"No. She came from the vineyards of Azure--from a little province
called _Campagne Piasible_." Saint Andrew sighed. "I remember vividly
the first time I saw her. She was so pale and so thin. And her eyes--I
have never seen torture in anyone's eyes that could compare to the
torture I saw in hers. She walked in here one morning, much in the same
way you yourself walked in, and she knelt down before the lectern and
when I appeared, she said, 'I want to die.' I stepped down from the
pulpit and raised her to her feet. 'No, child,' I said, 'you do not
want to die, you want to serve--else you would not have come here,'
and it was then that she lifted up her eyes and I saw the torture in
them. In the two years that followed, much of the torture went away,
but I knew somehow that all of it never would." Saint Andrew paused.
Then, "There was a quality about her which I cannot quite describe,
Mr. Drake. It was in the way she walked. In the way she talked. Most
of all, it manifested itself when she stood up here behind the lectern
and spread the Word. Would you like to hear one of her sermons? I taped
them--every one."
"Why--why yes," Drake said.
Saint Andrew turned, parted the curtains behind the lectern, and
disappeared into the room beyond. He reappeared a few moments later,
bearing an archaic tape-recorder which he placed upon the lectern. "I
selected a tape at random," he said, flicking the switch. "Listen."
* * * * *
For a while there was no sound save the whispering of the worms, and
then above the whispering came her rich, full voice. Sitting there in
the dim chapel, Drake pictured her standing straight and tall behind
the lectern, her stern, blue-gray uniform trying vainly to tone down
the burgeoning of her breasts and the thrilling sweep of her calves
and thighs; her voice rising now in rich and stirring resonance and
filling the room with unpremeditated beauty ... "I have chosen to
speak to you this day of the Potomac Peregrination, of the walking of
His ghost upon the land; of the rising of His stone figure from the
ruins of the temple where it had sat in silent meditation for three
score and seventeen years, and of its coming to life to walk down
to the blood-red sea, there to fall asunder on the beach. They will
tell you, No, this did not happen, that the broken statue was borne
there by men who wished to immortalize Him, and they will supply you
with pseudo-scientific data that will seem to prove that the Planet
of Peace that hovered above His head and then came down and absorbed
His ghost and bore it from the face of the earth was no more than a
mass-figment in the minds of the beholders. Yes, they will tell you
this, these cynical-minded people will, these fact-stuffed creatures
who are incapable of believing that a man can become immortal, that
stone can transcend stone; that this kindest of men was the strongest
of men and the greatest of men and the most enduring of men, and walks
like a giant in our midst even unto this day. Well let it be known
by all present, and let it be bruited about, that _I_ believe: _I_
believe that stone can take on life and that this great man _did_ rise
from the ruins of His desecrated temple to walk upon the land; like
a towering giant He walked, a giant with the fires of righteousness
burning in His eyes, and He did raise His voice against the bombs
falling and He did wipe the incandescence from the hellish heavens
with His terrible gaze, and the thunder of His tread did set the very
earth to trembling as He walked down the Potomac to the sea, 'Lo, I
have arisen,' He proclaimed. 'Lo, I walk again! Look at Me, ye peoples
of the earth--I have come to emancipate you from your shackling fears,
and I have summoned the Planet of Peace from out of the immensities of
space and time to transport My ghost to the stars. Lo, I _force_ peace
upon you, ye peoples of the earth, and I command you to remember always
this terrible day when you drove Kindness from your doorsteps and threw
wide your portals to Perdition....' Yes, He said these things, I swear
unto you He said them as He walked down the Potomac to the sea beneath
the brief bright bonfires of the bombs, the Planet of Peace shining
high above His head, and if you cannot believe in the walking of His
ghost upon the land and in His ascension to the stars, then you are as
one dead, without hope, without love, without pity, without kindness,
without humanity, without humility, without sorrow, without pain,
without happiness, and without life. Amen."
* * * * *
The sad susurrus of the worms crept softly back into the room. With a
start, Drake realized that he had bowed his head.
He raised it abruptly. Saint Andrew was regarding him with puzzled
eyes. "Have you notified her family, Mr. Drake?"
"No," Drake said. "I mentioned the matter to no one."
"I'll radio them at once then, and tell them everything."
Saint Andrew rewound the tape, removed it from the recorder, and
started to slip it into his pocket. "Wait," Drake said, getting to his
feet.