along without any definite course, listening to the lapping of the water,
gazing into the blackness, holding his face up to the wind and thinking. At
the most difficult times of his life nothing so restored his soul as these
lonely wanderings. Stillness, stillness and solitude were what he needed in
order to make the faintest, most obscure voices of his inner world sound
clearly. This night his thoughts were of the future, of poverty and of
Assol. It was unbearably difficult for him to leave her, if only for a short
while; besides, he was afraid of resurrecting the abated pain. Perhaps,
after signing up on a ship, he
would again imagine that waiting for him in Kaperna was his beloved who
had never died--and, returning, he would approach the house with the grief
of lifeless expectation. Mary would never again come through the door. But
he wanted to provide for Assol and, therefore, decided to do what his
concern for her demanded he do.
When Longren returned the girl was not yet at home. Her early walks did
not worry her father; this time, however, there was a trace of anxiety in
his expectation. Pacing up and down, he turned to suddenly see Assol; having
entered swiftly and soundlessly, she came up to him without a word and
nearly frightened him by the brightness of her expression, which mirrored
her excitement. It seemed that her second being had come to light--true
being to which a person's eyes alone usually attest. She was silent and
looked into Longren's face so strangely that he quickly inquired:
"Are you ill?"
She did not immediately reply. When the meaning of his words finally
reached her inner ear Assol started, as a twig touched by a hand, and
laughed a long, even peal of quietly triumphant laughter. She had to say
something but, as always, she did not have to think of what it would be. She
said:
"No. I'm well.... Why are you looking at me like that? I'm happy.
Really, I am, but it's because it's such a lovely day. What have you thought
of? I can see by your look that you've thought of something."
"Whatever I may have thought of," Longren said, taking her on his lap,
"I know you'll understand why I'm doing it. We've nothing to live on. I
won't go on a long voyage again, but I'll sign on the mailboat that plies
between Kasset and Liss."
"Yes," she said from afar, making an effort to share his cares and
worries, but aghast at being unable to stop feeling so gay. "That's awful.
I'll be very lonely. Come back soon." Saying this, she blossomed out in an
irrepressible smile. "And hurry, dear. I'll be waiting for you."
"Assol!" Longren said, cupping her face and turning it towards himself.
"Tell me what's happened."
She felt she had to dispel his fears and, overcoming her jubilation,
became gravely attentive, all save her eyes, which still sparkled with a new
life.
"You're funny. Nothing at all. I was gathering nuts."
Longren would not have really believed this had he not been so taken up
by his own thoughts. Their conversation then became matter-of-fact and
detailed. The sailor told his daughter to pack his bag, enumerated all he
would need and had some instructions for her:
"I'll be back in about ten days. You pawn my gun and stay at home. If
anyone annoys you, say: 'Longren will be back soon.' Don't think or worry
about me: nothing will happen to me."
He then had his dinner, kissed her soundly and, slinging the bag over
his shoulder, went out to the road that led to town. Assol looked after him
until he turned the bend and then went back into the house. She had many
chores to do, but forgot all about them. She looked around with the interest
of slight surprise, as if she were already astrangerto this house, so much a
part of her for as far back as she could recall that it seemed she had
always carried its image within her, and which now appeared like one's
native parts do when revisited after a lapse of time and from a different
kind of life. But she felt there was something unbecoming in this rebuff of
hers, something wrong. She sat down at the table at which Longren made his
toys and tried to glue a rudder to a stern; as she looked at these objects
she unwittingly imagined them in their true sizes, and real. All that had
happened that morning once again rose up within her in trembling excitement,
and a golden ring as large as the sun fell to her feet from across the sea.
She could not remain indoors, left the house and set out for Liss, She
had no errand there at all, and did not know why she was going, yet could
not but go. She met a man on the way who asked for directions; she explained
all in detail to him, and the incident was immediately forgotten.
The long road slipped by as if she had been carrying a bird that had
completely absorbed her tender attention. Approaching the town, she was
distracted somewhat by the
noise given off by its great circle, but it had no power over her as
before, when, frightening and cowing her, it had made her a silent coward.
She stood up to it. She passed along the circle of the boulevard leisurely,
crossing the blue shadows of the trees, glancing up at the faces of
passers-by trustingly and unselfconsciously, walking slowly and confidently.
The observant had occassion during the day to note the stranger here, an
unusual-looking girl who had passed through the motley crowd, lost in
thought. In the square she held her hand out to the stream of water in the
fountain, fingering the sparkling spray; then she sat down, rested a while
and returned to the forest road. She traversed it in refreshed spirits, in a
mood as peaceful and clear as a stream in evening that had finally exchanged
the flashing mirrors of the day for the calm glow of the shadows.
Approaching the village, she saw the selfsame coalman who had imagined his
basket sprouting blossoms; he was standing beside his cart with two strange,
sullen men who were covered with soot and dirt. Assol was very pleased.
"Hello, Phillip. What are you doing here?"
"Nothing, Midge. A wheel got loose. I fixed it, and now I'm having a
smoke and talking to my friends. Where were you?"
Assol did not reply.
"You know, Phillip, I like you very much, and that's why you're the
only one I'm telling this to. I'll be leaving soon. I'll probably be going
away for good. Don't tell anyone, though."
"You mean you want to go away? Where to?" The coalman was so surprised
he gaped, which made his beard still longer than it was.
"I don't know." Slowly, she took in the clearing, the elm under which
the cart stood, the grass that was so green in the pink twilight, the
silent, grimy coalmen and added after a pause: "I don't know. I don't know
the day or the hour, or even where it'll be. I can't tell you any more.
That's why I want to say goodbye, just in case. You've often given me a
lift."
She took his huge, soot-blackened hand and more or less managed to give
it a shake. The worker's face cracked in a stiff smile. The girl nodded,
turned and walked off. She disappeared even before Phillip and his friends
had a chance to turn their heads.
"Ain't it a wonder?" the coalman said. "How's a body to understand
that? There's something about her today ... funny, like, I mean."
"You're right," the second man agreed. "You can't tell whether she was
just saying that or trying to make us believe her. It's none of our
business."
"It's none of our business," said the third and sighed.
Then the three of them got into the cart and, as the wheels clattered
over the rocky road, disappeared in a cloud of dust.

    VII. THE CRIMSON SECRET


It was a white hour of morning; a faint mist crowded with strange
phantoms filled the great forest. An unnamed hunter, having just left his
campfire, was making his way parallel to the river; the light of its airy
emptiness glimmered through the trees, but the cautious hunter did not
approach the river as he examined the fresh tracks of a bear that was
heading for the mountains.
A sudden sound rushed through the trees with the unexpectedness of an
alarming chase; it was the clarinet bursting into song. The musician, having
come up on deck, played a passage full of sad and mournful repetition. The
sound trembled like a voice concealing grief; it rose, smiled in a sad trill
and ended abruptly. A distant echo hummed the same melody faintly.
The hunter, marking the tracks with a broken twig, made his way to the
water. The fog had not yet lifted; it obscured the silhouette of a large
ship turning slowly out of the river. Its furled sails came to life, hanging
down in festoons, coming unfurled and covering the masts with the helpless
shields of their huge folds; he could hear voices and the
sound of steps. The off-shore wind, attempting to blow, picked at the
sails lazily; finally, the sun's warmth had the desired effect; the pressure
of the wind increased, lifted the fog and streamed along the yards into the
light crimson shapes so full of roses. Rosy shadows slipped along the white
of the masts and rigging, and everything was white except the unfurled,
full-blown sails which were the colour of true
joy-The hunter, staring from the bank, rubbed his eyes hard until he
was finally convinced that what he was seeing was indeed so and not
otherwise. The ship disappeared around a bend, but he still stood there,
staring; then, shrugging, he went after his bear.
While the Secret sailed along the river, Gray stood at the helm, not
trusting it to the helmsman, for he was afraid of shoals. Panten sat beside
him, freshly-shaven and sulking resignedly, and wearing a new worsted suit
and a shiny new cap. As before, he saw no connection between the crimson
magnificence and Gray's intentions.
"Now," said Gray, "when my sails are glowing, the wind is fair and my
heart is overflowing with joy that is greater than what an elephant
experiences at the sight of a small bun, I shall try to attune you to my
thoughts as I promised back in Liss. Please bear in mind that I don't
consider you dull-witted or stubborn, no; you are an exemplary seaman and
this means a lot. But you, as the great majority of others, hear the voices
of all the simple truths through the thick glass of life; they shout, but
you will not hear them. What I'm doing exists as an old-fashioned belief in
the beautiful and unattainable, and what, actually, is as attainable and
possible as a picnic. You will soon see a girl who cannot, who must not
marry otherwise than in the manner I am following and which you are
witnessing."
He related in short that which we know so well, concluding thus:
"You see how closely entwined here are fate, will and human nature; I'm
going to the one who is waiting and can wait for me alone, while I do not
want any other but her, perhaps just because, thanks to her, I've come to
understand a simple truth, namely: you must make so-called miracles come
true yourself. When a person places the most importance on getting a
treasured copper it's not hard to give him that copper, but when the soul
cherishes the seed of an ardent plant--a miracle, make this miracle come
true for it if you can.
"This person's soul will change and yours will, too. When the chief
warden releases a prisoner of his own free will, when a billionaire gives
his scribe a villa, a chorus girl and a safe, and when a jockey holds back
his horse just once to let an unlucky horse pass him,-- then everyone will
understand how pleasant this is, how inexpressibly wonderful. But there are
miracles of no less magnitude: a smile, merriment, forgiveness and ... the
right word spoken opportunely. If one possesses this--one possesses all. As
for me, our beginning--Assol's and mine--will forever remain to us in a
crimson glow of sails, created by the depths of a heart that knows what love
is. Have you understood me?"
"Yes, Captain." Panten cleared his throat and wiped his moustache with
a neatly-folded, clean handkerchief. "I understand everything. You've
touched my heart. I'll go below and tell Nicks I'm sorry I cursed him for
sinking a pail yesterday. And I'll give him some tobacco--he lost his at
cards yesterday."
Before Gray, who was somewhat surprised at the quick practical effect
his words had had, was able to reply, Panten had clattered down the ladder
and heaved a sigh in the distance. Gray looked up over his shoulder; the
crimson sails billowed silently above him; the sun in their seams shone as a
purple mist. The Secret was heading out to sea, moving away from the shore.
There was no doubt in Gray's ringing soul -- no dull pounding of anxiety, no
bustle of small worries; as calmly as a sail was he straining towards a
heavenly goal, his mind full of those thoughts which forestall words.
The puffs of smoke of a naval cruiser appeared on the horizon. The
cruiser changed its course and, from a distance of half a mile, raised the
signal that stood for "lie to".
"They won't shell us, boys," Gray said. "Don't worry! They simply can't
believe their eyes."
He gave the order to lie to. Panten, shouting as if there were a fire,
brought the Secret out of the wind; the ship stopped, while a steam launch
manned by a crew and lieutenant in white gloves sped towards them from the
cruiser; the lieutenant, stepping aboard the ship, looked around in
amazement and followed Gray to his cabin, from which he emerged an hour
later, smiling as if he had just been promoted and, with an awkward wave of
his hand, headed back to his blue cruiser. This time Gray had apparently
been more successful than he had with the unsophisticated Panten, since the
cruiser, pausing shortly, blasted the horizon with a mighty salvo whose
swift bursts of smoke, ripping through the air in great, flashing balls,
furled away over the still waters. All day long there was an air of
half-festive bewilderment on board the cruiser; the mood was definitely not
official, it was one of awe -- under the sign of love, of which there was
talk everywhere,-- from the officers' mess to the engine room; the watch on
duty in the torpedo section asked a passing sailor:
"How'd you get married, Tom?"
"I caught her by the skirt when she tried to escape through the
window," Tom said and twirled his moustache proudly.
For some time after the Secret plied the empty sea, out of sight of the
shore; towards noon they sighted the distant shore. Gray lifted his
telescope and trained it on Kaperna. If not for a row of roofs, he would
have spotted Assol sitting over a book by the window in one of the houses.
She was reading; a small greenish beetle was crawling along the page,
stopping and rising up on its front legs, looking very independent and tame.
It had already been blown peevishly onto the window-sill twice, from whence
it had reappeared as trustingly and unafraid as if it had had something to
say. This time it managed to get nearly as far as the girl's hand which was
holding the corner of the page; here it got stuck on the word "look",
hesitated as if awaiting a new squall and, indeed, barely escaped trouble,
since Assol had already exclaimed: "Oh! That... silly bug!"--and was about
to blow the visitor right into the grass when a chance shifting of her eyes
from one rooftop to another revealed to her in the blue strip of sea at the
end of the street a white ship with crimson sails.
She started visibly, leaned back and froze; then she jumped up, her
heart sinking dizzily, and burst into uncontrollable tears of inspired
shock. Meanwhile, the Secret was rounding a small cape, its port side
towards the shore; soft music wafted over the light-blue hollow, coming from
the white deck beneath the crimson silk; the music of a lilting melody
expressed not too successfully by the well-known words: "Fill, fill up your
glasses -- and let us drink to love...." In its simplicity, exulting,
excitement unfurled and rumbled.
Unmindful of how she had left the house, Assol ran towards the sea,
caught up by the irresistible wind of events; she stopped at the very first
corner, nearly bereft of strength; her knees buckled, her breath came in
gasps and consciousness hung by a thread. Beside herself from fear of losing
her determination, she stamped her foot and ran on. Every now and then a
roof or a fence would hide the crimson sails from view; then, fearful lest
they had disappeared like some ordinary mirage, she would hurry to pass the
tormenting obstacle and, sighting the ship once again, would stop to heave a
sigh of relief.
Meanwhile, there was such commotion, such an uproar and such excitement
in Kaperna as was comparable to the effect of the famous earthquakes. Never
before had a large ship approached this shore; the ship had the very same
sails whose colour sounded like a taunt; now they were blazing brightly and
incontestably with the innocence of a fact that refutes all the laws of
being and common sense. Men, women and children were racing helter-skelter
towards the shore; the inhabitants shouted to each other over their fences,
bumped into each other, howled and tumbled; soon a crowd had gathered at the
water's edge, and into the crowd Assol rushed.
As long as she was not there her name was tossed around with a nervous
and sullen tenseness, with hateful fear. The men did most of the talking;
the thunderstruck women sobbed in a choked, snake-like hissing, but if one
did begin to rattle -- the poison rose to her head. The moment Assol
appeared everyone became silent, everyone moved away from her in fear,
and she remained alone on the empty stretch of hot sand, at a loss, shamed
and happy, with a face no less crimson than her miracle, helplessly
stretching her hands towards the tall ship.
A rowboat manned by bronzed oarsmen detached itself from the ship;
among them stood he whom she now felt she had known, had dimly recalled
since childhood. He was looking at her with a smile which warmed and
beckoned. But thousands of last-stand, silly fears gripped Assol; deathly
afraid of everything--an error, misunderstanding, some mysterious or evil
hindrance -- she plunged waist-deep into the warm undulation of the waves,
shouting: "I'm here, I'm here! It's me!"
Then Zimmer raised his bow -- and the very same melody struck the
nerves of the crowd, but this time it was a full-voiced, triumphant choir.
From excitement, the motion of the clouds and waves, the glitter of the
water and the distance the girl was hardly able to discern what was moving:
she herself, the ship or the rowboat,--everything was moving, spinning and
falling.
But an oar slashed the water next to her; she raised her head. Gray
bent down, and her hands gripped his belt.
Assol shut her eyes tight; then she opened them quickly, smiled boldly
into his beaming face and said breathlessly:
"Just as I imagined you."
"And you, too, my dear!" Gray said, lifting his wet treasure from the
water. "I've come at last. Do you recognize me?"
She nodded, holding onto his belt, trembling with a reborn soul and
eyes shut quiveringly tight. Happiness was as a soft kitten curled up inside
of her. When Assol decided to open her eyes the rocking of the rowboat, the
sparkle of the waves, the huge, approaching, moving side of the Secret--all
was a dream, where the light and the water bobbed and spun like sun-sports
cavorting on a sunshine-streaked wall. She did not remember how she was
carried up the gangplank in Gray's strong arms. The deck, covered and draped
with rugs, engulfed by the crimson splashing of the sails, was like a
heavenly garden. And soon Assol saw that she was in a cabin--in a room than
which nothing could be better.
Then from above, rending and absorbing the heart in its triumphant cry,
once again the thunderous music crashed. Once again Assol shut her eyes,
fearful lest all this disappear if she were to look. Gray took her hands
and, knowing now where safety lay, she buried her tear-stained face on the
breast of her beloved, who had appeared so miraculously. Gently, but with a
smile, for he, too, was overwhelmed and amazed by the coming of the
inexpressible, precious minute, inaccessible to anyone else, Gray tilted up
this face that had haunted him for so long, and the eyes of the girl finally
opened wide. All that was best in a person was in them.
"Will you take my Longren with us?" she said.
"Yes." And he kissed her so passionately after saying this firm "yes"
that she laughed delightedly.
We shall leave them now, knowing that they should be alone. There are
many words in the many languages and dialects of the world, but none of them
can even faintly convey that which they said to each other that day.
Meanwhile, up on deck, by the mainmast the entire crew waited at the
worm-eaten cask with the top knocked off to reveal the hundred-year old dark
magnificence. Atwood stood by; Panten sat as primly blissful as a newborn
babe. Gray came up on deck, signalled to the orchestra and, removing his
cap, was the first to dip a glass, to the accompaniment of the golden horns,
into the sacred wine.
"There..." he said, when he had drunk and then tossed down his glass.
"Now drink. Everybody, drink! Anyone who doesn't drink is my enemy."
He did not have to repeat his words. As the Secret proceeded at full
speed, under full sail, away from Kaperna, which had been struck dumb
forever, the jostling around the cask was greater than anything in this
manner that occurs at great fetes.
"How did you like it?" Gray asked Letika.
"Captain," the sailor said, searching for the right words, "I don't
know whether it liked me, but I'll have to think over my impressions.
Beehive and orchard!"
"What?"
"I mean it's like having a beehive and an orchard put into my mouth. Be
happy, Captain. And may she whom I will call 'the best cargo', the Secrefs
best prize, be happy, too!"
When dawn broke the following morning the ship was far from Kaperna.
Part of the crew were asleep where they had stretched out on deck, overcome
by Gray's wine; only the helmsman, the watch and a thoughtful and tipsy
Zimmer who sat near the prow with his chin resting on the finger-board of
his cello were up. He sat there, drawing his bow across the strings softly,
making them speak in a magic, heavenly voice, and was thinking of happiness.

1920