time I will burn out all the animal;
this time I will make a rational creature of my own!' After all,
what is ten years? Men have been a hundred thousand in the making."
He thought darkly. "But I am drawing near the fastness.
This puma of mine—" After a silence, "And they revert.
As soon as my hand is taken from them the beast begins
to creep back, begins to assert itself again." Another long
silence.
"Then you take the things you make into those dens?" said I.
"They go. I turn them out when I begin to feel the beast in them,
and presently they wander there. They all dread this house and me.
There is a kind of travesty of humanity over there. Montgomery knows
about it, for he interferes in their affairs. He has trained one
or two of them to our service. He's ashamed of it, but I believe
he half likes some of those beasts. It's his business, not mine.
They only sicken me with a sense of failure. I take no interest in them.
I fancy they follow in the lines the Kanaka missionary marked out,
and have a kind of mockery of a rational life, poor beasts!
There's something they call the Law. Sing hymns about 'all thine.'
They build themselves their dens, gather fruit, and pull herbs—marry
even. But I can see through it all, see into their very souls,
and see there nothing but the souls of beasts, beasts that perish,
anger and the lusts to live and gratify themselves.—Yet they're odd;
complex, like everything else alive. There is a kind of upward
striving in them, part vanity, part waste sexual emotion,
part waste curiosity. It only mocks me. I have some hope of this puma.
I have worked hard at her head and brain—
"And now," said he, standing up after a long gap of silence, during
which we had each pursued our own thoughts, "what do you think? Are
you in fear of me still?"
I looked at him, and saw but a white-faced, white-haired man,
with calm eyes. Save for his serenity, the touch almost of beauty that
resulted from his set tranquillity and his magnificent build, he might
have passed muster among a hundred other comfortable old gentlemen.
Then I shivered. By way of answer to his second question, I handed
him a revolver with either hand.
"Keep them," he said, and snatched at a yawn. He stood up, stared at
me for a moment, and smiled. "You have had two eventful days,"
said he. "I should advise some sleep. I'm glad it's all clear.
Good-night." He thought me over for a moment, then went out by
the inner door.
I immediately turned the key in the outer one. I sat down again;
sat for a time in a kind of stagnant mood, so weary, emotionally,
mentally, and physically, that I could not think beyond the point
at which he had left me. The black window stared at me like an eye.
At last with an effort I put out the light and got into the hammock.
Very soon I was asleep.
XV - Concerning the Beast Folk
*
I WOKE early. Moreau's explanation stood before my mind,
clear and definite, from the moment of my awakening. I got out
of the hammock and went to the door to assure myself that the key
was turned. Then I tried the window-bar, and found it firmly fixed.
That these man-like creatures were in truth only bestial monsters,
mere grotesque travesties of men, filled me with a vague uncertainty
of their possibilities which was far worse than any definite fear.
A tapping came at the door, and I heard the glutinous accents
of M'ling speaking. I pocketed one of the revolvers (keeping one
hand upon it), and opened to him.
"Good-morning, sair," he said, bringing in, in addition to the customary
herb-breakfast, an ill-cooked rabbit. Montgomery followed him.
His roving eye caught the position of my arm and he smiled askew.
The puma was resting to heal that day; but Moreau, who was singularly
solitary in his habits, did not join us. I talked with Montgomery
to clear my ideas of the way in which the Beast Folk lived.
In particular, I was urgent to know how these inhuman monsters were kept
from falling upon Moreau and Montgomery and from rending one
this time I will make a rational creature of my own!' After all,
what is ten years? Men have been a hundred thousand in the making."
He thought darkly. "But I am drawing near the fastness.
This puma of mine—" After a silence, "And they revert.
As soon as my hand is taken from them the beast begins
to creep back, begins to assert itself again." Another long
silence.
"Then you take the things you make into those dens?" said I.
"They go. I turn them out when I begin to feel the beast in them,
and presently they wander there. They all dread this house and me.
There is a kind of travesty of humanity over there. Montgomery knows
about it, for he interferes in their affairs. He has trained one
or two of them to our service. He's ashamed of it, but I believe
he half likes some of those beasts. It's his business, not mine.
They only sicken me with a sense of failure. I take no interest in them.
I fancy they follow in the lines the Kanaka missionary marked out,
and have a kind of mockery of a rational life, poor beasts!
There's something they call the Law. Sing hymns about 'all thine.'
They build themselves their dens, gather fruit, and pull herbs—marry
even. But I can see through it all, see into their very souls,
and see there nothing but the souls of beasts, beasts that perish,
anger and the lusts to live and gratify themselves.—Yet they're odd;
complex, like everything else alive. There is a kind of upward
striving in them, part vanity, part waste sexual emotion,
part waste curiosity. It only mocks me. I have some hope of this puma.
I have worked hard at her head and brain—
"And now," said he, standing up after a long gap of silence, during
which we had each pursued our own thoughts, "what do you think? Are
you in fear of me still?"
I looked at him, and saw but a white-faced, white-haired man,
with calm eyes. Save for his serenity, the touch almost of beauty that
resulted from his set tranquillity and his magnificent build, he might
have passed muster among a hundred other comfortable old gentlemen.
Then I shivered. By way of answer to his second question, I handed
him a revolver with either hand.
"Keep them," he said, and snatched at a yawn. He stood up, stared at
me for a moment, and smiled. "You have had two eventful days,"
said he. "I should advise some sleep. I'm glad it's all clear.
Good-night." He thought me over for a moment, then went out by
the inner door.
I immediately turned the key in the outer one. I sat down again;
sat for a time in a kind of stagnant mood, so weary, emotionally,
mentally, and physically, that I could not think beyond the point
at which he had left me. The black window stared at me like an eye.
At last with an effort I put out the light and got into the hammock.
Very soon I was asleep.
XV - Concerning the Beast Folk
*
I WOKE early. Moreau's explanation stood before my mind,
clear and definite, from the moment of my awakening. I got out
of the hammock and went to the door to assure myself that the key
was turned. Then I tried the window-bar, and found it firmly fixed.
That these man-like creatures were in truth only bestial monsters,
mere grotesque travesties of men, filled me with a vague uncertainty
of their possibilities which was far worse than any definite fear.
A tapping came at the door, and I heard the glutinous accents
of M'ling speaking. I pocketed one of the revolvers (keeping one
hand upon it), and opened to him.
"Good-morning, sair," he said, bringing in, in addition to the customary
herb-breakfast, an ill-cooked rabbit. Montgomery followed him.
His roving eye caught the position of my arm and he smiled askew.
The puma was resting to heal that day; but Moreau, who was singularly
solitary in his habits, did not join us. I talked with Montgomery
to clear my ideas of the way in which the Beast Folk lived.
In particular, I was urgent to know how these inhuman monsters were kept
from falling upon Moreau and Montgomery and from rending one
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