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Chapter 9 We
have not written for many days. We did not wish to speak. For we needed no
words to remember that which has happened to us.
It
was on our second day in the forest that we heard steps behind us. We hid
in the bushes, and we waited. The steps came closer. And then we saw the
fold of a white tunic among the trees, and a gleam of gold. We
leapt forward, we ran to them, and we stood looking upon the Golden One.
They
saw us, and their hands closed into fists, and the fists pulled their arms
down, as if they wished their arms to hold them, while their body swayed.
And they could not speak. We
dared not come too close to them. We asked, and our voice trembled:
"How
come you to be here, Golden One?"
But
they whispered only: "We
have found you. . . ." "How
came you to be in the forest?" we asked.
They
raised their head, and there was a great pride in their voice; they
answered: "We
have followed you." Then
we could not speak, and they said: "We
heard that you had gone to the Uncharted Forest, for the whole City is
speaking of it. So on the night of the day when we heard it, we ran away
from the Home of the Peasants. We found the marks of your feet across the
plain where no men walk. So we followed them, and we went into the forest,
and we followed the path where the branches were broken by your
body." Their
white tunic was torn, and the branches had cut the skin of their arms, but
they spoke as if they had never taken notice of it, nor of weariness, nor
of fear. "We
have followed you," they said, "and we shall follow you wherever
you go. If danger threatens you, we shall face it also. If it be death, we
shall die with you. You are damned, and we wish to share your
damnation." They
looked upon us, and their voice was low, but there was bitterness and
triumph in their voice: "Your
eyes are as a flame, but our brothers have neither hope nor fire. Your
mouth is cut of granite, but our brothers are soft and humble. Your head
is high, but our brothers cringe. You walk, but our brothers crawl. We
wish to be damned with you, rather than be blessed with all our brothers.
Do as you please with us, but do not send us away from you."
Then
they knelt, and bowed their golden head before us. We
had never thought of that which we did. We bent to raise the Golden One to
their feet, but when we touched them, it was as if madness had stricken
us. We seized their body and we pressed our lips to theirs. The Golden One
breathed once, and their breath was a moan, and then their arms closed
around us. We
stood together for a long time. And we were frightened that we had lived
for twenty-one years and had never known what joy is possible to men.
Then
we said: "Our
dearest one. Fear nothing of the forest. There is no danger in solitude.
We have no need of our brothers. Let us forget their good and our evil,
let us forget all things save that we are together and that there is joy
between us. Give us your hand. Look ahead. It is our own world, Golden
One, a strange, unknown world, but our own."
Then
we walked on into the forest, their hand in ours. And
that night we knew that to hold the body of a woman in our arms is neither
ugly nor shameful, but the one ecstasy granted to the race of men.
We
have walked for many days. The forest has no end, and we seek no end. But
each day added to the chain of days between us and the City is like an
added blessing. We
have made a bow and many arrows. We can kill more birds than we need for
our food; we find water and fruit in the forest. At night, we choose a
clearing, and we build a ring of fires around it. We sleep in the midst of
that ring, and the beasts dare not attack us. We can see their eyes, green
and yellow as coals, watching us from the tree branches beyond. The fires
smolder as a crown of jewels around us, and smoke stands still in the air,
in columns made blue by the moonlight. We sleep together in the midst of
the ring, the arms of the Golden One around us, their head upon our
breast. Some
day, we shall stop and build a house, when we shall have gone far enough.
But we do not have to hasten. The days before us are without end, like the
forest. We
cannot understand this new life which we have found, yet it seems so clear
and so simple. When questions come to puzzle us, we walk faster, then turn
and forget all things as we watch the Golden One following. The shadows of
leaves fall upon their arms, as they spread the branches apart, but their
shoulders are in the sun. The skin of their arms is like a blue mist, but
their shoulders are white and glowing, as if the light fell not from
above, but rose from under their skin. We watch the leaf which has fallen
upon their shoulder, and it lies at the curve of their neck, and a drop of
dew glistens upon it like a jewel. They approach us, and they stop,
laughing, knowing what we think, and they wait obediently, without
questions, till it pleases us to turn and go on.
We
go on and we bless the earth under our feet. But questions come to us
again, as we walk in silence. If that which we have found is the
corruption of solitude, then what can men wish for save corruption? If
this is the great evil of being alone, then what is good and what is evil?
Everything
which comes from the many is good. Everything which comes from one is
evil. Thus we have been taught with our first breath. We have broken the
law, but we have never doubted it. Yet now, as we walk the forest, we are
learning to doubt. There
is no life for men, save in useful toil for the good of their brothers.
But we lived not, when we toiled for our brothers, we were only weary.
There is no joy for men, save the joy shared with all their brothers. But
the only things which taught us joy were the power created in our wires,
and the Golden One. And both these joys belong to us alone, they come from
us alone, they bear no relation to our brothers, and they do not concern
our brothers in any way. Thus do we wonder.
There
is some error, one frightful error, in the thinking of men. What is that
error? We do not know, but the knowledge struggles within us, struggles to
be born. Today,
the Golden One stopped suddenly and said:
"We
love you." But
then they frowned and shook their head and looked at us helplessly.
"No,"
they whispered, "that is not what we wished to say."
They
were silent, then they spoke slowly, and their words were halting, like
the words of a child learning to speak for the first time:
"We
are one . . . alone . . . and only . . . and we love you who are one . . .
alone . . . and only." We
looked into each other's eyes and we knew that the breath of a miracle had
touched us, and fled, and left us groping vainly. And
we felt torn, torn for some word we could not find. |
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