"Mr. Wondergood! It is I, your Toppi."
And he burst into tears. This old devil, still emitting the odor
of fur, this old clown in black, this sexton with hanging nose,
this seducer of little girls--burst into tears! But still worse was
it when, blinking my eyes, I, too, began to weep, I, "the wise,
immortal, almighty!" Thus we both wept, two deceived devils who
happened to drop in upon this earth, and human beings--I am happy to
give them their due!--looked on with deep sympathy for our tears.
Weeping and laughing at the same time, I asked:
"It's difficult to be a man, Toppi?"
And Toppi, sobbing, replied obediently:
"Very difficult, Mr. Wondergood."
But here I happened to look at Maria and my sentimental tears
immediately dried. In general, that evening is memorable for the
sudden and ludicrous transformations of my moods. You probably know
them, old man? Now I wept and beat the lyre, like a weeping post, now
I became permeated with a stony calm and a sense of unconquerable
power, or I began to chatter nonsense, like a parrot scared to death
by a dog, and kept up my chatter, louder, sillier and more and more
unbearable, until a new mood bore me off into a deep and inexpressible
sadness. Magnus caught my look at Maria and smiled involuntarily. I
adjusted the collar of my torn shirt and said _dryly_:
"I do not know whether to be glad or sorry that I failed to kill
you, old friend. I am quite calm now, however, and would like you to
tell me everything about...that woman. But as you are a liar, let
me question her first. Signorina Maria, you were my bride? And in a
few days I hoped to call you my wife. But tell me the truth: are you
really...this man's mistress?"
"Yes, signor."
"And...how long?"
"Five years, signor."
"And how old are you now."
"Nineteen, signor."
"That means you were fourteen.... Now you may continue, Magnus."
"Oh, my God!"
(It was Toppi who exclaimed.)
"Sit down, Maria.--As you see, Wondergood,"--began Magnus in a dry and
calm tone, as if he were demonstrating not himself but some sort of a
chemical compound--"this mistress of mine is quite an extraordinary
phenomenon. With all her unusual resemblance to the Madonna, capable
of deceiving men better versed than you or I in religion, with all her
really unearthly beauty, chastity and charm--she is a licentious and
quite shameless creature, ready to sell herself from head to foot...."
"Magnus!"
"Calm yourself. You see how she listens to me? Even your old Toppi
is cringing and blushing while she--her gaze is clear and all her
features are filled with placid harmony...did you notice how clear
Maria's gaze is? Do you hear me?"
"Yes, certainly."
"Would you like wine or an orange? Take it. There it is on the table.
Incidentally, observe her graceful walk: she seems to be always
stepping lightly as if on flowers or clouds. What extraordinary beauty
and litheness! As an old lover of hers, I may also add the following
detail which you have not learned yet: she herself, her body, has the
fragrance of some flowers. Now as to her spiritual qualities, as the
psychologists put it. If I were to speak of them in ordinary language,
I would say she was as stupid as a goose,--quite a hopeless fool. But
she is cunning. And a liar. Very avaricious as regards money but she
likes it only in gold. Everything she told you she learned from me,
memorizing the more difficult lines...and I had quite a task in
teaching her. But I feared all the time that, despite your love, you
would be struck by her apparent lack of brains and that is why I kept
her from you the last few days."
Toppi sobbed:
"Oh, God! Madonna!"
"Does this astonish you, Mr. Toppi?"--Magnus asked, turning his head.
"I dare say you are not alone. Do you remember, Wondergood, what I
told you about Maria's _fatal_ resemblance, which drove one young man
to suicide. I did not lie to you altogether: the youth actually did
kill himself when he realized who Maria really was. He was pure of
soul. He loved as you do and as you he could not bear--how do you put
it?--the wreck of his ideal."
Magnus laughed:
"Do you remember Giovanni, Maria?"
"Slightly."
"Do you hear, Wondergood?" asked Magnus, laughing. "That is exactly
the tone in which she would have spoken of me a week hence if you
had killed me to-day. Have another orange, Maria.... But if I were
to speak of Maria in extraordinary language--she is not at all
stupid. She simply doesn't happen to have what is called a soul. I
have frequently tried to look deep into her heart and thoughts and
I have always ended in vertigo, as if I had been hurled to the edge
of an abyss: there was _nothing_ there. Emptiness. You have probably
observed, Wondergood, or you, Mr. Toppi, that ice is not as cold as
the brow of a _dead_ man? And no matter what emptiness familiar to you
you may imagine, my friends, it cannot be compared with that absolute
vacuum which forms the kernel of my beautiful, light-giving star.
Star of the Seas?--that was what you once called her, Wondergood, was
it not?"
Magnus laughed again and gulped down a glass of wine. He drank a great
deal that evening.
"Will you have some wine, Mr. Toppi? No? Well, suit yourself. I'll
take some. So that is why, Mr. Wondergood, I did not want you to kiss
the hand of that creature. Don't turn your eyes away, old friend.
Imagine you are in a museum and look straight at her, bravely. Did you
wish to say something, Toppi?"
"Yes, Signor Magnus. Pardon me, Mr. Wondergood, but I would like to
ask your permission to leave. As a gentleman, although not much of
that, I...cannot remain...at...."
Magnus narrowed his eyes derisively:
"At such a scene?"
"Yes, at such a scene, when one gentleman, with the silent approval
of another gentleman, insults a woman like _that_," exclaimed Toppi,
extremely irritated, and rose. Magnus, just as ironically, turned to
me:
"And what do you say, Wondergood? Shall we release this little,
extremely little, gentleman?"
"Stay, Toppi."
Toppi sat down obediently.
From the moment Magnus resumed, I, for the first time, regained my
breath and looked at Maria.
What shall I say to you? It was _Maria_. And here I understood a
little _what_ happens in one's brain when one begins to go mad.
"May I continue?" asked Magnus. "However, I have little to add.
Yes, I took her when she was fourteen or fifteen years old. She
herself does not know how old she really is, but I was not her first
lover...nor the tenth. I could never learn her past exactly. She
either lies cunningly or is actually devoid of memory. But even
the most subtle questioning, which even a most expert criminal
could not dodge, neither bribes nor gifts, nor threats--and she is
extremely cowardly!--could compel her to reveal herself. She does
not 'remember.' That's all. But her deep licentiousness, enough to
shame the Sultan himself, her extraordinary experience and daring in
ars amandi confirms my suspicion that she received her training in a
lupanaria or...or at the court of some Nero. I do not know how old
she is and she seems to change constantly. Why should I not say that
she is 20 or 2000 years old? Maria...you can do everything and you
know everything?"
I did not look at that woman. But in her answer there was a slight
displeasure:
"Don't talk nonsense. What will Mr. Wondergood think of me?"
Magnus broke into loud laughter and struck the table with his glass:
"Do you hear, Wondergood? She covets your good opinion. And if I
should command her to undress at once in your presence...."
"Oh, my God! My God!"--sobbed Toppi and covered his face with his
hands. I glanced quickly into Magnus' eyes--and remained rigid in
the terrible enchantment of his gaze. His face was laughing. This
pale mask of his was still lined with traces of faint laughter but
the eyes were dim and inscrutable. Directed upon me, they stared off
somewhere into the distance and were horrible in their expression of
dark and _empty_ madness: only the empty orbits of a skull could gaze
so threateningly and in such wrath.
And again darkness filled my head and when I regained my senses Magnus
had already turned and calmly sipped his wine. Without changing his
position, he raised his glass to the light, smelled the wine, sipped
some more of it and said as calmly as before:
"And so, Wondergood, my friend. Now you know about all there is to
know of Maria or the Madonna, as you called her, and I ask you: will
you take her or not? I give her away. Take her. If you say yes, she
will be in your bedroom to-day and...I swear by eternal salvation,
you will pass a very pleasant night. Well, what do you say?"
"Yesterday, you, and to-day, I?"
"Yesterday I,--to-day, you." He smiled: "What kind of man are you,
Wondergood, to speak of such trifles. Or aren't you used to having
some one else warm your bed? Take her. She is a fine girl."
"Whom are you torturing, Magnus:--me or yourself?"
Magnus looked at me ironically:
"What a wise boy! Of course, myself! You are a very clever American,
Mr. Wondergood, and I wonder why your career has been so mediocre.
Go to bed, dear children. Good night. What are you looking at,
Wondergood: do you find the hour too early? If so, take her out for
a walk in the garden. When you see Maria beneath the moonlight, 3000
Magnuses will be unable to prove that this heavenly maiden is the same
creature who...."