Читать книгу The Quest - Frederik van Eeden - Страница 9

Johannes had already sat a long while, waiting. The air was chilly, and great clouds were drifting close above the earth in endless, majestic succession. They spread out sombre, wide-waving mantles, and reared their haughty heads toward the clear light that shone above them. Sunlight and shadow chased each other swiftly over the trees, like flickering flames. Johannes was in an anxious state of mind, thinking about the book; not believing that he should really find it that day. Between the clouds – much higher – awfully high, he saw an expanse of clear blue sky; and upon it, stretched out in motionless calm, were delicate, white, plume-like clouds.

"It ought be like that," he thought. "So high, so bright, so still!"

Then came Robinetta. The robin was not with her.

"It is all right, Johannes," she cried out. "You may come and see the book."

"Where is Robin Redbreast?" said Johannes, mistrustfully.

"He did not come. But we are not going for a walk."

Then he went with her, thinking all the time to himself:

"It cannot be! Not this way! – it must be entirely different!"

Yet he followed the sunny, blonde hair that lighted his way.

Alas! things went sadly now with little Johannes. I could wish that his story ended here. Did you ever have a splendid dream of a magical garden where the flowers and animals all loved you and talked to you? And did the idea come to you then, that you might wake up soon, and all that happiness be lost? Then you vainly try to hold the dream – and not to wake to the cold light of day. That was the way Johannes felt when he went with Robinetta.

He went into the house – and down a passage that echoed with his footsteps. He breathed the air of clothes and food; he thought of the long days when he had had to stay indoors, of his school-tasks, and of all that had been sombre and cold in his life.

He entered a room with people in it – how many he did not see. They were talking together, yet when he came they ceased to speak. He noticed the carpet; it had big, impossible flowers in glaring colors. They were as strange and deformed as those of the hangings in his bedroom at home.

"Well, is this the gardener's little boy?" said a voice right in front of him. "Come here, my young friend; you need not be afraid."

And another voice sounded suddenly, close beside him: "Well, Robbi, a pretty little playmate you have there!"

What did all this mean? The deep wrinkles came again above the child's dark eyes, and Johannes looked around in perplexity.

A man in black clothes sat near – looking at him with cold, grey eyes.

"And so you wish to make acquaintance with the Book of Books! It amazes me that your father, whom I know to be a devout man, has not already given it to you."

"You do not know my father – he is far away."

"Is that so? Well, it is all the same. Look here, my young friend! Read a great deal in this. Upon your path in life it will…"

But Johannes had already recognized the book. It could not possibly come to him in this way! No! he could not have it so. He shook his head.

"No, no! This is not what I mean. This I know. This is not it."

He heard sounds of surprise, and felt the looks which were fastened on him from all sides. "What! What do you mean, child?"

"I know this book; it is the Book of Human Beings. But there is not enough in it; if there were there would be rest among men – and peace. And there is none. I mean something else about which no one can doubt who sees it – wherein is told why everything is as it is – precisely and plainly."

"How is that possible? Where did the boy get that notion?"

"Who taught you that, my young friend?"

"I believe you have been reading depraved books, boy, and are repeating the words!"

Thus rang the various voices. Johannes felt his cheeks burning, and he began to feel dizzy. The room spun round, and the huge flowers on the carpet floated up and down. Where was the little mouse which had warned him so faithfully that day at school? He needed him now.

"I am not repeating it out of books, and he who taught me is worth more than all of you together. I know the language of flowers, and of animals – I am their intimate friend. I know, too, what human beings are, and how they live. I know all the secrets of fairies and of goblins, for they love me more than human beings do."

Oh, Mousie! Mousie!

Johannes heard coughing and laughing, around and behind him. It all rang and rasped in his ears.

"He seems to have been reading Andersen."

"He is not quite right in his head."

The man in front of him said:

"If you know Andersen, little man, you ought to have more respect for God and His Word." "God!" He knew that word, and he thought about Windekind's lesson.

"I have no respect for God. God is a big oil-lamp, which draws thousands to wreck and ruin."

No laughing now, but a serious silence in which the horror and consternation were palpable. Johannes felt even in his back the piercing looks. It was like his dream of the night before.

The man in black stood up and took him by the arm. That hurt, and almost broke his heart.

"Listen, boy! I do not know whether you are foolish or deeply depraved, but I will not suffer such godlessness here. Go away and never come into my sight again, wretched boy! I shall ask about you, but never again set foot in this house. Do you understand?"

Everybody looked at him coldly and unkindly – as in his dream the night before. Johannes looked around him in distress.

"Robinetta! Where is Robinetta?"

"Well, indeed! Corrupt my child? If you ever speak to her again, look out!"

"No, let me go to her! I will not leave her. Robinetta!" cried Johannes.

But she sat in a corner, frightened, and did not look up.

"Out, you rascal! Do you hear? Take care, if you have the boldness to come back again."

The painful grip led him through the sounding corridor – the glass door rattled, and Johannes stood outside, under the dark, lowering clouds.

He did not cry now, but gazed quietly out in front of him as he slowly walked on. The sorrowful wrinkles were deeper above his eyes, and they stayed there.

The little redbreast sat in a linden hedge and peered at him. He stood still and silently returned the look. But there was no trust now in the timid, peeping little eyes; and when he took a step nearer, the quick little creature whirred away from him.

"Away, away! A human being!" chirped the sparrows, sitting together in the garden path. And they darted away in all directions.

The open flowers did not smile, but looked serious and indifferent; as they do with every stranger.

Johannes did not heed these signs, but was thinking of what the cruel men had done to him. He felt as if his inmost being had been violated by a hard, cold touch. "They shall believe me!" thought he. "I will get my little key and show it to them."

"Johannes! Johannes!" called a light, little voice. There was a bird's nest in a holly tree, and Wistik's big eyes peeped over the brim of it. "Where are you bound for?"

"It is all your fault, Wistik," said Johannes. "Let me alone."

"How did you come to talk about it to human beings? They do not understand. Why do you tell them these things? It is very stupid of you."

"They laughed at me, and hurt me. They are miserable creatures. I hate them!"

"No, Johannes, you love them."

"No! No!"

"If you did not, you would not mind it so much that they are not like yourself; and it would not matter what they said. You must concern yourself less about human beings."

"I want my key. I want to show it to them."

"You must not do that; they would not believe you even if you did. What would be the use of it?"

"I want my little key – under the rose-bush. Do you know how to find it?"

"Yes, indeed! Near the pond, is it not? Yes, I know."

"Then take me to it, Wistik."

Wistik climbed up to Johannes' shoulder, and pointed out the way. They walked the whole day long. The wind blew, and now and then showers fell; but at evening the clouds ceased driving, and lengthened themselves out into long bands of gray and gold.

When they came to Johannes' own dunes, he felt deeply moved, and he whispered again and again: "Windekind! Windekind!"

There was the rabbit-hole, and the slope against which he had once slept. The grey reindeer-moss was tender and moist, and did not crackle beneath his feet. The roses were withered, and the yellow primroses with their faint, languid fragrance held up their cups by hundreds. Higher still rose the tall, proud torch-plants, with their thick, velvety leaves.

Johannes tried to trace the delicate, brownish leaves of the wild-rose.

"Where is it, Wistik? I do not see it."

"I know nothing about it," said Wistik. "You hid the key – I didn't."

The field where the rose had blossomed was full of primroses, staring vacantly. Johannes questioned them, and also the torch-plants. They were much too proud, however, for their tall flower-clusters reached far up above him; so he asked the small, tri-colored violets on the sandy ground.

But no one knew anything of the wild-rose. They all were newly-come flowers – even the arrogant torch-plant, tall though it was.

"Oh! where is it? Where is it?"

"Have you, too, served me a trick?" cried Wistik. "I expected it – that is always the way with human beings!"

He slipped down from Johannes' shoulder, and ran away into the tall grass.

Johannes looked hopelessly around. There stood a small rose-bush.

"Where is the big rose?" asked Johannes, "the big one that used to stand here?"

"We do not speak to human beings," said the little bush.

That was the last sound he heard. Every living thing kept silence. Only, the reeds rustled in the soft, evening wind.

"Am I a human being?" thought Johannes. "No, that cannot – cannot be. I will not be a human being. I hate human beings."

He was tired and faint-hearted, and went to the border of the little field to lie down upon the soft, grey moss with its humid, heavy fragrance.

"I cannot turn back now, nor ever see Robinetta again. Shall I not die without her? Shall I keep on living, and be a man – a man like those who laughed at me?"

Then, all at once, he saw again the two white butterflies that flew up to him from the way of the setting sun. In suspense, he followed their flight. Would they show him the way? They hovered above his head – then floated apart to return again – whirling about in fickle play. Little by little they left the sun, and finally fluttered beyond the border of the dunes – away to the woods. There, only the highest tips were still touched by the evening glow that shone out red and vivid from under the long files of sombre clouds.

Johannes followed the butterflies. But when they had flown above the nearest trees, he saw a dark shadow swoop toward them in noiseless flight, and then hover over them. It pursued and overtook them. The next moment they had vanished. The black shadow darted swiftly up to him, and he covered his face with his hands, in terror.

"Well, little friend, why do you sit here, crying?" rang a sharp, taunting voice close beside him.

Johannes had seen a huge bat coming toward him, but when he looked up, a swarthy mannikin, not much taller than himself, was standing on the dunes. It had a great head, with big ears, that stood out – dark – against the bright evening sky, and a lean little body with slim legs. Of his face Johannes could see only the small, glittering eyes.

"Have you lost anything, little fellow? If so, I will help you seek it," said he. But Johannes silently shook his head.

"Look! Would you like these?" he began again, opening his hand. Johannes saw there something white, that from time to time barely stirred. It was the two white butterflies – dead – with the torn and broken little wings still quivering. Johannes shivered, as though some one had blown on the back of his neck, and he looked up in alarm at the strange being.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Would you like to know my name, Chappie? Well, just call me Pluizer5– simply Pluizer. I have still prettier names, but that you do not yet understand."

"Are you a human being?"

"Better yet! Still, I have arms and legs and a head – just see what a head! And yet the boy asks if I'm a human being! Well, Johannes, Johannes!" And the mannikin laughed with a shrill, piercing sound.

"How do you know who I am?" asked Johannes.

"Oh, that is a trifle for me! I know a great deal more. I know where you came from, and what you came here to do. I know an astonishing lot – almost everything."

"Ah! Mr. Pluizer…"

"Pluizer – Pluizer. No ceremony!"

"Do you know then?.." But Johannes suddenly stopped. "He is a human being," thought he.

"About your little key, do you mean?" asked the mannikin.

"Yes, indeed I do."

"But I did not think human beings could know anything about that."

"Silly boy! And Wistik has babbled to so many about it!"

"Do you know Wistik, too?"

"Oh, yes – one of my best friends, and I have a great many of them. But I know about the little key, without the help of Wistik. I know a great deal more than Wistik. Wistik is a good enough fellow, but stupid – uncommonly stupid. Not I – far from it!" And Pluizer tapped his big head with his lean little hand in a very pert way.

"Do you know, Johannes," he continued, "a great defect in Wistik? But you never must tell him, for he would be very angry."

"Well, what is it?" asked Johannes.

"He does not exist. That is a great shortcoming, but he will not admit it. And he says of me that I do not exist – but that is a lie. I not exist? The mischief– I do!"

And Pluizer, thrusting the little butterflies into his pocket, suddenly threw himself over, and stood on his head in front of Johannes. Then he made a very ugly grimace, and stuck out his long tongue. Johannes, who did not yet feel quite at his ease alone with this remarkable creature, at the close of the day, in the lonely dunes, was quaking now, with fear.

"This is a most charming way of seeing the world," said Pluizer, still standing on his head. "If you like, I will teach you to do it. Everything looks much clearer and more life-like."

And he sprawled his spindle legs out in the air, and whirled around on his hands. As the red afterglow fell upon his inverted face, Johannes thought it frightful; the small eyes blinked in the light, and showed the whites on the wrong side.

"You see, this way the clouds look like the floor, and the ground the cover, of the world. You can maintain that as well as the contrary. There is no above nor below, however. Those clouds would make a fine promenade."

Johannes looked at the long clouds. He thought they appeared like a plowed field, with blood welling up from the red furrows. And over the sea the splendor was streaming from the gates of that grotto in the clouds.

"Could one get there, and go in?" he asked.

"Nonsense!" said Pluizer, landing suddenly on his feet again, to the great relief of Johannes. "Nonsense! If you were there, it would be precisely as it is here – and the beauty of it would then appear still a little farther off. In those beautiful clouds there, it is misty, grizzly, and cold."

"I do not believe you," said Johannes. "Now I can very well see that you are a human being."

"Oh, come! Not believe me, dear boy, because I am a human being! And what particular thing do you take yourself for?"

"Oh, Pluizer! Am I too a human being?"

"What did you suppose? An elf? Elves do not fall in love." And Pluizer suddenly dropped down exactly in front of Johannes – his legs crossed under him – grinning straight into his face. Johannes felt indescribably distressed and perplexed under this scrutiny, and would have liked to hide, or make himself invisible. Still he could not even turn his eyes away.

"Only human beings fall in love, Johannes. Do you hear? And that is good; otherwise before long there would be no more of them. And you are in love as well as the best of them, although you are still so young. Who are you thinking about, this instant?"

"Robinetta!" whispered Johannes, barely loud enough to be heard.

"Whom do you long for most?"

"Robinetta!"

"Who is the one without whom you think you cannot live?"

Johannes' lips moved silently: "Robinetta!"

"Now, then, you silly fellow," sneered Pluizer, "how can you fancy yourself to be an elf? Elves do not fall in love with the children of men."

"But it was Windekind," stammered Johannes, in his embarrassment. At that, Pluizer looked terribly angry, and he seized Johannes by the ears with his bony little hands.

"What stuff is this? Would you frighten me with that dunce? He is sillier than Wistik – far more silly. He does not know it, though. And what is more, he does not exist at all, and never has existed. I alone exist, do you understand? If you do not believe me, I will make you feel that I do exist."

And he shook poor Johannes by the ears – hard. The latter cried out: "But I have known him so long, and I have traveled so far with him!"

"You have dreamed it, I say. Where, then, are the rose-bush and the little key? Hey! – But you are not dreaming now! Do you feel that?"

"Auch!" cried Johannes; for Pluizer was tweaking his ears.

It had grown dark, and the bats were flying with shrill squeakings close to their heads. The air was black and heavy – not a leaf stirred in the woods.

"May I go home?" begged Johannes. "To my father?"

"Your father? What do you want of him?" asked Pluizer. "That person would give you a warm reception after your long absence!"

"I want to go home," said Johannes; and he thought of the living-room with the bright lamp-light, where he had so often sat beside his father, listening to the scratching of his pen. It was cozy there, and peaceful.

"Yes, but you ought not to have gone away, and stayed away – all for the sake of that madcap who has no existence. It is too late now. And if nothing turns up to prevent it, I will take care of you. Whether I do it, or your father does it, is precisely the same thing. Such a father! That is only imagination, however. Did you make your own selection? Do you think no one else so good – so clever? I am just as good, and much more clever."

Johannes had no heart for an answer; he closed his eyes, and nodded slightly.

"And," continued the mannikin, "you must not look for anything further from that Robinetta."

He laid his hands upon Johannes' shoulders, and chattered close to his ear. "That child thought you just as much a fool as the others did. Did you not see that she stayed in the corner, and said not a word when they all laughed at you? She is no better than the others. She thought you a nice little boy, and she played with you – just as she would have played with a May-bug. She cannot have cared about your going away. And she knows nothing about that book. But I do – I know where it is, and I will help you find it. I know nearly everything."

And Johannes began to believe him.

"Are you going with me? Will you search for it with me?"

"I am so tired," said Johannes. "Let me go to sleep somewhere."

"I care nothing for sleep," said Pluizer. "I am too lively for that. A person ought always to be looking and thinking. But I will leave you in peace for a little while – till morning comes."

Then he put on the friendliest face he could. Johannes looked straight into the glittering little eyes until he could see nothing else. His head grew heavy – he leaned against the mossy slope. The little eyes seemed to get farther and farther away until they were shining stars in the darkening sky. He thought he heard the sound of distant voices, as if the earth were moving away from him – and then he ceased to think at all.