The Yellow Wallpaper

11

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.

“What is the matter?” he cried. “For God’s sake, what are you doing!”

“John dear!” said I in the gentlest voice, “the key is down by the front steps, under a plantain leaf!”

“I can’t,” said I. “The key is down by the front door under a plantain leaf!”

Why, there’s John at the door!

We shall sleep downstairs to-night, and take the boat home to-morrow.

We go away to-morrow, and they are moving all my furniture down again to leave things as they were before.

This bedstead is fairly gnawed!

This bed will not move!

Then he said—very quietly indeed, “Open the door, my darling!”

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!

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.

That silenced him for a few moments.

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.

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.

She laughed and said she wouldn’t mind doing it herself, but I must not get tired.

Now he’s crying for an axe.

Jennie looked at the wall in amazement, but I told her merrily that I did it out of pure spite at the vicious thing.

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!

It would be a shame to break down that beautiful door!

It is so pleasant to be out in this great room and creep around as I please!

It is no use, young man, you can’t open it!

I wonder if they all come out of that wallpaper as I did?

I want to astonish him.

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.

I suppose I shall have to get back behind the pattern when it comes night, and that is hard!

I quite enjoy the room, now it is bare again.

I pulled and she shook, I shook and she pulled, and before morning we had peeled off yards of that paper.

I kept on creeping just the same, but I looked at him over my shoulder.

I have locked the door and thrown the key down into the front path.

I don’t want to go outside. I won’t, even if Jennie asks me to.

I don’t want to go out, and I don’t want to have anybody come in, till John comes.

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 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.

How those children did tear about here!

How she betrayed herself that time!

How he does call and pound!

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.

But I must get to work.

But I forgot I could not reach far without anything to stand on!

But I am securely fastened now by my well-hidden rope—you don’t get me out in the road there!

But I am here, and no person touches this paper but me—not alive!

Besides I wouldn’t do it. Of course not. I know well enough that a step like that is improper and might be misconstrued.

And then when the sun came and that awful pattern began to laugh at me I declared I would finish it to-day!

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.

A strip about as high as my head and half around the room.

“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!