The Fiery Angel (8 page)

It was, judging by the sun, long past noon, when I at last dared to address a summons to Renata:

“Should we not return home? You are tired; dinner is prepared for us.”

But Renata looked at me with contempt and replied: “If you are hungry, Rupprecht, go and dine; I feel no need.”

Soon again we resumed our disorderly running from street to street, but with each hour it became more disorderly, for Renata herself was losing faith, though with stubbornness and obstinacy she still carried out her purpose: inspecting the passers-by, tarrying at the cross-roads, peering into the windows of houses. Before me flitted familiar buildings—our University, and the Bursaries, where my schoolfellows used to live, Kneck College, Laurence’s, the XVIth. Houses, and other churches again—Saint Clare, Saint Andrew, Saint Peter—and though I knew Köln well before, from this day I know it as though I had both been born in it and spent my whole life only within its walls. I must say that I, a man accustomed to difficult marches across the savannah, and to whom it has happened for whole days on end to pursue a fleeing enemy, or on the contrary myself to retreat from pursuit—I felt myself overcome and nearly falling from tiredness, though Renata seemed tireless and unchanged: she was possessed by some frenzy of seeking, and there was no power to stop her and no means to bring her to reason. I do not recollect after what journeyings and twistings we found ourselves in the evening once more in the neighbourhood of the Cathedral, and there, vanquished at last, Renata sank down upon a stone, leant against the wall and remained motionless.

I seated myself near by, not daring to speak, and prey to a dull, numb weariness that filled all my limbs like thick lead. Above my eyes towered the grey bulk of the forepart of the Cathedral, with its temporary roof, with towers as yet unbegun, but none the less imposing in the boldness of its design. And strangely enough, at this moment, forgetting my condition and Renata, forgetting weariness and hunger, I began, as I now remember well, to reflect upon the details of the Cathedral and its building. I recalled the plans of the Cathedral, that I happened to have seen, and the stories of its construction, the names of the good craftsman Gerhard and of His Eminence the Archbishop Heinrich von Virneburg, and I decided for myself that, like its brothers the Cathedral of Saint Peter in Rome and the Cathedral of the Birth of the Holy Mother of God in Milan, never would it be fated to rise in its proper grandeur; to raise to its heights the heavy materials required for its completion, and to erect perfectly the arrows of its spires according to their plan—are tasks far surpassing our means and forces. While, if ever human science and the art of building attain such a measure of perfection as to render these tasks possible and easy, men will of course have lost so much of their primitive faith that they will no longer wish to labour to enrich the House of God.

My meditation was interrupted by Renata herself, who said to me shortly and simply:

“Rupprecht, let us go home.”

I rose with difficulty and followed Renata like one in irons; but, in thinking then, not without relief, that all the events of the day were done I was mistaken: the most startling lay yet in wait for us.

When we reached our home I bade Martha prepare food for us, but Renata did not want even to touch anything and, as if with great difficulty, she swallowed a few baked beans and would not drink more than two mouthfuls of wine. Then she went to her bed and stretched herself on it in complete prostration, like one paralysed, weakly warding off my touches and, to all my words, only shaking her head negatively. Approaching, I lowered myself to my knees near the bed and looked silently into her eyes, which suddenly became staring and devoid of meaning or expression—and thus I remained for a long time, in this posture, which thenceforward and for many weeks became habitual to me.

This was the very hour that fate chose to add yet another link to the chain dragging me to my perdition, and to transform me, for the first time, from a spectator and observer of devilish schemes to their accomplice and abettor. With that same frankness with which I relate of myself in this book both the good and the bad, I want to relate this event also, that I may show how the Devil knows means by which, hardly perceptibly, he may lead a man astray, to his own ways.

While we were thus plunged into darkness and silence, as into some black depth—there suddenly sounded above us a strange and quite exceptional cracking knock upon the wall. I looked round surprised for, apart from us two, there was nobody in the room, and at first I did not say anything. But after some interval, when the selfsame knock occurred a second time, I softly asked Renata:

“Did you hear that knock? What can it be?”

“Renata answered me in an indifferent voice:”

“It is nothing. That happens often. It is the tiny ones.”

I asked her again:

“What tiny ones?”

She answered me quietly:

“The tiny demons.”

This reply so interested me that, though I was reluctant to worry Renata in her weakened state, nevertheless I dared to question her, seeing that she understood something of which I had only a nebulous conception. With great reluctance, and pronouncing the words with difficulty, Renata informed me that the lower demons, who are always present in human circles, occasionally manifest their presence to those who are not protected from them by knocking on the walls and different objects, or by moving various things. To this Renata added that when, by her acquaintance with Madiël, her eyes were opened to the secret world, she even saw these very demons, who are always of human appearance and clothed, unlike angels, in capes, not light or brilliant, but dark, grey or smoke-black in colour, but that they are however, enveloped in a kind of glow, and in moving they float noiselessly rather than walk, and to disappear they dissolve like clouds.

I must not conceal the fact, and I will say here and now, that Renata later gave another explanation of the knockings that to many will perhaps appear more simple and natural, but, from everything, I gather that it was his first one that was true, and even if she were mistaken about them, it was only in that she did not recognise in them the usual devices of the Devil, who seeks ever to enmesh the soul in his dubious webs. But at that time I had no occasion even to reflect upon what she said, for I gave myself up wholly to a feeling of astonishment at the nearness to us of the world of demons, that, for the most of human beings, is as if situated on the further side of some inaccessible ocean that can be traversed only in the galleys of magic and sorcery. And, moreover, while Renata spoke, the knockings sounded gay upon the wall above her bed, as if confirming her words. But as never, and in no circumstances of my life, did the torch of free experimentation, lit in my soul by the books of the great humanists, flicker out in me, addressing myself to the knocking being I asked with extreme daring:

“If you who make these knockings are truly a demon, and if you hear my words, knock thrice.”

At once, clearly, there resounded three knocks, and at the moment they were as terrifying as if an invisible hammer were knocking through my skull at my brain. But quickly, overpowering this weakness, with renewed daring and not comprehending the dark abyss towards which I was thrusting myself, I asked again:

“Are you a friend to us or an enemy? If a friend—knock thrice.”

Immediately sounded three knockings. After these Renata, too, rose in her bed, and her eyes became alive again as she asked:

“In the name of God I conjure you, Knocker, speak! Do you know anything of my master, Count Heinrich? If you know, knock thrice.”

Three knocks sounded.

Then an uncontrollable trembling seized Renata and, sitting up, she seized my hand and, pressing it with her thin fingers, she quickly began to put questions to our conversationist, one after another; where is Count Heinrich? how soon will he return? when will she see him? how angry is he with her?—questions to it would be very difficult to reply with knockings. But, intervening, I tried to bring some system into the conversation and established that three knocks would always mean an affirmation, two a negation, after which we only had to put our questions in such a way that they could be answered by a single “yes” or “no.” It did not then occur to me that commerce with infernal powers might be sinful, or even dangerous, indeed I was even ready to pride myself on the new method of demonomancy I had invented, and a long conversation ensued between us and our guest.

We asked him: who is he, whether he be a demon? And that he answered us, yes. Then we asked him, what is he called? And by going through a number of names and all the sounds of the alphabet, we learned that his name was Elimer. Then we asked him whether he knew Count Heinrich, and that he answered us, yes. We asked whether Count Heinrich were in Köln, and to that he replied, no. We asked, would Count Heinrich arrive in Köln, and to that he replied, yes. We asked: when? soon? not to-day? perhaps to-morrow? and learned that it would be to-morrow. Then, continuing our questioning, we learned that we must await Count Heinrich the next evening, not going out anywhere, in this very room, that he will find his own way to Renata, that he has not forgotten her, that he is not angry with her, that he has forgiven all, loves her as before, and wishes to be with her.

All these answers were to Renata as the words of the Saviour ‘
talipha, kumi
’ to the dead virgin. She too revived, and, forgetting her weariness, she tirelessly put one question after another, nearly always about the selfsame thing with the words but slightly altered, only to hear once more this ‘yes’ so sweet to her. And when in the affirmative knocking there was some especial hope for her, she fell back into the pillow with a light sigh as if in ecstasy, swooning for a moment as if after some rapturous exaltation, and softly spoke to me: “You heard, Rupprecht, you heard?”

Thus it continued for more than an hour, until the knockings, at first growing weaker as if he who knocked was tiring, finally ceased altogether. But even after their cessation Renata for a long time could not quieten down, and, happy, she repeated to herself and me her questions and the answers of the demon, or made me repeat them, assuring me and herself “But I knew that I should see Heinrich here! But I felt so and I said so! For I had reached the limit of agony, and more weariness my heart could not have borne!” And Renata condescendingly stroked my hair and my face, gave me her hand to kiss, and pressed herself against me as if accustoming herself to the future caresses of her lover, and I found no release for my despair, but had to listen to her voice and touch her fingers with my lips. And the torment of her raptures lasted until long after midnight, despite our weariness, and I listened to Renata rejoicing like a child, still kneeling by her bed, so that at last, when she bade me go to my bed and sleep, I could scarcely stand upon my numb legs.

It may easily be understood that my second night in my lonely room was no better than my first, and once more, and with good reason, my soul had occasion to withstand the assaults of the dark thoughts that marched against it, buckled in steel and with lances tilted. To my heart’s content I gave myself up to thinking of the terrible connection that exists between the life of men and the life of demons, and of the new road on to which had swerved suddenly all the events of the past few days.

And this was the attempt I made the next morning, saying to myself that in a defeat the vanquished can only place hope and reliance upon his own extreme meekness and the mercy of his conqueror. When Renata called me to her, I delivered the following speech, carefully thought out and fully prepared:

“Noble lady! I desire to express openly that which you have probably guessed from my silence. Not simple courtesy, not knightly duty, keep me longer at your side, but something much greater, a feeling of which neither man nor woman should be ashamed. I gave you my oath to be your true servant and your faithful brother, but I shall remain for you also a worshipping adorer. Having known you, I fully realise that I shall never desire to be near another woman, and that which you have disclosed to me of the bestowal of your love does not in any way deter me. I do not hope for any liberty, but nevermore can I endure to be without you, or the wish to kiss your sleeve sometimes and watch your gliding step. Whatever may betide, even if fate has decreed the fulfilment of your happiness, take me into your service, allow me to be your bodyguard and with this right arm defend from danger you and him whom you have chosen.”

I will not say that everything in this, rather exaggerated, speech was sincere to the end, and that I should truly have liked to do all I said, but none the less it was along this slope that my thoughts slid, even if they did not reach the bottom—and if Renata had demanded the fulfilment of my promises, perhaps I would have performed all that I had offered, as if upon the boards. But Renata, having heard me through, said, her brows puckered:

“Do not dare even to think of anything of the kind, Rupprecht. You are the last shadow of this epoch of my life too full of shadow. I return into the world, and you must disappear as the darkness of the night at the rising of the sun. How can you think that when Heinrich is with me I could endure to look at you and know you kissed my hands and lay in one bed with me? No, as soon as Heinrich crosses the threshold, you must leave by another door, leave this city, slip back into your unknown, that I may never hear of you any more! This you must swear to me by the Passion of our Saviour on the Cross, and if you be untrue to your oath, then may your judgment be harder than that of Judas!”

Then I asked Renata:

“And what if in the morning, on leaving the house, you behold upon the threshold my corpse with my own dagger in my breast? What will you say then to your Heinrich?”

Renata answered:

“I shall say that it is probably some drunken passerby, and that I shall be glad when the corpse is removed by the reiters.”

After that I gave the oath exactly as she asked, and obeyed Renata in everything without argument, or demur, though I knew not, and did not desire to think, how I should behave in the evening. Renata, on the contrary, was rational and meticulous, which I had not expected her to be. She sent me to buy her a dress, for apart from the sumptuous one she always wore and her blue travelling cape she had no other attire, and also to obtain her many trinkets, both those suited to a journey and for the beauty of her face, apparently desiring to use all means to be especially attractive to Count Heinrich and also not to be a burden to him. She displayed the greatest heed and forethought about all kinds of trifles, and despite the rain, which did not cease all day, she made me many times return to market and wander from one merchant to another.