The Parasite: A Story Page 6

line of gas-lamps, and my bespatteredboots tell me that I must have run down the middle of the road. It wasall misty and strange and unnatural. I came to Wilson's house; I sawMrs. Wilson and I saw Miss Penclosa. I hardly recall what we talkedabout, but I do remember that Miss P. shook the head of her crutch atme in a playful way, and accused me of being late and of losinginterest in our experiments. There was no mesmerism, but I stayed sometime and have only just returned.

  My brain is quite clear again now, and I can think over what hasoccurred. It is absurd to suppose that it is merely weakness and forceof habit. I tried to explain it in that way the other night, but itwill no longer suffice. It is something much deeper and more terriblethan that. Why, when I was at the Mardens' whist-table, I was draggedaway as if the noose of a rope had been cast round me. I can no longerdisguise it from myself. The woman has her grip upon me. I am in herclutch. But I must keep my head and reason it out and see what is bestto be done.

  But what a blind fool I have been! In my enthusiasm over my research Ihave walked straight into the pit, although it lay gaping before me.Did she not herself warn me? Did she not tell me, as I can read in myown journal, that when she has acquired power over a subject she canmake him do her will? And she has acquired that power over me. I amfor the moment at the beck and call of this creature with the crutch.I must come when she wills it. I must do as she wills. Worst of all,I must feel as she wills. I loathe her and fear her, yet, while I amunder the spell, she can doubtless make me love her.

  There is some consolation in the thought, then, that those odiousimpulses for which I have blamed myself do not really come from me atall. They are all transferred from her, little as I could have guessedit at the time. I feel cleaner and lighter for the thought.

  April 8. Yes, now, in broad daylight, writing coolly and with time forreflection, I am compelled to confirm every thing which I wrote in myjournal last night. I am in a horrible position, but, above all, Imust not lose my head. I must pit my intellect against her powers.After all, I am no silly puppet, to dance at the end of a string. Ihave energy, brains, courage. For all her devil's tricks I may beather yet. May! I MUST, or what is to become of me?

  Let me try to reason it out! This woman, by her own explanation, candominate my nervous organism. She can project herself into my body andtake command of it. She has a parasite soul; yes, she is a parasite, amonstrous parasite. She creeps into my frame as the hermit crab doesinto the whelk's shell. I am powerless What can I do? I am dealingwith forces of which I know nothing. And I can tell no one of mytrouble. They would set me down as a madman. Certainly, if it gotnoised abroad, the university would say that they had no need of adevil-ridden professor. And Agatha! No, no, I must face it alone.