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diff --git a/old/bllcr10.txt b/old/bllcr10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f9de321 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/bllcr10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9628 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ball and The Cross, by G.K. Chesterton +#15 in our series by G.K. Chesterton + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Ball and The Cross + +Author: G.K. Chesterton + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5265] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on June 19, 2002] +[Date last updated: July 10th, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BALL AND THE CROSS *** + + + + + +Produced by Ben Crowder <crowderb@blankslate.net> + + + + + +THE BALL AND THE CROSS + +G.K. Chesterton + + + +CONTENTS + + I. A Discussion Somewhat in the Air + II. The Religion of the Stipendiary Magistrate + III. Some Old Curiosities + IV. A Discussion at Dawn + V. The Peacemaker + VI. The Other Philosopher + VII. The Village of Grassley-in-the-Hole + VIII. An Interlude of Argument + IX. The Strange Lady + X. The Swords Rejoined + XI. A Scandal in the Village + XII. The Desert Island + XIII. The Garden of Peace + XIV. A Museum of Souls + XV. The Dream of MacIan + XVI. The Dream of Turnbull + XVII. The Idiot +XVIII. A Riddle of Faces + XIX. The Last Parley + XX. Dies Irae + + + +I. A DISCUSSION SOMEWHAT IN THE AIR + +The flying ship of Professor Lucifer sang through the skies like +a silver arrow; the bleak white steel of it, gleaming in the +bleak blue emptiness of the evening. That it was far above the +earth was no expression for it; to the two men in it, it seemed +to be far above the stars. The professor had himself invented +the flying machine, and had also invented nearly everything in +it. Every sort of tool or apparatus had, in consequence, to the +full, that fantastic and distorted look which belongs to the +miracles of science. For the world of science and evolution is +far more nameless and elusive and like a dream than the world of +poetry and religion; since in the latter images and ideas remain +themselves eternally, while it is the whole idea of evolution +that identities melt into each other as they do in a nightmare. + +All the tools of Professor Lucifer were the ancient human tools +gone mad, grown into unrecognizable shapes, forgetful of their +origin, forgetful of their names. That thing which looked like an +enormous key with three wheels was really a patent and very +deadly revolver. That object which seemed to be created by the +entanglement of two corkscrews was really the key. The thing +which might have been mistaken for a tricycle turned upside-down +was the inexpressibly important instrument to which the corkscrew +was the key. All these things, as I say, the professor had +invented; he had invented everything in the flying ship, with the +exception, perhaps, of himself. This he had been born too late +actually to inaugurate, but he believed at least, that he had +considerably improved it. + +There was, however, another man on board, so to speak, at the +time. Him, also, by a curious coincidence, the professor had not +invented, and him he had not even very greatly improved, though +he had fished him up with a lasso out of his own back garden, in +Western Bulgaria, with the pure object of improving him. He was +an exceedingly holy man, almost entirely covered with white hair. +You could see nothing but his eyes, and he seemed to talk with +them. A monk of immense learning and acute intellect he had made +himself happy in a little stone hut and a little stony garden in +the Balkans, chiefly by writing the most crushing refutations of +exposures of certain heresies, the last professors of which had +been burnt (generally by each other) precisely 1,119 years +previously. They were really very plausible and thoughtful +heresies, and it was really a creditable or even glorious +circumstance, that the old monk had been intellectual enough to +detect their fallacy; the only misfortune was that nobody in the +modern world was intellectual enough even to understand their +argument. The old monk, one of whose names was Michael, and the +other a name quite impossible to remember or repeat in our +Western civilization, had, however, as I have said, made himself +quite happy while he was in a mountain hermitage in the society +of wild animals. And now that his luck had lifted him above all +the mountains in the society of a wild physicist, he made himself +happy still. + +"I have no intention, my good Michael," said Professor Lucifer, +"of endeavouring to convert you by argument. The imbecility of +your traditions can be quite finally exhibited to anybody with +mere ordinary knowledge of the world, the same kind of knowledge +which teaches us not to sit in draughts or not to encourage +friendliness in impecunious people. It is folly to talk of this +or that demonstrating the rationalist philosophy. Everything +demonstrates it. Rubbing shoulders with men of all kinds----" + +"You will forgive me," said the monk, meekly from under loads of +white beard, "but I fear I do not understand; was it in order +that I might rub my shoulder against men of all kinds that you +put me inside this thing?" + +"An entertaining retort, in the narrow and deductive manner of +the Middle Ages," replied the Professor, calmly, "but even upon +your own basis I will illustrate my point. We are up in the sky. +In your religion and all the religions, as far as I know (and I +know everything), the sky is made the symbol of everything that +is sacred and merciful. Well, now you are in the sky, you know +better. Phrase it how you like, twist it how you like, you know +that you know better. You know what are a man's real feelings +about the heavens, when he finds himself alone in the heavens, +surrounded by the heavens. You know the truth, and the truth is +this. The heavens are evil, the sky is evil, the stars are evil. +This mere space, this mere quantity, terrifies a man more than +tigers or the terrible plague. You know that since our science +has spoken, the bottom has fallen out of the Universe. Now, +heaven is the hopeless thing, more hopeless than any hell. Now, +if there be any comfort for all your miserable progeny of morbid +apes, it must be in the earth, underneath you, under the roots of +the grass, in the place where hell was of old. The fiery crypts, +the lurid cellars of the underworld, to which you once condemned +the wicked, are hideous enough, but at least they are more homely +than the heaven in which we ride. And the time will come when you +will all hide in them, to escape the horror of the stars." + +"I hope you will excuse my interrupting you," said Michael, with +a slight cough, "but I have always noticed----" + +"Go on, pray go on," said Professor Lucifer, radiantly, "I really +like to draw out your simple ideas." + +"Well, the fact is," said the other, "that much as I admire your +rhetoric and the rhetoric of your school, from a purely verbal +point of view, such little study of you and your school in human +history as I have been enabled to make has led me to--er--rather +singular conclusion, which I find great difficulty in expressing, +especially in a foreign language." + +"Come, come," said the Professor, encouragingly, "I'll help you +out. How did my view strike you?" + +"Well, the truth is, I know I don't express it properly, but +somehow it seemed to me that you always convey ideas of that kind +with most eloquence, when--er--when----" + +"Oh! get on," cried Lucifer, boisterously. + +"Well, in point of fact when your flying ship is just going to +run into something. I thought you wouldn't mind my mentioning it, +but it's running into something now." + +Lucifer exploded with an oath and leapt erect, leaning hard upon +the handle that acted as a helm to the vessel. For the last ten +minutes they had been shooting downwards into great cracks and +caverns of cloud. Now, through a sort of purple haze, could be +seen comparatively near to them what seemed to be the upper part +of a huge, dark orb or sphere, islanded in a sea of cloud. The +Professor's eyes were blazing like a maniac's. + +"It is a new world," he cried, with a dreadful mirth. "It is a +new planet and it shall bear my name. This star and not that +other vulgar one shall be 'Lucifer, sun of the morning.' Here we +will have no chartered lunacies, here we will have no gods. Here +man shall be as innocent as the daisies, as innocent and as +cruel--here the intellect----" + +"There seems," said Michael, timidly, "to be something sticking +up in the middle of it." + +"So there is," said the Professor, leaning over the side of the +ship, his spectacles shining with intellectual excitement. "What +can it be? It might of course be merely a----" + +Then a shriek indescribable broke out of him of a sudden, and he +flung up his arms like a lost spirit. The monk took the helm in a +tired way; he did not seem much astonished for he came from an +ignorant part of the world in which it is not uncommon for lost +spirits to shriek when they see the curious shape which the +Professor had just seen on the top of the mysterious ball, but he +took the helm only just in time, and by driving it hard to the +left he prevented the flying ship from smashing into St. Paul's +Cathedral. + +A plain of sad-coloured cloud lay along the level of the top of +the Cathedral dome, so that the ball and the cross looked like a +buoy riding on a leaden sea. As the flying ship swept towards it, +this plain of cloud looked as dry and definite and rocky as any +grey desert. Hence it gave to the mind and body a sharp and +unearthly sensation when the ship cut and sank into the cloud as +into any common mist, a thing without resistance. There was, as +it were, a deadly shock in the fact that there was no shock. It +was as if they had cloven into ancient cliffs like so much +butter. But sensations awaited them which were much stranger than +those of sinking through the solid earth. For a moment their eyes +and nostrils were stopped with darkness and opaque cloud; then +the darkness warmed into a kind of brown fog. And far, far below +them the brown fog fell until it warmed into fire. Through the +dense London atmosphere they could see below them the flaming +London lights; lights which lay beneath them in squares and +oblongs of fire. The fog and fire were mixed in a passionate +vapour; you might say that the fog was drowning the flames; or +you might say that the flames had set the fog on fire. Beside the +ship and beneath it (for it swung just under the ball), the +immeasurable dome itself shot out and down into the dark like a +combination of voiceless cataracts. Or it was like some cyclopean +sea-beast sitting above London and letting down its tentacles +bewilderingly on every side, a monstrosity in that starless +heaven. For the clouds that belonged to London had closed over +the heads of the voyagers sealing up the entrance of the upper +air. They had broken through a roof and come into a temple of +twilight. + +They were so near to the ball that Lucifer leaned his hand +against it, holding the vessel away, as men push a boat off from +a bank. Above it the cross already draped in the dark mists of +the borderland was shadowy and more awful in shape and size. + +Professor Lucifer slapped his hand twice upon the surface of the +great orb as if he were caressing some enormous animal. "This is +the fellow," he said, "this is the one for my money." + +"May I with all respect inquire," asked the old monk, "what on +earth you are talking about?" + +"Why this," cried Lucifer, smiting the ball again, "here is the +only symbol, my boy. So fat. So satisfied. Not like that scraggy +individual, stretching his arms in stark weariness." And he +pointed up to the cross, his face dark with a grin. "I was +telling you just now, Michael, that I can prove the best part of +the rationalist case and the Christian humbug from any symbol you +liked to give me, from any instance I came across. Here is an +instance with a vengeance. What could possibly express your +philosophy and my philosophy better than the shape of that cross +and the shape of this ball? This globe is reasonable; that cross +is unreasonable. It is a four-legged animal, with one leg longer +than the others. The globe is inevitable. The cross is arbitrary. +Above all the globe is at unity with itself; the cross is +primarily and above all things at enmity with itself. The cross +is the conflict of two hostile lines, of irreconcilable +direction. That silent thing up there is essentially a collision, +a crash, a struggle in stone. Pah! that sacred symbol of yours +has actually given its name to a description of desperation and +muddle. When we speak of men at once ignorant of each other and +frustrated by each other, we say they are at cross-purposes. Away +with the thing! The very shape of it is a contradiction in +terms." + +"What you say is perfectly true," said Michael, with serenity. +"But we like contradictions in terms. Man is a contradiction in +terms; he is a beast whose superiority to other beasts consists +in having fallen. That cross is, as you say, an eternal +collision; so am I. That is a struggle in stone. Every form of +life is a struggle in flesh. The shape of the cross is +irrational, just as the shape of the human animal is irrational. +You say the cross is a quadruped with one limb longer than the +rest. I say man is a quadruped who only uses two of his legs." + +The Professor frowned thoughtfully for an instant, and said: "Of +course everything is relative, and I would not deny that the +element of struggle and self-contradiction, represented by that +cross, has a necessary place at a certain evolutionary stage. +But surely the cross is the lower development and the sphere the +higher. After all it is easy enough to see what is really wrong +with Wren's architectural arrangement." + +"And what is that, pray?" inquired Michael, meekly. + +"The cross is on top of the ball," said Professor Lucifer, +simply. "That is surely wrong. The ball should be on top of the +cross. The cross is a mere barbaric prop; the ball is perfection. +The cross at its best is but the bitter tree of man's history; +the ball is the rounded, the ripe and final fruit. And the fruit +should be at the top of the tree, not at the bottom of it." + +"Oh!" said the monk, a wrinkle coming into his forehead, "so you +think that in a rationalistic scheme of symbolism the ball should +be on top of the cross?" + +"It sums up my whole allegory," said the professor. + +"Well, that is really very interesting," resumed Michael slowly, +"because I think in that case you would see a most singular +effect, an effect that has generally been achieved by all those +able and powerful systems which rationalism, or the religion of +the ball, has produced to lead or teach mankind. You would see, I +think, that thing happen which is always the ultimate embodiment +and logical outcome of your logical scheme." + +"What are you talking about?" asked Lucifer. "What would happen?" + +"I mean it would fall down," said the monk, looking wistfully +into the void. + +Lucifer made an angry movement and opened his mouth to speak, but +Michael, with all his air of deliberation, was proceeding before +he could bring out a word. + +"I once knew a man like you, Lucifer," he said, with a maddening +monotony and slowness of articulation. "He took this----" + +"There is no man like me," cried Lucifer, with a violence that +shook the ship. + +"As I was observing," continued Michael, "this man also took the +view that the symbol of Christianity was a symbol of savagery and +all unreason. His history is rather amusing. It is also a perfect +allegory of what happens to rationalists like yourself. He began, +of course, by refusing to allow a crucifix in his house, or round +his wife's neck, or even in a picture. He said, as you say, that +it was an arbitrary and fantastic shape, that it was a +monstrosity, loved because it was paradoxical. Then he began to +grow fiercer and more eccentric; he would batter the crosses by +the roadside; for he lived in a Roman Catholic country. Finally +in a height of frenzy he climbed the steeple of the Parish Church +and tore down the cross, waving it in the air, and uttering wild +soliloquies up there under the stars. Then one still summer +evening as he was wending his way homewards, along a lane, the +devil of his madness came upon him with a violence and +transfiguration which changes the world. He was standing smoking, +for a moment, in the front of an interminable line of palings, +when his eyes were opened. Not a light shifted, not a leaf +stirred, but he saw as if by a sudden change in the eyesight that +this paling was an army of innumerable crosses linked together +over hill and dale. And he whirled up his heavy stick and went at +it as if at an army. Mile after mile along his homeward path he +broke it down and tore it up. For he hated the cross and every +paling is a wall of crosses. When he returned to his house he was +a literal madman. He sat upon a chair and then started up from it +for the cross-bars of the carpentry repeated the intolerable +image. He flung himself upon a bed only to remember that this, +too, like all workmanlike things, was constructed on the accursed +plan. He broke his furniture because it was made of crosses. He +burnt his house because it was made of crosses. He was found in +the river." + +Lucifer was looking at him with a bitten lip. + +"Is that story really true?" he asked. + +"Oh, no," said Michael, airily. "It is a parable. It is a parable +of you and all your rationalists. You begin by breaking up the +Cross; but you end by breaking up the habitable world. We leave +you saying that nobody ought to join the Church against his will. +When we meet you again you are saying that no one has any will to +join it with. We leave you saying that there is no such place as +Eden. We find you saying that there is no such place as Ireland. +You start by hating the irrational and you come to hate +everything, for everything is irrational and so----" + +Lucifer leapt upon him with a cry like a wild beast's. "Ah," he +screamed, "to every man his madness. You are mad on the cross. +Let it save you." + +And with a herculean energy he forced the monk backwards out of +the reeling car on to the upper part of the stone ball. Michael, +with as abrupt an agility, caught one of the beams of the cross +and saved himself from falling. At the same instant Lucifer drove +down a lever and the ship shot up with him in it alone. + +"Ha! ha!" he yelled, "what sort of a support do you find it, old +fellow?" + +"For practical purposes of support," replied Michael grimly, "it +is at any rate a great deal better than the ball. May I ask if +you are going to leave me here?" + +"Yes, yes. I mount! I mount!" cried the professor in ungovernable +excitement. "_Altiora peto_. My path is upward." + +"How often have you told me, Professor, that there is really no +up or down in space?" said the monk. "I shall mount up as much as +you will." + +"Indeed," said Lucifer, leering over the side of the flying ship. +"May I ask what you are going to do?" + +The monk pointed downward at Ludgate Hill. "I am going," he said, +"to climb up into a star." + +Those who look at the matter most superficially regard paradox as +something which belongs to jesting and light journalism. Paradox +of this kind is to be found in the saying of the dandy, in the +decadent comedy, "Life is much too important to be taken +seriously." Those who look at the matter a little more deeply or +delicately see that paradox is a thing which especially belongs +to all religions. Paradox of this kind is to be found in such a +saying as "The meek shall inherit the earth." But those who see +and feel the fundamental fact of the matter know that paradox is +a thing which belongs not to religion only, but to all vivid and +violent practical crises of human living. This kind of paradox +may be clearly perceived by anybody who happens to be hanging in +mid-space, clinging to one arm of the Cross of St. Paul's. + +Father Michael in spite of his years, and in spite of his +asceticism (or because of it, for all I know), was a very healthy +and happy old gentleman. And as he swung on a bar above the +sickening emptiness of air, he realized, with that sort of dead +detachment which belongs to the brains of those in peril, the +deathless and hopeless contradiction which is involved in the +mere idea of courage. He was a happy and healthy old gentleman +and therefore he was quite careless about it. And he felt as +every man feels in the taut moment of such terror that his chief +danger was terror itself; his only possible strength would be a +coolness amounting to carelessness, a carelessness amounting +almost to a suicidal swagger. His one wild chance of coming out +safely would be in not too desperately desiring to be safe. There +might be footholds down that awful facade, if only he could not +care whether they were footholds or no. If he were foolhardy he +might escape; if he were wise he would stop where he was till he +dropped from the cross like a stone. And this antinomy kept on +repeating itself in his mind, a contradiction as large and +staring as the immense contradiction of the Cross; he remembered +having often heard the words, "Whosoever shall lose his life the +same shall save it." He remembered with a sort of strange pity +that this had always been made to mean that whoever lost his +physical life should save his spiritual life. Now he knew the +truth that is known to all fighters, and hunters, and climbers of +cliffs. He knew that even his animal life could only be saved by +a considerable readiness to lose it. + +Some will think it improbable that a human soul swinging +desperately in mid-air should think about philosophical +inconsistencies. But such extreme states are dangerous things to +dogmatize about. Frequently they produce a certain useless and +joyless activity of the mere intellect, thought not only divorced +from hope but even from desire. And if it is impossible to +dogmatize about such states, it is still more impossible to +describe them. To this spasm of sanity and clarity in Michael's +mind succeeded a spasm of the elemental terror; the terror of the +animal in us which regards the whole universe as its enemy; +which, when it is victorious, has no pity, and so, when it is +defeated has no imaginable hope. Of that ten minutes of terror it +is not possible to speak in human words. But then again in that +damnable darkness there began to grow a strange dawn as of grey +and pale silver. And of this ultimate resignation or certainty it +is even less possible to write; it is something stranger than +hell itself; it is perhaps the last of the secrets of God. At the +highest crisis of some incurable anguish there will suddenly fall +upon the man the stillness of an insane contentment. It is not +hope, for hope is broken and romantic and concerned with the +future; this is complete and of the present. It is not faith, for +faith by its very nature is fierce, and as it were at once +doubtful and defiant; but this is simply a satisfaction. It is +not knowledge, for the intellect seems to have no particular part +in it. Nor is it (as the modern idiots would certainly say it is) +a mere numbness or negative paralysis of the powers of grief. It +is not negative in the least; it is as positive as good news. In +some sense, indeed, it is good news. It seems almost as if there +were some equality among things, some balance in all possible +contingencies which we are not permitted to know lest we should +learn indifference to good and evil, but which is sometimes shown +to us for an instant as a last aid in our last agony. + +Michael certainly could not have given any sort of rational +account of this vast unmeaning satisfaction which soaked through +him and filled him to the brim. He felt with a sort of +half-witted lucidity that the cross was there, and the ball was +there, and the dome was there, that he was going to climb down +from them, and that he did not mind in the least whether he was +killed or not. This mysterious mood lasted long enough to start +him on his dreadful descent and to force him to continue it. But +six times before he reached the highest of the outer galleries +terror had returned on him like a flying storm of darkness and +thunder. By the time he had reached that place of safety he +almost felt (as in some impossible fit of drunkenness) that he +had two heads; one was calm, careless, and efficient; the other +saw the danger like a deadly map, was wise, careful, and useless. +He had fancied that he would have to let himself vertically down +the face of the whole building. When he dropped into the upper +gallery he still felt as far from the terrestrial globe as if he +had only dropped from the sun to the moon. He paused a little, +panting in the gallery under the ball, and idly kicked his heels, +moving a few yards along it. And as he did so a thunderbolt +struck his soul. A man, a heavy, ordinary man, with a composed +indifferent face, and a prosaic sort of uniform, with a row of +buttons, blocked his way. Michael had no mind to wonder whether +this solid astonished man, with the brown moustache and the +nickel buttons, had also come on a flying ship. He merely let his +mind float in an endless felicity about the man. He thought how +nice it would be if he had to live up in that gallery with that +one man for ever. He thought how he would luxuriate in the +nameless shades of this man's soul and then hear with an endless +excitement about the nameless shades of the souls of all his +aunts and uncles. A moment before he had been dying alone. Now +he was living in the same world with a man; an inexhaustible +ecstasy. In the gallery below the ball Father Michael had found +that man who is the noblest and most divine and most lovable of +all men, better than all the saints, greater than all the +heroes--man Friday. + +In the confused colour and music of his new paradise, Michael +heard only in a faint and distant fashion some remarks that this +beautiful solid man seemed to be making to him; remarks about +something or other being after hours and against orders. He also +seemed to be asking how Michael "got up" there. This beautiful +man evidently felt as Michael did that the earth was a star and +was set in heaven. + +At length Michael sated himself with the mere sensual music of +the voice of the man in buttons. He began to listen to what he +said, and even to make some attempt at answering a question which +appeared to have been put several times and was now put with some +excess of emphasis. Michael realized that the image of God in +nickel buttons was asking him how he had come there. He said that +he had come in Lucifer's ship. On his giving this answer the +demeanour of the image of God underwent a remarkable change. From +addressing Michael gruffly, as if he were a malefactor, he began +suddenly to speak to him with a sort of eager and feverish +amiability as if he were a child. He seemed particularly anxious +to coax him away from the balustrade. He led him by the arm +towards a door leading into the building itself, soothing him all +the time. He gave what even Michael (slight as was his knowledge +of the world) felt to be an improbable account of the sumptuous +pleasures and varied advantages awaiting him downstairs. Michael +followed him, however, if only out of politeness, down an +apparently interminable spiral of staircase. At one point a door +opened. Michael stepped through it, and the unaccountable man in +buttons leapt after him and pinioned him where he stood. But he +only wished to stand; to stand and stare. He had stepped as it +were into another infinity, out under the dome of another heaven. +But this was a dome of heaven made by man. The gold and green and +crimson of its sunset were not in the shapeless clouds but in +shapes of cherubim and seraphim, awful human shapes with a +passionate plumage. Its stars were not above but far below, like +fallen stars still in unbroken constellations; the dome itself +was full of darkness. And far below, lower even than the lights, +could be seen creeping or motionless, great black masses of men. +The tongue of a terrible organ seemed to shake the very air in +the whole void; and through it there came up to Michael the sound +of a tongue more terrible; the dreadful everlasting voice of man, +calling to his gods from the beginning to the end of the world. +Michael felt almost as if he were a god, and all the voices were +hurled at him. + +"No, the pretty things aren't here," said the demi-god in +buttons, caressingly. "The pretty things are downstairs. You +come along with me. There's something that will surprise you +downstairs; something you want very much to see." + +Evidently the man in buttons did not feel like a god, so Michael +made no attempt to explain his feelings to him, but followed him +meekly enough down the trail of the serpentine staircase. He had +no notion where or at what level he was. He was still full of the +cold splendour of space, and of what a French writer has +brilliantly named the "vertigo of the infinite," when another +door opened, and with a shock indescribable he found himself on +the familiar level, in a street full of faces, with the houses +and even the lamp-posts above his head. He felt suddenly happy +and suddenly indescribably small. He fancied he had been changed +into a child again; his eyes sought the pavement seriously as +children's do, as if it were a thing with which something +satisfactory could be done. He felt the full warmth of that +pleasure from which the proud shut themselves out; the pleasure +which not only goes with humiliation, but which almost is +humiliation. Men who have escaped death by a hair have it, and +men whose love is returned by a woman unexpectedly, and men whose +sins are forgiven them. Everything his eye fell on it feasted on, +not aesthetically, but with a plain, jolly appetite as of a boy +eating buns. He relished the squareness of the houses; he liked +their clean angles as if he had just cut them with a knife. The +lit squares of the shop windows excited him as the young are +excited by the lit stage of some promising pantomime. He +happened to see in one shop which projected with a bulging +bravery on to the pavement some square tins of potted meat, and +it seemed like a hint of a hundred hilarious high teas in a +hundred streets of the world. He was, perhaps, the happiest of +all the children of men. For in that unendurable instant when he +hung, half slipping, to the ball of St. Paul's, the whole +universe had been destroyed and re-created. + +Suddenly through all the din of the dark streets came a crash of +glass. With that mysterious suddenness of the Cockney mob, a rush +was made in the right direction, a dingy office, next to the shop +of the potted meat. The pane of glass was lying in splinters +about the pavement. And the police already had their hands on a +very tall young man, with dark, lank hair and dark, dazed eyes, +with a grey plaid over his shoulder, who had just smashed the +shop window with a single blow of his stick. + +"I'd do it again," said the young man, with a furious white face. +"Anybody would have done it. Did you see what it said? I swear +I'd do it again." Then his eyes encountered the monkish habit of +Michael, and he pulled off his grey tam-o'-shanter with the +gesture of a Catholic. + +"Father, did you see what they said?" he cried, trembling. "Did +you see what they dared to say? I didn't understand it at first. +I read it half through before I broke the window." + +Michael felt he knew not how. The whole peace of the world was +pent up painfully in his heart. The new and childlike world which +he had seen so suddenly, men had not seen at all. Here they were +still at their old bewildering, pardonable, useless quarrels, +with so much to be said on both sides, and so little that need be +said at all. A fierce inspiration fell on him suddenly; he would +strike them where they stood with the love of God. They should +not move till they saw their own sweet and startling existence. +They should not go from that place till they went home embracing +like brothers and shouting like men delivered. From the Cross +from which he had fallen fell the shadow of its fantastic mercy; +and the first three words he spoke in a voice like a silver +trumpet, held men as still as stones. Perhaps if he had spoken +there for an hour in his illumination he might have founded a +religion on Ludgate Hill. But the heavy hand of his guide fell +suddenly on his shoulder. + +"This poor fellow is dotty," he said good-humouredly to the +crowd. "I found him wandering in the Cathedral. Says he came in +a flying ship. Is there a constable to spare to take care of him?" + +There was a constable to spare. Two other constables attended to +the tall young man in grey; a fourth concerned himself with the +owner of the shop, who showed some tendency to be turbulent. They +took the tall young man away to a magistrate, whither we shall +follow him in an ensuing chapter. And they took the happiest man +in the world away to an asylum. + + + +II. THE RELIGION OF THE STIPENDIARY MAGISTRATE + +The editorial office of _The Atheist_ had for some years past +become less and less prominently interesting as a feature of +Ludgate Hill. The paper was unsuited to the atmosphere. It showed +an interest in the Bible unknown in the district, and a knowledge +of that volume to which nobody else on Ludgate Hill could make +any conspicuous claim. It was in vain that the editor of _The +Atheist_ filled his front window with fierce and final demands as +to what Noah in the Ark did with the neck of the giraffe. It was +in vain that he asked violently, as for the last time, how the +statement "God is Spirit" could be reconciled with the statement +"The earth is His footstool." It was in vain that he cried with +an accusing energy that the Bishop of London was paid L12,000 a +year for pretending to believe that the whale swallowed Jonah. It +was in vain that he hung in conspicuous places the most thrilling +scientific calculations about the width of the throat of a whale. +Was it nothing to them all they that passed by? Did his sudden +and splendid and truly sincere indignation never stir any of the +people pouring down Ludgate Hill? Never. The little man who +edited _The Atheist_ would rush from his shop on starlit evenings +and shake his fist at St. Paul's in the passion of his holy war +upon the holy place. He might have spared his emotion. The cross +at the top of St. Paul's and _The Atheist_ shop at the foot of it +were alike remote from the world. The shop and the Cross were +equally uplifted and alone in the empty heavens. + +To the little man who edited _The Atheist_, a fiery little +Scotchman, with fiery, red hair and beard, going by the name of +Turnbull, all this decline in public importance seemed not so +much sad or even mad, but merely bewildering and unaccountable. +He had said the worst thing that could be said; and it seemed +accepted and ignored like the ordinary second best of the +politicians. Every day his blasphemies looked more glaring, and +every day the dust lay thicker upon them. It made him feel as if +he were moving in a world of idiots. He seemed among a race of +men who smiled when told of their own death, or looked vacantly +at the Day of Judgement. Year after year went by, and year after +year the death of God in a shop in Ludgate became a less and less +important occurrence. All the forward men of his age discouraged +Turnbull. The socialists said he was cursing priests when he +should be cursing capitalists. The artists said that the soul was +most spiritual, not when freed from religion, but when freed from +morality. Year after year went by, and at least a man came by who +treated Mr. Turnbull's secularist shop with a real respect and +seriousness. He was a young man in a grey plaid, and he smashed +the window. + +He was a young man, born in the Bay of Arisaig, opposite Rum and +the Isle of Skye. His high, hawklike features and snaky black +hair bore the mark of that unknown historic thing which is +crudely called Celtic, but which is probably far older than the +Celts, whoever they were. He was in name and stock a Highlander +of the Macdonalds; but his family took, as was common in such +cases, the name of a subordinate sept as a surname, and for all +the purposes which could be answered in London, he called himself +Evan MacIan. He had been brought up in some loneliness and +seclusion as a strict Roman Catholic, in the midst of that little +wedge of Roman Catholics which is driven into the Western +Highlands. And he had found his way as far as Fleet Street, +seeking some half-promised employment, without having properly +realized that there were in the world any people who were not +Roman Catholics. He had uncovered himself for a few moments +before the statue of Queen Anne, in front of St. Paul's +Cathedral, under the firm impression that it was a figure of the +Virgin Mary. He was somewhat surprised at the lack of deference +shown to the figure by the people bustling by. He did not +understand that their one essential historical principle, the one +law truly graven on their hearts, was the great and comforting +statement that Queen Anne is dead. This faith was as fundamental +as his faith, that Our Lady was alive. Any persons he had talked +to since he had touched the fringe of our fashion or civilization +had been by a coincidence, sympathetic or hypocritical. Or if +they had spoken some established blasphemies, he had been unable +to understand them merely owing to the preoccupied satisfaction +of his mind. + +On that fantastic fringe of the Gaelic land where he walked as a +boy, the cliffs were as fantastic as the clouds. Heaven seemed to +humble itself and come closer to the earth. The common paths of +his little village began to climb quite suddenly and seemed +resolved to go to heaven. The sky seemed to fall down towards the +hills; the hills took hold upon the sky. In the sumptuous sunset +of gold and purple and peacock green cloudlets and islets were +the same. Evan lived like a man walking on a borderland, the +borderland between this world and another. Like so many men and +nations who grow up with nature and the common things, he +understood the supernatural before he understood the natural. He +had looked at dim angels standing knee-deep in the grass before +he had looked at the grass. He knew that Our Lady's robes were +blue before he knew the wild roses round her feet were red. The +deeper his memory plunged into the dark house of childhood the +nearer and nearer he came to the things that cannot be named. +All through his life he thought of the daylight world as a sort +of divine debris, the broken remainder of his first vision. The +skies and mountains were the splendid off-scourings of another +place. The stars were lost jewels of the Queen. Our Lady had +gone and left the stars by accident. + +His private tradition was equally wild and unworldly. His +great-grandfather had been cut down at Culloden, certain in his +last instant that God would restore the King. His grandfather, +then a boy of ten, had taken the terrible claymore from the hand +of the dead and hung it up in his house, burnishing it and +sharpening it for sixty years, to be ready for the next +rebellion. His father, the youngest son and the last left alive, +had refused to attend on Queen Victoria in Scotland. And Evan +himself had been of one piece with his progenitors; and was not +dead with them, but alive in the twentieth century. He was not +in the least the pathetic Jacobite of whom we read, left behind +by a final advance of all things. He was, in his own fancy, a +conspirator, fierce and up to date. In the long, dark afternoons +of the Highland winter, he plotted and fumed in the dark. He +drew plans of the capture of London on the desolate sand of +Arisaig. + +When he came up to capture London, it was not with an army of +white cockades, but with a stick and a satchel. London overawed +him a little, not because he thought it grand or even terrible, +but because it bewildered him; it was not the Golden City or even +hell; it was Limbo. He had one shock of sentiment, when he turned +that wonderful corner of Fleet Street and saw St. Paul's sitting +in the sky. + +"Ah," he said, after a long pause, "that sort of thing was built +under the Stuarts!" Then with a sour grin he asked himself what +was the corresponding monument of the Brunswicks and the +Protestant Constitution. After some warning, he selected a +sky-sign of some pill. + +Half an hour afterwards his emotions left him with an emptied +mind on the same spot. And it was in a mood of mere idle +investigation that he happened to come to a standstill opposite +the office of _The Atheist_. He did not see the word "atheist", +or if he did, it is quite possible that he did not know the +meaning of the word. Even as it was, the document would not have +shocked even the innocent Highlander, but for the troublesome and +quite unforeseen fact that the innocent Highlander read it +stolidly to the end; a thing unknown among the most enthusiastic +subscribers to the paper, and calculated in any case to create a +new situation. + +With a smart journalistic instinct characteristic of all his +school, the editor of _The Atheist_ had put first in his paper +and most prominently in his window an article called "The +Mesopotamian Mythology and its Effects on Syriac Folk Lore." Mr. +Evan MacIan began to read this quite idly, as he would have read +a public statement beginning with a young girl dying in Brighton +and ending with Bile Beans. He received the very considerable +amount of information accumulated by the author with that tired +clearness of the mind which children have on heavy summer +afternoons--that tired clearness which leads them to go on asking +questions long after they have lost interest in the subject and +are as bored as their nurse. The streets were full of people and +empty of adventures. He might as well know about the gods of +Mesopotamia as not; so he flattened his long, lean face against +the dim bleak pane of the window and read all there was to read +about Mesopotamian gods. He read how the Mesopotamians had a god +named Sho (sometimes pronounced Ji), and that he was described as +being very powerful, a striking similarity to some expressions +about Jahveh, who is also described as having power. Evan had +never heard of Jahveh in his life, and imagining him to be some +other Mesopotamian idol, read on with a dull curiosity. He learnt +that the name Sho, under its third form of Psa, occurs in an +early legend which describes how the deity, after the manner of +Jupiter on so many occasions, seduced a Virgin and begat a hero. +This hero, whose name is not essential to our existence, was, it +was said, the chief hero and Saviour of the Mesopotamian ethical +scheme. Then followed a paragraph giving other examples of such +heroes and Saviours being born of some profligate intercourse +between God and mortal. Then followed a paragraph--but Evan did +not understand it. He read it again and then again. Then he did +understand it. The glass fell in ringing fragments on to the +pavement, and Evan sprang over the barrier into the shop, +brandishing his stick. + +"What is this?" cried little Mr. Turnbull, starting up with hair +aflame. "How dare you break my window?" + +"Because it was the quickest cut to you," cried Evan, stamping. +"Stand up and fight, you crapulous coward. You dirty lunatic, +stand up, will you? Have you any weapons here?" + +"Are you mad?" asked Turnbull, glaring. + +"Are you?" cried Evan. "Can you be anything else when you plaster +your own house with that God-defying filth? Stand up and fight, I +say." + +A great light like dawn came into Mr. Turnbull's face. Behind his +red hair and beard he turned deadly pale with pleasure. Here, +after twenty lone years of useless toil, he had his reward. +Someone was angry with the paper. He bounded to his feet like a +boy; he saw a new youth opening before him. And as not +unfrequently happens to middle-aged gentlemen when they see a new +youth opening before them, he found himself in the presence of +the police. + +The policemen, after some ponderous questionings, collared both +the two enthusiasts. They were more respectful, however, to the +young man who had smashed the window, than to the miscreant who +had had his window smashed. There was an air of refined mystery +about Evan MacIan, which did not exist in the irate little +shopkeeper, an air of refined mystery which appealed to the +policemen, for policemen, like most other English types, are at +once snobs and poets. MacIan might possibly be a gentleman, they +felt; the editor manifestly was not. And the editor's fine +rational republican appeals to his respect for law, and his +ardour to be tried by his fellow citizens, seemed to the police +quite as much gibberish as Evan's mysticism could have done. The +police were not used to hearing principles, even the principles +of their own existence. + +The police magistrate, before whom they were hurried and tried, +was a Mr. Cumberland Vane, a cheerful, middle-aged gentleman, +honourably celebrated for the lightness of his sentences and the +lightness of his conversation. He occasionally worked himself up +into a sort of theoretic rage about certain particular offenders, +such as the men who took pokers to their wives, talked in a +loose, sentimental way about the desirability of flogging them, +and was hopelessly bewildered by the fact that the wives seemed +even more angry with him than with their husbands. He was a tall, +spruce man, with a twist of black moustache and incomparable +morning dress. He looked like a gentleman, and yet, somehow, like +a stage gentleman. + +He had often treated serious crimes against mere order or +property with a humane flippancy. Hence, about the mere breaking +of an editor's window, he was almost uproarious. + +"Come, Mr. MacIan, come," he said, leaning back in his chair, "do +you generally enter you friends' houses by walking through the +glass?" (Laughter.) + +"He is not my friend," said Evan, with the stolidity of a dull +child. + +"Not your friend, eh?" said the magistrate, sparkling. "Is he +your brother-in-law?" (Loud and prolonged laughter.) + +"He is my enemy," said Evan, simply; "he is the enemy of God." + +Mr. Vane shifted sharply in his seat, dropping the eye-glass out +of his eye in a momentary and not unmanly embarrassment. + +"You mustn't talk like that here," he said, roughly, and in a +kind of hurry, "that has nothing to do with us." + +Evan opened his great, blue eyes; "God," he began. + +"Be quiet," said the magistrate, angrily, "it is most undesirable +that things of that sort should be spoken about--a--in public, +and in an ordinary Court of Justice. Religion is--a--too personal +a matter to be mentioned in such a place." + +"Is it?" answered the Highlander, "then what did those policemen +swear by just now?" + +"That is no parallel," answered Vane, rather irritably; "of +course there is a form of oath--to be taken reverently-- +reverently, and there's an end of it. But to talk in a public +place about one's most sacred and private sentiments--well, I +call it bad taste. (Slight applause.) I call it irreverent. +I call it irreverent, and I'm not specially orthodox either." + +"I see you are not," said Evan, "but I am." + +"We are wondering from the point," said the police magistrate, +pulling himself together. + +"May I ask why you smashed this worthy citizen's window?" + +Evan turned a little pale at the mere memory, but he answered +with the same cold and deadly literalism that he showed +throughout. + +"Because he blasphemed Our Lady." + +"I tell you once and for all," cried Mr. Cumberland Vane, rapping +his knuckles angrily on the table, "I tell you, once and for all, +my man, that I will not have you turning on any religious rant or +cant here. Don't imagine that it will impress me. The most +religious people are not those who talk about it. (Applause.) +You answer the questions and do nothing else." + +"I did nothing else," said Evan, with a slight smile. + +"Eh," cried Vane, glaring through his eye-glass. + +"You asked me why I broke his window," said MacIan, with a face +of wood. "I answered, 'Because he blasphemed Our Lady.' I had +no other reason. So I have no other answer." Vane continued to +gaze at him with a sternness not habitual to him. + +"You are not going the right way to work, Sir," he said, with +severity. "You are not going the right way to work to--a--have +your case treated with special consideration. If you had simply +expressed regret for what you had done, I should have been +strongly inclined to dismiss the matter as an outbreak of temper. +Even now, if you say that you are sorry I shall only----" + +"But I am not in the least sorry," said Evan, "I am very +pleased." + +"I really believe you are insane," said the stipendiary, +indignantly, for he had really been doing his best as a +good-natured man, to compose the dispute. "What conceivable right +have you to break other people's windows because their opinions +do not agree with yours? This man only gave expression to his +sincere belief." + +"So did I," said the Highlander. + +"And who are you?" exploded Vane. "Are your views necessarily the +right ones? Are you necessarily in possession of the truth?" + +"Yes," said MacIan. + +The magistrate broke into a contemptuous laugh. + +"Oh, you want a nurse to look after you," he said. "You must pay +L10." + +Evan MacIan plunged his hands into his loose grey garment and +drew out a queer looking leather purse. It contained exactly +twelve sovereigns. He paid down the ten, coin by coin, in +silence, and equally silently returned the remaining two to the +receptacle. Then he said, "May I say a word, your worship?" + +Cumberland Vane seemed half hypnotized with the silence and +automatic movements of the stranger; he made a movement with his +head which might have been either "yes" or "no". "I only wished +to say, your worship," said MacIan, putting back the purse in his +trouser pocket, "that smashing that shop window was, I confess, a +useless and rather irregular business. It may be excused, +however, as a mere preliminary to further proceedings, a sort of +preface. Wherever and whenever I meet that man," and he pointed +to the editor of _The Atheist_, "whether it be outside this door +in ten minutes from now, or twenty years hence in some distant +country, wherever and whenever I meet that man, I will fight him. +Do not be afraid. I will not rush at him like a bully, or bear +him down with any brute superiority. I will fight him like a +gentleman; I will fight him as our fathers fought. He shall +choose how, sword or pistol, horse or foot. But if he refuses, I +will write his cowardice on every wall in the world. If he had +said of my mother what he said of the Mother of God, there is not +a club of clean men in Europe that would deny my right to call +him out. If he had said it of my wife, you English would +yourselves have pardoned me for beating him like a dog in the +market place. Your worship, I have no mother; I have no wife. I +have only that which the poor have equally with the rich; which +the lonely have equally with the man of many friends. To me this +whole strange world is homely, because in the heart of it there +is a home; to me this cruel world is kindly, because higher than +the heavens there is something more human than humanity. If a man +must not fight for this, may he fight for anything? I would fight +for my friend, but if I lost my friend, I should still be there. +I would fight for my country, but if I lost my country, I should +still exist. But if what that devil dreams were true, I should +not be--I should burst like a bubble and be gone. I could not +live in that imbecile universe. Shall I not fight for my own +existence?" + +The magistrate recovered his voice and his presence of mind. The +first part of the speech, the bombastic and brutally practical +challenge, stunned him with surprise; but the rest of Evan's +remarks, branching off as they did into theoretic phrases, gave +his vague and very English mind (full of memories of the hedging +and compromise in English public speaking) an indistinct +sensation of relief, as if the man, though mad, were not so +dangerous as he had thought. He went into a sort of weary +laughter. + +"For Heaven's sake, man," he said, "don't talk so much. Let other +people have a chance (laughter). I trust all that you said about +asking Mr. Turnbull to fight, may be regarded as rubbish. In case +of accidents, however, I must bind you over to keep the peace." + +"To keep the peace," repeated Evan, "with whom?" + +"With Mr. Turnbull," said Vane. + +"Certainly not," answered MacIan. "What has he to do with peace?" + +"Do you mean to say," began the magistrate, "that you refuse +to..." The voice of Turnbull himself clove in for the first time. + +"Might I suggest," he said, "That I, your worship, can settle to +some extent this absurd matter myself. This rather wild gentleman +promises that he will not attack me with any ordinary assault-- +and if he does, you may be sure the police shall hear of it. But +he says he will not. He says he will challenge me to a duel; and +I cannot say anything stronger about his mental state than to say +that I think that it is highly probable that he will. (Laughter.) +But it takes two to make a duel, your worship (renewed laughter). +I do not in the least mind being described on every wall in the +world as the coward who would not fight a man in Fleet Street, +about whether the Virgin Mary had a parallel in Mesopotamian +mythology. No, your worship. You need not trouble to bind him +over to keep the peace. I bind myself over to keep the peace, +and you may rest quite satisfied that there will be no duel with +me in it." + +Mr. Cumberland Vane rolled about, laughing in a sort of relief. + +"You're like a breath of April, sir," he cried. "You're ozone +after that fellow. You're perfectly right. Perhaps I have taken +the thing too seriously. I should love to see him sending you +challenges and to see you smiling. Well, well." + +Evan went out of the Court of Justice free, but strangely shaken, +like a sick man. Any punishment of suppression he would have felt +as natural; but the sudden juncture between the laughter of his +judge and the laughter of the man he had wronged, made him feel +suddenly small, or at least, defeated. It was really true that +the whole modern world regarded his world as a bubble. No cruelty +could have shown it, but their kindness showed it with a ghastly +clearness. As he was brooding, he suddenly became conscious of a +small, stern figure, fronting him in silence. Its eyes were grey +and awful, and its beard red. It was Turnbull. + +"Well, sir," said the editor of _The Atheist_, "where is the +fight to be? Name the field, sir." + +Evan stood thunderstruck. He stammered out something, he knew not +what; he only guessed it by the answer of the other. + +"Do I want to fight? Do I want to fight?" cried the furious +Free-thinker. "Why, you moonstruck scarecrow of superstition, do +you think your dirty saints are the only people who can die? +Haven't you hung atheists, and burned them, and boiled them, and +did they ever deny their faith? Do you think we don't want to +fight? Night and day I have prayed--I have longed--for an atheist +revolution--I have longed to see your blood and ours on the +streets. Let it be yours or mine?" + +"But you said..." began MacIan. + +"I know," said Turnbull scornfully. "And what did you say? You +damned fool, you said things that might have got us locked up for +a year, and shadowed by the coppers for half a decade. If you +wanted to fight, why did you tell that ass you wanted to? I got +you out, to fight if you want to. Now, fight if you dare." + +"I swear to you, then," said MacIan, after a pause. "I swear to +you that nothing shall come between us. I swear to you that +nothing shall be in my heart or in my head till our swords clash +together. I swear it by the God you have denied, by the Blessed +Lady you have blasphemed; I swear it by the seven swords in her +heart. I swear it by the Holy Island where my fathers are, by the +honour of my mother, by the secret of my people, and by the +chalice of the Blood of God." + +The atheist drew up his head. "And I," he said, "give my word." + + + +III. SOME OLD CURIOSITIES + +The evening sky, a dome of solid gold, unflaked even by a single +sunset cloud, steeped the meanest sights of London in a strange +and mellow light. It made a little greasy street of St. Martin's +Lane look as if it were paved with gold. It made the pawnbroker's +half-way down it shine as if it were really that Mountain of +Piety that the French poetic instinct has named it; it made the +mean pseudo-French bookshop, next but one to it, a shop packed +with dreary indecency, show for a moment a kind of Parisian +colour. And the shop that stood between the pawnshop and the shop +of dreary indecency, showed with quite a blaze of old world +beauty, for it was, by accident, a shop not unbeautiful in +itself. The front window had a glimmer of bronze and blue steel, +lit, as by a few stars, by the sparks of what were alleged to be +jewels; for it was in brief, a shop of bric-a-brac and old +curiosities. A row of half-burnished seventeenth-century swords +ran like an ornate railing along the front of the window; behind +was a darker glimmer of old oak and old armour; and higher up +hung the most extraordinary looking South Sea tools or utensils, +whether designed for killing enemies or merely for cooking them, +no mere white man could possibly conjecture. But the romance of +the eye, which really on this rich evening, clung about the shop, +had its main source in the accident of two doors standing open, +the front door that opened on the street and a back door that +opened on an odd green square of garden, that the sun turned to a +square of gold. There is nothing more beautiful than thus to look +as it were through the archway of a house; as if the open sky +were an interior chamber, and the sun a secret lamp of the place. + +I have suggested that the sunset light made everything lovely. To +say that it made the keeper of the curiosity shop lovely would be +a tribute to it perhaps too extreme. It would easily have made +him beautiful if he had been merely squalid; if he had been a Jew +of the Fagin type. But he was a Jew of another and much less +admirable type; a Jew with a very well-sounding name. For though +there are no hard tests for separating the tares and the wheat of +any people, one rude but efficient guide is that the nice Jew is +called Moses Solomon, and the nasty Jew is called Thornton Percy. +The keeper of the curiosity shop was of the Thornton Percy branch +of the chosen people; he belonged to those Lost Ten Tribes whose +industrious object is to lose themselves. He was a man still +young, but already corpulent, with sleek dark hair, heavy +handsome clothes, and a full, fat, permanent smile, which looked +at the first glance kindly, and at the second cowardly. The name +over his shop was Henry Gordon, but two Scotchmen who were in his +shop that evening could come upon no trace of a Scotch accent. + +These two Scotchmen in this shop were careful purchasers, but +free-handed payers. One of them who seemed to be the principal +and the authority (whom, indeed, Mr. Henry Gordon fancied he had +seen somewhere before), was a small, sturdy fellow, with fine +grey eyes, a square red tie and a square red beard, that he +carried aggressively forward as if he defied anyone to pull it. +The other kept so much in the background in comparison that he +looked almost ghostly in his grey cloak or plaid, a tall, sallow, +silent young man. + +The two Scotchmen were interested in seventeenth-century swords. +They were fastidious about them. They had a whole armoury of +these weapons brought out and rolled clattering about the +counter, until they found two of precisely the same length. +Presumably they desired the exact symmetry for some decorative +trophy. Even then they felt the points, poised the swords for +balance and bent them in a circle to see that they sprang +straight again; which, for decorative purposes, seems carrying +realism rather far. + +"These will do," said the strange person with the red beard. +"And perhaps I had better pay for them at once. And as you are +the challenger, Mr. MacIan, perhaps you had better explain the +situation." + +The tall Scotchman in grey took a step forward and spoke in a +voice quite clear and bold, and yet somehow lifeless, like a man +going through an ancient formality. + +"The fact is, Mr. Gordon, we have to place our honour in your +hands. Words have passed between Mr. Turnbull and myself on a +grave and invaluable matter, which can only be atoned for by +fighting. Unfortunately, as the police are in some sense pursuing +us, we are hurried, and must fight now and without seconds. But +if you will be so kind as to take us into your little garden and +see far play, we shall feel how----" + +The shopman recovered himself from a stunning surprise and burst +out: + +"Gentlemen, are you drunk? A duel! A duel in my garden. Go +home, gentlemen, go home. Why, what did you quarrel about?" + +"We quarrelled," said Evan, in the same dead voice, "about +religion." The fat shopkeeper rolled about in his chair with +enjoyment. + +"Well, this is a funny game," he said. "So you want to commit +murder on behalf of religion. Well, well my religion is a little +respect for humanity, and----" + +"Excuse me," cut in Turnbull, suddenly and fiercely, pointing +towards the pawnbroker's next door. "Don't you own that shop?" + +"Why--er--yes," said Gordon. + +"And don't you own that shop?" repeated the secularist, pointing +backward to the pornographic bookseller. + +"What if I do?" + +"Why, then," cried Turnbull, with grating contempt. "I will leave +the religion of humanity confidently in your hands; but I am +sorry I troubled you about such a thing as honour. Look here, my +man. I do believe in humanity. I do believe in liberty. My father +died for it under the swords of the Yeomanry. I am going to die +for it, if need be, under that sword on your counter. But if +there is one sight that makes me doubt it it is your foul fat +face. It is hard to believe you were not meant to be ruled like a +dog or killed like a cockroach. Don't try your slave's philosophy +on me. We are going to fight, and we are going to fight in your +garden, with your swords. Be still! Raise your voice above a +whisper, and I run you through the body." + +Turnbull put the bright point of the sword against the gay +waistcoat of the dealer, who stood choking with rage and fear, +and an astonishment so crushing as to be greater than either. + +"MacIan," said Turnbull, falling almost into the familiar tone of +a business partner, "MacIan, tie up this fellow and put a gag in +his mouth. Be still, I say, or I kill you where you stand." + +The man was too frightened to scream, but he struggled wildly, +while Evan MacIan, whose long, lean hands were unusually +powerful, tightened some old curtain cords round him, strapped a +rope gag in his mouth and rolled him on his back on the floor. + +"There's nothing very strong here," said Evan, looking about him. +"I'm afraid he'll work through that gag in half an hour or so." + +"Yes," said Turnbull, "but one of us will be killed by that +time." + +"Well, let's hope so," said the Highlander, glancing doubtfully +at the squirming thing on the floor. + +"And now," said Turnbull, twirling his fiery moustache and +fingering his sword, "let us go into the garden. What an +exquisite summer evening!" + +MacIan said nothing, but lifting his sword from the counter went +out into the sun. + +The brilliant light ran along the blades, filling the channels of +them with white fire; the combatants stuck their swords in the +turf and took off their hats, coats, waistcoats, and boots. Evan +said a short Latin prayer to himself, during which Turnbull made +something of a parade of lighting a cigarette which he flung away +the instant after, when he saw MacIan apparently standing ready. +Yet MacIan was not exactly ready. He stood staring like a man +stricken with a trance. + +"What are you staring at?" asked Turnbull. "Do you see the +bobbies?" + +"I see Jerusalem," said Evan, "all covered with the shields and +standards of the Saracens." + +"Jerusalem!" said Turnbull, laughing. "Well, we've taken the only +inhabitant into captivity." + +And he picked up his sword and made it whistle like a boy's wand. + +"I beg your pardon," said MacIan, dryly. "Let us begin." + +MacIan made a military salute with his weapon, which Turnbull +copied or parodied with an impatient contempt; and in the +stillness of the garden the swords came together with a clear +sound like a bell. The instant the blades touched, each felt them +tingle to their very points with a personal vitality, as if they +were two naked nerves of steel. Evan had worn throughout an air +of apathy, which might have been the stale apathy of one who +wants nothing. But it was indeed the more dreadful apathy of one +who wants something and will care for nothing else. And this was +seen suddenly; for the instant Evan engaged he disengaged and +lunged with an infernal violence. His opponent with a desperate +promptitude parried and riposted; the parry only just succeeded, +the riposte failed. Something big and unbearable seemed to have +broken finally out of Evan in that first murderous lunge, leaving +him lighter and cooler and quicker upon his feet. He fell to +again, fiercely still, but now with a fierce caution. The next +moment Turnbull lunged; MacIan seemed to catch the point and +throw it away from him, and was thrusting back like a +thunderbolt, when a sound paralysed him; another sound beside +their ringing weapons. Turnbull, perhaps from an equal +astonishment, perhaps from chivalry, stopped also and forebore to +send his sword through his exposed enemy. + +"What's that?" asked Evan, hoarsely. + +A heavy scraping sound, as of a trunk being dragged along a +littered floor, came from the dark shop behind them. + +"The old Jew has broken one of his strings, and he's crawling +about," said Turnbull. "Be quick! We must finish before he gets +his gag out." + +"Yes, yes, quick! On guard!" cried the Highlander. The blades +crossed again with the same sound like song, and the men went to +work again with the same white and watchful faces. Evan, in his +impatience, went back a little to his wildness. He made +windmills, as the French duellists say, and though he was +probably a shade the better fencer of the two, he found the +other's point pass his face twice so close as almost to graze his +cheek. The second time he realized the actual possibility of +defeat and pulled himself together under a shock of the sanity of +anger. He narrowed, and, so to speak, tightened his operations: +he fenced (as the swordsman's boast goes), in a wedding ring; he +turned Turnbull's thrusts with a maddening and almost mechanical +click, like that of a machine. Whenever Turnbull's sword sought +to go over that other mere white streak it seemed to be caught in +a complex network of steel. He turned one thrust, turned another, +turned another. Then suddenly he went forward at the lunge with +his whole living weight. Turnbull leaped back, but Evan lunged +and lunged and lunged again like a devilish piston rod or +battering ram. And high above all the sound of the struggle there +broke into the silent evening a bellowing human voice, nasal, +raucous, at the highest pitch of pain. "Help! Help! Police! +Murder! Murder!" The gag was broken; and the tongue of terror +was loose. + +"Keep on!" gasped Turnbull. "One may be killed before they come." + +The voice of the screaming shopkeeper was loud enough to drown +not only the noise of the swords but all other noises around it, +but even through its rending din there seemed to be some other +stir or scurry. And Evan, in the very act of thrusting at +Turnbull, saw something in his eyes that made him drop his sword. +The atheist, with his grey eyes at their widest and wildest, was +staring straight over his shoulder at the little archway of shop +that opened on the street beyond. And he saw the archway blocked +and blackened with strange figures. + +"We must bolt, MacIan," he said abruptly. "And there isn't a +damned second to lose either. Do as I do." + +With a bound he was beside the little cluster of his clothes and +boots that lay on the lawn; he snatched them up, without waiting +to put any of them on; and tucking his sword under his other arm, +went wildly at the wall at the bottom of the garden and swung +himself over it. Three seconds after he had alighted in his socks +on the other side, MacIan alighted beside him, also in his socks +and also carrying clothes and sword in a desperate bundle. + +They were in a by-street, very lean and lonely itself, but so +close to a crowded thoroughfare that they could see the vague +masses of vehicles going by, and could even see an individual +hansom cab passing the corner at the instant. Turnbull put his +fingers to his mouth like a gutter-snipe and whistled twice. Even +as he did so he could hear the loud voices of the neighbours and +the police coming down the garden. + +The hansom swung sharply and came tearing down the little lane at +his call. When the cabman saw his fares, however, two wild-haired +men in their shirts and socks with naked swords under their arms, +he not unnaturally brought his readiness to a rigid stop and +stared suspiciously. + +"You talk to him a minute," whispered Turnbull, and stepped back +into the shadow of the wall. + +"We want you," said MacIan to the cabman, with a superb Scotch +drawl of indifference and assurance, "to drive us to St. Pancras +Station--verra quick." + +"Very sorry, sir," said the cabman, "but I'd like to know it was +all right. Might I arst where you come from, sir?" + +A second after he spoke MacIan heard a heavy voice on the other +side of the wall, saying: "I suppose I'd better get over and look +for them. Give me a back." + +"Cabby," said MacIan, again assuming the most deliberate and +lingering lowland Scotch intonation, "if ye're really verra +anxious to ken whar a' come fra', I'll tell ye as a verra great +secret. A' come from Scotland. And a'm gaein' to St. Pancras +Station. Open the doors, cabby." + +The cabman stared, but laughed. The heavy voice behind the wall +said: "Now then, a better back this time, Mr. Price." And from +the shadow of the wall Turnbull crept out. He had struggled +wildly into his coat (leaving his waistcoat on the pavement), and +he was with a fierce pale face climbing up the cab behind the +cabman. MacIan had no glimmering notion of what he was up to, but +an instinct of discipline, inherited from a hundred men of war, +made him stick to his own part and trust the other man's. + +"Open the doors, cabby," he repeated, with something of the +obstinate solemnity of a drunkard, "open the doors. Did ye no +hear me say St. Pancras Station?" + +The top of a policeman's helmet appeared above the garden wall. +The cabman did not see it, but he was still suspicious and began: + +"Very sorry, sir, but..." and with that the catlike Turnbull tore +him out of his seat and hurled him into the street below, where +he lay suddenly stunned. + +"Give me his hat," said Turnbull in a silver voice, that the +other obeyed like a bugle. "And get inside with the swords." + +And just as the red and raging face of a policeman appeared above +the wall, Turnbull struck the horse with a terrible cut of the +whip and the two went whirling away like a boomerang. + +They had spun through seven streets and three or four squares +before anything further happened. Then, in the neighbourhood of +Maida Vale, the driver opened the trap and talked through it in a +manner not wholly common in conversations through that aperture. + +"Mr. MacIan," he said shortly and civilly. + +"Mr. Turnbull," replied his motionless fare. + +"Under circumstances such as those in which we were both recently +placed there was no time for anything but very abrupt action. I +trust therefore that you have no cause to complain of me if I +have deferred until this moment a consultation with you on our +present position or future action. Our present position, Mr. +MacIan, I imagine that I am under no special necessity of +describing. We have broken the law and we are fleeing from its +officers. Our future action is a thing about which I myself +entertain sufficiently strong views; but I have no right to +assume or to anticipate yours, though I may have formed a decided +conception of your character and a decided notion of what they +will probably be. Still, by every principle of intellectual +justice, I am bound to ask you now and seriously whether you wish +to continue our interrupted relations." + +MacIan leant his white and rather weary face back upon the +cushions in order to speak up through the open door. + +"Mr. Turnbull," he said, "I have nothing to add to what I have +said before. It is strongly borne in upon me that you and I, the +sole occupants of this runaway cab, are at this moment the two +most important people in London, possibly in Europe. I have been +looking at all the streets as we went past, I have been looking +at all the shops as we went past, I have been looking at all the +churches as we went past. At first, I felt a little dazed with +the vastness of it all. I could not understand what it all meant. +But now I know exactly what it all means. It means us. This whole +civilization is only a dream. You and I are the realities." + +"Religious symbolism," said Mr. Turnbull, through the trap, "does +not, as you are probably aware, appeal ordinarily to thinkers of +the school to which I belong. But in symbolism as you use it in +this instance, I must, I think, concede a certain truth. We +_must_ fight this thing out somewhere; because, as you truly say, +we have found each other's reality. We _must_ kill each other--or +convert each other. I used to think all Christians were +hypocrites, and I felt quite mildly towards them really. But I +know you are sincere--and my soul is mad against you. In the same +way you used, I suppose, to think that all atheists thought +atheism would leave them free for immorality--and yet in your +heart you tolerated them entirely. Now you _know_ that I am an +honest man, and you are mad against me, as I am against you. Yes, +that's it. You can't be angry with bad men. But a good man in the +wrong--why one thirsts for his blood. Yes, you open for me a +vista of thought." + +"Don't run into anything," said Evan, immovably. + +"There's something in that view of yours, too," said Turnbull, +and shut down the trap. + +They sped on through shining streets that shot by them like +arrows. Mr. Turnbull had evidently a great deal of unused +practical talent which was unrolling itself in this ridiculous +adventure. They had got away with such stunning promptitude that +the police chase had in all probability not even properly begun. +But in case it had, the amateur cabman chose his dizzy course +through London with a strange dexterity. He did not do what would +have first occurred to any ordinary outsider desiring to destroy +his tracks. He did not cut into by-ways or twist his way through +mean streets. His amateur common sense told him that it was +precisely the poor street, the side street, that would be likely +to remember and report the passing of a hansom cab, like the +passing of a royal procession. He kept chiefly to the great +roads, so full of hansoms that a wilder pair than they might +easily have passed in the press. In one of the quieter streets +Evan put on his boots. + +Towards the top of Albany Street the singular cabman again opened +the trap. + +"Mr. MacIan," he said, "I understand that we have now definitely +settled that in the conventional language honour is not +satisfied. Our action must at least go further than it has gone +under recent interrupted conditions. That, I believe, is +understood." + +"Perfectly," replied the other with his bootlace in his teeth. + +"Under those conditions," continued Turnbull, his voice coming +through the hole with a slight note of trepidation very unusual +with him, "I have a suggestion to make, if that can be called a +suggestion, which has probably occurred to you as readily as to +me. Until the actual event comes off we are practically in the +position if not of comrades, at least of business partners. Until +the event comes off, therefore I should suggest that quarrelling +would be inconvenient and rather inartistic; while the ordinary +exchange of politeness between man and man would be not only +elegant but uncommonly practical." + +"You are perfectly right," answered MacIan, with his melancholy +voice, "in saying that all this has occurred to me. All duellists +should behave like gentlemen to each other. But we, by the +queerness of our position, are something much more than either +duellists or gentlemen. We are, in the oddest and most exact +sense of the term, brothers--in arms." + +"Mr. MacIan," replied Turnbull, calmly, "no more need be said." +And he closed the trap once more. + +They had reached Finchley Road before he opened it again. + +Then he said, "Mr. MacIan, may I offer you a cigar. It will be a +touch of realism." + +"Thank you," answered Evan. "You are very kind." And he began to +smoke in the cab. + + + +IV. A DISCUSSION AT DAWN + +The duellists had from their own point of view escaped or +conquered the chief powers of the modern world. They had +satisfied the magistrate, they had tied the tradesman neck and +heels, and they had left the police behind. As far as their own +feelings went they had melted into a monstrous sea; they were but +the fare and driver of one of the million hansoms that fill +London streets. But they had forgotten something; they had +forgotten journalism. They had forgotten that there exists in +the modern world, perhaps for the first time in history, a class +of people whose interest is not that things should happen well or +happen badly, should happen successfully or happen +unsuccessfully, should happen to the advantage of this party or +the advantage of that part, but whose interest simply is that +things should happen. + +It is the one great weakness of journalism as a picture of our +modern existence, that it must be a picture made up entirely of +exceptions. We announce on flaring posters that a man has fallen +off a scaffolding. We do not announce on flaring posters that a +man has not fallen off a scaffolding. Yet this latter fact is +fundamentally more exciting, as indicating that that moving tower +of terror and mystery, a man, is still abroad upon the earth. +That the man has not fallen off a scaffolding is really more +sensational; and it is also some thousand times more common. But +journalism cannot reasonably be expected thus to insist upon the +permanent miracles. Busy editors cannot be expected to put on +their posters, "Mr. Wilkinson Still Safe," or "Mr. Jones, of +Worthing, Not Dead Yet." They cannot announce the happiness of +mankind at all. They cannot describe all the forks that are not +stolen, or all the marriages that are not judiciously dissolved. +Hence the complete picture they give of life is of necessity +fallacious; they can only represent what is unusual. However +democratic they may be, they are only concerned with the +minority. + +The incident of the religious fanatic who broke a window on +Ludgate Hill was alone enough to set them up in good copy for the +night. But when the same man was brought before a magistrate and +defied his enemy to mortal combat in the open court, then the +columns would hardly hold the excruciating information, and the +headlines were so large that there was hardly room for any of the +text. The _Daily Telegraph_ headed a column, "A Duel on +Divinity," and there was a correspondence afterwards which lasted +for months, about whether police magistrates ought to mention +religion. The _Daily Mail_ in its dull, sensible way, headed the +events, "Wanted to fight for the Virgin." Mr. James Douglas, in +_The Star_, presuming on his knowledge of philosophical and +theological terms, described the Christian's outbreak under the +title of "Dualist and Duellist." The _Daily News_ inserted a +colourless account of the matter, but was pursued and eaten up +for some weeks, with letters from outlying ministers, headed +"Murder and Mariolatry." But the journalistic temperature was +steadily and consistently heated by all these influences; the +journalists had tasted blood, prospectively, and were in the mood +for more; everything in the matter prepared them for further +outbursts of moral indignation. And when a gasping reporter +rushed in in the last hours of the evening with the announcement +that the two heroes of the Police Court had literally been found +fighting in a London back garden, with a shopkeeper bound and +gagged in the front of the house, the editors and sub-editors +were stricken still as men are by great beatitudes. + +The next morning, five or six of the great London dailies burst +out simultaneously into great blossoms of eloquent +leader-writing. Towards the end all the leaders tended to be the +same, but they all began differently. The _Daily Telegraph_, for +instance began, "There will be little difference among our +readers or among all truly English and law-abiding men touching +the, etc. etc." The _Daily Mail_ said, "People must learn, in the +modern world, to keep their theological differences to +themselves. The fracas, etc. etc." The _Daily News_ started, +"Nothing could be more inimical to the cause of true religion +than, etc. etc." The _Times_ began with something about Celtic +disturbances of the equilibrium of Empire, and the _Daily +Express_ distinguished itself splendidly by omitting altogether +so controversial a matter and substituting a leader about +goloshes. + +And the morning after that, the editors and the newspapers were +in such a state, that, as the phrase is, there was no holding +them. Whatever secret and elvish thing it is that broods over +editors and suddenly turns their brains, that thing had seized on +the story of the broken glass and the duel in the garden. It +became monstrous and omnipresent, as do in our time the +unimportant doings of the sect of the Agapemonites, or as did at +an earlier time the dreary dishonesties of the Rhodesian +financiers. Questions were asked about it, and even answered, in +the House of Commons. The Government was solemnly denounced in +the papers for not having done something, nobody knew what, to +prevent the window being broken. An enormous subscription was +started to reimburse Mr. Gordon, the man who had been gagged in +the shop. Mr. MacIan, one of the combatants, became for some +mysterious reason, singly and hugely popular as a comic figure in +the comic papers and on the stage of the music hall. He was +always represented (in defiance of fact), with red whiskers, and +a very red nose, and in full Highland costume. And a song, +consisting of an unimaginable number of verses, in which his name +was rhymed with flat iron, the British Lion, sly 'un, dandelion, +Spion (With Kop in the next line), was sung to crowded houses +every night. The papers developed a devouring thirst for the +capture of the fugitives; and when they had not been caught for +forty-eight hours, they suddenly turned the whole matter into a +detective mystery. Letters under the heading, "Where are They," +poured in to every paper, with every conceivable kind of +explanation, running them to earth in the Monument, the Twopenny +Tube, Epping Forest, Westminster Abbey, rolled up in carpets at +Shoolbreds, locked up in safes in Chancery Lane. Yes, the papers +were very interesting, and Mr. Turnbull unrolled a whole bundle +of them for the amusement of Mr. MacIan as they sat on a high +common to the north of London, in the coming of the white dawn. + +The darkness in the east had been broken with a bar of grey; the +bar of grey was split with a sword of silver and morning lifted +itself laboriously over London. From the spot where Turnbull and +MacIan were sitting on one of the barren steeps behind Hampstead, +they could see the whole of London shaping itself vaguely and +largely in the grey and growing light, until the white sun stood +over it and it lay at their feet, the splendid monstrosity that +it is. Its bewildering squares and parallelograms were compact +and perfect as a Chinese puzzle; an enormous hieroglyphic which +man must decipher or die. There fell upon both of them, but upon +Turnbull more than the other, because he know more what the scene +signified, that quite indescribable sense as of a sublime and +passionate and heart-moving futility, which is never evoked by +deserts or dead men or men neglected and barbarous, which can +only be invoked by the sight of the enormous genius of man +applied to anything other than the best. Turnbull, the old +idealistic democrat, had so often reviled the democracy and +reviled them justly for their supineness, their snobbishness, +their evil reverence for idle things. He was right enough; for +our democracy has only one great fault; it is not democratic. And +after denouncing so justly average modern men for so many years +as sophists and as slaves, he looked down from an empty slope in +Hampstead and saw what gods they are. Their achievement seemed +all the more heroic and divine, because it seemed doubtful +whether it was worth doing at all. There seemed to be something +greater than mere accuracy in making such a mistake as London. +And what was to be the end of it all? what was to be the ultimate +transformation of this common and incredible London man, this +workman on a tram in Battersea, his clerk on an omnibus in +Cheapside? Turnbull, as he stared drearily, murmured to himself +the words of the old atheistic and revolutionary Swinburne who +had intoxicated his youth: + + "And still we ask if God or man + Can loosen thee Lazarus; + Bid thee rise up republican, + And save thyself and all of us. + But no disciple's tongue can say + If thou can'st take our sins away." + +Turnbull shivered slightly as if behind the earthly morning he +felt the evening of the world, the sunset of so many hopes. Those +words were from "Songs before Sunrise". But Turnbull's songs at +their best were songs after sunrise, and sunrise had been no such +great thing after all. Turnbull shivered again in the sharp +morning air. MacIan was also gazing with his face towards the +city, but there was that about his blind and mystical stare that +told one, so to speak, that his eyes were turned inwards. When +Turnbull said something to him about London, they seemed to move +as at a summons and come out like two householders coming out +into their doorways. + +"Yes," he said, with a sort of stupidity. "It's a very big +place." + +There was a somewhat unmeaning silence, and then MacIan said +again: + +"It's a very big place. When I first came into it I was +frightened of it. Frightened exactly as one would be frightened +at the sight of a man forty feet high. I am used to big things +where I come from, big mountains that seem to fill God's +infinity, and the big sea that goes to the end of the world. But +then these things are all shapeless and confused things, not made +in any familiar form. But to see the plain, square, human things +as large as that, houses so large and streets so large, and the +town itself so large, was like having screwed some devil's +magnifying glass into one's eye. It was like seeing a porridge +bowl as big as a house, or a mouse-trap made to catch elephants." + +"Like the land of the Brobdingnagians," said Turnbull, smiling. + +"Oh! Where is that?" said MacIan. + +Turnbull said bitterly, "In a book," and the silence fell +suddenly between them again. + +They were sitting in a sort of litter on the hillside; all the +things they had hurriedly collected, in various places, for their +flight, were strewn indiscriminately round them. The two swords +with which they had lately sought each other's lives were flung +down on the grass at random, like two idle walking-sticks. Some +provisions they had bought last night, at a low public house, in +case of undefined contingencies, were tossed about like the +materials of an ordinary picnic, here a basket of chocolate, and +there a bottle of wine. And to add to the disorder finally, there +were strewn on top of everything, the most disorderly of modern +things, newspapers, and more newspapers, and yet again +newspapers, the ministers of the modern anarchy. Turnbull picked +up one of them drearily, and took out a pipe. + +"There's a lot about us," he said. "Do you mind if I light up?" + +"Why should I mind?" asked MacIan. + +Turnbull eyed with a certain studious interest, the man who did +not understand any of the verbal courtesies; he lit his pipe and +blew great clouds out of it. + +"Yes," he resumed. "The matter on which you and I are engaged is +at this moment really the best copy in England. I am a +journalist, and I know. For the first time, perhaps, for many +generations, the English are really more angry about a wrong +thing done in England than they are about a wrong thing done in +France." + +"It is not a wrong thing," said MacIan. + +Turnbull laughed. "You seem unable to understand the ordinary use +of the human language. If I did not suspect that you were a +genius, I should certainly know you were a blockhead. I fancy we +had better be getting along and collecting our baggage." + +And he jumped up and began shoving the luggage into his pockets, +or strapping it on to his back. As he thrust a tin of canned +meat, anyhow, into his bursting side pocket, he said casually: + +"I only meant that you and I are the most prominent people in the +English papers." + +"Well, what did you expect?" asked MacIan, opening his great +grave blue eyes. + +"The papers are full of us," said Turnbull, stooping to pick up +one of the swords. + +MacIan stooped and picked up the other. + +"Yes," he said, in his simple way. "I have read what they have to +say. But they don't seem to understand the point." + +"The point of what?" asked Turnbull. + +"The point of the sword," said MacIan, violently, and planted the +steel point in the soil like a man planting a tree. + +"That is a point," said Turnbull, grimly, "that we will discuss +later. Come along." + +Turnbull tied the last tin of biscuits desperately to himself +with string; and then spoke, like a diver girt for plunging, +short and sharp. + +"Now, Mr. MacIan, you must listen to me. You must listen to me, +not merely because I know the country, which you might learn by +looking at a map, but because I know the people of the country, +whom you could not know by living here thirty years. That +infernal city down there is awake; and it is awake against us. +All those endless rows of windows and windows are all eyes +staring at us. All those forests of chimneys are fingers pointing +at us, as we stand here on the hillside. This thing has caught +on. For the next six mortal months they will think of nothing but +us, as for six mortal months they thought of nothing but the +Dreyfus case. Oh, I know it's funny. They let starving children, +who don't want to die, drop by the score without looking round. +But because two gentlemen, from private feelings of delicacy, do +want to die, they will mobilize the army and navy to prevent +them. For half a year or more, you and I, Mr. MacIan, will be an +obstacle to every reform in the British Empire. We shall prevent +the Chinese being sent out of the Transvaal and the blocks being +stopped in the Strand. We shall be the conversational substitute +when anyone recommends Home Rule, or complains of sky signs. +Therefore, do not imagine, in your innocence, that we have only +to melt away among those English hills as a Highland cateran +might into your god-forsaken Highland mountains. We must be +eternally on our guard; we must live the hunted life of two +distinguished criminals. We must expect to be recognized as much +as if we were Napoleon escaping from Elba. We must be prepared +for our descriptions being sent to every tiny village, and for +our faces being recognized by every ambitious policeman. We must +often sleep under the stars as if we were in Africa. Last and +most important we must not dream of effecting our--our final +settlement, which will be a thing as famous as the Phoenix Park +murders, unless we have made real and precise arrangements for +our isolation--I will not say our safety. We must not, in short, +fight until we have thrown them off our scent, if only for a +moment. For, take my word for it, Mr. MacIan, if the British +Public once catches us up, the British Public will prevent the +duel, if it is only by locking us both up in asylums for the rest +of our days." + +MacIan was looking at the horizon with a rather misty look. + +"I am not at all surprised," he said, "at the world being against +us. It makes me feel I was right to----" + +"Yes?" said Turnbull. + +"To smash your window," said MacIan. "I have woken up the world." + +"Very well, then," said Turnbull, stolidly. "Let us look at a few +final facts. Beyond that hill there is comparatively clear +country. Fortunately, I know the part well, and if you will +follow me exactly, and, when necessary, on your stomach, we may +be able to get ten miles out of London, literally without meeting +anyone at all, which will be the best possible beginning, at any +rate. We have provisions for at least two days and two nights, +three days if we do it carefully. We may be able to get fifty or +sixty miles away without even walking into an inn door. I have +the biscuits and the tinned meat, and the milk. You have the +chocolate, I think? And the brandy?" + +"Yes," said MacIan, like a soldier taking orders. + +"Very well, then, come on. March. We turn under that third bush +and so down into the valley." And he set off ahead at a swinging +walk. + +Then he stopped suddenly; for he realized that the other was not +following. Evan MacIan was leaning on his sword with a lowering +face, like a man suddenly smitten still with doubt. + +"What on earth is the matter?" asked Turnbull, staring in some +anger. + +Evan made no reply. + +"What the deuce is the matter with you?" demanded the leader, +again, his face slowly growing as red as his beard; then he said, +suddenly, and in a more human voice, "Are you in pain, MacIan?" + +"Yes," replied the Highlander, without lifting his face. + +"Take some brandy," cried Turnbull, walking forward hurriedly +towards him. "You've got it." + +"It's not in the body," said MacIan, in his dull, strange way. +"The pain has come into my mind. A very dreadful thing has just +come into my thoughts." + +"What the devil are you talking about?" asked Turnbull. + +MacIan broke out with a queer and living voice. + +"We must fight now, Turnbull. We must fight now. A frightful +thing has come upon me, and I know it must be now and here. I +must kill you here," he cried, with a sort of tearful rage +impossible to describe. "Here, here, upon this blessed grass." + +"Why, you idiot," began Turnbull. + +"The hour has come--the black hour God meant for it. Quick, it +will soon be gone. Quick!" + +And he flung the scabbard from him furiously, and stood with the +sunlight sparkling along his sword. + +"You confounded fool," repeated Turnbull. "Put that thing up +again, you ass; people will come out of that house at the first +clash of the steel." + +"One of us will be dead before they come," said the other, +hoarsely, "for this is the hour God meant." + +"Well, I never thought much of God," said the editor of _The +Atheist_, losing all patience. "And I think less now. Never mind +what God meant. Kindly enlighten my pagan darkness as to what the +devil _you_ mean." + +"The hour will soon be gone. In a moment it will be gone," said +the madman. "It is now, now, now that I must nail your +blaspheming body to the earth--now, now that I must avenge Our +Lady on her vile slanderer. Now or never. For the dreadful +thought is in my mind." + +"And what thought," asked Turnbull, with frantic composure, +"occupies what you call your mind?" + +"I must kill you now," said the fanatic, "because----" + +"Well, because," said Turnbull, patiently. + +"Because I have begun to like you." + +Turnbull's face had a sudden spasm in the sunlight, a change so +instantaneous that it left no trace behind it; and his features +seemed still carved into a cold stare. But when he spoke again he +seemed like a man who was placidly pretending to misunderstand +something that he understood perfectly well. + +"Your affection expresses itself in an abrupt form," he began, +but MacIan broke the brittle and frivolous speech to pieces with +a violent voice. "Do not trouble to talk like that," he said. +"You know what I mean as well as I know it. Come on and fight, I +say. Perhaps you are feeling just as I do." + +Turnbull's face flinched again in the fierce sunlight, but his +attitude kept its contemptuous ease. + +"Your Celtic mind really goes too fast for me," he said; "let me +be permitted in my heavy Lowland way to understand this new +development. My dear Mr. MacIan, what do you really mean?" + +MacIan still kept the shining sword-point towards the other's +breast. + +"You know what I mean. You mean the same yourself. We must +fight now or else----" + +"Or else?" repeated Turnbull, staring at him with an almost +blinding gravity. + +"Or else we may not want to fight at all," answered Evan, and the +end of his speech was like a despairing cry. + +Turnbull took out his own sword suddenly as if to engage; then +planting it point downwards for a moment, he said, "Before we +begin, may I ask you a question?" + +MacIan bowed patiently, but with burning eyes. + +"You said, just now," continued Turnbull, presently, "that if we +did not fight now, we might not want to fight at all. How would +you feel about the matter if we came not to want to fight at +all?" + +"I should feel," answered the other, "just as I should feel if +you had drawn your sword, and I had run away from it. I should +feel that because I had been weak, justice had not been done." + +"Justice," answered Turnbull, with a thoughtful smile, "but we +are talking about your feelings. And what do you mean by justice, +apart from your feelings?" + +MacIan made a gesture of weary recognition! "Oh, Nominalism," he +said, with a sort of sigh, "we had all that out in the twelfth +century." + +"I wish we could have it out now," replied the other, firmly. "Do +you really mean that if you came to think me right, you would be +certainly wrong?" + +"If I had a blow on the back of my head, I might come to think +you a green elephant," answered MacIan, "but have I not the right +to say now, that if I thought that I should think wrong?" + +"Then you are quite certain that it would be wrong to like me?" +asked Turnbull, with a slight smile. + +"No," said Evan, thoughtfully, "I do not say that. It may not be +the devil, it may be some part of God I am not meant to know. But +I had a work to do, and it is making the work difficult." + +"And I suppose," said the atheist, quite gently, "that you and I +know all about which part of God we ought to know." + +MacIan burst out like a man driven back and explaining +everything. + +"The Church is not a thing like the Athenaeum Club," he cried. +"If the Athenaeum Club lost all its members, the Athenaeum Club +would dissolve and cease to exist. But when we belong to the +Church we belong to something which is outside all of us; which +is outside everything you talk about, outside the Cardinals and +the Pope. They belong to it, but it does not belong to them. If +we all fell dead suddenly, the Church would still somehow exist +in God. Confound it all, don't you see that I am more sure of its +existence than I am of my own existence? And yet you ask me to +trust my temperament, my own temperament, which can be turned +upside down by two bottles of claret or an attack of the +jaundice. You ask me to trust that when it softens towards you +and not to trust the thing which I believe to be outside myself +and more real than the blood in my body." + +"Stop a moment," said Turnbull, in the same easy tone, "Even in +the very act of saying that you believe this or that, you imply +that there is a part of yourself that you trust even if there are +many parts which you mistrust. If it is only you that like me, +surely, also, it is only you that believe in the Catholic +Church." + +Evan remained in an unmoved and grave attitude. "There is a part +of me which is divine," he answered, "a part that can be trusted, +but there are also affections which are entirely animal and +idle." + +"And you are quite certain, I suppose," continued Turnbull, "that +if even you esteem me the esteem would be wholly animal and +idle?" For the first time MacIan started as if he had not +expected the thing that was said to him. At last he said: + +"Whatever in earth or heaven it is that has joined us two +together, it seems to be something which makes it impossible to +lie. No, I do not think that the movement in me towards you +was...was that surface sort of thing. It may have been something +deeper...something strange. I cannot understand the thing at all. +But understand this and understand it thoroughly, if I loved you +my love might be divine. No, it is not some trifle that we are +fighting about. It is not some superstition or some symbol. When +you wrote those words about Our Lady, you were in that act a +wicked man doing a wicked thing. If I hate you it is because you +have hated goodness. And if I like you...it is because you are +good." + +Turnbull's face wore an indecipherable expression. + +"Well, shall we fight now?" he said. + +"Yes," said MacIan, with a sudden contraction of his black brows, +"yes, it must be now." + +The bright swords crossed, and the first touch of them, +travelling down blade and arm, told each combatant that the heart +of the other was awakened. It was not in that way that the swords +rang together when they had rushed on each other in the little +garden behind the dealer's shop. + +There was a pause, and then MacIan made a movement as if to +thrust, and almost at the same moment Turnbull suddenly and +calmly dropped his sword. Evan stared round in an unusual +bewilderment, and then realized that a large man in pale clothes +and a Panama hat was strolling serenely towards them. + + + +V. THE PEACEMAKER + +When the combatants, with crossed swords, became suddenly +conscious of a third party, they each made the same movement. It +was as quick as the snap of a pistol, and they altered it +instantaneously and recovered their original pose, but they had +both made it, they had both seen it, and they both knew what it +was. It was not a movement of anger at being interrupted. Say or +think what they would, it was a movement of relief. A force +within them, and yet quite beyond them, seemed slowly and +pitilessly washing away the adamant of their oath. As mistaken +lovers might watch the inevitable sunset of first love, these men +watched the sunset of their first hatred. + +Their hearts were growing weaker and weaker against each other. +When their weapons rang and riposted in the little London garden, +they could have been very certain that if a third party had +interrupted them something at least would have happened. They +would have killed each other or they would have killed him. But +now nothing could undo or deny that flash of fact, that for a +second they had been glad to be interrupted. Some new and strange +thing was rising higher and higher in their hearts like a high +sea at night. It was something that seemed all the more +merciless, because it might turn out an enormous mercy. Was +there, perhaps, some such fatalism in friendship as all lovers +talk about in love? Did God make men love each other against +their will? + +"I'm sure you'll excuse my speaking to you," said the stranger, +in a voice at once eager and deprecating. + +The voice was too polite for good manners. It was incongruous +with the eccentric spectacle of the duellists which ought to have +startled a sane and free man. It was also incongruous with the +full and healthy, though rather loose physique of the man who +spoke. At the first glance he looked a fine animal, with curling +gold beard and hair, and blue eyes, unusually bright. It was only +at the second glance that the mind felt a sudden and perhaps +unmeaning irritation at the way in which the gold beard retreated +backwards into the waistcoat, and the way in which the finely +shaped nose went forward as if smelling its way. And it was only, +perhaps, at the hundredth glance that the bright blue eyes, which +normally before and after the instant seemed brilliant with +intelligence, seemed as it were to be brilliant with idiocy. He +was a heavy, healthy-looking man, who looked all the larger +because of the loose, light coloured clothes that he wore, and +that had in their extreme lightness and looseness, almost a touch +of the tropics. But a closer examination of his attire would have +shown that even in the tropics it would have been unique; but it +was all woven according to some hygienic texture which no human +being had ever heard of before, and which was absolutely +necessary even for a day's health. He wore a huge broad-brimmed +hat, equally hygienic, very much at the back of his head, and his +voice coming out of so heavy and hearty a type of man was, as I +have said, startlingly shrill and deferential. + +"I'm sure you'll excuse my speaking to you," he said. "Now, I +wonder if you are in some little difficulty which, after all, we +could settle very comfortably together? Now, you don't mind my +saying this, do you?" + +The face of both combatants remained somewhat solid under this +appeal. But the stranger, probably taking their silence for a +gathering shame, continued with a kind of gaiety: + +"So you are the young men I have read about in the papers. Well, +of course, when one is young, one is rather romantic. Do you know +what I always say to young people?" + +A blank silence followed this gay inquiry. Then Turnbull said in +a colourless voice: + +"As I was forty-seven last birthday, I probably came into the +world too soon for the experience." + +"Very good, very good," said the friendly person. "Dry Scotch +humour. Dry Scotch humour. Well now. I understand that you two +people want to fight a duel. I suppose you aren't much up in the +modern world. We've quite outgrown duelling, you know. In fact, +Tolstoy tells us that we shall soon outgrow war, which he says is +simply a duel between nations. A duel between nations. But there +is no doubt about our having outgrown duelling." + +Waiting for some effect upon his wooden auditors, the stranger +stood beaming for a moment and then resumed: + +"Now, they tell me in the newspapers that you are really wanting +to fight about something connected with Roman Catholicism. Now, +do you know what I always say to Roman Catholics?" + +"No," said Turnbull, heavily. "Do _they_?" It seemed to be a +characteristic of the hearty, hygienic gentleman that he always +forgot the speech he had made the moment before. Without +enlarging further on the fixed form of his appeal to the Church +of Rome, he laughed cordially at Turnbull's answer; then his +wandering blue eyes caught the sunlight on the swords, and he +assumed a good-humoured gravity. + +"But you know this is a serious matter," he said, eyeing Turnbull +and MacIan, as if they had just been keeping the table in a roar +with their frivolities. "I am sure that if I appealed to your +higher natures...your higher natures. Every man has a higher +nature and a lower nature. Now, let us put the matter very +plainly, and without any romantic nonsense about honour or +anything of that sort. Is not bloodshed a great sin?" + +"No," said MacIan, speaking for the first time. + +"Well, really, really!" said the peacemaker. + +"Murder is a sin," said the immovable Highlander. "There is no +sin of bloodshed." + +"Well, we won't quarrel about a word," said the other, +pleasantly. + +"Why on earth not?" said MacIan, with a sudden asperity. "Why +shouldn't we quarrel about a word? What is the good of words if +they aren't important enough to quarrel over? Why do we choose +one word more than another if there isn't any difference between +them? If you called a woman a chimpanzee instead of an angel, +wouldn't there be a quarrel about a word? If you're not going to +argue about words, what are you going to argue about? Are you +going to convey your meaning to me by moving your ears? The +Church and the heresies always used to fight about words, because +they are the only things worth fighting about. I say that murder +is a sin, and bloodshed is not, and that there is as much +difference between those words as there is between the word 'yes' +and the word 'no'; or rather more difference, for 'yes' and 'no', +at least, belong to the same category. Murder is a spiritual +incident. Bloodshed is a physical incident. A surgeon commits +bloodshed. + +"Ah, you're a casuist!" said the large man, wagging his head. +"Now, do you know what I always say to casuists...?" + +MacIan made a violent gesture; and Turnbull broke into open +laughter. The peacemaker did not seem to be in the least annoyed, +but continued in unabated enjoyment. + +"Well, well," he said, "let us get back to the point. Now Tolstoy +has shown that force is no remedy; so you see the position in +which I am placed. I am doing my best to stop what I'm sure you +won't mind my calling this really useless violence, this really +quite wrong violence of yours. But it's against my principles to +call in the police against you, because the police are still on a +lower moral plane, so to speak, because, in short, the police +undoubtedly sometimes employ force. Tolstoy has shown that +violence merely breeds violence in the person towards whom it is +used, whereas Love, on the other hand, breeds Love. So you see +how I am placed. I am reduced to use Love in order to stop you. +I am obliged to use Love." + +He gave to the word an indescribable sound of something hard and +heavy, as if he were saying "boots". Turnbull suddenly gripped +his sword and said, shortly, "I see how you are placed quite +well, sir. You will not call the police. Mr. MacIan, shall we +engage?" MacIan plucked his sword out of the grass. + +"I must and will stop this shocking crime," cried the Tolstoian, +crimson in the face. "It is against all modern ideas. It is +against the principle of love. How you, sir, who pretend to be a +Christian..." + +MacIan turned upon him with a white face and bitter lip. "Sir," +he said, "talk about the principle of love as much as you like. +You seem to me colder than a lump of stone; but I am willing to +believe that you may at some time have loved a cat, or a dog, or +a child. When you were a baby, I suppose you loved your mother. +Talk about love, then, till the world is sick of the word. But +don't you talk about Christianity. Don't you dare to say one +word, white or black, about it. Christianity is, as far as you +are concerned, a horrible mystery. Keep clear of it, keep silent +upon it, as you would upon an abomination. It is a thing that has +made men slay and torture each other; and you will never know +why. It is a thing that has made men do evil that good might +come; and you will never understand the evil, let alone the good. +Christianity is a thing that could only make you vomit, till you +are other than you are. I would not justify it to you even if I +could. Hate it, in God's name, as Turnbull does, who is a man. +It is a monstrous thing, for which men die. And if you will stand +here and talk about love for another ten minutes it is very +probable that you will see a man die for it." + +And he fell on guard. Turnbull was busy settling something loose +in his elaborate hilt, and the pause was broken by the stranger. + +"Suppose I call the police?" he said, with a heated face. + +"And deny your most sacred dogma," said MacIan. + +"Dogma!" cried the man, in a sort of dismay. "Oh, we have no +_dogmas_, you know!" + +There was another silence, and he said again, airily: + +"You know, I think, there's something in what Shaw teaches about +no moral principles being quite fixed. Have you ever read _The +Quintessence of Ibsenism_? Of course he went very wrong over the +war." + +Turnbull, with a bent, flushed face, was tying up the loose piece +of the pommel with string. With the string in his teeth, he said, +"Oh, make up your damned mind and clear out!" + +"It's a serious thing," said the philosopher, shaking his head. +"I must be alone and consider which is the higher point of view. +I rather feel that in a case so extreme as this..." and he went +slowly away. As he disappeared among the trees, they heard him +murmuring in a sing-song voice, "New occasions teach new duties," +out of a poem by James Russell Lowell. + +"Ah," said MacIan, drawing a deep breath. "Don't you believe in +prayer now? I prayed for an angel." + +"An hour ago," said the Highlander, in his heavy meditative +voice, "I felt the devil weakening my heart and my oath against +you, and I prayed that God would send an angel to my aid." + +"Well?" inquired the other, finishing his mending and wrapping +the rest of the string round his hand to get a firmer grip. + +"Well?" + +"Well, that man was an angel," said MacIan. + +"I didn't know they were as bad as that," answered Turnbull. + +"We know that devils sometimes quote Scripture and counterfeit +good," replied the mystic. "Why should not angels sometimes come +to show us the black abyss of evil on whose brink we stand. If +that man had not tried to stop us...I might...I might have +stopped." + +"I know what you mean," said Turnbull, grimly. + +"But then he came," broke out MacIan, "and my soul said to me: +'Give up fighting, and you will become like That. Give up vows +and dogmas, and fixed things, and you may grow like That. You may +learn, also, that fog of false philosophy. You may grow fond of +that mire of crawling, cowardly morals, and you may come to think +a blow bad, because it hurts, and not because it humiliates. You +may come to think murder wrong, because it is violent, and not +because it is unjust. Oh, you blasphemer of the good, an hour ago +I almost loved you! But do not fear for me now. I have heard the +word Love pronounced in _his_ intonation; and I know exactly what +it means. On guard!'" + +The swords caught on each other with a dreadful clang and jar, +full of the old energy and hate; and at once plunged and +replunged. Once more each man's heart had become the magnet of a +mad sword. Suddenly, furious as they were, they were frozen for a +moment motionless. + +"What noise is that?" asked the Highlander, hoarsely. + +"I think I know," replied Turnbull. + +"What?... What?" cried the other. + +"The student of Shaw and Tolstoy has made up his remarkable +mind," said Turnbull, quietly. "The police are coming up the +hill." + + + +VI. THE OTHER PHILOSOPHER + +Between high hedges in Hertfordshire, hedges so high as to create +a kind of grove, two men were running. They did not run in a +scampering or feverish manner, but in the steady swing of the +pendulum. Across the great plains and uplands to the right and +left of the lane, a long tide of sunset light rolled like a sea +of ruby, lighting up the long terraces of the hills and picking +out the few windows of the scattered hamlets in startling +blood-red sparks. But the lane was cut deep in the hill and +remained in an abrupt shadow. The two men running in it had an +impression not uncommonly experienced between those wild green +English walls; a sense of being led between the walls of a maze. + +Though their pace was steady it was vigorous; their faces were +heated and their eyes fixed and bright. There was, indeed, +something a little mad in the contrast between the evening's +stillness over the empty country-side, and these two figures +fleeing wildly from nothing. They had the look of two lunatics, +possibly they were. + +"Are you all right?" said Turnbull, with civility. "Can you keep +this up?" + +"Quite easily, thank you," replied MacIan. "I run very well." + +"Is that a qualification in a family of warriors?" asked +Turnbull. + +"Undoubtedly. Rapid movement is essential," answered MacIan, who +never saw a joke in his life. + +Turnbull broke out into a short laugh, and silence fell between +them, the panting silence of runners. + +Then MacIan said: "We run better than any of those policemen. +They are too fat. Why do you make your policemen so fat?" + +"I didn't do much towards making them fat myself," replied +Turnbull, genially, "but I flatter myself that I am now doing +something towards making them thin. You'll see they will be as +lean as rakes by the time they catch us. They will look like your +friend, Cardinal Manning." + +"But they won't catch us," said MacIan, in his literal way. + +"No, we beat them in the great military art of running away," +returned the other. "They won't catch us unless----" + +MacIan turned his long equine face inquiringly. "Unless what?" he +said, for Turnbull had gone silent suddenly, and seemed to be +listening intently as he ran as a horse does with his ears turned +back. + +"Unless what?" repeated the Highlander. + +"Unless they do--what they have done. Listen." MacIan slackened +his trot, and turned his head to the trail they had left behind +them. Across two or three billows of the up and down lane came +along the ground the unmistakable throbbing of horses' hoofs. + +"They have put the mounted police on us," said Turnbull, shortly. +"Good Lord, one would think we were a Revolution." + +"So we are," said MacIan calmly. "What shall we do? Shall we turn +on them with our points?" + +"It may come to that," answered Turnbull, "though if it does, I +reckon that will be the last act. We must put it off if we can." +And he stared and peered about him between the bushes. "If we +could hide somewhere the beasts might go by us," he said. "The +police have their faults, but thank God they're inefficient. Why, +here's the very thing. Be quick and quiet. Follow me." + +He suddenly swung himself up the high bank on one side of the +lane. It was almost as high and smooth as a wall, and on the top +of it the black hedge stood out over them as an angle, almost +like a thatched roof of the lane. And the burning evening sky +looked down at them through the tangle with red eyes as of an +army of goblins. + +Turnbull hoisted himself up and broke the hedge with his body. As +his head and shoulders rose above it they turned to flame in the +full glow as if lit up by an immense firelight. His red hair and +beard looked almost scarlet, and his pale face as bright as a +boy's. Something violent, something that was at once love and +hatred, surged in the strange heart of the Gael below him. He had +an unutterable sense of epic importance, as if he were somehow +lifting all humanity into a prouder and more passionate region of +the air. As he swung himself up also into the evening light he +felt as if he were rising on enormous wings. + +Legends of the morning of the world which he had heard in +childhood or read in youth came back upon him in a cloudy +splendour, purple tales of wrath and friendship, like Roland and +Oliver, or Balin and Balan, reminding him of emotional +entanglements. Men who had loved each other and then fought each +other; men who had fought each other and then loved each other, +together made a mixed but monstrous sense of momentousness. The +crimson seas of the sunset seemed to him like a bursting out of +some sacred blood, as if the heart of the world had broken. + +Turnbull was wholly unaffected by any written or spoken poetry; +his was a powerful and prosaic mind. But even upon him there came +for the moment something out of the earth and the passionate ends +of the sky. The only evidence was in his voice, which was still +practical but a shade more quiet. + +"Do you see that summer-house-looking thing over there?" he asked +shortly. "That will do for us very well." + +Keeping himself free from the tangle of the hedge he strolled +across a triangle of obscure kitchen garden, and approached a +dismal shed or lodge a yard or two beyond it. It was a +weather-stained hut of grey wood, which with all its desolation +retained a tag or two of trivial ornament, which suggested that +the thing had once been a sort of summer-house, and the place +probably a sort of garden. + +"That is quite invisible from the road," said Turnbull, as he +entered it, "and it will cover us up for the night." + +MacIan looked at him gravely for a few moments. "Sir," he said, +"I ought to say something to you. I ought to say----" + +"Hush," said Turnbull, suddenly lifting his hand; "be still, +man." + +In the sudden silence, the drumming of the distant horses grew +louder and louder with inconceivable rapidity, and the cavalcade +of police rushed by below them in the lane, almost with the roar +and rattle of an express train. + +"I ought to tell you," continued MacIan, still staring stolidly +at the other, "that you are a great chief, and it is good to go +to war behind you." + +Turnbull said nothing, but turned and looked out of the foolish +lattice of the little windows, then he said, "We must have food +and sleep first." + +When the last echo of their eluded pursuers had died in the +distant uplands, Turnbull began to unpack the provisions with the +easy air of a man at a picnic. He had just laid out the last +items, put a bottle of wine on the floor, and a tin of salmon on +the window-ledge, when the bottomless silence of that forgotten +place was broken. And it was broken by three heavy blows of a +stick delivered upon the door. + +Turnbull looked up in the act of opening a tin and stared +silently at his companion. MacIan's long, lean mouth had shut +hard. + +"Who the devil can that be?" said Turnbull. + +"God knows," said the other. "It might be God." + +Again the sound of the wooden stick reverberated on the wooden +door. It was a curious sound and on consideration did not +resemble the ordinary effects of knocking on a door for +admittance. It was rather as if the point of a stick were plunged +again and again at the panels in an absurd attempt to make a hole +in them. + +A wild look sprang into MacIan's eyes and he got up half +stupidly, with a kind of stagger, put his hand out and caught one +of the swords. "Let us fight at once," he cried, "it is the end +of the world." + +"You're overdone, MacIan," said Turnbull, putting him on one +side. "It's only someone playing the goat. Let me open the +door." + +But he also picked up a sword as he stepped to open it. + +He paused one moment with his hand on the handle and then flung +the door open. Almost as he did so the ferrule of an ordinary +bamboo cane came at his eyes, so that he had actually to parry it +with the naked weapon in his hands. As the two touched, the point +of the stick was dropped very abruptly, and the man with the +stick stepped hurriedly back. + +Against the heraldic background of sprawling crimson and gold +offered him by the expiring sunset, the figure of the man with +the stick showed at first merely black and fantastic. He was a +small man with two wisps of long hair that curled up on each +side, and seen in silhouette, looked like horns. He had a bow tie +so big that the two ends showed on each side of his neck like +unnatural stunted wings. He had his long black cane still tilted +in his hand like a fencing foil and half presented at the open +door. His large straw hat had fallen behind him as he leapt +backwards. + +"With reference to your suggestion, MacIan," said Turnbull, +placidly, "I think it looks more like the Devil." + +"Who on earth are you?" cried the stranger in a high shrill +voice, brandishing his cane defensively. + +"Let me see," said Turnbull, looking round to MacIan with the +same blandness. "Who are we?" + +"Come out," screamed the little man with the stick. + +"Certainly," said Turnbull, and went outside with the sword, +MacIan following. + +Seen more fully, with the evening light on his face, the strange +man looked a little less like a goblin. He wore a square +pale-grey jacket suit, on which the grey butterfly tie was the +only indisputable touch of affectation. Against the great sunset +his figure had looked merely small: seen in a more equal light it +looked tolerably compact and shapely. His reddish-brown hair, +combed into two great curls, looked like the long, slow curling +hair of the women in some pre-Raphaelite pictures. But within +this feminine frame of hair his face was unexpectedly impudent, +like a monkey's. + +"What are you doing here?" he said, in a sharp small voice. + +"Well," said MacIan, in his grave childish way, "what are _you_ +doing here?" + +"I," said the man, indignantly, "I'm in my own garden." + +"Oh," said MacIan, simply, "I apologize." + +Turnbull was coolly curling his red moustache, and the stranger +stared from one to the other, temporarily stunned by their +innocent assurance. + +"But, may I ask," he said at last, "what the devil you are doing +in my summer-house?" + +"Certainly," said MacIan. "We were just going to fight." + +"To fight!" repeated the man. + +"We had better tell this gentleman the whole business," broke in +Turnbull. Then turning to the stranger he said firmly, "I am +sorry, sir, but we have something to do that must be done. And I +may as well tell you at the beginning and to avoid waste of time +or language, that we cannot admit any interference." + +"We were just going to take some slight refreshment when you +interrupted us..." + +The little man had a dawning expression of understanding and +stooped and picked up the unused bottle of wine, eyeing it +curiously. + +Turnbull continued: + +"But that refreshment was preparatory to something which I fear +you will find less comprehensible, but on which our minds are +entirely fixed, sir. We are forced to fight a duel. We are forced +by honour and an internal intellectual need. Do not, for your own +sake, attempt to stop us. I know all the excellent and ethical +things that you will want to say to us. I know all about the +essential requirements of civil order: I have written leading +articles about them all my life. I know all about the sacredness +of human life; I have bored all my friends with it. Try and +understand our position. This man and I are alone in the modern +world in that we think that God is essentially important. I think +He does not exist; that is where the importance comes in for me. +But this man thinks that He does exist, and thinking that very +properly thinks Him more important than anything else. Now we +wish to make a great demonstration and assertion--something that +will set the world on fire like the first Christian persecutions. +If you like, we are attempting a mutual martyrdom. The papers +have posted up every town against us. Scotland Yard has fortified +every police station with our enemies; we are driven therefore to +the edge of a lonely lane, and indirectly to taking liberties +with your summer-house in order to arrange our..." + +"Stop!" roared the little man in the butterfly necktie. "Put me +out of my intellectual misery. Are you really the two tomfools I +have read of in all the papers? Are you the two people who wanted +to spit each other in the Police Court? Are you? Are you?" + +"Yes," said MacIan, "it began in a Police Court." + +The little man slung the bottle of wine twenty yards away like a +stone. + +"Come up to my place," he said. "I've got better stuff than that. +I've got the best Beaune within fifty miles of here. Come up. +You're the very men I wanted to see." + +Even Turnbull, with his typical invulnerability, was a little +taken aback by this boisterous and almost brutal hospitality. + +"Why...sir..." he began. + +"Come up! Come in!" howled the little man, dancing with delight. +"I'll give you a dinner. I'll give you a bed! I'll give you a +green smooth lawn and your choice of swords and pistols. Why, you +fools, I adore fighting! It's the only good thing in God's world! +I've walked about these damned fields and longed to see somebody +cut up and killed and the blood running. Ha! Ha!" + +And he made sudden lunges with his stick at the trunk of a +neighbouring tree so that the ferrule made fierce prints and +punctures in the bark. + +"Excuse me," said MacIan suddenly with the wide-eyed curiosity of +a child, "excuse me, but..." + +"Well?" said the small fighter, brandishing his wooden weapon. + +"Excuse me," repeated MacIan, "but was that what you were doing +at the door?" + +The little man stared an instant and then said: "Yes," and +Turnbull broke into a guffaw. + +"Come on!" cried the little man, tucking his stick under his arm +and taking quite suddenly to his heels. "Come on! Confound me, +I'll see both of you eat and then I'll see one of you die. Lord +bless me, the gods must exist after all--they have sent me one of +my day-dreams! Lord! A duel!" + +He had gone flying along a winding path between the borders of +the kitchen garden, and in the increasing twilight he was as hard +to follow as a flying hare. But at length the path after many +twists betrayed its purpose and led abruptly up two or three +steps to the door of a tiny but very clean cottage. There was +nothing about the outside to distinguish it from other cottages, +except indeed its ominous cleanliness and one thing that was out +of all the custom and tradition of all cottages under the sun. +In the middle of the little garden among the stocks and marigolds +there surged up in shapeless stone a South Sea Island idol. There +was something gross and even evil in that eyeless and alien god +among the most innocent of the English flowers. + +"Come in!" cried the creature again. "Come in! it's better +inside!" + +Whether or no it was better inside it was at least a surprise. +The moment the two duellists had pushed open the door of that +inoffensive, whitewashed cottage they found that its interior was +lined with fiery gold. It was like stepping into a chamber in the +Arabian Nights. The door that closed behind them shut out England +and all the energies of the West. The ornaments that shone and +shimmered on every side of them were subtly mixed from many +periods and lands, but were all oriental. Cruel Assyrian +bas-reliefs ran along the sides of the passage; cruel Turkish +swords and daggers glinted above and below them; the two were +separated by ages and fallen civilizations. Yet they seemed to +sympathize since they were both harmonious and both merciless. +The house seemed to consist of chamber within chamber and created +that impression as of a dream which belongs also to the Arabian +Nights themselves. The innermost room of all was like the inside +of a jewel. The little man who owned it all threw himself on a +heap of scarlet and golden cushions and struck his hands +together. A negro in a white robe and turban appeared suddenly +and silently behind them. + +"Selim," said the host, "these two gentlemen are staying with me +tonight. Send up the very best wine and dinner at once. And +Selim, one of these gentlemen will probably die tomorrow. Make +arrangements, please." + +The negro bowed and withdrew. + +Evan MacIan came out the next morning into the little garden to a +fresh silver day, his long face looking more austere than ever in +that cold light, his eyelids a little heavy. He carried one of +the swords. Turnbull was in the little house behind him, +demolishing the end of an early breakfast and humming a tune to +himself, which could be heard through the open window. A moment +or two later he leapt to his feet and came out into the sunlight, +still munching toast, his own sword stuck under his arm like a +walking-stick. + +Their eccentric host had vanished from sight, with a polite +gesture, some twenty minutes before. They imagined him to be +occupied on some concerns in the interior of the house, and they +waited for his emergence, stamping the garden in silence--the +garden of tall, fresh country flowers, in the midst of which the +monstrous South Sea idol lifted itself as abruptly as the prow of +a ship riding on a sea of red and white and gold. + +It was with a start, therefore, that they came upon the man +himself already in the garden. They were all the more startled +because of the still posture in which they found him. He was on +his knees in front of the stone idol, rigid and motionless, like +a saint in a trance or ecstasy. Yet when Turnbull's tread broke a +twig, he was on his feet in a flash. + +"Excuse me," he said with an irradiation of smiles, but yet with +a kind of bewilderment. "So sorry...family prayers...old +fashioned...mother's knee. Let us go on to the lawn behind." + +And he ducked rapidly round the statue to an open space of grass +on the other side of it. + +"This will do us best, Mr. MacIan," said he. Then he made a +gesture towards the heavy stone figure on the pedestal which had +now its blank and shapeless back turned towards them. "Don't you +be afraid," he added, "he can still see us." + +MacIan turned his blue, blinking eyes, which seemed still misty +with sleep (or sleeplessness) towards the idol, but his brows +drew together. + +The little man with the long hair also had his eyes on the back +view of the god. His eyes were at once liquid and burning, and he +rubbed his hands slowly against each other. + +"Do you know," he said, "I think he can see us better this way. +I often think that this blank thing is his real face, watching, +though it cannot be watched. He! he! Yes, I think he looks nice +from behind. He looks more cruel from behind, don't you think?" + +"What the devil is the thing?" asked Turnbull gruffly. + +"It is the only Thing there is," answered the other. "It is +Force." + +"Oh!" said Turnbull shortly. + +"Yes, my friends," said the little man, with an animated +countenance, fluttering his fingers in the air, "it was no chance +that led you to this garden; surely it was the caprice of some +old god, some happy, pitiless god. Perhaps it was his will, for +he loves blood; and on that stone in front of him men have been +butchered by hundreds in the fierce, feasting islands of the +South. In this cursed, craven place I have not been permitted to +kill men on his altar. Only rabbits and cats, sometimes." + +In the stillness MacIan made a sudden movement, unmeaning +apparently, and then remained rigid. + +"But today, today," continued the small man in a shrill voice. +"Today his hour is come. Today his will is done on earth as it +is in heaven. Men, men, men will bleed before him today." And +he bit his forefinger in a kind of fever. + +Still, the two duellists stood with their swords as heavily as +statues, and the silence seemed to cool the eccentric and call +him back to more rational speech. + +"Perhaps I express myself a little too lyrically," he said with +an amicable abruptness. "My philosophy has its higher ecstasies, +but perhaps you are hardly worked up to them yet. Let us confine +ourselves to the unquestioned. You have found your way, +gentlemen, by a beautiful accident, to the house of the only man +in England (probably) who will favour and encourage your most +reasonable project. From Cornwall to Cape Wrath this county is +one horrible, solid block of humanitarianism. You will find men +who will defend this or that war in a distant continent. They +will defend it on the contemptible ground of commerce or the more +contemptible ground of social good. But do not fancy that you +will find one other person who will comprehend a strong man +taking the sword in his hand and wiping out his enemy. My name +is Wimpey, Morrice Wimpey. I had a Fellowship at Magdalen. But I +assure you I had to drop it, owing to my having said something in +a public lecture infringing the popular prejudice against those +great gentlemen, the assassins of the Italian Renaissance. They +let me say it at dinner and so on, and seemed to like it. But in +a public lecture...so inconsistent. Well, as I say, here is your +only refuge and temple of honour. Here you can fall back on that +naked and awful arbitration which is the only thing that balances +the stars--a still, continuous violence. _Vae Victis!_ Down, +down, down with the defeated! Victory is the only ultimate fact. +Carthage _was_ destroyed, the Red Indians are being exterminated: +that is the single certainty. In an hour from now that sun will +still be shining and that grass growing, and one of you will be +conquered; one of you will be the conqueror. When it has been +done, nothing will alter it. Heroes, I give you the hospitality +fit for heroes. And I salute the survivor. Fall on!" + +The two men took their swords. Then MacIan said steadily: "Mr. +Turnbull, lend me your sword a moment." + +Turnbull, with a questioning glance, handed him the weapon. +MacIan took the second sword in his left hand and, with a violent +gesture, hurled it at the feet of little Mr. Wimpey. + +"Fight!" he said in a loud, harsh voice. "Fight me now!" + +Wimpey took a step backward, and bewildered words bubbled on his +lips. + +"Pick up that sword and fight me," repeated MacIan, with brows as +black as thunder. + +The little man turned to Turnbull with a gesture, demanding +judgement or protection. + +"Really, sir," he began, "this gentleman confuses..." + +"You stinking little coward," roared Turnbull, suddenly releasing +his wrath. "Fight, if you're so fond of fighting! Fight, if +you're so fond of all that filthy philosophy! If winning is +everything, go in and win! If the weak must go to the wall, go to +the wall! Fight, you rat! Fight, or if you won't fight--run!" + +And he ran at Wimpey, with blazing eyes. + +Wimpey staggered back a few paces like a man struggling with his +own limbs. Then he felt the furious Scotchman coming at him like +an express train, doubling his size every second, with eyes as +big as windows and a sword as bright as the sun. Something broke +inside him, and he found himself running away, tumbling over his +own feet in terror, and crying out as he ran. + +"Chase him!" shouted Turnbull as MacIan snatched up the sword and +joined in the scamper. "Chase him over a county! Chase him into +the sea! Shoo! Shoo! Shoo!" + +The little man plunged like a rabbit among the tall flowers, the +two duellists after him. Turnbull kept at his tail with savage +ecstasy, still shooing him like a cat. But MacIan, as he ran past +the South Sea idol, paused an instant to spring upon its +pedestal. For five seconds he strained against the inert mass. +Then it stirred; and he sent it over with a great crash among the +flowers, that engulfed it altogether. Then he went bounding after +the runaway. + +In the energy of his alarm the ex-Fellow of Magdalen managed to +leap the paling of his garden. The two pursuers went over it +after him like flying birds. He fled frantically down a long lane +with his two terrors on his trail till he came to a gap in the +hedge and went across a steep meadow like the wind. The two +Scotchmen, as they ran, kept up a cheery bellowing and waved +their swords. Up three slanting meadows, down four slanting +meadows on the other side, across another road, across a heath of +snapping bracken, through a wood, across another road, and to the +brink of a big pool, they pursued the flying philosopher. But +when he came to the pool his pace was so precipitate that he +could not stop it, and with a kind of lurching stagger, he fell +splash into the greasy water. Getting dripping to his feet, with +the water up to his knees, the worshipper of force and victory +waded disconsolately to the other side and drew himself on to the +bank. And Turnbull sat down on the grass and went off into +reverberations of laughter. A second afterwards the most +extraordinary grimaces were seen to distort the stiff face of +MacIan, and unholy sounds came from within. He had never +practised laughing, and it hurt him very much. + + + +VII. THE VILLAGE OF GRASSLEY-IN-THE-HOLE + +At about half past one, under a strong blue sky, Turnbull got up +out of the grass and fern in which he had been lying, and his +still intermittent laughter ended in a kind of yawn. + +"I'm hungry," he said shortly. "Are you?" + +"I have not noticed," answered MacIan. "What are you going to +do?" + +"There's a village down the road, past the pool," answered +Turnbull. "I can see it from here. I can see the whitewashed +walls of some cottages and a kind of corner of the church. How +jolly it all looks. It looks so--I don't know what the word +is--so sensible. Don't fancy I'm under any illusions about +Arcadian virtue and the innocent villagers. Men make beasts of +themselves there with drink, but they don't deliberately make +devils of themselves with mere talking. They kill wild animals in +the wild woods, but they don't kill cats to the God of Victory. +They don't----" He broke off and suddenly spat on the ground. + +"Excuse me," he said; "it was ceremonial. One has to get the +taste out of one's mouth." + +"The taste of what?" asked MacIan. + +"I don't know the exact name for it," replied Turnbull. "Perhaps +it is the South Sea Islands, or it may be Magdalen College." + +There was a long pause, and MacIan also lifted his large limbs +off the ground--his eyes particularly dreamy. + +"I know what you mean, Turnbull," he said, "but...I always +thought you people agreed with all that." + +"With all that about doing as one likes, and the individual, and +Nature loving the strongest, and all the things which that +cockroach talked about." + +Turnbull's big blue-grey eyes stood open with a grave +astonishment. + +"Do you really mean to say, MacIan," he said, "that you fancied +that we, the Free-thinkers, that Bradlaugh, or Holyoake, or +Ingersoll, believe all that dirty, immoral mysticism about +Nature? Damn Nature!" + +"I supposed you did," said MacIan calmly. "It seems to me your +most conclusive position." + +"And you mean to tell me," rejoined the other, "that you broke my +window, and challenged me to mortal combat, and tied a tradesman +up with ropes, and chased an Oxford Fellow across five +meadows--all under the impression that I am such an illiterate +idiot as to believe in Nature!" + +"I supposed you did," repeated MacIan with his usual mildness; +"but I admit that I know little of the details of your belief--or +disbelief." + +Turnbull swung round quite suddenly, and set off towards the +village. + +"Come along," he cried. "Come down to the village. Come down to +the nearest decent inhabitable pub. This is a case for beer." + +"I do not quite follow you," said the Highlander. + +"Yes, you do," answered Turnbull. "You follow me slap into the +inn-parlour. I repeat, this is a case for beer. We must have the +whole of this matter out thoroughly before we go a step farther. +Do you know that an idea has just struck me of great simplicity +and of some cogency. Do not by any means let us drop our +intentions of settling our differences with two steel swords. +But do you not think that with two pewter pots we might do what +we really have never thought of doing yet--discover what our +difference is?" + +"It never occurred to me before," answered MacIan with +tranquillity. "It is a good suggestion." + +And they set out at an easy swing down the steep road to the +village of Grassley-in-the-Hole. + +Grassley-in-the-Hole was a rude parallelogram of buildings, with +two thoroughfares which might have been called two high streets +if it had been possible to call them streets. One of these ways +was higher on the slope than the other, the whole parallelogram +lying aslant, so to speak, on the side of the hill. The upper of +these two roads was decorated with a big public house, a +butcher's shop, a small public house, a sweetstuff shop, a very +small public house, and an illegible signpost. The lower of the +two roads boasted a horse-pond, a post office, a gentleman's +garden with very high hedges, a microscopically small public +house, and two cottages. Where all the people lived who supported +all the public houses was in this, as in many other English +villages, a silent and smiling mystery. The church lay a little +above and beyond the village, with a square grey tower dominating +it decisively. + +But even the church was scarcely so central and solemn an +institution as the large public house, the Valencourt Arms. It +was named after some splendid family that had long gone bankrupt, +and whose seat was occupied by a man who had invented a hygienic +bootjack; but the unfathomable sentimentalism of the English +people insisted in regarding the Inn, the seat and the sitter in +it, as alike parts of a pure and marmoreal antiquity. And in the +Valencourt Arms festivity itself had some solemnity and decorum; +and beer was drunk with reverence, as it ought to be. Into the +principal parlour of this place entered two strangers, who found +themselves, as is always the case in such hostels, the object, +not of fluttered curiosity or pert inquiry, but of steady, +ceaseless, devouring ocular study. They had long coats down to +their heels, and carried under each coat something that looked +like a stick. One was tall and dark, the other short and +red-haired. They ordered a pot of ale each. + +"MacIan," said Turnbull, lifting his tankard, "the fool who +wanted us to be friends made us want to go on fighting. It is +only natural that the fool who wanted us to fight should make us +friendly. MacIan, your health!" + +Dusk was already dropping, the rustics in the tavern were already +lurching and lumbering out of it by twos and threes, crying +clamorous good nights to a solitary old toper that remained, +before MacIan and Turnbull had reached the really important part +of their discussion. + +MacIan wore an expression of sad bewilderment not uncommon with +him. "I am to understand, then," he said, "that you don't believe +in nature." + +"You may say so in a very special and emphatic sense," said +Turnbull. "I do not believe in nature, just as I do not believe +in Odin. She is a myth. It is not merely that I do not believe +that nature can guide us. It is that I do not believe that nature +exists." + +"Exists?" said MacIan in his monotonous way, settling his pewter +pot on the table. + +"Yes, in a real sense nature does not exist. I mean that nobody +can discover what the original nature of things would have been +if things had not interfered with it. The first blade of grass +began to tear up the earth and eat it; it was interfering with +nature, if there is any nature. The first wild ox began to tear +up the grass and eat it; he was interfering with nature, if there +is any nature. In the same way," continued Turnbull, "the human +when it asserts its dominance over nature is just as natural as +the thing which it destroys." + +"And in the same way," said MacIan almost dreamily, "the +superhuman, the supernatural is just as natural as the nature +which it destroys." + +Turnbull took his head out of his pewter pot in some anger. + +"The supernatural, of course," he said, "is quite another thing; +the case of the supernatural is simple. The supernatural does not +exist." + +"Quite so," said MacIan in a rather dull voice; "you said the +same about the natural. If the natural does not exist the +supernatural obviously can't." And he yawned a little over his +ale. + +Turnbull turned for some reason a little red and remarked +quickly, "That may be jolly clever, for all I know. But everyone +does know that there is a division between the things that as a +matter of fact do commonly happen and the things that don't. +Things that break the evident laws of nature----" + +"Which does not exist," put in MacIan sleepily. Turnbull struck +the table with a sudden hand. + +"Good Lord in heaven!" he cried---- + +"Who does not exist," murmured MacIan. + +"Good Lord in heaven!" thundered Turnbull, without regarding the +interruption. "Do you really mean to sit there and say that you, +like anybody else, would not recognize the difference between a +natural occurrence and a supernatural one--if there could be such +a thing? If I flew up to the ceiling----" + +"You would bump your head badly," cried MacIan, suddenly starting +up. "One can't talk of this kind of thing under a ceiling at all. +Come outside! Come outside and ascend into heaven!" + +He burst the door open on a blue abyss of evening and they +stepped out into it: it was suddenly and strangely cool. + +"Turnbull," said MacIan, "you have said some things so true and +some so false that I want to talk; and I will try to talk so that +you understand. For at present you do not understand at all. We +don't seem to mean the same things by the same words." + +He stood silent for a second or two and then resumed. + +"A minute or two ago I caught you out in a real contradiction. At +that moment logically I was right. And at that moment I knew I +was wrong. Yes, there is a real difference between the natural +and the supernatural: if you flew up into that blue sky this +instant, I should think that you were moved by God--or the devil. +But if you want to know what I really think...I must explain." + +He stopped again, abstractedly boring the point of his sword into +the earth, and went on: + +"I was born and bred and taught in a complete universe. The +supernatural was not natural, but it was perfectly reasonable. +Nay, the supernatural to me is more reasonable than the natural; +for the supernatural is a direct message from God, who is reason. +I was taught that some things are natural and some things divine. +I mean that some things are mechanical and some things divine. +But there is the great difficulty, Turnbull. The great difficulty +is that, according to my teaching, you are divine." + +"Me! Divine?" said Turnbull truculently. "What do you mean?" + +"That is just the difficulty," continued MacIan thoughtfully. "I +was told that there was a difference between the grass and a +man's will; and the difference was that a man's will was special +and divine. A man's free will, I heard, was supernatural." + +"Rubbish!" said Turnbull. + +"Oh," said MacIan patiently, "then if a man's free will isn't +supernatural, why do your materialists deny that it exists?" + +Turnbull was silent for a moment. Then he began to speak, but +MacIan continued with the same steady voice and sad eyes: + +"So what I feel is this: Here is the great divine creation I was +taught to believe in. I can understand your disbelieving in it, +but why disbelieve in a part of it? It was all one thing to me. +God had authority because he was God. Man had authority because +he was man. You cannot prove that God is better than a man; nor +can you prove that a man is better than a horse. Why permit any +ordinary thing? Why do you let a horse be saddled?" + +"Some modern thinkers disapprove of it," said Turnbull a little +doubtfully. + +"I know," said MacIan grimly; "that man who talked about love, +for instance." + +Turnbull made a humorous grimace; then he said: "We seem to be +talking in a kind of shorthand; but I won't pretend not to +understand you. What you mean is this: that you learnt about all +your saints and angels at the same time as you learnt about +common morality, from the same people, in the same way. And you +mean to say that if one may be disputed, so may the other. Well, +let that pass for the moment. But let me ask you a question in +turn. Did not this system of yours, which you swallowed whole, +contain all sorts of things that were merely local, the respect +for the chief of your clan, or such things; the village ghost, +the family feud, or what not? Did you not take in those things, +too, along with your theology?" + +MacIan stared along the dim village road, down which the last +straggler from the inn was trailing his way. + +"What you say is not unreasonable," he said. "But it is not quite +true. The distinction between the chief and us did exist; but it +was never anything like the distinction between the human and the +divine, or the human and the animal. It was more like the +distinction between one animal and another. But----" + +"Well?" said Turnbull. + +MacIan was silent. + +"Go on," repeated Turnbull; "what's the matter with you? What are +you staring at?" + +"I am staring," said MacIan at last, "at that which shall judge +us both." + +"Oh, yes," said Turnbull in a tired way, "I suppose you mean +God." + +"No, I don't," said MacIan, shaking his head. "I mean him." + +And he pointed to the half-tipsy yokel who was ploughing down the +road. + +"What do you mean?" asked the atheist. + +"I mean him," repeated MacIan with emphasis. "He goes out in the +early dawn; he digs or he ploughs a field. Then he comes back and +drinks ale, and then he sings a song. All your philosophies and +political systems are young compared to him. All your hoary +cathedrals, yes, even the Eternal Church on earth is new compared +to him. The most mouldering gods in the British Museum are new +facts beside him. It is he who in the end shall judge us all." + +And MacIan rose to his feet with a vague excitement. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"I am going to ask him," cried MacIan, "which of us is right." + +Turnbull broke into a kind of laugh. "Ask that intoxicated +turnip-eater----" he began. + +"Yes--which of us is right," cried MacIan violently. "Oh, you +have long words and I have long words; and I talk of every man +being the image of God; and you talk of every man being a citizen +and enlightened enough to govern. But if every man typifies God, +there is God. If every man is an enlightened citizen, there is +your enlightened citizen. The first man one meets is always man. +Let us catch him up." + +And in gigantic strides the long, lean Highlander whirled away +into the grey twilight, Turnbull following with a good-humoured +oath. + +The track of the rustic was easy to follow, even in the faltering +dark; for he was enlivening his wavering walk with song. It was +an interminable poem, beginning with some unspecified King +William, who (it appeared) lived in London town and who after the +second rise vanished rather abruptly from the train of thought. +The rest was almost entirely about beer and was thick with local +topography of a quite unrecognizable kind. The singer's step was +neither very rapid, nor, indeed, exceptionally secure; so the +song grew louder and louder and the two soon overtook him. + +He was a man elderly or rather of any age, with lean grey hair +and a lean red face, but with that remarkable rustic physiognomy +in which it seems that all the features stand out independently +from the face; the rugged red nose going out like a limb; the +bleared blue eyes standing out like signals. + +He gave them greeting with the elaborate urbanity of the slightly +intoxicated. MacIan, who was vibrating with one of his silent, +violent decisions, opened the question without delay. He +explained the philosophic position in words as short and simple +as possible. But the singular old man with the lank red face +seemed to think uncommonly little of the short words. He fixed +with a fierce affection upon one or two of the long ones. + +"Atheists!" he repeated with luxurious scorn. "Atheists! I +know their sort, master. Atheists! Don't talk to me about 'un. +Atheists!" + +The grounds of his disdain seemed a little dark and confused; but +they were evidently sufficient. MacIan resumed in some +encouragement: + +"You think as I do, I hope; you think that a man should be +connected with the Church; with the common Christian----" + +The old man extended a quivering stick in the direction of a +distant hill. + +"There's the church," he said thickly. "Grassley old church that +is. Pulled down it was, in the old squire's time, and----" + +"I mean," explained MacIan elaborately, "that you think that +there should be someone typifying religion, a priest----" + +"Priests!" said the old man with sudden passion. "Priests! I +know 'un. What they want in England? That's what I say. What +they want in England?" + +"They want you," said MacIan. + +"Quite so," said Turnbull, "and me; but they won't get us. +MacIan, your attempt on the primitive innocence does not seem +very successful. Let me try. What you want, my friend, is your +rights. You don't want any priests or churches. A vote, a right +to speak is what you----" + +"Who says I a'n't got a right to speak?" said the old man, facing +round in an irrational frenzy. "I got a right to speak. I'm a +man, I am. I don't want no votin' nor priests. I say a man's a +man; that's what I say. If a man a'n't a man, what is he? That's +what I say, if a man a'n't a man, what is he? When I sees a man, +I sez 'e's a man." + +"Quite so," said Turnbull, "a citizen." + +"I say he's a man," said the rustic furiously, stopping and +striking his stick on the ground. "Not a city or owt else. He's a +man." + +"You're perfectly right," said the sudden voice of MacIan, +falling like a sword. "And you have kept close to something the +whole world of today tries to forget." + +"Good night." + +And the old man went on wildly singing into the night. + +"A jolly old creature," said Turnbull; "he didn't seem able to +get much beyond that fact that a man is a man." + +"Has anybody got beyond it?" asked MacIan. + +Turnbull looked at him curiously. "Are you turning an agnostic?" +he asked. + +"Oh, you do not understand!" cried out MacIan. "We Catholics are +all agnostics. We Catholics have only in that sense got as far as +realizing that man is a man. But your Ibsens and your Zolas and +your Shaws and your Tolstoys have not even got so far." + + + +VIII. AN INTERLUDE OF ARGUMENT + +Morning broke in bitter silver along the grey and level plain; +and almost as it did so Turnbull and MacIan came out of a low, +scrubby wood on to the empty and desolate flats. They had walked +all night. + +They had walked all night and talked all night also, and if the +subject had been capable of being exhausted they would have +exhausted it. Their long and changing argument had taken them +through districts and landscapes equally changing. They had +discussed Haeckel upon hills so high and steep that in spite of +the coldness of the night it seemed as if the stars might burn +them. They had explained and re-explained the Massacre of St. +Bartholomew in little white lanes walled in with standing corn as +with walls of gold. They had talked about Mr. Kensit in dim and +twinkling pine woods, amid the bewildering monotony of the pines. +And it was with the end of a long speech from MacIan, +passionately defending the practical achievements and the solid +prosperity of the Catholic tradition, that they came out upon the +open land. + +MacIan had learnt much and thought more since he came out of the +cloudy hills of Arisaig. He had met many typical modern figures +under circumstances which were sharply symbolic; and, moreover, +he had absorbed the main modern atmosphere from the mere presence +and chance phrases of Turnbull, as such atmospheres can always be +absorbed from the presence and the phrases of any man of great +mental vitality. He had at last begun thoroughly to understand +what are the grounds upon which the mass of the modern world +solidly disapprove of her creed; and he threw himself into +replying to them with a hot intellectual enjoyment. + +"I begin to understand one or two of your dogmas, Mr. Turnbull," +he had said emphatically as they ploughed heavily up a wooded +hill. "And every one that I understand I deny. Take any one of +them you like. You hold that your heretics and sceptics have +helped the world forward and handed on a lamp of progress. I deny +it. Nothing is plainer from real history than that each of your +heretics invented a complete cosmos of his own which the next +heretic smashed entirely to pieces. Who knows now exactly what +Nestorius taught? Who cares? There are only two things that we +know for certain about it. The first is that Nestorius, as a +heretic, taught something quite opposite to the teaching of +Arius, the heretic who came before him, and something quite +useless to James Turnbull, the heretic who comes after. I defy +you to go back to the Free-thinkers of the past and find any +habitation for yourself at all. I defy you to read Godwin or +Shelley or the deists of the eighteenth century of the +nature-worshipping humanists of the Renaissance, without +discovering that you differ from them twice as much as you differ +from the Pope. You are a nineteenth-century sceptic, and you are +always telling me that I ignore the cruelty of nature. If you had +been an eighteenth-century sceptic you would have told me that I +ignore the kindness and benevolence of nature. You are an +atheist, and you praise the deists of the eighteenth century. +Read them instead of praising them, and you will find that their +whole universe stands or falls with the deity. You are a +materialist, and you think Bruno a scientific hero. See what he +said and you will think him an insane mystic. No, the great +Free-thinker, with his genuine ability and honesty, does not in +practice destroy Christianity. What he does destroy is the +Free-thinker who went before. Free-thought may be suggestive, it +may be inspiriting, it may have as much as you please of the +merits that come from vivacity and variety. But there is one +thing Free-thought can never be by any possibility--Free-thought +can never be progressive. It can never be progressive because it +will accept nothing from the past; it begins every time again +from the beginning; and it goes every time in a different +direction. All the rational philosophers have gone along +different roads, so it is impossible to say which has gone +farthest. Who can discuss whether Emerson was a better optimist +than Schopenhauer was pessimist? It is like asking if this corn +is as yellow as that hill is steep. No; there are only two things +that really progress; and they both accept accumulations of +authority. They may be progressing uphill and down; they may be +growing steadily better or steadily worse; but they have steadily +increased in certain definable matters; they have steadily +advanced in a certain definable direction; they are the only two +things, it seems, that ever _can_ progress. The first is strictly +physical science. The second is the Catholic Church." + +"Physical science and the Catholic Church!" said Turnbull +sarcastically; "and no doubt the first owes a great deal to the +second." + +"If you pressed that point I might reply that it was very +probable," answered MacIan calmly. "I often fancy that your +historical generalizations rest frequently on random instances; I +should not be surprised if your vague notions of the Church as +the persecutor of science was a generalization from Galileo. I +should not be at all surprised if, when you counted the +scientific investigations and discoveries since the fall of Rome, +you found that a great mass of them had been made by monks. But +the matter is irrelevant to my meaning. I say that if you want an +example of anything which has progressed in the moral world by +the same method as science in the material world, by continually +adding to without unsettling what was there before, then I say +that there _is_ only one example of it. And that is Us." + +"With this enormous difference," said Turnbull, "that however +elaborate be the calculations of physical science, their net +result can be tested. Granted that it took millions of books I +never read and millions of men I never heard of to discover the +electric light. Still I can see the electric light. But I cannot +see the supreme virtue which is the result of all your theologies +and sacraments." + +"Catholic virtue is often invisible because it is the normal," +answered MacIan. "Christianity is always out of fashion because +it is always sane; and all fashions are mild insanities. When +Italy is mad on art the Church seems too Puritanical; when +England is mad on Puritanism the Church seems too artistic. When +you quarrel with us now you class us with kingship and despotism; +but when you quarrelled with us first it was because we would not +accept the divine despotism of Henry VIII. The Church always +seems to be behind the times, when it is really beyond the times; +it is waiting till the last fad shall have seen its last summer. +It keeps the key of a permanent virtue." + +"Oh, I have heard all that!" said Turnbull with genial contempt. +"I have heard that Christianity keeps the key of virtue, and that +if you read Tom Paine you will cut your throat at Monte Carlo. It +is such rubbish that I am not even angry at it. You say that +Christianity is the prop of morals; but what more do you do? When +a doctor attends you and could poison you with a pinch of salt, +do you ask whether he is a Christian? You ask whether he is a +gentleman, whether he is an M.D.--anything but that. When a +soldier enlists to die for his country or disgrace it, do you ask +whether he is a Christian? You are more likely to ask whether he +is Oxford or Cambridge at the boat race. If you think your creed +essential to morals why do you not make it a test for these +things?" + +"We once did make it a test for these things," said MacIan +smiling, "and then you told us that we were imposing by force a +faith unsupported by argument. It seems rather hard that having +first been told that our creed must be false because we did use +tests, we should now be told that it must be false because we +don't. But I notice that most anti-Christian arguments are in the +same inconsistent style." + +"That is all very well as a debating-club answer," replied +Turnbull good-humouredly, "but the question still remains: Why +don't you confine yourself more to Christians if Christians are +the only really good men?" + +"Who talked of such folly?" asked MacIan disdainfully. "Do you +suppose that the Catholic Church ever held that Christians were +the only good men? Why, the Catholics of the Catholic Middle Ages +talked about the virtues of all the virtuous Pagans until +humanity was sick of the subject. No, if you really want to know +what we mean when we say that Christianity has a special power of +virtue, I will tell you. The Church is the only thing on earth +that can perpetuate a type of virtue and make it something more +than a fashion. The thing is so plain and historical that I +hardly think you will ever deny it. You cannot deny that it is +perfectly possible that tomorrow morning, in Ireland or in Italy, +there might appear a man not only as good but good in exactly the +same way as St. Francis of Assisi. Very well, now take the other +types of human virtue; many of them splendid. The English +gentleman of Elizabeth was chivalrous and idealistic. But can you +stand still here in this meadow and _be_ an English gentleman of +Elizabeth? The austere republican of the eighteenth century, with +his stern patriotism and his simple life, was a fine fellow. But +have you ever seen him? have you ever seen an austere republican? +Only a hundred years have passed and that volcano of +revolutionary truth and valour is as cold as the mountains of the +moon. And so it is and so it will be with the ethics which are +buzzing down Fleet Street at this instant as I speak. What phrase +would inspire the London clerk or workman just now? Perhaps that +he is a son of the British Empire on which the sun never sets; +perhaps that he is a prop of his Trades Union, or a +class-conscious proletarian something or other; perhaps merely +that he is a gentleman when he obviously is not. Those names and +notions are all honourable; but how long will they last? Empires +break; industrial conditions change; the suburbs will not last +for ever. What will remain? I will tell you. The Catholic Saint +will remain." + +"And suppose I don't like him?" said Turnbull. + +"On my theory the question is rather whether he will like you: or +more probably whether he will ever have heard of you. But I grant +the reasonableness of your query. You have a right, if you speak +as the ordinary man, to ask if you will like the saint. But as +the ordinary man you do like him. You revel in him. If you +dislike him it is not because you are a nice ordinary man, but +because you are (if you will excuse me) a sophisticated prig of a +Fleet Street editor. That is just the funny part of it. The human +race has always admired the Catholic virtues, however little it +can practise them; and oddly enough it has admired most those of +them that the modern world most sharply disputes. You complain of +Catholicism for setting up an ideal of virginity; it did nothing +of the kind. The whole human race set up an ideal of virginity; +the Greeks in Athene, the Romans in the Vestal fire, set up an +ideal of virginity. What then is your real quarrel with +Catholicism? Your quarrel can only be, your quarrel really only +is, that Catholicism has _achieved_ an ideal of virginity; that +it is no longer a mere piece of floating poetry. But if you, and +a few feverish men, in top hats, running about in a street in +London, choose to differ as to the ideal itself, not only from +the Church, but from the Parthenon whose name means virginity, +from the Roman Empire which went outwards from the virgin flame, +from the whole legend and tradition of Europe, from the lion who +will not touch virgins, from the unicorn who respects them, and +who make up together the bearers of your own national shield, +from the most living and lawless of your own poets, from +Massinger, who wrote the _Virgin Martyr_, from Shakespeare, who +wrote _Measure for Measure_--if you in Fleet Street differ from +all this human experience, does it never strike you that it may +be Fleet Street that is wrong?" + +"No," answered Turnbull; "I trust that I am sufficiently +fair-minded to canvass and consider the idea; but having +considered it, I think Fleet Street is right, yes--even if the +Parthenon is wrong. I think that as the world goes on new +psychological atmospheres are generated, and in these atmospheres +it is possible to find delicacies and combinations which in other +times would have to be represented by some ruder symbol. Every +man feels the need of some element of purity in sex; perhaps they +can only typify purity as the absence of sex. You will laugh if I +suggest that we may have made in Fleet Street an atmosphere in +which a man can be so passionate as Sir Lancelot and as pure as +Sir Galahad. But, after all, we have in the modern world erected +many such atmospheres. We have, for instance, a new and +imaginative appreciation of children." + +"Quite so," replied MacIan with a singular smile. "It has been +very well put by one of the brightest of your young authors, who +said: 'Unless you become as little children ye shall in no wise +enter the kingdom of heaven.' But you are quite right; there is a +modern worship of children. And what, I ask you, is this modern +worship of children? What, in the name of all the angels and +devils, is it except a worship of virginity? Why should anyone +worship a thing merely because it is small or immature? No; you +have tried to escape from this thing, and the very thing you +point to as the goal of your escape is only the thing again. Am +I wrong in saying that these things seem to be eternal?" + +And it was with these words that they came in sight of the great +plains. They went a little way in silence, and then James +Turnbull said suddenly, "But I _cannot_ believe in the thing." +MacIan answered nothing to the speech; perhaps it is +unanswerable. And indeed they scarcely spoke another word to +each other all that day. + + + +IX. THE STRANGE LADY + +Moonrise with a great and growing moon opened over all those +flats, making them seem flatter and larger than they were, +turning them to a lake of blue light. The two companions trudged +across the moonlit plain for half an hour in full silence. Then +MacIan stopped suddenly and planted his sword-point in the ground +like one who plants his tent-pole for the night. Leaving it +standing there, he clutched his black-haired skull with his great +claws of hands, as was his custom when forcing the pace of his +brain. Then his hands dropped again and he spoke. + +"I'm sure you're thinking the same as I am," he said; "how long +are we to be on this damned seesaw?" + +The other did not answer, but his silence seemed somehow solid as +assent; and MacIan went on conversationally. Neither noticed that +both had instinctively stood still before the sign of the fixed +and standing sword. + +"It is hard to guess what God means in this business. But he +means something--or the other thing, or both. Whenever we have +tried to fight each other something has stopped us. Whenever we +have tried to be reconciled to each other, something has stopped +us again. By the run of our luck we have never had time to be +either friends or enemies. Something always jumped out of the +bushes." + +Turnbull nodded gravely and glanced round at the huge and +hedgeless meadow which fell away towards the horizon into a +glimmering high road. + +"Nothing will jump out of bushes here anyhow," he said. + +"That is what I meant," said MacIan, and stared steadily at the +heavy hilt of his standing sword, which in the slight wind swayed +on its tempered steel like some huge thistle on its stalk. + +"That is what I meant; we are quite alone here. I have not heard +a horse-hoof or a footstep or the hoot of a train for miles. So I +think we might stop here and ask for a miracle." + +"Oh! might we?" said the atheistic editor with a sort of gusto of +disgust. + +"I beg your pardon," said MacIan, meekly. "I forgot your +prejudices." He eyed the wind-swung sword-hilt in sad meditation +and resumed: "What I mean is, we might find out in this quiet +place whether there really is any fate or any commandment against +our enterprise. I will engage on my side, like Elijah, to accept +a test from heaven. Turnbull, let us draw swords here in this +moonlight and this monstrous solitude. And if here in this +moonlight and solitude there happens anything to interrupt us--if +it be lightning striking our sword-blades or a rabbit running +under our legs--I will take it as a sign from God and we will +shake hands for ever." + +Turnbull's mouth twitched in angry humour under his red +moustache. He said: "I will wait for signs from God until I have +any signs of His existence; but God--or Fate--forbid that a man +of scientific culture should refuse any kind of experiment." + +"Very well, then," said MacIan, shortly. "We are more quiet here +than anywhere else; let us engage." And he plucked his +sword-point out of the turf. + +Turnbull regarded him for a second and a half with a baffling +visage almost black against the moonrise; then his hand made a +sharp movement to his hip and his sword shone in the moon. + +As old chess-players open every game with established gambits, +they opened with a thrust and parry, orthodox and even frankly +ineffectual. But in MacIan's soul more formless storms were +gathering, and he made a lunge or two so savage as first to +surprise and then to enrage his opponent. Turnbull ground his +teeth, kept his temper, and waiting for the third lunge, and the +worst, had almost spitted the lunger when a shrill, small cry +came from behind him, a cry such as is not made by any of the +beasts that perish. + +Turnbull must have been more superstitious than he knew, for he +stopped in the act of going forward. MacIan was brazenly +superstitious, and he dropped his sword. After all, he had +challenged the universe to send an interruption; and this was an +interruption, whatever else it was. An instant afterwards the +sharp, weak cry was repeated. This time it was certain that it +was human and that it was female. + +MacIan stood rolling those great blue Gaelic eyes that contrasted +with his dark hair. "It is the voice of God," he said again and +again. + +"God hasn't got much of a voice," said Turnbull, who snatched at +every chance of cheap profanity. "As a matter of fact, MacIan, it +isn't the voice of God, but it's something a jolly sight more +important--it is the voice of man--or rather of woman. So I think +we'd better scoot in its direction." + +MacIan snatched up his fallen weapon without a word, and the two +raced away towards that part of the distant road from which the +cry was now constantly renewed. + +They had to run over a curve of country that looked smooth but +was very rough; a neglected field which they soon found to be +full of the tallest grasses and the deepest rabbit-holes. +Moreover, that great curve of the countryside which looked so +slow and gentle when you glanced over it, proved to be highly +precipitous when you scampered over it; and Turnbull was twice +nearly flung on his face. MacIan, though much heavier, avoided +such an overthrow only by having the quick and incalculable feet +of the mountaineer; but both of them may be said to have leapt +off a low cliff when they leapt into the road. + +The moonlight lay on the white road with a more naked and +electric glare than on the grey-green upland, and though the +scene which it revealed was complicated, it was not difficult to +get its first features at a glance. + +A small but very neat black-and-yellow motor-car was standing +stolidly, slightly to the left of the road. A somewhat larger +light-green motor-car was tipped half-way into a ditch on the +same side, and four flushed and staggering men in evening dress +were tipped out of it. Three of them were standing about the +road, giving their opinions to the moon with vague but echoing +violence. The fourth, however, had already advanced on the +chauffeur of the black-and-yellow car, and was threatening him +with a stick. The chauffeur had risen to defend himself. By +his side sat a young lady. + +She was sitting bolt upright, a slender and rigid figure gripping +the sides of her seat, and her first few cries had ceased. She +was clad in close-fitting dark costume, a mass of warm brown hair +went out in two wings or waves on each side of her forehead; and +even at that distance it could be seen that her profile was of +the aquiline and eager sort, like a young falcon hardly free of +the nest. + +Turnbull had concealed in him somewhere a fund of common sense +and knowledge of the world of which he himself and his best +friends were hardly aware. He was one of those who take in much +of the shows of things absent-mindedly, and in an irrelevant +reverie. As he stood at the door of his editorial shop on Ludgate +Hill and meditated on the non-existence of God, he silently +absorbed a good deal of varied knowledge about the existence of +men. He had come to know types by instinct and dilemmas with a +glance; he saw the crux of the situation in the road, and what he +saw made him redouble his pace. + +He knew that the men were rich; he knew that they were drunk; and +he knew, what was worst of all, that they were fundamentally +frightened. And he knew this also, that no common ruffian (such +as attacks ladies in novels) is ever so savage and ruthless as a +coarse kind of gentleman when he is really alarmed. The reason is +not recondite; it is simply because the police-court is not such +a menacing novelty to the poor ruffian as it is to the rich. When +they came within hail and heard the voices, they confirmed all +Turnbull's anticipations. The man in the middle of the road was +shouting in a hoarse and groggy voice that the chauffeur had +smashed their car on purpose; that they must get to the Cri that +evening, and that he would jolly well have to take them there. +The chauffeur had mildly objected that he was driving a lady. +"Oh! we'll take care of the lady," said the red-faced young man, +and went off into gurgling and almost senile laughter. + +By the time the two champions came up, things had grown more +serious. The intoxication of the man talking to the chauffeur had +taken one of its perverse and catlike jumps into mere screaming +spite and rage. He lifted his stick and struck at the chauffeur, +who caught hold of it, and the drunkard fell backwards, dragging +him out of his seat on the car. Another of the rowdies rushed +forward booing in idiot excitement, fell over the chauffeur, and, +either by accident or design, kicked him as he lay. The drunkard +got to his feet again; but the chauffeur did not. + +The man who had kicked kept a kind of half-witted conscience or +cowardice, for he stood staring at the senseless body and +murmuring words of inconsequent self-justification, making +gestures with his hands as if he were arguing with somebody. But +the other three, with a mere whoop and howl of victory, were +boarding the car on three sides at once. It was exactly at this +moment that Turnbull fell among them like one fallen from the +sky. He tore one of the climbers backward by the collar, and with +a hearty push sent him staggering over into the ditch upon his +nose. One of the remaining two, who was too far gone to notice +anything, continued to clamber ineffectually over the high back +of the car, kicking and pouring forth a rivulet of soliloquy. But +the other dropped at the interruption, turned upon Turnbull and +began a battering bout of fisticuffs. At the same moment the man +crawled out of the ditch in a masquerade of mud and rushed at his +old enemy from behind. The whole had not taken a second; and an +instant after MacIan was in the midst of them. + +Turnbull had tossed away his sheathed sword, greatly preferring +his hands, except in the avowed etiquette of the duel; for he had +learnt to use his hands in the old street-battles of Bradlaugh. +But to MacIan the sword even sheathed was a more natural weapon, +and he laid about him on all sides with it as with a stick. The +man who had the walking-stick found his blows parried with +promptitude; and a second after, to his great astonishment, found +his own stick fly up in the air as by a conjuring trick, with a +turn of the swordsman's wrist. Another of the revellers picked +the stick out of the ditch and ran in upon MacIan, calling to his +companion to assist him. + +"I haven't got a stick," grumbled the disarmed man, and looked +vaguely about the ditch. + +"Perhaps," said MacIan, politely, "you would like this one." With +the word the drunkard found his hand that had grasped the stick +suddenly twisted and empty; and the stick lay at the feet of his +companion on the other side of the road. MacIan felt a faint stir +behind him; the girl had risen to her feet and was leaning +forward to stare at the fighters. Turnbull was still engaged in +countering and pommelling with the third young man. The fourth +young man was still engaged with himself, kicking his legs in +helpless rotation on the back of the car and talking with +melodious rationality. + +At length Turnbull's opponent began to back before the battery of +his heavy hands, still fighting, for he was the soberest and +boldest of the four. If these are annals of military glory, it is +due to him to say that he need not have abandoned the conflict; +only that as he backed to the edge of the ditch his foot caught +in a loop of grass and he went over in a flat and comfortable +position from which it took him a considerable time to rise. By +the time he had risen, Turnbull had come to the rescue of MacIan, +who was at bay but belabouring his two enemies handsomely. The +sight of the liberated reserve was to them like that of Blucher +at Waterloo; the two set off at a sullen trot down the road, +leaving even the walking-stick lying behind them in the +moonlight. MacIan plucked the struggling and aspiring idiot off +the back of the car like a stray cat, and left him swaying +unsteadily in the moon. Then he approached the front part of the +car in a somewhat embarrassed manner and pulled off his cap. + +For some solid seconds the lady and he merely looked at each +other, and MacIan had an irrational feeling of being in a picture +hung on a wall. That is, he was motionless, even lifeless, and +yet staringly significant, like a picture. The white moonlight on +the road, when he was not looking at it, gave him a vision of the +road being white with snow. The motor-car, when he was not +looking at it, gave him a rude impression of a captured coach in +the old days of highwaymen. And he whose whole soul was with the +swords and stately manners of the eighteenth century, he who was +a Jacobite risen from the dead, had an overwhelming sense of +being once more in the picture, when he had so long been out of +the picture. + +In that short and strong silence he absorbed the lady from head +to foot. He had never really looked at a human being before in +his life. He saw her face and hair first, then that she had long +suede gloves; then that there was a fur cap at the back of her +brown hair. He might, perhaps, be excused for this hungry +attention. He had prayed that some sign might come from heaven; +and after an almost savage scrutiny he came to the conclusion +that his one did. The lady's instantaneous arrest of speech +might need more explaining; but she may well have been stunned +with the squalid attack and the abrupt rescue. Yet it was she +who remembered herself first and suddenly called out with +self-accusing horror: + +"Oh, that poor, poor man!" + +They both swung round abruptly and saw that Turnbull, with his +recovered sword under his arm-pit, was already lifting the fallen +chauffeur into the car. He was only stunned and was slowly +awakening, feebly waving his left arm. + +The lady in long gloves and the fur cap leapt out and ran rapidly +towards them, only to be reassured by Turnbull, who (unlike many +of his school) really knew a little science when he invoked it to +redeem the world. "He's all right," said he; "he's quite safe. +But I'm afraid he won't be able to drive the car for half an hour +or so." + +"I can drive the car," said the young woman in the fur cap with +stony practicability. + +"Oh, in that case," began MacIan, uneasily; and that paralysing +shyness which is a part of romance induced him to make a backward +movement as if leaving her to herself. But Turnbull was more +rational than he, being more indifferent. + +"I don't think you ought to drive home alone, ma'am," he said, +gruffly. "There seem to be a lot of rowdy parties along this +road, and the man will be no use for an hour. If you will tell +us where you are going, we will see you safely there and say good +night." + +The young lady exhibited all the abrupt disturbance of a person +who is not commonly disturbed. She said almost sharply and yet +with evident sincerity: "Of course I am awfully grateful to you +for all you've done--and there's plenty of room if you'll come +in." + +Turnbull, with the complete innocence of an absolutely sound +motive, immediately jumped into the car; but the girl cast an eye +at MacIan, who stood in the road for an instant as if rooted like +a tree. Then he also tumbled his long legs into the tonneau, +having that sense of degradedly diving into heaven which so many +have known in so many human houses when they consented to stop to +tea or were allowed to stop to supper. The slowly reviving +chauffeur was set in the back seat; Turnbull and MacIan had +fallen into the middle one; the lady with a steely coolness had +taken the driver's seat and all the handles of that headlong +machine. A moment afterwards the engine started, with a throb and +leap unfamiliar to Turnbull, who had only once been in a motor +during a general election, and utterly unknown to MacIan, who in +his present mood thought it was the end of the world. Almost at +the same instant that the car plucked itself out of the mud and +whipped away up the road, the man who had been flung into the +ditch rose waveringly to his feet. When he saw the car escaping +he ran after it and shouted something which, owing to the +increasing distance, could not be heard. It is awful to reflect +that, if his remark was valuable, it is quite lost to the world. + +The car shot on up and down the shining moonlit lanes, and there +was no sound in it except the occasional click or catch of its +machinery; for through some cause or other no soul inside it +could think of a word to say. The lady symbolized her feelings, +whatever they were, by urging the machine faster and faster until +scattered woodlands went by them in one black blotch and heavy +hills and valleys seemed to ripple under the wheels like mere +waves. A little while afterwards this mood seemed to slacken and +she fell into a more ordinary pace; but still she did not speak. +Turnbull, who kept a more common and sensible view of the case +than anyone else, made some remark about the moonlight; but +something indescribable made him also relapse into silence. + +All this time MacIan had been in a sort of monstrous delirium, +like some fabulous hero snatched up into the moon. The difference +between this experience and common experiences was analogous to +that between waking life and a dream. Yet he did not feel in the +least as if he were dreaming; rather the other way; as waking was +more actual than dreaming, so this seemed by another degree more +actual than waking itself. But it was another life altogether, +like a cosmos with a new dimension. + +He felt he had been hurled into some new incarnation: into the +midst of new relations, wrongs and rights, with towering +responsibilities and almost tragic joys which he had as yet had +no time to examine. Heaven had not merely sent him a message; +Heaven itself had opened around him and given him an hour of its +own ancient and star-shattering energy. He had never felt so much +alive before; and yet he was like a man in a trance. And if you +had asked him on what his throbbing happiness hung, he could only +have told you that it hung on four or five visible facts, as a +curtain hangs on four of five fixed nails. The fact that the lady +had a little fur at her throat; the fact that the curve of her +cheek was a low and lean curve and that the moonlight caught the +height of her cheek-bone; the fact that her hands were small but +heavily gloved as they gripped the steering-wheel; the fact that +a white witch light was on the road; the fact that the brisk +breeze of their passage stirred and fluttered a little not only +the brown hair of her head but the black fur on her cap. All +these facts were to him certain and incredible, like sacraments. + +When they had driven half a mile farther, a big shadow was flung +across the path, followed by its bulky owner, who eyed the car +critically but let it pass. The silver moonlight picked out a +piece or two of pewter ornament on his blue uniform; and as they +went by they knew it was a sergeant of police. Three hundred +yards farther on another policeman stepped out into the road as +if to stop them, then seemed to doubt his own authority and +stepped back again. The girl was a daughter of the rich; and this +police suspicion (under which all the poor live day and night) +stung her for the first time into speech. + +"What can they mean?" she cried out in a kind of temper; "this +car's going like a snail." + +There was a short silence, and then Turnbull said: "It is +certainly very odd, you are driving quietly enough." + +"You are driving nobly," said MacIan, and his words (which had no +meaning whatever) sounded hoarse and ungainly even in his own +ears. + +They passed the next mile and a half swiftly and smoothly; yet +among the many things which they passed in the course of it was a +clump of eager policemen standing at a cross-road. As they +passed, one of the policemen shouted something to the others; but +nothing else happened. Eight hundred yards farther on, Turnbull +stood up suddenly in the swaying car. + +"My God, MacIan!" he called out, showing his first emotion of +that night. "I don't believe it's the pace; it couldn't be the +pace. I believe it's us." + +MacIan sat motionless for a few moments and then turned up at his +companion a face that was as white as the moon above it. + +"You may be right," he said at last; "if you are, I must tell +her." + +"I will tell the lady if you like," said Turnbull, with his +unconquered good temper. + +"You!" said MacIan, with a sort of sincere and instinctive +astonishment. "Why should you--no, I must tell her, of +course----" + +And he leant forward and spoke to the lady in the fur cap. + +"I am afraid, madam, that we may have got you into some trouble," +he said, and even as he said it it sounded wrong, like everything +he said to this particular person in the long gloves. "The fact +is," he resumed, desperately, "the fact is, we are being chased +by the police." Then the last flattening hammer fell upon poor +Evan's embarrassment; for the fluffy brown head with the furry +black cap did not turn by a section of the compass. + +"We are chased by the police," repeated MacIan, vigorously; then +he added, as if beginning an explanation, "You see, I am a +Catholic." + +The wind whipped back a curl of the brown hair so as to +necessitate a new theory of aesthetics touching the line of the +cheek-bone; but the head did not turn. + +"You see," began MacIan, again blunderingly, "this gentleman +wrote in his newspaper that Our Lady was a common woman, a bad +woman, and so we agreed to fight; and we were fighting quite a +little time ago--but that was before we saw you." + +The young lady driving her car had half turned her face to +listen; and it was not a reverent or a patient face that she +showed him. Her Norman nose was tilted a trifle too high upon +the slim stalk of her neck and body. + +When MacIan saw that arrogant and uplifted profile pencilled +plainly against the moonshine, he accepted an ultimate defeat. +He had expected the angels to despise him if he were wrong, but +not to despise him so much as this. + +"You see," said the stumbling spokesman, "I was angry with him +when he insulted the Mother of God, and I asked him to fight a +duel with me; but the police are all trying to stop it." + +Nothing seemed to waver or flicker in the fair young falcon +profile; and it only opened its lips to say, after a silence: "I +thought people in our time were supposed to respect each other's +religion." + +Under the shadow of that arrogant face MacIan could only fall +back on the obvious answer: "But what about a man's irreligion?" +The face only answered: "Well, you ought to be more broadminded." + +If anyone else in the world had said the words, MacIan would have +snorted with his equine neigh of scorn. But in this case he +seemed knocked down by a superior simplicity, as if his eccentric +attitude were rebuked by the innocence of a child. He could not +dissociate anything that this woman said or did or wore from an +idea of spiritual rarity and virtue. Like most others under the +same elemental passion, his soul was at present soaked in ethics. +He could have applied moral terms to the material objects of her +environment. If someone had spoken of "her generous ribbon" or +"her chivalrous gloves" or "her merciful shoe-buckle," it would +not have seemed to him nonsense. + +He was silent, and the girl went on in a lower key as if she were +momentarily softened and a little saddened also. "It won't do, +you know," she said; "you can't find out the truth in that way. +There are such heaps of churches and people thinking different +things nowadays, and they all think they are right. My uncle was +a Swedenborgian." + +MacIan sat with bowed head, listening hungrily to her voice but +hardly to her words, and seeing his great world drama grow +smaller and smaller before his eyes till it was no bigger than a +child's toy theatre. + +"The time's gone by for all that," she went on; "you can't find +out the real thing like that--if there is really anything to +find----" and she sighed rather drearily; for, like many of the +women of our wealthy class, she was old and broken in thought, +though young and clean enough in her emotions. + +"Our object," said Turnbull, shortly, "is to make an effective +demonstration"; and after that word, MacIan looked at his vision +again and found it smaller than ever. + +"It would be in the newspapers, of course," said the girl. +"People read the newspapers, but they don't believe them, or +anything else, I think." And she sighed again. + +She drove in silence a third of a mile before she added, as if +completing the sentence: "Anyhow, the whole thing's quite +absurd." + +"I don't think," began Turnbull, "that you quite realize---- +Hullo! hullo--hullo--what's this?" + +The amateur chauffeur had been forced to bring the car to a +staggering stoppage, for a file of fat, blue policemen made a +wall across the way. A sergeant came to the side and touched his +peaked cap to the lady. + +"Beg your pardon, miss," he said with some embarrassment, for he +knew her for a daughter of a dominant house, "but we have reason +to believe that the gentlemen in your car are----" and he +hesitated for a polite phrase. + +"I am Evan MacIan," said that gentleman, and stood up in a sort +of gloomy pomp, not wholly without a touch of the sulks of a +schoolboy. + +"Yes, we will get out, sergeant," said Turnbull, more easily; "my +name is James Turnbull. We must not incommode the lady." + +"What are you taking them up for?" asked the young woman, looking +straight in front of her along the road. + +"It's under the new act," said the sergeant, almost +apologetically. "Incurable disturbers of the peace." + +"What will happen to them?" she asked, with the same frigid +clearness. + +"Westgate Adult Reformatory," he replied, briefly. + +"Until when?" + +"Until they are cured," said the official. + +"Very well, sergeant," said the young lady, with a sort of tired +common sense. "I am sure I don't want to protect criminals or go +against the law; but I must tell you that these gentlemen have +done me a considerable service; you won't mind drawing your men a +little farther off while I say good night to them. Men like that +always misunderstand." + +The sergeant was profoundly disquieted from the beginning at the +mere idea of arresting anyone in the company of a great lady; to +refuse one of her minor requests was quite beyond his courage. +The police fell back to a few yards behind the car. Turnbull took +up the two swords that were their only luggage; the swords that, +after so many half duels, they were now to surrender at last. +MacIan, the blood thundering in his brain at the thought of that +instant of farewell, bent over, fumbled at the handle and flung +open the door to get out. + +But he did not get out. He did not get out, because it is +dangerous to jump out of a car when it is going at full speed. +And the car was going at full speed, because the young lady, +without turning her head or so much as saying a syllable, had +driven down a handle that made the machine plunge forward like a +buffalo and then fly over the landscape like a greyhound. The +police made one rush to follow, and then dropped so grotesque and +hopeless a chase. Away in the vanishing distance they could see +the sergeant furiously making notes. + +The open door, still left loose on its hinges, swung and banged +quite crazily as they went whizzing up one road and down another. +Nor did MacIan sit down; he stood up stunned and yet staring, as +he would have stood up at the trumpet of the Last Day. A black +dot in the distance sprang up a tall black forest, swallowed them +and spat them out again at the other end. A railway bridge grew +larger and larger till it leapt upon their backs bellowing, and +was in its turn left behind. Avenues of poplars on both sides of +the road chased each other like the figures in a zoetrope. Now +and then with a shock and rattle they went through sleeping +moonlit villages, which must have stirred an instant in their +sleep as at the passing of a fugitive earthquake. Sometimes in an +outlying house a light in one erratic, unexpected window would +give them a nameless hint of the hundred human secrets which they +left behind them with their dust. Sometimes even a slouching +rustic would be afoot on the road and would look after them, as +after a flying phantom. But still MacIan stood up staring at +earth and heaven; and still the door he had flung open flapped +loose like a flag. Turnbull, after a few minutes of dumb +amazement, had yielded to the healthiest element in his nature +and gone off into uncontrollable fits of laughter. The girl had +not stirred an inch. + +After another half mile that seemed a mere flash, Turnbull leant +over and locked the door. Evan staggered at last into his seat +and hid his throbbing head in his hands; and still the car flew +on and its driver sat inflexible and silent. The moon had already +gone down, and the whole darkness was faintly troubled with +twilight and the first movement of beasts and fowls. It was that +mysterious moment when light is coming as if it were something +unknown whose nature one could not guess--a mere alteration in +everything. They looked at the sky and it seemed as dark as ever; +then they saw the black shape of a tower or tree against it and +knew that it was already grey. Save that they were driving +southward and had certainly passed the longitude of London, they +knew nothing of their direction; but Turnbull, who had spent a +year on the Hampshire coast in his youth, began to recognize the +unmistakable but quite indescribable villages of the English +south. Then a white witch fire began to burn between the black +stems of the fir-trees; and, like so many things in nature, +though not in books on evolution, the daybreak, when it did come, +came much quicker than one would think. The gloomy heavens were +ripped up and rolled away like a scroll, revealing splendours, as +the car went roaring up the curve of a great hill; and above them +and black against the broadening light, there stood one of those +crouching and fantastic trees that are first signals of the sea. + + + +X. THE SWORDS REJOINED + +As they came over the hill and down on the other side of it, it +is not too much to say that the whole universe of God opened over +them and under them, like a thing unfolding to five times its +size. Almost under their feet opened the enormous sea, at the +bottom of a steep valley which fell down into a bay; and the sea +under their feet blazed at them almost as lustrous and almost as +empty as the sky. The sunrise opened above them like some cosmic +explosion, shining and shattering and yet silent; as if the world +were blown to pieces without a sound. Round the rays of the +victorious sun swept a sort of rainbow of confused and conquered +colours--brown and blue and green and flaming rose-colour; as +though gold were driving before it all the colours of the world. +The lines of the landscape down which they sped, were the simple, +strict, yet swerving, lines of a rushing river; so that it was +almost as if they were being sucked down in a huge still +whirlpool. Turnbull had some such feeling, for he spoke for the +first time for many hours. + +"If we go down at this rate we shall be over the sea cliff," he +said. + +"How glorious!" said MacIan. + +When, however, they had come into the wide hollow at the bottom +of that landslide, the car took a calm and graceful curve along +the side of the sea, melted into the fringe of a few trees, and +quietly, yet astonishingly, stopped. A belated light was burning +in the broad morning in the window of a sort of lodge- or +gate-keepers' cottage; and the girl stood up in the car and +turned her splendid face to the sun. + +Evan seemed startled by the stillness, like one who had been born +amid sound and speed. He wavered on his long legs as he stood up; +he pulled himself together, and the only consequence was that he +trembled from head to foot. Turnbull had already opened the door +on his side and jumped out. + +The moment he had done so the strange young woman had one more +mad movement, and deliberately drove the car a few yards farther. +Then she got out with an almost cruel coolness and began pulling +off her long gloves and almost whistling. + +"You can leave me here," she said, quite casually, as if they had +met five minutes before. "That is the lodge of my father's place. +Please come in, if you like--but I understood that you had some +business." + +Evan looked at that lifted face and found it merely lovely; he +was far too much of a fool to see that it was working with a +final fatigue and that its austerity was agony. He was even fool +enough to ask it a question. "Why did you save us?" he said, +quite humbly. + +The girl tore off one of her gloves, as if she were tearing off +her hand. "Oh, I don't know," she said, bitterly. "Now I come +to think of it, I can't imagine." + +Evan's thoughts, that had been piled up to the morning star, +abruptly let him down with a crash into the very cellars of the +emotional universe. He remained in a stunned silence for a long +time; and that, if he had only known, was the wisest thing that +he could possibly do at the moment. + +Indeed, the silence and the sunrise had their healing effect, for +when the extraordinary lady spoke again, her tone was more +friendly and apologetic. "I'm not really ungrateful," she said; +"it was very good of you to save me from those men." + +"But why?" repeated the obstinate and dazed MacIan, "why did you +save us from the other men? I mean the policemen?" + +The girl's great brown eyes were lit up with a flash that was at +once final desperation and the loosening of some private and +passionate reserve. + +"Oh, God knows!" she cried. "God knows that if there is a God He +has turned His big back on everything. God knows I have had no +pleasure in my life, though I am pretty and young and father has +plenty of money. And then people come and tell me that I ought to +do things and I do them and it's all drivel. They want you to do +work among the poor; which means reading Ruskin and feeling +self-righteous in the best room in a poor tenement. Or to help +some cause or other, which always means bundling people out of +crooked houses, in which they've always lived, into straight +houses, in which they often die. And all the time you have inside +only the horrid irony of your own empty head and empty heart. I +am to give to the unfortunate, when my whole misfortune is that I +have nothing to give. I am to teach, when I believe nothing at +all that I was taught. I am to save the children from death, and +I am not even certain that I should not be better dead. I suppose +if I actually saw a child drowning I should save it. But that +would be from the same motive from which I have saved you, or +destroyed you, whichever it is that I have done." + +"What was the motive?" asked Evan, in a low voice. + +"My motive is too big for my mind," answered the girl. + +Then, after a pause, as she stared with a rising colour at the +glittering sea, she said: "It can't be described, and yet I am +trying to describe it. It seems to me not only that I am unhappy, +but that there is no way of being happy. Father is not happy, +though he is a Member of Parliament----" She paused a moment and +added with a ghost of a smile: "Nor Aunt Mabel, though a man from +India has told her the secret of all creeds. But I may be wrong; +there may be a way out. And for one stark, insane second, I felt +that, after all, you had got the way out and that was why the +world hated you. You see, if there were a way out, it would be +sure to be something that looked very queer." + +Evan put his hand to his forehead and began stumblingly: "Yes, I +suppose we do seem----" + +"Oh, yes, you look queer enough," she said, with ringing +sincerity. "You'll be all the better for a wash and brush up." + +"You forget our business, madam," said Evan, in a shaking voice; +"we have no concern but to kill each other." + +"Well, I shouldn't be killed looking like that if I were you," +she replied, with inhuman honesty. + +Evan stood and rolled his eyes in masculine bewilderment. Then +came the final change in this Proteus, and she put out both her +hands for an instant and said in a low tone on which he lived for +days and nights: + +"Don't you understand that I did not dare to stop you? What you +are doing is so mad that it may be quite true. Somehow one can +never really manage to be an atheist." + +Turnbull stood staring at the sea; but his shoulders showed that +he heard, and after one minute he turned his head. But the girl +had only brushed Evan's hand with hers and had fled up the dark +alley by the lodge gate. + +Evan stood rooted upon the road, literally like some heavy statue +hewn there in the age of the Druids. It seemed impossible that he +should ever move. Turnbull grew restless with this rigidity, and +at last, after calling his companion twice or thrice, went up and +clapped him impatiently on one of his big shoulders. Evan winced +and leapt away from him with a repulsion which was not the hate +of an unclean thing nor the dread of a dangerous one, but was a +spasm of awe and separation from something from which he was now +sundered as by the sword of God. He did not hate the atheist; it +is possible that he loved him. But Turnbull was now something +more dreadful than an enemy: he was a thing sealed and devoted--a +thing now hopelessly doomed to be either a corpse or an +executioner. + +"What is the matter with you?" asked Turnbull, with his hearty +hand still in the air; and yet he knew more about it than his +innocent action would allow. + +"James," said Evan, speaking like one under strong bodily pain, +"I asked for God's answer and I have got it--got it in my vitals. +He knows how weak I am, and that I might forget the peril of the +faith, forget the face of Our Lady--yes, even with your blow upon +her cheek. But the honour of this earth has just this about it, +that it can make a man's heart like iron. I am from the Lords of +the Isles and I dare not be a mere deserter. Therefore, God has +tied me by the chain of my worldly place and word, and there is +nothing but fighting now." + +"I think I understand you," said Turnbull, "but you say +everything tail foremost." + +"She wants us to do it," said Evan, in a voice crushed with +passion. "She has hurt herself so that we might do it. She has +left her good name and her good sleep and all her habits and +dignity flung away on the other side of England in the hope that +she may hear of us and that we have broken some hole into +heaven." + +"I thought I knew what you mean," said Turnbull, biting his +beard; "it does seem as if we ought to do something after all she +has done this night." + +"I never liked you so much before," said MacIan, in bitter +sorrow. + +As he spoke, three solemn footmen came out of the lodge gate and +assembled to assist the chauffeur to his room. The mere sight of +them made the two wanderers flee as from a too frightful +incongruity, and before they knew where they were, they were well +upon the grassy ledge of England that overlooks the Channel. Evan +said suddenly: "Will they let me see her in heaven once in a +thousand ages?" and addressed the remark to the editor of _The +Atheist_, as on which he would be likely or qualified to answer. +But no answer came; a silence sank between the two. + +Turnbull strode sturdily to the edge of the cliff and looked out, +his companion following, somewhat more shaken by his recent +agitation. + +"If that's the view you take," said Turnbull, "and I don't say +you are wrong, I think I know where we shall be best off for the +business. As it happens, I know this part of the south coast +pretty well. And unless I am mistaken there's a way down the +cliff just here which will land us on a stretch of firm sand +where no one is likely to follow us." + +The Highlander made a gesture of assent and came also almost to +the edge of the precipice. The sunrise, which was broadening over +sea and shore, was one of those rare and splendid ones in which +there seems to be no mist or doubt, and nothing but a universal +clarification more and more complete. All the colours were +transparent. It seemed like a triumphant prophecy of some perfect +world where everything being innocent will be intelligible; a +world where even our bodies, so to speak, may be as of burning +glass. Such a world is faintly though fiercely figured in the +coloured windows of Christian architecture. The sea that lay +before them was like a pavement of emerald, bright and almost +brittle; the sky against which its strict horizon hung was almost +absolutely white, except that close to the sky line, like scarlet +braids on the hem of a garment, lay strings of flaky cloud of so +gleaming and gorgeous a red that they seemed cut out of some +strange blood-red celestial metal, of which the mere gold of this +earth is but a drab yellow imitation. + +"The hand of Heaven is still pointing," muttered the man of +superstition to himself. "And now it is a blood-red hand." + +The cool voice of his companion cut in upon his monologue, +calling to him from a little farther along the cliff, to tell him +that he had found the ladder of descent. It began as a steep and +somewhat greasy path, which then tumbled down twenty or thirty +feet in the form of a fall of rough stone steps. After that, +there was a rather awkward drop on to a ledge of stone and then +the journey was undertaken easily and even elegantly by the +remains of an ornamental staircase, such as might have belonged +to some long-disused watering-place. All the time that the two +travellers sank from stage to stage of this downward journey, +there closed over their heads living bridges and caverns of the +most varied foliage, all of which grew greener, redder, or more +golden, in the growing sunlight of the morning. Life, too, of the +more moving sort rose at the sun on every side of them. Birds +whirred and fluttered in the undergrowth, as if imprisoned in +green cages. Other birds were shaken up in great clouds from the +tree-tops, as if they were blossoms detached and scattered up to +heaven. Animals which Turnbull was too much of a Londoner and +MacIan too much of a Northerner to know, slipped by among the +tangle or ran pattering up the tree-trunks. Both the men, +according to their several creeds, felt the full thunder of the +psalm of life as they had never heard it before; MacIan felt God +the Father, benignant in all His energies, and Turnbull that +ultimate anonymous energy, that _Natura Naturans_, which is the +whole theme of Lucretius. It was down this clamorous ladder of +life that they went down to die. + +They broke out upon a brown semicircle of sand, so free from +human imprint as to justify Turnbull's profession. They strode +out upon it, stuck their swords in the sand, and had a pause too +important for speech. Turnbull eyed the coast curiously for a +moment, like one awakening memories of childhood; then he said +abruptly, like a man remembering somebody's name: "But, of +course, we shall be better off still round the corner of Cragness +Point; nobody ever comes there at all." And picking up his sword +again, he began striding towards a big bluff of the rocks which +stood out upon their left. MacIan followed him round the corner +and found himself in what was certainly an even finer fencing +court, of flat, firm sand, enclosed on three sides by white walls +of rock, and on the fourth by the green wall of the advancing +sea. + +"We are quite safe here," said Turnbull, and, to the other's +surprise, flung himself down, sitting on the brown beach. + +"You see, I was brought up near here," he explained. "I was sent +from Scotland to stop with my aunt. It is highly probable that I +may die here. Do you mind if I light a pipe?" + +"Of course, do whatever you like," said MacIan, with a choking +voice, and he went and walked alone by himself along the wet, +glistening sands. + +Ten minutes afterwards he came back again, white with his own +whirlwind of emotions; Turnbull was quite cheerful and was +knocking out the end of his pipe. + +"You see, we have to do it," said MacIan. "She tied us to it." + +"Of course, my dear fellow," said the other, and leapt up as +lightly as a monkey. + +They took their places gravely in the very centre of the great +square of sand, as if they had thousands of spectators. Before +saluting, MacIan, who, being a mystic, was one inch nearer to +Nature, cast his eye round the huge framework of their heroic +folly. The three walls of rock all leant a little outward, though +at various angles; but this impression was exaggerated in the +direction of the incredible by the heavy load of living trees and +thickets which each wall wore on its top like a huge shock of +hair. On all that luxurious crest of life the risen and +victorious sun was beating, burnishing it all like gold, and +every bird that rose with that sunrise caught a light like a star +upon it like the dove of the Holy Spirit. Imaginative life had +never so much crowded upon MacIan. He felt that he could write +whole books about the feelings of a single bird. He felt that for +two centuries he would not tire of being a rabbit. He was in the +Palace of Life, of which the very tapestries and curtains were +alive. Then he recovered himself, and remembered his affairs. +Both men saluted, and iron rang upon iron. It was exactly at the +same moment that he realized that his enemy's left ankle was +encircled with a ring of salt water that had crept up to his +feet. + +"What is the matter?" said Turnbull, stopping an instant, for he +had grown used to every movement of his extraordinary +fellow-traveller's face. + +MacIan glanced again at that silver anklet of sea-water and then +looked beyond at the next promontory round which a deep sea was +boiling and leaping. Then he turned and looked back and saw heavy +foam being shaken up to heaven about the base of Cragness Point. + +"The sea has cut us off," he said, curtly. + +"I have noticed it," said Turnbull with equal sobriety. "What +view do you take of the development?" + +Evan threw away his weapon, and, as his custom was, imprisoned +his big head in his hands. Then he let them fall and said: "Yes, +I know what it means; and I think it is the fairest thing. It is +the finger of God--red as blood--still pointing. But now it +points to two graves." + +There was a space filled with the sound of the sea, and then +MacIan spoke again in a voice pathetically reasonable: "You see, +we both saved her--and she told us both to fight--and it would +not be just that either should fail and fall alone, while the +other----" + +"You mean," said Turnbull, in a voice surprisingly soft and +gentle, "that there is something fine about fighting in a place +where even the conqueror must die?" + +"Oh, you have got it right, you have got it right!" cried out +Evan, in an extraordinary childish ecstasy. "Oh, I'm sure that +you really believe in God!" + +Turnbull answered not a word, but only took up his fallen sword. + +For the third time Evan MacIan looked at those three sides of +English cliff hung with their noisy load of life. He had been +at a loss to understand the almost ironical magnificence of all +those teeming creatures and tropical colours and smells that +smoked happily to heaven. But now he knew that he was in the +closed court of death and that all the gates were sealed. + +He drank in the last green and the last red and the last gold, +those unique and indescribable things of God, as a man drains +good wine at the bottom of his glass. Then he turned and saluted +his enemy once more, and the two stood up and fought till the +foam flowed over their knees. + +Then MacIan stepped backward suddenly with a splash and held up +his hand. "Turnbull!" he cried; "I can't help it--fair fighting +is more even than promises. And this is not fair fighting." + +"What the deuce do you mean?" asked the other, staring. + +"I've only just thought of it," cried Evan, brokenly. "We're very +well matched--it may go on a good time--the tide is coming up +fast--and I'm a foot and a half taller. You'll be washed away +like seaweed before it's above my breeches. I'll not fight foul +for all the girls and angels in the universe." + +"Will you oblige me," said Turnbull, with staring grey eyes and a +voice of distinct and violent politeness; "will you oblige me by +jolly well minding your own business? Just you stand up and +fight, and we'll see who will be washed away like seaweed. You +wanted to finish this fight and you shall finish it, or I'll +denounce you as a coward to the whole of that assembled company." + +Evan looked very doubtful and offered a somewhat wavering weapon; +but he was quickly brought back to his senses by his opponent's +sword-point, which shot past him, shaving his shoulder by a hair. +By this time the waves were well up Turnbull's thigh, and what +was worse, they were beginning to roll and break heavily around +them. + +MacIan parried this first lunge perfectly, the next less +perfectly; the third in all human probability he would not have +parried at all; the Christian champion would have been pinned +like a butterfly, and the atheistic champion left to drown like a +rat, with such consolation as his view of the cosmos afforded +him. But just as Turnbull launched his heaviest stroke, the sea, +in which he stood up to his hips, launched a yet heavier one. A +wave breaking beyond the others smote him heavily like a hammer +of water. One leg gave way, he was swung round and sucked into +the retreating sea, still gripping his sword. + +MacIan put his sword between his teeth and plunged after his +disappearing enemy. He had the sense of having the whole universe +on top of him as crest after crest struck him down. It seemed to +him quite a cosmic collapse, as if all the seven heavens were +falling on him one after the other. But he got hold of the +atheist's left leg and he did not let it go. + +After some ten minutes of foam and frenzy, in which all the +senses at once seemed blasted by the sea, Evan found himself +laboriously swimming on a low, green swell, with the sword still +in his teeth and the editor of _The Atheist_ still under his arm. +What he was going to do he had not even the most glimmering idea; +so he merely kept his grip and swam somehow with one hand. + +He ducked instinctively as there bulked above him a big, black +wave, much higher than any that he had seen. Then he saw that it +was hardly the shape of any possible wave. Then he saw that it +was a fisherman's boat, and, leaping upward, caught hold of the +bow. The boat pitched forward with its stern in the air for just +as much time as was needed to see that there was nobody in it. +After a moment or two of desperate clambering, however, there +were two people in it, Mr. Evan MacIan, panting and sweating, and +Mr. James Turnbull, uncommonly close to being drowned. After ten +minutes' aimless tossing in the empty fishing-boat he recovered, +however, stirred, stretched himself, and looked round on the +rolling waters. Then, while taking no notice of the streams of +salt water that were pouring from his hair, beard, coat, boots, +and trousers, he carefully wiped the wet off his sword-blade to +preserve it from the possibilities of rust. + +MacIan found two oars in the bottom of the deserted boat and +began somewhat drearily to row. + + * * * + +A rainy twilight was clearing to cold silver over the moaning +sea, when the battered boat that had rolled and drifted almost +aimlessly all night, came within sight of land, though of land +which looked almost as lost and savage as the waves. All night +there had been but little lifting in the leaden sea, only now and +then the boat had been heaved up, as on a huge shoulder which +slipped from under it; such occasional sea-quakes came probably +from the swell of some steamer that had passed it in the dark; +otherwise the waves were harmless though restless. But it was +piercingly cold, and there was, from time to time, a splutter of +rain like the splutter of the spray, which seemed almost to +freeze as it fell. MacIan, more at home than his companion in +this quite barbarous and elemental sort of adventure, had rowed +toilsomely with the heavy oars whenever he saw anything that +looked like land; but for the most part had trusted with grim +transcendentalism to wind and tide. Among the implements of their +first outfit the brandy alone had remained to him, and he gave it +to his freezing companion in quantities which greatly alarmed +that temperate Londoner; but MacIan came from the cold seas and +mists where a man can drink a tumbler of raw whisky in a boat +without it making him wink. + +When the Highlander began to pull really hard upon the oars, +Turnbull craned his dripping red head out of the boat to see the +goal of his exertions. It was a sufficiently uninviting one; +nothing so far as could be seen but a steep and shelving bank of +shingle, made of loose little pebbles such as children like, but +slanting up higher than a house. On the top of the mound, against +the sky line, stood up the brown skeleton of some broken fence or +breakwater. With the grey and watery dawn crawling up behind it, +the fence really seemed to say to our philosophic adventurers +that they had come at last to the other end of nowhere. + +Bent by necessity to his labour, MacIan managed the heavy boat +with real power and skill, and when at length he ran it up on a +smoother part of the slope it caught and held so that they could +clamber out, not sinking farther than their knees into the water +and the shingle. A foot or two farther up their feet found the +beach firmer, and a few moments afterwards they were leaning on +the ragged breakwater and looking back at the sea they had +escaped. + +They had a dreary walk across wastes of grey shingle in the grey +dawn before they began to come within hail of human fields or +roads; nor had they any notion of what fields or roads they would +be. Their boots were beginning to break up and the confusion of +stones tried them severely, so that they were glad to lean on +their swords, as if they were the staves of pilgrims. MacIan +thought vaguely of a weird ballad of his own country which +describes the soul in Purgatory as walking on a plain full of +sharp stones, and only saved by its own charities upon earth. + + If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon + Every night and all, + Sit thee down and put them on, + And Christ receive thy soul. + +Turnbull had no such lyrical meditations, but he was in an even +worse temper. + +At length they came to a pale ribbon of road, edged by a shelf of +rough and almost colourless turf; and a few feet up the slope +there stood grey and weather-stained, one of those big wayside +crucifixes which are seldom seen except in Catholic countries. + +MacIan put his hand to his head and found that his bonnet was not +there. Turnbull gave one glance at the crucifix--a glance at once +sympathetic and bitter, in which was concentrated the whole of +Swinburne's poem on the same occasion. + + O hidden face of man, whereover + The years have woven a viewless veil, + If thou wert verily man's lover + What did thy love or blood avail? + Thy blood the priests mix poison of, + And in gold shekels coin thy love. + +Then, leaving MacIan in his attitude of prayer, Turnbull began to +look right and left very sharply, like one looking for something. +Suddenly, with a little cry, he saw it and ran forward. A few +yards from them along the road a lean and starved sort of hedge +came pitifully to an end. Caught upon its prickly angle, however, +there was a very small and very dirty scrap of paper that might +have hung there for months, since it escaped from someone tearing +up a letter or making a spill out of a newspaper. Turnbull +snatched at it and found it was the corner of a printed page, +very coarsely printed, like a cheap novelette, and just large +enough to contain the words: "_et c'est elle qui_----" + +"Hurrah!" cried Turnbull, waving his fragment; "we are safe at +last. We are free at last. We are somewhere better than England +or Eden or Paradise. MacIan, we are in the Land of the Duel!" + +"Where do you say?" said the other, looking at him heavily and +with knitted brows, like one almost dazed with the grey doubts of +desolate twilight and drifting sea. + +"We are in France!" cried Turnbull, with a voice like a trumpet, +"in the land where things really happen--_Tout arrive en France_. +We arrive in France. Look at this little message," and he held +out the scrap of paper. "There's an omen for you superstitious +hill folk. _C'est elle qui--Mais oui, mais oui, c'est elle qui +sauvera encore le monde_." + +"France!" repeated MacIan, and his eyes awoke again in his head +like large lamps lighted. + +"Yes, France!" said Turnbull, and all the rhetorical part of him +came to the top, his face growing as red as his hair. "France, +that has always been in rebellion for liberty and reason. France, +that has always assailed superstition with the club of Rabelais +or the rapier of Voltaire. France, at whose first council table +sits the sublime figure of Julian the Apostate. France, where a +man said only the other day those splendid unanswerable +words"--with a superb gesture--"'we have extinguished in heaven +those lights that men shall never light again.'" + +"No," said MacIan, in a voice that shook with a controlled +passion. "But France, which was taught by St. Bernard and led to +war by Joan of Arc. France that made the crusades. France that +saved the Church and scattered the heresies by the mouths of +Bossuet and Massillon. France, which shows today the conquering +march of Catholicism, as brain after brain surrenders to it, +Brunetière, Coppée, Hauptmann, Barrès, Bourget, Lemaître." + +"France!" asserted Turnbull with a sort of rollicking +self-exaggeration, very unusual with him, "France, which is one +torrent of splendid scepticism from Abelard to Anatole France." + +"France," said MacIan, "which is one cataract of clear faith from +St. Louis to Our Lady of Lourdes." + +"France at least," cried Turnbull, throwing up his sword in +schoolboy triumph, "in which these things are thought about and +fought about. France, where reason and religion clash in one +continual tournament. France, above all, where men understand the +pride and passion which have plucked our blades from their +scabbards. Here, at least, we shall not be chased and spied on by +sickly parsons and greasy policemen, because we wish to put our +lives on the game. Courage, my friend, we have come to the +country of honour." + +MacIan did not even notice the incongruous phrase "my friend", +but nodding again and again, drew his sword and flung the +scabbard far behind him in the road. + +"Yes," he cried, in a voice of thunder, "we will fight here and +_He_ shall look on at it." + +Turnbull glanced at the crucifix with a sort of scowling +good-humour and then said: "He may look and see His cross +defeated." + +"The cross cannot be defeated," said MacIan, "for it is Defeat." + +A second afterwards the two bright, blood-thirsty weapons made +the sign of the cross in horrible parody upon each other. + +They had not touched each other twice, however, when upon the +hill, above the crucifix, there appeared another horrible parody +of its shape; the figure of a man who appeared for an instant +waving his outspread arms. He had vanished in an instant; but +MacIan, whose fighting face was set that way, had seen the shape +momentarily but quite photographically. And while it was like a +comic repetition of the cross, it was also, in that place and +hour, something more incredible. It had been only instantaneously +on the retina of his eye; but unless his eye and mind were going +mad together, the figure was that of an ordinary London +policeman. + +He tried to concentrate his senses on the sword-play; but one +half of his brain was wrestling with the puzzle; the apocalyptic +and almost seraphic apparition of a stout constable out of +Clapham on top of a dreary and deserted hill in France. He did +not, however, have to puzzle long. Before the duellists had +exchanged half a dozen passes, the big, blue policeman appeared +once more on the top of the hill, a palpable monstrosity in the +eye of heaven. He was waving only one arm now and seemed to be +shouting directions. At the same moment a mass of blue blocked +the corner of the road behind the small, smart figure of +Turnbull, and a small company of policemen in the English uniform +came up at a kind of half-military double. + +Turnbull saw the stare of consternation in his enemy's face and +swung round to share its cause. When he saw it, cool as he was, +he staggered back. + +"What the devil are you doing here?" he called out in a high, +shrill voice of authority, like one who finds a tramp in his own +larder. + +"Well, sir," said the sergeant in command, with that sort of +heavy civility shown only to the evidently guilty, "seems to me +we might ask what are you doing here?" + +"We are having an affair of honour," said Turnbull, as if it were +the most rational thing in the world. "If the French police like +to interfere, let them interfere. But why the blue blazes should +you interfere, you great blue blundering sausages?" + +"I'm afraid, sir," said the sergeant with restraint, "I'm afraid +I don't quite follow you." + +"I mean, why don't the French police take this up if it's got to +be taken up? I always heard that they were spry enough in their +own way." + +"Well, sir," said the sergeant reflectively, "you see, sir, the +French police don't take this up--well, because you see, sir, +this ain't France. This is His Majesty's dominions, same as +'Ampstead 'eath." + +"Not France?" repeated Turnbull, with a sort of dull incredulity. + +"No, sir," said the sergeant; "though most of the people talk +French. This is the island called St. Loup, sir, an island in the +Channel. We've been sent down specially from London, as you were +such specially distinguished criminals, if you'll allow me to say +so. Which reminds me to warn you that anything you say may be +used against you at your trial." + +"Quite so," said Turnbull, and lurched suddenly against the +sergeant, so as to tip him over the edge of the road with a crash +into the shingle below. Then leaving MacIan and the policemen +equally and instantaneously nailed to the road, he ran a little +way along it, leapt off on to a part of the beach, which he had +found in his journey to be firmer, and went across it with a +clatter of pebbles. His sudden calculation was successful; the +police, unacquainted with the various levels of the loose beach, +tried to overtake him by the shorter cut and found themselves, +being heavy men, almost up to their knees in shoals of slippery +shingle. Two who had been slower with their bodies were quicker +with their minds, and seeing Turnbull's trick, ran along the edge +of the road after him. Then MacIan finally awoke, and leaving +half his sleeve in the grip of the only man who tried to hold +him, took the two policemen in the small of their backs with the +impetus of a cannon-ball and, sending them also flat among the +stones, went tearing after his twin defier of the law. + +As they were both good runners, the start they had gained was +decisive. They dropped over a high breakwater farther on upon the +beach, turned sharply, and scrambled up a line of ribbed rocks, +crowned with a thicket, crawled through it, scratching their +hands and faces, and dropped into another road; and there found +that they could slacken their speed into a steady trot. In all +this desperate dart and scramble, they still kept hold of their +drawn swords, which now, indeed, in the vigorous phrase of +Bunyan, seemed almost to grow out of their hands. + +They had run another half mile or so when it became apparent that +they were entering a sort of scattered village. One or two +whitewashed cottages and even a shop had appeared along the side +of the road. Then, for the first time, Turnbull twisted round his +red bear to get a glimpse of his companion, who was a foot or two +behind, and remarked abruptly: "Mr. MacIan, we've been going the +wrong way to work all along. We're traced everywhere, because +everybody knows about us. It's as if one went about with Kruger's +beard on Mafeking Night." + +"What do you mean?" said MacIan, innocently. + +"I mean," said Turnbull, with steady conviction, "that what we +want is a little diplomacy, and I am going to buy some in a +shop." + + + +XI. A SCANDAL IN THE VILLAGE + +In the little hamlet of Haroc, in the Isle of St. Loup, there +lived a man who--though living under the English flag--was +absolutely untypical of the French tradition. He was quite +unnoticeable, but that was exactly where he was quite himself. He +was not even extraordinarily French; but then it is against the +French tradition to be extraordinarily French. Ordinary +Englishmen would only have thought him a little old-fashioned; +imperialistic Englishmen would really have mistaken him for the +old John Bull of the caricatures. He was stout; he was quite +undistinguished; and he had side-whiskers, worn just a little +longer than John Bull's. He was by name Pierre Durand; he was by +trade a wine merchant; he was by politics a conservative +republican; he had been brought up a Catholic, had always thought +and acted as an agnostic, and was very mildly returning to the +Church in his later years. He had a genius (if one can even use +so wild a word in connexion with so tame a person) a genius for +saying the conventional thing on every conceivable subject; or +rather what we in England would call the conventional thing. For +it was not convention with him, but solid and manly conviction. +Convention implies cant or affectation, and he had not the +faintest smell of either. He was simply an ordinary citizen with +ordinary views; and if you had told him so he would have taken it +as an ordinary compliment. If you had asked him about women, he +would have said that one must preserve their domesticity and +decorum; he would have used the stalest words, but he would have +in reserve the strongest arguments. If you had asked him about +government, he would have said that all citizens were free and +equal, but he would have meant what he said. If you had asked him +about education, he would have said that the young must be +trained up in habits of industry and of respect for their +parents. Still he would have set them the example of industry, +and he would have been one of the parents whom they could +respect. A state of mind so hopelessly central is depressing to +the English instinct. But then in England a man announcing these +platitudes is generally a fool and a frightened fool, announcing +them out of mere social servility. But Durand was anything but a +fool; he had read all the eighteenth century, and could have +defended his platitudes round every angle of eighteenth-century +argument. And certainly he was anything but a coward: swollen and +sedentary as he was, he could have hit any man back who touched +him with the instant violence of an automatic machine; and dying +in a uniform would have seemed to him only the sort of thing that +sometimes happens. I am afraid it is impossible to explain this +monster amid the exaggerative sects and the eccentric clubs of my +country. He was merely a man. + +He lived in a little villa which was furnished well with +comfortable chairs and tables and highly uncomfortable classical +pictures and medallions. The art in his home contained nothing +between the two extremes of hard, meagre designs of Greek heads +and Roman togas, and on the other side a few very vulgar Catholic +images in the crudest colours; these were mostly in his +daughter's room. He had recently lost his wife, whom he had loved +heartily and rather heavily in complete silence, and upon whose +grave he was constantly in the habit of placing hideous little +wreaths, made out of a sort of black-and-white beads. To his only +daughter he was equally devoted, though he restricted her a good +deal under a sort of theoretic alarm about her innocence; an +alarm which was peculiarly unnecessary, first, because she was an +exceptionally reticent and religious girl, and secondly, because +there was hardly anybody else in the place. + +Madeleine Durand was physically a sleepy young woman, and might +easily have been supposed to be morally a lazy one. It is, +however, certain that the work of her house was done somehow, and +it is even more rapidly ascertainable that nobody else did it. +The logician is, therefore, driven back upon the assumption that +she did it; and that lends a sort of mysterious interest to her +personality at the beginning. She had very broad, low, and level +brows, which seemed even lower because her warm yellow hair +clustered down to her eyebrows; and she had a face just plump +enough not to look as powerful as it was. Anything that was heavy +in all this was abruptly lightened by two large, light china-blue +eyes, lightened all of a sudden as if it had been lifted into the +air by two big blue butterflies. The rest of her was less than +middle-sized, and was of a casual and comfortable sort; and she +had this difference from such girls as the girl in the motor-car, +that one did not incline to take in her figure at all, but only +her broad and leonine and innocent head. + +Both the father and the daughter were of the sort that would +normally have avoided all observation; that is, all observation +in that extraordinary modern world which calls out everything +except strength. Both of them had strength below the surface; +they were like quiet peasants owning enormous and unquarried +mines. The father with his square face and grey side whiskers, +the daughter with her square face and golden fringe of hair, were +both stronger than they know; stronger than anyone knew. The +father believed in civilization, in the storied tower we have +erected to affront nature; that is, the father believed in Man. +The daughter believed in God; and was even stronger. They neither +of them believed in themselves; for that is a decadent weakness. + +The daughter was called a devotee. She left upon ordinary people +the impression--the somewhat irritating impression--produced by +such a person; it can only be described as the sense of strong +water being perpetually poured into some abyss. She did her +housework easily; she achieved her social relations sweetly; she +was never neglectful and never unkind. This accounted for all +that was soft in her, but not for all that was hard. She trod +firmly as if going somewhere; she flung her face back as if +defying something; she hardly spoke a cross word, yet there was +often battle in her eyes. The modern man asked doubtfully where +all this silent energy went to. He would have stared still more +doubtfully if he had been told that it all went into her prayers. + +The conventions of the Isle of St. Loup were necessarily a +compromise or confusion between those of France and England; and +it was vaguely possible for a respectable young lady to have +half-attached lovers, in a way that would be impossible to the +_bourgeoisie_ of France. One man in particular had made himself +an unmistakable figure in the track of this girl as she went to +church. He was a short, prosperous-looking man, whose long, bushy +black beard and clumsy black umbrella made him seem both shorter +and older than he really was; but whose big, bold eyes, and step +that spurned the ground, gave him an instant character of youth. + +His name was Camille Bert, and he was a commercial traveller who +had only been in the island an idle week before he began to +hover in the tracks of Madeleine Durand. Since everyone knows +everyone in so small a place, Madeleine certainly knew him to +speak to; but it is not very evident that she ever spoke. He +haunted her, however; especially at church, which was, indeed, +one of the few certain places for finding her. In her home she +had a habit of being invisible, sometimes through insatiable +domesticity, sometimes through an equally insatiable solitude. M. +Bert did not give the impression of a pious man, though he did +give, especially with his eyes, the impression of an honest one. +But he went to Mass with a simple exactitude that could not be +mistaken for a pose, or even for a vulgar fascination. It was +perhaps this religious regularity which eventually drew Madeleine +into recognition of him. At least it is certain that she twice +spoke to him with her square and open smile in the porch of the +church; and there was human nature enough in the hamlet to turn +even that into gossip. + +But the real interest arose suddenly as a squall arises with the +extraordinary affair that occurred about five days after. There +was about a third of a mile beyond the village of Haroc a large +but lonely hotel upon the London or Paris model, but commonly +almost entirely empty. Among the accidental group of guests who +had come to it at this season was a man whose nationality no one +could fix and who bore the non-committal name of Count Gregory. +He treated everybody with complete civility and almost in +complete silence. On the few occasions when he spoke, he spoke +either French, English, or once (to the priest) Latin; and the +general opinion was that he spoke them all wrong. He was a large, +lean man, with the stoop of an aged eagle, and even the eagle's +nose to complete it; he had old-fashioned military whiskers and +moustache dyed with a garish and highly incredible yellow. He had +the dress of a showy gentleman and the manners of a decayed +gentleman; he seemed (as with a sort of simplicity) to be trying +to be a dandy when he was too old even to know that he was old. +Ye he was decidedly a handsome figure with his curled yellow hair +and lean fastidious face; and he wore a peculiar frock-coat of +bright turquoise blue, with an unknown order pinned to it, and he +carried a huge and heavy cane. Despite his silence and his +dandified dress and whiskers, the island might never have heard +of him but for the extraordinary event of which I have spoken, +which fell about in the following way: + +In such casual atmospheres only the enthusiastic go to +Benediction; and as the warm blue twilight closed over the little +candle-lit church and village, the line of worshippers who went +home from the former to the latter thinned out until it broke. On +one such evening at least no one was in church except the quiet, +unconquerable Madeleine, four old women, one fisherman, and, of +course, the irrepressible M. Camille Bert. The others seemed to +melt away afterwards into the peacock colours of the dim green +grass and the dark blue sky. Even Durand was invisible instead of +being merely reverentially remote; and Madeleine set forth +through the patch of black forest alone. She was not in the least +afraid of loneliness, because she was not afraid of devils. I +think they were afraid of her. + +In a clearing of the wood, however, which was lit up with a last +patch of the perishing sunlight, there advanced upon her suddenly +one who was more startling than a devil. The incomprehensible +Count Gregory, with his yellow hair like flame and his face like +the white ashes of the flame, was advancing bareheaded towards +her, flinging out his arms and his long fingers with a frantic +gesture. + +"We are alone here," he cried, "and you would be at my mercy, +only that I am at yours." + +Then his frantic hands fell by his sides and he looked up under +his brows with an expression that went well with his hard +breathing. Madeleine Durand had come to a halt at first in +childish wonder, and now, with more than masculine self-control, +"I fancy I know your face, sir," she said, as if to gain time. + +"I know I shall not forget yours," said the other, and extended +once more his ungainly arms in an unnatural gesture. Then of a +sudden there came out of him a spout of wild and yet pompous +phrases. "It is as well that you should know the worst and the +best. I am a man who knows no limit; I am the most callous of +criminals, the most unrepentant of sinners. There is no man in my +dominions so vile as I. But my dominions stretch from the olives +of Italy to the fir-woods of Denmark, and there is no nook of all +of them in which I have not done a sin. But when I bear you away +I shall be doing my first sacrilege, and also my first act of +virtue." He seized her suddenly by the elbow; and she did not +scream but only pulled and tugged. Yet though she had not +screamed, someone astray in the woods seemed to have heard the +struggle. A short but nimble figure came along the woodland path +like a humming bullet and had caught Count Gregory a crack across +the face before his own could be recognized. When it was +recognized it was that of Camille, with the black elderly beard +and the young ardent eyes. + +Up to the moment when Camille had hit the Count, Madeleine had +entertained no doubt that the Count was merely a madman. Now she +was startled with a new sanity; for the tall man in the yellow +whiskers and yellow moustache first returned the blow of Bert, as +if it were a sort of duty, and then stepped back with a slight +bow and an easy smile. + +"This need go no further here, M. Bert," he said. "I need not +remind you how far it should go elsewhere." + +"Certainly, you need remind me of nothing," answered Camille, +stolidly. "I am glad that you are just not too much of a +scoundrel for a gentleman to fight." + +"We are detaining the lady," said Count Gregory, with politeness; +and, making a gesture suggesting that he would have taken off his +hat if he had had one, he strode away up the avenue of trees and +eventually disappeared. He was so complete an aristocrat that he +could offer his back to them all the way up that avenue; and his +back never once looked uncomfortable. + +"You must allow me to see you home," said Bert to the girl, in a +gruff and almost stifled voice; "I think we have only a little +way to go." + +"Only a little way," she said, and smiled once more that night, +in spite of fatigue and fear and the world and the flesh and the +devil. The glowing and transparent blue of twilight had long been +covered by the opaque and slatelike blue of night, when he +handed her into the lamp-lit interior of her home. He went out +himself into the darkness, walking sturdily, but tearing at his +black beard. + +All the French or semi-French gentry of the district considered +this a case in which a duel was natural and inevitable, and +neither party had any difficulty in finding seconds, strangers as +they were in the place. Two small landowners, who were careful, +practising Catholics, willingly undertook to represent that +strict church-goer Camille Burt; while the profligate but +apparently powerful Count Gregory found friends in an energetic +local doctor who was ready for social promotion and an accidental +Californian tourist who was ready for anything. As no particular +purpose could be served by delay, it was arranged that the affair +should fall out three days afterwards. And when this was settled +the whole community, as it were, turned over again in bed and +thought no more about the matter. At least there was only one +member of it who seemed to be restless, and that was she who was +commonly most restful. On the next night Madeleine Durand went to +church as usual; and as usual the stricken Camille was there +also. What was not so usual was that when they were a bow-shot +from the church Madeleine turned round and walked back to him. +"Sir," she began, "it is not wrong of me to speak to you," and +the very words gave him a jar of unexpected truth; for in all the +novels he had ever read she would have begun: "It is wrong of me +to speak to you." She went on with wide and serious eyes like an +animal's: "It is not wrong of me to speak to you, because your +soul, or anybody's soul, matters so much more than what the world +says about anybody. I want to talk to you about what you are +going to do." + +Bert saw in front of him the inevitable heroine of the novels +trying to prevent bloodshed; and his pale firm face became +implacable. + +"I would do anything but that for you," he said; "but no man can +be called less than a man." + +She looked at him for a moment with a face openly puzzled, and +then broke into an odd and beautiful half-smile. + +"Oh, I don't mean that," she said; "I don't talk about what I +don't understand. No one has ever hit me; and if they had I +should not feel as a man may. I am sure it is not the best thing +to fight. It would be better to forgive--if one could really +forgive. But when people dine with my father and say that +fighting a duel is mere murder--of course I can see that is not +just. It's all so different--having a reason--and letting the +other man know--and using the same guns and things--and doing it +in front of your friends. I'm awfully stupid, but I know that men +like you aren't murderers. But it wasn't that that I meant." + +"What did you mean?" asked the other, looking broodingly at the +earth. + +"Don't you know," she said, "there is only one more celebration? +I thought that as you always go to church--I thought you would +communicate this morning." + +Bert stepped backward with a sort of action she had never seen in +him before. It seemed to alter his whole body. + +"You may be right or wrong to risk dying," said the girl, simply; +"the poor women in our village risk it whenever they have a baby. +You men are the other half of the world. I know nothing about +when you ought to die. But surely if you are daring to try and +find God beyond the grave and appeal to Him--you ought to let Him +find you when He comes and stands there every morning in our +little church." + +And placid as she was, she made a little gesture of argument, of +which the pathos wrung the heart. + +M. Camille Bert was by no means placid. Before that incomplete +gesture and frankly pleading face he retreated as if from the +jaws of a dragon. His dark black hair and beard looked utterly +unnatural against the startling pallor of his face. When at last +he said something it was: "O God! I can't stand this!" He did not +say it in French. Nor did he, strictly speaking, say it in +English. The truth (interesting only to anthropologists) is that +he said it in Scotch. + +"There will be another mass in a matter of eight hours," said +Madeleine, with a sort of business eagerness and energy, "and you +can do it then before the fighting. You must forgive me, but I +was so frightened that you would not do it at all." + +Bert seemed to crush his teeth together until they broke, and +managed to say between them: "And why should you suppose that I +shouldn't do as you say--I mean not to do it at all?" + +"You always go to Mass," answered the girl, opening her wide blue +eyes, "and the Mass is very long and tiresome unless one loves +God." + +Then it was that Bert exploded with a brutality which might have +come from Count Gregory, his criminal opponent. He advanced upon +Madeleine with flaming eyes, and almost took her by the two +shoulders. "I do not love God," he cried, speaking French with +the broadest Scotch accent; "I do not want to find Him; I do not +think He is there to be found. I must burst up the show; I must +and will say everything. You are the happiest and honestest thing +I ever saw in this godless universe. And I am the dirtiest and +most dishonest." + +Madeleine looked at him doubtfully for an instant, and then said +with a sudden simplicity and cheerfulness: "Oh, but if you are +really sorry it is all right. If you are horribly sorry it is all +the better. You have only to go and tell the priest so and he +will give you God out of his own hands." + +"I hate your priest and I deny your God!" cried the man, "and I +tell you God is a lie and a fable and a mask. And for the first +time in my life I do not feel superior to God." + +"What can it all mean?" said Madeleine, in massive wonder. + +"Because I am a fable also and a mask," said the man. He had been +plucking fiercely at his black beard and hair all the time; now +he suddenly plucked them off and flung them like moulted feathers +in the mire. This extraordinary spoliation left in the sunlight +the same face, but a much younger head--a head with close +chestnut curls and a short chestnut beard. + +"Now you know the truth," he answered, with hard eyes. "I am a +cad who has played a crooked trick on a quiet village and a +decent woman for a private reason of his own. I might have played +it successfully on any other woman; I have hit the one woman on +whom it cannot be played. It's just like my damned luck. The +plain truth is," and here when he came to the plain truth he +boggled and blundered as Evan had done in telling it to the girl +in the motor-car. + +"The plain truth is," he said at last, "that I am James Turnbull +the atheist. The police are after me; not for atheism but for +being ready to fight for it." + +"I saw something about you in a newspaper," said the girl, with a +simplicity which even surprise could never throw off its balance. + +"Evan MacIan said there was a God," went on the other, +stubbornly, "and I say there isn't. And I have come to fight for +the fact that there is no God; it is for that that I have seen +this cursed island and your blessed face." + +"You want me really to believe," said Madeleine, with parted +lips, "that you think----" + +"I want you to hate me!" cried Turnbull, in agony. "I want you to +be sick when you think of my name. I am sure there is no God." + +"But there is," said Madeleine, quite quietly, and rather with +the air of one telling children about an elephant. "Why, I +touched His body only this morning." + +"You touched a bit of bread," said Turnbull, biting his knuckles. +"Oh, I will say anything that can madden you!" + +"You think it is only a bit of bread," said the girl, and her +lips tightened ever so little. + +"I know it is only a bit of bread," said Turnbull, with violence. + +She flung back her open face and smiled. "Then why did you refuse +to eat it?" she said. + +James Turnbull made a little step backward, and for the first +time in his life there seemed to break out and blaze in his head +thoughts that were not his own. + +"Why, how silly of them," cried out Madeleine, with quite a +schoolgirl gaiety, "why, how silly of them to call _you_ a +blasphemer! Why, you have wrecked your whole business because you +would not commit blasphemy." + +The man stood, a somewhat comic figure in his tragic +bewilderment, with the honest red head of James Turnbull sticking +out of the rich and fictitious garments of Camille Bert. But the +startled pain of his face was strong enough to obliterate the +oddity. + +"You come down here," continued the lady, with that female +emphasis which is so pulverizing in conversation and so feeble at +a public meeting, "you and your MacIan come down here and put on +false beards or noses in order to fight. You pretend to be a +Catholic commercial traveller from France. Poor Mr. MacIan has to +pretend to be a dissolute nobleman from nowhere. Your scheme +succeeds; you pick a quite convincing quarrel; you arrange a +quite respectable duel; the duel you have planned so long will +come off tomorrow with absolute certainty and safety. And then +you throw off your wig and throw up your scheme and throw over +your colleague, because I ask you to go into a building and eat a +bit of bread. And _then_ you dare to tell me that you are sure +there is nothing watching us. Then you say you know there is +nothing on the very altar you run away from. You know----" + +"I only know," said Turnbull, "that I must run away from you. +This has got beyond any talking." And he plunged along into the +village, leaving his black wig and beard lying behind him on the +road. + +As the market-place opened before him he saw Count Gregory, that +distinguished foreigner, standing and smoking in elegant +meditation at the corner of the local café. He immediately made +his way rapidly towards him, considering that a consultation was +urgent. But he had hardly crossed half of that stony quadrangle +when a window burst open above him and a head was thrust out, +shouting. The man was in his woollen undershirt, but Turnbull +knew the energetic, apologetic head of the sergeant of police. He +pointed furiously at Turnbull and shouted his name. A policeman +ran excitedly from under an archway and tried to collar him. Two +men selling vegetables dropped their baskets and joined in the +chase. Turnbull dodged the constable, upset one of the men into +his own basket, and bounding towards the distinguished foreign +Count, called to him clamorously: "Come on, MacIan, the hunt is +up again." + +The prompt reply of Count Gregory was to pull off his large +yellow whiskers and scatter them on the breeze with an air of +considerable relief. Then he joined the flight of Turnbull, and +even as he did so, with one wrench of his powerful hands rent and +split the strange, thick stick that he carried. Inside it was a +naked old-fashioned rapier. The two got a good start up the road +before the whole town was awakened behind them; and half-way up +it a similar transformation was seen to take place in Mr. +Turnbull's singular umbrella. + +The two had a long race for the harbour; but the English police +were heavy and the French inhabitants were indifferent. In any +case, they got used to the notion of the road being clear; and +just as they had come to the cliffs MacIan banged into another +gentleman with unmistakable surprise. How he knew he was another +gentleman merely by banging into him, must remain a mystery. +MacIan was a very poor and very sober Scotch gentleman. The other +was a very drunk and very wealthy English gentleman. But there +was something in the staggered and openly embarrassed apologies +that made them understand each other as readily and as quickly +and as much as two men talking French in the middle of China. The +nearest expression of the type is that it either hits or +apologizes; and in this case both apologized. + +"You seem to be in a hurry," said the unknown Englishman, falling +back a step or two in order to laugh with an unnatural +heartiness. "What's it all about, eh?" Then before MacIan could +get past his sprawling and staggering figure he ran forward again +and said with a sort of shouting and ear-shattering whisper: "I +say, my name is Wilkinson. _You_ know--Wilkinson's Entire was my +grandfather. Can't drink beer myself. Liver." And he shook his +head with extraordinary sagacity. + +"We really are in a hurry, as you say," said MacIan, summoning a +sufficiently pleasant smile, "so if you will let us pass----" + +"I'll tell you what, you fellows," said the sprawling gentleman, +confidentially, while Evan's agonized ears heard behind him the +first paces of the pursuit, "if you really are, as you say, in a +hurry, I know what it is to be in a hurry--Lord, what a hurry I +was in when we all came out of Cartwright's rooms--if you really +are in a hurry"--and he seemed to steady his voice into a sort of +solemnity--"if you are in a hurry, there's nothing like a good +yacht for a man in a hurry." + +"No doubt you're right," said MacIan, and dashed past him in +despair. The head of the pursuing host was just showing over the +top of the hill behind him. Turnbull had already ducked under the +intoxicated gentleman's elbow and fled far in front. + +"No, but look here," said Mr. Wilkinson, enthusiastically running +after MacIan and catching him by the sleeve of his coat. "If you +want to hurry you should take a yacht, and if"--he said, with a +burst of rationality, like one leaping to a further point in +logic--"if you want a yacht--you can have mine." + +Evan pulled up abruptly and looked back at him. "We are really in +the devil of a hurry," he said, "and if you really have a yacht, +the truth is that we would give our ears for it." + +"You'll find it in harbour," said Wilkinson, struggling with his +speech. "Left side of harbour--called _Gibson Girl_--can't think +why, old fellow, I never lent it you before." + +With these words the benevolent Mr. Wilkinson fell flat on his +face in the road, but continued to laugh softly, and turned +towards his flying companion a face of peculiar peace and +benignity. Evan's mind went through a crisis of instantaneous +casuistry, in which it may be that he decided wrongly; but about +how he decided his biographer can profess no doubt. Two minutes +afterwards he had overtaken Turnbull and told the tale; ten +minutes afterwards he and Turnbull had somehow tumbled into the +yacht called the _Gibson Girl_ and had somehow pushed off from +the Isle of St. Loup. + + + +XII. THE DESERT ISLAND + +Those who happen to hold the view (and Mr. Evan MacIan, now alive +and comfortable, is among the number) that something +supernatural, some eccentric kindness from god or fairy had +guided our adventurers through all their absurd perils, might +have found his strongest argument perhaps in their management or +mismanagement of Mr. Wilkinson's yacht. Neither of them had the +smallest qualification for managing such a vessel; but MacIan had +a practical knowledge of the sea in much smaller and quite +different boats, while Turnbull had an abstract knowledge of +science and some of its applications to navigation, which was +worse. The presence of the god or fairy can only be deduced from +the fact that they never definitely ran into anything, either a +boat, a rock, a quicksand, or a man-of-war. Apart from this +negative description, their voyage would be difficult to +describe. It took at least a fortnight, and MacIan, who was +certainly the shrewder sailor of the two, realized that they were +sailing west into the Atlantic and were probably by this time +past the Scilly Isles. How much farther they stood out into the +western sea it was impossible to conjecture. But they felt +certain, at least, that they were far enough into that awful gulf +between us and America to make it unlikely that they would soon +see land again. It was therefore with legitimate excitement that +one rainy morning after daybreak they saw that distinct shape of +a solitary island standing up against the encircling strip of +silver which ran round the skyline and separated the grey and +green of the billows from the grey and mauve of the morning +clouds. + +"What can it be?" cried MacIan, in a dry-throated excitement. "I +didn't know there were any Atlantic islands so far beyond the +Scillies--Good Lord, it can't be Madeira, yet?" + +"I thought you were fond of legends and lies and fables," said +Turnbull, grimly. "Perhaps it's Atlantis." + +"Of course, it might be," answered the other, quite innocently +and gravely; "but I never thought the story about Atlantis was +very solidly established." + +"Whatever it is, we are running on to it," said Turnbull, +equably, "and we shall be shipwrecked twice, at any rate." + +The naked-looking nose of land projecting from the unknown island +was, indeed, growing larger and larger, like the trunk of some +terrible and advancing elephant. There seemed to be nothing in +particular, at least on this side of the island, except shoals of +shellfish lying so thick as almost to make it look like one of +those toy grottos that the children make. In one place, however, +the coast offered a soft, smooth bay of sand, and even the +rudimentary ingenuity of the two amateur mariners managed to run +up the little ship with her prow well on shore and her bowsprit +pointing upward, as in a sort of idiotic triumph. + +They tumbled on shore and began to unload the vessel, setting the +stores out in rows upon the sand with something of the solemnity +of boys playing at pirates. There were Mr. Wilkinson's +cigar-boxes and Mr. Wilkinson's dozen of champagne and Mr. +Wilkinson's tinned salmon and Mr. Wilkinson's tinned tongue and +Mr. Wilkinson's tinned sardines, and every sort of preserved +thing that could be seen at the Army and Navy stores. Then MacIan +stopped with a jar of pickles in his hand and said abruptly: + +"I don't know why we're doing all this; I suppose we ought really +to fall to and get it over." + +Then he added more thoughtfully: "Of course this island seems +rather bare and the survivor----" + +"The question is," said Turnbull, with cheerful speculation, +"whether the survivor will be in a proper frame of mind for +potted prawns." + +MacIan looked down at the rows of tins and bottles, and the cloud +of doubt still lowered upon his face. + +"You will permit me two liberties, my dear sir," said Turnbull at +last: "The first is to break open this box and light one of Mr. +Wilkinson's excellent cigars, which will, I am sure, assist my +meditations; the second is to offer a penny for your thoughts; or +rather to convulse the already complex finances of this island by +betting a penny that I know them." + +"What on earth are you talking about?" asked MacIan, listlessly, +in the manner of an inattentive child. + +"I know what you are really thinking, MacIan," repeated Turnbull, +laughing. "I know what I am thinking, anyhow. And I rather fancy +it's the same." + +"What are you thinking?" asked Evan. + +"I am thinking and you are thinking," said Turnbull, "that it is +damned silly to waste all that champagne." + +Something like the spectre of a smile appeared on the unsmiling +visage of the Gael; and he made at least no movement of dissent. + +"We could drink all the wine and smoke all the cigars easily in a +week," said Turnbull; "and that would be to die feasting like +heroes." + +"Yes, and there is something else," said MacIan, with slight +hesitation. "You see, we are on an almost unknown rock, lost in +the Atlantic. The police will never catch us; but then neither +may the public ever hear of us; and that was one of the things we +wanted." Then, after a pause, he said, drawing in the sand with +his sword-point: "She may never hear of it at all." + +"Well?" inquired the other, puffing at his cigar. + +"Well," said MacIan, "we might occupy a day or two in drawing up +a thorough and complete statement of what we did and why we did +it, and all about both our points of view. Then we could leave +one copy on the island whatever happens to us and put another in +an empty bottle and send it out to sea, as they do in the books." + +"A good idea," said Turnbull, "and now let us finish unpacking." + +As MacIan, a tall, almost ghostly figure, paced along the edge of +sand that ran round the islet, the purple but cloudy poetry which +was his native element was piled up at its thickest upon his +soul. The unique island and the endless sea emphasized the thing +solely as an epic. There were no ladies or policemen here to give +him a hint either of its farce or its tragedy. + +"Perhaps when the morning stars were made," he said to himself, +"God built this island up from the bottom of the world to be a +tower and a theatre for the fight between yea and nay." + +Then he wandered up to the highest level of the rock, where there +was a roof or plateau of level stone. Half an hour afterwards, +Turnbull found him clearing away the loose sand from this +table-land and making it smooth and even. + +"We will fight up here, Turnbull," said MacIan, "when the time +comes. And till the time comes this place shall be sacred." + +"I thought of having lunch up here," said Turnbull, who had a +bottle of champagne in his hand. + +"No, no--not up here," said MacIan, and came down from the height +quite hastily. Before he descended, however, he fixed the two +swords upright, one at each end of the platform, as if they were +human sentinels to guard it under the stars. + +Then they came down and lunched plentifully in a nest of loose +rocks. In the same place that night they supped more plentifully +still. The smoke of Mr. Wilkinson's cigars went up ceaseless and +strong smelling, like a pagan sacrifice; the golden glories of +Mr. Wilkinson's champagne rose to their heads and poured out of +them in fancies and philosophies. And occasionally they would +look up at the starlight and the rock and see the space guarded +by the two cross-hilted swords, which looked like two black +crosses at either end of a grave. + +In this primitive and Homeric truce the week passed by; it +consisted almost entirely of eating, drinking, smoking, talking, +and occasionally singing. They wrote their records and cast loose +their bottle. They never ascended to the ominous plateau; they +had never stood there save for that single embarrassed minute +when they had had no time to take stock of the seascape or the +shape of the land. They did not even explore the island; for +MacIan was partly concerned in prayer and Turnbull entirely +concerned with tobacco; and both these forms of inspiration can +be enjoyed by the secluded and even the sedentary. It was on a +golden afternoon, the sun sinking over the sea, rayed like the +very head of Apollo, when Turnbull tossed off the last half-pint +from the emptied Wilkinsonian bottle, hurled the bottle into the +sea with objectless energy, and went up to where his sword stood +waiting for him on the hill. MacIan was already standing heavily +by his with bent head and eyes reading the ground. He had not +even troubled to throw a glance round the island or the horizon. +But Turnbull being of a more active and birdlike type of mind did +throw a glance round the scene. The consequence of which was that +he nearly fell off the rock. + +On three sides of this shelly and sandy islet the sea stretched +blue and infinite without a speck of land or sail; the same as +Turnbull had first seen it, except that the tide being out it +showed a few yards more of slanting sand under the roots of the +rocks. But on the fourth side the island exhibited a more +extraordinary feature. In fact, it exhibited the extraordinary +feature of not being an island at all. A long, curving neck of +sand, as smooth and wet as the neck of the sea serpent, ran out +into the sea and joined their rock to a line of low, billowing, +and glistening sand-hills, which the sinking sea had just bared +to the sun. Whether they were firm sand or quicksand it was +difficult to guess; but there was at least no doubt that they lay +on the edge of some larger land; for colourless hills appeared +faintly behind them and no sea could be seen beyond. + +"Sakes alive!" cried Turnbull, with rolling eyes; "this ain't an +island in the Atlantic. We've butted the bally continent of +America." + +MacIan turned his head, and his face, already pale, grew a shade +paler. He was by this time walking in a world of omens and +hieroglyphics, and he could not read anything but what was +baffling or menacing in this brown gigantic arm of the earth +stretched out into the sea to seize him. + +"MacIan," said Turnbull, in his temperate way, "whatever our +eternal interrupted tete-a-tetes have taught us or not taught us, +at least we need not fear the charge of fear. If it is essential +to your emotions, I will cheerfully finish the fight here and +now; but I must confess that if you kill me here I shall die with +my curiosity highly excited and unsatisfied upon a minor point of +geography." + +"I do not want to stop now," said the other, in his elephantine +simplicity, "but we must stop for a moment, because it is a +sign--perhaps it is a miracle. We must see what is at the end of +the road of sand; it may be a bridge built across the gulf by +God." + +"So long as you gratify my query," said Turnbull, laughing and +letting back his blade into the sheath, "I do not care for what +reason you choose to stop." + +They clambered down the rocky peninsula and trudged along the +sandy isthmus with the plodding resolution of men who seemed +almost to have made up their minds to be wanderers on the face of +the earth. Despite Turnbull's air of scientific eagerness, he was +really the less impatient of the two; and the Highlander went on +well ahead of him with passionate strides. By the time they had +walked for about half an hour in the ups and downs of those +dreary sands, the distance between the two had lengthened and +MacIan was only a tall figure silhouetted for an instant upon the +crest of some sand-dune and then disappearing behind it. This +rather increased the Robinson Crusoe feeling in Mr. Turnbull, and +he looked about almost disconsolately for some sign of life. What +sort of life he expected it to be if it appeared, he did not very +clearly know. He has since confessed that he thinks that in his +subconsciousness he expected an alligator. + +The first sign of life that he did see, however, was something +more extraordinary than the largest alligator. It was nothing +less than the notorious Mr. Evan MacIan coming bounding back +across the sand-heaps breathless, without his cap and keeping the +sword in his hand only by a habit now quite hardened. + +"Take care, Turnbull," he cried out from a good distance as he +ran, "I've seen a native." + +"A native?" repeated his companion, whose scenery had of late +been chiefly of shellfish, "what the deuce! Do you mean an +oyster?" + +"No," said MacIan, stopping and breathing hard, "I mean a savage. +A black man." + +"Why, where did you see him?" asked the staring editor. + +"Over there--behind that hill," said the gasping MacIan. "He put +up his black head and grinned at me." + +Turnbull thrust his hands through his red hair like one who gives +up the world as a bad riddle. "Lord love a duck," said he, "can +it be Jamaica?" + +Then glancing at his companion with a small frown, as of one +slightly suspicious, he said: "I say, don't think me rude--but +you're a visionary kind of fellow--and then we drank a great +deal. Do you mind waiting here while I go and see for myself?" + +"Shout if you get into trouble," said the Celt, with composure; +"you will find it as I say." + +Turnbull ran off ahead with a rapidity now far greater than his +rival's, and soon vanished over the disputed sand-hill. Then five +minutes passed, and then seven minutes; and MacIan bit his lip +and swung his sword, and the other did not reappear. Finally, +with a Gaelic oath, Evan started forward to the rescue, and +almost at the same moment the small figure of the missing man +appeared on the ridge against the sky. + +Even at that distance, however, there was something odd about his +attitude; so odd that MacIan continued to make his way in that +direction. It looked as if he were wounded; or, still more, as if +he were ill. He wavered as he came down the slope and seemed +flinging himself into peculiar postures. But it was only when he +came within three feet of MacIan's face, that that observer of +mankind fully realized that Mr. James Turnbull was roaring with +laughter. + +"You are quit right," sobbed that wholly demoralized journalist. +"He's black, oh, there's no doubt the black's all right--as far +as it goes." And he went off again into convulsions of his +humorous ailment. + +"What ever is the matter with you?" asked MacIan, with stern +impatience. "Did you see the nigger----" + +"I saw the nigger," gasped Turnbull. "I saw the splendid +barbarian Chief. I saw the Emperor of Ethiopia--oh, I saw him all +right. The nigger's hands and face are a lovely colour--and the +nigger----" And he was overtaken once more. + +"Well, well, well," said Evan, stamping each monosyllable on the +sand, "what about the nigger?" + +"Well, the truth is," said Turnbull, suddenly and startlingly, +becoming quite grave and precise, "the truth is, the nigger is a +Margate nigger, and we are now on the edge of the Isle of Thanet, +a few miles from Margate." + +Then he had a momentary return of his hysteria and said: "I say, +old boy, I should like to see a chart of our fortnight's cruise +in Wilkinson's yacht." + +MacIan had no smile in answer, but his eager lips opened as if +parched for the truth. "You mean to say," he began---- + +"Yes, I mean to say," said Turnbull, "and I mean to say something +funnier still. I have learnt everything I wanted to know from the +partially black musician over there, who has taken a run in his +war-paint to meet a friend in a quiet pub along the coast--the +noble savage has told me all about it. The bottle containing our +declaration, doctrines, and dying sentiments was washed up on +Margate beach yesterday in the presence of one alderman, two +bathing-machine men, three policemen, seven doctors, and a +hundred and thirteen London clerks on a holiday, to all of whom, +whether directly or indirectly, our composition gave enormous +literary pleasure. Buck up, old man, this story of ours is a +switchback. I have begun to understand the pulse and the time of +it; now we are up in a cathedral and then we are down in a +theatre, where they only play farces. Come, I am quite +reconciled--let us enjoy the farce." + +But MacIan said nothing, and an instant afterwards Turnbull +himself called out in an entirely changed voice: "Oh, this is +damnable! This is not to be borne!" + +MacIan followed his eye along the sand-hills. He saw what looked +like the momentary and waving figure of the nigger minstrel, and +then he saw a heavy running policeman take the turn of the +sand-hill with the smooth solemnity of a railway train. + + + +XIII. THE GARDEN OF PEACE + +Up to this instant Evan MacIan had really understood nothing; but +when he saw the policeman he saw everything. He saw his enemies, +all the powers and princes of the earth. He suddenly altered from +a staring statue to a leaping man of the mountains. + +"We must break away from him here," he cried, briefly, and went +like a whirlwind over the sand ridge in a straight line and at a +particular angle. When the policeman had finished his admirable +railway curve, he found a wall of failing sand between him and +the pursued. By the time he had scaled it thrice, slid down +twice, and crested it in the third effort, the two flying figures +were far in front. They found the sand harder farther on; it +began to be crusted with scraps of turf and in a few moments they +were flying easily over an open common of rank sea-grass. They +had no easy business, however; for the bottle which they had so +innocently sent into the chief gate of Thanet had called to life +the police of half a county on their trail. From every side +across the grey-green common figures could be seen running and +closing in; and it was only when MacIan with his big body broke +down the tangled barrier of a little wood, as men break down a +door with the shoulder; it was only when they vanished crashing +into the underworld of the black wood, that their hunters were +even instantaneously thrown off the scent. + +At the risk of struggling a little longer like flies in that +black web of twigs and trunks, Evan (who had an instinct of the +hunter or the hunted) took an incalculable course through the +forest, which let them out at last by a forest opening--quite +forgotten by the leaders of the chase. They ran a mile or two +farther along the edge of the wood until they reached another and +somewhat similar opening. Then MacIan stood utterly still and +listened, as animals listen, for every sound in the universe. +Then he said: "We are quit of them." And Turnbull said: "Where +shall we go now?" + +MacIan looked at the silver sunset that was closing in, barred by +plumy lines of purple cloud; he looked at the high tree-tops that +caught the last light and at the birds going heavily homeward, +just as if all these things were bits of written advice that he +could read. + +Then he said: "The best place we can go to is to bed. If we can +get some sleep in this wood, now everyone has cleared out of it, +it will be worth a handicap of two hundred yards tomorrow." + +Turnbull, who was exceptionally lively and laughing in his +demeanour, kicked his legs about like a schoolboy and said he did +not want to go to sleep. He walked incessantly and talked very +brilliantly. And when at last he lay down on the hard earth, +sleep struck him senseless like a hammer. + +Indeed, he needed the strongest sleep he could get; for the earth +was still full of darkness and a kind of morning fog when his +fellow-fugitive shook him awake. + +"No more sleep, I'm afraid," said Evan, in a heavy, almost +submissive, voice of apology. "They've gone on past us right +enough for a good thirty miles; but now they've found out their +mistake, and they're coming back." + +"Are you sure?" said Turnbull, sitting up and rubbing his red +eyebrows with his hand. + +The next moment, however, he had jumped up alive and leaping like +a man struck with a shock of cold water, and he was plunging +after MacIan along the woodland path. The shape of their old +friend the constable had appeared against the pearl and pink of +the sunrise. Somehow, it always looked a very funny shape when +seen against the sunrise. + + * * * + +A wash of weary daylight was breaking over the country-side, and +the fields and roads were full of white mist--the kind of white +mist that clings in corners like cotton wool. The empty road, +along which the chase had taken its turn, was overshadowed on one +side by a very high discoloured wall, stained, and streaked +green, as with seaweed--evidently the high-shouldered sentinel of +some great gentleman's estate. A yard or two from the wall ran +parallel to it a linked and tangled line of lime-trees, forming a +kind of cloister along the side of the road. It was under this +branching colonnade that the two fugitives fled, almost concealed +from their pursuers by the twilight, the mist and the leaping +zoetrope of shadows. Their feet, though beating the ground +furiously, made but a faint noise; for they had kicked away their +boots in the wood; their long, antiquated weapons made no jingle +or clatter, for they had strapped them across their backs like +guitars. They had all the advantages that invisibility and +silence can add to speed. + +A hundred and fifty yards behind them down the centre of the +empty road the first of their pursuers came pounding and +panting--a fat but powerful policeman who had distanced all the +rest. He came on at a splendid pace for so portly a figure; but, +like all heavy bodies in motion, he gave the impression that it +would be easier for him to increase his pace than to slacken it +suddenly. Nothing short of a brick wall could have abruptly +brought him up. Turnbull turned his head slightly and found +breath to say something to MacIan. MacIan nodded. + +Pursuer and pursued were fixed in their distance as they fled, +for some quarter of a mile, when they came to a place where two +or three of the trees grew twistedly together, making a special +obscurity. Past this place the pursuing policeman went thundering +without thought or hesitation. But he was pursuing his shadow or +the wind; for Turnbull had put one foot in a crack of the tree +and gone up it as quickly and softly as a cat. Somewhat more +laboriously but in equal silence the long legs of the Highlander +had followed; and crouching in crucial silence in the cloud of +leaves, they saw the whole posse of their pursuers go by and die +into the dust and mists of the distance. + +The white vapour lay, as it often does, in lean and palpable +layers; and even the head of the tree was above it in the +half-daylight, like a green ship swinging on a sea of foam. But +higher yet behind them, and readier to catch the first coming of +the sun, ran the rampart of the top of the wall, which in their +excitement of escape looked at once indispensable and +unattainable, like the wall of heaven. Here, however, it was +MacIan's turn to have the advantage; for, though less +light-limbed and feline, he was longer and stronger in the arms. +In two seconds he had tugged up his chin over the wall like a +horizontal bar; the next he sat astride of it, like a horse of +stone. With his assistance Turnbull vaulted to the same perch, +and the two began cautiously to shift along the wall in the +direction by which they had come, doubling on their tracks to +throw off the last pursuit. MacIan could not rid himself of the +fancy of bestriding a steed; the long, grey coping of the wall +shot out in front of him, like the long, grey neck of some +nightmare Rosinante. He had the quaint thought that he and +Turnbull were two knights on one steed on the old shield of the +Templars. + +The nightmare of the stone horse was increased by the white fog, +which seemed thicker inside the wall than outside. They could +make nothing of the enclosure upon which they were partial +trespassers, except that the green and crooked branches of a big +apple-tree came crawling at them out of the mist, like the +tentacles of some green cuttlefish. Anything would serve, +however, that was likely to confuse their trail, so they both +decided without need of words to use this tree also as a +ladder--a ladder of descent. When they dropped from the lowest +branch to the ground their stockinged feet felt hard gravel +beneath them. + +They had alighted in the middle of a very broad garden path, and +the clearing mist permitted them to see the edge of a +well-clipped lawn. Though the white vapour was still a veil, it +was like the gauzy veil of a transformation scene in a pantomime; +for through it there glowed shapeless masses of colour, masses +which might be clouds of sunrise or mosaics of gold and crimson, +or ladies robed in ruby and emerald draperies. As it thinned yet +farther they saw that it was only flowers; but flowers in such +insolent mass and magnificence as can seldom be seen out of the +tropics. Purple and crimson rhododendrons rose arrogantly, like +rampant heraldic animals against their burning background of +laburnum gold. The roses were red hot; the clematis was, so to +speak, blue hot. And yet the mere whiteness of the syringa seemed +the most violent colour of all. As the golden sunlight gradually +conquered the mists, it had really something of the sensational +sweetness of the slow opening of the gates of Eden. MacIan, whose +mind was always haunted with such seraphic or titanic parallels, +made some such remark to his companion. But Turnbull only cursed +and said that it was the back garden of some damnable rich man. + +When the last haze had faded from the ordered paths, the open +lawns, and the flaming flower-beds, the two realized, not without +an abrupt re-examination of their position, that they were not +alone in the garden. + +Down the centre of the central garden path, preceded by a blue +cloud from a cigarette, was walking a gentleman who evidently +understood all the relish of a garden in the very early morning. +He was a slim yet satisfied figure, clad in a suit of pale-grey +tweed, so subdued that the pattern was imperceptible--a costume +that was casual but not by any means careless. His face, which +was reflective and somewhat over-refined, was the face of a quite +elderly man, though his stringy hair and moustache were still +quite yellow. A double eye-glass, with a broad, black ribbon, +drooped from his aquiline nose, and he smiled, as he communed +with himself, with a self-content which was rare and almost +irritating. The straw panama on his head was many shades shabbier +than his clothes, as if he had caught it up by accident. + +It needed the full shock of the huge shadow of MacIan, falling +across his sunlit path, to rouse him from his smiling reverie. +When this had fallen on him he lifted his head a little and +blinked at the intruders with short-sighted benevolence, but with +far less surprise than might have been expected. He was a +gentleman; that is, he had social presence of mind, whether for +kindness or for insolence. + +"Can I do anything for you?" he said, at last. + +MacIan bowed. "You can extend to us your pardon," he said, for he +also came of a whole race of gentlemen--of gentlemen without +shirts to their backs. "I am afraid we are trespassing. We have +just come over the wall." + +"Over the wall?" repeated the smiling old gentleman, still +without letting his surprise come uppermost. + +"I suppose I am not wrong, sir," continued MacIan, "in supposing +that these grounds inside the wall belong to you?" + +The man in the panama looked at the ground and smoked +thoughtfully for a few moments, after which he said, with a sort +of matured conviction: + +"Yes, certainly; the grounds inside the wall really belong to me, +and the grounds outside the wall, too." + +"A large proprietor, I imagine," said Turnbull, with a truculent +eye. + +"Yes," answered the old gentleman, looking at him with a steady +smile. "A large proprietor." + +Turnbull's eye grew even more offensive, and he began biting his +red beard; but MacIan seemed to recognize a type with which he +could deal and continued quite easily: + +"I am sure that a man like you will not need to be told that one +sees and does a good many things that do not get into the +newspapers. Things which, on the whole, had better not get into +the newspapers." + +The smile of the large proprietor broadened for a moment under +his loose, light moustache, and the other continued with +increased confidence: + +"One sometimes wants to have it out with another man. The police +won't allow it in the streets--and then there's the County +Council--and in the fields even nothing's allowed but posters of +pills. But in a gentleman's garden, now----" + +The strange gentleman smiled again and said, easily enough: "Do +you want to fight? What do you want to fight about?" + +MacIan had understood his man pretty well up to that point; an +instinct common to all men with the aristocratic tradition of +Europe had guided him. He knew that the kind of man who in his +own back garden wears good clothes and spoils them with a bad hat +is not the kind of man who has an abstract horror of illegal +actions of violence or the evasion of the police. But a man may +understand ragging and yet be very far from understanding +religious ragging. This seeming host of theirs might comprehend a +quarrel of husband and lover or a difficulty at cards or even +escape from a pursuing tailor; but it still remained doubtful +whether he would feel the earth fail under him in that earthquake +instant when the Virgin is compared to a goddess of Mesopotamia. +Even MacIan, therefore (whose tact was far from being his strong +point), felt the necessity for some compromise in the mode of +approach. At last he said, and even then with hesitation: + +"We are fighting about God; there can be nothing so important as +that." + +The tilted eye-glasses of the old gentleman fell abruptly from +his nose, and he thrust his aristocratic chin so far forward that +his lean neck seemed to shoot out longer like a telescope. + +"About God?" he queried, in a key completely new. + +"Look here!" cried Turnbull, taking his turn roughly, "I'll tell +you what it's all about. I think that there's no God. I take it +that it's nobody's business but mine--or God's, if there is one. +This young gentleman from the Highlands happens to think that +it's his business. In consequence, he first takes a walking-stick +and smashes my shop; then he takes the same walking-stick and +tries to smash me. To this I naturally object. I suggest that if +it comes to that we should both have sticks. He improves on the +suggestion and proposes that we should both have steel-pointed +sticks. The police (with characteristic unreasonableness) will +not accept either of our proposals; the result is that we run +about dodging the police and have jumped over our garden wall +into your magnificent garden to throw ourselves on your +magnificent hospitality." + +The face of the old gentleman had grown redder and redder during +this address, but it was still smiling; and when he broke out it +was with a kind of guffaw. + +"So you really want to fight with drawn swords in my garden," he +asked, "about whether there is really a God?" + +"Why not?" said MacIan, with his simple monstrosity of speech; +"all man's worship began when the Garden of Eden was founded." + +"Yes, by----!" said Turnbull, with an oath, "and ended when the +Zoological Gardens were founded." + +"In this garden! In my presence!" cried the stranger, stamping up +and down the gravel and choking with laughter," whether there is +a God!" And he went stamping up and down the garden, making it +echo with his unintelligible laughter. Then he came back to them +more composed and wiping his eyes. + +"Why, how small the world is!" he cried at last. "I can settle +the whole matter. Why, I am God!" + +And he suddenly began to kick and wave his well-clad legs about +the lawn. + +"You are what?" repeated Turnbull, in a tone which is beyond +description. + +"Why, God, of course!" answered the other, thoroughly amused. +"How funny it is to think that you have tumbled over a garden +wall and fallen exactly on the right person! You might have gone +floundering about in all sorts of churches and chapels and +colleges and schools of philosophy looking for some evidence of +the existence of God. Why, there is no evidence, except seeing +him. And now you've seen him. You've seen him dance!" + +And the obliging old gentleman instantly stood on one leg without +relaxing at all the grave and cultured benignity of his +expression. + +"I understood that this garden----" began the bewildered MacIan. + +"Quite so! Quite so!" said the man on one leg, nodding gravely. +"I said this garden belonged to me and the land outside it. So +they do. So does the country beyond that and the sea beyond that +and all the rest of the earth. So does the moon. So do the sun +and stars." And he added, with a smile of apology: "You see, I'm +God." + +Turnbull and MacIan looked at him for one moment with a sort of +notion that perhaps he was not too old to be merely playing the +fool. But after staring steadily for an instant Turnbull saw the +hard and horrible earnestness in the man's eyes behind all his +empty animation. Then Turnbull looked very gravely at the strict +gravel walls and the gay flower-beds and the long rectangular +red-brick building, which the mist had left evident beyond them. +Then he looked at MacIan. + +Almost at the same moment another man came walking quickly round +the regal clump of rhododendrons. He had the look of a prosperous +banker, wore a good tall silk hat, was almost stout enough to +burst the buttons of a fine frock-coat; but he was talking to +himself, and one of his elbows had a singular outward jerk as he +went by. + + + +XIV. A MUSEUM OF SOULS + +The man with the good hat and the jumping elbow went by very +quickly; yet the man with the bad hat, who thought he was God, +overtook him. He ran after him and jumped over a bed of geraniums +to catch him. + +"I beg your Majesty's pardon," he said, with mock humility, "but +here is a quarrel which you ought really to judge." + +Then as he led the heavy, silk-hatted man back towards the group, +he caught MacIan's ear in order to whisper: "This poor gentleman +is mad; he thinks he is Edward VII." At this the self-appointed +Creator slightly winked. "Of course you won't trust him much; +come to me for everything. But in my position one has to meet so +many people. One has to be broadminded." + +The big banker in the black frock-coat and hat was standing quite +grave and dignified on the lawn, save for his slight twitch of +one limb, and he did not seem by any means unworthy of the part +which the other promptly forced upon him. + +"My dear fellow," said the man in the straw hat, "these two +gentlemen are going to fight a duel of the utmost importance. +Your own royal position and my much humbler one surely indicate +us as the proper seconds. Seconds--yes, seconds----" and here +the speaker was once more shaken with his old malady of +laughter. + +"Yes, you and I are both seconds--and these two gentlemen can +obviously fight in front of us. You, he-he, are the king. I am +God; really, they could hardly have better supporters. They have +come to the right place." + +Then Turnbull, who had been staring with a frown at the fresh +turf, burst out with a rather bitter laugh and cried, throwing +his red head in the air: + +"Yes, by God, MacIan, I think we have come to the right place!" +And MacIan answered, with an adamantine stupidity: + +"Any place is the right place where they will let us do it." + +There was a long stillness, and their eyes involuntarily took in +the landscape, as they had taken in all the landscapes of their +everlasting combat; the bright, square garden behind the shop; +the whole lift and leaning of the side of Hampstead Heath; the +little garden of the decadent choked with flowers; the square of +sand beside the sea at sunrise. They both felt at the same moment +all the breadth and blossoming beauty of that paradise, the +coloured trees, the natural and restful nooks and also the great +wall of stone--more awful than the wall of China--from which no +flesh could flee. + +Turnbull was moodily balancing his sword in his hand as the other +spoke; then he started, for a mouth whispered quite close to his +ear. With a softness incredible in any cat, the huge, heavy man +in the black hat and frock-coat had crept across the lawn from +his own side and was saying in his ear: "Don't trust that second +of yours. He's mad and not so mad, either; for he frightfully +cunning and sharp. Don't believe the story he tells you about why +I hate him. I know the story he'll tell; I overheard it when the +housekeeper was talking to the postman. It's too long to talk +about now, and I expect we're watched, but----" + +Something in Turnbull made him want suddenly to be sick on the +grass; the mere healthy and heathen horror of the unclean; the +mere inhumane hatred of the inhuman state of madness. He seemed +to hear all round him the hateful whispers of that place, +innumerable as leaves whispering in the wind, and each of them +telling eagerly some evil that had not happened or some terrific +secret which was not true. All the rationalist and plain man +revolted within him against bowing down for a moment in that +forest of deception and egotistical darkness. He wanted to blow +up that palace of delusions with dynamite; and in some wild way, +which I will not defend, he tried to do it. + +He looked across at MacIan and said: "Oh, I can't stand this!" + +"Can't stand what?" asked his opponent, eyeing him doubtfully. + +"Shall we say the atmosphere?" replied Turnbull; "one can't use +uncivil expressions even to a--deity. The fact is, I don't like +having God for my second." + +"Sir!" said that being in a state of great offence, "in my +position I am not used to having my favours refused. Do you know +who I am?" + +The editor of _The Atheist_ turned upon him like one who has lost +all patience, and exploded: "Yes, you are God, aren't you?" he +said, abruptly, "why do we have two sets of teeth?" + +"Teeth?" spluttered the genteel lunatic; "teeth?" + +"Yes," cried Turnbull, advancing on him swiftly and with animated +gestures, "why does teething hurt? Why do growing pains hurt? Why +are measles catching? Why does a rose have thorns? Why do +rhinoceroses have horns? Why is the horn on the top of the nose? +Why haven't I a horn on the top of my nose, eh?" And he struck +the bridge of his nose smartly with his forefinger to indicate +the place of the omission and then wagged the finger menacingly +at the Creator. + +"I've often wanted to meet you," he resumed, sternly, after a +pause, "to hold you accountable for all the idiocy and cruelty of +this muddled and meaningless world of yours. You make a hundred +seeds and only one bears fruit. You make a million worlds and +only one seems inhabited. What do you mean by it, eh? What do you +mean by it?" + +The unhappy lunatic had fallen back before this quite novel form +of attack, and lifted his burnt-out cigarette almost like one +warding off a blow. Turnbull went on like a torrent. + +"A man died yesterday in Ealing. You murdered him. A girl had the +toothache in Croydon. You gave it her. Fifty sailors were drowned +off Selsey Bill. You scuttled their ship. What have you got to +say for yourself, eh?" + +The representative of omnipotence looked as if he had left most +of these things to his subordinates; he passed a hand over his +wrinkling brow and said in a voice much saner than any he had yet +used: + +"Well, if you dislike my assistance, of course--perhaps the other +gentleman----" + +"The other gentleman," cried Turnbull, scornfully, "is a +submissive and loyal and obedient gentleman. He likes the people +who wear crowns, whether of diamonds or of stars. He believes in +the divine right of kings, and it is appropriate enough that he +should have the king for his second. But it is not appropriate to +me that I should have God for my second. God is not good enough. +I dislike and I deny the divine right of kings. But I dislike +more and I deny more the divine right of divinity." + +Then after a pause in which he swallowed his passion, he said to +MacIan: "You have got the right second, anyhow." + +The Highlander did not answer, but stood as if thunderstruck with +one long and heavy thought. Then at last he turned abruptly to +his second in the silk hat and said: "Who are you?" + +The man in the silk hat blinked and bridled in affected surprise, +like one who was in truth accustomed to be doubted. + +"I am King Edward VII," he said, with shaky arrogance. "Do you +doubt my word?" + +"I do not doubt it in the least," answered MacIan. + +"Then, why," said the large man in the silk hat, trembling from +head to foot, "why do you wear your hat before the king?" + +"Why should I take it off," retorted MacIan, with equal heat, +"before a usurper?" + +Turnbull swung round on his heel. "Well, really," he said, "I +thought at least you were a loyal subject." + +"I am the only loyal subject," answered the Gael. "For nearly +thirty years I have walked these islands and have not found +another." + +"You are always hard to follow," remarked Turnbull, genially, +"and sometimes so much so as to be hardly worth following." + +"I alone am loyal," insisted MacIan; "for I alone am in +rebellion. I am ready at any instant to restore the Stuarts. I +am ready at any instant to defy the Hanoverian brood--and I defy +it now even when face to face with the actual ruler of the +enormous British Empire!" + +And folding his arms and throwing back his lean, hawklike face, +he haughtily confronted the man with the formal frock-coat and +the eccentric elbow. + +"What right had you stunted German squires," he cried, "to +interfere in a quarrel between Scotch and English and Irish +gentlemen? Who made you, whose fathers could not splutter English +while they walked in Whitehall, who made you the judge between +the republic of Sidney and the monarchy of Montrose? What had +your sires to do with England that they should have the foul +offering of the blood of Derwentwater and the heart of Jimmy +Dawson? Where are the corpses of Culloden? Where is the blood of +Lochiel?" MacIan advanced upon his opponent with a bony and +pointed finger, as if indicating the exact pocket in which the +blood of that Cameron was probably kept; and Edward VII fell back +a few paces in considerable confusion. + +"What good have you ever done to us?" he continued in harsher and +harsher accents, forcing the other back towards the flower-beds. +"What good have you ever done, you race of German sausages? Yards +of barbarian etiquette, to throttle the freedom of aristocracy! +Gas of northern metaphysics to blow up Broad Church bishops like +balloons. Bad pictures and bad manners and pantheism and the +Albert Memorial. Go back to Hanover, you humbug? Go to----" + +Before the end of this tirade the arrogance of the monarch had +entirely given way; he had fairly turned tail and was trundling +away down the path. MacIan strode after him still preaching and +flourishing his large, lean hands. The other two remained in the +centre of the lawn--Turnbull in convulsions of laughter, the +lunatic in convulsions of disgust. Almost at the same moment a +third figure came stepping swiftly across the lawn. + +The advancing figure walked with a stoop, and yet somehow flung +his forked and narrow beard forward. That carefully cut and +pointed yellow beard was, indeed, the most emphatic thing about +him. When he clasped his hands behind him, under the tails of his +coat, he would wag his beard at a man like a big forefinger. It +performed almost all his gestures; it was more important than the +glittering eye-glasses through which he looked or the beautiful +bleating voice in which he spoke. His face and neck were of a +lusty red, but lean and stringy; he always wore his expensive +gold-rim eye-glasses slightly askew upon his aquiline nose; and +he always showed two gleaming foreteeth under his moustache, in a +smile so perpetual as to earn the reputation of a sneer. But for +the crooked glasses his dress was always exquisite; and but for +the smile he was perfectly and perennially depressed. + +"Don't you think," said the new-comer, with a sort of +supercilious entreaty, "that we had better all come into +breakfast? It is such a mistake to wait for breakfast. It spoils +one's temper so much." + +"Quite so," replied Turnbull, seriously. + +"There seems almost to have been a little quarrelling here," said +the man with the goatish beard. + +"It is rather a long story," said Turnbull, smiling. "Originally, +it might be called a phase in the quarrel between science and +religion." + +The new-comer started slightly, and Turnbull replied to the +question on his face. + +"Oh, yes," he said, "I am science!" + +"I congratulate you heartily," answered the other, "I am Doctor +Quayle." + +Turnbull's eyes did not move, but he realized that the man in the +panama hat had lost all his ease of a landed proprietor and had +withdrawn to a distance of thirty yards, where he stood glaring +with all the contraction of fear and hatred that can stiffen a +cat. + + * * * + +MacIan was sitting somewhat disconsolately on a stump of tree, +his large black head half buried in his large brown hands, when +Turnbull strode up to him chewing a cigarette. He did not look +up, but his comrade and enemy addressed him like one who must +free himself of his feelings. + +"Well, I hope, at any rate," he said, "that you like your +precious religion now. I hope you like the society of this poor +devil whom your damned tracts and hymns and priests have driven +out of his wits. Five men in this place, they tell me, five men +in this place who might have been fathers of families, and every +one of them thinks he is God the Father. Oh! you may talk about +the ugliness of science, but there is no one here who thinks he +is Protoplasm." + +"They naturally prefer a bright part," said MacIan, wearily. +"Protoplasm is not worth going mad about." + +"At least," said Turnbull, savagely, "it was your Jesus Christ +who started all this bosh about being God." + +For one instant MacIan opened the eyes of battle; then his +tightened lips took a crooked smile and he said, quite calmly: + +"No, the idea is older; it was Satan who first said that he was +God." + +"Then, what," asked Turnbull, very slowly, as he softly picked a +flower, "what is the difference between Christ and Satan?" + +"It is quite simple," replied the Highlander. "Christ descended +into hell; Satan fell into it." + +"Does it make much odds?" asked the free-thinker. + +"It makes all the odds," said the other. "One of them wanted to +go up and went down; the other wanted to go down and went up. A +god can be humble, a devil can only be humbled." + +"Why are you always wanting to humble a man?" asked Turnbull, +knitting his brows. "It affects me as ungenerous." + +"Why were you wanting to humble a god when you found him in this +garden?" asked MacIan. + +"That was an extreme case of impudence," said Turnbull. + +"Granting the man his almighty pretensions, I think he was very +modest," said MacIan. "It is we who are arrogant, who know we are +only men. The ordinary man in the street is more of a monster +than that poor fellow; for the man in the street treats himself +as God Almighty when he knows he isn't. He expects the universe +to turn round him, though he knows he isn't the centre." + +"Well," said Turnbull, sitting down on the grass, "this is a +digression, anyhow. What I want to point out is, that your faith +does end in asylums and my science doesn't." + +"Doesn't it, by George!" cried MacIan, scornfully. "There are a +few men here who are mad on God and a few who are mad on the +Bible. But I bet there are many more who are simply mad on +madness." + +"Do you really believe it?" asked the other. + +"Scores of them, I should say," answered MacIan. "Fellows who +have read medical books or fellows whose fathers and uncles had +something hereditary in their heads--the whole air they breathe +is mad." + +"All the same," said Turnbull, shrewdly, "I bet you haven't found +a madman of that sort." + +"I bet I have!" cried Evan, with unusual animation. "I've been +walking about the garden talking to a poor chap all the morning. +He's simply been broken down and driven raving by your damned +science. Talk about believing one is God--why, it's quite an old, +comfortable, fireside fancy compared with the sort of things this +fellow believes. He believes that there is a God, but that he is +better than God. He says God will be afraid to face him. He says +one is always progressing beyond the best. He put his arm in mine +and whispered in my ear, as if it were the apocalypse: 'Never +trust a God that you can't improve on.'" + +"What can he have meant?" said the atheist, with all his logic +awake. "Obviously one should not trust any God that one can +improve on." + +"It is the way he talks," said MacIan, almost indifferently; "but +he says rummier things than that. He says that a man's doctor +ought to decide what woman he marries; and he says that children +ought not to be brought up by their parents, because a physical +partiality will then distort the judgement of the educator." + +"Oh, dear!" said Turnbull, laughing, "you have certainly come +across a pretty bad case, and incidentally proved your own. I +suppose some men do lose their wits through science as through +love and other good things." + +"And he says," went on MacIan, monotonously, "that he cannot see +why anyone should suppose that a triangle is a three-sided +figure. He says that on some higher plane----" + +Turnbull leapt to his feet as by an electric shock. "I never +could have believed," he cried, "that you had humour enough to +tell a lie. You've gone a bit too far, old man, with your little +joke. Even in a lunatic asylum there can't be anybody who, having +thought about the matter, thinks that a triangle has not got +three sides. If he exists he must be a new era in human +psychology. But he doesn't exist." + +"I will go and fetch him," said MacIan, calmly; "I left the poor +fellow wandering about by the nasturtium bed." + +MacIan vanished, and in a few moments returned, trailing with him +his own discovery among lunatics, who was a slender man with a +fixed smile and an unfixed and rolling head. He had a goatlike +beard just long enough to be shaken in a strong wind. Turnbull +sprang to his feet and was like one who is speechless through +choking a sudden shout of laughter. + +"Why, you great donkey," he shouted, in an ear-shattering +whisper, "that's not one of the patients at all. That's one of +the doctors." + +Evan looked back at the leering head with the long-pointed beard +and repeated the word inquiringly: "One of the doctors?" + +"Oh, you know what I mean," said Turnbull, impatiently. "The +medical authorities of the place." + +Evan was still staring back curiously at the beaming and bearded +creature behind him. + +"The mad doctors," said Turnbull, shortly. + +"Quite so," said MacIan. + +After a rather restless silence Turnbull plucked MacIan by the +elbow and pulled him aside. + +"For goodness sake," he said, "don't offend this fellow; he may +be as mad as ten hatters, if you like, but he has us between his +finger and thumb. This is the very time he appointed to talk with +us about our--well, our exeat." + +"But what can it matter?" asked the wondering MacIan. "He can't +keep us in the asylum. We're not mad." + +"Jackass!" said Turnbull, heartily, "of course we're not mad. Of +course, if we are medically examined and the thing is thrashed +out, they will find we are not mad. But don't you see that if the +thing is thrashed out it will mean letters to this reference and +telegrams to that; and at the first word of who we are, we shall +be taken out of a madhouse, where we may smoke, to a jail, where +we mayn't. No, if we manage this very quietly, he may merely let +us out at the front door as stray revellers. If there's half an +hour of inquiry, we are cooked." + +MacIan looked at the grass frowningly for a few seconds, and then +said in a new, small and childish voice: "I am awfully stupid, +Mr. Turnbull; you must be patient with me." + +Turnbull caught Evan's elbow again with quite another gesture. +"Come," he cried, with the harsh voice of one who hides emotion, +"come and let us be tactful in chorus." + +The doctor with the pointed beard was already slanting it forward +at a more than usually acute angle, with the smile that expressed +expectancy. + +"I hope I do not hurry you, gentlemen," he said, with the +faintest suggestion of a sneer at their hurried consultation, +"but I believe you wanted to see me at half past eleven." + +"I am most awfully sorry, Doctor," said Turnbull, with ready +amiability; "I never meant to keep you waiting; but the silly +accident that has landed us in your garden may have some rather +serious consequences to our friends elsewhere, and my friend here +was just drawing my attention to some of them." + +"Quite so! Quite so!" said the doctor, hurriedly. "If you really +want to put anything before me, I can give you a few moments in +my consulting-room." + +He led them rapidly into a small but imposing apartment, which +seemed to be built and furnished entirely in red-varnished wood. +There was one desk occupied with carefully docketed papers; and +there were several chairs of the red-varnished wood--though of +different shape. All along the wall ran something that might have +been a bookcase, only that it was not filled with books, but with +flat, oblong slabs or cases of the same polished dark-red +consistency. What those flat wooden cases were they could form no +conception. + +The doctor sat down with a polite impatience on his professional +perch; MacIan remained standing, but Turnbull threw himself +almost with luxury into a hard wooden arm-chair. + +"This is a most absurd business, Doctor," he said, "and I am +ashamed to take up the time of busy professional men with such +pranks from outside. The plain fact is, that he and I and a pack +of silly men and girls have organized a game across this part of +the country--a sort of combination of hare and hounds and hide +and seek--I dare say you've heard of it. We are the hares, and, +seeing your high wall look so inviting, we tumbled over it, and +naturally were a little startled with what we found on the other +side." + +"Quite so!" said the doctor, mildly. "I can understand that you +were startled." + +Turnbull had expected him to ask what place was the headquarters +of the new exhilarating game, and who were the male and female +enthusiasts who had brought it to such perfection; in fact, +Turnbull was busy making up these personal and topographical +particulars. As the doctor did not ask the question, he grew +slightly uneasy, and risked the question: "I hope you will accept +my assurance that the thing was an accident and that no intrusion +was meant." + +"Oh, yes, sir," replied the doctor, smiling, "I accept everything +that you say." + +"In that case," said Turnbull, rising genially, "we must not +further interrupt your important duties. I suppose there will be +someone to let us out?" + +"No," said the doctor, still smiling steadily and pleasantly, +"there will be no one to let you out." + +"Can we let ourselves out, then?" asked Turnbull, in some +surprise. + +"Why, of course not," said the beaming scientist; "think how +dangerous that would be in a place like this." + +"Then, how the devil are we to get out?" cried Turnbull, losing +his manners for the first time. + +"It is a question of time, of receptivity, and treatment," said +the doctor, arching his eyebrows indifferently. "I do not regard +either of your cases as incurable." + +And with that the man of the world was struck dumb, and, as in +all intolerable moments, the word was with the unworldly. + +MacIan took one stride to the table, leant across it, and said: +"We can't stop here, we're not mad people!" + +"We don't use the crude phrase," said the doctor, smiling at his +patent-leather boots. + +"But you _can't_ think us mad," thundered MacIan. "You never saw +us before. You know nothing about us. You haven't even examined +us." + +The doctor threw back his head and beard. "Oh, yes," he said, +"very thoroughly." + +"But you can't shut a man up on your mere impressions without +documents or certificates or anything?" + +The doctor got languidly to his feet. "Quite so," he said. "You +certainly ought to see the documents." + +He went across to the curious mock book-shelves and took down one +of the flat mahogany cases. This he opened with a curious key at +his watch-chain, and laying back a flap revealed a quire of +foolscap covered with close but quite clear writing. The first +three words were in such large copy-book hand that they caught +the eye even at a distance. They were: "MacIan, Evan Stuart." + +Evan bent his angry eagle face over it; yet something blurred it +and he could never swear he saw it distinctly. He saw something +that began: "Prenatal influences predisposing to mania. +Grandfather believed in return of the Stuarts. Mother carried +bone of St. Eulalia with which she touched children in sickness. +Marked religious mania at early age----" + +Evan fell back and fought for his speech. "Oh!" he burst out at +last. "Oh! if all this world I have walked in had been as sane as +my mother was." + +Then he compressed his temples with his hands, as if to crush +them. And then lifted suddenly a face that looked fresh and +young, as if he had dipped and washed it in some holy well. + +"Very well," he cried; "I will take the sour with the sweet. I +will pay the penalty of having enjoyed God in this monstrous +modern earth that cannot enjoy man or beast. I will die happy in +your madhouse, only because I know what I know. Let it be +granted, then--MacIan is a mystic; MacIan is a maniac. But this +honest shopkeeper and editor whom I have dragged on my inhuman +escapades, you cannot keep him. He will go free, thank God, he is +not down in any damned document. His ancestor, I am certain, did +not die at Culloden. His mother, I swear, had no relics. Let my +friend out of your front door, and as for me----" + +The doctor had already gone across to the laden shelves, and +after a few minutes' short-sighted peering, had pulled down +another parallelogram of dark-red wood. + +This also he unlocked on the table, and with the same unerring +egotistic eye on of the company saw the words, written in large +letters: "Turnbull, James." + +Hitherto Turnbull himself had somewhat scornfully surrendered his +part in the whole business; but he was too honest and unaffected +not to start at his own name. After the name, the inscription +appeared to run: "Unique case of Eleutheromania. Parentage, as so +often in such cases, prosaic and healthy. Eleutheromaniac signs +occurred early, however, leading him to attach himself to the +individualist Bradlaugh. Recent outbreak of pure anarchy----" + +Turnbull slammed the case to, almost smashing it, and said with a +burst of savage laughter: "Oh! come along, MacIan; I don't care +so much, even about getting out of the madhouse, if only we get +out of this room. You were right enough, MacIan, when you spoke +about--about mad doctors." + +Somehow they found themselves outside in the cool, green garden, +and then, after a stunned silence, Turnbull said: "There is one +thing that was puzzling me all the time, and I understand it +now." + +"What do you mean?" asked Evan. + +"No man by will or wit," answered Turnbull, "can get out of this +garden; and yet we got into it merely by jumping over a garden +wall. The whole thing explains itself easily enough. That +undefended wall was an open trap. It was a trap laid for two +celebrated lunatics. They saw us get in right enough. And they +will see that we do not get out." + +Evan gazed at the garden wall, gravely for more than a minute, +and then he nodded without a word. + + + +XV. THE DREAM OF MACIAN + +The system of espionage in the asylum was so effective and +complete that in practice the patients could often enjoy a sense +of almost complete solitude. They could stray up so near to the +wall in an apparently unwatched garden as to find it easy to jump +over it. They would only have found the error of their +calculations if they had tried to jump. + +Under this insulting liberty, in this artificial loneliness, Evan +MacIan was in the habit of creeping out into the garden after +dark--especially upon moonlight nights. The moon, indeed, was for +him always a positive magnet in a manner somewhat hard to explain +to those of a robuster attitude. Evidently, Apollo is to the full +as poetical as Diana; but it is not a question of poetry in the +matured and intellectual sense of the word. It is a question of a +certain solid and childish fancy. The sun is in the strict and +literal sense invisible; that is to say, that by our bodily eyes +it cannot properly be seen. But the moon is a much simpler thing; +a naked and nursery sort of thing. It hangs in the sky quite +solid and quite silver and quite useless; it is one huge +celestial snowball. It was at least some such infantile facts and +fancies which led Evan again and again during his dehumanized +imprisonment to go out as if to shoot the moon. + +He was out in the garden on one such luminous and ghostly night, +when the steady moonshine toned down all the colours of the +garden until almost the strongest tints to be seen were the +strong soft blue of the sky and the large lemon moon. He was +walking with his face turned up to it in that rather half-witted +fashion which might have excused the error of his keepers; and as +he gazed he became aware of something little and lustrous flying +close to the lustrous orb, like a bright chip knocked off the +moon. At first he thought it was a mere sparkle or refraction in +his own eyesight; he blinked and cleared his eyes. Then he +thought it was a falling star; only it did not fall. It jerked +awkwardly up and down in a way unknown among meteors and +strangely reminiscent of the works of man. The next moment the +thing drove right across the moon, and from being silver upon +blue, suddenly became black upon silver; then although it passed +the field of light in a flash its outline was unmistakable though +eccentric. It was a flying ship. + +The vessel took one long and sweeping curve across the sky and +came nearer and nearer to MacIan, like a steam-engine coming +round a bend. It was of pure white steel, and in the moon it +gleamed like the armour of Sir Galahad. The simile of such +virginity is not inappropriate; for, as it grew larger and larger +and lower and lower, Evan saw that the only figure in it was +robed in white from head to foot and crowned with snow-white +hair, on which the moonshine lay like a benediction. The figure +stood so still that he could easily have supposed it to be a +statue. Indeed, he thought it was until it spoke. + +"Evan," said the voice, and it spoke with the simple authority of +some forgotten father revisiting his children, "you have remained +here long enough, and your sword is wanted elsewhere." + +"Wanted for what?" asked the young man, accepting the monstrous +event with a queer and clumsy naturalness; "what is my sword +wanted for?" + +"For all that you hold dear," said the man standing in the +moonlight; "for the thrones of authority and for all ancient +loyalty to law." + +Evan looked up at the lunar orb again as if in irrational +appeal--a moon calf bleating to his mother the moon. But the face +of Luna seemed as witless as his own; there is no help in nature +against the supernatural; and he looked again at the tall marble +figure that might have been made out of solid moonlight. + +Then he said in a loud voice: "Who are you?" and the next moment +was seized by a sort of choking terror lest his question should +be answered. But the unknown preserved an impenetrable silence +for a long space and then only answered: "I must not say who I am +until the end of the world; but I may say what I am. I am the +law." + +And he lifted his head so that the moon smote full upon his +beautiful and ancient face. + +The face was the face of a Greek god grown old, but not grown +either weak or ugly; there was nothing to break its regularity +except a rather long chin with a cleft in it, and this rather +added distinction than lessened beauty. His strong, well-opened +eyes were very brilliant but quite colourless like steel. + +MacIan was one of those to whom a reverence and self-submission +in ritual come quite easy, and are ordinary things. It was not +artificial in him to bend slightly to this solemn apparition or +to lower his voice when he said: "Do you bring me some message?" + +"I do bring you a message," answered the man of moon and marble. +"The king has returned." + +Evan did not ask for or require any explanation. "I suppose you +can take me to the war," he said, and the silent silver figure +only bowed its head again. MacIan clambered into the silver boat, +and it rose upward to the stars. + +To say that it rose to the stars is no mere metaphor, for the sky +had cleared to that occasional and astonishing transparency in +which one can see plainly both stars and moon. + +As the white-robed figure went upward in his white chariot, he +said quite quietly to Evan: "There is an answer to all the folly +talked about equality. Some stars are big and some small; some +stand still and some circle around them as they stand. They can +be orderly, but they cannot be equal." + +"They are all very beautiful," said Evan, as if in doubt. + +"They are all beautiful," answered the other, "because each is in +his place and owns his superior. And now England will be +beautiful after the same fashion. The earth will be as beautiful +as the heavens, because our kings have come back to us." + +"The Stuart----" began Evan, earnestly. + +"Yes," answered the old man, "that which has returned is Stuart +and yet older than Stuart. It is Capet and Plantagenet and +Pendragon. It is all that good old time of which proverbs tell, +that golden reign of Saturn against which gods and men were +rebels. It is all that was ever lost by insolence and overwhelmed +in rebellion. It is your own forefather, MacIan with the broken +sword, bleeding without hope at Culloden. It is Charles refusing +to answer the questions of the rebel court. It is Mary of the +magic face confronting the gloomy and grasping peers and the +boorish moralities of Knox. It is Richard, the last Plantagenet, +giving his crown to Bolingbroke as to a common brigand. It is +Arthur, overwhelmed in Lyonesse by heathen armies and dying in +the mist, doubtful if ever he shall return." + +"But now----" said Evan, in a low voice. + +"But now!" said the old man; "he has returned." + +"Is the war still raging?" asked MacIan. + +"It rages like the pit itself beyond the sea whither I am taking +you," answered the other. "But in England the king enjoys his own +again. The people are once more taught and ruled as is best; they +are happy knights, happy squires, happy servants, happy serfs, if +you will; but free at last of that load of vexation and lonely +vanity which was called being a citizen." + +"Is England, indeed, so secure?" asked Evan. + +"Look out and see," said the guide. "I fancy you have seen this +place before." + +They were driving through the air towards one region of the sky +where the hollow of night seemed darkest and which was quite +without stars. But against this black background there sprang up, +picked out in glittering silver, a dome and a cross. It seemed +that it was really newly covered with silver, which in the strong +moonlight was like white flame. But, however, covered or painted, +Evan had no difficult in knowing the place again. He saw the +great thoroughfare that sloped upward to the base of its huge +pedestal of steps. And he wondered whether the little shop was +still by the side of it and whether its window had been mended. + +As the flying ship swept round the dome he observed other +alterations. The dome had been redecorated so as to give it a +more solemn and somewhat more ecclesiastical note; the ball was +draped or destroyed, and round the gallery, under the cross, ran +what looked like a ring of silver statues, like the little leaden +images that stood round the hat of Louis XI. Round the second +gallery, at the base of the dome, ran a second rank of such +images, and Evan thought there was another round the steps below. +When they came closer he saw that they were figures in complete +armour of steel or silver, each with a naked sword, point upward; +and then he saw one of the swords move. These were not statues +but an armed order of chivalry thrown in three circles round the +cross. MacIan drew in his breath, as children do at anything they +think utterly beautiful. For he could imagine nothing that so +echoed his own visions of pontifical or chivalric art as this +white dome sitting like a vast silver tiara over London, ringed +with a triple crown of swords. + +As they went sailing down Ludgate Hill, Evan saw that the state +of the streets fully answered his companion's claim about the +reintroduction of order. All the old blackcoated bustle with its +cockney vivacity and vulgarity had disappeared. Groups of +labourers, quietly but picturesquely clad, were passing up and +down in sufficiently large numbers; but it required but a few +mounted men to keep the streets in order. The mounted men were +not common policemen, but knights with spurs and plume whose +smooth and splendid armour glittered like diamond rather than +steel. Only in one place--at the corner of Bouverie Street--did +there appear to be a moment's confusion, and that was due to +hurry rather than resistance. But one old grumbling man did not +get out of the way quick enough, and the man on horseback struck +him, not severely, across the shoulders with the flat of his +sword. + +"The soldier had no business to do that," said MacIan, sharply. +"The old man was moving as quickly as he could." + +"We attach great importance to discipline in the streets," said +the man in white, with a slight smile. + +"Discipline is not so important as justice," said MacIan. + +The other did not answer. + +Then after a swift silence that took them out across St. James's +Park, he said: "The people must be taught to obey; they must +learn their own ignorance. And I am not sure," he continued, +turning his back on Evan and looking out of the prow of the ship +into the darkness, "I am not sure that I agree with your little +maxim about justice. Discipline for the whole society is surely +more important than justice to an individual." + +Evan, who was also leaning over the edge, swung round with +startling suddenness and stared at the other's back. + +"Discipline for society----" he repeated, very staccato, "more +important--justice to individual?" + +Then after a long silence he called out: "Who and what are you?" + +"I am an angel," said the white-robed figure, without turning +round. + +"You are not a Catholic," said MacIan. + +The other seemed to take no notice, but reverted to the main +topic. + +"In our armies up in heaven we learn to put a wholesome fear into +subordinates." + +MacIan sat craning his neck forward with an extraordinary and +unaccountable eagerness. + +"Go on!" he cried, twisting and untwisting his long, bony +fingers, "go on!" + +"Besides," continued he, in the prow, "you must allow for a +certain high spirit and haughtiness in the superior type." + +"Go on!" said Evan, with burning eyes. + +"Just as the sight of sin offends God," said the unknown, "so +does the sight of ugliness offend Apollo. The beautiful and +princely must, of necessity, be impatient with the squalid +and----" + +"Why, you great fool!" cried MacIan, rising to the top of his +tremendous stature, "did you think I would have doubted only for +that rap with a sword? I know that noble orders have bad knights, +that good knights have bad tempers, that the Church has rough +priests and coarse cardinals; I have known it ever since I was +born. You fool! you had only to say, 'Yes, it is rather a shame,' +and I should have forgotten the affair. But I saw on your mouth +the twitch of your infernal sophistry; I knew that something was +wrong with you and your cathedrals. Something is wrong; +everything is wrong. You are not an angel. That is not a church. +It is not the rightful king who has come home." + +"That is unfortunate," said the other, in a quiet but hard voice, +"because you are going to see his Majesty." + +"No," said MacIan, "I am going to jump over the side." + +"Do you desire death?" + +"No," said Evan, quite composedly, "I desire a miracle." + +"From whom do you ask it? To whom do you appeal?" said his +companion, sternly. "You have betrayed the king, renounced his +cross on the cathedral, and insulted an archangel." + +"I appeal to God," said Evan, and sprang up and stood upon the +edge of the swaying ship. + +The being in the prow turned slowly round; he looked at Evan with +eyes which were like two suns, and put his hand to his mouth just +too late to hide an awful smile. + +"And how do you know," he said, "how do you know that I am not +God?" + +MacIan screamed. "Ah!" he cried. "Now I know who you really are. +You are not God. You are not one of God's angels. But you were +once." + +The being's hand dropped from his mouth and Evan dropped out of +the car. + + + +XVI. THE DREAM OF TURNBULL + +Turnbull was walking rather rampantly up and down the garden on a +gusty evening chewing his cigar and in that mood when every man +suppresses an instinct to spit. He was not, as a rule, a man much +acquainted with moods; and the storms and sunbursts of MacIan's +soul passed before him as an impressive but unmeaning panorama, +like the anarchy of Highland scenery. Turnbull was one of those +men in whom a continuous appetite and industry of the intellect +leave the emotions very simple and steady. His heart was in the +right place; but he was quite content to leave it there. It was +his head that was his hobby. His mornings and evenings were +marked not by impulses or thirsty desires, not by hope or by +heart-break; they were filled with the fallacies he had detected, +the problems he had made plain, the adverse theories he had +wrestled with and thrown, the grand generalizations he had +justified. But even the cheerful inner life of a logician may be +upset by a lunatic asylum, to say nothing of whiffs of memory +from a lady in Jersey, and the little red-bearded man on this +windy evening was in a dangerous frame of mind. + +Plain and positive as he was, the influence of earth and sky may +have been greater on him than he imagined; and the weather that +walked the world at that moment was as red and angry as Turnbull. +Long strips and swirls of tattered and tawny cloud were dragged +downward to the west exactly as torn red raiment would be +dragged. And so strong and pitiless was the wind that it whipped +away fragments of red-flowering bushes or of copper beech, and +drove them also across the garden, a drift of red leaves, like +the leaves of autumn, as in parody of the red and driven rags of +cloud. + +There was a sense in earth and heaven as of everything breaking +up, and all the revolutionist in Turnbull rejoiced that it was +breaking up. The trees were breaking up under the wind, even in +the tall strength of their bloom: the clouds were breaking up and +losing even their large heraldic shapes. Shards and shreds of +copper cloud split off continually and floated by themselves, and +for some reason the truculent eye of Turnbull was attracted to +one of these careering cloudlets, which seemed to him to career +in an exaggerated manner. Also it kept its shape, which is +unusual with clouds shaken off; also its shape was of an odd +sort. + +Turnbull continued to stare at it, and in a little time occurred +that crucial instant when a thing, however incredible, is +accepted as a fact. The copper cloud was tumbling down towards +the earth, like some gigantic leaf from the copper beeches. And +as it came nearer it was evident, first, that it was not a cloud, +and, second, that it was not itself of the colour of copper; +only, being burnished like a mirror, it had reflected the +red-brown colours of the burning clouds. As the thing whirled +like a windswept leaf down towards the wall of the garden it was +clear that it was some sort of air-ship made of metal, and +slapping the air with big broad fins of steel. When it came about +a hundred feet above the garden, a shaggy, lean figure leapt up +in it, almost black against the bronze and scarlet of the west, +and, flinging out a kind of hook or anchor, caught on to the +green apple-tree just under the wall; and from that fixed holding +ground the ship swung in the red tempest like a captive balloon. + +While our friend stood frozen for an instant by his astonishment, +the queer figure in the airy car tipped the vehicle almost upside +down by leaping over the side of it, seemed to slide or drop down +the rope like a monkey, and alighted (with impossible precision +and placidity) seated on the edge of the wall, over which he +kicked and dangled his legs as he grinned at Turnbull. The wind +roared in the trees yet more ruinous and desolate, the red tails +of the sunset were dragged downward like red dragons sucked down +to death, and still on the top of the asylum wall sat the +sinister figure with the grimace, swinging his feet in tune with +the tempest; while above him, at the end of its tossing or +tightened cord, the enormous iron air-ship floated as light and +as little noticed as a baby's balloon upon its string. + +Turnbull's first movement after sixty motionless seconds was to +turn round and look at the large, luxuriant parallelogram of the +garden and the long, low rectangular building beyond. There was +not a soul or a stir of life within sight. And he had a quite +meaningless sensation, as if there never really had been any one +else there except he since the foundation of the world. + +Stiffening in himself the masculine but mirthless courage of the +atheist, he drew a little nearer to the wall and, catching the +man at a slightly different angle of the evening light, could see +his face and figure quite plain. Two facts about him stood out in +the picked colours of some piratical schoolboy's story. The first +was that his lean brown body was bare to the belt of his loose +white trousers; the other that through hygiene, affectation, or +whatever other cause, he had a scarlet handkerchief tied tightly +but somewhat aslant across his brow. After these two facts had +become emphatic, others appeared sufficiently important. One was +that under the scarlet rag the hair was plentiful, but white as +with the last snows of mortality. Another was that under the mop +of white and senile hair the face was strong, handsome, and +smiling, with a well-cut profile and a long cloven chin. The +length of this lower part of the face and the strange cleft in it +(which gave the man, in quite another sense from the common one, +a double chin) faintly spoilt the claim of the face to absolute +regularity, but it greatly assisted it in wearing the expression +of half-smiling and half-sneering arrogance with which it was +staring at all the stones, all the flowers, but especially at the +solitary man. + +"What do you want?" shouted Turnbull. + +"I want you, Jimmy," said the eccentric man on the wall, and with +the very word he had let himself down with a leap on to the +centre of the lawn, where he bounded once literally like an +India-rubber ball and then stood grinning with his legs astride. +The only three facts that Turnbull could now add to his inventory +were that the man had an ugly-looking knife swinging at his +trousers belt, that his brown feet were as bare as his bronzed +trunk and arms, and that his eyes had a singular bleak brilliancy +which was of no particular colour. + +"Excuse my not being in evening dress," said the newcomer with an +urbane smile. "We scientific men, you know--I have to work my own +engines--electrical engineer--very hot work." + +"Look here," said Turnbull, sturdily clenching his fists in his +trousers pockets, "I am bound to expect lunatics inside these +four walls; but I do bar their coming from outside, bang out of +the sunset clouds." + +"And yet you came from the outside, too, Jim," said the stranger +in a voice almost affectionate. + +"What do you want?" asked Turnbull, with an explosion of temper +as sudden as a pistol shot. + +"I have already told you," said the man, lowering his voice and +speaking with evident sincerity; "I want you." + +"What do you want with me?" + +"I want exactly what you want," said the new-comer with a new +gravity. "I want the Revolution." + +Turnbull looked at the fire-swept sky and the wind-stricken +woodlands, and kept on repeating the word voicelessly to +himself--the word that did indeed so thoroughly express his mood +of rage as it had been among those red clouds and rocking +tree-tops. "Revolution!" he said to himself. "The +Revolution--yes, that is what I want right enough--anything, so +long as it is a Revolution." + +To some cause he could never explain he found himself completing +the sentence on the top of the wall, having automatically +followed the stranger so far. But when the stranger silently +indicated the rope that led to the machine, he found himself +pausing and saying: "I can't leave MacIan behind in this den." + +"We are going to destroy the Pope and all the kings," said the +new-comer. "Would it be wiser to take him with us?" + +Somehow the muttering Turnbull found himself in the flying ship +also, and it swung up into the sunset. + +"All the great rebels have been very little rebels," said the man +with the red scarf. "They have been like fourth-form boys who +sometimes venture to hit a fifth-form boy. That was all the worth +of their French Revolution and regicide. The boys never really +dared to defy the schoolmaster." + +"Whom do you mean by the schoolmaster?" asked Turnbull. + +"You know whom I mean," answered the strange man, as he lay back +on cushions and looked up into the angry sky. + +They seemed rising into stronger and stronger sunlight, as if it +were sunrise rather than sunset. But when they looked down at the +earth they saw it growing darker and darker. The lunatic asylum +in its large rectangular grounds spread below them in a +foreshortened and infantile plan, and looked for the first time +the grotesque thing that it was. But the clear colours of the +plan were growing darker every moment. The masses of rose or +rhododendron deepened from crimson to violet. The maze of gravel +pathways faded from gold to brown. By the time they had risen a +few hundred feet higher nothing could be seen of that darkening +landscape except the lines of lighted windows, each one of which, +at least, was the light of one lost intelligence. But on them as +they swept upward better and braver winds seemed to blow, and on +them the ruby light of evening seemed struck, and splashed like +red spurts from the grapes of Dionysus. Below them the fallen +lights were literally the fallen stars of servitude. And above +them all the red and raging clouds were like the leaping flags of +liberty. + +The man with the cloven chin seemed to have a singular power of +understanding thoughts; for, as Turnbull felt the whole universe +tilt and turn over his head, the stranger said exactly the right +thing. + +"Doesn't it seem as if everything were being upset?" said he; +"and if once everything is upset, He will be upset on top of it." + +Then, as Turnbull made no answer, his host continued: + +"That is the really fine thing about space. It is topsy-turvy. +You have only to climb far enough towards the morning star to +feel that you are coming down to it. You have only to dive deep +enough into the abyss to feel that you are rising. That is the +only glory of this universe--it is a giddy universe." + +Then, as Turnbull was still silent, he added: + +"The heavens are full of revolution--of the real sort of +revolution. All the high things are sinking low and all the big +things looking small. All the people who think they are aspiring +find they are falling head foremost. And all the people who think +they are condescending find they are climbing up a precipice. +That is the intoxication of space. That is the only joy of +eternity--doubt. There is only one pleasure the angels can +possibly have in flying, and that is, that they do not know +whether they are on their head or their heels." + +Then, finding his companion still mute, he fell himself into a +smiling and motionless meditation, at the end of which he said +suddenly: + +"So MacIan converted you?" + +Turnbull sprang up as if spurning the steel car from under his +feet. "Converted me!" he cried. "What the devil do you mean? I +have known him for a month, and I have not retracted a +single----" + +"This Catholicism is a curious thing," said the man of the cloven +chin in uninterrupted reflectiveness, leaning his elegant elbows +over the edge of the vessel; "it soaks and weakens men without +their knowing it, just as I fear it has soaked and weakened you." + +Turnbull stood in an attitude which might well have meant +pitching the other man out of the flying ship. + +"I am an atheist," he said, in a stifled voice. "I have always +been an atheist. I am still an atheist." Then, addressing the +other's indolent and indifferent back, he cried: "In God's name +what do you mean?" + +And the other answered without turning round: + +"I mean nothing in God's name." + +Turnbull spat over the edge of the car and fell back furiously +into his seat. + +The other continued still unruffled, and staring over the edge +idly as an angler stares down at a stream. + +"The truth is that we never thought that you could have been +caught," he said; "we counted on you as the one red-hot +revolutionary left in the world. But, of course, these men like +MacIan are awfully clever, especially when they pretend to be +stupid." + +Turnbull leapt up again in a living fury and cried: "What have I +got to do with MacIan? I believe all I ever believed, and +disbelieve all I ever disbelieved. What does all this mean, and +what do you want with me here?" + +Then for the first time the other lifted himself from the edge of +the car and faced him. + +"I have brought you here," he answered, "to take part in the last +war of the world." + +"The last war!" repeated Turnbull, even in his dazed state a +little touchy about such a dogma; "how do you know it will be the +last?" + +The man laid himself back in his reposeful attitude, and said: + +"It is the last war, because if it does not cure the world for +ever, it will destroy it." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I only mean what you mean," answered the unknown in a temperate +voice. "What was it that you always meant on those million and +one nights when you walked outside your Ludgate Hill shop and +shook your hand in the air?" + +"Still I do not see," said Turnbull, stubbornly. + +"You will soon," said the other, and abruptly bent downward one +iron handle of his huge machine. The engine stopped, stooped, and +dived almost as deliberately as a man bathing; in their downward +rush they swept within fifty yards of a big bulk of stone that +Turnbull knew only too well. The last red anger of the sunset was +ended; the dome of heaven was dark; the lanes of flaring light in +the streets below hardly lit up the base of the building. But he +saw that it was St. Paul's Cathedral, and he saw that on the top +of it the ball was still standing erect, but the cross was +stricken and had fallen sideways. Then only he cared to look down +into the streets, and saw that they were inflamed with uproar and +tossing passions. + +"We arrive at a happy moment," said the man steering the ship. +"The insurgents are bombarding the city, and a cannon-ball has +just hit the cross. Many of the insurgents are simple people, and +they naturally regard it as a happy omen." + +"Quite so," said Turnbull, in a rather colourless voice. + +"Yes," replied the other. "I thought you would be glad to see +your prayer answered. Of course I apologize for the word prayer." + +"Don't mention it," said Turnbull. + +The flying ship had come down upon a sort of curve, and was now +rising again. The higher and higher it rose the broader and +broader became the scenes of flame and desolation underneath. + +Ludgate Hill indeed had been an uncaptured and comparatively +quiet height, altered only by the startling coincidence of the +cross fallen awry. All the other thoroughfares on all sides of +that hill were full of the pulsation and the pain of battle, full +of shaking torches and shouting faces. When at length they had +risen high enough to have a bird's-eye view of the whole +campaign, Turnbull was already intoxicated. He had smelt +gunpowder, which was the incense of his own revolutionary +religion. + +"Have the people really risen?" he asked, breathlessly. "What are +they fighting about?" + +"The programme is rather elaborate," said his entertainer with +some indifference. "I think Dr. Hertz drew it up." + +Turnbull wrinkled his forehead. "Are all the poor people with the +Revolution?" he asked. + +The other shrugged his shoulders. "All the instructed and +class-conscious part of them without exception," he replied. +"There were certainly a few districts; in fact, we are passing +over them just now----" + +Turnbull looked down and saw that the polished car was literally +lit up from underneath by the far-flung fires from below. +Underneath whole squares and solid districts were in flames, like +prairies or forests on fire. + +"Dr. Hertz has convinced everybody," said Turnbull's cicerone in +a smooth voice, "that nothing can really be done with the real +slums. His celebrated maxim has been quite adopted. I mean the +three celebrated sentences: 'No man should be unemployed. Employ +the employables. Destroy the unemployables.'" + +There was a silence, and then Turnbull said in a rather strained +voice: "And do I understand that this good work is going on under +here?" + +"Going on splendidly," replied his companion in the heartiest +voice. "You see, these people were much too tired and weak even +to join the social war. They were a definite hindrance to it." + +"And so you are simply burning them out?" + +"It _does_ seem absurdly simple," said the man, with a beaming +smile, "when one thinks of all the worry and talk about helping a +hopeless slave population, when the future obviously was only +crying to be rid of them. There are happy babes unborn ready to +burst the doors when these drivellers are swept away." + +"Will you permit me to say," said Turnbull, after reflection, +"that I don't like all this?" + +"And will you permit me to say," said the other, with a snap, +"that I don't like Mr. Evan MacIan?" + +Somewhat to the speaker's surprise this did not inflame the +sensitive sceptic; he had the air of thinking thoroughly, and +then he said: "No, I don't think it's my friend MacIan that +taught me that. I think I should always have said that I don't +like this. These people have rights." + +"Rights!" repeated the unknown in a tone quite indescribable. +Then he added with a more open sneer: "Perhaps they also have +souls." + +"They have lives!" said Turnbull, sternly; "that is quite enough +for me. I understood you to say that you thought life sacred." + +"Yes, indeed!" cried his mentor with a sort of idealistic +animation. "Yes, indeed! Life is sacred--but lives are not +sacred. We are improving Life by removing lives. Can you, as a +free-thinker, find any fault in that?" + +"Yes," said Turnbull with brevity. + +"Yet you applaud tyrannicide," said the stranger with +rationalistic gaiety. "How inconsistent! It really comes to +this: You approve of taking away life from those to whom it is a +triumph and a pleasure. But you will not take away life from +those to whom it is a burden and a toil." + +Turnbull rose to his feet in the car with considerable +deliberation, but his face seemed oddly pale. The other went on +with enthusiasm. + +"Life, yes, Life is indeed sacred!" he cried; "but new lives for +old! Good lives for bad! On that very place where now there +sprawls one drunken wastrel of a pavement artist more or less +wishing he were dead--on that very spot there shall in the future +be living pictures; there shall be golden girls and boys leaping +in the sun." + +Turnbull, still standing up, opened his lips. "Will you put me +down, please?" he said, quite calmly, like on stopping an +omnibus. + +"Put you down--what do you mean?" cried his leader. "I am taking +you to the front of the revolutionary war, where you will be one +of the first of the revolutionary leaders." + +"Thank you," replied Turnbull with the same painful constraint. +"I have heard about your revolutionary war, and I think on the +whole that I would rather be anywhere else." + +"Do you want to be taken to a monastery," snarled the other, +"with MacIan and his winking Madonnas." + +"I want to be taken to a madhouse," said Turnbull distinctly, +giving the direction with a sort of precision. "I want to go back +to exactly the same lunatic asylum from which I came." + +"Why?" asked the unknown. + +"Because I want a little sane and wholesome society," answered +Turnbull. + +There was a long and peculiar silence, and then the man driving +the flying machine said quite coolly: "I won't take you back." + +And then Turnbull said equally coolly: "Then I'll jump out of the +car." + +The unknown rose to his full height, and the expression in his +eyes seemed to be made of ironies behind ironies, as two mirrors +infinitely reflect each other. At last he said, very gravely: "Do +you think I am the devil?" + +"Yes," said Turnbull, violently. "For I think the devil is a +dream, and so are you. I don't believe in you or your flying ship +or your last fight of the world. It is all a nightmare. I say as +a fact of dogma and faith that it is all a nightmare. And I will +be a martyr for my faith as much as St. Catherine, for I will +jump out of this ship and risk waking up safe in bed." + +After swaying twice with the swaying vessel he dived over the +side as one dives into the sea. For some incredible moments stars +and space and planets seemed to shoot up past him as the sparks +fly upward; and yet in that sickening descent he was full of some +unnatural happiness. He could connect it with no idea except one +that half escaped him--what Evan had said of the difference +between Christ and Satan; that it was by Christ's own choice that +He descended into hell. + +When he again realized anything, he was lying on his elbow on the +lawn of the lunatic asylum, and the last red of the sunset had +not yet disappeared. + + + +XVII. THE IDIOT + +Evan MacIan was standing a few yards off looking at him in +absolute silence. + +He had not the moral courage to ask MacIan if there had been +anything astounding in the manner of his coming there, nor did +MacIan seem to have any question to ask, or perhaps any need to +ask it. The two men came slowly towards each other, and found the +same expression on each other's faces. Then, for the first time +in all their acquaintance, they shook hands. + +Almost as if this were a kind of unconscious signal, it brought +Dr. Quayle bounding out of a door and running across the lawn. + +"Oh, there you are!" he exclaimed with a relieved giggle. "Will +you come inside, please? I want to speak to you both." + +They followed him into his shiny wooden office where their +damning record was kept. Dr. Quayle sat down on a swivel chair +and swung round to face them. His carved smile had suddenly +disappeared. + +"I will be plain with you gentlemen," he said, abruptly; "you +know quite well we do our best for everybody here. Your cases +have been under special consideration, and the Master himself has +decided that you ought to be treated specially and--er--under +somewhat simpler conditions." + +"You mean treated worse, I suppose," said Turnbull, gruffly. + +The doctor did not reply, and MacIan said: "I expected this." His +eyes had begun to glow. + +The doctor answered, looking at his desk and playing with a key: +"Well, in certain cases that give anxiety--it is often +better----" + +"Give anxiety," said Turnbull, fiercely. "Confound your +impudence! What do you mean? You imprison two perfectly sane men +in a madhouse because you have made up a long word. They take it +in good temper, walk and talk in your garden like monks who have +found a vocation, are civil even to you, you damned druggists' +hack! Behave not only more sanely than any of your patients, but +more sanely than half the sane men outside, and you have the +soul-stifling cheek to say that they give anxiety." + +"The head of the asylum has settled it all," said Dr. Quayle, +still looking down. + +MacIan took one of his immense strides forward and stood over the +doctor with flaming eyes. + +"If the head has settled it let the head announce it," he said. +"I won't take it from you. I believe you to be a low, gibbering +degenerate. Let us see the head of the asylum." + +"See the head of the asylum," repeated Dr. Quayle. "Certainly +not." + +The tall Highlander, bending over him, put one hand on his +shoulder with fatherly interest. + +"You don't seem to appreciate the peculiar advantages of my +position as a lunatic," he said. "I could kill you with my left +hand before such a rat as you could so much as squeak. And I +wouldn't be hanged for it." + +"I certainly agree with Mr. MacIan," said Turnbull with sobriety +and perfect respectfulness, "that you had better let us see the +head of the institution." + +Dr. Quayle got to his feet in a mixture of sudden hysteria and +clumsy presence of mind. + +"Oh, certainly," he said with a weak laugh. "You can see the head +of the asylum if you particularly want to." He almost ran out of +the room, and the two followed swiftly on his flying coat tails. +He knocked at an ordinary varnished door in the corridor. When a +voice said, "Come in," MacIan's breath went hissing back through +his teeth into his chest. Turnbull was more impetuous, and opened +the door. + +It was a neat and well-appointed room entirely lined with a +medical library. At the other end of it was a ponderous and +polished desk with an incandescent lamp on it, the light of which +was just sufficient to show a slender, well-bred figure in an +ordinary medical black frock-coat, whose head, quite silvered +with age, was bent over neat piles of notes. This gentleman +looked up for an instant as they entered, and the lamplight fell +on his glittering spectacles and long, clean-shaven face--a face +which would have been simply like an aristocrat's but that a +certain lion poise of the head and long cleft in the chin made it +look more like a very handsome actor's. It was only for a flash +that his face was thus lifted. Then he bent his silver head over +his notes once more, and said, without looking up again: + +"I told you, Dr. Quayle, that these men were to go to cells B and +C." + +Turnbull and MacIan looked at each other, and said more than they +could ever say with tongues or swords. Among other things they +said that to that particular Head of the institution it was a +waste of time to appeal, and they followed Dr. Quayle out of the +room. + +The instant they stepped out into the corridor four sturdy +figures stepped from four sides, pinioned them, and ran them +along the galleries. They might very likely have thrown their +captors right and left had they been inclined to resist, but for +some nameless reason they were more inclined to laugh. A mixture +of mad irony with childish curiosity made them feel quite +inclined to see what next twist would be taken by their imbecile +luck. They were dragged down countless cold avenues lined with +glazed tiles, different only in being of different lengths and +set at different angles. They were so many and so monotonous that +to escape back by them would have been far harder than fleeing +from the Hampton Court maze. Only the fact that windows grew +fewer, coming at longer intervals, and the fact that when the +windows did come they seemed shadowed and let in less light, +showed that they were winding into the core or belly of some +enormous building. After a little time the glazed corridors began +to be lit by electricity. + +At last, when they had walked nearly a mile in those white and +polished tunnels, they came with quite a shock to the futile +finality of a cul-de-sac. All that white and weary journey ended +suddenly in an oblong space and a blank white wall. But in the +white wall there were two iron doors painted white on which were +written, respectively, in neat black capitals B and C. + +"You go in here, sir," said the leader of the officials, quite +respectfully, "and you in here." + +But before the doors had clanged upon their dazed victims, MacIan +had been able to say to Turnbull with a strange drawl of +significance: "I wonder who A is." + +Turnbull made an automatic struggle before he allowed himself to +be thrown into the cell. Hence it happened that he was the last +to enter, and was still full of the exhilaration of the +adventures for at least five minutes after the echo of the +clanging door had died away. + +Then, when silence had sunk deep and nothing happened for two and +a half hours, it suddenly occurred to him that this was the end +of his life. He was hidden and sealed up in this little crack of +stone until the flesh should fall off his bones. He was dead, and +the world had won. + +His cell was of an oblong shape, but very long in comparison with +its width. It was just wide enough to permit the arms to be fully +extended with the dumb-bells, which were hung up on the left +wall, very dusty. It was, however, long enough for a man to walk +one thirty-fifth part of a mile if he traversed it entirely. On +the same principle a row of fixed holes, quite close together, +let in to the cells by pipes what was alleged to be the freshest +air. For these great scientific organizers insisted that a man +should be healthy even if he was miserable. They provided a walk +long enough to give him exercise and holes large enough to give +him oxygen. There their interest in human nature suddenly ceased. +It seemed never to have occurred to them that the benefit of +exercise belongs partly to the benefit of liberty. They had not +entertained the suggestion that the open air is only one of the +advantages of the open sky. They administered air in secret, but +in sufficient doses, as if it were a medicine. They suggested +walking, as if no man had ever felt inclined to walk. Above all, +the asylum authorities insisted on their own extraordinary +cleanliness. Every morning, while Turnbull was still half asleep +on his iron bedstead which was lifted half-way up the wall and +clamped to it with iron, four sluices or metal mouths opened +above him at the four corners of the chamber and washed it white +of any defilement. Turnbull's solitary soul surged up against +this sickening daily solemnity. + +"I am buried alive!" he cried, bitterly; "they have hidden me +under mountains. I shall be here till I rot. Why the blazes +should it matter to them whether I am dirty or clean." + +Every morning and evening an iron hatchway opened in his oblong +cell, and a brown hairy hand or two thrust in a plate of +perfectly cooked lentils and a big bowl of cocoa. He was not +underfed any more than he was underexercised or asphyxiated. He +had ample walking space, ample air, ample and even filling food. +The only objection was that he had nothing to walk towards, +nothing to feast about, and no reason whatever for drawing the +breath of life. + +Even the shape of his cell especially irritated him. It was a +long, narrow parallelogram, which had a flat wall at one end and +ought to have had a flat wall at the other; but that end was +broken by a wedge or angle of space, like the prow of a ship. +After three days of silence and cocoa, this angle at the end +began to infuriate Turnbull. It maddened him to think that two +lines came together and pointed at nothing. After the fifth day +he was reckless, and poked his head into the corner. After +twenty-five days he almost broke his head against it. Then he +became quite cool and stupid again, and began to examine it like +a sort of Robinson Crusoe. + +Almost unconsciously it was his instinct to examine outlets, and +he found himself paying particular attention to the row of holes +which let in the air into his last house of life. He soon +discovered that these air-holes were all the ends and mouths of +long leaden tubes which doubtless carried air from some remote +watering-place near Margate. One evening while he was engaged in +the fifth investigation he noticed something like twilight in one +of these dumb mouths, as compared with the darkness of the +others. Thrusting his finger in as far as it would go, he found a +hole and flapping edge in the tube. This he rent open and +instantly saw a light behind; it was at least certain that he had +struck some other cell. + +It is a characteristic of all things now called "efficient", +which means mechanical and calculated, that if they go wrong at +all they go entirely wrong. There is no power of retrieving a +defeat, as in simpler and more living organisms. A strong gun can +conquer a strong elephant, but a wounded elephant can easily +conquer a broken gun. Thus the Prussian monarchy in the +eighteenth century, or now, can make a strong army merely by +making the men afraid. But it does it with the permanent +possibility that the men may some day be more afraid of their +enemies than of their officers. Thus the drainage in our cities +so long as it is quite solid means a general safety, but if there +is one leak it means concentrated poison--an explosion of deathly +germs like dynamite, a spirit of stink. Thus, indeed, all that +excellent machinery which is the swiftest thing on earth in +saving human labour is also the slowest thing on earth in +resisting human interference. It may be easier to get chocolate +for nothing out of a shopkeeper than out of an automatic machine. +But if you did manage to steal the chocolate, the automatic +machine would be much less likely to run after you. + +Turnbull was not long in discovering this truth in connexion with +the cold and colossal machinery of this great asylum. He had been +shaken by many spiritual states since the instant when he was +pitched head foremost into that private cell which was to be his +private room till death. He had felt a high fit of pride and +poetry, which had ebbed away and left him deadly cold. He had +known a period of mere scientific curiosity, in the course of +which he examined all the tiles of his cell, with the gratifying +conclusion that they were all the same shape and size; but was +greatly puzzled about the angle in the wall at the end, and also +about an iron peg or spike that stood out from the wall, the +object of which he does not know to this day. Then he had a +period of mere madness not to be written of by decent men, but +only by those few dirty novelists hallooed on by the infernal +huntsman to hunt down and humiliate human nature. This also +passed, but left behind it a feverish distaste for many of the +mere objects around him. Long after he had returned to sanity and +such hopeless cheerfulness as a man might have on a desert +island, he disliked the regular squares of the pattern of wall +and floor and the triangle that terminated his corridor. Above +all, he had a hatred, deep as the hell he did not believe in, for +the objectless iron peg in the wall. + +But in all his moods, sane or insane, intolerant or stoical, he +never really doubted this: that the machine held him as light and +as hopelessly as he had from his birth been held by the hopeless +cosmos of his own creed. He knew well the ruthless and +inexhaustible resources of our scientific civilization. He no +more expected rescue from a medical certificate than rescue from +the solar system. In many of his Robinson Crusoe moods he thought +kindly of MacIan as of some quarrelsome school-fellow who had +long been dead. He thought of leaving in the cell when he died a +rigid record of his opinions, and when he began to write them +down on scraps of envelope in his pocket, he was startled to +discover how much they had changed. Then he remembered the +Beauchamp Tower, and tried to write his blazing scepticism on the +wall, and discovered that it was all shiny tiles on which nothing +could be either drawn or carved. Then for an instant there hung +and broke above him like a high wave the whole horror of +scientific imprisonment, which manages to deny a man not only +liberty, but every accidental comfort of bondage. In the old +filthy dungeons men could carve their prayers or protests in the +rock. Here the white and slippery walls escaped even from bearing +witness. The old prisoners could make a pet of a mouse or a +beetle strayed out of a hole. Here the unpierceable walls were +washed every morning by an automatic sluice. There was no natural +corruption and no merciful decay by which a living thing could +enter in. Then James Turnbull looked up and saw the high +invincible hatefulness of the society in which he lived, and saw +the hatefulness of something else also, which he told himself +again and again was not the cosmos in which he believed. But all +the time he had never once doubted that the five sides of his +cell were for him the wall of the world henceforward, and it gave +him a shock of surprise even to discover the faint light through +the aperture in the ventilation tube. But he had forgotten how +close efficiency has to pack everything together and how easily, +therefore, a pipe here or there may leak. + +Turnbull thrust his first finger down the aperture, and at last +managed to make a slight further fissure in the piping. The light +that came up from beyond was very faint, and apparently indirect; +it seemed to fall from some hole or window higher up. As he was +screwing his eye to peer at this grey and greasy twilight he was +astonished to see another human finger very long and lean come +down from above towards the broken pipe and hook it up to +something higher. The lighted aperture was abruptly blackened and +blocked, presumably by a face and mouth, for something human +spoke down the tube, though the words were not clear. + +"Who is that?" asked Turnbull, trembling with excitement, yet +wary and quite resolved not to spoil any chance. + +After a few indistinct sounds the voice came down with a strong +Argyllshire accent: + +"I say, Turnbull, we couldn't fight through this tube, could we?" + +Sentiments beyond speech surged up in Turnbull and silenced him +for a space just long enough to be painful. Then he said with his +old gaiety: "I vote we talk a little first; I don't want to +murder the first man I have met for ten million years." + +"I know what you mean," answered the other. "It has been awful. +For a mortal month I have been alone with God." + +Turnbull started, and it was on the tip of his tongue to answer: +"Alone with God! Then you do not know what loneliness is." + +But he answered, after all, in his old defiant style: "Alone with +God, were you? And I suppose you found his Majesty's society +rather monotonous?" + +"Oh, no," said MacIan, and his voice shuddered; "it was a great +deal too exciting." + +After a very long silence the voice of MacIan said: "What do you +really hate most in your place?" + +"You'd think I was really mad if I told you," answered Turnbull, +bitterly. + +"Then I expect it's the same as mine," said the other voice. + +"I am sure it's not the same as anybody's," said Turnbull, "for +it has no rhyme or reason. Perhaps my brain really has gone, but +I detest that iron spike in the left wall more than the damned +desolation or the damned cocoa. Have you got one in your cell?" + +"Not now," replied MacIan with serenity. "I've pulled it out." + +His fellow-prisoner could only repeat the words. + +"I pulled it out the other day when I was off my head," continued +the tranquil Highland voice. "It looked so unnecessary." + +"You must be ghastly strong," said Turnbull. + +"One is, when one is mad," was the careless reply, "and it had +worn a little loose in the socket. Even now I've got it out I +can't discover what it was for. But I've found out something a +long sight funnier." + +"What do you mean?" asked Turnbull. + +"I have found out where A is," said the other. + +Three weeks afterwards MacIan had managed to open up +communications which made his meaning plain. By that time the two +captives had fully discovered and demonstrated that weakness in +the very nature of modern machinery to which we have already +referred. The very fact that they were isolated from all +companions meant that they were free from all spies, and as there +were no gaolers to be bribed, so there were none to be baffled. +Machinery brought them their cocoa and cleaned their cells; that +machinery was as helpless as it was pitiless. A little patient +violence, conducted day after day amid constant mutual +suggestion, opened an irregular hole in the wall, large enough to +let in a small man, in the exact place where there had been +before the tiny ventilation holes. Turnbull tumbled somehow into +MacIan's apartment, and his first glance found out that the iron +spike was indeed plucked from its socket, and left, moreover, +another ragged hole into some hollow place behind. But for this +MacIan's cell was the duplicate of Turnbull's--a long oblong +ending in a wedge and lined with cold and lustrous tiles. The +small hole from which the peg had been displaced was in that +short oblique wall at the end nearest to Turnbull's. That +individual looked at it with a puzzled face. + +"What is in there?" he asked. + +MacIan answered briefly: "Another cell." + +"But where can the door of it be?" said his companion, even more +puzzled; "the doors of our cells are at the other end." + +"It has no door," said Evan. + +In the pause of perplexity that followed, an eerie and sinister +feeling crept over Turnbull's stubborn soul in spite of himself. +The notion of the doorless room chilled him with that sense of +half-witted curiosity which one has when something horrible is +half understood. + +"James Turnbull," said MacIan, in a low and shaken voice, "these +people hate us more than Nero hated Christians, and fear us more +than any man feared Nero. They have filled England with frenzy +and galloping in order to capture us and wipe us out--in order to +kill us. And they have killed us, for you and I have only made a +hole in our coffins. But though this hatred that they felt for us +is bigger than they felt for Bonaparte, and more plain and +practical than they would feel for Jack the Ripper, yet it is not +we whom the people of this place hate most." + +A cold and quivering impatience continued to crawl up Turnbull's +spine; he had never felt so near to superstition and +supernaturalism, and it was not a pretty sort of superstition +either. + +"There is another man more fearful and hateful," went on MacIan, +in his low monotone voice, "and they have buried him even deeper. +God knows how they did it, for he was let in by neither door nor +window, nor lowered through any opening above. I expect these +iron handles that we both hate have been part of some damned +machinery for walling him up. He is there. I have looked through +the hole at him; but I cannot stand looking at him long, because +his face is turned away from me and he does not move." + +Al Turnbull's unnatural and uncompleted feelings found their +outlet in rushing to the aperture and looking into the unknown +room. + +It was a third oblong cell exactly like the other two except that +it was doorless, and except that on one of the walls was painted +a large black A like the B and C outside their own doors. The +letter in this case was not painted outside, because this prison +had no outside. + +On the same kind of tiled floor, of which the monotonous squares +had maddened Turnbull's eye and brain, was sitting a figure which +was startlingly short even for a child, only that the enormous +head was ringed with hair of a frosty grey. The figure was +draped, both insecurely and insufficiently, in what looked like +the remains of a brown flannel dressing-gown; an emptied cup of +cocoa stood on the floor beside it, and the creature had his big +grey head cocked at a particular angle of inquiry or attention +which amid all that gathering gloom and mystery struck one as +comic if not cocksure. + +After six still seconds Turnbull could stand it no longer, but +called out to the dwarfish thing--in what words heaven knows. The +thing got up with the promptitude of an animal, and turning round +offered the spectacle of two owlish eyes and a huge +grey-and-white beard not unlike the plumage of an owl. This +extraordinary beard covered him literally to his feet (not that +that was very far), and perhaps it was as well that it did, for +portions of his remaining clothing seemed to fall off whenever he +moved. One talks trivially of a face like parchment, but this old +man's face was so wrinkled that it was like a parchment loaded +with hieroglyphics. The lines of his face were so deep and +complex that one could see five or ten different faces besides +the real one, as one can see them in an elaborate wall-paper. And +yet while his face seemed like a scripture older than the gods, +his eyes were quite bright, blue, and startled like those of a +baby. They looked as if they had only an instant before been +fitted into his head. + +Everything depended so obviously upon whether this buried monster +spoke that Turnbull did not know or care whether he himself had +spoken. He said something or nothing. And then he waited for this +dwarfish voice that had been hidden under the mountains of the +world. At last it did speak, and spoke in English, with a foreign +accent that was neither Latin nor Teutonic. He suddenly stretched +out a long and very dirty forefinger, and cried in a voice of +clear recognition, like a child's: "That's a hole." + +He digested the discovery for some seconds, sucking his finger, +and then he cried, with a crow of laughter: "And that's a head +come through it." + +The hilarious energy in this idiot attitude gave Turnbull another +sick turn. He had grown to tolerate those dreary and mumbling +madmen who trailed themselves about the beautiful asylum gardens. +But there was something new and subversive of the universe in the +combination of so much cheerful decision with a body without a +brain. + +"Why did they put you in such a place?" he asked at last with +embarrassment. + +"Good place. Yes," said the old man, nodding a great many times +and beaming like a flattered landlord. "Good shape. Long and +narrow, with a point. Like this," and he made lovingly with his +hands a map of the room in the air. + +"But that's not the best," he added, confidentially. "Squares +very good; I have a nice long holiday, and can count them. But +that's not the best." + +"What is the best?" asked Turnbull in great distress. + +"Spike is the best," said the old man, opening his blue eyes +blazing; "it sticks out." + +The words Turnbull spoke broke out of him in pure pity. "Can't we +do anything for you?" he said. + +"I am very happy," said the other, alphabetically. "You are a +good man. Can I help you?" + +"No, I don't think you can, sir," said Turnbull with rough +pathos; "I am glad you are contented at least." + +The weird old person opened his broad blue eyes and fixed +Turnbull with a stare extraordinarily severe. "You are quite +sure," he said, "I cannot help you?" + +"Quite sure, thank you," said Turnbull with broken brevity. "Good +day." + +Then he turned to MacIan who was standing close behind him, and +whose face, now familiar in all its moods, told him easily that +Evan had heard the whole of the strange dialogue. + +"Curse those cruel beasts!" cried Turnbull. "They've turned him +to an imbecile just by burying him alive. His brain's like a +pin-point now." + +"You are sure he is a lunatic?" said Evan, slowly. + +"Not a lunatic," said Turnbull, "an idiot. He just points to +things and says that they stick out." + +"He had a notion that he could help us," said MacIan moodily, and +began to pace towards the other end of his cell. + +"Yes, it was a bit pathetic," assented Turnbull; "such a Thing +offering help, and besides---- Hallo! Hallo! What's the matter?" + +"God Almighty guide us all!" said MacIan. + +He was standing heavy and still at the other end of the room and +staring quietly at the door which for thirty days had sealed them +up from the sun. Turnbull, following the other's eye, stared at +the door likewise, and then he also uttered an exclamation. The +iron door was standing about an inch and a half open. + +"He said----" began Evan, in a trembling voice--"he offered----" + +"Come along, you fool!" shouted Turnbull with a sudden and +furious energy. "I see it all now, and it's the best stroke of +luck in the world. You pulled out that iron handle that had +screwed up his cell, and it somehow altered the machinery and +opened all the doors." + +Seizing MacIan by the elbow he bundled him bodily out into the +open corridor and ran him on till they saw daylight through a +half-darkened window. + +"All the same," said Evan, like one answering in an ordinary +conversation, "he did ask you whether he could help you." + +All this wilderness of windowless passages was so built into the +heart of that fortress of fear that it seemed more than an hour +before the fugitives had any good glimpse of the outer world. +They did not even know what hour of the day it was; and when, +turning a corner, they saw the bare tunnel of the corridor end +abruptly in a shining square of garden, the grass burning in that +strong evening sunshine which makes it burnished gold rather than +green, the abrupt opening on to the earth seemed like a hole +knocked in the wall of heaven. Only once or twice in life is it +permitted to a man thus to see the very universe from outside, +and feel existence itself as an adorable adventure not yet begun. +As they found this shining escape out of that hellish labyrinth +they both had simultaneously the sensation of being babes unborn, +of being asked by God if they would like to live upon the earth. +They were looking in at one of the seven gates of Eden. + +Turnbull was the first to leap into the garden, with an +earth-spurning leap like that of one who could really spread his +wings and fly. MacIan, who came an instant after, was less full +of mere animal gusto and fuller of a more fearful and quivering +pleasure in the clear and innocent flower colours and the high +and holy trees. With one bound they were in that cool and cleared +landscape, and they found just outside the door the black-clad +gentleman with the cloven chin smilingly regarding them; and his +chin seemed to grow longer and longer as he smiled. + + + +XVIII. A RIDDLE OF FACES + +Just behind him stood two other doctors: one, the familiar Dr. +Quayle, of the blinking eyes and bleating voice; the other, a +more commonplace but much more forcible figure, a stout young +doctor with short, well-brushed hair and a round but resolute +face. At the sight of the escape these two subordinates uttered a +cry and sprang forward, but their superior remained motionless +and smiling, and somehow the lack of his support seemed to arrest +and freeze them in the very gesture of pursuit. + +"Let them be," he cried in a voice that cut like a blade of ice; +and not only of ice, but of some awful primordial ice that had +never been water. + +"I want no devoted champions," said the cutting voice; "even the +folly of one's friends bores one at last. You don't suppose I +should have let these lunatics out of their cells without good +reason. I have the best and fullest reason. They can be let out +of their cell today, because today the whole world has become +their cell. I will have no more medieval mummery of chains and +doors. Let them wander about the earth as they wandered about +this garden, and I shall still be their easy master. Let them +take the wings of the morning and abide in the uttermost parts of +the sea--I am there. Whither shall they go from my presence and +whither shall they flee from my spirit? Courage, Dr. Quayle, and +do not be downhearted; the real days of tyranny are only +beginning on this earth." + +And with that the Master laughed and swung away from them, almost +as if his laugh was a bad thing for people to see. + +"Might I speak to you a moment?" said Turnbull, stepping forward +with a respectful resolution. But the shoulders of the Master +only seemed to take on a new and unexpected angle of mockery as +he strode away. + +Turnbull swung round with great abruptness to the other two +doctors, and said, harshly: "What in snakes does he mean--and who +are you?" + +"My name is Hutton," said the short, stout man, "and I am--well, +one of those whose business it is to uphold this establishment." + +"My name is Turnbull," said the other; "I am one of those whose +business it is to tear it to the ground." + +The small doctor smiled, and Turnbull's anger seemed suddenly to +steady him. + +"But I don't want to talk about that," he said, calmly; "I only +want to know what the Master of this asylum really means." + +Dr. Hutton's smile broke into a laugh which, short as it was, had +the suspicion of a shake in it. "I suppose you think that quite a +simple question," he said. + +"I think it a plain question," said Turnbull, "and one that +deserves a plain answer. Why did the Master lock us up in a +couple of cupboards like jars of pickles for a mortal month, and +why does he now let us walk free in the garden again?" + +"I understand," said Hutton, with arched eyebrows, "that your +complaint is that you are now free to walk in the garden." + +"My complaint is," said Turnbull, stubbornly, "that if I am fit +to walk freely now, I have been as fit for the last month. No one +has examined me, no one has come near me. Your chief says that I +am only free because he has made other arrangements. What are +those arrangements?" + +The young man with the round face looked down for a little while +and smoked reflectively. The other and elder doctor had gone +pacing nervously by himself upon the lawn. At length the round +face was lifted again, and showed two round blue eyes with a +certain frankness in them. + +"Well, I don't see that it can do any harm to tell you know," he +said. "You were shut up just then because it was just during that +month that the Master was bringing off his big scheme. He was +getting his bill through Parliament, and organizing the new +medical police. But of course you haven't heard of all that; in +fact, you weren't meant to." + +"Heard of all what?" asked the impatient inquirer. + +"There's a new law now, and the asylum powers are greatly +extended. Even if you did escape now, any policeman would take +you up in the next town if you couldn't show a certificate of +sanity from us." + +"Well," continued Dr. Hutton, "the Master described before both +Houses of Parliament the real scientific objection to all +existing legislation about lunacy. As he very truly said, the +mistake was in supposing insanity to be merely an exception or an +extreme. Insanity, like forgetfulness, is simply a quality which +enters more or less into all human beings; and for practical +purposes it is more necessary to know whose mind is really +trustworthy than whose has some accidental taint. We have +therefore reversed the existing method, and people now have to +prove that they are sane. In the first village you entered, the +village constable would notice that you were not wearing on the +left lapel of your coat the small pewter S which is now necessary +to any one who walks about beyond asylum bounds or outside asylum +hours." + +"You mean to say," said Turnbull, "that this was what the Master +of the asylum urged before the House of Commons?" + +Dr. Hutton nodded with gravity. + +"And you mean to say," cried Turnbull, with a vibrant snort, +"that that proposal was passed in an assembly that calls itself +democratic?" + +The doctor showed his whole row of teeth in a smile. "Oh, the +assembly calls itself Socialist now," he said, "But we explained +to them that this was a question for men of science." + +Turnbull gave one stamp upon the gravel, then pulled himself +together, and resumed: "But why should your infernal head +medicine-man lock us up in separate cells while he was turning +England into a madhouse? I'm not the Prime Minister; we're not +the House of Lords." + +"He wasn't afraid of the Prime Minister," replied Dr. Hutton; "he +isn't afraid of the House of Lords. But----" + +"Well?" inquired Turnbull, stamping again. + +"He is afraid of you," said Hutton, simply. "Why, didn't you +know?" + +MacIan, who had not spoken yet, made one stride forward and stood +with shaking limbs and shining eyes. + +"He was afraid!" began Evan, thickly. "You mean to say that +we----" + +"I mean to say the plain truth now that the danger is over," said +Hutton, calmly; "most certainly you two were the only people he +ever was afraid of." Then he added in a low but not inaudible +voice: "Except one--whom he feared worse, and has buried deeper." + +"Come away," cried MacIan, "this has to be thought about." + +Turnbull followed him in silence as he strode away, but just +before he vanished, turned and spoke again to the doctors. + +"But what has got hold of people?" he asked, abruptly. "Why +should all England have gone dotty on the mere subject of +dottiness?" + +Dr. Hutton smiled his open smile once more and bowed slightly. +"As to that also," he replied, "I don't want to make you vain." + +Turnbull swung round without a word, and he and his companion +were lost in the lustrous leafage of the garden. They noticed +nothing special about the scene, except that the garden seemed +more exquisite than ever in the deepening sunset, and that there +seemed to be many more people, whether patients or attendants, +walking about in it. + +From behind the two black-coated doctors as they stood on the +lawn another figure somewhat similarly dressed strode hurriedly +past them, having also grizzled hair and an open flapping +frock-coat. Both his decisive step and dapper black array marked +him out as another medical man, or at least a man in authority, +and as he passed Turnbull the latter was aroused by a strong +impression of having seen the man somewhere before. It was no one +that he knew well, yet he was certain that it was someone at +whom he had at sometime or other looked steadily. It was neither +the face of a friend nor of an enemy; it aroused neither +irritation nor tenderness, yet it was a face which had for some +reason been of great importance in his life. Turning and +returning, and making detours about the garden, he managed to +study the man's face again and again--a moustached, somewhat +military face with a monocle, the sort of face that is +aristocratic without being distinguished. Turnbull could not +remember any particular doctors in his decidedly healthy +existence. Was the man a long-lost uncle, or was he only somebody +who had sat opposite him regularly in a railway train? At that +moment the man knocked down his own eye-glass with a gesture of +annoyance; Turnbull remembered the gesture, and the truth sprang +up solid in front of him. The man with the moustaches was +Cumberland Vane, the London police magistrate before whom he and +MacIan had once stood on their trial. The magistrate must have +been transferred to some other official duties--to something +connected with the inspection of asylums. + +Turnbull's heart gave a leap of excitement which was half hope. +As a magistrate Mr. Cumberland Vane had been somewhat careless +and shallow, but certainly kindly, and not inaccessible to common +sense so long as it was put to him in strictly conventional +language. He was at least an authority of a more human and +refreshing sort than the crank with the wagging beard or the +fiend with the forked chin. + +He went straight up to the magistrate, and said: "Good evening, +Mr. Vane; I doubt if you remember me." + +Cumberland Vane screwed the eye-glass into his scowling face for +an instant, and then said curtly but not uncivilly: "Yes, I +remember you, sir; assault or battery, wasn't it?--a fellow broke +your window. A tall fellow--McSomething--case made rather a noise +afterwards." + +"MacIan is the name, sir," said Turnbull, respectfully; "I have +him here with me." + +"Eh!" said Vane very sharply. "Confound him! Has he got anything +to do with this game?" + +"Mr. Vane," said Turnbull, pacifically, "I will not pretend that +either he or I acted quite decorously on that occasion. You were +very lenient with us, and did not treat us as criminals when you +very well might. So I am sure you will give us your testimony +that, even if we were criminals, we are not lunatics in any legal +or medical sense whatever. I am sure you will use your influence +for us." + +"My influence!" repeated the magistrate, with a slight start. "I +don't quite understand you." + +"I don't know in what capacity you are here," continued Turnbull, +gravely, "but a legal authority of your distinction must +certainly be here in an important one. Whether you are visiting +and inspecting the place, or attached to it as some kind of +permanent legal adviser, your opinion must still----" + +Cumberland Vane exploded with a detonation of oaths; his face was +transfigured with fury and contempt, and yet in some odd way he +did not seem specially angry with Turnbull. + +"But Lord bless us and save us!" he gasped, at length; "I'm not +here as an official at all. I'm here as a patient. The cursed +pack of rat-catching chemists all say that I've lost my wits." + +"You!" cried Turnbull with terrible emphasis. "You! Lost your +wits!" + +In the rush of his real astonishment at this towering unreality +Turnbull almost added: "Why, you haven't got any to lose." But he +fortunately remembered the remains of his desperate diplomacy. + +"This can't go on," he said, positively. "Men like MacIan and I +may suffer unjustly all our lives, but a man like you must have +influence." + +"There is only one man who has any influence in England now," +said Vane, and his high voice fell to a sudden and convincing +quietude. + +"Whom do you mean?" asked Turnbull. + +"I mean that cursed fellow with the long split chin," said the +other. + +"Is it really true," asked Turnbull, "that he has been allowed to +buy up and control such a lot? What put the country into such a +state?" + +Mr. Cumberland Vane laughed outright. "What put the country into +such a state?" he asked. "Why, you did. When you were fool enough +to agree to fight MacIan, after all, everybody was ready to +believe that the Bank of England might paint itself pink with +white spots." + +"I don't understand," answered Turnbull. "Why should you be +surprised at my fighting? I hope I have always fought." + +"Well," said Cumberland Vane, airily, "you didn't believe in +religion, you see--so we thought you were safe at any rate. You +went further in your language than most of us wanted to go; no +good in just hurting one's mother's feelings, I think. But of +course we all knew you were right, and, really, we relied on +you." + +"Did you?" said the editor of _The Atheist_ with a bursting +heart. "I am sorry you did not tell me so at the time." + +He walked away very rapidly and flung himself on a garden seat, +and for some six minutes his own wrongs hid from him the huge and +hilarious fact that Cumberland Vane had been locked up as a +lunatic. + +The garden of the madhouse was so perfectly planned, and answered +so exquisitely to every hour of daylight, that one could almost +fancy that the sunlight was caught there tangled in its tinted +trees, as the wise men of Gotham tried to chain the spring to a +bush. Or it seemed as if this ironic paradise still kept its +unique dawn or its special sunset while the rest of the earthly +globe rolled through its ordinary hours. There was one evening, +or late afternoon, in particular, which Evan MacIan will remember +in the last moments of death. It was what artists call a daffodil +sky, but it is coarsened even by reference to a daffodil. It was +of that innocent lonely yellow which has never heard of orange, +though it might turn quite unconsciously into green. Against it +the tops, one might say the turrets, of the clipt and ordered +trees were outlined in that shade of veiled violet which tints +the tops of lavender. A white early moon was hardly traceable +upon that delicate yellow. MacIan, I say, will remember this +tender and transparent evening, partly because of its virgin gold +and silver, and partly because he passed beneath it through the +most horrible instant of his life. + +Turnbull was sitting on his seat on the lawn, and the golden +evening impressed even his positive nature, as indeed it might +have impressed the oxen in a field. He was shocked out of his +idle mood of awe by seeing MacIan break from behind the bushes +and run across the lawn with an action he had never seen in the +man before, with all his experience of the eccentric humours of +this Celt. MacIan fell on the bench, shaking it so that it +rattled, and gripped it with his knees like one in dreadful pain +of body. That particular run and tumble is typical only of a man +who has been hit by some sudden and incurable evil, who is bitten +by a viper or condemned to be hanged. Turnbull looked up in the +white face of his friend and enemy, and almost turned cold at +what he saw there. He had seen the blue but gloomy eyes of the +western Highlander troubled by as many tempests as his own west +Highland seas, but there had always been a fixed star of faith +behind the storms. Now the star had gone out, and there was only +misery. + +Yet MacIan had the strength to answer the question where +Turnbull, taken by surprise, had not the strength to ask it. + +"They are right, they are right!" he cried. "O my God! they are +right, Turnbull. I ought to be here!" + +He went on with shapeless fluency as if he no longer had the +heart to choose or check his speech. "I suppose I ought to have +guessed long ago--all my big dreams and schemes--and everyone +being against us--but I was stuck up, you know." + +"Do tell me about it, really," cried the atheist, and, faced with +the furnace of the other's pain, he did not notice that he spoke +with the affection of a father. + +"I am mad, Turnbull," said Evan, with a dead clearness of speech, +and leant back against the garden seat. + +"Nonsense," said the other, clutching at the obvious cue of +benevolent brutality, "this is one of your silly moods." + +MacIan shook his head. "I know enough about myself," he said, "to +allow for any mood, though it opened heaven or hell. But to see +things--to see them walking solid in the sun--things that can't +be there--real mystics never do that, Turnbull." + +"What things?" asked the other, incredulously. + +MacIan lowered his voice. "I saw _her_," he said, "three minutes +ago--walking here in this hell yard." + +Between trying to look scornful and really looking startled, +Turnbull's face was confused enough to emit no speech, and Evan +went on in monotonous sincerity: + +"I saw her walk behind those blessed trees against that holy sky +of gold as plain as I can see her whenever I shut my eyes. I did +shut them, and opened them again, and she was still there--that +is, of course, she wasn't---- She still had a little fur round +her neck, but her dress was a shade brighter than when I really +saw her." + +"My dear fellow," cried Turnbull, rallying a hearty laugh, "the +fancies have really got hold of you. You mistook some other poor +girl here for her." + +"Mistook some other----" said MacIan, and words failed him +altogether. + +They sat for some moments in the mellow silence of the evening +garden, a silence that was stifling for the sceptic, but utterly +empty and final for the man of faith. At last he broke out again +with the words: "Well, anyhow, if I'm mad, I'm glad I'm mad on +that." + +Turnbull murmured some clumsy deprecation, and sat stolidly +smoking to collect his thoughts; the next instant he had all his +nerves engaged in the mere effort to sit still. + +Across the clear space of cold silver and a pale lemon sky which +was left by the gap in the ilex-trees there passed a slim, dark +figure, a profile and the poise of a dark head like a bird's, +which really pinned him to his seat with the point of +coincidence. With an effort he got to his feet, and said with a +voice of affected insouciance: "By George! MacIan, she is +uncommonly like----" + +"What!" cried MacIan, with a leap of eagerness that was +heart-breaking, "do you see her, too?" And the blaze came back +into the centre of his eyes. + +Turnbull's tawny eyebrows were pulled together with a peculiar +frown of curiosity, and all at once he walked quickly across the +lawn. MacIan sat rigid, but peered after him with open and +parched lips. He saw the sight which either proved him sane or +proved the whole universe half-witted; he saw the man of flesh +approach that beautiful phantom, saw their gestures of +recognition, and saw them against the sunset joining hands. + +He could stand it no longer, but ran across to the path, turned +the corner and saw standing quite palpable in the evening +sunlight, talking with a casual grace to Turnbull, the face and +figure which had filled his midnights with frightfully vivid or +desperately half-forgotten features. She advanced quite +pleasantly and coolly, and put out her hand. The moment that he +touched it he knew that he was sane even if the solar system was +crazy. + +She was entirely elegant and unembarrassed. That is the awful +thing about women--they refuse to be emotional at emotional +moments, upon some such ludicrous pretext as there being someone +else there. But MacIan was in a condition of criticism much less +than the average masculine one, being in fact merely overturned +by the rushing riddle of the events. + +Evan does not know to this day what particular question he asked, +but he vividly remembers that she answered, and every line or +fluctuation of her face as she said it. + +"Oh, don't you know?" she said, smiling, and suddenly lifting her +level brown eyebrows. "Haven't you heard the news? I'm a +lunatic." + +Then she added after a short pause, and with a sort of pride: +"I've got a certificate." + +Her manner, by the matchless social stoicism of her sex, was +entirely suited to a drawing-room, but Evan's reply fell somewhat +far short of such a standard, as he only said: "What the devil in +hell does all this nonsense mean?" + +"Really," said the young lady, and laughed. + +"I beg your pardon," said the unhappy young man, rather wildly, +"but what I mean is, why are you here in an asylum?" + +The young woman broke again into one of the maddening and +mysterious laughs of femininity. Then she composed her features, +and replied with equal dignity: "Well, if it comes to that, why +are you?" + +The fact that Turnbull had strolled away and was investigating +rhododendrons may have been due to Evan's successful prayers to +the other world, or possibly to his own pretty successful +experience of this one. But though they two were as isolated as a +new Adam and Eve in a pretty ornamental Eden, the lady did not +relax by an inch the rigour of her badinage. + +"I am locked up in the madhouse," said Evan, with a sort of stiff +pride, "because I tried to keep my promise to you." + +"Quite so," answered the inexplicable lady, nodding with a +perfectly blazing smile, "and I am locked up because it was to me +you promised." + +"It is outrageous!" cried Evan; "it is impossible!" + +"Oh, you can see my certificate if you like," she replied with +some hauteur. + +MacIan stared at her and then at his boots, and then at the sky +and then at her again. He was quite sure now that he himself was +not mad, and the fact rather added to his perplexity. + +Then he drew nearer to her, and said in a dry and dreadful voice: +"Oh, don't condescend to play the fool with such a fool as me. +Are you really locked up here as a patient--because you helped us +to escape?" + +"Yes," she said, still smiling, but her steady voice had a shake +in it. + +Evan flung his big elbow across his forehead and burst into +tears. + +The pure lemon of the sky faded into purer white as the great +sunset silently collapsed. The birds settled back into the trees; +the moon began to glow with its own light. Mr. James Turnbull +continued his botanical researches into the structure of the +rhododendron. But the lady did not move an inch until Evan had +flung up his face again; and when he did he saw by the last gleam +of sunlight that it was not only his face that was wet. + +Mr. James Turnbull had all his life professed a profound interest +in physical science, and the phenomena of a good garden were +really a pleasure to him; but after three-quarters of an hour or +so even the apostle of science began to find rhododendrus a bore, +and was somewhat relieved when an unexpected development of +events obliged him to transfer his researches to the equally +interesting subject of hollyhocks, which grew some fifty feet +farther along the path. The ostensible cause of his removal was +the unexpected reappearance of his two other acquaintances +walking and talking laboriously along the way, with the black +head bent close to the brown one. Even hollyhocks detained +Turnbull but a short time. Having rapidly absorbed all the +important principles affecting the growth of those vegetables, he +jumped over a flower-bed and walked back into the building. The +other two came up along the slow course of the path talking and +talking. No one but God knows what they said (for they certainly +have forgotten), and if I remembered it I would not repeat it. +When they parted at the head of the walk she put out her hand +again in the same well-bred way, although it trembled; he seemed +to restrain a gesture as he let it fall. + +"If it is really always to be like this," he said, thickly, "it +would not matter if we were here for ever." + +"You tried to kill yourself four times for me," she said, +unsteadily, "and I have been chained up as a madwoman for you. +I really think that after that----" + +"Yes, I know," said Evan in a low voice, looking down. "After +that we belong to each other. We are sort of sold to each +other--until the stars fall." Then he looked up suddenly, and +said: "By the way, what is your name?" + +"My name is Beatrice Drake," she replied with complete gravity. +"You can see it on my certificate of lunacy." + + + +XIX. THE LAST PARLEY + +Turnbull walked away, wildly trying to explain to himself the +presence of two personal acquaintances so different as Vane and +the girl. As he skirted a low hedge of laurel, an enormously tall +young man leapt over it, stood in front of him, and almost fell +on his neck as if seeking to embrace him. + +"Don't you know me?" almost sobbed the young man, who was in the +highest spirits. "Ain't I written on your heart, old boy? I say, +what did you do with my yacht?" + +"Take your arms off my neck," said Turnbull, irritably. "Are you +mad?" + +The young man sat down on the gravel path and went into ecstasies +of laughter. "No, that's just the fun of it--I'm not mad," he +replied. "They've shut me up in this place, and I'm not mad." And +he went off again into mirth as innocent as wedding-bells. + +Turnbull, whose powers of surprise were exhausted, rolled his +round grey eyes and said, "Mr. Wilkinson, I think," because he +could not think of anything else to say. + +The tall man sitting on the gravel bowed with urbanity, and said: +"Quite at your service. Not to be confused with the Wilkinsons of +Cumberland; and as I say, old boy, what have you done with my +yacht? You see, they've locked me up here--in this garden--and a +yacht would be a sort of occupation for an unmarried man." + +"I am really horribly sorry," began Turnbull, in the last stage +of bated bewilderment and exasperation, "but really----" + +"Oh, I can see you can't have it on you at the moment," said Mr. +Wilkinson with much intellectual magnanimity. + +"Well, the fact is----" began Turnbull again, and then the phrase +was frozen on his mouth, for round the corner came the goatlike +face and gleaming eye-glasses of Dr. Quayle. + +"Ah, my dear Mr. Wilkinson," said the doctor, as if delighted at +a coincidence; "and Mr. Turnbull, too. Why, I want to speak to +Mr. Turnbull." + +Mr. Turnbull made some movement rather of surrender than assent, +and the doctor caught it up exquisitely, showing even more of his +two front teeth. "I am sure Mr. Wilkinson will excuse us a +moment." And with flying frock-coat he led Turnbull rapidly round +the corner of a path. + +"My dear sir," he said, in a quite affectionate manner, "I do not +mind telling you--you are such a very hopeful case--you +understand so well the scientific point of view; and I don't like +to see you bothered by the really hopeless cases. They are +monotonous and maddening. The man you have just been talking to, +poor fellow, is one of the strongest cases of pure _idee fixe_ +that we have. It's very sad, and I'm afraid utterly incurable. He +keeps on telling everybody"--and the doctor lowered his voice +confidentially--"he tells everybody that two people have taken is +yacht. His account of how he lost it is quite incoherent." + +Turnbull stamped his foot on the gravel path, and called out: +"Oh, I can't stand this. Really----" + +"I know, I know," said the psychologist, mournfully; "it is a +most melancholy case, and also fortunately a very rare one. It is +so rare, in fact, that in one classification of these maladies it +is entered under a heading by itself--Perdinavititis, mental +inflammation creating the impression that one has lost a ship. +Really," he added, with a kind of half-embarrassed guilt, "it's +rather a feather in my cap. I discovered the only existing case of +perdinavititis." + +"But this won't do, doctor," said Turnbull, almost tearing his +hair, "this really won't do. The man really did lose a ship. +Indeed, not to put too fine a point on it, I took his ship." + +Dr. Quayle swung round for an instant so that his silk-lined +overcoat rustled, and stared singularly at Turnbull. Then he said +with hurried amiability: "Why, of course you did. Quite so, quite +so," and with courteous gestures went striding up the garden +path. Under the first laburnum-tree he stopped, however, and +pulling out his pencil and notebook wrote down feverishly: +"Singular development in the Elenthero-maniac, Turnbull. Sudden +manifestation of Rapinavititis--the delusion that one has stolen +a ship. First case ever recorded." + +Turnbull stood for an instant staggered into stillness. Then he +ran raging round the garden to find MacIan, just as a husband, +even a bad husband, will run raging to find his wife if he is +full of a furious query. He found MacIan stalking moodily about +the half-lit garden, after his extraordinary meeting with +Beatrice. No one who saw his slouching stride and sunken head +could have known that his soul was in the seventh heaven of +ecstasy. He did not think; he did not even very definitely +desire. He merely wallowed in memories, chiefly in material +memories; words said with a certain cadence or trivial turns of +the neck or wrist. Into the middle of his stationary and +senseless enjoyment were thrust abruptly the projecting elbow and +the projecting red beard of Turnbull. MacIan stepped back a +little, and the soul in his eyes came very slowly to its windows. +When James Turnbull had the glittering sword-point planted upon +his breast he was in far less danger. For three pulsating seconds +after the interruption MacIan was in a mood to have murdered his +father. + +And yet his whole emotional anger fell from him when he saw +Turnbull's face, in which the eyes seemed to be bursting from the +head like bullets. All the fire and fragrance even of young and +honourable love faded for a moment before that stiff agony of +interrogation. + +"Are you hurt, Turnbull?" he asked, anxiously. + +"I am dying," answered the other quite calmly. "I am in the quite +literal sense of the words dying to know something. I want to +know what all this can possibly mean." + +MacIan did not answer, and he continued with asperity: "You are +still thinking about that girl, but I tell you the whole thing is +incredible. She's not the only person here. I've met the fellow +Wilkinson, whose yacht we lost. I've met the very magistrate you +were hauled up to when you broke my window. What can it +mean--meeting all these old people again? One never meets such +old friends again except in a dream." + +Then after a silence he cried with a rending sincerity: "Are you +really there, Evan? Have you ever been really there? Am I simply +dreaming?" + +MacIan had been listening with a living silence to every word, +and now his face flamed with one of his rare revelations of life. + +"No, you good atheist," he cried; "no, you clean, courteous, +reverent, pious old blasphemer. No, you are not dreaming--you are +waking up." + +"What do you mean?" + +"There are two states where one meets so many old friends," said +MacIan; "one is a dream, the other is the end of the world." + +"And you say----" + +"I say this is not a dream," said Evan in a ringing voice. + +"You really mean to suggest----" began Turnbull. + +"Be silent! or I shall say it all wrong," said MacIan, breathing +hard. "It's hard to explain, anyhow. An apocalypse is the +opposite of a dream. A dream is falser than the outer life. But +the end of the world is more actual than the world it ends. I +don't say this is really the end of the world, but it's something +like that--it's the end of something. All the people are crowding +into one corner. Everything is coming to a point." + +"What is the point?" asked Turnbull. + +"I can't see it," said Evan; "it is too large and plain." + +Then after a silence he said: "I can't see it--and yet I will try +to describe it. Turnbull, three days ago I saw quite suddenly +that our duel was not right after all." + +"Three days ago!" repeated Turnbull. "When and why did this +illumination occur?" + +"I knew I was not quite right," answered Evan, "the moment I saw +the round eyes of that old man in the cell." + +"Old man in the cell!" repeated his wondering companion. "Do you +mean the poor old idiot who likes spikes to stick out?" + +"Yes," said MacIan, after a slight pause, "I mean the poor old +idiot who likes spikes to stick out. When I saw his eyes and +heard his old croaking accent, I knew that it would not really +have been right to kill you. It would have been a venial sin." + +"I am much obliged," said Turnbull, gruffly. + +"You must give me time," said MacIan, quite patiently, "for I am +trying to tell the whole truth. I am trying to tell more of it +than I know." + +"So you see I confess"--he went on with laborious distinctness-- +"I confess that all the people who called our duel mad were right +in a way. I would confess it to old Cumberland Vane and his +eye-glass. I would confess it even to that old ass in brown +flannel who talked to us about Love. Yes, they are right in a +way. I am a little mad." + +He stopped and wiped his brow as if he were literally doing heavy +labour. Then he went on: + +"I am a little mad; but, after all, it is only a little madness. +When hundreds of high-minded men had fought duesl about a jostle +with the elbow or the ace of spades, the whole world need not +have gone wild over my one little wildness. Plenty of other +people have killed themselves between then and now. But all +England has gone into captivity in order to take us captive. All +England has turned into a lunatic asylum in order to prove us +lunatics. Compared with the general public, I might positively be +called sane." + +He stopped again, and went on with the same air of travailing +with the truth: + +"When I saw that, I saw everything; I saw the Church and the +world. The Church in its earthly action has really touched morbid +things--tortures and bleeding visions and blasts of +extermination. The Church has had her madnesses, and I am one of +them. I am the massacre of St. Bartholomew. I am the Inquisition +of Spain. I do not say that we have never gone mad, but I say +that we are fit to act as keepers to our enemies. Massacre is +wicked even with a provocation, as in the Bartholomew. But your +modern Nietzsche will tell you that massacre would be glorious +without a provocation. Torture should be violently stopped, +though the Church is doing it. But your modern Tolstoy will tell +you that it ought not to be violently stopped whoever is doing +it. In the long run, which is most mad--the Church or the world? +Which is madder, the Spanish priest who permitted tyranny, or the +Prussian sophist who admired it? Which is madder, the Russian +priest who discourages righteous rebellion, or the Russian +novelist who forbids it? That is the final and blasting test. The +world left to itself grows wilder than any creed. A few days ago +you and I were the maddest people in England. Now, by God! I +believe we are the sanest. That is the only real question-- +whether the Church is really madder than the world. Let the +rationalists run their own race, and let us see where _they_ end. +If the world has some healthy balance other than God, let the +world find it. Does the world find it? Cut the world loose," he +cried with a savage gesture. "Does the world stand on its own +end? Does it stand, or does it stagger?" + +Turnbull remained silent, and MacIan said to him, looking once +more at the earth: "It staggers, Turnbull. It cannot stand by +itself; you know it cannot. It has been the sorrow of your life. +Turnbull, this garden is not a dream, but an apocalyptic +fulfilment. This garden is the world gone mad." + +Turnbull did not move his head, and he had been listening all the +time; yet, somehow, the other knew that for the first time he was +listening seriously. + +"The world has gone mad," said MacIan, "and it has gone mad about +Us. The world takes the trouble to make a big mistake about every +little mistake made by the Church. That is why they have turned +ten counties to a madhouse; that is why crowds of kindly people +are poured into this filthy melting-pot. Now is the judgement of +this world. The Prince of this World is judged, and he is judged +exactly because he is judging. There is at last one simple +solution to the quarrel between the ball and the cross----" + +Turnbull for the first time started. + +"The ball and----" he repeated. + +"What is the matter with you?" asked MacIan. + +"I had a dream," said Turnbull, thickly and obscurely, "in which +I saw the cross struck crooked and the ball secure----" + +"I had a dream," said MacIan, "in which I saw the cross erect and +the ball invisible. They were both dreams from hell. There must +be some round earth to plant the cross upon. But here is the +awful difference--that the round world will not consent even to +continue round. The astronomers are always telling us that it is +shaped like an orange, or like an egg, or like a German sausage. +They beat the old world about like a bladder and thump it into a +thousand shapeless shapes. Turnbull, we cannot trust the ball to +be always a ball; we cannot trust reason to be reasonable. In the +end the great terrestrial globe will go quite lop-sided, and only +the cross will stand upright." + +There was a long silence, and then Turnbull said, hesitatingly: +"Has it occurred to you that since--since those two dreams, or +whatever they were----" + +"Well?" murmured MacIan. + +"Since then," went on Turnbull, in the same low voice, "since +then we have never even looked for our swords." + +"You are right," answered Evan almost inaudibly. "We have found +something which we both hate more than we ever hated each other, +and I think I know its name." + +Turnbull seemed to frown and flinch for a moment. "It does not +much matter what you call it," he said, "so long as you keep out +of its way." + +The bushes broke and snapped abruptly behind them, and a very +tall figure towered above Turnbull with an arrogant stoop and a +projecting chin, a chin of which the shape showed queerly even in +its shadow upon the path. + +"You see that is not so easy," said MacIan between his teeth. + +They looked up into the eyes of the Master, but looked only for a +moment. The eyes were full of a frozen and icy wrath, a kind of +utterly heartless hatred. His voice was for the first time devoid +of irony. There was no more sarcasm in it than there is in an +iron club. + +"You will be inside the building in three minutes," he said, with +pulverizing precision, "or you will be fired on by the artillery +at all the windows. There is too much talking in this garden; we +intend to close it. You will be accommodated indoors." + +"Ah!" said MacIan, with a long and satisfied sigh, "then I was +right." + +And he turned his back and walked obediently towards the +building. Turnbull seemed to canvass for a few minutes the notion +of knocking the Master down, and then fell under the same almost +fairy fatalism as his companion. In some strange way it did seem +that the more smoothly they yielded, the more swiftly would +events sweep on to some great collision. + + + +XX. DIES IRAE + +As they advanced towards the asylum they looked up at its rows on +rows of windows, and understood the Master's material threat. By +means of that complex but concealed machinery which ran like a +network of nerves over the whole fabric, there had been shot out +under every window-ledge rows and rows of polished-steel +cylinders, the cold miracles of modern gunnery. They commanded +the whole garden and the whole country-side, and could have blown +to pieces an army corps. + +This silent declaration of war had evidently had its complete +effect. As MacIan and Turnbull walked steadily but slowly towards +the entrance hall of the institution, they could see that most, +or at least many, of the patients had already gathered there as +well as the staff of doctors and the whole regiment of keepers and +assistants. But when they entered the lamp-lit hall, and the high +iron door was clashed to and locked behind them, yet a new +amazement leapt into their eyes, and the stalwart Turnbull almost +fell. For he saw a sight which was indeed, as MacIan had +said--either the Day of Judgement or a dream. + +Within a few feet of him at one corner of the square of standing +people stood the girl he had known in Jersey, Madeleine Durand. +She looked straight at him with a steady smile which lit up the +scene of darkness and unreason like the light of some honest +fireside. Her square face and throat were thrown back, as her +habit was, and there was something almost sleepy in the geniality +of her eyes. He saw her first, and for a few seconds saw her +only; then the outer edge of his eyesight took in all the other +staring faces, and he saw all the faces he had ever seen for +weeks and months past. There was the Tolstoyan in Jaeger flannel, +with the yellow beard that went backward and the foolish nose and +eyes that went forward, with the curiosity of a crank. He was +talking eagerly to Mr. Gordon, the corpulent Jew shopkeeper whom +they had once gagged in his own shop. There was the tipsy old +Hertfordshire rustic; he was talking energetically to himself. +There was not only Mr. Vane the magistrate, but the clerk of Mr. +Vane, the magistrate. There was not only Miss Drake of the +motor-car, but also Miss Drake's chauffeur. Nothing wild or +unfamiliar could have produced upon Turnbull such a nightmare +impression as that ring of familiar faces. Yet he had one +intellectual shock which was greater than all the others. He +stepped impulsively forward towards Madeleine, and then wavered +with a kind of wild humility. As he did so he caught sight of +another square face behind Madeleine's, a face with long grey +whiskers and an austere stare. It was old Durand, the girls' +father; and when Turnbull saw him he saw the last and worst +marvel of that monstrous night. He remembered Durand; he +remembered his monotonous, everlasting lucidity, his stupefyingly +sensible views of everything, his colossal contentment with +truisms merely because they were true. "Confound it all!" cried +Turnbull to himself, "if _he_ is in the asylum, there can't be +anyone outside." He drew nearer to Madeleine, but still +doubtfully and all the more so because she still smiled at him. +MacIan had already gone across to Beatrice with an air of fright. + +Then all these bewildered but partly amicable recognitions were +cloven by a cruel voice which always made all human blood turn +bitter. The Master was standing in the middle of the room +surveying the scene like a great artist looking at a completed +picture. Handsome as he looked, they had never seen so clearly +what was really hateful in his face; and even then they could +only express it by saying that the arched brows and the long +emphatic chin gave it always a look of being lit from below, like +the face of some infernal actor. + +"This is indeed a cosy party," he said, with glittering eyes. + +The Master evidently meant to say more, but before he could say +anything M. Durand had stepped right up to him and was speaking. + +He was speaking exactly as a French bourgeois speaks to the +manager of a restaurant. That is, he spoke with rattling and +breathless rapidity, but with no incoherence, and therefore with +no emotion. It was a steady, monotonous vivacity, which came not +seemingly from passion, but merely from the reason having been +sent off at a gallop. He was saying something like this: + +"You refuse me my half-bottle of Medoc, the drink the most +wholesome and the most customary. You refuse me the company and +obedience of my daughter, which Nature herself indicates. You +refuse me the beef and mutton, without pretence that it is a fast +of the Church. You now forbid me the promenade, a thing necessary +to a person of my age. It is useless to tell me that you do all +this by law. Law rests upon the social contract. If the citizen +finds himself despoiled of such pleasures and powers as he would +have had even in the savage state, the social contract is +annulled." + +"It's no good chattering away, Monsieur," said Hutton, for the +Master was silent. "The place is covered with machine-guns. We've +got to obey our orders, and so have you." + +"The machinery is of the most perfect," assented Durand, somewhat +irrelevantly; "worked by petroleum, I believe. I only ask you to +admit that if such things fall below the comfort of barbarism, +the social contract is annulled. It is a pretty little point of +theory." + +"Oh! I dare say," said Hutton. + +Durand bowed quite civilly and withdrew. + +"A cosy party," resumed the Master, scornfully, "and yet I +believe some of you are in doubt about how we all came together. +I will explain it, ladies and gentlemen; I will explain +everything. To whom shall I specially address myself? To Mr. +James Turnbull. He has a scientific mind." + +Turnbull seemed to choke with sudden protest. The Master seemed +only to cough out of pure politeness and proceeded: "Mr. Turnbull +will agree with me," he said, "when I say that we long felt in +scientific circles that great harm was done by such a legend as +that of the Crucifixion." + +Turnbull growled something which was presumably assent. + +The Master went on smoothly: "It was in vain for us to urge that +the incident was irrelevant; that there were many such fanatics, +many such executions. We were forced to take the thing thoroughly +in hand, to investigate it in the spirit of scientific history, +and with the assistance of Mr. Turnbull and others we were happy +in being able to announce that this alleged Crucifixion never +occurred at all." + +MacIan lifted his head and looked at the Master steadily, but +Turnbull did not look up. + +"This, we found, was the only way with all superstitions," +continued the speaker; "it was necessary to deny them +historically, and we have done it with great success in the case +of miracles and such things. Now within our own time there arose +an unfortunate fuss which threatened (as Mr. Turnbull would say) +to galvanize the corpse of Christianity into a fictitious +life--the alleged case of a Highland eccentric who wanted to +fight for the Virgin." + +MacIan, quite white, made a step forward, but the speaker did not +alter his easy attitude or his flow of words. "Again we urged +that this duel was not to be admired, that it was a mere brawl, +but the people were ignorant and romantic. There were signs of +treating this alleged Highlander and his alleged opponent as +heroes. We tried all other means of arresting this reactionary +hero worship. Working men who betted on the duel were imprisoned +for gambling. Working men who drank the health of a duellist were +imprisoned for drunkenness. But the popular excitement about the +alleged duel continued, and we had to fall back on our old +historical method. We investigated, on scientific principles, the +story of MacIan's challenge, and we are happy to be able to +inform you that the whole story of the attempted duel is a fable. +There never was any challenge. There never was any man named +MacIan. It is a melodramatic myth, like Calvary." + +Not a soul moved save Turnbull, who lifted his head; yet there +was the sense of a silent explosion. + +"The whole story of the MacIan challenge," went on the Master, +beaming at them all with a sinister benignity, "has been found to +originate in the obsessions of a few pathological types, who are +now all fortunately in our care. There is, for instance, a person +here of the name of Gordon, formerly the keeper of a curiosity +shop. He is a victim of the disease called Vinculomania--the +impression that one has been bound or tied up. We have also a +case of Fugacity (Mr. Whimpey), who imagines that he was chased +by two men." + +The indignant faces of the Jew shopkeeper and the Magdalen Don +started out of the crowd in their indignation, but the speaker +continued: + +"One poor woman we have with us," he said, in a compassionate +voice, "believes she was in a motor-car with two such men; this +is the well-known illusion of speed on which I need not dwell. +Another wretched woman has the simple egotistic mania that she +has caused the duel. Madeleine Durand actually professes to have +been the subject of the fight between MacIan and his enemy, a +fight which, if it occurred at all, certainly began long before. +But it never occurred at all. We have taken in hand every person +who professed to have seen such a thing, and proved them all to +be unbalanced. That is why they are here." + +The Master looked round the room, just showing his perfect teeth +with the perfection of artistic cruelty, exalted for a moment in +the enormous simplicity of his success, and then walked across +the hall and vanished through an inner door. His two lieutenants, +Quayle and Hutton, were left standing at the head of the great +army of servants and keepers. + +"I hope we shall have no more trouble," said Dr. Quayle +pleasantly enough, and addressing Turnbull, who was leaning +heavily upon the back of a chair. + +Still looking down, Turnbull lifted the chair an inch or two from +the ground. Then he suddenly swung it above his head and sent it +at the inquiring doctor with an awful crash which sent one of its +wooden legs loose along the floor and crammed the doctor gasping +into a corner. MacIan gave a great shout, snatched up the loose +chair-leg, and, rushing on the other doctor, felled him with a +blow. Twenty attendants rushed to capture the rebels; MacIan +flung back three of them and Turnbull went over on top of one, +when from behind them all came a shriek as of something quite +fresh and frightful. + +Two of the three passages leading out of the hall were choked +with blue smoke. Another instant and the hall was full of the fog +of it, and red sparks began to swarm like scarlet bees. + +"The place is on fire!" cried Quayle with a scream of indecent +terror. "Oh, who can have done it? How can it have happened?" + +A light had come into Turnbull's eyes. "How did the French +Revolution happen?" he asked. + +"Oh, how should I know!" wailed the other. + +"Then I will tell you," said Turnbull; "it happened because some +people fancied that a French grocer was as respectable as he +looked." + +Even as he spoke, as if by confirmation, old Mr. Durand +re-entered the smoky room quite placidly, wiping the petroleum +from his hands with a handkerchief. He had set fire to the +building in accordance with the strict principles of the social +contract. + +But MacIan had taken a stride forward and stood there shaken and +terrible. "Now," he cried, panting, "now is the judgement of the +world. The doctors will leave this place; the keepers will leave +this place. They will leave us in charge of the machinery and the +machine-guns at the windows. But we, the lunatics, will wait to +be burned alive if only we may see them go." + +"How do you know we shall go?" asked Hutton, fiercely. + +"You believe nothing," said MacIan, simply, "and you are +insupportably afraid of death." + +"So this is suicide," sneered the doctor; "a somewhat doubtful +sign of sanity." + +"Not at all--this is vengeance," answered Turnbull, quite calmly; +"a thing which is completely healthy." + +"You think the doctors will go," said Hutton, savagely. + +"The keepers have gone already," said Turnbull. + +Even as they spoke the main doors were burst open in mere brutal +panic, and all the officers and subordinates of the asylum rushed +away across the garden pursued by the smoke. But among the +ticketed maniacs not a man or woman moved. + +"We hate dying," said Turnbull, with composure, "but we hate you +even more. This is a successful revolution." + +In the roof above their heads a panel shot back, showing a strip +of star-lit sky and a huge thing made of white metal, with the +shape and fins of a fish, swinging as if at anchor. At the same +moment a steel ladder slid down from the opening and struck the +floor, and the cleft chin of the mysterious Master was thrust +into the opening. "Quayle, Hutton," he said, "you will escape +with me." And they went up the ladder like automata of lead. + +Long after they had clambered into the car, the creature with the +cloven face continued to leer down upon the smoke-stung crowd +below. Then at last he said in a silken voice and with a smile of +final satisfaction: + +"By the way, I fear I am very absent minded. There is one man +specially whom, somehow, I always forget. I always leave him +lying about. Once I mislaid him on the Cross of St. Paul's. So +silly of me; and now I've forgotten him in one of those little +cells where your fire is burning. Very unfortunate--especially +for him." And nodding genially, he climbed into his flying ship. + +MacIan stood motionless for two minutes, and then rushed down one +of the suffocating corridors till he found the flames. Turnbull +looked once at Madeleine, and followed. + + * * * + +MacIan, with singed hair, smoking garments, and smarting hands +and face, had already broken far enough through the first +barriers of burning timber to come within cry of the cells he had +once known. It was impossible, however, to see the spot where the +old man lay dead or alive; not now through darkness, but through +scorching and aching light. The site of the old half-wit's cell +was now the heart of a standing forest of fire--the flames as +thick and yellow as a cornfield. Their incessant shrieking and +crackling was like a mob shouting against an orator. Yet through +all that deafening density MacIan thought he heard a small and +separate sound. When he heard it he rushed forward as if to +plunge into that furnace, but Turnbull arrested him by an elbow. + +"Let me go!" cried Evan, in agony; "it's the poor old beggar's +voice--he's still alive, and shouting for help." + +"Listen!" said Turnbull, and lifted one finger from his clenched +hand. + +"Or else he is shrieking with pain," protested MacIan. "I will +not endure it." + +"Listen!" repeated Turnbull, grimly. "Did you ever hear anyone +shout for help or shriek with pain in that voice?" + +The small shrill sounds which came through the crash of the +conflagration were indeed of an odd sort, and MacIan turned a +face of puzzled inquiry to his companion. + +"He is singing," said Turnbull, simply. + +A remaining rampart fell, crushing the fire, and through the +diminished din of it the voice of the little old lunatic came +clearer. In the heart of that white-hot hell he was singing like +a bird. What he was singing it was not very easy to follow, but +it seemed to be something about playing in the golden hay. + +"Good Lord!" cried Turnbull, bitterly, "there seem to be some +advantages in really being an idiot." Then advancing to the +fringe of the fire he called out on chance to the invisible +singer: "Can you come out? Are you cut off?" + +"God help us all!" said MacIan, with a shudder; "he's laughing +now." + +At whatever stage of being burned alive the invisible now found +himself, he was now shaking out peals of silvery and hilarious +laughter. As he listened, MacIan's two eyes began to glow, as if +a strange thought had come into his head. + +"Fool, come out and save yourself!" shouted Turnbull. + +"No, by Heaven! that is not the way," cried Evan, suddenly. +"Father," he shouted, "come out and save us all!" + +The fire, though it had dropped in one or two places, was, upon +the whole, higher and more unconquerable than ever. Separate tall +flames shot up and spread out above them like the fiery cloisters +of some infernal cathedral, or like a grove of red tropical trees +in the garden of the devil. Higher yet in the purple hollow of +the night the topmost flames leapt again and again fruitlessly at +the stars, like golden dragons chained but struggling. The towers +and domes of the oppressive smoke seemed high and far enough to +drown distant planets in a London fog. But if we exhausted all +frantic similes for that frantic scene, the main impression about +the fire would still be its ranked upstanding rigidity and a sort +of roaring stillness. It was literally a wall of fire. + +"Father," cried MacIan, once more, "come out of it and save us +all!" Turnbull was staring at him as he cried. + +The tall and steady forest of fire must have been already a +portent visible to the whole circle of land and sea. The red +flush of it lit up the long sides of white ships far out in the +German Ocean, and picked out like piercing rubies the windows in +the villages on the distant heights. If any villagers or sailors +were looking towards it they must have seen a strange sight as +MacIan cried out for the third time. + +That forest of fire wavered, and was cloven in the centre; and +then the whole of one half of it leaned one way as a cornfield +leans all one way under the load of the wind. Indeed, it looked +as if a great wind had sprung up and driven the great fire +aslant. Its smoke was no longer sent up to choke the stars, but +was trailed and dragged across county after county like one +dreadful banner of defeat. + +But it was not the wind; or, if it was the wind, it was two +winds blowing in opposite directions. For while one half of the +huge fire sloped one way towards the inland heights, the other +half, at exactly the same angle, sloped out eastward towards the +sea. So that earth and ocean could behold, where there had been a +mere fiery mass, a thing divided like a V--a cloven tongue of +flame. But if it were a prodigy for those distant, it was +something beyond speech for those quite near. As the echoes of +Evan's last appeal rang and died in the universal uproar, the +fiery vault over his head opened down the middle, and, reeling +back in two great golden billows, hung on each side as huge and +harmless as two sloping hills lie on each side of a valley. Down +the centre of this trough, or chasm, a little path ran, cleared +of all but ashes, and down this little path was walking a little +old man singing as if he were alone in a wood in spring. + +When James Turnbull saw this he suddenly put out a hand and +seemed to support himself on the strong shoulder of Madeleine +Durand. Then after a moment's hesitation he put his other hand on +the shoulder of MacIan. His blue eyes looked extraordinarily +brilliant and beautiful. In many sceptical papers and magazines +afterwards he was sadly or sternly rebuked for having abandoned +the certainties of materialism. All his life up to that moment he +had been most honestly certain that materialism was a fact. But +he was unlike the writers in the magazines precisely in this-- +that he preferred a fact even to materialism. + +As the little singing figure came nearer and nearer, Evan fell on +his knees, and after an instant Beatrice followed; then Madeleine +fell on her knees, and after a longer instant Turnbull followed. +Then the little old man went past them singing down that corridor +of flames. They had not looked at his face. + +When he had passed they looked up. While the first light of the +fire had shot east and west, painting the sides of ships with +fire-light or striking red sparks out of windowed houses, it had +not hitherto struck upward, for there was above it the ponderous +and rococo cavern of its own monstrous coloured smoke. But now +the fire was turned to left and right like a woman's hair parted +in the middle, and now the shafts of its light could shoot up +into empty heavens and strike anything, either bird or cloud. But +it struck something that was neither cloud nor bird. Far, far +away up in those huge hollows of space something was flying +swiftly and shining brightly, something that shone too bright and +flew too fast to be any of the fowls of the air, though the red +light lit it from underneath like the breast of a bird. Everyone +knew it was a flying ship, and everyone knew whose. + +As they stared upward the little speck of light seemed slightly +tilted, and two black dots dropped from the edge of it. All the +eager, upturned faces watched the two dots as they grew bigger +and bigger in their downward rush. Then someone screamed, and no +one looked up any more. For the two bodies, larger every second +flying, spread out and sprawling in the fire-light, were the dead +bodies of the two doctors whom Professor Lucifer had carried with +him--the weak and sneering Quayle, the cold and clumsy Hutton. +They went with a crash into the thick of the fire. + +"They are gone!" screamed Beatrice, hiding her head. "O God! The +are lost!" + +Evan put his arm about her, and remembered his own vision. + +"No, they are not lost," he said. "They are saved. He has taken +away no souls with him, after all." + +He looked vaguely about at the fire that was already fading, and +there among the ashes lay two shining things that had survived +the fire, his sword and Turnbull's, fallen haphazard in the +pattern of a cross. + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Ball and The Cross, by G.K. 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