Ouida_Signa.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
for a day, a year. he will be
spared the truth. he is so young, he will be glad again
before the summer comes.**
a moment his courage failed him.
could face the thought of an eternity of pain, and not
turn pale, nor pause. to die with the boy's curse on him,
that was harder.
*^ is selfishness to paune," he told himself. " will
loathe me always ; but what matter ? he will be saved ; he
will be innocent once more; he will hear his * beautiful things*
again ; he will never know the truth ; he will be at peace with
himself, and forget before the summer comes. never has
. 497
loved me, not mnch. does it matter bo that he is
? he sees his mother in heaven some day, then
she urill say to him, * was done for your sake.' shall
know that he sees then, as )d sees. will he enough."
he refused to have pity on himself, and hardened
his heart, and faced the red of the breaking day with his re-
solve stronger and firmer in his soul, till he seemed to himself
to be no more a man with nerves to wound and heart to suffer,
but a thing of iron set to vengeance as a clock is wound to
strike.
was no other way, that was what he thought ; no
other way to turn the boy to innocence, and spare him ever
any knowledge of the truth.
same terrible sense of crime as duty which of old
nerved the hands of and of came on him now.
the great blindness that was upon him it seemed to him
that to shrink from this act set to him would be the feeblest
cowardice. seemed to him that all the forces of were
at war with him, and that not to strike them down and crush
them out would be to pander to and aid them, and shrink, a
craven, from their path.
passion which makes tyrannicides was in him now.
" have lived righteously, and no good has come of it," he
said to himself ^^If crime can save him, crime shall be
sweeter to me than all virtue."
was all he felt, dully, savagely, hopelessly, with that
despair upon him which is irresponsible as madness.
had given all his manhood to the boy, and surrendered
all the hopes and ties and pleasures and tender follies which
make the toil of manhood bearable, and soften creeping age
of half its terrors, and one afler another alien forces had arisen
and taken the thing he had labored for away from him.
heart was hard. blood was fire. had been
merciless and been deaf. grew merciless too, and
stopped his ears to pity.
!
was there any in all this wide world ? fiend
sent a creature on to earth with a wooing mouth and a white
body, and she ate up youth and innocence and all pure desires
and all high endeavors, and devoured souls as swine the gar-
bage ; and from heaven there was never any sign.
42*
498 .
young day grew wider and brighu^ and redder m tie
sky. sang in the gardens on the other side of
the high walls. wind rose fragrant with the smeO of vei
grass-ways and of the laden orange-boughs. nodoed no-
thing. time had gone by with him when any sight or
sound had power on him. only waited, ^waited sikntJj,
^rawn back within the shadow of the walls.
the full morning the bolts of the gates were dnwn
back ; then came forth a young man with a &oe strange to
him, and rich garments, and a smile of triumph on his mootli ;
a little later came a woman with great buckets on her shoulders,
going to fetch water from the fountain in the public square i
street or two beyond.
, waiting for such a moment's favoring chance, weoi
within. fresh dark gardens were deserted. ms a
stone terrace with two flights of steps ; winged lions ; and
grim marble masks. ascended the stairs, and pushed baek
some great doors which were unlatched within. yielded
to his hand. entered the silent house.
or three senrauts, drowsy or drunken, lay about on the
couches in the great vaulted entrance, whose white and red
marbles gleamed in the golden glory of the slanting sun-rays.
of them raised himself sleepily, and stopped him with
a stupid smile.
" do you go ? ^what would you do?"
pushed him aside.
** go to my work," he answered, and passed onward.
other, muttering, dropped back again into his vinous rest
went on. corridors, empty banqueting-rooms,
chambers rich with sculptures and with frescoes, deserted splen-
dors where the flowers were fading and the morning shming
through the crevices of closed shutters, all followed one on an-
other like the tombs of dead kings. the house-
hold slept, after the long, gay, amorous vigil of the night.
traversed the silent places as a living man traverses the soli-
tude of sepulchres. had no knowledge where to find the
thing he sought; but he went on without a pause: he had
grasped by the hand ; it guides unerringly.
bare feet smote the bare marble and trod on, inezorab^
as the tread of time^ many chambers, the vast, beauti-
ful painted chambers of , lolly as temples, and cool as the
. 499
deep sea, he saw a door closed, with garlands of roses bloom-
ing on itfi panels under the morning sunbeams.
thrust his strength against it ; it resisted a moment, then
gave way and opened noiselessly; a fierce exultant joy leaped
up in his heart like a sudden flame ; he had found his goal.
no daylight came ; a little lamp was burning, a
swung it from a chain ; there was deep color in the shadows
everywhere ; the gloom of the place was filled with aromatic
odors.
paused neither for the loveliness nor the stillness of it ;
he went through its fragrant darkness with the same slow calm
steps. destiny comes to men to strike, unhastlng but un-
resting, so he went to her.
paused a moment and looked on her. bed was
white as sea-foam is ; it rose and sank like billows under her ;
her loosened hair half covered her ; her arms were cast above
her head ; her limbs were lightly crossed ; she was one of those
women who are most beautiful in sleep ; and her sleep waa
sod and smiling and profound in its repose, as when she had
slumbered on the nest of hay by 's side in the old hut
at . . her disarray, in her abandonment, in her deep
drcatailess rest, she was like a white rose just ruffled with the
dew and wind and shutting all the summer in its breast.
stood and looked on her.
her nude beauty she was to him sexless ; in her perfect
loveliness she was to him loathsome.
was no woman ; but all the evil, all the wrong, all the
injustice, and all the mockery of human life made manifest in
the flesh in her.
stood and looked on her ; at her red closed mouth, at
her fair curled limbs, at her soil breast that rose and fell with
the even measures of her peaceful breath.
he leaned forward and drew his knife from his belt,
and, stooping, stabbed her through the heart, again and
again and again, driving each stroke farther home.
quivered a moment, then was still; she passed from
sleep to death.
went out, no man staying him, or asking him anything,
into the broad bright daylight of the outer air.
" was for him,'' he said in his thoughts, and a great
serenity was with him as of some duty done.
500 .
would slay him, and d would bid him bmn in hefl
forever : ^what matter? ^the boy was saved.
went on, erect, in the full sunshine. was doi^
deep, fierce, exultant calm was on him. would parish,
^body and soul, but the boy was saved.
the streets there were many people, and the multitudes
were silent and afraid, and there was a sound as of weeping
among women, and the stir and the press grew greater at each
step ; and through the crowds there was brought out in the
living light of the joyous day an open bier; men foDoved
mourning as once they follow^ .
" is it?" he asked, and paused, for a great fear
upon him.
woman answered him.
" wanton was faithless, look you, and last night alone
he knew it. he slew himself. not? had killed
all his soul in him. is dead, one*s body best dies
too."
brought the bier through the weeping crowds.
face was uncovered to the light. was the face of
.
had folded his hands on his breast, and his eyes
closed as in slumber.
had killed him.
not ? is the only mercy that ever has.
.
a warm cloudless morning, with the scent of wild flowers
upon the wind, when the summer had drawn near, and the
world was filled with life and light, they brought out
into the public place of to meet his death.
was quite silent. had been always silent.
the sun smote his eyes, and the wind blew on his
face, he shivered a little, that was all.
was all of no use," he muttered. " was all of a
use."
mounted the scaffold with a firm step. i^as un-
n
. 601
oonscions what he did, bat courage remained an instinct with
tkim.
conld do naught for him. repelled them.
liad no remorse.
" did what could," he said in his heart. *^ it was
aU of no use, of no use."
looked a moment at the blue sky, at the fair sailing
clouds, at the hills which rose between hum and his old home ;
then he surrendered himself.
bared his throat.
*' for your soul," said some voice in his ear.
looked straight upward at the sun.
" my soul burn forever 1" he said. '' the boy's.*
was his prayer.
he bowed his head, and knelt.
axe fell.
flung his body in a ditch, and threw the quicklime
on it, and the heavy earth.
was the end.
hills lie quiet and know no change ; the winds wander
among the white arbutus-bells and shake the odors' from the
clustering herbs ; the stone-pines scent the storm ; the plain
outspreads its golden glory to the morning light ; the sweet
chimes ring ; the days glide on ; the splendors of the sunsets
bum across the sky, and make the mountains as the jeweled
thrones of gods.
, hoary and old, stands there unchanged ; beholding the
sun shine alike on the just and on the unjust
not?
can count her age by many centuries. the
were, she knew truria ; but, many as be her memories,
she remembers no other thing than thb, there is no justice that
she knows of anywhere. is wise. lets this world
go by ; and sleeps.