Chapter 6

The fre in the hearth was nearly out and the candles had burnt quite low. It was quiet in the room and quiet outside.

Cordt sat in his chair. He had been sitting there long and had not stirred, only pondered, with his fingers buried in his hair, and listened for Fru Adelheid's footsteps.

She was at home, had been at home the whole week. But she had not set foot in the room for the last fortnight.

Cordt looked at his watch. Then he rose and left the room, left the house.

A little later, Fru Adelheid came.

She remained standing at the door, surprised to fnd the room empty. She called to the balcony, but no one answered. Lingeringly, she went to the window and looked out. There was no one there.

She turned quickly to go. Then the thought came to her of what it had cost her to come up here; and she was annoyed that Cordt was not there. But that was only for a moment; then she was happy again at escaping the encounter. She felt in a lighter mood than she had for many days.

She looked about her curiously. She had never been alone in the room and she seemed not to have seen it properly before.

She stood long in front of the old chairs, lost in contemplationof the strange faces in the woodwork. She pushed them round the foor, placed them opposite each other and beside each other and sat down in them as though to try what it was like. She summoned up in her memory all that she knew about those who had sat in them and amused herself with imagining what one had said and the other.

Then she went to the celestial globe and looked at it. She pressed the spring, so that the stars ran and shone. She looked with delight at the queer plaything and, when the clockwork stopped, set it in motion again.

She pulled out the old spinning-wheel and sat down beside it and set it going. The wheel whirred lustily in the silent room and its whirring put Fru Adelheid in a very cheerful mood. She wished the great-grandmother would come in at the door and praise her for being so industrious.

She rose from the spinning-wheel and stood in the middle of the room and looked round. She thought of an occasion when she had stood in an Indian temple and refected that she was examining these singular old things just as calmly as she had contemplated the Hindu sanctuary.

It seemed to her as though she were standing in a mortuary chapel, where old and interesting, but foolish ideas and preposterous superstitions stared at her from the sunken faces of mummies. She felt no terror, for she knew that all that was dead and gone and could never return.

Her eyes fell on the light stain on the wall, where the portrait had hung.

“Poor Fru Lykke!”she said, aloud.“You were shut out of the temple, because your husband deceived you.”

And she lifted her arms in the air in jubilant gladness that she was born in gentler times and still lived and felt the warm blood beating in her heart.

Fru Adelheid went round the room and laughed aloud to think how easily she had broken the spell of the old room. She patted the big chairs on their stiff backs and talked kindly to them. She used to hate them; her blood had turned to ice each time she sat in them. Now they were two handsome, valuable chairs and nothing more.

She had torn the veil from the Holy of Holies. There was nothing behind it. She ran to the window and pulled the curtain aside with a jerk.

There sat the doll…stiff and stupid.

She laid her face on its waxen cheek and kissed it with her red mouth.

Humming a tune, she sat down to the old spinet. She sought for a hymn that should celebrate her victory over the ghost.

But, when she struck the first notes, she suddenly grew frightened.

She had an uncomfortable feeling that there was some one in the room.

She sprang up, so that the chair upset, and looked around her.

There was no one.

The candles were all burnt out but one and it was dark in every corner. Now the last candle flickered up and struggled a little and went out.

And then there came a treacherous and threatening muttering and whispering all round the room.

People passed over the foor…many and heavy footsteps. Thespinning-wheel whirred, the spinet sang behind her back. The stars ran and shone, the doll rocked at her. The faces in the old chairs raised themselves on their long necks and pecked at her and grinned uncannily.

But the man who writhed through thorns called for help…She could hear him call. He grew bigger…he came nearer…She saw the blood drip from his naked limbs…

Fru Adelheid crept to the door with quivering hands and fearful eyes.

第六章

壁炉里的火将要熄灭，蜡烛也快要燃尽。屋里屋外一样安静。

科特仍坐在他的椅子上。他坐在那里已经很久了，一动不动，思考着什么。他的手指插进头发里，仔细听着阿德尔海德的脚步声。

阿德尔海德此刻待在家里，她已经在家里待了整整一个星期了。但在过去的两周里，她都没有去过那间屋子。

科特看看时间，然后他站起来离开了屋子，走出了房子。

不久之后，阿德尔海德来到屋子里。

她在门口站了一会儿，惊奇地发现屋子里竟然没人。她冲阳台喊了喊科特，没人回应。她迟疑地走向窗户朝外望去，那里也没有人。

她迅速地转身离开。科特不在屋里让她有点儿小懊恼，尤其是想到为了来这屋子她付出了什么样的代价。但这懊恼仅持续了一小会儿，随即她又为没有和科特正面相遇而感到开心。比起前些日子，此刻她心情舒畅了不少。

她好奇地看了看这屋子。她从未独自在这里待过，也似乎从未仔细地观察过这里。

阿德尔海德在那对古老的椅子前站了许久，对着椅子上雕刻的怪异脸庞陷入了沉思。她极尽所能地摆弄那对椅子，一会儿让它们面对面，一会儿让它们并排挨着，然后她坐下来，好像要试试看是什么感觉。她回想起所知道的那些曾坐在这里的人，想象他们的对话，觉得很有意思。

然后她走到天球仪那里，按下按键，于是星星动了起来，闪耀着光芒。她高兴地看着这个奇怪的玩具，一遍遍地转动这玩具的发条。

她拉出了那台老旧的纺车，开始纺起布来。纺车的轮子在安静的屋里有力地转着，那呜呜的声音让阿德尔海德快活极了。她甚至希望那位曾祖母此刻来到这里，表扬她如此勤劳。

她从纺车边站了起来，站在屋子的中央，环视屋子。她想到了一个场景，她站在一座印度寺庙里，极度冷静地审视那里的每一件古老物件，也冷静地审视这印度教圣地。

阿德尔海德感到如同站在一座停尸房里一样，古老有趣的物件摆放在这屋里，但一张张充满愚蠢想法和荒谬迷信的木乃伊的脸却盯着她。她并不害怕，因为她知道他们都已死去，再也回不来了。

她的视线落在了墙上的那浅浅的污迹上，那里曾挂过一幅肖像。

“可怜的莱克！”她大声感叹道，“你被关在了这神殿之外了，因为你的丈夫欺骗了你。”

她抬起双臂，欢呼雀跃，她出生在平和的年代，生活在平和的年代，她依旧能感受到温热的血液在她心中涌动。

阿德尔海德在屋里转了一圈，放声大笑，她如此轻易地便破除了这老屋子的魔咒。她拍拍那大椅子硬邦邦的后背，友好地跟它们对话。她曾经忌恨这椅子：曾经每当她坐在椅子里时，就感觉她的血液变得冰冷。而现在，这椅子只不过就是两把时髦的、价值不菲的椅子而已。

她把那“神圣之地”的薄纱撕了下来，后面什么都没有。

她跑向窗户，猛地拉开了窗帘。

那洋娃娃僵硬可笑地坐在那里。

她把她的脸贴近洋娃娃的蜡制脸颊，用她那红艳的唇吻了吻它。

哼着小曲，她又坐在那古老的钢琴边。她在寻找一首圣歌以庆贺她的胜利。

但刚弹奏第一个音符，她突然就害怕起来。

她感到屋子里还有其他人。

阿德尔海德跳了起来，弄倒了椅子，她四处张望。

没有人。

蜡烛还剩一支就全部熄灭了，屋子里一片漆黑。终于，剩余的那只蜡烛也摇摇曳曳，坚持了一会儿，也熄灭了。

然后，屋里传来一阵令人毛骨悚然的喃喃声和低语声。

有人走过地板……好多重重的脚步声。纺车开始旋转，钢琴也在她背后唱起歌来。星星疯跑，闪烁光芒，洋娃娃也摇晃起来。那些雕刻在老木椅上的脸庞伸长了脖子要啄她，诡异地发出笑声。

罐子上那个在荆棘中穿行的男人喊着救命……她能听到他的喊声。他越来越大……越来越近……她看到他裸露的肢体上滴下的鲜血……

阿德尔海德颤抖着爬到了门口，眼中充满了恐惧。