ARTHUR
99
The harshness of this explosion, and the shock the ball generated in my brain, knocked me unconscious for a moment. I staggered back, and should have fallen, if I hadn't propped myself up against the wall. Seeing my blood instantly returned the reason. His anger disappeared, and was replaced by terror and regret. He clenched his hands, and exclaimed, "Oh! whaaat! what have I done? The passion of behavior has ruined me."
It didn't take me long to show me the extent of the injury I suffered and the behaviour I had to take. For a moment I was confused and worried, but right now I feel that this is an event that produces more good than evil. It would teach me caution in competing with the passions of others, and show me that there are limits that would sometimes be exceeded by the impulse of anger. Instead of scolding my friend, I spoke to him myself as follows:
"Don't be afraid. You didn't hurt me, and, I hope, will learn a lesson from this event. Your carelessness is like having sacrificed the life of someone who is your friend, and has exposed yourself to infamy and death, or, at least, to eternal regret Learn from Here to curb your passions, and especially to keep a distance from any murder weapon, at times anger may occur for reasons.
"I repeat that my motive of entering this house is related to your happiness and also the happiness of Clemenza Lodi. If I mistake you for a vile and destructive member of the trade, the mistake is worth fixing, but violence and ridicule tend only to confirm it. I am incapable of any purpose which is of no benefit; but, in the manner which I use and in the evidence which I proceed, I am responsible for a thousand errors. Show me the way with which I can do well to you, and I will gladly pursue it."
Finding that his fear was not based on the consequences of his haste, he renewed, albeit less harshly than before, his condemnation of my meddling and courageous folly. I listened until the storm was running out, and then, stating my intention to revisit the house if the interests of Clementza needed it, I continued the journey to the city.
"Why," I said, as I rushed forward, "my luck was so abundant in unexpected events? Is every man who leaves his cottage and the effects of his childhood behind him ushered into the world of revolution and danger as it has befallen me? or is my scene indebted to the diversity and change of my tendency to look into the concerns of others, and to make their sadness and joy belong to me?
"To indulge the adventurous soul, I left the courtyard of the barn door, signed up to serve foreigners, and faced a thousand dangers to my virtue under the influence of the Welbeck disaster. After that my life was in danger because of the cause. Wallace, and now I'm filled with provinces protecting the helpless Eliza Hadwin and the poor Clementine . My hope is very strong, and my strength will not be inactive in their defense; but how slender is this power!
"In the offer of the unknown woman, there was indeed consolation for Clemenza . It must be my business to present in front of my friend Stevens the details of what has happened to me, and to ask for his instructions on how this miserable girl might be most effective. It may be wise to take him from his present abode, and place him under a holy and humane guardianship, where she might gradually lose her memory of her dead baby and her good traitor. The barrier that separates it from Welbeck must be heaven-high and insurmountable as a necessity.
"Is it rational to appreciate your hope of recovery for innocence and peace? You are not a stubborn villain; if you lack virtue, your regrets will be less sharp. If you are deaf to the sound of duty, your wanderings into error and ignorance will become less fertile of suffering. The time may come, when the size of your transgression and malpractice will overflow, and the folly of your choice will be too conspicuous to escape your observation. Surely, even for offenders like you, there is a beneficial power in the teachings of truth and the lessons of experience.
“But you are in prison and sick. This, perhaps, is a crisis of your destiny. Poverty and disgrace are evils to be avoided that have lost your integrity and peace of mind. You have found that the price given is futile: that the hollow and deceptive enjoyment of luxury and dignity is not worth buying; and that, though frivolous and insignificant, it is, the only way to get there is honesty and perseverance. You are in prison and sick; and no one comforts your time with kindness, nor upholds your weak courage with good advice. For as you the world has no mercy. Mankind will chase you to the grave with punishment. Their cruelty will be justified or alleviated, for they do not know you. They do not know the impulse of your conscience and the bitter retribution you suffer every day. They are full of their own faults, and think only of the signs of joy and mutual pleasure.The satisfaction you have learned well in your relationship with them. Only I truly know you and can correctly estimate your claim to compassion.
"I've taken a part of your kindness, and you deserve my gratitude in my hands. Shouldn't I visit and try to comfort you in your distress? Let me, at least, ascertain your condition, and be an instrument in correcting the mistakes you have caused. Let me obtain, from the contemplation of your misery, a new motive towards sincerity and honesty.”
While preoccupied by this reflection, I entered the city. The mind that controls my mind is linked to Welbeck. It is not my habit to put off until tomorrow what can be done today. The fate of humans often depends on an interval of one minute. "I will stop," I said, "in prison; and, because upon my arrival I may be indifferent, I will go there with all possibilities." I was not satisfied with the walk, but, despite the comments of the passengers, I rushed along the road at full speed.
After asking Welbeck, I was taken through a dark room, crowded with beds, to the stairs. I have never been in prison. Never had I smelled such a disturbing smell, or observed such dirty and suffering faces. The walls and floors are both dirty and disgusting. It seemed that the existence of this house would lose all its appeal; yet those faces, which could be seen through the obscurity that enveloped them, were either indifferent or distorted with excitement.
"This," I said, following my conductor, "is the residence of Welbeck. What contrasts it with its serenity and splendor, pictorial walls, glazed decoration, gold-plated sofas, mirrors that meet from the ceiling to the floor, Tauris carpets, and , and the immaculate and transcendent brilliance of the quilt and napkin, in your former abode! Here fights and rough footsteps are eternal. The air was filled with a puff of disease and the smoke of debauchery. You were confined to a vacuum, and, perhaps, forced to share your narrow cell with a stupid bastard. Previously, the breeze was approached by your tall windows. Aromatic bushes are scattered in your fireplace. Rough clothes, nice clothes, show their faces shyly in your apartment, tread lightly on your marble floor, and do not suffer the sanctity of silence disturbed by whispers. Your lamp shoots its rays through the transparency of the alabaster, and your fragrant sap flows from the porcelain vase. That's how it was before the decoration of your hall, the decoration of your existence; but now— dear!—-"