Крижаний сфінкс

           Iwassleeping—attwohoursaftermidnight—andwasawakenedbyaplaintiveandcontinuousmurmuringsound.Iopened—orIimaginedIopenedmyeyes.Mycabinwasinprofounddarkness.Themurmurbeganagain;Ilistened,anditseemedtomethatavoice—avoicewhichIdidnotknow—whisperedthesewords:—

           “Pym...Pym...poorPym!”

           Evidentlythiscouldonlybeadelusion;unless,indeed,someonehadgotintomycabin:thedoorwaslocked.

           “Pym!”thevoicerepeated.“PoorPymmustneverbeforgotten.”

           Thistimethewordswerespokenclosetomyear.Whatwasthemeaningoftheinjunction,andwhywasitaddressedtome?Andbesides,hadnotPym,afterhisreturntoAmerica,metwithasuddenanddeplorabledeath,thecircumstancesorthedetailsbeingunknown?

           IbegantodoubtwhetherIwasinmyrightmind,andshookmyselfintocompletewakefulness,recognizingthatIhadbeendisturbedbyanextremelyvividdreamduetosomecerebralcause.

           Iturnedoutofmyberth,and,pushingbacktheshutter,lookedoutofmycabin.Nooneaftonthedeck,exceptHunt,whowasatthehelm.

           Ihadnothingtodobuttoliedownagain,andthisIdid.ItseemedtomethatthenameofArthurPymwasrepeatedinmyhearingseveraltimes;nevertheless,Ifellasleepanddidnotwakeuntilmorning,whenIretainedonlyavagueimpressionofthisoccurrence,whichsoonfadedaway.Nootherincidentatthatperiodofourvoyagecallsfornotice.Nothingparticularoccurredonboardourschooner