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CHAPTER XII
THE END OF THE YEAR
December 30th, P.M.
I was in bed, and hardly recovered from the delirious fever which hadkept me for so long between life and death. My weakened brain was makingefforts to recover its activity; my thoughts, like rays of lightstruggling through the clouds, were still confused and imperfect; attimes I felt a return of the dizziness which made a chaos of all myideas, and I floated, so to speak, between alternate fits of mentalwandering and consciousness.
Sometimes everything seemed plain to me, like the prospect which, fromthe top of some high mountain, opens before us in clear weather. Wedistinguish water, woods, villages, cattle, even the cottage perched onthe edge of the ravine; then suddenly there comes a gust of wind ladenwith mist, and all is confused and indistinct.
Thus, yielding to the oscillations of a half-recovered reason, I allowedmy mind to follow its various impulses without troubling myself toseparate the real from the imaginary; I glided softly from one to theother, and my dreams and waking thoughts succeeded closely upon oneanother.
Now, while my mind is wandering in this unsettled state, see, underneaththe clock which measures the hours with its loud ticking, a female figureappears before me!
At first sight I saw enough to satisfy me that she was not a daughter ofEve. In her eye was the last flash of an expiring star, and her face hadthe pallor of an heroic death-struggle. She was dressed in a drapery ofa thousand changing colors of the brightest and the most sombre hues, andheld a withered garland in her hand.
After having contemplated her for some moments, I asked her name, andwhat brought her into my attic. Her eyes, which were following themovements of the clock, turned toward me, and she replied:
"You see in me the year which is just drawing to its end; I come toreceive your thanks and your farewell."
I raised myself on my elbow in surprise, which soon gave place to bitterresentment.
"Ah! you want thanks," cried I; "but first let me know what for?
"When I welcomed your coming, I was still young and vigorous: you havetaken from me each day some little of my strength, and you have ended byinflicting an illness upon me; already, thanks to you, my blood is lesswarm, my muscles less firm, and my feet less agile than before! You haveplanted the germs of infirmity in my bosom; there, where the summerflowers of life were growing, you have wickedly sown the nettles of oldage!
"And, as if it were not enough to weaken my body, you have alsodiminished the powers of my soul; you have extinguished her enthusiasm;she is become more sluggish and more timid. Formerly her eyes took inthe whole of mankind in their generous survey; but you have made hernearsighted, and now she hardly sees beyond herself! "That is what youhave done for my spiritual being: then as to my outward existence, see towhat grief, neglect, and misery you have reduced it! "For the many daysthat the fever has kept me chained to this bed, who has taken care ofthis home in which I placed all my joy? Shall I not find my closetsempty, my bookcase ,stripped, all my poor treasures lost throughnegligence or dishonesty? Where are the plants I cultivated, the birds Ifed? All are gone! my attic is despoiled, silent and solitary! "As itis only for the last few moments that I have returned to a consciousnessof what surrounds me, I am even ignorant who has nursed me during my longillness! Doubtless some hireling, who will leave when all my means ofrecompense are exhausted ! "And what will my masters, for whom I ambound to work, have said to my absence? At this time of the year, whenbusiness is most pressing, can they have done without me, will they evenhave tried to do so? Perhaps I am already superseded in the humblesituation by which I earned my daily bread! And it is thou-thou alone,wicked daughter of Time--who hast brought all these misfortunes upon me:
strength, health, comfort, work--thou hast taken all from me. I haveonly received outrage and loss from thee, and yet thou darest to claim mygratitude!