Weird and Witty Tales of Mystery (7 page)

Simon's death was not discovered until nearly three in the afternoon.
The servant, astonished at seeing the gas burning,—the light streaming
on the dark landing from under the door,—peeped through the keyhole
and saw Simon on the bed. She gave the alarm. The door was burst open,
and the neighbourhood was in a fever of excitement.

Everyone in the house was arrested, myself included. There was an
inquest; but no clew to his death beyond that of suicide could be
obtained. Curiously enough, he had made several speeches to his friends
the preceding week, that seemed to point to self-destruction. One
gentleman swore that Simon had said in his presence that "he was tired
of life." His landlord affirmed that Simon, when paying him his last
month's rent, remarked that "he should not pay him rent much longer."
All the other evidence corresponded,—the door locked inside, the
position of the corpse, the burnt papers. As I anticipated, no one knew
of the possession of the diamond by Simon, so that no motive was
suggested for his murder. The jury, after a prolonged examination,
brought in the usual verdict, and the neighbourhood once more settled
down into its accustomed quiet.

The three months succeeding Simon's catastrophe I devoted night and day
to my diamond lens. I had constructed a vast galvanic battery, composed
of nearly two thousand pairs of plates,—a higher power I dared not
use, lest the diamond should be calcined. By means of this enormous
engine I was enabled to send a powerful current of electricity
continually through my great diamond, which it seemed to me gained in
lustre every day. At the expiration of a month I commenced the grinding
and polishing of the lens, a work of intense toil and exquisite
delicacy. The great density of the stone, and the care required to be
taken with the curvatures of the surfaces of the lens, rendered the
labour the severest and most harassing that I had yet undergone.

At last the eventful moment came; the lens was completed. I stood
trembling on the threshold of new worlds. I had the realization of
Alexander's famous wish before me. The lens lay on the table, ready to
be placed upon its platform. My hand fairly shook as I enveloped a drop
of water with a thin coating of oil of turpentine, preparatory to its
examination,—a process necessary in order to prevent the rapid
evaporation of the water. I now placed the drop on a thin slip of glass
under the lens, and throwing upon it, by the combined aid of a prism
and a mirror, a powerful stream of light, I approached my eye to the
minute hole drilled through the axis of the lens. For an instant I saw
nothing save what seemed to be an illuminated chaos, a vast luminous
abyss. A pure white light, cloudless and serene, and seemingly as
limitless as space itself, was my first impression. Gently, and with
the greatest care, I depressed the lens a few hair's-breadths. The
wondrous illumination still continued, but as the lens approached the
object a scene of indescribable beauty was unfolded to my view.

I seemed to gaze upon a vast space, the limits of which extended far
beyond my vision. An atmosphere of magical luminousness permeated the
entire field of view. I was amazed to see no trace of animalculous
life. Not a living thing, apparently, inhabited that dazzling expanse.
I comprehended instantly that, by the wondrous power of my lens, I had
penetrated beyond the grosser particles of aqueous matter, beyond the
realms of infusoria and protozoa, down to the original gaseous globule,
into whose luminous interior I was gazing, as into an almost boundless
dome filled with a supernatural radiance.

It was, however, no brilliant void into which I looked. On every side I
beheld beautiful inorganic forms, of unknown texture, and coloured with
the most enchanting hues. These forms presented the appearance of what
might be called, for want of a more specific definition, foliated
clouds of the highest rarity; that is, they undulated and broke into
vegetable formations, and were tinged with splendours compared with
which the gilding of our autumn woodlands is as dross compared with
gold. Far away into the illimitable distance stretched long avenues of
these gaseous forests, dimly transparent, and painted with prismatic
hues of unimaginable brilliancy. The pendent branches waved along the
fluid glades until every vista seemed to break through half-lucent
ranks of many-coloured drooping silken pennons. What seemed to be
either fruits or flowers, pied with a thousand hues lustrous and ever
varying, bubbled from the crowns of this fairy foliage. No hills, no
lakes, no rivers, no forms animate or inanimate, were to be seen, save
those vast auroral copses that floated serenely in the luminous
stillness, with leaves and fruits and flowers gleaming with unknown
fires, unrealizable by mere imagination.

How strange, I thought, that this sphere should be thus condemned to
solitude! I had hoped, at least, to discover some new form of animal
life—perhaps of a lower class than any with which we are at present
acquainted, but still, some living organism. I found my newly
discovered world, if I may so speak, a beautiful chromatic desert.

While I was speculating on the singular arrangements of the internal
economy of Nature, with which she so frequently splinters into atoms
our most compact theories, I thought I beheld a form moving slowly
through the glades of one of the prismatic forests. I looked more
attentively, and found that I was not mistaken. Words cannot depict the
anxiety with which I awaited the nearer approach of this mysterious
object. Was it merely some inanimate substance, held in suspense in the
attenuated atmosphere of the globule, or was it an animal endowed with
vitality and motion? It approached, flitting behind the gauzy, coloured
veils of cloud-foliage, for seconds dimly revealed, then vanishing. At
last the violet pennons that trailed nearest to me vibrated; they were
gently pushed aside, and the form floated out into the broad light.

It was a female human shape. When I say human, I mean it possessed the
outlines of humanity,—but there the analogy ends. Its adorable beauty
lifted it illimitable heights beyond the loveliest daughter of Adam.

I cannot, I dare not, attempt to inventory the charms of this divine
revelation of perfect beauty. Those eyes of mystic violet, dewy and
serene, evade my words. Her long, lustrous hair following her glorious
head in a golden wake, like the track sown in heaven by a falling star,
seems to quench my most burning phrases with its splendours. If all the
bees of Hybla nestled upon my lips, they would still sing but hoarsely
the wondrous harmonies of outline that enclosed her form.

She swept out from between the rainbow-curtains of the cloud-trees into
the broad sea of light that lay beyond. Her motions were those of some
graceful naiad, cleaving, by a mere effort of her will, the clear,
unruffled waters that fill the chambers of the sea. She floated forth
with the serene grace of a frail bubble ascending through the still
atmosphere of a June day. The perfect roundness of her limbs formed
suave and enchanting curves. It was like listening to the most
spiritual symphony of Beethoven the divine, to watch the harmonious
flow of lines. This, indeed, was a pleasure cheaply purchased at any
price. What cared I if I had waded to the portal of this wonder through
another's blood? I would have given my own to enjoy one such moment of
intoxication and delight.

Breathless with gazing on this lovely wonder, and forgetful for an
instant of everything save her presence, I withdrew my eye from the
microscope eagerly,—alas! As my gaze fell on the thin slide that lay
beneath my instrument, the bright light from mirror and from prism
sparkled on a colourless drop of water! There, in that tiny bead of
dew, this beautiful being was forever imprisoned. The planet Neptune
was not more distant from me than she. I hastened once more to apply my
eye to the microscope.

Animula (let me now call her by that dear name which I subsequently
bestowed on her) had changed her position. She had again approached the
wondrous forest, and was gazing earnestly upwards. Presently one of the
trees—as I must call them—unfolded a long ciliary process, with which
it seized one of the gleaming fruits that glittered on its summit, and,
sweeping slowly down, held it within reach of Animula. The sylph took
it in her delicate hand and began to eat. My attention was so entirely
absorbed by her, that I could not apply myself to the task of
determining whether this singular plant was or was not instinct with
volition.

I watched her, as she made her repast, with the most profound
attention. The suppleness of her motions sent a thrill of delight
through my frame; my heart beat madly as she turned her beautiful eyes
in the direction of the spot in which I stood. What would I not have
given to have had the power to precipitate myself into that luminous
ocean, and float with her through those groves of purple and gold!
While I was thus breathlessly following her every movement, she
suddenly started, seemed to listen for a moment, and then cleaving the
brilliant ether in which she was floating, like a flash of light,
pierced through the opaline forest, and disappeared.

Instantly a series of the most singular sensations attacked me. It
seemed as if I had suddenly gone blind. The luminous sphere was still
before me, but my daylight had vanished. What caused this sudden
disappearance? Had she a lover or a husband? Yes, that was the
solution! Some signal from a happy fellow-being had vibrated through
the avenues of the forest, and she had obeyed the summons.

The agony of my sensations, as I arrived at this conclusion, startled
me. I tried to reject the conviction that my reason forced upon me. I
battled against the fatal conclusion,—but in vain. It was so. I had no
escape from it. I loved an animalcule!

It is true that, thanks to the marvellous power of my microscope, she
appeared of human proportions. Instead of presenting the revolting
aspect of the coarser creatures, that live and struggle and die, in the
more easily resolvable portions of the water-drop, she was fair and
delicate and of surpassing beauty. But of what account was all that?
Every time that my eye was withdrawn from the instrument, it fell on a
miserable drop of water, within which, I must be content to know, dwelt
all that could make my life lovely.

Could she but see me once! Could I for one moment pierce the mystical
walls that so inexorably rose to separate us, and whisper all that
filled my soul, I might consent to be satisfied for the rest of my life
with the knowledge of her remote sympathy. It would be something to
have established even the faintest personal link to bind us
together,—to know that at times, when roaming through those enchanted
glades, she might think of the wonderful stranger, who had broken the
monotony of her life with his presence, and left a gentle memory in her
heart!

But it could not be. No invention of which human intellect was capable
could break down the barriers that nature had erected. I might feast my
soul upon the wondrous beauty, yet she must always remain ignorant of
the adoring eyes that day and night gazed upon her, and, even when
closed, beheld her in dreams. With a bitter cry of anguish I fled from
the room, and, flinging myself on my bed, sobbed myself to sleep like a
child.

I arose the next morning almost at daybreak, and rushed to my
microscope. I trembled as I sought the luminous world in miniature that
contained my all. Animula was there. I had left the gas-lamp,
surrounded by its moderators, burning when I went to bed the night
before. I found the sylph bathing, as it were, with an expression of
pleasure animating her features, in the brilliant light which
surrounded her. She tossed her lustrous golden hair over her shoulders
with innocent coquetry. She lay at full length in the transparent
medium, in which she supported herself with ease, and gambolled with
the enchanting grace that the nymph Salmacis might have exhibited when
she sought to conquer the modest Hermaphroditus. I tried an experiment
to satisfy myself if her powers of reflection were developed. I
lessened the lamplight considerably. By the dim light that remained, I
could see an expression of pain flit across her face. She looked upward
suddenly, and her brows contracted. I flooded the stage of the
microscope again with a full stream of light, and her whole expression
changed. She sprang forward like some substance deprived of all weight.
Her eyes sparkled and her lips moved. Ah! if science had only the means
of conducting and reduplicating sounds, as it does the rays of light,
what carols of happiness would then have entranced my ears! what
jubilant hymns to Adonais would have thrilled the illumined air!

I now comprehended how it was that the Count de Gabalis peopled his
mystic world with sylphs,—beautiful beings whose breath of life was
lambent fire, and who sported forever in regions of purest ether and
purest light. The Rosicrucian had anticipated the wonder that I had
practically realized.

How long this worship of my strange divinity went on thus I scarcely
know. I lost all note of time. All day from early dawn, and far into
the night, I was to be found peering through that wonderful lens. I saw
no one, went nowhere, and scarce allowed myself sufficient time for my
meals. My whole life was absorbed in contemplation as rapt as that of
any of the Romish saints. Every hour that I gazed upon the divine form
strengthened my passion,—a passion that was always overshadowed by the
maddening conviction that, although I could gaze on her at will, she
never, never could behold me!

At length I grew so pale and emaciated from want of rest and continual
brooding over my insane love and its cruel conditions that I determined
to make some effort to wean myself from it. "Come," I said, "this is at
best but a fantasy. Your imagination has bestowed on Animula charms
which in reality she does not possess. Seclusion from female society
has produced this morbid condition of mind. Compare her with the
beautiful women of your own world, and this false enchantment will
vanish."