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Jerome, Jerome K. (Jerome Klapka), 1859-1927

"The Fawn Gloves"

We had discussed more than once the
various religions of mankind, and his attitude towards the orthodox
beliefs had always been that of amused contempt.
"It has been growing upon me these last few days," he continued.
"It flashed across me the first time I saw you on the boat. We were
fellow-students. Something, I don't know what, drew us very close
together. There was a woman. They were burning her. And then
there was a rush of people and a sudden darkness, and your eyes
close to mine."
I suppose it was some form of hypnotism, for, as he spoke, his
searching eyes fixed on mine, there came to me a dream of narrow
streets filled with a strange crowd, of painted houses such as I had
never seen, and a haunting fear that seemed to be always lurking
behind each shadow. I shook myself free, but not without an effort.
"So that's what you meant," I said, "that evening in the Goortgasse.
You believe in it?"
"A curious thing happened to me," he said, "when I was a child. I
could hardly have been six years old. I had gone to Ghent with my
parents. I think it was to visit some relative. One day we went
into the castle. It was in ruins then, but has since been restored.
We were in what was once the council chamber. I stole away by
myself to the other end of the great room and, not knowing why I did
so, I touched a spring concealed in the masonry, and a door swung
open with a harsh, grinding noise.


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