While the siblings’ home symbolizes their intense desire to be sheltered from the outside world, the mysterious presence taking over the house is symbolic of anything or anyone that might disrupt their isolation. When the narrator first hears sounds coming from the back rooms, he describes them as a noise akin to muffled conversation or a chair being knocked over. The nature of the presence is never revealed, but it bears the impression of human activity. Though the siblings live in a bustling city, this is the first occasion in the story where they might come into direct contact with others, not by choice but due to a breach in their intentionally insular existence. In rejecting this opportunity and cordoning off the rear wing, the narrator demonstrates how closed off he is to the idea of engaging with anyone other than Irene. Rather than giving up the space permanently, a more logical response to an intruder might be to call for help or to investigate himself, but the siblings do neither. They are so afraid of anyone they do not know or understand—and the changes that anything unfamiliar could bring—that they choose to lock the door on it instead, just as they have shut out potential relationships in the past.
The Mysterious Presence Quotes in House Taken Over
I went down the corridor as far as the oak door, which was ajar, then turned into the hall toward the kitchen, when I heard something in the library or the dining room. The sound came through muted and indistinct, a chair being knocked over onto the carpet or the muffled buzzing of a conversation… I hurled myself against the door before it was too late and shut it, leaned on it with the weight of my body… I ran the great bolt into place, just to be safe.
“I had to shut the door to the passage. They’ve taken over the back part.”
She let her knitting fall and looked at me with her tired, serious eyes…
“In that case,” she said, picking up her needles again, “we’ll just have to live on this side.”
I took Irene’s arm and forced her to run with me to the wrought-iron door, not waiting to look back. You could hear the noises, still muffled but louder, just behind us. I slammed the grating and we stopped in the vestibule. Now there was nothing to be heard.
“They’ve taken our section,” Irene said.
“Did you have time to bring anything?” I asked hopelessly.
“No, nothing.”
We had what we had on. I remembered fifteen thousand pesos in the wardrobe in my bedroom. Too late now.
I still had my wrist watch on and saw that it was 11 P.M. I took Irene around the waist (I think she was crying) and that was how we went into the street. Before we left, I felt terrible; I looked the front door up tight and tossed the key down the sewer. It wouldn’t do to have some poor devil decide to go in and rob the house, at that hour and with the house taken over.