I WALKED reluctantly away from the house after I saw her light put out.
I hated so to leave her that it was as if a chain and ball had been
attached to my ankle. I had reached a point on Second avenue about half
the distance home when I halted. I had begun to feel sick. Suddenly my
ears had begun to ring, my head to swim. I clutched at a lamppost to
keep from falling. The ringing in my ears became louder and louder—a
roar like that of a strong wind. A deathly nausea overcame me. I thought
I was going to faint, perhaps to die. I held on to the lamp-post and
tried to call out for help. I could not utter the slightest sound; my
tongue clove to the roof of my mouth as it does in nightmare. I seemed
to be growing weaker with every breath. The noise in my ears was like an
unbroken peal of thunder. My brain went spinning around and around as if
it had been caught in a whirlpool. Then all at once my breath began to
come in quick short gasps like the breath of a panting dog or like the
breath of a person who has taken laughing-gas. I closed my eyes and for
how long I know not clung to the lamp-post, waiting for this internal
upheaval to reach its climax. By degrees my breath returned to its
normal state; the uproar in my ears subsided; my brain got quiet again.
I felt as well as ever, only a bit startled, a bit shaky in the legs. I
thought, ‘You have had an attack of vertigo, a half fainting-fit. Now
you would best hurry home.’ But—but to my unmingled consternation
my body refused to act in response to my will. I was puzzled. I tried
again. Useless.
I had absolutely no control over my muscles. Experiment proved that I
could not move a finger; experiment proved that I could not put forth my
foot and take a step. I was horrified. Ah, I thought, this is a stroke
of paralysis. For a second time I attempted to summon help. For a second
time my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth.
But if all this horrified me, how much more horrified was I the moment
after, when, in entire independence of my will, that body of mine which
I had fancied paralyzed began to act of its own accord! began to march
briskly off in a direction exactly opposite to that which I wished to
follow! If I had been puzzled before, how much more hopelessly puzzled
was I now! Experiment proved that I was as powerless to stop myself at
present, as an instant since I had been to set myself in motion. I was
appalled. I knew not what this phenomenon was due to or what it might
lead to. It seemed precisely as though the chords connecting my mind and
body had been severed, as though the will of another person had become
the reigning occupant of my frame. A thousand frightful possibilities
flashed upon my imagination. With this utter incompetency to govern my
own movements, God knew what might happen. I might walk into the river;
or I might—I might commit some irretrievable wrong. Helpless and
irresponsible as I was, I might accomplish that which all the rest of my
days I should repent.
Meanwhile I had moved on, until now I halted again. I looked around. I
was in front of Veronika’s house. I crossed the street, picked my
way through the people who were seated upon the stoop, mounted the
staircase, and rang Veronika’s bell, wondering constantly what the
cause and what the upshot of this adventure might be, and powerless to
assert the least influence over my physical acts.
“Veronika’s voice sounded from behind the door, ‘Is that you,
uncle?’
“‘No, it is I, my tongue replied of its own volition.
“The door opened. I saw Veronika with the knob in her hand. She looked
surprised. My impulse was to take her in my arms and explain to her
the strange accident that had befallen me. I could not. I had no more
control over my body than I had over hers.
“Veronika closed the door. She glanced up at my face. Her eyes filled
with fear.
“‘Why, Ernest,’ she cried, ‘what is it? What is the matter? Why
do you look like this?’
“I paused to collect my utmost strength, then tried to speak. Total
failure. Tried to reassure her with my eyes. Total failure: eyes as
uncontrollable as the rest of my person. But impelled by that other will
which had usurped the place of mine, I approached her and asked, ‘What
is your name?’ It was my voice, but it was not I, that asked the
question.
“‘Oh, for the love of God,’ Veronika besought, ‘don’t act like
this. Oh, my Ernest, what terrible joke are you playing? Don t make me
think that you have gone mad.’
“‘What is your name?’ my voice repeated, stonily.
“‘My name? What can you mean? Oh God, what has come over my
beloved?’
“Her face was pale, her eyes were full of anguish. And I—I was
impotent to comfort her. My heart went out to her with a great bound of
love; but I was in irons, chained down, compelled to witness, forbidden
to interfere with the action of this awful drama. For a third time my
tongue repeated, ‘Your name—tell me your name.’
“‘My name?’ she gasped. ‘You know my name—Veronika. See,
don’t you recognize me, Ernest? I am Veronika, whom you are going to
marry. Oh, my loved one, you are ill. What can I do to make you well?’
“‘Tell me your surname,’ I said.
“‘My surname—why, Pathzuol. Oh, Ernest, say you know me.’
“‘And your father’s name?’
“‘My father—his name was Nicholas—but he is dead—died when I
was a little girl. Oh, God, what does this mean?’
“‘Enough; come with me,’ said the devil whose victim I had become.
“I grasped her wrist and led her down the hallway. If Veronika was
terrified, her terror could not have equaled mine. What deed was I now
bent upon committing? She followed me passively. The expression of
her eyes made my soul ache within me. How I longed to speak to her and
soothe her. How I longed to step between her and myself, to protect her
from this maniac in whose power she was. To be obliged to stand by and
see this thing enacted—imagine the agony I suffered.
“I led her down the hallway and into the dining-room. Then I released
her wrist, and crossed over to the sideboard. I opened the sideboard
drawer and took out a long, keen knife. I tried the point and the edge
of the knife upon my thumb.
“‘Are you—are you going to kill me, Ernest?’ I heard Veronika
ask, very low.
“‘Yes, I am going to kill you. Lead the way to your bed-chamber.’
“Veronika’s hand clutched convulsively at her breast. She said
nothing. She moved slowly back into the hall and thence into her
bedroom, I following.
“‘Oh, for God’s sake, stop and think what you are doing,’ she
cried out suddenly, turning and facing me at the threshold of her room.
‘Think, Ernest, that it is I, Veronika, whom you are going to kill.
Think, oh my loved one, think how you will suffer if ever you come to
and realize what you have done. Oh, is there no way for me to bring him
to himself!’
“Presently she continued, ‘But tell me first what I have done.—Oh,
I can not bear to die until I know that you don’t suspect me of having
wronged you in any way. Oh, Ernest, oh, if you would only speak one
word. Oh, my darling, do not kill me without speaking to me. Oh God, oh
God! Oh, there, there, he is going to kill me; he will not speak to me.
Oh, what have I done? Ernest, Ernest! Wake up—stop your arm—don’t
strike me. Oh God, God, God!’
“After it was over I dried my hands upon my handkerchief, turned out
the gas in the hall, locked the door on the outside, put the key into my
pocket, and went away.”
What remains for me to tell? The above is what Merivale read to me. The
above is what I had written. Could I doubt its truth? I did not, I do
not, at any rate.
I am informed that a man once tried for murder and acquitted can not, as
the lawyers put it, can not be placed in jeopardy again. But I am enough
of a Jew to believe in eye for eye and tooth for tooth. I shall see to
it that I do not escape that penalty which the law would have imposed
upon me, had the facts I am now aware of come out at my trial. I
shall see to it that the murderer of Veronika Pathzuol meets with the
punishment which his crime demands.
It has taken me a week to write out this account. I want the public to
have it. No need to analyze the motives that prompt this wish. I
shall confide the MS. to my friend Merivale with directions that it be
printed.