The Argonauts Part 40

The great cemetery was in the bright green of leaves which had recently unfolded on the trees, and in the intoxicating odor of violets over Cara's grave-mound, which was covered with a carpet, not of modest violets, but of exquisite exotic flowers. Darvid spoke long with the young sculptor, and with a number of other men, giving, agreeably and fluently, opinions and directions concerning the erection of the monument. While doing this, his eyes dropped, at moments, to the grave, and were fixed with such force on it as if he wished to pierce through that carpet of flowers; through the stratum of brick; through the coffin, and look at that which was under the lid. At last, with a polite elevation of his hat, he took farewell of them, and pa.s.sed on by a path, amid columns and statues intwined with a lace of bright leaves, into the centre of that broad city of the dead. That was his first acquaintance with such a city. He had seen a mult.i.tude of other such cities, but had never become acquainted with one of them. He had looked into them sometimes, but briefly, and because he was forced to it--his head was ever filled with thoughts altogether foreign to such places. Now he pa.s.sed the interior of the cemetery with this thought. So all ends here! He did not go out for a long time. His carriage, with cus.h.i.+ons of sapphire-colored damask, and his pair of splendid horses stood long before the cemetery gate, obedient and motionless. In the chapel tower the silver music of the vesper-bell sounded, and ceased to sound. Darkness had begun to fall on the fresh green of the trees, and the urns, columns, and statues standing thickly between them, as Darvid drove away from the cemetery.

"When church-bells sound, as this has, people pray," thought he.

"Do they think that G.o.d hears them? Does G.o.d exist? Perhaps he does. It is even likely that he does, but that he occupies himself with men and their entreaties!--I am not sure. I have never given time to this, and it seems to me that no one knows.

Men have wrangled over this question for ages and--know nothing.

It is a mystery. All places are full of mystery, but men think that reason is a great power. That is an error! Whatever ends thus is misery. Everything ends in stupidity. All things are foolishness! Foolishness!"

Reaching the steps of his mansion he thought that he felt greatly wearied. Is this old age? not long before he felt perfectly youthful. But, evidently, this is the way--Age comes and seizes a man. One giantess more--it seems to him that he is a hundred years old. The same with Malvina. How changed she was when he spoke last to her. She had preserved her youth so long, and on a sudden she was aged. She must have suffered greatly. Hapless woman!

He entered his study; sat down at his desk. Puffie sprang onto his knee immediately. He put one hand on the coat of the little dog, and with the other opened a drawer, looked into it, pushed the drawer back, and, resting comfortably against the arms of the chair, gazed into s.p.a.ce with a fixed, torpid look.

He was too wise not to see standing, earlier or later, before him, the stern irony existing in human affairs. It had been standing before him for a long time, but, standing behind veils, such as labor, success--the eternal lack of time. Now the veils had fallen. He beheld the irony clearly. It was embodied in the swollen vase of Chinese porcelain, which, though not standing in that chamber, seemed to bend forward from the corner, with sloping eyes painted in sapphire. The figure leered at him; bared its white teeth, and with swollen body seemed to burst from laughter. What could he place against that monster? how was he to cover it?--he knew not. He understood well that at the bottom of this all lay an error. On the road of life there was something which he had not noted; something which he had not recognized; he had let something slip from his hands which still were so rapacious; he, an architect, observing with mighty diligence the law of equilibrium in buildings reared by him, had not preserved that equilibrium in his own house; so that now it was hard for him to dwell there, and he wished to depart from it.

When he goes it will be better for all. Better for him and for them. That unhappy woman will be free, and may become happy.

Maryan will return from the end of the earth to receive his inheritance, if for no other reason. Irene will reappear in society. Irene, what a strange character!--so deeply tender, and so insolent. How savagely she hurled at him the word "vileness!"

But she was right. He had committed that moment a vile act, just as in general he was forced to commit many follies--but "useless cruelty" will give reward--Irene will learn that he was not so--no, neither she nor anyone will know the nature of his act.

He raised his head, in which he felt once more an access of pride. No, he will not give account of his motives to anyone; nor confess on his knees, like a penitent sinner; nor will he take the pose of a hero. Let them think what they like. How can that concern him? Nothing concerns him.

By chance he raised his eyes and saw, hanging in the air, the face of a maiden, oval, rosy, and bright-haired which smiled at him lovingly, and made a clear motion, inviting him. Greuze's picture was not there, still the vision was present. With eyes raised toward it Darvid smiled.

"Yes, little one, quickly."

He took a pen and began a telegram to Irene. He penned the address, and then wrote: "Come as quickly as possible for Puffie." He put the pen down, rang, and told the footman to send the telegram immediately. Then, pa.s.sing his hand over the coat of the sleeping little dog, he sat long, sunk in thought. The world appeared before him with all that he had ever seen, owned, or used in it. Countries, cities, nations, their dwellings and languages, banks, exchanges, markets, offices, noise, throngs, struggles, horse-races, movements, uproar, life. This vision did not halt there before him, but sailed away, as it were, on a giant river, ever farther from him; farther, till it was on the opposite sh.o.r.e of a great s.p.a.ce, entirely cut off and entirely indifferent. When he considered that he might spring over that s.p.a.ce and mingle again in all those things, repulsion came on him, and also fear; he shook his head in refusal, and said to himself: "I do not want them!"

He was very calm; an expression of happiness began to spread over his features. If anyone had seized him then and tried to hurl him to the side of that broad s.p.a.ce on which this life is situated, he would have resisted with all his might, and, if need be, would have begged to remain on that other side.

He looked up and smiled.

"Now, my little one, I am coming!"

He opened the drawer.

Next morning news flew through the city like a thunderbolt, that the renowned financial operator and millionnaire, Aloysius Darvid, had, during the night, in his study, taken his own life with a revolver. The first and universal thought was of bankruptcy. But no. Soon it became clear and most certain that his s.h.i.+p, in full canvas, was sailing on the broad stream of success, and was bearing an immense, glittering golden fleece.

The Argonaut, however, no man knew for what reason--through causes hidden altogether from everyone--had sprung from the deck into the dark and mysterious abyss.

THE END.