The Merry Men, and Other Tales and FablesStevenson, Robert Louis
History
The Merry Men, and Other Tales and Fables
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Boys -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Paranormal fiction; Treasure troves -- Fiction
It was little wonder if I slept no more. Why had I been locked in? What
had passed? Who was the author of these indescribable and shocking
cries? A human being? It was inconceivable. A beast? The cries were
scarce quite bestial; and what animal, short of a lion or a tiger,
could thus shake the solid walls of the residencia? And while I was
thus turning over the elements of the mystery, it came into my mind
that I had not yet set eyes upon the daughter of the house. What was
more probable than that the daughter of the Senora, and the sister of
Felipe, should be herself insane? Or, what more likely than that these
ignorant and half-witted people should seek to manage an afflicted
kinswoman by violence? Here was a solution; and yet when I called to
mind the cries (which I never did without a shuddering chill) it seemed
altogether insufficient: not even cruelty could wring such cries from
madness. But of one thing I was sure: I could not live in a house where
such a thing was half conceivable, and not probe the matter home and,
if necessary, interfere.
The next day came, the wind had blown itself out, and there was nothing
to remind me of the business of the night. Felipe came to my bedside
with obvious cheerfulness; as I passed through the court, the Senora
was sunning herself with her accustomed immobility; and when I issued
from the gateway, I found the whole face of nature austerely smiling,
the heavens of a cold blue, and sown with great cloud islands, and the
mountain-sides mapped forth into provinces of light and shadow. A short
walk restored me to myself, and renewed within me the resolve to plumb
this mystery; and when, from the vantage of my knoll, I had seen Felipe
pass forth to his labours in the garden, I returned at once to the
residencia to put my design in practice. The Senora appeared plunged in
slumber; I stood awhile and marked her, but she did not stir; even if
my design were indiscreet, I had little to fear from such a guardian;
and turning away, I mounted to the gallery and began my exploration of
the house.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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