(A spacious gallery in The Darker Realm, where a gateway opens out and
lets in a flood of dazzling light. Graceful vines entwine the arch and
move quietly in the wind, while beyond the opening spreads the blue and
glittering surface of a river. Many gay-colored river-crafts ply up and
down in the distance, and the varied sounds of city life send a pleasant
murmur to the ear. Beyond all are banks of green, church spires, and a
strip of sky that is ripening in color toward sunset. Beneath the arch
at the right, steps of stone masonry lead down into the waters and
disappear in the transparent depths; a stone foot-path leads from the
left along the side of the gallery, and the walls are trellised here and
there with little trailing fingers of moss. Jean and Angelica enter from
the dark gallery and follow along the embanked stone foot-path. Angelica
moves as though her physical strength were exhausted while Jean supports
her form and seems to urge her forward.)
_Jean_—Dear Angelica, come but a little farther!
_Angelica_—I can go no farther; I am breathless; I am faint.
_Jean_—Ah, yes, bear up, dear; lean on me.
_Angelica_—My eyes, my eyes!
_Jean_—Close your eyes for awhile; I will lead you. Then when they are
rested, you can open them and look through the gateway. Now we have come
so far and suffered so much, you must not lose the sight you have so
longed to see.
_Angelica_—The stones are more slimy, more slippery, at every step.
_Jean_—But let me lead you; take my hand.
_Angelica_—(She reaches out uncertainly and instead of touching his
hand, touches the masonry of stone.) The wall! (A shudder passes over
her.)
_Jean_—Here, dear! (He clasps her arm and draws her hand away from the
wall.)
_Angelica_—My eyes have prickles in them; I can scarcely see. When I
look at that great red eye before us yonder, a thousand points jut out
and fly to me and hit me in my eyes.
_Jean_—But that great red eye must be the opening, dear. That is where
we reach The World Above.
_Angelica_—Then I do not want to reach The World Above, for nothing but
pain comes to me from that great red eye.
_Jean_—But I feel certain that we must go through that opening and when
we get there I am sure that we shall scarcely know that we are coming
into light. My eyes are quite used to it now, at least so that they do
not prickle any more, and I can make out some beautiful things.
_Angelica_—What? Tell me what, for I shall never see it myself.
_Jean_—Yes, you will. Believe me, it is only a little further, only a
little more weariness and pain and we shall be there. When I saw what
you were willing to go through to reach this gateway, what suffering to
endure, what dangers to risk, I began to believe with you, and now we
have our reward, for here we are with the gate right at hand.
_Angelica_—But I am too tired!
_Jean_—Then let us rest here a little before we take the last steps, and
let us get our eyes used to the opaline lights. And see, we have much
more light now; I can see you better, and you could see me better if you
would but take your hand down from your eyes and look at me. (She slowly
looks around and bends her eyes upon him.)
_Angelica_—I cannot see you at all. Oh, where are you? Have you left me
alone?
_Jean_—No, dear, no! Here I am, by your side.
_Angelica_—Am I turned blind?
_Jean_—O, no, it was because your eyes had rested for a moment on the
light of the gateway and when you turned to me you could not bear the
contrast of the darkness. But look and see! In this new light can you
not see me better?
_Angelica_—I—see—you—better. (She slowly draws back with a frightened
look in her eyes) I never saw you look like that!
_Jean_—I never saw you look so beautiful, Angelica.
_Angelica_—I never saw you look so—like this. O, who is this? Who are
you? (almost crying) Where is my Jean?
_Jean_—Why, what is the matter? I am Jean! Put your hand on my face and
you will find that I am Jean, just the same as always. (She lays her
delicate hand on his brow and draws it down over his eyes and lips, then
draws it away with a long sigh and closes her eyes; he snatches her hand
back and kisses it passionately.) Ah, Aho is it now? (breathlessly.) Is
it Jean, or is it not Jean?
_Angelica_—It is Jean that kissed me. It is not Jean that my eyes rest
on. Your face has a thousand things in it that I never saw before. There
are lines and wrinkles and furrows; there are shadows and shrinkings;
there are marks and scars; there are pains and miseries. I did not know
you were so sad and burdened and broken-hearted and miserable, and—
_Jean_—O what, O what?
_Angelica_—Is there shame? Are you ashamed of something? Have you done
something wicked, some dreadful, dreadful wickedness?
_Jean_—O, when you look at me, Angelica, I am full of shame. I am
crushed to the stones with shame. Do not look at me so, I cannot bear
it. (He covers his face with his hands).
_Angelica_—But, yes, I must look at you; I must know this face, sad and
furrowed as it is. Take away your hands; let me see your eyes!
_Jean_—Then see, and I will tell you why your look pains me to the heart
and why I cannot lift my eyes to yours. When I was—
_Angelica_—Hush! (She speaks imperatively and puts her hand over his
mouth but he pulls it away.)
_Jean_—But why? You wanted to know, and now I want to tell you; I will
tell you every bad thing I ever did!
_Angelica_—No, no, no, no! I will not hear! I will stop my ears. I do
not want to hear. Not a word, not a word!
_Jean_—But it is the truth and I want you to know the truth, all the
truth.
_Angelica_—I know the truth, I see the truth in your face, all of the
truth that I want to know; I see it in the lines and shadows beneath
your eyes.
_Jean_—But if I do not tell you more, you will find it out yourself and
then you will not love me!
_Angelica_—Telling or not telling will not change my love. I have loved
you—
_Jean_—_Have_ loved me!—
_Angelica_—I have begun to love you. Love for you has begun in my heart,
and what is begun must go on. You are you! I see it in the light from
the great eye of The World Above, and if you are you, what matters
anything you or all the people in The World Above could tell me? You are
you, that is enough!
_Jean_—But is it better to know that I am I, though my face or even the
whole of me changes, is it better to know this than to know anything
else in the world? Is it better? Is it? O let me hear you say!
_Angelica_—(She laughs a soft laugh of contentment;) It is so! It is
better!
_Jean_—You are you, and I am I, and we are together, together, together!
(She throws her arms around his neck and lets her head rest against his.
He draws her close to his side. Then they rest for a long time in quiet
and finally she turns and looks again toward the light at the opening of
the gallery.)
_Angelica_—(Whispering.) The light! I cannot look upon it, but I know it
is the light!
_Jean_—(Softly). Yes, dear, it is the light from The World Above,
shining in on us as we sit here together.
_Angelica_—(Whispering.) Together! Shall we be always together?
_Jean_—Always, dear, so long as you are you and I am I!
_Angelica_—And shall you be always you?
_Jean_—Always, dear. I cannot be otherwise than myself, can I? (Laughing
a little.)
_Angelica_—Of course not. I knew that always. I knew that from the
beginning.
_Jean_—No, you didn’t; you never knew it till I proved it to you, proved
it by the light from The World Above that shone upon our faces.
_Angelica_—(Laughing joyously.) I cannot tell you anything because you
always prove things out, can I?
_Jean_—(Laughing in his turn.) I cannot tell you anything because you
always know without any proving, don’t you? But are you ready now to try
to reach the gateway? Shall I lift you, dear? Shall we go on?
_Angelica_—But I am so tired. It was such a long way we came. I would
fain stay here always with your arms around me. I do not care if we
never reach The World Above!
_Jean_—But if we go on, you will still have me with you and have The
World Above besides!
_Angelica_—And the light!
_Jean_—Yes, and the light! You know how you loved that and how you have
longed for it.
_Angelica_—Yet when I look at it I shrink back—if that great eye that
shoots out terrors toward me and gives me more pain than joy be really
the light I have longed for! Ah, Mother! She said the light of The World
Above would blind my eyes. Dear Mother! I want her!
_Jean_—But if we should try to go back, we could not find our way to her
now. We must go on. We will wait till our eyes are a little stronger and
can bear the light; for it is the light! It must be, since we have
traced it by every trap we have passed. Every one was larger than the
one before, you know, but it was always the same thing, always something
we knew by our eyes. This one before us is only a light larger and
clearer than any of the others; only that, a larger light than a candle,
larger than a lantern, larger than any of the traps that let down light
from above into The Darker Realm.
_Angelica_—I am sure it is as you say, dear Jean, and perhaps when we
have passed through the gateway and are really in the light, in the
light itself, with light, light, light, pouring around us and bathing us
on every side—
_Jean_—Yes, perhaps when we are in the very midst of it, it won’t hurt
our eyes so much.
_Angelica_—Beautiful—most beautiful! And perhaps we shall be a part of
it, one with it, and responding to it. Then, if that were so, it could
not hurt us but we should revel in it, as I being a part of you, dear,
take joy in you. Could that be so, do you think?
_Jean_—When you say it, dearest, I am sure of it, for you yourself are
light, you shine so! (embracing her.) May I lift you now and shall we go
on? (Jean supports Angelica on his arm and tenderly leads her on. The
two approach the steps where they lead down into the water.)
_Angelica_—Must we go through all this, do you think, before we can be
in The World Above?
_Jean_—I believe so, dearest, yes. Are you not rested a little?
_Angelica_—O yes, I feel much stronger! And you are with me! That is
enough! Hark! Listen, Jean!
_Jean_—Yes, dearest.
_Angelica_—I hear voices, happy voices! Ah, beautiful voices! Look,
Jean, and tell what it is!
_Jean_—I see many people; they are coming in boats. They come very near,
and they look this way most pleasantly.
_Angelica_—(Whispering) Are they the “saints immortal”?
_Jean_—I think they must be, dearest Angelica.
_Angelica_—Oh, Jean, dearest, dearest Jean! (A pause.) Stay with me,
Jean! (She puts one arm about Jean’s neck and rests her face down,
covering her eyes from the light.)
_Jean_—Angelica, love, cling to me and I will buoy you and lead you.
(They touch their feet to the water’s edge.)
_Angelica_—The water! (She says it breathlessly.) Must we step in?
_Jean_—But look onward, onward, beloved! (They slowly move down the
steps into the water. Jean clings to the stone buttress and supports
Angelica.)
_Angelica_—The water is deeper. (She shrinks back terrified.) I feel a
something drawing my feet, drawing me away from you. O, where are you,
Jean? (She reaches out her arms and moves them blindly. Jean, in the
utmost tenderness, brings them to his neck.)
_Jean_—Here I am, dear! If you cannot see as they see in the light of
The World Above, you can still know that it is I, even by the self-same
way you knew me in The Darker Realm. Put your hand on my face, if the
light blinds your eyes, and then you will know.
(She lays her hand lightly on his brow. Then with a long sigh of bliss:)
_Angelica_—Ah! (A pause.) Yes, it is still you! I am still with you! (A
pause. Jean sustains her strongly and tenderly as they move on into
deeper water. Then their voices are heard from a little distance.) Are
you there, dear Jean?
_Jean_—Here I am, Angelica, my beloved!
(The current flows strongly in and softly draws the two lovers onward.
They pass out beneath the stone archway into the full, bright day. As
they move from beneath the sharply-cut outline of the shadow and emerge
into the glow of the level sunset rays, a halo of light seems to
enwreathe the heads of youth and maiden, and their faces shine as if
transfigured. The joyous welcoming voices come nearer—one can almost
understand what they say! Jean and Angelica float together, buoyed
safely by the current, out into the river. Some pleasure-barges pass
very near, trailing garlands of flowers; the laughter of the rowers is
heard, then the sweet sound dies along the rippling surface of the
water. A fleet messenger-boat has put forth from the opposite shore and
is seen to thread its way among the myriad river-craft; it approaches;
it stops for a moment in mid-stream. The sun sets; floods of glory
stream out over the city. Evening bells are heard chiming forth the
strains of a triumphant hymn:
[Music]
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
2. Retained anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as
printed.
3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.