Heliopolis 3608934863

Citation preview

Translated from German to English - www.onlinedoctranslator.com

ERNST JÜNGER

HELIOPOLIS REVIEW ON A CITY

_____________________________ HELIOPOLIS PUBLISHING

TUBINGEN

Started on January 10, 1947 in Kirchhorst, ended on March 14, 1949 in Ravensburg

GMZPO No. 8812

All rights, especially those of the translation, reserved Copyright 1949 by Heliopolis -Verlag Ewald Katzmann Tübingen Overall production: Buchdruckerei BanhoJzer & Co., Rottweil Cover design Professor Emil Preetorius 1st edition 1 to 10 thousand Printed in Germany

1949

CONTENTS FIRST PART The Return of the Hesperides Riots in the City In the palace

The symposium

Ortner's story The excursion to Vinho del Mar On the Pagos At the war school The apiary

007 063 079 107 140 174 202 229 244

SECOND PART The assassination

In the arsenal

Conversations about intoxication/power and dreams The company at Castelmarino Antonio's funeral

The Laurel Night The fall In Ortner's garden

The blue pilot Farewell to Heliopolis

265 297 323 379 398 407 419 435 441 453

FIRST PART

THE RETURN FROM THE HESPERIDS

It was dark in the room, which was rocked by a gentle lurching and shook by a subtle tremor. A light play of lines circled at its height. Silver sparks scattered, blinking and trembling, only to find themselves groping and merging in waves. They sent out ovals and circles of rays that faded at the edges until they turned back to the beginning, growing in brilliance and fading suddenly as green flashes swallowed by darkness. The waves always returned and lined up in easy succession. They wove into patterns that now intensified and now blurred as rise and fall combined. But the movement incessantly produced new formations. The figures followed one another as if on a carpet that was unrolled in restless tosses and then recovered again. Always changing, never repeating, they resemble each other like keys to secret chambers or like the motif from an overture that weaves itself through an action. They weighed in the senses. A subtle roaring paced them, reminiscent of the pounding of distant surf and the rhythm of whirlpools heard on rocky shores. Fish scales glistened, a gull's wing cut through the salty air, medusas stretched and loosened the umbrellas, the fronds of a coconut palm waved in the wind. Pearl oysters opened to the light. In the gardens of the sea the brown and green seaweeds flooded, the purple lilies of the waterlilies. The fine crystal sand of dunes dusted up. Now a certain picture presented itself: a ship glided slowly over the ceiling. It was a clipper with green sails, but she appeared in the reversal and stood on the masts while the waves rippled like clouds at the keel. Lucius followed his eyes with-

7

a floating run. He loved that quarter of an hour of artificial darkness that lengthened the night. Even as a child he had lain like that in his little room with the window tightly curtained. The parents and educators had not liked that; they wanted to direct him to the active spirit of the castles, in which the trumpet is used to wake him up. But it turned out that this inclination to the closed and dreamy nature was not harmful to him. He was one of those who get up late and are ready at the right hour. The work flowed from his hand a little more easily and effortlessly - near the centers where circulation is less. The penchant for solitude, for quiet listening and contemplation in deep forests, on seashores, on peaks or under starry skies was a dowry that strengthened him. But she gave him a glimmer of melancholy. It was like that until the second half of his life, up to his fortieth year.

The green sailing ship disappeared from sight, but a red tanker appeared, also in the reverse direction, an antiquated model of the island world. The harbor was approached, the ships became more frequent. A narrow slit of the porthole dropped her images as if into a darkroom and turned them upside down. Lucius delighted in the sight of them as in a cabinet in which one observes the course of the world on a phantom and takes it purely as a spectacle.

The water of the bath was warmed up in the Energeion. His plankton were still alive, and the warmth increased their glow. The ripples twinkled where they beat against the tiles; the body also seemed to be enveloped in a soft light, phosphorically patinated. The bends at the joints, the folds and contours were outlined as if with silverpoint; the armpit hair shimmered like green moss. Sometimes Lucius moved his limbs, which then lit up more intensely. He saw the nails of the fingers and toes as if they were formed in the womb, the plexus of veins, the coat of arms of the jasper ring on the left hand. At last a bugle call announced that breakfast was being prepared. Lucius rose; a delicate shimmer flowed into the walls. It

8th

a narrow bathing cubicle became visible, with a sunken sink and a porcelain vanity. The skin was reddened sharply from the sea salt; he washed off his marks in the shower with sweet water. Then he wrapped himself in his bathrobe and turned to the washbasin. The phonophore lay under the unpacked objects of the toiletry set. Lucius grabbed it and thumbed the tightening dial. A voice immediately sounded from the shell-shaped recess of the small device: 'This is Costar. At your command.”

This was followed by the message that was required for seafaring: Length and width, speed of the ship, air and water temperature. 'Good, Costar. Have you got your uniform ready?” “Yes, Commander, I'll be waiting next door.”

Lucius snapped in a second digit and another, lighter voice came out: "Here Mario. At your command."

"Buon Giorno, Mario. Is the car ready?” “The car is ready and well overhauled.” 'Meet me at the Staatskai at ten-thirty; the ship will dock on time." “Your command, commander. They say there's rioting in the city. The guards have been alerted." 'When won't there be riots in town? Do not deviate from the procession and let a companion accompany you. I switch off.« Lucius covered the face with white foam and turned the light up to high sharpness. Then he rolled the fine grid of curved blades around his cheeks and chin. As always with shaving, pleasant memories surfaced. He saw the white horns of Ammon in the red, horny stone and felt the old security of the jasper castle. He also thought of the walks with his teacher Nigromontanus on the bank of the river and of the flowers that grew with the years.

9

rest times changed. At every bend the red lock shone in a new distance. One should always have stayed—why did one leave such a place? A second horn sounded—they took their places. Lucius was late. He opened the door to the cabin where Costar was waiting for him. He had spread the clothes out on the bed and was helping Lucius to put them on, first handing him the linen, which was woven from light green silk. The uniform was a little darker, matt heather green, and trimmed with narrow gold lacing at the edges. It was the garb of hunters on horseback that Lucius wore again recently after years of study and travel. The sons of Burgenland had served with this troop since ancient times. It was considered a haven of reliability and provided the couriers to deliver the secret messages and handwritten letters. The officers were seen in the entourage of the generals and proconsuls; at each high staff two or three of the green hunters appeared near the purple. They were confidants of important secrets and often bearers of crucial messages. In these times of interregnum, when dissolution was rampant, her small corps acted like a clasp holding the command posts together.

Costar belonged to the families that settled in the shadow of the castles from the earliest times. The second and third sons of these farms went on sea and war journeys when they were not trying their luck in the cities or finding their bread as lay brothers in the monasteries. They returned late or never to the moss-covered huts in which a place was always prepared for them. They could be relied on wherever they appeared as ministering brothers. Today, too, Lucius amused himself with the way Costar watched him intently, trying to hand him each of the pieces at the precise moment he needed them. After putting the speaker in Lucius' breast pocket and giving him the last imaginary touch of buttons and spurs with a cloth,

10

rubbed, he stood back and carefully examined his work. Lucius loved that zeal in small things, the tense preoccupation with assigned duties. It counted for him as one of the unconscious signs in which order is confirmed, as a higher instinct. He also felt love in her. So his gaze rested benevolently on Costar, who indicated with a mute bow that there was nothing wrong with the suit.

In the breakfast room of the Blue Aviso, the lively atmosphere prevailed, which characterizes the last day of seafaring. With a subtle hum, the fans brought in cooled and flavored air, and the sparks crackled from the Ambiance atomizers. The babble of voices in the room, enlivened by the morning sun and the trembling reflection of the waves, was accompanied by the clinking of dishes and the stewards' orders, which they melodically lettered down the elevators to the sideboard. Lucius, having saluted, went to his place by the window. The color of the waves was still that of the high seas, a dull cobalt blue. At times bright glassy whirlpools rose up from the ship's keel. In its vortex, the tint was inspired and played into marble and flower patterns. The white bubbles shone like clusters of pearls in delicious settings. "Here one can understand Homer when he speaks of the winedark sea. Even bolder images would seem warranted — wouldn't they, Commander?' It was asked by a gnome-like male who was crouched across from Lucius and had followed his gaze. It was crooked, and its face was wrinkled like an old man, although it wore a childishly astonished expression. The male was casually dressed in a gray suit with two crossed

11

carried hammers cut from lapis lazuli. In its right hand it held a golden stylus, with the tip of which it had traced the lines in a paperback. In front of his plate stood the phonophore patterned with the palm of the academicians. "Comme d'habitude," Lucius told the steward, who had come up behind his seat. "Comme d'habitude," he repeated, and he was heard singing into the elevator: "Le déjeuner pour le Commandant de Geer."

Then Lucius turned to the gnome-like male and took up the question: "How is it, Herr Bergrat, that the sea reveals its most beautiful colors only when a stranger steps in - I mean, on the coasts, in the caves or in the wake of ships and sea creatures?" The old man smiled slyly and said: '

'As a favorite student of my honored master Nigromontanus, you ought to know that better than I do. There must be a passage in his color theory about the influence of white islands on colored frames?” Lucius could provide information on this; Memories of old conversations awoke in him. 'If I remember correctly, the master relates this influence to one of his favorite ideas, the kingship of the white colour. Near her, the importance of the palette increases, just as the king bestows rank and meaning on nobility. The white gives the basis for all color games, also in painting. The preciousness of the pearl lies in the fact that it illustrates this truth. Master brought this up once when we were looking at a pair of bloodfinches in the snowy forest.” “Good, commander. I see you weren't dreaming. As far as the addition of the foreign is concerned, one could also say that matter is comparable to a closed fruit and its beauty can only be seen when the outside cuts into it like a knife. After all, the secret ones only appear in the initial section

12

patterns hidden in the rock. You should see my collection of agates." "If I understand you correctly, Herr Bergrat, would beauty always be the result of an injury?" »You could say that, because beauty does not exist in the absolute. One would thus enter the metaphysics of pain. But don't use it. You would find applause that doesn't refresh you. You are also approaching the age when you perceive the process from the other side and suspect that it is the fullness of matter that is revealed in these trials. She gives an answer to every pounding, and the richer the softer it sounds. For each key she keeps a treasure chamber. One of these keys, as you know from Nigromontanus' teachings on surfaces, is light.« 'Oh yes, I remember that well. Such was the daily bread when I accompanied him on his prospecting. Here, indeed, he loved the image of the cut—thus he believed that the universe as it presents itself to our eyes represents only one of myriad cuts that are possible. The world is like a book, of the countless pages of which we only see the one that is open. He also often said that the more delicate the cut, the greater the exposure. A degree of refinement could be reached which suggested that surface was identical with depth, like the second with eternity. As an example, he liked to mention the fine enamel on old glasses, the soap bubbles and the iridescent rainbow that oil spreads on puddles. The world is nowhere more colorful than in the finest skins that is a sign that her passion is at home in the unextended. I would have understood more of these things if he had also given me credit for the two neighboring disciplines — the theory of nothingness and eroticism, on which he was working at the time. But I was too childish, and meanwhile it is said that he coded the one in parts of his presupposition to every possible physics',

13

A shadow crossed Lucius' face. The Bergrat, who in the meantime had made some notes in his booklet, smiled. 'You would have done no less folly, Commander. Teachers like Nigromontanus show the goals and not the way. As for eroticism, by the way, I talked to adepts who knew her. Same with Fortunio when he came to see me at the Falun factories.” He paused and pondered, as if looking for a name: “It may also have been in the Schneeberger Pingen. Regardless, Nigromontanus applies his distinction between depth and surface to love. We'll talk about it when you visit me in the case to see the agates." He had looked around carefully at these words. But the two neighbors who were sitting at the table were deep in conversation. In the meantime the steward had also appeared with the fruit that started breakfast. The Bergrat turned back to his exercise book. Making a sign with the pen, he grasped the palm-decorated phonophore in his left hand. 'I've had a break, sorry. How far have we come, Stasia?” And a clear girl's voice answered: » - - rising from the mare serenitatis to the east - - 'rising' was the last word.« "All right, Stasia, I'll continue."

And leaning comfortably in the chair, he began to dictate, in a voice that betrayed that he was sure of prompt reception:

14

» - - rising from the mare serenitatis to the east, the hiker reaches the spell of the Caucasus. As a promontory, because it is separated from its western foot, the crater group rises up from the plain, which Rutherford entered on his map as turres somniorum, and which Fortunio measured on his third reconnaissance voyage. At the sight of them, the sense of contrast that accompanies these corridors like a shadow becomes particularly strong. The impression of emptiness, of extinction grows. No icelandic glacier, no polar night gives this idea of death, the remoteness of life, like these towers in a vacuum in a glaring light. A loneliness reigns around them, which raises the hinges of the spirit, and whose gravitational force increases menacingly like thirst when wandering in the desert. There are numerous cases in which panic and then madness took hold not only of the lone explorer, but also of the caravans. The distance of the life spirit is so great that the heart is gripped by longing for the last human being, even for the enemy, and even for octopuses and monsters. Alongside this, a second, no less alien perception is growing. Coherences of a different kind than what we know as life begin to emerge — the style of blueprints. They banish the spirit with a tension, with an amazement that balances the impending annihilation. As between Scylla and Charybdis, he hovers in a terrible balance. The absolute emptiness on the one hand competes on the other hand with the proximity of powers to which the human organs are not assigned. A similar amazement would seize us if we could see the life spirit embodied—as the mighty bearer of love and enmity. The plants, animals, people would then merge into a larger figure like filings in a force field. They would unite to form the glorious and terrible pattern of this world. A stranger, ignorant of love and pain, would make creatures strange chains

15

magnetically arranged, under the spell of powerful mysteries. But it's different here. The tendrils of the passions are missing, the confused and yet familiar runic writing of the living world. The spiritual world emerges unveiled, with a more dazzling light than is good for the eyes. It opens a circle of austere and solemn images, unveiling plans that are otherwise encoded and hidden from human observation in the innermost sanctuaries. Growth always seeks to moderate, to overflow what is the measure of life. But here the regulations emerge. Spaces without scent and sound and without weather are revealed. Light alone reigns supreme on this empty stage, but a light that is not bent, softened, by any medium. The course of the rays is of merciless precision. The colors lack the transitions, the delicate games, the twilight of the forest and sea bottom, the atmospheric marriages. Azure shadows cling to the gold of the dunes and island ridges. The cliffs and reefs light up with crystal brilliance. The sky is stretched out over this flood of light as a tent of the finest, wrinklefree, blackest silk. From afar, the turres somniorum shine in the extinct sea basin as a group of seven steep peaks that are more like pylons or obelisks than volcanoes. As slender, light-green truncated cones, they tower to great heights. The battlements dazzle as virgin crowns, the sight of which awakens memories of firn snow and glacier belts. At sunrise, these peaks emit narrow, crimson shadows. Regardless of the length of the day, the tips move with tremendous rapidity, and a tremor seizes the wanderer when one of the silent wings strikes him. They are like the tips of compass needles or the hands of clocks by which an inscrutable consciousness controls itself. When touched in this way, the spirit senses the measure and order of the universe. And he grasps that lines, circles and all simple figures are abysses of the

16

are wisdom. At the same time, the wing of destruction touches him. He feels his gears threatening to break under the superiority of the light. The turres somniorum rise before the silver-grey chain of the Caucasus. The plinths rise up from a ground of golden-brown hills. With every step the wanderer approaches, the sight becomes more radiant, more sublime. The peaks shine in phantasmagorical splendor. Gradually the crystal forest also becomes visible, encircling its foot, a high reed bed of minerals in which the colors of longextinguished fires have cooled. The giant crystals are spear- and blade-shaped like ashen and amethyst swords, their tips withering bent in the embers of cosmic forge fires. A grey, opaque twilight reigns in its dome. In vain will the mind of man, winding ant-like through this monolithic wreath, contemplate its origins. Science doesn't get there. It is safe to assume that elements infinitely superior to the types of fire known to us, whether they worked from the depths or came from outer space, were at work. Once, in the farthest starry hour, these cosmic jewels glowed sevenfold as emeralds on the fringes of creation in constellations that are inscrutable. Only here does one understand how infinitely truer than all fantasies the great cosmogony and legends of creation are.

Poetry penetrates further than knowledge. It has been shown that childlike spirits are more resilient to the gaze of these realms. Treasure diggers of the highest rank still remain at ease, where even the most knowledgeable is startled. Fortunio saw the crystal forest as a chalice wreath, the peaks as arched fruit and blossom bases. And wonderful finds rewarded him for this picture. Hence the ascent of the emerald towers and the entering of their gorges is said to be described in his words: 'I took stand at the foot of the southernmost of the green princes

17

animal. Even a few explorations showed that the ascent was possible. The drop of the crystal wall was banded and tiered in a manner reminiscent of the construction of the Theokallis. But the laws of the crystal world worked here with the greatest regularity. It was not difficult to climb the narrow but sharp steps in spaces where the body is so little subject to gravity that thought seems to exhilarate it. I climbed to find full light inside the crater when the sun was high. At this hour the colossi pull the shadow close to them. As he approaches, he darkens through all the stages of the blood clotting. The shadows also melt away on the distant mountains, the large crater rings and the coasts and settle on the heights as dark seams and narrow crescents. Gradually the light alone takes dominion, and the green towers are like the humps of a silver shield, growing in breadth and splendor as it rises. When I climbed the pinnacle, the sun was at its zenith. The light had grown so intense that it destroyed the form and turned the perimeter into a disc of the brightest poured silver. Staying longer threatened to injure one's eyes, despite the mask; I therefore, after a short look around, turned to the depths of the crater. The white crown was ignited of emerald fire, of snowy lava woven like bubbled foam. Here the embers had probably once reached the highest, sparkling level. The footsteps firmly touched the untouched ground. Caution was only required where it merged into the emerald rock inside the crater. Here the pearls in the crystal shone, at first like froth of branding, then more and more sparsely. The crater was cut like a green calyx, spray spraying from the rim. Spiral ribbons led down to the bottom, which shimmered eyecolored from the depths. On its hems I dared to descend into the green shaft. I was soon inside

18

crystal, which now became transparent in the strong light that penetrated it. In this way I saw that its mass was not entirely emerald. There were inclusions mixed with it. Now colorful veils clouded their clarity, now ribbons of opal dust, like the little stars of magnificent forge fires, ran through their ground. Then seeds were smashed into them—of every size, shape, and color found in the seed kingdom or in the fruit kingdom of field and garden. Here these magnificent stones lay applied to the surface like jewels on princely crowns or like incrustations which one sees on reliquaries - there they were enclosed in the depths of the mother ground and dawned.

Looking at them brought back childhood memories. I thought of the gardens of the Grande Marina, with their grapes and brightly colored fruit, and of the peacocks' tails that flowed from the marble benches. On the terraces, pigeons with coral feet and colorful necks pecked at the grains of wheat. Happiness penetrated me like the honored suitor entering the chamber of the beloved; the calm and the certainty of possession filled me. The descent through the inner spindle was like the lustful rotation of a kaleidoscope, the patterns of which were constantly condensing. And his goal began to shine more and more luxuriantly: the bottom of the eye. It bloomed like velvet, like the splendor of serpentskin, like the mother-of-pearl sheen that adorns the sea-wonders in the coral gardens. A veil of the finest sparks wove and covered him in the shadow of the green dawn. In such splendor the goddess of love reveals herself before the embrace, Iris enters the hall of the gods. I saw that I had entered one of the cosmic hoards, one of the treasure caves of the universe. Sometimes I climbed into the glacier mills during my hikes on the edge of the high mountains - the workshops of the Ice Age melts in the primary rock. In their cauldrons, the glacial milk had turned the stone rubble around like a pestle in a mortar, bulging and grinding out their curves in the course of millennia. Well

19

these whirlpools lay dry, and the grinders, freed from rotation, covered their bottom as balls. In such places our senses always evoke the presence of what is missing, just as in the abandoned workshop of the master is closest to us. The bird's wing evokes the idea of air, the key that of the lock in us. And so it was the spirit of the water in those glacier mills, the surging and whirling of melts that had long since faded away, that seized me with magical power. Exquisite graves are such places of great powers and their inexhaustibility. But here, in the lap and eye of the green towers, gemstone mills opened up to the infatuated mind. What forces had been at play to loosen the jewels from the emerald womb and enrich them in the depths to a hoard that surpassed all the treasures of India? Regardless, eons and star ages must have contributed to the formation of such mines. Stretched out, digging with both arms in the treasure trove, I intoxicated myself in the splendid bed of jewels. So may the bee, the bumblebee, the swarmer stun themselves in worlds where the blossoms are stars. I saw, I felt, I tasted the smoothness, the radiance of the delicious rubble like that of the eyes of fabulous beings, the golden glitter and iris banding. invigorated. Then they all flashed, the high lights, after which armies of slaves dig through the blue ground, sift the dust of the deserts, sift the alluvial sand of the rivers - but larger and purer than the tenacity breaks out above and below the surface, the wave in the bowl of the Washer washed over. And to the known were joined the unknown lights. No Ophir, no Golkonda produced them. Multicolored grains were laid on the seagreen emerald dust, and these in turn were covered with brightly colored and delicately ground pebbles of fire. They formed the basis for the solitaires, the setting, the sparkling nest for the great treasure. From this hoard in the crystal womb emanated a hidden life, a breath of wonder. Fruits may practice such fine radiation when they are in

20

her womb bore germs to flowers in Armiden's enchanted gardens, to trees for the grove glaze. Around the eggs of dragons, griffins, and Neptune's foam-crowned beings flows a glow that ignites a deeper understanding than the day's colors can awaken. With both hands I weighed the moonstone, which was bathed in milky light like Leda's egg. Who would like to say whether it blazed more mysteriously than the delicate green and gray clouded jade or the iridescent opal, which always ignited more fiery? I meditated on the runes: the delicate tangles that veined the sky-blue turquoise, the crimson veils of sparks in the heliotrope, the image of the tree of life in the moss agates, the tufts of spears in the rock crystal. But the great red, blue, and white lights that adorned the second row of Aaron's nameplate triumphed over this play of colors. The black lightning that erupts from within the carbuncle is like a sword ray that no consciousness can resist. Heaven opens up in the holy sapphire. The diamond gives us the supreme similitude and model of light,

Before these mirrors of the universe the mind sinks into high reverie. The beauty appears to him differently than in the fleshly garment, than in the fullness of life, - it approaches in a radiant dress. It shines in the splendor of Revelation and its eternal cities after we have traversed deserts. In those glacier mills, the water spirit had set himself up as the master of the abandoned workshop. But here, in the distant world of the emerald tower and its grail, the spirit of the macrocosm entered. The dawn and dusk glowed in the play of cloud bands and haloes, rising and setting over the waves of unnavigable seas and their island splendor. In the blue and green shadows the grottoes dawned, at whose marble pools Arethusa dreams. The old embers and fire times, which had long since cooled down in colorful lavas, were also awakened. Asgard's palaces shimmered on high peaks, the bridge shone, which Heimdali with his

21

horn guarded. And again the great lights came on. What is the heart of man, the brain of man, and the eye of man? — a little earth, a little dust. And yet this humus has been chosen for the arena of the forces of the universe, for the bed of eternal bloom. Thus are the gems of low earth and low clay exalted to great splendor. On this parable rests their inestimable value, which destined them to be adorned by the chief priests and kings, and also to be adorned by the beautiful women who arose preciously from the womb of Mother Earth.' So far fortune. But on the way back we want to turn to the brown hills from which the green towers have sprung. There are things awaiting us there that are less colorful, and yet perhaps even more wondrous.” With this sentence, the Bergrat closed the little red book and put the stylus in its place. He also added: “We're closing down here for the time being, Stasia. You now have the first three chapters in the Phonogram; I'll read the fair copy in the case tonight. I'm staying in town for lunch. - - -No thanks, it's not necessary. But put a bottle of Parempuyre by the fireplace for me. See you tonight, Stasia.” He picked up the speaker and nodded to Lucius: 'I'm going to pack now — good luck, commander. Don't forget the agates."

Things had become lively in the breakfast room. Here preliminary reports were given, messages listened to, appointments made with Heliopolitan offices, there the conversation swelled to that gaiety which announces farewell. The steward had cleared up. The two neighbors who remained at the table after the Bergrat had said goodbye had also finished their breakfast and were deep in conversation. The

22

one was a young professor of cultural history, Orelli, who also received the phonophore of academics. He was of tall, powerful build, and a free self-confidence that shone through his regular yet bold face. The strong suns beyond the Hesperides had browned it. There was optimism, even idealism, in the tone of his voice and in the way he spoke, in a way that made its wearer vulnerable but sympathetic to Lucius. Thus, in the march of thoughts, the light horsemen often charge forward, forsaken, inspired by desire, the order of the heavily armed. And yet lives gloriously in them what Eros is in thought. The other was dressed in the technician's silver-grey uniform and carried the institute's phonophore in the same colour. He had risen and bowed in respect at the sight of the golden allspeaker Lucius wielded. His skull was narrow, with a high, bald bulge, which was surrounded by a wreath of red hair. The eyebrows were lighter, almost sulphurous, and the blue eyes underneath showed a milky cloudiness. They were turned in a little so that the point of view was about two spans in front of the bridge of the nose. This gave the large, black pupils not only a fixed and limited light, but also a pursuing trait. The smile of this man, who might have been the same age as Orelli, and whom he called Thomas, was malicious and intensified in the reply. It was to look at him that he did not let himself be blinded by the color and mood of the words, but was a keen examiner of their logical content. Watchful, he spied every gap in armor, every fleeting vulnerability, and chose his arrow with thought and relish. And it was obvious that his aim was not only to hit, but also to hurt by hitting.

Lucius wondered how this unlikely pair was coupled. It might have been an old college friend whose spell one is reluctant to break. We carry the memory of times we have lived through - yes, not only in ourselves, but also in our comrades

23

and give them a kind of gratitude that often touches on weakness. But there might also be a relationship of contrasts, as one often finds in mentally active people. We love the other education not only in gender. "You're always the same old guy, Konrad," he heard Red say to Orelli, "with your fondness for show dishes and unnecessary ingredients. If you brush off the plaster, your Lacertosa presents itself as a volcanic island with a half-ruined crater on which a selfcontained urban culture developed. The people are half trading, half pirates across the sea. A deity of Neptunian origin is worshiped. Also, it appears that early firstborn sacrifices were superseded by temple service. What we want to know from you, Konrad, these are facts and not opinions.« "I know well," Orelli replied, "that you at the Institute would like to see us as mere reporters, as mere informers. You should send out photographers on expeditions." 'It could do no harm if you were asked to document your reports with photographs. Many a miracle would soon be explained." "That's right, the film doesn't capture the rainbow either." Orelli was silent for a while and then added: “Your dissent is important to me, so I meandrawing check. You don't know anything about colors. You are like an architect who can only make pillars but not arches. You only see the paths on your map, but not the fields in their splendor.« Then, getting warmer: "Thomas, I believe that if you would accompany me to that highest cliff, about an hour before sunset, that you would get an idea of the formed life force, as we call culture, and how I am obliged to explore it called the South Horn."

24

He turned to the nebulizer and sat back. The other went about his lecture half benevolently, half superiorly, like a boy's chatter that is left to his own devices. 'A kind of albatross nests there in the caves in the rocks, big sea predators that go fishing. These animals have been sacred since ancient times and are therefore not shy enough to be touched by hand. You see them resting their clumsy feet on the cliff banks while their feathers drag on the ground. The staring eyes gleam like cut red glass. I have often wondered whether they can already see their prey from this height, or whether they throw themselves out into space purely periodically. They stretch out the immense wings, narrowly cut and sharply bent back like scythe blades. So they float silver in the gentle updraft over the dark blue background. With royal calm, as if they let power shoot up, they describe a wide arc that removes them from the rock. Then they shoot down, masters of the abyss, down to the flood.

And I always felt my eyes swept away by their fall, which made them melt into the foam of the waves in tiny reduction as silver flakes. Then, in the dizzy vision, it seemed as if the sense of space of these bold aviators was being transmitted, and as if the periphery was at the same time gaining in brilliance and solidifying in proportion like a coin that jumps from the embossing block. At this hour the world of Lacertosa is at its densest; completely selfcontained like a fruit. The sea seems to bulge at its edges like a bowl, and its color has matched that of the sky, so that space closes into a blue, seamless sphere. No sail, no galley disturbs the solitude. The rock has become red hot, and the island emerges like a red moon in the first quarter of the tide. Where the inner edge of the sickle cuts into the sea, it is accompanied by a white border of marble. The two moles of the commercial port and the galley port also jut out like delicate white wings. On her dividing dam wears a red one

25

Shell as a pedestal, the image of the sea goddess, who raises her arms open.

The houses and streets of Lacertosa also gleam white, fitting into the curve of a theater like tiers. They shine like ivory in the red rock. Their light is quite dazzling except for the dark burn marks seen on the altars. At this hour the women come out of the houses and offer the last of the daily sacrifices. They fix their eyes on the palace of the sun god, which rises out of the flood in the middle of the lagoon. The altars are orientated after him. The palace is made of the island's red stone. Whorls intersecting eight times lead to its crowning glory. The highest floor is said to carry the god's golden bed. Its symbol is the obelisk, which towers over the platform and is visible to the ships from afar, and whose tip is illuminated by a fire at night. Two covered colonnades lead to the two cloisters dedicated to the service of the god. The service is one of the high sacrifices; on a day that recurs annually, the youths and virgins present themselves to the god behind the house altars and are chosen by him. They then sail to the palace with bright sails and never return. As the women prepare the sacrifice, the shadow of the obelisk glides across the pier of the galley port and nears the central causeway. It crosses the straits on whose mirror the naumachiae are celebrated at the high festivals and ceremonial squadrons drive past, which are then burned. At the moment when the shadow covers the image of the sea goddess, conch shells sound from the galleries of the monasteries and the smoke of the sacrifices rises. And always, at my lonely post, I felt a trembling, as if the blue sphere was trembling under the finest conception.« Orelli, who had been lecturing slightly, turned back to his partner:

26

"As long as I stay as a teacher at the Academy of Heliopolis, I will always make sure that all individual observations and studies must culminate in moments of this kind. Every science comes from the whole and must lead to the whole." The silver-grey had been listening nonchalantly, like a well-known tune. »Konrad, you're still the same old muddlehead I knew you to be at Borussia. At that time it was Greek cultural history, and you will remember how often and how in vain I proved to you how much more important the Egyptians and the peoples of the early Orient in general were for us, and that the outcome of Salamis was a misfortune, which we are still suffering today. The Romans repaired this only imperfectly. Hellas also overestimated free research, that is, intellectual discretion, which must always end in anarchy. It's a luxury that always comes at a cost with the vast spaces we have to control. We don't want random results from you either; we want results that are useful.«

'And when are they useful?' asked Orelli - 'of course only if they correspond to the estimates you calculate at the central office. You want to treat knowledge as a mosaic that is put together ad hoc. You need evidence for a theory of prehistory, and you send out excavators who find what you want in distant deserts and Ice Age caves; they conjure up the missing link from slate quarries and old rubble. The bad style is then extended from nature to the humanities. Anyone who finds anything they don't want is threatened with inquisition. What actually gives you the courage to make such a request?” 'You're asking,' Lucius heard the man in uniform reply, 'you, who always want to appeal to the whole? We may want to keep the feathers a little under surveillance, as befits augurs.”

27

He switched off the atomizer and turned to his friend: "Yes, seriously speaking, Konrad, between us: I think you are too clever not to know that an academic painting like that of the famous Lacertosa basically means nothing else as an inhibition or even a disguised attack on our pathway. And we are here to watch over them.« The voice grew sharp and dry; it reflected the institute's old quarrel with the academics - here will, and there perception: 'You bring the weapons from afar - from very distant places and from the oldest times. That already shows your weakness, Konrad, in which you are similar to your ancestor Chateaubriand. Those who are strong live in the present and use it to shape the future and the past. But you think the opposite. But you don't need to look it up in the stars and in myth, and not on island relics — it is within us, and every street corner bears witness to it.”

He seemed to feel that he had gotten too hot and let the atomizer spray again, apologizing to Lucius. Then he turned to the professor again: »The mythical figures whose traces you painstakingly trace are symbols, are keys to the cosmic and elemental world. What the naïve sense foresaw there and then is today the goal of the strict, ordered consciousness, of science. The elements as hoards of invisible abundance are no less unknown to us. Our formulas, our models, our theories are related to their realm, because tremendous effects testify to this. They too are only symbols, only keys to abundance, to absolute power. But they have logic, and that is magic. We have attached organs to the unknown and force it into our service. We have struck the dead rock with the staff, and an inexhaustible stream of power and wealth springs from the quartz.”

A proud smile flitted across his features and he leaned back and breathed contentedly. The glow beautified him, it gave him one

28

Shimmered as if he had been drinking strong wine, and his voice became patronizing:

"And that's why, Konrad, the gods give way to us: to our superiority. You know very well that with the first electric vaporizer and the first phonophore that we bring to Lacertosa, the sacrifices become ineffective and the spook of the gods dies out. This is not due to the rationality of the means, but to the fact that they pave the way to a stronger reality. They are the small symbols, the magic lamps, whose glow makes the old heavens of the gods with their images fade.” He slowly fanned himself with his hands and breathed in the salty air, soaked in scent and radiance. When he was in a good mood, he now spoke comfortably and with complete certainty, like his great role model, the bailiff: “The supremacy is so strong that nothing can shake it. We can be generous. Submit your report, Konrad—I'll get Messer Grande to assign the island to the ethnographic society and put it under protection. We'll budget them, including the sacred pelicans, and see to it that nothing is changed.' 'Not pelicans—albatrosses,' corrected Orelli; he had listened with displeasure:

“But it could also be an as yet unknown species; I will consult Taubenheimer. We could go upstairs now, Castelmarino should show up soon. You should become a composer - then the trumpet would be the first instrument.« "And you narrator for a cafe of Alexandria."

29

Greeting politely, they got up and left the breakfast room. The silver-grey threw a searching look back before stepping through the revolving door to the promenade deck.

Lucius, having finished his breakfast, connected to the observatory. He took the time and the position. There were still a good two hours' drive ahead. He took a slim booklet from his pocket; it served him when traveling to enter preliminary notes for the diary. He updated himself with a few lines: 'Completion of the journey to Asturias. There is talk of unrest in the city. At breakfast the Bergrat. talk about color theory; he is of the opinion that much of the master's writings can still be found. I want to pick Antonio. Then conversation between Orelli and his friend, who is sure to be Messer Grande and who is probably close to the Landvogt. Clears his throat just like him. To be explained: In such a couple it can be observed how an anarchist childhood friendship can split into conservative and nihilistic tendencies. Man chooses the vegetative or the mineral kingdom. It can lignify on the one hand, petrify on the other. But you can still see blossoms on the wood. Orelli's friend's penchant for determining the course of knowledge bears mineral traits; science is bureaucratized, even function of the higher police. The professors are taught how to fetch. To be further explained: In types like this Thomas, the mineral character is also reflected in the mask-like physiognomy. At that time I believed in simplified but stronger formations in the midst of decay. But the sheer loss is becoming ever clearer. A world philistinism of the greatest proportions is being prepared in these spirits—that is the only point at which they are dangerous. Everything becomes pale, becomes grey, becomes dusty, with what

30

deal. Things become uniform. Even the great residences of the passions become extremely boring: rule, love and war.” He closed the little book to put it in his pocket, but after checking the time again he opened it again. He could still sketch out the lecture for the proconsul, for he would find work at the palace. The ship ran slowly; one could cover the Hesperides route in a fraction of one's journey. Strangely enough, since the speeds had become absolute, they no longer mattered. Rather, it was as if they did not exist—they were stretched or shortened at will, as business demanded. The course of the Blue Aviso was coordinated with the work to be done beyond the Hesperides. There was no dead time here. The phonophores also created a kind of omnipresence.

Lucius smiled and pulled the nebulizer closer to him. He considered the keywords. Asturian quarrels - it was not easy to clarify the confusion in the report - Dom Pedro played chess by knocking over the table. Finally he got up and walked towards the exit. The hall buzzed like a beehive. It wasn't just the homecoming that excited the spirits; one could already sense the war. The snatches of conversation he caught between the tables touched on the turning point that was seen to be coming. "Dom Pedro will strike in the fall." There is no international law for rebels.” “And for tyrants there is no security.” "More of the medium-sized gemstones that you can still hide on the body." "The big solitaires are dangerous, you should consult Scholwin." »Concentrated energy is best.« "Been in the Orient too long not to know that only those who know the suspects are safe - - - in dubio pro."

31

"Electro will pick up." » - - - Checking the registers of residents, paying the doormen, confiscating the phonophores. Especially the Parsis - - -" "The stock market isn't playing along yet."

"Negotiations are said to be in progress."

“It's a good thing that we still dared to make the trip. When will we see the forests again, with their trees, the lowest branches of which rise near Cologne Cathedral?” 'There are quiet spots nearby too - research assignments in the Coral Sea. You should call Taubenheimer.« 'He'll want me to complete his catalog of cephalopods. That's a bitter nut to crack." The search for a quiet post was already under way. Lucius had stopped in front of the revolving door and was looking into the room, close to the table of two passengers in hunting costumes, whose faces were deeply tanned by foreign suns. The seven-pointed star, the sign of Orion, was embroidered on their weatherproof skirts. It was repeated on the phonophores as the Orion not only hunted the Diadochi States but also exercised licenses on grounds beyond the Hesperides. It was believed that only these hunters and the vault clerks who reported to the Bergrat possessed the regent's pass. The two of them were already ready to land and had hung their weapons on the armrests of the armchairs as hand luggage: light guns made of silver steel, in the work of which the skills of the optician, the gunsmith and the chaser were combined. They were appropriate for the distance at which the hunter sees the wild birds of the giant forests buzzing in brilliant brilliance from one crown of treetops to the other.

Of course, these free hunters and hunters now had to look around for army or state offices, for cells in the big beehive that were as undisturbed as possible. All the more so since Orion was on the list of defeatist associations at the Central Office, and its sign was also considered a late paraphrase of the seven-armed candlestick. However, this was already contradicted by the cult of pasture work,

32

whom he paid homage to. Lucius divined the mysteries. He was sometimes a guest in the clubhouse, which was situated in a beautiful park on the Allée des Flamboyants—not at the big receptions, but on internal evenings. They then met in the small hunting room, above the entrance of which the inscription threatened: "Behemot et Leviathan existent." A picture of the head forester in green tailcoat embroidered with golden holly leaves and trophies from the mountains, forests and seas beyond the Hesperides adorned him. The evening began with a hunting report, which was usually followed by the presentation of the prey in the large library room. This was followed by the discussion, which enlivened over an exquisite supper up to Fidelitas. Orion's cuisine was indisputably the richest, if not the finest, in Heliopolis. At these gatherings, Lucius hadn't found it difficult to get an idea of what was going on there. Insofar as there was aversion to the war, the Central Office was on the right track. This was already shown by the proverbs that kept recurring in conversation like ornaments. Thus: "War diminished" or: "The traveler loses the war" and further: "OrionHe puts" - - that should mean: "He does not slaughter." Lucius had also caught one of the master's sayings, it read: "Nimrod and Babylon." So, following the process of Flavius Josephus, the first hunter was valued at the same time as the builder of the first cosmic plan. Orion's pacifism was cosmopolitan, not humanitarian. Thus, while less meritorious, it was more practical. As since the era of the great fires the armies had become the strongest haven of peace, the proconsul followed the work of these hunters benevolently and attentively.

The entrance to the breakfast room, against the pillar of which Lucius was leaning, bore the inscription in gold letters:»Ici on ne se respecte pas.«

33

The saying was ambiguous, but well chosen. On board the Blue Aviso there was the equality of a circle in which one prefers not to attract attention. You knew each other, but for good reasons you kept a mutual incognito. This gave the company a free and uninhibited air, including hilarity. The cost of voyages to the Hesperides was shared between the proconsul and the bailiff, but the Blue Aviso was neither a warship nor a government ship. Rather, the private sphere was dominant; it was expressed that people are the bearers of the business. In addition to the official places, there were also tickets for dealers, independent researchers and artists and even pleasure travelers. The Hesperides formed the great trading center for goods and ideas; the sea and space fleets landed in their ports. Beyond the Hesperides lay the uncertain realms, the wondrous grounds, the vastness of time and space, which no technology compels. There sprang the sources of wealth, power, secret science. One thronged to them as to the sea breams of the New World. And if the motley company had one thing in common, it was the spirit of higher adventure that seeks sustenance in the elements. The great rooms had increased knowledge, wealth, power. But one could perhaps also say that all of this had already been alive in the human being and then realized itself spatially. The levers of the mind had one day attained the length Archimedes demanded. Once upon a time, when a certain degree of freedom had been achieved, the world had also enlarged through the discovery of America. The rooms accommodated the growth. And so here too. The spirit, the human will, had become too strong for the old version, for the usual balance. This marked the end of modernity, recognized by few. First the internal barrier broke, then the external security. Legions fell under all signs, ignorant of the strong, deliberate moves that opened the game.

34

whose steel hardened hissing in blood. How many victims had the development of human flight alone demanded, countless millions— and there have been many such chapters in the history of this world. But shining like votive offerings raised to the light in times of anger, the means gained radiance and spiritual power. They were like the arrow that is spurred to the farthest target by the terrible tension of the bow. And many thought it had been achieved. The proconsul's officers, who had visited their seats in Burgenland, sat here in a relaxed posture. A distinction was made between the fair-haired Saxons, who made up the core of the Guard regiments, and the darker Franks; Lucius carried blood from both tribes. Even freer were the hunters of Orion; they were filled with jovial merriment. They loved the comfortable costume like the very rich people who have grown weary of luxury. In contrast, the officials of the Central Office were hard-working and withdrawn, as comes with the standard-led and productive life. They were numerous and easily recognizable—from the high leaders down to the petty negotiators and scouts. The difference was less in quality than mobility. Rarely did they emanate a higher, reflective consciousness: then they were certainly Mauritanians who had assumed office, just as one pursues sports. Almost all of them had a bilious complexion in common, which indicated not only sedentary work that went on late into the night, but also the passion of committees that were united not by nomos but by sentiment. But here they busied themselves with leisure like craftsmen with merriment on Sundays and holidays.

What liked the Mauritania! give security? Her style was neither bureaucratic nor military, but unmistakable if you had eyes for it. So over there the Dr. Mertens, chief physician of the bailiff and head of the toxicological institute on Castelmari-

35

no, was without a doubt a member, and not only in the lower ranks, whose motto is »Everything is forbidden«. He must have approached the high degrees, the other side on which things gain new light: "everything is permitted." This was shown by the calm, satrapic smile with which he occupied himself with his breakfast, almost in celebration, and which, like varnish on a mask, was applied to his intelligent horse's head. He had arrived late and had recovered from yesterday's feast with two bottles of soda. Now, after a glass of port, he turned to a lobster. One had solid stomachs at the Mauretania; the optimists are good breakfasters. Lucius watched him deftly disengaging the links of the red carapace from their hinges; in doing so he seemed to him to resemble one of those sea creatures grasping their prey with pincers and scissors and looking at it with eyes fixed on stalks. "Je regarde et je garde" was one of the sayings of the Mauritanians. This explained the strange attention paid to her school. The leisure of the gentlemen from the Central Office was like the idling of machines; it was basically dimmed monotony. With these types, on the other hand, action took on the luster, the consecration of leisure. The moments were spent on them without loss. One had the impression that nothing was lost, as with the others, who were always surrounded by a cloud of uneasiness, of blind passion, of melancholy, erasing the contours. They most certainly resembled lizards lazily basking in the sun on their cliffs and then scavenging their prey. They shared existence without a break. They must have had a special lesson about the time. Added to this, no doubt, was a great knowledge of pain and its physical and mental economy. "The world belongs to the fearless." This must lead to a renaissance of very old forms, beyond restlessness. Certain branches of the Stoa flourished again. You smiled, the other imperceptibly, when you met.

Lucius had at times evoked the goodwill of Mauritanians. It seemed that when meeting such spirits

36

the look simplified. They walked together through old towns full of Gothic, Faustian corners, then through districts teeming with the rabble. Beyond the ramparts and walls one stopped at a playing field. You immediately understood the rules of the game and recognized the prizes at stake. You saw that more clearly than the players. That was the basis of the power of the Mauritanians. They knew existence, possessed one of the keys to the new life, to the new world. That was the moment Lucius became afraid. He shied away from that realm of heraldic comfort, where pity reigned no, where women's beauty was blameless, and art was no twilight. The researchers usually sat at the individual tables, connected to the libraries, institutes, museums or engrossed in their notes. They drew the traces of hard work, including night work. The immense extent of space had enlarged the field that had to be scientifically ordered and penetrated. It would have become obvious if the methodology had not been ingeniously simplified, the handling of what had already been accomplished. The encyclopedic order was at once more comprehensive and finely divided. The new way of thinking, as it had already become apparent at the beginning of the 20th century, had a rational and symbolic connection at the same time. In addition, the registering and statistical documents were taken care of by highly intelligent machines. In the subterranean libraries and card libraries, immense bee work took place. They resembled artificial brains in which the associations were stored. There were very abstract workshops, such as those of the point office. It was the relation of all formed things to the coordinate system. A Mauritanian had found the simple idea; an ax cross with the blasphemous saying "Stat crux dum volvitur orbis" adorned the coat of arms. The work there was beyond language, even beyond visibility. She approached music as far as it can be metronomically grasped. A researcher tracked down the handle of a vase in a grave in Transcaucasia It was the relation of all formed things to the coordinate system. A Mauritanian had found the simple idea; an ax cross with the blasphemous saying "Stat crux dum volvitur orbis" adorned the coat of arms. The work there was beyond language, even beyond visibility. She approached music as far as it can be metronomically grasped. A researcher tracked down the handle of a vase in a grave in Transcaucasia It was the relation of all formed things to the coordinate system. A Mauritanian had found the simple idea; an ax cross with the blasphemous saying "Stat crux dum volvitur orbis" adorned the coat of arms. The work there was beyond language, even beyond visibility. She approached music as far as it can be metronomically grasped. A researcher tracked down the handle of a vase in a grave in Transcaucasia as far as it can be metronomically grasped. A researcher tracked down the handle of a vase in a grave in Transcaucasia as far as it can be metronomically grasped. A researcher tracked down the handle of a vase in a grave in Transcaucasia

37

thought. He sent the measurements to the point office, which ran them through the machines. An excerpt from the archivist named the objects whose outline more or less approximated that of the find. These might be other vases, perhaps designs of embroidery, of hieroglyphs, or the vibration of a shell found on the coast of Crete. This was accompanied by evidence from museum catalogs and literature. That was one of the functions of the point office; there were others, more serious ones too. After all, it could locate any point on the globe and thus threaten it. The materials kept piling up and becoming logically concentrated. And as the archive grew, power increased. Like all Mauritanian attacks, his plan was based on very simple ideas, with a better knowledge of the rules of the game. Basically it was about the triumph of analytic geometry. They knew about the spatial prerequisite of power, about its place without quality. They knew that a cranial index could be dangerous and had the documentation ready.

They had guns foreverytheory and knew that where everything is allowed, everything can also be proven. And they only reserved the right to choose. As scholars, they held a kind of helots in the point office, who found satisfaction in digging through the dust of files, including women with little initiative but great empathy. Members of the Order were rarely seen there, and only in nondescript rooms resembling the gray, quilted chambers from which the spider surveys its webs. Lucius recalled one of those doors on which he had read the inscription "Kephaleiosis" - on a pane of frosted glass that was only transparent on the inside. For the initiated, this was the symbol of statistics, which embodied knowledge on the inside and power on the outside. Lucius loved the visits to the point office, which he sometimes made on behalf of the proconsul. There was an atmosphere like inside the pyramids, whose walls are patterned with hieroglyphs. Few signs may underlie the diversity of the world for one who appreciates the kaleidoscopic

38

sche deception not succumb. They repeated themselves in the turn, and those who knew them held the keys in their hands. And what the dot office was spatially, temporally, was chronologically the central archive, which was hidden in the caves of the pagos. In this state of affairs it was understandable that both the bailiff and the proconsul saw in the point office a means by which they would have liked to strengthen their armaments. But access was difficult, precisely because of the ingenious overview that prevailed. The effect depended on a small index, well secured, whose destruction would turn the vast treasures of the Archives into a dead burden, into an empty shambles. That was a Mauritanian move: the pure manifestation of spiritual power, which mocks crude weapons and is not dependent on them.

The two archers from the Orion, meanwhile, had continued their conversation. As is often the case in such hunting talks, it was difficult to decide where the Latin began. "One would rather think that it is a question of clouds," pale mists of great extent. When attacked, they thicken like jellyfish and take on beautiful colors. They shoot towards their prey meteorically.« »The heaviest throws are suitable for grazing.«

"And only effective when the firing point is on target." Lucius' ears also caught snippets of conversation from neighboring tables. The voices grew louder. "He sees the technique as a kind of dream, but he admits that his teaching is valid only beyond the Hesperides." 'Also knows the points at which she magically corresponds. The devices then become very simple, they take on the character of talismans.«

39

"Just as the wings become redundant when their momentum reaches absolute speed." "Like falling." "The formulas then turn into spells." Then again, more distantly: 'Power has not passed to the government there; she has parceled out. It attaches itself to landed property in such a way that the owner has absolute power in the smallest little garden. The law only connects on paths, on streams, on public land.« "Is there relative liability - such as being caught outside for a murder committed on your own soil?" "No, because property is not a refugium sacrum, but a sacrum par excellence." "But what if someone worked outwards - perhaps by throwing or shooting?"

'Then that would also entail reprisals from outside. Incidentally, all this remains theoretical, since morality is at the highest level. It's more the idea of freedom - - -" Then again, closer: “If the regent secretes the heavy means, it is not because he wants to reserve them for himself. You underestimate him then. He who can concentrate cosmic embers despises Uranian violence.« "They say he levitates the reflectors in groups?" "Probably because he wants to take them away from the telescopes."

'That would not be an objection. Even the largest areas can be hidden from view by placing them across the meridians of the objects. Also, the distance doesn't matter, he aims for focal length in the cosmic shadows.« »This would eliminate the dosage and with it the possibility of warning, of demonstration. He loves the weapons that work when you show them.«

40

"Dosage could also be found by other means than by combinations - for example by axis positioning or even better by a still tolerable compression - - -" Then a high and strained voice cut in. It was familiar to him from lectures as that of the Germanist Fernkorn, whom he sometimes asked to examine manuscripts. He was sitting in front of a cup of tea and dry toast, and there were notebooks and a blue pillbox on his desk. The scholar's posture was stooped and his face extremely tired but tense. It was said that he was content with four hours of sleep. The subtle and feebly intricate aspects of his combinations spoke from every sentence. He was considered a genius empathizer. The women predominated in his auditorium. »- - - Porridge for dinner, lightly toast the white bread. Then a glass of Malaga. Angelica should put my drops on the table. I continue with the history of early automatism, clinical part. Put the Bronte section ready for me, along with the excerpts from Antonio Peri on opium, I need the following information about Kleist - - -" "I'm sorry, what?"

"No, from the Central Archives, by Phonophor."

“First: In the spring of 1945, a large number of suicides took place in the Wannsee area. How are they stored, on the register, with Kleisten's grave in the center? For your understanding — I am thinking, for example, of an illness, a rash, one point of which appears particularly early. Second: On the suicide statistics. head and heart shots. I want to know the conditions under which you point the gun at your head. Used frequently in case of suicidetry itdiagnosed later brain disease? Third: To the grave entourage. Kleist as a late Germanic duke, and as such first a liege man, then a rival of Napoleon. What Henriette Vogel - - - «

41

Other voices drowned him out. But, as one often hears the quiet ones more urgently, he now caught the conversation that was simmering behind the pillar against which he was leaning. She indicated two very young people. »Yes, there are blinks of an eye, there are seconds in which the spark jumps over. I had seen him with Sylvia. I walked down the stairs where the pictures hang and there I met my sister Evelyne. She laughed as I passed. I stopped her and whispered to her: 'I'm going to the garden now. How nice if I met Sylvia there.' She hit me with the fan: 'I want to order it for Santa Claus, Frangois.' Then she went back into the hall. It was hot in the garden and the sirocco was blowing from the islands. I felt the wine go to my head. I tore off the tunic and leaned back in an oleander bush. The foliage was deliciously cool. Then the gate opened with a faint clang and Sylvia appeared. Her white hoop skirt shone. The lilies brushed his hem. She held it gently with both hands as she walked through the beds. I stayed very still and motionless and let her find me like a statue glowing in the dark. She -" Lucius bent around the pillar to spy the speaker—it was young Beaumanoir, returning to the War School from Burgenland. He exchanged vacation memories with a comrade. The other laughed.

'It's like you, Frangois. Doux et major!« The Ambiance atomizers on the pillars sprayed in the tangle. The small contraptions on the tables amplified their charisma. The hall resembled a large brain with sequences of monologues, figures, memories, combinations such as those linked in dreams. The gentle swaying of the ship took the corners and sharpness of the thoughts and rounded them off pictorially. It rocked the

42

will one. The idle, the luxurious, the playful of the thoughts came to the fore. There was also freedom of the castle on the Blue Aviso. Even Scholwin, the Parsi banker and financial adviser to the proconsul, who was actually always involved in business, praised the stay as pleasant "because the brain continued to work here for free." These voyages from the Hesperides showed that the power is one and the same. It detaches itself from the same reason before it gains quality. This was the basis of the pleasant, brotherly atmosphere on the ship, although it was rich in dark cargo and secret knowledge. What had been collected, discussed, explored beyond the Hesperides to the last foothills became a means of armament, a form of power in Heliopolis. It would split as the passengers split once the ship landed. The tree unites in the trunk, although it branches out in the roots and in the branches. During the conversations in the Blue Aviso, the words ran together, in the same direction as they are twined to waves in the copper wire. But then the same words gained polarity, turned into snares, to orders, to complaints and counter-accusations as before the tribunal. This is how the light beam becomes colored when it hits matter. But it also seemed to Lucius that these journeys were based on a need in itself. This could be deduced from the fact that the ship was used as a means of ancient comfort. These spirits, lost in action, might at times be seized with the desire to see the pattern they were weaving not in the threads but in the picture. On the ascent, you feel the need to rest, not only to gather strength, but also because the eye demands its rights. On public holidays it symbolically pulls up what is concealed from view in everyday life. Being a spectator is one of the old, great desires of man - to be beyond the quarrels to enjoy their picture. The mood became particularly clear on the last day of seafaring, particularly unifying as during the last tour of the foyer, which was then followed by the bell

43

interrupts. During the break they had talked about the progress of the piece; then, of course, when the curtain parted, the stage encroached and one was part of the picture. '

On the other pillar of the entrance with the inscription "Ici on ne se respecte pas" stood Messer Grande; Lucius noticed him from the slant without breaking his dreamy attitude. If anyone didn't succumb to the general urbanity that reigned on the Blue Aviso, it was Messer Grande, who boasted of being on constant duty. Lucius felt Messer Grande eyeing him or the two hunters maliciously. This man's eyes were restless, yellowish in the whites, while the color of the face was olive. Also, the trains were always in motion, he chewed his lips and his muscles twitched as if little spirals were unraveling inside them. It was said that when he was resting from the meetings in the Central Office garden, he used a switch to cut the heads off the flowers. Without turning his head, Lucius grabbed the speaker and dialed one of the fixed connections. A marble voice answered: "Proconsul, Antechamber." The boss made sure that everything that emanated from his area exhaled the greatest certainty. 'This is Blue Aviso, Commander de Geer. Theresa, would you like to reserve me for the afternoon? I want to get back to you.« “Nice of you to come, commander. The boss missed you. You're going to eat?' “No thanks, Theresa, I don't want to change. Donna Emilia brings me a little something. She is also to bring back Alamut. I'm closing see you later."

44

He went outside without looking back. Already he was in a bad mood about the conversation, as if he had succumbed to a compulsion. It also seemed to him that his voice was not free enough, not detached enough. “That's how you say the à parts on suburban stages, the monologue in a bad play. A spirit like Messer Grande hears the melody under the libretto.« The nakedness bothered him less than that he felt it; by noticing them, one acknowledged the aura of terror that woven around the Inquisitor, and with it the claim of the lesser rulership. It had come to the point where infamy could put its questions to anyone, and the matter was lost if no other answer was found than that of fear. The sky shone in cloudless blue. The sun had risen high, but the air was still fresh. Lucius felt his chest expand. He loved that first full breath of the day that shook his heart half in pain, half in pleasure. This is how a noble wine foams and bubbles in the early raised goblet. The earth is lovely; she likes to indulge in the bold. The Blue Aviso's gold fittings gleamed in the sunlight. His board lay low on the tide. The cauldron flashed like a tall copper bottle, from the neck of which a blue, gaseous vapor escaped. The crew had cleaned it very carefully overnight because of the landing. Looking at it, Lucius always remembered the steam engines he used to play with at Christmas time. That was also the intention behind the style. One had grown weary of the high speeds and their polish on the form. The shark-like came out all too naked. It also always brought back memories of terrible things. On the other hand, a new attraction had been discovered in the early machines and they were repeated in a playful way. This gave the impression of having an abundance of time. Fashion had adapted to this mood. Between the work robes of the masses who thronged to work, costumes appeared in the

45

Cut and fabric of the bourgeois century, in taffeta and silk, floral and brightly striped like butterflies that a late ray of sunshine developed. The milliners followed the old pattern, which they stylized, and it was back to those days of the good old days when Fieschi shot Louis Philippe. The ship went slow as it approached the islands. It already followed the impulses of the pilotage office of Heliopolis. The captain stood on the bridge, but more like a doll on a doll ship. His blue tailcoat with gold buttons and his top hat reinforced this impression. Lucius had mounted the small step at the bow and was leaning towards the tide. The Gulf abounded with sea creatures, and they rose from the depths in the still waters between the islands. The sea-level was azure now, and only the fine silver wave of the keel cut gently into its smoothness. Schools of flying fish were still rising, despite the proximity of the cliffs. Below, Lucius saw the marbled shadows escaping the ship; they aspired to the surface. The animals became pearly in the light and shot into the air like rockets. The alien element froze her; the great fins stretched out with a dry shudder, with the lustful whirring of horned bows. They gleamed opaque, ribbed by strong bones that broke through their hem like whalebone clasps through the silk of an Andalusian corset. From each of these peaks drops trickled onto the tide. A slight updraft flapped the dragon's wings; their backs flashed in the enamel of the peacock's neck. The gaze took in the fine cut of the scales and the cut of the eyes, which were surrounded by a wide, green-gold rim. The beasts hovered until the trajectory dropped, then closed their wings and splashed into the tide. Always the ship's shadow stirred up new swarms like rays of a fan opened in the brilliance of sea and sun. Petrels exalted him. Sometimes they swooped down and smashed their red fangs into one of the blue flyers.

46

How the short path in the light was threatened in so many ways! Ravenous robbers watched them in flight; Bonites and sea breams ambushed her in the depths. But ever new crowds arose out of it. The shadows of destruction increased the lust. Then the flights became sparse, and white cliffs emerged from the sea. On its mirror now swam the Portuguese galleys with their bells shimmering like beaten silver. The sky was delicately reflected in their brilliance. The long hangings rippled low. They burned purple against the blue ground, their eyes searing as if their nettle had been smeared with radiation. Lucius bent low. Other medusae also rose. In delicate swings, they relaxed the umbrellas and put them on again. The colorful patterns shone symmetrically like quartz flow in the crystal. The colors became more intimate and became paler in time as the disk arched and faded. Like misty trails, like dancers' veils, they trailed the tentacles. In this beat the red heart beats in the water of life, the star of the eyes sharpens in the flood of light, the sexes embrace in the ocean of lust. The waves have formed us. He bowed lower—at such moments he thought he heard echoes of the melody that underlies life, to which it twists, dances, and falls — the ebb and flow of the great breath that sustains us. He felt his eyes blur. The tears welled up hotly. The ship was now moving very slowly, almost touching the cliffs of Castelmarino. The white rock was visible to the bottom; the water above its banks turned green with sunny reflections like an aquamarine set in gold. The crash was dazzling and deliciously patterned by the abundance of creatures that populated it. Tactile threads of polyps, feelers, suction arms, spines, pincers, scissors and love organs bloomed like a lawn that swayed gently with the heave of the tide. Sometimes a red starfish flared up. The blue entrance to a grotto was lined with a grid of

47

coral branches. In her twilight hovered a flock of squid; the pale bodies glowed purple clouds when the shadow of the ship startled them. The eye also sensed beings that melted crystal clear with the tide, invisible, unless a play of little sparks of fire betrayed them. Their impression was spiritual - as if they were ideas in the plan of creation, "but not invested with matter. What was left when a light wave lifted her onto the edge of the beach? A silver skin, a nothingness of dry foam, which nevertheless had been the bearer of such great miracles. That might still be a form in which life was worth living - Lucius had often thought of it: on an island in warm seas, with a hut and a small boat. There one should live as a spiritual fisherman, casting the net into the treasures of the sea. God gave up the riddles; the red reefs, the sea gardens, the crystalline bottom harbored them in unheard-of abundance. You wouldn't solve any of them and still be satisfied. Who knows the meaning of even the smallest hieroglyph on a shell, on a snail shell? But one would be happy. One sensed from afar the dimensions on which the world is founded, one heard the sounds of melody like waves of surf, like shivers in the great forests. So life might pass quietly, like that of the early hermits, in a thatched hut before azure palaces, far removed from all vain science. Perhaps, over the years, over the decades, one would learn to worship the hand, the breath of the Creator in the creature. In this way one might fortify oneself for that moment when it was necessary to step out of the mud hut and knock on the immortal palace.

The narrows of Castelmarino could only be navigated by ships of war and state ships; she was closely guarded from the height of the rocky shore. The island bore the same name; she led him

48

for a castle, the Casteletto, which stood there from ancient times. It rested on Cyclopean walls; its builders were unknown. They may have built the citadel from the beginning as a stronghold for the Gulf and for the cities that lined its shores—Heliopolis in particular. It then changed hands with the dynasties, and even in times of anarchy it probably fell into the hands of pirates from time to time, who recovered from their raids there and secured the booty. For a long time now, the castle and island have served as a place of prison. As there are places on earth where sanctuaries have succeeded one another since time immemorial, so it is with places of violence. There seems to be a curse on such places, always drawing new hordes of slaves and victims to them. They follow you through the ebbs and flows of history, whether led on behalf of rulers or in the name of liberty to the sites of terror where their murmuring will always be heard as a litany that never stops. Countless people are languishing in the dungeons of this world at every moment. Even now, in the bright sunlight, the Sea Castle gave the impression of the foul place, the seat of power. The ship slowly glided past him. The building was designed in a square around an inner courtyard. Four strong towers flanked him. A fifth jumped in a semicircle from the front facing the sea. He carried the great castle gate, reinforced with iron spikes, and the drawbridge. Loopholes like inverted keyholes cut through the strong work. In countless years the walls had weathered and their forms worn away, so that the towers rose like pale stalactite cones. Where the salty air had eaten away at the window bars, long, rust-red beards burned in the rock. The barren island scarcely bore any trees, only dark cypresses had taken root in its fissures. A semi-circular forecourt was laid out in front of the lake front of the palace. The parapet surrounding it may have once supported statues, but the bases have long stood empty. The coat of arms ornaments were also broken; the festival had some pictures-

49

experienced storm. Now it hardly bore any signs except the red flag with the Panzerfaust, which waved on the central tower - nothing seemed to be left behind but the abstract, mechanical violence.

The forecourt descended in steps into the flood. The shallow steps led shimmering to the blue mirror and were shrouded in dark seaweed beneath his mark. There rose groups of red pilings for the boats. The passengers had appeared on deck and were looking at the desolate landing area. The ship glided quietly past him as if at the entrance to a wicked playhouse. A body lay stretched out on the stairs. It was an old man with a long white beard, dressed in blue linen trousers and a smock of the same material, which was open at the breast. He seemed to be looking up at the sky, his bare feet dipping into the tide. As the ship approached, seabirds took off from it. A swarm of crabs scurried towards the water like red shadows. The travelers passed this picture in silence. You could see that she was deeply occupied with the spectacle, but they didn't exchange a word. One was already within the spell of Heliopolis. Lucius was still standing on the stage; he saw the group in profile. In the brightly colored uniforms trimmed with lace and decorated with medals, in the state coats with the symbols and ribbons of the great unions, in the comfortable travel and hunting costumes, they represented themselves as a body of supreme power. It is true that they were divorced and pursued each other - but only because of the abundance and the high spirits that result from it, just as the king's sons are hostile to one another in the Asiatic palaces. Here, however, in the face of the poor wretch, people drew together - it became clear that they were united towards him. But at the same time Lucius had the impression that the silent dead man there on his bed of stones was immensely strong. It is true that he, whose liver the birds searched for with their beaks and whose limbs were at the mercy of the sea vermin, was viewed with disgust

50

true, but at the same time he was infinitely superior to the proud company, and terrible things emanated from him. Messer Grande tried to profit from this terrible thing, although he too was defeated. There was no swell, and so the dead man had hardly washed ashore. Otherwise the guards hidden in the castle and on the cliffs would surely have spotted him. So it was laid out on purpose, as bait for fear. It was Messer Grande's opinion, who provided the police for the bailiff, that the secret would benefit his business. "Night, fog and silent weapons" was one of his keywords. When he was carousing in the little salon on the "sofa" with his faithful ones and the power of the wine overcame him, his eyes would begin to gleam festively, then he would get up and utter his favorite toast: "Children—when night falls, I'll be there King!' - - - that started the orgy. He felt himself present where there was fear, and where there was whispering and murmuring, he was the third person to hear. For this reason he loved the terrible rumor and believed that it was more effective than visible violence. In fact, those he was pursuing had breathed a sigh of relief when his henchmen arrested them. But he did not shy away from the obviousness of terror when it seemed useful to him. "Silence is golden," he used to say, "but one must be able to prove cover." So it was probably no coincidence that the Blue Aviso, on which he knew many of his opponents, drove past this dead man there lay as a pattern of countless victims against the background of the dungeon castle. And the sight might also stimulate the zeal and devotion of the friends. You were facing important events. The lake castle served the bailiff as a transfer point for the prisoners whose fate had already been decided. Whoever landed at the desolate forecourt had already languished in the dungeon attached to the Central Office. It was a bad omen if the path went uphill from there to the port. Only a few stayed at the Casteletto, as a particularly strong place. It

51

were those who sat in the towers or in the oubliettes that the flood watered. Important prisoners were also held in the central tower, which was magnificently furnished. Most, however, awaited the order by which they were disposed for a shorter or longer period. They were small, obscure sentences that closed their files. Some were deported to forms of work that destroy quickly, especially underground, while others were dragged to places from which one never returns. Bad things were rumored, so there should be a building inside the island, in a ravine called Malpasso, in which people were poisoned. It was the "Toxicological Institute" that Doctor Mertens headed. It was said that Messer Grande stayed there often; he had a fondness for this science, as for progress in general. The corpse disappeared from sight; the rigidity dissolved. A circle had formed around Messer Grande; Officials from the central office, including technicians, surrounded him. The flicker of his features had calmed her. He nodded to Doctor Mertens and looked complacently at the island. He praised the weather and allowed himself to be agreed. He sniffed the breeze with his nostrils.

The rest of the company stood at a distance from him. The traders and bankers like Scholwin had vanished below decks; they had dissipated silently, as if by evaporation. The Mauritanians looked casually and almost bored at the cliffs. They showed the calm the cat assumes when there is a mouse in the room. The initiate, meanwhile, might have guessed one of their gestures, which they trained themselves to make as utterances of a second nature. They had dreamily and fleetingly touched the left lapel of their coats, as if they had touched the flower or a ribbon there. This was where the hemlock pod was hidden in the lining, enclosing a poison they had only recently come to use, and the secret of which Messer Grande envied them. it said that Doctor Mertens had developed it in his institute, but not in his capacity as chief physician, but as a freelance researcher in Mauretania. He didn't have enough patients

52

not. Until then they had used a substance that fell like a bolt of lightning - the hemlock extract, on the other hand, took away first the consciousness of pain and then the consciousness of spirit. So you still had a while in which you could take a stand, develop ideas, communicate and make decisions, and yet you were already unassailable. In this context, too, her efforts were expressed not only to preserve her dignity in the terrible, but also to keep an overview. They moved together towards the dead, but groups stood out. The proconsul's officers and officials barely concealed their displeasure. Brought up in a sphere of clear, legal, visible power, she was troubled by the secretive, ambiguous nature of the bailiff's operations. The misdeed, which could no longer be controlled, confused her. They also felt that this changed the meaning of the uniform. Messer Grande knew that too, of course, and he tried to promote the process by making the outrage public. None of these fine gentlemen should be able to pretend to overlook them. And up. on the other hand he put criminals in uniform and had them celebrated as those who got rid of the enemies of the people, even of the fatherland. In this position the old officers found themselves as at a banquet which had begun in the best company, although among the guests there were some of obscure origin. After the table has been raised, they gradually draw friends into the hall. One still tries to overlook the impropriety, to take it as a joke or to scold it, and yet one knows inwardly that only force will hold its place. And alas, already it is becoming uncertain whether one should let it come to that, yes, whether one is still in possession of the house rights. Meanwhile the hall took on the appearance of the tavern and the usual weapons lost their effectiveness. They still want to watch out for the silver, they're still arguing about whether it's allowed to smoke before dessert—then a fellow comes in with his head cut off. Now you know what the hour has struck. The quarrel dies down. You separate

53

in silence and with thoughts of how to murder each other. But business continues. In the meantime things had progressed so well that the bailiffpoliticallyhad already gained the power thatrealwas still with the proconsul. Thus there were situations in the polis in which the city, the port, the agora were already owned by the rabble, while the castle and the high city were still owned by the nobles. To this extent the proconsul was able to establish order at any point at which he pleased—but only at points, while order was disappearing more and more on a large scale. Correspondingly, his officers felt comfortable only in their limited quarters—in their staff quarters, strongholds, and islands that were proconsular—they lived there among themselves in ancient liberty. Basically they were waiting for the war which they hoped would bring the demagogues into their hands. The bailiff, for his part, also drove towards the war, from which he expected an increase in disorder and a further atomization of the people. This was the better prognosis: The proconsul with a part of the staff and some of the large unions like Orion were also convinced of this outcome. The proconsul therefore tried to lead the army in such a way that it would fight in the civil war, but not beyond the borders. Of course, this required coordination with the powers outside, so that the fatherland would not be harmed in such dealings—above all with Dom Pedro, the head of state in Asturias. In this trial Lucius had been out and about; his trip had been disguised as a vacation to Burgenland. so that the fatherland would not be harmed in such dealings -above all with Dom Pedro, the head of state of Asturias. In this trial Lucius had been out and about; his trip had been disguised as a vacation to Burgenland. so that the fatherland would not be harmed in such dealings -- above all with Dom Pedro, the head of state of Asturias. In this trial Lucius had been out and about; his trip had been disguised as a vacation to Burgenland.

Finally, the researchers, such as Fernkorn, the Bergrat and Orelli, showed their indignation even more openly. They were in a similar position, insofar as the bailiff undermined the foundations of their estate. What impeccability of weapons was for the warrior caste, for them was freedom of research, which should follow no other laws than those which the ray of knowledge shows in the objects. The bailiff, on the other hand, tried to reduce the scholars to the status of employees, technicians, and even forgers, and this was clouding over every day

54

Will their work more. Just as there were renegades in the officer corps, there were already spirits in the universities and institutes who not only recognized the primacy of power but worked astutely on its logical justification. Of course, one had to add that science itself had lost rank and aristocracy; for a long time, freedom of spirit had also served as a cloak for the activities of destroyers, illuminati and blasphemers. The weakening was just general. In front of this corpse one had seen again how strong the opponent was, how much ground he had gained in his own breast. They all huddled together at the sight of him, and Lucius couldn't help himself. Long gone were the times when everyone, or at least most, openly sided with the person who committed the crime. Now one had to make oneself visible as an individual. And that was incredibly difficult.

The Blue Aviso was now approaching the mouth of the Strait of Castelmarino in the Gulf of Heliopolis at full speed. The cliffs lay behind him, and to port loomed a gray watch-tower, such as were so many built on these shores in the days of pirates, partly to watch the sea, partly as platforms for the nightly watch-fires. The proconsul had now set up a small department in these to monitor Castelmarino and the arrivals and departures. Sometimes it happened that he claimed prisoners; he therefore wanted to be informed of the occupancy. The watchtower rose on a promontory of Vinho del Mar, the island that formed the opposite of Castelmarino the strait. But the cliffs were missing on Vinho del Mar; a light belt of dunes separated the island from the sea. Inside, the sun beat down on flat hills of fine, gray loess. Ever since grapes were grown, this soil has been known as the best soil for vineyards. An old tribe

55

of winegrowers lived here in small houses with deep cellars. They were skilled in cultivating the vine; they had inherited the rhythm of maintenance in their blood. Working in the vineyard was her passion. They knew the transformations of wine—from living in the sunlight to going home in the cellars, and then to the resurrection in which its spirit weds that of the reveler. They drew a clear, goldencolored wine with a wonderful aroma, which reached its peak in the fifth year. Those in the know praised the fact that he deepened Apollo's lust through that of Dionysus: the power of light and darkness in intoxication. In high games, the handlebar leads the dark four-horse chariot. There was a second variety, the Vecchio, which only grew on one slope of the island. It was obtained from a bunch of grapes that had shriveled on the stick. It was a wine that grew in savory with age. It shone dark amber in the glass; when you poured it, the room filled with fragrance. There was no carousing with him. It was reserved for the great encounters and turning points that life brings. He became outoneCups proffered to the young couple on the threshold of the bridal chamber. It was offered to princes and drank in high solemnities; it was given to the dying. In happier times, wealthy Heliopolitans had built a row of villas in the Roman country house style on the southern edge of the island in order to take part in the course of the wine year at leisure. They invited their friends there for shepherd and wine festivals, and also for fishing, when the tuna passed in large schools through the Castelmarino Strait. But since the bailiff had set himself up on the neighboring island, this cheerfulness had died down. The villas were desolate, the walls and vines fell, and the ivy grew green around the statues in the gardens. In the hot midday, the snakes sunned themselves on the colorful mosaics, and at dusk the owl swooped silently out of the round gable windows into the park. In those houses that were adjacent to the tower, the guards had made their nests, and for a long time the wood

56

of the stairs and the corridors in the chimney -heated. The frescoes were blackened with smoke. Where before the symposiarch had presided over the musical revelry with his head wreathed in leaves, the banter and jokes that one loves around the campfire now rang out.

But the grapes still ripened in such abundance that their blood was wasted in the midday light slicing the berries. And so the townspeople also sought out the island in dark gondolas and decorated boats. They felt that abundance was dwindling, either through hatred or through inner poverty. They lived sadly, in spite of the vast spaces they managed; wealth melted under their hands. The gods had turned their backs on them. It was as if the memory of golden times slumbered in the wine. Like waves he brought back abundance. At the bottom of the cup they found unity; the divide disappeared. The times when men were brothers revived. You could hear singing from the tables that were set up in front of the winegrowers' huts, one met lovers on the shady edge of the groves and friends on the narrow vineyard paths, walking in the encirclement. One suspected them in deep and fiery conversations, the meaning of which was conveyed like a stream of sparks: the spirit took on an elemental character. The ages and sexes came close to each other. Late the barges returned to the city. The light of the torches and lanterns rippled in the waters, which trembled under the soft strokes of the oars. In the distance one could hear the chorus of the big boats and the tender song of the gondola drivers, who, as if in gently swaying cradles, were escorting the lovers to the port. They found their answer in the jokes of half-naked fishermen, who went out with braziers to catch the cuttlefish and greeted the enthusiasts with their tridents like emissaries from Neptune. And far away in the harbor, to the amusement of the sailors, pinwheels whirled and rockets erupted. Truly, in such hours one could forget what misery and danger the time held. The nearness of death increased the lust.

57

You lived in seconds that you lifted like pearls from the depths. Even in the orgies there was a glimmer of past celebrations.

The Watchtower lay on a flat tongue; the ship passed close by. One saw the waves land softly in the rubble; the tips foamed up at him. The bulwark rested on a circular base shaded by a wreath of aloes with gigantic panicles of flowers. The gold lacquer and the reddish caper bush, which loves such places, grew in the joints up to the top of the wall. Green lacertes scurried up the stone. The proconsul's eagle, holding a snake in its claws, towered over the battlements. Helmeted heads appeared over the parapet. Then the Blue Aviso ran with a turn into the basin of the gulf like a wide curved shell. The plain was strewn with sharp white sails, and great ships furrowed it. Flocks of gulls circled the fishing boats sorting the catch, and the smell of the markets and the dark, salty haze of the seaweed drifted from the shore. The white sandy beach stretched between two rocky peaks, distinguished by the color of the rocks as White and Red Cap, which at night drew beacons. They carried promenade gardens with bridges and rock steps, and, half veiled by dark moorland pines, old and new buildings such as the Fortezza and the sea observatory, where Taubenheimer directed the study of marine animals. Smoke from open fires billowed from cafeterias and little taverns half-walled with their cellars in the foot of the cliffs. The Heliopolitans valued these points, which delimited the gulf like the points of a crescent moon, as the next places of excursion, and loved to look there from the airy terraces at the sea with its ships and islands and the rocket port of the regent, while the innkeeper

58

wine and his wife kept the coals glowing with a rush fan. To the White Cap one walked leisurely along the magnificent Avenue des Flamboyants. The tall trees were in bloom now; the crowns stood out from the bright shore as a red ceremonial band. Hibiscus hedges bordered the beds and strips of lawn that lined the avenues, and these garden arts continued beyond the trellis and walls of the palaces chained along the beach. In the twilight of the parks reigned the silence that surrounds the seats of the rich and powerful. The marble castles shone far out to sea. The styles were diverse, but connected by the unity of the place like a green belt. The houses of the great orders stood out with particular splendor. The seats corresponded to thatched boathouses on the beach.

The road to Red Cap, on the other hand, led through the swarming Great Harbor, which was protected from breakers by a breakwater. One walked along the stone-lined quay which sent seaward the piers, and which on its broad ridge bore markets, stacks of ships' goods, and merchants' stalls. On the landward side it was delimited by districts associated with ports: storehouses and arsenals alternated with counting houses and entertainment districts. If one chose the Red Cap for an excursion, it was well to start early: the activity, which was cheered up in the sunlight, became frightening after nightfall. Between the two caps crowned by dark trees, the city of Heliopolis rose in a wide semicircle. It closed around the Alten- or Binnenhafen, from which the streets on the hillside shone. It gleamed in the midday light over the blue sea, which extinguished its colors, while the evening sun awakened the reddish stone of which the old town was built. The New Town, on the other hand, was listed after the last of the Great Fire Strikes in white marble. The area lay in ruins for a long time until advances in radiation technology secured the atmosphere

59

had, and on the other hand, the disposal of the heavy weapons had been raised to a monopoly by the regent. Then the plans of famous city builders were carried out. The climate heating, the ambient diffusers, the shadowless light and other means of collective luxury gave style to life in this neighborhood. There was no rhythm in these white streets, which shone brightly even at night, but there was a kind of monotonous comfort. Two structures had survived the fire seasons in this neighborhood —one was a cluster of five green steel-glass skyscrapers that had survived intact, except that the top floors had blistered in the embers. They stood in the bright melt of these domes as a monument to the night of terror. The other was the Central Office, which lay on the eastern part of the ridge, to which it clung fivepointed like a bright starfish. It was built of fireproof glass concrete and nestled flat against the rock so as not to offer resistance to the vortices. Like an iceberg, it offered only the smallest part of the view. Like a helmet, it covered the subterranean vaults. Thus the building stretched out on the slope in the full ugliness of the Uranian epochs, whose tortoise-like forms formed the unrestrained elemental force. He had grown out of the antagonism of fear and violence. In the midday light, it awakened memories of anxious, flame-ridden nights that were shaken by tremendous explosions. The spirit, the cult of terror, had always been preserved in the building; the red flag with the Panzerfaust waved on its top.

The proconsular palace towered above the old town on the western slope. It leaned against a part of the old city castle; nor did one see the mighty donjon and rampart and walls of the acropolis of Heliopolis as the centerpiece. Ancient and medieval wings were connected and overlapped by new fronts. Here, instead of the narrow jags and Gothic arches, there were wide windows, loggias and balconies decorated with flowers. The construction was uniform and

60

posing, although the times had always worked on him anew. He was like a great gentleman's robe, which has become more comfortable from century to century. The eagle with the snake was perched on the keep and looked far out to sea in the midday light. However, the directional sign of the ships coming from the islands was the cross of the cathedral dedicated to Our Lady of the Sea. He shone in the shadowless light at night. The cathedral rose in the highest center; it had fallen victim to the Great Fire and was rebuilt in a neo-classical manner. It was said that a temple of Aphrodite had already stood there; fallen columns formed the ground. The height was lovely; Vineyards and promenade gardens stretched up against it. Taverns, gardens of the dead, forgotten farms were lost in the green, as if the old country were still dreaming in the city. The nave of the Church of the Sea was long, the spire of great height, yet flattopped. The elements of the building were visible, partly substantial as in the ancient temples, partly spiritual in the manner of a cathedral. Sound justice spoke out of them. He was the best fruit of the new hope that grew mightily after the fire times—he and the marvel of theological physics so victoriously held up against a bare shield like the powers of divisive and diabolical destruction. Hengstmann, the master builder of the cathedral, had engraved the image of the phoenix bird on the main portal, enclosing it in its two wings. In the meantime, the terrible things had certainly formed anew, as every night the mist rises anew from the swamps. In this sense, the firebird, through whose embrace the believers walked to the sanctuary, testified that there is no building on earth in whose foundation stone destruction is not embedded. But higher still was the thought that as the buildings rise from their ruins,

61

Heliopolis, the ancient seat with its castles and palaces, with its markets and teeming quarters, stood out mightily in the sunlight as a great residence. Magnetic, she drew the ship closer. You could already hear their humming as if from a bright shell, to which the foam of the sea has combined with delicious earth. Humans had resettled the Gulf since the days of heroes; the first keels had furrowed him. Over in the Pagos, caves held pictures of the earliest hunts; one dug idols from the ground. Dynasties of gods and princes had succeeded one another. The foundations rested on the humus of cultures, which were rust-red with the traces of the great fires. Countless people had lived, loved, hoped here, and all had died. If one grasped it in this way, the reality of the city vanished; she was like the blossom on an old tree, which the wind will soon blow away. The first builders had turned the plow around them. It hadn't stopped growing since then, though on many fateful days it had fallen to the slash of the red sickle. But their soil was like a field that always brings new harvests in invisible barns. And if you let time fly by in your mind even more quickly, becoming and passing away resembled the fountain,fthat sprays upwards and that blows away when it falls. What could exist in these fleeting cascades if not the bridge of the rainbow arching in them according to the laws of light, clearer and more enduring than diamond. So the eye sometimes catches glimpses of the shimmer on the columns and their arches, which defies the times. The cities stand timeless like the walls of Ilion in the verses of Homer. This is what grips us powerfully in her face and what invites us to action, just as beauty calls us to love.

62

CIVIL UNREST

The entry sign rose on the mast of the pilot's office. The Blue Aviso slid into the mouth of the inland port. On either side of the driveway, large round mirrors swiveled toward him and glowed reddishly, pulsing. The screws turned in the opposite direction and churned up the yellow mud at the bottom. The ship cautiously approached the wide roundabout of the harbor square, which was filled with a dense crowd, and the carriage waited. Film tapes slid through the apparatus, - reporters started the first conversations. The passengers crowded around the railing, some still speaking into the phonophores and some already over them. Small flags were waved from the quay, children and bouquets of flowers were lifted up. The bridges were rolled up by the port personnel. The view fell on the Corso, the great axis that led from the roundabout to the steps of the Church of the Sea. On either side of the green median, four rows of wagons moved on their white track. Two red obelisks marked her length, they gave her spiritual distance. High fountains divided the distance and cooled the midday air, over the old town, in the Parsi quarter, the clouds of a fire curled up. Costar had climbed on deck with the luggage and was talking to Mario, who was waiting in the car. Lucius still had some time before the hour Theresa had reserved for his report. It flashed through his mind that he could walk through the Parsi district to the palace, and as so often in life he gave in to the impulse. It was fortunate that he had not yet written the report and had no secret papers with him. In order not to appear idle to himself, he decided, with Antonio Peri,

63

to audition the Parsi bookbinder; on leaving he had entrusted him with a manuscript from his collection. He asked the attendant to leave the suitcases with Donna Emilia and set off with Costar and Mario. Lucius was unarmed, Klario carried an automatic pistol and Costar had a slash on his right wrist. They first crossed Regent's Street, which led to the palace and looked more like a long park. Exquisite trees, some of them very old, the strongest of which bore names, chains and plaques of honour, covered the area in loose stock. The houses that bordered it had escaped the Great Fire; the oldest families lived here in inherited prosperity. Stables, depots and outbuildings were attached to the rear. Then came a narrow quarter with canals that irrigated the inland port. Trade had once been conducted here, but since the construction of the Great Harbor the warehouses had been deserted and the rollers on the pointed gables no longer lifted any loads. Silent trades had settled and people whose profession was difficult to guess. The streets in the Parsenviertel became even emptier; here the silence was frightening. Here, too, the Gothic old town houses with their carved gables still stand; the crossing was only revealed by the strange writing on the signs in front of the shops; symbols of good fortune such as the flame, the hare and the bull's horn were also painted on the gates. When, after the Anglo-Saxons were expelled, the atheist movement threatened the Middle East, the Parsis, along with other cults, also avoided it and scattered throughout the world. A branch of a thousand souls had reached Heliopolis via the Isle of Ormus and been taken up in that old quarter which was then desolate. They had multiplied there and also partly mixed with the population. But they had stuck to their religion, the severity of which had admittedly been softened in many respects over the course of time. Obvious moral rules

64

regulated their lives, and many of the old customs had almost disappeared. Above all, they adhered to those of burial. Their arrival was soon felt as a gain, and their influence was greater than their small number would have led one to expect. They excelled in the crafts, especially in the finer ones—as in the treatment of silk, leather, precious stones, and metals; they had also gained an influence on big business, based on the exchange of money. For a long time they have also taken part in the sciences and, thanks to their innate knowledge of their roots, have achieved significant things, especially in philology. The beauty of the women in particular had increased in Heliopolis; they resembled, delicate and dazzling, flowers whose nature was refined and heightened behind glasses. In the case of the upper castes, a touch of exquisite spirituality was added. Thus a non-warlike, cultivated race had developed in the old town, which, of course, could not be exonerated from the accusation of effeminateness. That was the dark side of her virtue, which lay in the subtlety of knowledge. She branched out both sensually and spiritually. Her sense of touch made her seem capable of everything that serves to beautify life, be it through luxury or through artistic creation. This might also have something to do with their senseenhancing relationship to fear, which they had cultivated over the centuries. Even in their ancient seats, Islam had ruthlessly pursued them as magicians and worshipers of fire. Even in Heliopolis there was hatred and envy for her. The rabble was always inclined to believe the worst that envy thought up about them. After the regent had taken charge of the Jews and provided them with lands both by the decrees of Sidon and by the plans of Stieglitz and Carthage, the Parsis inherited the persecution. They were predestined to do so first because of their wealth and then because of their differences. They were also few in number, and strange rumors attached themselves to them

65

ineradicable. In this respect, the people always came in handy for the bailiff and Messer Grande when a violent coup had to be prepared. The Central Office loved comparisons drawn from technology and used to say that they were "switching over to the Parsis" or that they "provided a good initial spark." Unrest in the Parsi quarters therefore tended to precede the more important plans and formed the prelude to the immediate use of force. They gave the demos the instinctive traits, the impulsive direction that the bailiff strove for because it shook the old foundation of the law. Even those who did not take part in the violence tried to distance themselves from the persecuted, and in this way fear and terror spread. Examples were set up—examples of what is possible to inflict on man. Unrest in the Parsenviertel was always profitable and helped the coffers. This applied not so much to the booty squandered by the mob as to the blackmail that followed the plunder. You could buy the good weather. In this sense, the Parsis belonged to the bailiff, just as the Jews used to belong to the sovereigns, to capital. He squeezed it out like a sponge from time to time. But the essential thing remained, that he needed her as an object when it was a question of changing the political climate. It was the same today, when the Asturian question occupied people's minds and was about to be decided by the people. Before such turns, the red primeval matter was made to glow, and the corpse of Castelmarino was certainly part of the program. The looters must have gone by now, for there was scarcely a sound to be heard. Then an incendiary procession with ladders and flashing boilerworks rushed by on red-lacquered wheels, with shrill bells that suddenly increased and got lost in the maze of alleys. This was a sign that the Central Office had given permission to erase it. The hunt was over. They crossed the place of the tree Hom and turned into a narrow street inhabited by small artisans and traders

66

a. Here the rabble had lived terribly, or rather "the people had expressed their justifiable indignation without immediately being able to get in their arms," as the bailiff's announcements put it. The pavement was littered with shards on which footsteps crunched. The windows of the shops were shattered and the curtains were blowing out of the windows that had been deprived of sashes. The streets were thickly covered with tattered fabrics and household goods that had been thrown down. In the silence, a woman could be heard sobbing. They slowly followed the road that wound up the mountain, occasionally kicking one of the objects with their foot. Once Mario lifted a heavy serving spoon from the rubble to examine it, dark designs etched into the silver. "Mario, throw that away," Lucius called to him. At the same moment cries for help came from a house whose door was half lifted from its hinges. They saw emerging from her a female figure dressed in the garb of housekeepers. Her skirt was torn from the armpit to the base of her neck, showing the white flesh of her shoulder. A tall, gaunt fellow hurried after her. He was of the sort one sees only on such days, and must have been late while most of the looters had already left. The fugitive and her pursuer passed as if on a hunt. The girl, obviously incapable of running fast, had to be seized after a few leaps like a dove by a hawk that follows her into the throng of markets. Lucius called it. He saw it startled, still blinded by the sudden crossing into the light, then it jumped up to him and grabbed his arm. The pursuer had already caught up with his prey and was tugging at her robe. "Strike!" Lucius shouted.

Costar raised the weapon in a blow that would have been fatal, but the victim turned his head at the last moment. So the steel-braided blow only tore his blouse

67

to shreds and cut him in the chest. He staggered and jumped back. Then he stared at his opponents, sniffing, undecided. He seldom liked to show himself in the light, for his face was parchment and wrinkled. The nostrils showed to their full length, and the mouth and eyes were carved into a mask as if with a knife. He seemed to memorize the group as if he were behind bars, then his eyes fell on the pistol that Mario casually and slightly smiling was holding at him with both hands like the mouthpiece of a fire engine. A sudden horror seemed to seize him at this sight - he stretched out his arms defensively. Then, with a whistle, he fled like a rat looking for its pack. "It was from Messer Grande's bottom drawer," Mario said, and put the gun back on. "I was just waiting for him to put his hand in his pocket." "An honest bullet is too good for such night men," grumbled Costar. "My memo will last a few weeks." 'Your handwriting is good, Costar,' praised Lucius. Then he turned to the girl who was still clutching his arm. It bore the good features of the people; a fringe of dark hair fell on his forehead like a foal. His horror hadn't left him yet, and thrusting as if to burst the bodice, his breast heaved, shining through the tear in the fabric. As if feeling the gaze on the skin, it covered the nakedness with its hand. Suddenly it began to sob: "What have I done? - I'm innocent. Am here with an old couple, with good people; who were hiding in the basement. The man is a doctor. I then went upstairs to check on the stove. Then the guy came in. I want to leave here at once, I want nothing more to do with the Parsis.” The men calmed her down. Lucius stroked her hair. She had an aunt in the upper town and wanted to seek protection there. She would have liked to have packed her bundle beforehand, but she didn't dare go back into the house until Mario accompanied her.'

68

"It's always the same: the vanquished has the plague in his body," murmured Lucius. After a while they came back. Mario carried her belongings in a narrow suitcase made of wicker. she had didn't forget the hat box and held it carefully in his left arm. On Sunday one could see these simple children on the Corso and with the Flamboyants; they were then hardly recognizable like butterflies that have crawled out of the chrysalis. They followed fashion with modest means, yet great taste. Four of them climbed the mountain and joked; it was very warm. At times there was a chill coming from the Neustadt. Lucius surreptitiously eyed his charge, who was chattering freely. Crying and laughing still seemed childish in this soul, like clouds and sun on a May day. She must have found time to sew up the dress with stitches that could hardly be traced. Lucius saw from the side the dark hair that fell on the forehead, beneath which the nose continued in a straight line, as it marked the women of the ancient -established type. The chisel had already formed the profile of Aphrodite, whose temple had once been the sanctuary instead of the cathedral. Beneath that, the mouth arched, slightly pricked, over the delicate chin. There was still a lot of spirit in the figure - nature spirit, Spring and youth power. He had often seen this image of a girl, at the edge of the Gulf and in the villages and islands where the vine was grown. The ancient harmony of the land was embodied in them, in these daughters of winegrowers and island farmers, of fishermen and gondola drivers who have always settled there. That was the sea in whose shells the pearls ripened; it was the soil from whose juices the grape swelled. After a few years they were then seen to run the farm vigorously; her upper lip was often adorned with a light down. They were also to be seen in the docks and as waitresses in the taverns that lined the road to the Red Cape—that mostly depended on the man, the on which to pull the vine. The ancient harmony of the land was embodied in them, in these daughters of winegrowers and island farmers, of fishermen and gondola drivers who have always settled there. That was the sea in whose shells the pearls ripened; it was the soil from whose juices the grape swelled. After a few years they were then seen to run the farm vigorously; her upper lip was often adorned with a light down. They were also to be seen in the docks and as waitresses in the taverns that lined the road to the Red Cape—that mostly depended on the man, the on which to pull the vine. The ancient harmony of the land was embodied in them, in these daughters of winegrowers and island farmers, of fishermen and gondola drivers who have always settled there. That was the sea in whose shells the pearls ripened; it was the soil from whose juices the grape swelled. After a few years they were then seen to run the farm vigorously; her upper lip was often adorned with a light down. They were also to be seen in the docks and as waitresses in the taverns that lined the road to the Red Cape—that mostly depended on the man, the After a few years they were then seen to run the farm vigorously; her upper lip was often adorned with a light down. They were also to be seen in the docks and as waitresses in the taverns that lined the road to the Red Cape—that mostly depended on the man, the After a few years they were then seen to run the farm vigorously; her upper lip was often adorned with a light down. They were also to be seen in the docks and as waitresses in the taverns that lined the road to the Red Cape—that mostly depended on the man, the

69

they met first. But always, whether the good spirit of the people or their evil was revealed in them, they were of great power. They were the good wives, the strong mothers; but they also led in the rebellion. This was preceded by the unawakened time when everything was there, almost stronger, but dreaming. The knowledge then fell like light on a landscape that has long been prefigured in darkness. They came to the stairway that separates the Upper Town from the Parsi Quarter. But it continued insofar as, in the course of time, not a few of its inhabitants had also settled upstairs, when wealth and reputation permitted it. The ascent was also expressed spatially. Above all, the Parsi banks and the luxury trade had their headquarters there. The stairway was cordoned off at its height by the proconsul's post. The eagle with the snake was planted on her. Shots had already been fired—either because the bandits wanted to gain access to the treasures of the upper town, or because they had used the stairs as an escape route. Dead bodies lay just in front of the barricade behind which the soldiers stood, and others were stretched out upside down on the steps. Slowly freezing, her blood dripped down the stone. A whiff of powder still hung in the air. They went up to the barricade. Lucius felt the girl grab his arm again. A corporal stepped out of the narrow passage and reported. Lucius asked his name and patted him on the shoulder: "The Herr Prokonsul will be pleased with you." The corporal, who called himself Calcar, laughed:

“This is work that doesn't count. We want to be able to show what we have learned.« Lucius nodded. The troops had been saved for too long. He felt better behind this barrier, where the guns were carried openly. Here there was still order in the violence that overran everything, even old conservativeness. Admittedly, right and wrong were far too closely intertwined for these simple people to be able to

70

was confused. The lowly had taken over the big words and disposed of them as it was useful to them. All attempts to reconnect with the old failed. Rulers replaced one another. The only hope left was that a just man would appear among them, as Augustus or Vespasian had been in similar confusion. In general, in the body, the connection, the salvation, had disappeared, but it was possible for individuals of high rank to replace violence with power and secure peace. For this reason the faith turned away from the institutions, which became partly ridiculous and partly terrible. He attached himself to men and gave them wonderful traits. Since the regent's departure, the proconsul and bailiff maintained a policy of balance, such as always returns in such situations. They both knew that the great blow could only come once, and if it failed, it would mean doom. They led step by step by gaining pace and position. If the bailiff entrenched himself in Castelmarino, the proconsul occupied Vinho del Mar; and the bailiff had the Parsi district plundered, so he came across points where there was fire. The game was tactical in that, for example, in this case the bailiff wanted to set the masses in motion, while the proconsul was concerned with the big banks like that of Scholwin and with securing the upper town. But beyond the concrete political, it was symbolic: the powers drew on one another. That was the big picture, reflecting the disintegration of unity. It was remarkable that it coincided with an enormous increase and expansion of power. In this sense it seemed to Lucius at times that something future was lurking within him. Thus once the great "of the world circle had feuded in that span which had preceded the turning point of time. The red color had a double meaning - the substance of the turmoil and the fires easily turned to purple, increased in it. But one could interpret the signs , as one wanted: one had to empty the cup as time offered. He liked death, he liked healing in his bitterness

71

ability. And Lucius had never doubted that a high physician prepared it.

The streets came alive. They could part now; Mario brought Melitta, for that was the girl's name, to her people, and Costar went ahead to announce her arrival to Donna Emilia. Melitta thanked her. Lucius joked: »We're happy to do that/ it was worth the effort. You can take one of us with you when you put on the hat and go to the islands. I've seen you there before." Melitta laughed.

“You must have been wrong about that. I'd rather say a rosary for you." Lucius turned onto Mithra Street. Magnificent buildings in the style of Indian castles alternated with rows of luxury shops, in front of which the iron gates opened again. An armored car rolled back to the palace. The sun was at its zenith. Blue and yellow sails shaded the displays. A curtain of spraying water was stretched out in front of a flower shop instead of a pane; fragrant coolness radiated from him. Then came Zerboni, the famous pie maker; Already in front of his tiny shop people were talking again about the breakfast wines to whet their appetite. The master with an enormous belly and a high white cap stood in the doorway and nodded to the guests. Then came the pearl and jewel dealers, the antique dealers in silver, carpets and porcelain. In front of a gate was written in simple letters: ANTONIO PERI Moroccan

72

You didn't see a shop window. It was a privilege to be served by Peri; one had to be recommended. The small workshop produced masterpieces, but in limited numbers. Lucius stepped into the hallway. He knew the entrance; Parsi signs protected him. When opened, a play of copper tubes sounded like bells. It was supposed to tell the master in his workshop that a visitor had entered the reception room — into a dimly lit cabinet filled with dark furniture. Armchairs with worn silk upholstery surrounded a round table on which a candlestick hung. Its shimmer was caught in the greenish background of old, curved mirrors and in the crystal of the showcases in which Peri kept the books. However, they did not show the back as in the libraries, but the surface, as a pattern for the bindings that the master planned with his customers - more carefully than the material and cut of magnificent garments is considered. Because these, as Peri used to say, wear out over the years, while a right binding is not only created for the centuries, but also embellishes itself in the course of it, so that the artist can only guess at the highest impression of his work. It is not only time that constantly softens the raw shine of the gold, mutes the colors, smoothes the pores of the leather - it is also the human hand that continues to work on the volumes by reaching out to them again and again. The sons and grandchildren continue the work of their fathers. Also the books are enriched by possession, impregnated with love. Peri claimed that their nameless history was the most important thing about them. So he placed them around him like dark mirrors whose radiance woven through space. The magical substance, imagined in the works by long withered hands, was more important to him than details of technique or even the spirituality of style. A lot belonged to his trade - knowledge of the materials and writings, the ultimate subtlety of which cannot be learned but is passed on from father to son in the old shops, instinct for that delicate tendril of lines, the guidance of which distinguishes the epochs, and that with

73

ing to the mind like melodies heard in an old cemetery and the connection with the literatures of the peoples and their science. And finally the small circle of connoisseurs, collectors and initiates was needed, for whom, supported by leisure and inherited wealth, dealing with exquisite things had become a need, second nature. Workshops like Peri's hidden blossoms and their patrons resembled bees, which at the same time sought and fertilized honey. Among them were the proconsul and his closest circle. The sight of the books was beneficial. Lucius thought with horror that this collection of specimens might fall victim to vortices like the one he had just witnessed. A brute stroke would suffice to sweep away the splendor that was like the dust on butterfly wings. The mob did it with pleasure. There stood the parchments whose freshness had matured over many hundred years to the color of honey and old ivory. The finest had papal coats of arms, such as a Psaltery, of which Peri used to say that the highly famous Pentateuch, which Eleazar had donated to Ptolemy Philadelphus on the day of the naval victory over Antigonos, could scarcely have been more precious.

Also to be studied here was the scale in which colors fade and fade over the years—from apple green to dull malachite, from cherry to raspberry, from burgundy to blush passe. The tones soothed, pacified the senses; they echoed the rich chords of bygone times in gentle vibrations. There were the spectra of the gold lacquer that glowed velvety, and the delicate night colors of the levee in the deserted park. The dull gold of the coats of arms glowed on all of them, the knowledge of which meant a science in itself. Who knew all the green and dead branches in this forest? The spell penetrated him powerfully. One could still live in the libraries, just as one could still live on the sea shore in the study of animals. The treasure, the times and

74

peoples had left behind was still inexhaustible, despite the fireworks, still enormous. When you consider how much effort, love, and care it takes to becomeonebook had cost, and how many forces had to work together to give birth to it, then one was shocked at the sight of the massif that had arisen layer by layer in the precipitation of the spirit and its currents. The hour may come when the victory of the lower powers was irrevocable. Then one would have to try to live as in the Museion in Alexandria. There was no lack of diadochi. And contemplating even one of the facets that the spirit had ground into the philosopher's stone gave a short one Human lives full of occupation and contentment. The world was still infinite as long as you kept the scale within you; time remained inexhaustible as long as one held the cup in one's hand.

A red curtain separated the workshop from the reception room. A bitter breath of poppies rippled through him. He had communicated himself to the materials and books. Antonio Peri, like many Parsis, loved opium and its inspiration. The oppressed often seek out the world of dreams. Engrossed in contemplating the ancient books and coats of arms, Lucius barely noticed the portiere opening. He thought he saw the master with the round skullcap he wore to work and his hands slightly raised, glittering with gold leaf. Instead, he saw a young woman face him, staring at him impassively. Lucius also stared at her in silence, concerned. It seemed as if the Cabinet had been filled with a strong spell. The stranger was petite; the dark hairdo framed a face of clear regularity, as seen in the cameos. Nothing

75

apart from the Kosti, their features and clothing indicated Parsi descent. The caste mark on the forehead was also missing. She might be beautiful and certainly was graceful, but she lacked the exotic element. But what was it that astonished him most about her? With both hands she held the portiere in front of which she was standing, like a child holding the folds of its mother's robe. And Lucius guessed that it was fear that held her—the silent passion of fear. Thus, with finer organs one might perhaps hear the language of the flowers—the touch of the sense herb when the reaper's sickle twinkles. He had never seen fear so strong, so undisguised—it was like a touch that shook the body from within, from the marrow of life. He looked down at himself as if to check what was terrible about him. He saw the uniform and understood that in this place and on this day of persecution it might mean death, annihilation. Therefore he hastened to say: 'My name is de Geer. I'll drop by to greet Master Peri and see how he's doing." The words seemed to break the spell at once; it was as if they lifted the addressed person from her rigid state and breathed life into her. The fingers came loose from the red velvet. The room lost its tension; it was as if the curtain that had risen was falling again. The radiance of the books and the green mirrors filled him. But Lucius heard the heartbeat in the voice that answered him: "Please take a seat. My name is Budur Peri—my uncle has gone to the palace; the Herr Prokonsul sent for him. But he told me yesterday that the cassette was ready — please wait a moment.” She went to the workshop where Peri kept the manuscripts entrusted to him under secure locks. It was like the proconsul to occupy himself with his library on such a day. In his environment, some took this quality for weakness, others for a sign of superiority, for one

76

train of the great lord. There might be some truth in both. Lucius loved this lightness. A prince of such rank works less through his work than through his existence. Budur Peri re-entered and handed him a slim red morocco case. "My uncle hopes you are satisfied." He opened the box, the one only a few sheets thick. handwriting. They were fragments from Heinse's posthumous notebooks: the plan for a Renaissance novel. 'A beautiful manuscript. I'm glad it found the setting it deserves." He ran his fingertips, as if to wipe them away, over a slight ripple left in the leather. "Your uncle tells you that he could have smoothed out this spot by pressing harder, but he wanted to leave it as it grew." 'And he was right about it. The skin is not armor; it is a sense and respiratory organ. You have to see the pores.” The jewelry Peri had used was sparse and limited to a narrow border. Like all the work he carried out for Lucius, both sides also showed the coat of arms: a spear with the motto "de ger trift". "A nice motto, Herr de Geer - your name probably indicates Franconian descent?" 'It might seem so - meanwhile we derive ourselves from old Saxon origins. The 'de' is a nominative, but we have had Franconian marriages so often that this knowledge has almost been lost.« He pointed to the symbol around which the banner was wrapped: 'The point of the spear is very similar. It used to be shaped simply as a rhombus and only gradually took on the lily shape that you see here. It was first used as a weapon for striking down opponents and for killing deer and boar in the great forests, then as an embroidery on court robes.

77

changed and has now become an ornament that can be printed on business cards and book covers. Sic transit gloria.« 'I think you say that with regret and should be thankful to your Frankish mothers. I say this even though my mother is also from the north. One gets the impression that the Saxons have remained pretty wild.” 'That's perhaps the best thing about this time. We ought to have a quiet talk about it when I come by again.” "Yes gladly. Come for tea. My uncle will be happy; he has already told me a great deal about your conversations. I would then also like to ask you about Heinse: that fits in perfectly with my subject — I did my PhD with Fernkorn.' Lucius rose. 'I just saw him. It is said that in these days he will speak about the birth of the sovereign individual.« 'It's his hobby. Wait, I'll make you another packet of it." She shook her head. 'No, the fear I endured through all this - I was ashamed of myself. You're as helpless as a child. Do you think it's over now?' Lucius reassured her:

'You may be sure of that. Zerboni is already serving up pies again. And if you feel unsure, give me a call. You will find a friend in me." "I'm sure you say that out of politeness." He held out his hand:

"You can take my word for it."

78

IN THE PALACE

As Lucius entered the palace, the all clear signs in the corridors announced the end of the alarm. Even with minor disturbances, caution was advised; the fuel was so concentrated that even the smallest spark was dangerous. The antechamber was still filled with people waiting. It was Saturday, everyone was in a hurry to collect the last signatures and orders so that they could enjoy the free afternoon at leisure on the Corso or at Vinho del Mar. On such days one lived with special pleasure. Theresa announced him. The boss was already waiting for him. The workroom was sober; a large dark desk and a few armchairs made up the furniture. The wall decoration was a painting of the proconsul, next to it maps and the city plan of Heliopolis, densely decorated with little colored flags. The desk was bare except for a narrow sheaf of files and the house phone. But he was adorned with a bouquet of lilies. The mirror surface of the permanent film was stretched out opposite him. The chief had been in charge of the proconsul's affairs for about a year. Like all Burgenlanders, he had started with the hunters on horseback and still wore their costume. Among his confidants he was considered the best brain. He easily mastered the work that caused Nieschlag, his predecessor, to collapse. And yet he was never seen in a hurry, never tense. The gift that enabled him to combine lightness and maximum effect lay in the fact that he was in a sovereign position at the time. Business never pushed him at its pace, upsetting him or even driving him into a corner. They approached him docilely, like questions that he left alone or that he decided when the hour seemed opportune

79

held. They offered themselves not with the blade but with the handle. So he always made decisions freely, never under compulsion, and this freedom was also communicated to those around him. The dark things around him seemed to become clearer, the paths to simplify. In that year he had reshaped the staff according to his will and goals. Under Nieschlag, the ideal of service was the perfect understanding and penetration of its details "Genius is work" was his favorite word. The lecture, the discussion, the reports therefore led into endless details. His tendency was to dissect the object in such a way that the consequences emerged from it. He sought the decision in the material, as if it were contained therein like an immanent truth and could be fathomed from it. Therefore, he insisted on extensive and precise documentation and, like all those who had difficulty making up their minds, preferred the written procedure. The lamp shone with him until late at night; he also took piles of files into the apartment with him. In this way he created an excellent working office for the proconsul. The power struggle, of course, took place beyond his files and registries. It was fortunate that things had remained largely calm during his era. The new boss, on the other hand, cleaned up the files. The extensive bundles that Nieschlag had requested were returned to the sender unread. Very soon he achieved that the folder that Theresa had to put on his desk that morning was extremely thin, as the quintessence of what was happening in his area of command, stripped of all details. That was the only thing he considered a top priority. He also informed his people of their own decision. "I'd rather cover up a mistake than excuse an evasion of responsibility." He viewed the sedentary life, the rotation of the civil servant, as fatal and never allowed a reference to the files where an on-the-spot inspection had been possible . As an old hunter on horseback, he thought highly of horseback riding and demanded that the service be a long ride, everyday and in any weather

80

in the jumping garden, be it on the beach or on the Pagos. Above all, he insisted on the rosters of the war school. "If you want to lead an artistic life," he used to say, "then it's good to go near works of art and beautiful things and not let yourself be disturbed by the tranquility. However, if you want to rule, it is good to start the day on horseback and in front of the front.« He valued plastic knowledge of the powers and good weather. A Mauritanian breakfast could be more important than all the hustle and bustle. He also made sure that every now and then they had a drink together. He sought out the garrisons, spun threads to the provinces beyond the Hesperides. One could tell by his nature that he was formed partly on his own ground and partly in the field camp. There was an inherent quality of ancestral freedom that gave him immediate authority. This enabled him to resist the intrigues of the hopelessly tamed man and his beaters, indeed to lead in this resistance. Lucius made his report. The boss got up and shook his hand. 'It's good to have you back. We were worried about you. The proconsul is also expecting you.”

He pointed to a chair and paused the permanent film showing the landing of the Blue Aviso. Then he started the atomizer. 'Theresa, bring us some tea and say 'outside it's going to be a while. It is quite good if the company does not come to the winegrowers so early. And now tell me, de Geer. What is Burgenland doing? Are the old walls still standing?” Lucius sat down opposite him and reported. He knew the general's ancestral seat like all the houses in Burgenland and had visited it. The old walls were still standing, but they were becoming more and more fragile. The rocks were hollowed out like honeycombs from tombs; one had to fear that they would break in. Tradition consumed them. Even on the farms in the depths one still met the old

81

Life, or at least almost the old one—because some of the new ideas made their way into Burgenland in the form of shadows. It is true that their influence and especially their technique would never become effective there, but they disturbed the splendor and the impartiality of the traditional. It started with the head—you heard something like that among the young people in the salons. On the whole, however, everything was still in good order, and beyond the Hesperides there was still room for a dignified, even princely existence.

Most even thought of locking themselves up in the castles even more tightly than before. So he, Lucius, was accused of wanting to get involved in quarrels in Heliopolis and elsewhere, from which fame could not be reaped. One should completely turn away from this hustle and bustle. Politics there has sunk to mere mechanics, without characters and without content apart from plebeian violence. One should therefore isolate oneself in the inalienable seats in good company, till the land, hunt, fish, devote oneself to the fine arts and the cult of ancestral tombs, as has always been customary and praiseworthy. The other is the foam of time, a crater that burns up in itself, leaving no story behind. What Heraclitus said of the Ephesians applies to these kingdoms: they are worthless, that one devises new laws for their continued existence. The good heads and blades of Burgenland are too good for this game. “I know those sayings well enough, my dear de Geer. They are the same that have been repeated there since Olim's time. I hope you gave the manger setters the proper notice.” 'I did what I could, Chief, to explain our situation, which is not easy. I also left no doubt about our opinion: that although Burgenland is one of our inalienable possessions and property, and that it will always remain our last resort, we are also obliged here.Wecan elude us, and the freedom of other regions always beckons to us, but that is precisely why the thought of the lifeboats is least befitting of us. We who still know what freedom is and who have it as an inheritance

82

are in a position, precisely because of this knowledge, to also donate and realize freedom. This is not only a gift, it is also a mission.« The boss raised his hand and Lucius felt he had gotten too warm. He interrupted himself: “But may I ask what has happened here in the meantime? At the Casteletto we drove past a dead man like an entry sign and then got into the crowds in the old town.« The boss pointed out the permanent film:

“The body was reported and found by the Vinho del Mar spies early in the morning. They saw the guards of the Casteletto laying it out. Now he's caught up again. So it is probably a private performance that Messer Grande gave to his fellow travelers. The looting in the Parsenviertel, on the other hand, is intended to freshen up the general situation. I expect the unrest to increase and spread. Agents we have planted in the Central Office report that a Parsi department has been set up there, headed by a Doctor Beckett. Much will be read about parsing in the popular press now; and brochures are also to be printed.« "What are they being told?" “Pretty much everything that has been customary on such occasions since the times of the old man from the mountains, and a little more.” "Isn't there anything you can do for these people?"

“At most on a case-by-case basis, as part of general security. The parses are not a cheap object for initiating larger actions. We hope that the bailiff will offer more worthwhile nakedness. The Parsis have become no less unpopular here than they were within Islam, and they have retained customs that are strange. Then there are the pawnshops, the petty usurers and the banks, and finally not everything that is said about their hotels and spas is a lie. In order not to lag behind Messer Grande, I have one here in the house too

83

appointed a consultant for Parsica. You can get information there if the fate of the people is important to you." He smiled and put the nebulizer down. 'Now rest from your journey. You still have a lot to do today. Donna Emilia will have looked after you.” He brought Lucius to the door. There he took his arm and said softly: 'Your Asturian reports have been submitted to the proconsul. He's happy with it. News has also come from Dom Pedro. The prince now wants a general assessment of the situation; without details and as soon as possible. He wants your opinion because you know the details of the trial and because he values your judgment. You must consult the night; I'll present the expose tomorrow at the lecture. Also keep yourself available if verbal explanation is ordered.”

The conversation had taken place on the ground floor, which in two massive wings contained the proconsul's apartment and the more important offices. Lucius now walked up the wide staircase to the upper floors. The officers and officials who worked in the palace lived here - some in rooms that lined up in long rows, some in closed dwellings. The often numerous guests of the prince were also accommodated here. It had required major renovations to set up the wealth of rooms and halls that had been necessary. Utility rooms and kitchens were also blown in. It was a kind of barracks, for in the past people had lived in scattered houses in the city and its suburbs. The situation no longer allowed that. But the proconsul had spared no expense,

84

found in the new town and in the villa districts. Even a small theater was not missing. Lucius lived in the aviary—that was the name of a piece of annexe under the palace's battlement, from which there was a wide open view of the sea. The name came from the fact that the glass roofs of studios gave the bay window the shape of a birdcage, and also from the fact that the proconsul, who loved to associate with artists and philosophers, liked to see them as guests in the attic of his house. Lucius felt comfortable in the aviary. The height, the wide view, and a cheerfulness otherwise alien to the dark building, reminded him of Burgenland. He had felt at home here since returning to service. It hadn't been easy getting back into strict form after many years of independence. In his conduct of life he had assumed the same standard which also creates a kind of household for the unmarried. He loved his books, his furniture, the lonely walk and now and then a glass with a good, clear spirit that had not yet lost its astonishment. It was all here. The entrance to his apartment was twisted and broken in the old stone; it led through a small hallway. From there you went straight into the workroom, which was adjoined to the left by a bedroom and bathroom. They were repeated symmetrically on the right, where they were intended for guests. This was adjoined by attic and storage rooms, including a tack room. A covered balcony was nice during the heat. Lucius didn't love the air conditioner. When the north wind blew, a small fireplace lined with thermal bronze served him. Two more cabinets were recently separated from the workroom, namely the kitchen and the armored cell, the use of which was prescribed for the proconsul's employees after the great espionage affair that Messer Grande had instigated. It was so big that Lucius could read and write in it like in a ship's cabin - he kept secret papers in its compartments

85

also his diaries and the manuscripts that he had bound by Antonio Peri. And as for the kitchen, it was more of a sideboard for heating or cooling food he had Costar or Donna Emilia fetch. Her showpiece was an oval slab of thermal bronze secured by a frame of porcelain. The scale led through all degrees of heat and cold that are gastronomically desirable. As Lucius entered, he was met by Alamut, the black cat whom Donna Emilia put in Ortner's house when he was away. Lucius appreciated his philosophical company and felt the work thrive when he was around. Donna Emilia had put flowers on the table. She stepped out of the balcony door and greeted him. Donna Emilia might have been about fifty years old. One did not know who her parents were; Lucius' father found her as a child in a Campania village that had been murdered by partisans and took her to Burgenland. There she grew up in the family. She had mentored Lucius and later taken a man who traded in the islands. After his death she had returned and since his move she had been running the household for Lucius. Costar, who served him personally, also came from Burgenland; he came from one of the small farms around the Jaspersburg. Lucius took Donna Emilia and Costar with him in his capacity as a free Burgenlander; they were honored from his funds. Mario, on the other hand, his charioteer, was assigned to him on official duty and his relation to him was not one of fiefdom but of discipline. Donna Emilia and Costar lived in the same wing; Mario, on the other hand, near the carriage park attached to the palace. The phonophores of the first two were connected to Lucius's; and Mario wore the usual service gear. There was a knock and Halder entered the room, a young painter with whom Lucius was close. He was one of the artists to whom the proconsul had assigned the aviary; enjoyed in his studio

86

you get the most beautiful view of the sea city. However, like the others, he did not stay in the palace all the time; Nor had he given up his old job, a little house in a farm garden, in Wolters's establishment. He stepped up to Lucius and squeezed his hand. 'I heard from Donna Emilia that you're back and I don't want to disturb you, because I'm sure you're busy. It so happens that tomorrow evening I'm celebrating my birthday in the aviary, and I would like to ask you to be there. Ortner and Serner will also take part.«

'I'll be happy to come if the proconsul doesn't have me. You know, Halder, how much I enjoy your company.” Costar arrived and unpacked the bags. Mario ordered that Melitta had found her family and thanked them again. Donna Emilia let the secret powers of the bronze plate play and set up pans and cans. Messengers came with orders, a bouquet of flowers arrived, the mail, which had piled up, came. The voyage to the Hesperides was over, and life in this great house began anew.

He'd eaten, checked the mail, swapped his uniform for a dressing gown. It was getting dark; on the balconies the red flowers grew brighter. The swallows, who had wasted the day in the light, sought the nests on the battlements, and were relieved by large bats. Lights came on in the harbour, in the city, and on the sea. Donna Emilia stood in front of the bronze plate and let the tea steep until the infusion shone a dark reddish brown. Lucius had ordered him for the night. The day had been long and rich in images. Donna Emilia set out the dishes and wished him good night.

87

Lucius used to only open the armored cell when he was alone in the room. A password was to be used to make the lock visible; a second to unlock it, and then the heavy door sprang open with a faint whistling sound. He put the key inside and turned on the lamp and the air vent. He took the tea and locked himself away to work in the company of Alamut. From a dark box he took a stack of brownish-tinted paper, each sheet of which was printed in luminous paint: 'Warning! Flammable! Not in the light of day!' It was an invention that had been made in the house. Its main purpose was an educational one:shewas intended to ensure that the files were only written and read in the armored cells. Then, in the event of theft or loss, the recording should be automatically destroyed before it could be read. The boss, on the other hand, said the real advantage of these flammablesoaked sheets was that they caused widespread file fires. He had introduced them at the urging of Sievers, the head fireworker, whom he regarded as a pyrotechnic genius. In this case, however, Lucius considered their use appropriate. On the left-hand side he wrote the words "Only for chief and proconsul" and then began the report, first in shorthand: 'The details of the audiences granted me by the head of state, Dom Pedro, and of the discussions with his aide are known. See Courier Reports I to V. They should be confirmed and supplemented by Dom Pedro's memorandum. It should be added that the secret can be considered to be kept for all sections, including the outward and return journey. I therefore turn to the assessment of the situation. It may be taken for granted that before the year is out Dom Pedro will overthrow the existing government and replace it with his men. It is probable that plans which go beyond the borders of Asturias are already well past the stage of consideration. Also independent of this are

88

anticipate windings. The coup d'etat necessarily calls the people's parties into action in all countries and provinces. For this reason, Dom Pedro is interested in their weakening or even annihilation. He will strive for them as far as arms reach; he also seeks allies. He also hopes that the proconsul will consider the opportunity favorable not only to do away with the bailiff, but also with the demos who is supporting him. In order to win this help, he is willing to make material and human sacrifices, which will certainly exceed the proposal that Asturia III details at length. It now had to be clarified whether there was an identity between the position of the proconsul and that of Dom Pedro and whether there was reason to operate together. Dom Pedro and his Adlatus are convinced of it. It has been objected, however, that the enemies of our enemies are not necessarily our friends. The goals of the proconsul are rather different. They are also more comprehensive. He would endanger them by engaging in actions below his rank and not taking the whole into account. But that would be to be feared if he merely identified himself with one of the parties in the civil war and sought to culminate with it, if one wants to understand the word in Clausewitz's sense. It could only be hinted at that the proconsul would not get involved in a mere coup d'état even when there was no doubt that it would succeed. Neither the men, nor the methods, nor the ideas of Dom Pedro lead beyond the framework of a dictatorship. Sheer will speaks from his plans; it protects no shred of legal, let alone legitimate, power from the ravages of time. This does not preclude participation in these plans. Their failure would also have repercussions on Heliopolis. For this reason, it is strongly recommended that it be consolidated politically. What is sacrificed in terms of potestas will appear as auctoritas. In this case, the proconsul can be counted on.

89

In contrast, the Adlatus asserted that violence had begun on the other side. Rather, one should speak of self-defence, of rebellion against the many-headed tyrant, who is afflicted with the shame of countless misdeeds. The mere majority only gives the title for the legalization of the crime. The able are in the minority, the knowledge of what is right only among the few. To this point the discussion returned. It reflected the situation in which we have long been caught up in the fact that the dictatorship of the masses alternates with that of the individual. One always produces the other. The two powerful forces of the right and the left, instead of complementing and promoting each other as they used to, they have entangled themselves in a fratricidal struggle. In this position they have lost the meaning that only relation to the whole can give. The new history can be interpreted in such a way that after the fall of the old monarchies the body of the peoples tries to form a head again. But the restored monarchy is like the dream conceived by the will. The great individuals bring with them the passions of the civil war that breeds them. They lead the peoples to slaughter. The dominion of the many, on the other hand, elevates baseliness to permanence. Before this spectacle, the question arises as to what the individual can still change. You see the best turning away. The gaze necessarily attaches itself to the men who become visible. These men can come from the people and be among those in whom the constitution acquires personality. They can also belong to the senatorial families, the ancient families of hereditary rank. In the highest case, as in Caesar and later in the Regent, both qualities can unite in one head. That raised him above Sulla and Marius. Now, since the regent's departure, there are few points that provide an overview of the world and few spirits that are called upon to conduct big business. They are screened out by a series of decisions. It seems that the Asturian

90

coup will lead to such a preliminary decision. He will be accompanied by trades in other provinces and also in Heliopolis. Figures of the rank of Galba, Otho, Vitellius will appear. The question remains whether a Vespasian stands in the background. It is foreseeable that Dom Pedro's attempt will fail, like every movement based on subtle elemental power. It is also a counterstrike, afflicted with all the weaknesses of the reaction. At best he will achieve an artificial stabilization, a galvanizing of disorder, and even then only for a certain time. If the proconsul agrees with this view, he will not approve of the enterprise, perhaps even explicitly disapprove of it. It can be foreseen that this will increase the danger, but at the same time there is a sign of strength; it would become evident that action is being taken according to maxims that are superior to those of the parties. He is not weak who refuses cheap opportunities. Destiny is getting stronger, knocking at his door more necessary. A high spirit like the proconsul is dependent on the fact that there is still a sense of justice, no matter how finely divided it may be in the chaos. If so, he will become more and more visible until the moment he is called. Novalis's saying applies here that things that are rushed easily turn into their opposite. In the conversations in the palace one often hears the opinion that the knowledge of what is right among the people has completely died out and that fear has taken its place. And this raises the question of how one should behave when justice as an immanent power no longer exists. The answer can only be that it is then to be sought on a transcendental path 'in the stars'. That can mean that you have to lead the young team to points that are considered purely political, even earthly, without prospects. Here knighthood would become witness, as in Sunmyra's time. The prince does not share this prognosis. The world is so ordered that the wretched does not triumph in the long run. But you should

91

focus on the absolute. You should always aim higher than the target. Only he is up to any post who knows how to hold on to a lost position. In practical terms, this means that we must continue to educate ourselves both in the craft of weapons and in the sense of knightly virtues. The concept of power was to be clarified, expanded, and driven down to its theological foundation, especially at the war school. We should also continue to strive to win the spirits who keep in mind the beautiful, true, and genuine that adorns the earth. We have to support and protect the artistic person, the artist and the free thinker, wherever need and hostility beset them - even in cases that are not politically advantageous, yes, in which they seem to be opponents. Also in the palace there should always be refuge for the weak and oppressed. In this way strength will flow in daily—in the influx of that invisible power on which the visible rests. Capital will become so large that it will have an effect of its own accord through its sheer existence.«

He had written these pages almost as fast as one speaks. Things were familiar to him. Now he put Alatnut on the ground, who had set himself up on his knees, and turned on the nebulizer. He opened the cell and stepped out onto the loggia. The lights had dimmed; a warm night wind blew from the sea. Then he returned to the narrow space. After making sure the phonophore was secure, he went through the sheets in a low voice, hesitantly at times. He had the impression that the content, especially at the end, had become too personal for an official letter.

92

'I should reserve that for the lecture to the prince; the boss doesn't like reflections.« He also suppressed the reference to the war school; that was a sore point. The deletions and corrections took more time than the writing. This was followed by the transcription with a small machine and finally the burning of the manuscript. Then he rolled up the leaves and carefully sealed them in a dark sleeve. As was often the case when working at night, he felt a strange alertness that seized him before the cock crowed. The will weakened; the view won. Things came out in the clearest possible way, as if they were given the power of speech. He would then pace up and down, now looking at a picture, now opening one of the books and leafing through it. It seemed as if the thoughts would then come of their own accord; they crowded in front of his door and knocked softly. A bird woke up outside probably covered the naked boys with his wings; his call was still dreamy, still maternal and nocturnal, and yet it already announced the approach of day, as the first love greeting. His eyes fell on the Heinse; he had only glanced at him at Peri's. Now he took it out of its wrapping to enjoy it at leisure. He examined the narrow gold border of the frame, which had been meanderingly applied to the leather with the cold iron without any cracks or flaws. Certainly the leitmotif on which this melody of life was based was struck with the pattern: strangely intricate, but carried out in an antique manner. Like many great Germans, the Greeks had given it the form—the goblet for the wine that was too strong, the wild lifeblood. This too had always been in danger of dissolving in the elements like Grabbe and so many others. But there were marvelous passages that would hold; Isles of supreme clarity rose from the intoxicated sea. For example the description of the wedding night in Ardinghello,

93

bride and her playmates. That was poetry at the edge of the cliff, symphonic arrangement of beauty and danger. Sometimes one of the fleeting race borrowed the eyes of the immortals and watched with lust how the dark waves of life were transformed in the moist crystal. That stood the test of time. He opened the box and spread out the closely written sheets. Who knew the fate of such a manuscript that had come down to this day through wars, fires, and great fires? Already in Sömmering's time, who inherited the estate, the only remaining manuscript of the actual opus was the »Kirschen«, a youth work in the style of Grecourt. It was lucky that the diaries had been found and printed after the first of the great catastrophes. They added something essential to the phenomenon. Lucius held to his small collection of manuscripts as one held to relics in other times. In the printed book he saw the author's conversation with the reader and with the society of his time; in the manuscript, on the other hand, he saw his conversation with himself - yes, even more, his conversation with God. In every author worthy of the name lived a will aimed at the whole, a spark of creative power. And in the production, throwing it all in, he appeared before his terrible judge, with the utmost freedom, before the verdict was passed. The manuscript—that, for Lucius, was the delicious dross left behind by those fires, the melting, the annihilation, and the purification of the spirit. And then the designs, the bold plans. In some respects they still skimmed the masterpieces, just as the idea always remains unattainable. This novel was also never executed. But the few leaves showed the claws of the griffin, which had fled Father Gleim's soft nest. The strife of the hostile houses of Orsina and Colonna in the Rome of the sixth Alexander formed the background. There was already the full grasp of the sovereign individual, the great theme of Gobineau and Sten-

94

dhal, the Burckhardt, Nietzsche and all the others. The gleam of the terrible beacons shone ahead. There it was: 'I'm not coming back. I have rolled into a new sphere, brother, and must make way for me, clear the way of powerful rabble, or plunge into the abyss. My work begins, the game is over. Do you still slumber, soon the day will dawn for you too. Next week I'm going to Rome, Borgia, Florence." Napoleon was then twelve years old, and Mirabeau was already past her first madness. The golden clockwork of Versailles was still playing. But one already knew the »Götz von Berlichingen« and »Sturm und Drang«. And had the tremendous decision that was made with Werther's suicide been noticed to this day? Ghosts like Fernkorn were on the trail. There is no doubt that the French had grasped the great turning point more clearly at that time, but the Germans more deeply, as a flood from the elementary realm. That was the difference between seeing the mesh of the net and the fish playing. And then the deletions, the overwrites, the restores. First there were "the reddest grapes," then "the reddened ones." And here: »I felt the warmth of life and it penetrated me likeglow and flame"— that was replaced by "like blow and weather." He refolded the sheets and put them back in the box with the "de ger trift." Aiming for words was the highest art of marksmanship. Of course one would never reach the center—it lay in the ideal, inextended point. But the arrangement of the arrows pointed to the author's relationship to the invisible target. That remained his indispensable profession throughout the changing eons: using words to focus on the unspeakable, using sounds on the unheard-of harmonies, using marble on the light-hearted regions, using colors on the. unearthly shine. The most he could achieve was transparency. Therefore his office in the midst of destruction was particularly great, more necessary than ever.

95

After looking at it again, he put the volume back. Who knew how soon he, too, was destined to burst into flames in this heliopolis where hostile powers lived side by side as in the ancient castles of Florence. The relationship to property had also become strange; one had to detach one's heart from him in good time so that it would not be too severely affected by the loss. And yet there was also an increase in it - the charm of the fugitive in the colorful dust, his allegorical rank. It became clear that one could only own what could not be lost, what was indestructible about things. In the same way one wore the body and the woven material of the senses - as only a borrowed garment. And just the threat awakened a new, strong sense of life. He thought of Budur Peri and the strong impression he had had of her. There had been a kind of strength in her weakness, but a different strength than he was accustomed to. It was the power of children; she called for concern, for protection. Time allowed people to meet more deeply than in order; they met as if on ships whose planks had come loose. One had to grant one another higher things, refuse more decisive ones than before on solid ground. "I'll do some thinking for you here," he decided to himself.

Again he stepped out onto the balcony. The houses and palaces lay still now in the morning light. From the Corso, from the Avenue des Flamboyants and from the broad street of the Regents, the foliage of the trees shone with the clearest, spiritual green that adorns the beginning of the day. A flock of doves circled above the roofs, their breasts rosy painted by the still invisible sun. A light glass lay on the sea, causing the outline of the islands to tremble.

96

Otherwise, at this hour, one could see the red, rectangular sails of the fishing boats returning from the night's catch; today, on Sunday, they were missing. But the bright and pointed wings of the yachts were already appearing. You could hear the first steps in the palace. It was the hour when the boss ordered coffee to be served during night work or the symposia. Lucius still felt fresh. Wakefulness revived him after such nights as the power of the bow revives the arrow that flies lightly until it hits the ground. Fatigue did not take hold of him until the afternoon, but then it became imperative. He skimmed through the diary notes he had made during the trip — they awaited transposition into the journal. During the sea voyage he had begun a new section in it, with a self-portrait. He was inspired by Larochefoucauld's famous incident, the short prose piece, beginning with the sentence: "Je suis d'une taille mediocre, libre et bien proportionée," one of the great markers on man's journey of discovery through his inner world , which in turn had been preceded by Montaigne. To be sure, the painter's means had long since become more conducive to such experiments than those of the sculptor. The characters had unraveled in a way that required the brushstroke. But the consciousness had increased immensely, had penetrated the darkness of the shafts like a pit light. This gave the double light that enlightened the regions of the dream, even of myth as the dream of nations, as never before. Just as physics had advanced to the atoms, so the individual descended to the primal particles of himself. Destruction, but perhaps also an attack of tremendous forces might be the result. Lucius skimmed one of the passages he had stenographed for later elaboration:

» - - - - then about love, relationship to her. The species—Stendhal's classification is pure sociology. There is only one love, beyond time and space, all encounters on earth are parables, are colors of the one and indivisible light. The love in

97

stretched, in the vortices of time is earthly, is Neptunian; the ocean is the cradle from which Aphrodite rises. From its abyss flows what is wave and rhythm, tension and mixture, magnificent and terrible about it. On the sea shore and on the cliffs we hear her nameless, her fateful song, the deep sounds of sirens that lure us to lose ourselves in her sea, rising and setting. We are irresistibly drawn there. I went out with the fishermen at the time when the great shoals are approaching the shore. From afar, as if attracted by fiery magnets, they strive towards the wedding grounds. They put on the colors of the gemstones for the bridal jewelry. Back to back they are seen standing in legions around the keels of the boats, their scales glistening. The floods in which milk and roe mix seem to boil, to surge with the ardor of love. The eye cannot distinguish what is body and what is wave. And all around are the nets of death stretched out. We must know that all this is only a reflection of astral love. It reigns in the unextended, metaphysically, striking us from an immense distance with an invisible ray. In it rests what is high, what is eternal, what cannot be lost in the encounter. The foams are consecrated by them. The Neptunian element reigns supreme on the colorful surface of this world. It urges nameless touches in the swarm. The level of the encounter depends on the astral destiny. The Highest follow the Law of Parallels; they never intersect on earth. Their point of intersection is at infinity. There are so few famous lovers that one can count them on the fingers. Earthly misfortune is their mark. Like Dante and Beatrice, they meet on the bridge over the river of time. My friends claim that my upbringing in Burgenland damaged me and that it left a kind of Spaniards on my being like a scar. There is something right about that. I loved solitude, but it was not inanimate. The beauty and the great unity of the Creator and the creatures have never been closer to me, ever

98

more aware. I think of the rides in Burgenland in May and June, when nature opened up like a solemn hall. The meadows shone in the green of life. And the blossoming trees shone shimmering, so richly stared that hardly a leaf was visible in the white. Looking at it, I felt that the "core" of language is silence, just as the core of light is invisible radiance. So too is the axis of the wheel, still and timeless, which is repeated in alternation. And yet it seemed to me , as if a breath of this plant language became understandable to me and enlivened me - of this quiet glow that is sufficient in itself. And then the forests, their dreamy darkness, in which one is afraid of missing the times like the monk from Heisterbach. Her deep green mossy beam. I rested in the resinous ground, the scent of clematis wafted from the thicket. The trickling of the cuckoo, the trilling of the woodpeckers, the laughter of the turtledove—each of these calls knocked at the secret gates, pulled deeper into the magic spell. what is the forest Is it the trees, the flowers, is it the roots, the branches,(is it the animals that enliven it, is it the light and the shadows that bar it, is it the wind that plays in the crowns like harps and organs? Is it a place in the cosmos or an image of the inside, one of the soul's great dialogues about life and death? We will never fathom such words; they reflect the super-reality of the illusions on which reality feeds. It was on such days that I crossed Asteria's path, whether on one of the avenues that lead to the woods or in the open country. She rode in a light blue bodice that hugged her body, with her hair loose. We seldom touched each other so close that I could say hello, for I avoided her from afar. She seemed to me more powerful than all men, like goddesses of war. Was it Vesta's girdle that encircled her with such splendor, was it Artemis' bow? I would never have dared to address a word to her; the language would have stopped me. Her spell was strong that he die

99

Limbs paralyzed/ I felt that I was awkwardly passing her. But I loved to see her from afar like a dot in the spring land, and always thought of her. Even now her picture lives on in me as clearly, as distinctly as no other. It seems that this first encounter cast a shadow over all others. Sometimes in the streets of the cities, in the splendor of the festivals, in the boxes of the theaters, I see an image of a woman that reminds me of Asteria, like a flower surrounded by a perfume, a shimmer, a well-being of a higher kind. But I know that then the distance is immediately given. Gravity in these ranks always pulls the centrifugal force with which it is inseparable. I have learned that any effort to overcome this dichotomy leads to zones of annihilation. Then I met the Neptune women, the strong mothers, the loved ones who are close to earth. A coincidence, the fleeting current of life unites us with them, a spring evening, a May breeze. One feels that the stars at such a meeting are different, yet compelling. We are flooded with life, caught in a strong web. Delicious darkness reigns. Also the names seem to merge; the depth of the drink extinguishes the characters that the cup bore. A same rhythm lifts the wave and sinks it deep down. The daughters of the earth donate great things. * I was staying with a friend of Nigromontan on a far north coast. We lived there as free hunters and fishermen and pursued the primal rooster, the elk, the bison, the migrating salmon. There were still nights, but the sun only dipped briefly. Those were the days they call Alcedonia there: the time when kingfishers breed. We had been to a saether, to one of the shepherd's huts on the edge of the high moors, for a merry feast. The young people there are silent, pensive, but cheerful when they get together on such days. When we parted, the moon had risen in the sky, with a pale glow. I brought Ingrid to her court, which is below

100

Translated from German to English - www.onlinedoctranslator.com

beaches. The paths ran through the Mattengrund as bright veins. We laughed and ran down the slopes - Ingrid a little ahead of me; she had grabbed my hand and raised it as if she wanted to teach me how to dance and how to fly. Bodies became lighter, almost ghostlike. So we came to the gate, which largely enclosed the yard because of the grazing animals. In the meantime the moon had changed colour, and a golden star was twinkling near it. The shadows of the hazel and elder bushes fell like bars on the pale ones. Away. We carefully stepped through them. It seemed bestowed upon us magical powers, passing through walls, through chain rings, and through the spell of dungeon bars. The Nordic jasmine glowed in white flames and gave off a wonderful fragrance. We heard curlew calls from the meadows by the nearby fjord. And again we held hands, but this time as if out of fear. The land was bright electric and we the poles where the current closed. Rings of deep, dark, and ever heavier vibration spread out. I felt the blood bulge as the sea level rises toward the moon. Fear, love, even anger seized me. I felt the arms of consciousness in danger—yes, even the desire to surrender to them like armor that has become too heavy.

The moon seemed to extinguish Ingrid's features; he turned her into a mask with eye sockets aimed at me in mighty hour, in compelling constellation. How completely changed was the companion, how her peculiarity melted away. I grabbed her face with both hands, tracing the shapes with my fingertips to recognize her—from the hairline, to the forehead and the closed eyes, to the lips that touched me gently, to the chin. I followed the shoulders, the lines of the body, which I discovered like an unknown but familiar realm. I felt him answer, trembling like plants with the touch, yet evolving in her tenderness. So vibrate harp strings, so arches the amphora in the pot

101

fer's hand. A whiff of curly seaweed rose from the sea; it seemed that from the glaciers, as from nocturnal pinnacles melting down, the pile of the highest belts answered him. The scent of chestnut blossoms followed. Tears well up in my eyes as I remember those nights. They may be debts I repay to time. Back then, when I said goodbye to Ingrid, I felt how silently the drops fell onto my face, onto my hand. There is boundless pain in the fact that the embrace cannot last. We wish it to last forever, forever. Nigromontanus seemed not displeased that I met women like Ingrid. Yet he wanted the touch to be fleeting. He used to call her "une touche" and thought that she drew the men. He once spoke about it on one of our walks in the park of Trianon. But, as always, he kept hinting—yes, he acted as if what he said was part of the Provençal class he was giving me at the time. 'In the high class, Lucius, one wants to see in young people two virtues which cannot be acquired unless they are innate. One is Desinvoltura—that is what is called a species of the higher nature that adorns the free man who moves freely in the costume bestowed on him by God. Desinvoltura is won in the courts of princes, in their proud and noble retinue, and in the free speech that rises in their council. You will find her there at games, tournaments, hunts, banquets and camps, where she lends chivalrous splendor to weapons. But the Desinvoltura mustsouplesseassist. The word was introduced into the Provencal language in the early days of chivalry via supplex — supplex is he who bends his knees. And if desinvoltura is a sign that you have been shaped by intimate dealings with noble men, then one can infer from the Souplesse the women who appreciated your affection.'

102

So Nigromontan, the high magician, whose teachings included the fact that the inner nature of man must become visible on his surface like a flower blossom rising from the germ. Not so Father Foelix, to whom I have entrusted the direction of my walk since I have been employed at the Palace. I asked him whether the great synthesis was possible and whether one could meet a being that combined the qualities of Asteria and Ingrid. And he told me that such a thought was presumptuous, and that the unity of the royal virgin with the great mother lay beyond our sphere and could only be guessed at in veneration. 'But you stick to the dogma, Lucius, to the symbolic robe that, with the fabric of the images, veils the eyes from the unearthly splendor. It was woven by the wisdom of the fathers over the centuries. You will never find the highest on earth, but a life led according to the tried and tested rules makes you worthy of it when you go through the last gate. The presumption of man to want to sit at tables that are not equipped for him is as dreadful as ever in the days of the Gentiles. You follow Boethius' rule: that conquered earth gives us the stars. That is the only, the right way.'«

He scanned another note he had made on another occasion: "Red Cap. hydrobiological station. Eleven in the morning, weather permitting. The sun shines brightly in the bare workroom, which was made from one of the old casemates. Sea water gushes into a glass basin, shelves stretch along the walls. They are loaded with books, chemicals, instruments and preparations. Faust's vault has become simple; we returned to Aristotle. The science of Albertus Magnus and his disciples is like a labyrinth of corridors and caves.

103

opposite ours. We walk in a wide open park on paths that sensibly intersect in its midst, with a monolith or obelisk visible from every point. Ratio reigns in every place, like the sun. There is no secret here, no mystery; access is free for everyone. This is also reflected in the immense clarity of the experiment, in which knowledge is abbreviated and reduced to formulas. And yet perhaps in the brightest light there are regions that are most hidden. We do not know the ultimate goals of our thinking; they are no less veiled than those of the priesthoods of the ancient Orient. We don't see the mysteries of the light. The work table with its microscopes, reagents, glass bowls on which the sun plays. In round basins a row of clypeasters, sea urchins, which Taubenheimer had brought to me. I opened the bony domes, under whose blue spikes hide hieroglyphs, with the scalpel. This is how the inner symmetry came to light, the five-rayed structure of the intestines, the ring of water vessels, the dark red ovary, Aristotle's lantern. From these opened astrides I lifted them into two flat bowls, on which the characters were carved?and?bear, male and female generative substance. First I bring the female matter in a drop of sea water under the microscope. It presents itself as what we call an egg, round, colorless, and visible only because it refracts light a little differently than the Neptunian element in which it floats. If I colored the spheres now, it would appear that they consist of the plasma and the nucleus, and that the plasma far outweighs the nucleus in mass. But this is a fact that has long been part of my inner perception. I therefore see it in the invisible. After a short time, the eggs begin to persist; it turns out that they are not given their own movement. Also, nothing can be seen in their roundness that could be interpreted as an organ.

104

Now I add a trace of male substance to the drop of water. Swarms of sperm cells approach the eggs in a whipping motion. They are seen orbiting the globes like comets until one of them succeeds in entering their interior. If the connection is successful, the egg closes itself off to the outside due to the compression of the membrane. It becomes the hoard of the often-seen miracle of radiation and then division, which models the new being in elaborate sequences of symmetry and folds. The technique of this process was clearly presented by Taubenheimer. Through such spirits, the science of life gained a clarity and rigor that adorns optics. But I often asked Taubenheimer in vain what was symbolic about such a pairing, what material for higher knowledge was? It seemed to me that he didn't even see the question here, not even the riddle. And yet there are probably enormous hints hidden in it. First of all, what is different about man and woman in this archetype, this model that science has developed? It seems that there are only differences of education, not of character. Above all, they are differences in the dowry, the distribution in the substance of life. We find the nucleus, the radiant substance, in both the semen and the egg. The plasma, on the other hand, which is abundantly developed in the egg as a resting and nourishing matter, is developed in the semen as a scourge, as a tool for spatial movement and attacking action. In the plasma we may recognize the earthly element and in particular the Neptunian dowry bestowed upon us. It shows the image of the sea: first as world substance, dormant in crystal balls, and then as world force, whose archetype is the wave. In the core, however, rests the astral dowry; we therefore see it working according to the laws of light and radiation when new life is to arise. The structure of the universe plays a part in every procreation.

The two great elements of life are therefore, although different in relation, but essentially equal to man and woman

105

assigned to the woman. That makes the genders absolutely in terms of quality. Hence we also see that not only the female nucleus can form new life by itself, but also the male nucleus when planted in anucleate plasma. When we approach the primal substance of life in this way, it gives us the same answer that is revealed in myth. The right teaching must lead to the same goals, regardless of whether one approaches it on the path of science or faith. At high levels, theories and images melt into one another. So it has always seemed to me to be one of the errors of Islam that women should not have access to paradise. How beautiful, in contrast, and how right for all time, what Plato says about it in the banquet. What drives me to reassure myself with our means what has belonged to faith, to man's revealed insight into the world plan, from the very beginning? It seems to me that Father Foelix condones the indulgence of the child's weakness: 'These are organs that will leave you when the hour strikes — temporal texts of the great eternal melody.'« The sun was now shining brightly into the room. The bells rang from the cathedral for early mass. Lucius closed the armored cell and opened the door to the hallway. He also made a mess of his bed. Soon Donna Emilia would be arriving with breakfast and milk for Alamut, and she would look at him reproachfully when she saw that he had been awake all night. Basically she was probably right; a deep sleep was better than this restless activity.

106

THE SYMPOSION

Halder's studio crowned the aviary in whose walls it was broken. The view fell far away on the islands and the sea. The southern wall and ceiling were made of seamless glass, which arched over it like a forehead over skin. The refraction of this glass was scarcely different from that of air; but electrical impulses acted on its finest lattice and caused changes in transparency. It was connected to a switch that resembled a palette. In this way, Halder had the desired light at all times. He also saved the curtain, which was, as it were, hidden in the window. At midday, when he turned the switch down to zero, the studio was dark at night. The scope, and above all its seamless unity, made the complex valuable; she represented a gift from the proconsul,

At this hour Halder let in the full light and only softly illuminated the white inner walls. The moon was at its zenith. One saw the fires on the islands and the irradiated ships in the bay. From the White to the Red Cap a string of pearls lit up the rim of the gulf; she was reflected in the tide. Sometimes, when a ship passed, the mirrors at the entrance to the inner harbor glowed. On the Corso, the carriages drew a quadruple light train. The obelisks were illuminated reddish and the fountains silver. Ringelbahn and Ferris wheels spun around the Great Harbor and its freedom, and fireworks went off. The rectangle of the missile port was outlined against the dark sea level. Beyond the old town, the directional lights of the Aerodrome pulsed; the surface rose sharply out of the night, as if outlined with a phosphor pen.

107

can be cut both optically and magnetically over the longest distance. It flew up and down on her like red and green fireflies. The rocket tracks sprayed up in high spheres. The room was like a dark cave in which a constantly alert mathematical consciousness with brightly colored eyes lurked and played its games. As always, Halder felt a pang of pride at the sight, but at the same time of fear. A nagging sense of dizziness mingled with the triumph of the heights. It was as if the brain rose too boldly, and as if the diaphragm answered in warning. 'They're magic castles like in the Arabian Nights. But the height of the Ariostic ghost castles is still there. Ever since I was a child I had the feeling that we couldn't live here; we float on the unknown as on the back of a leviathan or as between the wings of the demon princes whom Allah burns with a star. We can't jump off. We were fired like a bullet, but man didn't always live like that. What's the point, where's the goal of the terrible road?" He had said those words half to himself and half to someone else standing next to him against the glass wall. It was Serner, a free thinker who, like him, was a guest of the proconsul in the aviary, a thin, middle-aged man in careless clothing, who was characterized by a high degree of absent-mindedness. It was well known that Serner always lived in a kind of soliloquy, of spiritual training that consumed him, and that it was therefore difficult to have a conversation with him. Yet his words often stood in harmony with the questions put to him, as if coming from an untouched sphere. He, too, seemed engrossed in the nightly spectacle of Heliopolis. Without taking the short pipe he was smoking out of his mouth, he turned to the painter and said: “You are wrong, Halder: man has always lived like this. But sometimes his situation becomes particularly clear to him. He must be grateful for such insight. Also, the space that frightens you is no larger than the skullcap that encloses your brain."

108

Without further discussing the painter's question, he engaged in one of the soliloquies about Gnosticism with which he had been occupied for a long time. He saw in her a restlessness akin to the new eon. The space cave and the fear of the world—one had produced the other, but cause and effect were indistinguishable. The height brings the depth. As far as he, Serner, was concerned, he had to examine the spiritual place where the process took place. That was his job. They were interrupted by the entry of Ortner, an elderly man who was the head of the small circle and a friend of the proconsul. He also had a studio in the aviary, but mostly stayed in a little garden house in the villa at the foot of the Pagos, where the prince spent Sundays and holidays. A piece of land was assigned to him there, on which he grew flowers and fruit. His friend and patron would have liked to see him at the academy, but Ortner preferred to count himself among the small gardeners and winegrowers who populated the terraced grounds on the Pagos. Also today he appeared in their costume, on which he wore the signs of the festive occasion. There were roses and fruits named after him. He might be in his late fifties, with thick gray hair over a suntanned forehead.

The press supported by the Central Office used to call Ortner, half mockingly, half reluctantly, the "Homer of Heliopolis"; and in fact his opus was closely linked to the development and crises of this cosmopolitan city. But the name of a new Isaiah would have been more appropriate for him. Like this singer, in his youth his heart "roared like a harp" at the sight of his downfall. His name was closely associated with the style of Second Nihilism. At the age of seventeen he had already appeared with an epic in free verse, in an anarchic violence, but higher

109

Beauty rushed along: »The Butterfly Battle«. It described the rise and union of swarms of moths over meadows and flowering meadows and their sinking in the ice of the glacial clefts into which the storm drove them. »Cosmic Games« and »The Phoenix Bird« joined this youth work. Then Ortner had taken part in popular uprisings, campaigns and hunting trips in the entourage of Orion. This period of inner and outer expansion was followed by another, marked by a series of clear and constructive works, and accompanied politically by a turn from left to right. Then came the inclination to the gardens, and with it the return to the higher-level Muses.

What the proconsul hoped for from him was the intellectual penetration of Heliopolis, but not in the form of realistic description in Balzac's way. He considered him capable of creating an exemplary model which, like a more real kernel, was contained in the historical object , and who controlled it. It was one of the proconsul's maxims that genuine politics was only possible where poetry had preceded it. As far as Serner was concerned, the prince thought he was capable of something similar in the realm of concepts. The difference was clearly marked in the nature of the two men: in Serner one sensed a high degree of coldness, of uninvolved contemplation, while Ortner radiated great warmth. Ortner gave Halder a bouquet of flowers and wished him happiness in the new year: "Also I have the pleasure of greeting you as neighbors, for the proconsul is giving you a lot on the Pagos." He handed him the prescription, which was sealed. The painter had felt cramped in Wolters' establishment. Just as the boss cared for his officers and officials, Ortner always endeavored to convey the wishes of his friends to the prince in confidential conversations. Lucius entered; he had brought Costar to attend. His birthday gift was a red fish made of carnelian

110

was cut. The painter loved such pieces of wood, glass, and ivory and had them scattered around his studio. He needed neither the landscape nor the models to work, but he loved the present, the radiance of things that stimulated him. They then played into his works, but more like images of the day that are repeated in dreams —less definite in outline, clearer in essence. The painter had prepared a simple meal; she was adapted to the womanless household. The table carried bowls of almonds, olives, and small fish such as one buys from the saltmongers at the docks. They framed a long meat pie baked into a golden brown crust by Zerboni. In this way, bread and extra food were combined into one dish. Wreaths of rose petals adorned the table setting. The office of the symposiarch went to Ortner. He went to the bar on which the wine gleamed in a tall glass jug and tasted it. “They give five-year-olds from the osteria with the tuna, Halder, and we'll drink it as it's grown. We empty three glasses together according to the rules; the first is to be dedicated to the jubilarian, the second to the prince, and the third to the muses. Then we drink what the mood brings. You can talk about anything, except politics.« Costar offered them the bowl for washing their hands. They brought the libation and stretched out on the bed, half sitting. Costar cut and arranged the wine at the bar. He also filled and emptied his passport glass there, which stood next to the jug. The wine was praised, as were the owners of Vinho del Mar. The tuna cellar was famous. Lucius preferred Calamaretto to him, but only on the spot, since his plant was sensitive and suffered from seafaring. You also had to have drunk with the patron, Signor Arlotto, and prove yourself to be not only a fine taster but also a cheerful fellow before you were worthy of the best in his eyes. Ortner on the other hand

111

loved the small, unknown winemakers who served in the kitchen. The mother stood at the stove, the family joked. The work in the vineyard was her prayer. They tasted feta cheese with white wine and artichoke bases with red wine. At the same time, people talked leisurely about the old, simple things and their return: the weather, growth, the festive course of the year. You learned more and better than what was in the books. There wasn't any art that didn't grow out of the calendar. They then talked about the glasses that Costar offered them. They were small and bulbous, designed to fit the cupped hand so that the drinker could soften the coolness of the wine as he pleased. The opening narrowed to allow the flower's scent to thicken. They were tuned for a good and delicate sound. "As far as I am concerned," said Ortner, "I prefer the earthen dishes, according to the epigram of Athenaeus: 'Give me the sweet cup, made of earth, from which I was created, and to which I will also return.'" He added that years ago he had begun a series of studies on simple devices like the hourglass and the light scissors. Under the motto »O Bouteille profonde«, a work should also be dedicated to the wine bottle, its relationship to the countries and varieties and to the practice of drinking as it developed among the peoples. »But I already failed at the inventory, just as Casanova lost heart during the preparatory work for his encyclopedia of cheeses. These are tasks that exceed the strength and insight of the individual; they would have to be handed over to a circle of connoisseurs who meet in the cellars and correspond with the best diners in all the Rebland countries.” The philosopher was of the opinion that only the glass is the right setting for wine. The wine is the symbol of the higher life, of the blood that has become spirit, and its given boundary is death. Glass is the most sterile, life-removed-

112

ste matter; also let the gold float in the finest cups, the purple poured out into the invisible and held by it, as pure Essentia in the pure form. Therefore breaking the glass is also a sign of good luck; it indicates the limitless freedom in the ether. The glass is body, its content spirit. “In this sense,” said Halder, “glass would be what black or darkness is to the painter. The objects are surrounded and separated from each other by the finest layers of darkness. This applies not only to the drawing, but also to the painting. The color is wine to our eyes. Yet it only becomes visible, only palatable, through the composure of darkness.” Lucius asked him if knowledge of color theory was necessary for the painter.

'Certainly, although it can only strengthen the innate sense of color in consciousness, but can never replace it. In our time it is even advantageous when color theory and color instinct work together like grammatical infallibility and poetic beauty in the absolute sentence. As for me, I often think about the colors and believe that this does as little harm to my pictures as knowing the counterpoint of a composition.« Then he went into the technique of his work. For him, the creation of a picture was initially a primitive act reminiscent of blood transfusions. It was important that inner life passed from the painter to the canvas. To speak in the language of the time, it was about that radio activity, that invisible radiation mixed with the color. This could only happen through an influence that was beyond the scale. He felt good about himself when the part of the picture he touched with the wet brush was connected to his arm, to his body, as if by a fine current. He became insecure when that tension left him.

"In the same way when praying, when the hands are folded, a kind of magnetism must be felt if the prayer is to penetrate," interjected Ortner. He had listened carefully.

113

»The right and the left intertwine in stillness as a state of innermost strength. Then undivided reason, not reflected in symmetries, acts.« The process is unknown to anyone who creates musical works. The best comes to the author during the breaks. It is an answer from infinity. Halder added notes about the color in particular. The brush tip glowed, vibrated like a tiny lamp, like the tip of a needle charged with radiation. »The paint is porous, like a fine sponge that soaks in the invisible. Enclosed by the form, like the vowels by the consonants, it in turn encloses the unspeakable. But the painter is not alone in this enrichment. Another adds the eye of the beholder to her. The images mature in this way. Therefore, it is also important for us who will own it.« "It's very similar with prose," said Ortner, "a sentence changes when it's read and read again. The rooms of a house also change when generations of people lived in them, were born, loved one another and died. The works gain patina when they are touched by looks, by thoughts, by feelings and also by the suffering associated with them. The artist creates cases of finer and more imperishable material. Children and grandchildren feel comfortable in them.«

Halder elaborated on the idea. In his opinion, a masterpiece represented the highest household goods and was the first, if not the only thing, to be saved, like the Laren and ancestral portraits in a conflagration. Who knew the effect of pictures in workrooms, in the banquet room, in the mother's room with a child growing in her womb. In them lay the secret of the right measure that produces fertility and abundance. There were also pictures whose potency was incompatible with private ownership and whose location was in princely palaces, in which the well-being of the

114

peoples muses. And others made sense only in churches; it was sad when you met them in the museums. It was also nice that pictures became sacred and miraculous power radiated directly from them. Lucius thought that this was the inner side, the creation of the magical image, as it were, whose breath already surrounded the figures of animals and hunters in the caves of Pagos. There must also be something else related to time—the stamp of the epoch in which the work was created. Are there rules according to which the elemental force of painting presents itself as "modern" or not? 'If a strong vocation is innate,' replied the painter, 'then it will necessarily win the style that is felt to be modern at the time, yes, it certainly determines it. The zeitgeist flows into the characters. The purity of the metal and the sharpness of the embossing are interdependent. One relates to the eternal same, the other to the hour in which the artist was born. Therefore he will first formlessly feel the endowment bestowed on him and then find the means of realizing it. The world spirit issues the creative order, but the text depends on the zeitgeist. A masterpiece is created when the spirit of the world and the spirit of the times coincide, that is, when the eternal fills the epochal like this wine fills the glass. But of course there are times when wine is missing and others lack the glass.

Serner, who had previously been drinking in silence and introspection, had also become aware and joined in the conversation :

“One could also say that the artist is an advanced human organ, and thathein the change of historical movement as the first to touch and understand the forms. It would therefore be essential for his identification that these forms still

115

never looked at, never formed. They shine with a fresh spiritual glow.«

"Excellent - now we come to the people," Ortner now turned to Serner, "I've been waiting for a word from you for a long time, for a 'He said it himself'. The language of philosophers is too difficult for my poor mind, though it often seems to me that it is simple things which they treat so intricately. Get Costar to fill our glasses and you'll tell us a little bit about who we are.' The hint referred to a work by Serner that had recently appeared. Its title was "Monanthropism, a Theory." After completing his studies, the philosopher began a life of wandering and traveling, adding his small inheritance to it. He was then, as they say, degenerate and stranded on Vinho del Mar, where he was seen halfnaked keeping company with shepherds, fishermen and winegrowers. He slept there in their huts or under their boats and emptied the bulbous earthenware jug with them by the vine fire or the goatskin hose on rocky outcrops, which one hugged like a friend. It was not uncommon to see such guests at Vinho del Mar; the people delighted in their company, and looked upon them half as fools and half as prophets. It was here that Lucius had met him, at the Calamaretto, long after midnight.

After him there were two great philosophies on this earth - the German and the Greek. The Greeks had taken man as their object, the Germans had chosen the spirit. They had a building of immense size and unity

116

listed. But it was an outlying fort whose eccentricity was becoming increasingly dangerous. One had to try to connect it with the citadel, to unite being and knowledge. If that was successful, immense treasures would be released. The task was recognized early and repeatedly. The constantly renewed approach of the German spirit to the Greeks showed that what was missing had been grasped. Already in Luther and Erasmus they parted ways. The fate of Hölderlin and Nietzsche testified that even heroic shoulders were too heavy a burden. In the meantime, people had lived on Rome as on the remains of Leviathan. Whole provinces were still sitting at this meal. Even where one ate of Christ daily, there was still an influx of substance. So it came about that where the peoples were Roman and Christian, the picture of man was preserved more purely. But even here the loss could not be denied; the expansion in the east and in the north corresponded to the reduction in the south and west. In this way, Brobdingnags and Lilliputs were seen to emerge, while the number of Yahoos steadily increased. Whatever such a state of affairs might require politically, technically, theologically—the philosopher saw it as necessary for a new relationship of the spirit to the human being. Lucius had soon afterwards described the encounter to the proconsul at a banquet, more for amusement. But the latter had become aware and thought it might be worthwhile to raise the oddball and follow what he was developing. In this way, Serner moved into the aviary and lived there with his work, which he occasionally interrupted by extended visits to the islands. Meanwhile Costar had refilled his glasses and presented the philosopher with the rod of thermal metal for his pipe, which lay glowing on a clay plate. "I'll ask you about the Socratic method," Ortner began, "but with the difference that I don't know the result that midwifery art is supposed to bring to light. I

117

know the tongs (he raised his hands at the same time), but I do not know the child.”

"Ask me," Serner replied, "I'll answer you." Ortner: “I thought I read your writing that it was onlyathere are people, and I would first like to ask the question: Are you this person? Serner: "No, because I don't count myself in the sect of solipsists, but I represent him." Ortner: "Do you represent him alone, or are there other representatives as well?" Serner: "Everyone who lives, has lived, will live is a representative." Ortner: "But are there differences in representation?" Serner: "There are differences in the timing, but not in substance." Ortner: »Then you could use the placeofPresume people in the substance that qualifies in the sum of people in terms of time?" Serner: »Not as a whole, since the whole is not only larger but also different than its parts. One cannot see the sea as the sum of its drops. In this case the unborn and the never-born would also be added, legions that never materialized, indeed only hinted at in wishes.” Ortner: »That makes sense. So you distinguish the human being and then the human beings who are his images. Could it be said that you mean by this to suggest the Platonic idea of man, and that we are its shadow in the cave of life, reflected by the glow of time on that blank wall called history?” Serner: »Urbild, idea, substance, being-in-itself are names that thought has invented over the course of time to describe what will always remain closed to experience. I will refer only to lifetime, for with death experience cuts into substance. We flow into the absolute man

118

in and return to him. Here we are just fulfilling a mission and playing a role in time.« Ortner: »But the role can be very different.« Serner: »Less different than is commonly believed.« Ortner: »It doesn't matter whether we see them as a man, a woman, a prince, a beggar, a robber or a righteous person carry out?" Serner: »Essentially indifferent. There are Urtexts written for all roles.« Ortner: "These would have to be powerful texts." Serner: "Powerful like the 90th psalm as a great song of fate." Ortner: "But with that we are leaving your area." Serner: "On the contrary, since the theological touch gives it meaning. «

Ortner: »Then you will understand what disturbs me about your theory. The role of the murderer could not be less important than that of the murdered." Serner: "No less important - because murderer and victim are designed for each other like man and woman. It is also possible that there is more substance hidden in the murderer than in the murdered person. Oedipus murdered, and Alexander - - - «

Ortner: »You say:morein substance—so there is a difference, isn’t it?” Serner: "Certainly - but you can see from this turn of phrase that I imagine it more quantitatively. In the substance as such there are no differences. But we lead them, like rivers or veins of rock lead gold, more or less strong. In death we will be purified - the yield will be different." Ortner: "Accordingly, there could be people who resemble gold mines and are therefore particularly close to the archetype, particularly similar?" Serner: »I call them figures or role models, also fathers and mothers — depending on it.«

Ortner: “In the example, we would see the original shimmering through particularly clearly. You should tell us more about that."

119

Serner: »I want to try. If I primarily consult examples from Scripture, I do so not so much as a Christian as because they show the connections with unsurpassable simplicity. In it Adam is the great human type, the human father; in him all qualities are still united. From him emerges Eve — the Eternal Feminine. The murderer and the victim are found immediately in Cain and Abel they must both have been hidden as qualities in Adam. 0Then the myth grasps the human model: the great fathers, be it as princes and heroes like Heracles and Theseus, be it as sufferers like Oedipus, and also the great mothers like Europa and Niobe. In the tragedy, these images show us our human destiny. The chorus establishes the relationship to the archetype. Myth is also the source of history, which kaleidoscopically repeats its characters.« Ortner: "How does Christ present himself in this order?" Serner: "Christ is a pure representation of man, both temporally and in substance. He therefore calls himself the Son of both man and God. His fate reveals human fate, the task given to man. -He is the Christian; and when countless people said, say and will say: 'I ama Christ', this is how the relationship of man to man is once again expressed.” Ortner: »We see more clearly now. They mean that we carry man within us as an eternal and substantial dowry, and that we will bring in this dowry at the great wedding feast with the unknown, whom our language calls 'death'has given?" Serner: »The parable is good and old. Death is a bridegroom, and we await it like those virgins with more or less oil in our jar. The lamp is the life, the oil is the substance.« Ortner: "Excellent. But there is one more thing that bothers me: why take the detour via lifetime if what we realize is meant for us from the outset? So equals the work of life

120

not the circulation of a complicated machine, the product of which would not be greater than what is allotted to it in raw material?”

Serner: »You are raising a new question. I have not claimed that substance remains unchangeable throughout life. It can multiply; losses can also occur. That means we can already become more like humans or less like them over time.« Ortner: »Of course that changes the aspect. How do you imagine the increase, the enrichment?” Serner: “Very similar to eating and drinking: by absorbing the substantial human being within us. That is why the Lord's Supper is such an important symbol, and those wars that have been waged over its form make more sense than our economic ones. That growth is possible is also confirmed by many parables - by that of the grain of wheat or also of the pound with which one should usury. The immortal merit of writing and its figures lies in the fact that they reduce the relationship to the simplest formula." Ortner: »You calmed me down. I now see in your thinking the gateway to free will, to work and to justice. I must confess that when I read your work I had the impression that you were describing a great lottery in which winnings and losses are distributed as the wheel of fortune pleases. So it would be possible that we would become richer in our lifetime."\ Serner: "Infinitely rich." Ortner: "- - - and poorer." Serner: "Infinitely poor." Ortner: »Costar, pour it out. I drink to the hope that one day we may appear at the dark gate, filled to the brim like this jar, loaded with honey for the eternal honeycomb like bees that have not remained idle in the gardens and blossoming fields.”

121

They emptied the glasses and smashed them on the wall.

"I didn't ask these questions idly," Ortner began again, "they intrude on me every day at work. And it's good to get confirmation and encouragement from others. So miners meet in the tangle of shafts in front of a vein that promises reward. Dear friends, work today is infinitely more difficult than it was before. Often, when I pick up my pen in the morning, I feel like breaking it and going all the way into the gardens while it is allotted to me. The earth does not deceive us. I feel as if the paper on which I write the signs is already browning from the breath of the flame that is consuming the palace. The imminent nearness of annihilation is a burden, a trial that oppresses the work daily, resting on the head and lungs like a column of water on the diver fishing for pearls at great depths. And if an opus succeeds today, it is wrested from reasons of despair, from darkness. That is a merit in itself, at a time when the muses are not fond of it.« 'We know your situation, Master,' said Lucius on behalf of the Round Table, 'and it matches ours. We are the crew on the high seas and hear your song in the tumult of the elements like that of the helmsman who leads to the stars.« 'I know I mustn't complain, for danger brings great things upon us. The friendship of the prince also makes up for a lot.« "They say you're busy with a novel?" 'For a long time, and this work is a recreation for me. I climb into it for two or three hours in the morning, like a dwelling or a garden built beyond time. The walls are woven from imagination.” They asked him for details, but he didn't comment. You have to carry things out like children do: in the dark. However, before starting work, he gave some thought to the novel as such, as a means, and would like to share it with you.

122

He sent Costar to his room to get a folder, which he labeled. Taking a leaf from her, he drank and sat down: 'I will spare you the introduction,' he began, 'and also the way in which I limit the novel to related genres, especially to epic and narrative, which may more or less approximate it. I'll get straight to the point: Two qualities form the novel like a fabric in which two threads are spun: one resides in the author and his freedom, the other in the world and its necessity. I call the first 'the self-sufficient', while the name for the second is 'the universal'. In this sense, the cosmos is God's novel. It follows from this interpretation that the novel can only become a parable at best, since the author is given neither autarky, that is, complete freedom, nor insight into the world as a whole. But there is a touch of both in each of the great novels, and therein lies the inherent happiness of reading it. The reader is simultaneously inside and outside the world. The novel must be self-sufficient: that is, the reader lands there as if on an island and finds everything he needs there. This is a sign of the author's freedom, his sovereignty. He introduces the reader to his territory as a great lord. The novel must be universal: that is, it must relate to the world as a whole. This is not a question of space, since this whole can be seen no less in a peasant room than in a palace. The whole thing also has a rather atmospheric effect: you can see that the people, things, places are endlessly embedded. From this it follows that no special spirit may choose the medium of the novel. Thus the novel cannot be scientific, pedagogical, historical, psychological, social, or even theological, although none of these themes are excluded from it. Nor can he limit himself to

123

To describe society and to accompany its development, especially when its history becomes the history of an illness. This also means that the novel can be as little real as it is ideal, since realism and idealism are only layers, only shades of the whole. In this sense there is no naturalistic, no romantic, no factual novel. On the other hand, there is always the classical novel, if one wants to accept the sovereign intention of man to face the whole in an orderly manner as classical. The cosmopolitan novel, in which this intention is crowned, shatters the divisions, becomes meaningful for all peoples, for every time. In this way it can have greater significance for a nation than a decisive battle won. We saw (I refer to earlier) that the epic is dedicated to the heroon, the spirit of the graves, and thus introduces the story. The lyric rests in the roots and indicates the Urheimat, which is why the poem is also non-transferrable. Both presuppose more undivided, immediate poetic power, but the novel is more comprehensive. Experience must therefore be added, as it only gives knowledge and insight into the course of the world. Therefore it blossoms late, whether in the life of nations or individuals. The mind can contemplate the spectacle of sunrise and sunset for a long time before arriving at the astronomical interpretation. Similarly, he rarely succeeds in grasping the world in which fate placed him as a model and gaining insight into the laws and constellations that apply in it. This is especially true at this time when we see society destroyed and the cosmos, although we have penetrated it to a great extent, reveals itself to us as a horde of horrors. In this situation, realism inevitably leads to nihilism, idealism to empty utopia. We look into the world and find annihilation; we look inside and find the beautiful dreams; but both steer us towards destruction. The late styles rise like cliffs out of these seas: pure vitalism, stoic nihilism

124

ism and a kind of belief weaker and more merciless than atheism. But the dimensions remain forever, just as the sun rises and sets forever. Nothing changes in the course of the world clock. Both sizes are always given to us: the freedom of man and the whole of this world. That means that we are always obliged to try to combine them in a meaningful way.« Ortner put the paper aside and said: "Of course, the further we grasp the task, the more certain we are destined to fail or fragment, 'tis a time for special minds and special insights." "Shouldn't the task be made easier by simplifying it and limiting it to the meeting of two people, perhaps two lovers?" It was the painter who had asked this question. Ortler smiled. 'You could also simplify your painting by turning to the depiction of an apple. You know what your colleague said: 'Avec une pomme je veux etonner Paris.' Difficulty is all the more apparent in simple things. That is the reason why we no longer succeed in the fable genre, although there is as little lack of foxes, ravens, and storks as ever. In the relationship between two people, all of the time plays a part; you will not be able to isolate it any more than you will find two drops of water at rest in a turbulent sea.”

Lucius wondered if the difficulty could not be met by giving the work the character of a diary, and thus guiding oneself through the tangle of time by a thread, as it were. In this way one can also give personal recipes on how to survive them and on what other ways life should be led. Ortner agreed. “Of course, that would be the way out that presents itself first. We therefore see the genre of the diary growing as

125

in which that of fable has diminished. We come to the monologue. Already the exchange of letters as the contemplative interweaving of the world from two different points seems to have become almost impossible; The logbook, the daily cutlery pick-up, is a sign of the lonely course, of the isolation that life has won.« He considered and then continued:

“I admit that in such attempts one of my two demands, autarky, is fulfilled. That's why I always liked it when one of my comrades gave an account of himself in the wars, in those little notebooks that the soldier carries with him and that I sometimes found on the dead. But the diary cuts only one line into the universal. The author must be expected to know, if not all of these lines, at least their pattern, their deeper destiny. There may be other options that are adjacent, such as historical reporting. However, this eliminates much of the author's freedom. On the other hand, the novel resembles the capital savage, which cannot be offset by the variety of the route.«

'The situation you describe,' said Lucius, 'reminds me of the Battle of the Cauldron. It would be a question of whether the breakthrough is possible.« “There's a lot like that. The seemingly limitless operations are followed by a constriction that becomes more conscious every day. The mind deals with the reserves that are left to it. Destruction or higher freedom, tested on nothingness, await him.« Ortner seemed pleased that the conversation was taking a new direction. He turned to Lucius as if his interjection had reminded him of a question dear to his heart:

126

'Tell me, Lucius, were you familiarizing yourself with suicide back in the salt steppes? Did that thought cross your mind?” 'Who didn't think of that? This has been repeated since Varus' time.' He added:

“Of course I was with the staff and I noticed that things there became a little clearer, more transparent. This was probably due to the fact that such a position still requires action and decision, and that entry into naked suffering is reserved for the very last act. But here, too, the first thing that comes to mind is the intention of getting away individually. The work helps to cope with such evasions and to come to terms with the general fate; we had it easier there than the simple guard who sees the wall of fire getting a little closer every day. The first orders announced the situation with thunderbolts. The decision to move the pocket west hid the abandonment of the hospitals with thousands of sick and seriously wounded." "They say a mass suicide started the operations." "This is unfortunately true."

"And that the commanding officer had the unfit wounded poisoned." 'That's the legend of people who weren't there and who later got indignant about it, from the safety of their balcony, so to speak. I hate to talk about those days; one would like to forget them like a bad dream. The fact is that the wounded, on learning that they were to be abandoned, begged the doctors for poison, and Rothferber, as commander, decided to that effect. He restricted this to the extent that he required an express request. Medical help should also not go beyond preparation. He touched a hot iron with it; it should show that this is impossible without getting burned. After the successful movement he shot himself through his head.«

127

"You know more about that?" “Yes, since I was sent to the tents and open camps to report. Some of the death row inmates had demanded communion, which the Catholic clergy refused. The Protestants shared it out. Some doctors also refused to participate. They had agreed on the injection of chloroform, which immediately leads to death sleep. The remedy acts gently, lethargically compellingly, and without the spasm and distortion that potassium cyanide tends to produce. The doctors should insert the syringe into the vein of the left arm and leave the rest up to the patient. It was immediately apparent that theory and practice are different in these areas. There is no middle way. The sick made mistakes and also shied away. Most were already in a position in which they could neither make their will clear nor carry out movements. After initial confusion, this led to the summary proceedings that the general was then accused of. One should only judge such things when one has been in the situation.«

"You thought it right?" Serner asked Lucius. 'Yes then. I had other ideas about human dignity, and especially about pain. We had not yet dealt too little with the extreme cases in theory; we did not know their climate. It is therefore to be welcomed that the proconsul, in order to prepare his young crew, has instituted a special course devoted to questions of the lost post.” Ortner came back to his question: “But you also thought about it for yourself?” “I guess everyone figured that out at the time. As for me, I must confess that the thought of laying hands on myself has always troubled me. He didn't actually fill me with fear — rather with shyness. You face yourself like an opponent who cannot defend himself. I still had to imagine resistance, measures like on a ship that is sinking. The body

128

is like one of those children born under the stars, who nonetheless did not dare to kill—they abandoned them. The thought of swimming in vast, crystal-clear sea spaces until my arm gave out seemed bearable to me, as well as climbing icy mountains where the air is getting thinner and colder all the time. There, where the stars twinkle a little clearer, one consecrates the farewell drink to the world. The last step leads to the unexplored pinnacle: into the immeasurable.«

'Suicide,' said Serner, who, as usual, seemed to have hardly been listening, 'suicide is not a solution. It is a way out on a lower level. We step into the Christmas room before the bell calls us and find a mess. The Stoa could teach him as a return to the elements - then it does not lead to a higher order, to the actual image of man. Christianly it falls under the parable of the pound entrustment and is even more detrimental in this regard than murder. The murderer can still increase his pound, perhaps through penance, while the suicide destroys it. Death is not the end but the beginning. In this sense suicide is the most inappropriate beginning, like a palace to be founded on bankruptcy.” "I'd like to come back to your handwriting," Ortner insisted. »Like all superior considerations of man, it focuses on death and sees life as a loop that curls up inside him. Now it seems to me that you harbor not only thoughts, but also pictures of the way in which the return to man takes place?” 'Certainly - Iseethat," answered Serner, "but such insights elude words. At the apron point, the loop you mentioned, I assume a mirror. We emerge from it and enter it again. It is the hoard of images, the unextended ground of life. The process is mirror-image —we meet first the father and mother, with whom we unite in a manner analogous to that of sex. However, we do not generate increased life with them, but merge

129

to the substance. These are recognitions. In this way we advance through the ancestral line to the archetype. In life we expand into diversity, while death ushers in immense simplifications. I can only suggest that indeed the form we have taken in life is most important for entering the unextended. It's the difference in potency."

"You must forgive the question," interjected the painter, "but many die whose father and mother are still alive?" The objection seemed to amuse the philosopher, as was plain to see. For him there must be a kind of higher comedy hidden in it. But he took it seriously. »The distinction between this world and the hereafter becomes meaningless at the moment of death, like all distinctions. We step into realms where the dead live, the living have died. It is irrelevant whether all the fixed star worlds have already been created or have burst into flames again. In father and mother we venerate something more imperishable than consanguinity, which is but an earthly symbol of unity, their fleeting contact.” »We have great adventures ahead of us.« They drank, but this time they didn't break the glasses.

"We passed the skeleton around the drinking table, as the old people did," decided Ortner, "and we want to turn our attention to lighter things. I suggest that we take the 'happy moment' as our theme and everyone share how they relate to it. De Geer begins.« Lucius thought for a while and looked into his glass. Then he emptied it and began: »For me, happiness bears traits of the untouched, of the undescribed. If I compare it to a treasure, I love it

130

Moment in which I feel fully in my possession, but have not disposed of it. It is a potential state that the illusion animates. The white always plays into him. The white surfaces make me cheerful, a field in the snow, the unopened letter, the sheet of paper that lies waiting on my table. Soon I will cover it with signs, with letters, thereby removing its luster. It is still free for all texts. That one could begin, begin anew: that is a delicious feeling. This also includes the awareness of the unknown, of the hidden, of the secret. Happiness is childhood and the return of childhood. We enter the battle of life and still have all the reserves in our hands. Then defeat replaces the dream of victory. When I think back to happier times, I think of the white cities at the edge of the desert, the ports beyond the Hesperides where I landed under an assumed name. Not a piece of laundry, not a note gives a clue as to who I am. The tracks in the sand have been erased. They closed like the furrow of the ship I came on. I only know the name of one agent and I'm going to look him up in a dark alley in the evening. Until then, the day is given to me in a new and unknown way. The fine threads with which habit, everyday life, duty bind us have been cut, and with that freedom draws into me as in dreams. I will spend a day beyond the law as if I possess the ring that bestows invisibility. The lonely jubilation of that dwarf becomes clear to me: the jubilation at that nobody knows my name. The incognito of the prince mixes with that of the criminal who is no less absolutely occupied with his plans. The temptation approaches me violently.

What magical power means becomes evident in such hours. As if I drank strong wine, enjoyed Indian drugs, the world changes. To the extent that I abstain from will, from action, domination increases. I'm sitting at the breakfast table

131

sh, and a dark servant pours the coffee. Looking at his smile, the gleam in his eyes, I recognize that I am the unknown guest he serves every morning. But at the same time, in his innermost being, he is aware that I am his destiny. This gives him an immense cheerfulness, an agreement that weaves through the room. I could now break the spell by giving him presents, pulling him onto my knees, revealing to him that I am the knower of wishes and dreams unknown to him. But by remaining silent and abstaining, I increase my power. This is the overture; it is followed by passages through the port, through the bazaars and narrow quarters. The sight of the people swarming there increases my cheerfulness. The less I know their names, their businesses, their language, the clearer the secret meaning emerges. They are illuminated from within. It becomes clear to me that the basis of human beings and doings is a myth that is as simple as picture writing. We approach happiness when we step into this myth. In flight the sun rises to the zenith and sinks towards the sea. Time flies by in a wondrous, painless course. The images of life come to me, ignite in me. People live in me; I empathize with their thoughts, deeds, sufferings in contemplation. They flow into me like veins that unite in me. The light substance accumulates in me like on wallpaper whose pattern is illuminating. They first glow velvety, only to then ignite fiercely on their own. I answer the images; I send them back into the world as if from a mirror. The eye becomes sunlike; the world a picture room. It forms to melodies that I compose; I trust the happiness of painters, poets, and lovers. The world gets lighter because I get deeper; she rushes along like a steered craft. The passage from spiritual conception to spiritual giving birth, spiritual dominion, is manifold, just as intoxication approaches in manifold ways. At times it resembles the ever faster run in which

132

the body suddenly, unfolding an immense pair of wings, rises into the air. Then again consciousness mates with him: the spirit rises to the conductor, after drinking in an abundance of melodies. This is followed by a moment of silence and then the dry tapping of the baton in the magic circle, the pounding on the gates of imagination. And finally, the transition can also be very gradual: like bees, the senses carry honey into the combs until it drips down in golden abundance. The poets know the regions; they know that the spirit realm is not closed to us. Thoughts, deeds, passions are fed from his homeland; it forms the fundus of this world, from the interest of which the phenomenon lives. The moment we touch the treasure, the desire that consumes us is extinguished. But we will always only touch it: the senses do not carry us beyond the intuition of happiness.«

"The colors of happiness," the painter now began, "the colors of happiness are rather rosy and blend into the blue like those little clouds in which the gray is lit at sunset. Happiness is in illusion and fulfillment is death. What makes us hesitate between the moment when we see the fruit shining in the leaf and the moment when the hand breaks it? We want to extend the span of happiness. The decent hunter knows how to encounter the wonderful — in the play of the animal that steps into the clearing with piebald skin and shimmering plumage. In the crimson ray of the shot, splendor sinks away. Happiness will always be accompanied by expectation, chance, and hunger. Fortuna's weeds bloom on the edges, between possessions, beyond the separated, security. Like that sultan of the Orient, we can do the hours ourselves in fullness

133

count where we've been happy. Happiness lies on the fringes of illusion. I think of meeting Coralina, of our first date. Until then we had only seen each other in society, in the chosen circle. Everyone knows the invisible play of threads that initiates an inclination. We never know if it will be reciprocated—if the weave will knit. The other we desire to be near is enigmatic, closed like a distant land. As we feel attracted to him, our dread of him grows. By increasing it in our dreams we make it unapproachable. So there are passions that exclude touch. You will not misunderstand me, dear guests and fellow drinkers, when I say that in order for there to be an encounter, the vulgar must flow in. In the case of the lower touch, this ordinary is predominant; in higher realms it resembles the Angel,

Such an occasion had arisen, in connection with my art. She gave me the right to write a letter to Coralina from time to time with references to exhibitions and the like. Nothing could justify me in attaching to one of these letters a message revealing my innermost being and showing my cards. But I did—and more than that: I asked her to meet me at the Fire Tower, near London Bridge. The note was that of a fool who was endangering himself and others. I gave it up with the pneumatic tube and regretted it the moment I saw it disappear in the tube. If there was anything that set him apart, it was the unreserved nature of the address—or, socially speaking, the anarchic quality of it. However, it could only affect a spirit

I was at the fire tower long before the hour announced. I was well aware of the absurdity of the situation. I had already packed my suitcase. Nevertheless, a strong tension animated me, like a hunter who is extremely shy in anticipation of something

134

is scarcely perceptible wild, and which the deception of the eyes threatens.

In this restlessness what is called the moment of happiness flew towards me, touched me like a projectile. I saw Coralina walking towards me from the bridge, she had already recognized me from afar. The mixture of happiness and anxiety that seized me was like a whirlwind that at once aggravated reality and threatened to destroy it; it showed that I was both game and hunter. The improbable of illusion and the certainty of appearance fought within me. The being that approached me from there with light steps like a thirsty gazelle was still surrounded by the unattainable, as the image of dreams, as it appears to the conjurer. And yet it gained reality. I saw the green suit, the red bag on a long ribbon, the kind worn by huntresses in those days. And everything about the second seemed wonderful to me - such as the fact that in the midst of thousands of people their path was directed solely at me. The secret was tied between us. Already I saw her smile like the first movement, the first trembling of the curtain of an unknown world. We were conspirators.

That was the moment when she hit me most powerfully, even though we loved each other long and happily, and even though she still lives in my heart. I mean the moment when everything is still imagination, still super-reality in the beloved, and yet the presentiment, even the certainty of possession, penetrates us. These are two realms that will never unite on earth except by a spark that timelessly leaps."

It was now Serner's turn, but he hadn't been listening and had to be awakened from his immersion. Hearing what was being said, he spoke with alacrity; which reflect both his familiarity with the

135

ma suggested, as if his tongue was winged with wine: 'I am certain, Convivors, that while I was meditating drinking, here was being treated of the profane view of happiness inherent in the world of passions. I didn't need to hear the endings; they could only be wrong. There is also a style of conversation that I tend to listen to like a fisherman listening to the pounding of the waves when he is dreaming in his boat. I tend to wake up and prepare to catch when the voice of the deep speaks.« "So we did the accompaniment to your profound monologues — that's quite flattering." 'You and the bottle I tossed, as well as Costar, whose stillness I will not forget. All of this fills me with joy. I drink to the good hour that unites us. When it comes to wine, words are not weighed. One hears through them to the root of sympathy. From there the euphon vibrates. I therefore continue. I said that the profane idea of happiness is linked to the passions. Hence its chimerical character, which cannot last. At its best, life is like a chain forged from the rings of fulfilled desires. Even if you always win, like Alexander, you will not escape fate. The enemy of hunger is satiety, as fulfillment is the death of longing.

For this reason the sages of all countries and of all times are agreed that happiness is not to be found through the gate of desires, and not in the current of the world. From this it follows that whoever wants to share in happiness must first close the gate of desires. In this all the regulations conform like variants of a revealed text — the sacred books, the precepts of the ancient sages of the East and West, the teachings of the Stoics and the Buddhists, the writings of the monks and mystics.

136

And further, experience teaches that man does not follow the rules. He lives as in the palaces of the Arabian Nights, in which all rooms promise him comfort except the one whose door is forbidden and behind which sorrow dwells. How is it that his misfortune compels him to open them? The mystery is that she is the gate of desires. The hunt for happiness leads into the thickets. Happiness must come. It is not at home with the impatient. It should be like the preparation, which becomes more and more beautiful. Life must not speed up. It must slow down like the streams that flow towards the sea. As it grows in depth and inner power with age, it carries with it gold, ships, and merry monsters. You seldom meet the lucky ones — they don't make a fuss about themselves. But they still live among us in their cells, engrossed in knowledge, in perception, in devotion—in deserts, in hermitages under the high roof of the world. Perhaps it is because of them that the warmth, the higher power of life, is still imparted to us.«

Ortner was the last to speak; he concluded the conversation: 'My epilogue can only be modest. That may be in the nature of things, since for me modesty and happiness are siblings. Happiness is the harmony in which we are with the things that surround us. The fewer and simpler these things, the purer and more effortless the chord. So it happens that simple people are also happy more easily. A bit of a garden with flowers and fruit, a table with a good guest and a bottle of wine, the quiet lamp illuminating a book and tea sets —these are compositions that delight when they are accompanied by inner harmony.

137

A circle surrounds the person who is enlivened by such harmony, in which it becomes visible. These are the islands in the chaos of this world. A garden, a workplace, a small household, a circle of friends— they testify to the genius of those around whom they were formed. They exude a touch of well-being, of musicality. They show that happiness, joy, and property do not exist in the isolated, and that their essence requires community, communication. It is in the giving, in the distributing of the^ received. Only the giver is rich. The circumference of these islands depends on the height of man. Even the smallest can be a donor, can spread splendor, no matter how small the light. The gardener's happiness is visible in the fruit, audible in the song that his wife is singing at the hearth. The princes build empires around them. The stars are islands in the ocean; we suspect that they are the home of good powers. And finally the universe is also an island in the void created by God.«

A glass was dedicated to happiness. As is often the case at the symposiums in the inner circle of the proconsul, the drinking companions then asked Ortner to give a lecture of his choice. He was in the habit of giving in to this all the more easily because he liked to speak well, and his excellent memory stood him in good stead. So he agreed and said:

'It occurs to me that among my old and discarded writings one approaches the subject we were discussing. It also contains ideas that Serner, in his usual silence, owed us. I "had drafted it for a cycle in which I dealt with the fate of the city of Berlin. The manuscript is over there; I happened to look through it these days."

He went over to get the manuscript and returned with a red folder, the color of which had been faded by the sun. As the painter increased the light, he examined the leaves; the

138

Edges were heavily yellowed.

Halder asked him to wait a moment and set out a bottle of Vecchio and new glasses. Costar also had to take part in the round. Then Ortner sat down comfortably and, hesitatingly at first, soon became involved in the story.

139

ORTNER'S NARRATIVE

Itwas in other times, and I conceal the name that I bore. It is not worthy of being preserved in tradition. I was unhappy, ruined in body and soul through my own fault. My parents didn't skimp on my upbringing. I had graduated from high school, and there was no lack of funds for my travels and studies. But I had failed, worn down by waste, vice and a tendency to idleness. For a long time I was without money, even without a home, and my acquaintances, having tired of helping me, avoided me. I didn't go to see her anymore either, because a feeling of hatred for people and society consumed me completely. I felt comfortable only in the havens of the outcast and the rejected. Deprived of the means of indulging in dear and chosen vices, I had to content myself with debaucheries that are cheap and ugly—the rude drink, the company of prostitutes, such as dwell in the slums, and, above all, gambling in the big-city saloons. In this way I lived in a sad and terrifying dream; my destiny took more and more the form of the dirty sheets, damp with sweat and booze and marked by counterfeiters: the aces, the kings, the jacks, the black and red queens and their constellations, which I half-drunk with passion involved. Low and greedy faces surrounded me at the round table, and hands anxiously clutching their game. The morning brought loss and wild strife. In this way I lived in a sad and terrifying dream; my destiny took more and more the form of the dirty sheets, damp with sweat and booze and marked by counterfeiters: the aces, the kings, the jacks, the black and red queens and their constellations, which I half-drunk with passion involved. Low and greedy faces surrounded me at the round table, and hands anxiously clutching their game. The morning brought loss and wild strife. In this way I lived in a sad and terrifying dream; my destiny took more and more the form of the dirty sheets, damp with sweat and booze and marked by counterfeiters: the aces, the kings, the jacks, the black and red queens and their constellations, which I half-drunk with passion involved. Low and greedy faces surrounded me at the round table, and hands anxiously clutching their game. The morning brought loss and wild strife. anxiously clutching their game. The morning brought loss and wild strife. anxiously clutching their game. The morning brought loss and wild strife.

So I dragged my days, and their burdens increased by memories of rich islands, luxury, and plenty. And

140

I was consumed by the desire to return to those tables where money is not counted. Happiness and contentment presented themselves to me only in the form of money, of large sums. There seemed to be no other way to happiness than that of combinations similar to those of the gambler and up. are aimed at profit. One must, I often thought, establish a relationship with the world and its treasures, which the gambler calls "the good streak." At times in the course of the games I had the intuition of a power that, like a subtle magnetism, gave us insight into Fortune's realm and gave us a good hand. But I never got beyond the law of the series—the stream suddenly broke off, and double losses followed. Nevertheless, like every player, I was convinced that one could attain a kind of lightness that was not subject to the power of chance. I believed that luck can be forced and that there is a power within us that decides how the ball falls, how the card wins. And for long nights I pondered these possibilities.

Like all those dreamers, I was getting closer to the magical realms, yes, worse. The gambler's existence tends mightily toward superstition, and then toward spiritual crimes heavier than human judgement, human judgment—yes, whose names are not even in the books in which the laws are recorded. As we devote ourselves to the game, we soon enter the world of talismans, mantic places and hours, cabalistic systems. And when we venture into these labyrinths, on the walls of which digits and symbols glow, we draw nearer with every turn, with every stray path, to stronger wielders of magical power. They remain invisible, but they affect our thinking, our actions. When the corruption has gone far enough,

141

It remains strange that unbelief makes them especially strong, especially effective. From my early youth I had despised what is called the hereafter. Now I was so removed from those spheres that I did not even mock them. I saw the world as one big automaton; luck depended on the extent to which one guessed its construction. The devil of the Middle Ages was a stupid wretch, an alliance devised by childish fear, childish madness. He offered people treasures in exchange for absurd riches, for a worthless signature. It wasn't a bad dream that there was a fellow who brokered such brilliant deals.

'If I were the devil I wouldn't give all these lazy customers a penny for their signatures. And if he appeared to me, I'd let him have mine for a damn. He didn't have to offer me Fortuna's purse, nor Judar's ring, nor even twenty pounds. It should be enough for me that he refills this little glass.” So I muttered to myself, lying with my head on a rough wooden table in drunken reverie. It was in a large waiting room just before dawn. I felt anxious and dizzy, like a rough sea on a ship. I heard loud voices and glasses clinking around me. It swelled and ebbed in a sickening twist. Night owls used to come here after the taverns were closed, and prostitutes looked out for the last suitors. Even those who, like me, had no shelter awaited the new day in this gloomy hall.

I could now only show myself in places where there is twilight. But even the rags fell off me. I presented a terrifying picture and already knew the thicket in which my corpse would scare the children who broke in playing. I felt that I had become utterly filthy by a rot that was eating away at my shirt, my shoes, my clothes and dissolving them. It was necessary

142

avoided that I cleared myself. But still the vague dream of happiness haunted me like a melody on a ship that is about to sink. My head seemed filled with mercury. With difficulty, swaying, I got up. And with astonishment I saw my glass poured. I rubbed my eyes, but there was no doubt: a red elixir filled them to the brim.

“Blackberry brandy; You must strengthen yourself, good friend!' So I heard a soft but emphatic voice beside me. I looked around and saw that a stranger was sitting next to me at the table, who was watching me attentively. It was a man in a gray business suit, unassuming but well tailored. The stranger's face was also unremarkable, of a type one encounters every day in our world. The sharp, attentive features pointed to the habit of making personal and leading decisions, the pale skin to night work. You come across such minds in ministries, universities, industry. But you won't find them there in the first places, they work more from hidden rooms. We wander a long time in these labyrinths when we come on business, getting more and more entangled in the tangle, until finally a servant leads us into the cell of such gray eminences. This is where light falls on our things, with two or three sentences the decisive thing is clarified and signed. Sometimes, of course, you meet them in nightclubs and bars, as guests of distinction.

At other times such spirits would have been thought of as malevolent, even terrible, but in a world where evil has become commonplace, they appear authoritarian. One senses at once that they embody the ruling principles, that they are the leaders. But they don't value honor and find it in work

143

their wages. They construct thoughts in their cells that are sharper than all swords, invent a powder that can be used to destroy peoples. They are humble in demeanor, yet confident and know their rank. One feels that they are masters of the problems with which their contemporaries are concerned. The knowledge gives them an unobtrusive, barely perceptible irony. The stranger let his gaze rest on me benevolently and inquiringly. He showed the attentive delicacy of a doctor lifting the bandage from an ulcer. Then he repeated: "You must strengthen yourself, good friend."

I raised the glass and downed the potion. I felt it run fiery, invigorating through my veins and looked around more freely. The fog left my head, my senses sharpened. The encounter seemed all the more strange to me. Farther from my nature than to believe in goodness, I resolved to be on guard above all else. Meanwhile I was in a position where you have nothing to lose. The stranger smiled. 'You think I can read minds? And if so, why should it surprise you? Mind reading isn't magic. It is an art based purely on combination. They drive them to the fairs. Don't let this worry you. What could be simpler than to guess that a drinker sitting in front of an empty glass expects it to be refilled? Nothing is more understandable. There isn't a single thought that doesn't have a motive power—in this case, it's thirst. This is a simple example, but insight increases as she knows the combinations. You then unlock the heads with the master key. In this class there are games that one always wins.”

“Aha, a cardsharp. He's probably looking for someone to do the volte with. The guy comes at the right time - now it's time to be careful." And nonchalantly I ventured:

144

“Games you always win? One would have to help reading minds a little." »Help? Not in the slightest. Look here,' and as I had guessed, the gray produced a deck of cards, which he shuffled and fanned with practiced fingers: "Give me any three cards you can think of." I named the seven of spades, the jack of diamonds, the ace of clubs. "Now pull." And really, I had the three cards in the order mentioned. The guy was worth his weight in gold; I felt my spirits rising: "Very well done. I just don't know what that has to do with mind reading. One could rather say that IHer guessed thoughts by drawing the cards.« The gray looked at me in amusement and giggled.

'Excellent, I saw right away that you didn't fall on your head. Your objection is apt; I set up the experiment too cheaply. We have to start differently.« He shuffled again and put the book on the table in front of me:

'You will now think of three cards, but do not tell me the names. So grab it." I drew again and, with an expression of astonishment I could not hide, revealed the three imaginary leaves. The stranger gloated over my dismay, which was obvious. “Now who read minds—you or me? You won't answer this question because you don't know what thoughts are. Thoughts are forms in which matter radiates. And this matter forms the fibers of the brain no less than the ball of roulette or a deck of cards. It's just infinitely easier to guess what's under the back of a map sheet than what's behind a human forehead. But if you want, I'll teach you the art."

It became more and more clear to me that I was a highly skilled

145

crooks had been caught. It just seemed inexplicable to me what he wanted from me, because everyone could see from afar that there was nothing to tug at me. No ragpicker would have bothered about me. The first thing to be assumed was that he wanted to make fun of me, and I decided, willy-nilly, to go along with it. I started laughing too and said: “If you knew the art of looking through maps, you would hardly be walking through waiting rooms at four in the morning to seek company like mine.” The merriment of horror was still beginning to grow; he whistled happily to himself. “Look, look, a bright head. You've hit the sore spot again. That is also the objection that the gold-makers fear: what drives you to peddle your arts instead of beating ducats to your heart’s content in the comfort of your own little room?” He was silent for a while and looked at me with a smile. Then he added: 'You are too clever - you do not know the powers of sympathy. What if, just looking at you, it just occurred to me that you needed help? But leaving that aside, there are other possibilities that you shouldn't overlook. There could be operations for which your assistance is indispensable. What drove the Mauritanian to turn to Aladdin just when the lamp needed to be recovered? I repeat that I want to teach you knowledge that always wins. But this is hardly the place for it.” He looked around and asked mockingly, "I'm not keeping you from business, am I?"

The rascal - he knew for sure that my only concern now was to look for a rope. So I hastened to say: 'I am not worthy of your dealing with me. But there

146

once it pleases you, dispose of me.” 'I don't think you'll regret it. Follow me." He called the waiter to pay my bill and we left.

The station square was already bathed in pale light. The gray walked without haste and whistling little tunes through the still empty streets; I kept myself beside him as a miserable client. I felt dull and uncanny; I suspected that I had fallen into evil clutches. What could he want from me, what did he plan against me? For the first time, the longing for childhood seized me like a fine pain. But what did I have to lose in this state? We were almost there. The stranger stopped in front of one of the tall business buildings, which are completely covered with company signs and advertisements as if they were colored rags. We entered and an elevator took us up. The gray opened a door, and I read the following inscription over the bell: DR FANCY ophthalmologist

Office hours by appointment only We entered the practice through a bare anteroom, which resembled the workshop of a highly intelligent craftsman. A table held spectacles and optical instruments, and plaques with numbers and letters hung on the walls. It was a space where the right angle and the straight line ruled; he seemed to me to be filled with sharp, pitiless rays. A box with glass eyes caught my eye in particular. They lay on red velvet and shone with a brilliance that resembled that of life. They pointed to a

147

an eyemaker of the first rank. Doctor Fancy forced me into an oilcloth armchair and sat down on a stool opposite me. He was now wearing a white lab coat. He looked me straight in the eyes; it seemed to me as if two fine rays were penetrating me from his almost punctiform pupils. I was getting sleepy, but I heard exactly the sentences that he spoke to me slowly and in an irresistibly soft voice. 'I will not delay you unnecessarily. Your secret desires have been known to me for a long time. Although unclear, they were on the right path; They should be rewarded. They suspected that there are two kinds of people: the fools and the knowing. Some are the slaves, others are the masters of this world. Now what is the difference? Quite simply that there are two great laws at work in the universe: chance and necessity. Note well: there is nothing as well. The slaves are ruled by chance; the gentlemen determine what is necessary. In the nameless army of the blind there are some spirits who see." The voice put me to sleep. The rush came back stronger than before. I heard that the doctor was working on instruments. At the same time, he continued measuredly, but most urgently, in his lecture, not a word of which escaped me: »The world is modeled on the double chamber, the chambre double. Like all two-leaved creatures, it is made up of two layers, which are related to the inside and the outside, and of which one has a higher, the other a lower reality. But one sees, insofar as one is aware, that the lower reality is determined by the higher one down to the finest features. Now think of the following: You are in this room with a large group, or shall we say in this hall. One plays, one debates, one does business, in short, one does what is human custom. For the uninitiated guests in this hall, things and their constellations become more or

148

be left less to chance. Therefore, none of them can say with certainty what even the next minute will bring. The unforeseen reigns here, the blind force. Now think further: the hall is surrounded by a second layer that is as invisible as an aura. It is almost without extension, but significant. They imagine this layer as a kind of wallpaper interwoven with pictorial and numeric writing that is overlooked. I will remove the scales from your eyes and you will discover with astonishment that these characters are the key to everything that happens in the hall. So far they have been like a human being who follows the orbit of the stars at night, but without any knowledge of astronomy. Now you are knowing and their power is like that of the ancient priesthoods that proclaimed lunar and solar eclipses. You have accepted the initiations that grant you magical principality. You will be eternally grateful to me.' ' . At these words Doctor Fancy leaned over me. I saw that his forehead was girded with a diadem that bore a round mirror pierced in the middle. With a wave of his hand he brought my chair into a horizontal position and approached me with a pointed glass tube. "A lunatic—that fellow wants to pick your eyes out!"

An icy shock ran through me and paralyzed me. I saw him turn down the mirror; he looked at me as if through an enormous but empty eye. I heard him murmur: "The brandy worked." My hair stood on end. I opened my mouth, but no cry came from my chest. He brought the tube over my eyes and dropped two drops in it, which stung like vaginal fluid. The pain was unbearable; it was getting dark and I felt like I was going to faint. When I woke up, Doctor Fancy had screwed the chair up again. He dabbed my eyes out with a cotton ball. 'It hurt a little? Well, no pain no gain.

149

We're done, and I repeat, you'll thank me." I scarcely dared to believe that I had escaped. I carefully looked around the room for a tool with which I could knock him down if necessary. Then I said politely: 'Herr Doktor, you've had your fun with me. Now please let me go— I feel very weak.” More to reassure him, I added: "If you would give me a small allowance, I would be grateful." The doctor laughed.

"Croesus asks for a charity - well, one also hears that billionaires are often without small change." He went to his desk and, without counting, handed me a wad of bills: 'Use the little notes first while you're still in that dress. Otherwise you will be pocketed.” He looked at me again like one who is satisfied with his work: “Of course, you will soon realize that locks and bolts are not made for your kind. You are above the law now.” With that he dismissed me.

The streets were now densely crowded. I threw myself into her throng. The terror still held me under its spell. I would not have repeated the adventure for a sum. I ran into a public garden and, exhausted, sat down on a bench. It wasn't until I reached into my pocket that I remembered the bundle of notes. I pulled it out and counted it carefully. The bills were undoubtedly real. The sum was significant—that made the process complete

150

enigmatic. But I didn't think about it any further. I felt like a shipwrecked man who has found solid land. The morning was nice and warm. Gradually, sitting in the sun, I straightened my head. Doctor Fancy had undoubtedly lost a screw and those around him hadn't noticed. I had benefited from his madness. The adventure could have taken a bad turn—you had to be lucky. I took credit for that. From time to time I leafed through my notes inconspicuously. I was now contemplating the new phase that had begun for me. What mattered now was that I carefully rose from the state into which I had sunk. I would first look for an old town flea market and dress cheaply. Then I would rent the small room I had before I became homeless. I could have a tailored suit made there and change clothes again. So I gradually lifted myself out of the cloaca as if through a series of sluices. Full of fresh courage, I went to the express train that drove to the old town. The yellow train pulled in, the doors rolled open. The crowd crowded into the compartments, but a strange vision held me back. I felt as if I was about to get into a hearse. The conductor, the passengers looked at me with terrible eyes. That must still be an after-effect of the terror. But I became uncomfortable and decided to walk. I followed the scaffolding of the railway track, resting on high pillars, to the city centre. A crowd stopped me at an overpass near the Gleisdreieck. A great misfortune had happened; the express train had crashed. I saw the conductor being carried past on a stretcher with his skull crushed. I quickly made off

In the evening I sat in my room with tea. Above all, I wanted to avoid strong drinks from then on. I was now wearing sailor trousers and a woolen sweater, I was too

151

bathed and freshly shaved. A suitcase full of laundry stood next to me. Sometimes I felt for my wallet. I filled my pipe with Virginia tobacco. The landlady had received me suspiciously, but when I paid her the old debt she was happy to give me the room again. She wasn't fussy, for the tenant she had before me had been arrested as a defraudant a year ago, and yet she visited him in prison. He had lived with her for a long time as a lowly employee in inconspicuous circumstances, then major frauds had been revealed. As I thought about it, a strange thought came to me. It was never established how he had spent the money. He probably hid it. What if he had hidden it close by, maybe even in this room itself? The interest he still felt in his landlady was remarkable. I felt a greedy acumen awaken in me. In a very different way than before, I looked around the familiar room, anxious to put myself in the mind of a person who wants to explore a hiding place. I knew at once that there could be no other place than the fireplace. Although the police had already made a thorough search, the technology of these spirits is subaltern.

I carefully closed the door and got to work. I took down two candlesticks and a grandfather clock that stood on the ledge and tried to take off the marble slab that he wore. It was fastened, but lifted a little, like the lid of a chest that is locked. It seemed that some kind of bolt locked them, and indeed there was an ornament which, when moved, removed the resistance. The plate lifted to reveal an indentation. Bundles of banknotes and bags of minted gold filled them. I had discovered the secret hiding place. So I had long dragged my days in abject poverty beside a treasure that was scarcely an arm's reach from me, like one dying of thirst over a hidden vein of water. How many long nights have I been, the odds over-

152

musing, paced up and down the room and had placed the grog glass on this ledge. I had knocked the whistle out on him countless times. And it seemed almost despicable to me that one could live with such a dull mind as I did. A high pride seized me over my new intelligence. There was no doubt that meeting Doctor Fancy had changed me— he was right: I ought to be grateful to him. From. From now on I experienced this new power more and more clearly, like a child who learns to see more clearly every day. Similarly, I was learning better every day how to use second sight, which confers tremendous benefits. At first, as with the accident on the express train and the hiding place in the chimney, this gift had forced itself on me like a sleepwalker; I followed her with dream certainty. Then I became aware of her. I learned to steer them at will, in cold blood and from the brain. Above all, I used them only in contexts that suited me. It was as if I could sharpen my eyesight to the utmost if I strained it. I lived as if in possession of a microscope in the midst of people who had no idea that such tools exist. But I used it only as I pleased. Then I saw the elements, the atoms that determine events, the germs in which happiness and unhappiness hide. I proceeded cautiously, as if under a magic cloak. Of course, I immediately sought out the familiar places of gambling. I knew now how the cards hit, the ball falls. The alternation of colors and numbers had lost its menace; it took place inside me, on the back of my eyes. There were other issues that bothered me. I had to learn to control the new power that had been bestowed on me, and at the same time I had to get used to it and conceal it. With this in mind, I first sat long and hesitantly at the green table, like someone who brings only a single piece of gold with him and anxiously waits until he risks it. I wanted to validate myself in my science. I soon saw that she was infallible.

153

Then I began to point out and put it down to losing. I made a name for myself as a bad player. Doctor Fancy hadn't chosen a fool. Up there I began to gain modestly, thirty pounds here, fifty pounds there. I made the losses visible and the gains invisible. Above all, it was important that I hid my art. While no one would suspect it, it was certainly worrying to see me winning big streaks. Iknewnow, by the way, what I had always suspected: that every habitual gambler is a cardsharp.

Very soon I lost the pleasure of playing. The wild excitement that used to seize me and that let the night pass in the Na gave way to boredom after the first surprise when I saw my chance without fail. I sat at the gaming table like a clerk in the office waiting for the end of the day. Only the passion of the others remained amusing - the way in which I saw the bullfinches fluttering in the yarn, and the swindlers in turn being deceived by me. I soon turned to finer business. I moved west and rented a house with servants. The first transaction I undertook from there was related to an inheritance case. I knew a great legacy and also the poor heirs of the missing relative - two dates, the knowledge of which I turned into hard cash through a straw man. In this way I acquired ships that were considered overdue and took out daring insurance policies. I also made recreational trips to places associated with legends of buried treasure, and tracked them down with no trouble. Yet I did not bother with her elevation; I left them where they were, safer than on the bench. I took them up and attached the sketches and maps to my notes. I made the experience that the rumors which are preserved in this way among the people are mostly well-founded. Also, the number of secret treasures is far greater than you might think.

154

Speculating on oil was even more effortless. I knew the places where you can find it. I kept the knowledge hidden and turned it into my capital. On the other hand, I was tempted to unlock profits from fields that I well knew that every guess was in vain. I made treaties with the landowners to set up unions; the Kuxe was snatched from my hand. By contenting myself with their money, I left the hope of rich finds and the payment of the fine to the buyers.

After savoring a number of major successes, this way of simulating the individual objects seemed too tedious to me. She stopped me from having fun. Inevitably I got into the field of big business, big money, the movement of which determines almost pure mental power. I penetrated the mysteries of the stock market. I soon became familiar with the technique. I got to know the values, and then the opinion that determines the course. Like all powers on earth, money is at the same time thoroughly real and thoroughly imaginary. Great deals depend on bringing your real and imaginary character into the best possible relationship. This explains the addition Imagination, which none of the princes of money lacks and which makes them capable of compositions very similar to those of music. After all, musicality is also attributed to the perception of the finest number orders. There is great pleasure in that. "Sell rising stocks and buy falling stocks." The strategy of the stock market game is hidden in this rule, and it says that you should interrupt the series at the right time. The instinct for chance, the innate passion of the game drives us to the opposite, for it always imagines that the series is endless. But I knew the laws on which the business cycle is based. Now I entered the circle of the chosen spirits, for whom human wealth and human labor earn interest. Business is other people's trouble, other people's money. The negro who searches for the diamonds in the blue depths, the engineer who

155

Legions of feverish graves connecting two seas through a tract, the farmer who anxiously looks at the state of the fruit, the prince who ponders war and peace in his cabinet—they hardly suspect that their efforts will once again be reflected in the mirror of speculation , in chambers in which one recognizes the value of the world as monetary value. Money is the real power of life, is its most meaningful abbreviation, and hence the universal and tremendous urge to seize it. Also mysterious is the ebb and flow of big money, in which fortunes are made and lost. The knowledge of this change is completely detached from the values at the highest ranks. Rather, it acts on values with powerful fictions. And there are places where losses are no less interest-bearing than profits. At them the business takes on the ideal character. I soon established myself in such a way that I was making the maximum amount of money with the minimum investment of time. Partly through agents, partly through telephone calls, I instructed the banks to buy stocks that were heading towards the trough and sell others nearing the peak. The real difficulty was not in the selection, in which I was infallible. Rather, it was based on the fact that I had to limit myself so that my purchases did not disturb the relationship between supply and demand. I was in the position of a person who knows the winner of the race but who would lower the odds if he bet randomly. The setting also captivated me philosophically, for it offered an exquisite insight into the fabric of free will and determination. At times I would interrupt the series and feign losses so that operations would remain confusing and not be followed. But my fortune soon became enormous.

I set up small, exquisitely decorated villas, pieds à terre, in all capitals and on all stock exchanges. The first tailors, the best suppliers were in my service. buyer

156

looked around for pictures and artworks for me. I had always loved to dress with taste and to collect choice things around me; now I could satisfy every wish. I became a dandy who took the unimportant seriously and smiled at the important. I avoided even small troubles. So I was weary of fittings; I had dolls made to my measurements, and by which the tailors worked. I kept good carriages, good horses, and, although I drank moderately, the best wine in my cellar. A steward with the manners and salary of a Venetian ambassador saved me even the slightest trouble with the servants.

At Longchamps I was seen with the Princess Pignatelli, at Epton with Sarah Butler, whose game was at its peak. It was revealed to me what women hide all the more carefully the more it grips them: the inclination they take towards an unknown person who touches their sphere. I was always aware of my impact. Therefore the anxiety with which beauty above all restrains us like a ban from the gods was alien to me; I was absolutely certain. Irresistibility followed.

I was having breakfast in Wannsee when a Mr. Katzenstein called. He was known to me by name as one of the finest financiers. I let him in. After a few general phrases, he came to the point; his concern was something like this: he had been following my orders for a long time; also those of the brokers whom I appointed. He knew my straw men. It seemed to him, apart from this or that failure, that behind these transactions there was an acumen that was unusual. He went into details and spoke of an ingenious combination. He had come first out of a pure feeling of admiration, like

157

reading a book, for example, can irresistibly ignite the desire in the reader to meet the author in person. At these words, a lively anger seized me; it seemed to me that I hadn't been too careful lately. Now it was best to adopt an authoritarian demeanor and respond to his admiration. I offered him some of my port with a patronizing smile. After all, what was more natural than that the profit should be based on a special knowledge of money and its circuits? First of all, it was necessary to gain insight into big politics and its effect on the markets and heavy industry. The other branches depended on this in manifold interdependencies. Then there was the issue of free money and the great pools into which it poured. The economic cycles had multiple and often hidden reasons, but they were not unpredictable. If someone saw a stone fall into the water, then he could deduce the waves he was sending out. It was possible to calculate when this or that part of the pond started to move.

Katzenstein listened attentively as I developed these platitudes for him. He replied with great courtesy: 'Certainly, these are factors found in manuals of political economy. In this way, the experienced meteorologist predicts the state of the weather with a fair degree of probability. Certainly not without stations, instruments, ships and personnel distributed around the world.« He spread his hands, looking at their empty palms. "What do you mean by that, Herr Kommerzienrat?" He looked at me with delighted eyes, as if admiring a precious picture: 'A good head, as I said at once, an excellent head. And also a little port — that can only come from old Sandemann personally. I believe that the science of money in practice

158

not enough. It also requires capital. There are insights that only wealth can bring to fruition. Money gains in attraction with its volume. The advantage of the bankers is that they can follow the streak longer and on more different squares than the small player, and so the probability is on their side. There's only one kind of game that could match that — and that's the one that can correct the series, make the weather." My anger intensified. The fellow with the eyes clouded by the good life and bile had doubtless asked precisely about me; he knew that not long ago I had been a beggar. Of course he was far from the goal. He took me for an agent of the powers that are invisibly at the center of the market. Only he wasn't clever enough to know that this center point is an irrational one. He had no idea and could not have guessed that I received my tips from the world's greatest setter, and that I had full powers of attorney from him. He didn't know who he was having breakfast with. With the necessary reticence I let it be known that his view was not entirely improbable. But if I did in fact have connections of the kind he suspected, they could only become effective if they were kept secret. Of course, my behavior increased his attention. It increased as I seemed to want to withdraw and hide from him. In every transaction, the advantage lies with the bystander. He now formally forced himself on me, attacking my bait like a predatory fish.

From then on, Katzenstein visited me frequently and asked for my advice. Without realizing it, he took a lot of the work off my hands, especially dealing with agents, which is always a nuisance. I became his partner. As such, I built into his corporations an insurance company that lent crops and turned to outright risky business. I reserved this company for myself as my special share.

159

Shortly before the Moroccan conflict eased, I dropped the papers by removing the war clause. The coup was aimed at Katzenstein although he couldn't see through it, he became suspicious. I maliciously advised him to liquidate extensively, but he didn't agree. The war obviously stimulated the economy. The bear market was unnatural and promised double profits. It was one of those situations that cannot be described in words—that only flair can understand. In them, money rises to fictitious heights, to the stuff of pure imagination. My advice was correct, why didn't he follow it? He only knew mathematical probability. Then came the Treaty of Tangier, which was followed by Black Friday. The bank failed; the insurance business brought in enormous profits. In such crises the old game of "war or no war" is always repeated, like playing "heads or coat of arms" with a coin. This was followed by a conversation between Katzenstein and myself. He saw his wrong. When the servant tried to wake him up the next morning, he found him dead in bed. One spoke of a heartbeat. The sadness of his creditors was great. I was now the proprietor of the company Katzenstein & Co. No one could be surprised any longer when they saw me in possession of limitless means and involved in world affairs. I turned to Treasury bonds, the supreme and royal sphere of finance. They made me a German baron and awarded me the cordon of the Legion of Honour. The philanthropists counted me among theirs. The princess now had her carriage parked open in front of my door; people jostled for my place in the Jockey Club. I was known to lose large sums at gambling there.

So much for my external circumstances. They couldn't be better. And yet I felt unhappier in proportion

160

in which I gained power and prestige. At first it was boredom that gripped me more and more vividly. I noticed that I was missing the tension, the uncertainty, the pros and cons, the red and the black that gives life its real charm. I played the role of the fencer who cannot fall. The chance was calculable for me. It lacked the enigmatic, the indefinite that makes our hearts sing. As I have already said, the game soon lost its attraction for me. I felt the same way with every other combination. I soon got tired of collecting the money from the fools who pressed it on me. I often felt tempted to collect the bet before the game even started. Who likes guessing riddles when he knows the solution. The only thing that still attracted me was the contemplation of the excitement and despair of others. But as time went on, I lost interest in it too. I had lost my destiny, yet I became the destiny of those I met. Cruelty increased with blaséness. It is probably due to this that people who gain unlimited power, like the Caesars, necessarily turn to murder. The earth is transformed into a spectacle, into a circus.

I developed the same relationship with women; I especially felt my power. They approached me like colorful butterflies in the bright light. As I caressed her, I was always aware of my claws. I played games with them as the partner who can't lose. And like a Shylock, I made sure they paid in full, flesh and blood. I heard the faintest falsetto in the melody. Strange was the fear that I would be cheated. I knew exactly the price of things and was careful not to be overpriced. I became more and more embarrassed about it as my fortune grew. One buys the cheaper, the greater wealth one possesses. When you are absolutely wealthy, you even buy things for free. A picture, a house, a piece of furniture were particularly dear to me if they were associated with the memory of a good purchase. It was

161

the logic of money, which filled me more and more and took hold of me. Alongside this, whimsy grew; I felt that the pleasures satisfied me less and less. As my means increased, they lost value to me. After years of excess, I found myself dependent on the kind of life one leads in expensive sanatoriums. I loved the gray color, the silent waitresses, the days with curtained windows, the unseasoned platters, the impersonal conversations, the women who combine high elegance and nothingness. But there was another circumstance that troubled me far more than the loss of cheerfulness, joy, and vitality. He signed up immediately after the first jubilation of success. It became more and more clear to me that I carried a terrible, an uncommunicable secret within me. And more and more clearly I recognized this secret as criminal. My plot against the people was outrageous, it was that of the archenemy. He was so powerful that he was beyond the law. The thief scouting a safe opportunity, the cardsharp preparing his cards, the man plotting evil in his closet—all still partook of the chance and were subject to the universal law. They appeared human, while I possessed automatic power. They could also have accomplices, while my knowledge implied the deepest solitude. I noticed this from the fact that I would have infinitely preferred to be passed for a counterfeiter than to have my secret even suspected. The fine hand, the infallible success that people admired in me - they would have aroused disgust, horror and terrible hatred if their sources had been recognized. A usurer who knows the laws of money better than the poor on whose blood he fattens himself, a Don Juan who cold-bloodedly repeats the technique of seduction like a music box melody—they fell short of my infallibility. With that I distanced myself from the presuppositions of the human race and entered a new order. The man who gains magical powers, like the invisibility cloak, the lucky ring than anyone even suspecting my secret. The fine hand, the infallible success that people admired in me - they would have aroused disgust, horror and terrible hatred if their sources had been recognized. A usurer who knows the laws of money better than the poor on whose blood he fattens himself, a Don Juan who cold-bloodedly repeats the technique of seduction like a music box melody—they fell short of my infallibility. With that I distanced myself from the presuppositions of the human race and entered a new order. The man who gains magical powers, like the invisibility cloak, the lucky ring than anyone even suspecting my secret. The fine hand, the infallible success that people admired in me - they would have aroused disgust, horror and terrible hatred if their sources had been recognized. A usurer who knows the laws of money better than the poor on whose blood he fattens himself, a Don Juan who cold-bloodedly repeats the technique of seduction like a music box melody—they fell short of my infallibility. With that I distanced myself from the presuppositions of the human race and entered a new order. The man who gains magical powers, like the invisibility cloak, the lucky ring if one had recognized their sources. A usurer who knows the laws of money better than the poor on whose blood he fattens himself, a Don Juan who cold-bloodedly repeats the technique of seduction like a music box melody—they fell short of my infallibility. With that I distanced myself from the presuppositions of the human race and entered a new order. The man who gains magical powers, like the invisibility cloak, the lucky ring if one had recognized their sources. A usurer who knows the laws of money better than the poor on whose blood he fattens himself, a Don Juan who cold-bloodedly repeats the technique of seduction like a music box melody—they fell short of my infallibility. With that I distanced myself from the presuppositions of the human race and entered a new order. The man who gains magical powers, like the invisibility cloak, the lucky ring

162

symbolize, loses balance, the tension that sustains us in the course of the world; he steps on levers that are immeasurable. The forces soon strike back at him. This first became apparent to me through a dull uneasiness, because I saw the misery in which I found myself more and more clearly. The world emptied itself, it became desert; and shadows moved within her according to mechanical law. I felt that I had lost my way, and that I longed to withdraw. The emptiness grew—how even the unfortunate were enviable. At that time I recognized that alongside and above mechanics, a higher law rules the world and makes it fruitful. I suspected that it was only to be found in people who donated lovingly. Emptiness drew me to fulfillment, cold to warmth. I felt that I had to bind myself to a heart that here alone lay salvation. But I was so blinded that I resorted to magical means when I went in search.

On an evening when the restlessness had become almost unbearable, I let myself drift and felt drawn to the Schlesischer Bahnhof. I entered its great hall, teeming with travelers in the light of the arc lamps. As so often in such situations, a kind of knowing tension revived me—the curiosity as to why I had come here. I was like the hunter who never doubted whether he would meet the game he was looking for. It was here that I met Helene. She sat in the arch of a blind window on a lock-basket, like it makes up the luggage of girls going into position. From behind I saw the cheap coat and the hunched shoulders of a man crying alone. I took in her situation at a glance: deserted, without money and friends in the strange city. These are the sacrifices that the procuress

163

men, the exploiters and the brokers of shady deals go on a quest. I approached her and spoke to her. She was so thankful because she was in a position where you reach out for any help. Also, suspicion was foreign to her heart. She saw in me the kindness one looks for when one is • in need, and she trusted me. I offered her protection and shelter. We carried her basket into a cab and drove to Treptow; I had one of my permanent quarters there, where I sometimes lived under someone else's name and indulged my whims. It was a modest Retiro, a garden shed on the Spree. Helene moved into a room there. I had dinner with her; we drank tea and chatted. I found them fresh and uninhibited and hardly surprised at the strangeness of the encounter. She thought I was chivalrous and kind and could not have guessed that our encounter was that of a completely naive person and a completely conscious person. I soon took her to her room and gave her the key, but I knew she didn't lock it. She was like a bird in my hand. After I left her, I walked up and down in the garden for a long time. The night was dark; now and then a tow with colored lights glided down the Spree. I knew that innocence is the easiest thing to seduce. But it didn't matter to me. I wanted to find the tension again, the inner sense. That was only possible if I created prohibitions in the realm of my unlimited freedom. I knew that this was only possible through the medium of a human. I wanted to devote myself to him, to take care of him as if he were a precious instrument that had been created for my health, my salvation. Helene should be like a virgin mirror onto which I sent the rays of knowledge and received them back concentrically, warmingly. I did not see; that in this way I increased my crime,

At first things went my way. I allowed Helene to take care of my little household

164

I was busy with my books and studies. In the morning I drove to Wannsee or to the center and from there kept my operations up to date. They were happier than ever. Helene took me for a highranking bank clerk with a good income. I let them believe that, although I didn't have to save, I did have to calculate; my wealth would have frightened them. I tried to form them without my efforts or my influence being visible. I soon saw that she was developing a taste for the colors, shapes, and scents I loved. Sometimes we went to the shops and bought fabrics, glasses, a piece of furniture. I gave her books that I chose. We went to the theater on Saturdays and ate out on Sundays in the country, weather permitting. In all this I kept luxury at bay or disguised it in simplicity.

So it was no wonder that my plan worked. I could have possessed Helene on the very first evening; we would then have lived in animal intimacy. Instead, we entered into a spiritual relationship; I noticed how she clung to me more and more firmly with plant-like roots. I became her lover in the sense in which one cherishes a rare flower, an exquisite work of art. The reason was virgin; it produced crystals and blossoms in ever more beautiful formations. I had the spectacle of a soul opening up, mysteriously gaining power as it grew.

In the course of a short year, the tide turned. I became the recipient; the fruits that ripened became too heavy for me. Helene became the source of higher life for me; I saw the world through her. As I became dependent on her, the fear returned intensified. And I realized more and more clearly that in mastering chance I had turned myself into a lucky machine, into an automaton, into a worthless nothing. I carried within me a terrible knowledge worse than that of the man who had lost the shadow, and I had attached a human to me by that knowledge. The moment he me

165

in which he grasped my secret, disgust, even horror, had to replace love. It already seemed to me as if Helene looked at me thoughtfully from time to time; I thought it possible that by intuition she guessed the deceit I was ensnaring her with. It was at this time that I collapsed. I came to one of the turning points that destroy the person who reaches them or confront them with new decisions, and which everyone probably knows from their own experience. Such a breakdown can be physical: for a long time we have sensed small signs that a change was taking place in the depths of our health. We should relax, but let's ignore the warnings. Then suddenly comes the blow that throws us to the ground. Similarly, before the mental breakdown, we ignore the subtle voices within us until we receive the shock that throws the system as a whole off its hinges. Indeed, a period of special security often precedes bankruptcy. And finally there is the moral collapse, which surpasses the stroke, the insanity in horror.

Yes, the encounter with nothingness is horrifying. It became clear to me that I had gutted myself from within, destroyed myself, and that wealth surrounded me deceptively like that fine varnish that is used to coat mummies. And I was seized with a tremendous disgust for myself.

Helene thought I was seriously ill; she consulted doctors. I knew well that no medicine could help me; especially not the arts of the psychologists, who understand the soul as an apparatus that can be analyzed and treated technically. Our world is peopled with such charlatans; they tend to drift towards the demon. I wanted to pray, but I felt my mouth sealed. Ugly words came out. Opposite the little house, on the Stralauer Ufer, was a small church; I went to see the priest. He knew me because I was part of his parish and had given him donations from time to time. He received me with cheers

166

danger. I tried to explain my situation to him, but I noticed at once that he did not understand me. My suggestion troubled and confused him; he no doubt thought I was deranged. He gave me polite words, like a fool you want to get rid of in a good way; also recommended me a doctor urgently. I then took refuge with a cleric of the old church, in which the knowledge of demons, of the deeper workings of evil, has not yet entirely died out. He listened to me carefully and then, in horror, dismissed me. I've often been to the center to explore Doctor Fancy's apartment, but I couldn't find it again. At times I thought that everything was based on imagination, on confused dreams; that didn't ease my pain. I knew I was lost.

During this time I started drinking again; the hours of intoxication were the only bearable ones. "They were like a brightly woven tent that I unfolded over my head in the desert. Helene brought me the wine like a nurse brought me medicine. The sight of me saddened her, but she felt that I needed the drink. What good would it do that one prescribes empty sobriety to the unfortunate?For him, intoxication is the last of residences, the last fringes of color in the dark. Then, late after midnight, I set out for those neighborhoods where life never stops. I felt an urge to blend in with the crowds bustling with activity in the glow of the colored lights. In each of the great cities there is a dark center where evil resides. I was attracted to him; it was also known to me locally. It was at an intersection of Grenadierstrasse. At this hour everyone except the police was probably under the influence of drink or drugs: you only met women who were for sale and men who were investigating the crime. I

167

circled restlessly in this crowd, which soon gathered in the redbeamed pool of Alexanderplatz, and soon scattered to the silent bridges over the Spree. Sometimes I mingled with one of the groups that formed around an arrest, a drunken prostitute, or a shady deal. Then again I went into one of the big cafes, whose walls gleamed with mirrors, and there, like the other guests, stared in front of me to the sound of a mechanical orchestra. The sight of the architectures awakened dark thoughts in me. As before, I ended my walks in great exhaustion at the train stations. There are forms of life that are imposed on us, measured out for us, beyond wealth and poverty. And again a morning came when I found myself compelled to commit suicide. I didn't notice that I was sitting in the same place as before. As always at this hour, I was heavily intoxicated. Sometimes I touched my breast pocket; I felt there the tube of strong poison that I carried with me. The news of the sudden death of a stranger made it through the morning papers. I poured the powder into my glass. At that moment a traveler in a blue suit hurriedly entered and approached my table. I saw with dumb astonishment that it was Doctor Fancy. He sat down opposite me and gave me a searching look: "Look, an old patient, if I'm not mistaken—how are your eyes, if I may ask?" I eyed him sullenly, hateful: 'You'd better judge that than I do. But this time I'll take care of my own affairs." Doctor Fancy smiled and whistled the old tune. 'We know well that there are patients who are dissatisfied when they have a cataract. You complain that your vision is too hard. A state of average optics seems most agreeable to man — a clair obscur.«

168

He took my glass and sniffed the scent comfortably. I watched him viciously, expectantly. The Doctor smiled again and repeated his tune in a higher pitch: 'I see you've made progress. It smells very good — like bitter almond oil.” He poured the contents on the ground and then continued:

'Let's talk to each other seriously - it seems that you consider the operation to be unhealthy, although it went well. I even planned to publish it in the professional journals. But one could also give you back the old view with little effort.« Scarcely daring to believe what I was hearing, I cried:

'If you did, doctor, I would give you my fortune. You know it's tremendous." "I know it. But I'm one of those artists who work for free. Since you're sort of back at the wrap point of the loop, things would have to be done in reverse. You'd have to buy me a Blackberry brandy first. Then we'd be essentially even." He called the waiter; and I placed the order. We emptied our glasses and set off like we did back then. He led me into the house and into the consulting room that I had so often looked for. After putting on his smock, Fancy sat me down in the oilcloth chair and looked at my eyes with a large magnifying glass. Arranging his instruments, in the manner of some doctors, he engaged in a soliloquy, half addressed to me. “The Eye,” he said, “is imperfect, like all Demiurge's instruments. A little moisture, a little color in a dark room, with a prospect of a middle band of light full of indefinite impressions. As an internal organ, as a tool of insight, it is limited by the unforeseen. When we sharpen it so that it sees the game of chance a little more clearly, penetrates the veil of time, patients complain of pain

169

from too much light. They reclaim the illusion. They prefer the images veiled. The eye is made for a realm of shadows, not for the uncolored light. The light, the great power of the universe, would burn you if it approached you without an iris belt. Beauty, truth, knowledge are unbearable for the dim eye: a shadow of all is enough. What are you pushing beyond your circle?” 'But of course,' he added, 'how could it be otherwise? The dimensions by which God created the world to be enjoyed in time and through the medium of creatures in the unpreto kick the ones you see — they hit the right spot. The universe is a gamble, a game of chance. This is where imperfection rests; it is intentional." He turned to me: “I sharpened your eyes with an acid. They can be blunted again by a base. But you would have to put up with a loss of vision.” "Get to work — at all risk." The Doctor shrugged and turned back to his instruments. Then he positioned me and dropped two drops into my eyes. A blinding pain burned through me again, followed by a faint. When I woke up, I saw that Doctor Fancy was in his business suit again. He looked at me and said: "You can go now." "I thought you were giving me instructions?" 'Oh, you mean that your credit should now be distributed to the poor people? Don't worry about it." He opened the door and let me out. I felt very miserable and groped my way along the walls. Things seemed veiled to me, but more colorful. At a crossroads, a car hit me and pulled me over. With my last strength I reached the house.

170

Helene had been expecting me; with a glance she grasped the state in which I found myself. She caught me by hugging me and hugging me - - -»Finally",I heard in my ear.

My health was undermined; her eyes hurt and her eyesight was severely impaired. A nervous fever almost got me there. For weeks I had a vague feeling of how Helene was struggling for me, recognizing her in glimpses of light. Then I was allowed to sit in the garden and do the first courses.

My general manager sent for me often and urgently. Finally I drove to the center to look around for my business. I found them in the greatest disorder. Insurance losses from catastrophes, falling stocks, embezzlement had swallowed up in weeks what had been hoarded in years. Above all, I had lost the affinity for money, the keen sense that is indispensable for financial transactions. I had lost the state of the hollow, the insatiable, which presupposes that the abstract sums flow. The speculative inclination had died out in me, and its signs lost meaning and reality for me.

I had a list of my effects, real estate and movables drawn up. All in all, gains and losses might even out. A liquidator was found who took on all of my claims and obligations, with all the risk. I was left with the pavilion at Stralau's and the gifts I had given Helene. They provided the basis for a small antiquarian bookshop, which I acquired. My sense of old and exquisite things stood me in good stead. We got married and lived like everyone else. In the small, modest hustle and bustle of the day and its worries, the past soon came to me like a fantasy, like a creation.

171

de of the dream and my illness. The wave had foamed and rolled back on itself, but without my credit. I had renounced evil and its magnificence, but less out of disgust than because I was no match for it. Evil had taken me into its service and released me from it as in the Procura of a very distant invisible lord. If I had not been completely lost, it must be because at one point I had remained in touch with the good. I had then adjusted my life to a weaker translation of evil and reverted from its acute to moderated state.

I also returned to the Church into which I was once baptized. I am one of those who are driven to the altars by fear of the world. I follow the commandments, fulfill the law. But deep down I feel that the mysteries have lost their power and do not permeate the prayers. There is no merit in my righteousness. I don't feel an echo in my chest. That is why I said at the outset that my name was unworthy of tradition. I live like my contemporaries in no man's land and will go like them. We have invoked the immense powers whose answer we are not equal to. Then the horror grips us. We face the choice of entering the demon realms or retreating to the weakened domain of the human. Here we may eke out as long as the soil still bears fruit. Like countless others, I chose the second path.

Ortner closed his briefcase and gave it to Costar to take over. The changing of the night watch could be heard in the courtyard and in the corridors. It grew light in the studio. The sun rose from the

172

seas up. The first swallows cruised over the still gray battlements and towers of Heliopolis. Serner had also listened attentively. He addressed the author: "We thank you; time passed very quickly. You can tell it's one of your early plays - there's still a lot of darkness in it, a lot of fear, which later is transformed entirely into light and certainty. This is all the more effective when you know your origin. Your path gives the impression that you have risen from the crypt and from the roots to the flower world and its serenity.” Ortner did not address the remark. He didn't love the comments. He turned off the atomizer, a sign that it was time to say goodbye. 'We sat longer than I thought; I start chattering when I lose myself in the old Berlin stuff, which Fernkorn also loves. The questions have become clearer now. Now it is time for us to rest; especially de Geer needs an hour's sleep. Lucius laughed.

'You know that I come from the school of Nieschlag, who was a perpetual motion machine of work. There is no boredom with your topics, they follow you on the fly. I also thought I saw several times that your forefinger was raised.” “That would be malpractice. But it may be because times are alike, and problems such as afflicted my colorless hero are ever present. Not everyone is a fortune teller. You, Lucius, want to know what other ways life can be lived. Perhaps you also include meeting a Helene. It's an old recipe." They thanked the painter and parted.

173

THE EXCURSION TO VINHO DEL MAR

After a short sleep, Lucius entered his office, which adjoined the boss's armored room, at the usual hour. The room was sober; a desk, a safe, a filing cabinet and a few chairs made up the furnishings. The walls were lined with cork; marked cards covered them. Across from the desk hung a plaque that read War School. It bore a number of names on slips of paper and allowed not only the rank and assignment of each war student to be determined at a glance, but also his whereabouts. Lucius stepped in front of them to take stock of the changes that had occurred during his command. From the column entitled "Holiday" he put two plaques back in their place: "von Winterfeld" and "de Baumanoir". Then he went to the window and looked at the courtyard.

As always when he was in the palace, Theresa had put out flowers. In so doing, she was following an order from the boss, who liked playful traits to soften the dryness of the job. The mail lay in order on the table—orders, the secret ones of which were enclosed in a red envelope, printed matter and, a little closer to the bouquet, envelopes that indicated private content. Lucius first scanned the newspapers that covered the riots on the front pages. The headlines made it easy to see which papers were supporting the house and which were being paid by the Central Office. For example, the "Friend of the People" published in large letters: "Auxiliary police prevent looting in the Parsenviertel" and below it a photograph outlined in red pencil. Lucius saw to his surprise that he was with Mario and co-

174

star was pinned on it. An invisible spy must have picked them up just as Mario was looking at the silver spoon. With a gesture of disgust, he put the sheet aside to delve into the orders that had piled up in a bundle during his journey. Among them was one that concerned him directly: »Re. Official training secret !

Proconsul / Senior Staff

Date

The complaints of the commanders about the offspring are increasing. It is generally recognized that the level of technical knowledge has improved. But this must not happen at the expense of personality. I point out that education must aim at forming one's own decisions. With this in mind, the war school will be expanded to include a 'sword class' to strengthen knightly and spiritual virtues. Commissioned officers lead the riding and fencing school, as well as the social and social training. The academy provides teachers of logic, rhetoric, international law and moral theology. Implementing regulations follow. I entrust the commander de Geer with the supervision of the courses and the reporting.” It was a favorite thought of the proconsul, who was always concerned that the army might turn into a kind of Mameluke force, or at best into an instrument devoted only to himself. "Obedience, honor, bravery," he used to say, "are the three ancient pillars of the army. In their harmony lies our security, and our position will falter if any of them weaken. Bravery is now a natural, natural part of the soldier, and obedience comes as a result of proper discipline. Honor, on the other hand, is the most invisible and delicate of virtues. Also she is where the auto-

175

matic character predominates, the most endangered. In order to break the habit of obtuse obedience, Maria Theresa founded an order for deeds that met the spirit of the situation, contrary to the command. Likewise, those who refuse to obey in cases where it is against honor should be awarded a Knight's Cross, which is awarded at the same time as imprisonment in a fortress. I think of the motto: 'Sans peur,Cornsans reproche.'" Lucius also read the usual advertisements and invitations that life in Heliopolis brought with it. The cosmic hunters announced a lecture on catching big fish. Fernkorn gave a reading on the theological novel. He entered the dates and appointments in his calendar. At last there remained a narrow envelope, which had been written on by an awkward hand. He opened it and read: “Do you remember Melitta? Herr Mario will have reported to you that I arrived safely at my aunt's. They invited me, maybe in jest, maybe as a courtesy. I wonder what you can find in me that can mean nothing to you. You don't know the feeling of being alone, always alone. I greet you. Melitta, a simple girl who is grateful to you.« There was no lack of blunders in this letter. Lucius weighed it in his hand with half regret. He came after the gates had closed. The days of fleeting encounters were behind him. It was among the promises made by Father Foelix before he took over. But a kind of fear also gripped him at the thought. The prospect, the possibility that did not materialize, seemed to him like a tendril of his existence that he pruned into himself. In places like that, pain stayed with him. It might be true, as Father Foelix said, that precisely this resulted in higher fruit. But he felt the nature within him rebelling. He would invite Melitta over to the islands for a friendly chat, to a farewell walk. There was no offense in that.

176

The door of the armored room opened; the boss entered. "Are you awake? I heard at breakfast that the birthday party in the aviary was dragging on.” He sat down. »What do you think of your portrait in the 'Volksfreund'? Have you seen it yet?' Lucius affirmed:

"Those are courtesies best left alone." "If it's important to you, the 'Friend of the People' will also bring a correction — perhaps under the title: 'Commander de Geer Denies Stealing Silver Spoons.'" "You have to get back at the fellow in another coin." If things repeat themselves, as I expect, I'll have the Casteletto visited. We then run a gloss in the 'Sun of Heliopolis': 'Bandits disguised as auxiliary policemen free prisoners.'« 'It couldn't hurt to have a look through this chamber of horrors. In any case, I ask you to think of me, boss.« “As a precaution, start thinking about such an expedition. We must not exclude ourselves from the undertakings. You can then also suggest this or that war student who you think is suitable.” "I'm also thinking of people like Corporal Calcar, who distinguished himself on the barricades."

'Quite right; I will mention him in the order of the day—remind me.” Lucius wrote down the name and the general continued:

'But those are later concerns - I wanted to discuss another chapter with you: your memorandum on the Asturian negotiations. I have sent it to the prince at the chalet with my statement. In it I underlined your specific view that Dom Pedro's premature action would

177

Duration seen, inconvenience will bring. We are satisfied with the way you handled the issue. On the other hand, I could not agree with your general evaluations.« Lucius looked at him questioningly. He pushed back the tiredness and forced himself to tense. It was clear from the boss's expression that these were things that were important to him. He didn't like the basic discussions. The intention, the tendency that moved him should speak through attitude and commands, not be obvious. When he deviated from this, as now apparently, he did so only in a very small circle and only when he intended to correct a fundamental misunderstanding with emphasis. Lucius therefore sat down and listened attentively.

'I must touch on developments,' the General began, 'that I have been watching with concern for some time. I'm referring to the metaphysical leaning that you and other members of the staff are beginning to show. There would be nothing wrong with founding a monastic order, but that is not my intention. I will therefore give you my assessment of the situation.” He pushed aside the bouquet that was interfering with his view of Lucius, then continued: “We live in a state where the old ties have long since been lost, in short, in a state of anarchy. There is no doubt that this condition calls for change. Opinions differ, however, with regard to the means by which a new stability is to be created. If we leave out the Mauritanians, who develop a practice of thriving in and through anarchy, we are left with two great schools, one aiming life downwards, the other upwards.

178

The first, gathering in Heliopolis around the bailiff and his central office, rests on the ruins and hypotheses of the old popular parties and plans the rule of an absolute bureaucracy. The lesson is simple: it sees man as a zoological creature and sees technology as the means that gives this creature form and power and also keeps it in check. It is an instinct heightened into the rational. As a result, their endeavor is aimed at the formation of intelligent insect colonies. The Teaching is well grounded in both the elementary and the rational, and therein lies its power. The second school is ours; it is founded on the ruins of the old aristocracy and the Senate party and is represented by the proconsul and the palace. The bailiff wants to elevate a collective to the state outside of history; we strive for a historical order. We want the freedom of man, his nature, his spirit and his property, and the state only insofar as these goods are to be protected. This is the difference between our means and methods and those of the bailiff. It is dependent on levelling, on atomization and leveling of the human stock, in which abstract order is supposed to prevail. With us, on the other hand, man should be the ruler. The Landvogt strives for technical perfection, we strive for human perfection.

This in turn is the basis of a difference in selection. The bailiff wants technical superiority. The search for specialists automatically leads to types who are stunted. This is not a necessary evil, but one of the basic requirements, since its order is to be based on the destruction of the human. Therefore, of two candidates of the same rank, the one who brings less dignity, less conscience, less freedom is more suitable - in short, the one in whom the technical impulse meets the least human resistance. In practice, this becomes visible insofar as one encounters a mixture of automatons and outright criminals in his offices.

179

On the other hand, we aim to create a new elite. Our attempt is far more difficult; we swim against the tide. To a certain extent, in order to break new ground, we have to drive individual posts into it. While leveling fabric ineach finds human beings, our intention must be directed towards the perfect human image, which is rarely and always only approximately shown in appearance. In this sense, the proconsul is our model, as the bearer of excellent, just virtues called to rule. In it not only the aristocratic but also the democratic principles are intact. For in decline democracy no longer lives in the people, but it remains like seeds in individuals. Situations can arise in which the people have to be forced to their salvation. The discerning one then acts as his trustee.

We know that the proconsul wants to shoulder the task. With this in mind he seeks to attract the best forces to himself, the future senate. It should be borne in mind that, apart from the transHesperian, no longer existed in the Burgenland families. The selection is therefore dependent on performance, that is, on a group of people who distinguish themselves through deeds, knowledge or ability. This is the weaker, but only possible way of elitism at this time. They also know from the secret files that plans exist for the formation of a people's representative body and that a method has been found to prevent the entry of demagogues and professional politicians. I now return to Asturias. In your report you assess Dom Pedro's prospects correctly; his regiment cannot last. We are dealing here with quarrels as we know them from the history of the South American republics, in which generals and demagogues take turns. In these zones, the law of the strongest prevails; and hence Dom Pedro will im

180

be right if his coup succeeds, and will be right as long as he stays in power. For the proconsul, the position of neutrality in relation to these turmoils is not given, but that of an observer from a higher rank. The lengthening of the negotiations cannot persuade him to take sides, but he can persuade him to take the measures provided for in the event of major disturbances. Then he must enter into the whole. Our upbringing and training should be aimed at this moment. In your remarks I have now challenged the view that law is contained in the universe, so to speak, and that patient waiting must bring about the point at which it appears. Rather, things are such that justice must be done. The institutions have failed, and justice can by no means be derived from them. For this reason we depend on the creative human being, who we hope will lead us out of the bottleneck. We depend on him as the point at which historical and universal knowledge kept itself pure as in the seed on a dead tree. If the proconsul does not want us to follow him automatically, that is an outpouring of princely liberality. In the decision, however, the word stands with him.

In training, therefore, two questions must be clarified in such a way that no doubts remain. First: where is the enemy? And second: where is the legitimate power? In this sense I welcome the establishment of the sword class and have myself, although not without reservations, agreed to the moral-theological course. However, it must not lead to the action becoming the subject of discussion - it should rather establish and consolidate the action. There s are the guidelines of oversight assigned to you. They remain valid as long as I am responsible for conducting business.« The general paused. He had spoken easily and precisely, like someone sure of his elements and without effort

181

scaffolding assembled from it. He then concluded with the usual formula: "Do you have another question about that?"

'No, boss. I thank you for the instruction and will contact you if I have any doubts.« The chief rose and shook his hand. The steel door slammed shut behind him with a slight whistling snap. Lucius pondered his words. It was undoubtedly a rebuke, perhaps not unfounded. He felt that he lacked the clarity, the circumscribed order that is characteristic of the sharpened will. At its bottom there always remained something dark and unexplained, a dregs that was inaccessible to decision. It had to be a difference in perspective; he lived in a different reality that did not completely split the faction. There always remained a third party besides friend and foe.

For this reason he was further from the action; he felt that the hope of something miraculous was always bound up with her. He loved her, with her dangers and high stakes as an opportunity to prove herself and try in the fighting game - but there were countless opportunities besides her. The boss took it as absent-mindedness, as a lack of concentration. It was also possible that his words meant less him, de Geer, than his concern for the proconsul. At times it seemed as if a kind of weariness gripped him, a disgust at the base opposition and at the coarse stuff with which the struggle for power had to be made. That might be a trait of old breed. It was probably correct that the cleaning of the Augean stables was attributed to Heracles as the greatest of his deeds. Perhaps it was best to pitch camp here and retreat to Burgenland, beyond the Hesperides, where the noble was still unassailable. Let them eat each other up like rats.

182

"But be that as it may," concluded Lucius, "I will do my best to hold office while the eagle banner still flies upon the palace." Theresa knocked and brought new entries. He turned back to work.

"Heliopolis"—he murmured the name half tenderly, half darkly, like a dictum of fate. At this hour of noon the sea was as deep blue as finely ribbed silk; the bastions of the port and the gulf cut out shadowless. The geomancy of the place was super-real in the glare. Every day until the monsoons the sun rose in the cloudless sky. At this time the destructive, the arrow-like nature of the light prevailed. It lacked the connection with the humidity, with the thunderstorms that give it fertility. The daily routine started with a bang. The great clock relentlessly began its course with each morning. She forced people to play in this scenery and did not ask for their power. On his voyages Lucius had seen the deserted harbors on the distant shores, the pale cities on the edge of the desert. The wells Iskander had dug had dried up, and with them the colorful garden weed that veiled them. The houses and palaces, the tall obelisks and magical towers circled by the shadow, testified to a life gone. Tombs and catacombs remained on this world. The flowers became dust, the fruits, the wombs of beautiful women, the arms of warriors, and the foreheads of kings. The dead cities were like shells weathered by the Sea of Ages. Names like Troy, Thebes, Knossos, Carthage, Babylon remained. "Damascus will no longer be a city, but a crumbling heap of stones." Then the names also disappeared, like an inscription that disappears from tombstones.

183

What could it mean that for a few centuries life was gathering in these mussel shells, binding and examining them in its time style? Why the struggles, the incredible efforts? The dust of the vanquished and vanquished mingled in the deserted markets, in the forecourts of the burning palaces, in the desolate pleasure gardens. For what eyes were these spectacles conceived? When the lines didn't intersect in the very distant, didn't complement each other in the unknown, the triumph of death remained his ultimate meaning. Then you had to try to suck a little sweetness out of it, the way it bubbles in the womb of the calyx, a little nectar as robbery and reward. He was sitting in the garden of Wolters' establishment, on the edge of the hill that connected the palace with St. Mary's Cathedral. Here the rural character was still preserved; Vineyards and suburban gardens stretched into the restricted area. On the hillside, the ruins of dilapidated villas were shrouded in green. The remains of an aqueduct led down to the city; the great blue clusters of wisteria swayed in the archwork. The inn was semi-rural in the buildings of an old dairy; her garden bordered on a cemetery. The marble stones shone in the thicket— those who had tended the graves had long since died. It was Saturday afternoon; the garden was still empty. On this day the magistrates closed early, except for the central office, which, as an atheistic authority, worked at a different pace. Lucius wore the soldier's Union dress — the brown coveralls with the eagle embroidered in silver on the left breast. The pleasantness of this dress lay in the anonymous; since neither orders nor insignia of rank belonged to it, the separation and with it the salute were omitted. She expressed the happiness that lies in not being different, in being just like everyone else. So it was not only peculiar to both sexes, but even slightly veiled the stature, the individual body shape.

184

Yes, it must have been the urge for a new happiness that had enlivened that age of the erosion and destruction of the old individualities. As always with such turns, the harvest of pain had been immense; fate had rolled over the world like a hot iron over cities and countries of embossed wax. But one had also seen the new emerge from the victims, the cosmopolitan units. Only those who prophesied of the coming of termite states should have proved bad seers. Things did not reach their goal so simply and in such a straight line. On the contrary, as after all revolutions, one had seen that the old regained strength and that the areas were divided up with the new. In the midst of the immense empire that had existed until the departure of the regent, the homeland had blossomed too. The new was sea, was an element of uniform unity and connection, but it enclosed the old like islands within itself. The separation went through the individuals. It was not a contradiction that he, Lucius, was at the same time a noble from Burgenland à la suite of the army and a member of the large trade union federation. This was also indicated in the ensuing - in the difference between Costar and Mario. That had become a matter of course in everyday life, like the periukke in the English court, like the historical finery at festive processions. Thus one and the same person leads two existences during the course of the day and during the night in dreams. There was no movement, no change in the surface that did not create a new depth; and every mirror concealed its abyss. The new was sea, was an element of uniform unity and connection, but it enclosed the old like islands within itself. The separation went through the individuals. It was not a contradiction that he, Lucius, was at the same time a noble from Burgenland à la suite of the army and a member of the large trade union federation. This was also indicated in the ensuing - in the difference between Costar and Mario. That had become a matter of course in everyday life, like the periukke in the English court, like the historical finery at festive processions. Thus one and the same person leads two existences during the course of the day and during the night in dreams. There was no movement, no change in the surface that did not create a new depth; and every mirror concealed its abyss. The new was sea, was an element of uniform unity and connection, but it enclosed the old like islands within itself. The separation went through the individuals. It was not a contradiction that he, Lucius, was at the same time a noble from Burgenland à la suite of the army and a member of the large trade union federation. This was also indicated in the ensuing - in the difference between Costar and Mario. That had become a matter of course in everyday life, like the periukke in the English court, like the historical finery at festive processions. Thus one and the same person leads two existences during the course of the day and during the night in dreams. There was no movement, no change in the surface that did not create a new depth; and every mirror concealed its abyss. but it enclosed the old like islands within itself. The separation went through the individuals. It was not a contradiction that he, Lucius, was at the same time a noble from Burgenland à la suite of the army and a member of the large trade union federation. This was also indicated in the ensuing - in the difference between Costar and Mario. That had become a matter of course in everyday life, like the periukke in the English court, like the historical finery at festive processions. Thus one and the same person leads two existences during the course of the day and during the night in dreams. There was no movement, no change in the surface that did not create a new depth; and every mirror concealed its abyss. but it enclosed the old like islands within itself. The separation went through the individuals. It was not a contradiction that he, Lucius, was at the same time a noble from

Burgenland à la suite of the army and a member of the large trade union federation. This was also indicated in the ensuing - in the difference between Costar and Mario. That had become a mat

The new unit, with its high degree of freedom, light structures and the comfort of the large masses, has long been history. The regent's departure for the cosmic residences, which had been compared to the exodus of the Portuguese court to Brazil, set the rough date which initiated the interregnum. Basically, the age of the "second religiosity" had come to an end, and there were signs of a renaissance of nihilism. The split parts fought under the law of repetition

185

with lesser powers, but with a heightened awareness of power. The controversy repeated itself in the diadoche and satrap style on small islands like Asturias, Antarctica, Heliopolis, blown into the cosmos. Skepticism was still growing; this made the wicked more vicious, bestowing on the noble a higher spirituality. Basically, people no longer believed in the political decisions; last positions measured against each other. In this framework, the actions, the good and the bad deeds, were often only hinted at — one could also say celebrated. That was the end of the factual style - the powers no longer sought to meet in the forms, but in the essence. Life was endowed with a little of the clarity, the after-work mood and also the nearness to death that prevails on a lost battle - on ships that are sinking or in castles that are besieged. How could it be otherwise in cities, which at any moment could be struck by lightning from the very far away, leaving them white ashes.

In this situation spirits like the bailiff turned to the pure enjoyment of rule and lived antediluvianly. In others, like in the boss, the old driving force continued, the unabashed boldness that the soldier needs for his tasks. They saw only vain daydreaming in the gain in insight that accrued from the catastrophes. And yet it was perhaps just the case that as the historical framework that stretched life weakened, the real questions, the greater conflicts, emerged. There was also a great deception in the story. As their temporal garments fell, man's destiny became more bare/ahistorical, splitting into pure technique on the one hand and pure spirituality on the other. This gave rise to the prospect of

186

other triumphs, other defeats than the power struggle knows.

A waiter in a striped linen jacket stepped out of the tavern and came up the path. He wiped the table with a cloth and set out two bowls of Malagrano seeds. The angular berries shone refreshingly beneath the thin layer of powdered sugar that bled a pale red around the edges. Although it was almost in the city, Wolters' garden was rarely visited. In one of its corners lay Halder's landscape studio. From time to time Lucius and Ortner watched the painter at work there. In the mornings, a few guests came to drink milk or water from the well, and the writers also loved its solitude. They were seen sitting in the green arbours, with books, manuscripts and proofs on the table. Sometimes this or that would play a game of chess with a friend who might be traveling on ships or living in exile on the islands. He made his moves slowly and spoke them into the phonophore. In the evening the economy picked up; lovers came and settled in the caves. One could hear the subdued night music of the transmitters, and great enthusiasts circled around the lanterns, which old Wolters lit with a candle stuck on a stick. Lucius recalled certain June nights when fireflies glittered in the bushes and on the tips of the grasses, from which they rose in love flight. Their light merged with that of the stars and meteors in the dark sky and that of the coasts and ships in the depths, so that the eye imagined itself in the center of a lustily moving sphere, which was inscribed with glowing letters.

In the lonely midday hours the birds descended on the Pagos undergrowth. The kissers of flowers buzzed around the bushes of the bosquet and stung, as if lifted up by light waves,

187

the hanging chalices. A jay barked from an oak tree. As always, when Lucius saw the shimmering light-blue wing mirror, the memory of his boyhood shot through him. In Burgenland the animal was called the Margolf, and the falconers sometimes brought half-fledged young from the oak forests. One such man, whom he called Carus, was dear to Lucius; he had tamed it and raised it to accompany him outdoors. It fluttered into the treetops on its walks and returned on its fist in the manner of hawks. It could also speak a few sentences in a rough, melodic voice - like "Lucius is good." It docilely imitated the call of cuckoos, the whistle of woodpeckers, the sound of bells and the rattle of scythes. Lucius was very fond of this bird, yes he remembered that when he stroked its maroon-grey plumage, for the first time the notion of unknown tenderness had arisen. He had owned Carus for almost a year until he escaped from him in the spring when a female lured him. No shouting brought him back. He followed the couple to the edge of the woods; there he heard once more from the dark crowns the "Lucius is good" like a farewell. He had grieved for his friend for a long time. But then he had followed him in his thoughts to his new existence — to the lustful roaming and frolicking through the sunlit woods, the courtship in its green shade, the intimacy of the nest of heather, delicately upholstered with feathers and fine little roots. Often, when the wind that blew around the battlements woke him up in the night, he thought of his friend, who was now nest-warm with his family, rocked by the foehn. It seemed to him that he possessed him so closely and so captively that he had released him into the freedom and wilderness that was common to all life. "Lose to have" was one of the rules of Nigromontan.

A rotten fence separated the garden from the cemetery. Individual posts were renewed here and there and stood out white. On one of her bright knobs, at Lucius' height

188

shoulder a being the size of a grain of rice was basking in the midday light. It was jet black and held its narrow abdomen up like a torch. As Lucius rested his eyes on him, he saw a second creature circle the knob and land on top of it. It resembled the first by a hair, except for the long underwings that it trailed like silk trains before carefully folding them. Then the partner, who remained silent, felt it with the feelers like two dark strings of pearls and hurried busily around her. At last it caught her in its claws and brought her under itself.

The sun was still gaining fire; she drew green shadows on the table. The birds on the peaks lured and swayed. The fragrance of the flowers mingled with the still air. The beings had separated. They now wandered aimlessly on the knob, as if blinded by a very strong light. Then, like chimerical webs, they shot out their wings and soared into space. Melitta now stepped out of an arcade and came up the path. She wore a light-colored bodice with a dress that was pleated at the hips. It bellowed down over her. A little cap the size of a hummingbird's nest sat over the right ear, more like a jewel. She approached with slowly rocking steps and gave him her hand: 'Ah, melagrano seeds — and two helpings? So you were quite sure I was coming?' Lucius looked at her. She was fresh and lively like one of the flowers in this semi-wild garden corridor. A touch of impartiality and natural power emanated from her. The upper lip was slightly lifted and misted with fine droplets like the rim of a goblet beaded with dew. He knew that now he had to say with a meaningful look: "Oh yes, I knew you would come, Melitta, I certainly knew it."

189

But that did not fit with the intention with which he had come. For him it was a farewell walk in the elemental kingdom, the beautiful garden and island corridors of the sun city that it was about. "Lose to have"—it was strange that this motto of Nigromontan resembled almost exactly a rule Father Foelix had given him, which read "Surrender to win." Thus the Stoic and Christian prescriptions often approached a line in which a difference in infinity was concealed. So he said: "I knew you would come, Melitta," but these words sounded like they are spoken among comrades. He added: “In this heat, two bowls of Melagrano seeds aren't too much for one. I thought we were going to the islands and have a glass of wine?' "Do you know that Herr Mario also invited me there?" You can confide in any of your three knights.” "Costar is too boring for me." “That's the dark side of reliability. You had better watch out for the good dancers, and for all the crew of sailors, aviators, and space pilots who roam the harbor.” "Father Foelix says the soldiers aren't much better either." Lucius heard the name with surprise; he knew, of course, that the hermit had a good overview, both large and small. Aloud he said: 'I rather think that the Father appreciates the soldiers. What does your pastor think of your choosing such a long way of confession?” "What should he say to that, when he himself goes to confession to Father Foelix?"

190

They sat for a while to wait for the first cooling and then strolled down Regent's Street to the harbor square.

The guests sat in the large taproom. It was still too warm on the terrace. The tobacco smoke streaked bluish through the round window arches. Over countless nights he had stained the plaster ceiling a dark leg color: capite mortuum. Jagged leaves hung over the curve. Already her tip was turning reddish, as if dipped in blood. In the weak updraft from the island coast, the inn sign made of stamped iron swayed: the calamaretto. The animal's body resembled a small grenade, from which the tentacles radiated like flames. A white apron was hung underneath, to show that the slaughter had just been carried out. The proprietor of the Calamaretto, Signor Arlotto, whom his compatriots also called the "Presidente," climbed out of the cellar; in both arms he carried a large glass jar filled with freshly tapped wine that sparkled dull yellow. The well-fed body, the full and cheerful face, especially the magnificent nose that adorned it, betrayed a master of gastronomy. One could see that he was made for smelling and tasting and for communicating pleasures. As an outward sign of his status, he wore the high white hood and the serving knife, which he carried in his belt along with the round sharpening steel. Signor Arlotto put the wine on the sideboard and tasted it from his glass. Then he carefully poured it into the decanters. He did not like dusty bottles and used to say that wine should be asked its age, not cobwebs. The room was in the pleasant, somewhat sleepy mood of extensive drinking, which, like an endurance run, leads to long distances and distant goals. At the round table in its midst a circle of skippers and junior captains of the

191

sten and island voyages, who might have gathered in honor of a patron saint or for any of the myriad other reasons that prompted such festivities. There were the name days, the rhythmic dates of Neptune and Dionysus, profits from a smuggling trip. The question of why one lives and works was answered without a doubt by the convivia: so that one can celebrate festivals. The alternation of journey and port gave the archetype of existence. Sometimes the Presidente sat down at the table, the top of which was cut out at his ancestral seat for the curve of the body. Above all, he made sure that there was a balance between solid and liquid by encouraging a small snack every two hours. Boiled ham with black olives, sheep's cheese with white bread, tuna in oil, pies in glazed pots came from the kitchen as tried and tested dishes that gave the wine a cushion and softened its strength in a digestible way. Next to it, strong coffee was passed around in small cups. So you sailed cheerfully with the right ballast. After each such interruption, the Presidente had the glasses refilled and called "To the center," whereupon the revelers brought them, arms outstretched, to the center of the table and toasted them. This was followed by the drink and, as if after a deep breath, a long, lustful "Ah." In this order, the hours lined up like pearls on a rosary. The drunkenness swelled the cheerful conversation like a light breeze. These sailors and helmsmen not only found the key to sympathy in wine. For them it was also the gateway to spirituality. Action moves and drives people through the vastness; in the spirit, on the other hand, the vastness slides through him. This is where the stillness that marks the intoxication rests, and then the serenity — in the reverse flow, the optical illusion of everyday movement is revealed. The Calamaretto resembled a spaceship with solidly assembled planks under which a vaulted cellar

192

te that was inexhaustible, and a kitchen whose fire never died. • At the musicians' table sat old Sepp, a singer and zither player who accompanied such parties. He was white-bearded and dressed as a hunter, with short leather trousers, a jacket with staghorn buttons and a pointed green hat. He smoked a pipe whose white porcelain button bore the Tyrolean eagle surrounded by his heraldic motto:

»Eagle, Tyrolean eagle, why are you so red? From the golden sunshine, from the red wine of fire, from the blood of enemies red —: that is why I am so red.«

When there was a pause in the conversation, he twanged the zither that lay on the table in front of him and intoned one of his songs, which sounded strange on this coast like melodies carried by the north wind from the mountains. For many years he was part of the inventory of the small taverns and terraces of Vinho del Mar. In the daytime the hunting and alpine pieces predominated, but for the nights and the fidelitas of the closed symposia he had a particularly flavorful, classical repertoire. He then brought the ancient Athenian farces of Lais and Aspasia, or reminiscences of the great sites of physical pleasure, such as Capri's Baths or Nero's Golden Palace.

'Tiberius in the Calidar

It was fun with his spintriers." Good was the transition from high sobriety to the mood of the Saturnalia, passing through a series of shades as if created by a background stage light. Lucius, who was sitting in a window alcove with Melitta, also recognized Serner, who was the only one in the group who wore glasses. It was not uncommon that the philosopher, who had an ancient affection for the islands,

193

lost himself in such companies and took part in their goings-on for days. He was welcome there, since his thinking adapted to every color; it brightened, but without change. There was also a kind of infantilism, such as is not infrequently found in sharp minds; the play instinct, which at its height exercises itself in the design of systems, delights in foolishness. The conversation at the round table had turned to the naval battle. A small, gaunt skipper of about fifty, who was sitting at the table smoking a pipe and with his sleeves rolled up, had taken part in the meeting at the Syrts. He was already grey, but extremely agile and with that freshness that salt air gives to faces and keeps well. He may have been an officer on warships and merchant ships for a long time before earning his own living here on the coast. “So it happened that on the way back from the outpost base, without realizing it, I ran into the formation of the Grand Fleets. Visibility was hazy, but, as is often the case in these seas, the mist was being rolled up by the morning breeze. The sea lay gleaming as if cut out with a pair of compasses. We had settled and saw the north- and south-bound squadrons approaching one another, first as a series of dark dots, then more clearly as chains of dolphins, and finally in the details of the towers and superstructure. At mid-range they turned east so that the light was evenly favourable. The wind was better for the regent; he kept the League ships under Lee. In addition to the higher speed of the regent fleet, this circumstance primarily contributed to the destruction of the league. We lay in our nutshell between the squadrons as they prepared for action. The red fire pennant went up on the League's admiral ship, the Giordano Bruno. At the same time the wind carried the sound of horns and drums from the regent's heavy boats. And from the tank turrets on either side, slowly, like the hands of immense clocks, the gun barrels rose steeply into the air.”

194

He recounted the memorable moment before which the Brutus, Copernicus, and Robespierre were blown up, atomized by the concentrated fire of the Saint-Louis, Carolus Magnus, Chateaubriand, and the Kosmos-class heavy ships, sparkling as if in the focus of an extermination mirror. The encounter at the Syrten was considered a model of the encounter battle in unsightly weather; it had simplified, classical, even archaic features. It had immediately preceded the turning point at which the regent decided to exodus, after his dreadful word: "It is senseless to chastise you too." The memory of this naval battle lived in Lucius as a spiritual act, as a fiery, radiant touch of systems that are eternally formative and hidden in the human states. They met each other more purely and absolutely in world civil wars than where peoples are fighting. Almost every famous name in history had risen in the ships and appeared as ghosts. What was the death, the suffering of the fighters at such a moment? They burned like a flame, like a beacon illuminating and making visible the construction of the world from afar. So it struck him strangely when, while weeping, he heard the eyewitness, the simple fighter, as it were, describe the physical side of that day, which had happened in his childhood. Who knows the truth, the meaning of the historical event in which he is involved? Certainly the one who acts last—yet he feels it in its full power, just like the mayfly feels the glorious nature of the light to which it is fatally attracted. One felt how the hair of this little officer of the watch in his boat had stood on end before the great gong—but not out of fear. Fear melts away in decision; it escapes like air from a hollow mold poured out with red-hot ore.

195

The conversation soon turned to other subjects.

"How good, Melitta, that the path took us by at the right time to free you from the clutches of the monster." Lucius sat beside her, in the easy ease that the company of a beautiful being bestows on a man like jewels, like the shine of a weapon. They slowly drank the amber wine. A bouquet of meadow flowers, already a little wilting, lay on the table in front of them. At the memory of the hustle and bustle in the Parsi quarters, a shadow passed over the girl's face, which was regularly carved in the manner of gems. But nature, and not spirit, had formed this picture —the large eyes, the delicate chin, the pure forehead, on which the hair hung down like dark ivy over the arch of a marble grotto. On these lines the conversation did not really arouse understanding - it moved naturally over them like cloud shadows and sunbeams, alternating between melancholy and cheerfulness, as a free translation of thoughts into elementary being. Lucius persisted on the subject: "Otherwise he would have achieved his goal."

"That is not true. I pushed him against the wall in the kitchen.” “You don't know how strong the men are. He was probably carrying a gun too. He could have found cronies - what would you do if you fell into the hands of such a horde?' She thought: "One might have to join forces with the leader against the others." Lucius laughed.

"I see you're sensible, Melitta—no Lucretia."

196

'Yes, but I would go to a convent. The men are animals, they are disgusting.«

"I hope not all." He stroked her small but firm hand, used to work. 'Not all, no because you can be trusted. There are also pious men and righteous ones.« 'That's probably true. You may count me among the second, if not among the first - and yet - - -" He wanted to say: "And yet — who knows each other perfectly?"

Fernkorn's dictation in the Blue Aviso had shot through his head, and with it the name of the old German poet who had foreseen the new eon so, early, so deeply, and who might have been its first victim. The love of death remained the only and last adornment of the noble in this world. In the Marquise von O. he had drawn the picture of the chivalrous man of high education who had succumbed to this very temptation. He asked:

“What do you think that means, Melitta?” “What does it mean? I told you that men are animals. Or do you mean something else?” 'I wonder how such spectacles are possible—who takes pleasure in them. The old gods from times when women were kidnapped and hunted down may reappear in them. I don't mean those over whose shattered altars our churches were built, but the other, ancient ones, which would already be thrown down into the underworld by them." "The old gods are long dead." 'Certainly, Melitta, and Father Foelix rightly teaches that Christ destroyed her as a new and higher Heracles. But he also teaches that the ancients are still present, as the epitome of the overthrown and ore-ready power. He teaches - - -" He interrupted himself:

197

"But I think I'm boring you." "Oh no, I enjoy listening to you." “Were you told about the Battle of the Salt Steppes when you were a child?”

"We have heard of many battles, but we do not keep your names." 'I thought of the days that followed, of our retreat through the cultivated land. The cities on which the Asiatics rushed stood like torches in the night. The rattling of the dying, the screams of persecuted women mingled with the crackling of the fiery world.Then the old images appeared, reflected in the red of the flames and in the spilled blood. I felt her nearness powerfully shake the hinges of the deep - in the temptation, if not to take part in the outrage, then in wild anger to participate in the rage. There was pleasure in it —a thirst that water cannot quench. I don't know if you understand that?" "Of course, one must pay the beasts back in the same coin." You can't get away from the game when it's gotten that far. The rough work must be done. But one would also have to know the sacrifices through which the chasms are to be closed, the purification." The girl shook her head. 'If I were a man I wouldn't think about it. It was horrifying as we climbed the stairs, but I also enjoyed it when I saw the beasts lying there. I found blood on the hem of my dress that evening.”

Things got lively in the Calmaretto. Signor Arlotto had taken over the presidency and kept the round free. A swarm of masked guests burst in. That was the hour when the zither player

198

to the freer songs, and the corona joined the refrain:

'And Her Imperial Majesty's ladies were very fond of chickens The kind that doesn't crow." "How about we do another tour around the island," suggested Lucius. They got up. He nodded goodbye to Serner, who in his usual absent-mindedness hardly seemed to notice him. It was cooler outside now; the sun was already low. They walked through the dark dust of the path that ran narrowly through the wine country. The grapes were already turning red in the leaves. Hawks, soaring in the updraft, peered at the little birds that the vineyards sheltered. At a bend that brought the view to the sea stood a stone image, a youth's head, on whose pedestal there was never a lack of bouquets and wreaths. It differed in its age from all the marks and sacrificial canes that the pious spirit had donated in abundance on the Marches of the island fields, and it might go back to their pagan times. He was venerated as Saint Sebastian, but the painter with whom Lucius had sometimes regarded him thought that this name was conferred by adoption and that it was one of the many stelae that Hadrian had erected in honor of Antony. For this assumption testified

In any case, the image was venerated from time immemorial, and its features bore a type corresponding to that of the aborigines, a marriage of lust and melancholy. As she passed it and crossed Melitta herself, Lucius recognized her as well

199

the similarity. It lay in a touch of earth-spirituality that made clear to him the shadow that had swept over him earlier. In the red of the evening the watchtower appeared on the eastern tip of the island. The waves lazily foamed against its foundation. A double sentinel peered across the narrows towards Castelmarino. The helmets gleamed in the late light. They followed a strip of dunes bordered by marbled thistles and yellow poppies, then turned onto a parkway that ran between the deserted villas. It brushed the flat moorland that filled the hollow in the interior of the island, and from the lowlands of which a fine mist was already rising. Dusk fell quickly. A fire blazed up on the watchtower and a red light appeared on the top of the Casteletto. It was getting dark. A great bird cried in the reeds; a little owl from one of the ruined ridges answered. You could feel how the ancient forces that slumbered under the wine country were awakening, and how the sun was spiritualizing in the grapes. A 'panic' whirlwind spread. In animal terror, Melitta clasped Lucius' arm with both hands. They stood in silence. He stared straight into the girl's face, which shimmered like a pale mask. The eyes were turned towards him as dark sockets. They seemed framed in pale bones of death. A sudden shudder seized him. He reached out to break the spell and felt the smooth forehead, the cheeks, the lips that breathed in answer. He heard in his ear: "Oh, how I love your silver hair." The body bloomed up to him in the embrace, as a carrier, as the embodiment of unheard-of mysteries. The earth, the old, strong mother cried out of him, she who rises in the adornment of flowers and fruits and here crowns herself deliciously from the brittle ground of death. A field in the hills, in whose topsoil myriads of germs slumber, an amphora filled with strong wine, an instrument to melodies that lead beyond time and space. The dark trees, the moon, the stars stood still, as if the universe thought they were one

200

Translated from German to English - www.onlinedoctranslator.com

Moment in time, get the focus of the first gardens where time is annihilated. On the beach the belt of waves rose and fell in soft beats; the wind swayed through the leaves in deep breaths. Lucius heard his voice: "Why not forever, forever like this?"

But like a swimmer, already powerfully sucked in by the purple whirlpool, he pulled himself up. He gently took the girl's head in both hands and kissed her, brotherly. A jay barked from the bushes, barking. They walked arm in arm towards the vineyards.

201

ON THE PAGOS

The sun rose over the Pagos. Their brilliance illuminated the towers of silence in their dark gardens, and then the rose-colored walls of the chalet, edged with white marble at the windows and portals. The small palace was initially built as a simple country residence for the proconsul, then various annexes were added over the years. With the increase in diplomatic business, a guest wing was added, while the main building was reserved for the prince's personal entourage and friends. A second wing, the museum, was dedicated to the collections, which were constantly growing. In addition to the large and small library, it included autograph, coin and picture cabinets and the antique gallery. The economic areas, the garden centers,

A chain of greenhouses ran along the southern slope. As a lover of flowers and fruit, the proconsul had spared no effort or expense here. With Ortner's advice, he had real castles made out of that glass which possessed inner life like the skin of a chameleon. Light receptors, no larger than a human eye, coordinated the entry of solar radiation. They were supported in their effect on cloudy days and long nights by reflectors. Since the development of the thermal bronze, air-conditioning heating of large spaces at low cost has required hardly any manpower. The gardener determined the rhythms of light and heat that served his crops and that the thermist implemented. So there was never a lack of wonderful flowers and fruits from all zones and countries on the table.

202

In some calidariums, as in retorts, Ortner allowed the heat to slowly rise above that of the hot swamps. Here he wanted to breed water lilies from bygone geological eras by back-breeding.

The large palmarium, a building more than a hundred cubits high, in the oriental style, was particularly famous. Here was united what earthly growth gives birth to in luxuriant beauty and royal splendor. Groups of palm trees alternated with jungle islands and hibiscus bushes over a wide area. Mighty bamboo hedges stretched along the swamp edge of a pond, on the mirror of which the leaves and blossoms of the Victoria regia unfolded. Tropical fish and birds, mostly gifts from Orion, enlivened this green model of the Amazon worlds, from whose crowns the haze fell as a fine rain. As a great lover of warmth and easygoing comfort, the proconsul used to have his coffee here after dinner, a dark elixir, with which he offered Cuban cigars with the wrapper still green. There he also discussed with Ortner the progress of the Hortus Palmarurn, the great work that was created under his auspices and that combined the work of gardeners, botanists and draftsmen. He wished to leave in it a memorial worthy of that family, which Linnaeus rightly called the princes of the vegetable kingdom, distinguished not only by royal stature and proud coronation, but no less as peaceful givers of bread, oil, and wine. A ring of small villas, workshops and cottages had developed in a wide radius, as benefices and homes for many a musical and poetic existence. The course of the world was viewed here, be it with skepticism, be it with merriment, be it with folly, like from Aristophanes' birdhouses - but always with freedom, which was supported by the benevolence, the lofty sense of the prince. The war school and the Museion as the seat of the academy should be mentioned as buildings in the wider area.

203

It was set up in a monastery, and its rooms were used not only for research, studies, and negotiations, but also for a number of academics, who, like Fernkorn or the Bergrat, did not prefer their own homes. Life on the Pagos had the forms and comforts of a residence set apart from the big city. There was also an internal trait such as times of political tension produce. It then becomes harder when the peel is on, and sweeter when the fruit is alive.

A ray of sunshine also hit the proconsul's room, who had already read, and now grasped the broad bell cord that hung down beside the camp. The valet opened the door and sprayed the spray. Leclerc had breakfast prepared in the kitchen and the horses were bridled in the stables. The chief and usually the minister of the house would take part in the coffee for a brief presentation on the work of the military and civilian cabinets. They also sometimes took part in the morning rides. The early morning in the chalet was bright; the kitchens, gardens, stables were filled with song and activity. Lucius had breakfasted in the hall and now stepped through the back terrace into the park, which led gently up the slope. The short lawn had already been blown up and sparkled in green splendour, which was harmoniously structured by slightly curved paths made of pounded brick dust. He followed one of those veins that led to a gate where Costar was waiting for him with the horses. They mounted and trotted along a narrow trail that ran from the foothills into the interior of the mountains.

The morning was pleasant. A gentle updraft came from the Gulf, whose surface unfolded as it rose. The horses were rested; they set their narrow hooves lightly and springily in the rubble

204

of the path, which at times was wet by a torrent. The drops then sprayed up to the level of the green bridle where the fittings glittered. As always, when Lucius, in the fresh morning air, tightly embraced the beast's strong flanks, which rose and fell with the slight clinking of the stirrups and the crunching of the saddlery, memories of his youth in Burgenland rose in his mind. He felt freer and the turmoil became meaningless. They rode along a chain of small dairies, vineyards, and country estates. Down there was Ortner's garden; a cottage with a flat, stone-weighted gable and blue shutters looked down on him from the southern slope. The beds were arranged in terraces with trellises along the walls. A brook ran in two cascades along the central path, framed by white and blue irises. The surfaces and even the joints of the terraces were densely planted with flowers; they ran up the slope like the bands of a spectrum. Hortense, Ortner's assistant, tied ripening fruit to the trellis with raffia. The master was invisible; he might be busy at his desk or in the greenhouses. In addition, masons were building the foundations of the studio that the proconsul had built for Halder. The painter would lack neither color nor view at this place. In the background appeared the buildings of the New Academy with the cosmic watchtower, whose green dome shone from the highest of its towers. It was the classic location of the first electron mirror and thus of the new cosmography. That was a long time ago. The path curved up into a wide ravine. Here the cave-like character of the mountains was really revealed. In some places the pale escarpment was dotted with the dark mouths and entrances of the veins that veined the limestone. Flocks of rock choughs now circled these openings, while the paths leading to their crest were strung together by dense vegetation. The ravine was now deserted; at the time of the great blasts of fire there had been lively activity in her. The flat buildings

205

made of steel glass, as they had survived in the Central Office and other specimens of the turtle style, corresponded to a subterranean life concentrated in cave and colliery landscapes. The Pagos was then administered by the General Movables Society, which opened up its labyrinths and arranged them into systems of catacombs leading into the depths of the massif. The light limestone was easy to quarry and yet elastic so that it bore wide arches. The founding of the movables company had been one of the great deals of the time; the rents had brought enormous profits. There was scarcely a private individual who had not rented a cell, and no government agency, who had not rented galleries from subterranean dungeons, whether for the storage of goods or as an escape room in times of danger. Added to this was the museum instinct, which grows mightily in the shadow of destruction. These were times of double possession—ephemeral on the surface and secure in the Athenian soil. The libraries and archives in particular had been withdrawn from the world of fire in this way—at first in copies, duplicates, and photograms, but the relationship was soon reversed, with the originals being secured. Ever since the regency that created planetary order, these times have been a thing of memory. However, just as every phase of history leaves marks in institutions, so here too. Certain branches of industry with an inherent Plutonic character had survived in the systems. In addition, the large card archives and registers had settled here in the long run; they had isolated themselves in other gorges of the mountains in a half-dusty but precise life, in a bureaucracy's Dorado. Here lay the memory embedded in the files like a dormant brain. Just as the point office had secured the monopoly for forms, the central archive had become absolutely indispensable for knowing the chronological connection of things for everything thatOccurrenceis called. His assistance could not be avoided in any private or state business as soon as the files had to be closed

206

to take advice. However, just as the dot office could in no way be compared to the old patent offices, a mechanized and sophisticated intelligence also prevailed in the animation of the registers. It was because statistics had grown into a fundamental power. Ever since the spirit of the age turned decisively to determinism, it has not only dominated wide fields of practice and not only social theory, but has also exercised the greatest influence on the humanities and above all on history. Serner recently examined these connections in a study; she traced the career that leads from liberty to ciphers, dealing above all with the history of plebiscites and insurance. She represented a gambit in the great struggle which was led around the influence on the central archive. It was considered an arsenal for any proof. In practical terms, the importance that this institute had acquired was based on the perfection of machine reporting on the one hand, and of news media on the other. They unlocked the vast store of data at the speed of thought. The phonophore invocation struck these labyrinths like a spider's web woven from ganglion threads, conjuring up the material in whatever context of plans and business it was needed. There could not be a newspaper, a job and research center, a company or an authority whose budget did not include the advice of the central archive as a top priority. It may therefore be no coincidence that it was one of those offices in which the fortress style continued to have an impact. Likewise, there was reason for the Mauritanians to play a role in its high bureaucracy—they knew the power of applied statistics and its powers of persuasion. The foundation of domination lies in understanding people as predictable. Knowledge still experienced its special transport in its transverse channels. There is much that could be said about it - the depiction of the struggles that were fought for the control of certain registers would surpass in tension any book imaginable. Knowledge still experienced its special transport in its transverse channels. There is much that could be said about it - the depiction of the struggles that were fought for the control of certain registers would surpass in tension any book imaginable. Knowledge still experienced its special transport in its transverse channels. There is much that could be said about it - the depiction of the struggles that were fought for the control of certain registers would surpass in tension any book imaginable.

207

In their lower echelons, with the motto "everything is forbidden," there was reverence for the numeral; it was considered the measure of measures, cardinal proof, the first positive in the positive world. The high degrees disagreed; and this difference was closely related to the maxim that faith was assigned to the foundation and liberty to the apex. But since among them faith was synonymous with atheism, one can imagine the terrible inversion of insight which this order cultivated. Their eminent knowledge led their peaks to passes, on which one suspects the great blueprint. Yet the light they won should shine them to win billions and lay hands on the levers of earthly power invisible to dull eyes. They, too, had the characteristic of the light of only logically genuine spirits: they didn't want to share it. They fell under the parable of the hidden pound by concealing the tremendous talent that was ascribed to them. They liked to see the masses walking in the dark; this swelled their sense of power and drew a smile upon their features, such as is seen high above populous cities at the chimeras of Gothic towers. For this reason the theories of the 19th century, which they called the great, were dear to them and dear to their hearts; they promoted the cognitive style in schools, parliaments and the press. One could hear from them in their intimate circle that no monastic age, be it in Islam or in Christianity, and no leaden tyranny had forged chains of such effectiveness—chains of light, for which the servant voluntarily competes as for a badge of honour.

Enough of the digressions. With every ride through these from the emanations of the cave world. interwoven gorges, Lucius was drawn to thoughts concerned with the secret plan of society. The great. Meetings about free will had remained fruitless; one had to admit it. Yet it was continued under new signs, as the oldest and first theme of wars and civil wars since Herodotus, which would retain its rank as long as it dealt with men and human history.

208

te gave. The content of history was precisely the freedom of will, and with the one the other must also disappear, in that time changed from the historical systems to those of myth or zoology. It was fair to say that the second possibility, as many had feared, the formation of insect colonies had not materialized. The great utopian paintings of the working states had promised perfection and that happiness inherent in order; but the man at the crossroads had thepainchosen.

It is true that the collective powers had adjusted and also interlocked with the personality in terrible corridors. They had finally let go of each other, like the Persians and Greeks of old, and the Regency, like the old Roman Empire, had guaranteed a new equilibrium. In the meantime the technology had also approached completion; progress had reached its goal. Man had thus become completely predictable - albeit, and this chance was from the old utopians since Fourier and Bellamynotanticipated, albeit only at the level at which it could be organized. As new light casts new shadow, so the highest organization had produced a greater awareness of what was mysterious and unassailable. A new awareness of freedom, dignity and faith followed the great voyages of discovery into the realms of matter.

That had wonderfully changed the face of man on the heights - so that it now seemed cold and untouchable, yes, cruel like a mask of godlike proportions, now mild and extremely vulnerable, like after a night full of pain and sleep. This came out well in some of Halder's paintings, as well as in Ortner's novels and in Serner's world of ideas. If you thought about it rightly, you had to be thankful that you were called to this spectacle.

209

The path continued to climb. They dismounted and, in order to protect them, led the animals by the reins. Warning signs appeared on the left: they touched the grounds under which the treasure was hidden. The treasury was the second agency that had survived and developed on the Pagos and was under exclusive proconsular control. The passes leading there were blocked by built-in armored forts manned by selected detachments. The troops stationed around the chalet, in addition to the bodyguard and the garrison of the war school, joined these guards as available reserves. The treasury was doubled and its structure corresponded to the monetary reform introduced by the regent, which, like all measures of the day, was both retrogressive and progressive in character. The reintroduction of gold as a measure of value and as cover for the central bank declined. Circulation was based on the gold vault on whichThesaurus,administered by the Bergrat. Since the discovery of the new sea breams by Fortunio and others, it had become easy to keep one's stocks up to par, provided the bailiff and the proconsul agreed and the regent gave his approval. In addition, gold was extracted from the sea using auromagnets. The chattel and real estate transactions were concluded on Goldfuss; Gold was the norm for everything that was called goods. The progressive currency, on the other hand, was energetic and formed the basis of the work processes. It formed the basis of the services and made them quantifiable both in relation to one another and in terms of their gold value. She relied on a second state vault, theenergy,which was significantly more extensive and comparable to a subterranean industrial area. Only these rooms contained neither oil nor coal, but provided plutonic residences for enrichment

210

ments of highly productive matter. Since their destruction side was raised from the regent to the shelf, they functioned here with their pure financial and labor power. Even the token was related to energy and shaped in such a way that it could be used to insert it into the countless machines that provided power in homes, workplaces and traffic machines. They could be translated into light, power, warmth, movement or entertainment. Then there was the bulk of the power for the entire movable and built-in machine world on land, at sea or in the air, in public and private hands. It was sent by directional beams on ionized path and measured by counters before going into the drive. The energy production formed the socialized part of the economy, the circulation of gold the capitalist one. Basically, both offered only aspects of one and the same process. The special production had almost entirely fallen back into the hands of the private sector, whose freedom the energy plan gave the state framework. In this way, depending on the angle from which one wanted to look at it, the economic structure exhibited a thoroughly state-determined or a thoroughly liberal character. As I said, this was also reflected in the currency. a completely state-determined or a completely liberal character. As I said, this was also reflected in the currency. a completely state-determined or a completely liberal character. As I said, this was also reflected in the currency.

As for control, it was originally distributed in such a way that the proconsul oversaw the thesaurus and the bailiff oversaw the energeion. There had recently been an essential change in this relationship, insofar as the security of the Energeion had also been transferred to the troops. This was considered the main merit of the new boss. The goal, which Nieschlag had unsuccessfully avoided in years of negotiations—he had achieved it in one night. With that, the proconsul also kept his hand on the energy. The bailiff could only counter this with popularity and, in an emergency, achieve it through strikes and unrest. So far he had tried in vain to gain influence over the Energeion's staff, in whose selection the chief exercised the greatest care.

211

Then there was Malpasso, a dark transverse gorge lined with dark cypresses. It led, narrowly incised, over the ridge to the great cemeterium, to the Campo Santo of Heliopolis as the third structure in the Pagos, which was to be traced back to the time of the great fires. The period of uranium endangerment had not only shaken confidence in the stability of cities and dwellings; it had also destroyed any hope of the safety of the grave as the final, abiding resting place. The graves are the actual fixed and directional points in the deeper system of this world. And that consciousness spread mightily near death. Changes in burial patterns indicate the greatest phases of history; the mere change of styles remains fleeting and ephemeral to them. Until the fires struck, the dead were buried in the ground. But the sect of those who preferred cremation had also steadily increased. It was only later that this was understood as one of the omens that heralded the world of annihilation. At that time, nihilism had not yet been recognized as a new religion, one of those cyclical cults that recur like the phases of an unexplored star. At the sight of the destroyed cemeteries, the fields of death that had been plowed up or burned to glass, a new panic spread. The man who felt himself attracted by the secret rhythms of the graves, through the proximity of which peace was communicated to him, could no longer find cross and stone. The earth cover with its flowers as a symbol of the motherly world was missing, the high mark as a symbol of the fatherly world. The fire had burned them out.

In those times people had begun to dig tombs in the pagos, amidst the safety of the rock which surpassed that of the pyramids. The custom had become common and later-

212

preserved. The new longing for conservative and Christian life found its center here. Thus the eastern ravine of the Pago, to which the entrance below the Towers of Silence led, became the Great Way of the Dead and the parts of the massif that it cut through became a necropolis. Entry into this realm was solemn; the bright cliffs rose steeply in column and organ forms to heights over which only the eagle flew. Here long since dried up glacial waters had spared huge monoliths. They lined the rocky valley as obelisks created by nature, so that it rose as if in triumph. In the course of time the openings of the caves had been lined with black marble so that they shone like dark gates from afar. Driveways to them were listed. They unlocked the entrance to the immense realm of tombs and catacombs, which, like the honeycombs of a dark beehive, were enriched with the departed. Through their arches, the dead were first taken to the rock churches and chapels, where ceremonies were performed according to the cults to which they belonged. From there, passages radiated to the crypts, especially to the large columbaria. Here the scanty narrowness of populous quarters was reflected in the final resting place. The walls were patterned with a mosaic of keystones, each engraved with a name and two dates. They carried a small niche for holy water, in which one usually saw a boxwood branch. A narrow base was caked with wax from all the death lights that had burned on it. On days of mothers' and ancestors' celebrations there was a hustle and bustle in these galleries as on big reception days. The living visited the dead in their chambers and palaces.

Lucius loved to walk the columbaria on such days; they shone with a thousandfold brilliance. It became visible who among these armies of the dead still had a soul that was thinking of him: his name was illuminated by candlelight. The halls resembled the vaults of an immense stone library. But only the titles

213

were illuminated. Behind it lay the books of life, forgotten for time but preserved for eternity. They stayed for the hour of judgment. Such corridors could also lead into the obsolete tombs that slumbered in the chasms like abandoned honeycombs. There the silence was immensely deep. No more candles flickered, and only the trail of light, which led through the labyrinths like Ariadne's thread, illuminated this residence with a shadowless glow. Then there were suites in which the dead lay by category—among them the great Phanteon, in which illustrious names shone, a dreary vault of gold and marble and many statues. To him was assigned the heroon, with its sarcophagi filled with warriors known and unknown, and its hall of honor adorned with trophies. The tombs of the orders and congregations, of the orphanages and asylums, of the nameless dead of the great fires and storm surges came. In the midst of the panic of the fireworks, mortuary communities had formed, with a special cult of death. The same thing happens again and again in history when there is land dying. During the devastation of the eastern provinces of the German Reich, the first suicide epidemics became known. They were repeated in the alternation of catastrophes and political persecution, even the nihilistic rumors that accompanied the crises. The longing for death soon caused these sects to flourish, such as the "Vogels Phoenix", the "Nowo-Raskolniki" or the "Poppy Cup", whose aim was to facilitate and idealize the conversion. They found state support in some places, as they once did on Keos, and were suppressed after the regent restored order. From those times their tombs were also secreted. It was said that images and sculptures were to be found within them, freer and more unbridled than Etruscan sarcophagi have handed down. Rumors had also survived of Saturnalia being celebrated at these sites. Details were found in

214

a small writing of Fortunius, who once broke the seals and descended. Separated from these dense settlements of death were the mausoleums of the noble and wealthy. They stood in relation to them roughly in relation to colonies of villas and the crowded streets and squares of a city. The classic form was that of a more or less decorated chapel with an altar and ancestral shrine. It was joined by one or more chambers, depending on the ramifications of the family. There was a lot of hollow splendor to be found there, but also solutions famous for their simplicity. It had become customary here to reiterate the dates and festivals of family life in a shadowy yet exalted way, in a sense heralding—such as betrothals, vows, reading of wills. This meant that there was always life in the great gorges of the Pagos - not only from funeral processions, but also from visitors of all kinds. In the evening bells in the necropolis announced the closing of the gates. Then the masses, as if seized by a sudden panic, pushed their way out of the corridors, galleries and vaults of the underworld. Lucius had once stood on the cliffs at this hour and seen with amazement the streams pouring out of the dark portals, from which a fine glass of incense trembled in the rays of sunset. It was well known that at the sight of the light a mad cheerfulness irresistibly spread, a wild breathing of the lust for life. The Pagos Carmelites then saw to it that order was maintained on the street of tombs. This was an order that had dedicated itself to the service of the dead, which it carried out from its rock monasteries and hermits' hermitage. from rough handicraft, that was done by the brothers in the houses of mourning and at the graves, his concern extended to the high donation of the fathers, who comforted him in Eleusinian fashion. Monks also lived in the innermost massif for the incessant office. There they fed the eternal lamps, read the nocturnal masses and the texts of the books of the dead and held the vigils.

215

In order to close this dark chapter, it is necessary to look back. The great catastrophes had brought man much closer to death. In some years the days were filled with the expectation of doom. At times the horror spread apocalyptically. But omens were not lacking either. There is no sudden transition. What heralded above all was a refinement in historical considerations, a sense of touch comparable to a new musicality, and indeed converging with turns in the music. The sweetness of pain flowed into both. The spirit polyphonically grasped the cultures lost in time, studying their decline. He arranged them around him like an orchestra. His strongest means was archaeology, which is necessarily aimed at graves and made him recognize the surface of this earth as the cover of an immense, mysterious grave. He entered pyramids, royal tombs, painted caves, sunken cities and palaces. And again, of necessity, he opened up the greatest booty where the cult of the dead had formerly flourished. One always finds what one is obscurely looking for; the find is the fruit of longing, is its material pole.

The relationship to the cult of the dead was even more evident in the museum drive. Museums not only grew up in place of churches; the churches also turned into museums. What was stored there in the form of used substance in cabinets and showcases resembled the relics of the Middle Ages, even if the spirit of the time formed the reliquaries in a rational style. Then, when the first blows of destruction fell, the big cities in the Heroon gained a new center. The tomb of the Unknown Soldier, the resting place of the great leaders who had turned the fate of the peoples in the hours of trial, the cemeteries, the Calvary whose terror was mystically transfigured—all radiated powerfully. Then came the great escapes, during which many people had nothing left to call their own but the memory of an often unknown grave. There rested the thoughts, the pain. So the journeys became the memorial sites

216

generally; they became pilgrimages. The churches took up worship; she became the strongest source of cultic power. This was the climate in which a necropolis had developed in the ravines of the Pagos. It represented the dark counterpoise of urban life and its ephemeral goals. Here resided the fundamental power that opposed progress. The undertaking of progress lies in the fact that it denies death. This then challenges the master of the world. He restores the dimensions. The philosophers and poets held that man had won since he was hurled down from his vainer height. And there is no doubt that he had not only grown in faith, but also in the arts, which are always more deeply rooted in the mysteries than in knowledge. Therefore the work of art also remains the key witness of spiritual power.

Behind Malpasso the gorge narrowed to the gorge. The mountain stream foamed through a bright ravine that was covered with moss high up. Butterwort and ferns shot up from the upholstery. They slowly led the animals across the damp wooden walkway pinned to the chasm. Then a rock cauldron opened up, one of the round whirlpools reminiscent of the great melts of the Ice Age. Here the stone spirit came out particularly clearly, particularly naked. The walls were smoothed out like the bearings of a gigantic mill, the floor was partly covered with fine river sand and partly with smoothed boulders.

Primal hunters had their seat here long before the time of Nimrod. Fireplaces with weapons made of silex and bones of extinct animals were still found in the grottos, as well as pictures of magical sacrifices and hunts on the wall. Now the Bergrat lived in this solitude. His domicile was attached to the south wall of the cauldron

217

tet; it continued far into the rock passages. They served the Bergrat as cabinets for its collections. What was visible on this troglodyte seat always reminded Lucius of the sorceress's gingerbread house in the fairy tale: the walls were completely covered with Ammon's horns, shells, snails, thunderbolts and other finds. This gave the impression of ancient weathering. When, as now, the sun touched them, they awakened the light of green ores, the iridescence of colorful rusts, the violet velvet of geodes, and the sparkle of rock crystal. Like charcoal in red embers reflecting the splendor of summers that no human eye has ever seen, so the life of bygone ages woke up here like a treasure cave. One sensed that one was standing in front of one of the great hoards, to which the entrance did not lead through palatial facades, but through a shrine, in the incrustations of which the art of the dwarfs was revealed. The Bergrat was the administrator of the gold vault. As such he had connection with the great treasure beyond the Hesperides and knowledge of cosmic threads such as was given to few. Linked to his office was the fact that he was the conservative opponent of the Energeion. In the course of the currency wars and the big transactions he represented the gold party, but he was hardly visible in his role. "Gold and death," he used to say, "are the two powers that need no propaganda." As for his work at the New Academy, it was strictly mathematical; he was considered the first crystallographer. This meant that he was more experienced in radiation technology than almost anyone else. In addition, he was the best expert on the Pagos, whose systems and labyrinths he had deciphered from the ground up with the help of Fortunio, and whose plans he administered. There was power in that too. "Wait a moment; I want to say hello to the Bergrat.« Lucius gave Costar the reins and took the narrow path that branched off towards the cottage. The door, decorated with two crossed hammers like the entrance to a shaft, had no handle. She

218

was metal, with inlaid tendrils, which united in a springwort blossom. Lucius leaned against this flower, whispering the password in a low but accented voice. The delicate purr of a lock answered; the door sprang open. The old man had solved the "open sesame" of the fairy tale in his own way. A grotto-like anteroom opened up, which lit up as Lucius entered. It led up steps to the great hall, which was already embedded in the rock. It was cool here, but a fire blazed in the hearth. In front of it sat Stasia, a creature of extraordinary tenderness in a white gauze dress. In front of her on a table stood the phonophore, from which very distant stations reported. One heard the names of harbors, landing and embankment sites, of minerals and metals, along with the numbers that Stasia copied onto a register. A smile crossed her face as Lucius entered; she waved to him and finished the work. She gave him her hand and asked: "You want to visit the Bergrat, Herr de Geer?" And she added quietly: "He's having his weird day." It was known that this spirit, famous for its clear dispositions, was sometimes overcome by bizarre moods that made it incomprehensible and afflicted it like a recurring migraine. Lucius therefore considered retiring. But a door opened on the balustrade of the high hall, and the old man stepped out. He called down: 'Ah, Commander, I'm sure you're coming to see the agates. Make an effort.” Lucius scaled the spiral staircase, which was half in stone and half sprang into the hall as a free spindle. The Bergrat was dressed in his gray habit and had a green hat on his head, like the ones the tusks wear at work. He led Lucius into his cell, which shone with a soft light, but the source could not be seen. Lucius said he only jumped at the chance.

219

'Oh, that's a pity, because I've built a new gallery for the agates. But I offer you this sea lily platter as a first-class feast for the eyes.« The hermitage was spacious, with smooth walls that met at the ceiling in the shape of a cross. Repositories on which stones and books lay led along it. A large filing cabinet, a round table with armchairs in the middle, and a standing desk formed the furnishings. In the background, a wide panel covered with writings and manuscripts stretched from one wall to the other. Along with the phonophore and nebulizer found at every work station, Lucius saw a row of microscopes placed under glass bells on top. Above it hung a picture of Fortunio of youth with a magical background. Three doors led deeper into the chasm - "Museum" was written above one, "Laboratory" above the other, while the word "Thesaurus" was carved above the third, narrow one. The lily piece was extraordinary. It rested on a pedestal of oak wood. Although not a speck of dust clouded his mirror, the Bergrat carefully rubbed it off with a cloth. It must have been ground out of a fathom-sized block that had been split. The surface was slightly domed, of the deepest, almost black violet. A velvety brown rim encircled the dark core. The plant animals were embedded in dazzling white, crystallized marble, like ice flowers. The cut hit them lengthwise like narrow magnolia buds, or opened up their ray pattern in cross-section. Between them twined the stalks, which here and there had crumbled into their limbs, as if coins had been scattered. Lucius looked at this petrefact with the amazement which always seized him before such early formations—the hieroglyphic style of the first charters. There was also fear mixed with this amazement. There was something inexorable in the mathematical, in the radiance of the construction, the splendor of the highest workshops, the solitude of sublime games and reflections on the first day of creation

220

before the invention of the leviathan. Here the character of the old writings, which are without vowels and without style, still prevailed, the glistening skeleton of the life plan, its law engraved in crystal. In front of such finds, the human gaze fell through a crack into an architect's forecourt, where the light was too powerful. The sciences led everyone towards this outlook. And they sensed the world as God's entertainment with himself. But why then human consciousness and critical reason in this game? Did God endow the human spirit with liberty because it was in need of dialogue? There was an abundance in this gift, a higher principle than grounded in necessity. Lucius stroked the curved cut with his fingertips. 'That's a piece, Herr Bergrat, that would be more suitable for the thesaurus than for the museum. An amethyst?” 'An amethyst of the deep blue variety, with a wall of chalcedony. The lilies are spared from an earlier transfer and crystallized in the melt. You are right — it ought to be regarded as a jewel, a truss for the bosom of beautiful titans.” He added, pointing to the laboratory: "I still have the hollow grind over there that repeats the pattern as a bowl." He leaned forward and whispered:

"I will have them, filled with pure river gold, brought to the prince as a gift of honor on the day the bailiff's head is carried through the streets of Heliopolis." Lucius went to the desk to make sure the phonophore was secure. Stasia seemed right; the old man was in a strange mood today. He heard him hum the old Yingo tune:

"We have the ships and the men And have the money, too."

He added:

221

'You have the gold and the soldiers, Commander; You can strike. The encounter will be short and terrible, but it will be clear." Lucius replied: 'The bailiff is not without means either. He leads the demos and controls the energy to a large extent. Also, while the proconsul is a great fan of hothouses, he does not, to use Talleyrand's phrase, love them politically. He wants to see the fruit ripen naturally.” 'Yes, until they're overripe. Like all old Optimats, he doesn't find the point to take off. He could go to the crowdsLuckto lead." 'That's probably true. But the masses far prefer the misfortunes caused to them by their own tyrants and technicians. They have a deep abhorrence of legitimate power, above all that which has to do with Burgenland and old knighthood. This is deplorable, but true. We must not, therefore, succumb to the dreams of Chateaubriand.” 'Don't underestimate Chateaubriand, Commander. Much of what happiness was in the 19th century rests on it.” 'Certainly, he shaded the Enlightenment. But what is happiness, Herr Bergrat? There is no subject on which opinions are so divided.« 'Yes, but only there and only while the spirits are in motion. Hence it is rarer in liberal times than in monarchies and enlightened despotism. It also loves the expiry dates - the romantics have already recognized that well. One must not blame the masses for setting up happiness programs - that is their right. What is more understandable than that man wants to improve his life? The only thing that is deplorable is the dilettantism through which each of the often well-conceived systems is sharpened. slave chains is reforged. The authorities respond to the happiness programs of the masses with the argu-

222

mentum ad necessarium and set up power programs. Here's the mistake. They should design happiness programs and implement them in an authoritarian manner.«

Lucius asked for the time and got up to leave: "So you're thinking of a utopia?" 'Quite right. Every state is committed to utopia as soon as it has lost contact with myth. In it he attains the self-awareness of his task. Utopia is the draft of the ideal plan that determines reality.« "Then what was the utopia of the Prussians?" Lucius interjected. "The Prussians? They were still between myth and enlightenment. Hence the twilight of irrational sobriety. Here, of course, there was no sense of imagination. That is also the reason why they are in the long run inferior to the powers of progress that had utopias. The struggle for power takes place only in the foreground between interests and armies. Behind it is images matching. That is the meaning of the old standard, which was then lost. They are monstrances; in their aura, sacrifice comes easily. That is also the meaning of the old, magical kingship, before Heraclitus, before Herodotus, as it was preserved in the game of chess. The utopias, on the other hand, are the law of the new ark of the covenant, which is called ratio. They are carried along invisibly by the armies.«

The Bergrat stroked the lily block again. He added: »That is the reason why the pure soldiers fail: because the mere will to keep things in order is not enough. As with Dom Pedro and his kind, it remains l'art pour l'art. Then there are the spectacles in which one sees troops, freshly armed with their weapons, coming out of the barracks, on the third day failing in front of mobs that have ganged up behind the barricades. There was faith defying the cannons. So often do you see the general failing in the coup in a way that can only be explained by the sense of emptiness that overwhelms him in the decision. A small, fantastic element was missing in the

223

General staff plan.«

He went to the work table: “You are in a hurry, Commander. I know very well that you are concerned at the palace, and I also appreciate your boss. But we are not idle here in the chasms either - we are no less interested in the outcome." He smiled and handed Lucius a note he'd found in his papers: “I am giving you the outline of a plan here, in key words. We could talk about it when you come back. We then chat by the fireplace over a glass of Parempuyre. Good luck, commander."

The upper exit of the rock basin led to a plateau called »Great Sand«. You could sit up. The horses attacked with fresh strength. In the sunshine her fur sprayed light gold. There were damp seams where the bridle rested. Their high-pitched neighing and the way in which they let their ears play, their nostrils flared and widened with trembling, betrayed that the weather up here was comfortable for them. The riders beat their broad necks off. The "Big Sand" extended to the narrow ridge where the Pagos peaked. The area was clear and yet structured in a way that is convenient for field service. Chains of light dunes alternated with light woods and dark stretches of heather. Round ponds glistened from a high moor that they trotted past; here the sunlight cooled as in steel-blue mirrors. The plain was bustling with martial activity. The sounds of horns and trumpets from marching bands practicing in the countryside filled them with an awakening rooster call. They flashed from the mountainside

224

signals from a solar mirror. In the background a platoon of riflemen climbed up the mountain like ants. Not far from the road a mounted detachment was stationed for practice. The riders detached themselves from her one by one, first at a trot and then galloped over ditches and jump trees. As Lucius rode past, their guide rushed to report him. Now the roofs of the war school appeared in the midst of parks. It was here that Lucius intended to "attend" the new course instituted by order of the proconsul. There was still time before the beginning. He sent Costar ahead with the horses to announce themselves and sat on a log that lay by the way. Here he scanned the roster sent weekly from the Commander of the War School to the Chief at the Palace. The last morning hour of this day was reserved for the discussion of a moral-theological task by the licentiate Dr. Ruhland provided. This was the subject the boss had been reluctant to take up. Well, you would see.

Then he pulled out of his map case the piece of paper that the Bergrat had given him. It was a double sheet that Stasia had tightly typed in blue and red. There was no lack of such designs at that time. He read the headline: "Notes on a Utopia." Then he scanned the strange text: »Preliminary question: can a state plan be a happy plan? Answer: only if the prerequisites are met. And what are these prerequisites? Above all in the fact that the state becomes visible as a status. The dynamic tasks must therefore be essentially completed. This is why progress can never lead to happiness. Dynamic phases can end by reaching the goal, like in world empires. They can also find their end by failing—in resignation. Nestroy's saying: 'The best nation is resignation' is not so bad. The state renounces its long-term goals. That's why times of decline are often times of happiness, like in late Venice, in late Austria. In

225

Colonies and provinces, even in ruins and under foreign rule, one often lives more cheerfully. Happiness lies beyond historical processes and their consumption. To the location. It is favorable in that the regent has a monopoly of power. This eliminates wars in the old sense; they have degenerated into provincial quarrels and sooner or later end up before his tribunal. Whether he wants to view them as tournaments or as criminals is up to the regent and his liberty. Hence the twilight of anarchy and order that fills our landscapes. They are like domains which the Lord has left, but on which he can still appear for judgment. In addition, the technology in the most important areas can be considered complete. The supply of potential energy is greater than the expenditure. The technique imperceptibly enters its third phase. The first was titanic; it lay in the structure of the machine world. The second was rational and led to perfect automatism. The third is magical, enlivening the machines with meaning. The technique takes on an enchanting character; it becomes homogeneous with desires. Melos joins the rhythm in the refinement of radiation technology. At the same time, a new being opens up, a cosmos of supra-intelligent musicality. This is the situation in which happiness can be sighted. The first aim should be for the earth to acquire the character of an island. The islands are the old lucky ones. The earth must round itself as a closed living and administrative space. This can be done through treaties or through supremacy. Violence will be inevitable. This may be followed by the dismissal of the armies. The second goal is the abolition of the proletariat. It can only be done from the root - by grasping the causes of dissatisfaction. The proletarian is the disinherited, and since the time of Gracchus the focus has been on a new division of the inheritance. Gradually the plots become tiny; the proletariat becomes universal. The right way lies in adapting the human figure to the inheritance instead of the other way around. The source of all wars and civil wars

226

is population pressure. At this source the evils must be grasped. The world empire is the prerequisite. In the course of the discussion I shall enumerate the means by which the ideal density is obtained. At the same time, thirdly, the competition is reasonably reduced. If played between states, the world map determines its form. On the other hand, the ideal density gives the individual an increased share of the capital stock. Only then will the healthy idea that socialization must be limited to energy as the very basis of production have an effect. The balance between plan and freedom must be as easy as the circulation of means of payment with good gold cover. Above all, the conservative intention of the measures must remain invisible behind the liberal implementation.” Lucius folded the paper and put it back in his pocket. One would still have to see the remarks that were mentioned. It was essentially a question of adapting old ideas to radiation technology and the new world situation in general. Others had similar ideas, notably intelligent Englishmen like Lordmayor Graunt, Malthus and Huxley, but also Casanova in his strange Icosameron, in which he placed the Garden of Eden in the interior of the earth. The Bergrat might have liked that. Between the lines one also saw the magnate thinking of his treasures. That wasn't an objection, because wealth is often more insightful. You worry on the scale of what you have to lose.

It was certainly true that these questions could only be solved on a world scale. That was the theme of modern history, recognized early on both by imperial spirits and by the working class, and then led to a provisional arrangement by the regent. It had been spun like a carpet in wars and civil wars, in work and peace plans, as in the great pictures of technology and science, and everyone hoped that it would come to fruition as a meaning that would justify the sacrifices.

227

made.

A basic objection was whether happiness is really to be found in peace? Was happiness contentment? He thought of the conversations they had had at Halder's. The world was perhaps designed more as a playground for hunters and warriors, as a scene of daring dreams that expand the chest at dawn. In long periods of peace the annoyance, the unrest, the taedium vitae grew like a fever. There must have been two great races, perhaps since Cain and Abel, with very different concepts of happiness. And both lived on in the people and took turns in dominating. Often they both dwelt in the same breast.

228

AT WAR SCHOOL

Lucius stood with the Licentiate Ruhland in the small lecture hall of the war school. It was a sober room with tall, arched windows that let light fall on the whitewashed walls. The long side was decorated with an old battle picture: "The Last of Guillemont." Above the lectern hung one of the depictions of the proconsul, as was customary in such places, a showpiece of button painting. The young soldiers streamed into the hall and, having saluted, took their places. In this highest class they already wore the uniforms of their regiments and offered a colorful picture. They were returning from the cross-country ride, enlivened by the open merriment of handling horses and weapons. A number of them, mostly in the green coats of hunters on horseback, greeted Lucius personally; they were acquaintances and therefore also relatives from Burgenland. The licentiate entered the desk, on whose desk he spread out a stack of written sheets. Lucius sat down in a chair by the window and leaned on the pommel of his sword. The lecturer was pale, ascetic, with the vertical features that engrave the sleepless nights of scholarly study, and probably also spiritual discipline. The contrast to his suntanned listeners was obvious. He opened a case and put on a pair of razor-sharp glasses. First he greeted Lucius: "We have the honor, gentlemen, of seeing in our circle Commandant de Geer, who has come over from the Proconsul's staff." A slight scraping and jingling of spurs answered. Then he entered the matter:

229

“We had entered into the investigation of the act of violence and the circumstances leading up to it during our seminar. We saw that violence is based on passions, and that we become independent of it as the knowledge of what is right and what is good grows in us. The leeway that separates us from violence as a last resort increases in the same ratio. The span appears to us the narrower the deeper we are in the will, and the wider the more we have progressed in knowledge. We also saw that what is right and what is good on earth can never be brought into perfect agreement and that their harmony in the hereafter must be assumed. The highest point to which the right advances is judgment, while the good ultimately leads to sacrifice. In the event of conflict, therefore, we are obliged to reach judgment, a view of the situation that is not based on will. We have to think along for the opponent, and that to a greater degree the more he is passionate, i.e. underage. Then it is to be considered to what extent the good, as the strongest means of overcoming man, is to be brought into effect. We saw that this consideration will lead to sacrifice. In sacrifice we sever a part of our right and transform it into a higher claim. In that sense it reflects from the unextended to the extended, the physical world, and will bear fruit for the parties.'

The licentiate took the top of the sheet from the pile in front of him and then continued: »We have used cases to illustrate this situation, which is always repeated in human life, and chose the form of a hike through the extended world, following the example of 'Pilgrim's Progress'. Life is a journey going through the world as a series of stations. It brings us before obstacles that seem spatial and before decisions on which the mind tests itself. But it depends on the knowledge of a higher law whether we gain the path that leads to the goal. On

230

change is dependent on this knowledge, just as the true location of earthly places is only revealed by looking at the stars. With these passages we have now arrived at the bridge of Masirah. I repeat the situation on which the task is based.” At these words there was a pause; the boss entered. He greeted politely and said: "Please don't be disturbed, Mr. Licentiate." Then he took a seat by the window next to Lucius. The lecturer resumed his thread:

'We have come to discuss an assignment in our class entitled 'The Jetty of Masirah.' The case is adapted and modified from the accounts of an old traveller. It is found in the diaries of Captain James Riley, who wrecked his brigantine 'Le Commerce' off the coast of Mauritania in 1815. An old trade route runs along this impassable and dangerous shore, sometimes through stretches of desert, sometimes over high dunes and cliffs. At a place called Masirah, the mountains jut out into the sea in a crescent shape. The surf breaks at its base, while the summit rises into the clouds. The stone is iron colored and extremely smooth. Here the path leads halfway along the steep wall — as a seam barely two handbreadths thick, which is just enough for a human foot or a mule's hoof, but only if you step safely and do not suffer from giddiness. The eye must not descend on this course, to the white ring of the breakers, by which it is terribly drawn, nor may it lift up to the heights circled by the albatross. It must turn to the smooth rock face, which the hand is gropingly holding. Thus, at a dreadful height, the jetty weaves along the edge of the cliff, in a strong arc, its curve facing seaward

231

is. You can only see half of it when you enter it. For this reason it is customary to rest where the string is attached to the bow to make sure that the bridge is not stepped on from the opposite side. This is done in such a way that a strong call is heard from the rock pulpit in the manner of the muezzin. If there is no answer, you may consider the track clear and venture onto it. This is how Riley crossed the abyss in the wake of the Moor Seid and on his way to the Mogador slave market. Riley was a seaman and had run away from home at the age of fifteen to serve on sailing ships. Such men are free from giddiness. And yet he says that despair seized him on this path and that the world seemed to him to shake at its foundation. Sometimes he had to close his eyes to still the vortices that rose up inside him to suck him down into the boundless nothingness. Then came spots that had jumped out of the ledge and from which the animals shied before they started to jump.

Riley describes how, long after he had finished the walk, he lay on the ground, unable to move a limb. He felt as if the heavens were circling and the waves were lifting towards him. The wings of destruction had brushed against him. His heart slowly calmed down. 'He saw the dark blue sea surging in lashing billows and throwing waves each larger than a high mountain.' It was here that Seid, his lord, told him an old story, the lore of which was connected with this place: 'This mountain range, O Franke, which you see here, like Mount Kaf, limits the universe, continues deep into the interior of the desert. Otherwise we would not shy away from any detour to avoid the narrowness, for it is terrible like the Sirat Bridge of Hell, which everyone must cross on the Day of Judgment. Therefore, before we prepare to proceed, as you have heard, we say the funeral prayer. The strong call, which the guide then lets sound, is said to be a hiker

232

warn those approaching the path from the opposite side. Any encounter over the abyss would be deadly. Of course, the shore is almost always lonely and deserted. It separates an inhospitable and ever-moving sea from waterless deserts. It is therefore unlikely that two parties will ever step onto this jetty at the same time. And yet Iblis, may God damn, always lies on guard. He is the lord of chance, and safety is with Allah alone. So it is said that in ancient times the improbable happened. Two caravans came towards this abyss, one from noon and the other from midnight. And both missed the warning call. They met at the point where the bow has the highest tension. It is said that those who came from the south brought gold from Ophir. The others, Jews from the Maghrib, had loaded their animals with salt and were on their way to the great city in the interior of the desert. Kismet wanted both caravans, with their loads and muleteers, to meet on the ridge at high noon. The leaders negotiated until nightfall, first on good terms, then with threats. Then there was a fight; they threw themselves on each other and tore themselves down to their deaths, entwined and entwined. It is reported that none escaped.'"

The Licentiate paused and then added: “That's as far as Riley's story goes; we took them as a basis for our case. In this way we obtained the model for one of those apparently hopeless situations from which man derives the right to go through the other. We have now reconstructed the case as a business game and have characterized some of the people. The Leader of the Men by Ophir

233

come is Abd-al-Salam—that is 'father of salvation'. He is a gold dealer, worthy and rich in years, skilled in the things of earthly power. In him features of the great merchant and the absolute principality unite. He knows his advantage well, but justice and magnanimity are peculiar to him, and authority always surrounds him. He is accompanied by his son, who is called Kafur, which means 'the fighter'. Kafur is devoted to his father and not unlike him, but quicker and more impetuous in decision. Then there is Omar, a black slave of gigantic stature who is in Abd-al-Salam's service. Omar, armed with a spear, is the first to step onto the jetty; he is followed by Kafur wielding quiver and bow. Close behind him stands the unarmed father. Then the animals come in a long chain with their beaters, who lead them by the bridle, and the escort team. In this order they meet the salt merchants led by Tryphon. Tryphon, a middle-aged man, grew up in the trading expeditions of these lands, that is, in a school of violent encounters. In his trade he is dependent on assuring profits heavily, by dealing with the tribes whose lands he traverses, protection contracts. He follows the rule that one must meet the powerful with cunningness and pay oneself off with cunning. However, even he cannot travel unarmed on these stretches and leads a Berber guard with him to protect him. Of these, a scout named Halef is the first to step onto the jetty. He carries a sword in his hand.

The order of encounter, then, is that Halef, followed by Tryphon, encounters the slave Omar, who precedes Kafur and Abd-al-Salam. The spearheads stop and behind them, in a long chain, the caravans that they lead. Omar holds his lance pointed at Halef's chest, and behind him Kafur has unsheathed his bow and ready an arrow to shoot.

234

In this situation the negotiations begin. The question of the simulation game is: 'The solution to which Abd-al-Salam decides is to be described.'«

Ruhland now arranged the pile of papers that had been stacked in front of him and continued his lecture: 'I now come to the discussion of the solutions, and I will say at the outset that they are not generally satisfactory. The meaning of the question is moral-theological, which means that it is not filled with tactical decisions. But the majority of decisions are exhausted in such decisions, even if I disregard primitive statements such as: 'The Jews must give way'. Most solutions state that, mathematically speaking, there is no possibility of an amicable agreement. From this it is then concluded that space must be created by force. I cite as an example the work of M. de Beaumanoir.” At these words, a young man with dark hair and eyes rose and bowed with graceful assurance. He wore the tabard of the purple riders and on it the little star of the gymnasts. Lucius saw him, remembering the conversation he had overheard in the Blue Aviso and smiled. Ruhland gestured for him to sit down, then read out his reply: 'Abd-al-Salam recognized from the beginning of the encounter that there would be a dispute. He first warns Halef and Tryphon not to approach any further and orders Omar and his son to watch them. He has it announced to the rear that each member of his caravan is to remain at the place he has reached. The tighter the chain closes, the more disastrous will be the panic to be feared. He gives orders with a calm that rubs off on men and animals.

235

He then asks Trypho to clear the track in whatever way he pleases. He gives him an hour to do this. As the sun sinks towards the sea, lighting tends to be cheaper in this period. The salt traders were uneasy and then frightened by the confident attitude of Abd-al-Salam and Kafur. Panic ensues; one sees mules and people falling. Halef and Tryphon are forced to lunge forward; Omar's lance falls to one, Kafur's bow to the other.« --In this way the licentiate went through the sheets before him. It was evident that the task had been too difficult and that it was beyond spiritual need. Most had taken it as a traffic accident and some as some kind of honor deal. Others lost themselves in legal considerations. One was of the opinion that one should wait until one was attacked and then be on a legal defense. In general, the solutions of the Burgenland revealed greater security and precision.

Finally, Ruhland took a sheet of paper from the desk and said:

"The only judgment that differs fundamentally from the others and with which I agree is that of Herr von Winterfeld." The eyes turned to the named man, who got up with all signs of embarrassment. It was a young man with a pale, distracted face and a mop of blond hair, which he brushed back from his forehead as he bowed. He wore the uniform of a hunter on horseback; A white bandage stood out from the green cloth and was looped around his left arm, probably as a result of a fall. Lucius knew the type—that of the loner with special dreams and inclinations. Such natures used to fail here easily and often in an adventurous way—but it was also possible for them to gain decisive form and rise to the top posts. That mostly depended on the stroke of luck, whether they

236

encountered a superior who was superior to the formalities. They were "unfit for middle positions." Meanwhile, Ruhland read the elaboration: »The description of the characters shows that Abd-al-Salam is the only one who can cope with the situation. The decision falls to him. He is the Mighty and Rich, the Lord of Bounty and Grace; he is the royal man. War and peace depend on his resolution. He is aware of the responsibility. Abd-al-Salam grasped the danger at the moment of encounter. Above all, it lies in the fact that the tips are hand-to-hand and thus the gate of peace closes in blind anger. Therefore he commands in a loud voice that everyone has to stay in their place. Then he hits the fuses that are necessary. In assessing the situation, he proceeds from the following consideration: the footbridge is so wide that a beast of burden can step on it. It can therefore be assumed that a person is able to carefully turn around on it. The negotiation he enters into with Trypho is based on these thoughts. He asks him the value of the clothing and the profit he hopes to make from his cargo. The price is high, but it represents only a fraction of the gold Abd-al-Salam is carrying. Abd-al-Salam buys animals and burdens from Tryphon and swears that he will pay the sum beyond the jetty. Then he orders the animals to be blindfolded and thrown into the abyss. The maneuver succeeds. Tryphon and his people can now turn and return to the starting point. This clears the way for Abd-al-Salam's caravan. She happily crosses the path of death. At the end Abd-al-Salam pays his debt to Tryphon. He adds another reward to her. He also had a monument erected at this location in gratitude for being rescued from danger, which was also a warning sign for the future.

At the encounter, Abd-al-Salam was aware of his tactical superiority. But he also knew that one should not drive one's opponent to despair. In such situations, the

237

Weak terrible. Abd-al-Salam had inner space; for this reason he became master of the external constriction. But neither prudence nor magnanimity were his real driving forces. He felt responsible for the opponent. This is a sure sign of the superiority that is based on something higher among people. Abd-al-Salam decided to sacrifice—less like a merchant who insures his property than like a prince who ponders the parties for the good of the whole. Since the encounter takes place in space, it cannot be without loss. But people buy their way out; the animal is sacrificed.”

After discussing Winterfeld's work, the licentiate concluded the lesson by bowing to the boss and gathering up his papers. He thanked him and said: "I would like to comment on the subject, Mr. Licentiate." Then he turned to Lucius: "But first I would like to ask the commander, as the responsible officer, for a brief summary." It had not escaped Lucius that the boss had listened to the explanations with increasing uneasiness. The award given to the young Winterfeld, who had only recently been reprimanded for insubordination, seemed to have upset him in particular. He had foreseen that he would not avoid saying something and therefore, as the boss liked, he immediately turned to the matter: 'The Herr Prokonsul,' he began, turning to the war students, 'the Herr Prokonsul ordered this course to be followed after the Selekta as a preliminary experiment. It is a gamble that shows confidence in your insight. You shouldn't leave school in the belief

238

separate that the problems you will be faced with are as easy to solve as they may appear. The prince not only wants you to be involved in the work, he also wants you to share in the responsibility. He wishes you above alltwoTensions become clear, as our profession brings them with it: First, the tension between freedom and obedience, which arises just when order is shaken. You know that strict obedience is essential in any army. Service rests on it. But there has always been a caveat, in that orders against honor have been considered non-binding. There is nothing of the sort in any service regulations, since it is one of the unspoken prerequisites. In good times, both the superior and the subordinate know very well what is defamatory, and therefore transgression is extremely rare. Then obedience is visible, freedom invisible, but always active.

Like so many other bonds, the perfection of technology has largely destroyed it and replaced it with mechanical relationships. Command and execution have entered into a technical relationship and should follow one another like cause and effect in an apparatus. In such contexts, the old-style art of war is seen as romantic, even questionable. In this sense, the Hague resolutions and then the Minnesota conference have already been dismissed as utopian. In it, the military chiefs of the great powers declared all means to be punishable if they had an effect on the population. This decision will always be counted among the glorious deeds of the soldier, although the development has passed him by. It turned out that the prerequisites had vanished through which the wars are to be given a tournament character. The heavy means were then withdrawn from the states and declared a shelf by the regent. The other tension is that of law and security. The old saying of Duke Ernst von Gotha still applies here: 'A good prince will not consider what is the safest to be right, but

239

that for the surest thing that is right.' This saying also explains the nature of the proconsular policy, which is often considered hesitant and undecided by its supporters. It is, however, the proconsul's intention first to create a model in the army and administration, according to which the perfect state based on trust can be formed. It is important to him that within his regiment there can be no doubt about right and wrong. For this reason, intellectual and moral training should always keep pace with technical training. The prince's policy is based on the maxim that only the high image of the world will prevail in its struggles in the long run. This should be expressed in the education that we give you. Of course, we cannot make the decision for you. We can only seek to strengthen the faculties from which resolve springs. This is how you must understand the exercises here. They are maneuvers; Their goal is not so much the solution, which will always be open to dispute - it is rather the consolidation of sovereignty, internal security and freedom on which the individual depends in making decisions. As a high donor, the Prince gives you a share of his sovereignty.«

Finally, the boss spoke: “First, I will briefly describe the structure of the exercise. It is constructed in that it assumes a balance of power that is rarely found in reality. The example is taken from the merchant world, whose laws do not apply to the soldier. In this world there is equality, and when a dispute arises, the civil process, conducted by agents of the state, decides. , It is indeed"—at these words the chief turned to the licentiate—"a traffic accident, namely

240

one that defies the norm. Now, however, military education is definitely aimed at a world in which the norm rules and is visible. With us there is no doubt about who to greet, who to avoid. In olden times it was the dignity that regulated the etiquette and with it the right of way. It appeared hierarchical, top-down, vertical. In our technically leveled order, the masses meet horizontally in the manner of streams, with almost no difference in value, but here too there can be no doubt as to who has the right of way.« 'As for you,' he turned back to the students, 'you will appear on a higher mission, in the service of the whole. Their sign is the eagle, which avoids no one and is to be led through the resistance. With this in mind, you receive your orders. You will be clearly defined. The execution is at your discretion, but not the consideration of whether the order is justified. I will not deny that there are situations in which the soldier reaches the limits of duty and has to draw from his own depths, such as York von Wartenburg. Education can depend on them notbe directed. The brilliant individual works rather harmful in the army. Experience also teaches that it resists the strict order and easily deviates into regions that elude it. It will look for fields in politics, the arts, the sciences that are appropriate to its freedom and its gifts.

In the state, the role of servant, not master, falls to the soldier. He is not entitled to criticize the client. He does the rough work like Herakles, even if it is a Eurystheus who commands it to him. Like Atlas, he bears the weight of the world, with its inadequacy. Where things get difficult, where they plunge into fire, where reason and justice fail, he is summoned to the last arbitral tribunal. Therein lies greatness, and therein rests his glory. There are sacred points in life, sacramental acts, by which its further course is judged and facilitated. Among them is in

241

our profession the oath of allegiance. With him we renounce the freedom that adorns the private individual. Be it that we render it to the hereditary prince or to the authorities who determined the fate of our birth—we accept their cause as just, even if undivided justice can never be found on earth. But one will always honor the one who honestly fights for his cause. The duty of the authorities, on the other hand, is to conduct things in such a way that the soldier can fight with a clear conscience. After all, it is in her best interest to keep the strength she depends on pure. Even today the knightly spirit is superior to the wild masses, as in the songs of Ariosto. For this reason, the proconsul is particularly interested in the formation of a new knighthood. He sticks to this plan, even when it seems to contradict the advantage. He replaces Moltke's 'long-term happiness only for the able' with the saying that happiness is only in the long-term and beyond the long-term for the just. He also knows that outside of faith there is no righteousness. Justice among people is always only possible with regard to a third and higher thing. This explains the value

You may be assured that this education strives to avoid the conflict of honor and obedience. It will be impossible to avoid it in individual cases. You have to take it out on yourself. The situation we find ourselves in brings with it rude deals. Augean stables are not cleaned with gloves. I will rather cover for the one who goes beyond measure in the use of violence than for the one who shies away from it. That would mean favoring the lower attack. The demos is broken in its power, atomized. The noble traits, the old people's strength, which enabled him to lead, have been consumed in wars and civil wars. The institutions have remained, but only in their mechanical interweaving, as wires in a puppet show. They are technically occupied according to the rules of the power struggle. Likewise, the aristocracy and the arts have lost the body. You will not find a warrior

242

ste, one more piece of literature as such — you will find talented individuals. It seems as if the inheritance takes refuge in certain individuals and crystallizes in them. This is connected with the fact that estates and parties no longer take turns in leadership, as they used to, but individuals. This closes the way to the restoration of the republic; at its end stands the fate of Cato of Utica. The same is true of the restoration of monarchy in the old sense. Firstly, the real demos is missing, secondly, the real aristocracy. In this situation it is fortunate to be able to follow the most worthy, just as it was fortunate that a Vespasian appeared in the line of Caesars. From such points, when the peoples are in a state of impotence, there spreads a new abundance, a new blessing. One often sees that only evil, violence, created the instruments which the high masters then use to achieve welfare. The nations wake up as if from a bad dream. You are called to such a plan in a state in which lies are made up with the colors of truth. In such races, in which right and wrong play into one another, doubt comes upon us powerfully. It reflects the confusion of time within us. He seeks to draw on action by turning it into reflection. These doubts are not unknown to the general, the prince, who has decided to make a decision. You press on him on the eve of the great turning point. It is the opponent's claim that registers in it. He will lose the battle if he doesn't defeat him. You, gentlemen, are called to represent the general in your place. You will be worthy of this task.«

243

THE APIARIUM

Lucius ushered the boss out. The farewell was measured; it was evident that the manner in which the new course was developing had annoyed the General. But it was unmistakable that it was his words that had made the strongest impression on the young people. Lucius found the recourse to classical history and mythology particularly poignant—that was probably intentional. One was reminded of one of the speeches in Plutarch, whose characters the boss always carried with him among his books. Lucius mused on this as he walked to the stables to see how Costar had tended the horses. He was dissatisfied with himself; he felt the thankless mediator role he had played. The Bergrat, the licentiate, the boss — they all knew what they wanted and stayed the course. They did not know the diverse impulses that met and reluctantly united in him, in Lucius. He lacked the decisiveness with which one takes sides and which is important in life. This was bound to rub off on the tasks that had been assigned to him. Perhaps he also overestimated the influence of the spiritual elements on the course of the world. That gave him the dreamy streak that had worried his parents in Burgenland. Nigromontan's upbringing might have contributed to it; she had pointed out to him the highest formulas, the dark mastery with which one rules the world invisibly. But his last scruples frightened him from this art — from paths which he saw the most talented adepts like Raimundus, Fortunio, the Bergrat and perhaps the finest minds of the Mauritanians tread. Silence reigned here, and the painless glow of loneliness. There was no coincidence and no indivisible remainder.

244

After giving Costar leave for the afternoon, he turned to the summit. A rock path led up the southern edge of the Great Sand. Though the entrance was hidden in the undergrowth, Lucius found it at once—it was familiar to him through many passages. The narrow footbridge rose in the marble limestone, which here lay open in sheer benches. At times he stepped up in steps. Mighty gorse bushes lined it like ribbons of pure gold, which rounded off into arcades at its narrows. In between were hawthorn and acacia bushes. Up here the flowers were still in full bloom. As it climbed, the rock became smaller; it sprang forth in nests of moss and club moss. The blocks were as if the water had sintered through them, crumbly and hollowed out. The crumb that carried the pile of the high mountains had accumulated here as in twisted shells and cups. The crocus, the trumpet and the deep blue jagged calyx of the gentian bloomed in delicate clusters. In between, the bell heather and a herb wrapped in light velvet felt were padded. In some places the rock was completely covered; the blossoms covered it in a colorful lawn and hung from it as blue and red cushions. The clear air, the shadowless brightness kindled the colors to more life, so that they stood as if on the palette; it erased the nuances. And how the breath became freer up here,

The hallway seemed too spiritual for gross use, and fit only for harvests of scent and nectar foam. Here the big moths that love the peaks floated, sailing in the balsam breeze. They sat down on the brightly colored cushions and circled slowly and magnificently on the velvet background, stretching out their wings.

A subtle humming, as if inside crystal bells, filled the airspace and grew louder towards the summit as one approached Father Foelix's apiarium. The hermit's immen's garden was well-stocked with countless chalices. One saw the foragers buzzing busily from flower to flower, so that their flight was the same

245

covered the ground with a carpet. They swarmed in clusters where the mats of saxifrage, houseleek, and cyndelweed hung over, in honey intoxication. Then they returned home, laden with balm and dusted with pollen. Work and pleasure—they seemed deeply fused here in the feast of the flower wedding, in the love messenger service. Now the Apiarium also became visible, the honey store in which the fruit of countless touches flowed together. It formed the outer wall of the Klus, the highest of the hermitages that populated the mountains during the monastic era. Now they lay mostly deserted except for the seats of the Carmelites, who devoted themselves to the service of the necropolis. Father Foelix had settled here for a long time and kept bees. The honey of these fields was of old fame, and also the wax of a more delicious fragrance. From afar the yellow baskets shone like rows of bells in the niches of the rock. The orbits of the bees united to form a stream, a dense and seemingly unmoving jet. Their hum increased to a roar that sounded mental like the vibrating of an invisible string, like a melody woven of light. Like the roar of waterfalls or the surf of the sea, it evoked a sense of both freedom and intoxication.

Lucius veered off the path before this broad trajectory. The klus was a hermit cell inside one of the large blocks that the Pagos carried on its back. The work traced back to the catacomb period; only legends attached themselves to them. She had probably filled the life of the first settler. The walls of the vault, broken out of the core of the rock, were rough and unpolished; they still bore the marks of the chisel. A narrow window gave light from above. A crucifix, a narrow bed, a lectern, and a pedestal for the candle formed the furnishings. Lucius knew her from previous visits. There was also a storage room and a chimney with bundles of dry undergrowth collected in the ravines.

246

The entrance faced north, and led through a hall formed, of course, by the projection of a slab of rock. Here the Father had his workplace in the midst of the beekeeping equipment. Lucius entered quietly. The room was filled with the scent of wax and honey. The old baskets were placed against its walls. In between one saw masks, nets, crucibles, scales and tools of various kinds. In the center sat the hermit at a rough table, in a gray overall, cutting wicks to the same length from a roll. Although Lucius kept silent, he seemed to have noticed him, for he turned away from his work and gave him a warm, but unsurprised, smile. Then he got up and shook his hand.

'Look, Lucius. I was expecting you; it's good that you came. Just sit on the bench outside; I have prepared a snack for you" And without listening to the guest, he turned to the honey cellar. The bench Father Foelix had indicated was a little apart from the apiaries; from here he used to watch the swarms, especially at the time of the nuptial flights. The seat was carved from the stone, while the table was a precious gift. Inlaid in its dark plate was a bundle of silver arrows. The peaks indicated the landmarks of the landscape; Inscriptions gave the names and the distance. The plaque resembled a sundial; she also bore a saying like these: "It's later than you think." Lucius traced the path he had come with the arrows. At its end, like a bright seal now, lay the city of Heliopolis. He also read off the names of the islands and promontories. The distances were not given according to the measure of the light, but according to the old-fashioned hours of travel. This pointed to a gentle trait on the part of the donor.

The sun was warm, but less oppressive than down in the city. The midday air was still. The silver thistles on the rocky ground shone in great stars. Sometimes one would get caught

247

of the lost queens in Lucius' hair. Then he kept still until the animal had freed itself. Father Foelix had lived in the Klus for a long time. Already the hair of the children of those whom he had counseled in their youth was turning grey. He had seen and heard a lot on this eyrie. Little was known of his history, and he hardly spoke of it. Beekeeping was not founded by him; she has attached herself to this place since ancient times. His predecessor had been Father Severin, an unruly forest monk who, however, was revered by the people. Father Foelix, at that time still under a different name, had come to this great Faster and Prayer - not, as they said, out of a longing for the life of a hermit, but to learn about the care of the bees, as it is based on old tradition. You can still see today that he was well versed in the sciences and had passed through their school as through a strict forecourt. But the terms had almost become blurred for him. They resembled the characters on a parchment that had been whitewashed and rewritten. At times the old signs shone through with a glimmer of irony. The new text was simpler. The same was true of the hermit's demeanor, which, despite its great simplicity, suggested a knowledge of courtly forms. At the same time, warmth emanated from him, as if rays scattered in his being were gathering in the focal point, which was condensing in the nearest, in his guests and visitors. with a tinge of irony. The new text was simpler. The same was true of the hermit's demeanor, which, despite its great simplicity, suggested a knowledge of courtly forms. At the same time, warmth emanated from him, as if rays scattered in his being were gathering in the focal point, which was condensing in the nearest, in his guests and visitors. with a touch of irony. The new text was simpler. The same was true of the hermit's demeanor, which, despite its great simplicity, suggested a knowledge of courtly forms. At the same time, warmth emanated from him, as if scattered rays in his being were gathering in the focal point, which was condensing in the nearest, in his guests and visitors.

He used to say that he had asked Father Severinus for alms and that he was gifted with a treasure. In the beginning, dealing with the forest saint, who despised education and culture, might not have been easy. The old man had fallen out with his order, but he insisted that his pupil had himself ordained there. Years later he died and Father Foelix buried him on the hill. Like everyone who lived up here, he had become very old - it was said in the vernacular that this longevity was due to the consumption of honey in addition to the strict rule. He had forbidden his resting place too

248

designate, for he did not love the veneration of graves. A high selfconfidence combined in him with the urge to erase what was personal. Thus the forces he bestowed passed through him almost without resistance, almost without an inch. »A mirror am I; and what was light on this mirror will remain forever.” Before his death he had announced to the peoples, in the manner of beekeepers, that a new master was awaiting them. Father Foelix continued his life. The same people, mostly people from the common people, climbed up to him with their worries and concerns. But his circle was wider in that it also included guests who were leaders in the spiritual and power struggle that was dividing the landscape. One even encountered members of foreign cults and those who were completely outside the faith. He found the right word for everyone. So he was planted on Father Severin's wild rice, like a sapling of higher culture. Lucius was introduced to him by Ortner; and the latter, it was believed, sometimes sought him out on behalf of the proconsul.

The Father had donned a habit of white wool. It was patterned with bees caught in the rough fabric, which he gently brushed down with his hand. He brought a platter on which lay a fresh comb and a wooden knife. Then he put on white bread and a bottle of Vecchio. The bread was unleavened and baked in flat slices, browned here and there by the embers of the hearth. It stayed that way for a long time in this place, far removed from any human habitation. 'Now drink and eat, you will be tired from the climb. This is May honey, from the costume in which the animals fly down to the linden trees.” The priest sat down next to him and watched him kindly. Lucius praised the honey and asked about the beekeeping.

249

"I am happy; there is plenty of honey this year. drink too; the wine is good. Melitta brought him up. I made him for you.” He smiled. “The years fly by. I baptized the girl by that name — now it's time for her to marry. You protected the little one; she will be grateful to you." Lucius felt himself blush. The priest slapped his hand. 'You too will marry. Maybe soon. You are not destined for celibacy.' Then he said again: "I am happy; the honey will drip out of the baskets. Strong swarms are also announced.« They spoke of the bees and their habits. Lucius had attended a course at Taubenheimer's institute that called itself a "seminar on the knowledge of colonizing insects." They knew how to increase the yield and saw a kind of robbery in the inherited practice of the peasants and hermits. Father Foelix knew this school, but he stuck with his teacher Severin. “They're walking on the. ancient wisdom that man is the measure of all things. This is one of the mighty sayings, the mighty fallacies that drag on through the millennia. He could adorn the banner that humanism carries through the ages; it is his deepest maxim. A German said something similar, but much more modestly: 'All of nature rhymes with man.' That's very good, because the question immediately arises as to who wrote the poem.« The priest took a sip from Lucius' glass and looked at him cheerfully.

'I'll tell you something about the bees, which is better. The innkeeper who takes to the sticks in the evening to announce the changes in the family and household to his queens - he knows the wisdom that lives in the animals and respects it. The bees are exemplary in many ways, because in their life the will of the Creator is revealed without being clouded by reason.

250

Man puts much into it, also much of the imperfect and insufficient of human nature. He calls the bees industrious. A western emperor chose her as heraldic animal at the turning point when work lost its old, pious meaning. But is the bee a working animal in this sense?” He gestured to the foragers swarming around the thyme vines and saxifrage cushions and nodded to the spectacle. "It has to be that one wants to recognize a chain of love touches as work. It is unspeakable bliss that inspires these animals and fills their day. When the blossoms open in the morning rays and their day's work begins, neither horns sound like in the barracks, nor whistles like on the ships, nor those wailing sirens with which the factory calls to work. You hear the honey dance on the floor of the honeycombs and their cells as a melody intoxicated by the nectar that creates pleasure and joy. Of all our calls and signals, it is most closely related to the sound of a bell as it once rang over this mountain. No, the Day of the Bees does not include work as we understand it.«

'Of course,' the priest continued, 'we could learn from the bees what work is. There is no business in this world that can exist without a spark of such joy. The joie de vivre holds the whole thing together, far stronger than the economy or pure power. When you see the peasant bare-chested following the plow in the morning light, when you see the blacksmith standing at the anvil, the fisherman lowering his net into the water, you sense in them a sense of well-being that is incalculable and priceless. You will also become aware of it in the bustle of markets and cities. In this pleasure lies the capital of the world, pure gold - the harvest and profit are only the interest from it. This also applies to the economy - no economy can thrive without the love relationship as its basis. Benevolence has a golden hand.

251

The priest stroked Lucius' hand and poured the glass again. “So also the bee colony is a horror invented by man. Can one speak of states if one observes the animals correctly? It's more of a big family there. It is said that nature did not allow the worker bees to have sex, and this is called a kind of economy, of robbery. That is, see the part and not the whole. The power of love dwells in the sticks, completely undivided. You see that clearly when she gets intoxicated by the anxiety before the nuptial flight. You then formaBody that is enlivened and figured by a force. They all share in the bliss—they and the unborn. In contrast, what is the fleeting touch of the queen? Little and a lot. Small is it when you look at it separately, as fatal contact in infinity. But how significant it becomes when you see it as a symbol of the fulfillment of love that takes place in the organ for everyone. In the same way the priest raises the cup for everyone at the Lord's Supper. Certainly, if one wants to consider the bee colony as a state, then it could be a model of human states. A role model if you see the goal of the state in raising the order to pure love relationships. You find that in old kingships by the grace of God, but also in real democracy. It doesn't depend on the constitution; it has meaning only as a vessel of fraternal life. If this is missing, the best constitution loses its value. The teaching of Christ is based on the realization of the love relationship, on the basis of the example. To follow him in this is above all the office of the church, and therefore it will always remain indispensable, for the higher complement of authority. Of course, like all true goals, the goal remains unattainable, but it must always remain the judging star if man does not want to lose himself in the darkness.« The hermit was silent for a while, then he concluded his reflection: "Yes, we can learn a lot from the bees if we are able to see things rightly. There is also their collecting of treasures, that

252

Home of stock in imperishable form. The blossoms are like the moments of this life, the fleeting seconds, and yet within them, if we touch them rightly, we capture stuff of infinity, the true ambrosia of the ancients, granting immortality. The moment is bestowed upon us to fill these honeycombs for supreme celebrations beyond time and space. But the life led in this way also brings temporal gain. You can see that from the fact that only the blossom that is touched properly blossoms into fruit. So buy out the moments.« Lucius considered those words. He felt that some things of personal importance were addressed to him. The buzzing of the bees still filled the midday air like a dark organ. In the dry silver leaves of the thistles the agamids rustled busily, nimble hunters who shone like jewels. He said: "One also hears a lot of cruel things about animals." The priest smiled. 'It is well that you object, Lucius. You must not take what I am telling you as a point of view, for there are countless such. You think of processes in bee life that we would describe as bloody: the murder of the queen, the duel of the queen, the drone battle. Here, too, our view is deceptive, in that we moralize and humanize the animals. We do not account for how much the bee colonyabody is. If, for his own good, he expels the drones at the appointed moment, it is the same as if the child loses its milk teeth. The queens fulfill the law prescribed for them. Man, however, by directing his eye to what they do, discovers in him the evil that is in himself. Thus the battle of drones forms an old pattern of reason of state and of all doctrines in which man is regarded as the political animal. The objection to this is that knowledge and thus guilt are bestowed upon man. In this respect, the law presents itself differently to him.«

Lucius looked at him questioningly.

253

"Then one would have to assume that the murders, the wars, the nights of St. Bartholomew are outside the divine plan and that history is to be understood as a chain of violations of order? That's difficult when you look at people through their teeth and claws and when you consider the situation into which we were born.« The old man gave him a friendly nod.

'Oh, you're going in a hurry, Lucius. But I will answer you. The murders, the wars, the atrocities are not outside the plan because there is nothing outside the plan. But for the most part they are outside the law. To this extent history really represents a chain of offenses which is only maintained through acts of mercy, through amnesties. This is the great theme of the Old Testament. Natural-historical necessity also prevails in history, and types of history are possible that refer solely to it. But necessity alone does not rule, insofar as knowledge is given to man at the same time. With knowledge comes blame. Therefore, an act can be both naturally necessary and culpable under the law. To cover this difference, which would destroy us in the highest being, there is the treasury of sacrifices. In its preservation and increase lies the real meaning inherent in history. That is the theme of the New Testament. The sacrifice can be an afterthought, in which case it presents itself as atonement and penance. It can also precede the act; we then separate a part from our claim to nature for the glory of God. That's the part that pays a thousandfold, forever. It may be small, but it can also include all of our natural life. And it's wonderful that the sacrifice works vicariously. In this way, we poor hermits can also contribute a little to the salvation of the world.«

254

A light wind had picked up, carrying the touch of the thyme mats and nutmeg hyacinths. You could also feel that he had passed through the hot gorges of thorns, in which the scent of resin mingled with the blossoms. At the southern vault, one of the Regent's great missiles sped through the room. Heading for the city, she dove into the air circle and slowed the orbit. It was a warship, azure, and only visible because it was facing the shadow side. It flitted meteorically along the mountain range, then lingered briefly in strong golden radiation and slid into the missile port. Lucius made a note of the time. The hour and the nature of the ship were unusual; it was undoubtedly a reconnaissance mission in connection with the riots. Hopes of intervention or arbitration in such disputes had long since been given up; it remained at pure observation. One had the impression that material was being collected for a remote office - for files, which a scholar administered according to the rules of scientific statistics and unknown guidelines. The Emperor's only reservations lay in maintaining the regalia, such as the leadership of the blue color, the ban on radiation weapons, the use of certain ports and bases. There was a taboo about it, a strong spell that was always present in the parties. The blue ships would not have been needed to get it. For the rest he stayed outside the negotiations and his decisions were unknown. would not have needed the blue ships. For the rest he stayed outside the negotiations and his decisions were unknown. would not have needed the blue ships. For the rest he stayed outside the negotiations and his decisions were unknown.

In the meantime Father Foelix had gone and came back from the Klus with a copper jug. He poured coffee and sat down again next to Lucius, taking his hand. 'I have told you many things; one becomes garrulous in solitude. Now tell me what's on your mind, Lucius.' Lucius described the course of the exercise he had taken part in and the chagrin that had surfaced between the chief and Ruhland. The Father listened attentively, occasionally interrupting him with a question. Then he said:

255

'I can't blame the General—there are better ways of purifying insight than reflection. Moraltheological instruction all too easily leads to mere casuistry in the style of Escobar. The young people who are brought up in this way are like warriors who are allowed to do their trade from books and in front of artificially devised redoubts. The true value is only tested in battle. Also, he who wishes to excel in virtue finds better examples among the heathen. The armor that the Stoa forged serves him. The Christian does not need such means. He finds his way in weakness, and not by his own strength. Don't worry about your students, Lucius. Many of them were already sitting at this table. I know her and I know what's troubling her. It is good that you are concerned about her. Surely even from this, your doubt, the best flows to them—more than from the formed knowledge you give them. Man is indeterminate, therefore education is a supreme experiment. If he now feels that you know about this his unformed basis, which is mysterious to himself, and even feel shy of him, then he will recognize you as a teacher, will honor you and be grateful. Man wants less to be understood—that would even be terrible for him—than to have what is incomprehensible about him respected. Like gardeners from the underground, you must draw your best strength from it. The rest is up to God.” that you know about this his unformed basis, which is mysterious to him, and even feel shy of him, then he will recognize you as a teacher, will honor you and be grateful. Man wants less to be understood—that would even be terrible for him—than to have what is incomprehensible about him respected. Like gardeners from the underground, you must draw your best strength from it. The rest is up to God.” that you know about this his unformed basis, which is mysterious to him, and even feel shy of him, then he will recognize you as a teacher, will honor you and be grateful. Man wants less to be understood—that would even be terrible for him—than to have what is incomprehensible about him respected. Like gardeners from the underground, you must draw your best strength from it. The rest is up to God.”

He also added: 'You keep discipline, strict discipline, and that's good. But you must not extend the rule to the absolute, otherwise you will fail in the attempt. Just leave the sources untouched. The medical rule applies here: 'Whoever wants to heal to the core, heals to death.' You cannot help man in his controversy, in his struggle with God; it is his deepest ground of freedom, sovereignty, on which the encounter plays. He is immediate to God. It is far better for him to doubt than to worship out of compulsion. Here is the riddle that everyone has to solve on their own, and only at the moment of death will they find out how far they have gone

256

approached the solution. Only you must always let it be felt that you too are occupied with this riddle, that you have an inkling of the high ranking. Don't present yourselves as perfect, present yourselves as people of good will. This distinguishes you from the forces you are called to fight. They believe in the possibility of perfect order, in perfection without gaps. This necessarily drives them towards tyranny, and gives the idols they erect the dreadful splendor. They strive for the magical illusion and its lust. But you are to ensure that the world remains open. This is the great, the only spectacle of history, its dialogue, which is always filled with new partners and which reveals itself for the glory of God. Have no fear; you will prevail. The world is designed for the triumph of freedom.« they were silent. The hermit's features had become more animated. A swarm of cranes flew over the summit, rowing. At the beginning of the drought, the animals headed for the large swamps in the interior of the country. Lucius thought of the descent; Like all gastrosophists, the Bergrat loved punctuality. He remembered the note he was still carrying in his map case. “The Bergrat has drawn up a program that he intends to submit to the proconsul. If I understand him correctly, he is striving to both mitigate competition and prevent wars through birth control policies. He wants the number of people with the .; Bring the inheritance into a reasonable proportion and thus prevent the parcelling out, the formation of proletariats. We would then travel through life as if on luxury ships, on which there are only comfortable seats.” The Father nodded:

'Yes, and the unborn will pay for the passage. 'Il ya toujours quelqu'un qui paie.' This is the immutable truth that underlies every comfort, and which no plan, however subtle, will shatter.” Then, getting serious, he added:

257

»The Bergrat has of course touched on an important point here. One senses the influence of Nigromontan, who sends his students on a quest for the philosopher's stone. You too, Lucius, learned from him, as did Fortunio the deacon and others. I want to share my thoughts on it with you. Procreation is always accompanied by guilt and increases the evils of this world. Hence abstaining is meritorious. Paul already said what was necessary about this. But one will fail if one devises human plans, either to reduce births or to increase them, 'for the purpose of superiority. This leads to the rule of hygiene, perhaps more invisible but more terrible than that of bloody tyranny. Just the thought puts you in bad company like that of Doctor Mertens, who has similar thoughts in the point office and in the central archive. This is the path that leads step by step to deliberate killing, to the full triumph of the economy. The prince will not agree to that. Even in pure numbers there are hidden laws that no statistics can grasp. Consider the surprising explanation that came late to population growth in the 19th and 20th centuries. Of course, the happiness of the people always rests on the renunciation of the chosen ones, on their breaking away from the natural union, as you see it being exemplified by the bees. But in the human kingdom, where freedom rules, only the sacrifice and not the plan can be decisive. It is the transformation from physical to metaphysical fertility. Many bad things have always been said about monks and monasteries. Yet you will find that times when monasteries flourished were often also times of happiness and long rest, as if blessings and lifestyles were communicated from these places. It is arguably better to build a monastery than an arsenal. Above all, through the spiritualization of life, finer forces are released, receptive organs that stretch out like antennae and give great security. Consider the great wars, the bloody slaughter of the past. They always lead the attack on the monasteries and the

258

eremit seats, which is one of the omens—no less than the leveling of the barriers erected against unbridled mixing and multiplication. The masses then swell like swarms of mayflies. However weak his inadequacy may be, it remains a supreme thought of man to withdraw into the cell in order to serve there as a lonely guardian for the salvation of the whole. As long as these lamps are burning, it cannot be completely dark. It's good that the proconsul knows about it too. He also lends his protection to this seat. Even the spiritual man who devises worldly plans and orders needs solitude in the midst of his books and scripts.” He paused and asked: “You know Serner, the philosopher, don't you? Ortner told me about him. It seems he has important thoughts.” Lucius reported on the symposium in the aviary and tried to indicate what attracted him and his friends to Serner's appearance, writings and discourses. The Father listened attentively, questioning him from time to time. 'That's what I thought. It seems that this spirit is approaching the truth from the opposite point as Ruhland. You say he gives himself up to drink every now and then?” He stayed silent. It seemed as if he were pondering the stranger. Then he added: “As the spirit approaches the high steps, it necessarily approaches the gates of truth. This is the case even where he works in the defined field of science. The paths all lead to one point. There knowledge ends and worship takes its place. The final keys are not conceived, not thought out. But the contact gained in this way takes place from the outside. The spirit recognizes the death conqueror's castle with its high windows and lights and can describe it as hollow without being in substance. Nigromontanus is perhaps the strongest of those standing outside the castle, the

259

Prince of Magicians. What is stopping you from entering? The wealth that closes the true path — it can also be spiritual wealth.« The hermit touched Lucius' arm. He knew that his guest was touchy about everything that concerned his old teacher. “Maybe Serner will come up with you sometime. But wait until he speaks of it.” The shadows fell in longer, tinting the bedrock with blue light. The red and yellow blossoms began to liven up as if evening were kindling them. The gentian calyces folded in. The flight of the queens became more sparse. The bats dared to come out of the cracks in the hermitage and flutter around the cross. It was time to get back to the horses. But Lucius still had a question close to his heart. 'The chief is preparing a series of blows against the bailiff should the disturbances increase. He was thinking partly of violent reconnaissance and partly of destruction to be carried out agentstyle. Suggestions have now surfaced in the discussion of the orders for poisoning the commandos—on the one hand to spare them torture, and on the other to seal the secret as necessary.” The Father asked:

'How do you feel about that, Lucius?' 'I'm uncomfortable with the thought.'

'And you are right in that sentiment, Lucius. This is one of the points that shows that pure humanity is no longer enough. You may lead the men into hopeless situations, but you must not cut off their hope. Otherwise you convert them into objects, into pure objects of the application of power and you are no longer different from the opponent you are fighting. You must not interfere with the core of freedom, not even for a good cause. Where such plans appear, it is a sign that you are going astray.” He looked down at the city, reddening in the late light.

260

'Look up what Augustine says about suicide in The City of God. You will find what you need there. He sees him as absolutely reprehensible, even in Lucretia's situation. And indeed, even murder is more excusable. He does not forever cut off the possibility of repentance. It is reserved for suicide that the last act, the last moment of man coincides with the crime. So he comes before the court, covered with fresh blood. Suicide is part of the freedom that is granted to man alone, just as the tree of knowledge bears fruit for him alone. He is a parable of the mighty decision entrusted to him. Consider that well. But you are in a hurry, Lucius. The Bergrat awaits you. Go ahead, I will keep you in my prayers.«

261

262

SECOND PART

THE ATTACK

He had ordered the car for ten o'clock. He hadn't awakened yet. The "room was silent and dark, and only the trembling of the vent communicated itself from the depths of the steel-glass walls.

The orgy had extended into the morning hours. As was usually the case in the small banquet hall, which they also called "the sofa," it had led to extreme intoxication, and then to deep stupor, to unconscious sleep. Now he rolled restlessly on the bed, seized by the fear of the spirit that comes out of the darkness and tries in vain to give an account of himself. There was only darkness. Then the sound of violins and flutes woke up again. The images came again, but ragged, labyrinthine, as shown through slits of curtains. He was lying on the floor, the candlesticks were spinning. Patent boots and the legs of naked women stepped over him, slowly and rosy as in a merry-go-round. The violins in the gallery tirelessly played the same melody. He felt happy like a benefactor. The rigidity with which they otherwise surrounded him was completely relaxed. Scraps of the drunken conversations surfaced in his mind.

"Knife, the whole sofa is blue again." "Good this way. Give those fellows up there a drink, too, they're making an effort."

He had always said that blinded musicians were preferable to blind ones. You could choose. Then the sages blossomed more fully—as after oculation. As a quip, that wasn't bad. Now the faces came back, that wasn't good. It was as if they filled the back of the eye, first a head, then many, and then a whole frieze. They were all ugly and grimacing

265

invigorated. They were curious, mischievous, and swollen with shameless sexuality. They grew out in the hundreds, in the thousands. Now they seemed to occupy the ranks of clinical amphitheaters, now they stared down from boxes at spectacles like a hydra that expected only evil and that only amused evil. Then again they filled up an immense courtroom, a tribunal that was judgeless. Grizzled hags, old men whose features summed up a long, shameful life, adolescents with the naked and scenting agility of rats and weasels flooded by. No Callot, no Daumier would have thought of something similar. You could see what was going on at the bottom, what was happening in the deep sea of the demo. She spewed her plasma into unknown cities. At times the faces threatened to deform altogether; Horns, Antlers, snouts, sex trophies bristled off them, and cracks like old trees opened in them. The jubilation, the complicity was outrageous. The sleeper groaned, then threw off the covers. A bitter taste filled his mouth. He grabbed the carafe and knocked it over. The guard who slept on a mat outside his door at night heard him dressing in his fashion in soft, irritated soliloquies. She called the office and said Messer Grande was up. The car was driven up and the guards posted.

The main gate of the Central Office led to Gerberplatz. From there you could see the obelisk, which was erected in the large rondel of the inland port, through Lange Straße. The garish blocks of houses in the new town joined at right angles to this central axis. The great structure stretched up the slope with five rays. It formed, so to speak, the cap of the citadel in which the bailiff sat, the visible part. The two wings that unloaded onto the pitch were

266

connected by a stairway that narrowed as it went up and ended in a terrace. It was cordoned off by guards. Messer Grande stepped out onto this terrace at ten o'clock. His small entourage surrounded him. He was even paler, more bilious than usual. The calm of his face was stony, without expression. But she was interrupted by a flicker of the sort seen on the flanks of animals that frighten horseflies. This contradiction of irritability and mask-like rigidity was noticeable in all the officials and officers on his staff. It seemed as if the subalterns had coarse wires, mostly hulking fellows in uniform with strong necks and nutcracker-like chins that ground in motion when excited. The intelligent, on the other hand, were slight, lithe, and often feline in charm.Anger. The sun was blinding. The square was crowded, as usual at this hour, with idlers silently watching the arrivals and departures, newsagents, reporters, photographers, plainclothes agents, and strollers having breakfast in front of the cafes. The heat was still bearable; the breeze carried the scent of lilacs from the florists' kiosks.

The car was waiting. The door was opened. As chance always plays a part in the history of attacks, sometimes thwarting them, sometimes promoting them, so it is here. Here he was beneficial. The big sedan that Messer Grande usually drove had broken down; one of the receptors had become clouded. One of the open touring cars had been hired for the heavy vehicle, which was equipped with all the safety devices. In this way, the deed that brought about so much misery was made easier. The move resulted in a stay. Messer Grande had glasses looked for; he was also shivering in spite of the warmth, and he wrapped himself in a blanket. Then the four companions jumped onto the running boards. At this moment a young man pushed his way through the cordon. He was dressed like a student, only he wore the Kosti, the

267

Belt woven from white threads, in the Parsee style. Before you thought of stopping him, almost before you noticed him, he slid against the door of the car. He was seen stretching out his hand, and a moment later it seemed as if a jolt shook the carriage. Hardly a sound was heard. Messer Grande was lifted like a doll and then fell back into the back seat. The red leather upholstery was ripped open by splinters, sprouting black horsehair. In agony he tore strands of it and bit into them. A moment of silence followed the action. The square lay spellbound in the bright light. All you could hear was the faint click of the momentary shutters being released and the flickering of the film tapes. Like pages in a picture book that is quickly flipped through, the recordings flew away —into the archives, the editorial offices, and the permanent game that was already populated. Fifty minutes later, Der Spiegel published the first reports with the obituary: "He gave his heart's blood"—despite these gentlemen's routine, that only seemed possible if there had been a version in the sentence for the case of the assassination.

Then picture blackout was announced and the apparatuses descended in search of other prey, of which there was no shortage. Only one uniformed official from the Central Office approached the car and carefully examined it, as if he were x-raying every part. Only then was the corpse lifted off the cushions and carried upstairs. She still held the tufts of horsehair in her mouth and hands; they trailed behind her as if a sea creature had been captured. In the middle of the white stairs the trail of blood became visible. What had happened to the assassin in the meantime? Immediately after the initial shock of terror, the driver, who was uninjured, and his companions threw themselves on him. The slender figure was seen disappearing into a dark group from which fists and bludgeons emerged. In the tumult you could hear the high-pitched screams, also from women: "A mort, à mort." In between, the darker one:

268

"Al' muerte, al' muerte" of the port rabble as it fills the sunny side of the arena. Messer Grande's adjutant tried in vain to make himself heard: "Back, the man's hair must not be harmed." He had to order sentries to pull back the madmen. Then he went to the bundle lying on the pavement. 'They beat him to death. Oh, that's annoying. A Parsee—the fellow was lucky.” Then to the satellites: 'To Doctor Mertens' laboratory. He should be thoroughly searched.” It was later learned that it was a Parsi medical student named Nadarsha. It was said that his sister suffered violence during the riots. Others said that he was simply an assassin in the service of the palace. And third, finally, thought that the threads led back to the central office. All the problems of the time play a part in such figures. In the meantime the commotion had spread from Gerberplatz to the streets of the new town. Groups formed and suspects were found. It was strange that those who had feared Messer Grande behaved like madmen—yes, she of all people. Shots were heard, which propagated through Lange Strasse to the harbour, and arrested people were being dragged in. Soon the Central Office's house jail was overcrowded. They took advantage of the desolate square that had been leveled in the past in order to create a field of fire in the direction of the palace, and which was encircled by a wire fence. There the suspended were penned up en masse.

Immediately, and without the central office having issued any further instructions, there was a Parsi persecution that far exceeded that of the last riots and even threatened complete annihilation. The rabble hunted down individual passers-by in the harbor district and in the lower new town. Even those who did not differ in clothing or signs were soon recognized. One searched under this title also

269

to cool one's nerves with everyone who was unpopular. The acclamation: "That's a Parsee" or "That's a Parsee comrade, a Parsito" were equally ominous. The shops closed, the streets of the luxury and villa districts became deserted. Protest marches formed in the suburbs and the waterfront neighborhoods. They filed in front of the Central Office, whose stairway was lined with black cloth. A catafalque was erected on the terrace; the bailiff, who had meanwhile moved into the command post, inspected the march past. Then the masses rolled towards the Parsi quarter. In the excesses it was noticeable that young people from good families, yes, elegant women, took part in the plunder and also in worse things. The bailiff gave them plenty of time for the tumult, which turned into a kind of folk festival. Spontaneous actions like this were part and parcel of his politics; they gave wind to his sails. It was only in the afternoon that he granted an audience to the elders of the Parsee community. Then he had the police and people's militia move into the rubble site. Now the persecution has become official. The looting continued as a house search and the abduction as protective custody. The Parsis were already so broken that they sent the governor an address of thanks. In the palace, too, the rulers of the Parsi had been received coolly; there were other things to do now. This time they also refrained from occupying those parts of the Parsi quarters that rose up into the upper town; the pressure of the demo seemed too strong. On the other hand, the proconsul had tightly cordoned off the area around the palace, the troop camps and magazines, the energeion and other bases. He also showed tanks all over the city and kept the airspace clear. When the bailiff called the people's militia around noon, the pennant rose above the palace announcing the state of siege. But it was clear that popular sentiment was hostile to him. The troops, however, were in his hands. The public services threatened to shut down the work — that remained

270

meaningless as long as the Energeion was secured. It was heavily manned by war students and technical troops. In reply, the chief cut off the radiation for thirty seconds at two o'clock. You could see the planes gliding like kites being pulled on a tether. The subtle hum that filled the city fell silent; then the auxiliary engines started up with an unusual, anachronistic roar. In a special issue, the "Friend of the People" listed the damage caused by this interlude - collisions, unsuccessful operations in the hospitals, crashes and the like.

The two rulers had withdrawn into their caves like animals and were feeling each other out. There was no doubt that one was superior politically, and morally in the popular sense, and the other militarily and technically. In this power game, the Parsis were like a bone surrendered to the demos. No protector took care of them. The negotiations had not yet broken off; there was a lively exchange between the Central Office and the Palace. Middlemen also met with the Mauritanians in the Allee des Flamboyants.

Shortly after ten o'clock the "threatening alarm" was ordered; the antechamber was packed. The boss let the orders flow out partly after verbal presentation, partly by telephone. The proconsul, on the other hand, had only announced that he would be at the palace in the afternoon. He waited with Ortner for the blooming of the Victoria devonica, which unfolded in his covered ponds and had been talked about at his table for weeks.

Lucius stayed in the office, checking the news. The excited mood that filled the house on days like this was palpable, as if it were communicating through the walls.

271

At twelve o'clock Theresa opened the door and invited him in with a "The boss asks." Lucius followed her and saluted while the general, engaged in a phone call, nodded to him. As always, a bouquet of fresh flowers from the gardens of the Pago stood on the almost bare table. 'All right, Treskow, hand me a copy of the wipe on the path of light. It should be made the subject of instruction. What to do with the agents? Shoot them within half an hour—I don't use the courtmartials to play bridge." He hung up the phone.

'The boys drop leaflets in the barracks. I'll have the material delivered to you. We have to evaluate it for the lesson.« He added: 'We must not underestimate these things; they work in the long run, especially in the event of setbacks. Soldiers don't get better by keeping them in reserve. Above all, you must not be bored. We must deal a series of blows." "You meant to think of me, chief." The general nodded. “That's not actually one of your duties. But it can do no harm if we show that we are not exclusive - on the contrary. We lead not only in spirit, but also in substance. Be ready to pay a visit to the toxicological institute on Castelmarino; I give you free rein. We still want to wait for a blatant attack, which will not be lacking. Then we'll do fireworks. Sievers is supposed to provide you with equipment in the meantime. I can do that right now."

He picked up the phonophore. A clear, cutting voice answered: "Here Sievers, chief fireworker - at your command."

272

“Sievers, Commander de Geer is coming to your arsenal in a few days and is looking for command equipment. Show him your joke items. No, receipt is not necessary, nothing in writing. You post the withdrawal as 'expended for trial purposes'.« He shielded. "By the way, kudos to reporting - - I saw the guy fly through the air." He pointed to the permanent film across from his table, which was showing the opening of a trophy show in the Orion's clubhouse. “They shoot stuff together that you can't tell the front from the back. I prefer a solid fox hunt." He laughed. Then, getting serious: 'I have an unpleasant way for you. They will offer condolences to the bailiff in the name of the prince — orderly suit. You may get away with an entry in the visitor list. If you are to be received personally, do not allow yourself to be drawn into conversations that lead away from the mission. The personnel office should issue you with the certification. Two notes, please — one for me personally, the other inflammabiliter. Another question? Good."

The carriage stopped in the courtyard; he carried the proconsul's flag of command for the ride. Mario led, Costar sat next to him. They drove out of the great portal, the central wing of which was open. The upper town was peaceful, almost deserted. Then they crossed the Corso, which was densely populated. A hover-tank patrolled slowly, clumsily like a steel-blue beetle, up and down between the cathedral square and the inland port. He flew so low that he cut the jet of the high fountains that still sprang,

273

and seemed almost to touch the tops of the obelisks. The carriage was greeted here and there. There was also a lot of traffic in the new town. Groups laden with sacks and household effects have already been seen returning from the looting. Not far from Gerberplatz, the road was closed to all vehicles. The bailiff's house troops cordoned it off. Lucius told the officer in charge there that he had to insist on passage and pointed out the eagle flag. A messenger was then sent to the Commander of the Central Office with the letter of authentication. There was a stay. It was good that the guard was nearby. The crowds that filled the street were highly animated. There were drunks and illegally armed people. Lucius surveyed the often strange items they carried and negotiated. Even children dragged themselves away with booty. The guards laughed and didn't skimp on jokes.

The car pulled to one side, hard against the wire fence that demarcated the barren area west of the Central Office. When Lucius turned to take his eyes off the hustle and bustle, he was startled by an image such as one sees in dreams. The square was densely packed with a gray crowd. It seemed as if the dust disguised the faces and robes of the people who waited there. He stood like a cloud over a pen. A bad haze emanated from the place; Horseflies buzzed around him. The bright robes worn by the Parsees had become unrecognizable, and only the Kostis shone. Most stood, but others could be seen sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath. There was a lack of water, people were starving, the injured, and women with childbirth. In between, Volkswehr Guards, recognizable by their brown bandages, raged like madmen. Suffering radiated ardently from that crowd. What dismayed Lucius most deeply was that the other crowd laughing and frolicking on this side of the wire scarcely seemed to notice. The fine, almost invisible grid separated pleasure and suffering like light and

274

shadow off. Screams from sinking ships echo without a trace on the deserted beach. Lucius eyed the group closest to the wagon, almost touching it. The sight was frightening. The white eyeballs shone from the blackened faces. The mines were wounded as if by a jet of fire, by an explosion. It was as if he were being called; he heard his name faintly but urgently, like a radio call being repeated. The voice was whispery, yet supremely clear, like an incantation by the power of thought. He also knew her. It came from a woman who was clutching the grate with both hands in what has come to be known as the "Great Distress Call." It struck him that in the midst of the ragged pariah crowd she had retained a kind of freshness; the hair combed up at the temples was still intact. The skirt and blouse also closed nicely around the dainty figure. But it could be foreseen that in a few hours she would be like the others. That made the sight even sadder. Lucius recognized her and raised his hand to show he'd heard her. "Get off the bars, or you'll get pepper — damn vulture pack!" A giant sentinel appeared in the fence. The crowd retreated from him like a whirlwind. At that moment the messenger came back and cleared the driveway. Mario started. Lucius leaned forward and asked: 'Costar, did you see the woman who was standing by the bars just now?' 'I saw her; it was Fraulein Peri from whom I got the books. It is a great misfortune, commander." 'Good, Costar. Note the circumstances. Do you have money with you?' 'It may be three hundred gold pounds. We haven't had any expenses yet." The carriage stopped and Lucius climbed the tressed staircase to the stronghold.

275

The steel-glass corridors were narrow and musty; the air carried the taste of oil and iron and the machines that renewed them. The sojourn in these corridors was designed to terrify; the walls played with pale colors and there were no sprayers. One had the feeling that a thousand ears caught the sound. Lucius was led to the Chief of Protocol. He accepted the certification with great courtesy and had it entered. Then he asked Lucius to wait a moment and came back saying: "The bailiff will receive you personally." An elevator took them to great depths, where a new tangle of corridors followed. They entered a room where the receptionist was arranging stacks of incoming addresses. She was very young; her dark hair was Roman-cut and combed over her forehead. It enclosed the pale amber face like the clasp of a cameo. The lashes were long and nightly, the eyes lined with violet shadows. Experience and childishness were combined in these traits—half lyceist, half pensioner of a luxury salon on Benda Street. After eyeing Lucius well, she led him, swaying but hipless, to the bailiff's door. He could feel the nutmeg. She said nonchalantly:

"The Commander de Geer." The room was darker than the antechamber. The walls pearled with a gray light. Lucius heard a deep, musical voice reply. It was at once haunting and veiled, cut in wax, as it were, and modulated by a myriad of intimate negotiations. But she was also powerful, and one felt that she was not the only important person in the Cabinet. It was the voice everyone knew, the voice that summoned the crowds in the arenas and

276

had tamed and then enthusiastically to the hurricane. She was like the wings of the great birds that the storm wind trains. It was the voice that was heard in every square, in every house, on the days of passion, and that made the people tremble in their depths, as if fate were allying itself with the word. And even in casual conversation one could feel: its wearer knew its power. How different the proconsul's voice sounded—a little tired, amiable, not without irony. He loved the silence, the nuance, the terse hint. He hated passions, excitement, the spirit of the masses, even enthusiasm. He was of the opinion that good blood is better understood through scent than through words. At the lecture, in the State Council, he wanted to hear facts and arguments, hardly any opinions. Then, in a few sentences, he made the decision to act. As general he gave the orders fluently; the clarity and order of his dispositions was renowned. In such situations his speech was cool and brilliant, like a good blade that is seldom drawn but which hits unerringly. It seemed that danger gave him lighter and freer thoughts—the overview of the helmsman at the helm. During these hours he, who otherwise walked slightly stooped, also grew physically, and he exuded great self-confidence. He stuck with the institutions, the state, the army, the church, the well-structured society and the families from Burgenland. At such commanding heights,What,notHow one speaks. So he was not dependent on the word, because his signal was also obeyed. For the bailiff, the word was the elementary means, the fuel from which politics is born. That was also reflected in the voice. It distinguished the two spirits, one all form, the other all will. The voice spoke:

'All right, Sonja, leave us alone, my child. I don't want to be disturbed."

277

Lucius left the young, narrow-hipped panther with the old and fatted jaguar. It got lighter; the bailiff had intensified the light. "Please sit down, commander." Lucius stopped first and, with his helmet in his left arm, recited the formula the boss had designed. To his dismay, the prince had experienced the heavy loss that had so abruptly affected the bailiff and his office. One may be sure of his participation. He hopes that the guilty will be punished justly and would help to investigate them. You can also count on him in everything to do with maintaining order. It was important to the boss that the proconsul diplomatically distanced himself from the event. In this way the bailiff was restricted in his propaganda. Of course, he revealed the Parsi beforehand. He could not withstand the tremendous dislike that spread to his own camp. His explanation therefore had to be half agreeable and half unpleasant for the bailiff. It had been hoped that the proconsul would hold this external position, which was favorable for an attack. Lucius looked around the room. Besides the door through which he had entered, there was a second, with a purple curtain hanging over it. It probably led to the bedchamber. The permanent film was turned off. It took up the entire length of the wall and was divided into a number of fields. It was said that one of these planes enabled the bailiff to see each of his prisoners at any moment. So he did not need, like Louis XI. to climb down into the oubliettes when this desire seized him. A long and low buffet was packed with cakes, liqueurs, fruit and various confections. The bailiff's fondness for heavy coffee and sweets was well known. Over there hung the pictures of the beautiful women of Heliopolis in narrow frames. They were connected to the wall current, luminescent, like dolls that were now asleep, now smiling, now trembling as if in an embrace. To the program of joie de vivre, the

278

that the bailiff had developed included the election of the beauty queen, who was not only the ruler of the realm of fashion, but also the maitresse en titre. She presided at the flower and wine festivals, and coins were struck on her in her year. The elections were preceded by skirmishes of gallantry. The bailiff was leaning back in a Biedermeier armchair. As was his habit, he wore a light-colored suit, cut in a semi-military style. Though the air was chilled, two dark crescent moons showed beneath his armpits. His long hair hung half over his forehead; a strand of white was dyed into its blue shimmer. He was immoderately fat. The thighs were too fat to close; the chin rose like a triple veil from the wide collar. The eyelids drooped heavily; so he kept his head back to look at Lucius. A false benevolence shimmered on his features, and great security. Traces of beauty remained in the face, a proud gleam of titan power. He was broad-shouldered and of medium height; a dark mut termal was outlined in a crescent shape on his left cheek.

The thick green cigar was seldom absent; even now there was a box on the mahogany table. Next to it was a little volume in red halfFrench: 'The Adventures of Abbé Fanfreluche'. In front of this picture one felt a mixture of well-being and anxiety and would not have been surprised to read the caption: "Senhor NN, sugar cane king from Cuba's best days." So this was the man to whom the population, especially those in the lower quarters, were fanatically devoted, and whose appearance was accompanied by storms of jubilation. The full power, the breadth of the blatantly animalistic existence emanated from him. He took his course like a Missouri. The police, with their rational methods and records, bored him. She depended on him as the point to make sense of her research. He didn't love work. He loved pleasure and its splendor. He knew the immense power of the man who shed blood. Always was this wit-

279

ter around him, increased his glory. And it was strange that he was considered kind. The aura of goodness clung to him and communicated itself to his deeds. Even now that he was destroying the Parsis, it was said that he was too mild.

It was strange how the Demos fell for such gods. But the way to them was logical, and Serner had described it well in his study of the "development of the tribunate." First there were the theoreticians and utopians, living in work cells, strict, logical and mostly just, concerned with the future of the oppressed and their happiness. They brought light to the masses. Then came the Practitioners, the victors of civil wars and the titans of new ages, Aurors' favourites. Utopia culminated and failed in their work. You could see that she had been the ideal means of propulsion. It became clear that you could change the world, but not the ground on which it rests. This was followed by pure rulers. They forged the new, terrible yoke for the masses. Technology helped them in a way that surpassed even the wildest dreams of the old tyrants. The old remedies returned with new names — torture, serfdom, slavery. Disappointment and despair spread, a deep disgust at all the phrases and tricks of politics. This was the point at which the spirit turned back to the cults, where sects flourished and small circles and elites devoted themselves to the fine arts, tradition and pleasures. On the other hand, the large masses fell away. Now these calibans appeared, in which the instincts grew mightily rampant, and in which the masses immediately recognized embodiments and idols of the animal that was left to them. She loved them in their splendor, in their high spirits, in their insatiability. Art, especially drama and grand opera, prepared the climate for the development of these types. In the end there was nothing absurd, nothing shameless, nothing more dreadful that didn't thrill enthusiastically. When the penultimate set is still inside their residences and closed villas

280

giaturen had yielded to luxury, to vice, to indulgence, this last one carried it all to the markets and open squares, for the people to see and feast their eyes on. She had discovered the sources of popularity. What remained astonishing was that this same people was highly critical, even puritanical, of the old wealth and the old claims. A man on horseback, in a simple coat riding down the Corso, was considered more arrogant than one gliding past him in his luxury limousine with a hundred horsepower. The Mauritanians had studied this contrast and sought the synthesis at a higher level—the concentration of old and new power in the style of the order. Above all, they considered the indignation about it to be antiquated. Killing them was one of the first goals of their retreat. As soon as they passed through the novitiate there was a smile on their face that never left them. This was followed later and in the higher grades by the unmoved gaze. However, justice requires saying that with the appearance of types like that of the bailiff, and in a sense also of Dom Pedro, the lot of the masses had improved considerably when compared with the rule of the "horrible" dictators of the pure working world. Certainly the impotence remained, human rights had not been restored. But the gray working armies were wanting, which were called to their places now by the wailing of sirens and now by the thunder of cannons. Rich hierarchies had followed them. The private sphere had been restored; there was even a little abundance for all, with great wealth for the few. The compulsion had been joined by a dash of anarchy and with it fertility. It was like flowers being pulled around bars. The bureaucracies had been transformed into intelligent and almost invisible registries, as in the Point Office and the Central Archives, with the exception of the police, of course. Added to this was the fact that radiation technology had fragmented the great industrial districts and made power possible at every point. In this way, in the Energeion as in the great power machine and in countless tools

281

and engine cells State and private property charitably demarcated. One subscribed to power, but one remained master of the goods and products, as was also expressed in the two currencies. The tax was also attached to this power monopoly—that made the taxes invisible. In this way, some of the Bergrat's Phaeacic plans were already in the bud. In such a situation the course of power was not so much class struggle as the encounter between tyranny and the old aristocracy, one of which was based on elementary popular power, the other on established institutions. In this sense it was, as Ortner had once claimed, at the same time a dispute between the maternity forces and the patriciate.

When Lucius had delivered his message, he took a seat opposite the bailiff. He rested his hands on the pommel of his sword. Besides, it was quite certain that the chief of protocol had checked him for warps and that he was now being observed. The beautiful women smiled on the wall. They opened and closed their eyes as if kissing— like dolls invented by a skilled mechanic. The permanent film was now playing silently on several screens—you could see the crowds still parading past the catafalque and the camps where the suspects were being herded together. The bailiff looked benevolently at Lucius. 'Assure the Prince of my gratitude for his concern, Commander. We know how he feels - - -" Here he paused while his eyes brightened, and then added: "- - - and share them."

It was one of those puzzle-like words that amused him. He could mean one thing or the other, prop-

282

but apparently both the one and the other and then another reading that was familiar to him alone. Here he probably wanted to let it be known that he appreciated the tactical character of the visit, and perhaps also that the death of Messer Grande was not unwelcome to him. The assassination not only offered him a good opportunity to develop power, but he also appreciated the change in his high bureaucracy. Accidents of this kind relieved him of the Purge. In this respect he stuck with Schigaleff's program. It could do no harm if the palace knew that such things strengthened it, not shook it. He nodded sadly: 'A hard loss for us, for everyone in general. It will be difficult to calm the people in their righteous indignation." He grabbed a new cigar and pushed the box towards Lucius as well. »Non-smoker? This is a pity. I'll put the atomizer on for you. What do you say about my command post, commander?” 'Assez cocasse,' thought Lucius. Aloud he said:

»You get the impression that comfort and safety are ideally combined.« The bailiff nodded. His benevolence increased. Behind the curtain a cuckoo clock called out the hour. 'A little cramped, to be sure - a boudoir in a ironclad. Mais je ne boude pas là-dedans.« He laughed uproariously, jovially, and happily banged on the "Adventures of the Abbe Fanfreluche." Then he asked:

"Has the proconsul returned?" "He's still in his gardens." Lucius noticed that a shadow passed over the bailiff's features. He had probably expected the prince to go straight to the palace. In this casual lingering there was a trait of the great lord. Who knew if it was weakness or strength? In any case, there was disrespect in it. The bailiff turned off the atomizer to show that the audience was over. Beautiful women's smiles on the wall

283

froze and assumed a mask-like expression. Lucius rose and bowed. The bailiff gave him a grave nod. Sonja entered and led him out.

Returning to the Chief of Protocol, Lucius inquired whether there was already a successor to Messer Grande. This, one of the boy friends of the uncommon courtesy favored by the bailiff for his services as a negotiator and civil servant, was not yet known. "I would have liked to take care of one more matter concerning the police during the visit." 'Va bene, unless it is fundamental. Otherwise you'd have to come back after the appointment." Lucius hesitated.

"It's a Parsi matter." 'In this case there is no difficulty. I'll have you taken to Doctor Beckett, the head of department, and sign you up in the meantime." He was ushered through a new tangle of corridors into a small office, the door of which bore a plaque:

DR THOMAS BECKETT Section for foreign peoples

designated. The room was narrow; a large desk, piled with piles of magazines, left only a narrow gallery. The walls were filled with recessed shelves. An old-fashioned gramophone stood in a corner. One had the impression of stepping into the quiet study of an ethnographer busying himself with his inclinations. Equipment and weapons such as one sees in museums were set out on the shelves. Like children's toys, things were made out of wood

284

Stone, bronze, bone and ivory scattered on books and correspondence. They communicated a strong radiation to the room. The nature of these strange and fetishistic things was frightening. It wasn't just because the toy was magical. One also felt that a keen intelligence was reflected in him. In addition, it resembled a skull site. It seemed to be one of Doctor Beckett's specialties to collect prepared skulls, such as are known in various regions, partly as war trophies, partly as idols of ancestor worship. One saw mummified and bleached heads, some artistically decorated with decorative lines and colored stones. Some of the eye sockets were lined with shells and mother-of-pearl discs. In one corner hung a bundle of the lifelike heads of the kind kept by the cannibals of the Amazon tributaries. They were braided into the hair like onions in dead leaves. Lucius felt a chill in this headhunter's cabinet. You felt like you were in one of those places where science, quite openly, became dangerous—a police tool. The strict lines of the dot office were transformed here into hooks and loops. Old Francis Bacon's 'knowledge is power' had been simplified here to 'knowledge is murder'. Also, the calm was only apparent in this room. Doctor Beckett seemed engaged in some kind of balance sheet; Stacks of punched cards, on which he wrote small signs in red ink, accumulated in front of his workplace. He looked up like someone in a hurry and indicated a second chair. Lucius sat down and looked at the scholar, who was dressed casually in a silver-grey uniform that looked more like a housecoat. The narrow, high-domed skull with the crown of red hair and the blue eyes that focused sharply were familiar to him. That worked out well. He said:

285

"I had the pleasure of overhearing the conversation you had with Professor Orelli the other day about a strange island he was talking about." The Doctor carefully weighted his cards with one of the carved bones and nodded: 'Yes, I remember. They had breakfast at the Blue Aviso with us at the table. The rides are always pleasant. There's still a little bit of Hesperides vibes.« He added, as if to distance himself: »Orelli is an old college friend and fellow student at Neo-Borussia.« He pointed to the black-white-black ribbon that was visible under his uniform coat. Then he continued: “We value his research reports; they are always stimulating, though in need of scientific scrutiny.” That was a dig at the academy. 'You're even getting a little whimsical lately. This lacertosa is reminiscent of places like Atlantis or Haithabu, invented by idle minds and introducing ballast to work. And that's still the best interpretation if you don't want to ask the question about the cui bono. No reputation is based on that.« Playing with a walrus tusk carved with figures, he growled: “Between you and me, I doubt if there ever was such a nest in the universe. Certainly not this side of the Hesperides.” That was a sally to Burgenland. The conversation got off to a bad start. There was silence. Then, to make a diversion, Lucius said: "That one looks evil." He pointed to a skull with a large hole broken in the roof. "That one?"

286

The Doctor studied the red number written on the white leg. »It comes from a Parsi cemetery on the outskirts of Pagos. A typical piece—that's how the vultures hack to get the brain.' The sight made him talkative, touched on his competence. 'You should see my film about it. First comes a small kind of raven to deal with the eyes. Then bearded and hooded vultures hover, as precutters. They must give way to the king vultures, the princes of carrion, who take possession of the noble entrails. And finally comes the swarm of urubus, harpies, and lesser pouters who close the table. Such a carcass is eaten in no time. It's worth seeing.« He placed the skull with the others. 'They say there's a special mantic attached to it. The priests watch the meal from a turret and deduce the morality of the dead depending on whether the right or left eye is attacked first.” He sighed.

'An evil people. An old dregs of the Orient surrounded by the stench of carrion. Cowardly, insidious and of great cunning. But what can I do for you, Commander?” Lucius settled himself. 'Doctor Beckett, I have a business concerning the arrests. One of those arrested is particularly attached to the palace. I mean Antonio Peri, the Moroccan who lives on Mithra Street. A quiet man, we appreciate him as a good craftsman. He has engaged for the Proconsul and gentlemen of his staff for many years. There are still valuable manuscripts in his hands. I care deeply about his fate; he should be set free. I don't think that's a problem and I'm going to stand surety for him and his family.« . Doctor Beckett's forehead clouded. Lucius hastened to add:

287

"Of course I'm not saying that out of humanity."

Beckett gave him his persecutorial gaze and inclined his head in disapproval: 'I am well aware that the views of the Parsee question are different from those of us who have studied them. These are principles. After each access, requests and complaints of this kind accumulate. After all, there are also non-Parsian bookbinders in Heliopolis who do an excellent job. Do you think the Proconsul is personally interested in this Peri?” 'I'm not authorized to make a statement about that. I ask you to consider the conversation private.” The Doctor thought for a moment and then got up.

'Hold on a moment. I'll get the file from the registry." He walked out, leaving Lucius in the skull cabinet. The silence was heavy; you could hear the faint hum of the air vent on the wall. It seemed as if it were interrupted for a split second by a delicate touch — as if eyelashes parted. Lucius smiled. "This Doctor Beckett's technique is still a little lacking." Then the door opened and Beckett came back with a dossier. He opened it to remove one of the punched cards that were spread out in front of his desk. He now adopted a purely police tone: "Peri, Antonio, widowed, sixty-three years old, owner of the house at 10 Mithra Street. Bookbinder, gilder and dealer in luxury leather goods, old Parsi family, has lived in Heliopolis for generations." Here he seemed to skip some entries as not intended for Lucius, and then read a second section: 'Peri, Budur, twenty-five years old. niece of the previous one. Daughter of Marzban Peri and his wife Birgit, née Thorstenson

288

from Hammerfest. Half-parsin, unmarried, German studies, did her doctorate with Professor Fernkorn.«

He looked up and shrugged: 'I'm afraid I can't help you here. In terms of the old one, definitely not. As far as the niece is concerned, there is hardly any practical help — half Parsin, but still wears the Kosti.” He seemed to hesitate and then asked:

"Assuming you don't particularly care personally?" Lucius felt the insincerity of the insinuation. He wanted to rise, but at the same time he saw in the spirit and very close by the terrible place where the man who hoped for him languished. That was probably worth a sacrifice of pride. So he put on a discreet smile and said: "Leave me the details, Herr Doktor—you know what is customary among cavaliers." The insipid phrase seemed to please the old Borussia man. Like all policemen, he harbored admiration mixed with hatred for the proconsul's officers. He rubbed his hands: 'Certainly. That changes the facts—that is, makes them more understandable. In such cases exceptions can be excused. It is also fortunate that Mithra Street belongs to the upper town and is, so to speak, only left to us.« He rang. A clerk in a threadbare overall stuck his head out of the registry. Beckett gave him the card from the dossier. »Büter, give me a call with that name. release from prison — or no, better take a demonstration order.' He turned to Lucius: 'It's probably safer. Of course, I only guarantee free exit from the camp, but not the escort. The mood in the city is still unpredictable.« Lucius thanked him and took the ID after Beckett had signed and stamped it. The good bye

289

was formal; the conversation had upset him. He had achieved his goal, but only at the cost of a loan from the lowly. He had had to feign motives approved in headhunter country. The situation was new for someone who, like him, had grown up in the land of castles and palaces and at the tables of the mighty of the world. Fainting had taken hold of him. Good is more difficult than heroic deeds and than justice. Doctor Beckett, on the other hand, remained very tidy in the skull cabinet. "Look, look, the demigods." He said this half to himself, half to the clerk who was awaiting his orders. Then he commissioned him to record the phonogram of the conversation as a file note and had the first entry added: 'Commander de Geer belongs to the Proconsul's inner circle. An agent is appointed for further observation. The listening point is to be informed. It might also be advisable to transfer Antonio Peri to special treatment; the files show that he is suspected of drug trafficking. I suggest the institute on Castelmarino.«

"Costar, are you all right?"

"Rely on me, commander." They had returned to the palace. The Parsi quarter was now ablaze with flames. One could hear the blasting of sanctuaries and houses of prayer. Lucius had instructed Costar in detail. He should take a closed car and drive up to the camp guard. There he had to show Doctor Beckett's ID. The prisoner would be handed over to him. He would drive her to the airport or to the port, depending on the connections. Lucius gave him one of the Energeion's long-distance unit cards,

290

at the same time the letter in which he recommended Budur Peri to his Hesperian agent.

"And don't take your eyes off Miss Peri until she's gone." A fresh thunder, followed by shots, shook the air. 'Don't forget the letter, costar. And should the unexpected happen, I authorize you to do anything that can contribute to Fraulein Peri's safety. I place them under your protection.” “At your command, commander. I will use the weapon if need be.” He greeted and left Lucius alone.

'He's a little clumsy. Maybe I should have sent Mario after all—but Costar is safer. The day is unsuitable for such commissions.« He thought again with displeasure of the terrible place, the dust, the fear of death, the sweat. A scholar like Beckett established the cranial index and used it as a weapon for mass murder. The wolves were preferable then. Her thirst for blood was quenched with satiation. Of course, the sheep kicked each other to death. He tried to scare away these images and locked himself in the armored cell to write the reports that the chief was impatiently awaiting. He left out the interview with Beckett. The rest of the afternoon passed in high tension. Insurgents have been spotted around the Energeion. The war students dispersed them by force. On the outskirts of the upper town, the troops got into combat with one of the demonstration trains. The masses were herded into their lairs by hover tanks throwing flames. They settled in the lower old town, at the harbor and in freedom. The new town beyond the Corso became uncontrollable; The Volkswehr and the police strengthened their approaches to street fighting. It was from there that guns were first used. A hover tank crashed burning. The boss then left the radiation for this sector

291

stand out. It was said that the Parsis were liquidated en masse in the camps. The looting extended to the villa districts. The chief granted summary powers to each unit commander up to the company commanders. In the evening it seemed as if the power struggle, which was bound to end with the annihilation of one of the two opponents, had become inevitable. The prince had arrived, and the battle pennants fluttered above the palace and the central office in the glow of the fires. The Corso, the great central axis separating the old and new towns, was deserted. The forces marched up on both sides and along its entire length, not as usual in partial unrest, but operationally. A great slaughter was announced. Meanwhile, negotiations continued uninterrupted in the Mauritanians' rooms, Allée des Flamboyants. It seemed that the assassination had drawn both parties into larger actions than they had intended and that they did not care about the outcome that must destroy the city. The prince was without a doubt militarily stronger, but the adventure of dictatorship lay ahead of him. The bailiff thought it better to coldly undermine the enemy's power structure as before. The way was safer. So the Mauritanians came to an agreement later in the day. With these cool calculators, the passions were balanced. Calm was restored; the troops retreated to their quarters. A reading was drawn up for public opinion and pennants were lowered. The bailiff and the proconsul expressed their regret at the attacks. At midnight the signatures were exchanged. A snack followed with wines from the Mauritanian cellars, which surpassed those of the cosmic hunters. They were content; her "Semper Victrix" had proven itself on this occasion as well.

292

Lucius came back late. He had been summoned to the boss a number of times and sent on special missions. Then he gave orders for the war students to take part in the clearing of the Pagos Gorges near Energeion. The young warriors had held up well that day. The pauses were filled with phonophore and telephone conversations and the dispatching of messengers. In the aviary he met Mario, who was waiting for him in the hall. He'd sent him out to a number of clients during the afternoon to inquire how they were doing. They were all safe, including Melitta. Antonio Peri's apartment had been looted but not destroyed. Mario seemed oddly excited, almost intoxicated. But that was hardly surprising given the hustle and bustle that prevailed in the city and in the palace. After he had reported, he asked to be heard on a personal matter. 'It can only be something important at this hour,' said Lucius. 'Important of course: we ask for your approval for a marriage license - Melitta and I. She's waiting outside; we got engaged." Lucius was surprised, then squeezed Mario's hand. 'I am glad that our circle should be enlarged in such a pleasant way. You will be happy with her. Call in your bride and Donna Emilia; we want to toast to your future.« Mario hesitated.

"It seems you still have something on your mind, Mario?" "I've discussed a number of things with Melitta—she also told me about the trip to Vinho del Mar." “That's right too, Mario. I don't think there's anything she has to hide from you." 'It's not a questiontherefore,Commander. Besides, she was free until she gave me her word.”

293

'You mean there are points to be mentioned? You're right, it's much nicer that way. In any case, you will get a woman who will be the envy of you. Father Foelix will also confirm this to you. He has known her since childhood, has baptized her. You have chosen well.” They shook hands again, then Mario hurried out. It was amazing how confidently he had mastered the delicate point, at the same time with dignity and liberality. It revealed one of the fine features, the grace of the people of Heliopolis. A vassal from Burgenland like Costar would never have thought of such things. He came back and led Melitta, who was glowing festively, by the hand. Donna Emilia entered behind them. The glow of the fires still fell into the room from the south. Lucius set up a bottle of Vecchio. They clinked glasses.

At that moment Costar entered with Budur Peri. He was hurt; a red streak ran down from his temple to his chin. The Parsee seemed extremely exhausted; she staggered. Her sight dismayed Lucius, who. she had already suspected at sea, and greatly embarrassed him. Donna Emilia brought a bowl and washed Costar's face with a sponge. They had come under fire; a splinter had grazed him. Then she refreshed them both with the wine. Costar reported. He had shown Doctor Beckett's ID at the entrance to the camp where the killing had already begun and had had no difficulty in getting the prisoners released. But he had the impression that they were being followed in the city. They had first visited the airfield in cruises and traverses. But here, as in the port, traffic was blocked. Only the government ships were still sailing. They found the access to the quays and runways occupied by police. Above all, it had become extremely dangerous to show the costi, which Budur Peri refused to take off. Then, on the Corso, they came under fire from the Central Office aimed at the hover tanks. The driver had it

294

service denied; they had to get out. The mob pursued them and had surrounded them on several occasions. Costar had only managed to appease him by repealing the order for his arrest and declaring the Parsis prisoners of the state. Miraculously they had reached the palace, the only safe place as things stood. Lucius listened to the development with growing displeasure. He asked if they recognized her at the entrance. Costar denied it; he had led Budur Peri up the Escalier de Service without the guards noticing amid the hustle and bustle. "You've put me in a nice position there." “I sought to carry out your orders, Commander. You had entrusted the lady to me.' The answer upset Lucius no less than Beckett's allusion earlier. The situation was wrong in every respect. He scowled at the two. The Parsee began to cry, then stood up. 'I'm making you uncomfortable, Herr de Geer. Let me lead you back to camp. This will be the best. In any case, I will be grateful to you. You did a lot.« Donna Emilia hugged her. Melitta joined her. She was also very touched and stroked the arm of the crying woman. Lucius blushed. The right thing, the good thing, was so simple, so obvious that he was ashamed not to have recognized immediately what was the only thing that was required here. He said:

'I was wrong to look to my comfort. Forgive me. To turn her from the threshold would be worse than murder, it would be cowardice. Costar acted rightly; I thank him. You are my guest as long as your safety requires it; I consider it an honor." He turned to Donna Emilia: “I would ask you to prepare the guest room with everything that will serve Miss Peri's comfort. Above all, she will now need rest.« He repeated:

295

“You are safe. And tomorrow we shall discuss what can be done for your uncle.” Mario, Costar and Melitta swore to the strictest secrecy. Budur Peri- retired with Donna Emilia. Lucius remained alone in the room; the day, with its wealth of lurid images, lingered within him. He opened the door and stepped out onto the loggia. Rhythmically repeated screams could be heard in the depths; Newspaper vendors called out the extras. The bailiff and the proconsul had come to an agreement; they ceased open hostilities. A sigh of relief went through the city. With a bang the lights came on again. Her radiance filled the great veins and her cords swung around the arched bay. The red-radiated pennants on the Palace and the Central Office were lowered. A late supper was set out on the family tables and in the taverns. Life went on in Heliopolis: The destroyed houses remained in the cold smoke. There remained the prisoners, for whom time passed in snails, in hourglass measure. There remained the long lines of the slain with pale faces, terribly disfigured. The moon looked down on them in silence; he had known this route since the world began. Lucius shuddered. Where were the files on these spectacles kept? What was the myth hiding at its core? What was the task? What remained of history and its untold toils as a ruined Babylon? What was greatness here, what heroism in the penetration of passion and cold intelligence? There was no goal in that dreadful ring, the inexorable rotation of the red kaleidoscope. The good itself reversed itself in its circle. A child who built his castles in the sand was worthy of greater sympathy.

296

IN THE ARSENAL

Lucius awoke early in the hour; he had rested briefly but deeply. The sun rose over the blue sea, on which the fishing boats were returning from the night's catch. He was content, cheerful; how often in his dreams had he returned to the forests of Burgenland. Carus the jay fluttered in her green shadow with his tender, fluting call: "Lucius is good." He threw off the blanket. That was the moment Alamut expected every morning. He jumped lithely onto the bed and settled into the warm place, purring, until Donna Emilia drove him away. There was noise in the next room. Donna Emilia prepared the bath and breakfast for Budur Peri. There was something festive in their comings and goings, in the soft clinking of dishes. Lucius called Costar and had the coffee brought; he heard that the guest was still very tired. He ordered Costar to show the horses and saying goodbye to Donna Emilia: 'Commend me to Miss Peri, I'll be back late. Above all, I ask you to make sure, Emilia, that the rooms are always locked. Caution is also required if Miss Peri wants to enter the balcony. Do not mention the name in the phonophore. Not even on the house phone." 'Don't worry about it, Lucius. I'll fix everything." The day was set aside for the visit to the arsenal and other preparations for the company at Castelmarino. The little touches, as the boss called them, took their course despite the contract. He was particularly concerned with shooting down the hover tank.

297

Back in the office, before he mounted, Lucius reviewed the details of the agent's reconnaissance and reviewed the infra-photographs. The material was sparse and indeterminate. The best source remained the testimony of a guard who fell into the hands of the troops during the riots on Vinho del Mar and was subjected to a thorough interrogation. The file ended with mention of his suicide.

They rode under the cathedral and through the vineyards around Wolters' establishment. The people who came from the fair and crowded into the gardens and workshops to work were friendly; one could sense that it welcomed the treaty between the two rulers and regarded their agreement as a good sign. Basically, it loved peace and quiet, the progress of small worries and daily business, trade, garden life, leisure, after work in the old town taverns and in the winegrowers' alcoves in front of the gates, to which they moved with children and cones and the godmothers . All this, the comfortable fabric of idleness and work, of working days and holidays, of the old, accustomed life beyond and in defiance of the state, was again guaranteed. That made the morning fresh.

At the edge of Ortner's garden they met a Parsi funeral procession, dressed all in white, moving slowly towards the Towers of Silence. They reined in the horses and dismounted to honor the dead. It seemed that the proconsul was still minded to respect and protect the beliefs and customs of this people on his territories. The arsenal was in the mountains, a little above the prince's hothouses and not far from the academy. Above ground, it was a small administration building. The workshops and storage rooms were built into the rock. Covered corridors stretch from there to the troop camps and ammunition depots. The chief fireworker Sievers was already waiting for Lucius. He was a man of short stature, almost like a gnome, and in the olden days he was sure he was strong under the folding rule in order to get on with the soldiers

298

stretched. But he had found his calling: three tiers of medals lined his left breast. For those who knew how to interpret this hieroglyphic writing, so familiar to the military, it was clear that these were mostly awards for assault and hand-to-hand combat operations, followed by decorations for the management of operational demolitions. The house order of the prince with the silver eagle also referred to longestablished services. The male was upright and had jumping agility. There was chopped iron and joviality in his nature at the same time. It dragged the foot a little from an old wound. The blue eyes were open and fixed, and a crimson beard with white threads mingling surrounded his face in a ruffle. The chief fireworker's small office was filled with note boxes. The walls were papered with charts, from the graphics of which the supply of the arsenal and its stores could be read at any time. Numbers and symbols rolled on a narrow permanent film. Pictures showed the well-known colorful print of the proconsul in a large uniform, next to them hung the size of icons, as if they were the local saints, two mythical figures from old Gaul and old Borussia. One represented one of the early artillerymen; he had once blown himself up with the citadel of Laudanum. The other was a Breach Striker, symbolically named Latch. The whole thing gave the impression of burning sobriety. Everyday life was devoted to the intelligent preparation of the explosion; the holidays were red.

After the chief fireworker had carefully finished, they walked through a room where technicians were working at drawing tables. Then they entered the covered parts of the arsenal.

299

The entrance vault showed the classic symbol of artillerymen, the flame bomb. The complex was initially a museum and housed the old arsenal and the collection of weapons and trophies in a series of mighty vaults, some of which were arranged historically and some technically and scientifically. Lucius knew these rooms, for part of every War School course was to lead a tour of them. But this time too he was gripped by the shudder, the horror that surrounded this collection of disused instruments and war machines. They stood silently like works of demons banished to the underworld, in adventurous forms, and their purpose was often mysterious. This went through from the crude hand ax, from the barb made of red flint to the boldest constructions of radiation technology. There was a trait about them that needed no interpretation and that was common. It was the style of terror that united them—a pattern that, rooted in the primitive, did not get lost even in the highest regions of the mind, but rather gained in clarity. The consideration that turns manslaughter into murder grew.

They had walked through the rocket hall, which showed the evolution from the clumsy models of an early inventor named Valier to the gravity-defying drivable missiles. Then Sievers led him down a double avenue of tanks, arranged like a dinosaur or mammoth family tree. One sensed the demiurgic spirit that had gone through many a wrong path in search of the supreme marriage of fire and armored movement. Many of the wagons had been in action; you could see the bumps, the scars, the bullet holes, the pale colors of burned steel. The series began with a vehicle made of rough sheet iron, which compared to the colossuses resembled a child's toy. Lucius stopped in front of him.

300

Translated from German to English - www.onlinedoctranslator.com

"That one is funny," said Sievers, who knew his collection better than any castellan, "it was dug out of the ruins of a settlement that is said to have borne the name of Combles. It is said that a battle was fought there in ancient times, in which two Dioscuri appeared. You can still find bones and projectiles there at every groundbreaking ceremony.” Then he opened a door which was firmly closed and bore warning signs. Specimens of the weapons secreted by the regent were displayed here. One saw the means aimed at destroying the area by radiation, by viruses, by throwing bolides. Even a science as endearing as botany was put at their service. Lucius picked up some sort of crossbow. Sievers explained the construction to him. It was an automatic aiming rifle that operated partly by receptive and partly by active radiation. It also found and killed the enemy at night. He was initially targeted magnetically. Then the deadly impulse was sent over the invisible bridge that had been made in this way. Man's old dream of killing by magic, by pure desire, seemed fulfilled in this instrument. Lucius put it back in place as if he had grasped a scorpion. Next to it were two large mirrors that shimmered in the colors of the rainbow. They had dark pupils at their center like circles of eyes. Even between them, when they were brought into opposition and blinded, an evil radiation spread - even more sinister because the injury only broke out after days, even weeks, as a diathermic burn, which was initially painless. These radiation traps had been used in the first struggles for the regency. They acted from ambush on the enemy's deployment paths and supply routes. After an initial stage of treacherous devastation they had lost their strength; the transports had been shielded. Now they were among those means of radiation technology that the Regent used for peaceful purposes

301

and released for defense, not only to secure the banks and government offices, but also for the construction of the invisible locks and robot automatons in general. Above all, they were introduced in the customs service for spectral screening of ships for contraband and illegal weapons. The investigation was thus reduced to seconds, to moments of fleeting transit. The customs officers compared the declarations with the spectrogram. There were also mirrors for special purposes such as disinfection, vaccination and the destruction of photographs in the restricted area. As far as private comfort was concerned, households like that of the Bergrat showed what was possible with Heinzelmann and Kobold pieces in this respect. Here the dreams of Albertus Magnus seemed to have been surpassed, and one had the impression that matter was not only endowed with sensual organs but also with the power of combination. In these shadowless chasms Lucius had at times been troubled by the idea that stone and iron thought while man was caught in a magical torpor. And more terrifying still - it seemed that this was a way to happiness - to the most secret pleasures of substantial and unmoved power. Yes, terrible were these means when they aimed at killing armies and peoples, and yet perhaps even more terrible

Lucius sighed. The days when these realms had powerfully lured and attracted him were so recent. As in the Cantos of Aria, he had invaded lands populated by ingenious dwarfs and by giants. Measures were different here than in the human kingdoms, and

302

met the few, very strong spirits in which the superiority is united. They stood beyond history and repeated what the mythbeforeyou see, in reality. They were powerful with the word, which, as if by magic formulas, bursts open the last bars and opens up sources of power in the deserts. Cosmic treasures, cosmic weapons were at their command. They had crossed the threshold beyond which thoughts, desires, and dreams turn into reality, and the knower, with serene courage, feels himself to be superior to any number. They wielded the spirit sword, and millions to the farthest inhabited islands froze at the thought of seeing it drawn in its green brilliance.

What could it mean that Nigromontanus, in whom deep knowledge met kindness, had first led him on this path? Lucius, who was very fond of his old teacher, often thought about it. Nigromontanus was a spirit of substance, a spirit of the earth, interpreting in its surface the patterns of the deep. As such he had to come into conflict with the existentialists, for whom the human being was central. It was the old antithesis of magicians and mystics in their claim to power between being and spirit. He believed that one should not stand aside in the great turning point that unleashed the forces of the deep, but that one should take over the invisible leadership. The art of black was to be exaggerated and cast under its spell anew by the science of white magic. This was the starting point of his color theory, with its two poles of black and white, as the negative and positive perfection of nothing, on whose immovable pillars the rainbow bridge of the deceptive world spans, and that was the aim of his penetration and sublimation of the individual sciences in general: the attainment of a small, profane eyes veiled modelies of this world. In addition, there was the practical consideration of how to direct the world from this cell, beyond and above crude technology. It presented itself pedagogically as the formation of a new knighthood. profane eyes veiled modelies of this world. In addition, there was the practical consideration of how to direct the world from this cell, beyond and above crude technology. It presented itself pedagogically as the formation of a new knighthood. profane eyes veiled modelies of this world. In addition, there was the practical consideration of how to direct the world from this cell, beyond and above crude technology. It presented itself pedagogically as the formation of a new knighthood.

303

When one thinks of the adepts that Nigromontan had trained and sent over the years, one had to recognize that he had achieved great things and that he was powerful in his students. He shone in them like an invisible light. There was Fortunio, his darling, a child of fortune, a new Midas, for whom the earth turned effortlessly to gold and abundance. There was the Bergrat as a great prospector who had crossed the threshold beyond which technology sheds titan armor and gains pure sorcery. There one saw that in every piece of metal, in every ingot of copper, the substance of Alaedin's magic lamp slept. The others only knew their light. There was Orelli, a master of the spiritual movement that Nigromontanus taught as a loop of higher order, and through which the invisible takes shape.

Of course, it could not be denied that some of those sent out failed, not because they fell in battle for the oppressed like Sunmyra - for this path, the curve of death, had been expressly praised by Nigromontan as a loop of the highest rank and recommended as a apron of the node in absolute time. Rather, the heaviest losses lay in the fact that the spirits became too powerful and that fear was lost. In this situation, a high instinct to play set in, the desire for large-scale operations in abstract fields the transfer of the circles of life to the mathematical problem. The world was as clear as on copperplates engraved by master craftsmen and bathed in aqua regia. With this view great certainty entered the adepts, which was confirmed in the commanding calm of the look. That was the crisis in which the Mauritanians approached them, and they did so immediately with their master saying: "Everything is permitted." Not infrequently, contact was followed by transition into their inner circles and leadership circles. There had to be a weak spot, a gap in the commission, the Nigromontanus mapped out

304

had, if not also intended for testing, for the narrowest selection. In any case, there was a point at which his course crossed that of the Mauritanians, and his imprint was almost indistinguishable from theirs. There was only one check to make sure that the picture had been taken in the Tiger Lilies Room with the old pictures: to check whether pity had been sacrificed in favor of superiority. She was unmistakable, for this sacrifice was essential to entry into unlimited power. The old gunpowder had recognized the cardinal point. Disgust at the great masses, who had completely lost the old folk spirit and the consciousness of their traditional freedom, made the operation easier, even made it necessary. It seemed as if they awaited the dreadful more ardently than before they awaited the miracle workers and the saints. What they felt and longed for in their hearts they saw realized in their new masters, and therefore no absolute prince met with such jubilation, such faith.

This was followed by a second change in physiognomy. It seemed as if the point of a diamond had traced her, and that a faint pain that soon healed marked her. This is how the steel, which is quenched by cooling, hardens. The forehead grew powerful, unclouded like a cliff on which the surf breaks. The eyes took on a paternal stare. The chin strengthened; Pleasure and power were united in him. The voice lost the bond; she became absolute. One felt that its wearer had gathered judgment within himself and that he administered the word in the final instance. A people who had doubted gods and laws - here they found new faith and new footing. This was followed by the apotheosis. At this crossroads, however, that was not the only deviation from the plan of the old man, for whom the earth and the earthly human being as the salt of the earth always remained the right center, embodied in kingship. There were also those who thought themselves too strong when they stepped out of the inherited order and laws, and they broke like pillars on which the heaviness of the vault

305

especially lowers. They repeated in reality the fate of the Didites and the thinkers who had conjured up and prescribed their aon in visions and theorems. The blinding of the mind, which had darkened the eyes of the seers in the distant glimpse of the upper worlds, was followed by the blinding of the Force. Those affected began to stagger at the zenith and suddenly fell down. No, it was not only the realm of the higher bestiality, with its allures and splendor, that was opening—not only the great noon of the new and terrible innocence in the sign of the eagle and the serpent, which had been extolled by the singers. At the same time, even the best were seized with a shudder, a desire for security, for humility, for a new connection with the stars - but different from what the Chaldeans had celebrated on the highest platform of the Tower of Babel, and different from how they were seen on the cosmic lookouts and observatories to practical triumph over the depths of the abyss. The new Doges threw the lightened rings into the aetheric tide. This was the second deviation from the Nigromontan plan. Lucius was also on this path, which had opened up to him almost unconsciously, and without him remembering the first doubts. It may be that reading Boethius and his Consolationes had given him the first impetus—the ancient and eternally fresh source that many a fainthearted man had tapped into in times of suffering. Pain is the secret science of the world. And no one knows them who has not been grazed by the wing of destruction and imprisoned in the dungeons of power. In its depths shines the confidence that in the end the spirit will break the vault, just as it one day breaks through the bars of the body. The glorious poem rises in the prophecy that "conquered earth gives us the stars." Wasn't it possible

In such doubts, the exit from the magical realms and from the figures of geomancy announced itself hesitantly. Like any

306

Change, like every transformation in the fruit base, the process was felt as a loss of security, as a weakening of the life force formed. It coincided politically with the time when Dom Pedro was preparing his plot against the demos. The clear diction with which Lucius had judged the power struggle inside the palace lost its sharpness and its penetrating power. This was expressed both in the reports and in his war school administration and was immediately recognized by the constantly alert eyes of the chief. During this period, even before the posting to Asturias, he became acquainted with Father Foelix, which Ortner had mediated; it led to a kind of spiritual adoption at first meeting. The moment you meet someone doesn't depend on chance. This is especially true for the major harmonies; the universe resonates in them. For the first time since his walks with Nigromontanus, Lucius had found in Father Foelix the spirit that grasped the problems in their full extent and was not active in the separate. But while Nigromontanus summed up the world through description, through high science, the hermit filled it with the power of love. Both had goodness, but in the one it was based on deep insight into the structure of the world and its unity, and in the other it was comprehensive like an element. So it came about that in dealing with Nigromontanus one felt one's character growing, while in the presence of Father Foelix one gained in devotion, in radiant power. One taught how to sit down in the right enjoyment of the earth, the other how to spread joy. Also, one loved the world in its beauty, the other loved it in its suffering.

That didn't mean that the hermit wasn't also powerful in knowledge. Already the first conversation had led to an alignment in the field of color theory. The priest represented the ruler's color theory, which was based on the poles of red and blue. Red was the color of matter concentrated in the stars. The blue color was a symbol of the ether, of the

307

material freed from heaviness and quality, the powers of heaven, whose rule remains hidden from the eye forever. She wove the star pattern into her dress. The exegesis of visible things was built on this parable. The spectrum was divided according to the range with which the colors dip into the invisible—in brilliance and darkness, both of which only become evident to the inner eye in a glorious marriage in the transition. The colored lights were like pillars that support the vault, and in limitation befitting the corruptible and its splendor. In this sense, the explanation of the white and the black was forbidden. The regent reserved the blue color. But it was less the contact with new science that Lucius had found in the hermit than the possibility of communication. The life that one led in the palace presupposed a kind of armouring, of great seclusion. It was conducted in the style masque, and attitude, last reserve always required. That remained an inheritance of the knightly world. Even at the symposia in the aviary, things were highlighted more than their secret reason; one sought through them the harmony of intoxication. Father Foelix called this the external power of wine in contrast to its inner, sacramental power, which is sealed in the Lord's Supper. That is the difference between the Dionysian and Christian community spirit - there the enchantment, here the transformation into innermost substance. the great Midas,

Lucius, like everyone who approached the Father, felt that his rigidity was unsustainable. His spirit touched her' like a ray of light that melted the ice. He opened his breast and new life drew into him. That was a burglary that, like a great discovery of love, was both painful and fruitful in the highest degree. The superhuman that had set itself up in him like an idol and given his features a golden glow,

308

began to falter; it was felled by light. With trembling he felt that he was being broken, and that the power that girded him was leaving him. The meeting had not yet been decided, indeed had scarcely begun - he felt the shudder with which one sees the unveiled signs of the strong opponent blinking in the light on the tarpaulin. But those closest to him, like the boss, like Ortner, already felt the change. The question remained whether a new survey was possible. At times Lucius thought he had an inkling that Father Foelix was connected to the very distant, sublime figures who had escaped the world and its turmoil. But it was presumptuous to count on help of this kind; that was a prerogative of the saints. One did not rise to such visions from the warrior class. There was no way out of this circle.

Those were the memories that shot up in him as he walked through the trophies and instruments of Cainitic will, Cainitic power. The chief fireworker, who had heard his sigh, nodded: 'It's a pity - you're right.' 'What's a pity?' asked Lucius. They were now standing in a room filled with bolides in the shape of thunderbolts, bombs and rockets; here the radiation was extraordinary. Some of these long-range missiles were ingeniously combined with propulsion and aiming machines. They came in all sizes, from tiny projectiles to the models that abutted the height of the vault. The sight of them evoked in historical memory the time of the great fires, the time of terror among peoples, in which cities were burned and empires turned into deserts by their breath of fire. As always in history, these remedies also had the first and terrible surprise

309

found her palliative, then the regent had her secreted. As far as he was concerned, he was not dependent on Uranian violence in the ingenious interplay of reflection and gravity. He wasn't a partner; against him there was not even the thought of resistance. But there was no fear either. 'It's a pity they're just dummies. Even the models had to be filled with sand. The explosive has been transferred to the Energeion hoard.” Lucius laughed.

"I think if you had your way, Sievers, Heliopolis would have blown up long ago." “The Neustadt in any case, commander. The indulgence of the proconsul becomes incomprehensible; he was supposed to melt down the Central Office. With Gamma Five!”

He tapped a small projectile that was flattened at both poles like an orange. 'One should put the means in the hands of the prince. This restores order in no time at all. The troops don't know where they are anymore." 'The prince isn't absolute either. He can't break the lockdowns. Countless people who were not involved in the business would also be burned. You wouldn't mind?' The Chief Fireworker tapped the red ribbons on his chest: "Where wood is hewn, there are shavings, that's an old saying. And where there is mowing, flowers and bird's nests are also cut. Order rules the world and order must be obeyed. When the proconsul has weighed the pros and cons, we don't rack our brains anymore. That's the custom, and anything else is insubordination. As a fireworker, I am responsible for the ignition. And it will work as long as old Sievers is in office." Lucius nodded.

"We know this. You are in the right place.”

310

He looked at him. The old man's eye was open and held him. A good man, all right with himself—that was certain. It might be that he sometimes went to confession. Then there could be no doubt about absolution. What did it matter if you hit one or a hundred thousand? That depended on the extent of the translation, on the temporal potential. Lamech had already boasted about Cain. This was the one type who, with the great turning point, had ascended to the fire world as a servant gunner. His pedigree was martial; the old gunners and gunners had thought like him. They had broken castles in the service of the princes, then smashed cities and fortresses, and sunk ships at great ranges. They have always stood with the legitimate powers; the gun was Regal to them. They also opposed the development and would have liked to see the armor in a balance where the shot of the best marksman made the difference. So they always raved about the good old wars; of their type was that commander who, after the invention of rifled guns, stipulated in his will that the salute over his grave was to be fired with unfluted cannons.

The other type was that of the pure technician. Of course there were strange transitions and blurring here too, especially in the history of aviation. Once upon a time the prime of the old cavalry dismounted their horses and turned to the winged machines. It seemed as if a dream of knighthood was realized in the battles to which they rose from the gray mass armies into the azure. Glorious names shone on a short but steeper and nobler path. Then a terrible automatism had triumphed, and with it figures appeared that horse and spear had never known. They no longer flew on behalf of legitimate or even constitutional powers; they were creatures and servants of Leviathan.

311

In studying the early files and regimental histories, Lucius had often noticed the difference in faces that reflected this turning point. In those first, almost all of whom had died in flames, there was still a legacy of the old aristocracy of the eighteenth and seventeenth centuries, the claim to power and the free dignity of the person. But then came heads whose essence could be described as a pleasing nothing, and which revealed the emptiness of destruction that was their office. They were not without regularity, not without flat charm, but it was as if the screen of a good portraitist had been replaced by the screen of a movie. They stood completely outside the space in which man tests and judges himself, in which he prays, confesses, doubts, sins, to one day tear his robes and scatter ashes on his head. However masculine these captains and commodore seemed on the surface, at bottom they followed the compulsion of fate, the fatal train, in a feminine way and without resistance. Barely feeling the changes, they threw the Luciferian beacons like confetti at an evil masked ball. Incense of the masses then rose to their encampment.

Lucius recalled one of the first reports he read in the archives, an interview. At dawn the hero had pulverized a town on the Yellow Sea. In the evening the reporters sought him out at the Carlton, where the grateful Senate entertained him as one of the fathers of the fatherland. They found him wonderfully fresh, bathed, smelling of good soap and cigarettes, sprayed with ambiance sprays, measuredly triumphant and rested. The telegrams piled up on the laurel-decorated table; Loudspeakers announced his fame. Reports could be heard from the scout squadrons circling above the crater, whose center had melted to malachite. From outside, from the big squares, you could hear the crowds humming like a swarm of bees. He had been appointed Grand Commander and showered with medals, endowments, and honours. He was celebrated as a bringer of peace; the states of the League of Nations vied for him. In short sentences he went on that

312

company, with unswerving desinvolture. The memo had been necessary; he knew what was expected of him. He described the technical details as far as state secrets permitted. Basically, it was a matter of nerves that was at stake. On the approach, shortly before the decision, a strong excitement had seized him, as if on decency, but enormously intensified. He'd had mocha handed to him, and he'd also taken Titanin, a drug that tremendously increases the will, converts the mind into will and into nothing else. Then he praised the crew, followed by a song of comradeship. It went on like this; the reading remained fruitless. A process in the universe had taken place, the news of which shook the depths of the abyss and the spheres. A gong that shook the world called myriads to judgment. Here, however, the mere release was grasped, just as one is instructed in a barracks room on how to fire a weapon. You could see the trigger acting on the tensioned spring and the firing pin springing forward. Nothing simpler than that. Of course, a dull suspicion that the calculation would not work always remained. There was a constant search for the culprits. After every war, after every civil war, they were tracked down en masse, but no sooner had the court been held than things were as before, worse still. Each sought to strike at the enemy, what was in himself and full of hatred crowded towards the tribunal. Yes, they raised themselves above God to be the judge who permitted such things - as if they had never heard of the original figure of the event as it is described in Sodom's fall and as it is repeated in the course of history.

'The great Babylon It's just a joke. It cannot be greater Than our Babylonian heart."

313

Of course, behind the figures in the foreground there were other very evil spirits who recognized the game and were deeply satisfied by it. They had drawn the powers of demos, of gold, of lucid knowledge and gathered them into concentrated power. They had appeared almost suddenly, as a terrible mountain range becomes visible when the mists break. In this respect one had the dual nature of the Detected late in the 19th century. Early on, a strong longing was associated with the memory of it, a homesickness that went down in literature as a second and cooler romanticism. The decades of great security, of individual freedom, of triumphant and optimistic consciousness had been sung about like a lost paradise, and political reconnections were repeatedly attempted. But then one gained an eye for what had grown beneath the surface, beneath the dreadful oversimplification of the problems. Of course, the boldest spirits, the most incorruptible seers had already suspected that at the time. Then came the first warning from the deep, the first visible signal. A large luxury ship proudly named the Titanic crashed into an iceberg and perished. The catastrophe was symbolic and frightening in every detail. That was the first tremor that passed through the solid structure. Around the same time, one of the great criminal trials was taking place, such as is always announced to those in the know at such turning points, and let even the foolish suspect that the structure has been shaken. It was led against a Jew named Dreyfus in Paris. The process itself was trivial, even absurd,

314

had been. It was only much later that he was caught in his true demonic state.

The conclusion must have fallen in the early years of a long-lost author, Buprestis. Lucius had recently had his works bound for the proconsul by Antonio Peri and had a cursory look at them. There was a certain stereoscopy of the gaze that exaggeratedly united the old and the new. Rational and metaphysical elements were transferred into a new alloy. That wasn't without its charms. So it was said about this 19th century: “Altars are always there, even when people do not see them and do not know the sacrifices they offer. The sacrifice radiates to the highest spheres and to the depths of the abyss. But if the altar is covered with rational figures and symbols, the height does not accept the sacrifice as pleasing. But it continues to affect the depth. What is peculiar about the spirit of the nineteenth century is that it overlooked this relation of ratio to depth. Self-sufficient, he imagined that development proceeded on an area of his own choosing, in a well-defined juste milieu, created and controlled by himself, which he called consciousness. In this state, awakening was inevitable. It came at the very moment when the rational roots had reached the mythical ground. This can be demonstrated in the words, the images, the thoughts and even the sciences. They all grew stronger than human proportions, human humility. Mythical figures now invaded the rational ones in a series of dreadful webs, and in the glow of the fires the new worlds of myth, of dreams, of mighty magic were revealed. At this turning point, antiquity, indeed even pre-antiquity, awoke again, not in its beauty, but in its terror. This not only spawned a new heyday of historians. At the same time, it reintroduced theological considerations. This gave rise to hope for new universal

315

did. Above all, the altars covered themselves with new offerings, such as are pleasing—sorrows, with tears, with unheard-of sufferings, with the blood of martyrs, with mighty prayers such as are given only to the despairing.” That was the turning point when even the very strong demons had grasped their power - Leonardo had already foreseen this. Their goal was that of omnipotence and omnipresence in space and time. Technology was the means by which they realized this dream. They sought out the depths of the seas and the highest limbs of the air kingdom, and spread across the continents. They led the battles between Leviathan and Behemot and the strange bird Phoenix that rules the kingdom of fire. They stood outside of history and fed on sources of a different kind. They trembled with ardent and unquenched lust. Only high singers, princely poets like Dante, Milton, Klopstock had understood their measure, for the full horrors of the abyss are only revealed to the highest. So:

»Below me my almighty foot shall violently devastate the sea and the earth to pave the way for me. Then hell shall see my royal face in triumph.”

and: “So, when a terrible storm lies dreadfully on unclimbed mountains, one of the darkest clouds, Armed with the greatest number of thunders, inflamed to destruction, rips forth alone. If others only grasp the cedar tops, From heaven to heaven she will ignite wooded mountains, Will ignite towering, unforeseeable royal cities with a thousand thunders and bury them in ruins. ben."

316

Yes, that was probably the real measure. The royal poets had never lost it; they had always revealed the true order in the pure and cinderless fire of song. High above the boldest thinkers, standing high above the heroes, they kept watch on the last cliffs above the abyss. What had become of her lot? Ingratitude and scorn from the crowd, banishment, poverty in blindness, at best a small garden, a laurel wreath. And yet her glory had outlasted the splendor of the great destroyers and warlords. Where a young heart still yearned for the beautiful, for the noble, for the absolute, there they were present and had an after-effect in the work. They wrote the true, the incorruptible history of this world. They withstood the changing times, peoples and even mother tongues. They adopted the heroes, gave them rank and name through supreme paternity. The kings and princes of arms around Ilion would long since have sunk silently into the shadowy realm without Homer's poem. Yes, even the walls of the old castles, the proud pillars and arches of the palaces, they lived on in the Metron, invulnerable to flames. And had not the times the judgment of that German as mightier,

That too was beyond history. The names, like those of Orion or the Dioscuri, rose into more imperishable constellations. In contrast, the mighty ones resembled the meteors, whose shimmer faded after a steep trajectory in space. Their ascent has always been the same— they came as bringers of light, as bearers of torches, dazzling the peoples, and greeted with passion by their amazement, their jubilation. But man cannot remain in enthusiasm, and it inevitably leads to bloodshed. This strengthened them and opened up new realms to them—like intoxication to the drinker and entry into the mysteries of the flesh to the lover. And incessantly, inextinguishably, their thirst grew for new victims, for new and immeasurable displays of their power. He led her into the

317

satanic realms where they feasted and enthroned like idols, and turned the world into an inferno. Until then they had thought of using evil to achieve their goals, but they had to realize that there was no goal in their situation. Now she put evil in his service. It crossed the finish line, it was celebrated for its own sake, it was celebrated. It became clear that evil had never been stronger than where it had been denied. New altars, new pillars and places of sacrifice grew up. This was followed, thundering far and wide, by the terrible fall.

Lucius felt the spell of a distraction not befitting the place. During the walk through the vault he had hardly heard the questions of the head fireworker. He was as lively as ever when he received a visit from the palace. They had now reached their goal, the large model room. The walls shone in the bright and shadowless light. Tall showcases stood out from them. They contained life-size dolls, mannequins of soldiers of every branch and rank with everything that was required for a general roll call in weapons and clothing. Here was tent equipment laid out to the last stake and cord, there masks and breath dispensers for penetrating smoke-filled rooms, next to a collection of phonophores for army use. In short, everything that the soldier needs for his tasks in war and peace was ordered and present here in the model. The large model room was the hub of Sievers' realm, so to speak. The plans of the design office were realized here in pictures, each of which represented the stock stored in the depots in thousands of copies. It was the pride of the old man

318

Siervers that he was well prepared for every wish and every order that was addressed to him by the palace. They approached one of the large tables that lined the center of the model room. Lucius opened his map case with the notes. 'Sievers, you must play the orderly yourself. It's a matter between the two of us and the boss." "At your service, Commander." Lucius took out a red pencil and ticked off the dots. “First I need partisan equipment for twelve men, with small arms. We must avoid at all costs pieces that are common in the army. The firearms are said to be silent.” Sievers noted. “I'll put together an outfit from loot for you, Commander. Pistols with silencers, like those carried by the bailiff's police." Lucius smiled. “Right, they're supposed to be bandits dressed up as police, or police dressed up as bandits. That's no difference. Then we need a jumping root—I mean an instrument that blows locks quickly and silently.” “Armoured locks, too?” "All the castles encountered in Heliopolis and the islands." The chief fireworker thought about it. Then he went to one of the display cases and returned with a kind of bell roughly the shape and size of a halved apple, which had a fluorescent-painted push-button in place of the stem. He put them down carefully. »Adhesion charge for various purposes, developed according to the principles of the thermal concave mirror. Melts even the hardest metals like butter. Unlimited effectiveness, even under water and in a vacuum.«

319

He loosened a small bolt that secured the snap button. »Attach lightly to the target. Then unlock. If I press the button now, even the strongest armor plate will be consumed.« He carefully reinserted the bolt. Lucius picked up the instrument and weighed it in his hand. It was relatively easy. “That should suffice. Let me have half a dozen of those things ready. There is nothing more annoying than forgetting your house key. Are there also charges which can be used to set fire to buildings, even stone buildings, without infringing on the Regent's rights?' The chief fireworker nodded and comfortably stroked his beard. The question led him to his passion.

“Incendiary devices of all shapes and sizes, Commander. You wouldn't believe what becomes flammable at my higher temperatures. What kind of building is it?” Lucius considered.

'It should be tantamount to a medium-sized country house. You know the Orion clubhouse on Allee des Flamboyants.” Sievers said yes.

'Nothing easier than that. It's more about not doing too much of a good thing. An Easter egg is enough. The breath of embers is so powerful that it even causes iron to be shattered and marble to be burned to lime. The real art lies in the ignition — there are detonators that are triggered chemically, mechanically, thermally, by waves or by time. Others work through the slightest contact, such as someone stepping into the room.” "I would prefer a device that can make contact at any distance and at any time." "In this case a small auxiliary apparatus is required." Sievers disappeared and came back with a bomb that just filled his hand; next to it he placed a clock mechanism reminiscent of a phonophore. Two dials had to be synchronized. Set up was easy like a breeze.

320

There was one last item left on Lucius' note. Agent reports indicated that, with the exception of a few posts, human security had been dispensed with in favor of automatic security on the island. During the nights the service buildings were dimly lit, but silent, uninhabited. A fine radiation grid screened the entrances. It seemed that the bailiff on Castelmarino had created an empire that corresponded to that of the mountain council. But while pleasant things were offered to the senses in his gnome cave on the Pagos, there lurked a magic that was calculated for death and terror. Those who dared to enter were watched over by evil eyes. Lucius communicated this circumstance to the fireworks chief. He shook his head thoughtfully. “That complicates things—you must take protective cloaks with you.” He went awkwardly into the details. The cloaks were electroplated in a solution that rendered them conductive, effectively guiding the rays around them. In this way the interruption was eliminated, and with it the pernicious contact. Above all, care had to be taken that no part of the body was shown unprotected and that no non-conductive object was carried into the threatened zone. The weapons therefore had to be impregnated. Also, no object was allowed to be touched and changed at the suspicious points without jeopardizing safety. Sievers emphasized: “The cloaks only protect against discovery, but not against the effect that follows. Otherwise precautions would have to be taken that go far beyond a commando operation." He led Lucius in front of a series of tall cabinets, the kind you see in fashion magazines. Samples of camouflage and protective clothing were kept here. Coats lined with flaky asbestos to protect against fire and flames were seen, along with light skins to don if spraying with contact substance was suspected. These included helmets and masks of various kinds, some resembling the masquerade of primitive dancers, some

321

reminiscent of the equipment of sea divers. From this collection, the Chief Fireworker pulled out an overall made of silver-grey fabric that crackled softly. He weighed as light as silk—gloves and socks were woven to him, as well as a hood of another, transparent weave. He spread out the suit and showed how to put it on. "That should suffice," said Lucius. “Note three of those coveralls— there's only three of us going into the irradiated zone. The adhesive charges are also to be impregnated - I assume that special caution is required near the doors. And do you think one of your eggs will suffice?” “Don't worry about that, Commander. If you don't believe it, you'll have to take old Sievers with you." Lucius laughed.

'You're probably past that. We're not newbies either. But you could play the director in the preliminary exercise. The boss will probably wait for the full moon. Have everything packed up and handed in to the Vinho del Mar Tower night watchman. He's still being briefed." “So I'm having twelve command kits laid out, three of them for movement in the special room. Then I await orders as to when I should appear for the rehearsal. Count on me.” Lucius nodded and offered his hand. The old man was invigorating; one always had the feeling that his red hair crackled. He now led him by a shorter route through the vaults to the forecourt where Costar was waiting with the horses.

322

TALKS ABOUT INtoxication, Power and Dreams

During the next few weeks, Lucius was frequently absent. He was partly on the Pagos, partly on Vinho del Mar. Besides that, the usual business went on. As for the participants in the violent reconnaissance of Castelmarino, only the choice was difficult, for such commands were part of the service interruptions that the soldier always welcomes. First Lucius had told Sergeant Calcar—that was the corporal who had defended the stairs to the upper town that he had climbed with Melitta. A new ribbon adorned his chest. He had also proven himself during the last riots. He was one of those for whom the powder makes life palatable like a spice, and who needs to be reined in rather than spurred on. With great zeal he took on the job and introduced Lucius to a group of volunteers who

Mario and Costar's participation was a matter of course; Costar was responsible for personal accompaniment and Mario for securing the landing site. Finally he had chosen two war students— Beaumanoir and Winterfeld, who had since recovered from the effects of his fall. The squad assembled in this way drove out to Vinho del Mar almost every day. It was considered one of the boat crews, as many of them practiced for the big regattas that the proconsul gave to the people every year on the occasion of the wine festivals. In this way, the exploration of the inlet and the island coasts could be carried out unobtrusively. From time to time the chief fireworker appeared as a harmless guest of the calamaretto. Then, under good security, the details of the operation were drilled out in a remote depression on the island.

323

In the meantime, Budur Peri had recovered quickly. Donna Emilia took good care of her; Lucius saw little of her. She used to spend the days in the loggia, whose parapet was covered with creepers. Lucius had had books brought for her, also got an atomizer and permanent film for her. Her behavior near him was pleasant to him, as if a gap were being filled. Donna Emilia also seemed happier, busier than usual. Fortunately, Antonio's house had been plundered but not burned. Like all wealthy Parsees, he had kept his best belongings in a safe hiding place—in a cellar so well concealed that he had escaped the scrutiny of the looters. Lucius had Budur give him the drawing and sent Mario and Costar by carriage to the upper town at night. They broke open the vault and found the untouched estate. In several journeys they brought it to safety in the palace. This was the reason why Lucius entered the room where Budur lived for the first time. She was busy laying out the escape goods in an adjoining room that had served as a tack room for Costar. Donna Emilia handed her the items from bales and suitcases. The sight of the knitted fabrics, the silver and gold utensils, the rich garments reminded one of a bridal treasure such as one sees carried into the bridegroom's house on the wedding day. In this way Antonio Peri had also secured a selection of the best books and manuscripts he had bound, although the space to house the library had not been sufficient. Above all, Budur Peri seemed to enjoy the sight of a large cane case containing linen and clothes. She had only come with what she was wearing. Apart from the slim Kosti, she followed the fashion of Heliopolis and her changing inventions.

Among the chests was one filled with drugs and essences—things of light weight and high commercial value

324

unite Lucius recognized the flat bottles of Kissanlik rose oil sewn in white felt, alongside red-brown opium cakes of various shapes. Some were wrapped in poppy leaves, others sprinkled with sorrel seeds, and others like flat bricks wrapped in reddish paper. Her strong, narcotic odor mingled with the scent of the rose oil. Lucius picked up one of the loaves and weighed it in his hand.

“You're carrying dreams for a capital—a dangerous cargo. I have often spoken to your uncle about it, Miss Peri, and it seems that he is adept at poisons and arcana.' Budur Peri sat down on her big trunk and stroked the fur of Alamut, who accompanied Lucius, as was his habit. 'My uncle collected these things like everything else

'What not complained

And great is worth.' He said they were as safe as gold in all islands and in all harbors— better still, for while man has no need of gold, he cannot renounce the dreams whose magic he has once tasted.” She pointed to an opium pipe cut from leek green jade. Lucius carefully took it out of its case. 'A delicious piece. The head appears to be shaped like a lotus flower. You are right — people sacrifice food and drink for their dreams. And even the miser who collects the gold in order to rummage through it in solitude counts among the dreamers, because he is less attached to gold as such than to its hidden and magical potency. In its shine, in its jingling, the goods, the pleasures, the possibilities of power are indicated, but detached from every effort and disappointment,

325

that with the realization connected with the payment. I can understand that." 'You only knew my uncle,' said Budur Peri, 'in his trade, in his art, in which he seemed absorbed. But he had another side, quite different from it. You could say he collected dreams.” “Then he recognized one of the great tasks in the world. It seems to me, however, that I sometimes sensed this as a premonition when I saw him in his study. The old fabrics, the withered colors, the longlost books, the green mirrors—all spoke of a spirit that loves the faroff places.” A shadow crossed her face at these memories. 'Yes, it is dreadful to think that this place is now desolate. Antonio felt so comfortable in her. I'm afraid he won't stand captivity." Lucius tried to comfort her: 'Don't worry about it, Miss Peri - we won't let him down. I want to visit the terrible Doctor Beckett once more in his cave. You should tell me something about Antonio; You've piqued my curiosity."

Budur Peri smiled gratefully at him for his encouragement. "Sure, if I don't bore you. You have already done so much for me. At first glance, Antonio was not much different from the little people you see going about their business not only on Mithra Street, but all over Heliopolis. And yet there was another side beneath that surface — he was a romantic.” "Yes, and perhaps not distinguished as such from all the others," chimed in Lucius. “I've often thought that as I walked

326

through the streets and squares, especially at dusk. At this hour, the mysterious in people becomes visible, to the same extent that their physiognomy is blurred. The enigmatic, dreamy and also criminal traits that are hidden under the everyday become clear. One feels that they are basically occupied with completely different things and are always expecting. Anyone who could liberate that would unleash revolutions that would make political ones pale in comparison. It would have to be a poet disguised as a statesman.” 'My uncle,' Budur Peri continued, 'my uncle caught dreams the way one sees others chasing butterflies with nets. He didn't go to the islands on Sundays or public holidays and didn't go to the taverns on the outskirts of Pagos. He locked himself in his cabinet for excursions into dream regions. He said all lands and unknown islands are woven into the wallpaper. The drugs served him as a key to entering the chambers and caves of this world. Over the years he has gained a great deal of knowledge and he also kept a log of his trips. To this cabinet belonged a small library, which consisted partly of herbal books and medical reports, partly of the works of poets and magicians. Antonio used to read it while the drugs were developing. Unfortunately, all that will be lost.« Lucius had been listening intently. “We should see if at least the log can be saved. Mario said a tangle of tattered fabric and torn writing covers the floors. Did Antonio drink wine, too?” 'He also drank wine, but it was never pleasure that made him do it. For this reason he never fell into habit or base addictions. He was essentially driven by a mixture of adventure and thirst for knowledge. One could describe him as a spiritual Tartarin, a hunter and fisherman on the fringes of this world. He did not travel to settle in the unknown, but as a geographer. Wine was one of many keys to him, one of the islands in the archipelago.”

327

'An adventurous mind. You could also say: an adventurous heart. He went on a voyage of discovery in the universe of his brain. Those are the actual yields. When one hears you, one is seized with the desire to emulate him. That's another way of living life, as a hermit in the crystal world — maybe also in a good partnership. 'How splendidly the rooms shine today! Without snaffles, spurs and bridles, you and I ride on the wine Into the magical sky.' « 'Yes, but these voyages are rich in cliffs and sunsets. I've always worried about him. Maybe it was just the methodology that got him past catastrophe and delirium. He touched her often. He was of the opinion that every drug contains a formula that grants access to certain rooms and to certain mysteries of the world. He also believed that a ranking of the formulas had to be determined. 'Je n'ai pas encore trouve ma formule' was one of his sayings. The highest of these formulas should unlock the universal secret like the philosopher's stone or the Arcanum coeleste." 'He was looking for the master key,' said Lucius. »One might have to cross over into the realm of tones, into the spell of deadly music. I cannot imagine that one can approach this zone without the greatest danger. Our organs are made for pleasure rather than knowledge, and our eyes are too dim for the shadowless light. They would burn up in its ray. The highest Arcanum must necessarily be deadly. One would have to decide to leave the body behind as customs if one wanted to cross the borders.« Budur Peri nodded.

'I suppose that's the meaning of the Lord's Supper with you. Antonio, in turn, was also sober and his speculations didn't pan out

328

the absolute space. They were designed for the logbook, that is, for journeys that can be reported on. There were also portals that he shied away from. He knew the maximum dose and was always on the safe side in the experiments.« She set Alamut down to rise, and with dexterous hands swept away the bottles and opium cakes. 'Here is a key Antonio hesitated to try. He was very happy about this find.« She handed Lucius a green case that had obviously come from Antonio's master hand. A wreath of hemp and laurel leaves wrapped itself around the Arabic word el-iksir, engraved on the leather with the hot iron. Lucius carefully undid the clasp. The contents were a tiny vial and a roll of papyrus that was closely written. He fetched a magnifying glass from his room in order to look first at the roll, on the head of which he found formulas and signs, evidently written by an old hand. This was followed by paragraphs in foreign languages and characters, and at the end notes in Antonio's handwriting.

"Elixir. Acquired it, along with the ancient lore restored Potion of Socrates, from a safe source through an adept named Fortunio. It is said that the knowledge and practice of this highly effective extract can be traced back to the Eumolpids, the ancient hereditary priests of Eleusis. It has been proven with certainty that it played a role in the miracle of the mango tree, as it is still practiced in my homeland today. The effect lies in the fact that the intuitive and suggestive powers are increased in equal measure through the enjoyment - this leads to the transmission of images by pure mental power. The magician who makes the mango tree blossom and bear fruit is located

329

in the center, at the source of the flood of images. Even at rest and in motionless rigidity, he evokes their development and change. Like all miracles, the process is mechanically imperceptible. If Fortunio interprets the signs correctly, the quintessence of hemp and the laurel tree unite in the elixir. The hemp extract is a wellknown key to the world of images, but it opens other halls than the poppy juice, whose male equivalent it can be called. The mind of the opium eater becomes receptive; the images move into him, they draw their characters as if on a virgin sheet of paper. On the other hand, the extract of hemp leads the spirit out of itself and lets it enter the realm of images. This active potency explains that if the maximum dose is exceeded, fits of rage and madness threaten, while the opium lulls you to sleep. In the laurel, on the other hand, slumber the high powers through which the spirit defies the onslaught of annihilation. It is the great Arcanum of triumph over the powers of decay and earthly resistance as represented in the dragon and the serpent. The Delphic Apollo donned it after slaying the dragon Python, the greatest son of the earth. He is also the medium of Castalian consecrations and expiation from the acts of violence that come with life on earth. So he shot out of Orestes' buried offerings to cleanse him of his mother's blood and give visible evidence that the dreadful Gaea's claim to guilt was extinguished. The laurel rises as a tree of gods into the absolute light. As such, he is the goal of the noblest on earth, outshining diadems and princely crowns. Alchemy necessarily expresses this, that is, philosophical chemistry proper. Here laurel smoke and laurel essences lead to the intoxication of light in the mysteries. Even in the lower ranks the relationship becomes obvious, as in hot countries the butcher shops and morgues are painted with the beautiful green laurel oil from which vermin flee. The large symbols reach into all layers and dimensions

330

in. One sees them in action from the occult to the lucid spheres, but only those who know understand the connection. The details are in my logbook. Fortunio described the elixir as highly dangerous insofar as it combines the radical powers of the deep with the absolute powers of the high. Only the best bow should be able to cope with the tension. This is indicated alchemically by the signs of the eagle and the serpent, which are fused in the introductory formula. Therefore many were excluded from the applicants for the Mysteries, especially the ungodly.” Below this was a later entry: »Avertimento. Fast with sunrise, three drops in the evening, preferably in Chinese tea. Pharmacologically, the thoughts are stimulated, followed by the effect of the hemp up to great excitement. If you can overcome its snares, you will be crowned with laurels.” Lucius unrolled the papyrus again and turned to examine the vial. It was filled with a dark green essence that, like many extracts extracted from plants by ether or alcohol, turned purple when passed by the light. He carefully pushed it back into the case. »What I read here fills me with the greatest curiosity about the log book. It should be the intellectual counterpart to Fortunio's explorations and voyage reports. Strange that this name always appears where there are rich finds. He is the greatest finder that came out of the Master's school.« He turned to Budur Peri: "That would be a gamble I am keen to take." She eyed him like someone you see stepping into an arena and whose fate you have a stake in. 'It would be better to guard things like Antonio - as one of those poisons that one shies away from, even though in possession there is a sense of security, of power. Nevertheless, I entrust the casket to you. It can't be in better hands."

331

Lucius looked at her intently, as if he'd spotted something new about her. 'You encourage me. It seems that you do not avoid adventures. That's a move I like." She smiled. 'It may well be that Ialsohave another side like Antonio, whose secret you hardly suspected. They thought I was timid, and rightly so—the physical threat makes me shudder. But perhaps I am spiritually courageous.« Lucius kissed her hand. "Then I challenge you to the Eleusinian walk, as promised by the elixir." "I would be able to do that in your company."

He took the box and locked it in the armored cell. Donna Emilia had taken Budur Peri under her maternal care and was busy coming and going at her house. She brought flowers, fruit, newspapers, and saw to it that meals were taken as punctually and plentifully as on a ship. Alamut, too, had grown accustomed to the guest. 'You should give Miss Peri some company so she doesn't feel like she's in prison. We have to cheer them up." Lucius considered. Then he said: 'You're right, Emilia. Ask Miss Peri if she would like me to share supper with her when I am at the palace.' He soon got used to these evenings. They introduced something new into his life. Only seldom did he show himself down at the round table, where he had been excused while the undertaking was being prepared. There, too, as in general on the proconsul's staff, there was unconstrained freedom, and one was hardly asked what the individual was doing outside of the service. The same applied to an even greater extent to the aviary. Lucius sometimes wondered if the secret had spread beyond his inner circle. But the tracks would probably soon

332

blow away in this excited time. For this reason he had hesitated to see Doctor Beckett again, as he had planned. In the meantime a new circumstance had strengthened his caution. Soon after Budur Peri had moved in, a letter of unknown origin had found its way into his private mail, the contents of which had dismayed him—a simple piece of paper with no place or date, and no signature either. The message was limited to one sentence: "Since yesterday, Antonio Peri has been transferred to the institute of Doctor Mertens in Castelmarino."

The handwriting was disguised and imitated block letters. Lucius pondered this message for a long time. It could just as well have come from friends as it could have been a trap. It was also possible that Mauritanians had a hand in one of their mysterious moves. In any case, caution was advised, because this message referred to an unknown source that dealt with him and his relationship with the Peri family. A second circumstance gave weight to the billet. In the course of preparing the operation, Lucius had ordered increased surveillance of the Casteletto, which Calcar directed from the watchtower on Vinho del Mar. He read through the morning report and found that indeed the transfer of a single prisoner to the island had been seen from the tower the night before. This was not unusual, especially during these weeks, but the correspondence between the two messages remained strange. Accompanying the report was also an infra-photograph, which, however, showed only a launch full of armed men surrounding a shadow. Lucius didn't want to frighten Budur Peri with these details. He thought it only right to suggest that Antonio was the bailiff's special prisoner in the dungeons of the Casteletto. That was more of an improvement compared to the camps where the violence and executions continued. Above all, she had to know the name of the toxicological institute

333

be kept secret as a place shrouded in dark and horrific rumours. In the meantime, accompanied by Costar from Mithra Street, he had managed to bring not only parts of Antonio's special library to safety, but also pieces of the log book, and in his free hours he occupied himself with examining and arranging the saved inventory , bearing the marks of vandalism and devastation. Antonio's collection of hands was evenly bound in blue leather, beaded as if shod with rope. Lucius, in the company of Budur Peri, compiled a register that allowed the composition and limitations of the collection to be guessed at. At its center were undoubtedly the great inspirers of the nineteenth century: de Quincey, E. Th. A. Hoffmann, Poe and Baudelaire. But the prints led far back to herbal books, black artist writings and demonologies of the medieval world. Some of them were left in the old parchment and included the names of Albertus Magnus, Raimundus Lullus and Agrippa Nettesheym, whose De Vanitate Scientiarum was represented in both the Lyon and Cologne editions. In addition, there was Wieru's large tome, De Praestigiis Daemonum, and the extremely strange compilations by Medicus Weckerus, published in Basel around 1582. While leafing through it, Lucius came across a chapter on the secrets of the fruit and on sinister speculations, such as: "Diabolus posse morbos curare nobis incurabiles." The "little witch book" by the same author was also not missing, the one with Siegfried Thomas' concoction about the powder the sorcerer and sorceress was tied together. A French translation of Balthasar Bekker's "Magic World" in four volumes, each of which was enriched by a faded inscription by this old theologian, was particularly delicate, printed in Amsterdam. While leafing through it, Lucius came across a chapter on the secrets of the fruit and on sinister speculations, such as: "Diabolus posse morbos curare nobis incurabiles." The "little witch book" by the same author was also not missing, the one with Siegfried Thomas' concoction about the powder the sorcerer and sorceress was tied together. A French translation of Balthasar Bekker's "Magic World" in four volumes, each of which was enriched by a faded inscription by this old theologian, was particularly delicate, printed in Amsterdam. While leafing through it, Lucius came across a chapter on the secrets of the fruit and on sinister speculations, such as: "Diabolus posse morbos curare nobis incurabiles." The "little witch book" by the same author was also not missing, the one with Siegfried Thomas' concoction about the powder the sorcerer and sorceress was tied together. A French translation of Balthasar Bekker's "Magic World" in four volumes, each of which was enriched by a faded inscription by this old theologian, was particularly delicate, printed in Amsterdam.

A few works of belles lettres that dealt with Antonio's theme, mostly in the style of exoticism or the wicked poets, were easier to read. Among them was Maupassant's study

334

about the ether, which Lucius already knew, alongside various writings in praise of tea, coffee and wine. They all showed traces of often repeated reading. Perhaps the most important of these was Fumeurs d'Opium by Jules Boissiere in one of the yellow paperback covers of the 1890's, reverently bound in by Antonio. Lucius took the booklet to the islands and read it during the crossing. The spirit of the author attracted him because dream and lucidity combined in him in a wonderful way. It was a kind of supreme boldness with complete calm, such as occurs when a warrior lays down his arms, not out of weakness, but out of satiation, out of weariness with the game of red. Such a state is reached when Western leaders seize the seats of power in the Orient and get intoxicated by the old scent of education—but also when they approach the theological realms before whose luster history fades. Then calm moves powerfully into the heart. In this case, the turn from the material to the spiritual world was easy to follow, raising the lowlands as crystalline firmaments. Only here did the spirit recognize itself in its principality, in its true power. He celebrated marriages in the absolute, of which the embrace of love gives only a glimpse - just as shadow gives only a glimpse of light. In all love between bodies it is only this glimmer that gives the perishable a foretaste of eternity. when they approach the theological realms before whose luster history pales. Then calm moves powerfully into the heart. In this case, the turn from the material to the spiritual world was easy to follow, raising the lowlands as crystalline firmaments. Only here did the spirit recognize itself in its principality, in its true power. He celebrated marriages in the absolute, of which the embrace of love gives only a glimpse - just as shadow gives only a glimpse of light. In all love between bodies it is only this glimmer that gives the perishable a foretaste of eternity. when they approach the theological realms before whose luster history pales. Then calm moves powerfully into the heart. In this case, the turn from the material to the spiritual world was easy to follow, raising the lowlands as crystalline firmaments. Only here did the spirit recognize itself in its principality, in its true power. He celebrated marriages in the absolute, of which the embrace of love gives only a glimpse - just as shadow gives only a glimpse of light. In all love between bodies it is only this glimmer that gives the perishable a foretaste of eternity. Only here did the spirit recognize itself in its principality, in its true power. He celebrated marriages in the absolute, of which the embrace of love gives only a glimpse - just as shadow gives only a glimpse of light. In all love between bodies it is only this glimmer that gives the perishable a foretaste of eternity. Only here did the spirit recognize itself in its principality, in its true power. He celebrated marriages in the absolute, of which the embrace of love gives only a glimpse - just as shadow gives only a glimpse of light. In all love between bodies it is only this glimmer that gives the perishable a foretaste of eternity.

The third part of Antonio Peri's library was probably the most important; it concerned the practice of the keys as developed by chemists and pharmacologists throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. But a lot seemed to be missing here - either that there had been a lover among the looters or that they had recognized the commercial value. Antonio seems to have directed his attention primarily to old pharmacologies, prescription books and drug books and to have hunted for separates in journals and annals. Among other things, there was a manual dedicated to the preparation of perfumes and essences.

335

met war, an old tome by Heidelberg psychologists on the extract of the mescal bottoms and a paper by Hofmann-Bottmingen on the Phantastica of ergot. Then there seemed to have been an ethnographic department, from which an account by Sidney Powells, published in 1923, of Ceylon's flower dormitors mating with flowers in gardens of unearthly beauty under the supervision of priests still survives. All of this, as marginal notes and slips of paper show, was carefully checked by Antonio and put into a system.

If this collection was reminiscent of a geographer's maps and nautical guides, the logbook showed the voyages and expeditions. It was preserved only in the smallest part, in loose sheets, the journal character of which was occasionally interrupted by factual notes or small essays. It was evidently designed for this second part to rise out of it into the system, just as island groups first appear through the slow lifting of the seabed and then connect to form the continent. That made sense graphologically, because these passages were written out neatly, but the text from which they arose was illegible for long stretches. At times it appeared as if it had been recorded in ships' cabins in rough seas, at other times it became purely wavy, as seen on seismograph tapes. Also, the content was sometimes confused and ecstatically stammering, and sometimes of superreal clarity, as with very keen vision. He reproduced the circulation of images and thoughts, in all phases of rest and acceleration, like a mirror that rotates around its axis now quickly, now slowly. He worked now through distortion, now through enlargement, then again by reducing the infinitely large to a clear model.

336

Lucius, after arranging the sheets, searched for the notes on the laurel and the laurel frenzy, but they seemed to fall into one of the many gaps in the record, spread over a period of thirty years. He reflected on the enterprise, which seemed to him to be of great magnitude as well as boldness. Who would have thought the quiet citizen capable of it, sitting so modestly and diligently with his little cap in the workshop? This was still, no doubt, one of the ways in which life could be conducted—with slow but delicious burning of the substance. Cosmic wealth poured into the hermit cell like a vein of jewels. The drops fell as if over high weirs into the abyss and drove the mill wheel of the spirit with pure radiation. They formed the ornaments in the tapestry of life, which no purpose desecrate, the veil before the final and deadly mysteries. He, Lucius, admittedly felt more akin to Fortunio's manner. He sought out the hoards beyond the Hesperides and in the adventures of the greatest distance. There was loneliness there too. But the triumphs bloomed more from the blood, more from the heart than from the spirit. Those were the last buds, the last fruits of the old heroic tribe. In the encounter of beginning and end they turned back to the mythical. The striving of the Gothic researchers and discoverers was completed in spirits like Fortunios; the will to power was extinguished. He was replaced by wealth, by abundance. But the Faustian origin remained visible even where they met the magicians at the finish line. To put it philosophically, they had advanced on the path of being and in the world of things, while Antonio trod the path of knowledge. Admittedly, Nigromontanus taught that both intersect on the surface and draw common figures there. "You must think of people as made entirely of gold," he once said to Lucius on one of their walks in old Burgenland. "The skull is the dome, the golden dome that

337

separates inner from outer universe. But the two are related, and there will always be arguments as to whether the brain or the cosmos is larger. The farthest constellations and nebulae also shine in the inner firmament—yes, conjecture still rushes beyond them. According to the point of view taken, now the brain is transformed and now the cosmos, now knowledge and now being are transformed into pure imagination, and one of these teachings succeeds another in the history of thought. But you, Lucius, stick to the surface, keep your hand on the root neck of the world. Being and knowledge, they intersect at the point of the eyes, they intersect where the rosettes have broken into the dome with iris luster. The eye is female, for it drinks the abundance of the world. The eye is male at the same time, because it dominates fertilizes the world with his ray, which endows it with meaning. But you do not try to differentiate, but strive for the high marriage. The surface, that is, the earth, is the battlefield and love-bed of the inner and outer powers; they mingle in the eye as their most beautiful flower, in their most beautiful calyx. You perceive the change now as knowledge, now as revelation. You will experience that both are one and the same, divided only by the word 'Let there be', when you understand death as the greatest act of love, which balances that of procreation.« in her finest cup. You perceive the change now as knowledge, now as revelation. You will experience that both are one and the same, divided only by the word 'Let there be', when you understand death as the greatest act of love, which balances that of procreation.« in her finest cup. You perceive the change now as knowledge, now as revelation. You will experience that both are one and the same, divided only by the word 'Let there be', when you understand death as the greatest act of love, which balances that of procreation.«

The Master had incorporated this into his course on the surfaces, which Lucius always remembered with gratitude. He insisted that philosophy be dealt with historically, as the purest crystallization of the earth, surviving states and cultures. For him she was the philosopher's stone, on which the spirit has ground the facets in the course of history.

The logbook also formed the content of the first major conversations he had with Budur Peri. She meant that the difference between

338

Lucius' view of Antonios is to be found above all in the origin. It is not only the difference between the Occident and the Orient that is at work here, but also a difference in power. Lucius is one of the conquerors of the world, and therefore space is alive in his breast and a longing for spatial distances. Antonio, on the other hand, is one of the oppressed and persecuted on this earth and as such is dependent on the deeper and invisible forces to which the vanquished takes refuge. There is a balance of space and time, and whoever loses space strives for deeper gains in time. This is what Antonio would have striven for in the labyrinths of intoxication, because every intoxication is a magical transformation and compression of space into inner history. This gives a tremendous amount of leeway who was exempt from tyranny. De Quincey has already pointed out the aeons to be gained on an opium night. Lucius loved the conversations with Budur Peri, which became more and more attractive to him every day; he sought her out for great recreation. Discovering someone is always the strongest experience, especially when it coincides with a crisis. What amazed him about this woman was an androgynous element—the blending of male and female talents. Masculine was her spirituality, light and free like a blade crossed con amore. But there was also a kind of empathy that men do not have. One had the impression that she could think with her whole body, just as one dances with her whole body. In this way, even the finest trait, the shadow of an allusion, was grasped, yes, even the unspeakable that eludes words: through sympathy.

In the beginning he tried to distance himself from this spiritual fusion; there lived in him a feeling of independence, of pride, which contradicted such closeness. He was reluctant to let himself go.

339

During the conversations that were going on in the palace and even in the aviary, there was always a certain distance, a grain of irony. Here, however, the limit of logic was crossed and its chain jumped, be it electrically or by chord. He defended himself against it as against a current that led in an unwanted direction. He wanted to keep his aim and overview, as his coat of arms commanded him to do, and if he ventured into the dark, then only like one who had light on his shield.

However, one could not say that Budur Peri, as he had initially suspected, denied the partnership through pure musicality, which intuitively grasps spiritual figures. Her judgment was based on a good education, which she personally possessed. As an orphan, she grew up in Antonio's house, surrounded by his world of books. That gave her the introverted streak of children who focus on themselves early on, who think early. The childlike was strong in her and called for protection. The Parsi talent for languages and the feeling for the exquisite things, for valuables, which is characteristic of the Parsis, probably came from the father, such as the free trade acquired in the course of culture, when the knowledge of prices is sublimated into an incorruptible feeling for values. This was peculiar to the old Parsi families and extended to character. They always knew to whom they could lend without hesitation and looked for security in the man and not in the oath, not in the signature. With that inheritance must also be connected the caution, the physical fear that attracted and alienated Lucius in equal measure. This was particularly noticeable when she involved him in discussions about Antonio's fate or hers—as if he were looking into forbidden angles, into the conversations the persecuted had when they were together. They seemed to regard superiority as a natural phenomenon from which one hides oneself, even from which one pays homage in order to make oneself comfortable. Ancient, shameful gestures from Persian times surfaced in memory. One had to have the origin in the basic conception

340

of this people who would have been destroyed long ago had they shown visible pride. For him, evil was a partner of equal strength, a twin of the power of light, with which it measured itself in alternating triumphs through the eons. This was the teaching of their ghâtâs and ancient songs, which was never completely shaken even by the younger Avesta. She woke up as a great fear of the world with every new threat. It was easy to understand that such behavior aroused cruelty, and that the people saw the Parsi as the first victim in the tumult. They distinguished themselves as strangers, and their conception of evil necessarily led them to worship the elements, just as their priests called themselves magicians. That must have been an abomination to the monotheists. The Christians thought they were Gnostics; the Moslems had pursued them throughout the Orient through the centuries and finally expelled them from India when British rule there had expired. In addition, their purification rites were considered annoying. When Lucius Budur looked at Peri, he sometimes thought that this body was destined to be mauled by the fangs of the vultures - the thought seized him with horror and tenderness. Although she was one of the enlightened Parsis, there are always inherited prejudices that one never completely abandons. You could see it in her reverence for the open flame, even for the light of the candles, which Lucius used to burn at the table, and which she snuffed out by fanning her sleeve. In the touch of the fire with the breath she saw a sacrilege. Also, certain animals were repugnant to her and others sacred; one belonged to the kingdom of light, the other to darkness, both of which divided and split the universe. There was no mistaking that she also wore royalty. The mixture of races is like a deep plough, and peculiar blossoms sprout from it. The dark sides can unite in it, but also the advantages - sometimes both, like rings in polarized light. People close inner distance

341

on each other. Here, spiritually speaking, the penetration of Eastern and Western metaphysics was successful, and indeed on the same journey, on the old Indo-European tribe, in the meeting of the two most distant highlands. From his mother's side Budur Peri had inherited the sense for the Germanic languages and their literature. She had completed her PhD under Fernkorn and worked in his seminary until the penultimate persecution. It seemed that she had been the favorite pupil of the ailing but highly gifted Germanist. Lucius, who attended his lectures and took his advice on purchasing the manuscripts, recognized the hallmarks of his thinking about Budur—including the traits his opponents accused him of. He was said to be too one-sided in attributing literature to theological references; and it was true that he had developed this peculiarity into a scheme which, while sharpening the consideration, also simplified it. He distinguished the phases of rising and setting according to a special system. He placed the real wealth at the beginning of the descent, with which the meaning is already secularized, but is still metaphysically luxuriant. The classical belonged to the arches and not to the foundations, which he assumed to be invisible and which it was the task of research to prove. He described literary history as such as vain if it did not use the history of religion as an essential means. In this sense, he required his students to first identify an author's beliefs as the source of creative power. He followed these threads into secularization. His study of Bakunin, to which he gave the motto: »II n'y a d'interessant sur la terre que les religions«, was considered a model for the methodology. with which the meaning has already become secularized, but is still metaphysically luxuriant. The classical belonged to the arches and not to the foundations, which he assumed to be invisible and which it was the task of research to prove. He described literary history as such as vain if it did not use the history of religion as an essential means. In this sense, he required his students to first identify an author's beliefs as the source of creative power. He followed these threads into secularization. His study of Bakunin, to which he gave the motto: »II n'y a d'interessant sur la terre que les religions«, was considered a model for the methodology. with which the meaning has already become secularized, but is still metaphysically luxuriant. The classical belonged to the arches and not to the foundations, which he assumed to be invisible and which it was the task of research to prove. He described literary history as such as vain if it did not use the history of religion as an essential means. In this sense, he required his students to first identify an author's beliefs as the source of creative power. He followed these threads into secularization. His study of Bakunin, to which he gave the motto: »II n'y a d'interessant sur la terre que les religions«, was considered a model for the methodology. and which it was the task of research to prove. He described literary history as such as vain if it did not use the history of religion as an essential means. In this sense, he required his students to first identify an author's beliefs as the source of creative power. He followed these threads into secularization. His study of Bakunin, to which he gave the motto: »II n'y a d'interessant sur la terre que les religions«, was considered a model for the methodology. and which it was the task of research to prove. He described literary history as such as vain if it did not use the history of religion as an essential means. In this sense, he required his students to first identify an author's beliefs as the source of creative power. He followed these threads into secularization. His study of Bakunin, to which he gave the motto: »II n'y a d'interessant sur la terre que les religions«, was considered a model for the methodology. as a source of creative power. He followed these threads into secularization. His study of Bakunin, to which he gave the motto: »II n'y a d'interessant sur la terre que les religions«, was considered a model for the methodology. as a source of creative power. He followed these threads into secularization. His study of Bakunin, to which he gave the motto: »II n'y a d'interessant sur la terre que les religions«,

There was no doubt that the research, which the literati of the Central Office called the posthumous Inquisition, had produced good results, especially compared with the view of earlier times, which had become intertwined with pure folk and moral history, or even with the racial

342

and economic environment. With his students, of course, this easily became intolerable jargon, a secret language of those in the know. But there is no lesson that blind zeal does not lead ad absurdum. As far as Budur Peri is concerned, it could be said that she had kept the right balance and that with her theological conversation was possible as the culmination of the conversations. The subject Fernkorn had assigned her was one of the more important ones; he had commissioned her to examine the antecedents of the theological novel which had so surprisingly flourished in the second half of the twentieth century amidst the decay of the old social and psychological novel. The work showed a good knowledge of the phase that Fernkorn called the second religiosity and which stood like an island between the two great waves of nihilism. With all this one did not have the impression of the learned woman. Spirituality remained feminine — free, but cuddly at the same time. Knowledge was less a key to things than to itself. It enclosed them like an aura, like a costume with its folds that are a translation of the body.

Lucius came back late from Vinho del Mar. The practice there approached the state of mechanical perfection through constant repetition. The worst case would bring the unexpected. It was necessary to have a pattern, even if it changed as the plot progressed. Above all, it was important to create a feeling of invulnerability, in harmony with a half-automatic, half-playful security. The crew worked with zeal; Calcar in particular proved to be an indefatigable unit. He was recently appointed an aquilifer. Howhe soldierly in contact with the enemy saw a goal, which was life

343

filled with meaning, it seemed to Winterfeld a risk, an adventure of a spiritual nature. He looked forward to it like a book that is exciting to read, like a game that involves full commitment. He had bonded closely with Lucius, who enjoyed talking to him. He was of finer stuff than the professional soldiers, and you could talk to him about the background of what you were doing. From time to time the chief fireworker appeared on the island and supervised the technical implementation. Above all, the behavior in the irradiated rooms required great attention. In the evening there was often a boat trip, during which they took in the details of the Castelmarino coast. They sat half-naked in a boat in the manner of fishermen and pursued sea bream near the rocky bottom. They were caught with a blåker, imitating the flying fish, which was now slid on the water, now waved in the air. When the great robber flew out of his element like a bar of solid gold in order to catch the prey in flight, the bait had to be plucked at exactly the right moment so that it would stick. The catch was exciting. the scales shone, when the animals hopped on the frames like freshly struck ducats, they turned purple with exhaustion and finally violet. They carried a dark periscope, such as fishermen use to see the bottom; the upper fireworker had installed a camera in its clear space. In this way, Mario photographed the parts of the coast that Lucius indicated to him.

The rides were pleasant. Two activities that covered each other, and each of which brought pleasure in itself - that wasn't so bad. We also drank a glass of wine at Signor Arlotto's Calamaretto before returning. Donna Emilia had covered for him as usual at Budur Peri. She prepared the food in the study's thermal kitchen and conjured up the dishes as if from the fisherman's bag of Judar. Costar was also in the study,

344

to serve, on. In this way, unexpected visitors were avoided. These gatherings had soon become a necessity for Lucius, both in their secrecy and in their growing intimacy. The awkwardness that lay in this vicinity soon became blurred through habit. It seemed to him that there had been something bare in his life, like an empty space, which was now beginning to be filled with colour. The shortcoming only became apparent to him in retrospect. It was a pleasant thought for him to know that someone was waiting for him in his rooms. He looked forward to the hours of daytime entertainment like a vacation, like a more crowded time. Conversations between men always remained a crossing, as of bars; they only met at the intersections. But here the mood prevailed, the musical chord; and the thoughts were coupled like horses, who dress easily and dreamily. You rolled over time. Donna Emilia, who had quickly become friends with Budur Peri, also seemed more cheerful. She tirelessly took care of the little comforts and also made sure that there was never a lack of flowers.

"Costar, you can clear away." Costar appeared and set the dessert and candles on. Lucius now used the phonophore. He'd avoided it at first, out of the embarrassment that had been instilled and second nature in dealing with guns and taboos. But that was troublesome, like emphasizing a caste difference that shadowed human intercourse. They ended up talking about the Castelmarino operation and other closely guarded secrets. That was only possible if one had entered a different order than the prescribed one.

345

"So this is the famous Allspeaker," said Budur Peri, "can you touch it?" "Not really," Lucius replied, placing the small machine in her hands. “You know the commercial models — this one is also just a difference in capacity.” The Parsis had until recently been able to use the traders' and businessmen's phonophore, which had been taken away from them in the wake of the riots. You hardly saw an adult in Heliopolis who walked without a speaker. The flat sleeves were carried in the left breast pocket, from which they protruded an inch. The degree of effectiveness was recognized by the difference in the metals, and this resulted in a certain hierarchy, as in earlier times with the ribbons, which expressed itself in questions of priority, right of way or as identification to the authorities. Serner, who had a good eye for the formal world of late democracy, which sharply grasped the connections that had become self-evident and were hardly conscious of, had also dealt with the phonophore in his studies, namely in one of his small works entitled Die Three Steps to Equality« had appeared. According to him, the sequence of the three great revolutions of modern times had progressed from the religious to the political to the technical. The first of these upheavals was directed against the priesthood; in it the individual fought for the right to stand directly by God. The second was aimed at the old aristocracy and overturned the privileges of the feudal system in favor of bourgeois liberty and merchants. And finally the worker had appeared and translated civil rights into functions of the superman. In the course of this transformation freedom had vanished; she had dissolved into equality. Human beings resembled each other like molecules differing only in degrees of movement. And Serner called this state the kinetic or working world.

346

In this investigation he came to the conclusion that in the phonophore an ideal medium of planetary democracy had developed, a medium that invisibly connected everyone to everyone else. The presence of the old people's assembly, the market, the forum was here extended to immense spaces. Above all, the phonophore was a tremendous simplifier. Ever since it had reached perfection, the plebiscite and the referendum had lost all technical difficulty; the will, the mood of the great masses could be experienced and gauged immediately, almost by the power of thought. One of the machines that mastered the odd art of arithmetic was set up in the point office. The yes, the no, the undecidedness of the legions summed up in streams of sparks and became legible in an instant. Of course, as Serner explained, the right to ask questions was always limited to a few. While all could hear and respond, there was hierarchy in determining content, and only the voice of the most powerful was absolute. Passive equality prevailed with great differences in function. The old fictions of suffrage repeated in automaton style. The phonophore also had the character of an emblem, insofar as it designated its wearer prima vista as the business and political beneficiary. In this state, the confiscation of the phonophore and its deletion from the coordinate system corresponded to the earlier withdrawal of civil rights. Lucius grabbed the golden machine and held it up to the light. As if quoting a memorized text, he pointed out the luminous dials and contacts to Budur Peri: “The Allspeaker. Version for normal hearing. Not for sale, not for sale, non-transferable and only attached to the function of the bearer, but not to the person, apart from rare honors. Provides local and astronomical time, longitude and latitude, weather status and weather forecast at any moment. Replaces ID cards, passports, clocks, sundials and compasses, nautical and meteorological equipment. Automatically conveys the exact position of the wearer

347

to all emergency services for dangers on land, on water and in the air. Points to any desired location using the direction finder. Also shows the account balance of the wearer at Energeion and in this way replaces the check book at every bank and every post office, and in direct settlement the tickets for all means of transport. Also valid as ID when seeking assistance from local authorities. Grants command in riots. Provides the programs of all broadcasters and news agencies, academies, universities, as well as the permanent broadcasts of the dot office and the central archive. Has connection to all radio stations with their streams of knowledge, education and entertainment, insofar as they can be transmitted by sound and word. Gives insight into all books and manuscripts, as far as they are recorded acoustically by the central archive, can be connected to theatres, concerts, stock exchanges, lotteries, meetings, election files and conferences, and can be used as a newspaper, as an ideal source of information, as a library and encyclopedia. Allows communication with every other phonophore in the world, except for government, general staff and police secret numbers. Can be shielded against calls. Any number of connections can also be occupied at the same time - this means that conferences, lectures, election acts, consultations are possible. In this way the advantages of the telephone are combined with those of the radio.« 'In all this,' Lucius continued, 'there is nothing special. These are details of intelligence as it has developed since knowledge of electricity. The peculiar rests on the simplification, on the compression into a small apparatus; One might think that the material with its crystalline lattices and its radiant metals would have gained direct intelligence, and that one of the transitions from technology to pure magic would have succeeded here, as they concern the Bergrat. One step further and we would be in the universe of the pure

348

radiation stand. The Bergrat sees these things only as a crutch through which one learns to walk. He considers technique to be a kind of mental acceleration that finally leads to free flight and then to rest. For him it is an experiment of the spirit; the apparatus becomes superfluous once the final formulas have been found.« He added: »The state of politics to which Serner relates these late forms of technology can be described as the transition from popular rule to pure despotism. These machines resemble the magic rings of the oriental despots, and their perfection is expressed in thateveryone can use them. A ring like this, on the other hand, presupposes a definite and inherited quality. It is a sign of legitimate power, and therefore cannot be usurped.” He pointed to his jasper ring. Budur Peri had picked up the phonophore again and turned it carefully in his hand. “Then why the detours? One has the impression that the mind is dividing the world anew and is happy when it arrives at the old results. No matter how light the little machine is—in order to evaluate it, enormous lists of participants must be necessary?” 'Such registers do exist. But they are immovable, for they would fill a hall. The partners can be recorded through the automatic information from the central archive, provided they are not put through the point office. In both offices, and also in the Energeion, each all-speaker has its own special staff. In this way, connections can be made in seconds. Next to it you can see the dial for the fixed connections up here.« Lucius turned the dial and Costar was heard, both in the study and, more clearly, on the phone. "This is Costar, at your command."

349

He asked him a question and established another permanent connection. Mario reported: "Here Mario - at your command."

"Does it matter," Budur Peri asked, "that the formulas are a little different?" Lucius nodded. 'You suggest a difference in following. For Costar, the signet ring decides, for Mario, however, the apparatus. As a Burgenlander, one is in fiefdom to me, while the other is integrated into the abstract work order. So one is attached to the person, the other to the function. The difference is almost invisible; it resembles the difference between astrological and astronomical assignment. However, there may be situations in which it becomes decisive. But aren't you tempted to summon one of the countless spirits attached to these dials?" He handed her the apparatus: "Three letters, nine digits — your choice." Budur Peri moved the lower disk and a soft voice in an unknown language answered. "It sounds like Indian border mountains - you may have disturbed a lama in meditation." She pushed the box away with a gesture of disgust. 'It must be some lower spirit who invented this machine for destroying loneliness. Where else can you find a note here that Heine struck in his 'Ein Fichtenbaum wird lonely'?" Lucius couldn't help but agree: "You are right, dear friend - whoever wants to live in a noble way today must choose death as the last connection to the absolute world, by the way there is another snag in the matter, namely insofar as you, as long as you receive or send, are cuttable. The place where you are is always identifiable. This is invaluable to the police.”

350

He let the trigger, which released the broadcast, snap to the rest position and then continued:

“Strictly speaking, that would be required after every conversation. For this reason we also use the old telephones, which are better shielded. With every increase in power, the number of points of attack increases — that is an immutable law.” "Are you also able to make connections," Budur Peri asked, "that lead out beyond the earth space?" Lucius denied: 'The radiation breaks up in the high layers - so conversations we have with the occupants of rockets gradually become dimmer, as if evaporating into a finer medium. But there are transmitters that reach further, using light as a bridge, and which the regent has reserved for himself. The blue pilots are equipped with them, but in extremely rare cases they are also given to non-enlightened people, such as the Bergrat, who has access to the cosmic thesaurus. It is also said that Father Foelix can approach the Regent through intermediaries.” Costar entered and cleared the candlesticks. Donna Emilia also turned up to help Budur Peri undress as usual. Lucius took leave; he wanted to set out again for Vinho del Mar with the earliest, where Sievers was awaiting him. In one of the cells of the central office, Büter repeated parts of the conversation that had just taken place and copied them onto a registration form. He brought the sheet, still damp, into the office of Doctor Beckett, who began his service. Work at the Central Office was mostly nocturnal - 'Children, when night falls I am king' was one of the mottos Messer Grande had loved. Doctor Beckett rubbed his hands in his skull cabinet after studying the report. He slapped Büter on the shoulder, who was standing obediently in front of him: "Not bad, things are making progress."

351

The last exercise was passed through sharp resistances. The chief fireworker had set up a radiation grid around one of the dilapidated villas on the southern beach of Vinho del Mar. He first demonstrated the possibilities of ignition on mobile and uncovered models. This was followed by going through the barriers with the impregnated weapons and in protective clothing. The welding of the locks and the release of the small fire blast were also drilled. Sievers finally declared that he was satisfied with everything technical. Since Lucius had nothing more to complain about tactically, he submitted the report to the boss. The general ordered him to stand by as the full moon approached. He still hadn't gotten over the hover tank being shot down. The company on Castelmarino should be the receipt. It was also a showdown. Lucius also indicated to Budur Peri that he had hopes of rescuing Antonio shortly. Costar had served the tea; the round cauldron of copper steamed in the ring of thermal metal. The hour was pleasant. He stroked the fur of Alamut, who lay purring on his knees. "They say that beyond the Hesperides, in your homeland, technology has no validity?" She asked this question in a conversation they had about childhood memories, and Lucius responded: 'There's no denying we're a little behind there. But one could rather say that a different technique applies beyond the Hesperides — nocturnal logic, as it rules in dreams.” "Meanwhile, I wonder how you could hold the country so long in the midst of the power struggles that cannot be fought without armaments."

Lucius considered her question.

352

'Of course you're touching on a complicated subject. But you would have to try to see things from the other side, from the background of the mirror, so to speak, from which things detach. Man in his dreams, in his unformed and preformed world of images, in the placenta of ideas, is tremendously strong. There is nothing more powerful than the mind that dreams. War is called the father of all things, but one could say that the dream goes even deeper, that it is the mother of things. War is always dependent on what is available, the dream realizes what is not. When I look at a cityscape like that of Heliopolis, this thought is sometimes revealed to me. On some mornings or on bright nights, life in such hives presents itself as a great and wonderfully thoughtout opus. I cannot deny that I am then overcome with emotion, also proud sadness and a deep feeling of joy. Like shells, such mother-ofpearl cities emerge from the depths of the sea. The peaks and the foundations reach beyond human measure. Who conceived them so meaningfully, so wonderfully? What brings tears to our eyes, as at the sight of an unearthly lover, when we see her tremble in the sun's brilliance? Something timeless, something super-real always seems woven into their lusts, into their struggles and sufferings.«

He dimmed the light and turned to the nebulizer. Then he stretched out the thought: “I also believe that this feeling has always gripped the individuals and their small elites — in Babylon, in Rome, in Susa, in all the great and ancient places that the human spirit has formed. Pride at the invention mixes with the sadness of what is ephemeral, And where the movement, the precision of the purpose, becomes particularly strong, particularly luminous, the shadows also emerge more clearly. In this way, at high speeds, the point is gained at which rest becomes visible.

353

You can look at Burgenland as the stratum that is still and yet forms the basis of movement - because every movement only becomes meaningful, only becomes possible in relation to something stationary, as a detachment from it. In this sense, Burgenland is the original home, the ancestral seat of power and its formations. It could also be described as the substance that becomes politically effective when it allyes itself with time, but which is essentially dormant and derives power from its dormancy, as if from interest-bearing capital. In this respect, the laws of technology do not apply in Burgenland. Have I made myself clear?' Budur took Lucius' hand and squeezed it. 'Yes, I see — Novalis, if he had been born a historian, would have thought the same. But my question didn't go that far. Rather, I meant that the movement, once unleashed, can become overpowering and now threaten to consume the substance through its attack. How do you intend to withstand that in practice?” "You mean how do we secure our seats so they don't fall into the movement and be consumed by it?" "Yes," said Budur Peri, "that strikes me as strange." Of course, if one looks at the states as they have developed, the movement seems almost absolute. There are the elections, the plebiscites, the parliaments, the press, the parties, the formation of opinion, which has become explosive. But you also see the dormant posts in the armies, in the administration, in the princely clergy, in the thesaurus, in the senates and supreme courts - at all points where factual work is done that is independent of the formation of opinion and the fleeting flow of will is. You will find men from the Burgenland in all these posts—they are filled by other than free competition. These are the exponents through which Burgenland can be represented in the political arena and its struggles. So it is that you see the main attack of demagoguery directed against these men, above all against the proconsul, but these are meetings

354

in the foreground, while life in Burgenland is hardly up for debate. Even more - Burgenland with its castles is considered a pure invention and fiction, the seat of the unreal, and you can see a sign of its strength in that. The spirit, insofar as it attaches itself to the political, only grasps the movement, but not the substances; he sees the men and not the layer from which they detach themselves, not their secret, invisible lair." Budur Peri nodded to him.

'That's clear to me. Behind the fighters are hidden realms that level up. But when the men fall, the homeland will also be desolate. She finds no more witnesses. The forces that the bailiff has gathered around him are compelling; one might fear that in the long run you will not be able to withstand them. You only know thereonemelody, the rhythm of the monotonous, but one has the impression that it also brings down walls. He aims at domination over a discolored and leveled world. The separations and traditions are to disappear in the human existence - so in the attack on the Parsi lies a sign that also threatens the aristocracy.« Lucius disagreed. 'You should not overestimate the power of the bailiff; it is basically of a technical and thus draining nature. You can see that from the fact that he has to spread fear - that is, that he is speculating on the robbery. For this he needs theories that are directed against property and more generally against individual character. So he is dependent on the base, above all on envy, which serves his horizontal purposes. In all this he resembles the man without capital who has to draw profit not from rent but from the acceleration in turnover. This leads to a steady and finally fatal increase in rotation. He is also dependent on the opponent from whom he must live — sometimes polemically, and then actually, through robbery and division. He lacks the direct connection to the abundance of the world,

355

Harvest share can have. In this way he would be revealed in his nothingness precisely by victory. It would eke out liquidation for a while longer and then run dry like a mechanism, like a pump that lacks water.”

Lucius said nothing. It was quiet in the palace except for the footsteps of the guard in the courtyard. He heard Alamut purr as the sparks from the atomizer crackled. He enjoyed the conversation. Things settled more easily; it was as if she lifted the conversation out of their darkness and shared with them a semblance of freedom. He picked up the thread again: “There have only been two steadfast powers in Heliopolis since the church resigned. These are the men from Burgenland and the Mauritanians. Some are strong because they have not surrendered entirely to technology and have kept their old homeland, while the Mauritanians have gone through technology and reached points that lead beyond the illusions of progress. Suppose, dear friend, that one of those catastrophes would come about, as we have seen several in history, and how the alliance of infatuation and power creates them. We know the course from experience. The Burgenlanders would fall, emigrate to their original homeland or move into new positions.« "Positions of what kind?" interjected Budur Peri.

'There is only one question: the conversion to Mauretania—that is, the conversion of metaphysical power into tangible power. It would correspond to the transition through which the people dissolve in number and mass and thus become measurable. To the same extent, power enters into a higher mechanics - it becomes the work of art or the play of the knowers. The great theme of Mauritanian

356

Education is how to practice power as a science. This entails the mortification of passions and also of faith, which is transformed into an object of power. The Mauritanians step through the forbidden into the permitted as through banners that they hide; they become invisible from the outside. They return in a bold circle to the origins of rule and to ancient powers." "So you're repeating," asked Budur Peri, "the attempt by Chateaubriand?" “Not at all, because they are the opponents, or better said, the over-players of the romantics. That is, they also allow for romance, within the broader framework of their intentions. But it serves them essentially to capture a kind of young spirits to which it feeds indispensable, and which never advance to the highest degrees. Chateaubriand strove for the old order out of longing and on the inner track. The Mauritanians, on the other hand, insist on logical penetration; they artificially rebuild the palaces. For this reason, in their order, a spirit like Rivarol is held in higher esteem than Chateaubriand. Their great master is the horned Moses, who has the bronze serpent in his coat of arms. Those who know how to mineralize the image of life arrive at forms that resist the eons. He touches it with the magic wand of law. In this sense, the Mauritanians are the antagonists of a time that squanders its energies in search of the perpetual motion — they are intent on the perpetual motion.” "So, if I understand correctly, this is a final priesthood?" 'Quite right, a priesthood that knows the immense powers of faith but is not subject to them. They think themselves to be the finishers of the highest attack that technology can dare, and which Saint Ignatius began. Now, when the rabble celebrates its unbounded triumphs, the temptation to despise man penetrates the breasts of the noble also. The base, in that it breaks the barriers that

357

Sagittarius were erected opens the prospect of a new sovereignty. The insurrection of the masses inevitably leads to tyranny, which soon awakens a yearning for restored legitimacy—that turn of events occupied by minds like de Maistre, Donoso Cortes, and Don Capisco. The Mauritanians, on the other hand, are intent on taking a further step, which can be described as transforming visible tyranny into invisible tyranny. Her work therefore falls into the secret history, as no study will fathom it. They probably began in the last quarter of the 18th century, in small circles like those formed around Philipp Orléans in Paris and London. In the 19th century they are to be suspected behind all movements of the left and, at the end of the day, switch over to the new right with their best minds. But they believe that good work can only be done with both hands, and that the left overvalues passions, the right overvalues facts. At the end of the 20th century they began to flourish. The means have taken on an almost perfect and largely automated character, while the general ideas have worn away in the struggles and given way to skepticism. The right and the left have aligned themselves and appear like light and shadow, like reflections on the same object. The small elites have withdrawn from action and live in seclusion or at the tables of the powerful, which have been set up with renewed splendor. The arts, the sciences, the cults, even the finer pleasures are accessible only to the smallest bodies; there are few who know the formulas and who exchange them. The same goes for power; it will be restored to Cabinet style." "Then why all the detours?" interjected Budur Peri. »Of course, one would like to ask oneself that, but the sight is different than before, insofar as the general has also changed. The general and the specific are always mutual; and every dominion finds its ground. Although education has fallen sharply, it is accessible to everyone. It's not a privilege of shifts

358

more. Likewise the comfort — what used to be the distribution of grain or free access to the games is now the share of energy, the connection in the radiation room. One can say that all of this has become greatly simplified since the first primitive formulas such as 'socialism plus electrification'. The individual has a set of technical formulas that make his life both easier and understandable, and hardly feels the need to go beyond them. It can be said that the Heliopolitan feels he has sufficient freedom, especially in the quiet phases. Hardly any important decision is made that is not backed by a plebiscite. On the contrary - you see wars decided against the will of the army and leaders who are only pleasing to the demos. It may be because, like education, so too, although consciousness has fallen in level, it has nevertheless become general. In this way it has taken forms that have become quite similar to instinct, merging the collective drives with an automated, predictable intelligence.”

Costar went in to check on the samovar. "Where did we get the tea from?" Lucius asked him. 'Donna Emilia bought it from Zerboni, before the store was destroyed. It's black fukien; we still have a good stock.” "That's convenient," Lucius said to Budur Peri, "we have the best basis for the elixir there." 'You should get that out of your head, Lucius. Antonio knew why he kept it in reserve.” "I'll free him and ask his advice." "He can't take the risk for you."

359

'It seems half the size and doubly tempting since you promised to participate. A magic flute tour.« She smiled and referred back to the conversation:

"Don't you think your proconsul lives in a castle where time flies by?" 'He dares,' replied Lucius, 'because his foundations run deep. In the midst of the masses, like gold in alluvial sand, there still lives a treasure of tradition that eludes division. It is also recognized, albeit reluctantly, that it is administered by princes of his own kind. They therefore appear again and again in the change of fate and in fateful hours as spirits who lead history back into myth. The people suspect that - you can see it in their legends about the true king, who is hiding underground and is always expected. The question the proconsul asks himself is whether masses can be transformed back into peoples.« "The question scarcely concerns the Mauritanians?" 'No, they rather embrace mass education,' said Lucius. »The mass is calculable.« "That makes sense," admitted Budur Peri, "but it's hard to understand how the effects of very small elites dovetail." “Therein lies the technique of the Mauritanians. You have to imagine the process like this: at all universities, in every seminary, also in magistrates and high offices, you will find two or three aspirants who clearly stand out from the others. I am thinking, for example, of young Winterfeld in my war school, about whom I have sometimes told you. These are people who hardly ever work, but who seem to have knowledge and practice. Genius is a higher, easier game. Also, for years to come, she will be found occupied with other things — with reverie, with literature and poetry, with horse-racing and dandyistic tendencies. The Romans had specially devised the post of Kuril aedile for them. They will fail, seize the bureaucracy or act as its opponent.«

360

"That's clear to me," said Budur, "and the higher nature, Eros, which makes work fruitful, probably rests on the existence of such spirits. I'm thinking about my relationship with Fernkorn or yours with the boss." 'Well, the Mauritanians know about this first set and their system is designed for them. In addition, there is a break on the ladder that is favorable to them. The ideal stuff of life is consumed; Coldness and skepticism increase as you climb. These are the two phases that can be clearly distinguished in every reign, such as with Nero, more clearly with Tiberius, who also remained in the culmination longer. To that extent he is held in higher esteem by the Mauritanians, who ponder how to preserve rulership in the optimum. Capri is the model for their residences, next to Hassan Sabah's Ishmaelite castle.« At the name, Alamut began to purr as if hearing a cue. Lucius stroked his dark fleece. 'A clever fellow, that's why he got used to you so quickly. The Mauritanians love the backgrounds, the invisible positions; they know the danger of fame, of the limelight, for which the bailiff insatiably strives. They value the balance of power, where a subtle deflection leads in the desired direction. Whether red, whether white, whether equal, whether unequal - what troubles the one who sits where the bank is held? The Zero works for him.« He set Alamut on the ground and turned to the nebulizer. Then he continued: 'Big deals bring a lot of work. But there are bigger deals that just need a word to conclude. This is knowledge that cannot be acquired in any stock exchange or financial office. To master it one must have overcome the illusions of money and mastered its fictions—money, which is one of the great mysteries of the world. One must know the points where money and power meet and merge. Here the values become null and the enjoyment becomes

361

operational. Likewise, there are points where power loses quality and becomes colorless. The great decisions are not made in the parliaments and crown councils. These are libretti; the spirits who devise the compositions do not go down in history. You remain anonymous, in the gray background. At the center of action, power becomes pure thought, and its palaces become invisible.”

Budur Peri sighed.

'It all seems very complicated to me and only designed to frighten people. I fear you have delved too deeply into these labyrinths." Lucius nodded. He turned off the nebulizer.

'You may be right. I also feel how little happiness is associated with it. This is becoming clear to me in the relaxation of the hours that I am allowed to spend with you. They came at the right time. Of course, the complexity lies only in the theoretical consideration; in the encounter things appear simple. A body like that of the passengers of the Blue Aviso can be described as illuminated; it knows the rules of the game.« "One fact hasn't really become clear to me," Budur Peri continued, "I mean the one that the Mauritanians are dependent on recruiting from Burgenland?" “You must seek the answer in the fact that mind translates only so far into power. The attack is also mutual—the Burgenlanders, for their part, are trying to win over the Mauritanians as a kind of higher clergy, in order to justify the inherited claim intellectually, like a coin that has to be held courant. They feel dependent on them in drafting the finer distinctions, above all in constitutional law, philosophical projects and theoretical economics.

362

The Mauritanians, on the other hand, would like to push the Burgenlanders into the purely executive branch, in order to use them in those posts that require old substance and the experience of generations, such as in particular the command of the troops, consular administration and diplomacy. In this way, there is overlap and alignment at the peaks.« "But it seems to me," said Budur Peri, "that these experiments can only succeed in places where the substance has already become questionable?"

»Yes, where the old rule is no longer sufficient because skepticism has invaded. The bond that unconsciously encloses society is loosening, and this leads to attempts to reattach it artificially, such as by clamps. This is the state in which Orders thrive. The dreams are restored in consciousness.” "But I could imagine that this step in particular scares the old forces?" “Or just bored in a way that makes them prefer to die. Basically there is nothing more dull than love for sale and the artificial dream. Perhaps you know Dostoyevsky by name, an old Slavic author?” "Oh, not just by name," said Budur Peri, "his opus is very closely related to the subject Fernkorn set for me." 'Certainly you must have been more concerned with that than with the eastern tributaries. Then you will also remember that an early scheme is described here between a Mauritanian and a Burgenland force - I mean the relationship between Pyotr Stepanovich and Prince Stavrogin. You see here the abstract power that is dependent on the grown, on the primordial race for the realization of its plans, and you see the prince spurning the game that is offered to him.« 'Yes, I remember,' replied Budur, 'he prefers suicide. The whole thing gives the impression of two dreams, one brighter

363

and a dark one, interpenetrating in a world that has become sinister." 'The picture is well chosen. This new development of power is about the transfer into a brighter dream. Nothing is more dangerous than this transition into apparent awakening, nothing harder - like steel scared in the bath. Boutefeu, the old powderhead, was the first to describe the procedure. He also knew the price that must be paid for willed power.” "And which one would that be?"

'Killing pity in one's own breast. Only over this barrier leads the way to instrumental power. Yet that is also why the best do not succumb to temptation; they prefer to fall or retreat—not, like Stavrogin, out of disgust, but because they still have the distinction between power and greatness. Greatness cannot be without kindness, without pity, without love.” "Not without God, in a word," interrupted Budur Peri. 'You said so. Hence the axiom that God is dead stands at the beginning of the terrible path. This is the first sentence of the new Genesis.«

Costar appeared and brought more tea. Midnight was already over. Lucius watched Budur Peri's hands as she filled the cups—the slender fingers and delicate knuckles joined by the tight sleeves. It was a spiritual hand. And probably healing too, he thought. Healing in wound spasms, healing in fever dreams, in these nights of Heliopolis. It seemed that in this sea city a new type had developed, more intelligent or rather more spiritual in its spirituality. One found him not only among the great courtesans and in the poet's hermitage, but in all strata of society. He was

364

different from the image of Aphrodite, as it has been worshiped since time immemorial on the edge of the Gulf and in the island world, and as also embodied by Melitta. Nor had he anything to do with early emancipation—the competition with male thought. But one could perhaps say that emancipation created the general conditions, the legal spheres in which one's own growth was possible. In some fields women had taken the lead, as in magnetism, the photographic trades, color technique, and portraiture sculpture. The receptive grounds began to increase visibly, like fruit soils.

Strange, Lucius thought, that I was so late in getting my eyes on it. I aspired to the union of Artemis and Aphrodite. It is impossible; here, however, barriers can be felt, such as those erected between siblings or between men. It was a relief to be able to talk about these things in a way he usually only did during his rare visits to Father Foelix. They might be monologues, but monologues in a busy, sympathetic room. He felt that he had strayed far from what was human, like in mountains that are becoming at once more grandiose and lonely, colder, and that retreat was out of the question. So company was good, like in the last refuges, at the edge of which you can see the sparkling crystal world. He turned to her: 'I'm sure I'm boring you. It's miserable games played on this board; you saw it It could be said that man has failed in trying to restore the beauty of wildlife. One does not return to innocence through thoughts. Therefore, in these last centuries there has basically only been one strong religion, nihilism, which wants to turn everything back into fire. Here, under all the flags that chance brought, one finds only the jubilation, the contempt for death, the absolute will that bears witness to the great commission. Man

365

would like to think that God has withdrawn his favor from the good and just and that he favors only those whose traditions are to blow up the earth. Could that be because, like before the Flood, he was planning a new creation? Then perhaps the role of Regent would be that of a new Patriarch, a new Noah.” Budur Peri had risen; she had listened with growing interest. 'You touch important things here, Lucius. Where better to empathize than with the Parsis? Where hope is least? We have always believed that in times of darkness a new victory for the power of light is being prepared. I feel that the coldness and despair have penetrated deeply into you too. Of what use is it to the convict if one describes to him the machine that has been ingeniously invented for his execution? You should talk about lighter things — tell me about your homeland, old Burgenland.” Lucius laughed.

'You may be right. I don't want to deny that when I talk about questions of power, I fall back into a certain passion. But you have to admit that mere sympathy would hardly have been enough to get you out of Doctor Beckett's clutches. It will also be the same with Antonio. We want to drink wine.« He called for Costar and had Vecchio serve. After pouring, he softened the pattern of the wallpaper to a faint glow. Then he crackled the spray again and settled comfortably.

"You've asked me a number of times about Burgenland and why technology isn't accepted beyond the Hesperides. I will try to describe this life to you, this

366

in the meantime, of course, has also become precarious, albeit in a different way. But one likes to think back to the places of childhood. When I think back to Burgenland, two strong colors come to mind the opposite of red and green. The castles are red, the country is green. The places in their individuality are the first basis of history, its rough stuff. The great difference in height and level probably provided the basis for powerful compositions that go back to legend. This calls for a more detailed description of the local peculiarities. You know the formation called a canon—a steep mesas cut by deep valleys. If you now think of the valleys as greatly expanded, so that the reefs are almost lost from each other to the limits of visibility, then this picture comes closer to Burgenland. But you can also think of cliffs separated by sea surfaces. In the North Sea there is an old island, Helgoland, which was devastated by corsairs and which is not only similar in colour, but also in height, shape and size to the individual hides of Burgenland. But while colorful sandstone provides the rock there, red marble, also known as jasper, builds it up here. He is of the finest grain and discs of dazzling white quartz are imprinted in it like little suns. You see the smallest here as bright dots in the stone of my signet ring; they can grow to the size of a discus. They come from Ammon's horns, which once petrified under pressure and are now preserved as patterns in the rock. They shimmer not only on the outer walls, but in all the corridors and rooms, and whenever I think back to the time I spent there, they light up for me like ancient coats of arms.

The Bergrat is of the opinion that these rocks emerged from the washing out of softer rocks that surrounded them. The shell was eroded by the waters over countless years, and the cores grew out of it. In these times the lowlands must be swampy and wooded and of large animals whose

367

Bones one can still occasionally find today have been populated. It is also said that the first settlers lived under constant threat, as hunters and fishermen in fenced clearings or in reed huts on the edge of the river. Then came those who settled on the heights and with them a new era. They exterminated the monsters and, in addition to strong weapons, brought with them the horse, the chariot, the plough, the animals and plants of agriculture. In the course of a few generations the forests and swamps were melted down; Pastures and arable land spread. In between, tenant farms and small hamlets grew up, where markets and handicrafts flourished. Life arched on both sides, in the red animal pole as well as in the green vegetative pole. The first princes had come as slayers of monsters and as tamers of dull fear. They also replaced the early myths based on terror with lighter images. That first liberation of the original inmates was followed by a firm protective relationship based on power and gratitude at the same time. They took over the leadership in the war, the interpretation of the oracles, the management of the festivals, the administration of justice. The form in which the castles came to an agreement among themselves was that of the free and equal, known as oligarchy. The reason was not so much agreement as assimilation based on the nature of things. The expansion of the castles followed the same pattern and led to hoards that proved to be invincible. The outer wall, already unclimbable in itself, was artificially smoothed where there was the slightest ledge. Access has been cut into the inner rock. For loads, especially for bringing in the harvest, it consisted of a shaft in which an elevator led up to the pantries. For humans, a narrow spindle-shaped staircase was screwed up the rock. It was easy to guard, and in its clear expanse it was held like a large stone sphere

368

how a missile could run down inside her and then hermetically shut the entrance. In this and many other ways, a situation was created in which the defensive power far exceeded the means of attack. There is no known instance of one of these seats ever being broken. The disputes had to be fought out in the open and took on the character of tournaments in which the mobile forces only appeared as a kind of symbol of the great reserve of power. Duels of this sort perpetuate the balance and inherited order rather than bring about changes. Thus from the beginning in Burgenland power was far stronger in rest than in movement; their turnover was low with large capital. This led to an abundance of time. The supply of unformed time has always been infinitely greater than the possibility of exploiting it. In this sense one can say that we have remained on our rocks in the Stone Age, whose broad rhythms are structured by festivals, but not by necessity and need. This was met by an innate tendency to see time as leisure, but not as material value. It may have something to do with the fact that we never replaced the hourglass with a mechanical clock, and never introduced wall mills or water mills. From the very beginning there was a dread of making time measurable and treading that path of technology that pushes for ever faster rotation.theEquation was so self-evident that it hardly ever entered consciousness. Freedom is essentially freedom in time.

It seems that this inner abundance of time, and with it serenity, seldom flourishes in the world, and that it is felt by men, if not as a virtue, at least as a mark of superiority. This may be the reason why men from Burgenland were also sought after in the world, be it as leaders in war or, especially in turbulent times, as bearers of state power. The circulation of large masses must always be referred to points

369

which create movement but are independent of it, just as in chess the course of the fast pieces only makes sense through the existence of the king. This is only possible in minds that are not subject to the same degree to the crude compulsion of the times; and from this arose the special aptitude of the spirits that grew up in the Jasper castles. In the course of important business, in the rapid change of actions, nothing becomes more disastrous for a person than falling behind schedule, lack of time. Time draws close to him as an invisible grid and forces him to act according to instinct, especially fear. In such situations, as on a ship in distress, one's eyes are directed to those spirits who have time, as can be seen in confident commands, cool advice or even in the imperturbable attitude. Time is capital on this earth, and actions are only its interest. One will see in these men, such as the chief and the proconsul, a certainty that is more in character than in intelligence. A moment of composure, of silence, usually precedes the directive, the order, the judgment. It could be described as a retreat into Burgenland, as the historical spirit's reflection on its sources that lie beyond time. One could also say that before the historical decision the will legitimizes itself before the myth. Hence the difference in popularity bestowed upon the bailiff and the proconsul. In the bailiff, the people recognize themselves in their elementary traits, in the fire of passions that is completely married to time. In the prince, on the other hand, there are memories of his greatness, of his mission,

Now you will probably understand more clearly why technology does not rule in Burgenland. First of all, it is repugnant to him because of its nature, which rests on the monotonous exploitation of time. Politically, the untouched nature of Burgenland is made possible by the protection given to his sons who are sent out into the world

370

old homeland, since they are also technically powerful in the action. No one is stronger than the dreamer who turns to thought, to action. A reflection of the idea still lives within this spell. We also see that even the strongest calculators like the Mauritanians are still dependent on figures from Burgenland. You don't solve the irrational breaks on your own. Our country could thus be compared to a kind of Switzerland which sends out constables and residents to the kingdoms of the world and yet cherishes an unspoiled life of peasants and shepherds in its own mountains. It is also said that the Japanese, after adopting Western technology for reasons of state, spent their days in the offices and workshops, but in the evenings returned to the reality of the ancestral shrines and ideograms in their huts in old knightly garb. Well, it may be similar in Burgenland. But the burden of old things is great. The jasper rocks are hollowed out like red honeycombs from death chambers. In addition, the inheritance, the stock of things that have been definitively formed, is constantly growing. The supply of denser time, which there gives the days the constant and unchanging circulation, also corresponds to a relationship to the basic substances, to genuine and unadulterated matter, through which life sustains itself and, like a mussel through its shell, gives itself its shell . In addition to wine and bread, such substances also include oil and wax and honey, then linen, wool, silk, gold, marble, parchment and ivory and all kinds of wood. The good and the genuine are synonymous in our language. And again, the solidity of the material entails the care of the work that is done on it. The chisel works with more reverence on marble than on sandstone. It is quite certain that the boldness of the decision to bury the dwelling in the jasper influenced the style and made it permanent and perfect. It is distinguished less by periods than by imperceptible development and refinement. Also

371

it is borne less by great individuals than by the innate knowledge of good measure, which has always been preserved. Craftsmanship is strictly inherited from father to son, on a broad foundation of tradition. The fine arts remain attached to it and are characterized by a supreme surface rather than peaks, as befits the construction of the castles. Architecture is queen. Over time, the transformation of the fabric into embossed forms has led to large collections. So streams leisurely deposit the gold in their banks. This is combined with connoisseurship, an inherited instinct for things that are solid, for patterns that are exquisite. The castles accumulate like arks with treasures. The work of art as a magical household item gives her halls and rooms great density. It is further enhanced by the Laren Spirit. Added to this is the refinement of the word, the work on the language, to which great care is devoted. Education is musicgrammatical and aims at mastering the ideogram. In all castles one finds a stock of books and manuscripts, and in most of the houseofficens, where printing is practiced as an ancient craft. One almost always meets one or two scholars from around the world there, such as Nigromontanus or Rabbi Nilüfer, who have been guests in my father's house for years. Life in Burgenland springs from knightly sources that have clarified over time and continue to flow musically. Security in space and probably also the purity of race meant that it was spared from revolutions and abrupt changes in style. But the great changes in the world, together with the growing sophistication, affected this residence in a different way. In an almost mysterious way, it became an inner space, growing into the imagination. So much memory was stored up in her that she finally asserted the present and its reality; the memory was insignificant before

372

the fullness of the treasures he hid. He became invisible like the sesame cave. So it is that the mention of Burgenland has become almost metaphorical - the password of the initiates, through which the Urheimat, the treasure ground is indicated, which not only in the streams of history, but also in the inner being of the moved people is unchangeable. The old inheritance lives on in everyone, the gleam of the early principality, even if it is a plan that has sunk deep in the rubble of the times and their masses. Whoever knows how to awaken this memory is powerful; he knows true equality, which is based on the common ground of high descent, which is based on nobility. This is what the hero who calls men to noble deeds does no less than the poet who addresses them as an illustrious society, and finally also the priest who knows their origin. At the moment when the lower powers triumph completely, it will always be possible for man to retreat beyond the Hesperides, insofar as he still feels great within himself. There are châteaux of true permanence far superior to the romantic Chateaubriands. The ancient homeland of poets and heroes will remain forever thriving until the last day. The entrance gates shine gloriously in the light of the fires and sunsets, in the silence of the deserts as seen by Isaiah. From there order always returns to the world, both in word and in deed.”

Lucius said nothing. Then he raised his glass:

“I think I overshot a little - Forgive me." Budur Peri clinked glasses with him.

373

“Oh no, that was very graphic. So Burgenland is the fatherland in its ultimate sublimation, if I understand it correctly?” Lucius shook his head in half no, half in agreement. 'You may take it that way. But at the same time it is of the highest reality. It lies in a space in which poetry is not yet separated from reality. There rests the gold from which time strikes coins in changing shapes. Perhaps Burgenland is best seen as the last and strongest residence of spiritual people at this time.« He added to break off the contemplation: 'You're letting me bear the cost of the call myself. That's not right. Tell me about your kingdom and your childhood or about Antonio. I know so little of your past." She considered and turned to the nebulizer. "There may be little that will captivate you." I like hearing your voice." "Very well. As for my early memoirs,' she began, 'they are like two picture books of quite different natures. One, from the father's side, is full of light and illuminated in the manner of Indian miniatures. The other has been inherited from the maternal realm and is filled with figures and drawings. It is probably the peculiarity of the oriental and occidental imagination that distinguishes the two - the one is dense and pictorial as in the oases, the other longing and labyrinthine as in the foggy valleys of Ossian. I'll try to open a page of this paler sketchbook for you - listen:

We will fly, but not in the manner of ingenious smiths, but like birds in feathers. I lead you into a realm of shadows far north, far beyond the drift ice belts whose fog dampens and weighs our wings. We advance to the bright midnights. The light is gray but clear. The water fringes the jagged and arched world of cliffs in faint games.

374

The waves slowly hit the rocks, at the foot of which the mussel beds are visible at great depths. The eyes are tired and drowsy because of the chalky gray - but at the same time they are overly alert. They perceive the movement slowed down, but with great sharpness, as if dream material were dissolved in their eddies and waves. It is very similar with the tones of this pale sea solitude. They resemble the playing of a shadowed chapel, which penetrates only in bars, in a horn call, in the fleeting chord of a harp, in a violin line. We have flown into realms where the present vanishes and longing marries memory. The birds are dainty, with narrow wings and beaded plumage. They rest numberless on the rocks and cliff-tops banded by their peoples. It's not difficult to join their games; one finds the rules and laws within oneself. Its purpose is to elevate time to a higher level of pleasure by dividing it not according to the movement of the clocks, but harmoniously. So it becomes swarming time, nuptial vibration, harmonious throughout. Music becomes life, and the body with its swinging and stringed organs becomes its instrument. The games are. Air and water dances, and their desire is harmony, merging with playmates and the element. The wave and the winds are their melody. They lead to heights where the swarms disappear like dots in the haze, and in a crystalline dive to the bottom of the sea, rippling the whitest sand. The intelligentsia here is not linked to power as in other countries; it has become siblings with sympathy and transformed into a common spirit, which becomes visible in the order of the dances. It has a magnetic effect, as a master of dance, and forms the figures of the union, the columns, rings, wreaths, the sequence and change of which hides the source of inexhaustible enjoyment. But there are also separations in rest, enrichments, concentrations of sympathy. The nests are embedded in the druses of the chalk cliffs as balls of gray sea moss whose shell

375

lined with the finest feathers. In these delicate and secure webs, the families unite and dream with lidless eyes in the twilight. The pounding of the waves and the song of the winds only sound muffled in these chambers, in which an old wish is fulfilled, which glowed through all homes, all love beds, although in vain: to be together forever. On these shores, beyond the banks of fog, separation is unknown. But what do these awake sleepers dream of, who sometimes gently touch each other with their wing, in their nest? The gift that makes up her dream art could be called second sight, but it does not herald the fires and misfortunes of the future as it does in the misty realms. It is not painfully aimed at the unfulfilled time that is still awaiting labor pains, but rests on the satisfied memory. The universe has turned into memory, into seas under whose smooth mirrors rest the pearls that have ripened and become precious in the saline tide of tears long staunched. The iris colors blossom in delicate white, in the finest grey. The eye sees that divine beauty, divine unity balanced in opposites, rules the world. And when the curtain falls on the great spectacle, passions fall silent, pain turns to pleasure. Pain is the spur, the thorn that leads to joy. Beyond the fears, beyond the dangers, the story's themes rise to pure harmony. What poets dreamed and what righteous thinkers devised is revealed. But there is safety here.

The fights, the defeats unite to form a colorful pattern of valances, in which the victor spun with the vanquished. The spirit is touched that no effort was in vain. The powers, saturnically performed by time in a rigid dance, in which they acted now as victims, now as priests, now lambs, now tigers, drop their masks and recognize themselves beyond separation. The generals sit brotherly at the table after the decisive battle. The lovers are always united; you guess-

376

in moments the highest reality, which is now being fulfilled. The cosmos is unlocked once more, in retrospect, and the eye discovers that love holds it together under the armor of necessity. Only beyond the pain does the truth shine. There are also, on the highest cliffs, lonely nests with a wide view, couples fly to them to rest there. From these vantage points, the gaze enjoys a wonderful play of light. It penetrates the fullness of time and space with effortless sharpness. It also has a stereoscopic effect: the partners deepen one and the same action through slight differences. But what do they see of these nests at the edges of space and time? They penetrate into the old cities, even the names of which have disappeared, into the oases and tents of the Orient, into island worlds and fairy gardens, into all realms of history and fantasy. They form the decor that unfolds like a succession of carpets. But the plot is always the same: the adventure of love that takes place between two people. The birds choose their partners and bring them together through imagination. In the dream play they enjoy the spiritual potency, the magic that exalts the encounter beyond chance. Because whenever two people come into contact, the geniuses enjoy it from afar. Physical pleasure is only the symbol of a higher pleasure that is inexhaustible. Man seeks to grasp it in the colorful frenzy of his world. what is called infidelity among men, can be fidelity to the Absolute. There love never withers. In these realms, beyond the nebulae, bodies are just figures, just glasses through which to look at the stars. Love seizes them to realize themselves. The longing seeks to dig up the spirit on this side of the fog, but on the other side the spirit unlocks matter. I could tell a lot more about these games, but the night is drawing to a close. We have to cancel. I'll pick up the thread again, if you like."

377

Lucius gave her his hand. 'Thank you - I see that there are also northern Hesperides, beyond midnight, where a new morning is announced. We'll reconcile that on Laurel Night."

378

THE COMPANY ON CASTELMARINO

The cue for the attack on Castelmarino was given. Lucius stepped into the armored room to sign out. The chief rose; the map of the island was spread out on his desk. A tall bouquet of tiger lilies blazed on the table, reflected in the dark surface. The day was clear; the weather station on the Pagos predicted a mild and hardly cloudy full moon night. The General didn't dwell on the enterprise. It was of little tactical importance and was more for prestige. But it hit a spot that was sensitive and could initiate new unrest. For this reason, extensive backups were provided under the pretext of an exercise. The boss, who didn't appreciate sentimentality, dismissed him with a joke. Lucius then climbed into the aviary to change. He wanted to cross over to Vinho del Mar on a midday ship and chose a suit that was customary for pleasure parties. Costar also changed. "I hope I can give you word of Antonio tomorrow, yes, maybe I can bring him with me," Lucius said to Budur Peri as he bid her farewell. They hugged each other. He felt her light as a feather in his arms, immaterial. He was still thinking about it on board. The beauty of a sister is like that of the stars, which one does not desire. The spirit surrounds them as with glaciers, the belt of which the red vibration does not penetrate. Its radiance awakens in the heart the high equation, the brotherly. The sun was already touching the peaks of Vinho del Mar as they pushed the big boat into the sea. The chief fireworker had had a motor installed that was calculated for the retreat. During the approach one had to be careful because of the listening points

379

be. In the afternoon he had discussed all the options again and accompanied the team to the beach. There he took leave; he wanted to spend the night on the watchtower. There, too, a reinforced crew was on the alert. He waved as the keel crunched over the pebbles and then rose and fell with the gentle waves; for a long time they saw his red beard on the shore. Lucius sat at the helm and steered the boat in the manner of fishermen scouring their grounds. The equipment was well packed between the frames. But the weapons were already at hand. The blue of the sea darkened in the evening light, casting rings of gold where the oars dipped. The brown bodies contrasted beautifully with him. Then the shores melted into twilight. The first stars were reflected trembling in the dark depths, the waves animated like a large animal. Lights glowed at the Vinho del Mar watchtower and opposite in the dungeons of Castelmarino. To the north, above Laketown, the horizon was lit; the signs of the air and sea ports pulsed in the red haze. With light strokes of the oar, the boat cut through the straits of Castelmarino and approached the island. You could hear the soft pounding of the waves on the cliff edge. The night was muggy; the water smoldered around the keel and on the rudder blades. At times a large fish, as illustrated with the silverpoint, slithered under the boat. The ears sharpened; the breath went deeper. Then the moon rose in a round disk of pearly clouds. The stars around his court faded; the rocks stood out black. On the shore of Castelmarino, between the dark cliffs, a narrow crescent shone: the outline of the sandbank chosen for landing. Lucius gave the signal for battle readiness; the men took up arms. Then the young Winterfeld carefully slipped over the edge of the boat and swam towards the sandbank. He was chosen as a scout and was supposed to secure the landing, although an ambush was hardly to be feared.

380

After a short time, the boat also ran to the shore and touched down lightly on the sandy beach. It was quietly pulled ashore and set in the shadow of the cliffs. They opened the bales and dressed in silence, with practiced moves. Lucius checked the clock. Then he directed Mario, who was to guard the boat with two attendants, to his spot on a cliff. It was equipped with flares to mark the landing site in the event of a threatened retreat. Lucius had promised Melitta to look out for him, so he had given him this job, which Mario didn't quite agree with. He would have preferred to swap places with Costar or Winterfeld. There was still a quarter of an hour left. Costar passed out strong, steaming coffee from a bottle. Lucius had the clocks compared again and gave the signal to leave. He led, accompanied by Costar and Winterfeld. Calcar followed at a short distance with his squad. They climbed, at first with difficulty, up the steep rock overgrown with milkweed and gorse. Then they followed a path which, perhaps trodden by animals, • fed inside the island. At times a light shone from the dungeon tower. The moon lit up the terrain with a deceptive glow. The wild growth seemed broken here and there by cultivated pieces, small gardens hedged in by thorn bushes from which a strong odor rose. Lucius recognized a field of poppies with blossoms that shone like pale hanging baskets, and a field of henbane. Then came a slope covered with a soft and smooth mass, as if with violet mica. A sharp, spongy haze surrounded him; the footsteps slipped on him. That had to be Doctor Mertens' mushroom gardens. Lucius recalled a late hour conversation in which this scientist had boasted of his breeding in the Blue Aviso. He seemed to think that he had succeeded in breaking down the dead matter and stimulating it to grow and this way

381

to gain artificial bases for those substances that otherwise create life. The "conversion of chemical into physiological factories" was one of his hobbies, which had cost not only the bailiff heavy money, but also many poor devils skin and hair. Much like Doctor Beckett's theories, his own tended toward intelligent cannibalism. In good hours he presented himself as an enlightened philanthropist. His realism lay in the fact that he grasped the ugliness of the world as the dominant principle and logically turned out in the preparation. So the sight of these plasmatic cultures was also extremely disgusting.

Walking around the slippery hem, they came to a knoll overlooking the interior of the island. It fell into a valley, in the middle of which rose the institute, which resembled a country house. It came out in every detail in the moonlight. Added to this was a green glow that clung to the walls and blotted out their shadows. In this light one could hardly have hoped to cross the surface unseen, but a dark avenue of arborvitae led in a straight line to the entrance. In their shadow, they cautiously approached the building at gunpoint. With every step the impression of dreamlike extinction that woven around it grew stronger, and it required a special and alert effort of the spirit to face this spell.

In this way they made their way to a low hedge enclosing the institute's park. In her shadow, Lucius paused once more. Calcar dispersed his group, making sure their weapons swept the park to the front gate. He stayed there for backup. air

382

Cius, Winterfeld, and Costar meanwhile slipped on the protective webs and walked from shadow to shadow toward the building. The park was kept light; oval nameplates distinguished the trees and bushes. The slender bells of a large datura shone; the red blossoms of the hibiscus hedges had darkened to the deepest black. In a stone-framed basin the mermaid roses opened up to the pale light. The front gate stood wide open, in treacherous hospitality. Lucius checked the steps of the stairs and the threshold before crossing them. He felt the influx of consciousness into his feet that he remembered from crossing minefields. The ground was treacherous. They entered a vestibule paneled with slabs of light and dark marble. From there a carved door led into a reception room furnished with armchairs and a round table. The impression was worthy; the walls were bare except for a large picture in which two old men were seen busy against the background of a mountain range. Lucius approached and deciphered the signature: 'Moses and Aaron share the golden calf behind Sinai. Deveria." A soft noise in his back startled him from contemplating the strange motive. He turned. An old man had entered, staring at the group with frozen eyes. He was dressed in striped livery and gave the impression of a porter going about his patrol. His appearance was reminiscent of a noble servant; white sideburns trailed from his temples almost to his chin. But there was also something repellent and nocturnal about him. The eyelids were inflamed, and the skin showed a withered pallor, as if worn out by the habit of infamous passions. He had the professional face of people who have to deal with corpses. His eyes lingered on the figures standing before him, armed and encased in glass, then he began to tremble. Costar, who was closest to him, grabbed his neck and pushed him against the wall. Winterfeld hit the pistol on him

383

at. Lucius went to him and felt him. The old man was weaponless. Then he whispered to him:

“Where's the counter switch. Hurry, before they send you to hell!" Costar increased his pressure and grunted, "We can pre-roast you a bit." The old man began to tremble more violently. It seemed as if a spasm in his throat was stifling his voice, all he could hear was a squawking like that of a bird surprised in its nest. Then he pointed to a spot near the front door. They dragged him there. He pushed a face down panel of panelingreturn.A switch appeared behind it, with a red eye glowing next to it. It was one of the usual fuses; Lucius blocked them out. The red light went out, a green one glowing in its place. At the same time, the tint of the walls took on a different colour. Lucius ordered the porter to face the wall and put Costar in charge of guarding. Then, accompanied by Winterfeld, he turned to the interior of the institute. The incident was favorable; one could work in greater peace. It seemed that apart from this servant no one was in the house at night. Mertens and his assistants flew into town in the evening. The lower servants were brought daily from the dungeon tower. They first entered a large library room, also filled with a shadowless light that shone from the walls and on the spines of books. A large table covered with magazines occupied its center. This included not only the large "Archive for General =" edited by Mertens, but also his "Blätter für applied Toxikologie", which the Central Office treated as a secret. Mertens was also a Mauritanian and knew how to make a strict distinction in this personal union. They went to the fans and opened some of the books. The collection made an ominous impression, both in its details and in its composition. It seemed that they were in front of the

384

historical department; the titles pointed to older works. The first that Lucius opened dealt with the tale of suffering of a dog whose brain had been cut out and then artificially preserved for years. It was published in a Petrograd state publishing house around 1930. A foreword celebrated the achievement as one of the triumphs of science. Then Winterfeld handed him a small volume, carefully bound in leather, and pointed to the title: 'Memorandum on the Commercial Use of Human Skin. Submitted by several scholars to the High Convent in the Fructidor of Year IV.' Lucius dropped it on the floor with a gesture of disgust and turned to a compartment filled with pamphlets. They seemed to be concerned with the advances being made in venting poisons from the air. Among them was the description of a factory dedicated to the mass production of the causative agent of polio, printed at Indianopolis in the year of salvation 1952. In contrast, the tour through the catacombs of the Oberfeuerwerker was to be regarded as contemplative; Lucius refrained from further insights. He felt a rising feeling of disgust that had sometimes gripped him in life—disgust at being human, at being human. He turned to Winterfeld in an unfriendly tone: "Leave the Scharteken and take care of the service." He looked around and thought, 'This might be the right place to lay the duck egg. Give it to me." The ensign took the small bomb from the shoulder bag; she carried significant weight. Lucius put them on contact. Then he carefully placed her behind the lowest row of books, carefully rearranging the folios. The order was fulfilled and there was no reason to stay longer, but he stopped the ensign with a signal and said:

385

"We still want to search the building." He considered and added: "- - - so that no bystanders come to harm." Winterfeld nodded and opened the next door. They entered a wide laboratory. Painstaking order reigned in this hall; A glass fume cupboard was installed in front of each workstation. The circumstance and others indicated the nature of the materials being treated. They walked through the tables set with scales, microscopes and jars and came to a hallway which other doors led to. They carried signs of the kind found in the science buildings; one read inscriptions such as "Director", "Museum", "Snake Kennel", "Gustos", "Second Assistant". Lucius opened one of the chambers marked "Dissection Room" and looked inside briefly. An unknown corpse was stretched out on a glass plate over which running water trickled. The corpse had reached the last degree of wasting. He bent over the face, which rested a smile on the marble, and shook his head.

"There must be another prison cell in the building."

"Then it can only be about them," answered Winterfeld, pointing to an entrance that was next to the dissection room and was marked with the inscription "Laborand." He added; "They say that Doctor Mertens is a friend of grammatical finesse." Lucius smiled. The aside would amuse the boss; she qualified the young man to the cross. At the moment of greatest tension, be it of danger or the desire to indulge in apparently uninvolved remote combinations, this was considered a sign of the virtue of désinvolture, which was so highly valued in the palace. They also accepted the cynicism involved. In the proconsul's study hung a picture of Count Dejean, depicting him looking at a flower before the order to attack Alcanizas. The

386

Near death should make things clear like strong pressure crystals in the rock. This sometimes bordered on l'art pour l'art. They turned towards this door. It was forged and the only one that was locked tight. Winterfeld handed him a load; he put it on the lock and lit it. A thud and a flash of light followed; the bowl fell tinkling on the floorboards of the corridor. The door sprang open; the incendiary device had welded a circular hole in the metal. They entered.

The room was windowless; but the whitewashed walls were saturated with blinding light. A fume of vaporized iron filled him. The establishment was limited to a narrow camp. A man with gray hair and a white, unkempt beard half sat up on her; he writhed in a fit of coughing. Lucius approached the bed and surveyed the emaciated form. A linen smock, such as that worn by the inmates of the Casteletto, barely covered the pitiful limbs, which resembled a skin-clad skeleton. Winterfeld also looked at the horror. He murmured: "The chief physician seems to be on a diet — a Muselmann." This was the name the demos used to describe the victims whom he robbed of will in his caves and through his officials and had turned to scrap. Lucius bent down on the emaciated man and gingerly took his hand. 'Antonio Peri—how have you changed—I would hardly have recognized you. But I suspected that I would find you here - I come to set you free. Your niece is safe too.” A smile began to smolder across the Parsee's features like a layer of ash. He stroked Lucius' sleeve and whispered:

387

'Yes, Budur - worrying about her was worse than anything else. She is safe. Even if I dream, the news is good. I'm thirsty." Lucius took the bottle Costar had given him and refreshed him. The strong, rum-laced coffee seemed to invigorate Antonio; he straightened and his voice grew in clarity. 'You are Commander de Geer. I often dug your coat of arms into your books — a spear in the shape of a lily with the motto 'de ger trift'. You met me as one must meet a human being." He looked at him gratefully.

“I hadn't hoped the proconsul would think of me - where would one know better than among our people that the vanquished has the plague in his body? One avoids him from afar, and even those closest to him leave him.«

He clutched his chest as if severed by a sudden pain: 'They gave me poison - there is nothing in this house that is not poisoned. Not bread, not water, not even the air that comes through the keyholes.” He pointed to a plaque hanging at the head of the camp. It carried a lattice through which a fever curve climbed—it was combined with other lines. Doctor Mertens was regarded as one of the best minds in Heliopolis, as the finest connoisseur of the human body and its possibilities, and he certainly composed such cases with as much pleasure as melodies on a sheet of music. Lucius buttoned the man's smock. 'Here are your shoes too, Antonio. You must forget that; it will soon be behind you like a bad dream. Budur awaits you. You will work again and please us with your art.« He helped him up from camp.

"We've got to hurry—in half an hour there won't be a stone standing on top of another."

388

They prepared to leave the cell; Winterfeld went first, and Lucius followed Antonio by the arm. When he had just crossed the threshold, an incident ensued. They heard the crackle of a dry discharge, and a violet braid stretched between the posts. It only lit up for the brevity of a bolt of lightning. Startled, Winterfeld turned around: "A short circuit—are you unwell, Commander?" Lucius brushed him off. 'I don't think I was touched. We should have thought of that - oh, that's annoying." He eyed Antonio, who didn't seem to have noticed what was happening. The prospect of escaping his prison seemed the only thing on his mind. He thought. In such labyrinths one had to have an intelligence appropriate to their technique. Then he turned to Winterfeld: 'We can't keep him going like this. Get the porter, Winterfeld.” "Your command, commander." Lucius called after him:

"But stay behind him!" Winterfeld returned with Costar and the prisoner. Lucius showed the man the door: 'Step into the cell; we'll lock you up." The old man balked. "That's impossible. Not in there!” 'I expected that, lad. So you knew there was a second grid? It'll cost you your neck." The porter fell to his knees. 'I hadn't thought of it when I was frightened. I speak the truth, Lord. I know I'm lost in any case. Doctor Mertens - - -" "Be quiet. You only have to answer what you are asked.«

389

He turned to Costar and Winterfeld: 'We can take off the coats. The way out is sure because he walked it.” They stripped off the webs. They also laid aside what equipment had become superfluous and kept only the weapons. Lucius urged them to hurry, for it was likely that the contact had also alerted the Casteletto guards with warning signals. Costar grabbed the porter by the collar and pushed him forward while Lucius escorted Antonio. They found the exit without difficulty and hurried across the park to the hedge behind which Calcar was waiting with his group. They had scarcely reached their shadow when the enemy reported with the first sign. A cannon shot rang out from the Casteletto. It was followed by the flare of a projectile, which rose to the zenith, spouting sparks, and unfolded into a rocket, dazzling from afar. The soft contours of the moonlight were erased by a harsh, chalky glow. The hovering missile's circle of light cut the entire island and its forewaters out of the darkness. There were also shouts and an indefinite fire from around the dungeon tower. The attack was discovered prematurely. It was to be hoped that the initial confusion would favor the retreat. Lucius looked around for Calcar. He found him in a dark group occupied around a prostrate body. They had killed the porter. He wanted to stop, but it was already too late. A bloodstain spread black in the glare. He turned away with a shrug. The sight of pure violence had always had something paralyzing and devastating for him. However much he was excited by danger, he always hated the injury of the unarmed, though common, even where he logically sanctioned it and where the situation seemed to imperatively demand it. He had once met with Ser-

390

ner about this discrepancy, and he had said to him: »If you cannot overcome the Burgenland in you, you will always be weaker than the unscrupulous opponent. They give him a head start. That's a luxury of the past.« This always boiled down to the old advice that one must first kill one's pity in order to stand up to the terrible in the power struggle, and that one must solidify oneself through and through. But what could victories bring if you changed your core? In the best case, a return to ancient glory. Therefore Sulla was also very popular in the palace. But one did not find one's way back to one's innocence. A star had risen and destroyed the old splendor. From then on the suffering remained visible, which the will also did against it. The suffering remained in the world. Ever since it had won voice, it was not to be overheard in any consideration, in any council, and that voice accused the very noblest, the best. So it was probably better to choose doom if no new path opened up. The spirit wandered like a prisoner through the labyrinths, in which he only opened chambers of horrors. One by one, the paths he hoped to live turned out to be treacherous. Their fallacy became apparent in ever shorter periods of time. In this city it seemed that what had proved to be hopeless was being dealt with again, like a long-lost lawsuit.

Meanwhile, more rockets went up from the direction of the dungeon. One could also hear the impact of projectiles in the trees and on the walls of the institute. Lucius ordered Calcar to retreat down the avenue with the sentries, and followed with Winterfeld and Costar. Antonio Peri held up better than expected

391

had been. The night air seemed to invigorate and spur him on beyond strength. So there was no stay because of him. In the shade of the trees they reached the ridge. There they turned. The island was now bathed in a multitude of lights like an arena. Where the rockets had already gone out, little white clouds drifted, which also spread light. And still new sparks beaded up. There were gunshots, sirens, dogs barking and patrolmen calling to each other. The Institute shone in the center of the island, surrounded by black trees. The splendor that united on it was so strong that it damaged the building in its reality and gave imaginary life to its walls, the gleaming of a mirage. Lucius eyed him like a marksman sure of his mark at long range. He held in his hand the small transmitter he had taken with him instead of the phonophore and, looking at the dial, had his thumb on the contact. One could now see figures the size of ants on the stairs of the institute. He waited a moment longer.

Strange, he thought, when it comes to killing with clocks and abstract combinations, I have no scruples. It can only be because evil is natural in people like Calcar and spiritually potent in me. He turned to Antonio, who stood by his side: “Antonio, look again at the place where you languished. Even dungeons are not built to last. Watch out for!" The house with its windows and portals suddenly seemed to light up from within; the pillars and facades enclosed its melt like filigree. Then the gable broke, and splitting it a blue flame with a white jagged rim shot up to the firmament. The spectacle was dazzling, followed by darkness. Only after a few seconds did the eyes regain their sight in order to

392

saw a column of smoke rising from the spot where the Institute had stood. She rose to great heights and crowned herself in a cloud that soon overshadowed the island. Doctor Mertens' intelligent shack had exploded into atoms and then died out like a bad dream. The sight of the jet of flame had flashed through Lucius with unexpected pleasure. He now felt supreme, figurative certainty and judicial splendor in the elevation that bestows immense power. The collapse of the institute was followed by a period of horror, then the hustle and bustle broke out again. The island seemed far more crowded than had been expected. They turned in haste to the landing-place. On the slope the ground became slippery and treacherous; they had fallen into the mushroom gardens, in whose surface the lights were reflected ominously. There were also pauses between the cliffs and in the gorse bushes—mainly because Antonio's strength suddenly began to fail; the ensign and costar dragged him away, half dragging. The advantage of all of this was that, thanks to the signals Mario was firing, there was no doubt about the direction. So they arrived at the landing place, exhausted and out of breath. "The end seems to carry the load," Winterfeld said to Lucius, pointing up to where the missiles were converging. "Yes, we are identified." The crowd was complete. He had the boat pushed into the water, which now shone like poured silver.

As soon as they were afloat, they drew in the oars. Mario left the engine running while Lucius drove. Above all, they had to distance themselves from the island, because the straight journey to the watchtower led along the beach in a fatally close proximity.

393

Lucius therefore steered out into the open sea. He felt a sharp pain in his right arm, as if a fire had singed it. Antonio Peri seemed to be declining rapidly; he was stretched out on the ground. The light was so penetrating that one could see the rocky bottom of the sea. Visible from afar, the boat cut into his mirror like a disc. As it left the shelter of the bay, it was also illuminated from the ground. A strong thrower, which was flashed up from the dungeon tower, caught it first; he was followed by weaker ones from the coast. Lucius had seen the image too often, both in target practice and in combat, to be uncertain of its outcome. As if under magnifying rays, the target began to drench itself first with light, then draw smoke, and soon it splintered into the night, and a thousand eyes around watched greedily and complacently. He turned to deviate — but that could only be an extension of the hopeless endgame. Meanwhile, things took an unexpected turn: the Vinho del Mar watchtower entered the fray. The proconsul's eagle, illuminated in red, became visible on its peak, and in rapid succession projectiles sprayed from its slits towards the Casteletto. The big spotlight went out. The chief fireworker interfered. He must have been anxiously awaiting the opportunity, but it seemed, to Lucius' astonishment, that he also fired near the boat. It had to be special missiles that he used; they drove hissing over the surface of the water and columns of fog rose from their tracks. Soon the bay and strait were shrouded in thick haze. The men who had already dawned straightened. Lucius too felt the serenity that intoxicates the heart when death touches life. The old spray devil had opened his magic box at the crucial minute; he always had surprises in store. He was reliable. He was well known among the troops, and this meeting would add a new leaf to the legends that swirled about him. What defines the soldier

394

and what is expected of him is basically simple, and Sievers was born with it: to be in the right place at the right moment. The fire had dissipated and then died down entirely. Lucius set course for the Watchtower. They docked without incident. The chief fireworker awaited them on the beach and greeted them with great cordiality. Lucius thanked him. "Well, Commander—what do you think of my crackers?" The boss will be very pleased.« "It doesn't hurt if he finds out that you're not quite on the scrap heap." "Count on it."

Lucius had Antonio carried into a vault of the tower and stretched out on a couch. There was no doctor present, but even a layman could see that the Parsee was on his last legs. The body showed signs of severe burning; the pattern of the smock was singed onto the skin. The Chief Fireworker examining him looked at Lucius. 'We made contact; I think I was touched too."

381 "Let me see, Commander." Lucius bared his arm, which was very red. 'You're lucky; They were only touched. I told you that the clothing only prevents contact and does not protect against radiation. But it weakens the effect. You should have taken old Sievers with you, who knows these tricks."

395

The chief fireworker went out to fetch a bandage, which was provided for such cases. Lucius was left alone with Antonio. The dying fantasized; it seemed that he was walking in gardens of fire. He restlessly plucked stalks out of the straw on the bed. But then calm seemed to flow into him and his face cleared. Lucius knelt by his bed and stroked his hand. He asked: "Antonio Peri, do you hear me?" Antonio nodded without looking at him:

'Oh yes, I hear you. I hear your name like it's on a ship.' He felt for Lucius's hand. 'Thank you, dear friend. Thank you that Iheremay depart. It's much better than that place of terror. You don't know what that means to me." Like one who remembers, he added: 'They have taken Budurs; I leave them under your protection." Lucius approached his ear and whispered: 'You may be sure of it, Antonio. I know their worth. We also recovered the items from your escape chamber — including your logs. Let's taste the laurel potion." Antonio shook his head. 'The laurel potion is bitter - I shied away from it. I warn you. Those who seek intoxication grub in the forecourts of death and around the dark entrances. I have spent my years surrendering myself to the dominion of the demons - thus I necessarily arrived at that residence of poison. Then I was handed the bill for the festival in the red glow.” The terror seemed to overtake him again; he clung to Lucius' arm. The words now took on an imploring character: 'That's over; I paid back in the same coin. I must now think of the things that alone are still important. Since you rescued me here, there is still hope that I can go to those

396

be buried in a way that only guarantees salvation. Be careful what you will do with my body once I am divorced from it.” He approached Lucius's ears with difficulty and spoke in a low, clear voice: "I will stay with him for three more days before I break away from him completely, when the hour has come to set out on the great, perilous journey. This is the period in which the demons are particularly powerful, especially the horrifying corpse-fly Drug. I can only pass them if the ceremonies are performed accurately. See to it that my body is wrapped in a clean linen cloth, so that no drop of rain will touch it during the crossing. They must then entrust him to the care of a priest, so that the sacred texts can be read in my ear. Then he is carried out to the towers for the prescribed transformation that does not harm the purity of the elements. What we call life dwells in the foam ruled by deceit, passion. Here only the shadow of the high images from the cosmos falls. They become visible to the spirit when the physical eye sinks into nothingness. Human love is only a fleeting symbol. Knowing this, we insist that the body be utterly annihilated, and without touching the unsegregated. We loose the chain and let the perishable in its circle.

Lucius had been listening intently to the words, which were gradually fading. Now he carefully raised the dying man: “Antonio, I have heard your wishes and I have engraved them in my heart: they shall be fulfilled. I accept them as your legacy. You will see me in your entourage.”

397

ANTONIO'S FUNERAL

The sun had not yet risen, but it was already sending light ahead. The Pagos lay in the fine morning mist that promised a delightful day. The first rays of the sun would evaporate him. Lucius was standing at the small graveyard at the foot of the mountain not far from Wolters' establishment. No sound came from Heliopolis yet. The fog limited the field of vision, but at the same time it evoked the feeling of closeness and seclusion that prevails indoors. In its dampness, too, the sounds were clearer and more intimate than in the clear air. Thus Lucius also heard the murmur of the prayers as if next to his ear, although the group from which it emanated was just visible. She was standing in front of a whitewashed chapel built in the Parsi style with wavy windows. After the persecution, a Parsee priest withdrew to this building, which was situated in proconsular territory and near the towers; Lucius had entrusted Antonio's body to him on behalf of Budur Peri. After the days appointed for the service of the dead and its rites had elapsed, preparations were made for the burial. Lucius kept a measured distance; at this celebration in particular, the magical concern for everything that concerned purification was particularly great. He had thought long and hard about the suit and then, despite some misgivings, opted for the uniform. The sight of them might bring a sense of security to these downtrodden, especially Aliban—that was the priest's name. The Parsi entourage was dressed all in white—the men kept strictly separate from the women. It was not numerous, for it could

398

composed only of those who had escaped to the prince's territory after the sack of the upper town or had lived there before. Lucius watched the spectacle with watchful eyes; he had hardly slept since the operation. Also, the burn hadn't turned out to be quite as harmless as Sievers had thought. But the fever gave him the pretext to retire at will to attend to Antonio's legacy and Budur's concern. In between came the reports and meetings. Then the prince had demanded a personal lecture from him.

The chief was greatly pleased with what had happened. He felt confirmed in his belief that strong and well-delivered blows are better than pinpricks. The bailiff had retreated and had not dared to resume fighting in the town area; that was a sure sign that he considered himself weaker. At noon, which followed the undertaking, he had the Central Office send a note to the proconsul, which the chief replied. The reply was in the style of 'cynical regret'—the only prose the Central Office could appreciate. The emergence of gangs of robbers portended police failure, if not worse. The fire of the institute is painfully felt; the nature of the materials stored there makes the possibility of self-ignition almost a probability. On the one hand, the commander of the watchtower acted in self-defense and, on the other hand, "supported the crew of the Casteletto with fire". In this connection he alluded to the shooting of prisoners in the fortress courtyard. Then came the usual suggestion of setting up a committee of inquiry, which Phares, the commander of the regent cruiser stationed at the missile port, was recognized as impartial. He well knew that Phares refused such requests. the commander of the regent cruiser stationed in the missile port. He well knew that Phares refused such requests. the commander of the regent cruiser stationed in the missile port. He well knew that Phares refused such requests.

The bailiff left the note unrequited and vented his anger in the Central Office-inspired press. The boss, on the other hand, let it

399

print a rather undisguised telegram of congratulations from Dom Pedro to the proconsul in the decree. The same number shared a number of promotions and awards. The chief fireworker could add a ribbon to his medal bar, the award of which presupposed "an independent decision in front of the enemy." Calcar, Mario and Costar were also listed. The boss was particularly satisfied with Winterfeld. He had changed his mind about him and earmarked him for a patent out of line. As for Lucius, he suggested him to the prince for a holiday in Burgenland. Lucius was content with that; he hoped in this way to be able to bring Budur Peri to greater safety beyond the Hesperides. He could not shut himself off from the reasons that spoke against her remaining in the palace, however dear and indispensable her physical and spiritual closeness had become to him. He also felt that he really needed rest. The enterprise that had spread security and well-being in the palace left a bitter aftertaste in him. The discord that increasingly paralyzed him was not banished by actions. They probably required the impartiality of the young Winterfeld, who saw them as adventures in which the heart cools. Lucius was depressed by the darkness of these images and their criminal streak that left disgust. It had to lie on the whole, in the way the question was asked, and it necessarily communicated which side one took sides and which solution one was striving for. One had to become mechanical, automatic, like old Sievers and like the ghosts in the palace in general. These diadochi battles lacked the trait of greatness; they dragged on endlessly throughout history. But the spirits were inescapably under their compulsion. It was foreseeable that the prince would never rise to the status of divine right and, at best, would climb with his paladins to heights around which terror reigned. The old freedom had vanished from the world, and those who still wove in their dreams were soon taught a terrible lesson. Where was a way out in this labyrinth?

400

Translated from German to English - www.onlinedoctranslator.com

The sun now began to glow through the mists from Red Cap, waking up the colors and the voices of the birds. The murmur of the praying stopped; it was superseded by cries. The body was carried out of the chapel and carefully set down by the porters, the nasasalars. The priest followed him. According to the prescribed custom, the dead man, who was completely wrapped in white cloths, was exposed to the gaze of a dog. Lucius remembered the glass bracelet Budur Peri had given him and broke it in two with his hand. After the priest had touched the corpse with a frond dipped in nirang and blessed it, the porters picked up the bier again and slowly walked up the mountain with their burden. The mourners followed, first the minister, then the men, and finally the women, in pairs with their hands tied with kerchiefs. They kept a distance since the corpse, like all dead bodies, was ahrimanic. Lucius also accompanied the train. In this order they passed through the gate of the gardens that surrounded the burial ground. The downfall of the people had not yet become visible in their splendor, which shimmered gloriously in the morning. The lawn was freshly clipped and the mist, now turned to dew, glittered on its green. Hibiscus bushes and groups of tall trees alternated. From their leafy islands rose the bright pillars of the eagle palms and the red candelabra of the flamboyants. Striped butterflies and flower kissers hovered around the large blossoms that opened. Father Foelix's bees also got their first costume. They strode through these early gardens as through a forecourt of delicious delights on an arched path stamped with brick dust. He was surrounded by large shells and rose, on bamboo

401

bridges leading over the water veins of the mountains to the heights. The target was visible and the entourage halted.

Whitewashed, glistening in the sunlight, the towers of silence had appeared. They towered up in lonely heights as flat truncated cones like burned-out craters. The sight attested to her name; an awful silence fell within their sphere of influence. In the foreground rose the two towers of the men and women, and at their side a smaller one reserved for the children. A fourth structure was listed behind it, rectangular, for criminals who had suffered the death penalty. The pinnacles of the Death Towers were surmounted like silver helms by dark quills of feathers. The eyes were particularly attached to this crown, which shaded the rim of the craters like ash fluff.

The porters now walked towards the men's tower with the stretcher. As soon as they stepped into the open space, the crown of feathers began to move; the gaze recognized, as in the unraveling picture puzzle, that it was formed from a ring of mighty birds that had been dreaming there in silence. Now, scenting the meal, they brushed it off its pedestal. They swung up in wide circles and floated as a dark cloud over the burial tower. Lucius felt his blood run cold; the horror of death was compelling in this picture. No custom of the people represented so nakedly, so inexorably the fate of the flesh. The porters had opened the great gate and carried the body inside. They would now lay him on the stone bench and with hooks tear off the shrouds that clothed him. Swarms of vultures had also risen from the other towers, and all had united in a ring that slowly circled and flew over the place of sacrifice. Then the funeral attendants returned from their posts. They had hardly closed the heavy door behind them when the birds spiraled down on jagged wings and, as if sucked in by a whirlpool, tumbled down into the interior of the tower. Now in their fangs and in the pasture of their beaks was what Antonio returned-

402

had stayed. But he had begun the great, cosmic journey and penetrated into the crystal world, whose adventures were recorded in the Book of the Dead. He had overcome the pain and also the last lust with which the spirit sheds the red-slit cloak that clothed it on earthly pilgrimage. He left them to the flesh for a horrid robbery. The senses had merged into meaning like colors into royal white. The tower lay dazzling like a calcined furnace in the sunlight. He gave the impression of a crude monument in an extinct world. The great, the only mystery seemed to surround him, which has occupied the human spirit since the very beginning and to which it seeks an answer in religions. Legions have passed thus, in tombs, in tombs, in catacombs, in sea floods and in flames that burn to ashes, and you too will one day stand before this gate. This is the only safe, the only fixed point on the path of life; and no system or practice is tenable that he does not master as a pivot.

The priest Aliban dismissed the entourage; he also waved to Lucius. On the way back, the gardens seemed even more wonderful and flowed deeply with vitality. Its foliage was dense and tender like green velvet, the red paths shone with the greatest splendor. Like bells, like laughter, like the sounds of flutes and music boxes, the voices of the birds mingled with the concert. The swarmers stood motionless in front of the blossoms, whose calyxes opened to them, in the nectar glow, in the dream of love. The scents came off in fine swirls, like colorful flags, like leopard patterns - vanilla, nutmeg, heliotrope. A deep hum trembled through the world of flowers. The spirit of life, the magic of this earth no longer seemed separate; Feeling was everything and woven through things and beings like waves of a river at the wedding feast.

403

Lucius was not unfamiliar with this collapse of life when a dead person is carried out. It was as if the eyes had looked at a black cloth and then turned to the colors. The tones, the lights, the scents were mixed with resurrection splendor. It was as if the dead had donated a legacy, as if conveying a glimpse of the high joys beyond sight. So it was not a robbery if you willingly surrendered to the magic.

Antonio had reached the goal. He had achieved it in the way he considered essential to salvation. And Lucius took the joy that flowed through him as his thanks, as a sign that the crossing had been successful. He thought again about the play in which he had taken part. What was the concern of abandoning the corpse to the low-life world, and parting from it so glaringly, so visibly, and what lay behind these rites that the people of Heliopolis detested as abominations? It was in them above all that the reason was to be sought which made the pursuit so inexorable and which favored the pursuit of the bailiff and Doctor Beckett among the rabble. Lucius had in his night talks with Budur Per! often touched her faith too, although she had almost completely outgrown his dogmas and most customs. The peculiarity of the teaching lay in the fact that it embodied dualistic knowledge in the purest, most indispensable way. The division of the universe into good and evil, into light and shadow was seamless and complete; it remained always present and conscious through a wealth of magical rules and purifications. Life in its natural interweaving remained thoroughly evil and in darkness. It was therefore meritorious to seal it off from the world of light with white robes, holy belts, strict austerity and abstinence. So when the spirit, which had inscrupulously made the body its abode, parted from it, evil became that

404

Ahrimanic in the corpse absolute. Hence the concern to separate him entirely from the purity of the elements, and to offend neither flame, nor water, nor air and earth, by his touch. Life, thought Lucius, would be a kind of mildew, a leprosy that grows rampant on earth, and where it grows to the highest level, in the human body, most wicked? If you considered reasonably what these magicians were claiming, the thought didn't seem so absurd. In the end, man remained the real plague, the cause of mischief in this world, which reveals itself everywhere more perfectly and happily than where it desecrates it. Humans would then be the bearers of death, the dark points in a sea of light. In contrast, the elements in their purity would be the bearers of true life and its sanctifying power. Without knowing it, we would be surrounded by torrents of abundance and eternal happiness. A drop of water, a grain of sand would be mightier than we, which a Demiurge devised for his whim, for his Gnostic game. No, the thought seemed entirely worthy of being dealt with, if only so that one thoroughly changed one's perspective and, so to speak, saw oneself from the outside of the living as the dead. As for the fullness and superabundance of the elements, he reflected further, they were themselves dug up by our cold eyes and their technique. They scratched matter like Alaedin's lamp and were dazzled by the immense brilliance. They saw the stellar power working in the cosmic vault as if through fine cracks in the wall. To the cold senses, of course, it can only appear as an energy that surpasses all energies. If we had the faith of those poor people whom we smile at, then she would probably be revealed to us as an eternally inexhaustible safe of goodness, of the powers of love. But we scoff at their crude pictorial writing, while they despise us at how cheap it is. Yes, knowledge and faith must unite to see true glory. But that's how people are

405

not procure; we do not find power and love in the same breast.

406

THE NIGHT OF LAUREL

The logbook was on the table. They had looked again at the passages dealing with the laurel potion. Lucius put down the glass he had been using to study the scriptures. "It remains strange that Antonio was able to dare these excursions into the spiritual world and its dreams, which testify to great freedom, and that at the same time he remained attached to the rigid, magical rites."

“That is almost automatically imprinted through upbringing. My uncle hardly thought about it. Rather, I like to see it as a balance of freedom — the toll paid on the inexplicable. There is great power in following fixed rules, in prayers prescribed in the wording. She doesn't allow doubt or dissatisfaction to arise. You will therefore also find a lot of happy people with us. On the other hand, of course, arrogance.« Budur Peri gave this answer by engaging with the tea. The cat Alamut was stretched out on a chair, purring. The little vial stood on the table, festively framed by hemp and laurel leaves. Lucius felt recovered. The wound left by the harsh radiation was healed. Days of fever lay behind him. He had kept her in Budur's company. He also occasionally visited Ortner in his garden. Multiple fruits were now ripening. The departure was fixed. He would take Costar, Donna Emilia, and Budur Peri with him in one of the proconsul's little planes that rose from the Pagos edge. Theresa, whom he had taken into his confidence, had issued him blank passports. This experiment remained. The expectation was probably exaggerated,

407

tized by the conversations they had had. In his life there were many ascents into the unknown; the prospect had often disappointed. It could also be that the essence had become stale in the meantime. Antonio must have overestimated their impact. So there was no harm in looking at the company with irony at the same time. It doesn't matter, the evening would not be wasted in Budur's company. He had been delighted by the insouciance with which she had accepted this suggestion. There was much childlike in her, joy in adventure, in intellectual play. It must have been in her blood from Antonio's side. The risk of the illustrious intoxication presupposed imagination. He felt the need for that kind of partnership; Winterfeld's company had brightened the night in Castelmarino for him. In the unbroken astonishment of the companion, the confusion was caught and clarified as in a mirror, even the horrors of death were bridged. Such companions often acted as amplifiers of one's own tensions. In addition, one lost the feeling of loneliness. They did not stop at the unknown and the strange, as one otherwise only entrusts to diaries. They went to the limits. With that, the reluctance to open oneself up to them in the dangerous and outlandish, on those paths and loops in which the spirit seeks contact with the unknown in bold experiments, also disappeared. Curiosity, the curiosite surnaturelle, remained the last flowering branch on the tree of faith that had dried up. There were two great magic gardens on this earth, that of spirit and that of love - was it impossible to unite the two? Then the spirit had to be filled with sensuality, love spiritualized. The greatest poets had attempted this and necessarily pushed forward to the threshold of annihilation, to Romeo's wedding morning, to* Isolde's love death. That seemed just as closed to people as the connection between good and power.

408

The pot steamed in the thermal ring and Budur filled two tiny cups with tea. Lucius turned off the nebulizer. He dripped Antonio's prescribed dose from the vial onto the drink, on whose mirror it sprayed like a green mist. “The dose doesn't seem particularly scary. But there are poisons which, in still smaller amounts, bring death.” They drank and felt a slight bitterness. "Drugs are the key - of course they won't unlock more than what's inside us." "Yet they may lead to depths otherwise barred." "They melt the sealing wax." "The Tree of Knowledge carries multicolored cargo." Lucius leaned back. »I feel strangely light today, almost weightless. That may have something to do with the fever, maybe also with the fast that Antonio prescribed for us.” 'Fasting,' said Budur, 'is always good, especially abstinence from meat. I therefore also find that Christians do not have access to the finest that religions can give; they live in a world of slaughterhouses. All evil emanates from there.” "The Parsis also enjoy meat." "Not all. I didn't think of her either. But in our homeland we have cults from which sufferingeveryonecreature is seen, and who lack bloodguilt. The lotus flower is purer than the lamb.” Lucius considered her words. 'You may be right. Christianity is not one of the religions founded by princes. Man is mightier than kings. At supper, dip your hands in the blood of the lamb

409

with me The Christian stands more firmly in existence - for him life is not a dream, not an illusion, as Buddha teaches. He knows the truth that man lives from man—that is the fundamental law of the earthly economy. But he leads it up to a highest point. Therefore, the way for him is through actions and not through pure abstinence. But the goal may be the same. Then nirvana and eternal bliss would be two headings on the same portal.« "Do you think animals can be saved too, Lucius?" »I believe it and clarified this belief in a long conversation with Serner, who shares it. I believe that no mosquito is lost. I also believe that the worst of criminals will enjoy eternal bliss. This also seems to be the opinion of Father Foelix, but he does not express it. He accepts purgatory, but excludes eternal damnation. He considers purgatory to be the mightiest invention of divine economy, and the parable of life in general.” "What then could oblige us to be good?" 'That is also the question why Father Foelix cloaks his insights. His silence is educational in nature. He regards good as a grace rather than a merit. We are necessarily good or evil according to the place assigned to us. Evil participates in the world plan as in the light of shadows; when it has fulfilled its course in time, it flows into the original source, losing quality. The advantage of evil lies in the fact that it grasps the mechanism of this world more sharply, while good senses its metaphysics. For this reason, like light and shadow, power and love cannot be identical in this world.« "For our teaching," said Budur Peri, "they are not so in the afterlife either. Good and evil balance each other in perpetual change and immiscibly.« “Therefore your priests are also magicians, and therefore you have purity what we have love. Christianity knows this rigidity

410

not. It is still fluid, and if all the signs are not deceptive, it is pressing for a third will, for a final spiritualization.« Budur grabbed his hand on the table. 'Oh, you are harsh on us poor Parsees and exclude us from love. Lucius—did you love?” »I have loved and been disappointed. The best that love can grant us is a sublime pain. The greatest thing is to sense their splendor from afar, like that of stars that cannot be reached.« Lucius rose and paced the soft carpet. 'I will tell you, Budur, what love can give us. You will have different opinions. I see chance governing encounters, the cosmic moment. Perhaps a light may glow in the distant, like the northern Hesperides you describe. Beauty is deceptive; the bodies are graves in which a traffic light is burning. The Christians saw that right.

What remains is Aphrodite's foam, are iris lights in life's dreams on a wave that rises and falls. Of course, that is outrageous, it is ultimate reality in a world that has evaporated into reflections and empty mechanisms. Here oases still shine in the desert, reminders of the abundance of the great garden that once was and remains beyond. There are still depths here and we are not disappointed diving through the coral cliffs. We find pearls, tears raised into mystery, banners of eternity. But the pain that revolves around the moments remains terrible. We bump into time and its limits like crystal mirrors, and any hope of physically penetrating them will be in vain. But that confronts us directly with annihilation.

The great poets saw this rightly: where the encounter approaches the absolute, it will necessarily be tragic. If we venture out from the chill of the colored fringes - -"

411

He stopped. 'I feel myself getting restless, as if a stranger were cutting off my thoughts. Breathing changes. That's scary." He opened the collar that was constricting him and dimmed the light from the walls.

“That could be the effect of the hemp. It was important that I hold the dose. In any case, I want to maintain curiosity and take a supernatural position. No intoxication should be so strong that it conquers me.« He murmured urgently and in a confident voice, as if he were standing in front of a mirror: "I'm in the experiment." He heard Alamut purr as he lay on a red cushion. The beast seemed to have grown larger, more powerful; the yellow eyes shone rigidly and attentively. Lucius turned to Budur Peri. He saw her bright, as if connected to the frieze of light, sitting in the armchair, on the back of which she held her arms. The eyes were wide open, with large pupils; the cheeks shone brightly. A strong, automatic breath rose and fell her chest. He sat down next to her and put his hand on her arm. "Budur, do you hear me?" She answered:

'Oh yes, I hear you. I also hear the terrible clock. Stay with me, dear friend." In fact, it seemed to him as if a swing of the pendulum filled the room, evenly swaying like something polished. Metal. It could be the breath. But it might be a distant gale. The sound was cutting and extremely sensitive, as if it were scratching the finest skins. He seemed to inspire pleasure, but it was so strong that it turned to pain. At the same time the walls narrowed and came close. They became old and cracked, walls of the past, condensed and consumed time. Like a capsule, the gray mortar with its

412

closer to Lucius. In one of these niches lay an otter curled up; he almost brushed his forehead against the animal's upper lip, which was stiffened into a horn. It was exactly the same color as the stone and seemed lifeless like him. Only in the stars of the eyes shone the gleam of deeply imprisoned power. He held his breath looking at it. A narrow gate had been broken into the walls, which was almost covered by ivy and which was surrounded by ferns like eyelashes. They entered.

As if they had opened a crypt, they were greeted by a horrible vapor of decay. The heavy pendulum continued to swing steadily.

Budur pulled Lucius back: "Let's turn back." He looked around; the wall and the gate could no longer be seen. A fine mist surrounded them, which the eye penetrated only a stone's throw away. In this area, however, things emerged with great clarity. He murmured: 'We must go on. After all, it is only a deception that surrounds us.« They walked slowly between trees and bare hedges through a belt such as it encircles industrial cities in late autumn. The mist dripped black from the branches around which the ravens fluttered. A terrible breath of death spread. You could hear the neighing of horses, the howling of dogs, the rolling of wheels and footsteps that dragged along as if under a load. “We must have gotten into a Rendering Shop. There she is.” They were standing in a place where the hedges had been trampled down and the trees felled. Lucius read the sign that identified him:

413

Distribution warehouse 23

I.Section

A mound of pale, spongy matter, the last of the debris, trembled and piled up. The ravens surrounded him in dense flocks; they pulled ligaments out of him. Carriages kept rolling up to that hill with new loads to increase it. They were moved by engines, horses, and also people and dogs. Figures dressed in yellow smocks emptied the contents with hooks. At the same time it seemed as if the hill was diminishing. Chains of porters filled pails, casks, and openwork baskets with his store and carried them off to other mountains that could be seen waving in the gardens. They seemed to hear nothing and see nothing and to be totally lost in their circle, in the senseless perpetuum mobile of death in its basest form. One also had the impression that calling her was extremely dangerous. There was tremendous oppression in these gardens and over the swarm of slaves, but at the same time triumph could be sensed - triumph of invisible powers, of dark princes of decay, who enjoyed and watched the sacrifice with pleasure. The eye gazed into the horrid kitchen of the titan world. It sensed heights on which the spectacle turned into splendour, into high spirits, into a fragrance, and that suspicion was even more depressing. And always the dark pendulum swung away. Lucius felt that even that first image broke him and that desperation overcame him. Nothingness drew into him with its terrible power and great joy as into a fortress that it besieged for a long time. No hero, no knight, no Orpheus could match it. The last triumph was the worm. »I got involved in things that are overwhelming. You are right — we must turn back.” They turned away. The path lost itself in the dull gardens and opened onto a road. The carters seemed to be returning to the city on it; one saw stalls at their edges

414

like at fairs. There women sold liquor and coarse snacks, which Lucius looked at with disgust. The pendulum was now swinging out of town like an evil bell. Budur was cheerful and led him by the hand. It seemed as if she had already forgotten the spectacle that destroyed him. They entered the district of the first houses. The streets were vaulted and their walls lit with a dim, undefined light. This gave the impression of being grotto-like, subterranean. Nor were the houses separate; they were like groups of chambers in a labyrinth. An ominous, oppressive bustle filled these corridors; Sighs and lamentations reached the ears. One had the impression that masses were circling in them and that there was no way out. Images of circles, of the cyclical, also predominated in the chambers, which opened to the view through windows. They saw mill and well slaves turning on tracks whose tracks had gone deep into the stone bed. This spell was reflected even in the implements and ornaments—in cylinders, rollers, millstones, and wheels of every kind. The eye felt relieved when it encountered snails and spirals or the ovals of tortoise shells. The pressure of the great depths prevailed and expressed itself in the style of bloodstone. The circular and hopeless seemed to predominate not only in menial business; it communicated itself to the poets' and thinkers' rooms. They looked into cells in which books and parchments were piling up, and where now young men, now old men, covered papers with ant-like writing—galley slaves whose mood oscillated between empty satisfaction and despair. They let themselves be carried along by the crowds, which seemed to be moving in pure panic. At times the glow of fires shone. One saw glowing inscriptions like "Abattorium", "Spirits", "Freudenhaus". There were also calls that frightened. "The Kolnik is tortured." "We'd rather go to the Puritans."

415

"The enemy is listening."

Drunken and garishly made-up prostitutes crowded in front of caves from which red carpets poked out like tongues. One saw figures rolling in the mud and which the people looked at with blank, gaping greed. Machine voices dominated the tangle. Lucius moved in the carnival with growing horror. The compulsion was pressing and excluded the will. He no longer felt anything that differentiated him, not even curiosity. The pendulum kept swinging; it had taken voice, and he heard the terrible words: "You are that!"

The scenes alternated, in garish excerpts. He looked into a chamber where a man and a woman were looking at each other with expressions of immense hatred. The urgency and pressure of activity drew him away. They passed juggler's booths, opium dens and gambling dens. It seemed to be about more than just money. The passions were painted naked on their faces—terrification, greed, and dreadful triumph. A deep groan was heard, as if the breath of life was drained as the bullet faltered in its course. "They play life and death." In a permanent film, the execution of Damien was repeated indefinitely. The Parliamentary Court had not thought of this tightening. A whole quarter was filled with such show booths. The tribunals were numerous; it seemed that every citizen was now a judge, now an accused, now an executioner. They also passed the Last Judgment, the exit of which was surrounded by onlookers. Judgment had been raised to the ideal level of objectivity and become mechanical; in measured rotation a damned man stepped out of the portal. Here all forms of despair were to be studied - from the bad spectacle of tragic mimes to complete annihilation, from delirium to icy absorption. The Byzantine

416

Tinian Andronikos, Ophelia and Oedipus. The crowd watched the elevator with a mixture of boredom and sensation. That was the worst thing: that the tragic conflict had also been drawn into decay and leveled out. The process had become quantitative: what was important was no longer the rank of the suffering, but the number of those suffering. In this state the lower power became omnipotent; here no one could resist the third degree. This was followed by quarters that are beyond description. The circling motion reigned in all of them, the dull and at the same time alert fear, which at times escalated to panic. Their circulation through these environments took place as in the veins of a great corpse whose cardiac pressure had become mechanical. He led through cells where memories phosphorescent, names of cities, empires and heroes decomposed, and then down into the red weaves Prometheus weaves. The disappearance of the titan world and its wit produced a cold fever that consumed itself in vain like liquid air boils away without leaving a residue in the empty experiment. An infusorium, an infusion animal, a radiolar, created from rotten straw. It had armored itself, but the droplet of life inside had evaporated and the hull agitated in the haze. Now it sank with the myriads, like snowflakes, and pale mountains would rise, monuments of senseless suffering, senseless power. No eye would see her, no ship would steer in vacant solitude. That remained, as a glimmer in a nebula of the universe; perhaps an angel sensed him in the farthest abyss on his flight. It seemed that Budur was not quite as exposed to the attack. That was the great advantage of dualistic teachings - even if they did not embrace the universe with the same strength during the ascent, the world of light could not go under completely in the annihilation. Security was always left behind. That was the basis of the steady

417

and undeterred course through the millennia, which was peculiar to these religions. At first she had given signs of bewilderment, disgust, and fear, but then a cheerfulness seemed to grow that elevated and girded her. Lucius, on the other hand, had sunk completely, struggling laboriously at her side. She led him by the hand. The pendulum had now gained the strongest momentum; the images faded and only the terrible rhythm remained. The ground began to shake and disintegrate like planks over a reef. Zero was reached. He fell; the earth was stony, and the heavens stood iron arched over it. Budur threw herself over him like a mother. She stroked his temples and cheeks like a doll lying rigid. He felt the tears on his forehead like rain that the thaw brings, and kisses melted his eyes. Then he burst into tears too. He saw a light from afar, first as a glimmer that spread gloriously. There was nothing burning in its warmth, nothing magical in its glow. He shared himself in powerful peace with the things he was examining from within. He saw that he was in a wonderful and longfamiliar garden. And new life came into him.

418

THE FALL

The room was dark and the bitter breath nestled in its fabrics. The ornaments of the table were scattered. In regular call the buzzing of the phonophore repeated. But it didn't penetrate the anesthetic. There was a knock at the door. Donna Emilia entered. She looked around in the twilight, dismayed. Then she quietly pulled the blanket over Budur's chest. With an effort she roused Lucius.

'Lucius, the boss asked for you urgently. It's the third time he's sent up." Lucius straightened up. She opened the curtain and let the breeze in. The sun was already high. “I'll order that you've relapsed. That will probably be better.« »Order that, carissima. But add that I'll be down in half an hour." Lucius got up and went through the study to the bathroom. The apartment seemed strange to him, as if he had been away from it for a long time. The water lashed the marble paneling in fine, sharp jets. Costar helped him dress. He seemed dismayed, as if the confusion that reigned in the room had communicated itself to his simple senses. Lucius felt that the security that otherwise woven around him and radiated from him like a fine armor had left him. Theresa rose when he entered: 'It's good that you're coming. You are awaited with impatience.”

She went to open the door and whispered to herself as if to herself:

419

"Careful, the boss is beside himself."

Then she spoke aloud, in an unmoved divine voice: "The Commander de Geer." The door slammed behind him. The general received him standing and turned off the atomizer as he entered. A strong light fell through the tall windows, weaving patterns resembling flowers into the room. A machine voice was heard speaking: »- - - - Hydrogen animals — You may, dear listeners, think of beings that resemble airships of the past, of rigid leviathans that combine gigantic growth with strong buoyancy. You would be disappointed by the sight, for it is more like almost invisible plasmatic formations, bands of cloud, enormous medusae beyond - - -« He also switched off the permanent film. 'I sent for you several times, Herr de Geer. You were indisposed.' He unfolded a narrow sheaf of papers that lay on the table in front of him. "I have questions for you which cannot be delayed: there are allegations against you." He picked up a sheet of paper and scanned the marginal notes; Lucius recognized the battle report he had written in the Vinho del Mar watchtower right after Antonio died. 'I have checked your instructions in detail during the course of the operation and have come across inconsistencies which need to be clarified. Your order was carried out after you had secured the blasting in the institute's library. They stayed in the building for almost twenty minutes. How do you motivate the delay?” Even though the room was so bright, Lucius heard the question through a fog bank. He held himself up with difficulty and had to think. The material struck him as remote, historical, and unrelated to its condition. He said:

420

'I felt it my duty to make sure the explosion didn't endanger bystanders. In fact, that was the case.” The General put the paper back. “In doing so, you not only endangered the company, but also the team entrusted to you — you just missed those twenty minutes. It can be described as a miracle and only thanks to the prudence of the chief fireworker that the whole squad was not destroyed at sea. Without your hesitation it would not even have been suspected.” 'Noted by all means,' objected Lucius. "We met the guard as soon as we entered." 'It was a malpractice not to have him knocked down at once. Besides, the objection is unfounded.” The general began to lose his cool; the otherwise almost invisible scar that ran down from his left eye to his chin became fiery. The logical breach Lucius had made in his answer seemed to upset him more than anything else. 'Let us not concern ourselves with the retouching, which I will admit you did quite skilfully. I want to get straight to the heart of the matter: you knew exactly what you were looking for in the building and what you were endangering your people for. You knew the reasons for deviating from the plan which had nothing to do with your assignment - they were purely private.' He picked up another document. 'You were already confusing private and official matters when I sent you to the Central Office after the assassination. You let it be known that the liberation of Herr Peri and his family was in the interests of the prince. You have jeopardized subordinates and service vehicles in this action - - -" "I was just bringing in my personal entourage."

'Please don't interrupt me, Herr de Geer. You also disposed of the rooms allocated to you in the house in such a way that

421

which I disapprove. You must have been in a state of delusion, in which you not only disregarded the prince's absolute trust, but also neglected the most elementary caution." He slapped a stack of red registration sheets held in place by a staple. “And that in a section where the utmost caution was required. You must have been beside yourself. Otherwise you could not have fallen into the clumsy trap Mr. Beckett set for you. He also questioned you thoroughly.” He spread the red leaves. 'You took into your confidence a stranger to the palace to discuss matters which are kept very secret, even forgetting the security. They let them in on the plans against Castelmarino themselves. It can be described as a miracle that the importance of this part of the conversation apparently escaped the attention of the listening stations. But he gave them material for subsequent assessment." He picked up a new file from the table: “That's evident in this note that came in here last night. I shall give you the Central Office's view.' Using his glass, he read the text: 'To Headquarters Proconsul, urgent. The addendum to the note on the attack on the Toxicological Institute in Castelmarino states: The valuable suggestion that this crime could have been a gang of robbers was checked here. The investigation led to the following results: A group of war students is suspected of being the perpetrators. The well-known commander de Geer has been identified as the leader and originator, who apparently gained influence over the young people by abusing his position. The plan is traced back to the commander's Parsi mistress who shares his apartment. He was on the liberation of an Antonio Per i

422

created, the uncle of the said mistress, who had been imprisoned in Castelmarino for drug trafficking. In fact, the commander managed to seize this prisoner at the cost of considerable destruction and human sacrifice. Antonio Peri died soon after; the commander attended the funeral. Twelve photograms of the surveillance service are enclosed as documents for the files there.« The general stopped reading and said: “It was, however, one of the most surprising pieces of writing that I have come across in my career. You put us in a special light.« He added: “This is followed by an extradition request, which is initially directed against you and against von Winterfeld. That's no solution, of course — we might as well deliver the keys to our safes.' Then, thinking: "You knowmuch."

Lucius felt an icy feeling at the words. It wasn't so much the hidden threat that frightened him as the distance that spoke of them. They showed that he had entered the world of objects for that clear mind with which he had much connection. But he saw that it was pointless to justify himself. He felt scattered; the clear voice, whose sentences joined together like rails, put him to sleep. Now he heard them close with a light tap on the tablet: 'How should I sign my death warrants without knowing that our cause is as clear as water? I don't tolerate defilements." Then she continued measuredly:

“First, I relieve you of your duties at the War School. I've been dissatisfied with the way you've run business since your return from Asturias. I must leave the rest to the prince's decision. Also must

423

I request you to remain in your rooms until this decision has been made." If I keep quiet now, he'll offer me a brig, Lucius thought. He said without raising his voice: “I will come and go as I please. In questions of honour, I am entitled to report directly to the Prince. I have reason to doubt that he will adopt Doctor Beckett's views." The words did not fail to impress. The boss seemed to see that he had gone too far. It was not customary to go into the order of Burgenland and the equality of the inner circle that resulted from it. She seemed strong but invisible. He concluded: “The fact that you are à la suite of the army and occupy your apartment as the Prince's guest obliges you to be particularly tactful. I will take his orders. I'll give you until midnight to get your affairs in order." He nodded and Lucius bowed. Theresa led him out.

The first night watch was relieved. The tank cell's consumator was glowing; Lucius had burned papers inside him. Theresa signed the list of items destroyed in this way and received the others that reverted to the boss. It mainly concerned the cipher keys and secret directories. The phonophore remained in Lucius' possession until the prince's decision. After giving her the roll of flammable files, he also handed her the key to the cell. The heavy door remained unlocked.

Theresa gave the lists and papers to the secretary, who carried them downstairs. Then she shook hands with Lucius. she was in

424

Evening dress, which Lucius found a charming move. In these matters he felt a sensitivity new to him. In the afternoon Costar had handed over the apartment to the intendant of the palace; the books, carpets and pictures had already been removed. At Lucius' request, Halder had handled this business for him; Melitta and Mario supported him. Lucius had already said goodbye to them. Mario now resigned from his service; he should return to the force. The house ghost Alamut, with whom Costar had driven into Ortner's garden house, was also missing. He set up the new accommodation there. After that brusque conversation, Lucius had felt the need of good advice. He immediately fell for Ortner, who not only knew the mechanics of the palace inside out, but was also superior to it. He was Proconsius' human and artistic adviser, his friend, and with his gravity he counterbalanced the general and his military-political speed. Luckily he found him in the aviary. It was easy for him to develop things that he had been unable to even suggest to the boss. Ortner listened to him carefully. Then he asked him a few questions that showed he understood both sides of the matter. Like this one: "Did you know, when you were trying to lead the detachment, that Antonio Peri was a prisoner on Castelmarino?" 'No, master, I only found out when the preparation was almost complete. But I will admit that it was only from that moment that the undertaking made sense to me. Added value. The two plots ran side by side, and I found myself able to do justice to each in its own logic without detracting from it. I may have been wrong.” He also added: 'I don't think that changed much in the course of the action. Rather, it was as if another formula were being uttered that would change them substantially but not actually.

425

died. So I would have examined the building in any case, and Antonio's liberation is also objectively justified. Basically, what the boss resents is that I brought feelings with me—feelings that he cannot judge.”1 "That's probably correct," said Ortner, "and I therefore see no solution in the prince trying to settle the case in his capacity as a bargaining chip. That would only take him into his higher mechanics and entail consideration of facts indivisible by such means. It can be foreseen that the boss will be right in any case and that the facts are on his side. You have encountered one of those core differences which, when they become visible, can only be resolved by separation. I have foreseen this for a long time.' They went over the details. Lucius asked the proconsul by a note, which Ortner took with him, to be dismissed from the service. The master initially offered him and Costar an apartment in his garden house. They then reported to Budur Peri to inquire about their wishes. She thought of asking Aliban for shelter, but there were some things against it—the narrowness of the home filled with refugees, the hatred that clung to that priest, and above all the living of the law that Lucius was only able to think with reluctance. There was no room for Donna Emilia either. Ortner found a way out; he remembered that there was an apartment for rent not far away. It was a pavilion from Wolters' establishment. The painter had lived there, but in those days he had moved into the studio on the outskirts of Pagos, which the prince had set up for him. Lucius knew the cottage; he had often visited Halder there. It was enclosed by high hedges, with a terrace overlooking the sea. It provided comfortable space for Budur Peri and Donna Emilia, as well as Antonio's legacy. He called old Wolters. Since he knew him as a confidant of the proconsul, a phonophore conversation was enough. Ortner made the necessary arrangements for the move. After

426

As dusk fell, Budur Peri left the palace. It was the last trip Mario took on Lucius' behalf.

So the afternoon and evening had sped along among the shops. Meanwhile the fever had returned." The insidious and unpredictable nature of such wounds was well known. Lucius felt a deep melancholy that deepened with the dusk. He was sitting at the bare table on which the inventory lay. He waited for Ortner, who wanted to get him, and thought about his situation. He was not displeased that the break had come so unexpectedly. The cut was painful, but it freed him from tradition and its chains, from an existence that had become fundamentally untenable. The armor was broken and with it the dark pride. He had lost the aura of power, the sanctity that surrounded him and gave rank in the palace. What remained strange was how the attack then immediately followed the weakening - this spoke for his view that every visible event was invisibly preformed within. The hollow form was created; things poured in. Thus the wine took the shape of the goblet. The moment he, Lucius, recognized the cellars, the bowels of the Titan world in the reflection of the hemp, Doctor Beckett tightened the noose. But both were only a descent into one's own depths; ultimately one met oneself, the old Proteus, who formed the world and its cities like dreams. The last and strongest opponent that one had to kill was one's own ego. To a Beckett, too, the sometimes terrible, sometimes wonderful: "That's you." One should be grateful to him as well as to all evil and all pain. They contributed creatively to the ideas.

427

The boss was undoubtedly right. A mathematical aura emanated from him; the will transformed itself into logical figures. But if he, Lucius, had not stepped out of that spell, he would have, he felt, trivialized the accusation. But now he was at a point where conversation had become impossible. He could no longer tie in with the webs. They had become too rude; the delicate and almost unconscious sequence of decisions, the delicate contrast of fate, could not endure being spread out in the glaring light. So silence was preferable, even if it came across as guilt. He also felt secure in his cause, but there are types of justice and probably also of honor that are mutually exclusive. The defeat was undeniable; the bold vault had collapsed. The two pillars no longer supported it. One had been erected in him by his early teacher, Nigromontanus; it was listed as a hieroglyphic pillar. This had been a last knower descending on the world from the ancient Indo-European highlands. There the splendor of the priests and kings was still undivided. He knew the symbols that evaporate into patterns, into digits, and then into quantities in the course of science - into sheer acceleration. He knew the power of the word ruling the world directly and without instrument. It carried within itself the spirit of the old buildings whose tracery and foundations stand the test of time. Although he lived a poor life, disciples had gone out from him who, thanks to his keys, could learn cosmic treasures, How had Father Foelix come to shake that influence? It was probably the encounter between kindness and love that had taken place here - love was the stronger, but unpredictable power. Christ was stronger than Plato, than Socrates. One saw this in the fate of all these kingdoms that stood under the cross; life in them was more moving, more touching, but less definite and always led past the abyss. At times Lucius had hoped that Heliopolis would return to its former glory, its solemn dignity

428

of magical cities, where a supreme, initiated knowledge moved life like clockwork oscillating on sapphires. Those were moments when he hated Christ; the Galilean had destroyed that possibility forever. He continued to work as the fundamental revolutionary power on this earth and would overthrow every building, every temple that was founded on earthly prosperity, earthly happiness. He had transcended the focus of the story. He had introduced a stranger to her. Man had become unpredictable; the old equations no longer worked. To calculate it, one was in the palace as in the central office and in Mauritania! tried with great art. But it was ice palaces that were created. They only lasted one winter.

The second intact pillar had been built on the old homeland, Burgenland. From there came the good inheritance, the strong, morning-fresh sense. He could not account for how this innate feeling of security had fallen away like armor in the dull activity of that night and how at the same time pain had become visible to him as a cosmic power. This brought a new sensitivity. It was probably certain that Budur had a hand in it. She was the medium through which new powers unknown to him were realized in him. In this encounter, for the first time, the sense of distance that separated him from other people and of which he had been proud was lost. Perhaps that was the salvation, because the heat had relentlessly diminished and the air thinned as we climbed into the crystal world and in the foreboding of its unearthly palaces. The smartest understood that. Ortner once said to him: 'We must always fear that we shall not see you again, Lucius. There are degrees of suicide where the gun is not required. If you were born in the last century, fate would have reached you. You must turn back.”

429

Yes, the encounter was strange and different from all others. As a psychic suitor, he was used to looking through his partner and aiming at the absolute as through a magic glass that Aphrodite had polished with her art. This is how one drinks wine, and good wine with double pleasure, which is felt on the tongue and then in the head. In contrast, what was fleeting contact? But he connected to the great love of the world. Here the process was reversed. He aimed from afar at the near, personal. He had met Budur in the spirit and magic room, had become at home with her as with a sister who, with a silver belt, was also immune to the thought of touch. That made the fuses strong, and the reason that caused them to melt had to be extraordinary. It coincided with a moment in which he gave himself up. Love hit him, mocking his heraldic motto, like a missile. For the first time he understood that he was in need of one person, and of a specific person.

It knocked. Ortner entered.

'You are in the dark, Lucius. This is not good." He turned on the light and sat down next to him. 'Costar has got you a room with a view of the sea across the terrace. You will be satisfied. I hope you will stay with me for a long time.' "Have you seen the prince?" Lucius asked. "I saw him. We walked through the hothouses being prepared for the winter. I could have gone to see him earlier, but I thought it better that way. If there has been a slight annoyance in him, you may be sure that it has been removed.”

430

Lucius gave him his hand. "Thank you. It can be assumed that the chief's report required certain additions." Ortner nodded:

'He was quite one-sided. Although the prince depends on clear spirits, he keeps them in the rayon. He also consults the left hand.” “This is the heart side. I had the impression that the reason for the break-up was welcomed by the chief."

“It suited him,” confirmed Ortner, “because you removed yourself from the system. They already differed in the Asturian reports. Then he considered your influence on the war students increasingly sinister. Ruhland's appointment in particular must have rankled him. These are differences in metaphysics.« 'Yes, of course,' said Lucius. 'He wants to introduce metaphysics as a tonic to strengthen his crew. With such a base one digests greater amounts of violence. He resents me for taking things more seriously than he intended. I admit that Ruhland was not up to it. He remains an academic.« "The boss says that if you had arranged a second riding lesson instead, it would have been better." 'Perhaps he's right. He can now employ a second head of stables.' Ortler smiled. 'The prince does not wish education to be entirely calculated upon the beaumanoirs and gallifets. In your case, too, he does not share the General's view, although of course he cannot disavow him. Your advocacy of Antonio Peri, whom he esteemed, was in his mind; he approves it. This also applies to the Peri family, although formal concerns cannot be dismissed out of hand. He said, 'These are worries one speaks about privately with one's commander.'"

431

Lucius felt the Master's calm, masculine voice enliven and relieve him. 'I knew well that he would not take things narrowly, not squarely. He's above the law. That's why you carry out the boss's orders, but follow him with your heart." "You can be sure of that," Ortner confirmed. 'He has decided that your departure must be accompanied by an increase in rank. That doesn't seem to bother the boss either." 'Probably because he sees in it a new affront to offer the bailiff. I much prefer it that way too. I have no inclination for dramatic exits." 'You won't be expected to, Lucius. They didn't match your nature, your life story. Others see that too. You are not a rebel and your changes correspond to orders within you. Heliopolis wasn't enough for you. You will rise, unlike before. Much is still expected of you.«

Lucius squeezed his hand. Ortner continued: “The prince welcomes the fact that you are near him as my guest. You are his guest at the same time. He asks you to consider his hunting land and his gardens and stables as yours. Douglas will get your requests tomorrow. Even if you are retiring from the troop formation, he still wants you to remain in his powerhouse.” Lucius shook his head. "It's over. One does not live on as a private person in a place where one has been involved in the power struggle inside the cabinet. That would be a ghost existence.” "Perhaps it is the private sphere," Ortner contradicted, "that will grant you greater freedom, greater realization." 'Not here in the Gulf,' said Lucius. »There are also security issues involved. I can flatter myself that the bailiff considers it a matter of honor to hunt me down and that my head

432

has become one of the most desirable objects for a skull hunter like Beckett. I should have to take refuge with the Mauritanians.” "On the other hand, you are always free to return to Burgenland." Lucius disagreed even more vigorously.

'Oh no, I'll never go back there. I shall never live to see the moment in the crystal hall of my father's house when I exchange this ring for the genuine one inherited from ancestor to ancestor, while my father's corpse rests on the state bed, solemnly surrounded by candlesticks and laren images. I will never step on the red pinnacle as the oldest and true heir, on that porphyry crown over which eagles fly, and under which the fathers are gathered in their tombs as a senate working in the ages. I will never be forgiven for choosing happiness, breaking tradition. I no longer have any claim there.” He said nothing and rested his head on his hand. Ortner got up and put his arm around him.

'You see things in a bad light today, Lucius. You perceive them out of exhaustion. The world is big, and Burgenland is not alone beyond the Hesperides. You'll be happy with your mate in one of the white island towns you love — in one of the ancient sea nests that have never left the myth. Gods are still there - you will see the shape of the elements in their early light, of which only the shadows are effective here in Heliopolis. Where sea and sun shine, where vines and olive trees bear fruit, where even the beggars live in royal freedom, in spiritual crimson, and where an eye like yours catches the spectacle, there the old fountains still spring in their splendor, there they are things still desirable. You should also take Halder with you.

Lucius got up.

433

'Thank you, master. You're right — I'm very tired. The morning may bring counsel. Your company will strengthen me.” Ortner gave him a friendly nod. »On the Pagos one relaxes. We want to leave. Hortense is waiting for us with a bottle of Vecchio. How about we stop at Wolters' so you can see how Fräulein Peri is settling in?' They descended and left the palace.

434

IN ORTNER'S GARDEN

The sun was in the first quarter of its orbit. It had risen above Red Cap in a faint disk, and had not yet dissipated the mists. Yet through her veils the delicate ripples of the sea could be seen, rippling in the breeze. The islands dawned. Under this covering the floods had not yet acquired the royal blue of high noon that gilded the shores. They arched to the vague horizon in dull stone green. Where its surface covered the shallows, it appeared sanded, glassy, interspersed with streaks and silver webs. The dreams hadn't dissolved yet. They were still dormant in the elements; soon they would soar like dolphins. The rays were already burning on the terraces. The crumbly, reddish-brown earth alternated in bands with the light-colored parapet. The gaps were filled with colorful moss and saxifrage. Father Foelix's bees swarmed around the cushions of flowers that hung low. Her hum was dark, like a lowest string being struck; it translated the radiance into innermost comfort. Green lacertes darted across the white wall. The hour had already come when the dark geckons slowly advanced from their burrows. In spring and summer these bastions of lilies were ordered. They succeeded one another in manifold changes of color and form—the species of the cool lands and high mountains followed those of the plains and sea belts, and finally the flamed wonders of the hot forests and thickets. Now they had dried up to the herb and were gathering new strength in the bulbs. On the other hand, what grew on the trellises had gone into the fruit lavishly.

435

The harvest was plentiful and threatened by their own burden. Ortner was standing at the southern edge of the garden, where the wall met the bridle path; he wore a blue linen shirt with short sleeves that showed his tanned arms. He had a tuft of yellow bast hanging around his neck. From time to time he would pull a strand from this store, in order to more closely fasten a vine here, a stalk of almonds or apricots there. He used to appear irregularly and for hours in the garden, which was his recreation, and then return to his reading or his manuscript. The gardener and author's work complemented each other in his daily work; they drew up like counterweights. He said that both are similar as growth from the dark ground, which then in the high light the spirit subdues disciplined figures. He learned and validated in one the other. On the stairway, where the water sprang artfully through the central stone vein, Hortense stood bent over a flat basket. She was in garden clothes, a broad straw hat shielded her face. Careful not to spoil the frost, she spread blue figs on a mat of leaves. Alamut, his black fleece glistening rusty in the light, lay on the parapet and watched her, blinking. He was more comfortable out here than in the palace. Lucius looked at the picture from the terrace. He was sitting at a table whose top had been broken from the pagos rock. The face was unpolished as it had sprung out of the rock. A frizzy pattern, half mossy, half crystalline, was etched by the leachates. A plate with black grapes overhanging stood before him, and next to it a pomegranate, split to the bottom with ripeness. The halves glowed like lips in the full light. A wine glass was half empty. It held the dark country wine that Ortner said turned into pure blood, and he wished Lucius had a little of it in the morning. It stood deep black in the glass, and the sun gave it a purple streak only on the edge.

436

The view of the sea was framed by broad fig leaves overhanging the parapet of the top terrace. A white sugar had settled on their spikes, on which the flies feasted. A delicate scent of balsamic betrayed the well-being with which they spread out in the light. Everything was sweetness, juicy ripeness and supreme lust in this place. He testified for the master, who ruled jovially here and donated abundance. Lucius had recovered well in the first few days. The forces of the southern slope had animated him. Whatever confusion men might create, the flowers, the fruits, the order of the old ground remained untouched. Every stalk, every leaf pointed to creation. The power of the rocks remained, the depth of the wave and its surf power remained. In contrast, the pale city below was like a shell, briefly washed up. Above all, however, the flood of light remained healing, the movement of the great world clock. The hours passed quickly as the star completed the high bulge from Red to White Cap. The rays acted like a tapestry of images on the surface of the sea with its islands and rocky coasts and led them through a wealth of transformations. In the early morning the colors gleamed delicately like glazes made of glass, then they glowed mightily. They faded in the shadowless light of the midday stillness; the rocks then shone like skeletons out of the dark flood. In the evening, the red and yellow tones woke up. Wonderful clouds often lined the sunset. Then the first stars and the colorful lights of the coasts, the harbors and the islands twinkled. The flowers followed this magic circle. They opened their crowns in the morning and turned them towards the sun. They attached themselves to their path like colored mirrors. When they closed their calyxes in the evening, the nocturnal species awoke—the pale and violet umbels, the phosphorus. The scent of lavender and orange blossom married the cooling of the rock. The life of the plants communicated itself to the senses in its quiet rule, in its quiet power. The strength of the will that she

437

tensed like tendons, slackened; it was replaced by an intuition of happiness and blessing. It was a state in which the spirit was no longer in need of novelty but in need of repetition. The garden offered a symbol of the powerful calm that Ortner had achieved. He loved the constant in circles, the circles in the constant. The repetition meant a lot to him, the happiness in everyday life and the celebrations in their return. A small country house, a farm in which comfort lived, was more important to him than any construction that the mind can conceive. The growth meant more to him. He rejected the name of conservative, which he was fond of being called, and said that he preferred that of realist. An apple, the embrace of a couple in love, the little joy that you give a stranger is more than any utopia. Every social relationship is really only to the extent that one is capable of transforming it into a love relationship. He did not love the schemes of the do-gooders. The future lies in the fulfilled moment, the world in the narrowest circle. Show me how you live with your maid, with your wife, with your children, with your cat: I will tell you who you are. He loved the trade, the little people, his father's rule. In this sense he affected the proconsul, untheoretically, as a strong, loving friend, by pure presence.

Costar stepped out of the glass door onto the terrace and brought the morning mail. Lucius first opened Budur Peri's daily note that was on top of the bundle. He used to ride to the beach with Ortner before sunset to take a bath and then dine with her at Wolters' establishment. Later they exchanged a brief greeting. She had taken off the Kosti. It seemed to him that she had grown taller and more secure in her posture. Also she wore

438

vivid colors and she radiated merriment. She was ever present to him; the world was newly opened up by them, brought into a new text. Like distance before, now proximity was eminent. He also liked the fact that their relationship was now known and acknowledged. Ortner was always alert for opportunities to bring them together. He sent her flowers and fruits of his garden through Hortense. Whenever Lucius met the prince in the park, he used to inquire how Budur was doing with his usual courtesy. "It was necessary, Lucius, that you be reduced." That's what Ortner had said yesterday when they came back from Budur over wine.

He had justified this: 'The forces that were at work in you were too dazzling; they were clarified to a more humane formula. Otherwise you would have endangered the one closest to you. There are substances that work wonders when briefly touched, but whose proximity causes life to wither in the long run. With them one overthrows cities, but one does not found a house.” A sheet of jagged handwriting reminiscent of a seismograph reading was signed by Doctor Beckett; he asked for an interview in a neutral place. It could be a trap, but it was also possible that there was an offer behind it. The bailiff gladly hired discharged army officers into his service—especially when he knew that they had left the palace in dispute. He appreciated irregularities in the conduit and had a weakness for a criminal past. Also, Lucius was one of the few minds who understood both the scope and the details of the power game in Heliopolis. This may even have outweighed the bailiff's blow to Castelmarino, considering it l'art pour l'art.

An invitation from Mauretania was also in the mail. It seemed in these bodies that he had only lost a round and offered him a new game.

439

Finally he read another message in Father Foelix's handwriting, which he was familiar with, and which had been handed in by Melitta. The Father urgently invited him to the Apiarium on Sunday. If anyone here knew a way out that promised real gain, it was this one - Lucius felt it well.

440

THE BLUE PILOT

The day was bright and in the chasms of the mountains it was scorching hot. It was the time when the grape harvest began. It often brought summer glow. They had ridden up the Dead Gorge to avoid the War School and its training grounds and dismounted north of the summit. Lucius left Costar with the horses and mounted the Klus. It was cooler up here, the breeze played in the spurges and in the green sticks of the gorse, which occasionally had a golden blossom. The sun was at its highest when Lucius greeted the Father, who awaited him in white robes. The monk was not alone; he had a second guest that Lucius knew by sight: Phares, the commander of the Regent's ship that was docked in the missile port. The Father introduced them. They sat down on the stone bench at the dark table lined with silver arrows. Lucius read the inscription: "It's later than you think." The sea was black and sailless; the cliffs rose glaringly out of it. The port lay deserted; it resembled the entrance to a ghost town with its bastions and marble quays. they were silent. Lucius looked at Phares who was sitting across from him. The stranger was dressed in a robe of blue asbestos—the costume of great voyages and intense radiation. She looked like a smock befitting the clearing and works of higher mechanics. The seams were lined with a fine line of gold. A golden mask hung on a string on his chest. A golden ear of wheat also adorned his left arm. It had to be a badge of rank; one also saw others

441

Symbols such as grapes or rhombus branches for the crews. But the number of grains, berries and leaves varied. The pilot's features showed supreme, commanding calm. One suspected unlimited reserves behind her, also the consciousness of an emissary whose mere appearance was considered more important than that of army trains and squadrons. But goodness was also marked; there was no fear around him. The power was concentrated but not strained. It was therefore also missing the petrified, the metallized that it otherwise gives to its wearers. The expression was rather mild, as if shining through him an indomitably strong peace. "He knows the weightless spaces," thought Lucius, looking at him, "our opposites don't exist there." Although the sun spread the strongest light, a special glow emanated from Phares' head. This splendor was known to the people. It was said that the water there was different and communicated radiation.

What was remarkable about the face was the marriage of sobriety and new strength. Reality, certainty, was marked in him. A Viking of the high courses - but he had reached his goal. So many of the blue ships had flared up in seas of fire, in the ether tide. Then others had found the law of navigating the limitless. They had thrown themselves into the abysses inside the projectiles in a rational curve. So they must have found the wondrous realm that Fortunio and the Bergrat dreamed of—the realm in which the earth turned into treasure and knowledge into power. They found more than they were looking for. Knowledge was like a drill in hard rock that had at last struck mighty veins. They had the . Speed increased to those degrees at which it passes either into annihilation or into rest. Something of the triumph lived on in them, of the memory of a turning point like that at the Red Sea. According to Serner, they had invaded realms where the curse of the apple did not cling. But, as I said, there were also theories that the change, which nobody could hide,

442

purely to the water, the food, the light in the new space. It would be strange, said Taubenheimer, if such effectsnotshowed that the miraculous lies rather in the happy character of the mutation. But what actually happened remained the secret of the regent and his men. It seemed at times as if they were developing orders at very distant points, as if in retorts, and that they regarded with a sort of astronomical reserve the loose web of Diadochi states left behind by the Syrians after the meeting.

In all of this, something of the spirit of descent remained in them, of that last risk with which man, having calculated his calculations and not hoping to return, throws himself over an enormous rampart towards nothingness.

Father Foelix spoke: 'Much has happened since we were last in this place, Lucius. I asked you up because your fate worries me. Ortner reports that you want to seek refuge beyond the Hesperides?” "I don't know," Lucius evaded, "if my affairs are of any importance to Captain Phares." "Don't worry about that," said the Father, "because it's because of you that he came up today." The stranger nodded. His voice was both commanding and pleasant. Compelling was the right word. »I had to visit the Bergrat and I took the opportunity to ask the Father for this meeting. You have been well known to me for a long time from his conversations. It is one of my duties to enlighten myself of the powers and men of this city, when

443

Of course, the interest we take lies primarily in contemplation.« 'That,' chimed in Lucius, 'is incomprehensible and disturbing to us. Every hope has been pinned on the regent ever since he left. He is regarded as the bearer of invisible power, and it seems incomprehensible why he does not want to transform it into visible power. That would be the wonderful solution. His silence is interpreted as contempt.” Phares listened to him kindly. 'You mustn't forget why he left and that the first big attempt failed. In the meantime, his power has grown beyond imagination, and nothing stands in his way of realizing the order he believes to be right. But he sees the failure of the first world empire in the fact that it was based on construction and therefore fell apart at the seams. There was much that was Babylonian in it, also the delusion of Leviathan. He could turn the world into a colony, but he is not tempted by a regiment that contradicts his idea of freedom. So he has to wait for things to sort themselves out and for the keys to be handed over to him. On the way back from the Towers of Silence, they contemplated whether there might be points where power and love meet, and thus touched the mystery.Fatheraway."

Lucius later, reflecting on the conversation, was amazed that he had failed to notice this strange turn of events. But there was something familiar in Phares's voice, almost soliloquy. He said: “I believe that this direction has already been given. If the regent surrendered, he should be sure of every majority.« 'It's not a question of acts of will,' replied Phares, whose features had touched a smile at the words, 'one can want the good, one can even want it unanimously, without it being enough. This only leads to fleeting results. The real decision is more important—regardless of whether it is made in all the millions

444

or in a single breast. It is more valuable to us to determine the irrational than the largest number.« He gave Lucius a meaningful look and then continued:

“You will ask how the irrational can be determined. This brings me closer to the issue that brings me here, even if I have to limit myself to hints.« "I'll try to understand you," Lucius said. 'First of all,' Phares began, 'I'll touch on politics as the crudest means of world domination. In a city like this, experiments take turns. Doctrines and prescriptions are applied to them like examples of division, and ever new parties hope that the division, in which they assume the denominator, will succeed without remainder. That is impossible, and they therefore feel compelled to use force to correct the result after the operations. So it happens that the best theories often lead to terrible practice. It's as if the spirit seeks revenge for the severity of disappointment." "That is all too true." "We now want to assume that the real truth is hidden in the indivisible, in that residue which always remains as the source of new disturbances. This is what distinguishes human states from those of bees, as our host looks after them.” At the same time he pointed to the bee hives and continued in his speech: 'All right - the unresolved will always become visible in individual figures, and it is precisely through this that their relationship to the whole, to freedom, becomes apparent. I mean those who have risen to the highest points and who realize that there is no way out. In them the nameless crowd of sufferers becomes conscious — in bold spirits who despair, in heroes who tragically perish.”

445

He was silent and only the buzzing of the bees filled the solitude. Then he continued: “We also want to assume that there is a power that has higher solutions. She would then have to turn to those for whom the old examples didn't work." "That would be the exact opposite of the Mauritania's technique." The stranger nodded.

'Quite right, the essence of this Order is that it believes the world is measurable at any point given sufficient distance. For this reason, its selection is aimed at the coolest computers. This assumes that there is neither freedom nor immortality - nothing divine, in a word. This is the only way to justify the interplay of the geometric and automatic characters on which domination rests. It requires thoughtful killing. In return, man enters destiny as an autonomous entity. He chose the time. But we insist on both liberty and immortality.”

"Then it is to be assumed that the regent renounces means similar to those of the Mauritanians?" "He would even prefer the bailiff's intelligent bestiality to them." "Is there also," Lucius asked, "an evaluation by my old teacher Nigromontan?" Phares answered yes to this question:

“We know and appreciate him. We see his intent in saturating the surface with depth so that thingssimultaneouslyare symbolic and real. Thus the apparition covers her imperishable form like a shadow, like a colored skin. Therefore, he had a particularly strong effect on the artists. He introduced a new beauty into their works and exaggerated their realism. As adviser to a prince, he would found cities of great splendor and enduring — cities with flat roofs and towers like cones

446

are cut off. It is no coincidence that he was in Burgenland so often. We prefer other cities to these ancient royal residences, even at the risk of sometimes consuming them in smoke and ashes. The immortality of cities is not in the masonry. It shall not grow out as a crystal.« "So you want to renounce the plan, even if superior wisdom rules it?" “If he endangers salvation, yes. In this case it is better that man should live in huts and caves. Therein lies our real difficulty. We do not want to intervene in the developments. Nor can we say the solution, because this solution is only right for the one who has found it. That is the reason why the regent also does not allow spiritual means and spiritual superiority to appear. It is to be found in the high view that he has of man. There is greater hope in pain than in the gift of happiness.« Lucius considered those words. "If I understand you correctly, do you count on the dissatisfied?" “We count on them like any power that wants to break new ground. They are the key to every change and the reserve that is always eliminated. Since our goals are important, however, we seek a supreme dissatisfaction—the dissatisfaction of the spirit, which, having traversed all paths of possibility and exhausted all attempts to live, finds itself confronted with the hopeless.” 'PromisethisSatisfaction?” Phares answered this question in the negative:

“Only God could do that. But we promise them new tasks. We believe it is possible to pull an elite out of the world that pain has formed. It has isolated itself in the struggles and fevers of history as a substance with a hidden will to heal. We try to catch it and develop it, in order to then feed it back into the body as a

447

higher and meaningfully clarified life force. This is also how the regent's departure can be explained - as a farewell with the plan to return." He was silent and looked at Lucius searchingly. Now he lowered his voice:

'Politically speaking, the Regent intends to prepare a new government to present when all the players have had their turn and failed. What is new about it is probably the selection that his speakers enable him to make.« He nodded to the Father. »In this respect, too, he proceeds according to the old rules of politics, that above all he considers failed existences to be suitable for the new approach. But he seeks those who failed in the stratosphere. He approves of Zarathustra's teaching, according to which man must be overcome by the superman. He does not see them ethically, but in terms of historical necessity. The next step is that the superman is also to be overcome by failing because of man, who gains higher power in the encounter. This is a circle that is unavoidable.” 'Yes, I understand,' said Lucius. "The pain cannot be spared."

The sun had dropped from its zenith during the conversation. The colors which they had faded at their peak began to revive, the humming of the bees awoke. The sea, losing its dark tinge, gained azure depth, and bright sails appeared. The cliffs caught shadows; it was as if a variegated rust clothed them and thus brought them closer to the eyes. And the city also began to gild itself; the populous quarters and the palaces gleamed warmly. You guessed it

448

light touch of the waves that beaded on the moles, and behind them, like a strip of purple, the avenue of the flamboyants. The light gave up its absolute dominion, the dazzling of the heavenly palaces; it communicated itself to the shadow, and so its brilliance deepened. It made the hems and edges glow for the mortal to feast on. Phares watched the spectacle in silence; his eye rested on him with princely lust. It seemed as if he looked at this town on the Gulf, the old seat where so much confusion, hate and misery spun, as a homeland that one finds again, as a place of play in early games: as a mother's ground. Then he picked up Lucius' comment: 'You are right - the pain cannot be spared. So there are things which man may recognize as true, and which he nevertheless only conquers when he has penetrated to their core through pain and error, through guilt and atonement. It is like the bold experiments the mind devises—they only become compelling when experience has realized them.” He pointed down at the city, whose golden outlines were now bordered by violet. 'If logic and ethics, even if pure wisdom, had formed these figures, they would be of too rigid a beauty. The error of the weaver, the trembling of his hands only reveals the deepest patterns, making them unique and unrepeatable, as befits transience. Cities must not be absolute, they must be parables. Man can only want what is imperishable; he is lost when he thinks he is perfect. He would sink to the beast, to the demon, to the magician, to the terrible well-being of those zones that are forever excluded from salvation.” He reflected and added, correcting himself: “Not forever, of course, but as long as there is time. God alone is eternal, and there is nothing but him.” Then he concluded:

“That's why the pain and struggle, the blood, the tears are inevitable. But is there another hope

449

linked to the regent and his influence. He could raise awareness of the process and reveal the brotherhood that underlies all differences. The unity as technically conceived by the Mauretanians —it would then emerge as moral, recognized by a new nobility not founded on blood.” These were thoughts that had often occupied Lucius, but something else, something more plausible, emerged in the lecture— the intuition that a spirit was about to put them into practice. He now heard the blue pilot's voice become urgent, fully turned towards him: "That would be the meaning of the course, in which the regent does not only regard himself as a giver - since at the same time the beginning of his return is hidden in him. I can only hint at that. We seek, as if for high school, spirits who have passed certain tests, and our merit may be that we recognize the state in which they are. Our hope depends on the selection. This brings me to the question for which I asked Father Foelix to arrange this meeting: are you prepared to place yourself in the Regent’s service without further explanation, M. de Geer?” Raising his hand as if to prevent Lucius from answering too quickly, he continued: 'We know your position - it is that of the conservative spirit which failed in attempts to employ revolutionary means. The old homeland is closed and the movement has become unbounded. In this state one turns to the untouched realms, both within and afar. We have what you are looking for and Father Foelix will confirm it.” The one thus addressed nodded:

'I know your secret story too, Lucius. It portends big changes. But you must decide freely about your path.« they were silent. The sun began to redden deeply; she had now soon reached the White Cap. Lucius looked at the cloudless fi-

450

wait. The immense depth frightened him. He felt the power of the call. The imperative lay precisely in the unknown. He shivered. He turned to Phares, whose glow seemed to increase in the evening glow, and said haltingly: “I think I get the meaning of the reputation, though I'm not worthy of it. There is no choice here. But I am not alone; there are others who depend on my fate.” The stranger smiled and exchanged a look with the hermit. Then he answered: 'We've thought of it. But you must remember that not everyone is able to accompany you. This is already true physically and far more in other respects. Meanwhile, it will reassure you that Budur Peri fulfills the requirement. You have chosen well. It is inseparably attached to you who can go there with you.« Lucius felt a deep joy at these words; it was as if the great distance became familiar to him. Shoulder to shoulder they would pass through the high gate whose threshold they had reached on laurel night. He heard Phares continue: "Otherwise there is only one of your circle who we recognize as being equal to the journey and its goal." "I think I can guess," said Lucius, "it's young Winterfeld." Phares affirmed:

'He is intended to be your personal companion. You may know that your war school work will bear fruit, though it will ripen in different climates than you expected." Lucius got up. "I'll speak to both of them--as for me, I'm ready to serve." Phares had stood up too; he gave him his hand. Lucius felt the touch rush through his shoulders like a strong current. "You will find a good master."

451

The Father hugged him. He was moved. Then he invited her to the hermitage for bread and wine.

452

THE FAREWELL TO HELIOPOLIS

The port had not yet awakened. The bastions and the palaces that surrounded it stood silent, as if uninhabited. A cold, rosy glow lay on the obelisks, and the distant echo of the fountains falling into the stone pools still echoed the coolness of nocturnal squares. The flame tree blossoms had fallen overnight; they lined the avenue like a red, waxy shadow. It was the time when the winegrowers left the last grapes on the vine so that the dew would complete their ripeness. The red rectangle that bounded the missile port at night faded and the day marker emerged. The Marble Wharf, railless and unconnected to the land, jutted into the district. Where it cut, a dark band divided it. A large clock rested on a pedestal. Lucius looked at the dial. It was of such size that you could see the movement of the hour hand. On the other side, when they would have crossed the dark equal, the new time symbols should light up. They stood in a blue group surrounded by friends and clients who escorted them to the threshold — Lucius with Budur Peri and Winterfeld, and next to them Phares, who was waiting for them. They now wore the same clothes as the pilot and his crew, but they were adorned with only a single grain of wheat, to indicate that the great voyage was about to begin for them. They were completely in new costume and had also taken off their jewellery, even their signet rings.

The news of the new assignment had been less of a surprise than he'd thought. Rather, it was received as a solution to a riddle that, albeit unexpected, makes sense. They were satisfied with her, even if for different reasons. The prince and Ortner had greeted them. the boss

453

it was agreeable to the bailiff and also to the other political powers. She clarified a piece in a chess game that could confuse because it stood between the fronts. "You know a lot," the chief had said to Lucius. It was knowledge that endangered. In general, the move was viewed as a promotion, but for others the impression of uncertainty and adventure prevailed. They seemed to see it as a last resort, a departure for a new America. Little was known of that world.

Winterfeld had enthusiastically welcomed the prospect of accompanying him. Lucius had seen him almost every day during this period of preparation, mostly at Ortner's or at Wolters' establishment, sometimes also at Phares and at Father Foelix's hermitage. He had become acquainted with him and had recognized his innermost being—above all the pull towards boundless distance, which coupled with over-intelligent insight, so that the impression arose of a rapid oscillation between embers and frost. The condition was still young, still without means and threatened self-destruction in a limited circle. Yet Phares had judged him right in that he was a match for the high Light and the narrow Spirit-made bridge over the horrors of the abyss. A mitigating factor was added to these powers: artistic sense and fine education, which in the line of generations had become the second and finer nature. It was peculiar to the family and had already distinguished the early ancestors, the hero of Rothschloss and Hohenfriedberg, to whom it traced back.

Lucius had visited his friend in Wolters' garden the night after meeting Phares. As he noted to his delight, she embraced the new solution as both more decisive and more sensible. Various reasons contributed to this, including

454

There was probably also the disgust that the persecution had left behind in her, and that made the greatest distance from the places of terror appear to be the best. But then she welcomed the prospect of wide activity for Lucius' sake, and she confessed that she had been troubled for his sake at the thought of idling beyond the Hesperides. “You would have renounced your commission for my sake and you would have chosen luck. We will not return to the old gods with impunity—neither to beauty nor to law.” Here he saw again that Budur Peri was Antonio's niece. Physically delicate and full of the fears that fill children's dreams, she was strong, almost invulnerable in the mental realm. He had found out on Laurel Night. There what had been armor and hardened horns had failed him, but what had come out in her from the inside out had stood the test. Antonio had been lured to the archipelagos, the banks of fog that form in the radiance of the inner cosmos, to then condense into hoards of immense treasure, the throne of the loneliest thought, and arenas for adventures such as only the imagination creates, and like them are superior to all phenomena. The jungle, the desert, the oceans—he had searched for their formulas within himself. Like others the philosopher's stone, he had pursued the magic wand in his mind, the baton that, when raised, makes the world sing. He had failed on the big tour.

At Budur there was much more warmth; she carried them with her like a bird in feathers. She also lacked the trait of solitude, of magical self-enjoyment. She was dependent on sympathy and companionship, on partnership. The image of the island beyond the banks of fog that she had sketched corresponded to her - the longing for lively and harmonious substance. It flowed from her like a spring, that was why one felt comfortable around her. She loved the music. She knew gratitude. He hadn't forgotten her in pursuit; she had him on the verge of

455

annihilation halt granted. He had found a point in her that made loyalty meaningful in the midst of the dazzling movement of this world. The adventure world faded - what could be stronger than the meeting of two people. Father Foelix had united them. Now she stood at his side, not far from the dark ribbon that cut the quay. She was very beautiful. He saw her take the flowers that were handed to her by friends. She pressed them to her breast and threw them on the waves, still pale green in the night, against the parapet. It was also time to say goodbye to the flowers and their splendor.

Phares had prepared them for the journey. They had often been to the Apiarum, which afforded complete solitude, for the regent did not keep a house in Heliopolis. The preparation did not refer to passports and customs papers, nor was it of a hygienic or psychological nature. She did not go out for special consecrations. Rather, she aimed at elevating the dream to a new reality by pointing out encounters with strong images and strengthening the body, especially the eye. It was a course in imagination and its dominance. The initial role played by asceticism among the Mauritanians and the theory of surfaces among the Nigromontans was here assigned to gravity and its overcoming. This was knowledge that was safer than any visa - an identification of an existential kind. It could not be acquired through teaching; the proximity of Phares, his handshake was more important. He worked as a fluid, as a communicable genius. He seemed to wake up organs that one had suspected but which one had not been able to control. The attachment was remarkable - as if through a vein, a root, through which the other side, the positive connection of the great current had to be reached. The

456

The amazing thing was the simplicity of the process. Then there came a sense of abundance, and with it merriment. At times he himself had been afraid that this cheerfulness would grow too quickly, too violently. He had refused the farewell parties they wanted to give him and limited visits to those that were absolutely necessary. The boss was cool, measured, impenetrable; To sign off, Lucius had put on the green hunter's garb for the last time. She wore the insignia of the new rank bestowed on him by the prince. The chief hadn't returned to the argument; he had thanked him for his cooperation in measured formulas. What was important to him was what was on the card, the knowledge of numbers and measurable power. In it he aspired to perfection. What deviated from this was unclear, ideological and brought confusion to his circle. He only allowed the indefinite in retrospect, in the past, as a Burgenland tradition. So buildings might be founded upon the unhewn rock, but the angle where one was at work should rule. With Lucius' scabbards, the days of war school experiments, which he considered decadence, were over for him. He had appointed the head of the cartographic department as his successor. Basically he was concerned with keeping the prince free from the influence of the ideologues, which he regarded as disastrous and as a weakening. He was of the opinion that all rule perishes in itself and that speculation introduces impotence. For him, power was initially quantitative, which demanded strict limitation to the will. The qualities might then appear, like blossoms, but after the victory. You behave differently in a race than when you have reached your goal. The prince, on the other hand, although he regarded him as his righthand man, was broader and richer in scope. Lucius had always seen this and felt it again that evening when the proconsul received him at the chalet to say goodbye. As always, the fine one had him

457

Touched by courtesy that pushed the limits of magic. As always, he had also noticed the strain of suffering that went with it. He was marked by the contrast between artistic and knightly freedom and the compulsion of the times. That made him lovable and testified to Ortner's statement that "ruptures are places of discovery." Did his task seem too difficult for him? Did what was expected of him seem cheap to him? The boss was like a beater who was trying to pass the game to him on ever more open paths and at an ever more favorable distance, while the prince let it pass by with his weapon lowered. Was he expecting a moment of supreme harmony? The dreams of this spirit did not correspond with time. The tiredness, the disgust of the great man was pronounced in him. This is how he felt in loneliness in the smallest circle well. Yet he gave shelter to many who without him would have been lost in the world of lifeless things; he was prince and patron at the same time. Lucius had to thank him too. They hadn't said it, but it was in the last handshake. Lucius had parted from him in anticipation of a dark fate.

Last noon he had visited Father Foelix with Budur Peri. He was the lightest, the freest of all; also he had himselfto thefacing existence that always remained possible. He knew a lot; he had set the turn for Lucius. It was a sign of his strength that he did not influence the faith either. He loved allpeople and sought to strengthen them in their being. He had also found it right that Budur stuck to the traditional dogma. "You are going to kingdoms in which not only the difference between nations dissolves, but in which what is meant bridges the division of opinion like a bow." They had spent the last evening at Ortner's.

458

The first rays of sunshine now illuminated the Red Cap. The marble began to gleam and golden sparks ignited in the green depths. A bugle call sounded from Phares's slender boat. The ship's bell of the "New Columbus" answered. She called for departure, for rising above the palaces that flared up in the early morning light. They would be piloted by Phares. Height and depth would soon be identical. It was time to say goodbye, and probably for a long time. Lucius saw Winterfeld shake hands with his comrades, including Beaumanoir. He saw Budur being hugged by Melitta and Donna Emilia. He turned back to Costar and Mario. Mario remained in the service of the proconsul, and Costar would return to Burgenland with Donna Emilia. He brought the signet ring. Alamut stayed in Ortner's garden house. The master stood between Serner and Halder; the sight of them evoked in him the nights in the aviary with their talks and symposiums. Everyone seemed to think that they were getting closer to fulfilling their wishes and their dreams. Thus the hope of the large hoards resonated in the Bergrat's »Glück auf«. The chief fireworker was decorated with the orders; he seemed to have hope that Lucius would return to the prince with the mighty weapons, the mighty keys of triumph. The Mauritanians and the offices had sent observers. The signs sounded a second time; busy figures could be seen appearing against the blue shadows of the ships. They were alone now. Phares took her hand. They crossed the dark mark and entered the district. Although they were prepared, they felt a faint pain like the touch of a flame passing by. But Phares smiled at them. Then they put on the golden masks. A quarter of a century had passed since the meeting in the Syrten Sea. And it was to be just as long before they returned in the Regent's suite. But those days are far from us.

459