“I will speak to Demetrius. He has a good heart and a clear brain. He may
suggest something which may lead to good. He may enlist Helena in our
behalf, if Helena is here. I cannot see what harm can come of it.”
I went down into the square. Demetrius was overjoyed to see me. He did
not, however, seem surprised to find me in Antioch. We sat down together
and I told him all our troubles. I unbosomed my whole grief to him like a
brother. I had the discretion to say nothing of Beltrezzor, resolving to
let the old man work out his own plan alone. If harm came to any one, it
could only be to myself.
Demetrius knew that the condemned woman was my sister, and professed the
deepest interest and sympathy in her case. I pleaded the youth, and the
innocent and sweet character of Mary, against the charge of foul and
dangerous heresy.
He seemed to think the heresy was bad enough, for he indulged in the most
contemptuous expressions against Jesus and his disciples. “But,” said he,
“it is all the work of Lelius. No one can aid you so efficiently as Simon
Magus. Great magician and sorcerer as he has been and is still, he is a
noble and generous man. I am confident he will assist you in delivering
your sister from her fearful peril. He is now lecturing to a select
audience on the great points of his new philosophy. Come with me to his
palace and hear him. When he has finished, we will consult together as to
what is to be done.”
I followed him; and ascending the marble steps of a princely mansion, and
passing through a great hall adorned with statues and immense vases of
flowers, we were ushered into a room of moderate size, but superbly
furnished. The audience nearly filled the place, for there were but two or
three chairs near the door.
Simon Magus, on a raised platform, was in the very heat and height of an
eloquent discourse. His subject was the nature of the soul and its
transformations. His voice was winning, his gestures expressive, his eye a
blaze of intellectual fire. His language was full of Orientalisms and
Egyptian mysticisms. Taught in the severer school of Grecian philosophy,
and blessed with the far greater analytic light of spiritual knowledge, I
perceived at once that the influx of ideas into his mind came from
cunning, subtle, evil spirits, and that the tendency of his words was to
bewilder, dazzle and betray.
“You saw me,” said he, “turn water into wine just now. You saw me turn
silver into gold. You saw me resolve a rose into nothing; you saw me
restore it as it was before. These things, I told you, were symbolic of
spiritual transformations.
“When the spirit by prayer, by faith, by watching, by study, by
abstinence, by suffering—is purified and etherealized, it undergoes
similar transformations, and from water becomes wine; from silver becomes
gold; from human becomes divine. Thus it is that I have become the power
of God—the Son of God—the Word of God; and that I have still a holier
name, incommunicable to you.
“In this state I have supreme control over matter. You saw me a little
while ago take up a deadly serpent. It bit a dog before your eyes and the
creature died in a minute. It fastened itself upon my hands and my cheeks;
I was unhurt. You saw me swallow balls of fire. I am unharmed. So I can
float in the air like a bird; I can live under water like a fish. I can
point my finger at a tree, and it will wither. I can call to a cloud, and
it comes to me. I can curse a city, and it will sink into the sea.”
There was an excited and admiring murmur among his credulous hearers. The
fanatical impostor continued:
“These powers are awful and incomprehensible to you who do not possess
them. They are only given to the wise who use them wisely. But I have
attained to a height of glory, in comparison with which these first labors
and results are insignificant. Having become the emanation of God, I can
create souls out of nothing. I can restore souls to life which had been
given to annihilation. I will show you a soul I have created.”
There was a great murmur of astonishment and applause. The curtains were
now drawn and the room darkened. The wall behind Simon appeared to open,
and the most beautiful sight was presented to view that I have ever
witnessed. The chamber beyond was one resplendent glory of golden light.
It did not seem to be lighted, but to be filled with light as a golden
vapor. In the midst of the room, half-way between the floor and ceiling,
both of which seemed to be mirrors of shining brass, hung or floated a
rosy cloud, shaped like a throne, over which was a canopy of celestial
azure. On that throne was seated Helena, my first and only love.
I turned to look Demetrius in the face at this splendid creation (?) of
his gifted brother-in-law. Demetrius had left the room unobserved.
“Simon,” said I to myself, “has lost his old sublime faith in his
diabolical art, and has resorted to magical impostures.”
I turned my attention to Helena. Now I solemnly avow that the woman, her
chair and all, whatever they may have been, were ten feet in the air,
entirely unsupported by anything visible to mortal eye. Whether this was
some magical trick, really explicable by natural law, or effected by the
assistance of evil spirits, I do not know. Of this, however, I am certain,
from experience and knowledge acquired in the spiritual world, that evil
spirits can, under certain conditions, lift the heaviest articles high in
the air and keep them there for a considerable time.
“This,” said Simon Magus, enjoying the ineffable amazement of his
hearers—“this is the soul of Helen of Sparta, who caused the Trojan war.
She was annihilated for her extreme wickedness. I have recalled her to
life; and, wonderful to relate, I have purified and spiritualized her
whole nature by the sanctifying influence of my presence.”
I gazed upon this strange scene with intense interest, and was soon
enchanted with the face of Helena. Never in this world have I seen
features of such exquisite beauty; and neither in this world nor in the
other have I seen a face expressive of such womanly love, tenderness,
sweetness and purity. The white peace of heaven was enthroned upon her
brow, and the softness of infinite pity beamed in her eyes. If she was a
picture, it was a subject for boundless enthusiasm. If she was living, she
was an object for profound adoration.
So thought every one who looked on. It is strange that I did not remember
what I had been taught in the world of spirits, that syrens and wicked
women there can counterfeit angelic forms so cunningly as to deceive the
angels themselves for a while.
“There,” said I, to myself, “is a gentleness, a holiness, a purity, a
mercy which I know will save my sister from the lion.”
The curtain or wall or whatever it was, was closed, and Simon went on with
his lecture. I did not hear a word of it, so rapt was I in the
contemplation of Helena’s seraphic face.
“Oh, if I could speak to that vision of superlative beauty, I am sure she
would befriend my poor sister.”
Suddenly Demetrius touched me on the shoulder and whispered:
“My sister wishes to see you.”
I followed him, asking no questions, bewildered, unthinking, but
whispering to myself, “Helena wishes to see me!”
We passed through the superb hall, and opening a door near the end of it,
Demetrius ushered me into the room without entering himself. Helena
advanced to meet me. I was delighted with the extraordinary warmth of her
reception. If we had been passionate lovers long separated, she could not
have manifested more pleasure at seeing me!
Superbly beautiful as she was, that heavenly radiance and purity which I
had seen upon her countenance a few moments before, had vanished. There
was nothing spiritual in her expression. She was plainly no spirit and no
soul just created, but a perfectly formed, glowing, enchanting woman of
flesh and blood. I was about questioning her on the subject of her
extraordinary deception, when she spoke:
“I knew you wanted to see me. I sent Demetrius out to look for you. You
are in trouble, and I long to assist you. Sit down with me on these
cushions and tell me all your story.”
She touched a little bell, and a tall, stately servant appeared at the
door.
“Wine and refreshments,” said Helena.
We sat down together, and I told her all about poor Mary, still wisely
omitting the part of Beltrezzor. The tears glistened in her brilliant
eyes, and she exclaimed:
“As soon as Simon finishes his lecture, I will persuade him to grant your
request. I have great power over him.”
A pang shot through my heart as I thought of Simon—the husband of this
resplendent object of my youthful adoration. Alas! what was Helena to me?
Why did I not remember the fatal effect of her love upon me? Why did I not
remember the lessons of the spiritual world? Are there not passions which
we can never conquer, struggle as we may? Are there not Canaanites of the
soul that can never be expelled?
The wine and refreshments were brought, and Helena whispered something to
the servant. I heard only the last words, “Tell him to make haste.” I
thought it was a message to Simon, and that my dear benefactress was
impatient to intercede for my sister.
“Come,” she said, “pledge our future joys in this delicate wine, and then
tell me all about that wonderful voyage they say you made into the world
of spirits.”
Fool that I was! excited by the powerful liquor, and still more
intoxicated by the presence and smiles of that bewitching woman who
repeatedly took my hand in hers, I profaned sacred things by lowering them
to the level of her vulgar and sensual mind. She seemed vastly entertained
by my story; and when I described the great feast of Grecian spirits, and
her own splendid appearance in the scene, and her terrible metamorphosis,
she laughed uproariously, and said it was one of the most charming stories
she had ever heard in her life.
There was a sound of footsteps in the adjoining room.
“Come,” she said, filling my glass, “drink to the morrow which shall be
happier than to-day.”
There was a rap or signal upon the wall.
“Simon’s lecture is over,” she said, rising. “This is his audience-chamber
in which he receives a few pupils who question him on the deeper points of
his subject. Their conversation would be very dull to us in our mood. Let
us retire into my chamber, until they disperse, when we can speak to Simon
alone.”
I followed her to the door of the room from which the signal had come. I
hesitated, abashed, at the thought of entering her chamber.
“Oh come along,” she said, grasping my arm. “Do not be afraid of my
chamber. It has carpets which render your feet inaudible. It has pictures
and statues which ravish your senses.”
With that she drew me into the room.
I was immediately seized from behind by several powerful men, and thrown
to the floor. With a peal of devilish laughter, my betrayer fled back into
the audience-chamber.
I looked up, and Magistus was regarding me with a diabolical smile. A man
was standing by him who riveted my attention. He was black, but his face
was full of hideous white spots. One eye was gone, lids and all, so as to
leave a frightful deep hole in its place. He wore a red turban. This
strange, repulsive creature stooped to fasten a kind of iron bracelet on
my feet. I watched him in silence. He softly kissed the top of my foot
unseen by the others.