“Hush! Keep quiet!” whispered the voice, which was soundless and yet which had the effect of laughter—like the laughter of spiteful mockery.)
The girl’s face was as a crystal, filled with snow. She made a movement as if for flight. But her knees would not obey her. Reeds which stand in troubled water do not tremble more than her shoulders trembled.
“If you have come to betray us, son of Joh Fredersen, then you will have but little blessing from it,” she said softly, but in a clear voice.
He stood up and remained standing before her.
“Is that all the faith you have in me?” he asked gravely.
She said nothing, but looked at him. Her eyes filled with tears.
“You …” said the man. “What shall I call you? I do not know your name. I have always called you just ‘you’ all the bad days and worse nights, for I did not know if I should find you again, I always called you only, ‘you.’ … Will you tell me, at last, what your name is?”
“Maria,” answered the girl.
“Maria … That should be your name … you did not make it easy for me to find my way to you, Maria.”
“And why did you seek your way to me? And why do you wear the blue linen uniform? Those condemned to wear it all their life long, live in an underground city, which is accounted a wonder of the world in all the five continents. It is an architectural wonder—that is true. It is light and shining bright and a model of tidiness. It lacks nothing but the sun—and the rain—and the moon by night—nothing but the sky. That is why the children which are born there have their gnome—like faces … Do you want go down into this city under the earth in order the more to enjoy your dwelling which lies so high above the great Metropolis, in the light of the sky? Are you wearing the uniform, which you have on today, for fun?”
“No, Maria. I shall always wear it now.”
“As Joh Fredersen’s son?”
“He no longer has a son … unless—you, yourself, give him back his son.”
(Behind them, in a vault that was shaped like a pointed devil’s-ear, one man’s hand was laid upon another man’s mouth.
“It is written,” whispered a laugh: “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother and cleave unto his wife …”)
“Won’t you understand me?” asked Freder. “Why do you look at me with such stern eyes? You wish me to be a mediator between Joh Fredersen and those whom you call your brothers … There can be no mediator between heaven and hell who never was in heaven and hell … I never knew hell until yesterday. That is why I failed so deplorably, yesterday, when I spoke to my father for your brothers. Until you stood before me for the first time, Maria, I lived the life of a dearly loved son. I did not know what an unrealisable wish was. I knew no longing, for everything was mine … Young as I am, I have exhausted the pleasures of the earth, down to the very bottom. I had an aim—a gamble with Death: A flight to the stars … And then you came and showed me my brothers … From that day on I have sought you. I have so longed for you that I should gladly and unhesitatingly have died, had somebody told me that that was the way to you. But as it was, I had to live and seek another way …”
“To me, or to your brothers … ?”
“To you, Maria … I will not make myself out to you to be better than I am. I want to come to you, Maria—and I want you … I love mankind, not for its own sake, but for your sake—because you love it. I do not want to help mankind for its own sake, but for your sake—because you wish it. Yesterday I did good to two men; I helped one whom my father had dismissed. And I did the work of the man, whose uniform I have on … That was my way to you … God bless you …”
His voice failed him. The girl stepped up to him. She took his hands in both her hands. She gently turned the palms upward, and considered them, looked at them with her Madonna-eyes, and folded her hands tenderly around his, which she carefully laid together.
“Maria,” he said, without a sound.
She let his hands fall and raised hers to his head. She laid her fingertips on his cheeks. With her fingertips she stroked his eyebrows, his temples, twice, three times.
Then he snatched her to his heart and they kissed each other …
He no longer felt the stones under his feet. A wave carried him, him and the girl whom he held clasped to him as though he wished to die of it—and the wave came from the bottom of the ocean, roaring as though the whole sea were an organ; and the wave was of fire and flung right up to the heavens.
Then sinking … sinking … endlessly gliding down—right down to the womb of the world, the source of the beginning … Thirst and quenching drink … hunger and satiation … pain and deliverance from it … death and rebirth …
“You …” said the man to the girl’s lips. “You are really the great mediatress … You are all that is most sacred on earth … You are all goodness … You are all grace … To doubt you is to doubt God … Maria—Maria—you called me—here I am!”
(Behind them, in a vault that was shaped like a pointed devil’s-ear, one man leant towards another man’s ear.
“You wanted to have the Futura’s face from me … There you have your model …”
“Is that a commission?”
“Yes.”)
“Now you must go, Freder,” said the girl. Her Madonna eyes looked at him.
“Go—and leave you here?”
She turned grave and shook her head.
“Nothing will happen to me,” she said. “There is not one, among those who know this place, whom I cannot trust as though he were my blood brother. But what is between us is nobody’s affair; it would vex
