The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature) (32 page)

BOOK: The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature)
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"How noble! And how beautiful it was to die in such a work.
Oh, sainted spirit, I worship your memory!"

"Whose memory?"

"Yours; and I-"

"Do you take me for dead?"

"Dead? Of course. Aren't you?"

"Certainly not."

Hotchkiss's joy was without limit or measure. He poured it
eloquently out until he was breathless; then paused, and added
pathetically-

"It is bad for spiritualism-yes, bad, bad-but let it go-go and
welcome, God knows I'm glad to have you back, even on those
costly terms! And by George, we'll celebrate! I'm a teetotaler-been
a teetotaler for years-months, anyway-a month-but at a time
like this-"

The kettle was still on the fire, the bottle which had revived
Meadows was still at hand, and in a couple of minutes he had brewed a pair of good punches-"anyway, good enough for a person
out of practice," he said.

The boy began to sip, and said it was pleasant, and asked what it
was.

"Why, bless your heart, whisky of course-can't you tell by the
smell of it? And we'll have a smoke, too. I don't smoke-haven't for
years-I think it's years-because I'm president of the Anti-Smoking League-but at a time like this-" He jumped up and threw a
log on the fire, punched the pile into a roaring blaze, then filled a
couple of cob pipes and brought them. "There, now, ain't it cosy,
ain't it comfortable?-and just hear the storm! My, but she's booming! But snug here?-it's no name for it!"

The boy was inspecting his pipe with interest.

"What shall I do with it, sir?"

"Do with it? Do you mean to say you don't smoke? I never saw
such a boy. Next you'll say you don't break the Sabbath."

"But what is the material?"

"That? Tobacco-of course."

"Oh, I see. Sir Walter Raleigh discovered it among the Indians; I
read about it in the school. Yes, I understand now."

I le applied the candle and began to smoke, Hotchkiss gazing at
him puzzled.

"You've read about it! Upon my word! Now that I come to think
about it, you don't seem to know anything except what you've read
about in that school. Why how in the world could you be born and
raised in the State of Missouri and never-"

"But I wasn't. I am a foreigner."

"You don't say!-and speak just like an educated native-not
even an accent. Where were you raised?"

The boy answered naively-

"Partly in heaven, partly in hell."

Hotchkiss's glass fell from one hand, his pipe from the other, and
he sat staring stupidly at the boy, and breathing short. Presently he
murmured dubiously-

"I reckon the punch-out of practice, you know-maybe both of
us-and-" He paused, and continued to gaze and blink; then shook his thoughts together and said, "Can't tell anything about it
-it is too undeveloped for me; but it's all right, we'll make a night
of it. It's my opinion, speaking as a prohibitionist-" He stooped
and picked up his glass and his pipe, and went rambling on in a
broken and incoherent way while he filled them, glancing furtively
at the boy now and then out of the corner of his eye and trying to
settle his disturbed and startled mind and get his bearings again.
But the boy was not disturbed; he smoked and sipped in peace, and
quiet, and manifest contentment. He took a book out of his pocket,
and began to turn the pages swiftly; Hotchkiss sat down, stirring
his new punch, and keeping a wistful and uneasy eye upon him.
After a minute or two the book was laid upon the table.

"Now I know all about it," said the boy. "It is all here-tobacco,
and liquors, and such things. Champagne is placed at the head of
everything; and Cuban tobacco at the head of the tobaccos."

"Oh, ycs, they are the gems of the planet in those lines. Why-I
don't recognise this book; did you bring it in to-night?"

"Yes."

"Where from?"

"The British Museum."

Hotchkiss began to blink again, and look uneasy.

"It is a new work," added the boy. "Published yesterday."

The blinking continued. Hotchkiss started to take a sip of punch,
but reconsidered the motion; shook his head and put the glass
down. Upon pretext of examining the print and the binding, he
opened the book; then closed it at once and pushed it away. He had
seen the Museum stamp-bearing date of the preceding day. He
fussed nervously at his pipe a moment; then held it to the candle
with a hand that trembled and made some of the tobacco spill out,
then asked timidly-

"How did you get the book?"

"I went after it myself."

"Yourself. Mercy! When?"

"While you were stooping for your pipe and glass."

Hotchkiss moaned.

"Why do you make that noise?"

 

"Be-because I-I am afraid."

The boy reached out and touched the trembling hand and said
gently-

"Thereit is gone."

The troubled look passed from the old prohibitionist's face, and
he said, in a sort of soft ecstasy of relief and contentment-

"It tingles all through me-all through me. Delicious! Every
fibre-the root of every hair-it is enchantment! Oh magician of
the magicians, talk to me-talk! tell me everything."

"Certainly, if you like."

"Now, that is lovely! First I will rout out old Rachel and we'll
have a bite and be comfortable and freshen up; I am pretty sharpset after all these hours, and I reckon you are, too."

"Wait. It is not necessary. I will order something."

Smoking dishes began to descend upon the table; it was covered
in a moment.

"It's the Arabian Nights come again! And I am not scared, now. I
don't know why-it was that magic touch, I think. But you didn't
fetch them yourself, this time; I was noticing, and you didn't go
away.

"No, I sent my servants."

"I didn't see them."

"You can if you wish."

"I'd give anything!"

The servants became visible; all the room was crowded with
them. Trim and shapely little fellows they were; velvety little red
fellows, with short horns on their heads and spiked tails at the other
end; and those that stood, stood in metal plates, and those that
sat-on chairs, in a row upon settees, and on top of the bookcase
with their legs dangling-had metal plates under them-"to keep
from scorching the furniture," the boy quietly explained, "these
have come but this moment, and of course are hot, yet."

Hotchkiss asked, a little timidly-

"Are they little devils?"

"Yes."

"Real ones?"

 

"Oh, yes-quite."

"They-are they safe?"

"Perfectly."

"I don't need to be afraid?"

"Oh, not at all."

"Then I won't be. I think they are charming. Do they understand English?"

"No, only French. But they could be taught it in a few minutes."

"It is wonderful. Are they-you won't mind my asking-relatives?"

"Of mine? No; sons of my father's subordinates. You are dismissed, young gentlemen, for the present."

The little fiends vanished.

"Your father is-er-"

"Satan!"

"Good land!"

Chapter 5

H OTCHKISS sank into his chair weak and limp, and began to
pour out broken words and disjointed sentences whose meanings
were not always clear but whose general idea was comprehensible.
To this effect: from custom bred of his upbringing and his associations he had often talked about Satan with a freedom which was
regrettable, but it was really only talk, mere idle talk, he didn't
mean anything by it; in fact there were many points about Satan's
character which he greatly admired, and although he hadn't said so,
publicly, it was an oversight and not intentional-but from this out
he meant to open his mouth boldly, let people say what they might
and think what they chose—

The boy interrupted him, gently and quietly-

"I don't admire him."

Hotchkiss was hard aground, now; his mouth was open, and
remained so, but no words came; he couldn't think of anything judicious to say. Presently he ventured to throw out a feeler-cautiously, tentatively, feelingly, persuasively:

"You see-well, you know-it would be only natural, if I was a
devil-a good, kind, honorable devil, I mean-and my father was a
good, kind, honorable devil against whom narrow and perhaps
wrongful or at least exaggerated prejudices-"

"But I am not a devil," said the boy, tranquilly.

Ilotchkiss was badly confused, but profoundly relieved.

"I-er-I-well, you know, I suspected as much, I-I-indeed I
hadn't a doubt of it; and-although it-on the whole-oh, good
land, I can't understand it, of course, but I give you my word of
honor I like you all the better for it, I do indeed! I feel good,
now-good, and comfortable, and in fact happy. Join me-take
something! I wish to drink your health; and-and your family's."

"With pleasure. Now cat-refresh yourself. I will smoke, if you
don't mind. I like it."

"Certainly; but cat, too; aren't you hungry?"

"No, I do not get hungry."

"Is that actually so?"

"Yes."

"Ever? Never?"

"No"

"Ali, it is a pity. You miss a great deal. Now tell nie about
yourself, won't you?"

"I shall be glad to do it, for I have a purpose in coming to the
earth, and if you should find the matter interesting, you can be
useful to me."

Then the talking and eating began, simultaneously.

"I was born before Adam's fall-"

"Wh-at!"

"It seems to surprise you. Why?"

"Because it caught me unprepared. And because it is six thousand years ago, and you look to be only about fifteen years old."

"True-that is my age, within a fraction."

"Only fifteen, and yet-"

 

"Counting by our system of measurement, I mean-not yours."

"How is that?"

"A day, with us, is as a thousand years with you."

Hotchkiss was awed. A seriousness which was near to solemnity
settled upon his face. After a meditative pause he said-

"Surely it cannot be that you really and not figuratively mean-"

"Yes-really, not figuratively. A minute of our time is 413 years
of yours. By our system of measurement I am fifteen years old; but
by yours I am five million, lacking twenty thousand years."

Hotchkiss was stunned. He shook his head in a hopeless way,
and said, resignedly-

"Go on-I can't realize it-it is astronomy to me."

"Of course you cannot realize these things, but do not be troubled; measurements of time and eternity are merely conveniences,
they are not of much importance. It is about a week ago that Adam
fell-"

"A week?-Ah, yes, your week. It is awful-that compression of
time! Go on."

"I was in heaven; I had always lived in heaven, of course; until a
week ago, my father had always lived there. But I saw this little
world created. I was interested; we were all interested. There is
much more interest attaching to the creation of a planet than
attaches to the creation of a sun, on account of the life that is going
to inhabit it. I have seen many suns created-many indeed, that
you are not yet acquainted with, they being so remotely situated in
the deeps of space that their light will not reach here for a long
time yet; but the planets-I cared the most for them; we all did; I
have seen millions of them made, and the Tree planted in the
Garden, and the man and the woman placed in its shade, with the
animals about them. I saw your Adam and Eve only once; they
were happy, then, and innocent. This could have continued forever,
but for my father's conduct. I read it all in the Bible in Mr. Ferguson's school. As it turned out, Adam's happiness lasted less than
a day-"

"Less than one day?"

"By our reckoning, I mean; by yours he lived nine hundred and
twenty years-the bulk of it unhappily."

"I see; yes, it is true."

"It was my father's fault. Then hell was created, in order that
Adam's race might have a place to go to, after death-"

"They could go to heaven, too."

"That was later. Two days ago. Through the sacrifice made for
them by the son of God, the Savior."

"Is hell so new?"

"It was not needed before. No Adam in any of the millions of
other planets had ever disobeyed and eaten of the forbidden fruit."

"It is strange."

"No-for the others were not tempted."

"How was that?"

"There was no tempter until my father ate of the fruit himself
and became one. Then he tempted other angels and they ate of it
also; then Adam and the woman."

"I low did your father come to eat of it this time?"

"I did not know at the time."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I was away when it happened; I was away some days,
and did not hear of it at all and of the disaster to my father until I
got back; then I went to my father's place to speak with him of it;
but his trouble was so new, and so severe, and so amazing to him
that he could do nothing but grieve and lament-he could not bear
to talk about the details; I merely gathered that when he made the
venture it was because his idea of the nature of the fruit was a most
erroneous one.

"Erroneous?"

"Quite erroneous."

"You do not know in what way it was erroneous?"

"Yes, I think I know now. He probably-in fact unquestionably
-supposed that the nature of the fruit was to reveal to human
beings the knowledge of good and evil-that, and nothing more;
but not to Satan the great angel; he had that knowledge before. We always had it-always. Now why he was moved to taste it himself
is not clear; I shall never know until he tells me. But his error
was-

"Yes, what was his error?"

"His error was in supposing that a knowledge of the difference
between good and evil was all that the fruit could confer."

"Did it confer more than that?"

"Consider the passage which says man is prone to evil as the
sparks to fly upward. Is that true? Is that really the nature of man?
-I mean your man-the man of this planet?"

BOOK: The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature)
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