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{{CTD literature
{{CTD literature
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|original language=English
|original author name=Franz Hartmann
|original title=The Talking Image of Urur
|origin=English: Franz Hartmann, ''The Talking Image of Urur''
|read links=[[Lucifer/Vol3/Text|Electronic journal edition in Teopedia]]
|title=The Talking Image of Urur
|title=The Talking Image of Urur
|author=Hartmann, Franz
|author=Hartmann, Franz
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|ctd rus=Гартман Ф. - Говорящий идол Урура
|ctd rus=Гартман Ф. - Говорящий идол Урура
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== December 1888 ==
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{{Style P-Title|The Talking Image of Urur}}
<center>By <span style="font-variant:small-caps">Dr. Franz Hartmann.</span><ref name="v3-p292-n1">Author of “Magic, White and Black,” “Paracelsus,” “Jehoshua,” etc., etc.</ref></center>
<center>CHAPTER I.</center>
<center>THE MYSTERY.</center>
HIGH upon the rocks that guard the western coast of the United States against the aggressive waves of the Pacific Ocean, as they roll in through the “Golden Gate,” stands the “Cliff-house,” a place known to all who have lived in California. There the inhabitants of San Francisco go on hot summer days to enjoy the cool breeze that comes over the watery waste, and strangers from all parts of the globe may be found upon the verandah of the hotel, looking with delight upon the tranquil bay dotted with charming islands, and watching the fishing-boats with their white sails glittering in the sun. Below the railing of the porch, the breakers dash against giant masses of granite that raise from the inky deep their heads, crowned with wreaths of snow-white foam as the spray of the surging waves rises high in the air. At a short distance from the shore, in the midst of the never ceasing turmoil of the infuriated waters, appear two cliffs that have withstood for many centuries the onslaught of the ocean. Upon these cliffs may be seen at all times a great number of seals at play, their bellowing being heard even above the thunder and roaring of the surf.
It was amid these surroundings that one evening, as the sinking sun was colouring the clouds overhead with purple and gold, two persons stood upon the balcony looking over the pandemonium below. One of these was a man about forty years of age; the other a young and graceful lady, evidently of Spanish descent. Pancho – for that was the favourite name by which he was called by the little lady – had the air of a man who had travelled much; he was indeed a cosmopolitan in character. Having lived in many parts of the world, and among different nationalities, he had become acquainted with their habits and learned their various tongues. He had studied the popular sciences, and read a great many books; but he did not believe much in the assertions made by modern authorities. He always wanted to convince himself of the truth of a theory before he was willing to accept it. His master passion was a desire for knowledge, or to express it perhaps more correctly, a desire to gratify his curiosity in regard to the hidden mysteries of nature. He had entered deeply into the study of chemistry
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and read a great many alchemical books, without, however, discovering the way to prepare the Philosopher’s Stone. In the course of time he had accidentally become acquainted with the young and lovely Conchita. Finding her so attractive that he imagined he could not be happy without her, he deliberately proposed, and in due course of time submitted to the irksome ceremony, by means of which two persons of the opposite sex are legally made husband and wife.
Beauty of external form and of character are not always found hand-in-hand; but Conchita possessed both. Her figure was small but exquisitely beautiful, and the raven black colour of her hair formed a strong contrast to the delicate palor of her skin. Her form was faultless, and her manners exceedingly graceful. She was a beauty of such a rare kind that when she was passing through the streets of the city with her black ''mantilla'' thrown carelessly over her head and shoulders, men would stand still and stare, and ladies would cast shy glances at her as if afraid that she would outshine them all in beauty. She was proud, yet not vain; she knew that she was beautiful, yet was modest and unassuming; a most bewitching creature. It is, therefore, not to be wondered at that Pancho was proud of his wife.
Conchita was born in Guatemala. She had been brought up in one of those Roman Catholic convents where girls vampirize each other because they are never permitted to see a man except their old Father-confessor. Under such circumstances the mind creates phantasies, for there is a longing for the unknown in every human nature, and that which is hidden or far away grows in imaginary value in proportion as it seems to be unattainable. The story of the forbidden fruit being the most palatable is not a fiction, and it was, perhaps, a desire to know the true nature of that mysterious and dangerous animal called “man,” which led to Conchita’s acquaintance with Pancho soon after she left the convent, and to her subsequent marriage.
Taking the above into consideration, the philosophers have not yet fully agreed whether this marriage was, or was not, the outcome of selfishness; but our historian thinks that all human actions are due to selfishness in some shape or other, and that an entirely unselfish person, one who has no desire whatever to incite him to action, would be about the most useless thing in the world.
However that may be, it is certain and beyond the possibility of any scientific doubt that Pancho and Conchita lived very happily together. To Pancho it seemed that his wife had no other desire but to please him, and he almost felt his phrenological bump of veneration growing in her presence. She seemed to be fully absorbed in her husband; but he was not absorbed by her, for man’s love is multifarious and vacillating; it comes from the imagination, while there is nothing more simple, and therefore more firm than the love of a woman. Her love springs from
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the heart and goes to the heart, while man’s love seldom penetrates below the surface.
Conchita loved her husband above all other things; but Pancho had many ''loves'' besides his wife. He loved to take aerial flights into the realm of occultism and mysticism; his greatest desire was to lift the veil of Isis and uncover the mysteries of Nature. The planet upon which he lived was not large enough to gratify his curiosity. He desired to know other worlds and other beings than those of this earth; he wished to know the whole of the universe, not that prison-house alone in which he was doomed to live.
Conchita cared nothing for Occultism, but loved to enjoy that Light which she saw with her physical eyes. She knew nothing about what is called “the supernatural,” except that which she had been told by her religious teachers; she imagined that if anything more could be known about it, her Father-confessor, who was a very smart person, would surely have found it out. She believed in God, although she had not the least conception of the meaning of that term, nor of what kind of being this God might be; but Pancho wanted scientific proof of the existence of God before he would make up his mind to believe in his existence. Conchita had an unbounded faith in divine providence and was willing to trust her destiny in the hands of God; Pancho imagined that each person was himself the master of his own destiny, and he required to know all the attributes of God before he would willingly trust himself into his power.
He had in vain studied natural sciences and theology, and consulted the most eminent professors and clergymen, in his search for reasonable proof of the survival of the soul after the death of the body. Doctrines which were positively asserted to be true by the luminaries of the church, were peremptorily denied and ridiculed by luminaries of science; while both parties based their opposite opinions upon equally plausible and logical grounds. Despairing in his attempts to find any human authority which could be implicitly trusted, he began to investigate Spiritualism, hoping to find in this new science the solution of such difficult problems. For once fortune seemed to smile upon him. He found opportunities to witness the most astounding phenomena, from common table-tippings up to the levitation of living persons, and from direct writings produced in locked slates up to the full materialization of corporal forms, seemingly solid human beings, with whom one could talk, who could be touched, and who, nevertheless, dissolved a moment after into thin air, or disappeared through solid walls.
Pancho was in the hey-day of his glory. His longed-for goal was at last attained: he had obtained proof palpable of the immortality of the soul. The spirits of his departed friends and acquaintances had come to him, and spoken about things of the past known to no mortal person, save himself. He received indisputable proof of their identity, not only
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through professional mediums, but through persons who themselves were disbelievers in Spiritualism. Moreover, he “sat for development” in the solitude of his room and obtained clairvoyant glimpses of various kinds. Once, a beautiful spirit, an angelic being of wondrous loveliness, appeared and told him that she was his spirit-bride, his true affinity, who awaited him with out-stretched arms in the bright hereafter, to lead him to her celestial palace, far, far away among the stars.
After a while, however, it turned out that some of his spiritualistic experiences were of an unsatisfactory character. Not that he had been cheated by fraudulent mediums; but that he saw that some of his cherished spirit communications were not in accordance with truth. He began to doubt whether even his spirit-bride was not the outcome of his own imagination. And thus he became sceptical in regard to the origin of the letters received from those that “were gone before.”
The proofs of the unreliability of these “spirit-communications” became more and more abundant as time went on, till at last he became thoroughly dissatisfied with the results of his researches.
It was just at this time that he made the acquaintance of Conchita, and resolved to bid adieu to the inhabitants of the “Summerland,” and to learn to know this present life, leaving the hereafter to take care of itself. He married his bride, and, for once in his life, was happy.
But if the craving for the unknown and the mysterious has once awakened within the heart, it is not so easily repressed. Even in his most happy hours, Pancho could not help making silent comparisons between his love in the spirit-world and his terrestrial wife. These were not quite favourable to the latter, as she was, after all, only a woman of flesh and blood, while the former was clothed in an ethereal form. It need hardly be said that he told Conchita nothing about it, for she was of Castilian blood, and would not have suffered any woman, material or spiritual, to come between her and her husband.
As the couple stood upon the balcony, looking down into the surging waters and the bellowing herd of seals that scrambled over the rocks, Pancho mockingly remarked:
“If I were convinced of the truth of the doctrine which teaches the transmigration of souls, I would be ready to believe that these beasts are the reincarnated egos of men coming fresh from the stock exchange. How they push and elbow each other down there, as if buying and selling shares. Now they have exchanged their human for animal forms, but their characters are the same. Formerly all their energies were bent to outwit each other for the purpose of obtaining money; now each one attempts to push the others down, in order to obtain a standing-place upon the sunny rock. It is the same selfishness acting in them now that was at work before; it but differs in the form of its manifestation. Formerly it was a desire for wealth; now it manifests itself in a more brutal form.”
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“I should be very unwilling to believe,” replied Conchita, “that human souls could desire to return again to this earth once they have departed from it. If I were to go, I should have no desire to return. I would rise above this planet into the region of starlight, and listen to the music of the spheres.”
“Intrastellar space,” sneered our Pancho, “is said to be as dark as pitch, and as there is no air to transmit sound, the music of the spheres, even if there were such, could not be heard.”
“Perhaps there may be another kind of light, and another kind of music than that which we know,” she said dreamily. “Perhaps the senses of the soul become there more refined and need no material air for the transmission of sound. Heaven is said to be a beautiful place, filled by angels crowned with diamonds, and its streets paved with gold.”
“If there were such a super-terrestrial world,” answered Pancho, “I should wish to go there and gather some of the rubies and pearls that are said to be so abundant in heaven. I would then bring them back to you. They would look well in your beautiful hair.”
“Who knows whether you would return,” said Conchita. “You might meet some angel more pretty than I am on your way, and forget all about me.”
“No angel or devil,” exclaimed Pancho, “will ever break the bonds by which our souls are united. Even if I were as far away from you as the earth from the moon, I would not forget you. Love acts independently of distance.”
Conchita seemed to reflect, and then asked: “Tell me, dear, what is your opinion about the nature of love?”
“Why!” hesitated Pancho, somewhat perplexed what to answer. “The books say that it is a peculiar state of the imagination which causes one to think of a certain object.”
“That would probably be imaginary love,” replied Conchita; “but I wish to know how you define the real thing.”
“The real thing!” repeated Pancho surprised. “I cannot see how love could be a real thing; it is merely a state of something which is called the mind; it is a sentiment by which two beings are attracted towards each other.”
Conchita did not seem to be quite satisfied with that reply, for after a pause, during which Pancho reflected about the nature of that thing called the mind, she suddenly asked:
“Do the stars love each other?”
“What a question,” answered Pancho. “Stars are inanimate bodies like our earth. They are composed of chemical substances, the same as we find upon our globe. How can they love each other if they have no consciousness?”
“It seems to me,” she went on, “that they must be conscious, for they are attracted towards each other, and if they were unconscious of
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everything, how could they respond to an attraction from afar? How could that which they are incapable of feeling have any effect upon them?”
“Some German philosophers say that there is no such thing as attraction, but that it is all due to some etheric force which propels from behind, while repulsion is said to be a wedging in of ether particles between two objects. At all events, the interaction seems to be due to some universal substance, and some philosophers say that this substance, or spirit, is an indivisible Unity, but I cannot see how that could be.”
A new idea seemed to have been intuitively grasped by Conchita; for she clapped her hands, and joyfully exclaimed: “Ah! I know. This spirit is a unity, and it is the same in me as in you. I always feel as if we both were really only one. When I am going away from you it seems to me as if I were going away from myself, and I often imagine that in loving you, I am only loving myself. Yes, I am sure we are one. You are Conchita, and I am Pancho!”
Highly rejoicing over her discovery, Conchita broke out into joyous laughter.
“It may be so,” seriously answered Pancho, “but in this case all human beings would be one, and you would have to love everybody just as much as you love me, we could then have no individual preferences. But there is something in your individuality which causes me to love you more than any other being. Will that individuality be for ever preserved, or will it, as the Buddhists say, be dissolved in the universal ocean of spirit? This is the great problem which I would wish to have solved.”
“Why should you worry about such a problem?” asked his wife. “I believe that, when the time comes that we should know it, the mystery will be solved.”
Pancho remained silent.
While carrying on this conversation, the lovers had left the verandah and descended to the beach. The sun had disappeared below the horizon. Dark clouds had gathered, threatening a storm, but the last rays of the sinking orb were fringing the dark masses with silver and gold, with yellow and purple and countless hues, which gradually faded away before the shadows of night.
“How beautiful is the sunset!” exclaimed Conchita, “and how sorry we should be to see its close, did we not know that the sun will rise again to-morrow.”
“Thus it is with life,” was the answer. “When the day dream of life comes to an end, then follows the night. It is said that there will be another sun rise for us, when we return to the earth in a new incarnation, but what will be our condition during the night? What shall we do between sunset and sunrise?”
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“Why, sleep, of course,” retorted Conchita. “Sleep, and dream happy dreams.”
“This idea of sleeping and dreaming does not at all please me,” he said. “A man who sleeps and dreams is not his own master; he neither reasons nor thinks. He is like a boat on the water without a helm, helplessly driven hither and thither by the winds and the waves; they may land him in a beautiful harbour, or dash him against a rock. Who knows where his dreams will take him? They may raise him up to heaven or throw him down into the abyss of hell. What I desire is not to dream, but to retain my own reasoning power, and the mastery over my imagination. I have read of Adepts who have accomplished this; if I knew where to find such men, I would go to them and ask them to teach me their secret. I would discover them, even if I had to go to the end of the world!
“There can be no doubt that such Adepts have once lived, and that they were in the possession of the secret of the Philosopher’s Stone and the true Elixir of Life; I believe that such men exist even to-day. I have read about the Rosicrucians, who were in the possession of such powers. They had a temple called the ''Universal Temple of the Holy Ghost'' where they used to meet, and it it said to have stood in some part of Southern Germany. I have hunted all over that country, but I could not find it. They had an ever-burning lamp that must have been constructed according to principles entirely unknown to modern chemistry, and they could call up the Elemental Spirits of nature.”
“There are undoubtedly people who can do very wonderful things,” interrupted Conchita. “There is, for instance, Juana, who can make spirits appear, but she is a very bad girl.”
“Who is Juana?” asked Pancho.
“A girl from my own country, a very strange girl. She is an Indian, and was captured, when a child, from a tribe of savages in the forests of Guatemala during an attack which the soldiers made upon the Indian camp. She was given into the charge of a sea captain, who afterwards gave her to me because I understood a little of her language. I have attempted to give her an education, but while she is full of tricks she does not seem capable of learning anything useful. She can foretell events by looking into a glass of water, and her prophecies usually come true; but she can also do a great deal of mischief. The neighbours are afraid of her and believe her to be a witch. I once caught her sticking needles into an image of wax representing a person who was then very sick. That person died, and people said that Juana had killed her by her malefice. However, this could not be proved. She caused so much trouble that I had to send her away, and she is now with a woman that used to be a servant in our family.”
“I have read a great deal about witches,” said Pancho, “and I have
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always wished to find an opportunity to investigate such phenomena. I hope you will introduce me without delay to your precious Juana.”
“Take my advice,” answered his wife, “and do not seek to become acquainted with her. I am sure that nothing good will result from such experiments.”
“I am not afraid of her spells,” he proudly replied. “I am strong enough to resist them. I dare even the devil, and why should I fear Juana’s powers if I can, thereby, learn something new? Let us go to her!”
“Your wish is a command to me,” answered Conchita. “The place where she lives is not far out of our way; we will visit her as we return.”
To this proposal Pancho readily consented. They returned to the city by carriage, and neither spoke much during the trip, for Pancho’s thoughts were occupied with the stories which he had read of the Rosicrucians, and Conchita felt that she had committed an imprudence in speaking about Juana. It seemed as if, already, a foreboding cloud had settled upon the two lovers.
It was already dark when they entered the city. Alighting, they dismissed the carriage and walked the rest of the way, which led up one of the steep hills upon which San Francisco is built. Turning a corner, they saw an old Catholic cathedral, whose door stood ajar, and whose interior was dimly illuminated. Conchita asked her husband to enter with her the church.
For a moment Pancho hesitated. He was no friend of churches, priestcraft or pious mummeries. He had not visited a church for years, and did not desire to enter one now. Nevertheless, he followed Conchita as she went into the building. Was it, perhaps, that he did not wish to displease his young wife by refusing to submit to her whim, or was it because even our most fanatical rationalists prefer to see their wives pious than over sceptical? For an arguing and incredulous woman loses much of the charm that characterizes her sex, and a wife who knows too much to believe in religion is likely also to be alert enough to mistrust her husband.
Thus he consented at last to enter the church, which at that hour was deserted. Arm in arm they walked down the aisle towards the altar, and it seemed to Pancho as if the wooden images of the saints posted along the walls were scowling at him reproachfully, as if surprised to see a heretic in their midst. Having arrived at the foot of the altar, Conchita sank down upon her knees and prayed silently, while Pancho stood in the background contemplating the picture.
It was a grand old cathedral, built in magnificent style. If Pancho had understood the symbolical meaning contained in stones, the architecture of that church might have told him more truths than all the sermons that had ever been preached in its pulpit; for the high pillars, massive and solid at their base, spoke of firmness and solidity of
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character, while the soft lines in which the arches curved upwards to the roof spoke of the aspiration of the soul towards the Unattainable and the Infinite.
The church was nearly dark, but through the stained glass of the high-arched window to the right, a ray of light from a lamp in the vicinity of the building crept in, and falling upon Conchita’s veil surrounded her head with a halo like that of a saint.
As the husband watched his wife, she appeared to him a glorified being, and her presence seemed to fill the whole of the building with some invisible but living and substantial power, perhaps of the same kind as that which must have existed in the Rosicrucian temple in the South of Germany. It seemed to him as if a supernatural golden and rosy light radiated from her form, and entering his being sought to kindle within his heart an inextinguishable flame of a nature unknown to modern chemistry. He felt the ennobling influence of Conchita’s soul, which seemed to lift him up on the wings of her own aspirations, and he wondered that such a spiritual being should have united her fate to his own. Perhaps it was the exalted state of Conchita’s imagination that caused him to feel a corresponding vibration within himself, and he began to think that love was more than a mere emotion; that it was a real power. He felt some inexplicable influence penetrating him and it took the whole strength of his rationalistic reasoning to resist the impulse to kneel down by the side of his wife and worship with her: a thing which would evidently have been very preposterous, an unpardonable weakness of which he certainly would have been very much ashamed hereafter.
Conchita arose, and smiled sweetly as she looked into the eyes of her husband.
A heavenly peace seemed to rest upon her soul, while Pancho’s mind was a battle-ground of contradictory thoughts and opposite emotions, whose nature and origin he could not well explain.
{{Style P-Signature in capitals|1=Franz Hartmann.}}
<center>''(To be continued.)''</center>
== January 1889 ==
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{{Style P-Title|The Talking Image of Urur}}
<center>CHAPTER II.</center>
<center>JUANA.</center>
THE two lovers, after leaving the old cathedral, continued their way, and soon entered the Chinese quarter of the city. The shops were lighted with gas, and crowds of people thronged the streets, while in the by-ways and alleys, females of doubtful character, looking hungry, defiant and greedy, were lurking. The great majority of the people were Chinese; from the well-to-do merchant in a silk robe down to the pale and ragged wretches that live in underground holes and subterranean passages, in continual warfare with the police. The nauseous odour of fish and garlic that pervaded the streets was by no means inviting, and our hero and heroine quickened their step to escape to the purer regions, higher up on the hill-side. Soon they reached a part of the city where the streets became more quiet, and at last they stopped in front of a gate leading into a small garden, in the midst of which, surrounded by bushes of jessamine and oleander, stood a small one-storey cottage.
Pancho pushed the gate open. In doing so he found it obstructed by something which proved to be the carcase of a dog, lying stiff and with its head thrown backwards, as if it had died of ''tetanus.''
“This is Mrs. Wells’ pet poodle,” cried Conchita. “It seems as though it had been poisoned.”
They rang the bell and, the door being soon opened, Mrs. Wells appeared upon the threshold. She was a woman of about sixty years, in a white frilled cap. The lamp she carried was held up high to enable her to scrutinize the new-comers. Her face brightened up when she recognized Conchita.
“Bless me!” she exclaimed. “What good luck brings my darling here to-night? Please walk in.”
They entered, and Pancho was introduced to Mrs. Wells. The latter expressed herself delighted, and declared that this was indeed a fortunate ending to a most unfortunate day.
“How so?” asked Conchita. “Has anything disagreeable happened to you to-day?”
“Lots of disagreeable things have happened,” replied Mrs. Wells. “Mr. Hagard the landlord had long ago promised to have these rooms newly papered, but as he never did it, and the hangings were falling down from the walls, I could stand it no longer. So I took a few dollars which I had saved up, bought some paper myself, and hired a paper-
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hanger. But when the landlord heard that the rooms had been repaired, he came in and said, that the house was now worth a great deal more rent, and that he supposed I could now afford to pay him twenty dollars a month instead of eighteen as heretofore. I argued with him and told him that God would surely punish him for his avarice; but he said that he would not compel me to pay more, and if I did not wish to do so, I was at liberty to move out, if I liked. What shall I do now? I am a poor woman, and Mr. Hagard is a wealthy man. He owns two blocks of houses and has millions of money; yet he will not live in a decent room himself, but sleeps in the loft over one of his stables, and climbs into it at night by means of a ladder.”
“He is very much to be pitied,” remarked Conchita, “but has any other misfortune happened?”
“Nothing worth mentioning,” answered Mrs. Wells. “Only Juana has been very wicked. She played with Tommy and let him smell a bone, and when the dog snapped at it, she pulled it away. At last Tommy got hold of the bone, and then she snatched it away from him and he grew excited and bit her. This made her so furious, that I had to let the dog out, for Juana would surely have torn him to pieces!
“The bite does not seem to have agreed with the dog anyhow,” put in Pancho, who thereupon informed Mrs. Wells of having seen the poodle lying dead at the gate. They both went out and brought the body of the dog into the cottage. Mrs. Wells, who was very much grieved at the death of her favourite, said she was certain this was Juana’s doing.
“Where did she get the poison?” asked Pancho.
“That girl requires no poison,” answered the aggrieved woman. “She is poison enough herself. I shall be glad when she gets out of this house. She wishes to go back to Central America, and the sooner we send her back the better it will be for all of us. She will never be fit to live in a civilized country.”
Entering the kitchen, adjoining which was the chamber of Juana, our friends found a dark-coloured Indian girl with sharply defined features not altogether devoid of beauty. Her long black hair hung in disorder over her narrow forehead and her shoulders, as she sat in front of the grate, looking at the glimmering ashes, while a malicious smile played around her lips. It would have been somewhat difficult to estimate her age, which might have been fourteen or twenty-four; but it seemed as though her young body was inhabited by an aged soul. She was partly undressed, wearing a dark-blue shirt and a chequered shawl that but half concealed her form.
At the time when Juana was picked up from the battle field, she was already old enough to be impressed with its horrors. A company of government soldiers had killed nearly all of the tribe to which she belonged; but the officer in command had spared her life and taken her home to his family. Soon after that the officer was himself killed
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and she was taken in charge by a sea captain who employed her as a servant and brought her with him to the United States, where she was found by Conchita, and ultimately placed with Mrs. Wells. Juana had never forgotten the injury inflicted upon her people by the white race, and her heart was full of revenge. She seemed to hate everybody without discrimination, Conchita perhaps excepted; for the latter had been very kind to her and could converse with her in her Indian dialect. Moreover Conchita had promised to send her back to her own country, and she was very anxious to return, dreaming perchance of future greatness and even of becoming the queen of her tribe.
If she had any magic powers, it had never been ascertained how she acquired them. It is therefore, not unreasonable to suppose that she learned their use intuitively, having perhaps practised them in some previous incarnation; for it is said that though the details of some such previous existence may be entirely forgotten, the instincts and talents developed will remain unchanged by death and be ready to manifest themselves in constant increase in each successive existence.
Conchita explained to Juana the object of her visit, and asked her to show Pancho some proof of her art. After a long discussion Juana finally consented. Looking at Pancho’s hand, she said: “This man can see himself, he does not need my eyes.”
She then took a goblet and, filling it with water, uttered some words in a foreign tongue; at last she breathed upon it and bade Pancho to look, who did as directed. The surface of the water appeared at first as clear as a crystal, but gradually it seemed to become covered with a film. An image formed itself upon the film as on a mirror and became more and more distinct, until finally Pancho beheld in it a life-like representation of an event that had taken place in his earlier life. It represented the dying scene of a friend who had many years ago committed suicide on account of some disappointment. All the persons who were then present, Pancho included, were represented in every detail with the greatest exactness. Pancho had never spoken to anyone of this affair; in fact he had tried to erase it from his own memory. But there was another remarkable feature about that picture; for besides the persons standing around the bed of the dying man there were other beings which seemed invisible to the former; grinning Elementals of ludicrous and yet horrible shapes, awaiting apparently the parting of the soul and body. The dying man alone seemed to see them, although he could not speak. It was this that gave to his face that expression of horror which Pancho remembered only too well.
“Well done, my little devil!” exclaimed Pancho. “The image of the past has been correctly recorded. Now let us look at the future.”
Juana grinned and nodded assent. Pancho looked again, and now the face of a saint appeared upon the surface. It was a face bearing an expression of dignity, sanctity, and superhuman intelligence. But
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gradually the features underwent a change; they became distorted, and after a while there stood in the place of the saint the image of a clown, staring at Pancho. It slowly faded away.
“What does this mean?” asked Pancho.
“I do not know,” was Juana’s answer.
Further attempts to obtain any phenomena proved useless; but Pancho was so much pleased with what he had seen, that he proposed to have arrangements made immediately for Juana to come and live at his house. Conchita was evidently none too pleased with this idea; but being accustomed to agree with all her husband’s wishes, and perhaps also desiring to relieve Mrs. Wells of the troublesome Indian girl, she gave her consent. As to Juana, she seemed absolutely indifferent as to whether she was to go or to remain. So it was agreed that a room should be prepared for her the next day at their residence.
While Conchita and Mrs. Wells were talking over the subject, Pancho happened to look toward the kitchen window, and saw plainly the face of a man peering through one of the panes. It was an ugly face, with a brutal expression on it, the face of a man of about fifty years of age. This was all that Pancho could see, for the figure disappeared the moment its eyes caught his glance; and when he went to the window, he could see nothing but the darkness beyond. He thought that it might have been a phantom produced by his own imagination, and then concluded to say nothing of it, thinking it useless to alarm Mrs. Wells.
The husband and wife took their leave, and as they walked homeward an interior feeling told Pancho that he had acted inconsiderately in proposing to take care of Juana. He asked Conchita what she thought in regard to this matter.
“Juana is a malicious creature,” answered Conchita, “but I do not believe she will attempt to do any harm, for I have always been very friendly to her.”
“I expect great scientific results from our experiments with that girl,” continued Pancho. “Science has now arrived at the utmost limits of all that can possibly be known in regard to physical forces, and if we wish to know anything more, we must enter the field of Magic and Sorcery. The mediums of the Spiritualists are almost useless for our investigations; they do not know the cause of the phenomena which take place through their instrumentality. But those rare and exceptional individuals who understand the nature of these mysterious powers, and can produce phenomena at will, ought to be regarded as the greatest treasures of science. In the past such science used to slay its possessors. The science of the future, recognizing their value, will build them palaces and surround them with every comfort. Then, and only then, will it be possible to study those higher sciences which deal with the living forces of nature. Persons possessing such powers ought to be treated like the vestal priestesses of the ancient oracles. They ought to be kept
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away from contact with the vulgar and the ignorant, and not be exposed to any deleterious mental influences. They ought to be surrounded with the most favourable conditions to develop their powers and to use them for the benefit of humanity. Thus we might establish schools of Occultism all over the country, and come again into possession of the science which belonged to the ancient Rosicrucians and which has been lost on account of the ignorance of those who were in power during the Dark Ages. Thus shall we gain the power to chain the Elemental spirits of Nature to the car of science. We shall engage them to carry our letters in the twinkling of an eye from one part of the globe to another, and to give us correct information of what takes place in the bowels of the earth, and the highest regions of the sky. We shall rediscover the art of making gold and silver, pearls and precious stones, by artificial means; of rendering ourselves invisible, and of prolonging our lives to an indefinite period until at last we grow tired of walking the earth like the Wandering Jew and voluntarily retire for a period of repose.”
“Do you believe that there ever were any persons who possessed such powers?” quietly asked Conchita.
“Do I believe it?” exclaimed Pancho. “I am just as certain of it as I am of my own existence. The historical accounts of the wonders performed by the Rosicrucians and Alchemists cannot be mere lies and inventions; and we read in the works of Theophrastus Paracelsus that even an ordinary occultist must be able to take down the moon from the sky and to put it into a bath of water; a feat only paralleled by that of Joshua, mentioned in the Bible. Do you not believe, yourself, that during the mass an ordinary wafer is transformed into the flesh and blood of Christ? Why then should it be impossible to make gold out of mercury? But we will not enter into these subjects; they are too new and strange to be believed by anyone who is an entire stranger to occult science. If you doubt them, please remember that Moses made water run out of a rock by touching it with a stick, and that he was able to transform his staff into a snake.”
“I do not doubt that such things can be done,” answered Conchita. “I have seen Kellar perform just such wonderful things. I saw him make real hot coffee out of shavings and milk out of sawdust, while he transformed cotton into pieces of sugar. You remember also that he made a rosebush grow from a piece of wood; and its roses were no hallucination, for he gave me a rose and I took it home with me.”
“Yes, I know,” answered Pancho. “He is a very clever performer; but these things are all done by tricks. What I want to know is how to perform the genuine thing.”
“Oh, that would be charming!” exclaimed Conchita. “Please learn all about it, and then we can give an evening entertainment. How surprised Mrs. Wells would be if we could make her poodle come back
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to life; and then if we could make gold we could buy that little cottage from Mr. Hagard and give it to her, so that she would not have to worry about the rent, poor soul!”
“These are mere trifles,” answered Pancho. “If I knew how to employ the elemental powers of nature, I would do far more important things. It is said that if we had faith only as a mustard-seed, we should be able to remove mountains. I want to find out what is meant by that expression, ‘faith.’ I have reason to suppose that it refers to some talisman, and if I can get possession of it I will make short work with the canal of Panama. I will level the Rocky Mountains and transform Nebraska into a paradise.”
Conchita looked surprised. It seemed as if she began to doubt the sanity of her husband.
“You need not be surprised,” continued Pancho. “Such things are not impossible, and I have the key to it already in my possession. Schopenhauer says: ‘''The world is the product of my imagination.''’ If I can change my imagination, then I can change the world.”
“The best thing,” said Conchita, “would be to see Mr. Schopenhauer and ask him to change his imagination a little; for it seems necessary that some changes should be made. Where does he live?”
“Mr. Schopenhauer is dead,” answered Pancho; “but I see that you do not understand these things. I will explain them to you by-and-bye.”
During these discourses our friends reached their home, and we will now return to Mrs. Wells and see what Juana is doing. We find her still sitting in front of the grate, and upon the mantel-piece there burns a piece of a candle. She looks at the light and, in a subdued voice, sings a song in her native language; and while she sings the flame rises several inches in the air and sinks down again, its motions keeping beat with the melody. Presently a rap is heard and Juana rises. She blows out the light and opens the window.
When Pancho thought that the face which he saw peering through the window-pane was an apparition attracted by influences that surrounded Juana, he was not far from the truth; for the face belonged to Hagard, the miserly landlord, who for some time past had been in the habit of paying nightly visits to the Indian girl. He had come on his visit to Juana, but ran away when he saw himself observed by Pancho. Now the coast was clear and he returned.
“Who are those people that were here to-night?” he asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” tauntingly answered Juana. “Has the lady with the black eyes found favour with you? Well! Such fish are not for you to catch. You are too ugly for her. It would take stronger powers than mine to make her fall in love with such an ape as you.”
“But who is she?” asked Hagard.
“I will not tell you,” answered Juana.
“Suppose I pay you for telling me?” asked Hagard, drawing a
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gold piece out of his pocket. “Refuse to tell me, I will ask Mrs. Wells.”
“Let me see,” said Juana, taking the gold piece, which she smelt and then hid away. “The lady is from my own country, and I am going to live with her. This is your last visit. You will see me no more.”
“Can you not find means to make me acquainted with her?”
“It would not be advisable for you to exhibit your carcase at her house as long as her husband is there,” sneered Juana.
“Can you not get the puppy out of the way?” asked Mr. Hagard.
“That would not improve your bad looks,” answered the girl.
“Don’t talk to me in that way, I know well that you are a witch. You can do anything, if you only use your powers.”
“If I should ever use them again for you, it would cost you more money than you are willing to pay,” answered Juana. “You are always so poor! You cannot afford to pay anything.”
“And you are always so greedy,” said the man. “Why don’t you get some of your devils to discover a hidden treasure or a good mine? I am willing to pay the expenses and to share the profits with you.”
“If I were to get the devil to do such a thing,” answered Juana, “there would be the devil to pay, and you cannot be trusted, for you are sly enough to cheat even the devil out of his dues.”
“Now, do talk sense,” replied the man, “I want you to assist me in this affair. That woman with the black eyes is just the kind of fish that suits my fancy, and I must have her, even if I had to strangle that knave of a husband and marry her. As to the financial part of the business, I will arrange that with you in a satisfactory manner.”
“I am not used to live on promises,” answered Juana. “Before I do anything for you, I must have the cash in my pocket. It may be that I can put my will into her and make her like you in spite of your looks; but then you will not have her own self: you will only have a part of ''me'' in her body.”
“If I only get her,” he muttered, “it will make little difference to me whose will is inside her. I shall find means to make her do ''my own will!''”
“But it will make a great deal of difference to her,” replied Juana. “You know what were the consequences to the man who shot President Garfield, of letting the will of other people control his mind?”
“I don’t care. You do the job and I will pay the money. I will take charge of the consequences.”
“I will think the matter over, and let you know if there is any chance. But now I want you to leave. I am tired and sleepy.”
“You are a queer girl,” he said, hesitatingly; “but all right. Good-bye!” So saying, Mr. Hagard departed and Juana retired to bed.
{{Style P-Signature in capitals|1=Franz Hartmann.}}
<center>''(To be continued.)''</center>
== February 1889 ==
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{{Style P-Title|The Talking Image of Urur}}
<center>CHAPTER III.</center>
<center>THE CHELA.</center>
A FEW days after the events described in the preceding chapter, the following appeared in the San Francisco “Eagle”: –
{{Style P-Quote|1=Yesterday a special reporter of the “Eagle” was fortunate enough to be admitted into the presence of a highly distinguished stranger from Africa, ''a genuine Chela'', that is to say, a disciple of a ''Mysterious Brotherhood of Adepts,'' living in the most inaccessible regions of a desert in the Interior of Africa.
What he tells about his wonderful personal experiences is truly astonishing and would surpass belief, if he were not a gentleman of ''indubitable veracity,'' of acknowledged ability, and a person of high social standing, having at one time occupied the official position of an honoured personal assistant to one of the most eminent chieftains of Africa; besides being a member of several well-known Secret societies.
But let us begin at the beginning. Information reached this office yesterday that Mr. Joachim Puffer, formerly an officer in the employ of ''King Molobolo'', but who had sacrificed his official position for the purpose of ''benefiting humanity'', and taken up the ''life of an ascetic,'' had arrived at this city, and was stopping at the Grand Hotel. A special reporter was, therefore, immediately dispatched to that place, and gained admittance after the noble stranger’s dinner.
Mr. Puffer, A.B., M.B.L., etc., is a man about forty years of age, stout, with a rubicund face, small eyes and blond hair, and of ''aristocratic bearing.'' His hair is very long, and he wears side whiskers, but no moustache. He was dressed in a checkered suit of grey with black stripes, patent leather boots, a high collar and a blue necktie. He is of noble family, one of his ancestors having been gentleman of the chamber to a king. He is a strict vegetarian and takes alcohol in no shape. His revelations in regard to the Mysterious Brotherhood are truly wonderful, and from what he said to our reporter, we gather the following: –
For thousands of years the heads of the scientists have been puzzled to find out ''what causes the world to move.'' Some thought that it was the law of gravitation, and others imagined that it was magnetism; but it is evident that such absurd theories offer no explanation of the mystery. Mr. Puffer now assures us that the motion of the earth around its axis is due to the supernatural and miraculous powers possessed by a body of Adepts who live in a desert in Africa, in the exact geographical centre of the surface of this planet. By the united effort of their combined and concentrated will-power they can produce the most astonishing effects not only in the atmosphere of this earth, but also in the body of the sun. The proof of this assertion may be seen in the sun spots, a phenomenon well known to our astronomers, and which may easily be explained by the fact that the Adepts are ''supplying the sun with electricity, to keep its photosphere clear''. Therefore is the name by which they are known – the Lunar Adepts. If these Adepts neglect their business, the disc of the sun becomes as full of mouldy spots as a cheese. If they were to stop for one moment exercising their will-power, the sun would become as dark as a crow, and ''the earth would cease to move.'' Besides having this almost incredible power, the Adepts are able to perform the most astonishing feats, which leave those of Robert Houdin, Bosco and Kellar far in the shade. They can eat living snakes, swallow fire and swords, and make a genuine Mango tree grow out of a pine board. If they wished to do so, they could transform all the old iron in the United States into masses of pure gold and cause potatoes to rain in Ireland. They could change the Mississippi river into old Bourbon whisky, and all the sand of Galveston Island into wheat. Our reporter asked Mr. Puffer how it came that there were occasionally famines in Africa if the Adepts had the power to do such things. Mr. Puffer replied that he had presented this matter to their consideration, but that the Adepts had no time to|data=<center><span style="font-variant:small-caps">Truth Stranger than Fiction!<br>A Miracle Worker from Africa!!<br>An Interview with the Chela of an Adept!!!<br>Disclosures in regard to the Mysterious Brotherhood!!!!</span></center>}}
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{{Style P-Quote|1=attend to such trifling matters, as their number was small and it was all they could do to ''keep the world going.'' They had something more important to do than to satisfy the greed of the paupers. They could, he said, travel about in their invisible astral bodies and see what is going on in the most private places; for they could pass through roofs without injuring the tiles, and walls were no obstacle to them. They were experts in thought reading, and could hypnotize people against their will, making them do as they liked. They could guide the thoughts of the people as easily as a coachman guides his horse, and they could cause anybody to become elected ''President of the United States'' if they were to take him under their patronage. These Adepts, of which Mr. Puffer, by a concatenation of fortunate circumstances, has become ''an accepted Chela'', are in possession of untold wealth; and it is said that even the roofs of the houses in which they live are made of pure gold and set with rubies and diamonds. Our reporter asked Mr. Puffer how these Adepts acquired their power, but this Mr. Puffer was ''not permitted to tell.''
It will be impossible to present to our readers in this necessarily short article all the ingenious and lucid explanations given by Mr. Puffer in regard to the secrets of the Lunar Brotherhood; but we cannot close without speaking of the most important secret in their possession. It is nothing less than a ''Talking Image,'' that is to say, a ''living piece of statuary'' which gives answers orally or in writing to anything a person may ask, the answers always proving to be correct. Our reporter offered to the Chela ''a hundred dollars'' if he would get him the correct numbers that would come out at the next drawing of the ''Havannah Lottery;'' but we must do Mr. Puffer the justice to say that he indignantly refused the offer, stating that financial considerations were not the objects of the Adepts; that ''he knew the numbers, but was not permitted to tell them, as his only object was to benefit humanity''. This noble answer of Mr. Puffer in whom we behold a future Adept, may be regarded as a sufficient proof of his sincerity.}}
When Pancho finished reading this article, he did not know whether to laugh or to feel indignant at the stupidity of the reporter, who had evidently travestied and misrepresented great truths. “Mysteries of this kind,” he said, “should be kept sacred and not be bawled about in the streets, or made an object of public gossip by the vulgar.” But on further consideration he saw that if it had not been for that article in the “Eagle,” he himself would have remained ignorant of the august presence of the Chela. He was very anxious to see him in order to obtain further information in regard to the Brotherhood. This thought reconciled him to the indiscretions of the reporter, and he made up his mind to see Mr. Puffer that very evening.
Accordingly, Pancho went to the Grand Hotel, where he found the people in great consternation and the fire-brigade just leaving the house. The cause of the confusion was that an explosion had taken place in Mr. Puffer’s room, by which some of the furniture had been destroyed, and the chambermaid injured. It appeared that Mr. Puffer had left the room after the gas was lighted, and being either not conversant with modern inventions, on account of his long absence in Africa, or in a state of mental abstraction, he had blown out the gas instead of turning the tap. Soon afterwards the chambermaid had entered and attempted to relight the gas, when the accident happened.
While the servants were engaged in removing the broken furniture, Mr. Puffer returned. After he had been made to realize what had happened he began to curse most fearfully, and swore that the mischief was due to the work of a black magician who was persecuting him and seeking to destroy him. He would, indeed, have killed him long ago, if it had not been for the protection of the Adepts, who were always watching over him. Moreover, he said that gas-pipes and such things belonged to mundane illusions and that he had no time to attend to such trifles while engaged in meditating about the nature of Parabrahm.
He was given another room and Pancho introduced himself, stating his object, which was to obtain more light in regard to the Occult Brotherhood.
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“I am entirely at your service,” said Mr. Puffer. “It will give me the greatest pleasure to give you all the information you may desire in regard to the subject of the Great Hierophant and Adepts of Africa. The Society for the Distribution of Wisdom is not one of those abominable sects or modern secret societies that seek to mystify the public, ''e.g.'' the Theosophical Society. Every honest enquirer is entitled to be informed of all we know. All we demand is an open investigation, and we are not afraid of any criticism, however severe. All we want is the truth, the unadulterated truth.”
“I understand that you are a Chela of the Lunar Adepts?” asked Pancho.
“I am, sir! I am!” answered Mr. Puffer. “I am a Chela of one of the greatest Adepts that ever existed. I was introduced to him by a Lunar Angel,” he added, lowering the voice. “He has been here this morning and brought me a message from my master.”
“Have you ever seen the great Hierophant in Africa, personally?”
“No, not personally. But why should I? I see him and all others in clear vision whenever I like.”
“Are you then actually sure that the Brothers exist?” asked Pancho.
“Do the Brothers exist?” exclaimed Mr. Puffer. “Why! I tell you, my dear sir, there is nothing more true and indisputable than that they exist. See this white ''burnous'', I obtained it myself directly from one of the Brothers in my own room.” So saying, Mr. Puffer showed Pancho a cloak of woollen fabric, which, however, bore no internal evidence of having come from an Adept rather than from any store.
“This rare garment,” continued Mr. Puffer, “is palpable and indubitable evidence that the Brothers exist, and nobody but a villainous sceptic, an inveterate liar, a benighted simpleton, or an incurable maniac, would deny their existence after seeing ''this'' apparel.”
“I am not a doubter,” said Pancho. “I have read of great Adepts in India who can do most wonderful things.”
“Pooh!” exclaimed Mr. Puffer contemptuously. “Do not talk to me about such trifles. They can at best mend an old broken coffee pot; they cannot be compared with our Lunar Adepts. Tell me, have you at present even the faintest conception of the solemnity of this occasion? Do you know in whose presence you stand? Would you dare to deny the existence of the Lunar Adepts, and run the risk of being immediately annihilated by them as a punishment for your scepticism? Let the consequences of him who doubts the powers of the Lunar Adepts come upon his own head! Om! Satwa! Wariaki! Starambo!
Upon this declaration Pancho did not consider it advisable to appear too inquisitive. He therefore confessed to be satisfied with the proof advanced, and asked Mr. Puffer whether he would be so kind as to introduce him to an Adept.
“That depends on certain circumstances,” said Mr. Puffer. “First of all you would have to become a member of the Society for Distribution of Wisdom, in order to attract the attention of the Brothers.”
“What kind of a thing is this Society for Distribution of Wisdom?” asked Pancho.
“The African S. D. W.,” answered Mr. Puffer, “is a society which is based
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upon the principle of universal tolerance and mutual admiration. Pray do not confuse it with our other Asian Society. The former, taking very unfair advantage of our having remained for æons modestly unknown, came out a few years ago with great flourish of trumpets as the first and only Society and Universal Brotherhood based on divine Wisdom, and of us has made simple parodists. Our Society differs from the Asian Society, as it advocates a spirit of universal freedom of opinion, provided that opinion holds only to our own interpretations of teachings. We claim that everyone has the right to pretend to believe and to say what he pleases, if he but thinks as we do; but the members of the Indian Society insist that truth should be proclaimed on the housetops. Most absurd and undiplomatic. Knave, fool and purblind sectarian is he who should dare to say anything against our Society or against any of the officers or persons connected with it. Our Fraternity is even now the most charitable body in the world, and he who slanders it is a coward, or a poisonous reptile which ought to be exterminated from the face of the earth.”
“I should consider myself extremely fortunate to become a member of your society and to attract the attention of the Adepts,” said Pancho.
“That is easy enough,” replied Mr. Puffer. “All you have to do is to get a diploma from Captain Bumpkins. I will manage the matter for you, if you are one of the ‘awakened.’”
“I am infinitely obliged to you,” said Pancho. “But, to tell you the truth, I should like to look a little deeper into this business. I am very much interested in Occultism and I should like to become a Chela like yourself.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Puffer. “That is quite another affair and rather difficult. You will have to get a Master, a Dwija, whose orders you must implicitly obey, whatever these orders may be, and you may not even know who that master is; for his orders will be communicated to you through Chelas or through the Talking Image.”
“It is just this mysterious way of doing things that is most attractive to me,” replied Pancho. “I do not think that they will ask anything unreasonable.”
“Then you will have to swear a solemn oath,” continued Mr. Puffer, “always to obey implicitly all the instructions given to you by a Chela as supposed to be coming from an unknown superior. You will swear that if anyone should object to any opinion offered by Captain Bumpkins, or any other member of our society, you will not listen to it, but support our views on every occasion.”
“I am willing to swear to anything you like,” answered Pancho, “if I can gain my object; because I have full confidence in your honesty,”
“You seem to have the qualifications necessary for a Chela,” continued Mr. Puffer, “and I think you might go to Africa to make the trial. At all events you may write a letter to Captain Bumpkins, to see whether you will be accepted.”
At these words Pancho was very much delighted; but being very impatient to know whether or not he would be accepted, he asked Mr. Puffer whether he could not find out immediately by his own mystic powers, whether his offer would be favourably received. To this Mr. Puffer answered:
“It is a serious matter to ask the Powers such questions; because they always get angry when we bother them with personal affairs; but in this case I
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will make an exception. There is a Lunar Brother just now here in the room and I will put myself in mental rapport with him.”
Mr. Puffer then went into a trance state, as might have been supposed from the contortions of his face and he then said:
“The Powers say that as you are not a married man, you may be accepted.”
“The Powers are mistaken,” said Pancho; “for I am married.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Mr. Puffer. “They never make a mistake.”
“Excuse me, sir,” replied Pancho; “I must know best, I am married to one of the loveliest ladies in the world.”
“It is a pity that you imagine such a thing,” said Mr. Puffer; “for a man of your capabilities could spend his time better than in dancing attendance upon a woman. Fortunately you are not married; for the Powers say that your supposed marriage is not a true marriage of the soul and that your wife is not your real affinity.”
“I have already suspected as much,” murmured Pancho.
“Such a marriage,” continued Mr. Puffer, “is a sham and ought to be discontinued at once. Leave that woman and go to Urur. Why will you cling to an illusion instead of seeking for the truth?”
“The truth is,” said Pancho, “that I love my wife very much and do not wish to be separated from her.”
“Such a love is beastly!” exclaimed the Chela. “It is merely an animal instinct and you must get rid of it at once. You cannot become a Chela and be initiated into the mysteries of the Lunar Brotherhood as long as you have a woman on the brain.”
“I do not think,” remarked Pancho, “that my love to my wife is of that beastly character which you describe, and moreover I think it would be wrong to leave her without any cause.”
“Vain sophistry! A cause can easily be found. Is it not cause enough if you desire to study the higher science and enter the higher life? Is it not lawful to sacrifice everything, if one is in pursuit of the truth? Lord Buddha himself left his beloved wife and child, his kingdom and palace, and went into a wilderness. Where would the world be to-day, if Buddha had remained a hen-pecked husband instead of becoming a Sage.”
“I am not prepared to criticise the doings of a Buddha,” said Pancho.
“The Christian religion teaches the same thing,” continued Mr. Puffer. “Jesus said that those who wish to follow him, must leave father and mother and wife, or words to that effect. I have read the story of a Catholic saint, a woman, who gave her father a thrashing and left her mother uncared for upon a dying bed. She ran away from home and went into a convent preferring to become a bride of Jesus, to meddling with mundane affairs.”
“I think that woman was a devil,” said Pancho very indignantly.
“What an illogical conclusion! If she had been a devil, she could not have become a saint.”
“Nevertheless, my conscience tells me that it would be very wrong for me to separate from my wife.”
“Now you do talk most terrible nonsense!” impatiently replied Mr. Puffer. That which you call conscience is in this case the voice of some vile Elemental, that seeks to divert you from your purpose. These ethereal animals
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are always ready to persuade us that we are right in the gratification of our selfish desires.”
“But is not the desire to become a Chela selfish?” asked Pancho.
“How can you call that selfish, if a person seeks to obtain wisdom?” asked Mr. Puffer. “Read, if you please the books of the smartest German philosophers, and you will find that such a ''transcendental selfishness'' is highly laudable and praiseworthy. What would become of human progress, if men were always satisfied with what they had and desired nothing better?”
“Do you know what is love?” asked Pancho.
“You bet!” exclaimed Mr. Puffer. “When I was young, I used to run after the girls; but since I have become a Chela, I have all the ladies run after me; but I laugh at them. I want to have nothing to do with women; they are the arch enemies of the occultist and the higher kind of phenomena, such as disembowelling oneself or to have oneself buried alive, can never be successfully done in the presence of a woman; because they attract too much of a man’s magnetism. Do not talk to me about women. They are despicable creatures.”
When Pancho heard these words he became very indignant and said:
“I do not propose to disembowel myself nor to have myself buried alive. Your fakirs seem to me stupid and ignorant fools. I never saw a person who was a woman hater, unless he was a self-conceited coward and a sensualist of the lowest kind.”
“You can think as you like,” said Mr. Puffer, “for our Society tolerates all kinds of opinions; but it is a shame that you will let your talents go to the rot on account of a woman. If you have once become an Adept you will be able to make Elementals appear before you in any shape you like; even in that of the most beautiful princess that exists in the world.”
“I should like very much to know how that is done,” said Pancho.
“If you have once been taught the necessary conjurations and formulas, it will be the easiest thing in the world,” replied Mr. Puffer: “but of course I am not permitted to tell you these things at present. They are only divulged to the members of our society. You had better write your application for Chelaship and I will send it to the Hierophant.”
“I will consider the matter. But please tell me what kind of a thing is the Talking Image?”
“You will have to go and see it yourself; it cannot be described. I have never seen it myself. But people say that it looks like a statue, and does not move, but inside it is alive, and it can speak. Moreover, if you place a piece of paper in its vicinity, it will write or precipitate messages upon it, and all this is done by the Mysterious Brotherhood.”
“I wonder how this is done?” said reflectively Pancho.
“It is easy enough to explain. You know that the Adepts can pass through the most solid walls, nor are skin and bones any obstacles to them. Some one of the Brothers, or a more advanced Chela, gets hold of the brain of the Image and, so to say, winds up the machinery, and then the thing works, and spells out whatever they like. There is always one or more of the Magicians engaged in working the Image.”
“This is very strange!” exclaimed Pancho. “How did you get such a curiosity?”
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“It was manufactured through magic spells expressly for the purpose of communicating with the world. They gave it to the Hierophant, who placed it in the sacred shrine at Urur.”
“Such a marvel alone would be worth while the trouble to go to Africa to see it,” said Pancho. “I have read of talking images that were in possession of the ancient Egyptians, but I thought they could only grunt or make a noise; I had no idea that they could talk sense.”
“When you once become an accepted Chela you will know still more wonderful things.”
“I hope to be accepted,” said Pancho.
“You will have to pass through a great many ordeals before this is done,” observed Mr. Puffer. “You will have to give indubitable proof of your courage to convince the Brothers that you can be trusted. They will do all sorts of things to frighten you, to see whether or not you are afraid.”
“I am not easily frightened,” said Pancho. “I shall probably write that application to-night.”
“For your own sake I hope that you will soon come to a favourable decision.”
Mr. Puffer accompanied Pancho to the door, and as they were bidding each other good-bye, Pancho said:
“By-the-bye, I almost forgot to ask you a question, which you may, perhaps, consider absurd. Do the Adepts teach any religion?”
“In ''our'' Society,” answered Mr. Puffer, “every man’s belief is respected. If you choose to imagine that the moon is made of green cheese, there is no one to prevent you from believing it, any more than in God. No, they teach no religion in particular.”
“I thought so,” answered Pancho. “I merely asked the question to settle all doubts for once and for ever. Farewell!”
“''Au revoir!''” said Mr. Puffer.
When Pancho left Mr. Puffer, he was highly elated at the prospect of becoming a Chela, and being initiated into the mysteries of African Magic. He did not doubt for a moment that he had all the necessary qualifications, and by becoming a member of the Society for the Distribution of Wisdom, he had already made the most important step, and attracted the attention of the Adepts. Henceforth he had to be very careful in what he was doing, for there might be an Adept lurking in every corner to watch his actions. He knew that it was not an easy thing to become a Chela, and that it required a man of courage. Many had applied for Chelaship, but failed after they were tried. This was not to be feared in Pancho’s case. He was a person of undoubted bravery, and not afraid even of the devil. When a small boy in school he could fight single-handed, and lick the rest of the boys; and during his studies at Heidelberg he had fought many duels and come out triumphant in every instance. As to swimming and shooting, there were few who were his superiors, and if, as he had read, it was necessary for a Chela to pass through flame and fire, his chemical knowledge enabled him to make his clothes incombustible, so that he could jump through it without getting burnt.
“But why,” he thought, “should he write a letter of application for Chelaship to the Adepts? If those Magicians were ubiquitous and all-knowing, they would know his wish, and if they wanted him, they would be able to let him
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know it without his formal application. But then Pancho was not sufficiently acquainted with the rules of occult etiquette to answer the question. Perhaps it was a formality which had to be observed, and perhaps, also, Puffer, who confessed he had never met the Head of the Society, could give him only partial information. But then he was – a Chela!”
There was only one thought to which he could not get reconciled, namely, that of leaving his wife. He had no cause to abandon her and did not wish to do so. Conchita had always been faithful to him and she had just claims to his protection. But then, he argued with himself that the greater the sacrifice, the greater was also his merit. He saw himself in the position of a player who puts his whole fortune upon one single card, to either burst the bank or to go to perdition. He ended by a compromise.
“What would Conchita say,” he thought, “if I were to go to Africa to solve such a difficult problem? Surely she is a reasonable woman and will not object. Men leave their homes and wives for the purpose of gaining money; they go on voyages of discovery to the regions of eternal snow, or to the tropical zones of Africa, remaining away for years. Why should I not act likewise, and go to Africa in search of that which is far more important? Is there anything more valuable than a knowledge of the astral world, with its innumerable inhabitants? Is such a discovery not as much interesting as that of a new continent? Can there be anything more important than scientific proof of the existence of a class of spiritual beings who guide the destinies of mankind? Surely Conchita is of far too noble a mind not to consent to a separation for such a glorious purpose.”
“You ass!” said an interior voice, probably that of some vile Elemental. “These mysterious Lunar Brotherhoods have no other existence than in the brain of Mr. Puffer.”
“Get thee behind me, Satan!” answered Pancho, speaking to himself. “How could it be possible that the representative of a Society which worships the truth should speak anything else but the truth? Moreover, men might lie about ordinary things, but surely only a villain of the deepest dye would descend to that lowest imaginable state of degradation, in which the most holy and sacred things are trifled with or made objects of financial speculation. What but child’s play are murder, and arson, and vice of every kind, in comparison with that dark villainy of those vampires who seek material profit by playing upon the spiritual aspirations of man? Who but an unconceivable monstrosity of concentrated deviltry would dare to prostitute the highest and most exalted truths for the purpose of gratifying his greed for a few pennies, knowing how terrible would be the reaction?”
“Fool!” spoke the voice of the Elemental. “You need not go to Africa to find the Spirit of Truth.”
“Avaunt!” answered Pancho. “What will the spirit of truth benefit me if it does not become manifest? If that spirit has descended upon the mysterious Brotherhood, and if the inmates of Urur are in communication with it, what a glorious thing will it be to enlist in their army, and to become one of the pioneers to break down the wall of superstition and ignorance which encircles the world! To attain such an object, and to bring light to suffering humanity, is well worth the sacrifice, not only of my own life, but also of that of my wife.”
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Thus Pancho’s mind was swayed by thoughts of an opposite kind and by a series of partly logical, partly illogical, arguments. He reasoned himself into a belief that it was not only his right but also his duty to leave his wife and to go to Africa, to learn wisdom by sitting at the feet of the Hierophant who would introduce him to the Mysterious Brotherhood. Men are always willing to believe in the possibility of that which they desire. By the time that he reached his home, he was fully resolved to write the letter to the Lunar Adepts, which was to be his application for chelaship.
He arrived at his residence and went to Conchita’s room. There, upon a couch, was his beautiful wife peacefully sleeping. She had evidently waited for his return before retiring to bed. A happy smile rested upon her face, her hands were folded over her bosom which rose and sank in rhythmic proportions with her almost imperceptible breath. The rose-coloured shade of the lamp caused the light to produce a delicate roseate hue upon her graceful shoulders and arms, which would have otherwise seemed to be made of white Carrara marble; her long black hair having unfastened, now fell in dark heavy masses upon her bust. She looked like a being of supernatural beauty, and it now seemed to Pancho that there was no necessity to go any further to seek the truth; for that which is good and beautiful must also be true. He felt as if even the thought of deserting her was an unpardonable sin to atone for immediately; and carried away by his emotion, he kissed her soft cheek.
Conchita opened her eyes and looked surprised and pleased. Putting her arms around his neck, she pressed him to her heart, and said: “Dearest one! I had such a dream! I thought I was with you on the bank of a stream, and in the distance there was a beautiful island. It was full of flowers and the breeze wafted the odour of the blossoms to the place where we stood. There was a little boat, only big enough to hold one person. You went into the boat and said you would fetch me some of the flowers; but the current took you far out of my sight. I then became very sick. I cried and was wringing my hands in despair, when I discovered that I was myself on that island and you by my side. You then put your arms around me and kissed me and then I awoke.”
“I too had a stupid dream,” answered Pancho, “but it is over. Fear not, my beloved one, our two loves shall never be separated.”
“I know it,” answered Conchita; “but I want not only your love, I want yourself.”
The letter which Pancho had intended to write to the Lunar Brotherhood remained unwritten that night.
{{Style P-Separator custom}}
<center>CHAPTER IV.</center>
<center>THE OCCULT LETTER.</center>
<span style="font-variant:small-caps">Pancho</span> dreamed that night. It seemed to him that he and Conchita were in a boat in mid-ocean. A storm arose and the waves grew higher and higher. At last they seemed like mountains of water, and one of them went over the boat, entirely submerging it. He was convinced that they were both lost. He threw his arms around her, but she was torn away from him by the force of the water. Then the wave receded and he found himself still in the boat,
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but Conchita was gone. She was nowhere to be seen, although the ocean as by some miracle had now become perfectly calm. He then looked upwards and saw her floating in the air, radiant and smiling. She had become a glorified being and a bright star shone over her head. It was the influence of that star that had calmed the sea.
As long as he dreamed, he was happy; but when his external consciousness returned and the intellectual machinery of his brain again began to create for him once more illusions, his former doubts and hopes returned. The face of the Chelas at Urur, through whom the inaccessible, mysterious Adeptship might be reached, floated on his mental horizon and the voice of the Talking Image sounded to him more alluring than the song of the Loreley: “Am I not worthy,” it said, “that you should come across the sea to behold me? I, the Sphinx of the nineteenth century, the corner stone of the world’s future religion? Are there not hundreds lying prostrate at my feet, and thousands longing to worship at my shrine? Lo, the Mysterious Brotherhood requires a man to communicate their orders to the world; where will they find such a man? Are you so firmly tied to a woman by the chain of your affection that you cannot defend the truth?” Then the phantom face of Mr. Puffer, the Chela, opened its mouth and spoke. “Better write to the Lunar Adepts, and I will have it laid before the shrine of Urur. What harm can be done by merely writing a letter? Let us see what the result will be? Whatever answer you may receive, you will still be at liberty to do as you like! Write the letter!” When the voice ceased, it seemed as if a thousand echoes in Pancho’s brain were repeating the sentence: “Write! Write! Write the letter! the letter! the let – ter!”
Pancho hastily arose and dressed himself; and then his reasoning powers returned. For a moment he thought he would confess to his wife that he had been thinking of going to Africa, but he abandoned this idea. Why should he do so now? He thought it would be time enough for that when he had arrived at a certain decision. He made up his mind to say nothing about it and thus he established a barrier between him and his wife which prevented the full and harmonious flow of thought between the two, hence, a perfect understanding. Formerly they were one in their thoughts and feelings; now they were separated from each other by a secret, and thus the curse which accompanies the desire for gratification of curiosity had already begun to work.
Juana had now become a member of their little household and she behaved herself much better than had been expected. She made herself useful in many ways, doing small work about the house and the kitchen. Since her arrival Pancho had not asked her for a continuation of psychic experiments; but now he desired to try again her powers. Juana obeyed and, to his astonishment, she described to him a negro in the garb of an African chieftain, holding a sealed letter in his hand and upon the envelope was Pancho’s name.
“This man,” she said, “is a spirit; but not of one who is dead, but of a man who is living. He is a great and powerful person, and he says: ‘Write!’”
“Do you see anything more?” asked Pancho.
“Yes,” answered Juana. “He now shows me a very queer-looking place, something like a church, and in the midst of it is an altar upon which is a woman dressed in white.”
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After a pause she continued: “No; it is not a woman; it is much bigger than an ordinary woman, and it is made of stone. It is a statue, and, nevertheless, it is alive and can talk as well as anybody. It is very queer!”
Pancho was delighted. There was, as he supposed, indubitable proof that the Adepts could communicate with him even through Juana. To hesitate any longer would surely displease them. Did not Mr. Puffer say that he must unhesitatingly obey all orders coming from that quarter, and should he commence his occult career by hesitating to do so? He went to his room and without further delay wrote a letter to them, offering his services to the unknown Mysterious Brotherhood, and asking to be accepted as their disciple.
Such a precious document could not be safely entrusted to a servant and so he determined to hand it personally to Mr. Puffer. Once more he wended his way to the Grand Hotel. Mr. Puffer was delighted.
“I have no doubt,” he said, receiving the letter, “that you will be accepted on probation, and now, as you have entered upon the Path, I advise you to cease shaving or cutting your hair, because, in doing so, a great deal of magnetism is lost. Do not eat any meat. Eggs are permitted, but you must always first remove the dot from the yolk. The dot is the seat of life and must not be destroyed.”
“But is not the dot destroyed by the boiling?” asked Pancho.
“This is none of our business,” answered Mr. Puffer. “It will go to the ''Karma'' of the cook. It is enough if we do not destroy it ourselves. Furthermore you must never eat any beans. There is nothing more dangerous than beans. They have been expressly prohibited by Pythagoras.”
“I am sorry,” said Pancho; “for I am very fond of baked beans.”
“I do not care,” replied Mr. Puffer. “You will have to choose between Wisdom and beans.”
When Pancho returned to his house it seemed to him that he had made a step lower down in the scale of evolution and rendered himself extremely ridiculous by submitting his own reason to the will of an unknown superior; but he attributed this feeling to the circumstance that it was probably his lower nature which rebelled against the unaccustomed restraint, and that it would be absolutely necessary to obey. He remembered having been once told by a clergyman that if our reason does not harmonize with the doctrines of the church we must squelch it and believe in the doctrines. He made up his mind to make that attempt to see what would be the result. “I have gone so far,” he said to himself. “Now I will see it through, let the result be what it may.”
It required nearly three months to receive an answer from Africa. During that time Pancho grew more and more morose and melancholy. He did not dare to show any love to his wife. In his outward bearing he was as polite towards her as before, but his manner had now something forced and unnatural a circumstance which never escapes the observation of a sensitive woman. Conchita noticed the change in her husband and his growing coldness, which seemed rather assumed than natural, and with many words of endearment she tried to find out the secret of his trouble. It was in vain that Pancho denied his being troubled about anything, and invented all sorts of excuses; her intuition told her plainly that the former harmony between their souls no longer existed. Many were the bitter tears which she shed when alone in her room, and many
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the prayers she offered to the unknown God; but when Pancho was present she appeared merry, for the purpose of cheering him up. Pancho, too, was aware that his wife was silently suffering, and he would have been most willing to give an explanation; but how could he tell her that her own existence was the cause of his grief, and that she had become an obstacle in his way?
Partly to while away the time, and partly with a view to obtain information about the doings of the Mysterious Brotherhood, Pancho held frequent séances with Juana, at which Conchita took part, for she felt instinctively that her husband’s change of behavour was somehow connected with spiritualistic matters, and hoped thus to find out its cause. Juana was evidently a strong medium. There were loud raps and the usual spiritualistic phenomena, and frequently the girl became entranced, speaking under the influence of different spirits.
One of the “spirits” appeared to be that of an African Adept, who extolled the wisdom of the East, and its superiority over that of the West.
“The East,” he said, “is the land of wisdom, for it is the land where the sun rises. The East includes everything that is east of New York, especially Asia and Africa. All light comes from the East and goes to the West, and then it comes back again to the East. The three sages mentioned in the Bible came from the East. There are lots of Eastern sages, but who ever heard of a Western sage? All the Rosicrucians of the Middle Ages went to the East in search of wisdom, and the last of the Alchemists has emigrated to the East.”
Communications of that kind only increased Pancho’s wish to go to the land of Wisdom, and they forged still stronger the links with which his will was held captive by an inflamed desire.
Conchita, too, became caught with this strange infatuation. It seemed as if her own thoughts found expression through the mouth of the Indian girl; for a superior spirit, who said that its name was “Purity,” spoke to her through the entranced Juana, and whenever this spirit took possession of the Indian girl, she became, so to say, transfigured, and her face assumed an angelic expression.
“Grieve not,” said the spirit, “we are constantly around to guard you. We are the messengers sent by the Most High, and no evil can befall those that trust in our guidance. There are dark clouds gathering on the horizon whose exact nature we are not permitted to reveal; but if you have faith in the divine power that guides all things, all will be well. God sees everything, and not the least thing escapes his attention, for it is written that not even a sparrow falls from a tree without the will of God.”
The influence passed away, and then the spirit of the African Adept returned and wrote upon a paper:
{{Style P-Quote|1=“The spirit that just spoke is a liar. If a sparrow does not exert its own will to remain upon the tree, there is no God that will keep him there.”}}
That was exactly Pancho’s idea, and he was glad to see it confirmed.
“How strange!” exclaimed Conchita. “I always imagined that a sparrow had no will of its own, and that its will was the will of God.”
“Nonsense!” said Pancho. “There is no such thing as God. The African Adepts do not believe in a God and they know what they are talking about.”
“They must be very unhappy!” replied Conchita.
Pancho gave no reply; he saw that his wife was too ignorant to understand
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such philosophical questions, and he did not wish to enter into a discussion that might end in a dispute.
“What is the name of the African Adept who is communicating with us?” asked Pancho.
“Molobolo,” was the written answer.
“I thought Molobolo was the African king with whom Mr. Puffer stayed,” said Pancho, and the answer came:
“He was a king, and has now become an Adept.”
Thus Pancho received communications from “Molobolo” and Juana from “Purity,” and as these communications often contradicted each other, while each of the two parties believed in the infallibility of his or her guide, they only served to separate our friends still more and to create an antagonism between them, which became stronger in proportion as it became repressed.
The subject of Spiritualism now formed almost exclusively the topic of their conversation. Pancho who had already had considerable experiences in such matters did not believe that these communications originated from spirits of the dead, nor from angels. He had read a great deal about ''Shells'' and ''Elementaries'' and said that he knew a thing or two and was not going to be humbugged. As to “Purity” being an angel, as Conchita supposed, he argued that if there were no God, there could be no angels; but he believed in the possibility of receiving communications from living Adepts, and therefore those of Molobolo were to him genuine and all the rest was a fraud.
Conchita had elicited from Pancho an account of his visit to Mr. Puffer, and she now attributed Molabolo’s communications to an influence exercised over Pancho’s mind by Mr. Puffer. She believed in “Purity” but not in Molobolo, who, she said, was an evil spirit brought by Mr. Puffer. Pancho defended Molobolo and denounced “Purity” as being a fraud. Their discussions became sometimes very animated and would have often ended into a quarrel, if it had not been for Conchita’s ability to turn things into a joke.
One day Pancho remarked:
“My dear, all that ‘Purity’ says is nothing else but the reflections of your own mind; but as to King Molobolo, I know that he is a real and living person, residing at Kakodumbala in the Lybian desert; there can be no doubt of his identity; for Mr. Puffer himself has been living with him.”
“But, my dear,” said Conchita, “how do you know that the Molobolo that talks through Juana is not also a reflection of your own mind?”
“Because,” answered Pancho, “Adepts can do such things and spirits cannot. Moreover, my intuition tells me that it is Molobolo.”
“My intuition tells me that Purity is just as good as Molobolo,” replied Conchita. “They are either both true or both false.”
“You are mistaken, my dear,” said Pancho. “There must be a great difference between an Adept and a pretended spirit. I really shall have to go to Africa myself to settle the question.”
“I wish you would go,” said Conchita. “It would be better to settle it than to worry continually about it.”
“I am seriously thinking of doing so,” said Pancho.
A few days after this conversation took place, the postman brought a large package with the stamp of the post-office from the Cape of Good Hope.
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Pancho opened it, and found that it contained two letters. The first was a note from the Urur Office, saying that Pancho’s application for chelaship had been received and submitted to the Mysterious Brotherhood by means of the Shrine, and that the enclosed answer had been received. It also expressed the hope that Pancho would come to Urur to become a co-worker in the Cause of the truth for the benefit of humanity.
The second letter was enclosed in a curious envelope, on which mystic characters in various colours were printed. Pancho’s breath stood still as he opened it, for this was a letter from a real Adept, settling once and for ever the question of their existence. He opened it and found a note written in a strange, handwriting. It read as follows: –
{{Style P-Quote|1=He who desires to devote his life to the service of Humanity must do so with his whole mind, his whole heart, implicitly and without any reserve. Tear out of your soul the root of evil, the love of pleasures which are not calculated for the fulfilment of the highest aspirations that man can have. Sacrifice your lower passions to your higher aspirations. Work for the cause of the truth, and great will be your reward. The Cause needs capable assistants. Your qualifications are excellent. It rests with you to develop your powers.”|data=“<span style="font-variant:small-caps">Friend</span>, –}}
The signature of this letter can not be given, but it was not Molobolo’s name.
“This is plain enough,” said Pancho to himself, after reading the letter. “I must go to Urur. I must make sacrifices to attain an exalted position.”
“Yes, I shall go,” he added, after a pause of reflection. “What is separation from a wife in comparison with the attainment of all the knowledge of the Adepts? It will be very painful to her to see me go, but it will not kill her, and when I have learned the art of making the Philosopher’s Stone and the Elixir of Life, I may come back to her.”
He firmly resolved to go. He took courage and spoke to his wife about it. preparing beforehand all that he would say in answer to her objections. But Conchita did not object.
“Go, my beloved one,” she said, “if it is your pleasure to do so. I know that you will not be satisfied until you have seen the Talking Image yourself.”
“But what will you do while I am gone?” asked Pancho.
“Wait until you return,” answered Conchita.
“But if I do not return?” said Pancho.
“I know that you will return,” replied Conchita. “After you have seen the Elephant you will be satisfied and glad to return to your wife.”
Pancho was somewhat stung by this remark, for he did not like to have such a sacred thing as the Talking Image compared with an elephant in a show; but he made no reply. He was satisfied with having so easily gained Conchita’s consent. He said:
“I hope to have my clairvoyant powers in a short time sufficiently developed to enable me to see how you are doing.”
“I have just been thinking of doing the same,” she said, “Juana told me of a man who is giving instructions how to become clairvoyant.”
“Oh, that will be nice, for I suppose that I will not have much time to write.”
It was settled that Pancho should leave by the next steamer of the Pacific Mail Company.
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Let not the reader suppose that Pancho was an extraordinary simpleton. There are thousands of persons living to-day, in high social positions, and being looked upon as wise, who are equally unreasonable. He was a person of more than average intelligence, but he was unconsciously selfish; he did not possess yet the knowledge of Self. His egoistic propensities caused him to see the truth in only a distorted aspect; his reason was made captive by it, enslaved by his desire.
In vain truth battled in him against error. During the night preceding his departure for Africa it made one more herculean effort to obtain mastery over him. He was in bed, but he could not sleep. It was as if a heavy load was resting upon his soul; he felt as if he were about to commit a great crime. An invisible vampire, ponderous as lead, seemed to be squatting upon his heart and sucking out his strength. His immortal spirit seemed to have departed, leaving behind only a gross material shell whose weight was dragging it down into the depths of the earth. He was conscious of being alive, but his life-blood seemed to be swarming with worms and reptiles, battling with each other, the symbols of his conflicting desires. To lie quiet under such circumstances was an impossibility; corporeal rest became intolerable. He rose, and dressing himself, attempted to go out, but the night was dark, and the rain coming down in torrents drove him back into the house. He groped his way back to the sleeping-room, and as he approached the bed it seemed to him that in the place of Conchita there was an ugly serpent with the face of Juana grinning at him. He turned away in disgust. Rather than remain at home he would be drowned in the rain. As he stepped out into the street there was a great shock of earthquake. It was the night in which a part of the Island of Java was destroyed and sank into the sea.
What was the cause of Pancho's emotions? Was it that he felt the coming earthquake? Was it the higher consciousness battling against the decisions of the animal mind and trying to prevent him from committing a bad action? or was it a foreboding of the evil results that would follow his departure? Who can tell? It is said that earthquakes are due to a disturbance of emotions in the soul of the earth. The elements in Pancho’s soul were likewise in a state of terrible conflict. It was as if his individuality had become divided into two separate entities, both existing in the same personality. One of these urged him to go, the other one bade him to stay, and Pancho did not know which one was right, or which wrong.
We will not enter into the details of what took place before his departure. It will be sufficient to say that Conchita showed a remarkable amount of self-control. She spoke of the joy that awaited her when she would see him return, and thought of how happy they would be together when the cobwebs in Pancho’s brain would have been removed by the African sun. She attempted to appear gay, and proposed to accompany her husband on board of the steamer; but when the fatal hour arrived, and she had dressed herself to go with him to the wharf, her courage gave way. Sobbing bitterly, she threw herself upon a lounge, and when Pancho entreated her to speak, he merely heard her whisper the words, “Father! Not my will, but Thine shall be done!”
Pancho hurried away.
{{Style P-Signature in capitals|1=Franz Hartmann.}}
{{Footnotes}}
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