VI

Lazarus was not moved by the magnificence of the imperial palace. It was

as though he saw no difference between the crumbling house, closely

pressed by the desert, and the stone palace, solid and fair, and

indifferently he passed into it. And the hard marble of the floors under

his feet grew similar to the quicksand of the desert, and the multitude

of richly dressed and haughty men became like void air under his glance.

No one looked into his face, as Lazarus passed by, fearing to fall under

the appalling influence of his eyes; but when the sound of his heavy

footsteps had sufficiently died down, the courtiers raised their heads

and with fearful curiosity examined the figure of a stout, tall,

slightly bent old man, who was slowly penetrating into the very heart of

the imperial palace. Were Death itself passing, it would be faced with

no greater fear: for until then the dead alone knew Death, and those

alive knew Life only--and there was no bridge between them. But this

extraordinary man, although alive, knew Death, and enigmatical,

appalling, was his cursed knowledge. "Woe," people thought, "he will

take the life of our great, deified Augustus," and they sent curses

after Lazarus, who meanwhile kept on advancing into the interior of the

palace.

Already did the emperor know who Lazarus was, and prepared to meet him.

But the monarch was a brave man, and felt his own tremendous,

unconquerable power, and in his fatal duel with him who had miraculously

risen from the dead he wanted not to invoke human help. And so he met

Lazarus face to face:

"Lift not thine eyes upon me, Lazarus," he ordered. "I heard thy face is

like that of Medusa and turns into stone whomsoever thou lookest at.

Now, I wish to see thee and to have a talk with thee, before I turn into

stone,"--added he in a tone of kingly jesting, not devoid of fear.

Coming close to him, he carefully examined Lazarus' face and his strange

festal garments. And although he had a keen eye, he was deceived by his

appearance.

"So. Thou dost not appear terrible, my venerable old man. But the worse

for us, if horror assumes such a respectable and pleasant air. Now let

us have a talk."

Augustus sat, and questioning Lazarus with his eye as much as with

words, started the conversation:

"Why didst thou not greet me as thou enteredst?"

Lazarus answered indifferent:

"I knew not it was necessary."

"Art thou a Christian?"

"No."

Augustus approvingly shook his head.

"That is good. I do not like Christians. They shake the tree of life

before it is covered with fruit, and disperse its odorous bloom to the

winds. But who art thou?"

With a visible effort Lazarus answered:

"I was dead."

"I had heard that. But who art thou now?"

Lazarus was silent, but at last repeated in a tone of weary apathy:

"I was dead."

"Listen to me, stranger," said the emperor, distinctly and severely

giving utterance to the thought that had come to him at the beginning,

"my realm is the realm of Life, my people are of the living, not of the

dead. Thou art here one too many. I know not who thou art and what thou

sawest there; but, if thou liest, I hate thy lies, and if thou tellst

the truth, I hate thy truth. In my bosom I feel the throb of life; I

feel strength in my arm, and my proud thoughts, like eagles, pierce the

space. And yonder in the shelter of my rule, under the protection of

laws created by me, people live and toil and rejoice. Dost thou hear the

battle-cry, the challenge men throw into the face of the future?"

Augustus, as in prayer, stretched forth his arms and exclaimed

solemnly:

"Be blessed, O great and divine Life!"

Lazarus was silent, and with growing sternness the emperor went on:

"Thou art not wanted here, miserable remnant, snatched from under

Death's teeth, thou inspirest weariness and disgust with life; like a

caterpillar in the fields, thou gloatest on the rich ear of joy and

belchest out the drivel of despair and sorrow. Thy truth is like a rusty

sword in the hands of a nightly murderer,--and as a murderer thou shalt

be executed. But before that, let me look into thine eyes. Perchance,

only cowards are afraid of them, but in the brave they awake the thirst

for strife and victory; then thou shalt be rewarded, not executed....

Now, look at me, Lazarus."

At first it appeared to the deified Augustus that a friend was looking

at him,--so soft, so tenderly fascinating was Lazarus' glance. It

promised not horror, but sweet rest and the Infinite seemed to him a

tender mistress, a compassionate sister, a mother. But stronger and

stronger grew its embraces, and already the mouth, greedy of hissing

kisses, interfered with the monarch's breathing, and already to the

surface of the soft tissues of the body came the iron of the bones and

tightened its merciless circle,--and unknown fangs, blunt and cold,

touched his heart and sank into it with slow indolence.

"It pains," said the deified Augustus, growing pale. "But look at me,

Lazarus, look."

It was as though some heavy gates, ever closed, were slowly moving

apart, and through the growing interstice the appalling horror of the

Infinite poured in slowly and steadily. Like two shadows there entered

the shoreless void and the unfathomable darkness; they extinguished the

sun, ravished the earth from under the feet, and the roof from over the

head. No more did the frozen heart ache.

"Look, look, Lazarus," ordered Augustus tottering.

Time stood still, and the beginning of each thing grew frightfully near

to its end. Augustus' throne just erected, crumbled down, and the void

was already in the place of the throne and of Augustus. Noiselessly did

Rome crumble down, and a new city stood on its site and it too was

swallowed by the void. Like fantastic giants, cities, states, and

countries fell down and vanished in the void darkness--and with

uttermost indifference did the insatiable black womb of the Infinite

swallow them.

"Halt!"--ordered the emperor.

In his voice sounded already a note of indifference, his hands dropped

in languor, and in the vain struggle with the onrushing darkness his

fiery eyes now blazed up, and now went out.

"My life thou hast taken from me, Lazarus,"--said he in a spiritless,

feeble voice.

And these words of hopelessness saved him. He remembered his people,

whose shield he was destined to be, and keen salutary pain pierced his

deadened heart. "They are doomed to death," he thought wearily. "Serene

shadows in the darkness of the Infinite," thought he, and horror grew

upon him. "Frail vessels with living seething blood with a heart that

knows sorrow and also great joy," said he in his heart, and tenderness

pervaded it.

Thus pondering and oscillating between the poles of Life and Death, he

slowly came back to life, to find in its suffering and in its joys a

shield against the darkness of the void and the horror of the Infinite.

"No, thou hast not murdered me, Lazarus," said he firmly, "but I will

take thy life. Be gone."

That evening the deified Augustus partook of his meats and drinks with

particular joy. Now and then his lifted hand remained suspended in the

air, and a dull glimmer replaced the bright sheen of his fiery eye. It

was the cold wave of Horror that surged at his feet. Defeated, but not

undone, ever awaiting its hour, that Horror stood at the emperor's

bedside, like a black shadow all through his life; it swayed his nights,

but yielded the days to the sorrows and joys of life.

The following day, the hangman with a hot iron burned out Lazarus' eyes.

Then he was sent home. The deified Augustus dared not kill him.

* * * * *

Lazarus returned to the desert, and the wilderness met him with hissing

gusts of wind and the heat of the blazing sun. Again he was sitting on a

stone, his rough, bushy beard lifted up; and the two black holes in

place of his eyes looked at the sky with an expression of dull terror.

Afar-off the holy city stirred noisily and restlessly, but around him

everything was deserted and dumb. No one approached the place where

lived he who had miraculously risen from the dead, and long since his

neighbors had forsaken their houses. Driven by the hot iron into the

depth of his skull, his cursed knowledge hid there in an ambush. As

though leaping out from an ambush it plunged its thousand invisible eyes

into the man,--and no one dared look at Lazarus.

And in the evening, when the sun, reddening and growing wider, would

come nearer and nearer the western horizon, the blind Lazarus would

slowly follow it. He would stumble against stones and fall, stout and

weak as he was; would rise heavily to his feet and walk on again; and on

the red screen of the sunset his black body and outspread hands would

form a monstrous likeness of a cross.

And it came to pass that once he went out and did not come back. Thus

seemingly ended the second life of him who for three days had been under

the enigmatical sway of death, and rose miraculously from the dead.