Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Eight Book 22)

by Marie Corelli

  “There shall be no more wars! There can be none! I say it! My great secret! I am master of the world!”

  Shuddering as she heard, she pressed her hands over her ears and hurried along the corridor. Her thoughts paraphrased the saying of Madame Roland on Liberty— “Oh, Science! what crimes are committed in thy name!” She was anxious to see and speak with Professor Ardini, but came upon the Marchese Rivardi instead, who met her at the door of the library and caught her by both hands.

  “What is all this?” he demanded, insistently— “I MUST speak to you! You have been weeping! What is troubling you?”

  She drew her hands gently away from his.

  “Nothing, Giulio!” and she smiled kindly— “I grieve for the griefs of others — quite uselessly! — but I cannot help it!”

  “There is no hope, then?” he said.

  “None — not for the man” — she replied— “His body will live, — but his brain is dead.”

  Rivardi gave an expressive gesture.

  “Horrible! Better he should die!”

  “Yes, far better! But the girl loves him. She is an ardent Spanish creature — warm-hearted and simple as a child, — she believes” — and Morgana’s eyes had a pathetic wistfulness— “she believes, — as all women believe when they love for the first time, — that love has a divine power next to that of God! — that it will work miracles of recovery when all seems lost. The disillusion comes, of course, sooner or later, — but it has to come of itself — not through any other influence. She — Manella Soriso — has resolved to be his wife.”

  “Gran’ Dio!” Rivardi started back in utter amazement— “His wife? — That girl? Young, beautiful? She will chain herself to a madman? Surely you will not allow it!”

  Morgana looked at him with a smile.

  “Poor Giulio!” she said, softly— “You are a most unfortunate descendant of your Roman ancestors as far as we women are concerned! You fall in love with me — and you find I am not for you! — then you see a perfectly lovely woman whom you cannot choose but admire — and a little stray thought comes flying into your head — yes! — quite involuntarily! — that perhaps — only perhaps — her love might come your way! Do not be angry, my friend! — it was only a thought that moved you when you saw her the other day — when I called you to look at her as she recovered consciousness and lay on her bed like a sleeping figure of the loveliest of pagan goddesses! What man could have seen her thus without a thrill of tenderness! — and now you have to hear that all that beauty and warmth of youthful life is to be sacrificed to a stone idol! — (for the man she worships is little more!) ah, yes! — I am sorry for you, Giulio! — but can do nothing to prevent the sacrifice, — indeed, I have promised to assist it!”

  Rivardi had alternately flushed and paled while she spoke, — her keen, incisive probing of his most secret fancies puzzled and vexed him, — but with a well-assumed indifference he waved aside her delicately pointed suggestions as though he had scarcely heard them, and said —

  “You have promised to assist? Can you reconcile it to your conscience to let this girl make herself a prisoner for life?”

  “I can!” she answered quietly— “For if she is opposed in her desire for such imprisonment she will kill herself. So it is wisest to let her have her way. The man she loves so desperately may die at any moment, and then she will be free. But meanwhile she will have the consolation of doing all she can for him, and the hope of helping him to recover; vain hope as it may be, there is a divine unselfishness in it. For she says that if he is restored to health she will go away at once and never let him know she is his wife.”

  Rivardi’s handsome face expressed utter incredulity.

  “Will she keep her word I wonder?”

  “She will!”

  “Marvellous woman!” and there was bitterness in his tone— “But women are all amazing when you come to know them! In love? in hate, in good, in evil, in cleverness and in utter stupidity, they are wonderful creatures! And you, amica bella, are perhaps the most wonderful of them all! So kind and yet so cruel!”

  “Cruel?” she echoed.

  “Yes! To me!”

  She looked at him and smiled. That smile gave such a dreamy, spiritlike sweetness to her whole personality that for the moment she seemed to float before him like an aerial vision rather than a woman of flesh and blood, and the bold desire which possessed him to seize and clasp her in his arms was checked by a sense of something like fear. Her eyes rested on his with a full clear frankness.

  “If I am cruel to you, my friend” — she said, gently, “it is only to be more kind!”

  She left him then and went out. He saw her small, elfin figure pass among the chains of roses which at this season seemed to tie up the garden in brilliant knots of colour, and then go down the terraces, one by one, towards the monastic retreat half buried among pine and olive, where Don Aloysius governed his little group of religious brethren.

  He guessed her intent.

  “She will tell him all” — he thought— “And with his strange semi-religious, semi-scientific notions, it will be easy for her to persuade him to marry the girl to this demented creature who fills the house with his shouting ‘There shall be no more wars!’ I should never have thought her capable of tolerating such a crime!”

  He turned to leave the loggia, — but paused as he perceived Professor Ardini advancing from the interior of the house, his hands clasped behind his back and his furrowed brows bent in gloomy meditation.

  “You have a difficult case?” he queried.

  “More than difficult!” replied Ardini— “Beyond human skill! Perhaps not beyond the mysterious power we call God.”

  Rivardi shrugged his shoulders. He was a sceptic of sceptics and his modern-world experiences had convinced him that what man could not do was not to be done at all.

  “The latest remedy proposed by the Signora is — love!” he said, carelessly— “The girl who is here, — Manella Soriso — has made up her mind to be the wife of this unfortunate—”

  Ardini gave an expressive gesture.

  “Altro! If she has made up her mind, heaven itself will not move her! It will be a sublime sacrifice of one life for another, — what would you? Such sacrifices are common, though the world does not hear of them. In this instance there is no one to prevent it.”

  “You approve — you tolerate it?” exclaimed Rivardi angrily.

  “I have no power to approve or to tolerate” — replied the scientist, coldly— “The matter is not one in which I have any right to interfere. Nor, — I think, — have YOU! — I have stated such facts as exist — that the man’s brain is practically destroyed — but that owing to the strength of the life-centres he will probably exist in his present condition for a full term of years. To keep him so alive will entail considerable care and expense. He will need a male nurse — probably two — food of the best and absolutely tranquil surroundings. If the Signora, who is rich and generous, guarantees these necessities, and the girl who loves him desires to be his wife under such terrible conditions, I do not see how anyone can object to the marriage.”

  “Then he poor devil of a man will be married without his knowledge, and probably (if he had his senses) against his will!” said Rivardi.

  Ardini bent his brows yet more frowningly.

  “Just so!” he answered— “But he has neither knowledge nor will — nor is he likely ever to have them again. These great attributes of the god in man have been taken from him. Power and Will! — Will and Power! — the two wings of the Soul! — they are gone, probably for ever. Science can do nothing to bring them back, but I will not deny the possibility of other forces which might work a remedy on this ruin of a ‘master of the world’ as he calls himself! Therefore I say let the love-woman try her best!”

  CHAPTER XXVI

  Don Aloysius sat in his private library, — a room little larger than a monastic cell, and at his feet knelt Morgana like a child at prayer. The rose and purple glow
of the sunset fell aslant through a high oriel window of painted glass, shedding an aureole round her golden head, and intensified the fine, dark intellectual outline of the priest’s features as he listened with fixed attention to the soft pure voice, vibrating with tenderness and pity as she told him of the love that sought to sacrifice itself for love’s sake only.

  “In your Creed and in mine,” — she said— “there is no union which is real or binding save the Spiritual, — and this may be consummated in some way beyond our knowledge when once the sacred rite is said. You need no explanation from me, — you who are a member and future denizen of the Golden City, — you, who are set apart to live long after these poor human creatures have passed away with the unthinking millions of the time — and you can have no hesitation to unite them as far as they CAN be united, so that they may at least be saved from the malicious tongues of an always evil-speaking world. You once asked me to tell you of the few moments of real happiness I have known, — this will be one of the keenest joys to me if I can satisfy this loving-hearted girl and aid her to carry out her self-chosen martyrdom. And you must help me!”

  Gently Aloysius laid his hand on her bent head.

  “It will be indeed a martyrdom!” he said, slowly, “Long and torturing! Think well of it! — a woman, youthful and beautiful, chained to a mere breathing image of man, — a creature who cannot recognise either persons or objects, who is helpless to move, and who will remain in that pitiable state all his life, if he lives! — dear child, are you convinced there is no other way?”

  “Not for her!” Morgana replied— “She has set her soul to try if God will help her to restore him, — she will surround him with the constant influence of a perfectly devoted love. Dare we say there shall be no healing power in such an influence? — we who know so much of which the world is ignorant!”

  He stroked her shining hair with a careful tenderness as one might stroke the soft plumage of a bird.

  “And you?” he said, in a low tone— “What of you?”

  She raised her eyes to his. A light of heaven’s own radiance shone in those blue orbs — an angelic peace beyond all expression.

  “What should there be of me except the dream come true?” she responded, smiling— “You know my plans, — you also know my destiny, for I have told you everything! You will be the controller of all my wealth, entrusted to carry out all my wishes, till it is time either for you to come where I am, or for me to return hither. We never know how or when that may be. But it has all seemed plain sailing for me since I saw the city called ‘Brazen’ but which WE know is Golden! — and when I found that you belonged to it, and were only stationed here for a short time, I knew I could give you my entire confidence. It is not as if we were of the passing world or its ways — we are of the New Race, and time does not count with us.”

  “Quite true,” he said— “But for these persons in whom you are interested, time is still considered — and for the girl it will be long!”

  “Not with such love as hers!” replied Morgana. “Each moment, each hour will be filled with hope and prayer and constant vigilance. Love makes all things easy! It is useless to contend with a fate which both the man and woman have made for themselves. He is — I should say he was a scientist, who discovered the means of annihilating any section of humanity at his own wish and will — he played with the fires of God and brought annihilation on himself. MY discovery — the force that moves my air-ship — the force that is the vital element of all who live in the Golden City — is the same as his! — but I use it for health and movement, progress and power — not for the destruction of any living soul! By one single false step he has caused the death and misery of hundreds of helpless human creatures — and this terror has recoiled on his own head. The girl Manella has no evil thought in her — she simply loves! — her love is ill placed, but she also has brought her own destiny on herself. You have worked — and so have I — WITH the universal force, not as the world does, AGAINST it, — and we have made OURSELVES what we are and what we SHALL BE. There is no other way either forward or backward, — you know there is not!” Here she rose from her knees and confronted him, a light aerial creature of glowing radiance and elfin loveliness— “And you must fulfil her wish — and mine!”

  He rose also and stood erect, a noble figure of a man with a dignified beauty of mien and feature that seemed to belong to the classic age rather than ours.

  “So be it!” he said— “I will carry out all your commands to the letter! May I just say that your generosity to Giulio Rivardi seems almost unnecessary? To endow him with a fortune for life is surely too indulgent! Does he merit such bounty at your hands?”

  She smiled.

  “Dear Father Aloysius, Giulio has lost his heart to me!” she said— “Or what he calls his heart! He should have some recompense for the loss! He wants to restore his old Roman villa — and when I am gone he will have nothing to distract him from this artistic work, — I leave him the means to do it! I hope he will marry — it is the best thing for him!”

  She turned to go.

  “And your own Palazzo d’Oro?—”

  “Will become the abode of self-sacrificing love,” she replied— “It could not be put to better use! It was a fancy of mine; — I love it and its gardens — and I should have tried to live there had I not found out the secret of a large and longer life!” She paused — then added— “To-morrow morning you will come?”

  He bent his head.

  “To-morrow!”

  With a salute of mingled reverence and affection she left him. He watched her go, — and hearing the bell begin to chime in the chapel for vespers, he lifted his eyes for a moment in silent prayer. A light flashed downward, playing on his hands like a golden ripple, — and he stood quietly expectant and listening. A Voice floated along the Ray— “You are doing well and rightly!” it said— “You will release her now from the strain of seeming to be what she is not. She is of the New Race, and her spirit is advanced too far to endure the grossness and materialism of the Old generation. She deserves all she has studied and worked for, — lasting life, lasting beauty, lasting love! Nothing must hinder her now!”

  “Nothing shall!” he answered.

  The Ray lessened in brilliancy and gradually diminished till it entirely vanished, — and Don Aloysius, with the rapt expression of a saint and visionary, entered the chapel where his brethren were already assembled, and chanted with them —

  “Magna opera Domini; exquisita in omnes voluntates ejus!”

  The next morning, all radiant with sunshine, saw the strangest of nuptial ceremonies, — one that surely had seldom, if ever, been witnessed before in all the strange happenings of human chance. Manella Soriso, pale as a white arum lily, her rich dark hair adorned with a single spray of orange-blossom gathered from the garden, stood trembling beside the bed where lay stretched out the immobile form of the once active, world-defiant Roger Seaton. His eyes, wide open and staring into vacancy, were, like dull pebbles, fixed in his head, — his face was set and rigid as a mask of clay — only his regular breathing gave evidence of life. Manella’s pitiful gazing on this ruin of the man to whom she had devoted her heart and soul, her tender sorrow, her yearning beauty, might have almost moved a stone image to a thrill of response, — but not a flicker of expression appeared on the frozen features of that terrible fallen pillar of human self-sufficiency. Standing beside the bed with Manella was Marco Ardini, intensely watchful and eager to note even a quiver of the flesh or the tremor of a muscle, — and near him was Lady Kingswood, terrified yet enthralled by the scene, and anxious on behalf of Morgana, who looked statuesque and pensive like a small attendant angel close to Don Aloysius. He, in his priestly robes, read the marriage service with soft and impressive intonation, himself speaking the responses for the bride-groom, — and taking Manella’s hand he placed it on Seaton’s, clasping the two together, the one so yielding and warm, the other stiff as marble, and setting the golden marriage ring which M
organa had given, on the bride’s finger. As he made the sign of the cross and uttered the final blessing, Manella sank on her knees and covered her face. There followed a tense silence — Aloysius laid his hand on her bent head —

  “God help and bless you!” he said, solemnly— “Only the Divine Power can give you strength to bear the burden you have taken on yourself!”

  But at his words she sprang up, her eyes glowing with a great joy.

  “It is no burden!” she said— “I have prayed to be his slave — and now I am his wife! That is more than I ever dared to dream of! — for now I have the right to care for him, to work for him, and no one can separate me from him! What happiness for me! But I will not take a mean advantage of this — ah, no! — no good, Father! Listen! — I swear before you and the holy Cross you wear, that if he recovers he shall never know! — I will leave him at once without a word — he shall think I am a servant in his employ — or rather he shall not think at all about me for I will go where he can never find me, and he will be as free as ever he was! Yes, truly! — by the blessed Madonna I swear it! I will kill myself rather than let him know!”

  She looked regally beautiful, her face flushed with the pride and love of her soul, — and in her newly gained privilege as a wife she bent down and kissed the pallid face that lay like the face of a corpse on the pillow before her.

  “He is a poor wounded child just now!” she murmured, tenderly— “But I will care for him in his weakness and sorrow! The doctor will tell me what to do — and it shall all be done! I will neglect nothing — as for money, I have none — but I will work—”

  Morgana put an arm about her.

  “Dear, do not think of that!” she said— “For the present you will stay here — I am going on a journey very soon, and you and Lady Kingswood will take care of my house till I return. Be quite satisfied! — You will have all you want for him and for yourself. Professor Ardini will talk to you now and tell you everything — come away—”