enter the room。  Concluding that

his master was occupied in some way; and desired not to be

disturbed; I merely signified by a nod that my visit was of no

consequence; and went out。  On returning about an hour afterwards I

saw Ivan putting three pink letters into the letter…box of the

hotel。  I attached no significance to this very ordinary fact at

the time; but went up to my room and began writing my letters; one

of which was to my lawyer; sendi
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