"But your California does not produce such gold. Neither does any
other country on this dirty earth. It is the gold of the heavens. I am
not a believer, Mr. Wondergood, but even I experience some doubts when
I meet the gaze of my Maria. Hers are the only hands into which you
might without the slightest misgiving place your billions----"
I am an old bachelor and I was overcome with fear, but Magnus
continued sternly with a ring of triumph in his voice:
"But she will not accept them, Sir! Her gentle hands must never touch
this golden dirt. Her clean eyes will never behold any sight but
that of this endless, godless Campagna. Here is her monastery, Mr.
Wondergood, and there is but one exit for her from here: into the
Kingdom of Heaven, if it does exist!"
"I beg your pardon but I cannot understand this, my dear Magnus!" I
protested in great joy. "Life and people----"
The face of Thomas Magnus grew angry, as it did yesterday, and in
stern ridicule, he interrupted me:
"And I beg you to grasp, _dear_ Wondergood, that life and people are
not for Maria. It is enough that I know them. My duty was to _warn_
you. And now"--he again assumed the attitude of cold politeness--"I
ask you to come to my table. You too, Mr. Toppi!"
We had begun to eat, and were chattering of small matters, when
_Maria_ entered. The door through which she entered was behind my
back. I mistook her soft step for those of the maid carrying the
dishes, but I was astonished by the long-nosed Toppi, sitting opposite
me. His eyes grew round like circles, his face red, as if he were
choking. His Adam's apple seemed to be lifted above his neck as if
driven by a wave, and to disappear again somewhere behind his narrow,
ministerial collar. Of course, I thought he was choking to death with
a fishbone and shouted:
"Toppi! What is the matter with you? Take some water."
But Magnus was already on his feet, announcing coldly:
"My daughter, Maria. Mr. Henry Wondergood!"
I turned about quickly and--how can I express the extraordinary when
it is inexpressible? It was something more than beautiful. It was
terrible in its beauty. I do not want to seek comparisons. I shall
leave that to you. Take all that you have ever seen or ever known
of the beautiful on earth: the lily, the stars, the sun, but add,
add still more. But not this was the awful aspect of it: There was
something else: the elusive yet astonishing similarity--to whom? Whom
have I met upon this earth who was so beautiful--so beautiful and
awe-inspiring--awe-inspiring and unapproachable. I have learned by
this time your entire archive, Wondergood, and I do not believe that
it comes from your modest gallery!
"Madonna!" mumbled Toppi in a hoarse voice, scared out of his wits.
So that is it! Yes, Madonna. The fool was right, and I, Satan, could
understand his terror. Madonna, whom people see only in churches, in
paintings, in the imagination of artists. Maria, the name which rings
only in hymns and prayer books, heavenly beauty, mercy, forgiveness
and love! Star of the Seas! Do you like that name: Star of the Seas?
It was really devilishly funny. I made a deep bow and almost blurted
out:
"Madam, I beg pardon for my unbidden intrusion, but I really did not
expect to meet you _here_. I most humbly beg your pardon, but I could
not imagine that this black bearded fellow has the honor of having you
for his daughter. A thousand times I crave your pardon for----"
But enough. I said something else.
"How do you do, Signorina. It is indeed a pleasure."
And she really did not indicate in any way that she was _already_
acquainted with Me. One must respect an incognito if one would remain
a gentleman and only a scoundrel would dare to tear a mask from a
lady's face! This would have been all the more impossible, because her
father, Thomas Magnus, continued to urge us with a chuckle:
"Do eat, please, Mr. Toppi. Why do you not drink, Mr. Wondergood? The
wine is splendid."
In the course of what followed:
1. She breathed--
2. She blinked--
3. She ate--
and she was a beautiful girl, about eighteen years of age, and her
dress was white and her throat bare. It was really laughable. I gazed
at her bare neck and--believe me, my earthly friend: I am not easily
seduced, I am not a romantic youth, but I am not old by any means,
I am not at all bad looking, I enjoy an independent position in the
world and--don't you like the combination: Satan and _Maria_? _Maria_
and Satan! In evidence of the seriousness of my intentions I can
submit at that moment I thought more of _our_ descendants and sought a
name for _our_ first-born than indulged in frivolity.
Suddenly Toppi's Adam's apple gave a jerk and he inquired hoarsely:
"Has any one ever painted your portrait, Signorina?"
"Maria never poses for painters!" broke in Magnus sternly. I felt like
laughing at the fool Toppi. I had already opened wide my mouth, filled
with a set of first-class American teeth, when Maria's pure gaze
pierced my eyes and everything flew to the devil,--as in that moment
of the railway catastrophe! You understand: she turned me inside out,
like a stocking--or how shall I put it? My fine Parisian costume was
driven inside of me and my still finer thoughts which, however, I
would not have wanted to convey to the lady, suddenly appeared upon
the surface. With all my secrecy I was left no more sealed than a room
in a fifteen cent lodging house.
But she _forgave_ me, said nothing and threw her gaze like a projector
in the direction of Toppi, illumining his entire body. You, too, would
have laughed had you seen how this poor old devil was set aglow and
aflame by this gaze--clear from the prayer book to the fishbone with
which he nearly choked to death.
Fortunately for both of us Magnus arose and invited us to follow him
into the garden.
"Come, let us go into the garden," said he. "Maria will show you her
favorite flowers."
Yes, Maria! But seek no songs of praise from me, oh poet! I was mad!
I was as provoked as a man whose closet has just been ransacked by a
burglar. I wanted to gaze at Maria but was compelled to look upon the
foolish flowers--because I dared not lift my eyes. I am a gentleman
and cannot appear before a lady without a necktie. I was seized by a
curious humility. Do you like to feel humble? I do not.
I do not know what Maria said. But I swear by eternal salvation--her
gaze, and her entire uncanny countenance was the embodiment of an
all-embracing meaning so that any wise word I might have uttered would
have sounded meaningless. The wisdom of words is necessary only for
those poor in spirit. The right are silent. Take note of that, little
poet, sage and eternal chatterbox, wherever you may be. Let it be
sufficient for you that I have humbled myself to speak.
Ah, but I have forgotten my humility! She walked and I and Toppi
crawled after her. I detested myself and this broad-backed Toppi
because of his hanging nose and large, pale ears. What was needed here
was an Apollo and not a pair of ordinary Americans.
We felt quite relieved when she had gone and we were left alone with
Magnus. It was all so sweet and simple! Toppi abandoned his religious
airs and I crossed my legs comfortably, lit a cigar, and fixed my
steel-sharp gaze upon the whites of Magnus's eyes.
"You must be off to Rome, Mr. Wondergood. They are probably worrying
about you," said our host in a tone of loving concern.
"I can send Toppi," I replied. He smiled and added ironically:
"I hardly think that would be sufficient, Mr. Wondergood!"
I sought to clasp his great white hand but it did not seem to move
closer. But I caught it just the same, pressed it warmly and he was
compelled to return the pressure!
"Very well, Signor Magnus! I am off at once!" I said.
"I have already sent for the carriage," he replied. "Is not the
Campagna beautiful in the morning?"