"This was a very fine gentleman," said he in high glee. "You should have seen him--so rich, so fashionable, so arrogant. He is as much puffed up as ever!"
And so they went on. There were lean and haggard faces with white hair that shone blue in the feeble light, and little children with large heads and old-looking, anxious features.
"These, you see, died first and grew old afterwards," said Pluizer.
They came to a man with a flowing beard and parted lips, showing glistening white teeth. There was a round black hole in the middle of his forehead.
"This one lent Death a helping hand. Why had he not a little patience?
He would have come here in the end."
Through pa.s.sage after pa.s.sage, one after another, they pa.s.sed, no end of them--straight-laid figures, with rigid, grinning faces, and motionless hands laid one over the other.
"Now I can go no further," said the ear-wig. "I do not know my way beyond this."
"Let us turn back," said the worm.
"One more, one more!" cried Pluizer.
So on they went.
"Everything you see here, actually exists," said Pluizer, as they made their way forward. "It is all real. One thing only is not real, and that is yourself, Johannes. You are not here; you cannot come here."
And he laughed maliciously as he saw Johannes"s terrified and bewildered face at these words.
"This is the last, positively the last."
"The way stops here. I am going no further," said the ear-wig crossly.
"I will go further," said Pluizer; and where the path ended he began grubbing the earth with both hands.
"Help me, Johannes."
And Johannes, submissive with wretchedness, obeyed, scratching away the fine damp soil. Silent and breathless they worked away till they came to the black wood.
The worm had drawn back his ringed head and disappeared. The ear-wig dropped the light and turned away.
"It is impossible to get in, the wood is new," said he as he withdrew.
"I will do it!" said Pluizer, and with his clawed fingers he tore long white splinters cracking out of the wood.
A fearful anguish came over Johannes. But he could not help himself; there was no escape.
At last the dark thing was opened. Pluizer seized the light and hurried in.
"Here, here!" he cried, running to the head.
But when Johannes came as far as the hands, which lay quietly folded over the breast, he stopped. He gazed at the thin white fingers, dimly lighted from above. On a sudden, he recognised them,--he knew the shape and turn of the fingers, the look of the long nails, now blue and dull.
He recognised a brown spot on one of the forefingers. These were his own hands.
"Here, this way!" Pluizer called from the head. "Only look, do you know him?"
Hapless Johannes tried to stand up and go towards the light which winked at him; but he could not. The gleam died into total darkness and he fell senseless.
XII
He had sunk into deep sleep--that sleep which is too deep for dreams.
When he came out of the darkness--very slowly--into the cool grey light of dawn, he pa.s.sed through varied and peaceful dreams of an early time.
He woke up, and they glided off his soul, like dew-drops off a flower.
The look in his eyes was calm and sweet as they still gazed on the crowd of lovely images.
But he closed them again quickly as though the glare were painful, to shut out the pale daylight. He saw just what he had seen the morning before. It seemed to him far away and a long time ago. Still, hour by hour, he remembered it all, from the dreary day-break to the terrible night. He could not believe that all these horrors had come upon him in a single day. The beginning of his wretchedness seemed so remote, lost in grey mist.
The sweet dreams vanished, and left no trace on his spirit; Pluizer shook him, and the dreadful day began, gloomy and colourless; the first of many, many more. But all he had seen last night in that terrible walk dwelt in his mind. Had it been no more than a fearful vision?
When he asked Pluizer doubtfully, he looked at him with mockery and amazement.
"What do you mean?" he said.
But Johannes did not see the sarcasm in his eyes, and asked whether all this, which he still saw so plainly and clearly, had not indeed been true.
"Why, Johannes, how silly you are! Such a thing could never happen at all."
And Johannes did not know what to think.
"We must set you to work at once, and then you will ask no more such foolish questions."
So they went to Doctor Cypher, who was to help Johannes to find what he sought.
But as they went along the crowded street, Pluizer suddenly stood still, and pointed out a man in the throng.
"Do you remember him?" asked Pluizer, and he laughed aloud when Johannes turned pale and stared at the man in terror. He had seen him last night, deep under ground.
The doctor received them kindly and imparted his learning to Johannes, who listened to him for hours that day--and for many days after. The doctor had not found what they sought; but was very near it, he said. He would lead Johannes as far as he himself had gone, and then, together, they would be sure to achieve to it.
Johannes learned and listened, diligently and patiently--day after day, and month after month. He had very little hope, but he understood that he must go on now, as far as possible. He thought it strange that the longer he sought the light the darker it grew around him. The beginning of everything, he learned, was the best part of it, but the deeper he got the duller and more obscure it became. He began with the study of plants and animals, of everything about him, and when he had studied these a long time they all turned to numbers. Everything resolved itself into numbers--pages of figures. This Doctor Cypher thought quite splendid; he said that light would come to them as the numbers came, but to Johannes it was darkness.
Pluizer never left him, and drove and urged him on when he was disheartened or weary. His presence marred every moment of enjoyment and admiration. Johannes was amazed and delighted when he learnt and saw how exquisitely flowers were constructed, how the fruit was formed, and how insects unconsciously helped in the process.
"That is beautiful!" he exclaimed. "How exactly it is all arranged, and how delicately and accurately contrived!"
"Yes, amazingly contrived," said Pluizer. "The pity is that the greater part of this ingenuity and accuracy comes to nothing. How many flowers produce fruit, and how many seeds become trees?"
"But still, it seems to be all wrought by some grand plan," said Johannes. "Look, the bees seek honey for their own ends and do not know that they are serving the flowers, and the flowers attract the bees by their colours. That is a scheme, and they both work it out without knowing it."