Part 29 (1/2)

”Thus he recorded the second inspiration: 'And even as I have bred these swine, some for bacon and some for lard, so shall the German Blond Brutes be bred the super-men, some specialized for labour and some for brains.'

”These two ideas are the foundation of the kultur of our Imperial Socialism, the one idea to preserve us and the other to re-create us as the super-race. And both of these ideas we owe to this n.o.ble animal. The swine should be emblazoned with the eagle upon our flag.”

As the Historian finished his eulogy, I glanced surrept.i.tiously at the faces of his listeners, and caught a twinkle in Marguerite's eyes; but the faces of the others were as serious as graven images.

Finally the Countess spoke: ”Do I understand, then, that you consider the swine the model of the German race?”

”Only of the lower cla.s.ses,” said the aged historian, ”but not the House of Hohenzollern. We are exalted above the necessities of breeding, for we are divine.”

Eyes were now turned upon me, for I was the only one of the company not of Hohenzollern blood. Unrelieved by laughter the situation was painful.

”But,” said Count Rudolph, coming to my rescue, ”we also seek safety in the fortified piggeries.”

”Exactly,” said the Historian; ”so did our n.o.ble ancestor.”

~4~

From the piggeries, we went to the green level where, growing beneath eye-paining lights, was a matted ma.s.s of solid vegetation from which came those rare sprigs of green which garnished our synthetic dishes.

But this was too monotonous to be interesting and we soon went above to the Defence Level where were housed vast military and rebuilding mechanisms and stores. After our guides had shown us briefly about among these paraphernalia, we were conducted to one of the sloping ramps which led through a heavily arched tunnel to the roof above.

Marguerite clung close to my arm, quivering with expectancy and excitement, as we climbed up the sloping pa.s.sage-way and felt on our faces the breath of the crisp air of the May night.

The sky came into vision with startling suddenness as we walked out upon the soft sand blanket of the roof. The night was absolutely clear and my first impression was that every star of the heavens had miraculously waxed in brilliancy. The moon, in the last quarter, hung midway between the zenith and the western horizon. The milky way seemed a floating band of whitish flame. About us, in the form of a wide crescent, for we were near the eastern edge of the city, swung the encircling band of searchlights, but the air was so clear that this stockade of artificial light beams was too pale to dim the points of light in the blue-black vault.

In antic.i.p.ating this visit to the roof I had supposed it would seem commonplace to me, and had discussed it very little with Marguerite, lest I might reveal an undue lack of wonder. But now as I thrilled once more beneath their holy light, the miracle of unnumbered far-flung flaming suns stifled again the vanity of human conceit and I stood with soul unbared and wors.h.i.+pful beneath the vista of incommensurate s.p.a.ce wherein the birth and death of worlds marks the unending roll of time.

And at my side a silent gazing woman stood, contrite and humble and the thrill and quiver of her body filled me with a joy of wordless delight.

A blundering guide began lecturing on astronomy and pointing out with pompous gestures the constellations and planets. But Marguerite led me beyond the sound of his voice. ”It is not the time for listening to talk,” she said. ”I only want to see.”

When the astronomer had finished his speech-making, our party moved slowly toward the East, where we could just discern the first faint light of the coming dawn. When we reached the parapet of the eastern edge of the city's roof, the stars had faded and pale pink streaked the eastern sky. The guides brought folding chairs from a nearby tunnel way and most of the party sat down on a hillock of sand, very much as men might seat themselves in the grandstand of a race course. But I was so interested in what the dawn would reveal beneath the changing colours of the sky, that I led Marguerite to the rail of the parapet where we could look down into the yawning depths upon the surface of German soil.

My first vision over the parapet revealed but a mottled grey. But as the light brightened the grey land took form, and I discerned a few scraggly patches of green between the torn ma.s.ses of distorted soil.

The stars had faded now and only the pale moon remained in the bluing sky, while below the land disclosed a sad monotony of ruin and waste, utterly devoid of any constructive work of man.

Marguerite, her gaze fixed on the dawn, was beginning to complain of the light paining her eyes, when one of the guides hurried by with an open satchel swung from his shoulders. ”Here are your gla.s.ses,” he said; ”put them on at once. You must be very careful now, or you will injure your eyes.”

We accepted the darkened protecting lenses, but I found I did not need mine until the sun itself had appeared above the horizon.

”Did you see it so in your vision?” questioned Marguerite, as the first beams glistened on the surface of the sanded roof.

”This,” I replied, ”is a very ordinary sunrise with a perfectly cloudless sky. Some day, perhaps, when the gates of this prison of Berlin are opened, we will be able to see all the sunrises of my visions, and even more wonderful ones.”

”Karl,” she whispered, ”how do you know of all these things? Sometimes I believe you are something more than human, that you of a truth possess the blood of divinity which the House of Hohenzollern claims.”

”No,” I answered; ”not divinity,--just a little larger humanity, and some day very soon I am going to tell you more of the source of my visions.”

She looked at me through her darkened gla.s.ses. ”I only know,” she said, ”that you are wonderful, and very different from other men.”

Had we been alone on the roof of Berlin, I could not have resisted the temptation to tell her then that stars and sun were familiar friends to me and that the devastated soil that stretched beneath us was but the wasted skeleton of a fairer earth I knew and loved. But we were surrounded by a host of babbling sightseers and so the moment pa.s.sed and I remained to Marguerite a man of mystery and a seer of visions.