progress of consumption？
When my mind had dwelt for some time on this blissful idea； it
seemed to me that I might perhaps test it by an exertion of my will。 The
vision had begun when my father was speaking of our going to Prague。 I
did not for a moment believe it was really a representation of that city； I
believedI hoped it was a picture that my newly liberated genius had
painted in fiery haste； with the colours snatched from lazy memory。
Suppose I were to fix my mind on some other placeVenice； for example；
which was far more familiar to my imagination than Prague： perhaps the
same sort of result would follow。 I concentrated my thoughts on Venice；
I stimulated my imagination with poetic memories； and strove to feel
myself present in Venice； as I had felt myself present in Prague。 But in
vain。 I was only colouring the Canaletto engravings that hung in my old
bedroom at home； the picture was a shifting one； my mind wandering
uncertainly in search of more vivid images； I could see no accident of
form or shadow without conscious labour after the necessary conditions。
It was all prosaic effort； not rapt passivity； such as I had experienced half
an hour before。 I was discouraged； but I remembered that inspiration
was fitful。
For several days I was in a state of excited expectation； watching for a
recurrence of my new gift。 I sent my thoughts ranging over my world of
knowledge； in the hope that they would find some object which would
send a reawakening vibration through my slumbering genius。 But no； my
world remained as dim as ever； and that flash of strange light refused to
e again； though I watched for it with palpitating eagerness。
My father acpanied me every day in a drive； and a gradually
lengthening walk as my powers of walking increased； and one evening he
had agreed to e and fetch me at twelve the next day； that we might go
together to select a musical box； and other purchases rigorously demanded
of a rich Englishman visiting Geneva。 He was one of the most punctual
of men and bankers； and I was always nervously anxious to be quite ready
for him at the appointed time。 But； to my surprise； at a quarter past twelve
he had not appeared。 I felt all the impatience of a convalescent who has
nothing particular to do； and who has just taken a tonic in the prospect of
immediate exercise that would carry off the stimulus。
Unable to sit still and reserve my strength； I walked up and down the
room； looking out on the current of the Rhone； just where it leaves the
dark…blue lake； but thinking all the while of the possible causes that could
detain my father。
Suddenly I was conscious that my father was in the room； but not
alone： there were two persons with him。 Strange！ I had heard no
footstep； I had not seen the door open； but I saw my father； and at his right
hand our neighbour Mrs。 Filmore； whom I remembered very well； though
I had not seen her for five years。 She was a monplace middle…aged
woman； in silk and cashmere； but the lady on the left of my father was not
more than twenty； a tall； slim； willowy figure； with luxuriant blond hair；
arranged in cunning braids and folds that looked almost too massive for
the slight figure and the small…featured； thin…lipped face they crowned。
But the face had not a girlish expression： the features were sharp； the
pale grey eyes at once acute； restless； and sarcastic。 They were fixed on
me in half…smiling curiosity； and I felt a painful sensation as if a sharp
wind were cutting me。 The pale…green dress； and the green leaves that
seemed to form a border about her pale blond hair； made me think of a
Water…Nixiefor my mind was full of German lyrics； and this pale； fatal…
eyed woman； with the green weeds； looked like a birth from some cold
sedgy stream； the daughter of an aged river。
〃Well； Latimer； you thought me long；〃 my father said 。 。 。
But while the last word was in my ears； the whole group vanished； and
there was nothing between me and the Chinese printed folding… screen that
stood before the door。 I was cold and trembling； I could only totter
forward and throw myself on the sofa。 This strange new power had
manifested itself again 。 。 。 But WAS it a power？ Might it not rather be a
diseasea sort of intermittent delirium； concentrating my energy of brain
into moments of unhealthy activity； and leaving my saner hours all the
more barren？ I felt a dizzy sense of unreality in what my eye rested on； I
grasped the bell convulsively； like one trying to free himself from
nightmare； and rang it twice。 Pierre came with a look of alarm in his
face。
〃Monsieur ne se trouve pas bien？〃 he said anxiously。
〃I'm tired of waiting； Pierre；〃 I said； as distinctly and emphatically as I
could； like a man determined to be sober in spite of wine； 〃I'm afraid
something has happened to my fatherhe's usually so punctual。 Run to
the Hotel des Bergues and see if he is there。〃
Pierre left the room at once； with a soothing 〃Bien； Monsieur〃； and I
felt the better for this scene of simple； waking prose。 Seeking to calm
myself still further； I went into my bedroom； adjoining the salon； and
opened a case of eau…de…Cologne； took out a bottle； went through the
process of taking out the cork very neatly； and then rubbed the reviving
spirit over my hands and forehead； and under my nostrils； drawing a new
delight from the scent because I had procured it by slow details of labour；
and by no strange sudden madness。 Already I had begun to taste
something of the horror that belongs to the lot of a human being whose
nature is not adjusted to simple human conditions。
Still enjoying the scent； I returned to the salon； but it was not
unoccupied； as it had been before I left it。 In front of the Chinese
folding…screen there was my father； with Mrs。 Filmore on his right hand；
and on his leftthe slim； blond…haired girl； with the keen face and the keen
eyes fixed on me in half…smiling curiosity。
〃Well； Latimer； you thought me long；〃 my father said 。 。 。
I heard no more； felt no more； till I became conscious that I was lying
with my head low on the sofa； Pierre； and my father by my side。 As soon
as I was thoroughly revived； my father left the room； and presently
returned； saying …
〃I've been to tell the ladies how you are； Latimer。 They were waiting
in the next room。 We shall put off our shopping expedition to…day。〃
Presently he said； 〃That young lady is Bertha Grant； Mrs。 Filmore's
orphan niece。 Filmore has adopted her； and she lives with them； so you
will have her for a neighbour when we go homeperhaps for a near
relation； for there is a tenderness between her and Alfred； I suspect； and I
should be gratified by the match； since Filmore means to provide for her in
every way as if she were his daughter。 It had not occurred to me that you
knew nothing about her living with the Filmores。〃
He made no further allusion to the fact of my having fainted at the
moment of seeing her； and I would not for the world have told him the
reason： I shrank from the idea of disclosing to any one what might be
regarded as a pitiable peculiarity； most of all from betraying it to my father；
who would have suspected my sanity ever after。
I do not mean to dwell with particularity on the details of my
experience。 I have described these two cases at length； because they had
definite； clearly traceable results in my after…lot。
Shortly after this last occurrenceI think the very next dayI began to
be aware of a phase in my abnormal sensibility； to which； from the languid
and slight nature of my intercourse with others since my illness； I had not
been alive before。 This was the obtrusion on my mind of the mental
process going forward in first one person； and then another； with whom I
happened to be in contact： the vagrant； frivolous ideas and emotions of
some uninteresting acquaintanceMrs。 Filmore； for examplewould force
themselves on my consciousness like an importunate； ill…played musical
instrument； or the loud activity of an imprisoned insect。 But this
unpleasant sensibility was fitful； and left me moments of rest； when the
souls of my panions were once more shut out from me； and I felt a
relief such as silence brings to wearied nerves。 I might have believed this
importunate insight to be merely a diseased activity of the imagination； but
that my prevision of incalculable words and actions proved it to have a
fixed relation to the mental process in other minds。 But this superadded
consciousness； wearying and annoying enough when it urged on me the
trivial experience of indifferent people； became an intense pain and grief
when it seemed to be opening to me the souls of those who were in a close
relation to mewhen the rational talk； the graceful attentions； the wittily…
turned phrases； and the kindly deeds； which used to make the web of their
characters； were seen as if thrust asunder by a microscopic vision； that
showed all the intermediate frivolities； all the suppressed egoism； all the
struggling chaos of puerilities； meanness； vague capricious memories； and
indolent make…shift thoughts； from which human words and deeds emerge
like leaflets covering a fermenting heap。
At Basle we were joined by my brother Alfred； now a handsome； self…
confident man of six…and…twentya thorough contrast to my fragile；
nervous； ineffectual self。 I believe I was held to have a sort of half…
womanish； half…ghostly beauty； for the portrait…painters； who are thick as
weeds at Geneva； had often asked me to sit to them； and I had been the
model of a dying minstrel in a fancy picture。 But I thoroughly disliked my
own physique and nothing but the belief that it was a condition of poetic
geniu