A STRUGGLE FOR THE MASTERY.
I rushed to the study-door, tore aside the velvet hangings, and faced
Heliobas and Prince Ivan Petroffsky. They held drawn weapons, which
they lowered at my sudden entrance, and paused irresolutely.
"What are you doing?" I cried, addressing myself to Heliobas. "With the
dead body of your sister in the house you can fight! You, too!" and I
looked reproachfully at Prince Ivan; "you also can desecrate the
sanctity of death, and yet--you LOVED her!"
The Prince spoke not, but clenched his sword-hilt with a fiercer grasp,
and glared wildly on his opponent. His eyes had a look of madness in
them--his dress was much disordered--his hair wet with drops of
rain--his face ghastly white, and his whole demeanour was that of a man
distraught with grief and passion. But he uttered no word. Heliobas
spoke; he was coldly calm, and balanced his sword lightly on his open
hand as if it were a toy.
"This GENTLEMAN," he said, with deliberate emphasis, "happened, on his
way thither, to meet Dr. Morini, who informed him of the fatal
catastrophe which has caused my sister's death. Instead of respecting
the sacredness of my solitude under the circumstances, he thrust
himself rudely into my presence, and, before I could address him,
struck me violently in the face, and accused me of being my sister's
murderer. Such conduct can only meet with one reply. I gave him his
choice of weapons: he chose swords. Our combat has just begun--we are
anxious to resume it; therefore if you, mademoiselle, will have the
goodness to retire---"
I interrupted him.
"I shall certainly not retire," I said firmly. "This behaviour on both
your parts is positive madness. Prince Ivan, please to listen to me.
The circumstances of Zara's death were plainly witnessed by me and
others--her brother is as innocent of having caused it as I am."
And I recounted to him quietly all that had happened during that fatal
and eventful evening. He listened moodily, tracing out the pattern of
the carpet with the point of his sword. When I had finished he looked
up, and a bitter smile crossed his features.
"I wonder, mademoiselle," he said, "that your residence in this
accursed house has not taught you better. I quite believe all you say,
that Zara, unfortunate girl that she was, received her death by a
lightning-flash. But answer me this: Who made her capable of attracting
atmospheric electricity? Who charged her beautiful delicate body with a
vile compound of electrical fluid, so that she was as a living magnet,
bound to draw towards herself electricity in all its forms? Who
tampered with her fine brain and made her imagine herself allied to a
spirit of air? Who but HE--HE!--yonder unscrupulous wretch!--he who in
pursuit of his miserable science, practised his most dangerous
experiments on his sister, regardless of her health, her happiness, her
life! I say he is her murderer--her remorseless murderer, and a
thrice-damned villain!"
And he sprang forward to renew the combat. I stepped quietly,
unflinchingly between him and Heliobas.
"Stop!" I exclaimed; "this cannot go on. Zara herself forbids it!"
The Prince paused, and looked at me in a sort of stupefaction.
"Zara forbids it!" he muttered. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," I went on, "that I have seen Zara since her death; I have
spoken to her. She herself sent me here."
Prince Ivan stared, and then burst into a fit of wild laughter.
"Little fool!" he cried to me; "he has maddened you too, then! You are
also a victim! Miserable girl! out of my path! Revenge--revenge! while
I am yet sane!"
Then pushing me roughly aside, he cast away his sword, and shouted to
Heliobas:
"Hand to hand, villain! No more of these toy-weapons! Hand to hand!"
Heliobas instantly threw down his sword also, and rushing forward
simultaneously, they closed together in savage conflict. Heliobas was
the taller and more powerful of the two, but Prince Ivan seemed imbued
with the spirit of a hundred devils, and sprang at his opponent's
throat with the silent breathless ferocity of a tiger. At first
Heliobas appeared to be simply on the defensive, and his agile, skilful
movements were all used to parry and ward off the other's grappling
eagerness. But as I watched the struggle, myself speechless and
powerless, I saw his face change. Instead of its calm and almost
indifferent expression, there came a look which was completely foreign
to it--a look of savage determination bordering on positive cruelty. In
a moment I saw what was taking place in his mind. The animal passions
of the mere MAN were aroused--the spiritual force was utterly
forgotten. The excitement of the contest was beginning to tell, and the
desire of victory was dominant in the breast of him whose ideas were
generally--and should have been now--those of patient endurance and
large generosity. The fight grew closer, hotter, and more terrible.
Suddenly the Prince swerved aside and fell, and within a second
Heliobas held him down, pressing one knee firmly against his chest.
From my point of observation I noted with alarm that little by little
Ivan ceased his violent efforts to rise, and that he kept his eyes
fixed on the overshadowing face of his foe with an unnatural and
curious pertinacity. I stepped forward. Heliobas pressed his whole
weight heavily down on the young man's prostrate body, while with both
hands he held him by the shoulders, and gazed with terrific meaning
into his fast-paling countenance. Ivan's lips turned blue; his eyes
appeared to start from their sockets; his throat rattled. The spell
that held me silent was broken; a flash of light, a flood of memory
swept over my intelligence. I knew that Heliobas was exciting the whole
battery of his inner electric force, and that thus employed for the
purposes of vengeance, it must infallibly cause death. I found my
speech at last.
"Heliobas!" I cried "Remember, remember Azul! When Death lies like a
gift in your hand, withhold it. Withhold it, Heliobas; and give Life
instead!"
He started at the sound of my voice, and looked up. A strong shudder
shook his frame. Very slowly, very reluctantly, he relaxed his
position; he rose from his kneeling posture on the Prince's breast--he
left him and stood upright. Ivan at the same moment heaved a deep sigh,
and closed his eyes, apparently insensible.
Gradually one by one the hard lines faded out of the face of Heliobas,
and his old expression of soft and grave beneficence came back to it as
graciously as sunlight after rain. He turned to me, and bent his head
in a sort of reverential salutation.
"I thank and bless you," he said; "you reminded me in time! Another
moment and it would have been too late. You have saved me."
"Give him his life," I said, pointing to Ivan.
"He has it," returned Heliobas; "I have not taken it from him, thank
God! He provoked me; I regret it. I should have been more patient with
him. He will revive immediately. I leave him to your care. In dealing
with him, I ought to have remembered that human passion like his,
unguided by spiritual knowledge, was to be met with pity and
forbearance. As it is, however, he is safe. For me, I will go and pray
for Zara's pardon, and that of my wronged Azul."
As he uttered the last words, he started, looked up, and smiled.
"My beautiful one! Thou HAST pardoned me? Thou wilt love me still? Thou
art with me, Azul, my beloved? I have not lost thee, oh my best and
dearest! Wilt thou lead me? Whither? Nay--no matter whither--I come!"
And as one walking in sleep, he went out of the room, and I heard his
footsteps echoing in the distance on the way to the chapel.
Left alone with the Prince, I snatched a glass of cold water from the
table, and sprinkled some of it on his forehead and hands. This was
quite sufficient to revive him; and he drew a long breath, opened his
eyes, and stared wildly about him. Seeing no one but me he grew
bewildered, and asked:
"What has happened?"
Then catching sight of the drawn swords lying still on the ground where
they had been thrown, he sprang to his feet, and cried:
"Where is the coward and murderer?"
I made him sit down and hear with patience what I had to say. I
reminded him that Zara's health and happiness had always been perfect,
and that her brother would rather have slain himself than her. I told
him plainly that Zara had expected her death, and had prepared for
it--had even bade me good-bye, although then I had not understood the
meaning of her words. I recalled to his mind the day when Zara had used
her power to repulse him.
"Disbelieve as you will in electric spiritual force," I said. "Your
message to her then through me was--TELL HER I HAVE SEEN HER LOVER."
At these words a sombre shadow flitted over the Prince's face.
"I tell you," he said slowly, "that I believe I was on that occasion
the victim of an hallucination. But I will explain to you what I saw. A
superb figure, like, and yet unlike, a man, but of a much larger and
grander form, appeared to me, as I thought, and spoke. 'Zara is mine,'
it said--'mine by choice; mine by freewill; mine till death; mine after
death; mine through eternity. With her thou hast naught in common; thy
way lies elsewhere. Follow the path allotted to thee, and presume no
more upon an angel's patience.' Then this Strange majestic-looking
creature, whose face, as I remember it, was extraordinarily beautiful,
and whose eyes were like self-luminous stars, vanished. But, after all,
what of it? The whole thing was a dream."
"I am not so sure of that," I said quietly, "But, Prince Ivan, now that
you are calmer and more capable of resignation, will you tell me why
you loved Zara?"
"Why!" he broke out impetuously. "Why, because it was impossible to
help loving her."
"That is no answer," I replied. "Think! You can reason well if you
like--I have heard you hold your own in an argument. What made you love
Zara?"
He looked at me in a sort of impatient surprise, but seeing I was very
much in earnest, he pondered a minute or so before replying.
"She was the loveliest woman I have ever seen!" he said at last, and in
his voice there was a sound of yearning and regret.
"Is THAT all?" I queried, with a gesture of contempt. "Because her body
was beautiful--because she had sweet kissing lips and a soft skin;
because her hand was like a white flower, and her dark hair clustering
over her brow reminded one of a misty evening cloud hiding moonlight;
because the glance of her glorious eyes made the blood leap through
your veins and sting you with passionate desire--are these the reasons
of your so-called love? Oh, give it some other and lower name! For the
worms shall feed on the fair flesh that won your admiration--their wet
and slimy bodies shall trail across the round white arms and tender
bosom--unsightly things shall crawl among the tresses of the glossy
hair; and nothing, nothing shall remain of what you loved, but dust.
Prince Ivan, you shudder; but I too loved Zara--I loved HER, not the
perishable casket in which, like a jewel, she was for a time enshrined.
I love her still--and for the being I love there is no such thing as
death."
The Prince was silent, and seemed touched. I had spoken with real
feeling, and tears of emotion stood in my eyes.
"I loved her as a man generally loves," he said, after a little pause.
"Nay--more than most men love most women!"
"Most men are too often selfish in both their loves and hatreds," I
returned. "Tell me if there was anything in Zara's mind and
intelligence to attract you? Did you sympathize in her pursuits; did
you admire her tastes; had you any ideas in common with her?"
"No, I confess I had not," he answered readily. "I considered her to be
entirely a victim to her brother's scientific experiments. I thought,
by making her my wife, to release her from such tyranny and give her
rescue and refuge. To this end I found out all I could from--HIM"--he
approached the name of Heliobas with reluctance--"and I made up my mind
that her delicate imagination had been morbidly excited; but that
marriage and a life like that led by other women would bring her to a
more healthy state of mind."
I smiled with a little scorn.
"Your presumption was almost greater than your folly, Prince," I said,
"that with such ideas as these in your mind you could dream of winning
Zara for a wife. Do you think she could have led a life like that of
other women? A frivolous round of gaiety, a few fine dresses and
jewels, small-talk, society scandal, stale compliments--you think such
things would have suited HER? And would she have contented herself with
a love like yours? Come! Come and see how well she has escaped you!"
And I beckoned him towards the door. He hesitated.
"Where would you take me?" he asked.
"To the chapel. Zara's body lies there."
He shuddered.
"No, no--not there! I cannot bear to look upon her perished
loveliness--to see that face, once so animated, white and rigid--death
in such a form is too horrible!"
And he covered his eyes with his hand--I saw tears slowly drop through
his fingers. I gazed at him, half in wonder, half in pity.
"And yet you are a brave man!" I said.
These words roused him. He met my gaze with such a haggard look of woe
that my heart ached for him. What comfort had he now? What joy could he
ever expect? All his happiness was centred in the fact of BEING
ALIVE--alive to the pleasures of living, and to the joys the world
could offer to a man who was strong, handsome, rich, and
accomplished--how could he look upon death as otherwise than a
loathsome thing--a thing not to be thought of in the heyday of youthful
blood and jollity--a doleful spectre, in whose bony hands the roses of
love must fall and wither! With a sense of deep commiseration in me, I
spoke again with great gentleness.
"You need not look upon Zara's corpse unless you wish it, Prince," I
said. "To you, the mysteries of the Hereafter have not been unlocked,
because there is something in your nature that cannot and will not
believe in God. Therefore to you, death must be repellent. I know you
are one of those for whom the present alone exists--you easily forget
the past, and take no trouble for the future. Paris is your heaven, or
St. Petersburg, or Vienna, as the fancy takes you; and the modern
atheistical doctrines of French demoralization are in your blood.
Nothing but a heaven-sent miracle could make you other than you are,
and miracles do not exist for the materialist. But let me say two words
more before you go from this house. Seek no more to avenge yourself for
your love-disappointment on Heliobas--for you have really nothing to
avenge. By your own confession you only cared for Zara's body--that
body was always perishable, and it has perished by a sudden but natural
catastrophe. With her soul, you declare you had nothing in common--that
was herself--and she is alive to us who love her as she sought to be
loved. Heliobas is innocent of having slain her body; he but helped to
cultivate and foster that beautiful Spirit which he knew to be HER--for
that he is to be honored and commended. Promise me, therefore, Prince
Ivan, that you will never approach him again except in
friendship--indeed, you owe him an apology for your unjust accusation,
as also your gratitude for his sparing your life in the recent
struggle."
The Prince kept his eyes steadily fixed upon me all the time I was
speaking, and as I finished, he sighed and moved restlessly.
"Your words are compelling, mademoiselle," he said; "and you have a
strange attraction for me. I know I am not wrong in thinking that you
are a disciple of Heliobas, whose science I admit, though I doubt his
theories. I promise you willingly what you ask--nay, I will even offer
him my hand if he will accept it."
Overjoyed at my success, I answered: "He is in the chapel, but I will
fetch him here."
Over the Prince's face a shadow of doubt, mingled with dread, passed
swiftly, and he seemed to be forming a resolve in his own mind which
was more or less distasteful to him. Whatever the feeling was he
conquered it by a strong effort, and said with firmness:
"No; I will go to him myself. And I will look again upon--upon the face
I loved. It is but one pang the more, and why should I not endure it?"
Seeing him thus inclined, I made no effort to dissuade him, and without
another word I led the way to the chapel. I entered it reverently, he
following me closely, with slow hushed footsteps. All was the same as I
had left it, save that the servants of the household had gone to take
some needful rest before the morning light called them to their daily
routine of labour. Father Paul, too, had retired, and Heliobas alone
knelt beside all that remained of Zara, his figure as motionless as
though carved in bronze, his face hidden in his hands. As we
approached, he neither stirred nor looked up, therefore I softly led
the Prince to the opposite side of the bier, that he might look quietly
on the perished loveliness that lay there at rest for ever. Ivan
trembled, yet steadfastly gazed at the beautiful reposeful form, at the
calm features on which the smile with which death had been received,
still lingered--at the folded hands, the fading orange-blossoms--at the
crucifix that lay on the cold breast like the final seal on the letter
of life. Impulsively he stooped forward, and with a tender awe pressed
his lips on the pale forehead, but instantly started back with the
smothered, exclamation:
"O God! how cold!"
At the sound of his voice Heliobas rose up erect, and the two men faced
each other, Zara's dead body lying like a barrier betwixt them.
A pause followed--a pause in which I heard my own heart beating loudly,
so great was my anxiety. Heliobas suffered a few moments to elapse,
then stretched his hand across his sister's bier.
"In HER name, let there be peace between us, Ivan," he said in accents
that were both gentle and solemn.
The Prince, touched to the quick, responded to these kindly words with
eager promptness, and they clasped hands over the quiet and lovely form
that lay there--a silent, binding witness of their reconciliation.
"I have to ask your pardon, Casimir," then whispered Ivan. "I have also
to thank you for my life."
"Thank the friend who stands beside you," returned Heliobas, in the
same low tone, with a slight gesture towards me. "She reminded me of a
duty in time. As for pardon, I know of no cause of offence on your part
save what was perfectly excusable. Say no more; wisdom comes with
years, and you are yet young."
A long silence followed. We all remained looking wistfully down upon
the body of our lost darling, in thought too deep for words or weeping.
I then noticed that another humble mourner shared our watch--a mourner
whose very existence I had nearly forgotten. It was the faithful Leo.
He lay couchant on the stone floor at the foot of the bier, almost as
silent as a dog of marble; the only sign of animation he gave being a
deep sigh which broke from his honest heart now and then. I went to him
and softly patted his shaggy coat. He looked up at me with big brown
eyes full of tears, licked my hand meekly, and again laid his head down
upon his two fore-paws with a resignation that was most pathetic.
The dawn began to peer faintly through the chapel windows--the dawn of
a misty, chilly morning. The storm of the past night had left a sting
in the air, and the rain still fell, though gently. The wind had almost
entirely sunk into silence. I re-arranged the flowers that were strewn
on Zara's corpse, taking away all those that had slightly faded. The
orange-blossom was almost dead, but I left that where it was--where the
living Zara had herself placed it. As I performed this slight service,
I thought, half mournfully, half gladly--
"Yes, Heaven is thine, but this
Is a world of sweets and sours--
Our flowers are merely FLOWERS;
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss
Is the sunshine of ours."
Prince Ivan at last roused himself as from a deep and melancholy
reverie, and, addressing himself to Heliobas, said softly:
"I will intrude no longer on your privacy, Casimir. Farewell! I shall
leave Paris to-night."
For all answer Heliobas beckoned him and me also out of the chapel. As
soon as its doors closed behind us, and we stood in the centre hall, he
spoke with affectionate and grave earnestness:
"Ivan, something tells me that you and I shall not meet again for many
years, if ever. Therefore, when you say 'farewell,' the word falls upon
my ears with double meaning. We are friends--our friendship is
sanctified by the dead presence of one whom we both loved, in different
ways; therefore you will take in good part what I now say to you. You
know, you cannot disguise from yourself that the science I study is
fraught with terrible truth and marvellous discoveries; the theories I
deduce from it you disbelieve, because you are nearly a materialist. I
say NEARLY--not quite. That 'not quite' makes me love you, Ivan: I
would save the small bright spark that flickers within you from both
escape and extinction. But I cannot--at least, not as yet. Still, in
order that you may know that there is a power in me higher than
ordinary human reason, before you go from me to-night hear my prophecy
of your career. The world waits for you, Ivan--the world, all agape and
glittering with a thousand sparkling toys; it waits greedy for your
presence, ready to fawn upon you for a smile, willing to cringe to you
for a nod of approval. And why? Because wealth is yours--vast,
illimitable wealth. Aye--you need not start or look incredulous--you
will find it as I say. You, whose fortune up to now has barely reached
a poor four thousand per annum--you are at this moment the possessor of
millions. Only last night a relative of yours, whose name you scarcely
know, expired, leaving all his hoarded treasures to you. Before the
close of this present day, on whose threshold we now stand, you will
have the news. When you receive it remember me, and acknowledge that at
least for once I knew and spoke the truth. Follow the broad road, Ivan,
laid out before you--a road wide enough not only for you to walk in,
but for the crowd of toadies and flatterers also, who will push on
swiftly after you and jostle you on all sides; be strong of heart and
merry of countenance! Gather the roses; press the luscious grapes into
warm, red wine that, as you quaff it, shall make your blood dance a mad
waltz in your veins, and fair women's faces shall seem fairer to you
than ever, their embraces more tender, their kisses more tempting! Spin
the ball of Society like a toy in the palm of your hand! I see your
life stretching before me like a brilliant, thread-like ephemeral ray
of light! But in the far distance across it looms a shadow--a shadow
that your power alone can never lift. Mark me, Ivan! When the first
dread chill of that shadow makes itself felt, come to me--I shall yet
be living. Come; for then no wealth can aid you--at that dark hour no
boon companions can comfort. Come; and by our friendship so lately
sworn--by Zara's pure soul--by God's existence, I will not die till I
have changed that darkness over you into light eternal!--Fare you well!"
He caught the Prince's hand, and wrung it hard; then, without further
word, look, or gesture, turned and disappeared again within the chapel.
His words had evidently made a deep impression on the young nobleman,
who gazed after his retreating figure with a certain awe not unmingled
with fear.
I held out my hand in silent farewell. Ivan took it gently, and kissed
it with graceful courtesy.
"Casimir told me that your intercession saved my life, mademoiselle,"
he said. "Accept my poor thanks. If his present prophet-like utterances
be true---"
"Why should you doubt him?" I asked, with some impatience. "Can you
believe in NOTHING?"
The Prince, still holding my hand, looked at me in a sort of grave
perplexity.
"I think you have hit it," he observed quietly. "I doubt everything
except the fact of my own existence, and there are times when I am not
even sure of that. But if, as I said before, the prophecy of my
Chaldean friend, whom I cannot help admiring with all my heart, turns
out to be correct, then my life is more valuable to me than ever with
such wealth to balance it, and I thank you doubly for having saved it
by a word in time."
I withdrew my hand gently from his.
"You think the worth of your life increased by wealth?" Tasked.
"Naturally! Money is power."
"And what of the shadow also foretold as inseparable from your fate?"
A faint smile crossed his features.
"Ah, pardon me! That is the only portion of Casimir's fortune-telling
that I am inclined to disbelieve thoroughly."
"But," I said, "if you are willing to accept the pleasant part of his
prophecy, why not admit the possibility of the unpleasant occurring
also?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"In these enlightened times, mademoiselle, we only believe what is
agreeable to us, and what suits our own wishes, tastes, and opinions.
Ca va sans dire. We cannot be forced to accept a Deity against our
reason. That is a grand result of modern education."
"Is it?" and I looked at him with pity. "Poor human reason! It will
reel into madness sometimes for a mere trifle--an overdose of alcohol
will sometimes upset it altogether--what a noble omnipotent thing is
human reason! But let me not detain you. Good-bye, and--as the greeting
of olden times used to run--God save you!"
He bent his head with a light reverence.
"I believe you to be a good, sweet woman," he said, "therefore I am
grateful for your blessing. My mother," and here his eyes grew dreamy
and wistful--"poor soul! she died long ago--my mother would never let
me retire to rest without signing the cross on my brow. Ah well, that
is past! I should like, mademoiselle," and his voice sank very low, "to
send some flowers for--her--you understand?"
I did understand, and readily promised to lay whatever blossoms he
selected tenderly above the sacred remains of that earthly beauty he
had loved, as he himself said, "more than most men love most women."
He thanked me earnestly, and seemed relieved and satisfied. Casting a
look of farewell around the familiar hall, he wafted a parting kiss
towards the chapel--an action which, though light, was full of
tenderness and regret. Then, with a low salute, he left me. The
street-door opened and closed after him in its usual noiseless manner.
He was gone.
The morning had now fairly dawned, and within the Hotel Mars the work
of the great mansion went on in its usual routine; but a sombre
melancholy was in the atmosphere--a melancholy that not all my best
efforts could dissipate. The domestics looked sullen and heavy-eyed;
the only ones in their number who preserved their usual equanimity were
the Armenian men-servants and the little Greek page. Preparations for
Zara's funeral went on apace; they were exceedingly simple, and the
ceremony was to be quite private in character. Heliobas issued his
orders, and saw to the carrying out of his most minute instructions in
his usual calm manner; but his eyes looked heavy, and his fine
countenance was rendered even more majestic by the sacred, resigned
sorrow that lay upon it like a deep shadow. His page served him with
breakfast in his private room: but he left the light meal untasted. One
of the women brought me coffee; but the very thought of eating and
drinking seemed repulsive, and I could not touch anything. My mind was
busy with the consideration of the duty I had to perform--namely, to
see the destruction of Zara's colossal statue, as she had requested.
After thinking about it for some time, I went to Heliobas and told him
what I had it in charge to do. He listened attentively.
"Do it at once," he said decisively. "Take my Armenians; they are
discreet, obedient, and they ask no questions--with strong hammers they
will soon crush the clay. Stay! I will come with you." Then looking at
me scrutinizingly, he added kindly: "You have eaten nothing, my child?
You cannot? But your strength will give way--here, take this." And lie
held out a small glass of a fluid whose revivifying properties I well
knew to be greater than any sustenance provided by an ordinary meal. I
swallowed it obediently, and as I returned the empty glass to him he
said: "I also have a commission in charge from Zara. You know, I
suppose, that she was prepared for her death?"
"I did not know; but I think she must have been," I answered.
"She was. We both were. We remained together in the chapel all day,
saying what parting words we had to say to one another. We knew her
death, or rather her release, was to occur at some hour that night; but
in what way the end was destined to come, we knew not. Till I heard the
first peals of thunder, I was in suspense; but after that I was no
longer uncertain. You were a witness of the whole ensuing scene. No
death could have been more painless than hers. But let me not forget
the message she gave me for you." Here he took from a secret drawer the
electric stone Zara had always worn. "This jewel is yours," he said.
"You need not fear to accept it--it contains no harm! it will bring you
no ill-fortune. You see how all the sparkling brilliancy has gone out
of it? Wear it, and within a few minutes it will be as lustrous as
ever. The life throbbing in your veins warms the electricity contained
in it; and with the flowing of your blood, its hues change and glow. It
has no power to attract; it can simply absorb and shine. Take it as a
remembrance of her who loved you and who loves you still."
I was still in my evening dress, and my neck was bare. I slipped the
chain, on which hung the stone, round my throat, and watched the
strange gem with some curiosity. In a few seconds a pale streak of
fiery topaz flashed through it, which deepened and glowed into a warm
crimson, like the heart of a red rose; and by the time it had become
thoroughly warmed against my flesh, it glittered as brilliantly as ever.
"I will always wear it," I said earnestly. "I believe it will bring me
good fortune."
"I believe it will," returned Heliobas simply. "And now let us fulfil
Zara's other commands."
On our way across the hall we were stopped by the page, who brought us
a message of inquiry after Zara's health from Colonel Everard and his
wife, and also from the Challoners. Heliobas hastily wrote a few brief
words in pencil, explaining the fatal result of the accident, and
returned it to the messenger, giving orders at the same time that all
the blinds should be pulled down at the windows of the house, that
visitors might understand there was no admittance. We then proceeded to
the studio, accompanied by the Armenians carrying heavy hammers.
Reverently, and with my mind full of recollections of Zara's living
presence, I opened the familiar door. The first thing that greeted us
was a most exquisitely wrought statue in white marble of Zara herself,
full length, and arrayed in her customary graceful Eastern costume. The
head was slightly raised: a look of gladness lighted up the beautiful
features; and within the loosely clasped hands was a cluster of roses.
Bound the pedestal were carved the words, "Omnia vincit Amor," with
Zara's name and the dates of her birth and death. A little slip of
paper lay at the foot of the statue, which Heliobas perceived, and
taking it he read and passed it to me. The lines were in Zara's
handwriting, and ran as follows:
"To my beloved Casimir--my brother, my friend, my guide and teacher, to
whom I owe the supreme happiness of my life in this world and the
next--let this poor figure of his grateful Zara be a memento of happy
days that are gone, only to be renewed with redoubled happiness
hereafter."
I handed back the paper silently, with tears in my eyes, and we turned
our attention to the colossal figure we had come to destroy. It stood
at the extreme end of the studio, and was entirely hidden by white
linen drapery. Heliobas advanced, and by a sudden dexterous movement
succeeded in drawing off the coverings with a single effort, and then
we both fell back and gazed at the clay form disclosed in amazement.
What did it represent? A man? a god? an angel? or all three united in
one vast figure?
It was an unfinished work. The features of the face were undeclared,
save the brow and eyes; and these were large, grand, and full of
absolute wisdom and tranquil consciousness of power. I could have gazed
on this wonderful piece of Zara's handiwork for hours, but Heliobas
called to the Armenian servants, who stood near the door awaiting
orders, and commanded them to break it down. For once these
well-trained domestics showed signs of surprise, and hesitated. Their
master frowned. Snatching a hammer from one of them, he himself
attacked the great statue as if it were a personal foe. The Armenians,
seeing he was in earnest, returned to their usual habits of passive
obedience, and aided him in his labour. Within a few minutes the great
and beautiful figure lay in fragments on the floor, and these fragments
were soon crushed into indistinguishable atoms. I had promised to
witness this work of destruction, and witness it I did, but it was with
pain and regret. When all was finished, Heliobas commanded his men to
carry the statue of Zara's self down to his own private room, and then
to summon all the domestics of the household in a body to the great
hall, as he wished to address them. I heard him give this order with
some surprise, and he saw it. As the Armenians slowly disappeared,
carrying with great care the marble figure of their late mistress, he
turned to me, as he locked up the door of the studio, and said quietly:
"These ignorant folk, who serve me for money and food--money that they
have eagerly taken, and food that they have greedily devoured--they
think that I am the devil or one of the devil's agents, and I am going
to prove their theories entirely to their satisfaction. Come and see!"
I followed him, somewhat mystified. On the way downstairs he said:
"Do you know why Zara wished that statue destroyed?"
"No," I said frankly; "unless for the reason that it was incomplete."
"It always would have been incomplete," returned Heliobas; "even had
she lived to work at it for years. It was a daring attempt, and a
fruitless one. She was trying to make a clay figure of one who never
wore earthly form--the Being who is her Twin-Soul, who dominates her
entirely, and who is with her now. As well might she have tried to
represent in white marble the prismatic hues of the rainbow!"
We had now reached the hall, and the servants were assembling by twos
and threes. They glanced at their master with looks of awe, as he took
up a commanding position near the fountain, and faced them with a
glance of calm scrutiny and attention. I drew a chair behind one of the
marble columns and seated myself, watching everything with interest.
Leo appeared from some corner or other, and laid his rough body down
close at his master's feet.
In a few minutes all the domestics, some twenty in number, were
present, and Heliobas, raising his voice, spoke with a clear deliberate
enunciation:
"I have sent for you all this morning, because I am perfectly aware
that you have all determined to give me notice."
A stir of astonishment and dismay ensued on the part of the small
audience, and I heard one voice near me whisper:
"He IS the devil, or how could he have known it?"
The lips of Heliobas curled in a fine sarcastic smile. He went on:
"I spare you this trouble. Knowing your intentions, I take upon myself
to dismiss you at once. Naturally, you cannot risk your characters by
remaining in the service of the devil. For my own part, I wonder the
devil's money has not burnt your hands, or his food turned to poison in
your mouths. My sister, your kind and ever-indulgent mistress, is dead.
You know this, and it is your opinion that I summoned up the
thunderstorm which caused her death. Be it so. Report it so, if you
will, through Paris; your words do not affect me. You have been
excellent machines, and for your services many thanks! As soon as my
sister's funeral is over, your wages, with an additional present, will
be sent to you. You can then leave my house when you please; and,
contrary to the usual custom of accepted devils, I am able to say,
without perishing in the effort--God speed you all!"
The faces of those he addressed exhibited various emotions while he
spoke--fear contending with a good deal of shame. The little Greek page
stepped forward timidly.
"The master knows that I will never leave him," he murmured, and his
large eyes were moist with tears.
Heliobas laid a gentle hand on the boy's dark curls, but said nothing.
One of the four Armenians advanced, and with a graceful rapid gesture
of his right hand, touched his head and breast.
"My lord will not surely dismiss US who desire to devote ourselves to
his service? We are willing to follow my lord to the death if need be,
for the sake of the love and honour we bear him."
Heliobas looked at him very kindly.
"I am richer in friends than I thought myself to be," he said quietly.
"Stay then, by all means, Afra, you and your companions, since you have
desired it. And you, my boy," he went on, addressing the tearful page,
"think you that I would turn adrift an orphan, whom a dying mother
trusted to my care? Nay, child, I am as much your servant as you are
mine, so long as your love turns towards me."
For all answer the page kissed his hand in a sort of rapture, and
flinging back his clustering hair from his classic brows, surveyed the
domestics, who had taken their dismissal in silent acquiescence, with a
pretty scorn.
"Go, all of you, scum of Paris!" he cried in his clear treble
tones--"you who know neither God nor devil! You will have your
money--more than your share--what else seek you? You have served one of
the noblest of men; and because he is so great and wise and true, you
judge him a fiend! Oh, so like the people of Paris--they who pervert
all things till they think good evil and evil good! Look you! you have
worked for your wages; but I have worked for HIM--I would starve with
him, I would die for him! For to me he is not fiend, but Angel!"
Overcome by his own feelings the boy again kissed his master's hand,
and Heliobas gently bade him be silent. He himself looked round on the
still motionless group of servants with an air of calm surprise.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked. "Consider yourselves dismissed,
and at liberty to go where you please. Any one of you that chooses to
apply to me for a character shall not lack the suitable recommendation.
There is no more to say."
A lively-looking woman with quick restless black eyes stepped forward.
"I am sure," she said, with a mincing curtsey, "that we are very sorry
if we have unintentionally wronged monsieur; but monsieur, who is aware
of so many things, must know that many reports are circulated about
monsieur that make one to shudder; that madame his sister's death so
lamentable has given to all, what one would say, the horrors; and
monsieur must consider that poor servants of virtuous reputation--"
"So, Jeanne Claudet!" interrupted Heliobas, in a thrilling low tone.
"And what of the child--the little waxen-faced helpless babe left to
die on the banks of the Loire? But it did not die, Jeanne--it was
rescued; and it shall yet live to loathe its mother!"
The woman uttered a shriek, and fainted.
In the feminine confusion and fuss that ensued, Heliobas, accompanied
by his little page and the dog Leo, left the hall and entered his own
private room, where for some time I left him undisturbed.
In the early part of the afternoon a note was brought to me. It was
from Colonel Everard, entreating me to come as soon as possible to his
wife, who was very ill.
"Since she heard of the death of that beautiful young lady, a death so
fearfully sudden and unexpected," wrote the Colonel, "she has been
quite unlike herself--nervous, hysterical, and thoroughly unstrung. It
will be a real kindness to her if you will come as soon as you can--she
has such, a strong desire for your company."
I showed this note at once to Heliobas. He read it, and said:
"Of course you must go. Wait till our simple funeral ceremony is over,
and then--we part. Not for ever; I shall see you often again. For now I
have lost Zara, you are my only female disciple, and I shall not
willingly lose sight of you. You will correspond with me?"
"Gladly and gratefully," I replied.
"You shall not lose by it. I can initiate you into many secrets that
will be useful to you in your career. As for your friend Mrs. Everard,
you will find that your presence will cure her. You have progressed
greatly in electric force: the mere touch of your hand will soothe her,
as you will find. But never be tempted to try any of the fluids of
which you have the recipes on her, or on anybody but yourself, unless
you write to me first about it, as Cellini did when he tried an
experiment on you. As for your own bodily and spiritual health, you
know thoroughly what to do--KEEP THE SECRET; and make a step in advance
every day. By-and-by you will have double work."
"How so?" I asked.
"In Zara's case, her soul became dominated by a Spirit whose destiny
was fulfilled and perfect, and who never could descend to imprisonment
in earthly clay. Now, you will not be dominated--you will be simply
EQUALIZED; that is, you will find the exact counterpart of your own
soul dwelling also in human form, and you will have to impart your own
force to that other soul, which will, in its turn, impart to yours a
corresponding electric impetus. There is no union so lovely as such an
one--no harmony so exquisite; it is like a perfect chord, complete and
indissoluble. There are sevenths and ninths in music, beautiful and
effective in their degrees; but perhaps none of them are so absolutely
satisfying to the ear as the perfect chord. And this is your lot in
life and in love, my child--be grateful for it night and morning on
your bended knees before the Giver of all good. And walk warily--your
own soul with that other shall need much thought and humble prayer. Aim
onward and upward--you know the road--you also know, and you have
partly seen, what awaits you at the end."
After this conversation we spoke no more in private together. The rest
of the afternoon was entirely occupied with the final preparations for
Zara's funeral, which was to take place at Pere-la-Chaise early the
next morning. A large and beautiful wreath of white roses, lilies, and
maiden-hair arrived from Prince Ivan; and, remembering my promise to
him, I went myself to lay it in a conspicuous place on Zara's corpse.
That fair body was now laid in its coffin of polished oak, and a
delicate veil of filmy lace draped it from head to foot. The placid
expression of the features remained unchanged, save for a little extra
rigidity of the flesh; the hands, folded over the crucifix, were stiff,
and looked as though they were moulded in wax. I placed the wreath in
position and paused, looking wistfully at that still and solemn figure.
Father Paul, slowly entering from a side-door, came and stood beside me.
"She is happy!" he said; and a cheerful expression irradiated his
venerable features.
"Did you also know she would die that night?" I asked softly.
"Her brother sent for me, and told me of her expected dissolution. She
herself told me, and made her last confession and communion. Therefore
I was prepared."
"But did you not doubt--were you not inclined to think they might be
wrong?" I inquired, with some astonishment.
"I knew Heliobas as a child," the priest returned. "I knew his father
and mother before him; and I have been always perfectly aware of the
immense extent of his knowledge, and the value of his discoveries. If I
were inclined to be sceptical on spiritual matters, I should not be of
the race I am; for I am also a Chaldean."
I said no more, and Father Paul trimmed the tapers burning round the
coffin in devout silence. Again I looked at the fair dead form before
me; but somehow I could not feel sad again. All my impulses bade me
rejoice. Why should I be unhappy on Zara's account?--more especially
when the glories of the Central Sphere were yet fresh in my memory, and
when I knew as a positive fact that her happiness was now perfect. I
left the chapel with a light step and lighter heart, and went to my own
room to pack up my things that all might be in readiness for my
departure on the morrow. On my table I found a volume whose quaint
binding I at once recognised--"The Letters of a Dead Musician." A card
lay beside it, on which was written in pencil:
"Knowing of your wish to possess this book, I herewith offer it for
your acceptance. It teaches you a cheerful devotion to Art, and an
indifference to the world's opinions--both of which are necessary to
you in your career.--HELIOBAS."
Delighted with this gift, I opened the book, and found my name written
on the fly-leaf, with the date of the month and year, and the words:
"La musica e il lamento dell' amore o la preghiera a gli Dei." (Music
is the lament of love, or a prayer to the Gods.)
I placed this treasure carefully in a corner of my portmanteau,
together with the parchment scrolls containing "The Electric Principle
of Christianity," and the valuables recipes of Heliobas; and as I did
so, I caught sight of myself in the long mirror that directly faced me.
I was fascinated, not by my own reflection, but by the glitter of the
electric gem I wore. It flashed and glowed like a star, and was really
lovely--far more brilliant than the most brilliant cluster of fine
diamonds. I may here remark that I have been asked many questions
concerning this curious ornament whenever I have worn it in public, and
the general impression has been that it is some new arrangement of
ornamental electricity. It is, however, nothing of the kind; it is
simply a clear pebble, common enough on the shores of tropical
countries, which has the property of absorbing a small portion of the
electricity in a human body, sufficient to make it shine with prismatic
and powerful lustre--a property which has only as yet been discovered
by Heliobas, who asserts that the same capability exists in many other
apparently lustreless stones which have been untried, and are therefore
unknown. The "healing stones," or amulets, still in use in the East,
and also in the remote parts of the Highlands (see notes to Archibald
Clerk's translation of 'Ossian'), are also electric, but in a different
way--they have the property of absorbing DISEASE and destroying it in
certain cases; and these, after being worn a suitable length of time,
naturally exhaust what virtue they originally possessed, and are no
longer of any use. Stone amulets are considered nowadays as a mere
superstition of the vulgar and uneducated; but it must be remembered
that superstition itself has always had for it a foundation some grain,
however small and remote, of fact. I could give a very curious
explanation of the formation of ORCHIDS, those strange plants called
sometimes "Freaks of Nature," as if Nature ever indulged in a "freak"
of any kind! But I have neither time nor space to enter upon the
subject now; indeed, if I were once to begin to describe the wonderful,
amazing and beautiful vistas of knowledge that the wise Chaldean, who
is still my friend and guide, has opened up and continues to extend
before my admiring vision, a work of twenty volumes would scarce
contain all I should have to say. But I have written this book merely
to tell those who peruse it, about Heliobas, and what I myself
experienced in his house; beyond this I may not go. For, as, I observed
in my introduction, I am perfectly aware that few, if any, of my
readers will accept my narrative as more than a mere visionary
romance--or that they will admit the mysteries of life, death,
eternity, and all the wonders of the Universe to be simply the NATURAL
AND SCIENTIFIC OUTCOME OF A RING OF EVERLASTING ELECTRIC HEAT AND
LIGHT; but whether they agree to it or no, I can say with Galileo, "E
pur si muove!"