the professor at the breakfast table-第65部分

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took　the　stethoscope　and　shifted　it　across　to　the　right　side；　there

was　a　displacement　of　the　organ。　I　am　ill…packed；he　said；there

was　no　room　for　my　heart　in　its　place　as　it　is　with　other　men。　God

help　him！



It　is　hard　to　draw　the　line　between　scientific　curiosity　and　the

desire　for　the　patient's　sake　to　learn　all　the　details　of　his

condition。　　I　must　look　at　this　patient's　chest；　and　thump　it　and

listen　to　it。　　For　this　is　a　case　of　ectopia　cordis；　my　boy；

displacement　of　the　heart；　and　it　is　n't　every　day　you　get　a　chance

to　overhaul　such　an　interesting　malformation。　　And　so　I　managed　to

do　my　duty　and　satisfy　my　curiosity　at　the　same　time。　　The　torso　was

slight　and　deformed；　the　right　arm　attenuated；the　left　full；

round；　and　of　perfect　symmetry。　　It　had　run　away　with　the　life　of

the　other　limbs；a　common　trick　enough　of　Nature's；　as　I　told　you

before。　　If　you　see　a　man　with　legs　withered　from　childhood；　keep

out　of　the　way　of　his　arms；　if　you　have　a　quarrel　with　him。　　He　has

the　strength　of　four　limbs　in　two；　and　if　he　strikes　you；　it　is　an

arm…blow　plus　a　kick　administered　from　the　shoulder　instead　of　the

haunch；　where　it　should　have　started　from。



Still　examining　him　as　a　patient；　I　kept　my　eyes　about　me　to　search

all　parts　of　the　chamber　and　went　on　with　the　double　process；　as

before。　Heart　hits　as　hard　as　a　fist；bellows…sound　over　mitral

valves　（professional　terms　you　need　not　attend　to）。　What　the　deuse

is　that　long　case　for？　　Got　his　witch　grandmother　mummied　in　it？

And　three　big　mahogany　presses；hey？A　diabolical　suspicion　came

over　me　which　I　had　had　once　before；that　he　might　be　one　of　our

modern　alchemists；you　understand；　make　gold；　you　know；　or　what

looks　like　it；　sometimes　with　the　head　of　a　king　or　queen　or　of

Liberty　to　embellish　one　side　of　the　piece。　Don't　I　remember

hearing　him　shut　a　door　and　lock　it　once？　　What　do　you　think　was

kept　under　that　lock？　　Let's　have　another　look　at　his　hand；　to　see

if　there　are　any　calluses。



One　can　tell　a　man's　business；　if　it　is　a　handicraft；　very　often　by

just　taking　a　look　at　his　open　hand。　　Ah！　　Four　calluses　at　the　end

of　the　fingers　of　the　right　hand。　　None　on　those　of　the　left。　　Ah；

ha！　　What　do　those　mean？



All　this　seems　longer　in　the　telling；　of　course；　than　it　was　in

fact。　　While　I　was　making　these　observations　of　the　objects　around

me；　I　was　also　forming　my　opinion　as　to　the　kind　of　case　with　which

I　had　to　deal。



There　are　three　wicks；　you　know；　to　the　lamp　of　a　man's　life：　brain；

blood；　and　breath。　　Press　the　brain　a　little；　its　light　goes　out；

followed　by　both　the　others。　　Stop　the　heart　a　minute　and　out　go　all

three　of　the　wicks。　　Choke　the　air　out　of　the　lungs；　and　presently

the　fluid　ceases　to　supply　the　other　centres　of　flame；　and　all　is

soon　stagnation；　cold；　and　darkness。　　The　〃tripod　of　life〃　a　French

physiologist　called　these　three　organs。　　It　is　all　clear　enough

which　leg　of　the　tripod　is　going　to　break　down　here。　　I　could　tell

you　exactly　what　the　difficulty　is；which　would　be　as　intelligible

and　amusing　as　a　watchmaker's　description　of　a　diseased　timekeeper

to　a　ploughman。　　It　is　enough　to　say；　that　I　found　just　what　I

expected　to；　and　that　I　think　this　attack　is　only　the　prelude　of

more　serious　consequences；which　expression　means　you　very　well

know　what。



And　now　the　secrets　of　this　life　hanging　on　a　thread　must　surely

come　out。　　If　I　have　made　a　mystery　where　there　was　none；　my

suspicions　will　be　shamed；　as　they　have　often　been　before。　　If　there

is　anything　strange；　my　visits　will　clear　it　up。



I　sat　an　hour　or　two　by　the　side　of　the　Little　Gentleman's　bed；

after　giving　him　some　henbane　to　quiet　his　brain；　and　some　foxglove；

which　an　imaginative　French　professor　has　called　the　〃Opium　of　the

Heart。〃　　Under　their　influence　he　gradually　fell　into　an　uneasy；

half…waking　slumber；　the　body　fighting　hard　for　every　breath；　and

the　mind　wandering　off　in　strange　fancies　and　old　recollections；

which　escaped　from　his　lips　in　broken　sentences。



The　last　of　'em；he　said；the　last　of　'em　all；thank　God！　　And

the　grave　he　lies　in　will　look　just　as　well　as　if　he　had　been

straight。　　Dig　it　deep；　old　Martin；　dig　it　deep；and　let　it　be　as

long　as　other　folks'　graves。　　And　mind　you　get　the　sods　flat；　old

man；flat　as　ever　a　straight…backed　young　fellow　was　laid　under。

And　then；　with　a　good　tall　slab　at　the　head；　and　a　foot…stone　six

foot　away　from　it；　it'll　look　just　as　if　there　was　a　man　underneath。



A　man！　　Who　said　he　was　a　man？　　No　more　men　of　that　pattern　to　bear

his　name！　Used　to　be　a　good…looking　set　enough。　Where　's　all　the

manhood　and　womanhood　gone　to　since　his　great…grandfather　was　the

strongest　man　that　sailed　out　of　the　town　of　Boston；　and　poor　Leah

there　the　handsomest　woman　in　Essex；　if　she　was　a　witch？



Give　me　some　light；he　said；more　light。　　I　want　to　see　the

picture。



He　had　started　either　from　a　dream　or　a　wandering　reverie。　　I　was

not　unwilling　to　have　more　light　in　the　apartment；　and　presently　had

lighted　an　astral　lamp　that　stood　on　a　table。　He　pointed　to　a

portrait　hanging　against　the　wall。　Look　at　her；he　said；look　at

her！　　Wasn't　that　a　pretty　neck　to　slip　a　hangman's　noose　over？



The　portrait　was　of　a　young　woman；　something　more　than　twenty　years

old；　perhaps。　　There　were　few　pictures　of　any　merit　painted　in　New

England　before　the　time　of　Smibert；　and　I　am　at　a　loss　to　know　what

artist　could　have　taken　this　half…length；　which　was　evidently　from

life。　　It　was　somewhat　stiff　and　flat；　but　the　grace　of　the　figure

and　the　sweetness　of　the　expression　reminded　me　of　the　angels　of　the

early　Florentine　painters。　　She　must　have　been　of　some

consideration；　for　she　was　dressed　in　paduasoy　and　lace　with　hanging

sleeves；　and　the　old　carved　frame　showed　how　the　picture　had　been

prized　by　its　former　owners。　　A　proud　eye　she　had；　with　all　her

sweetness。　I　think　it　was　that　which　hanged　her；　as　his　strong　arm

hanged　Minister　George　Burroughs；but　it　may　have　been　a　little

mole　on　one　cheek；　which　the　artist　had　just　hinted　as　a　beauty

rather　than　a　deformity。　　You　know；　I　suppose；　that　nursling　imps

addict　themselves；　after　the　fashion　of　young　opossums；　to　these

little　excrescences。　　〃Witch…marks〃　were　good　evidence　that　a　young

woman　was　one　of　the　Devil's　wet…nurses；I　should　like　to　have　seen

you　make　fun　of　them　in　those　days！　Then　she　had　a　brooch　in　her

bodice；　that　might　have　been　taken　for　some　devilish　amulet　or

other；　and　she　wore　a　ring　upon　one　of　her　fingers；　with　a　red　stone

in　it；　that　flamed　as　if　the　painter　had　dipped　his　pencil　in　fire；

who　knows　but　that　it　was　given　her　by　a　midnight　suitor　fresh

from　that　fierce　element；　and　licensed　for　a　season　to　leave　his

couch　of　flame　to　tempt　the　unsanctified　hearts　of　earthly　maidens

and　brand　their　cheeks　with　the　print　of　his　scorching　kisses？



She　and　I；he　said；　as　he　looked　steadfastly　at　the　canvas；she

and　I　are　the　last　of　'em。　She　will　stay