For the rest of the week, however, they were undisturbed, the only thing that excited any attention being the continual renewal[35] of the blood-stain on the library floor. This certainly was very strange, as the door was always locked at night by Mr. Otis, and the windows kept closely barred. The chameleon-like colour[36] of the stain excited a good deal of comment. Some mornings it was a dull red, then it would be vermilion, then a rich purple, and once when they came down for family prayers, they found it a bright emerald-green. These kaleidoscopic changes naturally amused the party[37] very much, and bets on the subject were freely made every evening. The only person who did not like it was little Virginia, who, for some unexplained reason, was always a good deal distressed at the sight[38] of the blood-stain, and nearly cried the morning it was emerald-green.
The second appearance of the ghost was on Sunday night. Shortly after they had gone to bed they were suddenly alarmed by a fearful crash in the hall. Rushing downstairs, they found that a large suit of old armour[39] had fallen on the stone floor, while seated in a chair was the Canterville ghost, rubbing his knees with an expression of agony on his face. The twins, having brought their pea-shooters with them, at once discharged two pellets on him, while the United States Minister covered him with his revolver,[40] and called upon him, in accordance with Californian etiquette, to hold up his hands! The ghost started up with a wild shriek of rage, and swept through them like a mist, extinguishing Washington Otis’s candle as he passed, and so leaving them all in total darkness. On reaching the top of the staircase he recovered himself, and determined to give his celebrated demoniac laughter. It was said to have turned Lord Raker’s wig grey[41] in a single night, and had certainly made three of Lady Canterville’s French governesses give warning before their month was up.[42] He accordingly laughed his most horrible laugh, but hardly had the fearful echo died away when a door opened, and Mrs. Otis came out in a light blue dressing-gown. “I am afraid you are far from well,[43]” she said, “and have brought you a bottle of Doctor Dobell’s tincture. If it is indigestion, you will find it a most excellent remedy.” The ghost glared at her in fury, and began at once to make preparations for turning himself into a large black dog. The sound of approaching footsteps, however, made him hesitate in his fell purpose, so he contented himself with becoming faintly phosphorescent, and vanished with a deep groan, just as the twins had come up to him.
On reaching his room he entirely broke down.[44] The vulgarity of the twins, and the gross materialism of Mrs. Otis, were naturally extremely annoying, but what really distressed him most was that he had been unable to wear the suit of mail.[45] He had hoped that even modern Americans would be thrilled by the sight of a Spectre in armour, if for no more sensible reason, at least out of respect for their natural poet Longfellow,[46] over whose graceful and attractive poetry he himself had whiled away many a weary hour when the Cantervilles were up in town. Besides it was his own suit. He had worn it with great success at the Kenilworth tournament, and had been highly complimented on it by no less a person than the Queen herself. Yet when he had put it on, he had been completely overpowered by the weight of the huge breastplate and steel casque, and had fallen heavily on the stone pavement, barking both his knees severely, and bruising the knuckles of his right hand.
For some days after this he was extremely ill, and hardly stirred out of his room at all, except to keep the blood-stain in proper repair.[47]
However, by taking great care of himself, he recovered, and resolved to make a third attempt to frighten the United States Minister and his family. He selected Friday, August 17th, for his appearance, and spent most of that day in looking over his wardrobe, ultimately deciding in favour of a large hat with a red feather, a winding-sheet frilled at the wrists and neck, and a rusty dagger. Towards evening a violent storm of rain came on, and the wind was so high that all the windows and doors in the old house shook and rattled. In fact, it was just such weather as he loved. His plan of action was this. He was to make his way quietly to Washington Otis’s room, gibber at him from the foot of the bed, and stab himself three times in the throat to the sound of low music. He bore Washington a special grudge,[48] being quite aware that it was he who was in the habit of removing the famous Canterville blood-stain by means of Pinkerton’s Paragon Detergent. Having reduced the reckless youth to a condition of abject terror,[49] he was then to proceed to the room occupied by the United States Minister and his wife, and there to place a clammy hand on Mrs. Otis’s forehead, while he hissed into her trembling husband’s ear the awful secrets of the charnel-house. With regard to little Virginia, he had not quite made up his mind. She had never insulted him in any way, and was pretty and gentle. A few hollow groans from the wardrobe, he thought, would be more than sufficient. As for the twins, he was quite determined to teach them a lesson. The first thing to be done was, of course, to sit upon their chests, so as to produce the stifling sensation of nightmare.[50] Then, as their beds were quite close to each other, to stand between them in the form of a green, icy-cold corpse, till they became paralyzed with fear, and finally, to throw off the winding-sheet, and crawl round the room, with white bones and one rolling eyeball,[51] in the character of “Dumb Daniel, or the Suicide’s Skeleton,”[52] a role in which he had on more than one occasion produced a great effect.”
At half-past ten he heard the family going to bed. He chuckled to himself, and turned the corner; but no sooner had he done so, than, with a wail of terror, he fell back, and hid his face in his long, bony hands. Right in front of him was standing a horrible spectre, motionless as a carven image,[53] and monstrous as a madman’s dream! Its head was bald and burnished; its face round, and fat, and white; and hideous laughter seemed to have writhed its features into an eternal grin. From the eyes streamed rays of scarlet light and a hideous garment, like to his own, swathed with its silent snows the Titan form. On its breast was a placard with strange writing in antique characters,[54] some scroll of shame it seemed, some record of wild sins, some awful calendar of crime, and, with its right hand, it bore a falchion of gleaming steel.
Never having seen a ghost before, he naturally was terribly frightened, and, after a second hasty glance at the awful phantom, he fled back to his room, tripping up[55] in his long winding-sheet, and finally dropping the rusty dagger into the Minister’s jack-boots, where it was found in the morning by the butler. Once in the privacy of his own apartment, he flung himself down on a small pallet-bed,[56] and hid his face under the clothes. After a time, however, the brave old Canterville spirit asserted itself, and he determined to go and speak to the other ghost as soon as it was daylight. Accordingly, just as the dawn was touching the hills with silver, he returned towards the spot where he had first seen the phantom, feeling that, after all, two ghosts were better than one, and that, by the aid of his new friend, he might safely grapple with the twins. On reaching the spot, however, a terrible sight met his gaze. Something had evidently happened to the spectre, for the light had entirely faded from its hollow eyes, the falchion had fallen from its hand, and it was leaning up against the wall in a strained and uncomfortable attitude.[57] He rushed forward and seized it in his arms, when, to his horror, the head slipped off and rolled on the floor, the body assumed a recumbent posture,[58] and he found himself clasping a white dimity bed-curtain, with a sweeping-brush, a kitchen knife, and a hollow turnip lying at his feet! Unable to understand this curious transformation, he clutched the placard with haste, and there, in the grey morning light, he read these fearful words:
41
It was said to have turned Lord Raker’s wig grey – Поговаривали, что от этого поседел парик лорда Рэйкера
46
poet Longfellow – поэт Лонгфэлло – автор баллады “Skeleton in Armour” (Скелет в доспехах)
57
it was leaning up against the wall in a strained and uncomfortable attitude – он опирался о стену странным и неестественным образом