Part 21 (1/2)
He felt quite well at times, then re-a.s.sumed his moody ways; rays of suns.h.i.+ne sometimes darted from behind the clouds. ”I wish the sun would disperse the clouds,” he sighed.
One evening, when his head was tolerably clear, he was seized with a desire to visit his parents' grave.
Without consulting anyone, he immediately proceeded towards the Foulon. When he came to the iron gate, it was closed. He was bitterly disappointed. By climbing over it, he would risk being empaled on the iron spikes, or otherwise injured.
Presently he thought of the wooden wicket situated a little lower down. He proceeded thither and climbed over it without difficulty. A stream confronted him. He crossed it on a plank thrown across the rill. It was very dark, but he did not think of it. He was alone in this graveyard, but he experienced no fear. He felt happier than he had done for a long time. ”Had he not adopted the pessimistic view of life.”
He walked straight to the grave where his father and mother lay buried and seated himself near it. Just then, a gentle breeze caused the stately trees surrounding the graveyard to waft their leafy tops to and fro. Nature was rocking itself to sleep.
Even as it slumbered, it now and then heaved a sigh, sympathizing with the lonely man who pondered near his parents' grave.
He soliloquized: ”Around me, the dead; beneath that turf, the dead; above me, beyond those glimmering stars, somewhere in that infinity of s.p.a.ce, in which man with his very limited understanding loses himself, the departed souls....”
Suddenly, he perceived a white form advancing towards him. If hair stands on end, Frank's did. His heart beat at a fearful rate. What could this be? It certainly must be a ghost. ”I have laughed at apparitions, but I am now going to be punished for my incredulity,”
he said to himself.
The ghost moved and came nearer. Frank trembled from head to foot.
When he had recovered sufficient courage to scrutinize this form, it suddenly disappeared.
The young man fixed his eyes on the place where the ghost had vanished, for ten minutes; then turned his gaze in another direction. He soon recovered his senses, and fell into a reverie.
Again he soliloquized: ”We all travel towards the grave. We all shall one day be like these around me. Why work, why trouble oneself. Why have I taken so much pains about my education? I have been ambitious, I have worried myself, I have been anxious to acquire wealth and fame. Here, the rich and the poor, the famous, the unfamous, and the infamous, the ignorant and the educated, are resting in the same ground, surrounded by the same scenery. I have been foolish to worry myself thus.
”Do I not daily meet ignorant and uncivilised people who live a life of contentment and happiness? Not caring for the future, not aspiring after getting on in life, living from hand to mouth, they manage to show a radiant countenance.
”Is ignorance bliss? Perhaps, in one sense; still I would not be without education.
”What must I do to be happy? I will shut mine eyes to all ambition, I will live a quiet life. Alas! even as I p.r.o.nounce these words, my heart belies them. I cannot annihilate the acute brain which tortures me. Since all my hopes of happiness seem to shun me, I will continue in my new religion--pessimism; and when the hour of death comes, I will smile.”
He thought of the hopeful days he had once known. He rose from his seat, cast a farewell glance on his parents' grave and proceeded down the gravel walk. He then thought of the ghost which he had seen, and felt a vague sense of fear. ”I am no coward,” he muttered as he straightened himself and tried to a.s.sume an air of indifference. But he felt nervous. He glanced anxiously behind him every other moment, and increased his pace.
He perceived, among the trees, near the gate over which he had to pa.s.s--a light.
It was as if a thunderbolt had pa.s.sed through his body.
He looked more attentively. Yes, there was a light, a strange, fantastic light, dancing amongst the trees. His feverish brain caused him to lose all power of reasoning.
”What is this?” he said to himself. He felt his heart beating heavily against the walls of its prison as if trying to escape. His legs seemed to give way under him. A big lump stuck in his throat.
”It is only an _ignis fatuus_,” he said to himself. ”No, it cannot be, it does not burn with a bluish light. Why this terror, why this fear; it must be the _feu bellanger_.”
The light changed. It was approaching.
A sense of horripilation stole over him. A cold perspiration bathed him.
The light changed again. It really receded this time, but to Frank's agitated mind, it was simply one of its tactics to induce him to come nearer.
He suddenly bethought himself of the stream. His terror reached its climax. ”Ah! there it was, waiting for him to pa.s.s that way, and then with a shout of triumph, it would plunge him in.”