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Updated: May 24, 2025
The Earth is but shivered into impalpable smoke by that Doom's thunder-peal; the Sun misses one of his Planets in Space, and thenceforth there are no eclipses of the Moon. Or better still, I might liken" Oh, enough, enough of likenings and similitudes; in excess of which, truly, it is hard to say whether Teufelsdrockh or ourselves sin the more.
When they were well up, he went to the door and made it fast again, leaving Mungo to the fate his stupidity deserved. Doom's sleeping-chamber lay behind; he passed along the corridor quickly, knocked at the door, got no answer, and entered. It was as he had fancied his host was gone, his couch had not been occupied.
Count Victor realised, as he looked at the frowning and taciturn walls, that he might be in Doom a twelvemonth and have no chance to learn from that abstracted scholar, its owner, one-half of its interior economy. From the ground he could get no clear view of the woman's window: that he discovered early, for it was in the woman he sought the key to all Doom's little mystery.
"I'm a most singularly unlucky person," said the Chamberlain, in a tone that deaf love alone could fail to take alarm at. "I heard a story to-day that frightened me, Sim," she went on, taking up some fine knitting and bending over it while she spoke rapidly, always in tones too low to carry across the room. "It was that you have been hanging about that girl of Doom's you met here."
The ghost of a smile came over Doom's face. "They could scarcely take you for a fish merchant, M. le Count," said he. "At all events common fairness demands that I should adopt any means that will obviate getting your name into the thing, and I think I shall try the inn. Is there one?" "There is the best in all the West Country there," said Doom, "kept by a gentleman of family and attainments.
"It's the glide's truth that," said the little man; "and for the oots and ins o't ye'll hae to ask Petullo doon-by, for he's at the root o't. Doom's done wi'; it's his decreet, and I'm no' a day ower soon wi' the promise o' the Red Sodger for the which I'm muckle obleeged to you, Factor. Doom's done; they're gaun awa' in a week or twa, and me and Annapla's to be left ahint to steek the yetts."
"Do you hear on board?" cried the coxswain, who was the man who hailed "send the boat immediately, or we'll cut the throats of every mother's son of you, by God!" "I shall not send the boat," replied Jack, who now thought Mesty was right. "You won't won't you? then your doom's sealed," replied the man, walking up to the tent with the other.
There is no occasion, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, to say any thing else; and was a man to puzzle his brains till Doom's day, I believe, Trim, it would be impossible.
"Do you hear on board?" cried the coxswain, who was the man who hailed "send the boat immediately, or we'll cut the throats of every mother's son of you, by God!" "I shall not send the boat," replied Jack, who now thought Mesty was right. "You won't won't you? then your doom's sealed," replied the man, walking up to the tent with the other.
The Chamberlain nodded. Mrs. Petullo's fingers rushed the life out of her knitting. "If I thought if I thought!" she said, leaving the sentence unfinished. No more was necessary; Sim MacTaggart thanked heaven he was not mated irrevocably. "Is it true?" she asked. "Is it true of you, Sim, who did your best to make me push Petullo to Doom's ruin?"
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