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       ,       .     ,  ,       ,    .   ,       ,   ,    .       1926 ,    ,        .    ,    ,       .

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  .., 2026.



Arthur Conan Doyle   

Land of Mists  



Chapter I  I

In which special correspondents begin work       

It is common knowledge that Professor Challenger's name has been used in the most tactless manner in recent fiction. ,            . The daring author placed him in unthinkable romantic situations to see how he would react.        ,  ,     . The reaction was immediate.   . The scientist brought the writer to court for libel, made an unsuccessful attempt to confiscate the ill-fated book, caused a pogrom on Sloane Street, twice personally threatened the author and, as a result, lost his position as a lecturer at the London School of Subtropical Hygiene.     ,      ,    -,               . And yet, it can be said that everything turned out quite peacefully. , ,  ,      .

The fact is that the professor had become somewhat depressed lately.   ,      - . His enormous shoulders had hunched over.    . Gray hair had begun to flash in his thick Assyrian beard, his gaze had lost its former aggressiveness, and although his voice still boomed loudly, its owner no longer sought to drown out everyone around him.      ,    ,       -,          . And yet, the professor remained dangerous, and those around him understood this with alarm.      ,      . The volcano had not gone out, but merely lain dormant, as evidenced by the constant sullen grumbling that threatened a new eruption.   ,   ,      ,   . Life had taught the professor a lot, but he continued to resist its lessons.    ,      .

A change occurred in him after a certain event, namely, after the death of his beloved wife.       ,       . A small woman, like a bird, made a nest in the heart of this giant.  ,  ,      . He, as often happens with strong people, treated this weak creature with special tenderness and care.  ,       ,          . By giving, she, like all meek and tactful women, received everything. , ,      ,  . And therefore, when his wife suddenly died of flu complicated by pneumonia, the scientist seemed to be struck forever.  ,        , , ,   . But he still got up, smiling sadly, like a knocked out boxer, ready for new rounds with Fate.     ,  ,   ,      . However, this was already a different person, and if not for the help and care of his daughter Enid, the scientist might never have recovered from the blow.      , ,         , , ,      . It was she, knowing what could interest her fathers passionate, competitive nature, who slipped him various facts and information and finally succeeded in getting him back into life.  , ,    ,     ,        , , ,      . Only when her father again became interested in arguments, flared up with his old hatred for journalists and began to grumble in vain at those around him, did she calm down, realizing that he was on the road to recovery.        ,            ,  , ,      .

Enid Challenger was an extraordinary girl and certainly deserved to have a few lines dedicated to her.      , ,  ,     . From her father she inherited raven-black hair, and from her mother blue eyes and snow-white skin.        ,         . She was perhaps not a beauty, but wherever she appeared, all eyes were directed towards her. , ,   , ,     ,     . She seemed quieter than water below the grass, but her spirit was strong.      ,     . From childhood she had a choice:      : either to oppose herself to her father and become an individual, or to yield to his pressure and turn into a puppet.       ,        . She had enough skill to remain herself, giving in to her father when he was overwhelmed, and showing firmness in more prosperous times.      ,  ,    ,       . In recent years, feeling that it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to maintain independence, she began to work.   , ,       ,   . Writing for London newspapers, the girl succeeded so much in journalism that her the name became famous on Fleet Street.    ,     ,       -. In this enterprise she was greatly assisted by an old friend of her father's, Mr. Edward Malone of the Daily Gazette.         ,      . whose name may already be familiar to the reader. ,  , ,   . In Malone one could still recognize the Irish athlete who had once successfully performed in an international rugby match, although life had battered him considerably.        -,          ,     . He had changed since he had put away his boots.     ,      . But although his muscles had noticeably weakened and his joints had become ossified, his brain still worked perfectly.      ,   ,  -  . The youth had become a man.    . Outwardly he had changed little, except that his moustache had become thicker, his waist had become rounder, and wrinkles had cut across his forehead - traces of the new conditions of life in the post-war world.    ,     ,  ,            . He was already known as a well-known journalist and a promising young writer.          . It seemed to many It was strange that Malone was still a bachelor, but recently there was hope that Enid Challenger would correct this omission.   ,      ,      ,      . Needless to say, they were great friends?   ,     ?

It was a Sunday evening in October;    ; the first lights were glittering in the fog that had hung over London since morning.           . The windows of Professor Challenger's fourth-floor flat in Victoria West Gardens were thickly shrouded in fog.        --    . The faint noise of passing traffic could be heard from below, but the street itself remained invisible - only a vague reflection spoke of its existence.      ,             . Professor Challenger was sitting by the fireplace, his hands in his pockets and his large, bandy legs stretched out towards the fire.     ,           . He was dressed with the carelessness of a true genius:       : a shirt with a loose collar, a dark burgundy tie tied in a large knot and a black corduroy jacket.    , -,         . All together, including his full beard, created the appearance of an aging representative of bohemia.  ,   ,     . Nearby, already ready to go, His daughter was sitting there, wearing a black dress with a short skirt, a round hat and other fashionable things, under which women manage to hide the beauty with which nature has generously endowed them. ,    ,   ,        ,      ,       ,     . Malone stood by the window, holding his hat in his hands, waiting for her.  ,    , ,  , .

Enid, I think we should go.  ,  ,   . Its almost seven, he said.   ,   . They were writing a series of articles together about London churches and religious sects, and so every Sunday they went to a new place, preparing the next article for the newspaper.                   ,     .

- There's still plenty of time until eight, Ned.      , .

 Sit down, sir!  , ! Sit down! !  boomed Challenger, tugging at his beard, a clear sign that his mood was deteriorating.    ,      ,     .  Nothing irritates me more than a man standing behind me.         ,  ,     . Its an atavism, undoubtedly, the fear of being hit over the head with a club or having a dagger thrust into the back, but its a feeling you cant cope with.  , ,           ,      . There you are.  . And for heavens sake, put down your hat!    ,  ! You look as if you were late for a train.      ,     .

 The usual state of a journalist.    . If we dont hurry, the train will leave without us.     ,    . Enid began to understand this.    . However, you are right about one thing  we still have a lot of time. ,          .

Do you have far to go?    ? asked Challenger.    .

Enid consulted her notebook.     .

 We have already been to seven places.       . First of all, to Westminster Abbey, for the most magnificent service;  ,   ,    ; we were also at St. Agatha's, the so-called high church, and at the Tudor, the low church.     ,     ,     . We visited the Catholics at Westminster Cathedral, the Presbyterians on Endell Street, and the Unitarians in Gloucester Square.     ,    -     -. But today we wanted something unusual, and we decided to go to the spiritualists.     - ,      .

Challenger snorted fiercely like an enraged bull.   ,   .

Next week youll probably be drawn to a madhouse, he said.     , ,    ,   . Are you trying to tell me, Malone, that these madmen have their own church?       , ,       ?

I have made a special study of this matter, replied Malone.      ,   . My usual tactic is to first study the bare facts and figures.            . In Great Britain we have over four hundred registered churches.        .

Challenger snorted so loudly that it seemed as if a whole herd of ferocious bulls were grazing nearby.   , , ,      .

 Human stupidity is truly boundless!     ! Homo sapiens! Homo sapiens! Homo idioticus! m idioticus! Who are they praying to?    ? Spirits? ?

- That's what we have to find out.       . Actually, that's what the article itself will be about. ,      . I share your attitude towards them, but Atkinson from St. Mary's Hospital, with whom I recently spoke, thinks differently.      ,       ,     ,  . And yet he is a rising star of surgery.      .

 Ive heard of him.    . He seems to be a specialist in cerebrospinal surgery? ,    ?  Absolutely right.    . Very balanced and competent.    . He is considered a great specialist in psychic researchspiritualism also belongs to this field of knowledge.              .

- What a field of knowledge!     !

- At least, thats what is generally believed.    ,   . He himself takes such things very seriously.        . I consulted him when I needed the necessary information.    ,     . He is familiar with their literature.     . And do you know what he told me?  ,    ? These people are the pioneers of humanity!     !

"Bedlam is their place," growled Challenger.     ,   . "And what does literature have to do with it?"       ? What other literature do they have there?      ?

- This is a special article.    . Atkinson has five hundred volumes on this subject, and yet he complained that much was missing from his library.       ,     ,      . There is extensive spiritualistic literature in French, German, and Italian, not counting ours.      , ,  ,   .

Thank God were not the only ones with crazies.   ,       . What nonsense!   ! Have you read anything, Father?      -, ? asked Enid.    .

- Oh, come on!   ! I dont have time to satisfy even half of my truly scientific interests.    ,         . What nonsense youre talking, Enid!    , ! - Forgive me, Father.   , . But you were so convincing... I thought you knew something.     ...  ,  - .

Challenger turned his massive head and gave his daughter a withering look.           .

 A man endowed with a logical mind and a first-class intellect immediately perceives where the truth is and where nonsense;  ,      ,  ,  ,    ; he does not need to go into the essence of the matter.       . Do you think I must study mathematics thoroughly in order to declare the man mistaken who proves that two and two make five? -,     ,     , ,      ? Should I go back to physics and destroy my set of Principia because some knave or fool asserts that a table can rise into the air despite the existence of the law of gravitation? ,          Principia - ,  -    ,      ,     ? Is it really necessary to study five hundred volumes to rise to the level of a policeman who can always figure out who is in front of him - a knave or an honest man?     ,     ,   ,        ? Enid, I am ashamed of you! ,    !

The daughter laughed cheerfully.   .

- Dad, stop growling at me.  ,    . I give up. . To tell you the truth, I think so too.   ,    .

 And yet they are supported by very worthy people,  said Malone.         ,   .  What do you say about Lodge, Crookes and other respectable citizens?       ,     ?  Dont make a fool of yourself, Malone.       , . Even great people have their weak points.      . A kind of soreness on common sense.      . Suddenly you fall into idiocy.    . Which is what happened to these people.      . No, Enid, I am not familiar with their evidence, and I do not intend to become familiar with it: , ,      ,     : there are obvious things.   . If you constantly review all sorts of old stuff, when will you deal with new problems?     ,     ? Everything has long been clear, the evidence here is common sense, English law and the support of all sensible Europeans.   ,     ,       .

I see, Enid responded.  ,   .

However, the professor continued, I am ready to admit that sometimes we are dealing with forgivable errors.  ,   ,   ,        .

His voice became quieter, and his expressive grey eyes stared sadly into space.    ,        .

I know of cases where the most powerful intellectmy own, for examplefailed for a moment.    ,      , ,   -  .

Malone felt that there was something interesting hidden in the professor's words.  ,       .

- And what then, sir?    , ?

Challenger hesitated.  . He seemed to be struggling with himself. , ,   . He found it difficult to speak.    . But, plucking up his courage, he, as if throwing aside his doubts, began to tell his story. ,  , ,      ,   .

You dont know anything about this, Enid.       , . Its a very personal experience.    . However, its probably nonsense. , , . Later, I would blush with shame every time I remembered how I almost believed this nonsense.       ,    ,         . Even the most seasoned people can be taken by surprise.       .

- Yes, and what then, sir?  ,   , ?

 It all happened after my wifes death.       . You knew her, didnt you, Malone?    , ? And you can understand how I felt then.   ,    . It happened the night after the cremation... I cant remember it without horror.      ...       . The infinitely dear tiny body sank lower and lower, then tongues of flame licked it, and the door slammed.       ,     ,   .

Silent sobs shook the professor's large body, and he covered his eyes with his large, hairy hands.      ,      .

 Why am I telling you this?       ? Well, it happened that way. ,   . Let this be a lesson to you. So... That night  after the cremation  I was sitting in the hall.       ...          . And she, he pointed at Enid, was sleeping next to me.  ,     ,   . Right in the chair, poor little thing.   ,  . Youve been to our house in Rotherfield, Malone, havent you?        , . It was a huge hall.    . I was sitting by the fire, the room was plunged in semi-darkness, and my mind was plunged into darkness too.    ,    ,       . I should have woken my daughter and sent her to bed, but she slept so soundly, leaning back in the chair, that I didnt dare disturb her.         ,     ,   ,      . It must have been about one in the morning; , ,   ; I remember the moon was shining through the cloudy glass. ,     . I was sitting and I thought.    . And then I heard... - What, sir?   ...  , ?

 Sounds.  . At first, quiet, like the ticking of a clock.  ,   . Then louder and more distinct:    : knock-knock-knock. --. And then a strange thing happened  something from which gullible people later create legends.       ,       . I must say that my wife had a special way of knocking on the door.  ,          . With her little fingers, she seemed to be beating out a simple melody.         . She got me used to it, and so we always knew about each others arrival.    ,         . So, it seemed to me  after all, I was like a madman then  that the knocks acquired a familiar rhythm.  ,         ,      . I tried to figure out where they were coming from, but I couldnt.   ,   ,     . You can, of course, imagine how I tried to establish their source. , ,   ,      . According to my guess, it was somewhere upstairs.   ,   - . I lost track of time.     . The knock was repeated at least ten times.      .

- Father, you never told me about this!  ,      !

- No.  . But I woke you up.    . And asked you to sit quietly with me.      . - That's what I remember.      .

 We sat there, hiding like mice, but nothing happened again.    ,  ,     . It was all over.  . A typical deception of the senses.   . Perhaps a bug had taken up residence in the tree, or the ivy was rustling outside... The rhythm could have arisen in my inflamed brain. ,    ,    ...        . That's how a person falls into childhood and starts playing the fool.          . This incident became a lesson for me.      . I realized that feelings can deceive even the smartest of the smartest.  ,        .

- But how can you know, sir, for certain that it was not your wife?      , ,  ,      ?

- Nonsense, Malone!  , ! Nonsense! ! I saw the flames engulf her.  ,    . Well, what could have been left there? ,    ?

- Her soul.   . Spirit. .

Challenger shook his head sadly.    .

 My dear body disintegrated into its component parts:        : its gaseous part evaporated, and the solid particles burned out and turned to dust.    ,        . It was the end.   . Nothing remained.   . With death, everything ends, Malone.    , . Talk about the soul is a relic of the animism of the ancients.        . Prejudice. . Myth. . I will tell you as a physiologist:   : a person can be made to commit crimes or achieve the heights of virtue by manipulating the blood vessels of the brain.              . I guarantee that as a result of the operation I will turn Jekyll into Hyde. ,         . Another will achieve the same through hypnosis.      . Alcohol will do too.   . Or strong drugs.    . So these are all delusions, Malone!     , ! Fiction! ! There is no other life... night - eternal night... long rest for the tired worker.   ...    ...     . - Sad philosophy.    .

- Better sad than false.   ,  .




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