“If I had the skill to send that bubble-sphere out into space, solidify it, and keep it perpetually rolling,” he said lightly, “it would in time exhale its own atmosphere and produce life, and I should be a very passable imitation of the Creator.”
At that moment, the globe broke and vanished like a melting snowflake, leaving no trace of its existence but a little white dust which fell in a round circle on the carpet. After this display, El-Râmi waited for his guest to speak, but the monk said nothing.
“You see,” continued El-Râmi— “it requires a great deal to satisfy me with proofs. I must have tangible Fact, not vague Imagining.”
The monk raised his eyes, — what searching calm eyes they were! — and fixed them full on the speaker.
“Your Sphere was a Fact,” — he said quietly— “Visible to the eye, it glittered and whirled — but it was not tangible, and it had no life in it. It is a fair example of other Facts, — so-called. And you could not have created so much as that perishable bubble, had not God placed the materials in your hands. It is odd you seem to forget that. No one can work without the materials for working, — the question remains, from Whence came those materials?”
El-Râmi smiled with a touch of scorn.
“Rightly are you called Supreme Master!” he said— “for your faith is marvellous — your ideas of life both here and hereafter, beautiful. I wish I could accept them. But I cannot. Your way does not seem to me clear or reasonable, — and I have thought it out in every direction. Take the doctrine of original sin for example — what is original sin, and why should it exist?”
“It does not exist—” said the monk quickly— “except in so far that we have created it. It is we, therefore, who must destroy it.”
El-Râmi paused, thinking. This was the same lesson Lilith had taught.
“If we created it—” he said at last, “and there is a God who is omnipotent, why were we allowed to create it?”
The monk turned round in his chair with ever so slight a gesture of impatience.
“How often have I told you, El-Râmi Zarânos,” he said,— “of the gift and responsibility bestowed on every human unit — Free-Will. You, who seek for proofs of the Divine, should realize that this is the only proof we have in ourselves, of our close relation to ‘the image of God.’ God’s Laws exist, — and it is our first business in life to know and understand these — afterwards, our fate is in our own hands, — if we transgress law, or if we fulfil law, we know, or ought to know, the results. If we choose to make evil, it exists till we destroy it — good we cannot make, because it is the very breath of the Universe, but we can choose to breathe in it and with it. I have so often gone over this ground with you, that it seems mere waste of words to go over it again, — and if you cannot, will not see that you are creating your own destiny and shaping it to your own will, apart from anything that human or divine experience can teach you, then you are blind indeed. But time wears on apace, — and I must speak of other things; — one message I have for you that will doubtless cause you pain.” He waited a moment-then went on slowly and sadly— “Yes, — the pain will be bitter and the suffering long, — but the fiat has gone forth, and ere long, you will be called upon to render up the Soul of Lilith.”
El-Râmi started violently, — flushed a deep red, and then grew deadly pale.
“You speak in enigmas—” he said huskily and with an effort— “What do you know — how have you heard—”
He broke off, — his voice failed him, and the monk looked at him compassionately.
“Judge not the power of God, El-Râmi Zarânos!” he said solemnly— “for it seems you cannot even measure the power of man. What! — did you think your secret experiment safely hid from all knowledge save your own? — nay! you mistake. I have watched your progress step by step — your proud march onward through such mysteries as never mortal mind dared penetrate before, — but even these wonders have their limits — and those limits are, for you, nearly reached. You must set your captive free!”
“Never!” exclaimed El-Râmi passionately. “Never, while I live! I defy the heavens to rob me of her! — by every law in nature, she is mine!”
“Peace!” said the monk sternly— “Nothing is yours, — except the fate you have made for yourself. That is yours; and that must and will be fulfilled. That, in its own appointed time, will deprive you of Lilith.”
El-Râmi’s eyes flashed wrath and pain.
“What have you to do with my fate?” he demanded— “How should you know what is in store for me? You are judged to have a marvellous insight into spiritual things, but it is not insight after all so much as imagination and instinct. These may lead you wrong, — you have gained them, as you yourself admit, through nothing but inward concentration and prayer — my discoveries are the result of scientific exploration, — there is no science in prayer!”
“Is there not?” — and the monk, rising from his chair, confronted El-Râmi with the reproachful majesty of a king who faces some recreant vassal— “Then with all your wisdom you are ignorant, — ignorant of the commonest laws of simple Sound. Do you not yet know — have you not yet learned that Sound vibrates in a million million tones through every nook and corner of the Universe? Not a whisper, not a cry from human lips is lost — not even the trill of a bird or the rustle of a leaf. All is heard, — all is kept, — all is reproduced at will forever and ever. What is the use of your modern toys, the phonograph and the telephone, if they do not teach you the fundamental and external law by which these adjuncts to civilization are governed? God — the great, patient loving God — hears the huge sounding-board of space re-echo again and yet again with rough curses on His Name, — with groans and wailings; shouts, tears and laughter send shuddering discord through His Everlasting Vastness, but amid it all there is a steady strain of music, — full, sweet and pure — the music of perpetual prayer. No science in prayer! Such science there is, that by its power the very ether parts asunder as by a lightning-stroke — the highest golden gateways are unbarred, — and the connecting-link ‘twixt God and Man, stretches itself through Space, between and round all worlds, defying any force to break the current of its messages.”
He spoke with fervour and passion, — El-Râmi listened silent and unconvinced.
“I waste my words, I know—” continued the monk— “For you, Yourself suffices. What your brain dares devise, — what your hand dares attempt, that you will do, unadvisedly, sure of your success without the help of God or man. Nevertheless — you may not keep the Soul of Lilith.”
His voice was very solemn yet sweet; El-Râmi, lifting his head, looked full at him, wonderingly, earnestly, and as one in doubt. Then his mind seemed to grasp more completely his visitor’s splendid presence, — the noble face, the soft commanding eyes, — and instinctively he bent his proud head with a sudden reverence.
“Truly you are a god-like man—” he said slowly— “God-like in strength, and pure-hearted as a child. I would trust you in many things, if not in all. Therefore, — as by some strange means you have possessed yourself of my secret, — come with me, — and I will show you the chiefest marvel of my science — the life I claim — the spirit I dominate. Your warning I cannot accept, because you warn me of what is impossible. Impossible — I say, impossible! — for the human Lilith, God’s Lilith, died — according to God’s will; my Lilith lives, according to My will. Come and see, — then perhaps you will understand how it is that I — I, and not God any longer, — claim and possess the Soul I saved!”
With these words, uttered in a thrilling tone of pride and passion, he opened the study door and with a mute inviting gesture, led the way out. In silence and with a pensive step, the monk slowly followed.
VOLUME 2
CHAPTER I.
INTO the beautiful room, glowing with its regal hues of gold and purple, where the spell-bound Lilith lay, El-Râmi led his thoughtful and seemingly reluctant guest. Zaroba met them on the threshold and was about to speak
, — but at an imperative sign from her master she refrained, and contented herself merely with a searching and inquisitive glance at the stately monk, the like of whom she had never seen before. She had good cause to be surprised, — for in all the time she had known him, El-Râmi had never permitted any visitor to enter the shrine of Lilith’s rest. Now he had made a new departure, — and in the eagerness of her desire to know why this stranger was thus freely admitted into the usually forbidden precincts, she went her way downstairs to seek Féraz, and learn from him the explanation of what seemed so mysterious. But it was now past ten o’clock at night, and Féraz was asleep, — fast locked in such a slumber that though Zaroba shook him and called him several times, she could not rouse him from his deep and almost death-like torpor. Baffled in her attempt, she gave it up at last, and descended to the kitchen to prepare her own frugal supper, — resolving, however, that as soon as she heard Féraz stirring she would put him through such a catechism, that she would find out, in spite of El-Râmi’s haughty reticence, the name of the unknown visitor and the nature of his errand.
Meanwhile, El-Râmi himself and his grave companion stood by the couch of Lilith, and looked upon her in all her peaceful beauty for some minutes in silence. Presently El-Râmi grew impatient at the absolute impassiveness of the monk’s attitude and the strange look in his eyes — a look which expressed nothing but solemn compassion and reverence.
“Well!” he exclaimed almost brusquely— “Now you see Lilith, as she is.”
“Not so!” said the monk quietly— “I do not see her as she is. But I have seen her, — whereas,...you have not!”
El-Râmi turned upon him somewhat angrily.
“Why will you always speak in riddles?” he said— “In plain language, what do you mean?”
“In plain language I mean what I say” — returned the monk composedly— “And I tell you I have seen Lilith. The Soul of Lilith is Lilith; — not this brittle casket made of earthy materials which we now look upon, and which is preserved from decomposition by an electric fluid. But — beautiful as it is — it is a corpse — and nothing more.”
El-Râmi regarded him with an expression of haughty amazement.
“Can a corpse breathe?” he inquired— “Can a corpse have colour and movement? This Body was the body of a child when first I began my experiment, — now it is a woman’s form full-grown and perfect — and you tell me it is a corpse!”
“I tell you no more than you told Féraz,” said the monk coldly— “When the boy trespassed your command and yielded to the suggestion of your servant Zaroba, did you not assure him that Lilith was dead?”’
El-Râmi started; — these words certainly gave him a violent shock of amazement.
“God!” he exclaimed— “How can you know all this? — Where did you hear it? Does the very air convey messages to you from a distance? — Does the light copy scenes for you, or what is it that gives you such a superhuman faculty for knowing everything you choose to know?”
The monk smiled gravely.
“I have only one method of work, El-Râmi” — he said— “And that method you are perfectly aware of, though you would not adopt it when I would have led you into its mystery. ‘No man cometh to the Father, but by Me.’ You know that old well-worn text — read so often, heard so often, that its true meaning is utterly lost sight of and forgotten. ‘Coming to the Father’ means the attainment of a superhuman intuition — a superhuman knowledge, — but as you do not believe in these things, let them pass. But you were perfectly right when you told Féraz that this Lilith is dead; — of course she is dead, — dead as a plant that is dried but has its colour preserved, and is made to move its leaves by artificial means. This body’s breath is artificial, — the liquid in its veins is not blood, but a careful compound of the electric fluid that generates all life, — and it might be possible to preserve it thus forever. Whether its growth would continue is a scientific question; it might and it might not, — probably it would cease if the Soul held no more communication with it. For its growth, which you consider so remarkable, is simply the result of a movement of the brain; — when you force back the Spirit to converse through its medium, the brain receives an impetus, which it communicates to the spine and nerves, — the growth and extension of the muscles is bound to follow. Nevertheless, it is really a chemically animated corpse; it is not Lilith. Lilith herself I know.”
“Lilith herself you know!” echoed El-Râmi, stupefied— “You know ...! What is it that you would imply?”
“I know Lilith” — said the monk steadily, “as you have never known her. I have seen her as you have never seen her. She is a lonely creature, — a wandering angel, for ever waiting, — for ever hoping. Unloved, save by the Highest Love, she wends her flight from star to star, from world to world, — a spirit beautiful, but incomplete as a flower without its stem, — a bird without its mate. But her destiny is changing, — she will not be alone for long, — the hours ripen to their best fulfilment, — and Love, the crown and completion of her being, will unbind her chains and send her soaring to the Highest Joy in the glorious liberty of the free!”
While he spoke thus, softly, yet with eloquence and passion, a dark flush crept over El-Râmi’s face, — his eyes glittered and his hand trembled — he seemed to be making some fierce inward resolve. He controlled himself, however, and asked with a studied indifference —
“Is this your prophecy?”
“It is not a prophecy; it is a truth;” replied the monk gently— “If you doubt me, why not ask Her? She is here.”
“Here?” El-Râmi looked about vaguely, first at the speaker, then at the couch where the so-called “corpse” lay breathing tranquilly— “Here, did you say? Naturally, — of course she is here.”
And his glance reverted again to Lilith’s slumbering form.
“No — not here—” said the monk with a gesture towards the couch— “but — there!”
And he pointed to the centre of the room where the lamp shed a mellow golden lustre, on the pansy-embroidered carpet, and where from the tall crystal vase of Venice ware, a fresh, branching cluster of pale roses exhaled their delicious perfume. El-Râmi stared, but could see nothing, — nothing save the lamp-light and the nodding flowers.
“There?” he repeated bewildered— “Where?”
“Alas for you, that you cannot see her!” said the monk compassionately. “This blindness of your sight proves that for you the veil has not yet been withdrawn. Lilith is there, I tell you; — she stands close to those roses, — her white form radiates like lightning — her hair is like the glory of the sunshine on amber, — her eyes are bent upon the flowers, which are fully conscious of her shining presence. For flowers are aware of angels’ visits, when men see nothing! Round her and above her are the trailing films of light caught from the farthest stars, — she is alone as usual, — her looks are wistful and appealing, — will you not speak to her?”
El-Râmi’s surprise, vexation and fear were beyond all words as he heard this description, — then he became scornful and incredulous.
“Speak to her!” he repeated— “Nay — if you see her as plainly as you say — let her speak!”
“You will not understand her speech—” said the monk— “Not unless it be conveyed to you in earthly words through that earthly medium there—” and he pointed to the fair form on the couch— “But, otherwise you will not know what she is saying. Nevertheless — if you wish it, — she shall speak.”
“I wish nothing—” said El-Râmi quickly and haughtily— “If you imagine you see her, — and if you can command this creature of your imagination to speak, why do so; but Lilith as I know her, speaks to none save me.”
The monk lifted his hands with a solemn movement as of prayer —
“Soul of Lilith!” he said entreatingly— “Angel-wanderer in the spheres beloved of God — if, by the Master’s grace I have seen the vision clearly — speak!”
Silence followed. El-Râmi fixed his
eyes on Lilith’s visible recumbent form, — no voice could make reply, he thought, save that which must issue from those lovely lips curved close in placid slumber, — but the monk’s gaze was fastened in quite an opposite direction. All at once a strain of music, soft as a song played on the water by moonlight, rippled through the room. With mellow richness the cadence rose and fell, — it had a marvellous sweet sound, rhythmical and suggestive of words, — unimaginable words, fairies’ language, — anything that was removed from mortal speech, but that was all the same capable of utterance. El-Râmi listened perplexed; — he had never heard anything so convincingly, almost painfully sweet, — till suddenly it ceased as it had begun, abruptly, and the monk looked round at him.
“You heard her?” he inquired— “Did you understand?”
“Understand what?” asked El-Râmi impatiently— “I heard music — nothing more.”
The monk’s eyes rested upon him in grave compassion.
“Your spiritual perception does not go far, El-Râmi Zarânos—” he said gently— “Lilith spoke; — her voice was the music.”
El-Râmi trembled; — for once his strong nerves were somewhat shaken. The man beside him was one whom he knew to be absolutely truthful, unselfishly wise, — one who scorned “trickery” and who had no motive for deceiving him, — one also who was known to possess a strange and marvellous familiarity with “things unproved and unseen.” In spite of his sceptical nature, all he dared assume against his guest, was that he was endowed with a perfervid imagination which persuaded him of the existence of what were really only the “airy nothings” of his brain. The irreproachable grandeur, purity and simplicity of the monk’s life as known among his brethren, were of an ideal perfection never before attempted or attained by man, — and as he met the steady, piercing faithful look of his companion’s eyes, — clear fine eyes such as, reverently speaking, one might have imagined the Christ to have had when in the guise of humanity He looked love on all the world, — El-Râmi was fairly at a loss for words. Presently he recovered himself sufficiently to speak, though his accents were hoarse and tremulous.
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Eight Book 22) Page 257