The Sorrows of Satan: or, The Strange Experience of One Geoffrey Tempest, Millionaire: A RomanceCorelli, Marie
Philosophy
The Sorrows of Satan: or, The Strange Experience of One Geoffrey Tempest, Millionaire: A Romance
Corelli, Marie
Devil -- Fiction; Didactic fiction; Great Britain -- Fiction; Millionaires -- Fiction; Religious fiction
out,--but my tongue refused to obey me--and my voice was strangled in my
throat. The Three remained absolutely motionless,--and again I rubbed my
eyes, wondering if this were a dream or some hideous optical delusion.
Trembling in every limb, I stretched my hand towards the bell intending
to ring violently for assistance,--when--a Voice, low and thrilling with
intense anguish, caused me to shrink back appalled, and my arm fell
nerveless at my side. "_Misery!_"
The word struck the air with a harsh reproachful clang, and I nearly
swooned with the horror of it. For now one of the Figures moved, and a
face gleamed out from beneath its hooded wrappings--a face white as
whitest marble and fixed into such an expression of dreadful despair as
froze my blood. Then came a deep sigh that was more like a death-groan,
and again the word, "_Misery!_" shuddered upon the silence.
Mad with fear, and scarcely knowing what I did, I sprang from the bed,
and began desperately to advance upon these fantastic masqueraders,
determined to seize them and demand the meaning of this practical and
untimely jest,--when suddenly all Three lifted their heads and turned
their faces on me,--such faces!--indescribably awful in their pallid
agony,--and a whisper more ghastly than a shriek, penetrated the very
fibres of my consciousness--"_Misery!_"
With a furious bound I flung myself upon them,--my hands struck _empty
space_. Yet there--distinct as ever--they stood, glowering down upon me,
while my clenched fists beat impotently _through_ and _beyond_ their
seemingly corporeal shapes! And then--all at once--I became aware of
their eyes,--eyes that watched me pitilessly, stedfastly, and
disdainfully,--eyes that like witch-fires, seemed to slowly burn
terrific meanings into my very flesh and spirit. Convulsed and almost
frantic with the strain on my nerves, I abandoned myself to
despair,--this awful sight meant death I thought,--my last hour had
surely come! Then--I saw the lips of one of those dreadful faces move
... some superhuman instinct in me leaped to life, ... in some strange
way I thought I knew, or guessed the horror of what that next utterance
would be, ... and with all my remaining force I cried out--
"No! No! Not that eternal Doom! ... Not yet!"
Fighting the vacant air, I strove to beat back those intangible weird
Shapes that loomed above me, withering up my soul with the fixed stare
of their angry eyes, and with a choking call for help, I fell, as it
were, into a pit of darkness, where I lay mercifully unconscious.
XI
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