Поворот винта. Уровень 1 / The Turn of the Screw

© М. М. Кузнецова, адаптация, комментарии, словарь

© ООО «Издательство АСТ», 2023

The Turn of the Screw

My friends and I were sitting by the fire in an old house. It was Christmas Eve, so we were telling strange stories to each other. After some time, my friend Douglas said he knew one really terrible and scary story.

“Nobody but me, till now, has ever heard it. It’s quite horrifying.” said Douglas, “It’s beyond everything. Nothing at all that I know touches it.”

“Well then,” I said, “just sit right down and begin.”

He turned to the fireplace, kicked a log, watched it for a moment. Then, when he turned back to us, he said: “I can’t begin. I will have to send a message to town. The story’s written. It’s in a locked drawer—it has not been out for years. I could write to my man and attach the key; he could send down the packet as he finds it.” I begged him to write as soon as possible; then I asked him if the experience in question had been his own. He answered quickly. “Oh, thank God, no!”

“And is the record yours? You wrote the thing down?”

“Nothing but the impression. I wrote that here,”—he tapped his heart. “I’ve never lost it.”

“Then your record—?”

“Is in old, faded ink, and in the most beautiful hand.” He hung fire again. “A woman’s. She has been dead for twenty years. She sent me the pages before she died. She was the most lovely person, ten years older than me. She was my sister’s governess,” he said quietly. “She was the nicest woman I’ve ever known in her place; she would be worthy of anything. It was a long time ago, and this situation happened long before that. I studied at Trinity and found her at home when I came here for the second summer. I was often there that year—it was a wonderful year; and in her free time we walked and talked in the garden several times. Oh yeah, don’t smile: I really liked her, and to this day I am glad to think that she liked me too. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have told me. She never told anyone. “

“Because the thing had been such a scare?”

He continued to look at me. “You’ll easily judge,” he repeated: “you will.”

I fixed looked at him, too. “I see. She was in love.”

He laughed for the first time. “Yes, she was in love. I saw it, and she saw I saw it; but neither of us spoke of it. I remember the time and the place—the corner of the lawn, the shade of the great beeches and the long, hot summer afternoon. It wasn’t a scene for a shudder[1]; but oh—!” He walked away from the fireplace and leaned back in his chair.

“You’ll receive the packet Thursday morning?” I asked.

“Probably not till the second post.”

“Well then; after dinner—”

“You’ll all meet me here?” He looked us round again. “Isn’t anybody going?” It was almost the tone of hope.

“Everybody will stay!”

When the story arrived from London, it turned out that the story that he promised to read to us really needed a few words of the prologue[2] for a better understanding. The important thing to know is that his old friend, who was the youngest daughter of a poor country pastor, came to London for the first time at the age of twenty. She found a job through a newspaper and was going to work as a governess for two children. When she arrived at the house in Harley Street, she found it to be large and impressive. The man she was meeting was like a character from a dream or an old novel. He was handsome, confident, and kind. He made her feel like he was doing her a favor and she felt grateful for it. She imagined him living in a beautiful house filled with things he brought back from his travels and hunting trips. However, he wanted her to go immediately to his family’s old home in Essex.

After the death of their parents in India, he became the guardian of his little nephew and little niece—the children of his younger military brother, who had died two years ago. He felt really sorry for the poor children and did everything he could; in particular, he sent them to his other house and from the very beginning he kept them there with the best people he could find to look after them. The difficulty was that they had no other relatives, and he spent all his time on personal matters. He had put them in possession of Bly, which was healthy and secure, and had placed a wonderful woman, Mrs. Grose, in charge of it. Mrs. Grose had been his mother’s maid. Now she was a housekeeper, and also looked after a little girl. There are many other servants there, but, of course, the biggest power will belong to the young lady who will go there as a governess. During the holidays she would also have to look after a little boy who had been at school for one semester and who would be back from one day to the other. At first, the two children had a young lady whom they had the misfortune[3] to lose. She coped with them perfectly until her death. Little Miles had no choice but to go to school after her death. Mrs. Grose, since then, had done all she could for Flora; and there were, further, a cook, a housemaid, a dairywoman, an old pony, an old groom, and an old gardener.

Suddenly someone asked, “And what did the former governess die of?”

Douglas answered, “That will come out.”

“In her successor’s[4] place,” I suggested, “I should have wanted to learn if the position brought with it—”

“Danger to life? She did want to learn, and she did learn. You will hear tomorrow what she learned. She was young, inexperienced, nervous. She didn’t know what to do, so she took a couple of days to think it over. But the salary offered was really big for her, and on a second interview she agreed for the job.” And Douglas, with this, made a pause that, for the benefit of the company, moved me to throw in—

“The moral, of course, was that a wonderful young man used his seduction[5]. She couldn’t say ‘no’ to him.”

Douglas got up from his seat and, just like last night, went to the fireplace, pushed a log with his foot and stood with his back to us for a minute. “She only saw him twice.”

“Yes, but that’s just the beauty of her passion[6].”

To my surprise, hearing this, Douglas turned to me. “That was the beauty of it. There were others,” he continued, “who said ‘no’ to him. For some reason, they were just afraid. It sounded boring—it sounded weird, and even more so because of his main condition[7].”

“Which was…?”

“That she should never bother him—but never, never: neither appeal, nor complain, nor write about anything; only answer all questions herself, get all the money from his lawyer, take the whole thing over and leave him alone.”

I

I remember when everything started, it was a mix of feelings. After accepting his invitation to come to town, I had a couple of really bad days where I doubted my decision. In this state of mind, I spent a long time in a carriage[8] that took me to the place where I was supposed to be picked up. I was told that a car from the house had been arranged for me. And when I arrived in the late afternoon, there was a comfortable car waiting for me. Driving through the countryside on a beautiful day, it felt like the summer was welcoming me with open arms. As we entered the avenue, I was pleasantly surprised by the great appearance of the house with its open windows and fresh curtains. I also remember the lovely lawn, colorful flowers, and the sound of the wheels on the stones. At the door, a polite person greeted me with a little girl by her side. She curtsied[9] like I was the lady of the house or an important visitor.

I was introduced to the youngest of my students and was carried through the rest of the day by this introduction. The little girl who came with Mrs. Grose was very lovely. She was the most beautiful child I had ever seen. I wondered why my employer hadn’t told me more about her. I couldn’t sleep that night because I was too excited. The big room I stayed in was impressive, with a large bed and beautiful curtains. There were long mirrors where I could see my whole body. Everything was nice, including Mrs. Grose. I had been worried about how we would get along, but she seemed happy to see me. I wondered why she didn’t want to show it too much, which made me a little worried.

But I was comforted by the fact that there could be no worry about something as beautiful as the i of my little girl. Her angelic beauty made me get up and walk around my room several times before morning. I looked out of my open window at the summer dawn, watched parts of the rest of the house, and listened for any unusual sounds. I thought I heard the cry of a child and heard footsteps near my door. We had agreed that she would sleep in my room after this occasion. It became clear to me that teaching and caring for little Flora would bring me happiness.

I enjoyed Mrs. Grose’s pleasure and admiration as we sat at supper with my pupil, surrounded by four tall candles.

“Does the little boy look like her? Is he also very special?”

“Oh, miss, very special. If you think well of our little girl…”—and she stood there holding a plate, smiling at our friend, who looked at each of us with calm and heavenly eyes that didn’t show any doubt.

“Yes, if I do…?”

“You will be amazed by the little boy!”

“Well, I think that’s why I came here—to be amazed. But I’m afraid, I’m easily amazed. I was amazed in London!”

I can still see Mrs. Grose’s wide face as she understood. “In Harley Street?”

“In Harley Street.”

“Well, miss, you’re not the first—and you won’t be the last.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be the only one. My other student, as I understand, returns tomorrow?”

“Not tomorrow—Friday, miss. He arrives, like you did, by the carriage, with the guard, and will be picked up by the same car.”

I quickly said that it would be nice for me to wait for him with his little sister when the car arrives. Mrs. Grose agreed with this idea so easily that I took her manner as a promise that we would always agree on everything. She was happy that I was there!

The next day, I suppose I didn’t feel as happy as when I arrived. Maybe it was just a slight feeling of being overwhelmed as I walked around my new surroundings. They were bigger than I expected, which made me a little scared but also proud. Lessons were delayed because of this. I realized that the most important thing was to win the child’s trust, so I spent the day with her outside. I let her show me the place, and she was pleased by it. She showed me every step, room, and secret, telling me funny and pleasant stories about them. In just half an hour, we became great friends. Even though she was young, I was amazed by her confidence and bravery. Even in empty rooms, long hallways, and crooked stairs that made me stop, and even on top of a tall tower that made me dizzy, she was happy and eager[10] to tell me more things.

II

The first day had been mostly calming, as I said before, but it ended with a feeling of worry. The mail, which arrived late that evening, had a letter for me. However, when I saw that it was from my employer, I realized it was only a few words about another letter addressed to him, which was still unopened. “I see that this is from the headmaster, and the headmaster is very annoying. Please read it and deal with it, but make sure you don’t tell me anything. Not a word. I’m off!” I made a great effort to open the letter—it took me a long time to do it. Finally, I brought the unopened letter to my room and only read it just before going to bed. I should have waited until morning because it caused me another sleepless night. The next day, feeling upset and with no one to ask for advice, I decided to talk with Mrs. Grose.

“What does it mean? The child’s dismissed from school.”

She gave me a strange look, then seemed to try to take it back. “But aren’t they all—?”

“Sent home—yes. But only for the holidays. Miles may never go back at all.”

She blushed, “They won’t take him?”

“They absolutely won’t.”

At this she raised her eyes, which she had turned from me; I saw them fill with tears. “What has he done?”

I wasn’t sure, so I decided to give her my letter. This made her put her hands behind her without taking it. She sadly shook her head and said, “Such things are not for me, miss.”

My friend couldn’t read! I winced[11] at my mistake, but tried to make it better. I opened my letter to read it to her, but then I stopped and put it back in my pocket.

“Is he really bad?” The tears were still in her eyes. “Do the gentlemen say so?”

“They don’t say any details. They simply say that it should be impossible to keep him. That can have only one meaning.” Mrs. Grose listened quietly, and didn’t ask me what that might mean. So, to make sense of it in my own mind with her help, I continued: “That he spoils other children.”

At this, with one of the quick turns of simple folk, she suddenly flamed up. “Master Miles! Spoils? What horrors!” Mrs. Grose cried, “Well, is it possible to say such heartless words! After all, he is not even ten years old yet! “

“Yes, yes; it would be unbelievable.”

“See him, miss, first. Then believe it!” I wanted to see him as soon as possible. Mrs. Grose could tell that I was affected by her words, “You might as well believe it of the little lady. Bless her,” she added the next moment—”look at her!”

She then pointed out Flora, who had come to the open door. I turned and saw Flora. Ten minutes before, I had given her a sheet of white paper, a pencil, and a copy of nice “round O’s,” in the schoolroom. Flora seemed unbothered by unpleasant tasks and looked at me with loving eyes. She had followed me because she had developed an attachment to me. This made me understand Mrs. Grose’s point even more. I hugged Flora tightly and showered her with kisses.

However, for the rest of the day, I kept an eye out for an opportunity to talk to my colleague, especially because I felt like she was trying to avoid me. I caught up to her on the stairs, and we walked down together. Once we reached the bottom, I stopped her and held her arm. I told her that I understood her earlier comment as that she had never seen him misbehave.

She said, “Oh, I never said I haven’t seen him misbehave—I don’t say that!”

I was upset again. “Then you have seen him—?”

“Yes indeed, miss, thank God!”

“You mean that a boy who never is—?”

“Is no boy for me!”

I held her tighter. “You like them to be naughty[12]?” Then, keeping pace with her answer, “So do I!” I added. “But not to the point to corrupt[13]—”

“To corrupt?”—my big word confused her.

I explained it. “To spoil.”

She stared, trying to understand what I meant; but it made her laugh in a strange way. “Are you afraid he’ll corrupt you?” She asked with bold humor, and I laughed along, feeling a bit silly.

But the next day, as it got closer to the time for my drive, I brought up another question. “Who was the lady who was here before?”

“The previous governess? She was also young and pretty—almost as young and almost as pretty as you, miss.”

“Ah, then, I hope her youth and beauty helped her!” I remember saying. “He seems to like us young and pretty!”

“Oh, he did,” Mrs. Grose agreed. “That’s how he liked everyone!” She quickly corrected herself. “I mean, that’s how the master likes it.”

I was curious. “But who were you talking about earlier?”

She looked confused for a moment, but then blushed. “Why, about him.”

“The master?”

“Who else?”

It was clear that there was no one else, so I stopped thinking that she had accidentally said more than she wanted. Instead, I asked what I really wanted to know. “Did she notice anything strange about the boy…?”

“Anything strange? She never told me.”

I had a doubt, but I ignored it. “Was she careful?”

“About some things—yes.”

“But not about everything?”

Again she thought for a moment. “Well, miss— she’s gone. I won’t gossip[14].”

“I understand your feeling,” I quickly replied, but I thought, after a moment, that it was okay to ask: “Did she die here?”

“No—she left.”

I don’t know why Mrs. Grose’s answer seemed unclear to me. “Left to die? Was she sick, and went home?”

“She didn’t seem sick while she was here. At the end of the year, she left to go home for a short vacation, as she said. She had earned the time off. We had another young woman—a nanny—who stayed on and took care of the children during that time. But our young lady never returned, and just as I was expecting her, I received word from the master that she had died.”

“But of what?”

“He never told me! But please, miss,” said Mrs. Grose, “I must get to my work.”

III

Her turning her back on me wasn’t something that could hurt our relationship. We became closer after I brought little Miles home. I was amazed and emotional when I first saw him. I thought it was strange that such a child could be dismissed from school. When I arrived at the inn[15] to pick him up, he waited for me and I saw his beauty and purity. He was incredibly beautiful and Mrs. Grose agreed. His presence made me forget everything except my deep love for him. He seemed so innocent and sweet that it was impossible to believe anything bad about him. I felt confused when I returned to Bly with him, knowing I had a horrible letter locked in my room. As soon as I had a chance, I told Mrs. Grose that the letter was stupid.

She quickly understood me. “You mean the cruel charge[16]—?”

“I can’t believe it. Look at him!”

“Believe me, miss, I do nothing else! What will you say then?” she asked immediately.

“In response to the letter?” I had made my decision. “Nothing.”

“And to his uncle?”

I was firm[17]. “Nothing.”

“And to the boy himself?”

“Nothing.”

She wiped her mouth with her apron. “Then I’ll support you. We’ll stick together until the end.”

“We’ll stick together!” I said, shaking her hand to make it a promise.

In the first weeks, the days were long. They often gave me my own hour, the time when I was alone before going to bed. I enjoyed this hour the most out of everything in the day. I especially liked it when the sky was getting dark and I could walk in the grounds and enjoy the beauty of the place. It made me feel calm. I felt happy knowing that I was doing what the person who asked me wanted. It brought me even more joy than I expected. I thought I was a special person, and I hoped that others would see it too. Well, I needed to be special because something unusual was about to happen.

One afternoon, during my usual walk, I had a surprising encounter[18]. I used to imagine meeting someone while walking around, and now it felt like a wonderful story coming true. On the first occasion, at the end of a long day in June, I stopped when I saw the house. What shocked me was the feeling that my imagination had become real. He was standing there! But he was high up in the tower that little Flora had shown me on our first morning. This tower, along with another one that looked similar. They were old and unique. However, the person I had imagined didn’t seem most fitting in this place.

I saw a figure in the twilight and it surprised me. I caught my breath twice. I realized that he wasn’t who I thought he was. The figure that faced me was the i that had been in my mind. I had not seen it in Harley Street—I had not seen it anywhere. It made me confused and scared. Everything around us became silent. I tried to figure out who he was, but I couldn’t. I felt wonder and confusion.

The main question, or one of them, is about how long some things have lasted. Well, this thing of mine, believe what you want, lasted while I thought about who was in the house that I didn’t know about— and for how long, most importantly? It lasted while I felt a bit uncomfortable because my job needed me to have no such person. It lasted while this visitor seemed to stare at me and ask a question with his look. We were too far apart to speak, but there was a moment where it would have been right to break the silence. He stood in one of the corners, the one far from the house, looking very straight and had both hands on the ledge[19]. So I saw him as I see the letters on this page; then, after a minute, he slowly moved to the opposite corner, still looking hard at me. Yes, I felt strongly that during this movement, he never took his eyes off me, and I can still see how his hand moved from one part of the ledge to the next. He stopped at the other corner, but not for long, and even as he turned away, he kept looking at me. He turned away; that’s all I knew.

IV

I started to wonder if there was a secret or a mystery at Bly. I walked around the place for a while, feeling curious and scared. When I went back inside, it was dark. I saw a surprised look on my friend’s face. She told me she had missed me. I quickly understood, she knew nothing that could explain the incident I had. I didn’t want to worry her, so I didn’t say it. I made an excuse for being late and went to my room.

The shock I had experienced must have made my senses sharper; I was certain, after three days and from paying closer attention, that the house staff had not deceived[20] me or played any tricks on me. Nobody around me knew anything about what I knew. There was only one logical thought: someone had allowed himself a rather rude trick. That was what I kept saying to myself as I went back into my room and locked the door. We had, all together, experienced an invasion[21]; some rude traveler, interested in old houses, had entered, enjoyed the view from the best spot, and then left the same way he came. The good thing, after all, was that we wouldn’t see them again.

I know that it wasn’t so good, and I could have made a better judgment[22] on this, but the most important thing for me was just my lovely work. My work was my life with Miles and Flora, and nothing else mattered. Being with them made me happy. Working with them was like being in a beautiful story every day. I can’t say how interested and amazed I was by my companions. Instead of getting used to them, I kept discovering new things about them. There was one thing that stayed a mystery though—the boy’s behavior at school. But I didn’t worry about it because he was innocent and didn’t deserve any punishment. I knew that people might be jealous of him and try to hurt him, even the headmasters.

Both the children were like the cherubs[23]! It seemed like Miles had no history. He was sensitive and happy, as if every day was a fresh start. We don’t expect much from a small child, but there was something sensitive and at the same time happy about this beautiful little boy. He was never hurt, not for a second. I took this as a direct disproof[24] of the fact that he was really punished. If he was bad, I would have noticed something. But I found nothing, so he must be an angel. He never talked about his school, friends, or teachers, and I didn’t want to ask about them. I was under their spell, even though I knew it. But being with them was a distraction from any pain, even though I had other problems. I got sad letters from home, but my children were the most important thing in the world. That’s what I thought during my alone time. I was amazed by their beauty.

There was a Sunday when it rained a lot, so we couldn’t go to church. If the weather got better in the evening, I planned to go with Mrs. Grose to the church later. Luckily, the rain stopped and I got ready for our walk. It would take about twenty minutes to get to the village through the park and the good road. Before meeting Mrs. Grose in the hall, I remembered that I had left a pair of gloves upstairs. They needed to be fixed with three stitches, which I had done. I went upstairs to get the gloves. As soon as I entered the room, I saw the gloves on a chair near the window. I also noticed a person on the other side of the window looking inside. It was the same person I had seen before. This time, I could see him better, and it felt like he was closer to me. Something, however, happened this time that had not happened before; he was looking at my face with the same deep and hard look as before, but this look left me for a second, and I could see him moving from one thing to another. It made me feel surprised and cold. I suddenly realized that he wasn’t there for me. He had come for someone else.

I ran along the terrace and turned a corner, but there was nothing to see. My visitor was gone. I looked around, but there was no one. The terrace, the lawn, the garden, and the park were empty. I felt sure that he wasn’t hiding in the bushes or trees. He was either there or not there. If I couldn’t see him, he wasn’t there. I realized this and instead of going back the way I came, I went to the window. I knew I should stand where he had stood. I did so and looked into the room. Just as I had done, Mrs. Grose came in from the hall. She saw me and stopped. I scared her just like he had scared me. She turned pale, and I wondered if I turned pale too. She looked and went back the way I had come. I knew I would see her soon. I stayed where I was and thought about many things. But there’s only one thing I have time to say. I wondered why she was scared.

V

Oh, she told me right away, when she came. “What’s wrong?” She was out of breath.

I didn’t say anything until she came closer. “With me? I must have made a strange face. Do I show it?”

“You’re as white as a sheet. You look terrible.”

I thought about it; I could tell her the truth. I held her hand tightly for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her being close to me. There was comfort in the surprise on her shy face. “You came to get me for church, of course, but I can’t go.”

“Did something happen?”

“Yes. You need to know now. Did I look very strange?”

“Through this window? Terrible!”

“Well,” I said, “I’ve been scared. What you saw from the dining room a minute ago was similar to what I saw. But what I saw was much worse.”

Her hand tightened. “What was it?”

“A strange man. Looking in.”

“What strange man?”

“I don’t know at all.”

Mrs. Grose looked around but couldn’t find him. “Then where did he go?”

“I have no idea.”

“Have you seen him before?”

“Yes, once. On the old tower.”

“Do you mean he’s a stranger?”

“Oh, very much!”

“Yet you didn’t tell me?”

“No, for reasons. But now that you’ve guessed—”

“Ah, I didn’t guess!” she said simply. “You’ve only seen him on the tower?”

“And on this spot just now.”

Mrs. Grose looked around again. “What was he doing on the tower?”

“Just standing there and looking down at me.”

She thought for a moment. “Was he a gentleman?”

I realized I didn’t need to think. “No.” She looked in deeper wonder.

“No.”

“Then nobody around? Nobody from the village?”

“Nobody—nobody. I didn’t tell you, but I was sure.”

“But if he’s not a gentleman—”

“What is he? He’s a horror.”

“A horror?”

“He’s—God help me, I have no idea!”

Mrs. Grose looked around again, then she turned to me and suddenly said, “It’s time for us to go to church.”

“Oh, I can’t go to church!”

“Won’t it be good for you?”

“It won’t be good for them!” I nodded[25] toward the house.

“The children?”

“I can’t leave them now.”

“You’re afraid—?”

“I’m afraid of him.”

“When was it—on the tower?”

“About in the middle of the month. Around this time.”

“Almost in the dark?” asked Mrs. Grose.

“Oh, no, not nearly. I saw him as clearly as I see you.”

“So how did he get in?”

“And how did he get out?” I laughed. “I didn’t have a chance to ask him! Tonight, you see,” I continued, “he hasn’t been able to get in.”

“He only peeps[26]?”

“I hope that’s all it will be!” She let go of my hand and turned away. I waited for a moment, then I said, “Go to church. Goodbye. I have to watch.”

Slowly, she turned to me again. “Are you worried about them?”

We looked at each other for a while. “Aren’t you?” Instead of answering, she moved closer to the window and pressed her face against the glass for a minute. “You see how he could see,” I continued talking.

She stayed still. “How long was he here?”

“Until I came out. I came to meet him.”

Finally, Mrs. Grose turned around, and said, “I couldn’t have come out.”

“Neither could I!” I laughed again. “But I did come. I have my duty.”

“I have mine too,” she replied. Then she asked, “What does he look like?”

“I’ve been dying to tell you. But he’s like nobody.”

“Nobody?” she echoed.

“He has no hat.” Then I noticed the look on her face and realized she had already begun to imagine a picture, which made her even more confused. So I quickly described him. “He has very red curly hair, and a long pale face. He has small, strange-looking eyes. His mouth is wide, with thin lips, and he only has little, strange red whiskers[27]. His eyebrows are darker and look like they might move a lot. He looks like an actor.”

“An actor!”

“I’ve never seen one, but that’s what I think they look like. He’s tall, active, and stands up straight, but he’s definitely not a gentleman.”

As I continued, my friend’s face became pale, “Not a gentleman? He?”

“So you know him then?”

“But is he handsome?”

“Very much so!”

“And how is he dressed?”

“He is wearing someone else’s clothes. They are stylish, but they don’t belong to him.”

She cried, “They belong to the master!”

“So you do know him?”

“Quint!” she cried.

“Quint?”

“Peter Quint—his valet[28], when he was here!”

“When the master was here?”

“He never wore his hat. They were both here—last year. Then the master left, and Quint was alone.”

I followed, but stopped a bit. “Alone?”

“Alone with us,” she added, “In charge.”

“And what happened to him?”

She took so long to answer that I became even more confused. “He went, too,” she finally said.

“Went where?”

“God knows where! He died.”

“Died?” I almost shouted.

“Yes. Mr. Quint is dead.”

VI

That night, we agreed that we would face things together. I wasn’t even sure if she had a harder time than me. I knew, even at that moment, what I could do to protect my pupils.

“He was looking for someone else, you say— someone who was not you?”

“He was looking for little Miles.” I knew this very clearly. “That’s who he was looking for.”

“But how do you know?”

“I know, I know, I know!” After a moment, she continued: “What if he sees him?”

“Little Miles? That’s what he wants!”

She looked very scared again. “The child?”

“Heaven forbid[29]! The man. He wants to appear to them.” The idea was awful, but somehow, I couldn’t keep it away. As we stayed there, I had a strong feeling that I would see what I had already seen. However, something in me told me that I could serve as a sacrifice[30] to protect the calmness of my companions. Especially the children, I would surround them and save them completely. I remember one of the last things I said to Mrs. Grose that night.

“It seems like my students have never told me—”

She looked at me as I paused in thought, “About his time here and the time they spent with him?”

“The time they spent with him, his name, his presence, his history, anything.”

“Oh, the little girl doesn’t remember. She never heard or knew.”

“About his death?” I thought deeply. “Maybe not. But Miles would remember—Miles would know.”

“Ah, don’t ask him!” Mrs. Grose cried.

I gave her the same look she had given me. “Don’t be afraid.” I continued to think. “It’s rather strange.”

“That he has never talked about him?”

“Never even asked about him. And you say they were ‘great friends’?”

“Oh, it wasn’t him! It was Quint’s own imagination. To play with him, I mean—to spoil him.” She paused for a moment, then added: “Quint was much too free.”

This made me feel a sudden disgust[31]. “Too free with my boy?”

“Too free with everyone!”

Just to be sure, I asked her one last question. “So you’re saying that he was definitely and admittedly[32] bad?”

“Oh, not admittedly. I knew it—but the master didn’t.”

“And you never told him?”

“Well, he didn’t like people talking about others’ faults. He didn’t want to hear complaints. If people were fine with him…”

“He didn’t want to hear more?” This matched my impression of him. Still, I continued. “I promise you, I would have told him!”

She understood my point. “Maybe I was wrong. But, honestly, I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Of the things that man could do. Quint was so clever.”

I understood even more than I showed. “Weren’t you afraid of anything else? Not of his infulence[33]—?”

“His influence?” She repeated with a painful look, waiting for me to continue.

“On innocent little lives. They were under your care.”

“No, they weren’t under mine!” She replied firmly. “The master trusted him and put him here because he was supposed to be unwell, and the country air would be good for him. So he had all the authority. Yes,”—she told me sternly[34]—”even over them.”

“Over those children?” I had to hold back a cry. “And you could stand it!”

“No, I couldn’t—and I can’t now!” And the poor woman started crying.

From the next day, there would be strict control over the children, as I said before. However, we couldn’t stop talking about the subject passionately for a whole week! We had discussed it on Sunday night, but I couldn’t help but feel that there was something she hadn’t told me. I had been completely open, but Mrs. Grose had kept a secret. I was sure that she didn’t do that because she wasn’t honest. She was afraid and that’s it. Looking back now, it seems that I had already interpreted[35] most of the meaning behind the situation, thanks to following more terrible events. What those events showed to me was the presence of a mysterious man who was still alive, while the dead one would stay a mystery for a while. This man had spent several months at Bly, which was quite a long time. The end of this terrible period only came when, on a winter morning, Peter Quint’s body was found on the road. The cause of his death was a head wound[36], which have been caused by a slip on an icy slope[37]. It was a wrong path to take, especially in the dark and after having drinks at the pub.

I don’t know how to explain my feelings in simple words, but during that time I found joy in being brave. We were all in danger together. They had no one but me, and I had them. It was a wonderful opportunity. This opportunity came to me like a clear picture. I was like a shield, standing in front of them. The more I watched them, the less they noticed me. I started watching them with nervousness[38] and excitement. It could have turned to madness[39] if it had lasted too long. But it turned into something else. It turned into horrible evidence. The evidence started when I took action.

The moment this happened was one afternoon when I was alone in the garden with the younger child. We had left Miles inside reading a book. His sister, on the other hand, had wanted to come outside. We walked together for about half an hour. I noticed how both children were able to be independent yet still be with me. They never asked for attention but also never seemed bored. I enjoyed watching them have fun without needing me. It was like being a special person or thing in their game, and I was happy to play that role. I can’t remember what role I played that day, but I know I felt important and Flora was playing happily. We were near the lake, which we called the Sea of Azov because we were learning about geography.

Suddenly, I realized that there was someone watching us from the other side of the Sea of Azov. I was sitting on an old stone bench near the lake when I felt, without actually seeing, the presence of another person in the distance. I was sure that if I looked across the lake, I would see that person. I was busy stitching and tried not to look. I thought that it could be one of the men from the area or even a messenger, a postman, or a tradesman’s boy, from the village. But my thoughts didn’t seem right to me.

I looked straight at little Flora, who was about ten yards away. I was worried if she would also see the strange visitor. I held my breath, hoping for a cry or some sign from her. But nothing happened. Two things shocked me even more. First, I felt that all sounds from her had stopped in a minute. Second, she turned her back to the water while playing. When I finally looked at her, I was sure that we were still being watched by someone. With my newfound bravery, I was ready to face whatever came next.

VII

I found Mrs. Grose as soon as I could. I remember crying out as I hugged her tightly, saying, “They know, it’s too scary. They know, they know!”

Mrs. Grose looked at me with disbelief[40] as she held me. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, everything we know, and who knows what else!” I tried to explain after she let go of me. “Two hours ago, in the garden… Flora saw!”

“She told you?”

“Not a word—that’s the horror. She kept it to herself! The child of eight, that child!” I was completely shocked by it.

Mrs. Grose, of course, was surprised too. “Then how did you find out?”

“I was there, I saw it with my own eyes. I saw that she knew.”

“Do you mean she sees him?”

“No—her.” I knew I must have looked really shocked because I could see it on Mrs. Grose’s face. “Another person, but just as terrifying and evil. A woman dressed in black, pale and scary, with a strange face. She was on the other side of the lake. I was there with the child—quiet for the hour; and then she came.”

“Came how—from where?”

“From where they come from! She just appeared and stood there—but not so near.”

“And without coming nearer?”

“Oh, for the effect and the feeling, she might have been as close as you!”

“Was she someone you’ve never seen?”

“Yes. But someone the child has. Someone you have.” Then, to show how I had thought it all out: “My predecessor[41]—the one who died.”

“Miss Jessel?”

“Miss Jessel. You don’t believe me?”

She turned right and left “How can you be sure?”

“Then ask Flora—she’s sure!” But before I could finish speaking, I stopped myself. “No, for God’s sake, don’t! She’ll say she isn’t—she’ll lie!”

“Oh, how could you?”

“Because I’m sure. Flora doesn’t want me to know.”

“Then, it’s only to protect you.”

“No, no, there’s more to it! The more I think about it, the more I understand, and the more I understand, the more I’m afraid. I don’t know what I don’t see, what I don’t fear!”

Mrs. Grose tried to keep up with me. “Do you mean you’re afraid of seeing her again?”

“Oh, no, that’s not the problem now!” Then I explained. “I’m afraid of not seeing her.”

But my companion just looked pale. “I don’t understand you.”

“Well, it’s that the child may continue to do it, and she will, without me knowing.”

“Oh dear, we must stay calm! And, you know, if she doesn’t mind it…!” She even said a dark joke. “Maybe she enjoys it!”

“Enjoys such things, a little child!”

“Isn’t it just a sign of her pure innocence?” my friend bravely asked.

“Oh, we must believe it! If it’s not proof of what you say, it’s proof of… who knows what! This woman is really horrifying.”

“Tell me how you know,” she said.

“Then you agree it’s what she was?” I cried.

“Tell me how you know,” my friend simply repeated.

“Know? By seeing her! By the way she looked.”

“At you, do you mean—?”

“Dear me, no— She never looked at me. She only looked at the child.”

Mrs. Grose tried to understand. “Looked at her?”

“Ah, with such awful eyes!”

“Do you mean with dislike?”

“God help us, no. With something much worse.”

“Worse than dislike?”

“With great determination[42]. With a kind of evil intent[43].”

Her face turned pale. “Intent?”

“To take possession of Flora.” Mrs. Grose walked towards the window. As she looked outside, I finished, “That’s what Flora knows.”

After a bit, she turned around. “The person was dressed in black, you say?”

“Yes, but with great beauty. She was wonderfully beautiful. But insidious[44].”

She came back to me slowly. “Miss Jessel was insidious.” She once again took my hand and said, “They were both insidious.”

“I appreciate[45],” I said, “that you haven’t spoken about it until now, but it’s time for you to tell me everything.” She seemed to agree with this, but still stayed silent. I continued: “I need to know. What did she die from? Come, there was something between them.”

“There was everything.”

“But what about their differences?”

“Oh, their social status, their situation,” she said sadly. “She was a lady.”

I thought about it; I understood again. “Yes, she was a lady.”

“And he was so far below,” said Mrs. Grose.

“He was a bad person.”

Mrs. Grose quietly said “I’ve never seen anyone like him. He did what he wished.”

“With her?”

“With them all.”

It was as if my friend saw Miss Jessel again with her own eyes. For a moment, I felt like I could see her too, just like I saw her at the lake. I said, “That must have been what she wanted too!”

Mrs. Grose’s expression showed that it was true, but she also said: “Poor woman—she paid for it!”

“Then you do know what she died of?” I asked.

“No—I know nothing. I didn’t want to know; I was glad enough I didn’t!”

“Yet you had, then, your idea—”

“About why she left? Oh yes, I had that. She couldn’t have stayed. Imagine being a governess here! And then I started imagining… and what I imagine is horrible.”

“It’s not as horrible as what I do,” I replied, and then I realized my defeat “I can’t do it!” I cried in despair. “I can’t save or protect them! It’s worse than I imagined—they’re lost!”

VIII

What I told Mrs. Grose was true enough: there were things in the situation that were difficult for me to understand and explore. We both agreed that it was important to stop imagining strange things. Late that night, while the house slept, we had another talk in my room. I asked her how, if I had “made it up,” I could describe each person’s looks in detail, and she named them right away[46]. She wanted to forget about that, and I told her that I was trying to find a way to escape[47] from it. I said that I might get used to the danger with time, but my new suspicion was still unbearable[48]. However, as the day went on, I felt a little better about the situation.

The next morning, I had of course returned to my pupils. I spent time with Flora and realized that she could tell when something was wrong with me. Looking into her beautiful eyes, I knew that her innocence was real and not a trick. But I knew that Flora saw the visitor, but she pretended she didn’t to make me wonder if I saw it too. Flora tried to distract me with games and songs, because she didn’t want me to talk about it.

I felt desperate and needed help. My colleague told me a lot under pressure, but there was still a small uncertain part. I remember saying; “What was on your mind when you said before Miles arrived, that you didn’t think he ever was bad? He has not literally ‘ever,’ in these weeks that I myself have lived with him and so closely watched him. And that’s why you could perfectly stand up for him if you didn’t know about something else. What was it and what did you talk about, because you had to see it personally?”

It was a serious question, but we weren’t joking around, and before sunrise I had got my answer. It was simply the fact that Quint and the boy had been spending a lot of time together. In fact, she said that it was strange for them to be so close. She even talked with Miss Jessel about it. Miss Jessel told her to mind her business. And the good woman talked to little Miles then. When I asked what she had said, she told me that she wanted to see young gentlemen remember their place.

I asked again, “Did you tell him that Quint was just a servant?”

“That’s right! And the problem was his answer, first of all.”

“And what else?” I waited for her to continue. “Did he tell Quint what you said?”

“No, not that. He definitely wouldn’t!” she said. “I was sure, at least,” she added, “that he didn’t. But he denied[49] some situations.”

“What situations?”

“When they were together as if Quint was his teacher—a very important one—and Miss Jessel was just there for the little lady. He spent hours with him, I mean, going off together.”

“He then lied about it? He said he didn’t?” She nodded. So I said, “I understand. He lied.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Grose murmured[50], “You see, Miss Jessel didn’t mind. She didn’t forbid[51] him.”

I thought about it.

“Did he give you this as an excuse?”

She dropped her head again. “No, he never talked about it.”

“He never talked about her and Quint being together?”

She understood where I was going and blushed, “No, never. He denied,” she repeated, “he denied.”

“So you guessed that he knew what was happening between the two terrible people?”

“I don’t know—I don’t know!” the poor woman cried.

“You do know, my dear,” I replied; “but you’re not as brave as I am, and you hold back because you’re shy. You even hide the impression that caused you the most pain in the past when you had to get out without my help. But I’ll find out!” I continued, “There was something in the boy that made you think he was hiding their relationship.”