303 lines
11 KiB
TeX
303 lines
11 KiB
TeX
\documentclass[12pt]{book}
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% Configuração das margens usando o pacote geometry
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]{geometry}
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% Outros pacotes úteis para um livro
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\setlength{\headheight}{15pt}
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% Início do documento
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\begin{document}
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\frontmatter
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\thispagestyle{empty}
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\begin{titlepage}
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\centering
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\vspace*{\stretch{1}}
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{\Huge\bfseries The Island of Doctor Moreau\par}
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\vspace*{4cm}
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{\huge H. G. Wells\par}
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\vspace*{\stretch{1}}
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\end{titlepage}
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\thispagestyle{empty}
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\vspace*{\stretch{1}}
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\begin{center}
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\small % Use a smaller font size for this information
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This text is in the public domain.\par % Use \par for a line break
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Sourced from Project Gutenberg.\par
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www.gutenberg.org\par % Paragraph break after the website (adds more vertical space)
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% --- Add font and size information here (Standard in book production) ---
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Body text typeface: EB Garamond.\par
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Body text size: 12pt. % Use the actual base font size you defined in \documentclass
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% ----------------------------------------------------------------------
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\end{center}
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\vspace*{\stretch{1}}
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% Sumário
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\tableofcontents
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\mainmatter
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\chapter*{INTRODUCTION}
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\pagestyle{fancy}
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\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{INTRODUCTION}
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\cleardoublepage
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\fancyhead[l]{INTRODUCTION}
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\fancyhead[r]{\thepage}
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\include{chapters/Introduction}
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\fancyhead[LO]{\nouppercase{\leftmark}} % Página Ímpar: Título (apenas o nome) no lado Esquerdo (interno)
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\fancyhead[RE]{\nouppercase{\leftmark}} % Página Par: Título (apenas o nome) no lado Direito (interno)
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\fancyhead[LE]{\thepage} % Página Par: Número da página no lado Esquerdo (Externo)
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\fancyhead[RO]{\thepage}
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\chapter{IN THE DINGEY OF THE \emph{LADY VAIN}.}
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% Página Ímpar: Número da página no lado Direito (Externo)
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/In the Dingey of Lady Vain}
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\chapter{THE MAN WHO WAS GOING NOWHERE}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/The man who was going nowhere}
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\chapter{THE STRANGE FACE}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/The Strange Face}
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\chapter{AT THE SCHOONER’S RAIL}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/At the Schooners Rail}
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\chapter{THE MAN WHO HAD NOWHERE TO GO}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/The man who had nowhere to go}
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\chapter{THE EVIL-LOOKING BOATMEN}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/The evil looking boatmen}
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\chapter{THE LOCKED DOOR}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/Locked Door}
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\chapter{THE CRYING OF THE PUMA}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/The Crying of the puma}
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\chapter{THE THING IN THE FOREST}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/The thing in the forest}
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\chapter{THE CRYING OF THE MAN}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/The Crying of the man}
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\chapter{THE HUNTING OF THE MAN}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/The Hunting of the man}
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\chapter{THE SAYERS OF THE LAW}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/The sayers of the Law}
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\chapter{A PARLEY}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/A Parley}
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\chapter{DOCTOR MOREAU EXPLAINS}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/Doctor Moreau Explains}
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\chapter{CONCERNING THE BEAST FOLK}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/Concerning the beast folk}
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\chapter{HOW THE BEAST FOLK TASTE BLOOD}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/How the beast folk taste blood}
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\chapter{A CATASTROPHE}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/A Catastrophe}
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\chapter{THE FINDING OF MOREAU}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/The Finding of Moreau}
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\chapter{MONTGOMERY’S \emph{BANK HOLIDAY}}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/Montgomerys Bank holiday}
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\chapter{ALONE WITH THE BEAST FOLK}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/Alone With the beast folk}
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\chapter{THE REVERSION OF THE BEAST FOLK}
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\cleardoublepage
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\include{chapters/The Reversion of the beast folk}
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\chapter{THE MAN ALONE}
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\cleardoublepage
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In the evening I started, and drove out to sea before a gentle wind
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from the southwest, slowly, steadily; and the island grew smaller and
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smaller, and the lank spire of smoke dwindled to a finer and finer line
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against the hot sunset. The ocean rose up around me, hiding that low,
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dark patch from my eyes. The daylight, the trailing glory of the sun,
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went streaming out of the sky, was drawn aside like some luminous
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curtain, and at last I looked into the blue gulf of immensity which the
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sunshine hides, and saw the floating hosts of the stars. The sea was
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silent, the sky was silent. I was alone with the night and silence.
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So I drifted for three days, eating and drinking sparingly, and
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meditating upon all that had happened to me,—not desiring very greatly
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then to see men again. One unclean rag was about me, my hair a black
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tangle: no doubt my discoverers thought me a madman.
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It is strange, but I felt no desire to return to mankind. I was only
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glad to be quit of the foulness of the Beast People. And on the third
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day I was picked up by a brig from Apia to San Francisco. Neither the
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captain nor the mate would believe my story, judging that solitude and
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danger had made me mad; and fearing their opinion might be that of
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others, I refrained from telling my adventure further, and professed to
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recall nothing that had happened to me between the loss of the \emph{Lady
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Vain} and the time when I was picked up again,—the space of a year.
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I had to act with the utmost circumspection to save myself from the
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suspicion of insanity. My memory of the Law, of the two dead sailors,
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of the ambuscades of the darkness, of the body in the canebrake,
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haunted me; and, unnatural as it seems, with my return to mankind came,
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instead of that confidence and sympathy I had expected, a strange
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enhancement of the uncertainty and dread I had experienced during my
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stay upon the island. No one would believe me; I was almost as queer to
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men as I had been to the Beast People. I may have caught something of
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the natural wildness of my companions. They say that terror is a
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disease, and anyhow I can witness that for several years now a restless
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fear has dwelt in my mind,—such a restless fear as a half-tamed lion
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cub may feel.
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My trouble took the strangest form. I could not persuade myself that
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the men and women I met were not also another Beast People, animals
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half wrought into the outward image of human souls, and that they would
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presently begin to revert,—to show first this bestial mark and then
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that. But I have confided my case to a strangely able man,—a man who
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had known Moreau, and seemed half to credit my story; a mental
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specialist,—and he has helped me mightily, though I do not expect that
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the terror of that island will ever altogether leave me. At most times
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it lies far in the back of my mind, a mere distant cloud, a memory, and
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a faint distrust; but there are times when the little cloud spreads
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until it obscures the whole sky. Then I look about me at my fellow-men;
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and I go in fear. I see faces, keen and bright; others dull or
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dangerous; others, unsteady, insincere,—none that have the calm
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authority of a reasonable soul. I feel as though the animal was surging
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up through them; that presently the degradation of the Islanders will
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be played over again on a larger scale. I know this is an illusion;
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that these seeming men and women about me are indeed men and women,—men
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and women for ever, perfectly reasonable creatures, full of human
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desires and tender solicitude, emancipated from instinct and the slaves
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of no fantastic Law,—beings altogether different from the Beast Folk.
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Yet I shrink from them, from their curious glances, their inquiries and
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assistance, and long to be away from them and alone. For that reason I
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live near the broad free downland, and can escape thither when this
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shadow is over my soul; and very sweet is the empty downland then,
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under the wind-swept sky.
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When I lived in London the horror was well-nigh insupportable. I could
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not get away from men: their voices came through windows; locked doors
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were flimsy safeguards. I would go out into the streets to fight with
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my delusion, and prowling women would mew after me; furtive, craving
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men glance jealously at me; weary, pale workers go coughing by me with
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tired eyes and eager paces, like wounded deer dripping blood; old
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people, bent and dull, pass murmuring to themselves; and, all
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unheeding, a ragged tail of gibing children. Then I would turn aside
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into some chapel,—and even there, such was my disturbance, it seemed
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that the preacher gibbered “Big Thinks,” even as the Ape-man had done;
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or into some library, and there the intent faces over the books seemed
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but patient creatures waiting for prey. Particularly nauseous were the
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blank, expressionless faces of people in trains and omnibuses; they
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seemed no more my fellow-creatures than dead bodies would be, so that I
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did not dare to travel unless I was assured of being alone. And even it
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seemed that I too was not a reasonable creature, but only an animal
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tormented with some strange disorder in its brain which sent it to
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wander alone, like a sheep stricken with gid.
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This is a mood, however, that comes to me now, I thank God, more
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rarely. I have withdrawn myself from the confusion of cities and
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multitudes, and spend my days surrounded by wise books,—bright windows
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in this life of ours, lit by the shining souls of men. I see few
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strangers, and have but a small household. My days I devote to reading
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and to experiments in chemistry, and I spend many of the clear nights
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in the study of astronomy. There is—though I do not know how there is
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or why there is—a sense of infinite peace and protection in the
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glittering hosts of heaven. There it must be, I think, in the vast and
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eternal laws of matter, and not in the daily cares and sins and
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troubles of men, that whatever is more than animal within us must find
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its solace and its hope. I \emph{hope}, or I could not live.
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\par
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And so, in hope and solitude, my story ends.
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\par
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\vspace*{1cm}
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EDWARD PRENDICK.
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\cleardoublepage
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\thispagestyle{empty}
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\vspace*{\stretch{1}}
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\centering
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NOTE.
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\\
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The substance of the chapter entitled “Doctor Moreau explains,” which
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contains the essential idea of the story, appeared as a middle article
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in the \emph{Saturday Review} in January, 1895. This is the only portion of
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this story that has been previously published, and it has been entirely
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recast to adapt it to the narrative form.
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\\
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\vspace*{\stretch{1}}
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\end{document} |