"As I gazed the mediaeval bosses of the tabernacle of Orcagna seemed to melt and flow into their primal forms so that the folded lotus of the Nileand the Greek acanthus were braided with the runic knots and fish-tailed monsters of the North, and all the plastic terror and beauty born of man's hand from the Ganges to the Baltic quivered and mingled in Orcagna's apotheosis of Mary.And so the river bore me on, past the alien face of antique civilizations and the familiar wonders of Greece, till I swam upon the fiercely rushing tide of the Middle Ages, with its swirling eddies of passion, its heaven-reflecting pools of poetry and art; I heard the rhythmic blow of the craftsmen's hammers in the goldsmiths' workshops and on the walls of churches, the party-cries of armed factions in the narrow streets, the organ- roll of Dante's verse, the crackle of the fagots around Arnold of Brescia, the twitter of the swallows to which St.Francis preached, the laughter of the ladies listening on the hillside to the quips of the Decameron, while plague-struck Florence howled beneath them--all this and much more I heard, joined in strange unison with voices earlier and more remote, fierce, passionate, or tender, yet subdued to such awful harmony that I thought of the song that the morning stars sang together and felt as though it were sounding in my ears.My heart beat to suffocation, the tears burned my lids, the joy, the mystery of it seemed too intolerable to be borne.I could not understand even then the words of the song; but I knew that if there had been someone at my side who could have heard it with me, we might have found the key to it together.
"I turned to my husband, who was sitting beside me in an attitude of patient dejection, gazing into the bottom of his hat; but at that moment he rose, and stretching his stiffened legs, said, mildly: 'Hadn't we better be going? There doesn't seem to be much to see here, and you know the table d'hote dinner is at half-past six o'clock."Her recital ended, there was an interval of silence; then the Spirit of Life said: "There is a compensation in store for such needs as you have expressed.""Oh, then you DO understand?" she exclaimed."Tell me what compensation, I entreat you!""It is ordained," the Spirit answered, "that every soul which seeks in vain on earth for a kindred soul to whom it can lay bare its inmost beingshall find that soul here and be united to it for eternity."A glad cry broke from her lips."Ah, shall I find him at last?" she cried, exultant.
"He is here," said the Spirit of Life.
She looked up and saw that a man stood near whose soul (for in that unwonted light she seemed to see his soul more clearly than his face) drew her toward him with an invincible force.
"Are you really he?" she murmured."I am he," he answered.
She laid her hand in his and drew him toward the parapet which overhung the valley.
"Shall we go down together," she asked him, "into that marvellous country; shall we see it together, as if with the self-same eyes, and tell each other in the same words all that we think and feel?""So," he replied, "have I hoped and dreamed.""What?" she asked, with rising joy."Then you, too, have looked for me?""All my life."
"How wonderful! And did you never, never find anyone in the other world who understood you?""Not wholly--not as you and I understand each other." "Then you feel it, too? Oh, I am happy," she sighed.
They stood, hand in hand, looking down over the parapet upon the shimmering landscape which stretched forth beneath them into sapphirine space, and the Spirit of Life, who kept watch near the threshold, heard now and then a floating fragment of their talk blown backward like the stray swallows which the wind sometimes separates from their migratory tribe.
"Did you never feel at sunset--"
"Ah, yes; but I never heard anyone else say so.Did you?""Do you remember that line in the third canto of the 'Inferno?'" "Ah, that line--my favorite always.Is it possible--""You know the stooping Victory in the frieze of the Nike Apteros?" "You mean the one who is tying her sandal? Then you have noticed,too, that all Botticelli and Mantegna are dormant in those flying folds of her drapery?""After a storm in autumn have you never seen--""Yes, it is curious how certain flowers suggest certain painters-- the perfume of the incarnation, Leonardo; that of the rose, Titian; the tuberose, Crivelli--""I never supposed that anyone else had noticed it." "Have you never thought--""Oh, yes, often and often; but I never dreamed that anyone else had." "But surely you must have felt--""Oh, yes, yes; and you, too--" "How beautiful! How strange--"Their voices rose and fell, like the murmur of two fountains answering each other across a garden full of flowers.At length, with a certain tender impatience, he turned to her and said: "Love, why should we linger here? All eternity lies before us.Let us go down into that beautiful country together and make a home for ourselves on some blue hill above the shining river."As he spoke, the hand she had forgotten in his was suddenly withdrawn, and he felt that a cloud was passing over the radiance of her soul.
"A home," she repeated, slowly, "a home for you and me to live in for all eternity?""Why not, love? Am I not the soul that yours has sought?""Y-yes--yes, I know--but, don't you see, home would not be like home to me, unless--""Unless?" he wonderingly repeated.
She did not answer, but she thought to herself, with an impulse of whimsical inconsistency, "Unless you slammed the door and wore creaking boots."But he had recovered his hold upon her hand, and by imperceptible degrees was leading her toward the shining steps which descended to the valley.
