A Reckless Character, and Other Stories Part 38

The host took one of these ladies by the hand and led her to the other.

"Beneficence!" said he, pointing to the first.

"Grat.i.tude!" he added, pointing to the second.

The two virtues were unspeakably astonished; ever since the world has existed--and it has existed a long time--they had never met before.

December, 1878.

THE SPHINX

Yellowish-grey, friable at the top, firm below, creaking sand ... sand without end, no matter in which direction one gazes!

And above this sand, above this sea of dead dust, the huge head of the Egyptian Sphinx rears itself aloft.

What is it that those vast, protruding lips, those impa.s.sively-dilated, up-turned nostrils, and those eyes, those long, half-sleepy, half-watchful eyes, beneath the double arch of the lofty brows, are trying to say?

For they are trying to say something! They even speak--but only [Oe]dipus can solve the riddle and understand their mute speech.

Bah! Yes, I recognise those features ... there is nothing Egyptian about the low white forehead, the prominent cheek-bones, the short, straight nose, the fine mouth with its white teeth, the soft moustache and curling beard,--and those small eyes set far apart ... and on the head the cap of hair furrowed with a parting.... Why, it is thou, Karp, Sidor, Semyon, thou petty peasant of Yaroslavl, or of Ryazan, my fellow-countryman, the kernel of Russia! Is it long since thou didst become the Sphinx?

Or dost thou also wish to say something? Yes; and thou also art a Sphinx.

And thy eyes--those colourless but profound eyes--speak also.... And their speeches are equally dumb and enigmatic.

Only where is thine [Oe]dipus?

Alas! 'Tis not sufficient to don a cap to become thine [Oe]dipus, O Sphinx of All the Russias!

December, 1878.

NYMPHS

I was standing in front of a chain of beautiful mountains spread out in a semi-circle; the young, verdant forest clothed them from summit to base. The southern sky hung transparently blue above us; on high the sun beamed radiantly; below, half hidden in the gra.s.s, nimble brooks were babbling.

And there recurred to my mind an ancient legend about how, in the first century after the birth of Christ, a Grecian ship was sailing over the Aegean Sea.

It was midday.... The weather was calm. And suddenly, high up, over the head of the helmsman, some one uttered distinctly: "When thou shalt sail past the islands, cry in a loud voice, 'Great Pan is dead!'"

The helmsman was amazed ... and frightened. But when the ship ran past the islands he called out: "Great Pan is dead!"

And thereupon, immediately, in answer to his shout, along the whole length of the sh.o.r.e (for the island was uninhabited), there resounded loud sobbing groans, prolonged wailing cries: "He is dead! Great Pan is dead!"

This legend recurred to my mind ... and a strange thought flashed across my brain.--"What if I were to shout that call?"

But in view of the exultation which surrounded me I could not think of death, and with all the force at my command I shouted: "He is risen!

Great Pan is risen!"

And instantly,--oh, marvel!--in reply to my exclamation, along the whole wide semi-circle of verdant mountains there rolled a vigorous laughter, there arose a joyous chattering and splashing. "He is risen! Pan is risen!" rustled youthful voices.--Everything there in front of me suddenly broke into laughter more brilliant than the sun on high, more sportive than the brooks which were babbling beneath the gra.s.s. The hurried tramp of light footsteps became audible; athwart the green grove flitted the marble whiteness of waving tunics, the vivid scarlet of naked bodies.... It was nymphs, nymphs, dryads, bacchantes, running down from the heights into the plain....

They made their appearance simultaneously along all the borders of the forest. Curls fluttered on divine heads, graceful arms uplifted garlands and cymbals, and laughter, sparkling, Olympian laughter, rippled and rolled among them....

In front floats a G.o.ddess. She is taller and handsomer than all the rest;--on her shoulders is a quiver; in her hands is a bow; upon her curls, caught high, is the silvery sickle of the moon....

Diana, is it thou?

But suddenly the G.o.ddess halted ... and immediately, following her example, all the nymphs came to a halt also. The ringing laughter died away. I saw how the face of the G.o.ddess, suddenly rendered dumb, became covered with a deathly pallor; I saw how her feet grew petrified, how inexpressible terror parted her lips, strained wide her eyes, which were fixed on the remote distance.... What had she descried? Where was she gazing?

I turned in the direction in which she was gazing....

At the very edge of the sky, beyond the low line of the fields, a golden cross was blazing like a spark of fire on the white belfry of a Christian church.... The G.o.ddess had caught sight of that cross.

I heard behind me a long, uneven sigh, like the throbbing of a broken harp-string,--and when I turned round again, no trace of the nymphs remained.... The broad forest gleamed green as before, and only in spots, athwart the close network of the branches, could tufts of something white be seen melting away. Whether these were the tunics of the nymphs, or a vapour was rising up from the bottom of the valley, I know not.

But how I regretted the vanished G.o.ddesses!

December, 1878.

ENEMY AND FRIEND

A captive condemned to perpetual incarceration broke out of prison and started to run at a headlong pace.... After him, on his very heels, darted the pursuit.

He ran with all his might.... His pursuers began to fall behind.

But lo! in front of him was a river with steep banks,--a narrow, but deep river.... And he did not know how to swim!

From one sh.o.r.e to the other a thin, rotten board had been thrown. The fugitive had already set foot upon it.... But it so happened that just at this point, beside the river, his best friend and his most cruel enemy were standing.

The enemy said nothing and merely folded his arms; on the other hand, the friend shouted at the top of his voice:--"Good heavens! What art thou doing? Come to thy senses, thou madman! Dost thou not see that the board is completely rotten?--It will break beneath thy weight, and thou wilt infallibly perish!"

"But there is no other way of crossing ... and hearest thou the pursuit?" groaned in desperation the unhappy wight, as he stepped upon the board.

"I will not permit it!... No, I will not permit thee to perish!"--roared his zealous friend, s.n.a.t.c.hing the plank from beneath the feet of the fugitive.--The latter instantly tumbled headlong into the tumultuous waters--and was drowned.

The enemy smiled with satisfaction, and went his way; but the friend sat down on the sh.o.r.e and began to weep bitterly over his poor ... poor friend!