VIII
It was a stormy night. At rare intervals a weak moon-ray dartedbetween hurrying black clouds and mingled itself strangely with thethrobbings of lightning. A warm salt-laden wind was blowing violently.On the left shore of the Bosphorus a horseman was approaching a lonelyruin. In immemorial Trojan times this fortification had been used as awatch-tower. It was now little more than a heap of stones andhalf-demolished walls, overgrown by tall grass. But at its foot asmall chamber still served as shelter to shepherds and poortravellers.
Tethering his horse under a dismantled doorway, and brushing throughthe burdock-leaves, the rider knocked at a low door--
"It is I, Meroe! Open!..."
An old Egyptian woman opened the door and admitted him to the interiorof the tower. The traveller came near a torch which lighted up hisface. He was Julian the Emperor.
The two went out, the old woman, who knew the place well, leadingJulian by the hand. Parting the briers and thistles she revealed a lowentry in one face of a little ravine in the cliff, and went down thesteps within. The sea lay near, and the shock of the waves below madethe cliff tremble, but arched rockwalls completely sheltered them fromthe wind. The Egyptian halted--
"Here, my lord, is a lamp, and the key. You must turn it twice. Themonastery-door is open. If you meet the guardian brother, fearnothing; I have given him money. Only make no mistake; it is in theupper passage, the third cell to the left."
Julian opened the door and took a long time descending a steep slopeof huge stone-hewn steps. The tunnel soon became a passage, so narrowthat two men could not pass each other in it. This secret way joinedthe watch-tower on the opposite bank of the chasm with a new Christianmonastery.
Julian emerged high above the sea, but still between steep cliffswashed by the tide. He began to climb a narrow rocky stair bydaylight. Arrived at the summit he found a brick wall, which heclimbed with some difficulty. He found himself in the littlecloistered garden.
He penetrated farther into a small court, in which the walls were hungwith wild roses. The air was full of perfume. The shutters of one ofthe windows on the ground floor were not closed from within. Juliangently opened them, and entered through the window. A gust ofimprisoned air filled his nostrils with odours of moisture, incense,mice, medicinal herbs, and fresh apples, with which the cautious nunshad filled their stores.
The Emperor went along a corridor into which opened two rows of doors.He counted the third to the left and softly opened it. An alabasterlamp faintly lighted the cell. He made his breathing as noiseless aspossible.
A woman, dressed in the dark robe of a nun, lay stretched upon a lowbed. She must have fallen asleep during prayer, too weary to undress.Long lashes shadowed the pale cheeks, and the brows wore a slightmajestic frown, like the frown of the dead.
Julian recognised Arsinoe.
She had greatly changed. Her hair alone had remained unaltered. It wasstill golden brown at its roots, and at its ends pale yellow, likehoney standing in the sun.
The eyelids trembled. She sighed.
Before Julian's remembrance arose that proud body of the young Amazonbathed in light, dazzling as the mellow Parthenon marbles, and, with agesture of irresistible love, Julian stretched out his arms to the nunsleeping under the shadow of the tall black cross. He murmured--
"Arsinoe!"
The girl opened her eyes, and gazed at him without astonishment orfear, as if she had known he would come. But returning to herself, sheshivered, and passed her hand over her forehead.
He came near her--
"Fear nothing; at a word from you I will go away."
"Why have you come?"
"I wished to know if indeed...."
"What matters it, Julian? We cannot understand each other."
"Do you really believe in 'Him,' Arsinoe?"
She made no answer and lowered her eyes.
"Do you remember our night at Athens?" continued the Emperor. "Do youremember then how you tempted me, the Galilean monk, as now I amtempting you? The old pride, the old force, are still on your face,Arsinoe, and not humility, O slave of the Galilean! Tell me thetruth."
"I wish for power," she said in a low tone.
"Power! Then you still remember our compact--our alliance?" exclaimedJulian joyfully.
She shook her head, with a sad smile--
"Oh no! Power over the people is not worth the labour of obtaining it._You_ have learned that!"
"And this is why you go forth into the desert?"
"Yes ... and for freedom's sake."
"Arsinoe, as of old, you care only for yourself!"
"I wish to love others as 'He' commands, but I cannot. I detest them,and I detest myself!"
"Then it is better not to live!"
"One must conquer oneself," she said slowly. "One must conquer inoneself not only the distaste for death but also distaste for life,which is very difficult, because a life like mine is much moreterrible than death. But if one succeeds in self-conquest to the end,Life and Death become as nothing, and a greater liberty is gained!"
Her fine brows were knit into a frown of indomitable will.
Julian looked at her in despair.
"What have they made of you?" he murmured. "You are all, all,executioners and martyrs! Why do you keep torturing yourselves? Do younot see that within your soul there is nothing but hate and despair?"
She fixed on him eyes full of anger--
"Why did you come here? I never summoned you. Go!... What matters itto me what you think! My own thoughts and sufferings are enough for meto bear. There is an abyss between us which none living can crossover. You tell me that I do not believe.... That is precisely thecause of my self-hatred. I do not believe, but I wish to believe. Doyou understand? I wish and I shall believe. I shall force myself. Ishall torture my flesh--dry it up by hunger and thirst, make it moreunfeeling than stones. I will tame my intelligence, I will slay it, Iwill kill it, because it is the Devil, and more seducing than anypassion. That shall be my last victory, and the best, because it willset me free. Then I shall see if anything will dare revolt in me andsay, 'I do not believe!'"
She stretched her joined hands heavenward, with a suppliant gesture--
"Lord, have mercy upon me! Lord, where art Thou? Hear me, and pardonme!"
Julian flung himself on his knees before her, drew her to himself, andhis triumphant eyes sparkled--
"O girl, I see now, you are not able to leave us! You willed it, butwilled the impossible! Come! Come now with me! To-morrow you shall bethe spouse of the Roman Emperor, mistress of the world! I have enteredthis place like a thief; I shall go out with my prey like a lion! Whata victory over the Galileans! Who can hinder us? We will dareeverything, and walk as gods!"
The face of Arsinoe became sad and tranquil. She looked at Julianpityingly, without thrusting him away--
"Unhappy man!... You are unhappy as I. You yourself know not whitheryou wish to lead me. On whom do you reckon? In whom put your trust?Your gods are decaying, dead.... I will flee into the desert, far fromcontaminating fables, far from this terrifying smell of rottenness.Leave me.... I can aid you in nothing.... Go...."
Wrath and passion shone in Julian's eyes; but more calmly still, andso pityingly that his very heart shivered and froze as under the blowof deadly insult, she went on--
"Why do you delude yourself? Are _you_ not wavering, perishable, as weall are? Think: what means this charity of yours? Theseguest-houses--these sermons of the sacrificial priests? All that isnew, unknown to the ancient heroes of Hellas.... Julian! Julian! are_your_ gods the ancient Olympians, luminous and pitiless--terriblesons of the azure--rejoicing in the blood of victims and in the painsof mortals? Human blood and suffering were the very nectar of the oldgods! Yours, seduced by the faith of the fishermen of Capernaum, aresick and humble weaklings, full of compassion for men.... But thatpity is mortal to your gods!
"Yes," she continued implacably; "you are sick, you are all too weakfor your wisdom! That is your penalty, Helle
nists of too late a day.You have strength neither for good nor for evil. You are neither daynor night, nor life nor death; your heart wavers, here and there. Youhave left one bank, and cannot reach the other. You believe, and youdo not believe. You betray yourselves, you hesitate; you will, and youdo not will, because you do not know on what to set your will. Theyalone are strong who, seeing one truth, are blind to all other. Theywill conquer us--us who are wise and weak!"
Julian raised his head with an effort, as if waking from some evildream, and said--
"You are unjust, Arsinoe. My soul does not know fear, nor my willweakness. The forces of destiny are leading me. If it is written thatI shall die too soon--and I know it is so--my death shall not beunworthy of the sight of the gods. Farewell. I bear you no anger,because now to me you are as one dead!"
The Death of the Gods Page 32