The Land of Darkness: Along with Some Further Chapters in the Experiences of the Little PilgrimOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
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The Land of Darkness: Along with Some Further Chapters in the Experiences of the Little Pilgrim
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Future life -- Fiction; Purgatory -- Fiction
I do not know how long I sat, rapt in this gloomy vision; but at last it
occurred to me to rise and try the door, which to my astonishment was
open. I went out with a throb of new hope. After all, it might not be
necessary to come back; there might be other expedients: I might fall
among friends. I turned down the long echoing stairs, on which I met
various people, who took no notice of me, and in whom I felt no
interest save a desire to avoid them, and at last reached the street. To
be out of doors in the air was something, though there was no wind, but
a motionless still atmosphere which nothing disturbed. The streets,
indeed, were full of movement, but not of life--though this seems a
paradox. The passengers passed on their way in long regulated
lines--those who went towards the gates keeping rigorously to one side
of the pavement, those who came, to the other. They talked to each other
here and there; but whenever two men in uniform, such as those who had
been my conductors, appeared, silence ensued, and the wayfarers shrank
even from the looks of these persons in authority. I walked all about
the spacious town. Everywhere there were tall houses, everywhere streams
of people coming and going, but no one spoke to me, or remarked me at
all. I was as lonely as if I had been in a wilderness. I was indeed in a
wilderness of men, who were as though they did not see me, passing
without even a look of human fellowship; each absorbed in his own
concerns. I walked and walked till my limbs trembled under me, from one
end to another of the great streets, up and down, and round and round.
But no one said, How are you? Whence come you? What are you doing? At
length in despair I turned again to the blank and miserable room, which
had looked to me like a cell in a prison. I had wilfully made no note of
its situation, trying to avoid rather than to find it, but my steps were
drawn thither against my will. I found myself retracing my steps,
mounting the long stairs, passing the same people, who streamed along
with no recognition of me, as I desired nothing to do with them; and at
last found myself within the same four blank walls as before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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