“Look at me, Virgin!” implored his eyes. “Mother, look at me!”
But her gentle eyes looked out over him. Her lips said:
“My brothers …”
And stopped dumb, as though alarmed.
Freder raised his head. Nothing had happened—nothing to speak of, only that the air which passed through the room had suddenly become audible, like a raised breath, and that it was cool, as though coming in through open doors.
With a faint crackling sound the swords of flame bowed themselves. Then they stood still again.
“Speak, my beloved!” said Freder’s heart.
Yes, now she spoke. This is what she said:
“Do you want to know how the building of the Tower of Babel began, and do you want to know how it ended? I see a man who comes from the Dawn of the World. He is as beautiful as the world, and has a burning heart. He loves to walk upon the mountains and to offer his breast unto the wind and to speak with the stars. He is strong and rules all creatures. He dreams of God and feels himself closely tied to him. His nights are filled with faces.
“One hallowed hour bursts his heart. The firmament is above him and his friends. ‘Oh friends! Friends!’ he cries, pointing to the stars. ‘Great is the world and its Creator! Great is man! Come, let us build a tower, the top of which reaches the sky! And when we stand on its top, and hear the stars ringing above us, then let us write our creed in golden symbols on the top of the tower! Great is the world and its creator! And great is man!’
“And they set to, a handful of men, full of confidence, and they made bricks and dug up to the earth. Never have men worked more rapidly, for they all had one thought, one aim and one dream. When they rested from work in the evening each knew of what the other was thinking. They did not need speech to make themselves understood. But after some time they knew: The work was greater than their working hands. Then they enlisted new friends to their work. Then their work grew. It grew overwhelming. Then the builders sent their messengers to all four winds of the world and enlisted Hands, working Hands for their mighty work.”
“The Hands came. The Hands worked for wages. The Hands did not even know what they were making. None of those building Southwards knew one of those digging toward the North. The Brain which conceived the construction of the Tower of Babel was unknown to those who built it. Brain and Hands were far apart and strangers. Brain and Hands became enemies. The pleasure of one became the other’s burden. The hymn of praise of one became the other’s curse.
“ ‘Babel!’ shouted one, meaning: Divinity, Coronation, Eternal, Triumph!
“ ‘Babel’ shouted the other, meaning: Hell, Slavery, Eternal, Damnation!
“The same word was prayer and blasphemy. Speaking the same words, the men did not understand each other.
“That men no longer understood each other, that Brain and Hands no longer understood each other, was to blame that the Tower of Babel was given up to destruction, that never were the words of those who had conceived it written on its top in golden symbols: Great is the world and its Creator! And great is man!
“That Brain and Hands no longer understand each other will one day destroy the New Tower of Babel.
“Brain and Hands need a mediator. The Mediator between Brain and Hands must be the Heart …”
She was silent. A breath like a sigh came up from the silent lips of the listeners.
Then one stood up slowly, resting his fists upon the shoulders of the man who crouched before him, and asked, raising his thin face with its fanatical eyes to the girl:
“And where is our mediator, Maria?”
The girl looked at him, and over her sweet face passed the gleam of a boundless confidence.
“Wait for him,” she said. “He is sure to come.”
A murmur ran through the rows of men. Freder bowed his head to the girl’s feet, His whole soul said:
“It shall be I.”
But she did not see him and she did not hear him.
“Be patient, my brothers!” she said. “The way which your mediator must take is long … There are many among you who cry, Fight! Destroy!—Do not fight, my brothers, for that makes you to sin. Believe me: One will come, who will speak for you—who will be the mediator between you, the Hands, and the man whose Brain and Will are over you all. He will give you something which is more precious than anything which anybody could give you: To be free, without sinning.”
She stood up from the stone upon which she had been sitting. A movement ran through the heads turned towards her. A voice was raised. The speaker was not to be seen. It was as if they all spoke:
“We shall wait, Maria. But not much longer—!”
The girl was silent. With her sad eyes she seemed to be seeking the speaker among the crowd.
A man who stood before her spoke up to her:
“And if we fight—where will you be then?”
“With you!” said the girl, opening her hands with the gesture of one sacrificing. “Have you ever found me faithless?”
“Never!” said the men. “You are like gold to us. We shall do what you expect of us.”
“Thank you,” said the girl, closing her eyes. With bowed head she stood there, listening to the sound of retiring feet—feet which walked in hard shoes.
Only when all about her had become silent and when the last footfall had died away she sighed and opened her eyes.
Then she saw a man, wearing the blue linen and the black cap and the hard shoes, kneeling at her feet.
She bent down. He raised his head. She looked at him.
And then she recognised him.
(Behind them, in a vault that was shaped like a pointed devil’s-ear, one man’s hand seized another man’s
