This is a passage from Edith Wharton's short story "The Triumph of Night". The story follows a woman who is traveling by train with her husband's body, trying to come to terms with his death and her own grief. In this passage, the woman is struggling to maintain her composure as she sits in the train car, surrounded by other passengers. She is haunted by visions of her husband's face and is desperate to pretend that she doesn't know what has happened. She repeats the phrase "I must pretend I don't know" to herself, trying to calm her nerves. As she sits there, she begins to feel a sense of hunger and eats a biscuit from her bag. She also takes a swig of brandy from her husband's flask, which helps to calm her momentarily. However, her thoughts soon turn back to her husband's death and she falls asleep, haunted by visions of darkness and terror. When she wakes up, the train is approaching its final destination and the other passengers are gathering their belongings. The porter comes over to ask for her husband's ticket, and the woman realizes that she will soon have to confront the reality of her situation. The passage is notable for its vivid descriptions of the woman's inner turmoil and its use of symbolism to convey her emotions. For example, the curtains on her husband's berth are described as "thick" and "heavy", symbolizing the weight of her grief. The image of her husband's face suspended in front of her is also a powerful symbol of her inability to escape his death. Overall, this passage is a masterful portrayal of grief and trauma, and it showcases Wharton's skill at conveying complex emotions through subtle and suggestive language.
By Edith Wharton · First published 1907 · Genre: Literary Fiction, Psychological Fiction, Social Criticism