THE FISHERMAN AND HIS SOUL
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THE FISHERMAN AND HIS SOUL[TO H.S.H. ALICE, PRINCESS OF MONACO]
Every evening the young Fisherma out upon the sea, and threw
his s into the water.
When the wind blew from the land he caught nothing, or but little
at best, for it was a bitter and black-winged wind, and rough waves
rose up to meet it. But when the wind blew to the shore, the fish
came in from the deep, and swam into the meshes of his s, and he
took them to the market-plad sold them.
Every evening he went out upon the sea, and one evening the was
so heavy that hardly could he draw it into the boat. And he
laughed, and said to himself, Surely I have caught all the fish
that swim, or snared some dull mohat will be a marvel to
men, or some thing of horror that the great Queen will desire, and
putting forth all his strength, he tugged at the coarse ropes till,
like lines of blue enamel round a vase of brohe long veins
rose up on his arms. He tugged at the thin ropes, and nearer and
nearer came the circle of flat corks, and the rose at last to
the top of the water.
But no fish at all was in it, nor any monster or thing of horror,
but only a little Mermaid lying fast asleep.
Her hair was as a wet fleece of gold, and each separate hair as a
thread of fine gold in a cup of glass. Her body was as white
ivory, aail was of silver and pearl. Silver and pearl was
her tail, and the green weeds of the sea coiled round it; and like
sea-shells were her ears, and her lips were like sea-coral. The
cold waves dashed over her cold breasts, and the salt glistened
upon her eyelids.
So beautiful was she that when the young Fisherman saw her he was
filled with wonder, a out his hand and drew the close
to him, and leaning over the side he clasped her in his arms. And
wheouched her, she gave a cry like a startled sea-gull, and
woke, and looked at him in terror with her mauve-amethyst eyes, and
struggled that she might escape. But he held her tightly to him,
and would not suffer her to depart.
And when she saw that she could in no way escape from him, she
began to weep, and said, I pray thee let me go, for I am the only
daughter of a King, and my father is aged and alone.
But the young Fisherman answered, I will not let thee go save thou
makest me a promise that whenever I call thee, thou wilt e and
sing to me, for the fish delight to listen to the song of the Sea-
folk, and so shall my s be full.
Wilt thou iruth let me go, if I promise thee this? cried
the Mermaid.
Iruth I will let thee go, said the young Fisherman.
So she made him the promise he desired, and sware it by the oath of
the Sea-folk. And he loosened his arms from about her, and she
sank down into the water, trembling with a strange fear.
Every evening the young Fisherma out upon the sea, and called
to the Mermaid, and she rose out of the water and sang to him.
Round and round her swam the dolphins, and the wild gulls wheeled
above her head.
And she sang a marvellous song. For she sang of the Sea-folk who
drive their flocks from cave to cave, and carry the little calves
on their shoulders; of the Tritons who have long green beards, and
hairy breasts, and blow through twisted chs when the King passes
by; of the palace of the King which is all of amber, with a roof of
clear emerald, and a pavement ht pearl; and of the gardens
of the sea where the great filigrane fans of coral wave all day
long, and the fish dart about like silver birds, and the anemones
g to the rocks, and the pinks beon in the ribbed yellow
sand. She sang of the big whales that e down from the north
seas and have sharp icicles hanging to their fins; of the Sirens
who tell of such wonderful things that the merts have to stop
their ears with wax lest they should hear them, and leap into the
water and be drowned; of the sunken galleys with their tall masts,
and the frozen sailors ging to the rigging, and the mackerel
swimming in and out of the open portholes; of the little barnacles
whreat travellers, and g to the keels of the ships and
go round and round the world; and of the cuttlefish who live in the
sides of the cliffs and stretch out their long black arms, and
make night e when they will it. She sang of the nautilus who
has a boat of her own that is carved out of an opal and steered
with a silken sail; of the happy Mermen who play upon harps and
charm the great Kraken to sleep; of the little children who catch
hold of the slippery porpoises and ride laughing upon their backs;
of the Mermaids who lie in the white foam and hold out their arms
to the mariners; and of the sea-lions with their curved tusks, and
the sea-horses with their floating manes.
And as she sang, all the tunny-fish came in from the deep to listen
to her, and the young Fisherman threw his s round them and
caught them, and others he took with a spear. And when his boat
was well-laden, the Mermaid would sink down into the sea, smiling
at him.
Yet would she never e near him that he might touch her.
Oftentimes he called to her and prayed of her, but she would not;
and when he sought to seize her she dived into the water as a seal
might dive, nor did he see her again that day. And each day the
sound of her voice became sweeter to his ears. So sweet was her
voice that he fot his s and his ing, and had no care of
his craft. Vermilion-finned and with eyes of bossy gold, the
tunnies went by in shoals, but he heeded them not. His spear lay
by his side unused, and his baskets of plaited osier were empty.
With lips parted, and eyes dim with wonder, he sat idle in his boat
and listened, listening till the sea-mists crept round him, and the
wandering moon stained his brown limbs with silver.
And one evening he called to her, and said: Little Mermaid,
little Mermaid, I love thee. Take me for thy bridegroom, for I
love thee.
But the Mermaid shook her head. Thou hast a human soul, she
answered. If only thou wouldst send away thy soul, then could I
love thee.
And the young Fisherman said to himself, Of what use is my soul to
me? I ot see it. I may not touch it. I do not know it.
Surely I will send it away from me, and much gladness shall be
mine. And a cry of joy broke from his lips, and standing up in
the painted boat, he held out his arms to the Mermaid. I will
send my soul away, he cried, and you shall be my bride, and I
will be thy bridegroom, and in the depth of the sea we will dwell
together, and all that thou hast sung of thou shalt show me, and
all that thou desirest I will do, nor shall our lives be divided.
And the little Mermaid laughed for pleasure and hid her fa her
hands.
But how shall I send my soul from me? cried the young Fisherman.
Tell me how I may do it, and lo! it shall be done.
Alas! I know not, said the little Mermaid: the Sea-folk have
no souls. And she sank down into the deep, looking wistfully at
him.
Now early on the m, before the sun was the span of a
mans hand above the hill, the young Fishermao the house of
the Priest and khree times at the door.
The novice looked out through the wicket, and when he saw who it
was, he drew back the latd said to him, Enter.
And the young Fisherman passed in, and k down on the sweet-
smelling rushes of the floor, and cried to the Priest who was
reading out of the Holy Book and said to him, Father, I am in love
with one of the Sea-folk, and my soul hih me from having my
desire. Tell me how I send my soul away from me, for in truth
I have no need of it. Of what value is my soul to me? I ot
see it. I may not touch it. I do not know it.
And the Priest beat his breast, and answered, Alack, alack, thou
art mad, or hast eaten of some poisonous herb, for the soul is the
part of man, and was given to us by God that we should
nobly use it. There is no thing more precious than a human soul,
nor ahly thing that be weighed with it. It is worth all
the gold that is in the world, and is more precious than the rubies
of the kings. Therefore, my son, think not any more of this
matter, for it is a sin that may not be fiven. >?</a>And as for the
Sea-folk, they are lost, and they who would traffic with them are
lost also. They are as the beasts of the field that know not good
from evil, and for them the Lord has not died.
The young Fishermans eyes filled with tears when he heard the
bitter words of the Priest, and he rose up from his knees and said
to him, Father, the Fauns live in the forest and are glad, and on
the rocks sit the Mermen with their harps old. Let me be
as they are, I beseech thee, for their days are as the days of
flowers. And as for my soul, what doth my soul profit me, if it
staween me and the thing that I love?
The love of the body is vile, cried the Priest, knitting his
brows, and vile and evil are the pagan things God suffers to
wahrough His world. Accursed be the Fauns of the woodland,
and accursed be the singers of the sea! I have heard them at
night-time, and they have sought to lure me from my beads. They
tap at the window, and laugh. They whisper into my ears the tale
of their perilous joys. They tempt me with temptations, and when I
would pray they make mouths at me. They are lost, I tell thee,
they are lost. For them there is no heaven nor hell, and in
her shall they praise Gods name.
Father, cried the young Fisherman, thou k not what thou
sayest. On my I she daughter of a King. She is
fairer than the m star, and whiter than the moon. For her
body I would give my soul, and for her love I would surrender
heaven. Tell me what I ask of thee, a me go in peace.
Away! Away! cried the Priest: thy leman is lost, and thou
shalt be lost with her.
And he gave him no blessing, but drove him from his door.
And the young Fisherma down into the market-place, and he
walked slowly, and with bowed head, as one who is in sorrow.
And when the merts saw <mark></mark>him ing, they began to whisper to
each other, and one of them came forth to meet him, and called him
by name, and said to him, What hast thou to sell?
I will sell thee my soul, he answered. I pray thee buy it of
me, for I am weary of it. Of what use is my soul to me? I ot
see it. I may not touch it. I do not know it.
But the merts mocked at him, and said, Of what use is a mans
soul to us? It is not worth a clipped piece of silver. Sell us
thy body for a slave, and we will clothe thee in sea-purple, and
put a ring upon thy finger, and make thee the minion of the great
Queen. But talk not of the soul, for to us it is nought, nor has
it any value for our service.
And the young Fisherman said to himself: How strahing this
is! The Priest telleth me that the soul is worth all the gold in
the world, and the merts say that it is not worth a clipped
piece of silver. And he passed out of the market-place, a
down to the shore of the sea, and began to ponder on what he should
do.
And at noon he remembered how one of his panions, who was a
gatherer of samphire, had told him of a certain young Witch who
dwelt in a cave at the head of the bay and was very ing in her
witcheries. A to and ran, so eager was he to get rid of
his soul, and a cloud of dust followed him as he sped round the
sand of the shore. By the itg of her palm the young Witew
his ing, and she laughed a down her red hair. With her
red hair falling around her, she stood at the opening of the cave,
and in her hand she had a spray of wild hemlock that was
blossoming.
What dye lack? What dye lack? she cried, as he came panting up
the steep, a down before her. Fish for thy , when the
wind is foul? I have a little reed-pipe, and when I blow on it the
mullet e sailing into the bay. But it has a price, pretty boy,
it has a price. What dye lack? What dye lack? A storm to wreck
the ships, and wash the chests of rich treasure ashore? I have
more storms than the wind has, for I serve one who is strohan
the wind, and with a sieve and a pail of water I send the great
galleys to the bottom of the sea. But I have a price, pretty boy,
I have a price. What dye lack? What dye lack? I know a flower
that grows in the valley, none knows it but I. It has purple
leaves, and a star in its heart, and its juice is as white as milk.
Shouldst thou touch with this flower the hard lips of the Queen,
she would follow thee all over the world. Out of the bed of the
King she would rise, and over the whole world she would follow
thee. And it has a price, pretty boy, it has a price. What dye
lack? What dye lack? I pound a toad in a mortar, and make
broth of it, and stir the broth with a dead mans hand. Sprinkle
it on thine enemy while he sleeps, and he will turn into a black
viper, and his own mother will slay him. With a wheel I draw
the Moon from heaven, and in a crystal I show thee Death. What
dye lack? What dye lack? Tell me thy desire, and I will give it
thee, and thou shalt pay me a price, pretty boy, thou shalt pay me
a price.
My desire is but for a little thing, said the young Fisherman,
yet hath the Priest been wroth with me, and driven me forth. It
is but for a little thing, and the merts have mocked at me, and
denied me. Therefore am I e to thee, though men call thee evil,
and whatever be thy price I shall pay it.
What wouldst thou? asked the Witch, io him.
I would send my soul away from me, answered the young Fisherman.
The Witch grew pale, and shuddered, and hid her fa her blue
mantle. Pretty boy, pretty boy, she muttered, that is a
terrible thing to do.
He tossed his brown curls and laughed. My soul is nought to me,
he answered. I ot see it. I may not touch it. I do not know
it.
What wilt thou give me if I tell thee? asked the Witch, looking
down at him with her beautiful eyes.
Five pieces of gold, he said, and my s, and the wattled house
where I live, and the painted boat in which I sail. Only tell me
how to get rid of my soul, and I will give thee all that I
possess.
She laughed mogly at him, and struck him with the spray of
hemlock. I turumn leaves into gold, she answered,
and I weave the pale moonbeams into silver if I will it. He
whom I serve is richer than all the kings of this world, and has
their dominions.
What then shall I give thee, he cried, if thy price be her
gold nor silver?
The Witch stroked his hair with her thin white hand. Thou must
dah me, pretty boy, she murmured, and she smiled at him as
she spoke.
Nought but that? cried the young Fisherman in wonder and he rose
to his feet.
Nought but that, she answered, and she smiled at him again.
Then at su in some secret place we shall daogether, he
said, and after that we have dahou shalt tell me the thing
which I desire to know.
She shook her head. When the moon is full, when the moon is
full, she muttered. Then she peered all round, and listened. A
blue bird rose screaming from its and circled over the dunes,
and three spotted birds rustled through the crey grass and
whistled to each other. There was no other sound save the sound of
a wave fretting the smooth pebbles below. So she reached out her
hand, and drew him o her and put her dry lips close to his
ear.
To-night thou must e to the top of the mountain, she
whispered. It is a Sabbath, and He will be there.
The young Fisherman started and looked at her, and she showed her
white teeth and laughed. Who is He of whom thou speakest? he
asked.
It matters not, she answered. Go thou to-night, and stand under
the branches of the hornbeam, and wait for my ing. If a black
dog run towards thee, strike it with a rod of willow, and it will
go away. If an owl speak to thee, make it no answer. When the
moon is full I shall be with thee, and we will daogether on
the grass.
But wilt thou swear to me to tell me how I may send my soul from
me? he made question.
She moved out into the sunlight, and through her red hair rippled
the wind. By the hoofs of the goat I swear it, she made answer.
Thou art the best of the witches, cried the young Fisherman, and
I will surely dah thee to-night oop of the mountain.
I would ihat thou hadst asked of me either gold or silver.
But such as thy price is thou shalt have it, for it is but a little
thing. And he doffed his cap to her, a his head low, and
ran back to the town filled with a great joy.
And the Witch watched him as he went, and when he had passed from
her sight she entered her cave, and having taken a mirror from a
box of carved cedarwood, she set it up on a frame, and burned
vervain on lighted charcoal before it, and peered through the coils
of the smoke. And after a time she ched her hands in anger.
He should have been mine, she muttered, I am as fair as she is.
And that evening, when the moon had risen, the young Fisherman
climbed up to the top of the mountain, and stood uhe branches
of the hornbeam. Like a targe of polished metal the round sea lay
at his feet, and the shadows of the fishing-boats moved in the
little bay. A great owl, with yellow sulphurous eyes, called to
him by his name, but he made it no answer. A black dog ran towards
him and snarled. He struck it with a rod of willow, and it went
away whining.
At midnight the witches came flying through the air like bats.
Phew! they cried, as they lit upon the ground, there is some one
here we know not! and they sniffed about, and chattered to each
other, and made signs. Last of all came the young Witch, with her
red hair streaming in the wind. She wore a dress of gold tissue
embroidered with peacocks eyes, and a little cap of gree
was on her head.
Where is he, where is he? shrieked the witches when they saw her,
but she only laughed, and ran to the hornbeam, and taking the
Fisherman by the hand she led him out into the moonlight and began
to dance.
Round and round they whirled, and the young Witch jumped so high
that he could see the scarlet heels of her shoes. Then right
across the dancers came the sound of the galloping of a horse, but
no horse was to be seen, and he felt afraid.
Faster, cried the Witch, and she threw her arms about his neck,
and her breath was hot upon his face. Faster, faster! she cried,
and the earth seemed to spih his feet, and his brain grew
troubled, and a great terror fell on him, as of some evil thing
that was watg him, and at last he became aware that uhe
shadow of a rock there was a figure that had not been there before.
It was a man dressed in a suit of black velvet, cut in the Spanish
fashion. His face was strangely pale, but his lips were like a
proud red flower. He seemed weary, and was leaning back toying in
a listless manner with the pommel of his dagger. On the grass
beside him lay a plumed hat, and a pair of riding-gloves gaued
with gilt lace, and sewn with seed-pearls wrought into a curious
device. A short cloak lined with sables hang from his shoulder,
and his delicate white hands were gemmed with rings. Heavy eyelids
drooped over his eyes.
The young Fisherman watched him, as one snared in a spell. At last
their eyes met, and wherever he da seemed to him that the
eyes of the man were upon him. He heard the Witch laugh, and
caught her by the waist, and whirled her madly round and round.
Suddenly a dog bayed in the wood, and the dancers stopped, and
going up two by two, k down, and kissed the mans hands. As
they did so, a little smile touched his proud lips, as a birds
wing touches the water and makes it laugh. But there was disdain
in it. He kept looking at the young Fisherman.
e! let us worship, whispered the Witch, and she led him up,
and a great desire to do as she besought him seized on him, and he
followed her. But when he came close, and without knowing why he
did it, he made on his breast the sign of the Cross, and called
upon the holy name.
No sooner had he done so thaches screamed like hawks and
flew away, and the pallid face that had been watg him twitched
with a spasm of pain. The ma over to a little wood, and
whistled. A je with silver trappings came running to meet him.
As he leapt upon the saddle he turned round, and looked at the
young Fisherman sadly.
And the Witch with the red hair tried to fly away also, but the
Fisherman caught her by her wrists, and held her fast.
Loose me, she cried, a me go. For thou hast named what
should not be named, and shown the sign that may not be looked at.
Nay, he answered, but I will not let thee go till thou hast told
me the secret.
What secret? said the Witch, wrestling with him like a wild cat,
and biting her foam-flecked lips.
Thou k, he made answer.
Her grass-green eyes grew dim with tears, and she said to the
Fisherman, Ask me anything but that!
He laughed, and held her all the more tightly.
And when she saw that she could not free herself, she whispered to
him, Surely I am as fair as the daughters of the sea, and as
ely as those that dwell in the blue waters, and she fawned on
him and put her face close to his.
But he thrust her back frowning, and said to her, If thou keepest
not the promise that thou madest to me I will slay thee for a false
witch.
She grew grey as a blossom of the Judas tree, and shuddered. Be
it so, she muttered. It is thy soul and not mine. Do with it as
thou wilt. And she took from her girdle a little khat had a
handle of green vipers skin, and gave it to him.
What shall this serve me? he asked of her, w.
She was silent for a few moments, and a look of terror came over
her face. Then she brushed her hair back from her forehead, and
smiling strangely she said to him, What men call the shadow of the
body is not the shadow of the body, but is the body of the soul.
Stand on the sea-shore with thy back to the moon, and cut away from
around thy feet thy shadow, which is thy souls body, and bid thy
soul leave thee, and it will do so.
The young Fisherman trembled. Is this true? he murmured.
It is true, and I would that I had not told thee of it, she
cried, and she g to his knees weeping.
He put her from him a her in the rank grass, and going to
the edge of the mountain he placed the knife in his belt and began
to climb down.
And his Soul that was within him called out to him and said, Lo!
I have dwelt with thee for all these years, and have been thy
servant. Se away from thee now, for what evil have I done
thee?
And the young Fisherman laughed. Thou hast done me no evil, but I
have no need of thee, he answered. The world is wide, and there
is Heaven also, and Hell, and that dim twilight house that lies
between. Go wherever thou wilt, but trouble me not, for my love is
calling to me.
And his Soul besought him piteously, but he heeded it not, but
leapt fr t, being sure-footed as a wild goat, and at
last he reached the level ground and the yellow shore of the sea.
Bronze-limbed and well-knit, like a statue wrought by a Gre, he
stood on the sand with his back to the moon, and out of the foam
came white arms that beed to him, and out of the waves rose dim
forms that did him homage. Before him lay his shadow, which was
the body of his soul, and behind him hung the moon in the honey-
coloured air.
And his Soul said to him, If ihou must drive me from thee,
se forth without a heart. The world is cruel, give me thy
heart to take with me.
He tossed his head and smiled. With what should I love my love if
I gave thee my heart? he cried.
Nay, but be merciful, said his Soul: give me thy heart, for the
world is very cruel, and I am afraid.
My heart is my loves, he answered, therefore tarry not, but get
thee gone.
Should I not love also? asked his Soul.
Get thee gone, for I have no need of thee, cried the young
Fisherman, aook the little kh its handle of green
vipers skin, and cut away his shadow from around his feet, and it
rose up and stood before him, and looked at him, and it was even as
himself.
He crept back, and thrust the ko his belt, and a feeling of
awe came over him. Get thee gone, he murmured, a me see
thy faore.
Nay, but we must meet again, said the Soul. Its voice was low
and flute-like, and its lips hardly moved while it spake.
How shall we meet? cried the young Fisherman. Thou wilt not
follow me into the depths of the sea?
Once every year I will e to this place, and call to thee, said
the Soul. It may be that thou wilt have need of me.
What need should I have of thee? cried the young Fisherman, but
be it as thou wilt, and he plunged into the waters and the Tritons
blew their horns and the little Mermaid rose up to meet him, and
put her arms around his ned kissed him on the mouth.
And the Soul stood on the lonely bead watched them. And when
they had sunk down into the sea, it went weeping away over the
marshes.
And after a year was over the Soul came down to the shore of the
sea and called to the young Fisherman, and he rose out of the deep,
and said, Why dost thou call to me?
And the Soul answered, e hat I may speak with thee,
for I have seen marvellous things.
So he came nearer, and couched in the shallow water, and leaned his
head upon his hand and listened.
And the Soul said to him, When I left thee I turned my face to the
East and journeyed. From the East eth everything that is wise.
Six days I journeyed, and on the m of the seventh day I came
to a hill that is in the try of the Tartars. I sat down under
the shade of a tamarisk tree to shelter myself from the sun. The
land was dry and burnt up with the heat. The people went to and
fro over the plain like flies crawling upon a disk of polished
copper.
When it was noon a cloud of red dust rose up from the flat rim of
the land. Wheartars saw it, they strung their painted bows,
and havi upon their little horses they galloped to meet it.
The women fled screaming to the waggons, and hid themselves behind
the felt curtains.
At twilight the Tartars returned, but five of them were missing,
and of those that came baot a few had been wounded. They
harheir horses to the waggons and drove hastily away.
Three jackals came out of a cave and peered after them. Then they
sniffed up the air with their nostrils, and trotted off in the
opposite dire.
When the moon rose I saw a camp-fire burning on the plain, and
went towards it. A pany of merts were seated round it on
carpets. Their camels were picketed behind them, and the negroes
who were their servants were pitg tents of tanned skin upon the
sand, and making a high wall of the prickly pear.
As I came hem, the chief of the merts rose up and drew
his sword, and asked me my business.
I answered that I rin my own land, and that I had
escaped from the Tartars, who had sought to make me their slave.
The chief smiled, and showed me five heads fixed upon long reeds of
bamboo.
Then he asked me who was the prophet of God, and I answered him
Mohammed.
When he heard the name of the false prophet, he bowed and took me
by the hand, and placed me by his sbbr></abbr>ide. A negrht me some
mares milk in a wooden dish, and a piece of lambs flesh roasted.
At daybreak we started on our journey. I rode on a red-haired
camel by the side of the chief, and a runner ran before us carrying
a spear. The men of war were oher hand, and the mules
followed with the merdise. There were forty camels in the
caravan, and the mules were twice forty in number.
We went from the try of the Tartars into the try of those
who curse the Moon. We saw the Gryphons guarding their gold on the
white rocks, and the scaled Dragons sleeping in their caves. As we
passed over the mountains we held our breath lest the snows might
fall on us, and each man tied a veil of gauze before his eyes. As
we passed through the valleys the Pygmies shot arrows at us from
the hollows of the trees, and at night-time we heard the wild men
beating on their drums. When we came to the Tower of Apes we set
fruits before them, and they did not harm us. When we came to the
Tower of Serpents we gave them warm milk in howls of brass, and
they let us go by. Three times in our journey we came to the banks
of the Oxus. We crossed it on rafts of wood with great bladders of
blown hide. The river-horses raged against us and sought to slay
us. When the camels saw them they trembled.
The kings of each city levied tolls on us, but would not suffer us
to eheir gates. They threw us bread over the walls, little
maize-cakes baked in honey and cakes of fine flour filled with
dates. For every hundred baskets we gave them a bead of amber.
When the dwellers in the villages saw us ing, they poisohe
wells and fled to the hill-summits. We fought with the Magadae who
are born old, and grow younger and younger every year, and die when
they are little children; and with the Laktroi who say that they
are the sons of tigers, and paint themselves yellow and black; and
with the Aurantes who bury their dead oops of tree<u>?</u>s, and
themselves live in dark caverhe Sun, who is their god,
should slay them; and with the Krimnians who worship a crocodile,
and give it earrings of green glass, and feed it with butter and
fresh fowls; and with the Agazonbae, who are dog-faced; and with
the Sibans, who have horses feet, and run more swiftly than
horses. A third of our pany died in battle, and a third died of
want. The rest murmured against me, and said that I had brought
them an evil fortune. I took a horned adder from beh a stone
a sting me. When they saw that I did not si they grew
afraid.
In the fourth month we reached the city of Illel. It was night-
time when we came to the grove that is outside the walls, and the
air was sultry, for the Moon was travelling in Scorpion. We took
the ripe pomegranates from the trees, and brake them, and drank
their sweet juices. Then we lay down on our carpets, and waited
for the dawn.
And at dawn we rose and k the gate of the city. It was
wrought out of red bronze, and carved with sea-dragons and dragons
that have wings. The guards looked down from the battlements and
asked us our business. The interpreter of the caravan answered
that we had e from the island of Syria with much merdise.
They took hostages, and told us that they would opee to us
at noon, and bade us tarry till then.
When it was noon they opehe gate, and as we entered in the
people came crowding out of the houses to look at us, and a crier
went round the city g through a shell. We stood in the
market-place, and the negroes uncorded the bales of figured cloths
and opehe carved chests of sycamore. And when they had ended
their task, the merts set forth their strange wares, the waxed
linen from Egypt and the painted linen from the try of the
Ethiops, the purple sponges from Tyre and the blue hangings from
Sidon, the cups of cold amber and the fine vessels of glass and the
curious vessels of burnt clay. From the roof of a house a pany
of women watched us. One of them wore a mask of gilded leather.
And on the first day the priests came and bartered with us, and on
the sed day came the nobles, and ohird day came the
craftsmen and the slaves. And this is their with all
merts as long as they tarry iy.
Aarried for a moon, and when the moon was waning, I wearied
and wandered away through the streets of the city and came to the
garden of its god. The priests in their yellow robes moved
silently through the green trees, and on a pavement of black marble
stood the rose-red house in which the god had his dwelling. Its
doors were of powdered lacquer, and bulls and peacocks were wrought
on them in raised and polished gold. The tilted roof was of sea-
green porcelain, and the jutting eaves were festooned with little
bells. When the white doves flew past, they struck the bells with
their wings and made them tinkle.
In front of the temple ool of clear water paved with veined
onyx. I lay down beside it, and with my pale fingers I touched the
broad leaves. One of the priests came towards me and stood behind
me. He had sandals on his feet, one of soft serpent-skin and the
other of birds plumage. On his head was a mitre of black felt
decorated with silver crests. Seven yellows were woven into his
robe, and his frizzed hair was stained with antimony.
After a little while he spake to me, and asked me my desire.
I told him that my desire was to see the god.
"The god is hunting," said the priest, looking strangely at me
with his small slanting eyes.
"Tell me in what forest, and I will ride with him," I answered.
He bed out the soft fringes of his tunic with his long pointed
nails. "The god is asleep," he murmured.
"Tell me on what couch, and I will watch by him," I answered.
"The god is at the feast," he cried.
"If the wine be sweet I will drink it with him, and if it be
bitter I will drink it with him also," was my answer.
He bowed his head in wonder, and, taking me by the hand, he raised
me up, and led me into the temple.
And in the first chamber I saw an idol seated on a throne of
jasper bordered with great orient pearls. It was carved out of
ebony, and in stature was of the stature of a man. On its forehead
was a ruby, and thick oil dripped from its hair on to its thighs.
Its feet were red with the blood of a newly-slain kid, and its
loins girt with a copper belt that was studded with seven beryls.
And I said to the priest, "Is this the god?" And he answered me,
"This is the god."
"Show me the god," I cried, "or I will surely slay thee." And I
touched his hand, and it became withered.
And the priest besought me, saying, "Let my lord heal his servant,
and I will show him the god."
So I breathed with my breath upon his hand, and it became whole
again, arembled and led me into the sed chamber, and I
saw an idol standing on a lotus of jade hung with great emeralds.
It was carved out of ivory, and in stature was twice the stature of
a man. On its forehead was a chrysolite, and its breasts were
smeared with myrrh and amon. In one hand it held a crooked
sceptre of jade, and iher a round crystal. It ware buskins
of brass, and its thieck was circled with a circle of
selenites.
And I said to the priest, "Is this the god?"
And he answered me, "This is the god."
"Show me the god," I cried, "or I will surely slay thee." And I
touched his eyes, and they became blind.
And the priest besought me, saying, "Let my lord heal his servant,
and I will show him the god."
So I breathed with my breath upon his eyes, and the sight came
back to them, arembled again, and led me into the third
chamber, and lo! there was no idol in it, nor image of any kind,
but only a mirror of roual set on an altar of stone.
And I said to the priest, "Where is the god?"
And he answered me: "There is no god but this mirror that thou
seest, for this is the Mirror of Wisdom. And it reflecteth all
things that are in heaven and oh, save only the face of him
who looketh into it. This it reflecteth not, so that he who
looketh into it may be wise. Many other mirrors are there, but
they are mirrors of Opinion. This only is the Mirror of Wisdom.
And they who possess this mirror know everything, nor is there
anything hidden from them. And they who possess it not have not
Wisdom. Therefore is it the god, and we worship it." And I looked
into the mirror, and it was even as he had said to me.
And I did a strahing, but what I did matters not, for in a
valley that is but a days journey from this place have I hidden
the Mirror of Wisdom. Do but suffer me to enter into thee again
ahy servant, and thou shalt be wiser than all the wise men,
and Wisdom shall be thine. Suffer me to enter into thee, and none
will be as wise as thou.
But the young Fisherman laughed. Love is better than Wisdom, he
cried, and the little Mermaid loves me.
Nay, but there is nothier than Wisdom, said the Soul.
Love is better, answered the young Fisherman, and he plunged into
the deep, and the Soul went weeping away over the marshes.
And after the sed year was over, the Soul came down to the shore
of the sea, and called to the young Fisherman, and he rose out of
the deep and said, Why dost thou call to me?
And the Soul answered, e hat I may speak with thee,
for I have seen marvellous things.
So he came nearer, and couched in the shallow water, and leaned his
head upon his hand and listened.
And the Soul said to him, When I left thee, I turned my face to
the South and journeyed. From the South eth everything that is
precious. Six days I journeyed along the highways that lead to the
city of Ashter, along the dusty red-dyed highways by which the
pilgrims are wont to go did I journey, and on the m of the
seventh day I lifted up my eyes, and lo! the city lay at my feet,
for it is in a valley.
There are es to this city, and in front of each gate
stands a bronze horse that neighs when the Bedouins e down from
the mountains. The walls are cased with copper, and the watch-
towers on the walls are roofed with brass. Iower stands
an archer with a bow in his hand. At sunrise he strikes with an
arrow on a gong, and at su he blows through a horn of horn.
When I sought to ehe guards stopped me and asked of me who
I was. I made ahat I was a Dervish and on my way to the
city of Mecca, where there was a green veil on which the Koran was
embroidered in silver letters by the hands of the angels. They
were filled with wonder, areated me to pass in.
I is even as a bazaar. Surely thou shouldst have been
with me. Across the narrow streets the gay lanterns of paper
flutter like large butterflies. When the wind blows over the roofs
they rise and fall as painted bubbles do. In front of their booths
sit the merts on silken carpets. They have straight black
beards, and their turbans are covered with golden sequins, and long
strings of amber and carved peach-stones glide through their cool
fingers. Some of them sell galbanum and nard, and curious perfumes
from the islands of the Indian Sea, and the thick oil of red roses,
and myrrh and little nail-shaped cloves. Wheops to speak
to them, they throw pinches of frankinse upon a charcoal brazier
and make the air sweet. I saw a Syrian who held in his hands a
thin rod like a reed. Grey threads of smoke came from it, and its
odour as it burned was as the odour of the pink almond in spring.
Others sell silver bracelets embossed all over with creamy blue
turquoise stones, and as of brass wire fringed with little
pearls, and tigers claws set in gold, and the claws of that gilt
cat, the leopard, set in gold also, and earrings of pierced
emerald, and finger-rings of hollowed jade. From the tea-houses
es the sound of the guitar, and the opium-smokers with their
white smiling faces look out at the passers-by.
Of a truth thou shouldst have been with me. The wine-sellers
elbow their way through the crowd with great black skins on their
shoulders. Most of them sell the wine of Schiraz, which is as
sweet as honey. They serve it in little metal cups and strew rose
leaves upon it. In the market-place stand the fruitsellers, who
sell all kinds of fruit: ripe figs, with their bruised purple
flesh, melons, smelling of musk and yellow as topazes, citrons and
rose-apples and clusters of white grapes, round red-gold es,
and oval lemons of green gold. Once I saw an elephant go by. Its
trunk ainted with vermilion and turmerid over its ears it
had a of crimson silk cord. It stopped opposite one of the
booths and begaing the es, and the man only laughed.
Thou st not think how strange a people they are. When they are
glad they go to the bird-sellers and buy of them a caged bird, and
set it free that their joy may be greater, and when they are sad
they sce themselves with thorns that their sorrow may not grow
less.
One evening I met some negroes carrying a heavy palanquin through
the bazaar. It was made of gilded bamboo, and the poles were of
vermilion lacquer studded with brass peacocks. Across the windows
hung thin curtains of muslin embroidered with beetles wings and
with tiny seed-pearls, and as it passed by a pale-faced Circassian
looked out and smiled at me. I followed behind, and the negroes
hurried their steps and scowled. But I did not care. I felt a
great curiosity e over me.
At last they stopped at a square white house. There were no
windows to it, only a little door like the door of a tomb. They
set down the palanquin and khree times with a copper
hammer. An Armenian in a caftan of greeher peered through
the wicket, and when he saw them he opened, and spread a carpet on
the ground, and the woman stepped out. As she went in, she turned
round and smiled at me again. I had never seen any one so pale.
When the moon rose I returo the same plad sought for the
house, but it was no lohere. When I saw that, I knew who the
woman was, and wherefore she had smiled at me.
Certainly thou shouldst have been with me. On the feast of the
New Moon the young Emperor came forth from his palad went into
the mosque to pray. His hair and beard were dyed with rose-leaves,
and his cheeks were powdered with a fine gold dust. The palms of
his feet and hands were yellow with saffron.
At sunrise he went forth from his pala a robe of silver, and
at su he returo it again in a robe of gold. The people
flung themselves on the ground and hid their faces, but I would not
do so. I stood by the stall of a seller of dates and waited. When
the Emperor saw me, he raised his painted eyebrows and stopped. I
stood quite still, and made him no obeisahe people marvelled
at my boldness, and selled me to flee from the city. I paid no
heed to them, but went and sat with the sellers of strange gods,
who by reason of their craft are abominated. When I told them what
I had done, each of them gave me a god and prayed me to leave them.
That night, as I lay on a cushion iea-house that is in the
Street of Pomegrahe guards of the Emperor entered and led
me to the palace. As I went in they closed each door behind me,
and put a across it. Inside was a great court with an arcade
running all round. The walls were of white alabaster, set here and
there with blue and green tiles. The pillars were of green marble,
and the pavement of a kind of peach-blossom marble. I had never
seen anything like it before.
As I passed across the court two veiled women looked down from a
baly and cursed me. The guards hastened on, and the butts of
the lances rang upon the polished floor. They opened a gate of
wrought ivory, and I found myself in a watered garden of seven
terraces. It lanted with tulip-cups and moonflowers, and
silver-studded aloes. Like a slim reed of crystal a fountain hung
in the dusky air. The cypress-trees were like burnt-out torches.
From one of them a nightingale was singing.
At the end of the garden stood a little pavilion. As we
approached it two eunuchs came out to meet us. Their fat bodies
swayed as they walked, and they glanced curiously at me with their
yellow-lidded eyes. One of them drew aside the captain of the
guard, and in a low voice whispered to him. The other kept
mung sted pastilles, which he took with an affected gesture
out of an oval box of lilaamel.
After a few moments the captain of the guard dismissed the
soldiers. They went back to the palace, the eunuchs following
slowly behind and plug the sweet mulberries from the trees as
they passed. Ohe elder of the two turned round, and smiled at
me with an evil smile.
Then the captain of the guard motioned me towards the entrance of
the pavilion. I walked on without trembling, and drawing the heavy
curtain aside I entered in.
The young Emperor was stretched on a couch of dyed lion skins, and
a gerfal perched upon his wrist. Behind him stood a brass-
turbaned Nubian, naked down to the waist, and with heavy earrings
in his split ears. On a table by the side of the couch lay a
mighty scimitar of steel.
When the Emperor saw me he frowned, and said to me, "What is thy
name? Khou not that I am Emperor of this city?" But I
made him no answer.
He pointed with his fi the scimitar, and the Nubian seized
it, and rushing forward struck at me with great violehe
blade whizzed through me, and did me no hurt. The man fell
sprawling on the floor, and when he rose up his teeth chattered
with terror and he hid himself behind the couch.
The Emperor leapt to his feet, and taking a lance from a stand of
arms, he threw it at me. I caught it in its flight, and brake the
shaft into two pieces. He shot at me with an arrow, but I held up
my hands and it stopped in mid-air. Then he drew a dagger from a
belt of white leather, and stabbed the Nubian ihroat lest
the slave should tell of his dishonour. The man writhed like a
trampled snake, and a red foam bubbled from his lips.
As soon as he was dead the Emperor turo me, and when he had
wiped away the bright sweat from his brow with a little napkin of
purfled and purple silk, he said to me, "Art thou a prophet, that I
may not harm thee, or the son of a prophet, that I do thee no
hurt? I pray thee leave my city to-night, for while thou art in it
I am no los lord."
And I answered him, "I will go for half of thy treasure. Give me
half of thy treasure, and I will go away."
He took me by the hand, and led me out into the garden. When the
captain of the guard saw me, he wondered. When the eunuchs saw me,
their knees shook and they fell upon the ground in fear.
There is a chamber in the palace that has eight walls of red
porphyry, and a brass-sealed ceiling hung with lamps. The Emperor
touched one of the walls and it opened, and we passed down a
corridor that was lit with many torches. In niches upon each side
stood great wine-jars filled to the brim with silver pieces. When
we reached the tre of the corridor the Emperor spake the word
that may not be spoken, and a granite door swung ba a secret
spring, a his hands before his face lest his eyes should
be dazzled.
Thou couldst not believe how marvellous a place it was. There
were huge tortoise-shells full of pearls, and hollowed moonstones
of great size piled up with red rubies. The gold was stored in
coffers of elephant-hide, and the gold-dust iher bottles.
There were opals and sapphires, the former in cups of crystal, and
the latter in cups of jade. Round green emeralds were ranged in
order upon thin plates of ivory, and in one er were silk bags
filled, some with turquoise-stones, and others with beryls. The
ivory horns were heaped with purple amethysts, and the horns of
brass with chalies and sards. The pillars, which were of
cedar, were hung with strings of yellow lynx-stones. In the flat
oval shields there were carbuncles, both wine-coloured and coloured
like grass. A I have told thee but a tithe of what was
there.
And when the Emperor had taken away his hands from before his face
he said to me: "This is my house of treasure, and half that is in
it is thine, even as I promised to thee. And I will give thee
camels and camel drivers, and they shall do thy bidding and take
thy share of the treasure to whatever part of the world thou
desirest to go. And the thing shall be doo-night, for I would
not that the Sun, who is my father, should see that there is in my
city a man whom I ot slay."
But I answered him, "The gold that is here is thine, and the
silver also is thine, and thine are the precious jewels and the
things of price. As for me, I have no need of these. Nor shall I
take aught from thee but that little ring that thou wearest on the
finger of thy hand."
And the Emperor frowned. "It is but a ring of lead," he cried,
"nor has it any value. Therefore take thy half of the treasure and
go from my city."
"Nay," I answered, "but I will take nought but that leaden ring,
for I know what is written within it, and for urpose."
And the Emperor trembled, and besought me and said, "Take all the
treasure and go from my city. The half that is mine shall be thine
also."
And I did a strahing, but what I did matters not, for in a
cave that is but a days journey from this place have, I hidden the
Ring of Riches. It is but a days journey from this place, and it
waits for thy ing. He who has this Ring is richer than all the
kings of the world. e therefore and take it, and the worlds
riches shall be thine.
But the young Fisherman laughed. Love is better than Riches, he
cried, and the little Mermaid loves me.
Nay, but there is nothier than Riches, said the Soul.
Love is better, answered the young Fisherman, and he plunged into
the deep, and the Soul went weeping away over the marshes.
And after the third year was over, the Soul came down to the shore
of the sea, and called to the young Fisherman, and he rose out of
the deep and said, Why dost thou call to me?
And the Soul answered, e hat I may speak with thee,
for I have seen marvellous things.
So he came nearer, and couched in the shallow water, and leaned his
head upon his hand and listened.
And the Soul said to him, In a city that I know of there is an inn
that stah by a river. I sat there with sailors who drank of
two different-coloured wines, and ate bread made of barley, and
little salt fish served in bay leaves with vinegar. And as we sat
and made merry, there eo us an old man bearing a leather
carpet and a lute that had two horns of amber. And when he had
laid out the carpet on the floor, he struck with a quill on the
wire strings of his lute, and a girl whose face was veiled ran in
and began to dance before us. Her face was veiled with a veil of
gauze, but her feet were naked. Naked were her feet, and they
moved over the carpet like little white pigeons. Never have I seen
anything so marvellous; and the city in which she dances is but a
days journey from this place.
Now when the young Fisherman heard the words of his Soul, he
remembered that the little Mermaid had and could not dance.
And a great desire came over him, and he said to himself, It is
but a days journey, and I return to my love, and he laughed,
and stood up in the shallow water, and strode towards the shore.
And when he had reached the dry shore he laughed again, and held
out his arms to his Soul. And his Soul gave a great cry of joy and
ran to meet him, aered into him, and the young Fisherman saw
stretched before him upon the sand that shadow of the body that is
the body of the Soul.
And his Soul said to him, Let us not tarry, but get he once,
for the Sea-gods are jealous, and have mohat do their
bidding.
So they made haste, and all that night they journeyed beh the
moon, and all the day they journeyed beh the sun, and on
the evening of the day they came to a city.
And the young Fisherman said to his Soul, Is this the city in
which she dances of whom thou didst speak to me?
And his Soul answered him, It is not this city, but another.
heless let us enter in. So they entered in and passed
through the streets, and as they passed through the Street of the
Jewellers the young Fisherman saw a fair silver cup set forth in a
booth. And his Soul said to him, Take that silver cup and hide
it.
So he took the cup and hid it in the fold of his tunid they
went hurriedly out of the city.
And after that they had gone a league from the city, the young
Fisherman frowned, and flung the cup away, and said to his Soul,
Why didst thou tell me to take this cup and hide it, for it was an
evil thing to do?
But his Soul answered him, Be at peace, be at peace.
And on the evening of the sed day they came to a city, and the
young Fisherman said to his Soul, Is this the city in which she
dances of whom thou didst speak to me?
And his Soul answered him, It is not this city, but another.
heless let us enter in. So they entered in and passed
through the streets, and as they passed through the Street of the
Sellers of Sandals, the young Fisherman saw a child standing by a
jar of water. And his Soul said to him, Smite that child. So he
smote the child till it wept, and when he had dohis they went
hurriedly out of the city.
And after that they had gone a league from the city the young
Fisherman grew wroth, and said to his Soul, Why didst thou tell me
to smite the child, for it was an evil thing to do?
But his Soul answered him, Be at peace, be at peace.
And on the evening of the third day they came to a city, and the
young Fisherman said to his Soul, Is this the city in which she
dances of whom thou didst speak to me?
And his Soul answered him, It may be that it is in this city,
therefore let us enter in.
So they entered in and passed through the streets, but nowhere
could the young Fisherman find the river or the inn that stood by
its side. And the people of the city looked curiously at him, and
he grew afraid and said to his Soul, Let us go hence, for she who
dances with white feet is not here.
But his Soul answered, Nay, but let us tarry, for the night is
dark and there will be robbers on the way.
So he sat him down in the market-plad rested, and after a time
there went by a hooded mert who had a cloak of cloth of
Tartary, and bare a lantern of pierced horn at the end of a jointed
reed. And the mert said to him, Why dost thou sit in the
market-place, seeing that the booths are closed and the bales
corded?
And the young Fisherman answered him, I find no inn in this
city, nor have I any kinsman who might give me shelter.
Are we not all kinsmen? said the mert. And did not one God
make us? Therefore e with me, for I have a guest-chamber.
So the young Fisherman rose up and followed the mert to his
house. And when he had passed through a garden of pomegranates and
entered into the house, the mert brought him rose-water in a
copper dish that he might wash his hands, and ripe melons that he
might quench his thirst, a a bowl of rid a piece of
roasted kid before him.
And after that he had fihe mert led him to the guest-
chamber, and bade him sleep a rest. And the young
Fisherman gave him thanks, and kissed the ring that was on his
hand, and flung himself down on the carpets of dyed goats-hair.
And when he had covered himself with a c of black lambs-
wool he fell asleep.
And three hours before dawn, and while it was still night, his Soul
waked him and said to him, Rise up and go to the room of the
mert, even to the room in which he sleepeth, and slay him, and
take from him his gold, for we have need of it.
And the young Fisherman rose up and crept towards the room of the
mert, and over the feet of the mert there was lying a
curved sword, and the tray by the side of the mert held nine
purses of gold. And he reached out his hand and touched the sword,
and wheouched it the mert started and awoke, and leaping
up seized himself the sword and cried to the young Fisherman, Dost
thou return evil food, and pay with the shedding of blood for
the kihat I have shown thee?
And his Soul said to the young Fisherman, Strike him, and he
struck him so that he swooned and he seized then the nine purses of
gold, and fled hastily through the garden of pomegranates, a
his face to the star that is the star of m.
And when they had gone a league from the city, the young Fisherman
beat his breast, and said to his Soul, Why didst thou bid me slay
the mert and take his gold? Surely thou art evil.
But his Soul answered him, Be at peace, be at peace.
Nay, cried the young Fisherman, I may not be at peace, for all
that thou hast made me to do I hate. Thee also I hate, and I bid
thee tell me wherefore thou hast wrought with me in this wise.
And his Soul answered him, When thou didst send me forth into the
world thou gavest me , so I learo do all these things
and love them.
What sayest thou? murmured the young Fisherman.
Thou k, answered his Soul, thou k it well. Hast
thou fotten that thou gavest me ? I trow not. And so
trouble not thyself nor me, but be at peace, for there is no pain
that thou shalt not give away, nor any pleasure that thou shalt not
receive.
And when the young Fisherman heard these words he trembled and said
to his Soul, Nay, but thou art evil, and hast made me fet my
love, and hast tempted me with temptations, and hast set my feet in
the ways of sin.
And his Soul answered him, Thou hast not fotten that when thou
didst send me forth into the world thou gavest me . e,
let us go to another city, and make merry, for we have nine purses
of gold.
But the young Fisherman took the nine purses of gold, and flung
them down, and trampled on them.
Nay, he cried, but I will have nought to do with thee, nor will
I journey with thee anywhere, but even as I sent thee away before,
so will I send thee away now, for thou hast wrought me no good.
Aurned his back to the moon, and with the little khat
had the handle of green vipers skirove to cut from his feet
that shadow of the body which is the body of the Soul.
Yet his Soul stirred not from him, nor paid heed to his and,
but said to him, The spell that the Witch told thee avails thee no
more, for I may not leave thee, nor mayest thou drive me forth.
On his life may a man send his Soul away, but he who receiveth
back his Soul must keep it with him for ever, and this is his
punishment and his reward.
And the young Fisherman grew pale and ched his hands and cried,
She was a false Wit that she told me not that.
Nay, answered his Soul, but she was true to Him she worships,
and whose servant she will be ever.
And when the young Fishermahat he could no let rid
of his Soul, and that it was an evil Soul and would abide with him
always, he fell upon the ground weeping bitterly.
And when it was day the young Fisherman rose up and said to his
Soul, I will bind my hands that I may not do thy bidding, and
y lips that I may not speak thy words, and I will return to
the place where she whom I love has her dwelling. Even to the sea
will I return, and to the little bay where she is wont to sing, and
I will call to her and tell her the evil I have done and the evil
thou hast wrought on me.
And his Soul tempted him and said, Who is thy love, that thou
shouldst return to her? The world has many fairer than she is.
There are the dang-girls of Samaris who dan the manner of
all kinds of birds as. Their feet are painted with henna,
and in their hands they have little copper bells. They laugh while
they dance, and their laughter is as clear as the laughter of
water. e with me and I will show them to thee. For what is
this trouble of thine about the things of sin? Is that which is
pleasant to eat not made for the eater? Is there poison in that
which is sweet to drink? Trouble not thyself, but e with me to
another city. There is a little city hard by in which there is a
garden of tulip-trees. And there dwell in this ely garden white
peacocks and peacocks that have blue breasts. Their tails when
they spread them to the sun are like disks of ivory and like gilt
disks. And she who feeds them dances for their pleasure, and
sometimes she dances on her hands and at other times she dances
with her feet. Her eyes are coloured with stibium, and her
nostrils are shaped like the wings of a swallow. From a hook in
one of her nostrils hangs a flower that is carved out of a pearl.
She laughs while she dances, and the silver rings that are about
her ainkle like bells of silver. And so trouble not thyself
any more, but e with me to this city.
But the young Fisherman answered not his Soul, but closed his lips
with the seal of silend with a tight cord bound his hands, and
journeyed back to the place from which he had e, even to the
little bay where his love had been wont to sing. And ever did his
Soul tempt him by the way, but he made it no answer, nor would he
do any of the wiess that it sought to make him to do, so great
was the power of the love that was within him.
And when he had reached the shore of the sea, he loosed the cord
from his hands, and took the seal of silence from his lips, and
called to the little Mermaid. But she came not to his call, though
he called to her all day long and besought her.
And his Soul mocked him and said, Surely thou hast but little joy
out of thy love. Thou art as one who in time of death pours water
into a broken vessel. Thou givest away what thou hast, and nought
is given to thee iurn. It were better for thee to e with
me, for I know where the Valley of Pleasure lies, and what things
are wrought there.
But the young Fisherman answered not his Soul, but in a cleft of
the rock he built himself a house of wattles, and abode there for
the space of a year. And every m he called to the Mermaid,
and every noon he called tain, and at night-time he spake
her name. Yet never did she rise out of the sea to meet him, nor
in any place of the sea could he fihough he sought for her
in the caves and in the green water, in the pools of the tide and
in the wells that are at the bottom of the deep.
And ever did his Soul tempt him with evil, and whisper of terrible
things. Yet did it not prevail against him, so great was the power
of his love.
And after the year was over, the Soul thought within himself, I
have tempted my master with evil, and his love is strohan I
am. I will tempt him now with good, and it may be that he will
e with me.
So he spake to the young Fisherman and said, I have told thee of
the joy of the world, and thou hast turned a deaf ear to me.
Suffer me now to tell thee of the worlds pain, and it may be that
thou wilt hearken. For of a truth pain is the Lord of this world,
nor is there any one who escapes from its . There be some who
lack raiment, and others who lack bread. There be ho sit
in purple, and ho sit in rags. To and fro over the fens go
the lepers, and they are cruel to each other. The beggars go up
and down on the highways, and their wallets are empty. Through the
streets of the cities walks Famine, and the Plague sits at their
gates. e, let us go forth ahese things, and make them
not to be. Wherefore shouldst thou tarry here calling to thy love,
seeing she es not to thy call? And what is love, that thou
shouldst set this high store upon it?
But the young Fisherman answered it nought, so great was the power
of his love. And every m he called to the Mermaid, and every
noon he called tain, and at night-time he spake her name.
Yet never did she rise out of the sea to meet him, nor in any place
of the sea could he fihough he sought for her in the
rivers of the sea, and in the valleys that are uhe waves, in
the sea that the night makes purple, and in the sea that the dawn
leaves grey.
And after the sed year was over, the Soul said to the young
Fisherman at night-time, and as he sat itled house alone,
Lo! now I have tempted thee with evil, and I have tempted thee
with good, and thy love is strohan I am. Wherefore will I
tempt thee no longer, but I pray thee to suffer me to ehy
heart, that I may be oh thee even as before.
Surely thou mayest enter, said the young Fisherman, for in the
days when with thou didst gh the world thou must
have much suffered.
Alas! cried his Soul, I find no place of entrance, so
passed about with love is this heart of thine.
Yet I would that I could help thee, said the young Fisherman.
And as he spake there came a great from the sea,
even the cry that men hear when one of the Sea-folk is dead. And
the young Fisherma up, a his wattled house, and ran
down to the shore. And the black waves came hurrying to the shore,
bearing with them a burden that was whiter than silver. White as
the surf it was, and like a flower it tossed on the waves. And the
surf took it from the waves, and the foam took it from the surf,
and the shore received it, and lying at his feet the young
Fisherman saw the body of the little Mermaid. Dead at his feet it
was lying.
Weeping as one smitten with pain he flung himself down beside it,
and he kissed the cold red of the mouth, and toyed with the wet
amber of the hair. He flung himself down beside it on the sand,
weeping as orembling with joy, and in his brown arms he held it
to his breast. Cold were the lips, yet he kissed them. Salt was
the honey of the hair, yet he tasted it with a bitter joy. He
kissed the closed eyelids, and the wild spray that lay upon their
cups was less salt than his tears.
And to the dead thing he made fession. Into the shells of its
ears he poured the harsh wine of his tale. He put the little hands
round his neck, and with his fingers he touched the thin reed of
the throat. Bitter, bitter was his joy, and full of strange
gladness was his pain.
The black sea came nearer, and the white foam moaned like a leper.
With white claws of foam the sea grabbled at the shore. From the
palace of the Sea-King came the again, and far out
upon the sea the great Tritons blew hoarsely upon their horns.
Flee away, said his Soul, for ever doth the sea e nigher, and
if thou tarriest it will slay thee. Flee away, for I am afraid,
seeing that thy heart is closed against me by reason of the
greatness of thy love. Flee away to a place of safety. Surely
thou wilt not sehout a heart into another world?
But the young Fisherman listened not to his Soul, but called on the
little Mermaid and said, Love is better than wisdom, and more
precious than riches, and fairer than the feet of the daughters of
men. The fires ot destroy it, nor the waters quench it. I
called o dawn, and thou didst not e to my call. The
moon heard thy name, yet hadst thou no heed of me. For evilly had
I left thee, and to my own hurt had I wandered away. Yet ever did
thy love abide with me, and ever was it strong, nor did aught
prevail against it, though I have looked upon evil and looked upon
good. And now that thou art dead, surely I will die with thee
also.
And his Soul besought him to depart, but he would not, so great was
his love. And the sea came nearer, and sought to cover him with
its waves, and when he khat the end was at hand he kissed with
mad lips the cold lips of the Mermaid, and the heart that was
within him brake. And as through the fulness of his love his heart
did break, the Soul found arand entered in, and was one
with him even as before. And the sea covered the young Fisherman
with its waves.
And in the m the Priest went forth to bless the sea, for it
had been troubled. And with him went the monks and the musis,
and the dle-bearers, and the swingers of sers, and a great
pany.
And when the Priest reached the shore he saw the young Fisherman
lying drowned in the surf, and clasped in his arms was the body of
the little Mermaid. And he drew back frowning, and having made the
sign of the cross, he cried aloud and said, I will not bless the
sea nor anything that is in it. Accursed be the Sea-folk, and
accursed be all they who traffic with them. And as for him who for
loves sake forsook God, and so lieth here with his leman slain by
Gods judgment, take up his body and the body of his leman, and
bury them in the er of the Field of the Fullers, a no
mark above them, nn of any kind, that none may know the place
of their resting. For accursed were they in their lives, and
accursed shall they be in their deaths also.
And the people did as he ahem, and in the er of the
Field of the Fullers, where no sweet herbs grew, they dug a deep
pit, and laid the dead things within it.
And whehird year was over, and on a day that was a holy day,
the Priest went up to the chapel, that he might show to the people
the wounds of the Lord, and speak to them about the wrath of God.
And when he had robed himself with his robes, aered in and
bowed himself before the altar, he saw that the altar was covered
with strange flowers that never had been seen before. Strange were
they to look at, and of curious beauty, and their beauty troubled
him, and their odour was sweet in his nostrils. And he felt glad,
and uood not why he was glad.
And after that he had opehe tabernacle, and insed the
monstrahat was in it, and shown the fair wafer to the people,
and hid it again behind the veil of veils, he began to speak to the
people, desiring to speak to them of the wrath of God. But the
beauty of the white flowers troubled him, and their odour was sweet
in his nostrils, and there came another word into his lips, and he
spake not of the wrath of God, but of the God whose name is Love.
And why he so spake, he knew not.
And when he had finished his word the people wept, and the Priest
went back to the sacristy, and his eyes were full of tears. And
the deas came in and began to unrobe him, and took from him the
alb and the girdle, the maniple and the stole. Aood as one
in a dream.
And after that they had unrobed him, he looked at them and said,
What are the flowers that stand oar, and whence do they
e?
And they answered him, What flowers they are we ot tell, but
they e from the er of the Fullers Field. And the Priest
trembled, auro his own house and prayed.
And in the m, while it was still dawn, he went forth with the
monks and the musis, and the dle-bearers and the swingers of
sers, and a great pany, and came to the shore of the sea, and
blessed the sea, and all the wild things that are in it. The Fauns
also he blessed, and the little things that dan the woodland,
and the bright-eyed things that peer through the leaves. All the
things in Gods world he blessed, and the people were filled with
joy and wonder. Yet never again in the er of the Fullers
Field grew flowers of any kind, but the field remained barren even
as before. Nor came the Sea-folk into the bay as they had been
wont to do, for they went to another part of the sea.
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