Delphi collected works o.., p.859
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli, page 859
part #22 of Delphi Series Series
The longest waiting must have an end, but never to his thought did a longer period of time stretch itself out between the evening of the twentieth of June and that of the twenty-fourth, Midsummer Day. The weather remained perfect; intensely warm, bright and still. Not a cloud crossed the burning blue of the daylight, and at evening, the young moon, slightly broadening from a slender sickle to the curve of a coracle boat floating whitely in the deep ether, shed fairy silver over the lake and the Alpine snows above it. During these days, many people of note and scientific distinction called at the Château Fragonard, — Feodor Dimitrius was a personage to be reckoned with in many departments of knowledge, and his exquisite gardens afforded coolness and shade to those wanderers from various lands who were touring Switzerland in search of health and change of scene. Near neighbours and acquaintances also came and went, but such is the generally vague attitude of mind assumed by ordinary folk to other than themselves, that scarcely any among the few who had met Diana and accepted her as a chance visitor to Madame Dimitrius, now remembered her, except the Baron and Baroness Rousillon, who still kept up a slight show of interest as to her whereabouts, though their questions were lightly evaded and never fully answered. Professor Chauvet, irritated and unhappy at receiving no news whatever of the woman for whom he had conceived a singular but sincere affection, had taken it into his head to go suddenly to Paris, to see after his house and garden there, which had long been unoccupied; a fancy possessed him that if, or when, Diana did unite to him, he would answer her from Paris, so that they might meet there or in London, without the surveillance or comment of Dimitrius. Meanwhile, Dimitrius himself, a figure of impenetrable reserve and gold courtesy, let his visitors come and go as they listed, apparently living the life of a scientist absorbed in studies too profound to allow himself to be troubled or distracted by the opinions of the outer world.
Midsummer Day, the Feast of St. John, and a day of poetic and superstitious observance, came at last and drifted along in a stream of gold and azure radiance, the sun sinking round as a rose in a sky without a cloud. To the last moment of its setting Dimitrius waited, watch in hand. All day long he had wandered aimlessly in the garden among his flowers, talking now and then to his gardeners, and stopping at every point where he could see the crystal dome of his laboratory shine clear like the uplifted minaret of some palace of the East, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he compelled himself to walk with a slow and indifferent mien when the moment arrived for him to return to the Château. His heart galloped like a run-away racehorse, while he forced his feet into a sauntering and languid pace as though he were more than oppressed by the heat of the day, — and he stopped for a moment to speak to his mother, whose reclining chair was in the loggia where she could enjoy the view of the gardens and the fountains in full play.
“I am—” he said, and paused, — then went on—” I am going to the laboratory for an hour or two. If I am late for dinner, do not wait for me.”
Madame Dimitrius, busy with some delicate lace-work, looked up at him inquiringly.
“Are you seeing Diana this evening?” she asked.
He nodded assent, “Give her my love and tell her how glad I am that her days of solitude are over, and that I shall come to her to-morrow as soon as you will allow me.”
He nodded again, and with a tender hand stroked the silver bandeaux of the old lady’s pretty hair.
“After all; old age is quite a beautiful thing!” he said, and stooping, he kissed her on the brow. “It is, perhaps, wrong that we should wish to he always young!”
He passed on then, and, entering his library, rang a bell. Vasho appeared.
“Vasho, the hour has come!” he said, whereat Vasho, the dumb, uttered an, inarticulate animal sound of terror. “Either I have succeeded, or I have failed. Let us go and see!”
He paused for a moment, his eyes resting on the mysterious steel instrument, which, always working in its accustomed place on its block of crystal, struck off its tiny sparks of fire with unceasing regularity.
“You gave me the first clue!” he said, addressing it. “You were a fluke — a chance — a stray hint from the unseen. And you will go on for ever if nothing disturbs your balance — if nothing shakes your exact mathematical poise. So will the Universe similarly go on for ever, if similarly undisturbed. All a matter of calculation, equality of distribution and exact poise — designed by a faultless Intelligence! An Intelligence which we are prone to deny — a Divinity we dare to doubt! Man perplexes himself with a million forms of dogma which he calls ‘religions,’ when there is truly only one religion possible for all the world, and that is the intelligent, reasoning, devout worship of the true God as made manifest in His works. These works none but the few will study, preferring to delude themselves with the fantastic spectres of their own imaginations. Yet, when we have learned what in time we must know — the words of the Evangelist may be fulfilled: ‘I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first earth and the first heaven were passed away.... And there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.’ So we may have a joyous world, where youth and life are eternal, and where never a heart-throb of passion or grief breaks the halcyon calm! Shall we care for it, I wonder? Will it not prove monotonous? — and when all is smooth sailing, shall we not long for a storm?”
A quick sigh escaped him, — then remembering Vasho’s presence, he shook off his temporary abstraction.
“Come, Vasho! “he said, “I must go and find this marvel of my science — living or dead! And don’t look so terrified! — one would think you were the victim! Whatever happens, you are safe!”
Vasho made expressive signs of apologetic humility and appeal, -to which Dimitrius gave no response save an indulgent smile.
“Come!” he repeated. They left the library, Dimitrius leading the way, and walked through the long corridor to the door of the laboratory. Gleams of gold and silver shone from the mysterious substance of which it was composed, and curious iridescent rays flashed suddenly across their eyes as if part of it had become transparent.
“The sun’s flames have had power here,” remarked Dimitrius. “Almost they have pierced the metal.”
Answering to pressure in the usual manner, the portal opened and closed behind them as they entered. For a moment it was impossible to see anything, owing to the overwhelming brilliancy of the light which filled every part of the domed space — a light streaked here and there with gold and deep rose-colour. The enormous Wheel was revolving slowly — and beneath its rim, the canopied white stretcher was suspended over the dark water below, as it had been left four days previously. The prisoned victim had not stirred. For two or three minutes Dimitrius stood looking eagerly, his eyes peering through the waves of light that played upon his sense of vision almost as drowningly as the waves of the sea might have played upon his power of breathing. Vasho, shaken to pieces by his uncontrollable inward terrors, had fallen on his knees and hidden his face in his hands. Dimitrius roused him from this abject attitude.
“Get up, Vasho! Don’t play the fool!” he said, sternly. “What ails you? Are you afraid? Look before you, man! — there is no change in the outline of that figure — it is merely in a condition of suspended animation. If she were dead — understand me! — she would not le there at all! The stretcher would be empty Come, — I want your help with these pulleys.”
Vasho, striving to steady his trembling limbs, went to his imperious master’s assistance as the pulleys were unlocked and released.
“Now, gently!” said Dimitrius. “Let the ropes go easy — and pull evenly!”
They worked together; and gradually — with a smooth, swaying, noiseless movement, — the canopied couch with its motionless occupant was swung away from the Wheel across the water and laid at their feet. The canopy itself sparkled all over as with millions of small diamonds, — and as they raised and turned it back, curled in their hands and twisted like a live thing. A still brighter luminance shone from end to end of the closely bound and swathed figure beneath it, — a figure rigid as stone, yet though so rigid, uncannily expressive of hidden life. Dimitrius knelt down beside it and began to unfasten the close wrappings in which it was so fast imprisoned, from the feet upwards signing to Vasho to assist him. Each one of the glistening white silken bands was hot to the touch, and as it was unwound, cast out little sparks and pellets of fire. The widest of these Was folded over and over across the breast, binding in the arms and hands, and as this was undone, the faintest stir of the body was perceptible. At last Dimitrius uncovered the face and head — and then — both he and Vasho sprang up and started back, amazed and awestruck. Never a lovelier thing could be found on earth than the creature which lay so passively before them, — a young girl of beauty so exquisite that it hardly seemed human. The goddess of a poet’s dream might be so imagined, but never a mere thing of flesh and blood. And as they stood, staring at the marvel, the alabaster whiteness of the flesh began to soften mid flush with roseate hues, — a faint sigh parted the reddening lips, the small, childlike hands, hitherto lying limp on either side, were raised as though searching for something in the air, — and then, slowly, easefully, and with no start of surprise or fear, Diana awoke from her long trance and stretched herself lazily, smiled, sat up for a moment, her hair falling about her in an amber shower, and finally stepped from her couch and stood erect, a vision of such ethereal fairness and youthful queenliness, that, all unconscious of his own action, Dimitrius sank on his knees in a transport of admiration, whispering:
“My triumph! My work! My wonder of the world!”
She, meanwhile, with the questioning air of one whose surroundings are utterly unfamiliar, surveyed him in his kneeling attitude as though he were a stranger. Drawing herself up and pushing back the wealth of hair that fell about her, she spoke in the exquisitely musical voice that was all her own, though it seemed to have gained a richer sweetness.
“Why do «you kneel?” she asked. “Are you my servant?” —
For one flashing second he was tempted to answer:
“Your master!”
But there was something in the stateliness of her attitude and the dignity of her bearing that checked this bold utterance on his lips, and he replied:
“Your slave! — if so you will it!”
A smile of vague surprise crossed her features.
“Remind me how I came here,” she said. “There is something I cannot recall. I have been so much in the light and this place is very dark. You are a friend, I suppose — are you not?”
A chilly touch of dread overcame him. His experiment had failed, if despite its perfection of physical result, the brain organization was injured or destroyed. She talked at random, ‘and with a lost air, as if she had no recollection of any previous happenings.
“Surely I am your friend!” he said, rising from his knees and approaching her more nearly. “You remember me? — Féodor Dimitrius?”
She passed one hand across her brow.
“Dimitrius? — Féodor Dimitrius?” she repeated, — then suddenly she laughed, — a clear bright laugh like that of a happy child—” Of course! I know you now — and I know myself! I am Diana May, — Diana May who was the poor unloved old spinster with wrinkles round her eyes and ‘feelings’ in her Stupidly warm heart! — but she is dead! I live!”
She lifted her arms, the silver sheen of her mysterious gleaming garment falling back like unfurled wings.
“I live!” she repeated. “I am the young Diana! — the old Diana is dead!”
Her arms dropped to her sides again, and she turned to Dimitrius with a bewitching smile.
“And you love me!” she said. “You love me as all men must love me! — even he loves me!” and she pointed playfully to Vasho, cowering in fear as far back in a shadowy corner as he could, out of the arrowy glances of her lovely eyes, — then, laughing softly again, she gathered her robe about her with a queenly air. “Come, Dr. Féodor Dimitrius! Let us go! I see by the way you look at me that you think your experiment has been too much for my brain, but you are mistaken. I am quite dear in memory and consciousness. You are the scientist who advertised for ‘a woman of mature years,’ — I am Diana May who was ‘mature,’ enough to answer you, and came from London to Geneva on the chance of suiting you, — I have submitted to all your commands, and here I am! — a success for you, I suppose, but a still greater success for myself! I do not know what has happened since I came into this laboratory a while ago — nor am I at all curious, — was that my coffin!”
She indicated the stretcher with its white canopy from which she had arisen. He was about to answer her, when she stopped him.
“No, tell me nothing! Say it is my chrysalis, from which I have broken out — a butterfly!” She smiled—” Look at poor Vasho! How frightened he seems! Let us leave this place, — surely we have had enough of it? Come, Dr. Dimitrius! — it’s all over! You have done with me and I with you. Take me to my rooms!”
Her air and tone of command were not to be gainsaid. Amazed and angry at his own sudden sense of inferiority and inefficiency, Dimitrius signed to the trembling Vasho to open the door of the laboratory, and held out his hand to Diana to guide her. She looked at him questioningly.
“Must I?” she asked. “You are quite enough in love with me already! — but if you take my hand — !”
Her eyes, brilliant and provocative, flashed disdainfully into his. He strove to sustain his composure.
“You are talking very foolishly,” he said, with studied harshness. “If you wish to convince me that you are the same Diana May who has shown such resolute courage and modesty, and — and — such obedience to my will, you must express yourself more reasonably.”
Her light laugh rippled out again.
“Oh, but I am not the same Diana May!” she answered. “You have altered all that. I was old, and a woman, — now I am young, and a goddess!”
He started back, amazed at her voice and attitude.
“A goddess —— a goddess!” she repeated, triumphantly.
“Young with a youth that shall not change — alive with a life that shall not die! Out of the fire and the air I have absorbed the essence of all beauty and power! — what shall trouble me? Not the things of this little querulous world! — not its peevish men and women! — I am above them all! Féodor Dimitrius, your science has gathered strange fruit from the Tree of Life, but remember! — the Flaming Sword turns every way!”
He gazed at her in speechless wonderment. She had spoken with extraordinary force and passion, and now stood confronting him as an angel might have stood in the Garden of Paradise. Her beauty was overwhelming — almost maddening in its irresistible attraction, and his brain whirled like a mote in a ring of fire. He stretched out his hands appealingly:
“Diana!” he half whispered—” Diana, you are mine! — my sole creation!”
“Not so,” she replied. “You blaspheme! Nothing is yours. You have used the forces of Nature to make me what I am, — but I am Nature’s product, and Nature is not always kind! Let us go!”
She moved towards the door! Vasho stood ready to open it, his eyes cast down, and his limbs trembling, — as she approached she smiled kindly at him, but the poor negro was too scared to look at her. He swung the portal upward, and she passed through the opening. Dimitrius followed, not venturing to offer his hand a second time. He merely gave instructions to Vasho to set the laboratory in order and remove every trace of his “experiment,” — then kept close beside the erect, slight, graceful figure in the shining garment that glided along with unerring steps through the corridor into the familiar hall, where for a moment, Diana paused.
“Is your mother well?” she asked.
“Quite well.”
“I am glad. You will prepare her to see me to-morrow?”
“I will!”
She passed on, up the staircase, and went straight to her own rooms. It was plain she had forgotten nothing, and that she had all her senses about her. As Dimitrius threw open the door of her little salon she turned on the threshold and fully confronted him.
“Thank you!” she said. “I hope you are satisfied that your experiment has succeeded?”
He was pale to the lips, and his eyes glowed with suppressed fire, — but he answered calmly:
“I am more than satisfied if — if you are well!”
“I am very well,” she replied, smiling. “I shall never be ill! You ought to know that if you believe in your own discovery. You ought to know that Ï am no longer made of mortal clay, ‘subject to all the ills that flesh is heir to.’ Your science has filled me with another and more lasting form of life!”
He was silent, standing before her with head bent, like some disgraced schoolboy.
