As those sounds slowly ceased, I felt the whole room vibrate sensibly; and at the far end there rose, as from the floor, sparks or globules like bubbles of light, many colored,--green, yellow, fire-red, azure.Up and down, to and fro, hither, thither as tiny Will-o'-the-Wisps, the sparks moved, slow or swift, each at its own caprice.A chair (as in the drawing-room below) was now advanced from the wall without apparent agency, and placed at the opposite side of the table.Suddenly, as forth from the chair, there grew a shape,--a woman's shape.It was distinct as a shape of life,--ghastly as a shape of death.The face was that of youth, with a strange, mournful beauty; the throat and shoulders were bare, the rest of the form in a loose robe of cloudy white.It began sleeking its long, yellow hair, which fell over its shoulders; its eyes were not turned toward me, but to the door; it seemed listening, watching, waiting.The shadow of the shade in the background grew darker; and again I thought I beheld the eyes gleaming out from the summit of the shadow,--eyes fixed upon that shape.
As if from the door, though it did not open, there grew out another shape, equally distinct, equally ghastly,--a man's shape, a young man's.It was in the dress of the last century, or rather in a likeness of such dress (for both the male shape and the female, though defined, were evidently unsubstantial, impalpable,--simulacra, phantasms); and there was something incongruous, grotesque, yet fearful, in the contrast between the elaborate finery, the courtly precision of that old-fashioned garb, with its ruffles and lace and buckles, and the corpselike aspect and ghostlike stillness of the flitting wearer.Just as the male shape approached the female, the dark Shadow started from the wall, all three for a moment wrapped in darkness.When the pale light returned, the two phantoms were as if in the grasp of the Shadow that towered between them; and there was a blood stain on the breast of the female; and the phantom male was leaning on its phantom sword, and blood seemed trickling fast from the ruffles from the lace; and the darkness of the intermediate Shadow swallowed them up,--they were gone.And again the bubbles of light shot, and sailed, and undulated, growing thicker and thicker and more wildly confused in their movements.
The closet door to the right of the fireplace now opened, and from the aperture there came the form of an aged woman.In her hand she held letters,--the very letters over which I had seen THE Hand close; and behind her I heard a footstep.She turned round as if to listen, and then she opened the letters and seemed to read; and over her shoulder I saw a livid face, the face as of a man long drowned,--bloated, bleached, seaweed tangled in its dripping hair;and at her feet lay a form as of a corpse; and beside the corpse there cowered a child, a miserable, squalid child, with famine in its cheeks and fear in its eyes.And as I looked in the old woman's face, the wrinkles and lines vanished, and it became a face of youth,--hard-eyed, stony, but still youth; and the Shadow darted forth, and darkened over these phantoms as it had darkened over the last.
Nothing now was left but the Shadow, and on that my eyes were intently fixed, till again eyes grew out of the Shadow,--malignant, serpent eyes.And the bubbles of light again rose and fell, and in their disordered, irregular, turbulent maze, mingled with the wan moonlight.And now from these globules themselves, as from the shell of an egg, monstrous things burst out; the air grew filled with them: larvae so bloodless and so hideous that I can in no way describe them except to remind the reader of the swarming life which the solar microscope brings before his eyes in a drop of water,--things transparent, supple, agile, chasing each other, devouring each other; forms like naught ever beheld by the naked eye.As the shapes were without symmetry, so their movements were without order.In their very vagrancies there was no sport; they came round me and round, thicker and faster and swifter, swarming over my head, crawling over my right arm, which was outstretched in involuntary command against all evil beings.Sometimes I felt myself touched, but not by them; invisible hands touched me.Once I felt the clutch as of cold, soft fingers at my throat.I was still equally conscious that if I gave way to fear I should be in bodily peril; and I concentered all my faculties in the single focus of resisting stubborn will.And I turned my sight from the Shadow; above all, from those strange serpent eyes,--eyes that had now become distinctly visible.For there, though in naught else around me, I was aware that there was a WILL, and will of intense, creative, working evil, which might crush down my own.
The pale atmosphere in the room began now to redden as if in the air of some near conflagration.The larvae grew lurid as things that live in fire.Again the room vibrated; again were heard the three measured knocks; and again all things were swallowed up in the darkness of the dark Shadow, as if out of that darkness all had come, into that darkness all returned.
As the gloom receded, the Shadow was wholly gone.Slowly, as it had been withdrawn, the flame grew again into the candles on the table, again into the fuel in the grate.The whole room came once more calmly, healthfully into sight.
