Part 12

Enough! Here again the extraordinary begins and I must pause. We shall soon drink some champagne and then we shall go to the café. I understand they expect some mandolin players from Naples there to-day. Toppi would rather be shot than follow me: his conscience troubles him to this day. But it is good that I will be alone.

April 23--Rome, Palazzo Orsini.

...Night. My palace is dead and silent, as if it were one of the ruins of ancient Rome. Beyond the large window lies the garden: it is transparent and white with the rays of the moon and the vaporous pole of the fountain resembles a headless vision in a silver veil. Its splash is scarcely heard through the thick window-pane--as if it were the sleepy mumbling of the night guard.

Yes, this is all beautiful and...how do you put it?--it breathes with love. Of course, it would be good to walk beside Maria over the blue sand of the garden path and to trample upon her shadow. But I am disturbed and my disquiet is wider than love. In my attempts to walk lightly I wander about the room, lean against the wall, recline in silence in the corners, and all the time I seem to hear something. Something far away, a thousand kilometers from here. Or is this all lodged in my memory--that which I strain my ear to catch? And the thousand kilometers--are they the thousand years of my life?

You would be astonished if you saw how I was dressed. My fine American costume had suddenly become unbearably heavy, so I put on my bathing suit. This made me appear thin, tall and wiry. I tried to test my nimbleness by crawling about the floor, suddenly changing the direction, like a noiseless bat. But it is not I who am restless. It is my muscles that are filled with this unrest, and I know not what they want. Then I began to feel cold. I dressed and sat down to write. I drank some wine and drew down the curtains to shut the white garden from my eyes. Then I examined and fixed my Browning. I intend to take it with me to-morrow for a friendly chat with Magnus.

You see, Thomas Magnus has some _collaborators_. That is what he calls those gentlemen unknown to me who respectfully get out of my way when we meet, but never greet me, as if we were meeting in the street and not in my house. There were two of them when I went to Capri. Now they are six, according to what Toppi tells me, and they live here. Toppi does not like them. Neither do I. They seem to have no _faces_. I could not see them. I happened to think of that just now when I tried to recall them.

"These are my assistants," Magnus told me to-day without trying in the least to conceal his ridicule.

"Well, I must say, Magnus, they have had bad training. They never greet me when we meet."

"On the contrary, dear Wondergood! They are very well-mannered. They simply cannot bring themselves to greet you without a proper introduction. They are...extremely correct people. However, you will learn all to-morrow. Don't frown. Be patient, Wondergood! Just one more night!"

"How is Signorina Maria's health?"

"_To-morrow_ she will be well." He placed his hand upon my shoulder and brought his dark, evil, brazen eyes closer to my face: "The passion of love, eh?"

I shook off his hand and shouted:

"Signor Magnus! I...."

"You?"--he frowned at me and calmly turned his back upon me: "Till to-morrow, Mr. Wondergood!"

That is why I loaded my revolver. In the evening I was handed a letter from Magnus: he begged my pardon, said his conduct was due to unusual excitement and he sincerely sought my friendship and confidence. He also agreed that his _collaborators_ are really ill-mannered folk. I gazed long upon these hasty illegible lines and felt like taking with me, not my revolver, but a cannon.

One more night, but how long it is!

_There is danger facing me._

I feel it and my muscles _know_ it, too. Do you think that I am merely afraid? I swear by eternal salvation--no! I know not where my fear has disappeared, but only a short while ago I was afraid of everything: of darkness, death and the most inconsequential pain. And now I fear nothing. I only feel strange...is that how you put it: strange?

Here I am on your earth, man, and I am thinking of another person who is dangerous to me and I myself am--man. And there is the moon and the fountain. And there is Maria, whom I love. And here is a glass and wine. And this is--my and your life. Or did I simply imagine that I was Satan once? I see _it_ is all an invention, the fountain and Maria and my very thoughts on the man--Magnus, but the _real_ my mind can neither unravel nor understand. I assiduously examine my memory and it is silent, like a closed book, and I have no power to open this enchanted volume, concealing the whole past of my being. Straining my eyesight, I gaze into the bright and distant depth from which I came upon this pasteboard earth--but I see nothing in the painful ebb and flow of the boundless fog. There, behind the fog, is my country, but it seems--it seems I have quite forgotten the road.

I have again returned to Wondergood's bad habit of getting drunk alone and I am slightly drunk now. No matter. It is the last time. I have just seen something after which I wish to see nothing else. I felt like taking a look at the white garden and to imagine how it would feel to walk beside Maria over the path of blue sand. I turned off the light in the room and opened wide the draperies. And the white garden arose before me, like a dream, and--think of it!--over the path of blue sand there walked a man and a woman--and the woman was Maria! They walked quietly, trampling upon their own shadows, and the man embraced her. The little counting machine in my breast beat madly, fell to the floor and broke, when, finally, I recognized the man--it was Magnus, only Magnus, dear Magnus, the father. May he be cursed with his fatherly embraces!

Ah, how my love for _Maria_ surged up again within me! I fell on my knees before the window and stretched out my hands to her.... To be sure, I had already seen something of that kind in the theater, but it's all the same to me: I stretched out my hands--was I not alone and drunk! Why should I not do what I want to do? Madonna! Then I suddenly drew down the curtain!

Quietly, like a web, like a handful of moonlight, I will take this vision and weave it into night dreams. Quietly!... Quietly!...

IV

May 25, 1914.--Italy.

Had I at my disposal, not the pitiful word but a strong orchestra, I would compel all the brass trumpets to roar. I would raise their blazing mouths to the sky and would compel them to rave incessantly in a blazen, screeching voice which would make one's hair stand on end and scatter the clouds in terror. I do not want the lying violins. Hateful to me is the gentle murmur of false strings beneath the fingers of liars and scoundrels. Breath! Breath! My gullet is like a brass horn. My breath--a hurricane, driving forward into every narrow cleft. And all of me rings, kicks and grates like a heap of iron in the face of the wind. Oh, it is not always the mighty, wrathful roar of brass trumpets. Frequently, very frequently it is the pitiful wail of burned, rusty iron, crawling along lonely, like the winter, the whistle of bent twigs, which drives thought cold and fills the heart with the rust of gloom and homelessness. Everything that fire can touch has burned up within me. Was it I who wanted to play? Was it I who yearned for the game? Then--look upon this monstrous ruin of the theater wrecked by the flames: all the actors, too, have lost their lives therein.. ah, all the actors, too, have perished, and brazen Truth peers now through the beggarly holes of its empty windows.

By my throne,--what was that love I prattled of when I donned this human form? To whom was it that I opened my embraces? Was it you...comrade? By my throne!--if I was Love but _for a single moment_, henceforth I am Hate and _eternally_ thus I remain.

Let us halt at this point to-day, dear comrade. It has been quite some time since I moved my pen upon this paper and I must now grow accustomed anew to your dull and shallow face, smeared o'er with the red of your cheeks. I seem to have forgotten how to speak the language of respectable people who have just received a trouncing. Get thee hence, my friend. To-day I am a brass trumpet. Tickle not my throat, little worm. Leave me.

May 26, Italy.

It was a month ago that Thomas Magnus _blew_ me up. Yes, it is true. He really blew me up and it was a month ago, in the holy City of Rome, in the Palazzo Orsini, when I still belonged to the billionaire Henry Wondergood--do you remember that genial American, with his cigar and patent gold teeth? Alas! He is no longer with us. He died suddenly and you will do well if you order a requiem mass for him: his Illinois soul is in need of your prayers.

Let us return, however, to his last hours. I shall try to be exact in My recollections and give you not only the emotions but also the words of that evening--it was evening, when the moon was shining brightly. Perhaps I shall not give you quite the words spoken but, at any rate, they will be the words I heard and stored away in my memory.... If you were ever whipped, worthy comrade, then you know how difficult it was for you to count all the blows of the whip. A change of gravity! You understand? Oh, you understand everything. And so let us receive the last breath of Henry Wondergood, blown up by the culprit Thomas Magnus and buried by..._Maria_.

I remember: I awoke on the morning after that _stormy_ evening, calm and even gay. Apparently it was the effect of the sun, shining into that same, broad window through which, at night, there streamed that unwelcome and too highly significant moonlight. You understand: now the moon and now the sun? Oh, you understand everything. It is probably for the very same reason I acquired my touching faith in the integrity of Magnus and awaited toward evening that cloudless bliss. This expectation was all the greater because his collaborators...you remember his collaborators?--had begun to _greet_ and _bow_ to me. What is a greeting?--ah, how much it means to the faith of man!

You know my good manners and, therefore, will believe me when I say that I was cold and restrained like a gentleman who has just received a legacy. But if you had put your ear to my belly you would have heard violins playing within. Something about love, you understand. Oh, you understand everything. And thus, with these violins did I come to Magnus in the evening when the moon was shining brightly. Magnus was alone. We were long silent and this indicated that an interesting conversation awaited me. Finally I said:

"How is the Signorina's health?"...

But he interrupted me:

"We are facing a very difficult talk, Wondergood? Does that disturb you?"

"Oh, no, not at all."

"Do you want wine? Well, never mind. I shall drink a little but you need not. Yes, Wondergood?"

He laughed as he poured out the wine and here I noticed with astonishment that he himself was _very_ excited: his large, white, hangman's hands were quite noticeably trembling. I do not know exactly just when my violins ceased--I think it was at that very moment. Magnus gulped down two glasses of wine--he had intended to take only a little--and, sitting down, continued:

"No, you ought not to drink, Wondergood. I need all your _senses_, undimmed by anything...you didn't drink anything to-day? No? That's good. Your _senses_ must be clear and sober. One must not take anesthetics in such cases as...as...."

"As vivisection?"

He shook his head seriously in affirmation.

"Yes, vivisection. You have caught my idea marvelously. Yes, in cases of vivisection of the soul. For instance, when a loving mother is informed of the death of her son or...a rich man that he has become penniless. But the senses, what can we do with the senses, we cannot hold them in leash all our life! You understand, Wondergood? In the long run, I am not in the least so cruel a man as I occasionally seem even to myself and the _pain_ of others frequently arouses in me an unpleasant, responsive trembling. That is not good. A surgeon's hand must be firm."

He looked at his fingers: they no longer trembled. He continued with a smile:

"However, wine helps some. Dear Wondergood, I swear by eternal salvation, by which you love so to swear, that it is extremely unpleasant for me to cause you this little...pain. Keep your senses, Wondergood! Your senses, your senses! Your hand, my friend?"

I gave him my hand and Magnus enveloped my palm and fingers and held them long in his own paw, strained, permeated with some kind of electric currents. Then he let them go, sighing with relief.

"That's it. Just so. Courage, Wondergood!"

I shrugged my shoulders, lit a cigar and asked:

"Your illustration of the _very_ wealthy man who has suddenly become a beggar,--does that concern me? Am I penniless?"

Magnus answered slowly as he gazed straight into my eyes:

"If you wish to put it that way--yes. You have nothing left. Absolutely nothing. And this palace, too, is already sold. To-morrow the new owners take possession."

"Oh, that is interesting. And where are my billions?"

"I have them. They are mine. I am a very wealthy man, Wondergood."

I moved my cigar to the other corner of my mouth and asked:

"And you are ready, of course, to give me a helping hand? You are a contemptible scoundrel, Thomas Magnus."

"If that's what you call me--yes. Something on that order."

"And a liar!"

"Perhaps. In general, dear Wondergood, it is very necessary for you to change your outlook on life and man. You are too much of an idealist."

"And you"--I rose from my chair--"for you it is necessary to change your fellow conversationalist. Permit me to bid you good-by and to send a police commissary in my place."

Magnus laughed.

"Nonsense, Wondergood! Everything has been done within the law. You, yourself, have handed over everything to me. This will surprise no one...with your love for humanity. Of course, you can proclaim yourself insane. You understand?--and then, perhaps, I may get to the penitentiary. But you--you will land in an insane asylum. You would hardly like that, dear friend. Police! Well, go on talking. It will relieve the first effects of the blow."

I think it was really difficult for me to conceal my excitement. I hurled my cigar angrily into the fireplace, while my eye carefully measured both the window and Magnus...no, this carcass was too big to play ball with.

At that moment the loss of my wealth had not yet fully impressed itself upon my mind and it was that which maddened me as much as the brazen tone of Magnus and the patronizing manner of the old scoundrel. In addition, I dimly sensed something portentous of evil and sorrow, like a threat: as if some real danger were lurking not in front of me but behind my back.

"What is this all about?" I shouted, stamping my foot.

"What is this all about?" replied Magnus, like an echo. "Yes, I really cannot understand why you are so excited, Wondergood. You have so frequently offered me this money and even forced it upon me and now, when the money is in my hands, you want to call the police! Of course," Magnus smiled--"there is a slight distinction here: in placing your money so magnanimously at my _disposal_, you still remained its master and the master of the situation, while now...you understand, old friend: now I can simply drive you out of this house!"

I looked at Magnus significantly. He replied with no less a significant shrug of the shoulders and cried angrily:

"Stop your nonsense. I am stronger than you are. Do not try to be more of a fool than is absolutely necessitated by the situation."

"You are an unusually brazen scoundrel, Signor Magnus!"

"Again! How these sentimental souls do seek consolation in words! Take a cigar and listen to me. I have long needed money, a great deal of money. In my past, which I need not disclose to you, I have suffered certain...failures. They irritated me considerably. Fools and sentimental souls, you understand? My energy was imprisoned under lock and key, like a bird in a cage. For three years I sat in this cursed cage, awaiting my chance...."

"And all that--in the beautiful Campagna?"

"Yes, in the beautiful Campagna...and I had already begun to lose hope, when you appeared. I find it difficult to express myself at this point...."

"Be as direct as you can. Have no compunctions."

"You seemed very strange with all this love of yours for men and your _play_, as you finally termed it, and, my friend, for a long time I had grave doubts as to what you really were: an extraordinary fool or just a scoundrel, like myself. You see, such extraordinary asses appear so seldom that even I had my doubts. You are not angry?"

"Oh, not at all."

"You forced money upon me and I thought: a trap! However you made your moves quickly and certain precautions on my part...."

"Pardon me for interrupting. So, those books of yours, your solitary contemplation of life, that little white house and everything was all a lie? And murder--do you remember all that drivel about hands steeped in blood?"

"Yes, I did kill. That is true. And I have pondered much upon life, while awaiting you, but the rest, of course, was falsehood. Very base falsehood, but you were so credulous...."

"And.. Maria?"

I confess that I had hardly uttered this name when I felt something clutching at my throat. Magnus looked at me sharply and said gloomily:

"We will discuss Maria, too. But how excited you are! Even your nails have turned blue. Perhaps you'll have some wine? Well, never mind. Have patience. I shall continue. When you began your affair with Maria...of course with my slight assistance...I finally concluded that you were...."

"An extraordinary ass?"

Magnus raised his hand in a consoling gesture:

"Oh, no! You seemed to me to be that at the beginning. I will tell you quite truthfully, as I do everything I am telling you now: you are not a fool at all, Wondergood. I have grown to know you more intimately. It doesn't matter that you have so naïvely surrendered your billions to me...many wise men have been fooled before by clever...scoundrels! Your misfortune is quite another thing."

I had the strength to smile:

"My love for human beings?"

"No, my friend: your contempt for human beings! Your _contempt_ and at the same time your naïve faith in them arising from it. You regard human beings so far below you, you are so convinced of their fatal powerlessness that you do not fear them at all and are quite ready to pat the rattlesnake's head: such a nice little rattlesnake! One should fear people, comrade! I know your _game_, but at times you were quite sincere in your prattle about man, you even pitied him, but from an elevation or from a sidetrack--I know not which. Oh, if you could only hate people I would take you along with me with pleasure. But you are an egotist, a terrible egotist, Wondergood, and I am even beginning to shed my regrets for having robbed you, when I think of that! Whence comes this base contempt of yours?"

"I am still only learning to be a man."

"Well, go on learning. But why do you call your professor a scoundrel: For I am your professor, Wondergood!"

"To the devil with this prattle. So...you do not intend to take me along with you?"

"No, my friend, I do not."

"So. Only my billions. Very well, but what about your plan: to blow up the earth or something of that kind? Or did you lie on this point, too? I cannot believe that you simply intend to open...a money changer's bureau or become some ragged king!"

Magnus looked at me gloomily. There was even a gleam of sympathy in his eyes as he replied slowly:

"No, on that point I did not lie. But you won't do for me. You would always be hanging on to my coat tails. Just now you shouted: liar, scoundrel, thief.... It's strange, but you are yet only learning to be a man and you have already imbibed so much pettiness. When I shall raise my hand to strike some one, your contempt will begin to whine: don't strike, leave him alone, have pity. Oh, if you could only hate! No, you are a terrible egotist, old man."

I shouted:

"The devil take you with your harping on this egotism! I am not in the least more stupid than you, you beast, and I cannot understand what you find so saintly in hatred!"

Magnus frowned:

"First of all: don't shout or I'll throw you out. Do you hear? Yes, perhaps you are no more stupid than I am, but man's business is not your business. Do you realize that, you beast? In blowing up things, I only intend to do business and you want to be the ruler of another's plant. Let them steal and break down the machinery and you--you will be concerned only about your salary and the respect due you? And I--I won't stand that! All this,"--he swept the room with a broad gesture--"is my plant, _mine_, do you hear, and it is I who will be robbed. I will be robbed and injured. And I hate those who rob me. What would you have done, in the long run, with your billions, if I had not taken them from you? Built conservatories and raised heirs--for the perpetuation of your kind? Private yachts and diamonds for your wife? And I...give me all the gold on earth and I will throw it all into the flames of my hatred. And all because I have been insulted! When you see a hunchback you throw him a lire. So that he may continue to bear his hump, yes? And I want to destroy him, to kill him, to burn him like a crooked log. To whom do you appeal when you are fooled or when a dog bites your finger? To your wife, the police, public opinion? But suppose the wife, with the aid of your butler, plants horns on your head or public opinion fails to understand you and instead of pitying you prefers to give you a thrashing--then do you make your appeal to God? But I, I go to no one. I plead before no one, but neither do I forgive. You understand? I do not forgive! Only egotists forgive! I consider myself personally insulted!"

I heard him in silence. Perhaps it was because I was so close to the fireplace, gazing into the fire and listening to Magnus's words, each new word intermingled with a fresh blaze of a burning log; no sooner would the glowing red mass fall apart than the words, too, would break up into particles, like hot coals. My head was not at all clear and, under the influence of these burning, flaming, flying words I fell into a strange, dark drowsiness. But this was what my memory retained:

"Oh, if you could only hate! If you were not so cowardly and weak of soul! I would take you with me and would let you behold a fire which would forever dry your miserable tears and burn your sentimental dreams to ashes! Do you hear the song of the fools of the world? They are merely loading the cannons. The wise man need only apply the fire to the fuse, you understand? Could you behold calmly the sight of a blissful sheep and hungry snake lying together, separated only by a thin partition? I could not! I would drill just a little opening, a little opening...the rest they would do themselves. Do you know that from the union of truth and falsehood comes an explosion? I want to unite. I shall do nothing myself: I shall only _complete_ what they have begun. Do you hear how merrily they sing? I will make them dance, too! Come with me, comrade! You sought some sort of a play--let me give you an extraordinary spectacle! We shall bring the whole earth into action and millions of marionettes will begin to caper obediently at our command: you know not yet how talented and obliging they are. It will be a splendid play and will give you much pleasure and amusement...."