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classic mystery and detective stories-第58部分

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investigated and thoroughly mastered; I was flattered at the

opportunity of a victorious display。



The pleasure of my triumph diffused itself over my feelings towards

him who had been the occasion of it。  The Frenchman was silenced;

the general verdict of the company was too obviously on our side。

From this time the conversation continued between Bourgonef and

myself; and he not only succeeded in entirely dissipating my absurd

antipathywhich I now saw to have been founded on purely imaginary

grounds; for neither the falseness nor the furtiveness could now be

detectedbut he succeeded in captivating all my sympathy。  Long

after dinner was over; and the salle empty; we sat smoking our

cigars; and discussing politics; literature; and art in that

suggestive desultory manner which often gives a charm to casual

acquaintances。



It was a stirring epoch; that of February; 1848。  The Revolution;

at first so hopeful; and soon to manifest itself in failure so

disastrous; was hurrying to an outburst。  France had been for many

months agitated by cries of electoral reform; and by indignation at

the corruption and scandals in high places。  The Praslin murder;

and the dishonor of M。 Teste; terminated by suicide; had been

interpreted as signs of the coming destruction。  The political

banquets given in various important cities had been occasions for

inflaming the public mind; and to the far…seeing; these banquets

were interpreted as the sounds of the tocsin。  Louis Philippe had

become odious to France; and contemptible to Europe。  Guizot and

Duchatel; the ministers of that day; although backed by a

parliamentary majority on which they blindly relied; were

unpopular; and were regarded as infatuated even by their admirers

in Europe。  The Spanish marriages had all but led to a war with

England。  The Opposition; headed by Thiers and Odillon Barrot; was

strengthened by united action with the republican party; headed by

Ledru Rollin; Marrast; Flocon; and Louis Blanc。



Bourgonef was an ardent republican。  So was I; but my color was of

a different shade from his。  He belonged to the Reds。  My own

dominant tendencies being artistic and literary; my dream was of a

republic in which intelligence would be the archon or ruler; and;

of course; in such a republic; art and literature; as the highest

manifestation of mind; would have the supreme direction。  Do you

smile; reader?  I smile now; but it was serious earnest with me

then。  It is unnecessary to say more on this point。  I have said so

much to render intelligible the stray link of communion which

riveted the charm of my new acquaintance's conversation; there was

both agreement enough and difference enough in our views to render

our society mutually fascinating。



On retiring to my room that afternoon I could not help laughing at

my absurd antipathy against Bourgonef。  All his remarks had

disclosed a generous; ardent; and refined nature。  While my

antipathy had specially fastened upon a certain falseness in his

smilea falseness the more poignantly hideous if it were

falseness; because hidden amidst the wreaths of amiabilitymy

delight in his conversation had specially justified itself by the

truthfulness of his mode of looking at things。  He seemed to be

sincerity itself。  There was; indeed; a certain central reserve;

but that might only he an integrity of pride; or it might be

connected with painful circumstances in his history; of which the

melancholy in his face was the outward sign。



That very evening my constructive imagination was furnished with a

detail on which it was soon to be actively set to work。  I had been

rambling about the old fortifications; and was returning at

nightfall through the old archway near Albert Durer's house; when a

man passed by me。  We looked at each other in that automatic way in

which men look when they meet in narrow places; and I felt; so to

speak; a start of recognition in the eyes of the man who passed。

Nothing else; in features or gestures; betrayed recognition or

surprise。  But although there was only that; it flashed from his

eyes to mine like an electric shock。  He passed。  I looked back。

He continued his way without turning。  The face was certainly known

to me; but it floated in a mist of confused memories。



I walked on slowly; pestering my memory with fruitless calls upon

it; hopelessly trying to recover the place where I could have seen

the stranger before。  In vain memory traveled over Europe in

concert…rooms; theaters; shops; and railway carriages。  I could not

recall the occasion on which those eyes had previously met mine。

That they had met them I had no doubt。  I went to bed with the

riddle undiscovered。





II



THE ECHOES OF MURDER





Next morning Nuremberg was agitated with a horror such as can

seldom have disturbed its quiet; a young and lovely girl had been

murdered。  Her corpse was discovered at daybreak under the archway

leading to the old fortifications。  She had been stabbed to the

heart。  No other signs of violence were visible; no robbery had

been attempted。



In great cities; necessarily great centers of crime; we daily hear

of murders; their frequency and remoteness leave us undisturbed。

Our sympathies can only be deeply moved either by some scenic

peculiarities investing the crime with unusual romance or unusual

atrocity; or else by the more immediate appeal of direct neighborly

interest。  The murder which is read of in the Times as having

occurred in Westminster; has seldom any special horror to the

inhabitants of Islington or Oxford Street; but to the inhabitants

of Westminster; and especially to the inhabitants of the particular

street in which it was perpetrated; the crime assumes heart…shaking

proportions。  Every detail is asked for; and every surmise listened

to; with feverish eagerness is repeated and diffused through the

crowd with growing interest。  The family of the victim; the

antecedents of the assassin; if he is known; or the conjectures

pointing to the unknown assassin;are eagerly discussed。  All the

trivial details of household care or domestic fortunes; all the

items of personal gossip; become invested with a solemn and

affecting interest。  Pity for the victim and survivors mingle and

alternate with fierce cries for vengeance on the guilty。  The whole

street becomes one family; commingled by an energetic sympathy;

united by one common feeling of compassion and wrath。



In villages; and in cities so small as Nuremberg; the same

community of feeling is manifested。  The town became as one street。

The horror spread like a conflagration; the sympathy surged and

swelled like a tide。  Everyone felt a personal interest in the

event; as if the murder had been committed at his own door。  Never

shall I forget that wail of passionate pity; and that cry for the

vengeance of justice; which rose from all sides of the startled

city。  Never shall I forget the hurry; the agitation; the feverish

restlessness; the universal communicativeness; the volunteered

services; the eager suggestion; surging round the house of the

unhappy parents。  Herr Lehfeldt; the father of the unhappy girl;

was a respected burgher known to almost every one。  His mercer's

shop was the leading one of the city。  A worthy; pious man;

somewhat strict; but of irreproachable character; his virtues; no

less than those of his wife; and of his only daughter; Lieschen

now; alas; for ever snatched from their yearning eyeswere

canvassed everywhere; and served to intensify the general grief。

That such a calamity should have fallen on a household so

estimable; seemed to add fuel to the people's wrath。  Poor

Lieschen! her pretty; playful waysher opening prospects; as the

only daughter of parents so well to do and so kindher youth and

abounding lifethese were detailed with impassioned fervor by

friends; and repeated by strangers who caught the tone of friends;

as if they; too; had known and loved her。  But amidst the surging

uproar of this sea of many voices no one clear voice of direction

could be heard; no clue given to the clamorous bloodhounds to run

down the assassin。



Cries had been heard in the streets that night at various parts of

the town; which; although then interpreted as the quarrels of

drunken brawlers; and the conflicts of cats; were now confidently

asserted to have proceeded from the unhappy girl in her death…

struggle。  But none of these cries had been heard in the immediate

neighborhood of the archway。  All the inhabitants of that part of

the town agreed that in their waking hours the streets had been

perfectly still。  Nor were there any traces visible of a struggle

having taken place。  Lieschen might have been murdered elsewhere;

and her corpse quietly deposited where it was found; as far as any

evidence went。



Wild and vague were the conjectures。  All were baffled in the

attempt to give them a definite direction。  The c
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