Chapter XXIX: The Smallpox Hut

by Mark Twain

　　When we arrived at that hut at mid-afternoon, wesaw no signs of life about it. The field near byhad been denuded of its crop some time before, andhad a skinned look, so exhaustively had it been harvested and gleaned. Fences, sheds, everything had aruined look, and were eloquent of poverty. No animalwas around anywhere, no living thing in sight. Thestillness was awful, it was like the stillness of death.The cabin was a one-story one, whose thatch wasblack with age, and ragged from lack of repair.The door stood a trifle ajar. We approached itstealthily -- on tiptoe and at half-breath -- for that isthe way one's feeling makes him do, at such a time.The king knocked. We waited. No answer. Knockedagain. No answer. I pushed the door softly openand looked in. I made out some dim forms, and awoman started up from the ground and stared at me,as one does who is wakened from sleep. Presentlyshe found her voice:"Have mercy!" she pleaded. "All is taken,nothing is left.""I have not come to take anything, poor woman.""You are not a priest?""No.""Nor come not from the lord of the manor?""No, I am a stranger.""Oh, then, for the fear of God, who visits withmisery and death such as be harmless, tarry not here,but fly! This place is under his curse -- and hisChurch's.""Let me come in and help you -- you are sick andin trouble."I was better used to the dim light now. I could seeher hollow eyes fixed upon me. I could see howemaciated she was."I tell you the place is under the Church's ban.Save yourself -- and go, before some straggler see theehere, and report it.""Give yourself no trouble about me; I don't careanything for the Church's curse. Let me help you.""Now all good spirits -- if there be any such --bless thee for that word. Would God I had a sup ofwater! -- but hold, hold, forget I said it, and fly; forthere is that here that even he that feareth not theChurch must fear: this disease whereof we die. Leaveus, thou brave, good stranger, and take with thee suchwhole and sincere blessing as them that be accursedcan give."But before this I had picked up a wooden bowl andwas rushing past the king on my way to the brook.It was ten yards away. When I got back and entered,the king was within, and was opening the shutter thatclosed the window-hole, to let in air and light. Theplace was full of a foul stench. I put the bowl to thewoman's lips, and as she gripped it with her eagertalons the shutter came open and a strong light floodedher face. Smallpox!I sprang to the king, and said in his ear:"Out of the door on the instant, sire! the womanis dying of that disease that wasted the skirts ofCamelot two years ago."He did not budge."Of a truth I shall remain -- and likewise help."I whispered again:"King, it must not be. You must go.""Ye mean well, and ye speak not unwisely. But itwere shame that a king should know fear, and shamethat belted knight should withhold his hand where besuch as need succor. Peace, I will not go. It is youwho must go. The Church's ban is not upon me, butit forbiddeth you to be here, and she will deal withyou with a heavy hand an word come to her of yourtrespass."It was a desperate place for him to be in, and mightcost him his life, but it was no use to argue with him.If he considered his knightly honor at stake here, thatwas the end of argument; he would stay, and nothingcould prevent it; I was aware of that. And so Idropped the subject. The woman spoke:"Fair sir, of your kindness will ye climb the ladderthere, and bring me news of what ye find? Be notafraid to report, for times can come when even amother's heart is past breaking -- being already broke.""Abide," said the king, "and give the woman toeat. I will go." And he put down the knapsack.I turned to start, but the king had already started.He halted, and looked down upon a man who lay in adim light, and had not noticed us thus far, or spoken."Is it your husband?" the king asked."Yes.""Is he asleep?""God be thanked for that one charity, yes -- thesethree hours. Where shall I pay to the full, my gratitude! for my heart is bursting with it for that sleep hesleepeth now."I said:"We will be careful. We will not wake him.""Ah, no, that ye will not, for he is dead.""Dead?""Yes, what triumph it is to know it! None canharm him, none insult him more. He is in heavennow, and happy; or if not there, he bides in hell andis content; for in that place he will find neither abbotnor yet bishop. We were boy and girl together; wewere man and wife these five and twenty years, andnever separated till this day. Think how long that isto love and suffer together. This morning was he outof his mind, and in his fancy we were boy and girlagain and wandering in the happy fields; and so inthat innocent glad converse wandered he far andfarther, still lightly gossiping, and entered into thoseother fields we know not of, and was shut away frommortal sight. And so there was no parting, for in hisfancy I went with him; he knew not but I went withhim, my hand in his -- my young soft hand, not thiswithered claw. Ah, yes, to go, and know it not; toseparate and know it not; how could one go peace --fuller than that? It was his reward for a cruel lifepatiently borne."There was a slight noise from the direction of thedim corner where the ladder was. It was the kingdescending. I could see that he was bearing something in one arm, and assisting himself with the other.He came forward into the light; upon his breast lay aslender girl of fifteen. She was but half conscious;she was dying of smallpox. Here was heroism at itslast and loftiest possibility, its utmost summit; thiswas challenging death in the open field unarmed, withall the odds against the challenger, no reward set uponthe contest, and no admiring world in silks and clothof gold to gaze and applaud; and yet the king's bearing was as serenely brave as it had always been in thosecheaper contests where knight meets knight in equalfight and clothed in protecting steel. He was greatnow; sublimely great. The rude statues of his ancestors in his palace should have an addition -- I wouldsee to that; and it would not be a mailed king killinga giant or a dragon, like the rest, it would be a kingin commoner's garb bearing death in his arms that apeasant mother might look her last upon her child andbe comforted.He laid the girl down by her mother, who pouredout endearments and caresses from an overflowingheart, and one could detect a flickering faint light ofresponse in the child's eyes, but that was all. Themother hung over her, kissing her, petting her, andimploring her to speak, but the lips only moved andno sound came. I snatched my liquor flask from myknapsack, but the woman forbade me, and said:"No -- she does not suffer; it is better so. Itmight bring her back to life. None that be so goodand kind as ye are would do her that cruel hurt. Forlook you -- what is left to live for? Her brothers aregone, her father is gone, her mother goeth, theChurch's curse is upon her, and none may shelter orbefriend her even though she lay perishing in the road.She is desolate. I have not asked you, good heart, ifher sister be still on live, here overhead; I had noneed; ye had gone back, else, and not left the poorthing forsaken --""She lieth at peace," interrupted the king, in asubdued voice."I would not change it. How rich is this day inhappiness! Ah, my Annis, thou shalt join thy sistersoon -- thou'rt on thy way, and these be mercifulfriends that will not hinder."And so she fell to murmuring and cooing over thegirl again, and softly stroking her face and hair, andkissing her and calling her by endearing names; butthere was scarcely sign of response now in the glazingeyes. I saw tears well from the king's eyes, andtrickle down his face. The woman noticed them, too,and said:"Ah, I know that sign: thou'st a wife at home,poor soul, and you and she have gone hungry to bed,many's the time, that the little ones might have yourcrust; you know what poverty is, and the daily insultsof your betters, and the heavy hand of the Church andthe king."The king winced under this accidental home-shot,but kept still; he was learning his part; and he wasplaying it well, too, for a pretty dull beginner. Istruck up a diversion. I offered the woman food andliquor, but she refused both. She would allow nothing to come between her and the release of death.Then I slipped away and brought the dead child fromaloft, and laid it by her. This broke her down again,and there was another scene that was full of heartbreak. By and by I made another diversion, andbeguiled her to sketch her story."Ye know it well yourselves, having suffered it --for truly none of our condition in Britain escape it.It is the old, weary tale. We fought and struggledand succeeded; meaning by success, that we lived anddid not die; more than that is not to be claimed. Notroubles came that we could not outlive, till this yearbrought them; then came they all at once, as onemight say, and overwhelmed us. Years ago the lordof the manor planted certain fruit trees on our farm;in the best part of it, too -- a grievous wrong andshame --""But it was his right," interrupted the king."None denieth that, indeed; an the law mean anything, what is the lord's is his, and what is mine is hisalso. Our farm was ours by lease, therefore 'twaslikewise his, to do with it as he would. Some littletime ago, three of those trees were found hewn down.Our three grown sons ran frightened to report thecrime. Well, in his lordship's dungeon there they lie,who saith there shall they lie and rot till they confess.They have naught to confess, being innocent, wherefore there will they remain until they die. Ye knowthat right well, I ween. Think how this left us; aman, a woman and two children, to gather a crop thatwas planted by so much greater force, yes, and protect it night and day from pigeons and prowlinganimals that be sacred and must not be hurt by anyof our sort. When my lord's crop was nearly readyfor the harvest, so also was ours; when his bell rangto call us to his fields to harvest his crop for nothing,he would not allow that I and my two girls shouldcount for our three captive sons, but for only two ofthem; so, for the lacking one were we daily fined.All this time our own crop was perishing through neglect; and so both the priest and his lordship fined usbecause their shares of it were suffering throughdamage. In the end the fines ate up our crop -- andthey took it all; they took it all and made us harvestit for them, without pay or food, and we starving.Then the worst came when I, being out of my mindwith hunger and loss of my boys, and grief to see myhusband and my little maids in rags and misery anddespair, uttered a deep blasphemy -- oh! a thousandof them! -- against the Church and the Church's ways.It was ten days ago. I had fallen sick with this disease, and it was to the priest I said the words, for hewas come to chide me for lack of due humility underthe chastening hand of God. He carried my trespassto his betters; I was stubborn; wherefore, presentlyupon my head and upon all heads that were dear tome, fell the curse of Rome."Since that day we are avoided, shunned with horror.None has come near this hut to know whether we liveor not. The rest of us were taken down. Then Iroused me and got up, as wife and mother will. Itwas little they could have eaten in any case; it wasless than little they had to eat. But there was water,and I gave them that. How they craved it! and howthey blessed it! But the end came yesterday; mystrength broke down. Yesterday was the last time Iever saw my husband and this youngest child alive. Ihave lain here all these hours -- these ages, ye maysay -- listening, listening for any sound up therethat --"She gave a sharp quick glance at her eldest daughter,then cried out, "Oh, my darling!" and feebly gathered the stiffening form to her sheltering arms. Shehad recognized the death-rattle.