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The Turn of the Screw
by Henry James
IX
I waited and waited, and the days, as they elapsed, took something from my consternation2. A very few of them, in fact, passing, in constant sight of my pupils, without a fresh incident, sufficed to give to grievous fancies and even to odious3 memories a kind of brush of the sponge. I have spoken of the surrender to their extraordinary childish grace as a thing I could actively5 cultivate, and it may be imagined if I neglected now to address myself to this source for whatever it would yield. Stranger than I can express, certainly, was the effort to struggle against my new lights; it would doubtless have been, however, a greater tension still had it not been so frequently successful. I used to wonder how my little charges could help guessing that I thought strange things about them; and the circumstances that these things only made them more interesting was not by itself a direct aid to keeping them in the dark. I trembled lest they should see that they WERE so immensely more interesting. Putting things at the worst, at all events, as in meditation6 I so often did, any clouding of their innocence7 could only be — blameless and foredoomed as they were — a reason the more for taking risks. There were moments when, by an irresistible8 impulse, I found myself catching9 them up and pressing them to my heart. As soon as I had done so I used to say to myself: “What will they think of that? Doesn’t it betray too much?” It would have been easy to get into a sad, wild tangle10 about how much I might betray; but the real account, I feel, of the hours of peace that I could still enjoy was that the immediate11 charm of my companions was a beguilement12 still effective even under the shadow of the possibility that it was studied. For if it occurred to me that I might occasionally excite suspicion by the little outbreaks of my sharper passion for them, so too I remember wondering if I mightn’t see a queerness in the traceable increase of their own demonstrations13.
They were at this period extravagantly14 and preternaturally fond of me; which, after all, I could reflect, was no more than a graceful15 response in children perpetually bowed over and hugged. The homage16 of which they were so lavish17 succeeded, in truth, for my nerves, quite as well as if I never appeared to myself, as I may say, literally18 to catch them at a purpose in it. They had never, I think, wanted to do so many things for their poor protectress; I mean — though they got their lessons better and better, which was naturally what would please her most — in the way of diverting, entertaining, surprising her; reading her passages, telling her stories, acting19 her charades20, pouncing21 out at her, in disguises, as animals and historical characters, and above all astonishing her by the “pieces” they had secretly got by heart and could interminably recite. I should never get to the bottom — were I to let myself go even now — of the prodigious22 private commentary, all under still more private correction, with which, in these days, I overscored their full hours. They had shown me from the first a facility for everything, a general faculty23 which, taking a fresh start, achieved remarkable24 flights. They got their little tasks as if they loved them, and indulged, from the mere25 exuberance26 of the gift, in the most unimposed little miracles of memory. They not only popped out at me as tigers and as Romans, but as Shakespeareans, astronomers27, and navigators. This was so singularly the case that it had presumably much to do with the fact as to which, at the present day, I am at a loss for a different explanation: I allude28 to my unnatural29 composure on the subject of another school for Miles. What I remember is that I was content not, for the time, to open the question, and that contentment must have sprung from the sense of his perpetually striking show of cleverness. He was too clever for a bad governess, for a parson’s daughter, to spoil; and the strangest if not the brightest thread in the pensive30 embroidery31 I just spoke4 of was the impression I might have got, if I had dared to work it out, that he was under some influence operating in his small intellectual life as a tremendous incitement32.
If it was easy to reflect, however, that such a boy could postpone33 school, it was at least as marked that for such a boy to have been “kicked out” by a schoolmaster was a mystification without end. Let me add that in their company now — and I was careful almost never to be out of it — I could follow no scent34 very far. We lived in a cloud of music and love and success and private theatricals35. The musical sense in each of the children was of the quickest, but the elder in especial had a marvelous knack36 of catching and repeating. The schoolroom piano broke into all gruesome fancies; and when that failed there were confabulations in corners, with a sequel of one of them going out in the highest spirits in order to “come in” as something new. I had had brothers myself, and it was no revelation to me that little girls could be slavish idolaters of little boys. What surpassed everything was that there was a little boy in the world who could have for the inferior age, sex, and intelligence so fine a consideration. They were extraordinarily37 at one, and to say that they never either quarreled or complained is to make the note of praise coarse for their quality of sweetness. Sometimes, indeed, when I dropped into coarseness, I perhaps came across traces of little understandings between them by which one of them should keep me occupied while the other slipped away. There is a naive38 side, I suppose, in all diplomacy39; but if my pupils practiced upon me, it was surely with the minimum of grossness. It was all in the other quarter that, after a lull40, the grossness broke out.
I find that I really hang back; but I must take my plunge41. In going on with the record of what was hideous42 at Bly, I not only challenge the most liberal faith — for which I little care; but — and this is another matter — I renew what I myself suffered, I again push my way through it to the end. There came suddenly an hour after which, as I look back, the affair seems to me to have been all pure suffering; but I have at least reached the heart of it, and the straightest road out is doubtless to advance. One evening — with nothing to lead up or to prepare it — I felt the cold touch of the impression that had breathed on me the night of my arrival and which, much lighter43 then, as I have mentioned, I should probably have made little of in memory had my subsequent sojourn44 been less agitated45. I had not gone to bed; I sat reading by a couple of candles. There was a roomful of old books at Bly — last-century fiction, some of it, which, to the extent of a distinctly deprecated renown46, but never to so much as that of a stray specimen47, had reached the sequestered48 home and appealed to the unavowed curiosity of my youth. I remember that the book I had in my hand was Fielding’s Amelia; also that I was wholly awake. I recall further both a general conviction that it was horribly late and a particular objection to looking at my watch. I figure, finally, that the white curtain draping, in the fashion of those days, the head of Flora’s little bed, shrouded49, as I had assured myself long before, the perfection of childish rest. I recollect50 in short that, though I was deeply interested in my author, I found myself, at the turn of a page and with his spell all scattered51, looking straight up from him and hard at the door of my room. There was a moment during which I listened, reminded of the faint sense I had had, the first night, of there being something undefinably astir in the house, and noted52 the soft breath of the open casement53 just move the half-drawn blind. Then, with all the marks of a deliberation that must have seemed magnificent had there been anyone to admire it, I laid down my book, rose to my feet, and, taking a candle, went straight out of the room and, from the passage, on which my light made little impression, noiselessly closed and locked the door.
I can say now neither what determined54 nor what guided me, but I went straight along the lobby, holding my candle high, till I came within sight of the tall window that presided over the great turn of the staircase. At this point I precipitately55 found myself aware of three things. They were practically simultaneous, yet they had flashes of succession. My candle, under a bold flourish, went out, and I perceived, by the uncovered window, that the yielding dusk of earliest morning rendered it unnecessary. Without it, the next instant, I saw that there was someone on the stair. I speak of sequences, but I required no lapse1 of seconds to stiffen56 myself for a third encounter with Quint. The apparition57 had reached the landing halfway58 up and was therefore on the spot nearest the window, where at sight of me, it stopped short and fixed59 me exactly as it had fixed me from the tower and from the garden. He knew me as well as I knew him; and so, in the cold, faint twilight60, with a glimmer61 in the high glass and another on the polish of the oak stair below, we faced each other in our common intensity62. He was absolutely, on this occasion, a living, detestable, dangerous presence. But that was not the wonder of wonders; I reserve this distinction for quite another circumstance: the circumstance that dread63 had unmistakably quitted me and that there was nothing in me there that didn’t meet and measure him.
I had plenty of anguish64 after that extraordinary moment, but I had, thank God, no terror. And he knew I had not — I found myself at the end of an instant magnificently aware of this. I felt, in a fierce rigor65 of confidence, that if I stood my ground a minute I should cease — for the time, at least — to have him to reckon with; and during the minute, accordingly, the thing was as human and hideous as a real interview: hideous just because it WAS human, as human as to have met alone, in the small hours, in a sleeping house, some enemy, some adventurer, some criminal. It was the dead silence of our long gaze at such close quarters that gave the whole horror, huge as it was, its only note of the unnatural. If I had met a murderer in such a place and at such an hour, we still at least would have spoken. Something would have passed, in life, between us; if nothing had passed, one of us would have moved. The moment was so prolonged that it would have taken but little more to make me doubt if even I were in life. I can’t express what followed it save by saying that the silence itself — which was indeed in a manner an attestation66 of my strength — became the element into which I saw the figure disappear; in which I definitely saw it turn as I might have seen the low wretch67 to which it had once belonged turn on receipt of an order, and pass, with my eyes on the villainous back that no hunch68 could have more disfigured, straight down the staircase and into the darkness in which the next bend was lost.
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1
lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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2
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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3
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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4
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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5
actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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7
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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8
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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9
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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10
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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11
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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12
beguilement
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| n.欺骗，散心，欺瞒 | |
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13
demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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14
extravagantly
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| adv.挥霍无度地 | |
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15
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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16
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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17
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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18
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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19
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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20
charades
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| n.伪装( charade的名词复数 )；猜字游戏 | |
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21
pouncing
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的现在分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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22
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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23
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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24
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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26
exuberance
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| n.丰富；繁荣 | |
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27
astronomers
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| n.天文学者，天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
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28
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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29
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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30
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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31
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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32
incitement
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| 激励； 刺激； 煽动； 激励物 | |
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33
postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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34
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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35
theatricals
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| n.（业余性的）戏剧演出，舞台表演艺术；职业演员；戏剧的( theatrical的名词复数 )；剧场的；炫耀的；戏剧性的 | |
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36
knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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37
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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38
naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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39
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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40
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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41
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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42
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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43
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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44
sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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45
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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46
renown
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| n.声誉，名望 | |
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47
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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48
sequestered
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| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
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49
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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50
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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51
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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52
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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53
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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54
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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55
precipitately
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| adv.猛进地 | |
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56
stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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57
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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58
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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59
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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60
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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61
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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62
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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63
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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64
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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65
rigor
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| n.严酷，严格，严厉 | |
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66
attestation
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| n.证词 | |
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67
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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68
hunch
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| n.预感，直觉 | |
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