The Dedalus Book of Decadence: (Moral Ruins) (23 page)

Gabriel awoke – in his own room – so it was a dream after all – but what a dreadful dream.
Yes, but was it his own room?
Of course there was his coat hanging over the chair – yes but – the Crucifix – where was the Crucifix and the benetier and the consecrated palm branch and the antique image of Our Lady perpetuae salutis, with the little ever-burning lamp before it, before which he placed every day the flowers he had gathered, yet had not dared to place the blue flower?
–

Every morning he lifted his still dream-laden eyes to it and said Ave Maria and made the sign of the cross,
which bringeth peace to the soul – but how horrible, how maddening, it was not there, not at all.
No surely he could not be awake, at least not
quite
awake, he would make the benedictive sign and he would be freed from this fearful illusion – yes but the sign, he would make the sign – oh, but what was the sign?
Had he forgotten?
or was his arm paralyzed?
No he could move.
Then he had forgotten – and the prayer – he must remember that.
Avae-nunc-mortis-fructus.
³
No surely it did not run thus – but something like it surely – yes, he was awake he could move at any rate – he would reassure himself – he would get up – he would see the grey old church with the exquisitely pointed gables bathed in the light of dawn, and presently the deep solemn bell would toll and he would run down and don his red cassock and lace-worked cotta and light the tall candles on the altar and wait reverently to vest the good and gracious Abbé Félicien, kissing each vestment as he lifted it with reverent hands.

But surely this was not the light of dawn it was liker sunset!
He leapt from his small white bed, and a vague terror came over him, he trembled and had to hold on to the chair before he reached the window.
No, the solemn spires of the grey church were not to be seen – he was in the depths of the forest; but in a part he had never seen before – but surely he had explored every part, it must be the “other side”.
To terror succeeded a languor and lassitude not without charm – passivity, acquiescence indulgence – he felt, as it were, the strong caress of another will flowing over him like water and clothing him with invisible hands in an impalpable garment; so he dressed himself almost mechanically and walked downstairs, the same stairs it seemed to him down which it was his wont to run and spring.
The broad square stones seemed singularly beautiful and irridescent with
many strange colours – how was it he had never noticed this before – but he was gradually losing the power of wondering – he entered the room below – the wonted coffee and bread-rolls were on the table.

“Why, Gabriel, how late you are to-day.”
The voice was very sweet but the intonation strange – and there sat Lilith, the mysterious wolf-woman, her glittering gold hair tied loose in a loose knot and an embroidery whereon she was tracing strange serpentine patterns, lay over the lap of her maize coloured garment – and she looked at Gabriel steadfastly with her wonderful dark blue eyes and said, “Why, Gabriel, you are late to-day,” and Gabriel answered, “I was tired yesterday, give me some coffee.”

****

A dream within a dream – yes, he had known her all his life, and they dwelt together; had they not always done so?
And she would take him through the glades of the forest and gather for him flowers, such as he had never seen before, and tell him stories in her strange, low deep voice, which seemed ever to be accompanied by the faint vibration of strings, looking at him fixedly the while with her marvellous blue eyes.

****

Little by little the flame of vitality which burned within him seemed to grow fainter and fainter, and his lithe lissom limbs waxed languorous and luxurious – yet was he ever filled with a languid content and a will not his own perpetually overshadowed him.

One day in their wanderings he saw a strange dark blue flower like unto the eyes of Lilith, and a sudden half remembrance flashed through his mind.

“What is this blue flower?”
he said, and Lilith shuddered and said nothing; but as they went a little further there was a brook –
the
brook he thought and felt his fetters falling off him, and he prepared to spring over the brook; but Lilith seized him by the arm and held him back with all her strength, and trembling all over she said, “Promise me Gabriel that you will not cross over.”
But he said, “Tell me what is this blue flower, and why you will not tell me?”
And she said, “Look Gabriel at the brook.”
And he looked and saw that though it was just like the brook of separation it was not the same, the waters did not flow.

As Gabriel looked steadfastly into the still waters it seemed to him as though he saw voices – some impression of the Vespers for the Dead.
“Hei mihi quia incolatus sum,”
⁴
and again “De profundis clamavi ad te”
⁵
– oh, that veil, that overshadowing veil!
Why could he not hear properly and see, and why did he only remember as one looking through a threefold semi-transparent curtain.
Yes they were praying for him – but who were they?
He heard again the voice of Lilith in whispered anguish, “Come away!”

Then he said, this time in monotone, “What is this blue flower, and what is its use?”

And the low thrilling voice answered, “It is called ‘lûli uzhûri,’ two drops pressed upon the face of the sleeper and he will
sleep
.”

He was as a child in her hand and suffered himself to be led from thence, nevertheless he plucked listlessly one of the blue flowers, holding it downwards in his hand.
What did she mean?
Would the sleeper wake?
Would the blue flower leave any stain?
Could that stain be wiped off?

But as he lay asleep at early dawn he heard voices from afar off praying for him – the Abbé Félicien, Carmeille, his mother too, then some familiar words struck his ear: “Libera mea porta inferi”
⁶
Mass was being said for the repose of his soul, he knew this.
No, he could not stay, he would leap over the brook, he knew the way – he had forgotten that the brook did not flow.
Ah, but Lilith would know – what should he do?
The blue flower – there it lay close by his bedside – he understood now; so he crept very silently to where Lilith lay asleep, her long hair glittering gold, shining like a glory round about her.
He pressed two drops on her forehead, she sighed once, and a shade of praeternatural anguish passed over her beautiful face.
He fled – terror, remorse, and hope tearing his soul and making fleet his feet.
He came to the brook – he did not see that the water did not flow – of course this was the brook of separation; one bound, he should be with things human again.
He leapt over and –

A change had come over him – what was it?
He could not tell – did he walk on all fours?
Yes surely.
He looked into the brook, whose still waters were fixed as a mirror, and there, horror, he beheld himself; or was it himself?
His head and face, yes; but his body transformed to that of a wolf.
Even as he looked he heard a sound of hideous mocking laughter behind him.
He turned round – there, in a gleam of red lurid light, he saw one whose body was human, but whose head was that of a wolf, with eyes of infinite malice; and while, this hideous being laughed with a loud human laugh, he, essaying to speak, could only utter the prolonged howl of a wolf.

****

But we will transfer our thoughts from the alien
things on the “other side” to the simple human village where Gabriel used to dwell.
Mère Yvonne was not much surprised when Gabriel did not turn up to breakfast – he often did not, so absent minded was he; this time she said, “I suppose he has gone with the others to the wolf hunt.”
Not that Gabriel was given to hunting, but, as she sagely said, “there was no knowing what he might do next.”
The boys said, “Of course that muff Gabriel is skulking and hiding himself, he’s afraid to join the wolf hunt; why, he wouldn’t even kill a cat,” for their one notion of excellence was slaughter – so the greater the game the greater the glory.
They were chiefly now confined to cats and sparrows, but they all hoped in after time to become generals of armies.

Yet these children had been taught all their life through with the gentle words of Christ – but alas, nearly all the seed falls by the wayside, where it could not bear flower or fruit; how little these know the suffering and bitter anguish or realise the full meaning of the words to those of whom it is written “Some fell among thorns.”

The wolf hunt was so far a success that they did actually see a wolf, but not a success, as they did not kill it before it leapt over the brook to the “other side”, where, of course, they were afraid to pursue it.
No emotion is more inrooted and intense in the minds of common people than hatred and fear of anything “strange.”

Days passed by, but Gabriel was nowhere seen – and Mère Yvonne began to see clearly at last how deeply she loved her only son, who was so unlike her that she had thought herself an object of pity to other mothers – the goose and the swan’s egg.
People searched and pretended to search, they even went to the length of dragging the ponds, which the boys thought very amusing, as it enabled them to kill a great number of water rats, and Carmeille sat in a corner and cried all day long.
Mère
Pinquèle also sat in a corner and chuckled and said that she had always said Gabriel would come to no good.
The Abbé Fèlicien looked pale and anxious, but said very little, save to God and those that dwelt with God.

At last, as Gabriel was not there, they supposed he must be nowhere – that is
dead
.
(Their knowledge of other localities being so limited, that it did not even occur to them to suppose he might be living elsewhere than in the village.) So it was agreed that an empty catafalque should be put up in the church with tall candles round it, and Mère Yvonne said all the prayers that were in her prayer book, beginning at the beginning and ending at the end, regardless of their appropriateness – not even omitting the instructions of the rubrics.
And Carmeille sat in the corner of the little side chapel and cried, and cried.
And the Abbé Fèlicien caused the boys to sing the Vespers for the Dead (this did not amuse them so much as dragging the pond), and on the following morning, in the silence of early dawn, said the Dirge and the Requiem –
and this Gabriel heard
.

Then the Abbé Fèlicien received a message to bring the Holy Viaticum to one sick.
So they set forth in solemn procession with great torches, and their way lay along the brook of separation.

****

Essaying to speak he could only utter the prolonged howl of a wolf – the most fearful of all bestial sounds.
He howled and howled again – perhaps Lilith would hear him!
Perhaps she could rescue him?
then he remembered the blue flower – the beginning and end of all his woe.
His cries aroused all the denizens of the forest – the wolves, the wolf-men, and the men-wolves.
He fled before them in an agony of terror – behind him, seated on the black
ram with human face, was the wolf-keeper, whose face was veiled in eternal shadow.
Only once he turned to look behind – for among the shrieks and howls of bestial chase he heard one thrilling voice moan with pain.
And there among them he beheld Lilith, her body too was that of a wolf, almost hidden in the masses of her glittering golden hair, on her forehead was a stain of blue, like in colour to her mysterious eyes, now veiled with tears she could not shed.

****

The way of the Most Holy Viaticum lay along the brook of separation.
They heard the fearful howlings afar off, the torch bearers turned pale and trembled – but Abbé Fèlicien, holding aloft the Ciborium, said “They cannot harm us.”

Suddenly the whole horrid chase came in sight.
Gabriel sprang over the brook, the Abbé Fèlicien held the most Blessed Sacrament before him, and his shape was restored to him and he fell down prostrate in adoration.
But the Abbé Fèlicien still held aloft the Sacres Ciborium, and the people fell on their knees in the agony of fear, but the face of the priest seemed to shine with divine effulgence.
Then the wolf-keeper held up in his hands the shape of something horrible and inconceivable – a monstrance to the Sacrament of Hell, and three times he raised it, in mockery of the blessed rite of Benediction.
And on the third time streams of fire went forth from his fingers, and all the “other side” of the forest took fire, and great darkness was over all.

All who were there and saw and heard it have kept the impress thereof for the rest of their lives – nor till in their death hour was the remembrance thereof absent from their minds.
Shrieks, horrible beyond conception,
were heard till nightfall – then the rain rained.