In which an account is given of the learned Nur who was the
cause of such extraordinary joy to King Loc
King Loc did not permit the young girl to observe his weakness; but when
he was alone he sat on the ground and with his feet in his hands gave
way to grief. He was jealous. “She loves him,” he said to himself, “and
she does not love me! And yet I am a king and very wise; great treasures
are mine and I know the most marvellous secrets. I am superior to all
other dwarfs, who are in turn superior to all men. She does not love
me but she loves a young man who not only has not the learning of the
dwarfs, but no other learning either.
“It must be acknowledged that she does not appreciate merit--nor has she
much sense. I ought to laugh at her want of judgment; but I love her and
I care for nothing in the world because she does not love me.”
For many long days King Loc roamed alone through the most desolate
mountain passes, turning over in his mind thoughts both sad and,
sometimes, wicked. He even thought of trying by imprisonment and
starvation to force Honey-Bee to become his wife. But rejecting this
plan as soon as formed he decided to go in search of her and throw
himself at her feet. But he could come to no decision, and at last he
was quite at a loss what to do. The truth being that whether Honey-Bee
would love him did not depend on him.
Suddenly his anger turned against George of Blanchelande; and he hoped
that the young man had been carried far away by some enchanter, and that
at any rate, should he ever hear of Honey-Bee’s love, he would disdain
it.
“Without being old,” the king meditated, “I have already lived too long
not to have suffered sometimes. And yet my sufferings, intense though
they were, were less painful than those of which I am conscious to-day.
With the tenderness and pity which caused them was mingled something
of their own divine sweetness. Now, on the contrary, my grief has the
baseness and bitterness of an evil desire. My soul is desolate and the
tears in my eyes are like an acid that burns them.”
So thought King Loc. And fearing that jealousy might make him unjust
and wicked he avoided meeting the young girl, for fear that in spite of
himself, he might use towards her the language of a man either weak or
brutal.
One day when he was more than ever tormented by the thought that
Honey-Bec loved George, he decided to consult Nur, the most learned
of all the dwarfs, who lived at the bottom of a well deep down in the
bowels of the earth.
This well had the advantage of an even and soft temperature. It was
not dark, for two little stars, a pale sun and a red moon, alternately
illumined all parts. King Loc descended into the well and found Nur in
his laboratory. Nur looked like a kind little old man, and he wore a
sprig of wild thyme in his hood. In spite of his learning he had the
innocence and candour characteristic of his race.
“Nur,” said the king as he embraced him, “I have come to consult you
because you know many things.”
“King Loc,” replied Nur, “I might know a good deal and yet be an idiot.
But I possess the knowledge of how to learn some of the innumerable
things I do not know, and that is the reason I am so justly famous for
my learning.”
“Well, then,” said King Loc, “can you tell me the whereabouts at present
of a young man by the name of George of Blanchelande?”
“I do not know and I never cared to know,” replied Nur. “Knowing as I
do the ignorance, stupidity and wickedness of mankind, I don’t trouble
myself as to what they say or do. Humanity, King Loc, would be entirely
deplorable and ridiculous if it were not that something of value is
given to this proud and miserable race, inasmuch as the men are endowed
with courage, the women with beauty, and the little children with
innocence. Obliged by necessity, as are also the dwarfs, to toil,
mankind has rebelled against this divine law, and instead of being, like
ourselves, willing and cheerful toilers, they prefer war to work, and
they would rather kill each other than help each other. But to be just
one must admit that their shortness of life is the principal cause of
their ignorance and cruelty. Their life is too short for them to learn
how to live. The race of the dwarfs who dwell under the earth is happier
and better. If we are not immortal we shall at least last as long as
the earth which bears us in her bosom, and which permeates us with her
intimate and fruitful warmth, while for the races born on her rugged
surface she has only the turbulent winds which sometimes scorch and
sometimes freeze, and whose breath is at once the bearer of death and
of life. And yet men owe to their overwhelming miseries and wickedness
a virtue which makes the souls of some amongst them more beautiful than
the souls of dwarfs. And this virtue, O King Loc, which for the mind is
what the soft radiance of pearls is for the eyes, is pity. It is taught
by suffering, and the dwarfs know it but little, because being wiser
than men they escape much anguish. Yet sometimes the dwarfs leave their
deep grottoes and seek the pitiless surface of the earth to mingle with
men so as to love them, to suffer with them and through them, and thus
to feel this pity which refreshes the soul like a heavenly dew. This
is the truth concerning men, King Loc. But did you not ask me as to the
exact fate of some one amongst them?”
King Loc having repeated his question, Nur looked into one of the many
telescopes which filled the room. For the dwarfs have no books, those
which are found amongst them have come from men, and are only used as
playthings. They do not learn as we do by consulting marks on paper,
but they look through telescopes and see the subject itself of their
inquiry. The only difficulty is to choose the right telescope and get
the right focus.
There are telescopes of crystal, of topaz and of opal; but those whose
lens is a great polished diamond are more powerful, and permit them to
see the most distant objects.
The dwarfs also have lenses of a translucent substance unknown to men.
These enable the sight to pass through rocks and walls as if they were
glass. Others, more remarkable still, reconstruct as accurately as a
mirror all that has vanished with the flight of time. For the dwarfs, in
the depths of their caverns, have the power to recall from the infinite
surface of the ether the light of immemorial days and the forms and
colours of vanished times. They can create for themselves a phantasm
of the past by re-arranging the splinters of light which were once
shattered against the forms of men, animals, plants and rocks, so that
they again flash across the centuries through the unfathomable ether.
The venerable Nur excelled in discovering figures of antiquity and even
such, inconceivable though it may seem, as lived before the earth
had assumed the shape with which we are familiar. So it was really no
trouble at all for him to find George of Blanchelande.
Having looked for a moment through a very ordinary telescope indeed, he
said to King Loc:
“King Loc, he for whom you search is with the nixies in their palace of
crystal, from which none ever return, and whose iridescent walls adjoin
your kingdom.”
“Is he there?” cried the king, “Let him stay!” and he rubbed his hands.
“I wish him joy.”
And having embraced the venerable dwarf, he emerged out of the well
roaring with laughter.
The whole length of the road he held his sides so as to laugh at his
ease; his head shook, and his beard swung backwards and forwards on his
stomach. How he laughed! The little men who met him laughed out of sheer
sympathy. Seeing them laugh made others laugh. A contagion of laughter
spread from place to place until the whole interior of the earth was
shaken as if with a mighty and jovial hiccough. Ha! ha! ha!