Medusa’s Coil

  1 Yes--Riverside was built in 1816, and my father wa\
  2 s born here in 1828. He'd be over a century old no
  3 w if he were alive, but he died young--so
  4 young I can just barely remember him. In '64 that \
  5 was--he was killed in the war, Seventh
  6 Louisiana Infantry C.S.A., for he went back to the\
  7  old home to enlist. My grandfather was too
  8 old to fight, yet he lived on to be ninety-five, a\
  9 nd helped my mother bring me up. A good bringing-u
 10 p,
 11 too--I'll give them credit. We always had strong t\
 12 raditions--high notions of honour--and
 13 my grandfather saw to it that I grew up the way de\
 14  Russys have grown up, generation after generation
 15 ,
 16 ever since the Crusades. We weren't quite wiped ou\
 17 t financially, but managed to get on
 18 very comfortably after the war. I went to a good s\
 19 chool in Louisiana, and later to Princeton.
 20 Later on I was able to get the plantation on a fai\
 21 rly profitable basis--though you see what
 22 it's come to now.
 23 
 24 My mother died when I was twenty, and my grandfath\
 25 er two years later.
 26 It was rather lonely after that; and in '85 I marr\
 27 ied a distant cousin in New Orleans.
 28 Things might have been different if she'd lived, b\
 29 ut she died when my son Denis was born.
 30 Then I had only Denis. I didn't try marriage again\
 31 , but gave all my time to the boy. He
 32 was like me--like all the de Russys--darkish and t\
 33 all and thin, and with the devil of
 34 a temper. I gave him the same training my grandfat\
 35 her had given me, but he didn't need
 36 much training when it came to points of honour. It\
 37  was in him, I reckon. Never saw such high
 38 spirit--all I could do to keep him from running aw\
 39 ay to the Spanish War when he was eleven!
 40 Romantic young devil, too--full of high notions--y\
 41 ou'd call 'em Victorian,
 42 now--no trouble at all to make him let the nigger \
 43 wenches alone. I sent him to the same
 44 school I'd gone to, and to Princeton, too. He was \
 45 Class of 1909.
 46 
 47 In the end he decided to be a doctor, and went a y\
 48 ear to the Harvard
 49 Medical School. Then he hit on the idea of keeping\
 50  to the old French tradition of the family,
 51 and argued me into sending him across to the Sorbo\
 52 nne. I did--and proudly enough, though
 53 I knew how lonely I'd be with him so far off. Woul\
 54 d to God I hadn't! I thought he
 55 was the safest kind of a boy to be in Paris. He ha\
 56 d a room in the Rue St. Jacques--that's
 57 near the University in the "Latin Quarter'--but ac\
 58 cording to his letters and his
 59 friends he didn't cut up with the gayer dogs at al\
 60 l. The people he knew were mostly young
 61 fellows from home--serious students and artists wh\
 62 o thought more of their work than of striking
 63 attitudes and painting the town red.
 64 
 65 But of course there were lots of fellows who were \
 66 on a sort of dividing
 67 line between serious studies and the devil. The ae\
 68 sthetes--the decadents, you know. Experimenters
 69 in life and sensation--the Baudelaire kind of a ch\
 70 ap. Naturally Denis ran up against a good
 71 many of these, and saw a good deal of their life. \
 72 They had all sorts of crazy circles and cults--imi
 73 tation
 74 devil-worship, fake Black Masses, and the like. Do\
 75 ubt if it did them much harm on the whole--probabl
 76 y
 77 most of 'em forgot all about it in a year or two. \
 78 One of the deepest in this queer stuff
 79 was a fellow Denis had known at school--for that m\
 80 atter, whose father I'd known myself.
 81 Frank Marsh, of New Orleans. Disciple of Lafcadio \
 82 Hearn and Gauguin and Van Gogh--regular
 83 epitome of the yellow 'nineties. Poor devil--he ha\
 84 d the makings of a great artist,
 85 at that.
 86 
 87 Marsh was the oldest friend Denis had in Paris, so\
 88  as a matter of course
 89 they saw a good deal of each other--to talk over o\
 90 ld times at St. Clair Academy, and all
 91 that. The boy wrote me a good deal about him, and \
 92 I didn't see any especial harm when he
 93 spoke of the group of mystics Marsh ran with. It s\
 94 eems there was some cult of prehistoric Egyptian
 95 and Carthaginian magic having a rage among the Boh\
 96 emian element on the left bank--some nonsensical
 97 thing that pretended to reach back to forgotten so\
 98 urces of hidden truth in lost African civilisation
 99 s--the
100 great Zimbabwe, the dead Atlantean cities in the H\
101 oggar region of the Sahara--and that had
102 a lot of gibberish connected with snakes and human\
103  hair. At least, I called it gibberish, then.
104 Denis used to quote Marsh as saying odd things abo\
105 ut the veiled facts behind the legend of Medusa's
106 snaky locks--and behind the later Ptolemaic myth o\
107 f Berenice, who offered up her hair to
108 save her husband-brother, and had it set in the sk\
109 y as the constellation Coma Berenices.
110 
111 I don't think this business made much impression o\
112 n Denis until
113 the night of the queer ritual at Marsh's rooms whe\
114 n he met the priestess. Most of the devotees
115 of this cult were young fellows, but the head of i\
116 t was a young woman who called herself "Tanit-Isis
117 '--letting
118 it be known that her real name--her name in this l\
119 atest incarnation, as she put it--was
120 Marceline Bedard. She claimed to be the left-hande\
121 d daughter of Marquis de Chameaux, and seemed
122 to have been both a petty artist and an artist's m\
123 odel before adopting this more lucrative
124 magical game. Someone said she had lived for a tim\
125 e in the West Indies--Martinique, I think--but
126 she was very reticent about herself. Part of her p\
127 ose was a great show of austerity and holiness,
128 but I don't think the more experienced students to\
129 ok that very seriously.
130 
131 Denis, though, was far from experienced, and wrote\
132  me fully ten pages
133 of slush about the goddess he had discovered. If I\
134 'd only realised his simplicity I might
135 have done something, but I never thought a puppy i\
136 nfatuation like that could mean much. I felt
137 absurdly sure that Denis' touchy personal honour a\
138 nd family pride would always keep him
139 out of the most serious complications.
140 
141 As time went on, though, his letters began to make\
142  me nervous. He mentioned
143 this Marceline more and more, and his friends less\
144  and less; and began talking about the "cruel
145 and silly way' they declined to introduce her to t\
146 heir mothers and sisters. He seems to
147 have asked her no questions about herself, and I d\
148 on't doubt but that she filled him full
149 of romantic legendry concerning her origin and div\
150 ine revelations and the way people slighted
151 her. At length I could see that Denis was altogeth\
152 er cutting his own crowd and spending the
153 bulk of his time with this alluring priestess. At \
154 her especial request he never told the old
155 crowd of their continual meetings; so nobody over \
156 there tried to break the affair up.
157 
158 I suppose she thought he was fabulously rich; for \
159 he had the air of a
160 patrician, and people of a certain class think all\
161  aristocratic Americans are wealthy. In any
162 case, she probably thought this a rare chance to c\
163 ontract a genuine right-handed alliance with
164 a really eligible young man. By the time my nervou\
165 sness burst into open advice, it was too late.
166 The boy had lawfully married her, and wrote that h\
167 e was dropping his studies and bringing the
168 woman home to Riverside. He said she had made a gr\
169 eat sacrifice and resigned her leadership
170 of the magical cult, and that henceforward she wou\
171 ld be merely a private gentlewoman--the
172 future mistress of Riverside, and mother of de Rus\
173 sys to come.
174 
175 Well, sir, I took it the best way I could. I knew \
176 that sophisticated
177 Continentals have different standards from our old\
178  American ones--and anyway, I really knew
179 nothing against the woman. A charlatan, perhaps, b\
180 ut why necessarily any worse? I suppose I
181 tried to keep as naive as possible about such thin\
182 gs in those days, for the boy's sake.
183 Clearly, there was nothing for a man of sense to d\
184 o but to let Denis alone so long as his new
185 wife conformed to de Russy ways. Let her have a ch\
186 ance to prove herself--perhaps she wouldn't
187 hurt the family as much as some might fear. So I d\
188 idn't raise any objections or ask any
189 penitence. The thing was done, and I stood ready t\
190 o welcome the boy back, whatever he brought
191 with him.
192 
193 They got here three weeks after the telegram telli\
194 ng of the marriage.
195 Marceline was beautiful--there was no denying that\
196 --and I could see how the boy might
197 very well get foolish about her. She did have an a\
198 ir of breeding, and I think to this day she
199 must have had some strains of good blood in her. S\
200 he was apparently not much over twenty; of
201 medium size, fairly slim, and as graceful as a tig\
202 ress in posture and motions. Her complexion
203 was a deep olive--like old ivory--and her eyes wer\
204 e large and very dark. She had small,
205 classically regular features--though not quite cle\
206 an-cut enough to suit my taste--and
207 the most singular head of jet black hair that I ev\
208 er saw.
209 
210 I didn't wonder that she had dragged the subject o\
211 f hair into her
212 magical cult, for with that heavy profusion of it \
213 the idea must have occurred to her naturally.
214 Coiled up, it made her look like some Oriental pri\
215 ncess in a drawing of Aubrey Beardsley's.
216 Hanging down her back, it came well below her knee\
217 s and shone in the light as if it had possessed
218 some separate, unholy vitality of its own. I would\
219  almost have thought of Medusa or Berenice
220 myself--without having such things suggested to me\
221 --upon seeing and studying that hair.
222 
223 Sometimes I thought it moved slightly of itself, a\
224 nd tended to arrange
225 itself in distinct ropes or strands, but this may \
226 have been sheer illusion. She brushed it incessant
227 ly,
228 and seemed to use some sort of preparation on it. \
229 I got the notion once--a curious, whimsical
230 notion--that it was a living thing which she had t\
231 o feed in some strange way. All nonsense--but
232 it added to my feeling of constraint about her and\
233  her hair.
234 
235 For I can't deny that I failed to like her wholly,\
236  no matter how
237 hard I tried. I couldn't tell what the trouble was\
238 , but it was there. Something about her
239 repelled me very subtly, and I could not help weav\
240 ing morbid and macabre associations about
241 everything connected with her. Her complexion call\
242 ed up thoughts of Babylon, Atlantis, Lemuria,
243 and the terrible forgotten dominations of an elder\
244  world; her eyes struck me sometimes as the
245 eyes of some unholy forest creature or animal-godd\
246 ess too immeasurably ancient to be fully human;
247 and her hair--that dense, exotic, overnourished gr\
248 owth of oily inkiness--made one shiver
249 as a great black python might have done. There was\
250  no doubt but that she realised my involuntary
251 attitude--though I tried to hide it, and she tried\
252  to hide the fact that she noticed it.
253 
254 Yet the boy's infatuation lasted. He positively fa\
255 wned on her, and
256 overdid all the little gallantries of daily life t\
257 o a sickening degree. She appeared to return
258 the feeling, though I could see it took a consciou\
259 s effort to make her duplicate his enthusiasms
260 and extravagances. For one thing, I think she was \
261 piqued to learn that we weren't as wealthy
262 as she had expected.
263 
264 It was a bad business all told. I could see that s\
265 ad undercurrents were
266 arising. Denis was half-hypnotised with puppy-love\
267 , and began to grow away from me as he felt
268 my shrinking from his wife. This kind of thing wen\
269 t on for months, and I saw that I was losing
270 my only son--the boy who had formed the centre of \
271 all my thoughts and acts for the past
272 quarter century. I'll own that I felt bitter about\
273  it--what father wouldn't? And
274 yet I could do nothing.
275 
276 Marceline seemed to be a good wife enough in those\
277  early months, and
278 our friends received her without any quibbling or \
279 questioning. I was always nervous, though,
280 about what some of the young fellows in Paris migh\
281 t write home to their relatives after the
282 news of the marriage spread around. Despite the wo\
283 man's love of secrecy, it couldn't
284 remain hidden forever--indeed, Denis had written a\
285  few of his closest friends, in strict
286 confidence, as soon as he was settled with her at \
287 Riverside.
288 
289 I got to staying alone in my room more and more, w\
290 ith my failing health
291 as an excuse. It was about that time that my prese\
292 nt spinal neuritis began to develop--which
293 made the excuse a pretty good one. Denis didn't se\
294 em to notice the trouble, or take any
295 interest in me and my habits and affairs; and it h\
296 urt me to see how callous he was getting.
297 I began to get sleepless, and often racked my brai\
298 n in the night to try to find out what really
299 was the matter--what it really was that made my ne\
300 w daughter-in-law so repulsive and even
301 dimly horrible to me. It surely wasn't her old mys\
302 tical nonsense, for she had left all
303 the past behind her and never mentioned it once. S\
304 he didn't even do any painting, although
305 I understood that she had once dabbled in art.
306 
307 Oddly, the only ones who seemed to share my uneasi\
308 ness were the servants.
309 The darkies around the house seemed very sullen in\
310  their attitude toward her, and in a few weeks
311 all save the few who were strongly attached to our\
312  family had left. These few--old Scipio
313 and his wife Sarah, the cook Delilah, and Mary, Sc\
314 ipio's daughter--were as civil as
315 possible; but plainly revealed that their new mist\
316 ress commanded their duty rather than their
317 affection. They stayed in their own remote part of\
318  the house as much as possible. McCabe, our
319 white chauffeur, was insolently admiring rather th\
320 an hostile; and another exception was a very
321 old Zulu woman said to have come from Africa over \
322 a hundred years before, who had been a sort
323 of leader in her small cabin as a kind of family p\
324 ensioner. Old Sophonisba always shewed reverence
325 whenever Marceline came near her, and one time I s\
326 aw her kiss the ground where her mistress
327 had walked. Blacks are superstitious animals, and \
328 I wondered whether Marceline had been talking
329 any of her mystical nonsense to our hands in order\
330  to overcome their evident dislike.

  1 Well, that's how we went on for nearly half a year\
  2 . Then, in the
  3 summer of 1916, things began to happen. Toward the\
  4  middle of June Denis got a note from his
  5 old friend Frank Marsh, telling of a sort of nervo\
  6 us breakdown which made him want to take a
  7 rest in the country. It was postmarked New Orleans\
  8 --for Marsh had gone home from Paris when
  9 he felt the collapse coming on--and seemed a very \
 10 plain though polite bid for an invitation
 11 from us. Marsh, of course, knew that Marceline was\
 12  here; and asked very courteously after her.
 13 Denis was sorry to hear of his trouble and told hi\
 14 m at once to come along for an indefinite
 15 visit.
 16 
 17 Marsh came--and I was shocked to notice how he had\
 18  changed since
 19 I had seen him in his earlier days. He was a small\
 20 ish, lightish fellow, with blue eyes and an
 21 undecided chin; and now I could see the effects of\
 22  drink and I don't know what else in
 23 his puffy eyelids, enlarged nose-pores, and heavy \
 24 lines around the mouth. I reckon he had taken
 25 his pose of decadence pretty seriously, and set ou\
 26 t to be as much of a Rimbaud, Baudelaire,
 27 or Lautréamont as he could. And yet he was delight\
 28 ful to talk to--for like all decadents
 29 he was exquisitely sensitive to the colour and atm\
 30 osphere and names of things; admirably, thoroughly
 31 alive, and with whole records of conscious experie\
 32 nce in obscure, shadowy fields of living and
 33 feeling which most of us pass over without knowing\
 34  they exist. Poor young devil--if only
 35 his father had lived longer and taken him in hand!\
 36  There was great stuff in the boy!
 37 
 38 I was glad of the visit, for I felt it would help \
 39 to set up a normal
 40 atmosphere in the house again. And that's what it \
 41 really seemed to do at first; for as
 42 I said, Marsh was a delight to have around. He was\
 43  as sincere and profound an artist as I ever
 44 saw in my life, and I certainly believe that nothi\
 45 ng on earth mattered to him except the perception
 46 and expression of beauty. When he saw an exquisite\
 47  thing, or was creating one, his eyes would
 48 dilate until the light irises went nearly out of s\
 49 ight--leaving two mystical black pits
 50 in that weak, delicate, chalk-like face; black pit\
 51 s opening on strange worlds which none of
 52 us could guess about.
 53 
 54 When he reached here, though, he didn't have many \
 55 chances to shew
 56 this tendency; for he had, as he told Denis, gone \
 57 quite stale. It seems he had been very successful
 58 as an artist of a bizarre kind--like Fuseli or Goy\
 59 a or Sime or Clark Ashton Smith--but
 60 had suddenly become played out. The world of ordin\
 61 ary things around him had ceased to hold anything
 62 he could recognise as beauty--beauty, that is, of \
 63 enough force and poignancy to arouse his
 64 creative faculty. He had often been this way befor\
 65 e--all decadents are--but this time
 66 he could not invent any new, strange, or outré sen\
 67 sation or experience which would supply
 68 the needed illusion of fresh beauty or stimulating\
 69 ly adventurous expectancy. He was like a Durtal
 70 or a des Esseintes at the most jaded point of his \
 71 curious orbit.
 72 
 73 Marceline was away when Marsh arrived. She hadn't \
 74 been enthusiastic
 75 about his coming, and had refused to decline an in\
 76 vitation from some of our friends in St. Louis
 77 which came about that time for her and Denis. Deni\
 78 s, of course, stayed to receive his guest;
 79 but Marceline had gone on alone. It was the first \
 80 time they had ever been separated, and I hoped
 81 the interval would help to dispel the sort of daze\
 82  that was making such a fool of the boy. Marceline
 83 shewed no hurry to get back, but seemed to me to p\
 84 rolong her absence as much as she could. Denis
 85 stood it better than one would have expected from \
 86 such a doting husband, and seemed more like
 87 his old self as he talked over other days with Mar\
 88 sh and tried to cheer the listless aesthete
 89 up.
 90 
 91 It was Marsh who seemed most impatient to see the \
 92 woman; perhaps because
 93 he thought her strange beauty, or some phase of th\
 94 e mysticism which had gone into her one-time
 95 magical cult, might help to reawaken his interest \
 96 in things and give him another start toward
 97 artistic creation. That there was no baser reason,\
 98  I was absolutely certain from what I knew
 99 of Marsh's character. With all his weaknesses, he \
100 was a gentleman--and it had indeed
101 relieved me when I first learned that he wanted to\
102  come here because his willingness to accept
103 Denis' hospitality proved that there was no reason\
104  why he shouldn't.
105 
106 When, at last, Marceline did return, I could see t\
107 hat Marsh was tremendously
108 affected. He did not attempt to make her talk of t\
109 he bizarre thing which she had so definitely
110 abandoned, but was unable to hide a powerful admir\
111 ation which kept his eyes--now dilated
112 in that curious way for the first time during his \
113 visit--riveted to her every moment she
114 was in the room. She, however, seemed uneasy rathe\
115 r than pleased by his steady scrutiny--that
116 is, she seemed so at first, though this feeling of\
117  hers wore away in a few days, and left the
118 two on a basis of the most cordial and voluble con\
119 geniality. I could see Marsh studying her
120 constantly when he thought no one was watching; an\
121 d I wondered how long it would be that only
122 the artist, and not the primitive man, would be ar\
123 oused by her mysterious graces.
124 
125 Denis naturally felt some irritation at this turn \
126 of affairs; though
127 he realised that his guest was a man of honour and\
128  that, as kindred mystics and aesthetes, Marceline
129 and Marsh would naturally have things and interest\
130 s to discuss in which a more or less conventional
131 person could have no part. He didn't hold anything\
132  against anybody, but merely regretted
133 that his own imagination was too limited and tradi\
134 tional to let him talk with Marceline as Marsh
135 talked. At this stage of things I began to see mor\
136 e of the boy. With his wife otherwise busy,
137 he had time to remember that he had a father--and \
138 a father who was ready to help him in
139 any sort of perplexity or difficulty.
140 
141 We often sat together on the veranda watching Mars\
142 h and Marceline as
143 they rode up or down the drive on horseback, or pl\
144 ayed tennis on the court that used to stretch
145 south of the house. They talked mostly in French, \
146 which Marsh, though he hadn't more than
147 a quarter-portion of French blood, handled more gl\
148 ibly than either Denis or I could speak it.
149 Marceline's English, always academically correct, \
150 was rapidly improving in accent; but
151 it was plain that she relished dropping back into \
152 her mother-tongue. As we looked at the congenial
153 couple they made, I could see the boy's cheek and \
154 throat muscles tighten--though he
155 wasn't a whit less ideal a host to Marsh, or a whi\
156 t less considerate a husband to Marceline.
157 
158 All this was generally in the afternoon; for Marce\
159 line rose very late,
160 had breakfast in bed, and took an immense amount o\
161 f time preparing to come downstairs. I never
162 knew of anyone so wrapped up in cosmetics, beauty \
163 exercises, hair-oils, unguents, and everything
164 of that kind. It was in these morning hours that D\
165 enis and Marsh did their real visiting, and
166 exchanged the close confidences which kept their f\
167 riendship up despite the strain that jealousy
168 imposed.
169 
170 Well, it was in one of those morning talks on the \
171 veranda that Marsh
172 made the proposition which brought on the end. I w\
173 as laid up with some of my neuritis, but had
174 managed to get downstairs and stretch out on the f\
175 ront parlour sofa near the long window. Denis
176 and Marsh were just outside; so I couldn't help he\
177 aring all they said. They had been talking
178 about art, and the curious, capricious environment\
179 al elements needed to jolt an artist into
180 producing the real article, when Marsh suddenly sw\
181 erved from abstractions to the personal applicatio
182 n
183 he must have had in mind from the start.
184 
185 _"I suppose"_, he was saying, _"that nobody can te\
186 ll just
187 what it is in some scenes or objects that makes th\
188 em aesthetic stimuli for certain individuals.
189 Basically, of course, it must have some reference \
190 to each man's background of stored-up
191 mental associations, for no two people have the sa\
192 me scale of sensitiveness and responses. We
193 decadents are artists for whom all ordinary things\
194  have ceased to have any emotional or imaginative
195 significance, but no one of us responds in the sam\
196 e way to exactly the same extraordinary thing.
197 Now take me, for instance. . . ."_
198 
199 He paused and resumed.
200 
201 _"I know, Denny, that I can say these things to yo\
202 u because you have
203 such a preternaturally unspoiled mind--clean, fine\
204 , direct, objective, and all that. You
205 won't misunderstand as an oversubtilised, effete m\
206 an of the world might."_
207 
208 He paused once more.
209 
210 _"The fact is, I think I know what's needed to set\
211  my imagination
212 working again. I've had a dim idea of it ever sinc\
213 e we were in Paris, but I'm sure
214 now. It's Marceline, old chap--that face and that \
215 hair, and the train of shadowy images
216 they bring up. Not merely visible beauty--though G\
217 od knows there's enough of that--but
218 something peculiar and individualised, that can't \
219 exactly be explained. Do you know, in
220 the last few days I've felt the existence of such \
221 a stimulus so keenly that I honestly
222 think I could outdo myself--break into the real ma\
223 sterpiece class if I could get hold of
224 paint and canvas at just the time when her face an\
225 d hair set my fancy stirring and weaving.
226 There's something weird and other-worldly about it\
227 --something joined up with the dim
228 ancient thing Marceline represents. I don't know h\
229 ow much she's told you about that
230 side of her, but I can assure you there's plenty o\
231 f it. She has some marvellous links with
232 the outside. . . ."_
233 
234 Some change in Denis' expression must have halted \
235 the speaker here,
236 for there was a considerable spell of silence befo\
237 re the words went on. I was utterly taken
238 aback, for I'd expected no such overt development \
239 like this; and I wondered what my son could
240 be thinking. My heart began to pound violently, an\
241 d I strained my ears in the frankest of intentiona
242 l
243 eavesdropping. Then Marsh resumed.
244 
245 _"Of course you're jealous--I know how a speech li\
246 ke mine must sound--but I can swear to you that yo
247 u needn't be."_
248 
249 Denis did not answer, and Marsh went on.
250 
251 _"To tell the truth, I could never be in love with\
252  Marceline--I
253 couldn't even be a cordial friend of hers in the w\
254 armest sense. Why, damn it all, I felt
255 like a hypocrite talking with her these days as I'\
256 ve been doing._
257 
258 _"The case simply is, that one phase of her half h\
259 ypnotises me in
260 a certain way--a very strange, fantastic, and diml\
261 y terrible way--just as another phase
262 half hypnotises you in a much more normal way. I s\
263 ee something in her--or to be psychologically
264 exact, something through her or beyond her--that y\
265 ou don't see at all. Something that
266 brings up a vast pageantry of shapes from forgotte\
267 n abysses, and makes me want to paint incredible
268 things whose outlines vanish the instant I try to \
269 envisage them clearly. Don't mistake,
270 Denny, your wife is a magnificent being, a splendi\
271 d focus of cosmic forces who has a right
272 to be called divine if anything on earth has!"_
273 
274 I felt a clearing of the situation at this point, \
275 for the abstract strangeness
276 of Marsh's expressed statement, plus the flattery \
277 he was now heaping on Marceline, could
278 not fail to disarm and mollify one as fondly proud\
279  of his consort as Denis always was. Marsh
280 evidently caught the change himself, for there was\
281  more confidence in his tone as he continued.
282 
283 _"I must paint her, Denny--must paint that hair--a\
284 nd you won't
285 regret it. There's something more than mortal abou\
286 t that hair--something more than
287 beautiful--"_
288 
289 He paused, and I wondered what Denis could be thin\
290 king. I wondered, indeed,
291 what I was really thinking myself. Was Marsh's int\
292 erest actually that of the artist alone,
293 or was he merely infatuated as Denis had been? I h\
294 ad thought, in their schooldays, that he had
295 envied my boy; and I dimly felt that it might be t\
296 he same now. On the other hand, something
297 in that talk of artistic stimulus had rung amazing\
298 ly true; so that the more I pondered, the
299 more I was inclined to take the stuff at face valu\
300 e. Denis seemed to do so, too, for although
301 I could not catch his low-spoken reply, I could te\
302 ll by the effect it produced that it must
303 have been affirmative.
304 
305 There was a sound of someone slapping another on t\
306 he back, and then a grateful speech from Marsh tha
307 t I was long to remember.
308 
309 _"That's great, Denny; and just as I told you, you\
310 'll never
311 regret it. In a sense, I'm half doing it for you. \
312 You'll be a different man when you
313 see it. I'll put you back where you used to be--gi\
314 ve you a waking-up and a sort of
315 salvation--but you can't see what I mean as yet. J\
316 ust remember old friendship, and
317 don't get the idea that I'm not the same old bird!\
318 "_
319 
320 I rose perplexedly as I saw the two stroll off acr\
321 oss the lawn, arm in
322 arm, and smoking in unison. What could Marsh have \
323 meant by his strange and almost ominous reassuranc
324 e?
325 The more my fears were quieted in one direction, t\
326 he more they were aroused in another. Look
327 at it in any way I could, it seemed to be rather a\
328  bad business.
329 
330 But matters got started just the same. Denis fixed\
331  up an attic room with
332 skylights, and Marsh sent for all sorts of paintin\
333 g equipment. Everyone was rather excited about
334 the new venture, and I was at least glad that some\
335 thing was on foot to break the brooding tension.
336 Soon the sittings began, and we all took them quit\
337 e seriously--for we could see that Marsh
338 regarded them as important artistic events. Denny \
339 and I used to go quietly about the house as
340 though something sacred were occurring, and we kne\
341 w that it was sacred so far as Marsh was concerned
342 .
343 
344 With Marceline, though, it was a different matter,\
345  as I began to see
346 at once. Whatever Marsh's reactions to the sitting\
347 s may have been, hers were painfully
348 obvious. Every possible way she betrayed a frank a\
349 nd commonplace infatuation for the artist,
350 and would repulse Denis' marks of affection whenev\
351 er she dared. Oddly, I noticed this more
352 vividly than Denis himself, and tried to devise so\
353 me plan for keeping the boy's mind easy
354 until the matter could be straightened out. There \
355 was no use in having him excited about it
356 if it could be helped.
357 
358 In the end I decided that Denis had better be away\
359  while the disagreeable
360 situation existed. I could represent his interests\
361  well enough at this end, and sooner or later
362 Marsh would finish the picture and go. My view of \
363 Marsh's honour was such that I did not
364 look for any worse developments. When the matter h\
365 ad blown over, and Marceline had forgotten
366 about her new infatuation, it would be time enough\
367  to have Denis on hand again.
368 
369 So I wrote a long letter to my marketing and finan\
370 cial agent in New York,
371 and cooked up a plan to have the boy summoned ther\
372 e for an indefinite time. I had the agent
373 write him that our affairs absolutely required one\
374  of us to go East, and of course my illness
375 made it clear that I could not be the one. It was \
376 arranged that when Denis got to New York he
377 would find enough plausible matters to keep him bu\
378 sy as long as I thought he ought to be away.
379 
380 The plan worked perfectly, and Denis started for N\
381 ew York without the
382 least suspicion; Marceline and Marsh going with hi\
383 m in the car to Cape Girardeau, where he caught
384 the afternoon train to St. Louis. They returned ab\
385 out dark, and as McCabe drove the car back
386 to the stables I could hear them talking on the ve\
387 randa--in those same chairs near the long
388 parlour window where Marsh and Denis had sat when \
389 I overheard them talk about the portrait.
390 This time I resolved to do some intentional eavesd\
391 ropping, so quietly went down to the front
392 parlour and stretched out on the sofa near the win\
393 dow.
394 
395 At first I could not hear anything, but very short\
396 ly there came a sound
397 as of a chair being shifted, followed by a short, \
398 sharp breath and a sort of inarticulately
399 hurt exclamation from Marceline. Then I heard Mars\
400 h speaking in a strained, almost formal voice.
401 
402 _"I'd enjoy working tonight if you're not too tire\
403 d."_
404 
405 Marceline's reply was in the same hurt tone which \
406 had marked her exclamation. She used English as he
407  had done.
408 
409 _"Oh, Frank, is that really all you care about? Fo\
410 rever working! Can't we just sit out in this glori
411 ous moonlight?"_
412 
413 He answered impatiently, his voice shewing a certa\
414 in contempt beneath the dominant quality of artist
415 ic enthusiasm.
416 
417 _"Moonlight! Good God, what cheap sentimentality! \
418 For a supposedly
419 sophisticated person you surely do hang on to some\
420  of the crudest claptrap that ever escaped
421 from the dime novels! With art at your elbow, you \
422 have to think of the moon--cheap as a
423 spotlight at the varieties! Or perhaps it makes yo\
424 u think of the Roodmas dance around the stone
425 pillars at Auteuil. Hell, how you used to make tho\
426 se goggle-eyed yaps stare! But no--I suppose
427 you've dropped all that now. No more Atlantean mag\
428 ic or hair-snake rites for Madame de
429 Russy! I'm the only one to remember the old things\
430 --the things that came down through
431 the temples of Tanit and echoed on the ramparts of\
432  Zimbabwe. But I won't be cheated of
433 that remembrance--all that is weaving itself into \
434 the thing on my canvas--the thing
435 that is going to capture wonder and crystallise th\
436 e secrets of 75,000 years. . . ."_
437 
438 Marceline interrupted in a voice full of mixed emo\
439 tions.
440 
441 _"It's you who are cheaply sentimental now! You kn\
442 ow well that
443 the old things had better be let alone. All of you\
444  had better look out if ever I chant the old
445 rites or try to call up what lies hidden in Yuggot\
446 h, Zimbabwe, and R'lyeh. I thought you
447 had more sense!_
448 
449 _"You lack logic. You want me to be interested in \
450 this precious painting
451 of yours, yet you never let me see what you're doi\
452 ng. Always that black cloth over it!
453 It's of me--I shouldn't think it would matter if I\
454  saw it. . . ."_
455 
456 Marsh was interrupting this time, his voice curiou\
457 sly hard and strained.
458 
459 _"No. Not now. You'll see it in due course of time\
460 . You say
461 it's of you--yes, it's that, but it's more. If you\
462  knew, you mightn't
463 be so impatient. Poor Denis! My God, it's a shame!\
464 "_
465 
466 My throat went suddenly dry as the words rose to a\
467 n almost febrile pitch.
468 What could Marsh mean? Suddenly I saw that he had \
469 stopped and was entering the house alone.
470 I heard the front door slam, and listened as his f\
471 ootsteps ascended the stairs. Outside on the
472 veranda I could still hear Marceline's heavy, angr\
473 y breathing. I crept away sick at heart,
474 feeling that there were grave things to ferret out\
475  before I could safely let Denis come back.
476 
477 After that evening the tension around the place wa\
478 s even worse than before.
479 Marceline had always lived on flattery and fawning\
480 , and the shock of those few blunt words from
481 Marsh was too much for her temperament. There was \
482 no living in the house with her any more,
483 for with poor Denis gone she took out her abusiven\
484 ess on everybody. When she could find no one
485 indoors to quarrel with she would go out to Sophon\
486 isba's cabin and spend hours talking
487 with the queer old Zulu woman. Aunt Sophy was the \
488 only person who would fawn abjectly enough
489 to suit her, and when I tried once to overhear the\
490 ir conversation I found Marceline whispering
491 about "elder secrets' and "unknown Kadath' while t\
492 he negress rocked to and
493 fro in her chair, making inarticulate sounds of re\
494 verence and admiration every now and then.
495 
496 But nothing could break her dog-like infatuation f\
497 or Marsh. She would
498 talk bitterly and sullenly to him, yet was getting\
499  more and more obedient to his wishes. It
500 was very convenient for him, since he now became a\
501 ble to make her pose for the picture whenever
502 he felt like painting. He tried to shew gratitude \
503 for this willingness, but I thought I could
504 detect a kind of contempt or even loathing beneath\
505  his careful politeness. For my part, I frankly
506 hated Marceline! There was no use in calling my at\
507 titude anything as mild as mere dislike these
508 days. Certainly, I was glad Denis was away. His le\
509 tters, not nearly so frequent as I wished,
510 shewed signs of strain and worry.
511 
512 As the middle of August went by I gathered from Ma\
513 rsh's remarks
514 that the portrait was nearly done. His mood seemed\
515  increasingly sardonic, though Marceline's
516 temper improved a bit as the prospect of seeing th\
517 e thing tickled her vanity. I can still recall
518 the day when Marsh said he'd have everything finis\
519 hed within a week. Marceline brightened
520 up perceptibly, though not without a venomous look\
521  at me. It seemed as if her coiled hair visibly
522 tightened about her head.
523 
524 _"I'm to be the first to see it!"_ she snapped. Th\
525 en, smiling at Marsh, she said, _"And if I don't l
526 ike it I shall slash it to pieces!"_
527 
528 Marsh's face took on the most curious look I have \
529 ever seen it wear as he answered her.
530 
531 _"I can't vouch for your taste, Marceline, but I s\
532 wear it will
533 be magnificent! Not that I want to take much credi\
534 t--art creates itself--and this thing
535 had to be done. Just wait!"_
536 
537 During the next few days I felt a queer sense of f\
538 oreboding, as if the
539 completion of the picture meant a kind of catastro\
540 phe instead of a relief. Denis, too, had not
541 written me, and my agent in New York said he was p\
542 lanning some trip to the country. I wondered
543 what the outcome of the whole thing would be. What\
544  a queer mixture of elements--Marsh and
545 Marceline, Denis and I! How would all these ultima\
546 tely react on one another? When my fears grew
547 too great I tried to lay them all to my infirmity,\
548  but that explanation never quite satisfied
549 me.

  1 Well, the thing exploded on Tuesday, the twenty-si\
  2 xth of August. I had
  3 risen at my usual time and had breakfast, but was \
  4 not good for much because of the pain in my
  5 spine. It had been troubling me badly of late, and\
  6  forcing me to take opiates when it got too
  7 unbearable; nobody else was downstairs except the \
  8 servants, though I could hear Marceline moving
  9 about in her room. Marsh slept in the attic next h\
 10 is studio, and had begun to keep such late
 11 hours that he was seldom up till noon. About ten o\
 12 'clock the pain got the better of me,
 13 so that I took a double dose of my opiate and lay \
 14 down on the parlour sofa. The last I heard
 15 was Marceline's pacing overhead. Poor creature--if\
 16  I had known! She must have been
 17 walking before the long mirror admiring herself. T\
 18 hat was like her. Vain from start to finish--revel
 19 ling
 20 in her own beauty, just as she revelled in all the\
 21  little luxuries Denis was able to give her.
 22 
 23 I didn't wake up till near sunset, and knew instan\
 24 tly how long I
 25 had slept from the golden light and long shadows o\
 26 utside the long window. Nobody was about,
 27 and a sort of unnatural stillness seemed to be hov\
 28 ering over everything. From afar, though,
 29 I thought I could sense a faint howling, wild and \
 30 intermittent, whose quality had a slight but
 31 baffling familiarity about it. I'm not much for ps\
 32 ychic premonitions, but I was frightfully
 33 uneasy from the start. There had been dreams--even\
 34  worse than the ones I had been dreaming
 35 in the weeks before--and this time they seemed hid\
 36 eously linked to some black and festering
 37 reality. The whole place had a poisonous air. Afte\
 38 rward I reflected that certain sounds must
 39 have filtered through to my unconscious brain duri\
 40 ng those hours of drugged sleep. My pain,
 41 though, was very much eased; and I rose and walked\
 42  without difficulty.
 43 
 44 Soon enough I began to see that something was wron\
 45 g. Marsh and Marceline
 46 might have been riding, but someone ought to have \
 47 been getting dinner in the kitchen. Instead,
 48 there was only silence, except for that faint dist\
 49 ant howl or wail; and nobody answered when
 50 I pulled the old-fashioned bell-cord to summon Sci\
 51 pio. Then, chancing to look up, I saw the
 52 spreading stain on the ceiling--the bright red sta\
 53 in, that must have come through the floor
 54 of Marceline's room.
 55 
 56 In an instant I forgot my crippled back and hurrie\
 57 d upstairs to find
 58 out the worst. Everything under the sun raced thro\
 59 ugh my mind as I struggled with the dampness-warpe
 60 d
 61 door of that silent chamber, and most hideous of a\
 62 ll was a terrible sense of malign fulfilment
 63 and fatal expectedness. I had, it struck me, known\
 64  all along that nameless horrors were gathering;
 65 that something profoundly and cosmically evil had \
 66 gained a foot-hold under my roof from which
 67 only blood and tragedy could result.
 68 
 69 The door gave at last, and I stumbled into the lar\
 70 ge room beyond--all
 71 dim from the branches of the great trees outside t\
 72 he windows. For a moment I could do nothing
 73 but flinch at the faint evil odour that immediatel\
 74 y struck my nostrils. Then, turning on the
 75 electric light and glancing around, I glimpsed a n\
 76 ameless blasphemy on the yellow and blue rug.
 77 
 78 It lay face down in a great pool of dark, thickene\
 79 d blood, and had the
 80 gory print of a shod human foot in the middle of i\
 81 ts naked back. Blood was spattered everywhere--on
 82 the walls, furniture, and floor. My knees gave way\
 83  as I took in the sight, so that I had to
 84 stumble to a chair and slump down. The thing had o\
 85 bviously been a human being, though its identity
 86 was not easy to establish at first; since it was w\
 87 ithout clothes, and had most of its hair hacked
 88 and torn from the scalp in a very crude way. It wa\
 89 s of a deep ivory colour, and I knew that
 90 it must have been Marceline. The shoe-print on the\
 91  back made the thing seem all the more hellish.
 92 I could not even picture the strange, loathsome tr\
 93 agedy which must have taken place while I
 94 slept in the room below. When I raised my hand to \
 95 wipe my dripping forehead I saw that my fingers
 96 were sticky with blood. I shuddered, then realised\
 97  that it must have come from the knob of the
 98 door which the unknown murderer had forced shut be\
 99 hind him as he left. He had taken his weapon
100 with him, it seemed, for no instrument of death wa\
101 s visible here.
102 
103 As I studied the floor I saw that a line of sticky\
104  footprints like the
105 one on the body led away from the horror to the do\
106 or. There was another blood-trail, too, and
107 of a less easily explainable kind; a broadish, con\
108 tinuous line, as if marking the path of some
109 huge snake. At first I concluded it must be due to\
110  something the murderer had dragged after
111 him. Then, noting the way some of the footprints s\
112 eemed to be superimposed on it, I was forced
113 to believe that it had been there when the murdere\
114 r left. But what crawling entity could have
115 been in that room with the victim and her assassin\
116 , leaving before the killer when the deed
117 was done? As I asked myself this question I though\
118 t I heard fresh bursts of that faint, distant
119 wailing.
120 
121 Finally, rousing myself from a lethargy of horror,\
122  I got on my feet again
123 and began following the footprints. Who the murder\
124 er was, I could not even faintly guess, nor
125 could I try to explain the absence of the servants\
126 . I vaguely felt that I ought to go up to
127 Marsh's attic quarters, but before I had fully for\
128 mulated the idea I saw that the bloody
129 trail was indeed taking me there. Was he himself t\
130 he murderer? Had he gone mad under the strain
131 of the morbid situation and suddenly run amok?
132 
133 In the attic corridor the trail became faint, the \
134 prints almost ceasing
135 as they merged with the dark carpet. I could still\
136 , however, discern the strange single path
137 of the entity who had gone first; and this led str\
138 aight to the closed door of Marsh's studio,
139 disappearing beneath it at a point about half way \
140 from side to side. Evidently it had crossed
141 the threshold at a time when the door was wide ope\
142 n.
143 
144 Sick at heart, I tried the knob and found the door\
145  unlocked. Opening
146 it, I paused in the waning north light to see what\
147  fresh nightmare might be awaiting me. There
148 was certainly something human on the floor, and I \
149 reached for the switch to turn on the chandelier.
150 
151 But as the light flashed up my gaze left the floor\
152  and its horror--that
153 was Marsh, poor devil--to fix itself frantically a\
154 nd incredulously upon the living thing
155 that cowered and stared in the open doorway leadin\
156 g to Marsh's bedroom. It was a tousled,
157 wild-eyed thing, crusted with dried blood and carr\
158 ying in its hand a wicked machete which had
159 been one of the ornaments of the studio wall. Yet \
160 even in that awful moment I recognised it
161 as one whom I had thought more than a thousand mil\
162 es away. It was my own boy Denis--or the
163 maddened wreck which had once been Denis.
164 
165 The sight of me seemed to bring back a trifle of s\
166 anity--or at least
167 of memory--in the poor boy. He straightened up and\
168  began to toss his head about as if trying
169 to shake free from some enveloping influence. I co\
170 uld not speak a word, but moved my lips in
171 an effort to get back my voice. My eyes wandered f\
172 or a moment to the figure on the floor in
173 front of the heavily draped easel--the figure towa\
174 rd which the strange blood-trail led,
175 and which seemed to be tangled in the coils of som\
176 e dark, ropy object. The shifting of my glance
177 apparently produced some impression in the twisted\
178  brain of the boy, for suddenly he began to
179 mutter in a hoarse whisper whose purport I was soo\
180 n able to catch.
181 
182 _"I had to exterminate her--she was the devil--the\
183  summit
184 and high-priestess of all evil--the spawn of the p\
185 it--Marsh knew, and tried to warn
186 me. Good old Frank--I didn't kill him, though I wa\
187 s ready to before I realised. But
188 I went down there and killed her--then that cursed\
189  hair--"_
190 
191 I listened in horror as Denis choked, paused, and \
192 began again.
193 
194 You didn't know--her letters got queer and I knew \
195 she
196 was in love with Marsh. Then she nearly stopped wr\
197 iting. He never mentioned her--I felt
198 something was wrong, and thought I ought to come b\
199 ack and find out. Couldn't tell you--your
200 manner would have given it away. Wanted to surpris\
201 e them. Got here about noon today--came
202 in a cab and sent the house-servants all off--let \
203 the field hands alone, for their cabins
204 are all out of earshot. Told McCabe to get me some\
205  things in Cape Girardeau and not bother to
206 come back till tomorrow. Had all the niggers take \
207 the old car and let Mary drive them to Bend
208 Village for a vacation--told 'em we were all going\
209  on some sort of outing and wouldn't
210 need help. Said they'd better stay all night with \
211 Uncle Scip's cousin, who keeps that
212 nigger boarding-house.
213 
214 Denis was getting very incoherent now, and I strai\
215 ned my ears to grasp
216 every word. Again I thought I heard that wild, far\
217 -off wail, but the story had first place for
218 the present.
219 
220 _"Saw you sleeping in the parlour, and took a chan\
221 ce you wouldn't
222 wake up. Then went upstairs on the quiet to hunt u\
223 p Marsh and . . . that
224 woman!"_ 
225 
226 The boy shuddered as he avoided pronouncing Marcel\
227 ine's name. At
228 the same time I saw his eyes dilate in unison with\
229  a bursting of the distant crying, whose vague
230 familiarity had now become very great.
231 
232 _"She was not in her room, so I went up to the stu\
233 dio. Door was shut,
234 and I could hear voices inside. Didn't knock--just\
235  burst in and found her posing for
236 the picture. Nude, but with that hellish hair all \
237 draped around her. And making all sorts of
238 sheep's eyes at Marsh. He had the easel turned hal\
239 f away from the door, so I couldn't
240 see the picture. Both of them were pretty well jol\
241 ted when I shewed up, and Marsh dropped his
242 brush. I was in a rage and told him he'd have to s\
243 hew me the portrait, but he got calmer
244 every minute. Told me it wasn't quite done, but wo\
245 uld be in a day or two--said I could
246 see it then--she--hadn't seen it."_
247 
248 _"But that didn't go with me. I stepped up, and he\
249  dropped a
250 velvet curtain over the thing before I could see i\
251 t. He was ready to fight before letting me
252 see it, but that--that--she--stepped up and sided \
253 with me. Said we ought to see
254 it. Frank got horribly worked up, and gave me a pu\
255 nch when I tried to get at the curtain. I
256 punched back and seemed to have knocked him out. T\
257 hen I was almost knocked out myself by the
258 shriek that--that creature--gave. She'd drawn asid\
259 e the hangings herself, and had
260 caught a look at what Marsh had been painting. I w\
261 heeled around and saw her rushing like mad
262 out of the room-- then I saw the picture."_
263 
264 Madness flared up in the boy's eyes again as he go\
265 t to this place,
266 and I thought for a minute he was going to spring \
267 at me with his machete. But after a pause
268 he partly steadied himself.
269 
270 _"Oh, God--that thing! Don't ever look at it! Burn\
271  it with
272 the hangings around it and throw the ashes into th\
273 e river! Marsh knew--and was warning me.
274 He knew what it was--what that woman--that leopard\
275 ess, or gorgon, or lamia, or whatever
276 she was--actually represented. He'd tried to hint \
277 to me ever since I met her in his
278 Paris studio, but it couldn't be told in words. I \
279 thought they all wronged her when they
280 whispered horrors about her--she had me hypnotised\
281  so that I couldn't believe the plain
282 facts--but this picture has caught the whole secre\
283 t--the whole monstrous background!"_ 
284 
285 _"God, but Frank is an artist! That thing is the g\
286 reatest piece of
287 work any living soul has produced since Rembrandt!\
288  It's a crime to burn it--but it
289 would be a greater crime to let it exist--just as \
290 it would have been an abhorrent sin to
291 let--that she-daemon--exist any longer. The minute\
292  I saw it I understood what--she--was,
293 and what part she played in the frightful secret t\
294 hat has come down from the days of Cthulhu
295 and the Elder Ones--the secret that was nearly wip\
296 ed out when Atlantis sank, but that kept
297 half alive in hidden traditions and allegorical my\
298 ths and furtive, midnight cult-practices.
299 For you know she was the real thing. It wasn't any\
300  fake. It would have been merciful if
301 it had been a fake. It was the old, hideous shadow\
302  that philosophers never dared mention--the
303 thing hinted at in the Necronomicon and symbolised\
304  in the Easter Island colossi."_
305 
306 _"She thought we couldn't see through--that the fa\
307 lse front
308 would hold till we had bartered away our immortal \
309 souls. And she was half right--she'd
310 have got me in the end. She was only--waiting. But\
311  Frank--good old Frank--was too
312 much for me. He knew what it all meant, and painte\
313 d it. I don't wonder she shrieked
314 and ran off when she saw it. It wasn't quite done,\
315  but God knows enough was there."_
316 
317 _"Then I knew I'd got to kill her--kill her, and e\
318 verything
319 connected with her. It was a taint that wholesome \
320 human blood couldn't bear. There was
321 something else, too--but you'll never know that if\
322  you burn the picture without looking.
323 I staggered down to her room with this machete tha\
324 t I got off the wall here, leaving Frank still
325 knocked out. He was breathing, though, and I knew \
326 and thanked heaven that I hadn't killed
327 him."_
328 
329 _"I found her in front of the mirror braiding that\
330  accursed hair.
331 She turned on me like a wild beast, and began spit\
332 ting out her hatred of Marsh. The fact that
333 she'd been in love with him--and I knew she had--o\
334 nly made it worse. For a minute
335 I couldn't move, and she came within an ace of com\
336 pletely hypnotising me. Then I thought
337 of the picture, and the spell broke. She saw the b\
338 reaking in my eyes, and must have noticed
339 the machete, too. I never saw anything give such a\
340  wild jungle beast look as she did then. She
341 sprang for me with claws out like a leopard's, but\
342  I was too quick. I swung the machete,
343 and it was all over."_
344 
345 Denis had to stop again there, and I saw the persp\
346 iration running down
347 his forehead through the spattered blood. But in a\
348  moment he hoarsely resumed.
349 
350 _"I said it was all over--but God! some of it had \
351 only just begun!
352 I felt I had fought the legions of Satan, and put \
353 my foot on the back of the thing I had annihilated
354 .
355 Then I saw that blasphemous braid of coarse black \
356 hair begin to twist and squirm of itself."_
357 
358 _"I might have known it. It was all in the old tal\
359 es. That damnable
360 hair had a life of its own, that couldn't be ended\
361  by killing the creature itself. I knew
362 I'd have to burn it, so I started to hack it off w\
363 ith the machete. God, but it was devilish
364 work! Tough--like iron wires--but I managed to do \
365 it. And it was loathsome the way the
366 big braid writhed and struggled in my grasp."_
367 
368 _"About the time I had the last strand cut or pull\
369 ed off I heard
370 that eldritch wailing from behind the house. You k\
371 now--it's still going off and on.
372 I don't know what it is, but it must be something \
373 springing from this hellish business.
374 It half seems like something I ought to know but c\
375 an't quite place. It got my nerves the
376 first time I heard it, and I dropped the severed b\
377 raid in my fright. Then, I got a worse fright--for
378 in another second the braid had turned on me and b\
379 egan to strike venomously with one of its
380 ends which had knotted itself up like a sort of gr\
381 otesque head. I struck out with the machete,
382 and it turned away. Then, when I had my breath aga\
383 in, I saw that the monstrous thing was crawling
384 along the floor by itself like a great black snake\
385 . I couldn't do anything for a while,
386 but when it vanished through the door I managed to\
387  pull myself together and stumble after it.
388 I could follow the broad, bloody trail, and I saw \
389 it led upstairs. It brought me here--and
390 may heaven curse me if I didn't see it through the\
391  doorway, striking at poor dazed Marsh
392 like a maddened rattler as it had struck at me, fi\
393 nally coiling around him as a python would.
394 He had begun to come to, but that abominable serpe\
395 nt thing got him before he was on his feet.
396 I knew that all of that woman's hatred was behind \
397 it, but I hadn't the power to pull
398 it off. I tried, but it was too much for me. Even \
399 the machete was no good--I couldn't
400 swing it freely or it would have slashed Frank to \
401 pieces. So I saw those monstrous coils tighten--sa
402 w
403 poor Frank crushed to death before my eyes--and al\
404 l the time that awful faint howling came
405 from somewhere beyond the fields."_
406 
407 _"That's all. I pulled the velvet cloth over the p\
408 icture and
409 hope it'll never be lifted. The thing must be burn\
410 t. I couldn't pry the coils off
411 poor, dead Frank--they cling to him like a leach, \
412 and seem to have lost their motion altogether.
413 It's as if that snaky rope of hair has a kind of p\
414 erverse fondness for the man it killed--it's
415 clinging to him--embracing him. You'll have to bur\
416 n poor Frank with it--but for
417 God's sake don't forget to see it in ashes. That a\
418 nd the picture. They must both go.
419 The safety of the world demands that they go."_
420 
421 Denis might have whispered more, but a fresh burst\
422  of distant wailing
423 cut us short. For the first time we knew what it w\
424 as, for a westerly veering wind brought articulate
425 words at last. We ought to have known long before,\
426  since sounds much like it had often come
427 from the same source. It was wrinkled Sophonisba, \
428 the ancient Zulu witch-woman who had fawned
429 on Marceline, keening from her cabin in a way whic\
430 h crowned the horrors of this nightmare tragedy.
431 We could both hear some of the things she howled, \
432 and knew that secret and primordial bonds
433 linked this savage sorceress with that other inher\
434 itor of elder secrets who had just been extirpated
435 .
436 Some of the words she used betrayed her closeness \
437 to daemonic and palaeogean traditions.
438 
439 _**"Iä! Iä! Shub-Niggurath! Ya-R'lyeh! N'gagi n'bu\
440 lu
441 bwana n'lolo! Ya, yo, pore Missy Tanit, pore Missy\
442  Isis! Marse Clooloo, come up outen
443 de water an' git yo chile--she done daid! She done\
444  daid! De hair ain' got no missus
445 no mo', Marse Clooloo. Ol' Sophy, she know! Ol' So\
446 phy, she done got de black
447 stone outen Big Zimbabwe in ol' Affriky! Ol' Sophy\
448 , she done dance in de moonshine
449 roun' de crocodile-stone befo' de N'bangus cotch h\
450 er and sell her to de ship
451 folks! No mo' Tanit! No mo' Isis! No mo' witch-wom\
452 an to keep de fire a-goin'
453 in de big stone place! Ya, yo! N'gagi n'bulu bwana\
454  n'lolo! Iä! Shub-Niggurath!
455 She daid! Ol' Sophy know!"**_
456 
457 That wasn't the end of the wailing, but it was all\
458  I could pay attention
459 to. The expression on my boy's face shewed that it\
460  had reminded him of something frightful,
461 and the tightening of his hand on the machete bode\
462 d no good. I knew he was desperate, and sprang
463 to disarm him if possible before he could do anyth\
464 ing more.
465 
466 But I was too late. An old man with a bad spine do\
467 esn't count for
468 much physically. There was a terrible struggle, bu\
469 t he had done for himself before many seconds
470 were over. I'm not sure yet but that he tried to k\
471 ill me, too. His last panting words were
472 something about the need of wiping out everything \
473 that had been connected with Marceline, either
474 by blood or marriage.