Balsamo, the Magician; or, The Memoirs of a Physician. Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.
bonds tying you to whomsoever, and above all to those to whom you may have pledged faith, obedience or service."
The new-comer in a firm voice repeated what was pronounced.
"From this out," continued the president, "you are absolved from plights made to native land and rulers. Swear to reveal to your new leader what you have seen and done, heard or learned, read or guessed, and further to spy and discover all passing under your eyes."
On his ceasing the novice repeated.
"Honor and respect the Water of Death," went on the president without a change of voice, "as a prompt means in skilled hands, sure and needful, to purge the globe by the death or insanity of those who strive to stifle the Truth or snatch it from our hands."
An echo could not more faithfully repeat the vow.
"Avoid Spain, Naples, and all accursed lands; and moreover the temptation to let out what you learn and hear—for the lightning is less swift to strike than we with our unseen but inevitable blade, wheresoever you may flee. Now, live in the name of the Supernal Three!"
In spite of the final threat, no emotion could be descried on the novice's face, as he reiterated the words with as calm a tone as he used at the outset.
"Now, deck the applicant with the sacred ribbon," said the president.
Two shrouded figures placed on the bent brow of the stranger a sky-blue ribbon with silver letters and female figures; the ends of the badge were tied behind on the nape. They stepped aside, leaving him alone again.
"What do you want?" asked the chief officer.
"Three things: the iron hand to strangle tyranny; the fiery sword to drive the impure from earth; and the diamond scales to weigh the destinies of mankind."
"Are you prepared for the tests?"
"Who seeks to be accepted, should be ready for everything."
"The tests!" shouted the ghosts.
"Turn round," said the president.
The stranger faced a man, pale as death, bound and gagged.
"Behold a traitor who revealed the secrets of the Order after taking such an oath as you did. Thus guilty, what think you he deserves?"
"Death."
"Death!" cried the three hundred sword-bearers.
Instantly the unhappy culprit, despite superhuman resistance, was dragged to the back of the hall. The initiated one saw him wrestling and writhing in the torturers' hands and heard his voice hissing past the gag. A poniard flashed in the lamplight like lightning, and after it fell, with a slapping sound of the hilt, the dead body landed heavily on the stone floor.
"Justice has been executed," observed the stranger, turning round to the terrifying circle, whose greedy eyes had gazed on him out of their grave clothes.
"So you approve of the execution?"
"Yes, if the slain were truly guilty."
"And would you drink the downfall of any one who sold the secrets of this Ancient Association?"
"In any beverage."
"Bring hither the cup," said the arch-officer.
One of the two executioners drew near with a skull brimming with a warm and ruddy liquid. The stranger took the goblet by its brass stem and said, as he held it up: "I drink to the death of all false brothers." Lowering the cup to his lips, he drained it to the last drop, and calmly returned it to the giver.
A murmur of astonishment ran around the assemblage, as the phantoms glanced at one another.
"So far well. The pistol," said the chief.
A ghost stole up to the speaker holding a pistol in one hand, and powder and ball in the other, without the novice seeming to deign a glance in that direction.
"Do you promise passive obedience to the brotherhood, even though it were to recoil on yourself?"
"Whoso enters the household of the Faithful is no longer his own property."
"Hence you will obey any order given you?"
"Straightway."
"Take this firearm and load it."
"What am I to do with it?"
"Cock it."
The stranger set the hammer, and the click of it going on full cock was plainly heard in the deep stillness.
"Clap the muzzle to your temple," ordered the president, and the suppliant obeyed without hesitating.
The silence deepened over all; the lamps seemed to fade, and the bystanders had no more breath than ghosts.
"Fire!" exclaimed the president.
The hammer fell and the flint emitted sparks in the pan; but it was only the powder there which took fire and no report followed its ephemeral flame.
An outcry of admiration burst from nearly every breast, and the president instinctively held out his hand toward the novice.
But two tests were not enough for some doubters who called out: "The dagger!"
"Since you require it, bring the dagger," said the presiding officer.
"It is useless," interrupted the stranger, shaking his head disdainfully.
"What do you mean?" asked several voices.
"Useless," repeated the new-comer, in a voice rising above all the others, "for you are wasting precious time. I know all your secrets, and these childish proofs are unworthy the head of sensible beings. That man was not murdered; the stuff I drank was wine hid in a pouch on his chest; the bullet and powder I loaded the trick-pistol with fell into a hollow in the stock when the weapon was cocked. Take back the sham arm, only good to frighten cowards. Rise, you lying corpse; you cannot frighten the strong-minded."
A terrible roar shook the hall.
"To know our mysteries, you must be an initiate or a spy," said the president.
"Who are you?" demanded three hundred voices together, as a score of swords shone in the grip of the nearest and were lowered by the regular movement of trained soldiers toward the intruder's bosom.
Calm and smiling, he lifted his head, wound round with the sacred fillet, and replied:
"I am the Man for the Time."
Before his lordly gaze the blades lowered unevenly as they on whom it fell obeyed promptly or tried to resist the influence.
"You have made a rash speech," said the president, "but it may have been spoken without your knowing its gravity."
"I have replied as I was bound," said the other, shaking his head and smiling.
"Whence come you, then?" questioned the chief.
"From the quarter whence cometh the Light," was the response.
"That is the East, and we are informed that you come from Sweden."
"I may have passed through there from the Orient," said the stranger.
"Still we know you not. A second time, who are you?"
"I will tell you in a while, since you pretend not to know me; but, meantime, I will tell you who you are."
The spectres shuddered and their swords clanked as they shifted them from the left to the right hands again to point them at his breast.
"To begin with you," said the stranger, pointing to the chief, "one who fancies himself a god and is but a forerunner—the representative of the Swedish Circles—I will name you, though I need not name the others. Swedenborg, have not the angels, who speak familiarly with you, revealed that the Man you expect was on the way?"
"True,