(A Tale of Three Wishes)
by Richard Ely Morse
The city lay stricken, in those streets where once the carnival had
passed to the sound of lute and hautboy, now masquers of another sort
held reign, gray Pestilence, and livid Fever, and black-hooded Death.
The houses, so short a time ago bedecked with sweet-scented garlands
and precious stuffs, stood bleak and shuttered above the echoing
streets. Inside the people crouched, with staring eyes and hands
that trembled. No more did song or dance fantastic make bright their
chambers; prayer and fasting rather, penance for their sins. "Sackcloth
and ashes," had the gray-robed friars thundered for many a year, and
now were their warnings proved indeed.
But there were those who, having made a jest of life, would mock even
at Death himself. In tall painted chambers they feasted, where peacocks
stalked emerald and amethyst on marble floors, while the banished flute
and hautboy murmured softly, and great candles guttered away into
perfumed ruin. Wine and jewels and the white breasts of women against
the pall of darkness outside. When the feast was ended the guests
departed each to his home, hiding his face in a cloak nor looking to
right or to left.
But there were three, greatly favored by fortune, who left the
feast boldly and unafraid. Florian, Marius, and Leon, friends from
childhood, scoffers who feared nothing of the dank and noisome streets.
With lanterns of hammered brass in their hands and swords girded
at waist they set out, singing a love song, a sugared trifle more
befitting to some pleached alley than to this seething night. They had
gone but a short way before they came upon an aged crone who feebly
leaned beside an empty pedestal. A thousand years seemed lined within
the wrinkles of her face, but her eyes were young.
Bidding them stop she cried that she, who ever loved bold youth,
would grant to each one wish if such he should choose to ask of her.
Believing her mad, yet willing to humor the fancies of a disordered
mind, they wished. Florian spoke first and begged that all the wealth
within the teeming world be his. Marius next bespoke the fairest of
women for his love. Leon last, and hesitating--sought happiness to
be his boon. Then laughing they passed on, and coming to the square,
parted, each for his home.
Florian went swiftly, for now the moon lay hidden from the earth and
darkness rode upon the air. But soon he needst must stop--some vast
bulk stopped his pace. Holding his lantern high its gleam came back
a thousandfold; from gold and silver and gems heaped high until they
seemed to threaten Heaven itself. Falling upon his knees Florian
bathed his hands and arms within this precious flood, and threw bright
handfuls against the crouching night. But now there was within his
grasp something which seemed to whisper of sinister import, and as the
dancing rays fell clear upon it he shrieked and threw it far away--a
skull. With stricken face he fled, but as he ran, through every vein a
swifter racer sped, while shuddering pain was in every member. And the
lips of Fever twisted in a jagged grin.
Now the moon tore from her web of shadows and drew strange patterns
over rooftops and cobbled ways. Marius stopped short, beholding at an
open window a face of beauty such is found in dreams only, and then
but seldom. Leaping from the street, Marius grasped the sill. She made
no outcry nor murmur even when he caught her in his arms and kissed
her curving mouth. She smiled ever, while from between her lips there
crawled a bloated worm. And Pestilence laughed aloud.
But Leon lay quiet and forever still in the great square, with two curs
worrying at his feet.
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