Hester's intense awareness of the public's attention was finally relieved by the shocking sight of a figure at the far edge of the crowd. An Indian in his native dress was standing there. Indians were not such uncommon visitors in the English settlements that Hester Prynne would have noticed one at such a time, much less been captivated by his presence. But next to the Indian, seeming like his friend, stood a white man, dressed in a strange mixture of English and Indian garments.
He was a short man with a face that was wrinkled but not that old. His features indicated great intelligence, as though he had so cultivated his mind that it began to shape his body. It was clear to Hester Prynne that one of the man's shoulders rose higher than the other, though the man had tried to conceal the fact with a seemingly careless arrangement of his strange clothing. Upon first seeing that thin face and slightly deformed figure, Hester pressed her infant to her breast so hard that the poor child cried out. But Hester did not seem to hear it.
When the stranger first arrived in the marketplace—long before Hester Prynne saw him—he had fixed his eyes on her. His initial glance was careless, like that of a man accustomed to his own thoughts, who only values the outside world for its relation to his own mind. But soon his gaze became sharp and penetrating. Horror slithered over his features like a fast-moving snake, pausing only for a moment to show its many coils. His face darkened with a powerful emotion which, nonetheless, he instantly controlled with his will. Except for that single moment of emotion, his expression seemed perfectly calm. After a little while, his convulsion became almost imperceptible, until it entirely faded into the depths of his being. When he found the eyes of Hester Prynne fixed on his, and saw that she seemed to recognize him, he slowly and calmly raised his finger and laid it on his lips.
Then he touched the shoulder of a nearby townsman and asked in a formal and courteous tone:
"My dear sir, may I ask who is this woman? And why is she being held up for public shame?"
"You must be a stranger, my friend," the townsman replied, looking curiously at the questioner and his Indian companion, "or you certainly would have heard about the evil deeds of Mistress Hester Prynne. She has caused a great scandal, I assure you, in Master Dimmesdale's church."
"You speak the truth," replied the other. "I am a stranger. I have been wandering, against my will, for a long time. I have suffered terrible bad luck at sea and on land. I have been held prisoner by the Indians to the south, and have been brought here by this Indian to be ransomed from captivity. So could I ask you to tell me of Hester Prynne's—if I have her name right—of this woman's crimes and why she is standing on this platform?"
"Certainly, friend. It must make you glad, after your wanderings in the wilderness," said the townsman, "to finally find yourself somewhere that wickedness is rooted out and punished, as it is here in our godly New England. That woman, sir, was the wife of a learned man. He was English by birth but had lived for a long time in Amsterdam. Some years ago, he decided to cross the ocean and join us in Massachusetts. He sent his wife ahead of him and stayed behind to tend to some business. Well, sir, in the two short years—maybe less—that the woman lived here in Boston, having heard nothing from this wise gentleman, Master Prynne . . . his young wife, you see, was left to mislead herself."
"Ah! Aha! I understand you," said the stranger with a bitter smile. "A man as wise as you say he was should have learned of that danger in his books. And who, beg your pardon, sir, is the father of the young child—some three of four months old, it seems—that Mistress Prynne is holding in her arms?"
"To tell the truth, friend, that's still a puzzle, and the Daniel who can solve it has not been found," answered the townsman. "Madame Hester absolutely refuses to speak, and the magistrates have put their heads together in vain. Perhaps the guilty man stands here in the crowd, observing this sad spectacle, and forgetting that God sees him when no one else does."
