heart. It lay there—the Lip—faintly quivering, distinct, blue, hellish! . . . Slowly a hazy mist obscured the room—obscured everything save the Lip, which lay before me sharply defnied and seemingly glowing, though completely covered with lather.
This, I knew, was the consummation of my entire life—my art, my religion, my suffering. Soon, I should find peace. Time would be no more; space would be only infinite!
Something seemed to snap within my brain. A clear voice bade me consummate my plans. Sensations swam, then departed, leaving me numb. The face before me looked like clay; the eyes were watery and, methought, pleading.
Immediately I acted—not potentially, but automatically, as if I were the calm and yielding agent of some unseen force. My left arm passed swiftly across his neck, and with that hand I grasped the chair. He could not move. He was choked beyond utterance. The whole thing took scarcely a moment. No one had time to observe, much less interfere. One shriek I gave—a loud shriek of triumph. Then my strong right hand, grasping the glittering razor, descended with terrifying swiftness, and that curse of hell was severed forever from the face that suffered it! Ha, ha!
I shall never forget that moment—never! Though they take my freedom—ay, my life !—they cannot take that one moment of ecstasy from me, nor the subsequent peace! Even now I recall the frightful shudder that passed through him, while I shrieked with laughter. The startled cries of the barbers, who stood staring with horror, came to me dully, inconsequentially, monotonously, in a jumbled, muffled sound. One thing more I remember after his agonized shudder: the shining, yellow teeth, now entirely exposed, glittering with blood through the assembled forms of demons and devils who came, with a sudden swirl and ear-splitting clamor, to applaud my deed. Time seemed to stand still. The grinning devils flitted about noisily and rapidly. Their cries became louder and louder until I could stand it no longer. I could not see. I had laughed so much it had become a pain. Nothing seemed worth while any longer. . . . Then . . . I regained my longed-for power to induce self-unconsciousness.
When I recovered, I was here. Someone had been giving me a
hot bath, and I felt enervated. I consider warm baths injurious to one's
health, don't you? I find they always
leave me dull and fatigued. Although
ordinarily a good talker, after taking
a hot bath my conversation never
seems to flow fluently; I do not seem
to be as analytical, and I miss much
of the detail that I am usually so
quick to perceive. Sometimes they are
soothing. They make me think of my
mother . . . and then I long to die.
So I shall ask them not to give me
any more hot—
About the Lip? Ah, yes. I am glad it is over. I now have a peace of mind I did not think I should ever possess. Surely the law will punish me, but I always did have a contempt for the law—haven't you?
That makes me think. Why do you suppose the Lip is not grateful to me? Before I carved him he was deformed, unnatural. Now he has nothing worse than an exaggerated harelip. I presume, however, that the discomfort he suffered has robbed him of a sense of gratitude. Ha, ha! The situation has its degree of humor, has it not?
I shall go to sleep now. I am a little tired. Strange—is it not?—that such a brief recital as this should make me sleepy—me, who have been accustomed to talking all my life, even when no one is around! Perhaps I am not so nervous.
