Jean-Christophe Journey's End Part 63

Voices were raised now. A pa.s.sionate voice. Anna's tragic eyes.... But a moment and it was no longer Anna. Eyes now so full of kindness....

"Grazia, is it thou?... Which of you? Which of you? I cannot see you clearly.... Why is the sun so long in coming?"

Then bells rang tranquilly. The sparrows at the window chirped to remind him of the hour when he was wont to give them the breakfast crumbs....

In his dream Christophe saw the little room of his childhood.... The bells. Now it is dawn! The lovely waves of sound fill the light air.

They come from far away, from the villages down yonder.... The murmuring of the river rises from behind the house.... Once more Christophe stood gazing down from the staircase window. All his life flowed before his eyes, like the Rhine. All his life, all his lives, Louisa, Gottfried, Olivier, Sabine....

"Mother, lovers, friends.... What are these names?... Love.... Where are you? Where are you, my souls? I know that you are there, and I cannot take you."

"We are with thee. Peace, O beloved!"

"I will not lose you ever more. I have sought you so long!"

"Be not anxious. We shall never leave thee more."

"Alas! The stream is bearing me on."

"The river that bears thee on, bears us with thee."

"Whither are we going?"

"To the place where we shall be united once more."

"Will it be soon?"

"Look." And Christophe, making a supreme effort to raise his head--(G.o.d!

How heavy it was!)--saw the river overflowing its banks, covering the fields, moving on, august, slow, almost still. And, like a flash of steel, on the edge of the horizon there seemed to be speeding towards him a line of silver streams, quivering in the sunlight. The roar of the ocean.... And his heart sank, and he asked:

"Is it He?"

And the voices of his loved ones replied:

"It is He!"

And his brain dying, said to itself:

"The gates are opened.... That is the chord I was seeking!... But it is not the end! There are new s.p.a.ces!...--We will go on, to-morrow."

O joy, the joy of seeing self vanish into the sovereign peace of G.o.d, whom all his life he had so striven to serve!...

"Lord, art Thou not displeased with Thy servant? I have done so little.

I could do no more.... I have struggled, I have suffered, I have erred, I have created. Let me draw breath in Thy Father's arms. Some day I shall be born again for a new fight."

And the murmuring of the river and the roaring of the sea sang with him:

"Thou shalt be born again. Rest. Now all is one heart. The smile of the night and the day entwined. Harmony, the august marriage of love and hate. I will sing the G.o.d of the two mighty wings. Hosanna to life!

Hosanna to death!

_"Christofori faciem die quacunque tueris, Illa nempe die non morte mala morieris."_

Saint Christophe has crossed the river. All night long he has marched against the stream. Like a rock his huge-limbed body stands above the water. On his shoulders is the Child, frail and heavy. Saint Christophe leans on a pine-tree that he has plucked up, and it bends. His back also bends. Those who saw him set out vowed that he would never win through, and for a long time their mockery and their laughter followed him. Then the night fell and they grew weary. Now Christophe is too far away for the cries of those standing on the water's brink to reach him. Through the roar of the torrent he hears only the tranquil voice of the Child, clasping a lock of hair on the giant's forehead in his little hand, and crying: "March on."--And with bowed back, and eyes fixed straight in front of him on the dark bank whose towering slopes are beginning to gleam white, he marches on.

Suddenly the Angelus sounds, and the flock of bells suddenly springs into wakefulness. It is the new dawn! Behind the sheer black cliff rises the golden glory of the invisible sun. Almost falling Christophe at last reaches the bank, and he says to the Child:

"Here we are! How heavy thou wert! Child, who art thou?"

And the Child answers:

"I am the day soon to be born."

THE END