the next day dawned in brilliant sunshine; the sea was as smooth as a lake, and the air pleasantly warm and still. dr. kremlin’s servant karl got up in a very excellent humour,—he had slept well, and he awoke with the comfortable certainty of finding his eccentric master in better health and spirits, as this was always the case after one of el-râmi’s rare visits. and karl, though he did not much appreciate learning, especially when the pursuit of it induced people, as he said, to starve themselves for the sake of acquiring wisdom, did feel in his own heart that there was something about el-râmi that was not precisely like other men, and he had accordingly for him not only a great attraction, but a profound respect.
“if anybody can do the herr doctor good, he can—” he thought, as he laid the breakfast-table in the little dining-room whose french windows opened out to a tiny green lawn fronting the sea,—“certainly one can never cure old age,—that is an ailment for which there is no remedy; but however old we are bound to get, i don’t see why we should not be merry over it and enjoy our meals to the last. now let me see—what have i to get ready—” and he enumerated on his fingers—“coffee—toast—rolls,—butter—eggs—fish,—i think that will do;—and if i just put these few roses in the middle of the table to tempt the eye a bit,”—and he suited the action to the word—“there now!—if the herr doctor can be pleased at all——”
“breakfast, karl! breakfast!” interrupted a clear cheerful voice, the sound of which made karl start with nervous astonishment. “make haste, my good fellow! my friend here has to catch an early train.”
karl turned round, stared, and stood motionless, open-mouthed, and struck dumb with sheer surprise. could it be the old doctor who spoke? was it his master at all,—this hale, upright, fresh-faced individual who stood before him, smiling pleasantly and giving his orders with such a brisk air of authority? bewildered and half afraid, he cast a desperate glance at el-râmi, who had also entered the room, and who, seeing his confusion, made him a secret sign.
“yes—be as quick as you can, karl,” he said. “your master has had a good night, and is much better, as you see. we shall be glad of our breakfast; i told you we should, last night. don’t keep us waiting!”
“yes, sir—no, sir!” stammered karl, trying to collect his scattered senses and staring again at dr. kremlin,—then, scarcely knowing whether he was on his head or his heels, he scrambled out of the room into the passage, where he stood for a minute stupefied and inert.
“it must be devils’ work!” he ejaculated amazedly. “who but the devil could make a man look twenty years younger in a single night? yes—twenty years younger,—he looks that if he looks a day. god have mercy on us!—what will happen next—what sort of a service have i got into?—oh, my poor mother!”
this last was karl’s supremest adjuration,—when he could find nothing else to say, the phrase “oh, my poor mother!” came as naturally to his lips as the familiar “d——n it!” from the mouth of an old swaggerer in the army or navy. he meant nothing by it, except perhaps a vague allusion to the innocent days of his childhood, when he was ignorant of the wicked ways of the wicked world, and when “oh, my poor mother!” had not the most distant idea as to what was going to become of her hopeful first-born.
meantime, while he went down into the kitchen and bustled about there, getting the coffee, frying the fish, boiling the eggs, and cogitating with his own surprised and half-terrified self, dr. kremlin and his guest had stepped out into the little garden together, and they now stood there on the grass-plot surveying the glittering wide expanse of ocean before them. they spoke not a word for some minutes,—then, all at once, kremlin turned round and caught both el-râmi’s hands in his own and pressed them fervently—there were tears in his eyes.
“what can i say to you?” he murmured in a voice broken by strong emotion—“how can i thank you? you have been as a god to me;—i live again,—i breathe again,—this morning the world seems new to my eyes,—as new as though i had never seen it before. i have left a whole cycle of years, with all their suffering and bitterness, behind me, and i am ready now to commence life afresh.”
“that is well!” said el-râmi gently, cordially returning the pressure of his hands. “that is as it should be. to see your strength and vitality thus renewed is more than enough reward for me.”
“and do i really look younger?—am i actually changed in appearance?” asked kremlin eagerly.
el-râmi smiled. “well, you saw poor karl’s amazement”—he replied. “he was afraid of you, i think—and also of me. yes, you are changed, though not miraculously so. your hair is as gray as ever,—the same furrows of thought are on your face;—all that has occurred is the simple renewal of the tissues, and revivifying of the blood,—and this gives you the look of vigour and heartiness you have this morning.”
“but will it last?—will it last?” queried kremlin anxiously.
“if you follow my instructions, of course it will—” returned el-râmi—“i will see to that. i have left with you a certain quantity of the vital fluid,—all you have to do is to take ten drops every third night, or inject it into your veins if you prefer that method;—then,—as i told you,—you cannot die, except by violence.”
“and no violence comes here”—said kremlin with a smile, glancing round at the barren yet picturesque scene—“i am as lonely as an unmated eagle on a rock,—and the greater my solitude the happier i am. the world is very beautiful—that i grant,—but the beings that inhabit it spoil it for me, albeit i am one of them. and so i cannot die, except by violence? almost i touch immortality! marvellous el-râmi! you should be a king of nations!”
“too low a destiny!” replied el-râmi—“i’d rather be a ruler of planets.”
“ah, there is your stumbling-block!” said kremlin, with sudden seriousness,—“you soar too high—you are never contented.”
“content is impossible to the soul”—returned el-râmi,—“nothing is too high or too low for its investigation. and whatever can be done, should be done, in order that the whole gamut of life may be properly understood by those who are forced to live it.”
“and do not you understand it?”
“in part—yes. but not wholly. it is not sufficient to have traced the ripple of a brain-wave through the air and followed its action and result with exactitude,—nor is it entirely satisfactory to have all the secrets of physical and mental magnetism, and attraction between bodies and minds, made clear and easy without knowing the reason of these things. it is like the light vibrations on your disc,—they come—and go; but one needs to know why and whence they come and go. i know much—but i would fain know more.”
“but is not the pursuit of knowledge infinite?”
“it may be—if infinity exists. infinity is possible—and i believe in it,—all the same i must prove it.”
“you will need a thousand lifetimes to fulfil such works as you attempt!” exclaimed kremlin.
“and i will live them all;”—responded el-râmi composedly—“i have sworn to let nothing baffle me, and nothing shall!”
dr. kremlin looked at him in vague awe,—the dark, haughty, handsome face spoke more resolvedly than words.
“pardon me, el-râmi”—he said with a little diffidence—“it seems a very personal question to put, and possibly you may resent it, still i have often thought of asking it. you are a very handsome and very fascinating man—you would be a fool if you were not perfectly aware of your own attractiveness,—well, now tell me—have you never loved anybody?—any woman?”
the sleepy brilliancy of el-râmi’s fine eyes lightened with sudden laughter.
“loved a woman?—i?” he exclaimed—“the fates forbid! what should i do with the gazelles and kittens and toys of life, such as women are? of all animals on earth, they have the least attraction for me. i would rather stroke a bird’s wings than a woman’s hair, and the fragrance of a rose pressed against my lips is sweeter and more sincere than any woman’s kisses. as the females of the race, women are useful in their way, but not interesting at any time—at least, not to me.”
“do you not believe in love then?” asked kremlin.
“no. do you?”
“yes,”—and kremlin’s voice was very tender and impressive—“i believe it is the only thing of god in an almost godless world.”
el-râmi shrugged his shoulders.
“you talk like a poet. i, who am not poetical, cannot so idealise the physical attraction between male and female, which is nothing but a law of nature, and is shared by us in common with the beasts of the field.”
“i think your wisdom is in error there”—said kremlin slowly—“physical attraction there is, no doubt—but there is something else—something more subtle and delicate, which escapes the analysis of both philosopher and scientist. moreover it is an imperative spiritual sense, as well as a material craving,—the soul can no more be satisfied without love than the body.”
“that is your opinion—” and el-râmi smiled again,—“but you see a contradiction of it in me. i am satisfied to be without love,—and certainly i never look upon the ordinary woman of the day without the disagreeable consciousness that i am beholding the living essence of sensualism and folly.”
“you are very bitter,” said kremlin wonderingly—“of course no ‘ordinary’ woman could impress you,—but there are remarkable women,—women of power and genius and lofty ambition.”
“les femmes incomprises—oh yes, i know!” laughed el-râmi—“troublesome creatures all, both to themselves and others. why do you talk on these subjects, my dear kremlin?—is it the effect of your rejuvenated condition? i am sure there are many more interesting matters worthy of discussion. i shall never love—not in this planet; in some other state of existence i may experience the ‘divine’ emotion. but the meannesses, vanities, contemptible jealousies, and low spites of women such as inhabit this earth fill me with disgust and repulsion,—besides, women are treacherous,—and i loathe treachery.”
at that moment karl appeared at the dining-room window as a sign that breakfast was served, and they turned to go indoors.
“all the same, el-râmi—” persisted kremlin, laying one hand on his friend’s arm—“do not count on being able to escape the fate to which all humanity must succumb——”
“death?” interposed el-râmi lightly—“i have almost conquered that!”
“ay, but you cannot conquer love!” said kremlin impressively—“love is stronger than death.”
el-râmi made no answer,—and they went in to breakfast. they did full justice to the meal, much to karl’s satisfaction, though he could not help stealing covert glances at his master’s changed countenance, which had become so much fresher and younger since the previous day. how such a change had been effected he could not imagine, but on the whole he was disposed to be content with the evident improvement.
“even if he is the devil himself—” he considered, his thoughts reverting to el-râmi—“i am bound to say that the devil is a kind-hearted fellow. there’s no doubt about that. i suppose i am an abandoned sinner only fit for the burning—but if god insists on making us old and sick and miserable, and the devil is able to make us young and strong and jolly, why let us be friends with the devil, say i! oh, my poor mother!”
with such curious emotions as these in his mind, it was rather difficult to maintain a composed face, and wait upon the two gentlemen with that grave deportment which it is the duty of every well-trained attendant to assume,—however, he managed fairly well, and got accustomed at last to hand his master a cup of coffee without staring at him till his eyes almost projected out of his head.
el-râmi took his departure soon after breakfast, with a few recommendations to his friend not to work too hard on the problems suggested by the disc.
“ah, but i have now found a new clue,” said kremlin triumphantly—“i found it in sleep. i shall work it out in the course of a few weeks, i daresay—and i will let you know if the result is successful. you see, thanks to you, my friend, i have time now,—there is no need to toil with feverish haste and anxiety—death, that seemed so near, is thrust back in the distance——”
“even so!” said el-râmi with a strange smile—“in the far, far distance,—baffled and kept at bay. oddly enough, there are some who say there is no death——”
“but there is—there must be!—” exclaimed kremlin quickly.
el-râmi raised his hand with a slight commanding gesture.
“it is not a certainty—” he said—“inasmuch as there is no certainty. and there is no ‘must-be,’—there is only the soul’s ‘shall-be’!”
and with these somewhat enigmatical words he bade his friend farewell, and went his way.
