by Mark Twain
"Mr. Schwarz, you forget yourself!"
It knocked the reptile stupid for a moment; then he got his bearings and said-
"Oh, please come to yourself, dear, it is so hard to see you like this. But if you can't wake, do come to the divan and sleep it off, and I will so lovingly watch over you, my darling, and protect you from intrusion and discovery. Come, Marget-do!"
"PtIarget!" Lisbet's eyes kindled, as atva new affront. "What Marget, please? Whom do you take me for? And why do you venture these familiarities?" She softened a little then, seeing how dazed and how pitiably distressed he looked, and added, "I have always treated you with courtesy, Mr. Schwarz, and it is very unkind of you to insult me in this wanton way."
In his miserable confusion he did not know what to say, and so he said the wrong thing-
"Oh, my poor afflicted child, shake it off, be your sweet self again, and let us steep our souls once more in dreams of our happy marriage day and-"
It was too much. She would not let him finish, but broke wrathfully into the midst of his sentence.
"Go away!" she said; "your mind is disordered, you have been drinking. Go-go at once! I cannot bear the sight of you!"
He crept humbly away and out at the door, mopping his eyes with his handkerchief and muttering "Poor afflicted thing, it breaks my heart to see her so!"
Dear Lisbet, she was just a girl-alternate sunshine and shower, peremptory soldier one minute, crying the next. Sobbing, she took refuge on my breast, saying-
"Love me, oh my precious one, give me peace, heal my hurts, charm away the memory of the shame this odious creature has put upon me!"
During half an hour we re-enacted that sofa-scene where it had so lately been played before, detail by detail, kiss for kiss, dream for dream, and the bliss of it was beyond words. But with an important difference: in Marget's case there was a mamma to be pacified and persuaded, but Lisbet von Arnim had no such incumbrances; if she had a relative in the world she was not aware of it; she was free and independent, she could marry whom she pleased and when she pleased. And so, with the dearest and sweetest naivety she suggested that to-day and now was as good a time as any! The suddenness of it, the unexpectedness of it, would have taken my breath if I had had any. As it was, it swept through me like a delicious wind and set my whole fabric waving and fluttering. For a moment I was gravely embarrassed. Would it be right, would it be honorable, would it not be treason to let this confiding young creature marry herself to a viewless detail of the atmosphere? I knew how to accomplish it, and was burning to do it, but would it be fair? Ought I not to at least tell her my condition, and let her decide for herself? Ah . . ... She might decide the wrong way!
No, I couldn't bring myself to it, I couldn't run the risk. I must think-think-think. I must hunt out a good and righteous reason for the marriage without the revelation. That is the way we are made; when we badly want a thing, we go to hunting for good and righteous reasons for it; we give it that fine name to comfort our consciences, whereas we privately know we are only hunting for plausible ones.
I seemed to find what I was seeking, and I urgently pretended to myself that it hadn't a defect in it. FortyFour was my friend; no doubt I could persuade him to return my DreamSelf into my body and lock it up there for good. Schwarz being thus put out of the way, wouldn't my wife's Waking-Self presently lose interest in him and cease from loving him? That looked plausible. Next, by throwing my Waking-Self in the way of her Waking-Self a good deal and using tact and art, would not a time come when . . . . . Oh, it was all as clear as a bell! Certainly. It wouldn't be long, it couldn't be long, before I could retire my Soul into my body, then both Lisbet and Marget being widows and longing for solace and tender companionship, would yield to the faithful beseechings and supplications of my poor inferior Waking-Self and marry him. Oh, the scheme was perfect, it was flawless, and my enthusiasm over it was without measure or limit. Lisbet caught that enthusiasm from my face and cried out-
"I know what it is! It is going to be noiv!"
I began to volley the necessary "suggestions" into her head as fast as I could load and fire-for by "suggestion," as 44 had told me, you make the hypnotised subject see and do and feel whatever you please: see people and things that are not there, hear words that are not spoken, eat salt for sugar, drink vinegar for wine, find the rose's sweetness in a stench, carry out all suggested acts-and forget the whole of it when he wakes, and remember the whole of it again whenever the hypnotic sleep returns!
In obedience to suggestion, Lisbet clothed herself as a bride; by suggestion she made obeisance to imaginary altar and priest, and smiled upon imaginary wedding-guests; made the solemn responses; received the ring, bent her dear little head to the benediction, put up her lips for the marriage kiss, and blushed as a new-made wife should before people!
Then, by suggestion altar and priest and friends passed away and we were alone-alone, immeasurably content, the happiest pair in the Duchy of Austria!
Ali . . . . . footsteps! some one coming! I fled to the middle of the room, to emancipate Lisbet from the embarrassment of the hypnotic sleep and be Marget again and ready for emergencies. She began to gaze around and about, surprised, wondering, also a little frightened, I thought.
"Why, where is Emil?" she said. "How strange; I did not see him go. How could he go and I not see him? . . .. Emil! . . . . No answer! Surely this magician's den is bewitched. But we've been here many times, and nothing happened."
At that moment Emil slipped in, closed the door, and said, apologetically and in a tone and manner charged with the most respectful formality-
"Forgive me, Miss Regen, but I was afraid for you and have stood guard-it would not do for you to be found in this place, and asleep. Your mother is fretting about your absence-her nurse is looking for you everywhere-I have misdirected her . . . . . pardon, what is the matter?"
Marget was gazing at him in a sort of stupefaction, with the tears beginning to trickle down her face. She began to sob in her hands, and said-
"If I have been asleep it was cruel of you to leave me. Oh, Emil, how could you desert me at such a time, if you love me?"
The astonished and happy bullfrog had her in his arms in a minute and was blistering her with kisses, which she paid back as fast as she could register them, and she not cold yet from her marriage-oath! A man-and such a man as that-hugging my wife before my eyes, and she getting a gross and voracious satisfaction out of it!-I could not endure the shameful sight. I rose and winged my way thence, intending to kick a couple of his teeth out as I passed over, but his mouth was employed and I could not get at it.
Chapter 25
THAT NIGHT I had a terrible misfortune. The way it came about was this. I was so unutterably happy and so unspeakably unhappy that my life was become an enchanted ecstasy and a crushing burden. I did not know what to do, and took to drink. Merely for that evening. It was by Doangivadam's suggestion that I did this. He did not know what the matter was, and I did not tell him; but he could see that something was the matter and wanted regulating, and in his judgment it would be well to try drink, for it might do good and couldn't do harm. Ile was ready to do any kindness for me, because I had been 44's friend; and he loved to have me talk about 44, and mourn with him over his burning. I couldn't tell him 44 was alive again, for the mysterious check fell upon my tongue whenever I tried to. Very well; we were drinking and mourning together, and I took a shade too much and it biased my judgment. I was not what one could call at all far gone, but I had reached the heedless stage, the unwatchful stage, when we parted, and I forgot to make myself invisible! And so, eager and unafraid, I entered the boudoir of my bride confident of the glad welcome which would of course have been mine if I had come as Martin von Giesbach, whom she loved, instead of as August Feldner, whom she cared nothing about. The boudoir was dark, but the bedroom door was standing open, and through it I saw an enchanting picture and stopped to contemplate it and enjoy it. It was Marget. She was sitting before a pier gla
ss, snowily arrayed in her dainty nightie, with her left side toward me; and upon her delicate profile and her shining cataract of dark red hair streaming unvexed to the floor a strong light was falling. Her maid was busily grooming her with brush and comb, and gossiping, and now and then Marget smiled up at her and she smiled back, and I smiled at both in sympathy and good-fellowship out of the dusk, and altogether it was a gracious and contenting condition of things, and my heart sang with happiness. But the picture was not quite complete, not wholly perfect-there was a pair of lovely blue eyes that persistently failed to turn my way. I thought I would go nearer and correct that defect. Supposing that I was invisible I tranquilly stepped just within the room and stood there; at the same moment Marget's mother appeared in the further door; and also at the same moment the three indignant women discovered me and began to shriek and scream in the one breath!
I fled the place. I went to my quarters, resumed my flesh, and sat mournfully down to wait for trouble. It was not long coming. I expected the master to call, and was not disappointed. He came in anger-which was natural,-but to my relief and surprise I soon found that his denunciations were not for me! What an uplift it was! No, they were all for my Duplicate-all that the master wanted from me was a denial that I was the person who had profaned the sanctity of his niece's bedchamber. When he said that . . . . well, it took the most of the buoyancy out of the uplift. If he had stopped there and challenged me to testify, I-but he didn't. He went right on recounting and re-recounting the details of the exasperating episode, never suspecting that they were not news to me, and all the while he freely lashed the Duplicate and took quite for granted that he was the criminal and that my character placed me above suspicion. This was all so pleasant to my ear that I was glad to let him continue: indeed the more he abused Schwarz the better I liked it, and soon I was feeling grateful that he had neglected to ask for my testimony. He was very bitter, and when I perceived that he was minded to handle my detestable rival with severity I rejoiced exceedingly in my secret heart. Also I became evilly eager to keep him in that mind, and hoped for chances to that end.
It appeared that both the mother and the maid were positive that the Duplicate was the offender. The master kept dwelling upon that, and never referring to Marget as a witness, a thing that seemed so strange to me that at last I ventured to call his attention to the omission.
"Oh, her unsupported opinion is of no consequence!" he said, indifferently. "She says it was you-which is nonsense, in the face of the other evidence and your denial. She is only a child-how can she know one of you from the other? To satisfy her I said I would bring your denial; as for Emil Schwarz's testimony I don't want it and shouldn't value it. These Duplicates are ready to say anything that comes into their dreamy heads. This one is a good enough fellow, there's no deliberate harm in him, but-oh, as a witness he is not to be considered. He has made a blunderin another person it would have been a crime-and by consequence my niece is compromised, for sure, for the maid can't keep the secret; poor thing, she's like all her kind-a secret, in a lady's-maid, is water in a basket. Oh, yes, it's true that this Duplicate has merely committed a blunder, but all the same my mind is made up as to one thing . . . . . the bell is tolling midnight, it marks a change for him . . . . . when I am through with him to-day, let him blunder as much as he likes he'll not compromise my niece again!"
I suppose it was wicked to feel such joy as I felt, but I couldn't help it. To have that hated rival put summarily out of my way and my road left free-the thought was intoxicating! The master asked me-as a formality-to deny that I was the person who had invaded Marget's chamber.
I promptly furnished the denial. It had always cost me shame to tell an injurious lie before, but I told this one without a pang, so eager was I to ruin the creature that stood between me and my worshipped little wife. The master took his leave, then, saying-
"It is sufficient. It is all I wanted. Ile shall marry the girl before the sun sets!"
Good heavens! in trying to ruin the Duplicate, I had only ruined myself.
Chapter 26
I WAS so miserable! A whole endless hour dragged along. Oh, why didn't he come, why didn't he come! wouldn't he ever come, and I so in need of his help and comfort!
It was awfully still and solemn and midnighty, and this made me feel creepy and shivery and afraid of ghosts; and that was natural, for the place was foggy with them, as Ernest Wasserman said, who was the most unexact person in his language in the whole castle, foggy being a noun of multitude and not applicable to ghosts, for they seldom appear in large companies, but mostly by ones and twos, and then-oh, then, when they go flitting by in the gloom like forms made of delicate smoke, and you see the furniture through them-
My, what is that! . . . . I heard it again! . . . . I was quaking like a jelly, and my heart was so cold and scared! Such a dry, bony noise, such a kl-lackety klackclack, kl-lackety klackclack!-dull, muffled, far away down the distant caverns and corridors-but approaching! oh, dear, approaching! It shriveled me up like a spider in a candle-flame, and I sat scrunched together and quivering, the way the spider does in his death-agony, and I said to myself, "skeletons a-coming, oh, what shall 1 -do!"
Do? Shut my door, of course! if I had the strength to get to it-which I wouldn't have, on my legs, I knew it well; but I collapsed to the floor and crawled to the door, and panted there and listened, to see if the noise was certainly coming my way-which it was!-and I took a look; and away down the murky hall a long square of moonlight lay across the floor, and a tall figure was capering across it, with both hands held aloft and violently agitated and clacking out that clatter-and next moment the figure was across and blotted out in the darkness, but not the racket, which was getting loud and sharp, now-then I pushed the door to, and crept back a piece and lay exhausted and gasping.
It came, and came,-that dreadful noise-straight to my door, then that figure capered in and slammed the door to, and went on capering gaily all around me and everywhere about the room; and it was not a skeleton; no, it was a tall man, clothed in the loudest and most clownish and outlandish costume, with a vast white collar that stood above its ears, and a battered hat like a bucket, tipped gallusly to one side, and betwixt the fingers of the violent hands were curved fragments of dry bone which smote together and made that terrible clacking; and the man's mouth reached clear across his face and was unnaturally red, and had extraordinarily thick lips, and the teeth showed intensely white between them, and the face was as black as midnight. It was a terrible and ferocious spectre, and would bound as high as the ceiling, and crack its heels together, and yah-yah-yah! like a fiend, and keep the bones going, and soon it broke into a song in a sort of bastard English,
And then it burst out with a tremendous clatter of laughter, and flung itself furiously over and over in the air like the wings of a windmill in a gale, and landed with a whack! on its feet alongside of me and looked down at me and shouted most cheerfully-
"Now den, Misto' Johnsing, how does yo' corporsosity seem to segashuate!"
I gasped out-
"Oh, dread being, have pity, oh-if-if-"
"Bress yo' soul, honey, I ain' no dread being, I's Cunnel Bludso's nigger fum Souf C'yarlina, en I's heah th'ee hund'd en fifty year ahead o' time, caze you's down in de mouf en I got to'muse you wid de banjo en make you feel all right en comfy agin. So you jist lay whah you is, boss, en listen to de music; I gwineter sing to you, honey, de way de po' slave-niggers sings when dey's sol' away fum dey home en is homesick en down in de mouf."
Then out of nowhere he got that thing that he called a banjo, and sat down and propped his left ancle on his right knee, and canted his bucket-hat a little further and more gallusly over his ear, and rested the banjo in his lap, and set the grip of his left fingers on the neck of it high up, and fetched a brisk and most thrilling rake across the strings low down, giving his head a toss of satisfaction, as much as to say "I reckon that gets in to where you live, oh I guess not!" Then he canted his head affectiona
tely toward the strings, and twisted the pegs at the top and tuned the thing up with a musical plunkety-plunk or so; then he re-settled himself in his chair and lifted up his black face toward the ceiling, grave, far-away, kind of pathetic, and began to strum soft and low-and then! Why then his voice began to tremble out and float away toward heaven -such a sweet voice, such a divine voice, and so touching-
And so on, verse after verse, sketching his humble lost home, and the joys of his childhood, and the black faces that had been dear to him, and which he would look upon no more-and there he sat lost in it, with his face lifted up that way, and there was never anything so beautiful, never anything so heartbreaking, oh, never any music like it below the skies! and by the magic of it that uncouth figure lost its uncouthness and became lovely like the song, because it so fitted the song, so belonged to it, and was such a part of it, so helped to body forth the feeling of it and make it visible, as it were, whereas a silken dress and a white face and white graces would have profaned it, and cheapened its noble pathos.
I closed my eyes, to try if I could picture to myself that lost home; and when the last notes were dying away, and apparently receding into the distance, I opened them again: the singer was gone, my room was gone, but afar off the home was there, a cabin of logs nestling under spreading trees, a soft vision steeped in a mellow summer twilight-and steeped in that music, too, which was dying, dying, fading, fading; and with it faded the vision, like a dream, and passed away; and as it faded and passed, my room and my furniture began to dimly reappear-spectrally, with the perishing home showing vaguely, through it, as through a veil; and when the transformation was accomplished my room was its old self again, my lights were burning, and in the black man's place sat FortyFour beaming a self-complimenting smile. He said-