Futurist Stories Part 15

PULLING against the inner self--her heart must break.

THE soft music of the slaves--once it had soothed her--but now--

IT was the howling wind of a northern land--of Russia--or the pealing of a bell--There had been a chapel in the dark Zamok where her childhood had been spent.

THE inner voice called Katherine--but could not yet overcome the blood which flowed in Katherine's veins--the blood of a favorite of a Czar.

SOMETIMES in the light of day the inner, other self of Katherine would overcome--would want to flee--but ever the mysticism of Oriental nights would draw out more strongly than before the tainted blood of the unfortunate.

FINALLY the Sultan grew disdainful--There were newer girls brought from Mecca, from the desert.

THE great--the inevitable conflict with her inner self left her torn--haggard.

FOR days she hung between life and death--with no one to care, save an old colored slave.

GONE the mystic atmosphere of the Orient--the music of cymbals.

A PROVINCIAL town in France--with the ill-lighted streets--and a steady down-pour of winter rain.

IT is Christmas eve

THROUGH the window Katherine has been watching a procession of people hastening to midnight Ma.s.s at the Cathedral. Women--dressed in the picturesque garb and coif of Brittany--men and children--What peace is theirs--they know of the Christ Child--of his Mother--and no streams of lowest pa.s.sion--can cover their souls.

THE Cathedral of Nantes has stood in its Gothic beauty for many centuries--has witnessed many scenes.

THAT night a soul struggled against the past.

A WOMAN--she was alive--for she walked--moved. But within--she was numb.

SHE lay almost fainting on the steps of a side Altar--before the creche--

HER inner self was pleading--Katherine--live again!

PRESENTLY the Adeste Fidelis sounded--throbbed--filled the church

HOW beautiful--she murmured.

THE memory of the Sultan rose and fell each time at the sight of the candles, the acolytes in prayer. A vision so fierce and l.u.s.tful could not live in this sacred place.

MY child--advised the old Priest--pray--pray always for forgiveness--for enlightenment--for guidance. One who seeks these things as fervently as you do always finds.

THAT NIGHT HIS SORROW WAS LIFTED.

_All ye are Christ's and Christ is G.o.d.--Saint Paul_

HIGH in the mountains, above the cities where all was calm--peaceful-- a golden moon shone down lighting bare branches and fallen leaves-- lighting the dark pines--

IT shone on the lake, in a valley in the mountains, making golden streaks upon the waters--

CHRIST walked on earth that night and stopped near the sh.o.r.e of the lake

HE looked into its depths-- at the sky--at the moon-- and felt the cold night air on His Face.

A GREAT sadness had overcome Him.

G.o.d had reflected a corner of Heaven to men on Earth-- and they did not pause in pleasure or in sorrow-- no one felt the beauty of those mountains.

HE stood alone by the lake-- again looked into its depths--

WHAT peace--what beauty--

DOWN below-- men grappled with death not beautiful death but hatred--l.u.s.t--filled their souls.

THEY killed--were killed----

THE agonizing sorrow of Gethsemane again swept over Christ, as He stood by the Lake and wondered if men would ever be worthy of the gift of life-- if they would ever make it beautiful--and not terrible--

THEY were endowed with a certain freedom-- they used it to make wars-- to think of barbarous machines that would kill and torture--

THE fiendish cries of battle were in the great valley below--

CANNONS roared and flashed a red glare into the sky--

TEARS filled His eyes as He thought of the unprepared souls which were being hurled into Eternity-- on both sides of the battle line--

THE broken homes--

HIS heart was breaking in sorrow for the people He loved so well--

MOON streaks were playing on the water--

THE cold night air blew through the trees.

CHRIST wept-- men surely were not worthy of life-- of the beauty which filled the world--

HE turned away-- and still hearing the noise of battle-- walked under the pines--

HE came upon a small cabin-- sheltered by tall trees-- the roof was covered by fallen leaves-- a light shone from the window.