Part 33

“It was, to say the least, a very weighty and significant transformation,” said Johanna, cutting the buns in half and buttering them. Her gestures were of an exquisitely calculated ease and charm.

“And what did you finally say to Wolfgang Wahnschaffe?” asked Botho von Thüngen. He sat beside the window, and from time to time looked out into the yard, for in him too there was a deep desire for Christian’s presence. In each of them was a dark feeling of his nearness.

“I told him just about what I think,” Voss answered. “I said: ‘The best thing you can do is to let everything take its natural course. He will be entangled in his own snares. Resistance offers support, persecution creates aureoles. Why should you want to crown him with an aureole? A structure of paradoxes must be permitted to fall of its own weight. All the visions of Saint Anthony have not the converting power of one instant of real knowledge. There must be no wall about him and no bridge for his feet; then he will want to erect walls and build bridges. Have patience,’ I said, ‘have patience. I who was the midwife of his soul on the road of conversion may take it upon myself to prophesy; and I prophesy that the day is not far off when he will lust after a woman’s lips.’ For this, I confess, was the thing that mainly gave me pause--this life without Eros. And it was not satiety, no, it was not, but a true and entire renunciation. But let Eros once awaken, and he will find his way back. Nor is the day far off.” His face had a look of fanatical certitude.

“It will be another Eros, not him you name,” said Thüngen.

Then Michael arose, looked upon Voss with burning eyes, and cried out to him: “Betrayer!”

Amadeus Voss gave a start. “Eh, little worm, what’s gotten into you?” he murmured, contemptuously.

“Betrayer!” Michael said.

Voss approached him with a threatening gesture.

“Michael! Amadeus!” Johanna admonished, beseechingly, and laid her hand on Voss’s arm.

And while she did so, the door was opened softly, and the little Stübbe girl slipped silently into the room. She was neatly dressed as always. Her two blond braids were wound about her head and made her pain-touched child’s face seem even older and more madonna-like. She looked about her, and when she caught sight of Michael, she went up to him and handed him a letter. Thereupon she left the room again.

Michael unfolded the letter and read it, and all the colour left his face. It slipped from his hand. Lamprecht picked it up. “Does it concern us too?” he asked, with a clear presentiment. “Is it from him?”

Michael nodded and Lamprecht read the letter aloud: “Dear Michael:--I take this way of saying farewell to you, and beg you to greet our friends. I must go away from here now, and you will not receive any news of me. Let no one try to seek me out. It seemed simpler and more useful to me to depart in this way than to put off and confuse the unavoidable by explanations and questions. I have taken with me the few things of mine that were in Karen’s rooms. They all went into a little travelling bag. What remains you can pack into the box in the other room; there are a few necessities--some linen and a suit of clothes. Perhaps I shall find it possible to have these sent after me, but it is uncertain. For you, Michael, I am sending one thousand marks to Lamprecht, in order that your instruction may be continued for a time; it may also serve in time of need. Johanna will find in the house-agent’s care to-morrow, when I shall send it, an envelope containing two hundred and fifty marks. Perhaps she will be kind enough to use this money to satisfy a few obligations that I leave behind. Once more: Greet our friends. Cling to them. Farewell. Be brave. Think of Ruth. Your Christian Wahnschaffe.”

They had all arisen and grouped themselves about Lamprecht. Shaken to the soul, Lamprecht spoke: “I am his, now and in future, in heart and mind.”

“What is the meaning of it, and what the reason?” Thüngen asked, in the shy stillness.

“Exactly like Wahnschaffe,” Voss’s voice was heard. “Flat and wooden as a police regulation.”

“Be silent,” Johanna breathed at him, in her soul’s pain. “Be silent, Judas!”

No other word was said. They all stood about the table, but the place that had been laid for Christian remained empty. Twilight was beginning to fall, and one after another they went away. Amadeus Voss approached Johanna, and said: “That word you spoke to me, following the boy’s example, will burn your soul yet, I promise you.”

Michael, rapt from the things about him, looked upward with visionary, gleaming eyes.

In weary melancholy Johanna said to herself: “How runs the stage-direction in the old comedies? Exit. Yes, exit. Short and sweet. Exit Johanna. Go your ways.” She threw a last look around the dim room, and, lean and shadowy, was the last to slip through the door.

XXXIV

When, two days later, Letitia and Crammon arrived in Stolpische Street, they were told that Christian Wahnschaffe was no longer there. Both flats had been cleared of furniture and were announced as to let. Nor could any one give them any light on whither he had gone or where he was. The house-agent said he had told his acquaintances that he was leaving the city. To Crammon’s discomfort, a little crowd of people gathered around the motor car, and jeering remarks were heard.

“Too late,” Letitia said. “I shall never forgive myself.”

“Oh, yes, you will, my child, you will,” Crammon assured her; and they returned to the realms of pleasure.

Letitia forgave herself that very evening. And what could she have done with so questionable a burden on her conscience? It was but a venial sin. The first tinkle of a glass, the first twang of a violin, the first fragrance of a flower obliterated it.

But at Crammon that neglect and lateness gnawed more and more and not less. In his naïve ignorance he imagined that he could have prevented that extreme step, had he but come two days earlier. Now his loss was sealed and final. He fancied that he might have laid his hand on Christian’s shoulder and given him an earnest and admonishing look, and that Christian, put to shame, might have spoken: “Yes, Bernard, you are right. It was all a mistake. Let us send for a bottle of wine, and consider how we may spend the future most amusingly.”

Whenever, like a collector who examines his enviously guarded treasures, Crammon turned over his memories of life, it was always the figure of Christian that arose before him in a kind of apotheosis. It was the Christian of the early days, and he only--amid the dogs in the park, in the moonlit nights under the plantain, in the exquisite halls of the dancer, Christian laughing, laughing more beautifully than the muleteer of Cordova, Christian the seductive, the extravagant, the lord of life--Eidolon.

Thus he saw him. Thus he carried his image through time.

And rumours came to him which he did not believe. People appeared who had heard it said that Christian Wahnschaffe had been seen during the great catastrophe in the mines of Hamm. He had gone down into the shafts and helped bring up the bodies of men. Others came who asserted that he was living in the East End of London, in the companionship of the lowest and most depraved; and again others pretended to know that he had been seen in the Chinese quarter of New York.

Crammon said: “Nonsense, it isn’t Christian. It’s his double.”

He was afraid of the grey years that drew nearer like fogs over the face of the waters.

“What would you say to a little house in some valley of the Carinthian Alps?” he asked Letitia one day. “A quaint and modest little house. You plant your vegetables and grow your roses and read your favourite books, in a word, you are secure and at peace.”

“Charming,” answered Letitia, “I’d love to visit you now and then.”

“Why now and then? Why not make it your abiding place?”

“But would you take in the twins, too, and the servants and auntie?”

“I’m afraid that would require a special wing. Impossible.”

“And furthermore ... I must confess to you that Egon Rochlitz and I have come to an agreement. We’re going to be married. That would be one more person.”

Crammon was silent for a while. Then he said irritably:

“I give you my curse. You offer me no alternative.”

With a smile Letitia offered him her cheek.

He kissed her with paternal reserve, and said: “Your skin is as velvety as the skin of an apricot.”

LEGEND

In ancient times there lived a king named Saldschal who had a very ill-favoured daughter. Her skin was rough and hard as that of a tiger, and the hair of her head like the mane of a horse. This vexed the king’s spirit sorely, and he caused her to be educated in the innermost chambers of the palace, hidden from the eyes of men. When she had grown up, and her marriage had to be thought of, the king said to his minister: “Seek out and bring to me a poor, wandering nobleman.” The minister sought and found such a nobleman. Him the king led to a lonely place, and spoke: “I have a repulsively ill-favoured daughter. Will you take her for your wife, because she is the daughter of a king?” The youth kneeled and made answer: “I shall obey my lord.” So those two were made man and wife, and the king gave them a house and closed it with sevenfold doors, and said to his son-in-law: “Whenever you leave the house, lock the doors and carry the key upon your person.” And in this the youth was also obedient.

Now one day he and other nobles were bidden to a feast. The other guests came in the company of their wives. But the king’s son-in-law came alone, and the people marvelled greatly. “Either,” they said one to another, “the wife of this man is so comely and delightful that he hides her from jealousy, or she is so ill-favoured that he fears to show her.” To resolve their doubts, they determined to make their way into the house of the man. They caused him to be drunken and robbed him of his keys, and when he lay in a stupor they set out toward his dwelling.

While these things happened, the woman had grievous thoughts in her lonely captivity. “Of what sin can I be guilty,” she asked herself, “that my husband despises me and lets me dwell woefully in this place, where I see neither the sun nor the moon?” And furthermore she thought: “The Victorious and Perfect is present in His world. He is the refuge and redeemer of all who suffer pain and grief. I shall bow down from afar before the Victorious and Perfect. Think of me in thy mercy,” she prayed, “and appear visibly before me, and, if so it be possible, in this hour.” The Victorious and Perfect, who knew that the thoughts of the king’s daughter were pure and filled with the deepest reverence, raised her into His dwelling and showed her His head, which has the hue of lapis lazuli. And when the king’s daughter beheld the head of the Victorious and Perfect, she was filled with a very great joy, and her mind was wholly cleansed. And in her purified estate it came to pass that her hair grew soft and became the colour of lapis lazuli. Thereupon the Victorious and Perfect showed her His face entire and unconcealed. At that the joy of the king’s daughter grew so great that her own face became comely and delightful, and every trace of ugliness and coarseness vanished. But when at last the Victorious and Perfect showed her the golden radiance of His majestic body, the devout ecstasy felt by the king’s daughter caused her own body to be changed to a perfection so divine that nothing comparable to it could be found in all the world. In all His splendour the Victorious and Perfect appeared before her; her joyous faith reached its utmost height, and her innermost being became like to the soul of an angel.

And then came the men who desired to see her, and opened the doors and entered in, and beheld a miracle of beauty. And they said, one to another: “He did not bring the woman with him, because she is so beautiful.” They returned to the feast, and made fast the key to the man’s girdle. When he awakened from his drunkenness, and went to his house and beheld his wife, and saw that she was incomparable for beauty among women, he marvelled and asked: “How has it happened that you, who were so ill-favoured, have become comely and delightful?” She answered: “I became thus after I had seen the Victorious and Perfect. Go and relate this thing to my father.” The man went and told this matter to the king. But the king replied: “Speak to me not of such things. Hasten to your house, and close it fast so that she may not escape.” The son-in-law said: “She is like a goddess.” Whereupon the king said: “If it be so in truth, lead her to me.” And greatly marvelling, he received the beautiful one in the inner chambers of his palace. Then he betook him to the place where is the seat of the Victorious and Perfect, and bowed down before Him and worshipped Him.

THE END

Transcriber's Note

The following apparent errors have been corrected:

p. 2 "indentified" changed to "identified"

p. 9 "again" changed to "again."

p. 9 "approachd" changed to "approached"

p. 16 "mnid" changed to "mind"

p. 38 "to-day," changed to "to-day."

p. 62 "pastor asked" changed to "pastor asked."

p. 110 "to-night." changed to "to-night.”"

p. 145 "ourselves?”" changed to "ourselves?’"

p. 173 "springes" changed to "springs"

p. 185 "falshood" changed to "falsehood"

p. 226 "Futhermore" changed to "Furthermore"

p. 268 "conpensated" changed to "compensated"

p. 278 "embroided" changed to "embroidered"

p. 294 "as courier" changed to "a courier"

p. 372 "it it" changed to "it is"

p. 395 "terrrible" changed to "terrible"

Archaic or inconsistent language has otherwise been kept as printed. On p. 115, the unbalanced quotation mark in "the eyes----”" was present in the original German.