March 9, 1914.Rome, Villa Orsini.
March 9, 1914.Rome, Villa Orsini.
Last night I had an important conversation with Thomas Magnus. When Maria had retired I began as usual to prepare to return home but Magnus detained me.
“Why go, Mr. Wondergood? Stay here forthe night. Stay here and listen to the barking of Mars!”
For several days dense clouds had been gathering over Rome and a heavy rain had been beating down upon its walls and ruins. This morning I read in a newspaper a very portentous weather bulletin:cielo nuvolo il vento forte e mare molto agitato.Toward evening the threat turned into a storm and the enraged sea hurled across a range of ninety miles its moist odors upon the walls of Rome. And the real Roman sea, the billowy Campagna, sang forth with all the voices of the tempest, like the ocean, and at moments it seemed that its immovable hills, its ancient waves, long evaporated by the sun, had once more come to life and moved forward upon the city walls. Mad Mars, this creator of terror and tempest, flew like an arrow across its wide spaces, crushed the head of every blade of grass to the ground, sighed and panted and hurled heavy gusts of wind into the whining cypress trees. Occasionally he would seize and hurl the nearest objects he could lay his hands upon: the brick roofs of the houses shook beneath his blows and their stone walls roared as if inside the very stones the imprisoned wind was gasping and seeking an escape.
We listened to the storm all evening. Maria was calm but Magnus was visibly nervous, constantlyrubbed his white hands and listened intently to the antics of the wind: to its murderous whistle, its roar and its signs, its laughter and its groans...the wild-haired artist was cunning enough to be slayer and victim, to strangle and to plead for mercy at one and the same time! If Magnus had the moving ears of an animal, they would have remained immovable. His thin nose trembled, his dim eyes grew dark, as if they reflected the shadows of the clouds, his thin lips were twisted into a quick and strange smile. I, too, was quite excited: it was the first time since I became human I had heard such a storm and it raised in me a white terror: almost with the horror of a child I avoided the windows, beyond which lay the night. Why does it not come here, I thought: can the window pane possibly keep it out if it should wish to break through?...
Some one knocked at the iron gates several times, the gates at which I and Toppi once knocked for admission.
“That is my chauffeur, who has come to fetch me,” said I: “we must admit him.”
Magnus glanced at me from the corner of his eye and remarked sadly:
“There is no road on that side of the house. There is nothing but field there. That is mad Mars who is begging for admittance.”
And as if he had actually heard his words, Mars broke out into laughter and disappeared whistling. But the knocking was soon resumed. It seemed as if some one were tearing off the iron gates and several voices, shouting and interrupting each other, were anxiously speaking; an infant was heard weeping.
“Those must be people who have lost their way...you hear—an infant! We must open the gates.”
“Well, we’ll see,” said Magnus angrily.
“I will go with you, Magnus.”
“Sit still, Wondergood. This friend of mine, here, is quite enough....” He quickly drewthatrevolver from the table drawer and with a peculiar expression of love and even gentleness he grasped it in his broad hand and carefully hid it in his pocket. He walked out and we could hear the cry that met him at the gate.
On that evening I somehow avoided Maria’s eyes and I felt quite ill at ease when we were left alone. And suddenly I felt like sinking to the floor, and kneeling before her so that her dress might touch my face: I felt as if I had hair on my back, that sparks would at any moment begin to fly if some one were to touch it and that this would relieve me. Thus, in my mind, I moved closer and closer to Her, when Magnus returned andsilently put the revolver back into the drawer. The voices at the door had ceased and the knocking, too.
“Who was that?”...asked Maria.
Magnus angrily shook off the drops of rain upon his coat.
“Crazy Mars. Who else did you expect?”
“But I thought I heard you speak to him?” I jested, trying to conceal the shiver produced by the cold brought in by Magnus.
“Yes, I told him it was not polite—to drag about with him such suspicious company. He excused himself and said he would come no more,” Magnus laughed and added: “I am convinced that all the murderers of Rome and the Campagna are to-night threatening to ambush people and hugging their stilettos as if they were their sweethearts....”
Again came a muffled and timid knock.
“Again!” cried Magnus, angrily, as if Mad Mars had really promised to knock no more. But the knock was followed by the ring of a bell: it was my chauffeur. Maria retired, while I, as I have already said, had been invited by Magnus to remain overnight, to which I agreed, after some hesitation: I was not at all taken by Magnus and his revolver, and still less was I attracted by the silly darkness.
The kind host himself went out to dismiss the chauffeur. Through the window I could see the bright lights of the lanterns of the machine and for a moment I yearned to return home to my pleasant sinners, who were probably imbibing their wine at that moment in expectation of my return.... Ah, I have long since abandoned philanthropy and am now leading the life of a drunkard and a gambler. And again, as on that first night, the quiet little white house, thissoulof Maria, looked terrible and suspicious: this revolver, these stains ofbloodupon the white hands...and, maybe there are more stains like these here.
But it was too late to change my mind. The machine had gone and Magnus, by the light, had not ablue, but a very black and beautiful beard and his eyes were smiling pleasantly. In his broad hand he carried not a weapon, but two bottles of wine, and from afar he shouted merrily:
“On a night like this there is but one thing to do, to drink wine. Even Mars, when I spoke to him, looked drunk to me...the rogue! Your glass, Mr. Wondergood!”
But when the glasses had been filled, this merry drunkard hardly touched the wine and sitting deep in his chair asked me to drink and to talk. Without particular enthusiasm, listening to thenoise of the wind and thinking about the length of the night before us, I told Magnus of the new and insistent visits of Cardinal X. It seemed to me that the Cardinal had actually put spies on my trail and what is more strange: he has managed to gain quite an influence over the unbribable Toppi. Toppi is still the same devoted friend of mine but he seems to have grown sad, goes to confessional every day and is trying to persuade me to accept Catholicism.
Magnus listened calmly to my story and with still greater reluctance I told him of the many unsuccessful efforts to open my purse: of the endless petitions, badly written, in which the truth appears to be falsehood because of the boresome monotony of tears, bows and naïve flattery; of crazy inventors, of all sorts of people with hasty projects, gentlemen who seek to utilize as quickly as possible their temporary absence from jail—of all this hungry mass of humanity aroused by the smell ofweaklyprotected billions. My secretaries—there are six of them now—hardly manage to handle all this mess of tears on paper, and the madly babbling fools who fill the doors of my palace.
“I fear that I will have to build me an underground exit: they are watching me even at nights. They are aiming at me with picks and shovels, asif they were in the Klondike. The nonsense published by these accursed newspapers about the billions I am ready to give away to every fool displaying a wound in his leg, or an empty pocket, has driven them out of their senses. I believe that some night they will divide me into portions and eat me. They are organizing regular pilgrimages to my palace and come with huge bags. My ladies, who regard me as their property, have found for me a little Dante Inferno, where we take daily walks in company with the society that storms my place. Yesterday we examined an old witch whose entire worth consists in the fact that she has outlived her husband, her children and her grandchildren, and is now in need of snuff. And some angry old man refused to be consoled and even would not take any money until all of us had smelled the old putrid wound in his foot. It was indeed a horrible odor. This cross old fellow is the pride of my ladies, and like all favorites, he is capricious, and temperamental. And...are you tired of listening to me, Magnus. I could tell you of a whole flock of ragged fathers, hungry children, green and rotten like certain kinds of cheese, of noble geniuses who despise me like a negro, of clever drunkards with merry, red noses.... My ladies are not very keen on drunkards, but I love them better than any otherkind of goods. And how do you feel about it, Signor Magnus?”
Magnus was silent. I too was tired of talking. Mad Mars alone continued his antics: he was now ensconced upon the roof, trying to bite a hole in the center, and crushing the tiles as he would a lump of sugar. Magnus broke the silence:
“The newspapers seem to have little to say about you recently. What is the matter?”
“I pay the interviewers not to write anything. At first I drove them away but they began interviewing my horses and now I pay them for their silence by the line. Have you a customer for my villa, Magnus? I shall sell it together with the artists and the rest of its paraphernalia.”
We again grew silent and paced up and down the room: Magnus rose first and then sat down. I followed and sat down too. In addition, I drank two more glasses of wine while Magnus drank none.... His nose is never red. Suddenly he said with determination:
“Do not drink any more wine, Wondergood.”
“Oh, very well. I want no more wine. Is that all?”
Magnus continued to question me at long intervals. His voice was sharp and stern, while mine was...melodious, I would say.
“There has been a great change in you, Wondergood.”
“Quite possible, thank you, Magnus.”
“There used to be more life in you. Now you rarely jest. You have become very morose, Wondergood.”
“Oh!”
“You have even grown thin and your brow is sallow. Is it true that you get drunk every night in the company of your...friends?”
“It seems so.”
“...that you play cards, squander your gold, and that recently some one had been nearly murdered at your table?”
“I fear that is true. I recollect that one gentleman actually tried to pierce another gentleman with his fork. And how do you know all about that?”
He replied sternly and significantly:
“Toppi was here yesterday. He wanted to see...Maria but I myself received him. With all due respect to you, Wondergood, I must say that your secretary is unusually stupid.”
I acquiesced coldly.
“You are quite right. You should have driven him out.”
I must say for my part, that my last two glasses of wine evaporated from me at the mention ofMaria’sname, and our attempted conversation was marked by continued evaporation of the wine I drank, like perfume out of a bottle. I have always regarded wine as unreliable matter. We found ourselves again listening to the storm and I remarked:
“The wind seems to be growing more violent, Signor Magnus.”
“Yes, the wind seems to be growing more violent, Mr. Wondergood. But you must admit that I warned you beforehand, Mr. Wondergood.”
“Of what did you warn me beforehand, Signor Magnus?”
He seized his knees with his white hands and directed upon me the gaze of a snake charmer.... Ah, he did not know that I myself had extracted my poisoned teeth and was quite harmless, like a mummy in a museum! Finally, he realized that there was no use beating about the bush, and came straight to the point:
“I warned you in regard toMaria, ” he said slowly, with peculiar insinuation. “You remember that I did not desire your acquaintance and expressed it plainly enough? You have not forgottenwhatI told you about Maria, of her fatal influence upon the soul? But you were bold and insistent and I yielded. And now you ask us—me and my daughter—to view the highly exhilaratingspectacle of a gentleman in the process of disintegration, one who asks nothing, who reproaches no one, but can find no solace until every one has smelled his wound.... I do not want to repeat your expression, Mr. Wondergood. It has a bad odor. Yes, sir, you have spoken quite frankly of your...neighbors and I am sincerely glad you have finally abandoned this cheap play at love and humanity.... You have so many other pastimes! I confess, however, that I am not at all overjoyed at your intention of presenting tousthesedimentof a gentleman. It seems to me, sir, that you made a mistake in leaving America and your...canning business: dealing with people requires quite a different sort of ability.”
He laughed! He was almost driving Me out, this little man, and I, who write my “I” in a super-capital, I listened to him humbly and meekly. It was divinely ridiculous! Here is another detail for those who love the ridiculous: before his tirade began my eyes and the cigar between my teeth were quite bravely and nonchalantly directed toward the ceiling, but they changed their attitude before he had finished.... To this very moment I feel the taste of that miserable dangling, extinguished cigar. I was choking with laughter...that is I did not yet knowwhether to choke with laughter or with wrath. Or, without choking at all, to ask him for an umbrella and leave. Ah, he was athome, he was on hisownground, this angry, black bearded man. He knew how to manage himself in this situation and he sang asolo, not aduet, like the inseparable Satan of Eternity and Wondergood of Illinois!
“Sir!” I said with dignity: “There seems to be a sad misunderstanding here. You see before you Satan inhuman form...you understand? He went out for an evening stroll and was lost in the forest...in the forest, sir, in the forest! Won’t you be good enough, sir, to direct him to the nearest road to Eternity? Ah, Ah! Thank you.SoI thought myself. Farewell!”
Of course, I really did not say that. I wassilentand gave the floor to Wondergood. And this is what that respectable gentleman said, dropping his wet, dead cigar:
“The devil take it! You are quite right, Magnus. Thank you, old man. Yes, you warned me quite honestly, but I preferred to play a lone hand. Now I am a bankrupt and at your mercy. I shall have no objection if you should order the removal of thesedimentof the gentleman.”
I thought that without waiting for a stretcher, Magnus would simply throw the sediment out of the window, but his generosity proved quite surprising:he looked at Me with pity and even stretched out his hand.
“You are suffering very much, Mr. Wondergood?”—a question quite difficult to answer for the celebratedduet! I blinked and shrugged my shoulders. This appeared to satisfy Magnus and for a few moments we were both silent. I do not know of what Magnus was thinking. I thought of nothing: I simply examined with great interest, the walls, the ceiling, books, pictures—all the furnishings of this human habitation. I was particularly absorbed in the electric light upon which I fixed my attention: why doesitburn and give light?
“I am waiting for your answer, Mr. Wondergood.”
So he was really expecting me to reply? Very well.
“It’s very simple, Magnus...you warned me, I admit. To-morrow Toppi will pack my trunks and I shall go back to America to resume my...business.”
“And the Cardinal?”
“What Cardinal? Ah, yes!... Cardinal X. and my billions. I remember. But—don’t gaze at me in such astonishment, Magnus. I am sick of it.”
“What are you sick of, Mr. Wondergood?”
“It.Six secretaries. Brainless old women, snuff, and my Dante Inferno, where they take me for my walks. Don’t look at me so sternly, Magnus. Probably one could have made better wine out of my billions, but I managed to produce only sour beer. Why did you refuse to help me? Of course, you hate human beings, I forgot.”
“But youlovethem?”
“What shall I say, Magnus? No, I am rather indifferent to them. Don’t look at me so...pityingly. By God, it isn’t worth it! Yes, I am indifferent to them. There are, there were and there will be so many of them that it isn’t really worth while....”
“So I am to conclude that youlied?”
“Look not at me but at my packed trunks. No, I did not lie, not entirely. You know, I wanted to do something interesting for the sake of amusement and so I let loose this...this emotion....”
“So it was onlyplay?...”
I blinked again and shrugged my shoulders. I like this method of reply to complex questions. Andthisface of Signor Thomas Magnus appealed to me, too; his long, oval face recompensed me slightly for my theatrical failures and...Maria. I must add that by this time there was a fresh cigar in my mouth.
“You said that in your past there are some dark pages.... What’s the trouble, Mr. Wondergood?”
“Oh! it was a slight exaggeration. Nothing in particular, Magnus. I beg your pardon for disturbing you needlessly, but at that time I thought I should have spoken thus for the sake of style....”
“Style?”
“Yes, and the laws of contrast. The present is always brighter with a dark past as a background...you understand? But I have already told you, Magnus, that my prank had little result. In the place I come from they have quite a mistaken conception of the pleasures of the game here. I shall have to disabuse them when I get back. For a moment I was taken in by the old monkey, but its method of fleecing people is rather ancient and too certain...like a counting house. I prefer an element of risk.”
“Fleecing people?”
“Don’t we despise them, Magnus? And if the game has failed, let us not at least deny ourselves the pleasure of speaking frankly. I am very glad. But I am tired of this prattle and, with your permission, I will take another glass of wine.”
There was not even the resemblance of a smile on Thomas Magnus’ face. I mention the smilefor the sake of...style. We passed the next half hour in silence, broken only by the shrieks and yells of Mad Mars and the even pacing of Magnus. With his hands behind him and disregarding me entirely he paced the room with even step: eight steps forward, eight steps backward. Apparently he must have been in jail at one time and for quite a while: for he had the knack of the experienced prisoner of creating distances out of a few meters. I permitted myself to yawn slightly and thus drew the attention of my host back to myself. But Magnus kept quiet for another moment, until thefollowing wordsrang out through the air and well nigh hurled me out of my seat:
“ButMarialoves you. Of course, you do not know that?”
I arose.
“Yes, that is the truth: Maria loves you. I did not expect this misfortune. I failed to kill you, Mr. Wondergood. I should have done that at the very beginning and now I do not know what to do with you. What do you think about it?”
I stretched and...
...Maria lovesMe!
I once witnessed in Philadelphia an unsuccessful electrocution of a prisoner. I saw at “La Scala” in Milan my colleague Mephistocringingand hopping all over the stage when the supers moved upon him with their crosses—and my silent reply to Magnus was an artistic improvisation of both the first and the second trick: ah, at that moment I could think of nothing better to imitate! I swear by eternal salvation that never before had I been permeated by so many deadly currents, never did I drink such bitter wine, never was my soul seized with such uncontrollablelaughter!
Now I no longer laugh or cringe, like a cheap actor. I am alone and only my own seriousness can hear and see Me. But in that moment of triumph I needed all my strength to control my laughter so that I might not deal ringing blows to the face of this stern and honest man hurling the Madonna into the embraces of...the Devil. Do you really think so? No? Or are you merely thinking of Wondergood, the American, with his goatee and wet cigar between his gold teeth! Hatred and contempt, love and anguish, wrath and laughter,—these filled to the brim the cup presented to Me...no, still worse, still more bitter, still more deadly! What do I care about the deceived Magnus or the stupidity of his eyes and brain? But how could the pure eyes ofMariahave been deceived?
Or am I really such a clever Don Juan that Ican turn the head of an innocent and trusting girl by a few simple, silent meetings? Madonna, where art Thou? Or, has she discovered a resemblance between myself and one of her saints, like Toppi’s. But I do not carry with me a traveling prayer book! Madonna, where art Thou? Are thy lips stretching out to mine? Madonna, where art Thou? Or?...
And yet I cringed like an actor. I sought to stifle in respectful mumbling my hatred and my contempt when this new “or” suddenly filled me with new confusion and such love...ah, such love!
“Or, ” thought I, “hasThyimmortality, Madonna, echoed the immortality of Satan and is it now stretching forth this gentle hand to it from the realms of Eternity? Thou, who artdivine, hast thou recognized a friend in him who has becomehuman? Thou, who artabove, dost thou pity him who isbelow? Oh, Madonna, lay thy hand upon my dark head that I may recognize thee by thy touch!...”
But hear what further transpired that night.
“I know not why Maria has fallen in love with you. That is a secret of her soul, too much for my understanding. No, I do not know, but I bow to her will as to her frankness. What are myhuman eyes before her all-penetrating gaze, Mr. Wondergood!...”
(The latter, too, was saying the same thing.)
“A moment ago, in a fit of excitement,” continued Magnus, “I said something about murder and death.... No, Mr. Wondergood, you may rest secure forever: the chosen one of Maria enjoys complete immunity as far as I am concerned. He is protected by more than the law—her pure love is his armor. Of course, I shall have to ask you to leave us at once. And I believe in your honest intention, Wondergood, to place the ocean between us....”
“But....”
Magnus moved forward towards me and shouted angrily:
“Not another word!... I cannot kill you but if you dare to mention the word ‘marriage,’ I!...”
He slowly dropped his uplifted hand, and continued calmly:
“I see that I will have to beg your pardon again for my fit of passion, but it is better thanfalsehood, examples of which we have had from you. Do not defend yourself, Wondergood. It is quite unnecessary. And of marriage letmespeak: it will ring less insulting to Maria than it would from your lips. It is quite unthinkable. Rememberthat. I am a sober realist: I see nothing but mere coincidence inthat fatalresemblance of Maria and I am not at all taken aback by the thought that my daughter, with all her unusual qualities, may some day become a wife and mother.... My categorical opposition to this marriage was simply another means of warning you. Yes, I am accustomed to look soberly upon things, Mr. Wondergood. It is not you who is destined to be Maria’s life partner! You do not know me at all and now I am compelled to raise slightly the curtain behind which I am hiding these many years: my idleness is merely rest. I am not at all a peaceful villager or a book philosopher. I am a man of struggle. I am a warrior on the battlefield of life! And my Maria will be the gift only of a hero, if—if I should ever find a hero.”
I said:
“You may rest assured, Signor Magnus, that I will not permit myself to utter a single word in regard to Signorina Maria. You know that I am not a hero. But I should think it permissible to ask of you: how am I to reconcile your present remarks with your formercontemptfor man? I recollect that you spoke seriously of gallows and prisons.”
Magnus laughed loudly:
“And do you remember what you said about yourlovefor man? Ah, my dear Wondergood: I would be a bad warrior and politician if my education did not embrace the art of lying a little. We were both playing, that’s all!”
“You played better,” I admitted quite gloomily.
“And you played very badly, my friend,—do not be offended. But what am I to do when there suddenly appears before me a gentleman all loaded with gold like....”
“Like an ass. Continue.”
“And begins to reveal to me his love for humanity, while his confidence in his success is equal only to the quantity of the dollars in his pocket? The main fault of your play, Mr. Wondergood, is that you are too eager for success and seek immediate results. This makes the spectator cold and less credulous. To be sure, I really did not think you were merely acting—the worst play is better than sincere assininity—and I must again crave your pardon: you seemed to me just one of those foolish Yankees who really take their own bombastic and contemptible tirades seriously and...you understand?”
“Quite fully. I beg you to continue.”
“Only one phrase of yours,—something about war and revolution purchasable with your billions—seemed to me to possess a modicum of interest,but the rest of the drivel proved that that, too, was a mere slip of the tongue, an accidental excerpt of some one else’s text. Your newspaper triumphs, your flippancy in serious matters—remember Cardinal X!—your cheap philanthropy are of a quite different tone.... No, Mr. Wondergood, you are not fit for serious drama! And your prattling to-day, despite its cynicism, made a better impression than your flamboyant circus pathos. I say frankly: were it not forMariaI would gladly have had a good laugh at your expense, and, without the slightest compunction would have raised the farewell cup!”
“Just one correction, Magnus: I earnestly desired that you should take part....”
“In what? In your play? Yes, your play lacked thecreative factorand you earnestly desired to saddle me with your poverty of spirit. Just as you hire your artists to paint and decorate your palaces so you wanted to hire my will and my imagination, my power and my love!”
“But your hatred for man....”
Up to this point Magnus had maintained his tone of irony and subtle ridicule: my remark, however, seemed to change him entirely. He grew pale, his white hands moved convulsively over his body as if they were searching for a weapon, and his face became threatening and even horrible.As if fearing the power of his own voice, he lowered it almost to a whisper; as if fearing that his words would break their leash and run off at a wild pace, he tried desperately to hold them in check and in order.
“Hatred? Be silent, sir. Or have you no conscience at all or any common sense? My contempt! My hatred! They were my reply, not to your theatricallove, but to your sincere and dead indifference. You were insultingmeas a human being by your indifference: You were insulting life by your indifference. It was in your voice, it gleamed savagely out of your eyes, and more than once was I seized by terror...terror, sir!—when I pierced deeper the mysterious emptiness of your pupils. If your past has no dark pages, which, as you say, you merely added for the sake of style, then there is something worse than that in it: there arewhitepages in it. And I cannot read them!...”
“Oh, oh!”
“When I look at your eternal cigar, and see your self-satisfied but handsome and energetic face; when I view your unassuming manner, in which the simplicity of the grog shop is elevated to the heights of Puritanism, I fully understand your naïve game. But I need only meet the pupil of your eye...or itswhiterim and I am immediatelyhurled into a void, I am seized with alarm and I no longer see either your cigar or your gold teeth and I am ready to exclaim: who are you that you dare to bear yourself with such indifference?”
The situation was becoming interesting.Madonnaloves Me and this creature is about ready to utter my Name at any moment! Is he the son of my Father? How could he unravel the great mystery of my boundless indifference: I tried so carefully to conceal it, even from you!
“Here! here!” shouted Magnus, in great excitement, “again there are two little tears in your eyes, as I have noticed before. They are alie, Wondergood! There is no source of tears behind them. They have fallen from somewhere above, from the clouds, like dew. Rather laugh: behind your laughter I see merely a bad man, but behind your tears there arewhitepages, white pages!... or has Maria read them?”
Without taking his eyes off me, as if fearing that I might run away, Magnus paced the room, finally seating himself opposite Me. His face grew dim and his voice seemed tired, when he said:
“But it seems to me that I am exciting myself in vain....”
“Do not forget, Magnus, that to-day I myself spoke to you of indifference.”
He waved his hand wearily and carelessly.
“Yes, you did speak. But there is something else involved here, Wondergood. There is nothing insulting in the indifference, but in the other...I sensed it immediately upon your appearance with your billions. I do not know whether you will understand what I mean, but I immediately felt like shouting of hatred and to demand gallows and blood. The gallows is a gloomy thing but the curious jostling about the gallows, Mr. Wondergood, are quite unbearable! I do not know what they think of our game here in the ‘place’ you come from, but we pay for it with our lives, and when there suddenly appears before us some curious gentleman in a top hat, cigar in mouth, one feels, you understand, like seizing him by the back of his neck and...he never stays to the end of the performance, anyway. Have you, too, Mr. Wondergood, dropped in on us for a brief visit?”
With what a long sigh I uttered the name ofMaria!... And I no longer played, I no longer lied, when I replied to this gloomy man:
“Yes, I have dropped in on you for a brief visit, Signor Magnus. You have guessed right. For certain very valid reasons I can reveal nothing toyou of thewhitepages of my life, the existence of which behind my leather binding you have likewise guessed. But on one of them was written:death-departure. That was not a top hat in the hands of the curious visitor, but a revolver...you understand: I look on as long as it is interesting and after that I make my bow and depart. Let me put it clearer and simpler, out of deference to your realism: in a few days, perhaps to-morrow, I depart for the other world.... No, that is not clear enough: in a few days or to-morrow I shall shoot myself, kill myself with a revolver. I at first planned to aim at my heart but have decided that the brain would be more reliable. I have planned all this long ago, at the very beginning...of my appearance before you, and was it not in thisreadinessof mine to depart that you have detected ‘inhuman’ indifference? Isn’t it true that when one eye is directed upon theotherworld, it is hardly possible to maintain any particularly bright flame in the eye directed uponthisworld?... I refer to the kind of flame I see in your eyes. O! you have wonderful eyes, Signor Magnus.”
Magnus remained silent for a few moments and then said:
“And Maria?”
“Permit me to reply. I prize Signorina Mariatoo highly not to regard herlovefor me as a fatal mistake.”
“But you wanted that love?”
“It is very difficult for me to answer that question. At first, perhaps—when I indulged in dreams for a while—but the more I perceived this fatal resemblance....”
“That is mere resemblance,” Magnus hastened to assure me: “But you mustn’t be a child, Wondergood! Maria’s soul is lofty and beautiful, but she is human, made of flesh and bone. She probably has her own little sins, too....”
“And how about my top hat, Magnus? How about myfreedeparture? I need only buy a seat to gaze upon Maria and her fatal resemblance—admitting that it is only resemblance!—but how must I pay forlove?”
Magnus said sternly:
“Only with your life.”
“You see: only with my life! How, then, did you expect me to desire such love?”
“But you have miscalculated: she already loves you.“
“Oh, if the Signorina Maria really loves me then mydeathcan be no obstacle: however, I do not make myself clear. I wanted to say that my departure...no, I had better say nothing. Inshort, Signor Magnus: would you agree to have me place my billions at your disposalnow?”
He looked at me quickly:
“Now?”
“Yes, now, when we are no longer playing: I at love and you at hatred. Now, when I am about to disappear entirely, taking with me the ‘sediment’ of a gentlemen? Let me make it quite clear: would you like to be my heir?”
Magnus frowned and looked at me in anger: apparently he took my words for ridicule. But I was calm and serious. It seemed to me that his large, white hands were trembling slightly. He turned away for a moment and then, whirling about quickly, he shouted loudly:
“No! Again you want.... No!”
He stamped his foot and cried once more: “No!” His hands were trembling. His breathing was heavy and irregular. There followed a long silence, the wailing of the tempest, the whistling and murmur of the wind. And again, great calm, great, dead, all embracing peace descended upon me. Everything was turnedwithinMe. I still could hear the earthly demons of the storm, buttheirvoices sounded far away and dull. I saw before me amanand he was strange and cold to me, like a stone statue. One after another there floated by me all the days of my human existence.There was the gleam of faces, the weak sound of voices and curious laughter. And then, again all was silent. I turned my gaze to the other side—and there I was met by dumbness. It was as if I were immured between two dumb, stone walls: behind one wastheirhuman life, which I had abandoned, and behind the other, in silence and in darkness, stretched forth the world of eternal and real being. Its silence was resounding, its darkness was gleaming, eternal, joyous life beat constantly like breakers, upon the hard rocks of the impenetrable wall. But deaf was my consciousness and silent my thought. From beneath the weak legs of Thought there cameMemory—and it hung suspended in the void, immovable, paralyzed for the moment.Whatdid I leave behind the wall of my Unconsciousness?
Thought made no reply. It was motionless, empty and silent. Two silences surrounded Me, two darknesses enveloped me. Two walls were burying me, and behind one, in the pale movement of shadows, passed their human life, while behind the other,—in silence and in darkness stretched forth the world of my real, eternal being. Whence shall I hear The Call? Whither can I take a step?
And at that moment I suddenly heard the voice of a man, strange and distant. It grew closer andcloser, there was a gentle ring in it. It was Magnus speaking. With great effort and concentration, I tried to catch the words and this was what I heard:
“And wouldn’t you rather continue living, Wondergood?”