“And you, — you propose to recharge them?” she said, slowly and wonderingly.
“I not only propose to do it — I have already begun the work!” he answered. “You want me to be straightforward — come, then! — give me the same confidence! Can you honestly say you see no difference and feel no difference in yourself since yesterday?”
She gave a quick sigh.
“No, I cannot!” she replied. “I do see and feel a change in myself! This morning I was almost terrified at the sense of happiness which possessed me! — happiness for nothing but just the joy of living! — it overwhelmed me like a wave!” She stretched out her arms with a gesture of indefinable yearning—” Oh, it seemed as if I had all the world in my hands! — the light, the air, the mere facts of breathing and moving were sufficient to make me content! — and I was overcome by the fear of my own joy! That is why I determined to ask you plainly what it means, and what I am to expect from you!”
“If all goes well you may expect such gifts as only the gods of old time were able to give!” he said, in thrilling accents, “Those poor gods! They represented the powers that have since been put into man’s hands, — their day is done! Now, listen! — I have told you that I have commenced my work upon you, — and you are now the centre of my supreme interest. You are precisely the ‘subject’ I need, — for, understand me well! — if you had led a ‘rackety’ life, such as our modern women do — if you had been obsessed by rabid passions, hysterical sentiments, greedy sensualities or disordered health, you would have been no use to me. Your ‘cells,’ speaking of you as a battery, would, under such conditions, have been worn out, and in a worn-out state could not have been recharged. The actual renewal, or perpetual germination of cells is a possibility of future science, — but up to the present we have not arrived at the right solution of the problem. Now, perhaps, you understand why I was to some extent startled when you took that first ‘charge’ from my hand yesterday, — it was a strong and a dangerous test, — for if one or any of your ‘cells’ had been in a broken or diseased state it might have killed you instantly — as instantly as by a flash of lightning—”
“And if it had,” interrupted Diana, with a smile—” what would you have done?”
“I should have disposed of your remains,” he answered, coolly. “And I should have arranged things so that no one would have been any the wiser — not even my mother.”
She laughed.
“You really are a first-class scientist!” she said. “No pity — no remorse — no regret — !”
His eyes flashed up in a sort of defiance.
“Who could feel pity, remorse, or regret for the fate of one miserable unit,” he exclaimed—” one atom among millions, sacrificed in the pursuit of a glorious discovery that may fill with hope and renewed power the whole of the human race! Tens of thousands of men are slain in war and the useless holocaust is called a ‘Roll of Honour,’ but if one superfluous woman were killed in the aid of science it would be called murder! Senseless hypocrisy! — The only thing to regret would be failure! Failure to achieve result, — horrible! But success! — what matter if a hundred thousand women perished, so long as we possess the Flaming Sword!”
He spoke with an almost wild excitation, and Diana began to think he must be mad. Mad with a dream of science, — mad with the overpowering force and flow of ideas too vast for the human brain!
“Why,” she asked, in purposely cold and even tones —
“have you chosen a woman as your ‘subject?’ Why not a man?”
“A man would attempt to become my rival,” he answered at once. “And he would not submit to coercion without a struggle. It is woman’s nature instinctively to bend under the male influence, — one cannot controvert natural law. Woman does not naturally resist; she yields. I told you I wanted obedience and loyalty from you, — I knew you would give them. You have done so, and now that you partially know my aims I know you will do so still.”
“I shall not fail you,” said Diana, quietly. “But, — if I may know as much, — suppose you succeed in your idea of recharging the ‘cells’ which make up Me, what will be the result to Myself?”
“The result to yourself?” he repeated. “Little can you imagine it! — little will you believe it even if I attempt to describe it! What will it mean to you, I wonder, to feel the warmth and vigour of early youth once more tingling in your veins? — the elasticity and suppleness of youth in your limbs? — to watch the delicate and heavenly magic of a perfect beauty transfiguring your face to such fairness that it shall enchant all beholders!—”
“Stop, — stop!” cried Diana, almost angrily, springing up from her chair and putting her hands to her ears —
“This is mere folly, Dr. Dimitrius! You talk wildly, — and unreasonably! You must be mad!”
“Of course I am mad!” he answered, rising at the same moment and confronting her— “As mad as all original discoverers are! As mad as Galileo, Newton, George Stephenson or Madame Curie! And I am one with them in the madness that makes for a world’s higher sanity! Come, look at me!” and he took both her hands firmly in his own—” Honestly, can you say I am mad?”
His eyes, dark and luminous, were steadfast and frank as the eyes of a faithful animal, — his expression serious, — even noble. As she met his calm gaze the colour flushed her cheeks suddenly, then as quickly faded, leaving her very pale.
“No — I cannot!” she said, swiftly and humbly. “Forgive me! But you deal with the impossible!”
He loosened her hands.
“Nothing is impossible!” he said. “Whatsoever-the brain of a man conceives in thought can be born in deed. Otherwise there would be a flaw in the mathematics of the Universe, which is a thing utterly inconceivable.” He paused, — then went on. “I have told you all that you wished to know. Are you satisfied?”
She looked at him, and a faint smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
“If you are satisfied, I am,” she replied. “What I seem to understand is this, — if you succeed in your experiment I shall feel and look younger than I do now, — we will leave the ‘beauty’ part out of it, — and if you fail, the ‘cells’ you have begun to charge with your mysterious compound, will disintegrate, and there’ll be an end of me?”
“You have put the case with perfect accuracy,” he said. “That is so.”
“Very well! I am prepared!” — and she went to the table desk where she usually worked—” and now I’ll go on deciphering Latin script.”
She seated herself, and, turning over the papers she had left, began to write.
An odd sense of compunction came over him as he looked at her and realized her courage, patience, and entire submission to his will, and yet — his careful and vigilant eye noted the improved outlines of cheek and chin, the delicate, almost imperceptible softening of the lately thin and angular profile, — and the foretaste of a coming scientific triumph was stronger in him than any other human feeling. Nevertheless she was a woman, and —
Moved by a sudden impulse, he approached and bent over her as she worked.
“Diana,” he said, very softly and kindly—” you will forgive me if I have seemed to you callous, or cruel?”
Her heart beat quickly — she was annoyed with herself at the nervous tremor which ran through her from head to foot.
“I have nothing to forgive,” she answered, simply—” I am your paid ‘subject,’ — not a woman at all in your eyes. And being so, I am content to live — or die — in your service.”
He hesitated another moment, — and possessing himself of the small hand that moved steadily across the paper on which she was writing, he dexterously drew the pen from it and raised it to his lips with a grave and courteous gentleness. Then, releasing it, without look or word he went from the room, treading softly, and closing the door behind him.
CHAPTER XIV
SO she knew! She knew that, as usual, she was, personally, a valueless commodity. So far as herself, her own l
ife and feelings were concerned, her fate continued to follow her — no one was kindly or vitally interested in her, — she was just a “subject” for experiment. She had suspected this all along — yet now that she had heard the fact stated coldly and dispassionately, she was more or less resentful. She waited a few minutes, her heart beating quickly and the vexed blood rising to her brows and making her cheeks burn, — waited till she was sure Dimitrius would not re-enter, — then, suddenly-flinging down her pen, she rose and paced the room hurriedly to and fro, scarce knowing what she did. Was it not hard, — hard! she said to herself, with an involuntary clenching of her hands as she walked up and down, that she should never be considered more than a passive “thing” to be used for other folks’ advantage or convenience? How had it happened that no one in all the world had ever thought of putting himself (or herself) to “use” for Her sake! The calm calculations of Féodor Dinaitrius on her possible death under his treatment had (though she would not admit it to herself) inwardly hurt her. Yet, after all, what had she any right to expect? She had answered a strange, very strange advertisement, and through that action had come into association with the personality of a more than strange man of whose character and reputation she knew little or nothing. And, so far, she had “fallen on her feet,” — that is to say, she had secured a comfortable home and handsome competence for the services she had pledged herself to render. Then, as she had taken the whole thing on trust had she any cause to complain of the nature of those services? No! — and in truth she did not complain, — she only — felt, to the core of her soul the callous indifference which Dimitrius had plainly expressed as to her fate in the dangerous ‘“experiment” he had already commenced upon her. Hot tears sprang to her eyes, — she struggled with them, ashamed and humiliated.
“Children and girls cry!” she said, with self-contempt. “I, being a woman ‘of mature years,’ ought to know better! But, oh, it is hard! — hard!”
Her thoughts flew to Madame Dimitrius, — had she followed her first feminine impulse, she would have ran to that kind old lady and asked for a little pity, sympathy and affection! — but she knew such an act would seem weak and absurd. Still walking up and down, her steps gradually became more measured and even, — with one hand against her eyes, she pressed away the tear drops that hung on her lashes — then, pausing, looked again, as she so often looked at the never stopping steel instrument that struck off its little fiery sparks with an almost wearisome exactitude and monotony. Stretching out her hand, she tried to catch one of the flying dots of flame as one would catch a midge or a moth, — she at last succeeded, and the glowing mote shone on her open palm like a ruby for about half a minute — then vanished, leaving no trace but a slight tingling sensation on the flesh it had touched.
“A mystery!” she said—” as involved and difficult to understand as my ‘master’ himself!”
She looked through the window at the grey-cold winter landscape, and let her eyes travel along the distant peaks of the Alpine ranges, where just now the faintest gleam of sunshine fell. The world, — the natural world — was beautiful! — but how much more beautiful it would seem if one had the full heart and vigour to enjoy its beauty! If, with youth to buoy up the senses, one had the trained eye and mind to perceive and appreciate the lovely things of life! — could one ask for greater happiness?
“When we are quite young we hardly see Nature,” she mused. “It is only in later years that we begin to find out how much we have missed. Now, if I, with my love of beauty, were young—”
Here her meditations came to an abrupt halt. Had not Dimitrius promised that if he succeeded in his experiment, youth would be hers again? — youth, united to experience? — but would that be a desirable result? She wondered.
The old, old story!” she sighed. “The old legend of Faust and the devil! — the thirst of mankind for a longer extension of youth and life! — only, in my case, I have not asked for these things, nor have I tried to summon up the devil. I am just an unwanted woman, — unwanted so far as the world is concerned, but useful just now as a ‘subject’ for the recharging of cells!”
She gave a half weary, half scornful gesture, and resumed her work, and for an hour or more sat patiently translating and writing. But her thoughts were rebels and went breaking into all manner of unfamiliar places, — moreover, she herself felt more or less rebellious and disposed to fight against destiny. At midday the sun, which had been teasing the earth with shy glimpses of glory all the morning, shone out superbly, and set such a coronal of light on her hair as she sat at her desk, that if she could have seen herself she might have been flattered at the effect. But she was only conscious of the brightness that filled the room — a brightness that equally took possession of her mind and filled her with cheerfulness. She even allowed herself a little run into the realms of fancy.
“Suppose that he should succeed in his perfectly impossible task,” she said. “I —— his ‘subject’ — shall have him in my power! I never thought of that! Yet it’s worth thinking about! I shall have given him the triumph of his life! He will set some value upon me then, — and he’ll never be able to forget me! More than that, according to his own assertion, I shall be young! — ( and he spoke of beauty too! — all nonsense, of course — but if! — if! — if he makes me the crowning success of all his studies, I shall hold him in the hollow of my hand!” Stimulated by this thought, she sprang up and stood proudly erect, a smile on her lips and radiance in her eyes.
“With all his learning, his calculations and his coldblooded science, — yes, — I shall hold him in the hollow of my hand!”
Recalling herself to her duties, she put all her papers and writing materials neatly away in order for the next morning’s work, and leaving the library, went out in the garden for a turn in the fresh air before luncheon. The noonday sunshine was at the full, and her whole being responded to its warmth and brightness. A new outlook had presented itself to her view, and all hesitation, vexation, fear and depression vanished like a mist blown aside by the wind. She was entirely resolved now to go through with whatsoever strange ordeals Dimitrius might ordain, no matter how much physical or mental suffering she might have to endure.
“The die is cast!” she said, gaily — addressing herself to a group of pine trees stiff with frost—” I’m all for youth and beauty! — or — Death! On, on, Diana!
That afternoon she went off for a walk by herself as it was frequently her custom to do. She was allowed perfect freedom of action after the morning working hours, — she could go and come as she liked, — and both Dr. Dimitrius and his mother made it plainly evident that they trusted her implicitly. She avoided Geneva — she instinctively felt that it would be wiser not to be seen there, as the people of the hotel where she had stayed might recognize her. One of her favourite walks was along the Mornex road to a quaint little villa occupied by Professor Chauvet. This somewhat grim and ironical man of much horning had taken a great fancy to her, and she always made herself charming in his company, partly out of real liking for him and partly out of compassion for his loneliness. For, apparently, he had no one in the world to care whether he lived or died, the only person to attend upon him being a wrinkled, toothless old woman from the Canton Grisons, whose cooking was execrable, while her excessive cleanliness was beyond reproach. Diana loved to hear the Professor’s half-cynical, half-kindly talk, — she laughingly encouraged him to “lay down the law,” as he delighted to do, on all things human and divine, and she was never tired of turning over his really unique and wonderful collection of unset gems, of which he had enough to excite the cupidity of any American wife of a millionaire, — enough certainly to make him rich though he lived in the style of an exceedingly poor man.
“You have the saddest fire I ever saw!” she said, on this particular afternoon, as she entered his study without warning, as she was now quite accustomed to do, and found Mm sitting absorbed over a book, regardless of the smouldering wood in the grate which threatened to beco
me altogether extinguished. “Let me make it cheerful for you!”
She set to work, while he pushed his spectacles up from his eyes to his forehead and regarded her with unassisted vision.
“What have you been doing to yourself?” he asked, then. “Are you sure you are quite well?”
She looked up from the logs she was piling dexterously together, surprised and smiling.
“Quite well? Of course I am! Never felt better! Do I look ill?”
Professor Chauvet got up and stretched his legs.
“Not ill,” he replied, “No, — but feverish! Singularly so! Eyes too bright — lips too red, — spiteful women would say you had put belladonna in the one and carmine on the other! Let me feel your pulse!”
She laughed, and gave him her hand. He pressed his fingers on the cool, firm wrist.
“No — nothing the matter there!” he said, wrinkling his fuzzy brows in a puzzled line. “It is the pulse of youth and strong heart action. Well! What is it?”
“What is what?” queried Diana, merrily, as she settled the logs to her satisfaction, and kindled them into sparkling flame. “I know of nothing in myself that is, or isn’t!”
He smiled a wry smile.
“There you express the sum and substance of all philosophy!” he said. “Plato himself could go no further! All the same, there’s an IS about you that WASN’T! What do you make of that? And if you haven’t been doing anything to yourself what has our friend Féodor Dimitrius been doing to you?”
The question, though put suddenly, did not throw her off her guard. She met it with clear, upraised eyes and a look of wonder.
“Why, what on earth should he do?” she asked, lightly.
“He’s giving me quite a pleasant time in Switzerland — that’s all!”
“Oh! That’s all, eh?” repeated Chauvet, baffled for the moment. “Well, I’m glad you are having a pleasant time. Judging by your looks, Switzerland agrees with you. But Dimitrius is a queer fellow. It’s no use falling in love with him, you know!”
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli Page 851