Part 8 (1/2)
”Flaxius looked at the rolling river which went rus.h.i.+ng by at his feet, and said:
”'_Arno mio_, you are in a tremendous hurry to get to the sea, and all the more so because you have just had an _accessit_-a remittance of rain from the mountain-banks. _Buon pro vi faccia_-much good may it do you!
So every shopman hurries to become a great merchant when he gets some money, and every farmer a signore, and every signore a great lord, and every great lord a ruler at court and over all the land-_prorsum et sursum_. And when they get there-or when you get to the sea-then ye are all swallowed up in greater lives, interests, and actions, and so the rivers run for ever on, larger yet ever seeming less unto yourselves.
And so-_ad altiora tendunt omnes_-the flower-edged torrent and the Florentine.' . . .
”When he suddenly heard above his head a spirit voice, clear, sweet and strange, ringing, not in words, but tones of unearthly music-of which languages there are many among the Unearthlies, all being wordless songs or airs suggesting speech, and yet conveying ideas far more rapidly. It was the Goblin of the Tower calling to him of the tower next beyond on the farther hill, and he said:
”'How many ghosts there are out to-night!'
”'Yes; it is a fine night for ghosting. Moonlight is mid-summer for them, poor souls! But I say, brother, who is yonder _frate_, the dark monk-spectre who always haunts your tower, lingering here and there about it? What is the spell upon that _spirito_?'
”'He is one to be pitied,' replied the Goblin of the Trinita. 'He was a good fellow while he lived, but a little too fond of money. He was afflicted with what doctors called, when I was young in Rome, the _amor sceleratus habendi_. So it came to pa.s.s that he died leaving a treasure-_mille aureos_-a thousand gold crowns buried in my tower unknown to any one, and for that he must walk the earth until some one living wins the money.'
”Flaxius p.r.i.c.ked up his ears. He understood all that the spirits said, but they had no idea that the man in a scholar's robe who sat below knew Goblinese.
”'What must a mortal do to get the gold?' inquired the second goblin.
”'Truly he must do what is well-nigh impossible,' replied the Elf of the Tower; 'for he must, without magic aid-note that-bring to me here in this month of January a fresh full-blown rose.'
”The voices were silent; a cloud pa.s.sed over the face of the moon; the river rushed and roared on; Flaxius sat in a Vand.y.k.e-brown study, thinking how he could obtain peace and repose for the ghostly monk, and also get the _pecuniam_.
”'Here is,' he thought, '_aliquid laborare_-something to be worked out.
Now is the time, and here is a chance-_ingirlandarsi di lauro_-to win the laurel wreath. A rose in January! What a pity that it is not four hundred years later, when people will have green-houses, and blue-nosed vagabonds will be selling red roses all the winter long in the Tornabuoni! Truly it is sometimes inconvenient to be in advance of or behind the age.
”'_Eureka_! I have it,' he at last exclaimed, 'by the neck and tail. I will _spogliar la tesoria_-rob the treasury and spoil the Egyptian-_si non in errore versatus sum_-unless I am stupendously mistaken. Monk! thy weird will soon be dreed-thy penance prophesied will soon be o'er.'
”Saying this he went into the city. And there the next day, going to a fair dame of his acquaintance, who excelled all the ladies of all Italy in ingenious needlework, he had made of silk a rose; and so deftly was it done, that had it been put on a bush, you would have sworn that a nightingale would have sung to it, or bee have sought to ravish it.
”Then going to a Venetian perfumer's, the wise Flaxius had his flower well scented with best attar of roses from Constantinople, and when midnight struck he was at the tower once more calling to the goblin.
”'_Che vuoi_? What dost thou seek?' cried the Elf.
”'The treasure of the monk!'
”'_Bene_! Give me a rose.'
”'_Ecco_! There it is,' replied Flaxius, extending it.
”'_Non facit_-it won't do,' answered the goblin (thinking Flaxius to be a monk). 'It is a sham rose artificially coloured, _murice tincta est_.'
”'Smell it,' replied Flaxius calmly.
”'The _smell_ is all right, I admit,' answered the guardian of the gold.
'The perfume is delicious;' here he sniffed at it deeply, being, like all his kind, enraptured with perfume, 'and that much of it is, I grant, the real thing.'
”'Now tell me,' inquired Flaxius, 'truly-_religiose testimonium dicere_-by thy great ancestress Diana and her sister-double Herodias and her Nine Cats, by the Moon and the eternal Shadow, Endamone, and the word which Bergoia whispered into the ear of the Ox, and the Lamia whom thou lovest-what is it makes a man? Is it his soul or his body?'