The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature) (47 page)

"Come back! I am alive again, it is not a ghost."

I returned, but I was not comfortable, for I could not at once
realize that he was really and solidly alive again, although I knew
he was, for the fact was plain enough, the cat could have recognized it. As indeed the cat did; he came loafing in, waving his tail in
greeting and satisfaction, and when lie saw 44 he roached his back
and inflated his tail and dropped a pious word and started away on
urgent business; but 44 laughed, and called him back and explained to him in the cat language, and stroked him and petted him
and sent him away to the other animals with the news; and in a
minute here they came, padding and pattering from all directions,
and they piled themselves all over him in their joy, nearly hiding
him from sight, and all talking at once, each in his own tongue, and
44 answering in the language of each; and finally he fed them liberally with all sorts of palatable things from my cupboard (where
there hadn't been a thing before), and sent them away convinced
and happy.

By this time my tremors were gone and I was at rest, there was
nothing in my mind or heart but thankfulness to have him back
again, except wonder as to how it could be, and whether he had
really been dead or had only seemed to perish in a magic-show and
illusion; but he answered the thought while fetching a hot supper
from my empty cupboard, saying-

"It wasn't an illusion, I died;" and added indifferently, "it is
nothing, I have done it many a time!"

It was a hardy statement, and I did not strain myself with trying
to believe it, but of course I did not say so. His supper was beyond
praise for toothsomeness, but I was not acquainted with any of the
dishes. He said they were all foreign, from various corners of the
globe. An amazing thing, I thought, yet it seemed to me it must be
true. There was a very rare-done bird that was peculiarly heavenly;
it seemed to be a kind of duck.

"Canvas-back," he said, "hot from America!"

"What is America?"

"It's a country."

"A country?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Oh, away off. It hasn't been discovered yet. Not quite. Next
fall."

"Have you-"

"Been there? Yes; in the past, in the present, in the future. You
should see it four or five centuries from now! This duck is of that
period. How do you like the Duplicates?"

It was his common way, the way of a boy, and most provoking:
careless, capricious, unstable, never sticking to a subject, forever
flitting and sampling here and there and yonder, like a bee; always,
just as he was on the point of becoming interesting, he changed the
subject. I was annoyed, but concealed it as well as I could, and
answered-

"Oh, well, they are well enough, but they are not popular. They won't join the union, they work for nothing, the men resent their
intrusion. There you have the situation: the men dislike them, and
they are bitter upon the magician for sending them."

It seemed to give 44 an evil delight. He rubbed his hands
vigorously together, and said-

"They were a good idea, the Duplicates; judiciously handled,
they will make a lot of trouble! Do you know, those creatures are
not uninteresting, all things considered, for they are not real persons.

"Heavens, what are they, then!"

"I will explain. Move up to the fire."

We left the table and its savory wreckage, and took comfortable
seats, each at his own customary side of the fire, which blazed up
briskly now, as if in a voluntary welcome of us. Then 44 reached
up and took from the mantelpiece some things which I had not
noticed there before: a slender reed stem with a small red-clay cup
at the end of it, and a dry and dark-colored leaf, of a breed
unknown to me. Chatting along,-I watching curiously-he
crushed the crisp leaf in his palm, and filled that little cup with it;
then he put the stem in his mouth and touched the cup with his
finger, which instantly set fire to the vegetable matter and sent up a
column of smoke and I dived under the bed, thinking something
might happen. But nothing did, and so upon persuasion I returned
to my chair but moved it a little further, for 44 was tilting his head
far back and shooting ring after ring of blue smoke toward the ceiling
-delicate gauzy revolving circlets, beautiful to see; and always
each new ring took enlargement and 44 fired the next one through
it with a good aim and happy art, and he did seem to enjoy it so; but
not I, for I believed his entrails were on fire, and could perhaps
explode and hurt some one, and most likely the wrong person, just
as happens at riots and such things.

But nothing occurred, and f grew partially reconciled to the
conditions, although the odor of the smoke was nauseating and a
little difficult to stand. It seemed strange that he could endure it,
and stranger still that he should seem to enjoy it. I turned the
mystery over in my mind and concluded it was most likely a pagan religious service, and therefore I took my cap off, not in reverence
but as a matter of discretion. But he said-

"No, it is only a vice, merely a vice, but not a religious one. It
originated in Mexico."

"What is Mexico?"

"It's a country."

"A country?"

"Yes."

"Where is it?"

"Away off. It hasn't been discovered yet."

"Have you ever-"

"Been there? Yes, many times. In the past, in the present, and in
the future. No, the Duplicates are not real, they are fictions. I will
explain about them."

I sighed, but said nothing. He was always disappointing; I
wanted to hear about Mexico.

"The way of it is this," he said. "You know, of course, that you
are not one person, but two. One is your Workaday-Self, and 'tends
to business, the other is your DreamSelf, and has no responsibilities, and cares only for romance and excursions and adventure. It
sleeps when your other self is awake; when your other self sleeps,
your DreamSelf has full control, and does as it pleases. It has far
more imagination than has the Workaday-Self, therefore its pains
and pleasures are far more real and intense than are those of the
other self, and its adventures correspondingly picturesque and extraordinary. As a rule, when a party of Dream-Selves-whether
comrades or strangers-get together and flit abroad in the globe,
they have a tremendous time. But you understand, they have no
substance, they are only spirits. The Workaday-Self has a harder lot
and a duller time; it can't get away from the flesh, and is clogged
and hindered by it; and also by the low grade of its own imagination."

"But 44, these Duplicates are solid enough!"

"So they are, apparently, but it is only fictitious flesh and bone,
put upon them by the magician and me. We pulled them out of the
Originals and gave them this independent life."

"Why, 44, they fight and bleed, like anybody!"

"Yes, and they feel, too. It is not a bad job, in the solidifying line,
I've never seen better flesh put together by enchantment; but no
matter, it is a pretty airy fabric, and if we should remove the spell
they would vanish like blowing out a candle. Ah, they are a capable
lot, with their measureless imaginations! If they imagine there is a
mystic clog upon them and it takes them a couple of hours to set a
couple of lines, that is what happens; but on the contrary, if they
imagine it takes them but half a second to set a whole galleyful of
matter, that is what happens! A dandy lot is that handful of
Duplicates, and the easy match of a thousand real printers! Handled judiciously, they'll make plenty of trouble."

"But why should you want them to make trouble, 44?"

"Oh, merely to build up the magician's reputation. If they once
get their imaginations started . .. . . oh, the consuming intensity
and effectiveness of it!" He pondered a while, then said, indolently,
"Those Originals are in love with these women and are not making
any headway; now then, if we arrange it so that the Duplicates
. . . . . lad, it's getting late-for you; time does not exist, for me.
August, that is a nice table-service-you may have it. Good-night!"
and he vanished.

It was heavy silver, and ornate, and on one great piece was
engraved "America Cup;" on the others were chased these words,
which had no meaning for me: "New York Yacht Club, 1903."

I sighed, and said to myself, "It may be that he is not honest."
After some days I obliterated the words and dates, and sold the
service at a good price.

DAY AFTER day went by, and Father Adolf was a busy man,
for he was the head of the Commission charged with trying and
punishing the magician; but he had no luck, he could come upon
no trace of the necromancer. He was disappointed and exasperated, and he swore hard and drank hard, but nothing came of it, he made
no progress in his hunt. So, as a vent for his wrath he turned upon
the poor Duplicates, declaring them to he evil spirits, wandering
devils, and condemned them to the stake on his own arbitrary
authority, but 44 told me he (44,) wouldn't allow them to be hurt,
they being useful in the building up of the magician's reputation.
Whether 44 was really their protector or not, no matter, they
certainly had protection, for every time Father Adolf chained them
to the stake they vanished and left the stake empty before the fire
could be applied, and straightway they would be found at work in
the shop and not in any way frightened or disturbed. After several
failures Father Adolf gave it up in a rage, for he was becoming
ridiculous and a butt for everybody's private laughter. To cover his
chagrin he pretended that he had not really tried to burn them, he
only wanted to scare them; and said he was only postponing the
roasting, and that it would take place presently, when he should
find that the right time had come. But not many believed him, and
Doangivadam, to show how little he cared for Adolf's pretensions,
took out a fire insurance policy upon his Duplicate. It was an
impudent thing to do, and most irreverent, and made Father Adolf
very angry, but he pretended that he did not mind it.

As 44 had expected, the Duplicates fell to making love to the
young women, and in such strenuous fashion that they soon cut out
the Originals and left them out in the cold; which made bad blood,
and constant quarrels and fights resulted. Soon the castle was no
better than a lunatic asylum. It was a cat-and-dog's life all around,
but there was no helping it. The master loved peace, and he tried
his best to reconcile the parties and make them friendly to each
other, but it was not possible, the brawling and fighting went on in
spite of all he could do. FortyFour and I went about, visible to each
other but to no one else, and we witnessed these affrays, and 44
enjoyed them and was perfectly charmed with them. Well, he had
his own tastes. I was not always invisible, of course, for that would
have caused remark; I showed up often enough to prevent that.

Whenever I thought I saw a good opportunity I tried to interest
44 in the life eternal, but the innate frivolity of his nature contin ually defeated my efforts, he could not seem to care for anything
but building up the magician's reputation. He said he was interested in that, and in one other thing, the human race. He had
nettled me more than once by seeming to speak slightingly of the
human race. Finally, one day, being annoyed once more by some
such remark, I said, acidly-

"You don't seem to think much of the human race; it's a pity you
have to belong to it."

He looked a moment or two upon me, apparently in gentle
wonder, then answered-

"What makes you think I belong to it?"

The bland audacity of it so mixed my emotions that it was a
question which would get first expression, anger or mirth; but
mirth got precedence, and I laughed. Expecting him to laugh, too,
in response; but he did not. He looked a little hurt at my levity, and
said, as in mild reproach-

"I think the human race is well enough, in its way, all things
considered, but surely, August, I have never intimated that I belonged to it. Reflect. Now have I?"

It was difficult to know what to say; I seemed to be a little
stunned. Presently I said, wonderingly-

"It makes me dizzy; I don't quite know where I am; it is as if I
had had a knock on the head. I have had no such confusing and
bewildering and catastrophical experience as this before. It is a new
and strange and fearful idea: a person who is a person and yet not a
human being. I cannot grasp it, I do not know how it can be, I have
never dreamed of so tremendous a thing, so amazing a thing! Since
you are not a human being, what are you?"

"Ah," he said, "now we have arrived at a point where words are
useless; words cannot even convey human thought capably, and
they can do nothing at all with thoughts whose realm and orbit are
outside the human solar system, so to speak. I will use the language
of my country, where words are not known. During half a moment
my spirit shall speak to yours and tell you something about me. Not
much, for it is not much of me that you would be able to understand, with your limited human mentality."

While he was speaking, my head was illuminated by a single
sudden flash as of lightning, and I recognised that it had conveyed
to me some knowledge of him; enough to fill me with awe. Envy,
too-I do not mind confessing it. He continued-

"Now then, things which have puzzled you heretofore are not a
mystery to you any more, for you are now aware that there is
nothing I cannot do-and lay it on the magician and increase his
reputation; and you are also now aware that the difference between
a human being and me is as the difference between a drop of water
and the sea, a rushlight and the sun, the difference between the
infinitely trivial and the infinitely sublime! I say-we'll be comrades, and have scandalous good times!" and he slapped me on the
shoulder, and his face was all alight with good-fellowship.