Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 15, August, 1851Various
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 15, August, 1851
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
"Heaven will judge strictly between us. What am I? What have I to live
for? You have poisoned the earth for me. Every spot where we have been
together is accursed to me. I dare not look on the old haunts. I dare
not seek new scenes, for my soul is lonely, and no pleasure or delight
of nature can reach it. I should go mad were I not near you; it supplies
me with work--something to employ me--to keep my hands from
self-destruction. I weave stratagems all night, and watch my time all
day, day after day, patiently, to execute them. I have but one purpose
to fulfill, and when that is done, life is over. If I live long enough
to drive him mad, as he has maddened me, I shall be content, and go to
my grave happy. And I will do it; every hour gives me more strength. I
see the end nearer and nearer--it grows upon me. I awaken to my business
early; it is my first thought--my last; it never leaves me. Day after
day I have watched you, and have tracked you home at last. And here it
is you live--you, Astræa, whom I loved--whom I still--no, not that! You
live here with him--his wife! You call yourself his wife? Ha! ha! That
is good--his wife! I wonder to see you living, Astræa. I should have
looked for your corpse in this room rather than the living Astræa--the
proud, soaring, ambitious Astræa! Why do you not die? It would be
happier for you?"
During the latter part of this speech, Astræa, who had made a great
struggle throughout to sustain the attitude she had "taken" in the first
instance, grew weak from terror and exhaustion, and sunk or tottered
upon a chair. The inflections of voice with which these inhuman taunts
were delivered, ending in a tone that came apparently, if I may so
express it, laden with tears from the heart of the speaker, were so
ingeniously varied and so skillfully employed, that it would have been
impossible, even for an indifferent listener, to have heard them without
being alternately agitated and enraged. For my part, a kind of frenzy
possessed me. I restrained myself as long as I could. I tried to obey
poor Astræa's injunction, for, seeing how much I had wronged her in my
thoughts, and what misery she must have suffered and concealed on my
account, I felt that I ought to spare her any further alarm my
forbearance could avert. But the harrowing scoffs of the fiend were
beyond my endurance--my self-control gave way at last, and bursting open
the door of the room in which I was concealed, I rushed out upon the
malignant wretch, who, to do him justice, courageously turned upon me,
and met me with his eyes glaring fiercely as of old.
"Devil!" I exclaimed, "what do you do here? What do you want? Revenge?
Take it--in any shape you will. Only rid me of your presence, lest I
spurn you with my foot, and trample upon you."
"You should have told me," he said, turning with an air of mockery to
Astræa, "that he was listening in the next room. I would have dressed my
phrases accordingly."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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