Скорбота сатани

Chapter 42

           thenIsankbackagaininadeadswoon.

           Theywereverygoodtome,allthoseEnglishsailors.Thecaptaingavemehisowncabin—theship’sdoctorattendedmewithazealthatwasonlyexceededbyhiscuriositytoknowwhereIcamefrom,andthenatureofthedisasterthathadbefallenme.ButIremaineddumb,andlayinertandfeebleinmyberth,gratefulforthecarebestoweduponme,aswellasforthetemporaryexhaustionthatdeprivedmeofspeech.ForIhadenoughtodowithmyownthoughts—thoughtsfartoosolemnandweightyforutterance.Iwassaved—Iwasgivenanotherchanceoflifeintheworld—andIknewwhy!Myoneabsorbinganxietynowwastoretrievemywastedtime,andtodoactivegoodwherehithertoIhaddonenothing!

           Thedaycameatlast,whenIwassufficientlyrecoveredtobeabletositondeckandwatchwitheagereyestheapproachingcoast-lineofEngland.IseemedtohavelivedacenturysinceIleftit—aye,almostaneternity—fortimeiswhattheSoulmakesit,andnomore.Iwasanobjectofinterestandattentionamongallthepassengersonboard,forasyetIhadnotbrokensilence.Theweatherwascalmandbright,...thesunshonegloriously—andfaroffthepearlyrimofShakespeare’s‘happyisle’glistenedjewel-likeupontheedgeofthesea.

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