His wedded wife one night of June hath slain.
“Fire and loud noise will issue from the earth
In secrecy where the great treasure lies
And man again will on the stone set eyes
Once stolen from wild men in byegone days
O’er the sea; the God-Stone which gives life or death.”
Don Luis Perenna had begun to read in emphatic tones, bringing out the imbecility of the words and the triteness of the rhythm. He ended in a hollow voice, without resonance, which died away in an anguished silence. The whole adventure appeared in all its horror.
He continued:
“You understand how the facts are linked together, don’t you Stéphane, you who were one of the victims and who knew or know the others? So do you, Patrice, don’t you? In the fifteenth century, a poor monk, with a disordered imagination and a brain haunted by infernal visions, expresses his dreams in a prophecy which we will describe as bogus, which rests on no serious data, which consists of details depending on the exigencies of the rhyme or rhythm and which certainly, both in the poet’s mind and from the standpoint of originality, possesses no more value than if the poet had drawn the words at random out of a bag. The story of the God-Stone, the legends and traditions, none of all this provides him with the least element of prophecy. The worthy man evolved the prophecy from his own consciousness, not intending any harm and simply to add a text of some sort to the margin of the devilish drawing which he had so painstakingly illuminated. And he is so pleased with it that he takes the trouble to take a pointed implement and engrave a few lines of it on one of the stones of the Fairies’ Dolmen.
“Well, four or five centuries later, the prophetic page falls into the hands of a Superhun, a criminal lunatic, a madman eaten up with vanity. What does the Superhun see in it? A diverting puerile fantasy? A meaningless caprice? Not a bit of it! He regards it as a document of the highest interest, one of those documents which the most Superhunnish of his fellow countrymen love to pore over, with this difference, that the document to his mind possesses a miraculous origin. He looks upon it as the Old and New Testament, the Scriptures which explain and expound the Sarek law, the very gospel of the God-Stone. And this gospel designates him, Vorski, him, the Superhun, as the Messiah appointed to execute the decrees of Providence.
“To Vorski, there is no possibility of mistake. No doubt he enjoys the business, because it is a matter of stealing wealth and power. But this question occupies a secondary position. He is above all obeying the mystic impulse of a race which believes itself to be marked out by destiny and which flatters itself that it is always fulfilling missions, a mission of regeneration as well as a mission of pillage, arson and murder. And Vorski reads his mission set out in full in Brother Thomas’ prophecy. Brother Thomas says explicitly what has to be done and names him, Vorski, in the plainest terms, as the man of destiny. Is he not a king’s son, in other words a ‘prince of Almain?’ Does he not come from the country where the stone was stolen from the ‘wild men o’er the sea?’ Has he not also a wife who is doomed, in the seer’s prophecies, to the torture of the cross? Has he not two sons, one gentle and gracious as Abel, and the other wicked and uncontrolled as Cain?
“These proofs are enough for him. He now has his mobilization-papers, his marching-orders in his pocket. The gods have indicated the objective upon which he is to march; and he marches. True, there are a few living people in his path. So much the better; it is all part of the programme. For it is after all these living people have been killed and, moreover, killed in the manner announced by Brother Thomas that the task will be done, the God-Stone released and Vorski, the instrument of destiny, crowned king. Therefore, let’s turn up our sleeves, take our trusty butcher’s knife in hand, and get to work! Vorski will translate Brother Thomas’ nightmare into real life!”
XVII
“Cruel Prince, Obeying Destiny”
Don Luis once more addressed himself to Vorski:
“We’re agreed, aren’t we, Kamerad? All that I’m saying exactly expresses the truth?”
Vorski had closed his eyes, his head was drooping, and the veins on his temple were immoderately swollen. To prevent any interference by Stéphane, Don Luis exclaimed:
“You will speak, my fine fellow! Ah, the pain is beginning to grow serious, is it? The brain is giving way? … Remember, just one whistle, a bar or two of Tipperary and I interrupt my speech. … You won’t? You’re not ripe yet? So much the worse for you! … And you, Stéphane, have no fear for François. I answer for everything. But no pity for this monster, please! No, no and again no! Don’t forget that he prepared and contrived everything of his own free will! Don’t forget … But I’m getting angry. What’s the use?”
Don Luis unfolded the page of the notebook on which Vorski had written down the prophecy and, holding it under his eyes, continued:
“What remains to be said is not so important, once the general explanation is accepted. Nevertheless, we must go into detail to some slight extent, show the mechanism of the affair imagined and built up by Vorski and lastly come to the part played by our attractive ancient Druid. … So we are now in the month of June. This is the season fixed for the execution of the thirty victims. It was evidently appointed by Brother Thomas because the rhythm of his verse called for a month in one syllable, just as the year fourteen and three was selected because three rhymes with be and tree and just as Brother Thomas decided upon the number of thirty
