CHAPTER XV.

THE REVERSE OF TIME.

“We have far to go,” said Death to our friend, as soon as they had left the villa. “I will order my chariot.” He tapped the ground with his foot, and a rumbling noise, like that which precedes an earthquake resounded beneath the ground.

The two friends were soon enveloped in an ash-colored vapor, in the midst of which there appeared a sort of ivory coach, in the style of those we see in the bas-reliefs of pagan times. The most casual observer would have seen at a glance that the chariot was not of ivory, but of human bones, cleansed and joined with exquisite workmanship, but without having lost their original form.

Death gave his hand to Tito, and they entered the carriage, which rose in the air with the lightness of a balloon, the single difference being that it was guided by the will of the occupants.

“Although we have far to go,” continued Death, “we have more than enough time; for this chariot will fly as rapidly as I desire, and as quickly as the imagination; we can go alternately fast and slow, making the circuit of the globe in the three hours at our disposal. It is now nine o’clock at night in Madrid. We will travel toward the northeast, and so avoid meeting the sunlight immediately.”

Tito remained silent.

“Magnificent! Thou art determined to maintain silence,” continued Death, “then I alone must talk. But all that thou art about to contemplate will distract, and soon make thee break that silence. Onward!”

The chariot, which had oscillated in the air, without direction, from the time our travellers had entered it, then put itself in motion, just grazing the earth with an indescribable velocity.

Tito saw at his feet, mountains, trees, ruins, precipices, plains, all in quick succession.

From time to time some bonfire revealed a simple shepherd’s hut; but more frequently the carriage passed rather slowly over the tops of great rocky masses, piled up in rectangular forms, between which, great shadows crossed, preceded by a light; and at the same time they heard the ringing of bells, tolling for death or striking the hour (which is about the same), and the song of the watchman who repeated it. Death then laughed, and the carriage again flew extremely fast. As they advanced toward the east, the darkness was more intense, the quietness of the cities more profound, and the silence of nature greater.

The moon flew toward the west like a frightened dove, while the stars changed their places in the sky, like a dispersing army.

“Where are we?” asked Tito.

“In France,” responded Death. “We have already crossed the greater part of the two bellicose nations which fought so furiously at the beginning of this century; we have seen the whole theatre of the War of Succession. Conquerors and conquered rest at this moment. My apprentice, Sleep, reigns over those heroes who did not die in battle, nor afterwards of sickness or old age.

“I cannot see why all men are not friends below. The identity of your weaknesses and misfortunes, the need that you have one for another, the shortness of your lives, the spectacle of the infinite greatness of the spheres, and the comparison of these with your own littleness, all ought to unite you fraternally, as voyagers threatened with shipwreck. There—there is no love, hate, ambition; no one is creditor or debtor; no one great or small; no one happy or unhappy. The same danger surrounds you, and _my presence_ levels you all. Therefore what is the earth, seen from this altitude, but a boat that is about to sink, a city threatened with a pest or conflagration.”

“What fatuous lights are those I see shining in some parts of the earthly globe, since the moon has gone down?” asked the youth.

“They are cemeteries. We are over Paris. At the side of every living city, town, or hamlet, there is always a dead city or town, as the shadow is always beside the body. Geography, therefore, is always double, although you speak only of that which appears most agreeable. To make a map of all the cemeteries upon earth would suffice to explain the political geography of thy world: nevertheless it would be an equivocation, for the dead cities are much more populous than the living. In the latter, there are hardly three generations, while in the former, one finds at times hundreds, accumulated. With regard to those lights which thou seest shining, they are phosphorescences of corpses, or, more clearly, the last sparks of a thousand vanished existences. They are twilights of love, ambition, anger, genius, charity. They are, in fact, the last flashes of the light of the individuality which disappears—of a being, which returns its substance to Mother-earth. They are, (and now I find the true phrase) the froth which the river forms on meeting the ocean.” Death paused.

At that moment Tito heard a fearful clamor beneath his feet, like the rolling of a thousand carriages over a long wooden bridge. He looked toward the earth but did not see it. In its place he saw a species of movable sky which seemed to surround them.

“What is this?” he asked, terrified.

“It is the ocean,” said Death. “We have just crossed Germany and are entering the North Sea.”

“Ah, no!” said Tito, overcome with instinctive terror. “Take me in another direction. I would like to see the Sun.”

“I will take thee to see the Sun, although we must go backward for it. Thus thou wilt see the curious spectacle of time turning backwards.”

He turned the chariot in space, and they commenced to run to the southwest.

A moment afterward Tito heard the sound of waves.

“We are in the Mediterranean,” said Death. “Now we cross the Strait of Gibraltar. Here is the Atlantic Ocean.”

“The Atlantic!” exclaimed Tito, with respect. He saw nothing but sky and water, or, more properly speaking, sky alone.

The chariot appeared to wander about in space, beyond the terrestrial atmosphere.

The stars shone in every direction round about him wherever he fixed his gaze.

So passed another moment.

At the end of it he perceived in the distance a purple line which separated those two heavens, the one floating the other immovable.

This purple line turned to red, and then to orange; afterwards it became brilliant as gold, illuminating the surface of the waters. The stars disappeared by degrees, and one would have said that day was about to dawn. All at once the moon again appeared, but it had hardly shone a moment when the light of the horizon eclipsed it in brilliancy.

“It is the dawn,” said Tito.

“On the contrary,” responded Death. “It is twilight, only that as we travel behind the sun, and much faster, the west appears to be the aurora, and the aurora the west. Here are the beautiful Azores!”

In truth a lovely group of islands appeared in the midst of the ocean.

The sad, evening light, breaking through the clouds and penetrating the mist of the rivers, gave an enchanting aspect to the archipelago.

Tito and Death passed over that oasis in the marine desert without stopping a moment.

In ten minutes more the sun appeared from the bosom of the waves, and rose a little on the horizon.

But Death stopped the chariot and the sun again sank.

They moved again and the sun rose. There were two twilights in one.

All this astonished Tito greatly.

They drove further and further, engulfing themselves in the day and ocean. Nevertheless Tito’s watch indicated quarter past nine at night.

A few moments afterward North America appeared in the seas. Tito saw in passing, the eagerness of men; how they tilled the fields, bustled in the streets of cities, and skirted the coast in vessels.

In one part he distinguished a great cloud of dust. It was a battle. In another direction, Death indicated to him a grand religious ceremony, dedicated to a tree, the idol of that town. Farther off he showed him two young savages alone in a wood, gazing with love upon each other.

Very soon the earth again disappeared, and they entered the Pacific Ocean.

Thousands of other islands appeared before their eyes in all directions. In each one of these were different religions and customs. And what a variety of costumes, occupations and ceremonies!

So they reached China where the day was breaking.

This daylight was twilight for our travellers.

Other stars, different from those which they had seen before, ornamented the celestial dome.

The moon commenced to shine in the east, but soon hid herself.

They continued flying with greater rapidity than the earth turns upon its axis.

They had crossed Asia when it was night; to the left was the chain of the Himalayas, whose eternal snows glistened beneath the morning stars. They passed the shores of the Caspian Sea, turned a little toward the left, and rose above a hill at the side of a certain city. At that moment the midnight bell sounded.

“What city is this?” asked Tito.

“We are in Jerusalem,” answered Death.

“Already?”

“Yes, we lack but little of having made the circuit of the world. I stop here because it is midnight, at which hour I never fail to bend the knee.”

“Why?’

“To worship the Creator of the universe;” whereupon the chariot descended.

“I also desire to see the city of God and meditate among its ruins,” responded Tito, kneeling at Death’s side and crossing his hands with fervent piety.

When both had finished their prayers, Death recovered his loquacity and joyfulness; and preceded by Tito again entered the chariot, saying:—

“That hamlet that thou seest yonder on a mountain is Gethsemane. There, was the orchard of olives. On this other side thou wilt distinguish an eminence, crowned by a temple which stands out against a field of stars: that is Golgotha. There I passed the great day of my life. I thought to have conquered God; and conquer I did, for many hours. But, ah! it was in this mountain, one Sunday morning at daybreak, three days afterwards, that I saw myself disarmed and powerless. Jesus had risen! These sites witnessed also, on that same occasion, my great personal combat with Nature. Here, our duel took place: that terrible duel. It was three in the afternoon, I remember it perfectly, when Nature, who saw me brandish the sword of Longinus against the breast of the Redeemer, commenced to hurl stones at me, to open the cemeteries and resuscitate the dead. What could I think? I believed that she had lost her reason.” Death reflected a moment; then, raising his head with a more serious expression of countenance, added:

“It is the hour! Midnight has passed. We will go to my house and finish what we have to say.”

“Where do you live?” asked Tito, timidly.

“At the North Pole, amid snows and ice as old as the world,” responded Death, “where never has, nor never will tread human foot.”

So saying, Death changed his course to the north, and the chariot flew more rapidly than ever. Asia Minor, the Black Sea, Russia and Spitzbergen, passed like fantastic visions beneath its wheels.

The horizon was soon illuminated with delicate flames, reflected by a landscape of rock crystal. All upon the earth was white and silent.

The rest of the heaven was of a dark purple color, dotted with almost imperceptible stars,—the Aurora Borealis and the ice, all that there was of life in that wonderful region.

“We have arrived,” said Death. “This is the Pole.”