Tales From Jokai Part 29

CHAPTER XIII

CONCLUSION

The people dwelling in the mountains prayed and praised G.o.d in the midst of their peaceful habitations; only a faint echo of the terrible battle below reached their ears.

On the fourth day everything was silent. The clouds that had obscured the sky dispersed, and as the dwellers among the glaciers looked down from their mountains, lo! a great ocean extended before and around them--a serene and silent watery mirror, whose wide horizon was conterminous with the vast firmament--mountain, valley, continent, what had become of them? whither had they vanished?

The eleven glaciers were also separated by the waters, and had become eleven islands. The whole ma.s.s had sank insensibly some thousands of feet. The warmer atmosphere of the lower regions had begun to melt the layers of eternal snow, and a new life--a new vegetation--was developing. On the first spot left clear by the snow Bar Noemi planted a linden--under the shadow of which he erected his hut, and the larger the leafy tabernacle grew the greater grew Bar Noemi's family, and G.o.d's blessing grew with it.

The group of these eleven mountains form the Canary Islands. Of all that vast continent, these mountains alone remain. Their fauna and flora, the conformation of their coasts, prove that this group of islands is merely the remnant of a submerged world.

Their later discoverers perceived with astonishment that a peculiar race of people inhabited these remotely situated islands--a race hardier and comelier than the men of other nations; a race intelligent and virtuous, which adored an invisible G.o.d, was chaste in its love, simple in its life, and content with its lot. It believed in the resurrection of the body, for it embalmed its dead, and laid them in funeral vaults.

Moreover, it possessed the arts, and had an alphabet of its own, unlike that of any other people in the world.

This group of islands, moreover, possessed two other most wondrous kinds of inhabitants--a race of dogs and of yellow sparrows. Singular enough, both these species of animals remain dumb in the place of their birth, as if some vow prevented them from uttering a word; but they recover their voices if removed to other climes. The tiny canary birds--those gentle, amiable, sprightly songsters come from here. This is their proper home. With us they sing as sweetly, as meltingly as once they sang in Triton's luxurious city, and many a heart has been saddened by their songs without exactly knowing why.

The linden-tree planted by Bar Noemi still stands on the island of Ferro, whence the geographers draw the first meridian. The tree, which measures 160 feet in circ.u.mference, is already two thousand years old, and whole communities repose beneath its branches. Travellers tell us that the leaves of this tree imbibe the atmospheric vapours, and then distil them upon the earth below, thus watering the waterless island night and day. Even to this day the inhabitants hold the tree holy.

Between Europe and the New World there now extends the infinity of a vast ocean, and whoever thinks about it at all must needs say to himself that a whole continent is missing there. Plato has described it; Solon has sung of it; the Arabs speak of it in their fables, and the Carthaginians forbade it to be mentioned under pain of death--what more do we want? It must have existed!

Now, however, white sails fly over it.

But often, when a calm prevails on the ocean, and the dreamy mariner is brooding over the past, wondrous phenomena reveal themselves in the heated air before his eyes. On the dun-coloured horizon appear the dim outlines of cities with towers turned upside down, whole palm-forests with their crowns reversed. Wondrous, magnificent shapes are these, of which the existing world knows nothing, and these inimitable edifices, these boldly aspiring cupolas and domes undergo the strangest metamorphoses before the eyes of the astonished seafarer, till a light breeze in an instant dissolves the whole panorama, and nothing is visible around the rocking s.h.i.+p but the endless, the interminable sea.

VIII

THE HOSTILE SKULLS

As this story is of a somewhat horrible character, I would duly impress it upon my more timid readers that, if possible, they had better leave it unread. If, however, they have invested their money in the book in which it appears, they might at least _not_ read it just before going to bed, for I don't want the responsibility of their nightmares on my shoulders. This, at any rate, I can say: the event recorded actually happened. The fact that I have kept it a profound secret till now does honour to my powers of self-control.

When I was a young man, a budding novelist, in fact, as my printed transgressions of that period sufficiently testify, I was much addicted to subjects of a mystic, supernatural tendency; tales of mystery, gloomy prognostications, fatal accidents, had a peculiar attraction for me. I had a shorter beard, but longer hair, a smaller experience but a larger credulity than now, _then_ it was just as well, _now_ it would not be quite as well.

I was thus a very young man when, in the course of a holiday ramble, I arrived, quite alone, at night-time, at the mansion of one of our most enlightened magnates, whom, for the sake of anonymity, I will simply call Squire Gabriel.

We had seen and heard something of each other. I was a belated traveller far from any hostelry, while he was a householder and lived by the roadside, I wanted a night's lodging, he had a castle. All these circ.u.mstances gave me a right to call upon him, and he received me right heartily, a guest, indeed, was no great rarity at _his_ house.

Squire Gabriel was reputed to be a bit of an oddity, who dearly loved his joke. He had a library, being a well-read man; he had a room full of all sorts of stuffed birds and beasts which he had himself shot, and whose names he knew; he had an expensive picture-gallery, interesting family archives, and he was very much interested in machinery--not the sort of machinery that may be applied to useful purposes, but that which serves for pure amus.e.m.e.nt, and is meant to produce startling effects.

For instance, he had standing by the door an iron man, who, whenever anybody opened the door, at once raised his musket and steadily took aim at the intruder till the door was shut, when he respectfully lowered his weapon again, to the mortal terror of timid visitors. On the hall table mysterious clarionettes played all sorts of tunes whenever any one leaned his elbows on it. There was a certain chair from which it was impossible to rise up again if once you sat down again, with so firm a grip did it hold you.

I had often heard tell of these harmless jests, and was quite prepared not to be surprised by them. But Squire Gabriel did not exhibit any of his jests to me. On the contrary, his conversation was grave, and he led me into the library, introduced me to his very curious and, indeed, really valuable collection of ma.n.u.scripts, and showed me his armoury, his collection of seals, to which he ingeniously attached a good many singular historical anecdotes. Indeed, I was so impressed that I begged his permission to take notes of these anecdotes.

"Certainly, do so by all means," he said, with the utmost courtesy, and, indeed, it seemed to afford him great delight to see me recording in my note-book what he had just told me of the dames and heroes of bygone days, of whom all that remained was a spur or a slipper, actually before our eyes.

What a rich source of historical information. Certainly I had no reason to regret my coming here.

Squire Gabriel had every reason to be perfectly satisfied with the interest I displayed in his historical recitals. His store, too, was absolutely inexhaustible, fresh _data_ came pouring forth every moment.

In such diversions we spent the whole evening.

At supper-time we were joined by the squire's man of business and one of his secretaries, who withdrew after the meal, and Squire Gabriel and I remained alone again.

He ordered tea to be brought into the Gothic chamber, and with the tea beside us, we may have gone on talking for a small matter of another hour or so, or, rather, he talked, but I listened.

The Gothic Room was the largest chamber in the castle wing. It derived its name from its curious old-fas.h.i.+oned furniture, and from a couple of mediaeval niches in the Gothic style. The s.p.a.cious fireplace in the centre of it was piled up with crackling logs, and close beside it were comfortable armchairs and sofas, in which we reclined at our ease and sipped our fragrant Pekoe.

The hearth was warm, the time was late, and the fatigues of travelling, I must confess, had made me so drowsy, that more than once during the cheerful conversation of my host, I caught myself in the act of resolutely inclining my head towards the cus.h.i.+on of the sofa.

Squire Gabriel observed my condition, and said, with a smile--

"You are very sleepy, I see."

I had no reason to be insincere, so I replied that it was the very place in which to go to sleep.

"I should not advise you to do so, however," remarked Squire Gabriel, gravely, "there is something queer about this room. I may tell you," he added, "it is not very friendly to strangers, who have even died in it now and then."

These words completely cleared slumber from my eyes.

"Ghosts visit it, perhaps?"

"It would be more correct to say they dwell in it, and they are visible day and night."

Curiosity made me quite awake now. I began to look about me.

"When I say ghosts, I would not have you imagine anything so stupid as spectres wrapped in sheets and chained with fetters. The _thing_ that is here is a perfectly simple object which can be held in your hand.

Perhaps you would like to see it?"

What a question! I was immediately on my feet.

"Where's your ghost? Let me see it!"

Squire Gabriel led me to one of the niches which was covered by a green curtain, and drawing aside the curtain, pointed out to me two skulls which were covered by a round gla.s.s, and, curiously enough, were turned back to back.

I had seen something of the sort before, and was by no means inclined to recognize anything ghostly in them. They were simply fragments of a human skeleton, as little alarming as an extracted tooth, of which it never occurs to anybody to be afraid.

"These are the skulls of two brothers, the Counts Kalmanffy, to whom this property formerly belonged, and who built a wing of the castle.

Their history is very tragic. They were constantly opposed to each other and wrangling about the possession of the castle, and one day, soon after a reconciliation, the elder brother suddenly invited the younger one to be his guest, and when he had well filled him with strong wine, drove a long nail into his head while he lay there in a drunken sleep.

The nail is also here. A servant who was privy to the evil deed subsequently betrayed the elder brother, who was beheaded for his crime.

His body they buried as usual under the place of execution, but the severed head they allowed to be buried in the family vault, where the bones of the murdered brother were also deposited. The heads of the two brothers were placed side by side in a niche, and so these mortal enemies, who could not endure each other during their life-time, were turned face to face. On one occasion, however, some one who had to do some work or other in the vault, was amazed to perceive that the heads of the two brothers were now turned back to back. The fellow was not very frightened. He had had a good deal to do with human remains, and fancied some truant rats might have effected the change, so he simply put the two skulls face to face again. Next day he went down to have another look at them, and again they were turned in the opposite direction.

"And so it went on for a whole week. The fellow turned the skulls round every day, and every night they changed their positions of their own accord. The guardian of the vault got quite ill over it. He began to pine and grow melancholy mad, till at length the young chaplain took the bull by the horns, and asked him what ailed him, or if he had anything on his mind.