CHAPTER XVII. A GROTESQUE TRAGEDY
I had not gone ten paces when I caught sight of a strange-lookingobject, and went nearer to know what it might be. I found it amouldering carriage of ancient form, ruinous but still upright on itsheavy wheels. On each side of the pole, still in its place, lay theskeleton of a horse; from their two grim white heads ascended theshrivelled reins to the hand of the skeleton-coachman seated on histattered hammer-cloth; both doors had fallen away; within sat twoskeletons, each leaning back in its corner.
Even as I looked, they started awake, and with a cracking rattle ofbones, each leaped from the door next it. One fell and lay; the otherstood a moment, its structure shaking perilously; then with difficulty,for its joints were stiff, crept, holding by the back of the carriage,to the opposite side, the thin leg-bones seeming hardly strong enough tocarry its weight, where, kneeling by the other, it sought to raise it,almost falling itself again in the endeavour.
The prostrate one rose at length, as by a sudden effort, to the sittingposture. For a few moments it turned its yellowish skull to this sideand that; then, heedless of its neighbour, got upon its feet by graspingthe spokes of the hind wheel. Half erected thus, it stood with its backto the other, both hands holding one of its knee-joints. With littleless difficulty and not a few contortions, the kneeling one rose next,and addressed its companion.
"Have you hurt yourself, my lord?" it said, in a voice that soundedfar-off, and ill-articulated as if blown aside by some spectral wind.
"Yes, I have," answered the other, in like but rougher tone. "You woulddo nothing to help me, and this cursed knee is out!"
"I did my best, my lord."
"No doubt, my lady, for it was bad! I thought I should never find myfeet again!--But, bless my soul, madam! are you out in your bones?"
She cast a look at herself.
"I have nothing else to be out in," she returned; "--and YOU at leastcannot complain! But what on earth does it mean? Am I dreaming?"
"YOU may be dreaming, madam--I cannot tell; but this knee of mineforbids me the grateful illusion.--Ha! I too, I perceive, have nothingto walk in but bones!--Not so unbecoming to a man, however! I trust togoodness they are not MY bones! every one aches worse than another, andthis loose knee worst of all! The bed must have been damp--and I toodrunk to know it!"
"Probably, my lord of Cokayne!"
"What! what!--You make me think I too am dreaming--aches and all! Howdo YOU know the title my roistering bullies give me? I don't rememberyou!--Anyhow, you have no right to take liberties! My name is--I amlord----tut, tut! What do you call me when I'm--I mean when you aresober? I cannot--at the moment,--Why, what IS my name?--I must have beenVERY drunk when I went to bed! I often am!"
"You come so seldom to mine, that I do not know, my lord; but I may takeyour word for THAT!"
"I hope so!"
"--if for nothing else!" "Hoity toity! I never told you a lie in mylife!"
"You never told me anything but lies."
"Upon my honour!--Why, I never saw the woman before!"
"You knew me well enough to lie to, my lord!"
"I do seem to begin to dream I have met you before, but, upon my oath,there is nothing to know you by! Out of your clothes, who is to tellwho you may not be?--One thing I MAY swear--that I never saw you so muchundressed before!--By heaven, I have no recollection of you!"
"I am glad to hear it: my recollections of you are the lessdistasteful!--Good morning, my lord!"
She turned away, hobbled, clacking, a few paces, and stood again.
"You are just as heartless as--as--any other woman, madam!--Where inthis hell of a place shall I find my valet?--What was the cursed name Iused to call the fool?"
He turned his bare noddle this way and that on its creaking pivot, stillholding his knee with both hands.
"I will be your valet for once, my lord," said the lady, turning oncemore to him. "--What can I do for you? It is not easy to tell!"
"Tie my leg on, of course, you fool! Can't you see it is all but off?Heigho, my dancing days!"
She looked about with her eyeless sockets and found a piece of fibrousgrass, with which she proceeded to bind together the adjoining partsthat had formed the knee. When she had done, he gave one or twocarefully tentative stamps.
"You used to stamp rather differently, my lord!" she said, as she rosefrom her knees.
"Eh? what!--Now I look at you again, it seems to me I used to hateyou!--Eh?"
"Naturally, my lord! You hated a good many people!--your wife, ofcourse, among the rest!"
"Ah, I begin, I be-gin---- But--I must have been a long timesomewhere!--I really forget!--There! your damned, miserable bit of grassis breaking!--We used to get on PRETTY well together--eh?"
"Not that I remember, my lord. The only happy moments I had in yourcompany were scattered over the first week of our marriage."
"Was that the way of it? Ha! ha!--Well, it's over now, thank goodness!"
"I wish I could believe it! Why were we sitting there in that carriagetogether? It wakes apprehension!"
"I think we were divorced, my lady!"
"Hardly enough: we are still together!"
"A sad truth, but capable of remedy: the forest seems of some extent!"
"I doubt! I doubt!"
"I am sorry I cannot think of a compliment to pay you--without lying,that is. To judge by your figure and complexion you have lived hardsince I saw you last! I cannot surely be QUITE so naked as yourladyship!--I beg your pardon, madam! I trust you will take it I ambut jesting in a dream! It is of no consequence, however; dreamingor waking, all's one--all merest appearance! You can't be certain ofanything, and that's as good as knowing there is nothing! Life may teachany fool that!"
"It has taught me the fool I was to love you!"
"You were not the only fool to do that! Women had a trick of falling inlove with me:--I had forgotten that you were one of them!" "I did loveyou, my lord--a little--at one time!"
"Ah, there was your mistake, my lady! You should have loved me much,loved me devotedly, loved me savagely--loved me eternally! Then I shouldhave tired of you the sooner, and not hated you so much afterward!--Butlet bygones be bygones!--WHERE are we? Locality is the question! To beor not to be, is NOT the question!"
"We are in the other world, I presume!"
"Granted!--but in which or what sort of other world? This can't behell!"
"It must: there's marriage in it! You and I are damned in each other."
"Then I'm not like Othello, damned in a fair wife!--Oh, I remember myShakspeare, madam!"
She picked up a broken branch that had fallen into a bush, and steadyingherself with it, walked away, tossing her little skull.
"Give that stick to me," cried her late husband; "I want it more thanyou."
She returned him no answer.
"You mean to make me beg for it?"
"Not at all, my lord. I mean to keep it," she replied, continuing herslow departure.
"Give it me at once; I mean to have it! I require it."
"Unfortunately, I think I require it myself!" returned the lady, walkinga little quicker, with a sharper cracking of her joints and clinking ofher bones.
He started to follow her, but nearly fell: his knee-grass had burst, andwith an oath he stopped, grasping his leg again.
"Come and tie it up properly!" he would have thundered, but he onlypiped and whistled!
She turned and looked at him.
"Come and tie it up instantly!" he repeated.
She walked a step or two farther from him.
"I swear I will not touch you!" he cried.
"Swear on, my lord! there is no one here to believe you. But, pray, donot lose your temper, or you will shake yourself to pieces, and where tofind string enough to tie up all your crazy joints, is more than I cantell."
She came back, and knelt once more at his side--first, however, layingthe stick in dispute beyond his reach and within her own.
The instant she had finishe
d retying the joint, he made a grab at her,thinking, apparently, to seize her by the hair; but his hard fingersslipped on the smooth poll.
"Disgusting!" he muttered, and laid hold of her upper arm-bone.
"You will break it!" she said, looking up from her knees.
"I will, then!" he answered, and began to strain at it.
"I shall not tie your leg again the next time it comes loose!" shethreatened.
He gave her arm a vicious twist, but happily her bones were in bettercondition than his. She stretched her other hand toward the brokenbranch.
"That's right: reach me the stick!" he grinned.
She brought it round with such a swing that one of the bones of thesounder leg snapped. He fell, choking with curses. The lady laughed.
"Now you will have to wear splints always!" she said; "such dry bonesnever mend!"
"You devil!" he cried.
"At your service, my lord! Shall I fetch you a couple of wheel-spokes?Neat--but heavy, I fear!"
He turned his bone-face aside, and did not answer, but lay and groaned.I marvelled he had not gone to pieces when he fell. The lady rose andwalked away--not all ungracefully, I thought.
"What can come of it?" I said to myself. "These are too wretched for anyworld, and this cannot be hell, for the Little Ones are in it, andthe sleepers too! What can it all mean? Can things ever come right forskeletons?"
"There are words too big for you and me: ALL is one of them, and EVER isanother," said a voice near me which I knew.
I looked about, but could not see the speaker.
"You are not in hell," it resumed. "Neither am I in hell. But thoseskeletons are in hell!"
Ere he ended I caught sight of the raven on the bough of a beech, rightover my head. The same moment he left it, and alighting on the ground,stood there, the thin old man of the library, with long nose and longcoat.
"The male was never a gentleman," he went on, "and in the bony stageof retrogression, with his skeleton through his skin, and his characteroutside his manners, does not look like one. The female is less vulgar,and has a little heart. But, the restraints of society removed, you seethem now just as they are and always were!"
"Tell me, Mr. Raven, what will become of them," I said.
"We shall see," he replied. "In their day they were the handsomestcouple at court; and now, even in their dry bones, they seem to regardtheir former repute as an inalienable possession; to see their faces,however, may yet do something for them! They felt themselves rich toowhile they had pockets, but they have already begun to feel ratherpinched! My lord used to regard my lady as a worthless encumbrance, forhe was tired of her beauty and had spent her money; now he needs herto cobble his joints for him! These changes have roots of hope in them.Besides, they cannot now get far away from each other, and they see noneelse of their own kind: they must at last grow weary of their mutualrepugnance, and begin to love one another! for love, not hate, isdeepest in what Love 'loved into being.'"
"I saw many more of their kind an hour ago, in the hall close by!" Isaid.
"Of their kind, but not of their sort," he answered. "For many yearsthese will see none such as you saw last night. Those are centuriesin advance of these. You saw that those could even dress themselves alittle! It is true they cannot yet retain their clothes so long as theywould--only, at present, for a part of the night; but they are prettysteadily growing more capable, and will by and by develop faces; forevery grain of truthfulness adds a fibre to the show of their humanity.Nothing but truth can appear; and whatever is must seem."
"Are they upheld by this hope?" I asked.
"They are upheld by hope, but they do not in the least know their hope;to understand it, is yet immeasurably beyond them," answered Mr. Raven.
His unexpected appearance had caused me no astonishment. I was like achild, constantly wondering, and surprised at nothing.
"Did you come to find me, sir?" I asked.
"Not at all," he replied. "I have no anxiety about you. Such as youalways come back to us."
"Tell me, please, who am I such as?" I said.
"I cannot make my friend the subject of conversation," he answered, witha smile.
"But when that friend is present!" I urged.
"I decline the more strongly," he rejoined.
"But when that friend asks you!" I persisted.
"Then most positively I refuse," he returned.
"Why?"
"Because he and I would be talking of two persons as if they were oneand the same. Your consciousness of yourself and my knowledge of you arefar apart!"
The lapels of his coat flew out, and the lappets lifted, and I thoughtthe metamorphosis of HOMO to CORVUS was about to take place before myeyes. But the coat closed again in front of him, and he added, withseeming inconsequence,
"In this world never trust a person who has once deceived you. Aboveall, never do anything such a one may ask you to do."
"I will try to remember," I answered; "--but I may forget!"
"Then some evil that is good for you will follow."
"And if I remember?"
"Some evil that is not good for you, will not follow."
The old man seemed to sink to the ground, and immediately I saw theraven several yards from me, flying low and fast.