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く好評発売中〉 ◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆ コバルト文庫 ま若木未生 ◆イラスト / 羽海野チカ 天才・藤谷の弟にして ライノヾルでもある桐哉。 潔癖で自虐的なまでの 音楽を生む彼のノヾンド 「オーヴァークローム」 の軌跡を描く短編集。 くグラスハート〉シリーズ・好評既刊 GLASS HEART LOVE WAY ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ グラスハート グ。磊いくつかの太陽 はて グ。薇とダイナマイト AGE / 楽園の涯 ムーン・シャイン T 険者たち グラス 嵐が丘 の城 ◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

The snow leopard

O C T O B E R 2 9 With a full pack, I leave at dawn, and make good time up to the sun, at 15 , 500 feet. The trek is fun, for knowing the way I can enjoy details. On bare places in the ice-fretted snow, rubbery red succulents grow among the stones, and many stones hOld fossils from the epochs when these earth summits lay beneath the sea. ln the snow mountains—1S it altitude? —I feel open, clear, and childlike once again. I am bathed by feelings, and unex- pectedly I find myself near tears, brought on this time by the memory 0f an early-mormng phone call from the hospital, in the last week of D's life. For days, D had been in what the doc- tors thought was her last coma, yet a nurse's V01ce said that my 、 vife wished tO speak with me: she had tO assure me that there was no mistake. Then I heard this very weak clear V01ce out Of D's childhood, calling as if I were far away across a meadow, "Peter? Peter? Come right away! l'm very very sick! ' She must have sensed that she was close tO death, and the bewilderment in her VOice broke my heart. I ran there through the winter streets, past pinched city faces glaring in suspicion, steam rising from beneath the street in frozen WISPS, blowing away. Now, halfway around the world, as tears freeze at the corners of my eyes, I hear strange sounds, a yelping like a lonely moun- tain fox, and a moment later burst out laughing, thinking how D herself would laugh at an idea so delicious as wailing witb lost love in the snow mountains. The tears and laughter come and go, and afterward I feel soft, strung out, and relieved mag- ically of the altitude headache with which the day had started. At the snowfields depot there is nothing but snow and silence,

50 Great Short Stories

T H E G 10 C 0 N D A S M I L E 289 he say that he 危 lt faint, a heart attack, or that he had seen a ghost—Emily's ghost—in the garden? Absorbed in his childish plotting, he had ceased t0 pay any attention t0 Miss Spence's words. The spasmodic clutching 0f her hand recalled his thoughts. "I honored you for that, Henry," she was saying ・ Honored him for what? "Marriage is a sacred tie, and your respect for it, even when the marriage was, as it was in your case, an unhappy one, made me respect you and admire you, and—shall I dare say the Oh, the burglar, the ghost ⅲ the garden! But it was t00 late. .. yes, love you, Henry, all the more. But we're free now, Henry. ' Free? There was a movement in the dark, and she was kneel- mg on the floor by his chair. "Oh, Henry, Henry, I have been unh 叩 py t00. " Her arms embraced him, and by the shaking ofher b0dY he could feel that she was sobbing. She might have been a suppli- ant crying for mercy. "You mustn't, Janet," he protested. Those tears were tern- ble, terrible. 'NOt now, not now! You must be calm; you must go t0 bed. " He patted her shoulder, then got up, disengagmg himself 仕 om her embrace. He le 代 her still crouching on the Ⅱ 00r beside the chair on which he had been sitting. Groping his way into the hall, and without waiting t0 100k for his hat, he went out 0f the house, taking infinite pains t0 close the 仕 ont ・ door noiselessly behind him. The clouds had blown over, and the moon was shining 仕 om a clear sky. There were puddles all along the road, and 4 noise 0f running water rose 仕 om the gutters and ditches. Mr. Hutton splashed along' not carmg ifhe got wet. How heart-rendingly she had sobbed! With the emotions 0f pity and remorse that the recollection evoked in him there was a certain resentment: why couldn't she have played the game that he was playing, the heartless, amusing game? Yes, but he had known all the time that she wouldn't, she couldn 't play that game; he had known and persisted.

50 Great Short Stories

384 V I R G I N ー A W 0 0 L F apples were in the 10 化 And so down again, the garden still as ever, only the book had slipped into the grass. But they had found it ⅲ the drawmg room. Not that one could ever see them. The window panes reflected apples, re- flected roses; all the leaves were green ⅲ the glass. If they moved ⅲ the drawing room, the 叩 p 厄 only turned its yellow side. Yet, the moment after, ifthe door was opened, spread about the floor, hung upon the walls, pendant om the ceiling—what? My hands were empty. The shadow ofa thrush crossed the car- pet; om the deepest wells ofsilence the wood pigeon drew its bubble ofsound. "Safe, safe, safe," the pulse ofthe house beat softly. "The treasure buried; the room.. ” the pulse stopped sho れ . Oh, was that the buried treasure? A moment later the light had faded. Out in the garden then? But the trees spread darkness for a wandering beam of s 皿 . So fine, so rare, coolly sunk beneath the surface the beam I sought always burnt behind the glass. Death was the glass; death was between us; coming to the woman first, hundreds ofyears ago, leavrng the house, sealing all the windows; the rooms were darkened. He 厄代 it, 厄 her, went North, went East, saw the stars turned ⅲ the Southern sky; sought the house, found it dropped beneath the Downs. "Safe, safe, safe," the pulse ofthe house beat gladly."The Treasure yo 町 s. " The wind roars up the avenue. Trees stoop and bend this way and that. Moonbeams splash and spill wildly in the rain. But the beam of the lamp falls straight om the window. The candle burns stiff and still. Wandering through the house, opening the windows, whispenng not t0 wake us, the ghostly couple seek theirjoy. "Here we slept," she says. And he adds, "Kisses without num- r. " "Waking ⅲ the mormng— "Silver between the trees.' "Upstairs—" " ⅲ the garden—" "When summer came—" " winter snowtime " The doors go shutting far in the distance, gently knocking like the pulse ofa heart. Nearer they come; cease at the doorway. The wind falls, the rain slides silver down the glass. Our eyes darken; we hear no steps beside us; we see no lady spread her ghostly clo 衣 . His

50 Great Short Stories

496 N AT H A N I E L H AW T H 0 R N E timid would turn aside to avoid him, and that others would make it a point 0f hardihood to throw themselves ⅲ his way: The impertinence 0f the latter class compelled him to give up his customary walk at sunset to the bunal ground; for when he leaned pensively over the gate, there would always be faces be- hind the gravestones, peeping at this black veil. A fable went the rounds that the stare of the dead people drove him thence. lt grieved him, to the very depth of his kind heart, to observe how the children fled 仕 om his approach, breaking up their memest sports, while his melancholy figure was yet afar 0 Their instinctive dread caused him to feel more strongly than aught else, that a preternatural horror was interwoven with the threads ofthe black crape. ln truth, his own antipathy to the veil was known to be so great, that he never willingly passed before a mirror, nor stooped tO drink at a still fountain, lest, ⅲ its peaceful bosom, he should be affrighted by himself.. This was what gave plausibility t0 the whlspers, that Mr. Hooper's con- sclence tortured him for some great crime t00 horrible tO be en- tirely concealed, or otherwise than SO obscurely intlmated. Thus, from beneath the black veil, there rolled a cloud into the sunshine, an ambiguity Of sin or sorrow, which enveloped the poor minister, SO that love or sympathy could never reach him. lt was said, that ghost and fiend consorted with him there. With self-shudderings and outward terrors, he walked continually ⅲ its shadow, groping darkly within his own soul, or gazing through a medium that saddened the whole world. Even the lawless wind, it was believed, respected his dreadful secret, and never blew aside the veil. But still good Mr. Hooper sadly smiled at the pale visages 0fthe worldly throng as he passed by. Among all its bad influences, the black veil had the one de- sirable effect, ofmakmg its wearer a very effcient clergyman. By the aid 0f his mysterious emblem—for there was no 0ther apparent cause—he became a man Of awful power, over souls that were ⅲ agony for sin. His converts always regarded him with a dread peculiar t0 themselves, affrming, though but fig- uratively, that, before he brought them t0 celestiallight, they had been with him behind the black veil. lts g100m , indeed, en- abled him to sympathize with all dark affections. Dying sinners

50 Great Short Stories

P U T 0 ー S 1 31 the most awkward wild man of the woods, of the uncouthest Sicilian or Thessalian faun. But he was a denu-god all the same. "To 0 町 father Putois' character appeared very differently; it was symbolical and had a philosophical signification. 0 町ね - ther had a vast pity for humanity. He did not think men very reasonable. Their errors, when they were not cruel, entertained and amused him. The belief ⅲ Putois interested him as a com- pendlum and abridgement of all the beliefs 0f humanity. 0 町 father was rronical and sarcastic; he spoke of Putois as if he were an actual being. He was sometlmes SO persistent, and de- scribed each detail with such precision, that our mother was qulte astonished. 'Anyone would say that you are senous, my love,' she would say frankly, 'and yet you ow perfectly. He replied gravely, 'The whole of Saint-Omer believes ⅲ the existence 0f Put0is. Could I be a good citizen and deny it? One must think well before suppressing article ofuniversal belief. ' "Only very clear-headed persons are troubled by such scru- ples. At heart my father was a follower of Gassendi. He com- promised between his individual views and those ofthe public: with the Saint-Omerites he believed ⅲ the existence of Putois, but he did not admit his direct intervention ⅲ the 市 e 代 of the melons and the seduction of the cook. ln short, like a good cit- izen he professed his faith ⅲ the existence 0f Put0is, and he dispensed with Put0is when explaining the events which hap- pened ⅲ the town. Wherefore, ⅲ this case as ⅲ all others, he proved himself a good man and 市 ought 血 1. "As for 0 町 mother, she felt herself ⅲ a way responsible for the birth of Putois, and she was right. For ⅲ reality Putois was born of 0 mother's taradiddle, Caliban was born of a poet's mvention. The two crimes, ofcourse, differed greatly in magnitude, and my mo 市 ' S guilt was not so great Shake- speare's. NevertheIess, she was alarmed and dismayed at seeing so tiny a falsehood grow indefinitely, and so trifling a deception meet with a success so prodiglous that it stopped nowhere, spread throughout the whole to “叫 and threatened t0 spread throughout the whole world. One day she grew pale, li ⅲ g

50 Great Short Stories

492 N AT H A N I E L H AW T H 0 R N E black cr 叩 e, and dimmed the light of the candles. The bridal pair st00d up before the minister. But the bride's cold fingers quivered ⅲ the tremulous hand 0f the bridegroom, and her deathlike paleness caused a whisper that the maiden who had been buried a few hours before was come from her grave to be married. lfever another wedding were so dismal, it was that ね - mous one where they tolled the wedding 朝 e Ⅱ . After perform- ing the ceremony, Mr. Hooper raised a glass ofwine t0 his lips, wishmg happiness t0 the new-married couple ⅲ a strain 0f mild pleasantry that ought t0 have brightened the features 0f the guests, like a cheerful gleam 仕 om the heart. At that instant, catching a glimpse ofhis figure in the looking-glass, the black veil involved his own spirit ⅲ the horror with which it over- whelmed all others. His frame shuddered, his lips grew pale, he spilt the untasted wine upon the carpet, and rushed 応 h into the darkness. For the Earth, t00 , had on her Black ⅱ . The next day, the whole village of Milford talked of little else than Parson Hooper's black veil. That, and the mystery concealed behind it, supplied a topic for discussion between acquaintances meeting ⅲ the street, and good women gossip- ing at their open windows. lt was the first item ofnews that the tavern-keeper t01d t0 his guests. The children babbled 0f it on their way tO schOOl. One imitative 1 ⅲ厄 imp covered his face with an 01d black handkerchief2 thereby so affrighting his play- mates that the pamc seized himself, and he wellnigh lost his wits by his own waggery. lt was remarkable that ofall the busybodies and impertinent pe 叩 le ⅲ the parish, not one ventured t0 put the plain question to Mr. Hooper, wherefore he did this thing. Hitherto, whenever there appeared the slightest call for such interference, he had never lacked advisers, nor shown himself averse t0 be guided by their judgment. If he erred at all, it was by so pamful a de- gree 0f self-distrust, that even the mildest censure would lead him tO consider an indifferent action as a cnme. Yet, though SO well acquainted with this amiable weakness, no individual among his parishioners chose t0 make the black veil a subject 0f friendly remonstrance. There was a feeling ofdread, neither plainly confessed nor carefully concealed, which caused each

50 Great Short Stories

94 RU DYA R D K I P L I N G and have ut for an answer. I gave me word t0 Dinah Shadd yes- terday, an' more blame t0 me I was with you last night talkin' nonsinse, but nothin' more. You've chosen tO thry tO hould me on ut. I will not be held thereby for anythm' ⅲ the world. ls that enough?' "Judy wint pink all over,. 'An' I wish youjoy av the perjury, sez she. 'You've lost a woman that would ha' wore her hand to the bone for yo 町 pleasure; an' 'deed, Terence, ye were not thrapped,' ... Lascelles must ha' spoken plain to her. 'I am such as Dinah is—'deed I am! Ye've lost a 応 01 av a girl that'll never 100k at you agam, an' ye've lost what ye niver had—your com- mon honesty. If you manage yo 町 men as you manage your love-makin', small wondher they call you the worst co 甲 ' ⅲ in the comp'ny. Come away, mother,' sez she. "But divil a fut would the ould woman budge!'D'you hould by that?' sez she, peerln' up under her thick gray eyebrows. 。。 'Ay, an' wud,' said I, 'tho' Dinah gave me the go twinty times. I'II have no thruck with you or yours,' sez I. 'Take yo child away, ye shameless woman. 。。 'An' am I shameless?' sez she, bringin' her hands up above her head. "Thin what are you, ye lyin', schamin', weak-kneed, dhlrty-souled son 0f a sutler? Am / shameless? Who put the open shame on me an' my child that we shud go beggin' through the lines in daylight for the broken word 0f a man? Double portion ofmy shame be on you, Terence Mulvaney, that think yourself so strong! By Mary and the saints, by b100d and water, an' by ⅳ sorrow that came int0 the world since the be- gmnin', the ・ black blight ねⅡ on you and yours, so that you may niver be free 仕 om pain for another when ut's not yo 町 own! May your heart bleed ⅲ your breast drop by 市叩 wid all your friends laughin' at the 'bleedin' ! Strong you think yourselP May your strength be a curse t0 you tO dhrive you int0 the divil's hands against your own will! Clear-eyed you are? May your eyes see clear ⅳ step av the dark path you take ⅱⅡ the h0t cinders av hell put thim out! May the ragin' dry thirst in my own ould bones go t0 you that you shall never pass bottle 血Ⅱ nor glass empty! G0d preserve the light av YO 町 understandin' t0 you, myjewel av a bh0Y, that ye may niver forget what you

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コバルト文庫 く好評発売中〉 ◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆ 愛憎のテッドエンド・ストーリー ! くスラ乙フィッシュ〉シリーズ ◆イラスト / ニ宮悦巳 まスラムフィッシュ まサティスティック まアクア まチリビーンズ / イ。 ビーコック チェリージャム ジャンク ◆◆◆キ◆ ◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

50 Great Short Stories

T H E C AT B I R D S E AT 385 hands shield the lantern. 。。 L00k , ” he breathes. "Sound asleep. Love upon their lips. " Stooping, holding their silver lamp above us, long they 100k and deeply. Long they pause. The wind drives stralghtly; the flame stoops slightiy. Wild beams ofmoonlight cross both Ⅱ 00r and wall, 4 meeting, stain the faces bent; the faces ponder- ing; the faces that search the sleepers and seek their hiddenjoy. "Safe, safe, safe," the heart 0f the house beats proudly. "Long years—" he sighs. "Again you found me. " "Here; ” she murmurs, "sleeping; ⅲ the garden reading; laughing, rolling apples ⅲ the 10 化 Here we le れ our treasure—" Stooping, their light lifts the lids 叩 on my eyes. "Safe! safe! safe!" the pulse 0f the house beats wildly. Waking, I cry "Oh, is th1S 坦 buried treasure? The light ⅲ the heart." THE CATBIRD SEAT* BY JAMES THURBER R. MARTIN bought the pack of CameIs on Monday night ⅲ the most crowded cigar store on Broadway. lt was 市 ea 0 time and seven or eight men were buying C1ga- rettes. The clerk didn't even glance at Mr. Martin, wh0 put the pack ⅲ his overcoat pocket and went out. If any 0f the s ね仕 at F & S had seen him buy the cigarettes, they would have been astomshed, for it was generally known that Mr. Martin did not smoke, and never had. No one saw him lt was just a week to the day since Mr. Martin had decided t0 rub out Mrs. Ulgine Barrows. The term "rub out" pleased him because it suggested nothlng more than the correction Of an error—in this case an error ofMr. Fitweiler. Mr. Martin had spent each night ofthe past week workmg out his plan and ex- 仕 om 励 e Ⅳ , Yo ′ぉ