The Apple-Tree Table, and Other Sketches. Herman Melville

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      "I'll have it rubbed, though," she replied, "well rubbed;" and calling Biddy, she bade her get wax and brush, and give the table a vigorous manipulation. That done, the cloth was again laid, and we sat down to our morning meal; but my daughters did not make their appearance. Julia and Anna took no breakfast that day.

      When the cloth was removed, in a businesslike way, my wife went to work with a dark colored cement, and hermetically closed the little hole in the table.

      My daughters looking pale, I insisted upon taking them out for a walk that morning, when the following conversation ensued:

      "My worst presentiments about that table are being verified, papa," said Julia; "not for nothing was that intimation of the cloven foot on my shoulder."

      "Nonsense," said I. "Let us go into Mrs. Brown's, and have an ice-cream."

      The spirit of Democritus was stronger on me now. By a curious coincidence, it strengthened with the strength of the sunlight.

      "But is it not miraculous," said Anna, "how a bug should come out of a table?"

      "Not at all, my daughter. It is a very common thing for bugs to come out of wood. You yourself must have seen them coming out of the ends of the billets on the hearth."

      "Ah, but that wood is almost fresh from the woodland. But the table is at least a hundred years old."

      "What of that?" said I, gayly. "Have not live toads been found in the hearts of dead rocks, as old as creation?"

      "Say what you will, papa, I feel it is spirits," said Julia. "Do, do now, my dear papa, have that haunted table removed from the house."

      "Nonsense," said I.

      By another curious coincidence, the more they felt frightened, the more I felt brave.

      Evening came.

      "This ticking," said my wife; "do you think that another bug will come of this continued ticking?"

      Curiously enough, that had not occurred to me before. I had not thought of there being twins of bugs. But now, who knew; there might be even triplets.

      I resolved to take precautions, and, if there was to be a second bug, infallibly secure it. During the evening, the ticking was again heard. About ten o'clock I clapped a tumbler over the spot, as near as I could judge of it by my ear. Then we all retired, and locking the door of the cedar-parlor, I put the key in my pocket.

      In the morning, nothing was to be seen, but the ticking was heard. The trepidation of my daughters returned. They wanted to call in the neighbors. But to this my wife was vigorously opposed. We should be the laughing-stock of the whole town. So it was agreed that nothing should be disclosed. Biddy received strict charges; and, to make sure, was not allowed that week to go to confession, lest she should tell the priest.

      I stayed home all that day; every hour or two bending over the table, both eye and ear. Towards night, I thought the ticking grew more distinct, and seemed divided from my ear by a thinner and thinner partition of the wood. I thought, too, that I perceived a faint heaving up, or bulging of the wood, in the place where I had placed the tumbler. To put an end to the suspense, my wife proposed taking a knife and cutting into the wood there; but I had a less impatient plan; namely, that she and I should sit up with the table that night, as, from present symptoms, the bug would probably make its appearance before morning. For myself, I was curious to see the first advent of the thing—the first dazzle of the chick as it chipped the shell.

      The idea struck my wife not unfavorably. She insisted that both Julia and Anna should be of the party, in order that the evidence of their senses should disabuse their minds of all nursery nonsense. For that spirits should tick, and that spirits should take unto themselves the form of bugs, was, to my wife, the most foolish of all foolish imaginations. True, she could not account for the thing; but she had all confidence that it could be, and would yet be, somehow explained, and that to her entire satisfaction. Without knowing it herself, my wife was a female Democritus. For my part, my present feelings were of a mixed sort. In a strange and not unpleasing way, I gently oscillated between Democritus and Cotton Mather. But to my wife and daughters I assumed to be pure Democritus—a jeerer at all tea-table spirits whatever.

      So, laying in a good supply of candles and crackers, all four of us sat up with the table, and at the same time sat round it. For a while my wife and I carried on an animated conversation. But my daughters were silent. Then my wife and I would have had a rubber of whist, but my daughters could not be prevailed upon to join. So we played whist with two dummies literally; my wife won the rubber and, fatigued with victory, put away the cards.

      Half past eleven o'clock. No sign of the bug. The candles began to burn dim. My wife was just in the act of snuffing them, when a sudden, violent, hollow, resounding, rumbling, thumping was heard.

      Julia and Anna sprang to their feet.

      "All well!" cried a voice from the street. It was the watchman, first ringing down his club on the pavement, and then following it up with this highly satisfactory verbal announcement.

      "All well! Do you hear that, my girls?" said I, gayly.

      Indeed it was astonishing how brave as Bruce I felt in company with three women, and two of them half frightened out of their wits.

      I rose for my pipe, and took a philosophic smoke.

      Democritus forever, thought I.

      In profound silence, I sat smoking, when lo!—pop! pop! pop!—right under the table, a terrible popping.

      This time we all four sprang up, and my pipe was broken.

      "Good heavens! what's that?"

      "Spirits! spirits!" cried Julia.

      "Oh, oh, oh!" cried Anna.

      "Shame!" said my wife, "it's that new bottled cider, in the cellar, going off. I told Biddy to wire the bottles to-day."

      I shall here transcribe from memoranda, kept during part of the night.

      "One o'clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking continues. Wife getting sleepy.

      "Two o'clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking intermittent. Wife fast asleep.

      "Three o'clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking pretty steady. Julia and Anna getting sleepy.

      "Four o'clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking regular, but not spirited. Wife, Julia, and Anna, all fast asleep in their chairs.

      "Five o'clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking faint. Myself feeling drowsy. The rest still asleep."

      So far the journal.

      —Rap! rap! rap!

      A terrific, portentous rapping against a door.

      Startled from our dreams, we started to our feet.

      Rap! rap! rap!

      Julia and Anna shrieked.

      I cowered in the corner.

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