Cruel as the graveSouthworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
General
Cruel as the grave
Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
American fiction -- 19th century
"With the Evil One for a pattern, eh? And here he comes, sure enough.
Talk of the d---- and you know what happens," muttered Joe Joy, as a
most appalling apparition approached. It was a tall, thin figure, clad
in a tight-fitting black suit, that clung close to the skin from the
crown of the head to the soles of the feet and the palms of the hands;
skull-cap, mask, jacket, sleeves, trousers, shoes and gloves seeming to
be knit all of one piece, or else very artistically joined together.
Crowning the black brows were two tall white horns; tipping the black
fingers were long white talons; terminating the black feet were cloven
white hoofs. Crimson glass goggles over the eyes gave the look of
burning coals; and by some "devilish cantrap strange," some trick in
chemistry, at least, little jets of flame appeared to issue from the
mouth and nostrils of the mask.
"Heaven save us! There's no mistaking his sex, or identity either,"
gasped Mr. Joe, backing himself away from this diabolical figure until
he was stopped by the wall, from which he cried out, "Here, Jerry, show
the--Enemy--into the gentleman's dressing-room."
The shuddering boy, shaking in every limb, shrank away and merely
pointed out the door of the dressing-room.
Miss Tabby had merely time to raise her hands and eyes in mute appeal to
heaven, before a shoal of new arrivals--"flower girls," "strawberry
girls," "match girls," "morning stars," "evening stars," "springs,"
"summers," "nuns," "bacchantes," etc., claimed her attention; while a
troupe of "brigands," "monks," "troubadours," "clowns," "harlequin,"
"kings," "crusaders," et caetera, demanded the guidance of Mr. Joy.
And after this thicker and faster they came, crowding one group behind
another, until the ushers were nearly demented. When drove after drove
had divided and passed to the right or the left, that is, to the ladies'
or gentlemen's dressing-rooms, and the stream began to slacken a little,
so that they could distinguish individuals, Mr. Joy in turn received
and passed a "puritan preacher," a "cavalier soldier," a "Highlander," a
"knight," a "minstrel," the "vailed prophet," a "Switzer," a "Chinese
mandarin," a "Russian serf," and black, white, and gray, red, yellow,
and blue dominoes, he suddenly exclaimed:
"Good Lord deliver us! What's _that_?"
Miss Tabby, who, to her infinite disgust, had been receiving and passing
any number of "fairies," "fisher girls," "soubrettes," "sultanas,"
et caetera, turned around, and in a quavering voice, inquired:
"What's _what_?"
"Why, _that_!" shuddered Joe, pointing to a ghastly figure that was
standing quite still, a few paces from where they stood, trembling.
"It's a skeleton! Oh, my goodness! how did ever IT get here?"
"Yes, it _is_ a skeleton! Oh, this is too horrible!" gasped Joe,
shrinking up against the wall. And his female companion clung close to
him.
Meanwhile the "skeleton" stalked towards them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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