Penny Dreadfuls, 1923 · page 102 of 116
The Taking of Helen by John Masefield — page 102: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is running prose from page 90 of *The Taking of Helen*, a Victorian narrative work (likely a penny dreadful given the designation). The page consists entirely of dialogue between characters identified as the blind man, Helen, Nireus, and Paris, discussing a past moment of youthful defiance and love. The blind man reflects bitterly on how others' indifference—their silence and inaction—wounded him more deeply than active opposition would have, describing that silence as "the first wound, the first touch of death" and a lasting judgment that has haunted him since. The passage explores themes of passion, social rejection, and the crushing power of indifference.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
90) THE TAKING OF HELEN There was a silence; the blind man was lost in his thoughts ; somebody had to say something. “That was a triumphant moment for you,” Nireus sald. ‘Was it?” the blind man said. “It felt so, at the time. T’o be young and splendid, and to have your love, and to defy the world for it, and to stake your all on it; there is a triumph in that, perhaps.”’ “There is indeed,’’ Helen said. “But no. It is not a triumph,” the blind man said, “it is a defiance; and that is a gesture.”’ ‘““A fine gesture,” Paris said. “Was it?’’ the blind man said. “I did the wild thing and the generous thing. I put myself upon the cast and flung, and I looked to them to do the wild and generous thing, and they did not do it. They looked and looked away. ‘They did not care, did not care enough; we did not matter enough. “Tf they had done something or said something, it would have been easy, for we were white hot. ‘I tell you, their silence was the first wound, the first touch of death in all that glory of life. We rode away, we two; and I despised them; and yet, that night, on board our ship, going out into the world, their silence came back, it was.a judgment. It was like a frost in spring. And the next day it haunted me, and ever since. It was inertia; it was routine; the things that run this world. I had dared them and CORNICLOOOKS LEO