Странная история доктора Джекила и мистера Хайда
The Last Night
Yourmaster,Poole,isplainlyseisedwithoneofthosemaladiesthatbothtortureanddeformthesufferer; hence,foraughtIknow,thealterationofhisvoice; hencethemaskandtheavoidanceofhisfriends; hencehiseagernesstofindthisdrug,bymeansofwhichthepoorsoulretainssomehopeofultimaterecovery—Godgrantthathebenotdeceived! Thereismyexplanation; itissadenough,Poole,ay,andappallingtoconsider;butitisplainandnatural,hangswelltogether,anddeliversusfromallexorbitantalarms.”
“Sir,”saidthebutler,turningtoasortofmottledpallor,“thatthingwasnotmymaster,andthere’sthetruth. Mymaster”—herehelookedroundhimandbegantowhisper—“isatall,finebuildofaman,andthiswasmoreofadwarf.” Uttersonattemptedtoprotest. “O,sir,”criedPoole,“doyouthinkIdonotknowmymasteraftertwentyyears? DoyouthinkIdonotknowwherehisheadcomestointhecabinetdoor,whereIsawhimeverymorningofmylife? No,sir,thatthinginthemaskwasneverDr.Jekyll—Godknowswhatitwas,butitwasneverDr.Jekyll;anditisthebeliefofmyheartthattherewasmurderdone.”
“Poole,”repliedthelawyer,“ifyousaythat,itwillbecomemydutytomakecertain. MuchasIdesiretospareyourmaster’sfeelings,muchasIampuzzledbythisnotewhichseemstoprovehimtobestillalive,Ishallconsideritmydutytobreakinthatdoor.”
“AhMr.Utterson,that’stalking!”criedthebutler.
