{"id":42,"date":"2021-04-06T15:49:43","date_gmt":"2021-04-06T19:49:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/doctormoreau\/?post_type=chapter&p=42"},"modified":"2022-02-02T09:29:32","modified_gmt":"2022-02-02T14:29:32","slug":"chapter-8-the-crying-of-the-puma","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/chapter\/chapter-8-the-crying-of-the-puma\/","title":{"raw":"Chapter 8: The Crying of the Puma","rendered":"Chapter 8: The Crying of the Puma"},"content":{"raw":"Montgomery interrupted my tangle of mystification and suspicion about one o\u2019clock, and his grotesque attendant followed him with a tray bearing bread, some herbs and other eatables, a flask of whiskey, a jug of water, and three glasses and knives. I glanced askance at this strange creature, and found him watching me with his queer, restless eyes. Montgomery said he would lunch with me, but that Moreau was too preoccupied with some work to come.\r\n\r\n\u201cMoreau!\u201d said I. \u201cI know that name.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThe devil you do!\u201d said he. \u201cWhat an ass I was to mention it to you! I might have thought. Anyhow, it will give you an inkling of our\u2014mysteries. Whiskey?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNo, thanks; I\u2019m an abstainer.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI wish I\u2019d been. But it\u2019s no use locking the door after the steed is stolen. It was that infernal stuff which led to my coming here,\u2014that, and a foggy night. I thought myself in luck at the time, when Moreau offered to get me off. It\u2019s queer\u2014\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cMontgomery,\u201d said I, suddenly, as the outer door closed, \u201cwhy has your man pointed ears?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cDamn!\u201d he said, over his first mouthful of food. He stared at me for a moment, and then repeated, \u201cPointed ears?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cLittle points to them,\u201d said I, as calmly as possible, with a catch in my breath; \u201cand a fine black fur at the edges?\u201d\r\n\r\nHe helped himself to whiskey and water with great deliberation. \u201cI was under the impression\u2014that his hair covered his ears.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI saw them as he stooped by me to put that coffee you sent to me on the table. And his eyes shine in the dark.\u201d\r\n\r\nBy this time Montgomery had recovered from the surprise of my question. \u201cI always thought,\u201d he said deliberately, with a certain accentuation of his flavouring of lisp, \u201cthat there was<\/i> something the matter with his ears, from the way he covered them. What were they like?\u201d\r\n\r\nI was persuaded from his manner that this ignorance was a pretence. Still, I could hardly tell the man that I thought him a liar. \u201cPointed,\u201d I said; \u201crather small and furry,\u2014distinctly furry. But the whole man is one of the strangest beings I ever set eyes on.\u201d\r\n\r\nA sharp, hoarse cry of animal pain came from the enclosure behind us. Its depth and volume testified to the puma. I saw Montgomery wince.\r\n\r\n\u201cYes?\u201d he said.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhere did you pick up the creature?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cSan Francisco. He\u2019s an ugly brute, I admit. Half-witted, you know. Can\u2019t remember where he came from. But I\u2019m used to him, you know. We both are. How does he strike you?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cHe\u2019s unnatural,\u201d I said. \u201cThere\u2019s something about him\u2014don\u2019t think me fanciful, but it gives me a nasty little sensation, a tightening of my muscles, when he comes near me. It\u2019s a touch\u2014of the diabolical, in fact.\u201d\r\n\r\nMontgomery had stopped eating while I told him this. \u201cRum!\u201d he said. \u201cI can\u2019t see it.\u201d He resumed his meal. \u201cI had no idea of it,\u201d he said, and masticated. \u201cThe crew of the schooner must have felt it the same. Made a dead set at the poor devil. You saw the captain?\u201d\r\n\r\nSuddenly the puma howled again, this time more painfully. Montgomery swore under his breath. I had half a mind to attack him about the men on the beach. Then the poor brute within gave vent to a series of short, sharp cries.\r\n\r\n\u201cYour men on the beach,\u201d said I; \u201cwhat race are they?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cExcellent fellows, aren\u2019t they?\u201d said he, absentmindedly, knitting his brows as the animal yelled out sharply.\r\n\r\nI said no more. There was another outcry worse than the former. He looked at me with his dull grey eyes, and then took some more whiskey. He tried to draw me into a discussion about alcohol, professing to have saved my life with it. He seemed anxious to lay stress on the fact that I owed my life to him. I answered him distractedly.\r\n\r\nPresently our meal came to an end; the misshapen monster with the pointed ears cleared the remains away, and Montgomery left me alone in the room again. All the time he had been in a state of ill-concealed irritation at the noise of the vivisected puma. He had spoken of his odd want of nerve, and left me to the obvious application.\r\n\r\nI found myself that the cries were singularly irritating, and they grew in depth and intensity as the afternoon wore on. They were painful at first, but their constant resurgence at last altogether upset my balance. I flung aside a crib of Horace I had been reading, and began to clench my fists, to bite my lips, and to pace the room. Presently I got to stopping my ears with my fingers.\r\n\r\nThe emotional appeal of those yells grew upon me steadily, grew at last to such an exquisite expression of suffering that I could stand it in that confined room no longer. I stepped out of the door into the slumberous heat of the late afternoon, and walking past the main entrance\u2014locked again, I noticed\u2014turned the corner of the wall.\r\n\r\nThe crying sounded even louder out of doors. It was as if all the pain in the world had found a voice. Yet had I known such pain was in the next room, and had it been dumb, I believe\u2014I have thought since\u2014I could have stood it well enough. It is when suffering finds a voice and sets our nerves quivering that this pity comes troubling us. But in spite of the brilliant sunlight and the green fans of the trees waving in the soothing sea-breeze, the world was a confusion, blurred with drifting black and red phantasms, until I was out of earshot of the house in the chequered wall.","rendered":"

Montgomery interrupted my tangle of mystification and suspicion about one o\u2019clock, and his grotesque attendant followed him with a tray bearing bread, some herbs and other eatables, a flask of whiskey, a jug of water, and three glasses and knives. I glanced askance at this strange creature, and found him watching me with his queer, restless eyes. Montgomery said he would lunch with me, but that Moreau was too preoccupied with some work to come.<\/p>\n

\u201cMoreau!\u201d said I. \u201cI know that name.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe devil you do!\u201d said he. \u201cWhat an ass I was to mention it to you! I might have thought. Anyhow, it will give you an inkling of our\u2014mysteries. Whiskey?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, thanks; I\u2019m an abstainer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wish I\u2019d been. But it\u2019s no use locking the door after the steed is stolen. It was that infernal stuff which led to my coming here,\u2014that, and a foggy night. I thought myself in luck at the time, when Moreau offered to get me off. It\u2019s queer\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMontgomery,\u201d said I, suddenly, as the outer door closed, \u201cwhy has your man pointed ears?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDamn!\u201d he said, over his first mouthful of food. He stared at me for a moment, and then repeated, \u201cPointed ears?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLittle points to them,\u201d said I, as calmly as possible, with a catch in my breath; \u201cand a fine black fur at the edges?\u201d<\/p>\n

He helped himself to whiskey and water with great deliberation. \u201cI was under the impression\u2014that his hair covered his ears.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw them as he stooped by me to put that coffee you sent to me on the table. And his eyes shine in the dark.\u201d<\/p>\n

By this time Montgomery had recovered from the surprise of my question. \u201cI always thought,\u201d he said deliberately, with a certain accentuation of his flavouring of lisp, \u201cthat there was<\/i> something the matter with his ears, from the way he covered them. What were they like?\u201d<\/p>\n

I was persuaded from his manner that this ignorance was a pretence. Still, I could hardly tell the man that I thought him a liar. \u201cPointed,\u201d I said; \u201crather small and furry,\u2014distinctly furry. But the whole man is one of the strangest beings I ever set eyes on.\u201d<\/p>\n

A sharp, hoarse cry of animal pain came from the enclosure behind us. Its depth and volume testified to the puma. I saw Montgomery wince.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere did you pick up the creature?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSan Francisco. He\u2019s an ugly brute, I admit. Half-witted, you know. Can\u2019t remember where he came from. But I\u2019m used to him, you know. We both are. How does he strike you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s unnatural,\u201d I said. \u201cThere\u2019s something about him\u2014don\u2019t think me fanciful, but it gives me a nasty little sensation, a tightening of my muscles, when he comes near me. It\u2019s a touch\u2014of the diabolical, in fact.\u201d<\/p>\n

Montgomery had stopped eating while I told him this. \u201cRum!\u201d he said. \u201cI can\u2019t see it.\u201d He resumed his meal. \u201cI had no idea of it,\u201d he said, and masticated. \u201cThe crew of the schooner must have felt it the same. Made a dead set at the poor devil. You saw the captain?\u201d<\/p>\n

Suddenly the puma howled again, this time more painfully. Montgomery swore under his breath. I had half a mind to attack him about the men on the beach. Then the poor brute within gave vent to a series of short, sharp cries.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour men on the beach,\u201d said I; \u201cwhat race are they?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExcellent fellows, aren\u2019t they?\u201d said he, absentmindedly, knitting his brows as the animal yelled out sharply.<\/p>\n

I said no more. There was another outcry worse than the former. He looked at me with his dull grey eyes, and then took some more whiskey. He tried to draw me into a discussion about alcohol, professing to have saved my life with it. He seemed anxious to lay stress on the fact that I owed my life to him. I answered him distractedly.<\/p>\n

Presently our meal came to an end; the misshapen monster with the pointed ears cleared the remains away, and Montgomery left me alone in the room again. All the time he had been in a state of ill-concealed irritation at the noise of the vivisected puma. He had spoken of his odd want of nerve, and left me to the obvious application.<\/p>\n

I found myself that the cries were singularly irritating, and they grew in depth and intensity as the afternoon wore on. They were painful at first, but their constant resurgence at last altogether upset my balance. I flung aside a crib of Horace I had been reading, and began to clench my fists, to bite my lips, and to pace the room. Presently I got to stopping my ears with my fingers.<\/p>\n

The emotional appeal of those yells grew upon me steadily, grew at last to such an exquisite expression of suffering that I could stand it in that confined room no longer. I stepped out of the door into the slumberous heat of the late afternoon, and walking past the main entrance\u2014locked again, I noticed\u2014turned the corner of the wall.<\/p>\n

The crying sounded even louder out of doors. It was as if all the pain in the world had found a voice. Yet had I known such pain was in the next room, and had it been dumb, I believe\u2014I have thought since\u2014I could have stood it well enough. It is when suffering finds a voice and sets our nerves quivering that this pity comes troubling us. But in spite of the brilliant sunlight and the green fans of the trees waving in the soothing sea-breeze, the world was a confusion, blurred with drifting black and red phantasms, until I was out of earshot of the house in the chequered wall.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":251,"menu_order":9,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-42","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/42","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/251"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/42\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":43,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/42\/revisions\/43"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/42\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=42"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=42"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=42"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/doctormoreau\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=42"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}