On the Cross Part 26

And as the beautiful Magdalene of the present day sat with closed eyes, letting her thoughts be swept along upon the wildly foaming waves of her hot blood, she fancied that the bugbear once so dreaded because she had known it only under the guise of the fulfilment of base, loathsome duty was approaching. But this time the form appeared in its pure beauty, bent tenderly over her, a pallid shape of light, and gazed at her with the eyes of a friend! Low, mysterious words, in boding mournful tones, were murmured in her ears. As she listened, her tears flowed more gently, and with childlike humility she clasped the sublime vision and hid her face on its breast. Then she felt upon her brow a chill kiss, like a breath from the icy regions of eternal peace, and the apparition vanished. But as the last words of something heard in a dream often echo in the ears of the person awaking, the countess as she raised her closed lids, remembered nothing save the three words: "On the cross!" ...

CHAPTER XI.

MARY AND MAGDALENE.

"On the cross"--was it a consolation or a menace? Who could decipher this rune? It was like all the sayings of oracles. History would explain its meaning, and when this was done, it would be too late, for it would be fulfilled! The countess still sat motionless in the old arbor. Her destiny had commenced on the cross, that was certain.

Hitherto she had been a blind blank, driven like thousands by the wheel of chance. She had first entered into communication with the systematic order of divine thought in the hour when she saw Joseph Freyer on the cross. Will her fate _end_ as it _began_, upon the cross? An icy chill ran through her veins. She loved the cross, since it bore the man whom she loved, but what farther influence was it to have upon her life! And what had pallid asceticism to do with her? What was the source of all these oppressive, melancholy forebodings, which could only be justified if a conflict with grave duties or constraining circ.u.mstances was impending. Why should they not love each other, both were free!

But--she not only desired to love him, she wished to be _his_, to claim him _hers_. Every loving woman longs for the fulfilment of her destiny in the man she loves. How was she to obtain this fulfilment? What is born in morality, cannot exist in immorality. He knew this, felt it, and it was the cause of his sternness. This was the source of her grief, the visit of the mysterious comforter, and the warning of the cross. But must the brightest happiness, the beautiful bud of love wither on the cross, because it grew there? Was there no other sacred soil where it might thrive and develop to the most perfect flower? Was there no wedding altar, no sacrament of marriage? She drew back as if she suddenly stood on the verge of a yawning abyss. Her brain reeled! A throng of jeering spectres seemed grinning at her, watching with malicious delight the leap the Countess Wildenau was about to take, down to a peasant! She involuntarily glanced around as if some one might have been listening to the _thought_. But all was still and silent; her secret, thank Heaven, was still her own.

"Eternal Providence, what fate hast thou in store for me?" her questioning gaze asked the blue sky. What was the meaning of this extraordinary conflict? She loved Freyer as the G.o.d whom he represented, yet he could be hers only as a man; she must either resign him or the divine illusion. She felt that the instant which made him hers as a man would break the spell, and she would no longer love him!

The G.o.d was too far above her to be drawn down to her level, the man was too low to be raised to it. Was ever mortal woman thus placed between two alternatives and told: "Choose!" The golden shower fell into Danae's lap, the swan flew to Leda, the bull bore Europa away, and Jupiter did not ask: "In what form do you wish me to appear?" But to the higher consciousness of the Christian woman the whole responsibility of free choice is given. And what is the reward of this torturing dilemma? If she chooses the G.o.d, she must resign the man, if she chooses the man she must sacrifice the G.o.d. Which can she renounce, which relinquish? She could not decide, and wrung her hands in agony.

Why must this terrible discord be hers? Had she ventured too boldly into the sphere of divine life that, as if in mockery, she was given the choice between the immortal and the mortal in order, in the struggle between the two, to recognize the full extent of her weakness?

It seemed so! As if utterly wearied by the sore conflict, she hid her face in her hands and called to her aid the wan comforter who had just approached so tenderly. But in vain, the revelations were silent, the deity would not aid her!

"You ought to go up the mountain to-day, Countess," called a resonant voice. This time no pale phantom, no grimacing spectre stood before her, but her friend Ludwig, who gazed into her eyes with questioning sympathy. She clasped his hand.

"Whenever you approach me, my friend, I can never help receiving you with a 'Thank Heaven!' You are one of those whose very _presence_ is beneficial to the sufferer, as the physician's entrance often suffices to soothe the patient without medicines."

Ludwig sat down on the bench beside the countess. "My sisters and Josepha are greatly troubled because you have not yet ordered breakfast, and no one ventured to ask. So _I_ undertook the dangerous commission, and your Highness can see yonder at the door how admiringly my sisters' eyes are following me."

The countess laughed. "Dear me, am I so dreaded a tyrant?"

"No doubt you are a little inclined to be one," replied Ludwig, quizzically; "now and then a sharp point juts from a hidden coronet. I felt one myself yesterday?"

"When--how?"

"May I remind you of it?"

"Certainly."

"When you poured all your wrath upon poor Freyer, and resolved to leave Ammergau at once. Then I was puzzled for a moment."

"Really?" said the countess with charming embarra.s.sment. "Then I was not mistaken--I perceived it, and therefore delayed sending the telegram. People ought not to take such pa.s.sing ebullitions so seriously."

"Yes, Countess, but that 'pa.s.sing ebullition,' might have made poor Freyer miserable for a long time. Pray, have more patience and tolerance in future. Natures so powerful and superior as yours fail to exert a destructive influence upon a circle of simple folk like ourselves, only when they show a corresponding degree of generosity, which suffices to excuse all our awkwardnesses. Otherwise you will some day thrust us down from the height to which you have raised us, and that would be far worse than if we had _never_ been withdrawn from our modest sphere."

"You are right!" said the countess, thoughtfully.

"My fear is that we are capable only of _rousing_ your interest, not _fixing_ it. We are on too unequal a footing, we feel and understand your spell, but are too simple and inexperienced not to be dazzled and confused by its ever varying phantasmagoria. Therefore, Countess, you are as great a source of peril as of happiness."

"Hm! I understand. But suppose that for the sake of you people of Ammergau I desired to return to plainness--and simplicity."

"You cannot, Countess, you are too young."

"What do you mean? That would be the very reason I should be able to do so."

"No, for you have pa.s.sed the age when people easily accommodate themselves to new circ.u.mstances. Too many of the shoots of luxury have gained a generous growth; they will a.s.sert their claims and cannot be forced back into the seeds whence they came. Not until they have lived out their time in the world and died can they form the soil for a new and, if you desire it, more primitive and simple development!--Any premature attempt of this kind will last only a few moments and even these would be a delusion. But what to you would be pa.s.sing moments of disappointment, to those who shared them would be--lifelong destiny.

Our clumsy natures cannot make these graceful oscillations from one feeling to another, we stake all on one and lose it, if we are deceived."

The countess looked earnestly at him.

"You are a stern monitor, Ludwig Gross!" she said, thoughtfully. "Do you fear that I might play a game with one of you?"

"An unconscious one, Countess--as the waves toy with a drifting boat."

"Well, that would at least be no cruel one!" replied the lady, smiling.

"_Any_ sport, Countess, would be cruel, which tore one of these calm souls from its quiet haven here and set it adrift rudderless on the high sea of pa.s.sion." He rose. "Pardon me--I am taking too much liberty."

"Not more than my friends.h.i.+p gave you a right to say. You brought your friend to me; you are right to warn me if you imagine I should heedlessly throw the priceless gift away! But, Ludwig Gross"--she took his hand--"do you know that I prize it so highly that I should not consider _myself_ too great a recompense? Do you know that you have just found me in a sore struggle over this problem?"

Ludwig Gross drew back a step as if he could not grasp the full meaning of the words. So momentous did they seem that he turned pale. "Is it possible?" he stammered.

A tremulous gesture of the hand warned him to say no more. "I don't know--whether it is possible! But that I could even _think_ of it, will enable you to imagine what value your gift possesses for me. Not a word, I beseech you. Give me time--and trust me. So many marvels have been wrought in me during the past few days, that I give myself up to the impulse of the moment and allow myself to be led by an ever-ruling Providence--I shall be dealt with kindly."

Ludwig, deeply moved, kissed his companion's hand. "Countess, the impulse which moves you at this moment must unconsciously thrill every heart in Ammergau--as the sleeping child feels, even in its dreams, when a good fairy approaches its cradle. And it is indeed so; for, in you conscious culture approaches unconscious nature--it is a sublime moment, when the highest culture, like the fairy beside the cradle, listens to the breathing of humanity, where completion approaches the source of being, and drinks from it fresh vigor."

"Yes," cried the countess, enthusiastically: "That is it. You understand me perfectly. All civilization must gain new strength from the fountain of nature or its sources of life would become dry--for they perpetually derive their nourishment from that inexhaustible maternal bosom. Where this is not accomplished in individual lives, the primeval element, thus disowned, avenges itself in great social revolutions, catastrophes which form epochs in the history of the world. It is only a pity that in such phases of violent renewal the labor of whole epochs of civilization is lost. Therefore souls in harmony with their age must try to reconcile peacefully what, taken collectively, a.s.sumes the proportions of contrasts destructive to the universe."

"And where could we find this reconciliation, save in love?" cried Ludwig, enthusiastically.

"You express it exactly: that is the perception toward which minds are more and more impelled, and whose outlines in art and science appear more and more distinctly. That is the secret of the influence of Parsifal, which extends far beyond the domain of art and, in another province, the success of the Pa.s.sion Play! To one it revealed itself under one guise, to another under another. To me it was here that the very source of love appeared. And as you, who revealed it to me, are pervaded by the great lesson--I will test it first upon you. Brother!

Friend! I will aid you in every strait and calamity, and you shall see that I exercise love, not only in words, but that the power working within me will accomplish deeds also." She clasped her hands imploringly: "And if I love one of you _more_ than the others, do not blame me. The nearer to the focus of light, the stronger the heat! He, that one, is surely the focus of the great light which, emanating from you, illumines the whole world. I am so near him--could I remain cold?"

"Ah, Countess--now I will cast aside all fears for my friend. In Heaven's name, take him. Even if he consumes under your thrall--pain, too, is G.o.dlike, and to suffer for _you_ is a grand, a lofty destiny, a thousand-fold fairer and better than the dull repose of an every day happiness."

"Good heavens, when have I ever heard such language!" exclaimed the countess, gazing admiringly at the modest little man, whose cheeks were glowing with the flush of the loftiest feeling. He stood before her in his plain working clothes, his clear-cut profile uplifted, his eyes raised with a searching gaze as if pursuing the vanis.h.i.+ng traces of a lofty, unattainable goal.

She rose: "There is not a day, not an hour here, which does not bring me something grand. Woe befall me if I do not show myself worthy of the obligation your friends.h.i.+p imposes, I should be more guilty than those to whom the summons of the ideal has never come; who have never stood face to face with men like you."

Ludwig quietly held out his hand and clasped hers closely in her own.

The piercing glance of his artist-eye seemed to read the inmost depths of her soul.

After a long pause Madeleine von Wildenau interrupted the silence: "There stands your sister in great concern over my bodily welfare! Well then, let us remember that we are human--unfortunately! Will you breakfast with me?"

"I thank you, I have already breakfasted," said Ludwig, modestly, motioning to Sephi to be ready.

"Then at least bear me company." Taking his arm, she went with him to the arbor covered with a wild grape-vine where the table was spread.

She sat down to the simple meal, while her companion served her with so much tact and grace that she could not help thinking involuntarily; "And these are peasants? What ought we aristocrats to be?" Then, as if in mockery of this reflection, a man in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves with his jacket flung over his arm and a scythe in his hand pa.s.sed down the street by the fence. "Freyer!" exclaimed the countess, her face aflame: "The Messiah with a scythe?"

Freyer stopped. "You called me, Countess?"

"Where are you going with that implement, Herr Freyer?" she asked, coldly, in evident embarra.s.sment.