No time to think about that. I jump up to pull Jane back, my old man’s knee gives way, I slip, scream, see the insane, dead look in the eyes of my beloved, my violated wife – and the blood freezes in my veins as I witness the terrible fall; the farewell of my despairing wife is something that can never be purged from my soul.
My mind is numb, as if my brain were dead. One thought penetrates to semi-consciousness: my heart is cut up into seventy-two pieces. The well-shaft, the awesome well-shaft! Paralysed, I sense rather than see the circular gleam of the mirror of Isaïs ...
With all sensation gone from my legs, I climb the ladder out of the cellar. Every rung groans: “alone ... alone ... alone ... alone ...” A head appears through the opening of the trapdoor: a distorted face, the face of a criminal at the gallows, the face of Kelley, the man with the cut-off ears.
My first thought is: he will take hold of me and push me down; he will throw me down the shaft to join Jane.
I do not care, indeed, I long for it. –
He does not move. He lets me finish my precipitous climb, lets me crawl out of the void onto firm ground. Step by step he backs away from me, as if from a ghost. The lust for revenge, which the miserable coward is so frightened of, has died within me.
He stammers something about coming to save her about women being over-excitable ...
In a toneless voice I say: “She is dead. She has gone down into the abyss to prepare the way for me. On the third day she will rise again to ascend into heaven and sit at the right hand of God, whence she will come to judge the murderers in this life and the next ...” then I hear the insane blasphemies my lips are repeating and am silent.
God will not – I think, but it’s a lame excuse – hold a soul in such distress responsible for these blasphemies. Would that I were already resting on ...
Kelley heaves a sigh of relief. Becomes bolder. Slides up to me cautiously and offers me his slimy condolences:
“Brother, her sacrifice – and yours – has not been in vain. The holy Green Angel ...”
I look across to Kelley, my eyes burning; the first pain I feel in my numb body is in my eyes. “The Angel!” I exclaim and a wild surge of hope fills me: has the promised Stone been granted? Then ... perhaps ... with God all things are possible ... miracles have occurred ... the daughter of Jairus rose from the dead. The Stone of Transformation can work miracles in the hand of one who uses it with the true faith! Jane?! Is she less than the daughter of Jairus? Aloud I cry: “Has the Angel brought the Stone?”
Kelley is all eagerness:
“No, no, not the Stone, not yet ...”
“The key to the book?”
“N-no, that neither. But red powder: gold, fresh gold. And he has promised more, much more ...”
A cry tears its way out of my tormented heart:
“Did I sell my wife for gold, thou cur?! Slug! Cheapjack!”
Kelley jumps back. I see my clenched fists drop limply to my sides. Nothing will obey me any more. I want my hands to murder, but they are paralysed. I cannot find the command that will compel them to obey. A laugh, bitter as gall, rattles my throat:
“No need to fear, thou of the cut-off ears; I will not kill my instrument ... I intend to question the Green Angel face to face.”
Kelley hastens to reassure me:
“Oh my brother, that is right; the holy Green Angel can do anything. If he so desires he can bring our ... no, no, I mean: your wife back from the dead.”
My body becomes an animal poised to pounce; I leap forward instinctively, without thinking. My hands grasp Kelley by the throat:
“Bring the Green Angel to me, villain! Bring him to face me and I will spare your life!”
Kelley sinks to his knees.
The picture dissolves into a kaleidoscope of blurred images rushing through my brain; every time I think I can grasp one, it dissolves into mist. Then the screen clears to reveal Kelley in costly garments trimmed with rich furs strutting proudly about the state apartments of Rosenberg’s Palace. He calls himself God’s ambassador who is chosen to bring the secret of the threefold transformation of mankind: not to the common mass, but to the chosen few. And from now on the divine mystery is to have an indestructible earthly temple; and Rudolf, the Holy Roman Emperor, and those of his paladins that are worthy will be the guardians of the new grail.
In a secret, secluded chamber of the Palace, Rosenberg leads Kelley by the hand towards the Emperor, who is awaiting the prophet in an ominously over-excited state.
I have been compelled to join in the solemn procession: Rudolf has commanded just the two of us and Rosenberg into his presence. Rosenberg falls to his knees before the Emperor and washes his hands with tears of joy.
“Your Majesty, the Angel has revealed himself to us; truly, he has revealed himself,” he sobs.
The Emperor can scarcely conceal his excitement. He clears his throat:
“If that is so, Rosenberg, then we will all bow down and worship him, for we have spent our whole lives waiting for the Lord.” – Then, darkly threatening, he turns to us:
“You are three, as were once the Wise Men who brought news of the birth of man’s salvation – and gifts: the one on his knees has brought me the news – may it bring him blessing: you other two wise men – where are the gifts you bring?”
Kelley rushes forward and merely sketches a bow:
“Here; this is the gift the Angel sends to His Majesty, Emperor Rudolf.”
He hands over to Rudolf a golden casket containing twice the amount of the red powder as
