Page:Weird Tales Volume 3 Number 1 (1923-12).djvu/34

 Hideous Death Lurked at T WAS John Steppling who first introduced me to Lotario Pelegin. I remember the night well; a wild desolate sort of night, a night which seemed to engulf the great city in all the uncanny lonesomeness of desert and wilderness.

As our hands met in a friendly clasp, I looked into Pelegin's eyes, and as I did so I involuntarily shuddered. There was nothing repulsive about the face, and absolutely no reason whatsoever for my action. At the moment I attributed it to the peculiarly weird character of the night which had, I believed, affected mine.

Pelegin was the type of man who balks description. To really appreciate his extreme eccentricity, one would have had to behold the furtive look of half-hidden terror in his eyes. His age may have been anywhere from fifty to seventy, for when one really lives it is possible to crowd a score of years into a single decade.

I can see him now, standing tall and gaunt before the huge open-fire, with great dark circles under his jet-black eyes, serving to make almost ghostly the yellow whiteness of his haggard, deep sunken cheeks. His hair was straight and black, seeming to suggest an Oriental nativity. He was dressed all in black, his vest buttoning high up to the neck and his coat hanging almost to the knees, serving to give him a rather clerical appearance.

At the moment, to which my thoughts revert, we were discussing immortality.

"Only an atheist," declared Pelegin, in a soft, faintly-accented, nervous voice, "is afraid to die. Fear of death presupposes a faith founded on doubt."

"Tell me," said I, "do you fear death?"



"No," he replied, "I fear life. Death is a necessary evil. When one has experienced every emotion it is right that death should result, since life thereafter would be but repetition. One cannot repeat an emotion. To be forced to live forever would be the nearest thing to Hell to be found on earth. For my own part I have 33