"Canst thou comprehend, through this thought made visible, the destiny of humanity?--whence it came, whither to goeth? Continue steadfast in the Path.Reaching the end of thy journey thou shalt hear the clarions of omnipotence sounding the cries of victory in chords of which a single one would shake the earth, but which are lost in the spaces of a world that hath neither east nor west.
"Canst thou comprehend, my poor beloved Tried-one, that unless the torpor and the veils of sleep had wrapped thee, such sights would rend and bear away thy mind as the whirlwinds rend and carry into space the feeble sails, depriving thee forever of thy reason? Dost thou understand that the Soul itself, raised to its utmost power can scarcely endure in dreams the burning communications of the Spirit?
"Speed thy way through the luminous spheres; behold, admire, hasten!
Flying thus thou canst pause or advance without weariness.Like other men, thou wouldst fain be plunged forever in these spheres of light and perfume where now thou art, free of thy swooning body, and where thy thought alone has utterance.Fly! enjoy for a fleeting moment the wings thou shalt surely win when Love has grown so perfect in thee that thou hast no senses left; when thy whole being is all mind, all love.The higher thy flight the less canst thou see the abysses.There are none in heaven.Look at the friend who speaks to thee; she who holds thee above this earth in which are all abysses.Look, behold, contemplate me yet a moment longer, for never again wilt thou see me, save imperfectly as the pale twilight of this world may show me to thee."Seraphita stood erect, her head with floating hair inclining gently forward, in that aerial attitude which great painters give to messengers from heaven; the folds of her raiment fell with the same unspeakable grace which holds an artist--the man who translates all things into sentiment--before the exquisite well-known lines of Polyhymnia's veil.Then she stretched forth her hand.Wilfrid rose.
When he looked at Seraphita she was lying on the bear's-skin, her head resting on her hand, her face calm, her eyes brilliant.Wilfrid gazed at her silently; but his face betrayed a deferential fear in its almost timid expression.
"Yes, dear," he said at last, as though he were answering some question; "we are separated by worlds.I resign myself; I can only adore you.But what will become of me, poor and alone!""Wilfrid, you have Minna."
He shook his head.
"Do not be so disdainful; woman understands all things through love;what she does not understand she feels; what she does not feel she sees; when she neither sees, nor feels, nor understands, this angel of earth divines to protect you, and hides her protection beneath the grace of love.""Seraphita, am I worthy to belong to a woman?""Ah, now," she said, smiling, "you are suddenly very modest; is it a snare? A woman is always so touched to see her weakness glorified.
Well, come and take tea with me the day after to-morrow evening; good Monsieur Becker will be here, and Minna, the purest and most artless creature I have known on earth.Leave me now, my friend; I need to make long prayers and expiate my sins.""You, can you commit sin?"
"Poor friend! if we abuse our power, is not that the sin of pride? Ihave been very proud to-day.Now leave me, till to-morrow.""Till to-morrow," said Wilfrid faintly, casting a long glance at the being of whom he desired to carry with him an ineffaceable memory.
Though he wished to go far away, he was held, as it were, outside the house for some moments, watching the light which shone from all the windows of the Swedish dwelling.
"What is the matter with me?" he asked himself."No, she is not a mere creature, but a whole creation.Of her world, even through veils and clouds, I have caught echoes like the memory of sufferings healed, like the dazzling vertigo of dreams in which we hear the plaints of generations mingling with the harmonies of some higher sphere where all is Light and all is Love.Am I awake? Do I still sleep? Are these the eyes before which the luminous space retreated further and further indefinitely while the eyes followed it? The night is cold, yet my head is on fire.I will go to the parsonage.With the pastor and his daughter I shall recover the balance of my mind."But still he did not leave the spot whence his eyes could plunge into Seraphita's salon.The mysterious creature seemed to him the radiating centre of a luminous circle which formed an atmosphere about her wider than that of other beings; whoever entered it felt the compelling influence of, as it were, a vortex of dazzling light and all consuming thoughts.Forced to struggle against this inexplicable power, Wilfrid only prevailed after strong efforts; but when he reached and passed the inclosing wall of the courtyard, he regained his freedom of will, walked rapidly towards the parsonage, and was soon beneath the high wooden arch which formed a sort of peristyle to Monsieur Becker's dwelling.He opened the first door, against which the wind had driven the snow, and knocked on the inner one, saying:--"Will you let me spend the evening with you, Monsieur Becker?""Yes," cried two voices, mingling their intonations.
