Imaginary LIves by Marcel Schwob Read Free Book Online Page A

hand of the King Sufrah beheld the great shining seal.
    He crawled to it on his knees, raised the shriveled fingers and snatched off the precious seal.
    So were the predictions of the unknown Geomancer fulfilled and the immortal sleep of Solomon brought to end. In less than a moment the King’s body crumbled to a little handful of dust and bones, which the gracious form of the mummy seemed still to watch over.
    Crushed at that same instant by the Red One from the House of Death, Sufrah spent all the blood of his life in one vermilion gush before the deep sleep of earthly immortality swallowed him up.
    With Solomon’s ring on his finger, he laid him down on the diamond couch to be preserved from corruption during the myriad years, in that shut and secret place disclosed to him by the figure of The Prison. The iron door of the porphyry corridor fell closed as the fiery dogs took up their guard over the immortal Geomancer.
     

 
    FRA DOLCINO
    Heretic
     
    He first learned of holy things in the church of San Michele at Orte, when his mother held him so his little hands might touch the pretty wax figures hanging before the Virgin. His parents’ house adjoined the baptistry. Three times a day, at dawn, at noon and at nightfall, he saw two Franciscan monks go by begging bread for their basket, and often he followed them to the convent door. One of these two was very old, having been ordained by Saint Francis himself, so he said. He promised to teach Dolcino the language of the birds and how to talk with all the beasts of the fields. Soon Dolcino spent his days in the convent, adding his fresh young voice to the songs of the brethren. When the bell called them to work he would help wash their greens and vegetables around a big bucket. Robert, the cook, loaned him an old knife to scrape the bowls. Dolcino liked to visit the refectory; he loved to see the fine lamp they had there, and the painted shade with its pictures of the Twelve Apostles in wooden sandals and little capes that fell over their shoulders.
    But to go to begging from door to door with the monks was his greatest pleasure. On such occasions he was permitted to carry their napkin-covered basket while they asked for bread. The sun was high in the sky as they walked along one day after several poor houses along the river bank had refused them. The heat was intense, and the two friars were hungry and very thirsty when they entered a courtyard they had never visited before.
    Dolcino exclaimed in surprise as he set the basket down, for this place was all tapestried with fresh green vines and transparent verdure. Leopards and other strange beasts from across the sea were romping together, while youths and girls in bright clothing made sweet music on pipes and with zithers. A deep tranquillity pervaded the cool and odorous shade. Singers were singing strange songs to which the others listened in silence. The monks uttered not a word. Their hunger and their thirst were sated. They no longer wanted for anything.
    They decided at last to go, but when they reached the river bank not a sign of the entrance to the mysterious court remained behind them. The opening in the wall had vanished. Until Dolcino found the basket they believed it had all been a vision or a necromancy. But there lay the basket filled with bread – bread so white that Jesus Himself might have given it out of His own hands.
    Thus was the miracle of begging revealed to Dolcino. He took no holy orders after that, having conceived a stranger, loftier ideal. The brethren carried him over the roads of Italy from one convent to another, from Bologna to Modena, to Parma, to Cremona, to Pistoja and to Lucques. At Pisa he had his great revelation of the true faith. As he slept one night atop the wall of the Episcopal palace, he was awakened by the sound of a drum. A host of children carrying lighted tapers were circling around a savage man who blew on a brazen trumpet. Dolcino believed this man he saw must be John