Delphi Complete Works of Oscar Wilde (Illustrated) (247 page)

Now I knew who all these nightwalkers were. Why they so persistently stared at me, and the meaning of all their little tricks to catch my attention. Was I dreaming? I looked around. The workman had stopped, and he repeated his request in a different way. He shut his left fist, then thrust the forefinger of his right hand in the hole made by the palm and fingers, and moved it in and out. He was bluntly explicit. I was not mistaken. I hastened on, musing whether the cities of the plain had been destroyed byfire and brimstone.

As I learnt later in life, every large city has its particular haunts — its square, its garden for such recreation. And the police? Well, they wink at it, until some crying offense is committed; for it is not safe to stop the mouths of craters. Brothels of men-whores not being allowed, such trysting-places must be tolerated, or the whole is a modern Sodom or Gomorrah.

 
— What! there are such cities nowadays?

 
— Aye! for Jehovah has acquired experience with age; so He has got to understand His children a little better than He did of yore, for He has either come to a righter sense of toleration, or, like Pilate, He has washed His hands, and has quite discarded them.

At first I felt a deep sense of disgust at seeing the old catamite pass by me again, and lift, with utmost modesty, his arm from his breast, thrust his bony finger between his lips, and move it in the same fashion as the workman had done his arm, but trying to give all his movements a maidenly coyness. He was — as I learnt later — a pompeur de dard, or as I might call him, a ‘sperm-sucker’; this was his specialty. He did the work for the love of the thing, and an experience of many years had made him a master of his trade. He, it appears, lived in every other respect like a hermit, and only indulged himself in one thing — fine lawn handkerchiefs, either with lace or embroidery, to wipe the amateur’s instrument when he had done with it.

The old man went down towards the river’s edge, apparently inviting me for a midnight stroll in the mist, under the arches of the bridge, or in some out-of-the-way nook or other corner.

Another man came up from there; this one was adjusting his dress, and scratching his hind parts like an ape. Notwithstanding the creepy feeling these men gave me, the scene was so entirely new that I must say it rather interested me.

 
— And Teleny?

 
— I had been so taken up with all these midnight wanderers that I lost sight both of him and of Briancourt, when all at once I saw them reappear.

With them there was a young Zouave sublieutenant and a dapper and dashing fellow, and a slim and swarthy youth, apparently an Arab.

The meeting did not seem to have been a carnal one. Anyhow, the soldier was entertaining his friends with his lively talk, and by the few words which my ear caught I understood that the topic was an interesting one. Moreover, as they passed by each bench, the couples seated thereon nudged each other as if they were acquainted with them.

As I passed them I shrugged up my shoulders, and buried my head in my collar. I even put up my handkerchief to my face. Still, notwithstanding all my precautions, Teleny seemed to have recognized me, although I had walked on without taking the slightest notice of him.

I heard their merry laughter as I passed; an echo of loathsome words was still ringing in my ears; sickening faces of effete, womanish men traversed the street, trying to beguile me by all that is nauseous.

I hurried on, sick at heart, disappointed, hating myself and my fellow-creatures, musing whether I was any better than all these worshippers of Priapus who were inured to vice. I was pining for the love of one man who did not care more for me than for any of these sodomites.

It was late at night, and I walked on without exactly knowing where my steps were taking me to. I had not to cross the water on my way home, what then made me do so? Anyhow, all at once I found myself standing in the very middle of the bridge, staring vacantly at the open space in front of me.

The river, like a silvery thoroughfare, parted the town in two. On either side huge shadowy houses rose out of the mist; blurred domes, dim towers, vaporous and gigantic spires stared, quivering, up to the clouds, and faded away in the fog.

Underneath I could perceive the sheen of the cold, bleak, and bickering river, flowing faster and faster, as if fretful at not being able to outdo itself in its own speed, chafing against the arches that stopped it, curling in tiny breakers, and whirling away in angry eddies, while the dark pillars shed patches of ink-black shade on the glittering and shivering stream.

As I looked upon these dancing, restless shadows, I saw a myriad of fiery, snake-like elves gliding to and fro through them, winking and beckoning to me as they twirled and they rolled, luring me down to rest in those Lethean waters.

They were right. Rest must be found below those dark arches, on the soft, slushy sand of that swirling river.

How deep and fathomless those waters seemed! Veiled as they were by the mist, they had all the attraction of the abyss. Why should I not seek there that balm of forgetfulness which alone could ease my aching head, could calm my burning breast?

Why?

Was it because the Almighty had fixed His canon against self-slaughter?

How, when, and where?

With His fiery finger, when He made that coupe de theatre on Mount Sinai?

If so, why was He tempting me beyond my strength?

Would any father induce a beloved child to disobey him, simply to have the pleasure of chastising him afterwards? Would any man deflower his own daughter, not out of lust, but only to taunt her with her incontinence? Surely, if such a man ever lived, he was after Jehovah’s own image.

No, life is only worth living as long as it is pleasant. To me, just then, it was a burden. The passion I had tried to stifle, and which was merely smouldering, had burst out with renewed strength, entirely mastering me. That crime could therefore only be overcome by another. In my case suicide was not only allowable, but laudable — nay, heroic.

What did the Gospel say? ‘If thine eye... and so forth.

All these thoughts whirled through my mind like little fiery snakes. Before me in the mist, Teleny — like a vaporous angel of light — seemed to be quickly gazing at me with his deep, sad, and thoughtful eyes; below, the rushing waters had for me a siren’s sweet, enticing voice.

I felt my brain reeling. I was losing my senses. I cursed this beautiful world of ours — this paradise, that man has turned into a hell. I cursed this narrow-minded society of ours, that only thrives upon hypocrisy. I cursed our blighting religion, that lays its veto upon all the pleasures of the senses.

I was already climbing on the parapet, decided to seek forgetfulness in those Stygian waters, when two strong arms clasped me tightly and held me fast.

 
— It was Teleny?

 
— It was.

‘Camille, my love, my soul, are you mad?’ said he, in a stifled, panting voice.

Was I dreaming — was it he? Teleny? Was he my guardian angel or a tempting demon? Had I gone quite mad?

All these thoughts chased one another, and left me bewildered. Still, after a moment, I understood that I was neither mad nor dreaming. It was Teleny in flesh and blood, for I felt him against me as we were closely clasped in each other’s arms. I had wakened to life from a horrible nightmare.

The strain my nerves had undergone, and the utter faintness that followed, together with his powerful embrace, made me feel as if our two bodies clinging closely together had amalgamated or melted into a single one.

A most peculiar sensation came over me at this moment. As my hands wandered over his head, his neck, his shoulders, his arms, I could not feel him at all; in fact, it seemed to me as if I were touching my own body. Our burning foreheads were pressed against each other, and his swollen and throbbing veins seemed my own fluttering pulses.

Instinctively, and without seeking each other, our mouths united by a common consent. We did not kiss, but our breath gave life to our two beings.

I remained vaguely unconscious for some time, feeling my strength ebb slowly away, leaving but vitality enough to know that I was yet alive.

All at once I felt a mighty shock from head to foot; there was a reflux from the heart to the brain. Every nerve in my body was tingling; all my skin seemed pricked with the points of sharp needles. Our mouths which had withdrawn now clung again to each other with newly-awakened lust. Our lips — clearly seeking to graft themselves together — pressed and rubbed with such passionate strength that the blood began to ooze from them — nay, it seemed as if this fluid, rushinq up from our two hearts, was bent upon mingling together to celebrate in that auspicious moment the old hymeneal rites of nations — the marriage of two bodies, not by the communion of emblematic wine but of blood itself.

We thus remained for some time in a state of overpowering delirium, feeling every instant, a more rapturous, maddening pleasure in each other’s kisses, which kept goading us on to madness by increasing that heat which they could not allay, and by stimulating that hunger they could not appease.

The very quintessence of love was in these kisses. All that was excellent in us — the essential part of our beings — kept rising and evaporating from our lips like the fumes of an ethereal, intoxicating, ambrosial fluid.

Nature, hushed and silent, seemed to hold her breath to look upon us, for such ecstasy of bliss had seldom, if ever, been felt here below. I was subdued, prostrated, shattered. The earth was spinning round me, sinking under my feet. I had no longer strength enough to stand. I felt sick and faint. Was I dying? If so, death must be the happiest moment of our life, for such rapturous joy could never be felt again.

How long did I remain senseless? I cannot tell. All I know is that I awoke in the midst of a whirlwind, hearing the rushing of waters around me. Little by little I came back to consciousness. I tried to free myself from his grasp.

‘Leave me! Leave me alone! Why did you not let me die? This world is hateful to me, why should I drag on a life I loathe?’

‘Why? For my sake.’ Thereupon, he whispered softly, in that unknown tongue of his, some magic words which seemed to sink into my soul. Then he added, ‘Nature has formed us for each other; why withstand her? I can only find happiness in your love, and in yours alone; it is not only part of my heart but my soul that pants for yours.’

With an effort of my whole being I pushed him awayfrom me, and staggered back.

‘No, no!’ I cried, ‘do not tempt me beyond my strength; let me rather die.’

Thy will be done, but we shall die together, so that at least in death we may not be parted. There is an afterlife, we may then, at least, cleave to one another like Dante’s Francesca and her lover Paulo. Here,’ said he, unwinding a silken scarf that he wore round his waist, ‘let us bind ourselves closely together, and leap into the flood.’

I looked at him, and shuddered. So young, so beautiful, and I was thus to murder him! The vision of Antinous as I had seen it the first time he played appeared before me.

He had tied the scarf tightly round his waist, and he was about to pass it around me.

‘Come.’

The die was cast. I had not the right to accept such a sacrifice from him.

‘No,’ said I, ‘let us live.’

‘Live,’ he added, ‘and then?’

He did not speak for some moments, as if waiting for a reply to that question which had not been framed in words. In answer to his mute appeal I stretched out my hands towards him. He — as if frightened that I should escape him — hugged me tightly with all the strength of irrepressible desire.

‘I love you!’ he whispered, ‘I love you madly! I cannot live without you any longer.’

‘Nor can I,’ said I, faintly; ‘I have struggled against my passion in vain, and now I yield to it, not tamely, but eagerly, gladly. I am yours, Teleny! Happy to be yours, yours forever and yours alone!’

For all answer there was a stifled hoarse cry from his innermost breast; his eyes were lighted up with a flash of fire; his craving amounted to rage; it was that of the wild beast seizing his prey; that of the lonely male finding at last a mate. Still his intense eagerness was more than that; it was also a soul issuing forth to meet another soul. It was a longing of the senses, and a mad intoxication of the brain.

Could this burning, unquenchable fire that consumed our bodies be called lust? We clung as hungrily to one another as the famished animal does when it fastens on the food it devours; and as we kissed each other with ever-increasinq qreed, mvfinqers were feelinq his curly hair, or paddling the soft skin of his neck. Our legs being clasped together, his phallus, in strong erection, was rubbing against mine no less stiff and stark. We were, however, always shifting our position, so as to get every part of our bodies in as close a contact as possible; and thus feeling, clasping, hugging, kissing, and biting each other, we must have looked, on that bridge amidst the thickening fog, like two damned souls suffering eternal torment.

The hand of Time had stopped; and I think we should have continued goading each other in our mad desire until we had quite lost our senses — for we were both on the verge of madness — had we not been stopped by a trifling incident.