Conduct of life -- Fiction; Fantasy fiction; Parables
But they all wished to see it, light or no light. It was a little
novelty to wind up supper and take the place of toasts.
So suddenly the light switched out, and left the place in total
darkness. Those who were on terms familiar enough clasped one another’s
hands. They found the situation not unpleasant.
And then upon the instant the black curtain swung backwards and revealed
a space beyond, from which gleamed out, in ashen whiteness and dusky
hollows from the blackness, the skeleton head of death. It was the head
of some great giant of unusual size, with yellow teeth discoloured, but
all present. All looked at it with gloomy interest, and some began to
wish, as darkness continued, they’d been less eager to examine it.
But suddenly and swiftly in the silence two gleaming balls of light
glared red from the empty sockets, to turn their gaze at every
individual round the room, and with a gleam most sinister. This was
truly horrible. A room so black and dark that none could see each other.
The bleached skull and skeleton of a superhuman head. And above all the
terrible gleaming eyes, the only flash of light in the whole room, that
had the power of penetrating, and gave each the impression the evil eye
was fixed on him alone. A spell of silence had fallen. No woman cried;
the laughter of ten minutes since had died; even the very sound of
breathing was now quite hushed. This was the deadened, powerless load of
nightmare.
Suddenly a light appeared on the spiral staircase. The gleam of snowy
whiteness, the soft glow of an undying lamp, and the pure colours of a
splendid moonshine. And above all a face and figure of most simple
beauty, eyes pure and starlit in contrast to the red gleam. And a crown
of mermaid flaxen hair, and expression sweet and thoughtful! It was a
wonderful and sweet relief to the ghastly spectacle below.
And on a sudden the full lights flashed on again, and a sigh of relief
burst from every heart and many lips. The black curtain had fallen.
Rosalie alone remained of the weird scene, descending the spiral
staircase. A little thing will often bring about reaction, and from
being shunned by many, she from this opportune arrival gained a fair
share of popularity.
“Where have you been?” a dozen voices cried, glad to make sound again.
“Trying to find a partner,” cried she, and laughed; and others laughed
as well, the search had been so long and unsuccessful.
“Supper is finished.”
There was no lack of those to offer attention now, and along with this
came the general bustle of those leaving the supper-table.
But by the side of Mr. Barringcourt stood the girl who, from a mixture
of youthful spirits and curiosity, had asked the first the curtain might
be moved.
“I am glad I had finished my supper,” said she, with an attempt at
laughing still. “I’m sure I could never eat anything in here again.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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