- end_line
- 15869
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.924Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 15802
- text
- IV.
Gaining the Apostles', and leaving his two companions to the privacy of
their chambers, Pierre sat silent and intent by the stove in the
dining-room for a time, and then was on the point of entering his closet
from the corridor, when Delly, suddenly following him, said to him, that
she had forgotten to mention it before, but he would find two letters in
his room, which had been separately left at the door during the absence
of the party.
He passed into the closet, and slowly shooting the bolt--which, for want
of something better, happened to be an old blunted dagger--walked, with
his cap yet unmoved, slowly up to the table, and beheld the letters.
They were lying with their sealed sides up; one in either hand, he
lifted them; and held them straight out sideways from him.
"I see not the writing; know not yet, by mine own eye, that they are
meant for me; yet, in these hands I feel that I now hold the final
poniards that shall stab me; and by stabbing me, make _me_ too a most
swift stabber in the recoil. Which point first?--this!"
He tore open the left-hand letter:--
"SIR:--You are a swindler. Upon the pretense of writing a popular
novel for us, you have been receiving cash advances from us, while
passing through our press the sheets of a blasphemous rhapsody,
filched from the vile Atheists, Lucian and Voltaire. Our great
press of publication has hitherto prevented our slightest
inspection of our reader's proofs of your book. Send not another
sheet to us. Our bill for printing thus far, and also for our cash
advances, swindled out of us by you, is now in the hands of our
lawyer, who is instructed to proceed with instant rigor.
(_Signed_) STEEL, FLINT & ASBESTOS."
He folded the left-hand letter, and put it beneath his left heel, and
stood upon it so; and then opened the right-hand letter.
"Thou, Pierre Glendinning, art a villainous and perjured liar. It
is the sole object of this letter imprintedly to convey the point
blank lie to thee; that taken in at thy heart, it may be thence
pulsed with thy blood, throughout thy system. We have let some
interval pass inactive, to confirm and solidify our hate.
Separately, and together, we brand thee, in thy every lung-cell, a
liar;--liar, because that is the scornfullest and loathsomest title
for a man; which in itself is the compend of all infamous things.
(_Signed_) GLENDINNING STANLY,
FREDERIC TARTAN."
He folded the right-hand letter, and put it beneath his right heel; then
folding his two arms, stood upon both the letters.
"These are most small circumstances; but happening just now to me,
become indices to all immensities. For now am I hate-shod! On these I
will skate to my acquittal! No longer do I hold terms with aught.
World's bread of life, and world's breath of honor, both are snatched
from me; but I defy all world's bread and breath. Here I step out before
the drawn-up worlds in widest space, and challenge one and all of them
to battle! Oh, Glen! oh, Fred! most fraternally do I leap to your
rib-crushing hugs! Oh, how I love ye two, that yet can make me lively
hate, in a world which elsewise only merits stagnant scorn!--Now, then,
where is this swindler's, this coiner's book? Here, on this vile
counter, over which the coiner thought to pass it to the world, here
will I nail it fast, for a detected cheat! And thus nailed fast now, do
I spit upon it, and so get the start of the wise world's worst abuse of
it! Now I go out to meet my fate, walking toward me in the street."
- title
- Chunk 1