Part 9 (1/2)

As Eric sat down he saw that two covered objects lay upon the table. The hermit stretched out his trembling hand and drew the smaller of the two towards him, raising the dark cloth that covered it.

As he did so, a round ball, cut out of a stone the colour of smouldering ashes, became visible; it was resting on a small three-legged stand carved in old ivory.

”I shall now look into this magic ball to see thy future, dear wanderer.

Give me thy hand whilst I concentrate my mind upon the polished surface; thou must think with all thy might of that which is thy greatest desire, and thou must not speak or the charm will be broken.”

Eric laid his hand confidently within the dry wrinkled palm, and remained silent, as he had been bid, his face near to that of the old man, his fair locks resting against the silvery ones.

With breathless intensity he watched the magic ball, and saw with wonder how it began to glow as if a fire were burning inside.

The curious light became always more intense till the ball was one burning flame upon which he could hardly keep his eyes.

He felt an unwonted drowsiness come over him, but with all his might he kept his mind fixed upon the eyes of his dream, and then out of the silence came the voice of his companion, inexplicably changed and musical, like far-off bells.

”I see a great picture on a wall--in the middle of which there sits a woman on a throne, the woman has no face.... I see eager questioning all around thee, but there are tears in thy eyes.... I see a long road on which thou art wandering mostly in the brilliant suns.h.i.+ne, but sometimes it is the moon that lights thy way. Thy tears have dried, but thou knowest not where thou goest and thou singest like a bird. Many other faces cross thy road and mostly they smile on thee....

”But somewhere there is a shadow that falls over thy path and thou art afraid--something there is that thou dost not understand and that contains sore temptations for thee ... then.... Yes, if I rightly see ... there is blood, it drips slowly to the ground, but thy own hands are without stain, yet thou art full of fear and fleest as quickly as thou canst.

”Then again there is suns.h.i.+ne, and round thee all is blue, the sky as well as the ground--then once more there are tears, warm and wet, but this time they are not thine.... And now thou wanderest where the air is rarer and thy breath comes in gasps--thou mountest ever higher and higher ... there comes a moment's rest and again thou art wandering, and always thy road is steeper and thy step more weary.... All around thee there are shapes that make thee afraid.

”And now I hear the voice of a child crying, crying ... again a shadow falls over thee ... this time like to the shadow of death.”

The chanting voice paused and the grey head bent closer down upon the fiery ball; the pressure upon the young man's hand became an iron grip.

Drops of perspiration stood upon the wrinkled brow as if an enormous effort were being made. Then the voice spoke again:

”What I now see is a long road through a country of suns.h.i.+ne and riches--it is evening, sweet music rises in the air, a haze of dust lies over the horizon; then all I see, at the end, is a face of wonderful sweetness, yet sad and full of yearning--and I see two eyes ... strange and wonderful, and somehow thy heart is at peace.... That is all.”

The voice had ceased; the grip upon the young man's hand had relaxed, a heavy silence lay over them.

The glow in the magic ball died down till only the smouldering colour remained. Then Eric spoke like one in a dream:

”Thou sawest the eyes! deep, grey, unblinking, sad, and yearning? So I shall reach them in the end! Canst thou not tell me whose they are?”

The old man's head had fallen on his breast as if overcome by fatigue; now he raised it very slowly and looked long and lovingly at the young eager face.

”Nay! that I cannot tell thee, but this I know: Happiness cometh not there where we seek it; it cometh like a breath out of the unknown, and then the heart is glad and a great light is spread over all that our eyes rest upon. Then we are full of strength and courage, and each man is our friend.

”But the thing we clasp to our heart is never ours to keep, for thus it is in this world. Joy and pain lie so close side by side that there seems no line to cross between the two--and yet when crossed.... Well, my son, I shall show thee what no other eye but mine own has ever looked upon; it is all that remains to me of what was on the other side of the line....”

The trembling hand removed the cover from the second object that lay on the table, and there, revealed to Eric's astonished gaze, was a face the like of which he had never seen before.

It lay, the head thrown back, the eyes closed, the lips slightly parted as if asking for a last caress.

The hair waved away from the delicate, somewhat sunken temples, forming the pillow on which it rested.

A calm expression of peace lay over the angelically pure features that had the soft whiteness of ivory.

There was no colour save a faint tint of pink on the beseeching mouth.

Yes, it was peace that was the princ.i.p.al expression of that face, and yet there was also a sad yearning in it, as if the closed eyes longed to raise their lids a last time to look upon a face they loved....