Part 18 (1/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration: _And there, leaning against a moss-grown crumbling tree, was a spirit-like being out of another world._]
No words can describe what Eric felt!
He only knew he was at the end of his way ... that all his wanderings were not in vain--that something marvellous and unspeakably sweet had suddenly flooded earth and sky, that the entire universe had become one song of praise, one cry of hope, one yearning desire of fulfilment....
There, before him in all their wonder and perfection, were the face and eyes that had stolen the peace from his soul and the art from his hands.
He fell on his knees, overcome by the surging emotion that filled heart and brain.
He could not grasp this amazing miracle that completely overwhelmed his being; the hermit's words alone rang in his ears: ”It may not come in splendid raiment with a crown on its head, but keep thy heart open as well as thy eyes....” Yes, his eyes and heart both were open and a glorious light swept over his life, like a warm wave before which all resistance gives way, covering both past and future, with an immense longing for perfect achievement.
And this was the vision that had been at last revealed to the eyes that had searched with such tireless persistence, with such strong and faithful belief in the ultimate crowning of their desire: A girl, slim and ethereal, clad in the garment of poverty, a s.h.i.+rt-like dress over which a colourless scarf had been many times wound till the delicate figure resembled that of an Egyptian fresco; feet and arms were bare, and of utmost perfection.
From under a wreath of fragile harebells streamed the most exquisite tresses ever seen--rich brown in tone, but the sun had shone on them so lovingly long, that a haze of golden red had been breathed over them by all the rays that had ceaselessly caressed their softness.
She stood, her head thrown back; within her hand she held an old violin on which she was playing like one in a far-off world, for whom neither turmoil nor strife can exist, playing like an angel from the regions above, where no sin and no sorrow can have place....
But her face. Oh! her face ... in truth it was not of this world!
A radiance seemed to illuminate it from within, a s.h.i.+ne that could come but from a soul in touch with the infinite, a soul full of light and love and hope, that no material distance could sever from its perfect communion with G.o.d. And then her eyes! Large and grey, with a far-away look--eyes that see visions and dreams past the knowledge of man; starry and clear, yet deep as a summer sea; eyes in which lay hidden all the boundless illusions of our human race, mixed with a peace that has no name.
Above her head the leaves rustled with a whispering sound; the flowers trembled, shaking their bells in waves of blue. The last glow in the sky fell slanting through the branches upon the girlish figure, till she appeared to be a transparent apparition out of the legends of yore.
Serenely indifferent to the two who watched her in rapture and silence, she played her heavenly music, a distant hymn to a being she alone could see; and upon invisible wings the gentle evening breeze carried the rippling notes far away into the fading red of the sky....
The old woman came quite near to Eric and whispered in his ear:
”They say that she is mad; but I know things that lie deeper than the deepest ocean, which they never can understand; however, I shall teach thee some of my wisdom: G.o.d has pressed His lips on her eyes, so she ever sees visions we earthly mortals have not the power to conceive.
”She is not one of us! She is of a race as far removed from ours as the sky is removed from the earth. But those that live in the dust, whose feet move amidst the mud of the roads, cannot believe that a creature so spotless and pure can exist in this world and yet never soil its perfection!
”So they say she is daft and turn lightly away from a problem too deep for the comfort of their shallow souls: for verily it is easier to disbelieve what the common brain cannot fathom.”
”But who is she?” queried Eric, with bated breath.
”Ah! that we shall never know.
”In a distant land far over the sea we were once wandering on a rich-coloured autumn morning, and there we found, on the grey steps of a church, an infant of marvellous beauty. Her pearly limbs were enfolded in fine linen and lace. We had mercy upon the innocent babe, for our hearts have not the colour of our faces; and since that blessed day she has been the joy of our tribe and the pride of both young and old.
”But when she grew to the age when she could talk, not a syllable could we understand. Her eyes for ever were searching the skies, and her words spoke of things she alone could perceive. Even I, who am wise, could not follow her sayings.
”But gradually an inner voice told me that there was something holy about this stranger maiden, something which removed her far from us, something that mortal hands should not touch.
”Then I understood that G.o.d had laid His hand upon her brain. Now she seldom speaks, but always plays these heartrending notes. Hark, fair stranger, listen if it is not unearthly and sweet.”
Eric listened with all his soul; never before had such music come to his ears.
It was full of tears, and sighs, and hopes, and dreams; it was heavenly indeed, and yet a sobbing human chord pierced the whole, with a never-ending cry for the things that every poor mortal needs. It rose and fell, carried upon the changing tides of love and hope; it contained a yearning effort, a boundless longing, towards that land of chimeras and dreams beyond the boundaries of the earth.