Hurrah! This is the last day, but it is enough.
John is to stay in town over night, and won't be out until
this evening. Jennie wanted to sleep with me—
the sly thing! but I told her I should undoubtedly rest
better for a night all alone.
That was clever, for really I wasn't alone a bit!
As soon
as it was moonlight and that poor thing began to crawl and shake
the pattern, I got up and ran to help her.
I pulled and she
shook, I shook and she pulled, and before morning we had peeled
off yards of that paper. A strip about as high as my head and half
around the room. And then when the sun came and
that awful
pattern began to laugh at me,
I declared I would finish it
today! We go away tomorrow, and they are moving all my furniture
down again to leave things as they were before. Jennie looked at
the wall in amazement, but I told her merrily that I did it
out of pure spite at the vicious thing. She laughed and said
she wouldn't mind doing it herself, but
I must not get tired.
How she betrayed herself that time! But I am here, and no person
touches this paper but me, not alive! She tried to get me out
of the room— it was too patent! But I said it was so quiet
and empty and clean now that I believed I would lie down again and
sleep all I could; and not to wake me even for dinner— I
would call when I woke. So now she is gone, and the servants are gone,
and the things are gone, and there is nothing left but that great
bedstead nailed down, with the canvas mattress we found on it.
We shall sleep downstairs tonight, and take the boat home tomorrow. I
quite enjoy the room, now it is bare again. How those children
did tear about here! This bedstead is fairly gnawed! But I must get
to work. I have locked the door and thrown the key down into the
front path. I don't want to go out, and I don't want to have anybody
come in, till John comes. I want to astonish him. I've got a rope
up here that even Jennie did not find. If that woman does get out,
and tries to get away, I can tie her!
But I forgot I could not reach
far without anything to stand on! This bed will not move! I tried to
lift and push it until I was lame, and then I got so angry I bit
off a little piece at one corner— but it hurt my teeth. Then
I peeled off all the paper I could reach standing on the floor. It sticks
horribly and the pattern just enjoys it! All those strangled heads and
bulbous eyes and waddling fungus growths just shriek with derision
I am getting angry enough to do something desperate. To jump out of the
window would be admirable exercise, but the bars are too strong even to
try. Besides I wouldn't do it. Of course not. I know well enough that a
step like that is improper and might be misconstrued. I don't like to
look out of the windows even— there are so many of those creeping
women, and they creep so fast. I wonder if they all come out of that wallpaper
as I did? But I am securely fastened now by my well-hidden rope—
you don't get me out in the road there! I suppose I shall have to get back
behind the pattern when it comes night, and that is hard! It is so pleasant
to be out in this great room and creep around as I please! I don't
want to go outside. I won't, even if Jennie asks me to. For outside you
have to creep on the ground, and everything is green instead of yellow.
But here I can creep smoothly on the floor, and my shoulder just fits
in that long smooch around the wall, so I cannot lose my way. Why there's
John at the door! It is no use, young man, you can't open it! How he
does call and pound!
Now he's crying for an axe. It would be a shame to
break down that beautiful door! “John dear!” said I in the gentlest
voice, “the key is down by the front: steps, under a plantain leaf!”
That silenced him for a few moments. Then he said— very quietly indeed.
“Open the door, my darling!” “I can't,” said I. “The key is down
by the front door under a plantain leaf! And then I said it again, several
times very gently and slowly, and said it so often that he had to
go and see, and he got it of course, and came in. He stopped short by the door.
“What is the matter?” he cried. “For God's sake, what are you
doing!” I kept on creeping just the same, but I looked at him over my shoulder.
“I've got out at last,” said I, “in spite of you and Jane—
And I've pulled off most of the paper, so you can't put me back!” Now why should
that man have fainted? But he did, and right across my path
by the wall, so that I had to creep over him every time!
CHARLOTTE
PERKINS GILMAN