“How can I be ignorant of your distress, when their cause at this
moment stands beside you?”
I started. The Stranger continued.
“Though to you only visible for one hour in the twenty-four, neither
day or night does She ever quit you; Nor will She ever quit you till
you have granted her request.”
“And what is that request?”
“That She must herself explain: It lies not in my knowledge. Wait with
patience for the night of Saturday: All shall be then cleared up.”
I dared not press him further. He soon after changed the conversation
and talked of various matters. He named People who had ceased to exist
for many Centuries, and yet with whom He appeared to have been
personally acquainted. I could not mention a Country however distant
which He had not visited, nor could I sufficiently admire the extent
and variety of his information. I remarked to him that having
travelled, seen, and known so much, must have given him infinite
pleasure. He shook his head mournfully.
“No one,” He replied, “is adequate to comprehending the misery of my
lot! Fate obliges me to be constantly in movement: I am not permitted
to pass more than a fortnight in the same place. I have no Friend in
the world, and from the restlessness of my destiny I never can acquire
one. Fain would I lay down my miserable life, for I envy those who
enjoy the quiet of the Grave: But Death eludes me, and flies from my
embrace. In vain do I throw myself in the way of danger. I plunge into
the Ocean; The Waves throw me back with abhorrence upon the shore: I
rush into fire; The flames recoil at my approach: I oppose myself to
the fury of Banditti; Their swords become blunted, and break against my
breast: The hungry Tiger shudders at my approach, and the Alligator
flies from a Monster more horrible than itself. God has set his seal
upon me, and all his Creatures respect this fatal mark!”
He put his hand to the velvet, which was bound round his forehead.
There was in his eyes an expression of fury, despair, and malevolence,
that struck horror to my very soul. An involuntary convulsion made me
shudder. The Stranger perceived it.
“Such is the curse imposed on me,” he continued: “I am doomed to
inspire all who look on me with terror and detestation. You already
feel the influence of the charm, and with every succeeding moment will
feel it more. I will not add to your sufferings by my presence.
Farewell till Saturday. As soon as the Clock strikes twelve, expect me
at your chamber door.”
Having said this He departed, leaving me in astonishment at the
mysterious turn of his manner and conversation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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