Part 8 (1/2)
Instantly they took off the costly robe and clothed her in the attire which they had brought along. Poullkheria came back to life and looked around with the greatest astonishment as the rays of the sun, one after another, reflected upon the opening of the cupola, and approaching slowly, the angels came down, who quickly and intelligently drew out two wings from them, quite as beaming with light as their own, and made them grow on to Poullkheria, and having manoeuvred with them several times, the new angel without the least trouble raised herself from the earth and joyfully did the angels of the Almighty G.o.d sing a marvellously, nay extraordinarily, sweet greeting song to their dear new companion in arms, inviting her to fly off with them to the Throne of G.o.d.
The new angel departed from the house of wors.h.i.+p with a last, tender parting glance and having beheld her father, she began to implore the angels to also take him with them into the World of Life Eternal. The angelic song now stopped, their faces were darkened with sorrow, and painfully they announced that willingly they would have prepared for him at first a more desirable spot in the all glorious and all wonderful domains of Heaven, but that he threw away his splendid chance by wicked and useless vanity. The tears ran down in floods from the eyes of the former Poullkheria, and these tears of hers, as clean and fresh as the morning dew, dropped down unto the face of him who had died and brought him again to life and this time to a happier one.
Martin jumped up, being fully aware of and perfectly ready to acknowledge his sinfulness. Abundant tears of remorse came out of his eyes and two more angels appeared on earth.
They gathered these tears and washed out with them the wicked, sinful soul of Martin and the dark, dark spots of vanity on this most precious of diamonds grew quite white. When, however, the diamond again acquired its former harmless and utterly immaculate look, they radiantly bore him up to the throne of G.o.d, where he is s.h.i.+ning and enlightens with a marvellous talent and adroitness those artists who are working for the glory of G.o.d, but Poullkheria guards their s.h.i.+ning, clean souls from any sinful or irreligious infection.
VI. HAPPINESS IS WITHIN US
A LEGEND
In the fifth century (458 A. D.) the Ossians stole and led off the sister of the Georgian Tsar Vachtang the First, known under the name of Gourga.s.slan (the lion wolf). The then three-year-old princess was called Mikrandoukta. When, however, Vachtang had conquered and pacified the Ossians, killed their commander-in-chief, Great Bagkatar, and seven of his brothers, and brought the sister safely home, he also took with him as a captive the very youngest of the Bagkatorian brothers, Mirian, whom he had left alive upon the repeated prayers of Mikrandoukta. The boy, who had been a playmate of the Tsarevna, was appointed page and grew up at the royal court.
As he grew older his attachment for Mikrandoukta constantly increased, but he never so much as ventured to reveal to her his thoughts and feelings, neither by his speech, nor his looks, but used to go to an out of the way spot of the royal garden and there began to bitterly cry. Gradually, however, as he became a man, his wooings took a more refined form and were frequently put down in exquisite verses. A large number of little pieces of poetry are in circulation among the people under the name of ”Wooing of the Knight,” for when he reached his fourteenth year, the Tsar made him his body-knight. His comrades were of course jealous of this exceptional distinction and heartily congratulated him, but he, deeply grieved by the final departure of the princess, went into his favorite resting place; there a song came out of his lips, which for whole ages was known and went down from generation unto generation.
THE SONG OF THE BODY-KNIGHT
(Literal Translation)
”Why did they lead me into the high royal palace, To thee as thy page, Thy most winning eyes Did fill my soul with burning fire.
”Although I descend from a powerful Vladyka And am now at least the Tsar's favorite knight, Nevertheless I cannot even testify my love to thee Nor exchange words with thee through sweet, sweet glances.
”It is as though a mighty fortress was separating us So fearfully high and immobile, And my humble glance does not dare to penetrate E'en to the grand old royal window.
”In love, however, I am thy slave, O dear princess, I am quite able to pick up a quarrel with the king, For I do pride myself in having just as fiery a soul, Nay, just as great a heart.
”Both of us are still in life's early stages And the same blood runs in our veins, And if I cannot boast of such great royal fame I may at least be proud of my strength and powerful determination.”
And, as though wis.h.i.+ng to give his powerful strength a fair trial, the youth struck out with his fist against the stone and lo! the rock began to shake and split. When he looked at his fist he noticed that there was blood on it, and thereupon Mirian was more downcast and depressed than ever before.
”What possible use can my hero prince's strength be to me when my heart is harder than stone?” he exclaimed, and again tears flowed down his face.
And so from the mixture of tears with dripping hero-blood, a little spring formed itself, which flows at the edge of a precipice--then again it makes its way through high, high stone blocks, like a wild animal and, having successfully overcome them, it cries and hops about like a child. Mikrandoukta did not at all share the intense attachment of Mirian and took no notice of it. Attaining her growth she married the Shah of Persia. On the day of her departure Mirian came to his little spring, fixed the sword between two stones and threw himself against it with such violence that the sharp blade went right through him. His youthful body slipped into the water, but the burning blood swelled the little rivulet and gave it a marvellous power of resistance. To this well known spot from that time onward, all true lovers streamed in, and if anybody has a really good chance over the turbulent, fairy-like stream, he will take to writing excellent verses and his love will be crowned with the most complete success; if, however, he expects and awaits inspiration, he must certainly give up all hope forever and his pa.s.sion will, alas! slow down and come to nothing.
The first man who experienced these strange feelings and went through the whole thing was the negro Nebrotk. He fell deeply in love with his mistress, and even went so far as to venture to open his secret to her. The incensed and very frightened mistress immediately ordered that he should be drowned. They threw the unhappy ”darky” in the stream of tears of the stremiannoy (body-knight) and went off; he at first lost consciousness, but later came back to his senses and came out on the opposite bank, completely cured of his useless pa.s.sion. As he still felt uneasy and could not think of daring to return to his mistress, he built a little log house for himself on the bank of that ghastly precipice near which flowed the rivulet, and not knowing what to do with himself he wrote down the whole history of his life, then investigated the source and course of the remarkable stream and registered that too.
Having thoroughly established himself in this most interesting region, he began to look after all those who happened to approach these important domains of fate, invited the travellers and pilgrims to his house, asked each one the story of his or her life and diligently and carefully recorded them. Soon a whole bouquet of most varied and entertaining tales was gotten up, reminding one of the all famous Arabian stories, and I can only regret that my memory prevented me from remembering but very few of them. I can understand very well all that Nebrotk relates about himself. Once upon a time, in the night he was awakened by some sweet, sweet singing, and having hastened to rise and go out, he smelt a strong and remarkable fragrance. He turned and peeped right into the precipice.
The moon was lighting up its bottom; the enormous rocks glistened like pure silver and gold, while the water shone like the finest diamonds. With great satisfaction--nay, delight--he glanced at this heavenly picture, and suddenly his eyes were fixed on and could easily distinguish two human heads on the surface of the water. He began to pay more attention; a very handsome youth--a negro--and quite as beautiful and splendid a white girl were standing in the water up to their throats, and having lifted their arms high out of the water, they were playing with some wonderful, bright, gleaming threads. Correctly these nets were fastened and refreshed with clean, clear water, and they seemed to stay in the air without any sign of motion.
Later he distinguished the following details: These nets of threads were fastened to an immense leaf of some sea plant and in this ma.s.sive, fairy-like floor, which was all aglow with emeralds and gold, there stood a figure exceeding all human beauty. The whole scene was wrapped in a slight watery fog and a soft moonlight. The longer Nebrotk paid attention and looked at the surprising spectacle the more easily he succeeded in making out that all the charm of this extraordinary scene was concentrated in the form of a perfectly magnificent woman. In her hands there was some kind of a long feather, consisting entirely of sun rays, with which in the course of her sweet swim she reached and touched the different plants and flowers, and indeed, as though subjected to her peremptory commands, they gave out an indescribable fragrance and each little flower united with the marvellous choir which had gently awakened Nebrotk and sang softly, sweetly, beautifully.
Nebrotk got perfectly pa.s.sionate, so anxious was he to understand the contents and exact meaning of this fragrant, flowery little song, and holding his breath, he began to take the greatest pains and was enabled to hear: ”Astkchicka! O Astkchicka! O Astkchicka! O Astkchicka!”
That struck him as most peculiar, and having once more fixed his eyes on the head of the woman, he beheld a glistening, darling little star. This was exactly Astkchicka, i.e., Venera, whom the Tsar Vachtang the First had chased out of all his temples and houses of wors.h.i.+p, and her adorers as well as her sacrificers and those who had been so benefited by her--all without exception had to abandon her in the deepest grief and disappointment. Then, however, she found two tender lovers. He was an adventurer, viz., a fisherman, but she the daughter of a very wealthy gardener. The G.o.ddess promised them her complete protection, and they without further reflections threw away their only property, i.e., their garments, and naked they went into the water in order to construct something for their kind benefactor. And see! the expelled G.o.ddess decided to rise and establish herself near the interesting ”rivulet of the tears of the body-knight”