ON THE ART OF FALLING SOFT.
The economy of belief which wisdom practices forbids us to embrace
fanciful theories where commonly observed facts will serve our turn.
They talk now about strange communications of mind to mind, my thought
speaking to yours a thousand miles away. Perhaps; or perhaps there is a
new fashion in ghost stories. In any case there was no need of these
speculations to account for Wetter being near me at the very time when I
was longing for his presence. From the moment I read his speech I knew
that he was thinking of me; that my doings were stuff for his
meditations; that his mind entered into mine, read its secrets, and was
audience to all its scenes. Is not the desire to meet, at least to see,
the natural sequence of such an interest and such a pre-occupation?
Given the wish, what was simpler than its gratification? He need ask no
leave from me, and need run no risk of my rebuff or of Princess
Heinrich's stiffness. He knew all the world of Forstadt. From favour or
fear every door opened when he knocked at it. He knew, among the rest,
Victoria's Baron over at Waldenweiter. From no place could he better
observe the King. Nowhere else was it so easy for a man to meet the
King. He came to Waldenweiter; I jumped to the conclusion that to be
near me was his only object. By a stableman's chance remark, overheard
as I was looking at my horses, I learned of his presence on the morning
of the day when Varvilliers was to arrive at Artenberg. We were coming
together again, we three who had met last for pistol practice in the
Garden Pavilion.
About two o'clock I went out alone and got into my canoe. It was a
beautiful day; no excuse was needed for a lounge on the water. I paddled
up and down leisurely, wondering how soon the decoy would bring my bird.
A quarter of an hour proved enough. I saw him saunter down to the
water's edge. He perceived me, lifted his soft hat, and bowed. I shot
across the space between, and brought the canoe up to the edge of the
level lawn that bordered on the river.
"Why, what brings you here?" I cried.
[Illustration: "Why, what brings you here?" I cried.]
His lips curved in a smile, as he replaced his hat in obedience to a
sign from me.
"A passion for the Baroness, sire," said he.
"Ah, that's only a virtuous pretence," I laughed. "You've a less
creditable motive?"
"Why, possibly; but who tells his less creditable motives?"
I looked at him curiously and attentively. He had grown older, the hair
by his ears was gray, and life had ploughed furrows on his face.
"Well," said I, "a man might do even that who talks romance to the
Chamber."
He gave a short laugh as he lit his cigarette.
"Your Majesty has done me the honour of reading what I said?"
"I am told that I suggested it. So runs the gossip in town, doesn't it?"
"And your opinion on it?"
"I think I won't expose myself to your fire again," said I. "It was
careless last time; it would be downright folly now."
"Then we are to say no more about it?" he asked gravely.
"Not a word. Tell me, how came you to know that Coralie loves her
impresario? You told Varvilliers so."
His lips twitched for a moment, but he answered, smiling:
"Because she has married him."
"I heard something of ambition in the case, of her career demanding the
sacrifice."
"A slander, sire, depend on it. It is said in envy of her good fortune."
"Come, come, you love the Baroness so much, that you must have all the
world in love."
"Indeed I can think of nobody more in love than I am."
"Think of me, Wetter."
"As though your Majesty could ever be absent from my thoughts," said he
with a bow, a wave of his cigarette, and a smile.
I laughed outright in sheer enjoyment of his sword-play.
"And since we parted where have you been?" I asked.
"I have walked through hell, in such company as the place afforded," he
answered, with a shrug that spoke ill for hell's resources.
"And you've come out the other side?"
"Is there another side?"
"Then you're still there?"
"Upon my word I don't know. It's so like other places--except that I
picked up money there."
"I heard that."
"My resurrection made it obvious."
A silence fell on both of us; then our eyes met, and he smiled kindly.
"I knew you meant the speech for me," I said.
"I was not entitled to congratulate you officially."
"You have raised a mountain of misconception about me in Forstadt," I
complained.
"A mountain-top is a suitable regal seat, and perhaps the only safe
one."
"Won't you speak plainly to me?"
"Yes, if it's your pleasure."
"I have least of it of any pleasure in the world."
"Well, then, the Countess von Sempach grows no younger."
"No?"
"And Coralie Mansoni has married her impresario."
"I know it."
"And my hair is gray, and your eyes are open."
We both laughed and fell again to smoking in silence. At last I spoke.
"Her hair is golden and her eyes are shut," said I. "Why did you try to
open them?"
"Wasn't it to look on a fine sight?"
"But you knew that the sight wasn't there."
"She looked?"
"For an instant. Then they turned her head the other way."
"It was pure devilry in me. You should have seen the Chamber! Good God!
Bederhof, now!"
His eyes twinkled merrily, and my laugh answered their mirth.
"One can always laugh," said I with a shrug.
"It was invented for the world before the Fall, and they forgot to take
it away afterward," he said. "But you? You take things seriously?"
"What I have to do, yes."
"But what you have to feel?"
"In truth I am not even there a consistent laugher."
"Nor I, or we shouldn't talk so much about it. Look at Varvilliers. Does
he laugh on a theory?"
"He's coming to Artenberg to-day. There at least he'll laugh without any
effort. Are you staying here long?"
"No, sire. One scene of despair, and I depart."
"I should like to see you oftener."
"Why not? You are finally, and I for the time, respectable. Why not,
while my money lasts?"
"I have money of yours."
"You have more than money of mine."
He looked me in the face and held out his hand. I grasped it firmly.
"Are you making a fool of this Baroness?" I asked.
"Don't be afraid. She's making one of me. She is very happy and content.
I am born to make women happy."
I laughed again. He was whimsically resigned to his temperament, but the
mischief had not touched his brain. Then the Baroness' hold on him was
not like Coralie Mansoni's; he would fight no duel for her. He would
only make a fool of the greatest man in Forstadt. That feat was always
so easy to him.
"Well," he said, "I must return to my misery."
"And I to my happiness," said I. "But you'll come to Artenberg?"
"It's Princess Heinrich's house," he objected with a smile.
"For the time, yes. Then come to me at Forstadt."
"Yes; unless I have disappeared again."
He put his hand on the bows of my canoe and thrust me out into the
stream. Then he stood baring his head and crumpling up the soft hat in
his fist. I noticed now that his hair was gray all over his head. He
resumed his hat, put his hands in his pockets, and waited without
moving, till I turned my back to him. Having reached the opposite bank,
I looked round. He was there still. I waved my hand to him; he returned
the signal. Then we both began to climb the hill, I to Artenberg, he to
Waldenweiter; he to his misery, I to my happiness. And--which is better,
who knows? At any rate the Baroness was pleased.
I mounted through the woods slowly, although I had been detained longer
than I expected, and was already too late to greet Varvilliers on his
arrival. As I came near the terrace I heard the ring of merry voices.
The ladies and gentlemen of the household were all there, making a brave
and gay group. In the centre I saw my family and Elsa. Varvilliers
himself was standing by Princess Heinrich's side, talking fast and with
great animation. Bursts of glad laughter marked his points. There was
not a hint of care nor a touch of bitterness. Here was no laughing on a
theory, as Wetter called it, but a simple enjoyment, a whole-hearted
acceptance of the world's good hours. Were they not nearer truth? Were
they not, at least, nearer wisdom? A reaction came on me. In a sudden
moment a new resolve entered my head; again Varvilliers roused the
impulse that he had power to rouse in me. I would make trial of this
mode of living and test this colour of mind. I had been thinking about
life when I might have been exulting in it. I ran forward to the group,
and, as they parted to let me through, I came quickly to Varvilliers
with outstretched hands. He seemed to me a good genius. Even my mother
looked smiling and happy. The faces of the rest were alight with gaiety.
Victoria was in the full tide of a happy laugh, and did not interrupt it
on account of my arrival. Elsa's lips were parted in a smile that was
eager and wondering. Her eyes sparkled; she clasped her hands and nodded
to me in a delicious surprised merriment. I caught Varvilliers by the
arm and made him sit by me. A cry arose that he should repeat the last
story for the King's benefit. He complied at once, and launched on some
charming absurdity. Renewed applause greeted the story's point. A
rivalry arose who should cap it with a better. The contact of brains
struck sparks. Every man was wittier than his wont; every woman more
radiant. What the plague had I and Wetter been grumbling and snarling at
down there on the river?
The impulse lasted the evening out. After dinner we fell to dancing in
the long room that faced the gardens. My mother and the Duchess retired
early, but the rest of us set the hours at defiance and revelled far on
into the night. It was as though a new spirit had come to Artenberg; the
very servants wore broad grins as they bustled about, seeming to declare
that here at last was something like what a youthful king's court should
be. William Adolphus was boisterous, Victoria forgot that she was
learned and a patroness of the arts, Elsa threw herself into the fun
with the zest and abandonment of a child. I vied with Varvilliers
himself, seeking to wrest from him the title of master of the revels. He
could not stand against me. A madman may be stronger than the finest
athlete. No native temper could vie with my foreign mood.
Suddenly I knew that I could do to-night what I had vainly tried to do;
that to-night, for to-night at least, I felt something of what I desired
to feel. The blood ran free in my veins; if I did not love her, yet I
loved love, and for love's sake would love Elsa. If to-night the barrier
between us could be broken down, it need never rise again; the vision,
so impossible a few hours before, seemed now a faint reflection of what
must soon be reality. I looked round for her, but I could not see her. I
started to walk across the room, threading my way through the merry
company, who danced no longer, but stood about in groups, bandying chaff
and compliments. Engrossed with one another, they hardly remembered to
give me passage. Presently I came on William Adolphus, making himself
very agreeable to one of his wife's ladies.
"Have you seen Elsa?" I asked him.
"What, you've remembered your duty at last, have you?" he cried, with a
burst of laughter.
"No; I believe I've forgotten it at last," I answered. "Where is she?"
"I saw her with Varvilliers on the steps outside the window."
I turned in the direction which he indicated, and stepped out through
the open window. Day was dawning; I could make out the gray shape of
Waldenweiter. Was the scene of despair played there yet? I gave but a
passing thought to old Wetter, his mad doings and wry reflections. I was
hot on another matter, and, raising my voice, I called, "Varvilliers!
Where are you, Varvilliers?"
"I am not Varvilliers, but here I am," came in answer from across the
terrace.
"Wetter!" I whispered, running down the steps and over to where he
stood. "What brings you here?"
"I couldn't sleep. I saw your lights and I rowed across. I've been here
for an hour."
"You should have come in."
"No. I have been very well here, in the fringe of the trees."
"You have had your scene?"
"No; he would not sleep after dinner. Early to-morrow! And then I go.
Enough of that. I have seen your Princess."
"You have? Wetter, I am in love with her. Tell me where she went. She
has suddenly become all that I want. I have suddenly become all that I
ought to be. Tell me where she is, Wetter!"
"It is not your Princess; it is the dance, the wine, the night."
"By God, I don't care what it is."
"Well, then, she's with Varvilliers, at the end of the terrace, I
imagine; for they passed by here as I lay in my hole watching."
"But he would have heard my cry."
"It depends upon what other sounds were in his ears. They seemed very
happy together."
I saw that he rallied me. I smiled, answering:
"I'm not in the mood for another duel."
He shrugged his shoulders, and then caught me by the hand.
"Come, let's slink along," he said. "We may get a sight of them."
"I can't do that."
"No? Perhaps you can't. Walk up to them, send him away, and make your
love to her. I'll wait for you here. You'll like to see me before the
night's out."
I looked at him for a moment.
"Shall I like to see you?" I asked.
"Yes," he answered. "The olive after the sweets." He laughed, not
bitterly, I thought, but ruefully.
"So be it," I said. "Stay here."
I started off, but he had laid a cold hand on my heart. I was to want
him; then I should be no lover, for a lover wants but one. Yet I nerved
myself and cried again loudly, "Varvilliers!" This time I was answered.
I saw him and Elsa coming toward me; his voice sounded merry and
careless as he shouted, "Here I am, sire"; a moment later they stood
before me. No, there was no ground for Wetter's hint, and could be none.
Both were merely happy and gay, both utterly unembarrassed.
"Somebody wants you inside, Varvilliers," said I, with a nod.
He laughed, bowed gracefully to Elsa, and ran off. He took his dismissal
without a sign of grudge. I turned to her.
"Oh, dear," she said with a little yawn, "I'm tired. It must be very
late."
I caught her by both hands.
"Late!" I cried. "Not too late, Elsa!" I bent down and kissed both her
hands. "Why did you run away?" I asked.
"I didn't know you wanted me," she said in a sort of wonder.
I looked full in her eyes, and I knew that there was in mine the look
that declares love and asks for it. If her eyes answered, the vision
might be reality. I pressed her hands hard. She gave a little cry, the
sparkle vanished from her eyes, and their lids drooped. Yet a little
colour came in her cheeks and the gray dawn showed it me. I hailed it
with eagerness and with misgiving. I thought of Wetter waiting there
among the trees, waiting till the moment when I wanted him.
"Do you love me, Elsa?" I asked.
The colour deepened on her cheeks. I waited to see whether her eyes
would rise again to mine; they remained immovable.
"You know I'm very fond of you," she murmured.
"But do you love me?"
"Yes, of course I love you. Please let my hands go, Augustin."
If Wetter were listening, he must have smiled at the peal of laughter
that rang out from me over the terrace. I could not help it. Elsa
started violently as I loosed her hands; now she looked up at me with
frightened eyes that swam in tears. Her lips moved; she tried to speak
to me. I was full of brutal things and had a horrible longing to say
them to her. There was a specious justice in them veneering their
cruelty; I am glad to say that I gave utterance to none of them. We were
both in the affair, and he is a poor sort of villain who comforts
himself by abusing his accomplice.
"You're tired?" I asked gently.
"Very. But it has been delightful. M. de Varvilliers has been so kind."
"He's a delightful fellow, Varvilliers. Come, let me take you in, and
we'll send these madcaps to bed."
She put her hand on my arm in a friendly trustful fashion, and I found
her eyes fixed on mine with a puzzled regretful look. We walked most of
the way along the terrace before she spoke.
"You're not angry with me, Augustin?"
"Good heavens, no, my dear," said I.
"I'm very fond of you," she said again as we reached the window.
At last they were ready for bed--all save myself. I watched them as they
trooped away, Elsa on Victoria's arm. Varvilliers came up to me, smiling
in the intervals that he snatched from a series of yawns.
"A splendid evening!" he said. "You surpassed yourself, sire."
"I believe I did," said I. "Go to bed, my friend."
"And you?"
"Presently. I'm not sleepy yet."
"Marvellous!" said he, with a last laugh and a last yawn.
For a few moments I stood alone in the room. There were no servants
about; they had given up waiting for us, and the lights were to burn at
Artenberg till the hour of rising. I lit a cigarette and went out on the
terrace again. I had no doubt that Wetter would keep his tryst. I was
right; he was there.
"Well, how did you speed?" he asked with a smile.
"Marvellously well," said I.
He took hold of the lapels of my coat and looked at me curiously.
"Your love scene was short," he said.
"Perhaps. It was long enough."
"To do what?"
"To define the situation."
"Did it need definition?"
"I thought so half an hour ago."
"Ah, well, the evening has been a strange one, hasn't it?"
"Let's walk down to the river through the woods," said I. "I'll put you
across to Waldenweiter."
He acquiesced, and I put my arm through his. Presently he said in a low
voice:
"The dance, the wine, the night."
"Yes, yes, I know," I cried. "My God, I knew even when I spoke to her.
She saw that a brute asked her, not a man."
"Perhaps, perhaps not; they don't see everything. She shrank from you?"
"The tears were very ready."
"Ah, those tears! Heavens, why have we no such appeals? What matter,
though? You don't love her."
"Do you want me to call myself a brute again? Wetter, any other girl
would have been free to tell me that I was a brute."
"Why, no. No man is free even to tell you that you're a fool, sire. The
divinity hedges you."
I laughed shortly and bitterly. What he said was true enough.
"There is, however, nothing to prevent you from seeing these things for
yourself, just as though you were one of the rest of us," he pursued.
"Ah, here's the river. You'll row me across?"
"Yes. Get into the boat there."
We got in, and I pulled out into mid-stream. It was almost daylight now,
but there was still a grayness in the atmosphere that exactly matched
the tint of Wetter's face. Noticing this suddenly I pointed it out to
him, laughing violently.
"You are Lucifer, Son of the Morning," I cried. "How art thou fallen
from heaven, O Lucifer, Son of Morning!"
"I wouldn't care for that if I had the trick of falling soft," said he.
"Learn it, O King, learn it! On what padded bed falls William Adolphus!"
My laugh broke again through the morning loud and harsh. Then I laid
myself to the oars, and we shot across to the bank of Waldenweiter. He
shook my hand and sprang out lightly.
"I must change my clothes and have my scene, and then to Forstadt," said
he. "Good-day to you, sire. Yet remember the lesson of the moralist.
Learn to fall soft, learn to fall soft." With a smile he turned away,
and again I watched him mount the slope of Waldenweiter.
In such manner, on that night at Artenberg, did I, having no wings to
soar to heaven and no key wherewith to open the door of it, make to
myself, out of dance, wine, night, and what not, a ladder, mount
thereby, and twist the door-handle. But the door was locked, the ladder
broke, and I fell headlong. Nor do I doubt that many men are my masters
in that art of falling soft.