The Magician by W. Somerset Maugham (ebook reader macos TXT) 📕

don’t know. I have always kept an open mind. There was much to be said on both sides.”

“Well, now you must believe. You must do what he did.”

“You must be mad, Arthur.”

“I want you to come to that spot where I saw her last. If her spirit can be brought back anywhere, it must be in that place where she sat and wept. You know all the ceremonies and all the words that are necessary.”

But Susie came forward and laid her hand on his arm. He looked at her with a frown.

“Arthur, you know in your heart that nothing can come of it. You’re only increasing your unhappiness. And even if you could bring her from the grave for a moment, why can you not let her troubled soul rest in peace?”

“If she died a natural death we shall have no power over her, but if her death was violent perhaps her spirit is earthbound still. I tell you I must be certain. I want to see her once more, and afterwards I shall know what to do.”

“I cannot, I cannot,” said the doctor.

“Give me the books and I will do it alone.”

“You know that I have nothing here.”

“Then you must help me,” said Arthur. “After all, why should you mind? We perform a certain operation, and if nothing happens we are no worse off then before. On the other hand, if we succeed.⁠ ⁠… Oh, for God’s sake, help me! If you have any care for my happiness do this one thing for me.”

He stepped back and looked at the doctor. The Frenchman’s eyes were fixed upon the ground.

“It’s madness,” he muttered.

He was intensely moved by Arthur’s appeal. At last he shrugged his shoulders.

“After all, if it is but a foolish mummery it can do no harm.”

“You will help me?” cried Arthur.

“If it can give you any peace or any satisfaction, I am willing to do what I can. But I warn you to be prepared for a great disappointment.”

XV

Arthur wished to set about the invocation then and there, but Dr. Porhoët said it was impossible. They were all exhausted after the long journey, and it was necessary to get certain things together without which nothing could be done. In his heart he thought that a night’s rest would bring Arthur to a more reasonable mind. When the light of day shone upon the earth he would be ashamed of the desire which ran counter to all his prepossessions. But Arthur remembered that on the next day it would be exactly a week since Margaret’s death, and it seemed to him that then their spells might have a greater efficacy.

When they came down in the morning and greeted one another, it was plain that none of them had slept.

“Are you still of the same purpose as last night?” asked Dr. Porhoët gravely.

“I am.”

The doctor hesitated nervously.

“It will be necessary, if you wish to follow out the rules of the old necromancers, to fast through the whole day.”

“I am ready to do anything.”

“It will be no hardship to me,” said Susie, with a little hysterical laugh. “I feel I couldn’t eat a thing if I tried.”

“I think the whole affair is sheer folly,” said Dr. Porhoët.

“You promised me you would try.”

The day, the long summer day, passed slowly. There was a hard brilliancy in the sky that reminded the Frenchman of those Egyptian heavens when the earth seemed crushed beneath a bowl of molten fire. Arthur was too restless to remain indoors and left the others to their own devices. He walked without aim, as fast as he could go; he felt no weariness. The burning sun beat down upon him, but he did not know it. The hours passed with lagging feet. Susie lay on her bed and tried to read. Her nerves were so taut that, when there was a sound in the courtyard of a pail falling on the cobbles, she cried out in terror. The sun rose, and presently her window was flooded with quivering rays of gold. It was midday. The day passed, and it was afternoon. The evening came, but it brought no freshness. Meanwhile Dr. Porhoët sat in the little parlour, with his head between his hands, trying by a great mental effort to bring back to his memory all that he had read. His heart began to beat more quickly. Then the night fell, and one by one the stars shone out. There was no wind. The air was heavy. Susie came downstairs and began to talk with Dr. Porhoët. But they spoke in a low tone, as if they were afraid that someone would overhear. They were faint now with want of food. The hours went one by one, and the striking of a clock filled them each time with a mysterious apprehension. The lights in the village were put out little by little, and everybody slept. Susie had lighted the lamp, and they watched beside it. A cold shiver passed through her.

“I feel as though someone were lying dead in the room,” she said.

“Why does not Arthur come?”

They spoke inconsequently, and neither heeded what the other said. The window was wide open, but the air was difficult to breathe. And now the silence was so unusual that Susie grew strangely nervous. She tried to think of the noisy streets in Paris, the constant roar of traffic, and the shuffling of the crowds toward evening as the work people returned to their homes. She stood up.

“There’s no air tonight. Look at the trees. Not a leaf is moving.”

“Why does not Arthur come?” repeated the doctor.

“There’s no moon tonight. It will be very dark at Skene.”

“He’s walked all day. He should be here by now.”

Susie felt an extraordinary oppression, and she panted for breath. At last they heard a step on the road outside, and Arthur stood at the window.

“Are you ready to come?” he said.

“We’ve been waiting for you.”

They joined him, bringing the few things that Dr. Porhoët had said were necessary,