JOHN FOWLES

The Collector - fragments
 

“Well, it dawned, the last day came. Strange, it was a beauty, I don't believe there was a cloud all day, one of those cold winter days when there's no wind and the sky is very blue. It seemed specially arranged, most appropriate, seeing she passed away so peaceful. The last words she spoke were about ten when she said (I think), "the sun" (it was coming in the window), and she tried to sit up but she could not manage it.
She never said another word to be understood, she lingered on all the morning and afternoon and went with the sun. Her breathing had got very faint and (just to show what I was like) I even thought she had gone into a sleep at last. I don't know exactly when she died, I know she was breathing about half past three when I went downstairs to do a bit of dusting and so on to take my mind off things, and when I came back about four, she was gone.
She was lying with her head to one side and it looked awful, her mouth was open and her eyes were staring white like she'd tried to see out of the window one last time. I felt her and she was cold, though her body was still warm. I ran and got a mirror. I knew that was the way and held it over her mouth but there was no mist. She was dead.
Well, I shut her mouth up and got the eyelids down. I didn't know what to do then, I went and made myself a cup of tea.”

Silvia Bratu

John Fowles
 

Ei bine, s-a intunecat; a sosit si cea din urma zi. In mod bizar, era o zi frumoasa; cred ca n-a fost un nor pe cer toata ziua – una din acele zile reci de iarna, in care vantul nu bate deloc si cerul e foarte albastru. Parea sa fi fost astfel randuit, inadins, si in modul cel mai potrivit, caci ea a trecut atat de linistita in nefiinta. Ultimele cuvinte pe care le-a rostit au fost in numar de zece, aproape, dupa care a spus (cred) „soarele” (caci razele soarelui razbateau prin geam), pentru ca apoi sa incerce sa se ridice, fara a reusi insa.
N-a mai rostit, dupa aceea, niciun cuvant care sa aiba inteles; a lancezit intreaga dimineata si dupa-amiaza si dusa a fost odata cu soarele in asfintit. Rasuflarea ii devenise foarte slaba (tot asa cum sleit de puteri eram si eu) si chiar am crezut ca, in sfarsit, a adormit. Nu stiu precis cand a murit; stiu ca pe la trei si jumatate, cand am coborat sa sterg un pic praful si sa fac curatenie pentru a-mi alunga din minte toate gandurile, inca mai respira, iar cand m-am intors, pe la patru, deja se dusese.
Statea intinsa cu capul intr-o parte, aratand infiorator; gura-i era deschisa, iar ochii atintiti catre fereastra, ca si cum ar fi incercat sa mai priveasca o data dincolo de ea, inainte de-a muri. Am atins-o; era rece, desi corpul ii era cald inca. Am alergat dupa o oglinda. Stiam cum se face, asa ca i-am tinut oglinda in dreptul gurii; nici urma de abur. Murise.
Ei bine, i-am apropiat buzele si i-am inchis ochii. Apoi n-am mai stiut ce sa fac, asa ca
m-am dus sa-mi pregatesc o ceasca de ceai.