“‘The Inhabitants of Sirius. Their Laws, Customs and Progress.’ Well?”
“Well!” echoed El-Râmi.—“Is such information, gained from Lilith in her wanderings, of no value?”
The monk made no direct reply, but read the title of the second MS.
“‘The World of Neptune. How it is composed of One Thousand Distinct Nations, united under one reigning Emperor, known at the present era as Ustalvian the Tenth.’ And again I say—well? What of all this, except to hazard the remark that Ustalvian is a great creature, and supports his responsibilities admirably?”
El-Râmi gave a gesture of irritation and impatience.
“Surely it must interest you?” he said.—“Surely you cannot have known these things positively——”
“Stop, stop, my friend!” interposed the monk—“Do you know them positively? Do you accept any of Lilith’s news as positive? Come,—you are honest—confess you do not! You cannot believe her, though you are puzzled to make out as to where she obtains information which has certainly nothing to do with this world, or any external impression. And that is why she is really a sphinx to you still, in spite of your power over her. As for being interested, of course I am interested. It is impossible not to be interested in everything, even in the development of a grub. But you have not made any discovery that is specially new—to me. I have my own messenger!” He raised his eyes one moment with a brief devout glance—then resumed quietly—“There are other ‘detached’ spirits, besides that of your Lilith, who have found their way to some of the planets, and have returned to tell the tale. In one of our monasteries we have a very exact description of Mars obtained in this same way—its landscapes, its cities, its people, its various nations—all very concisely given. These are but the beginnings of discoveries—the feeling for the clue,—the clue itself will be found one day.”
“The clue to what?” demanded El-Râmi. “To the stellar mysteries, or to Life’s mystery?”
“To everything!” replied the monk firmly. “To everything that seems unclear and perplexing now. It will all be unravelled for us in such a simple way that we shall wonder why we did not discover it before. As I told you, my friend, I am, above all things, a sympathiser. I sympathise—God knows how deeply and passionately,—with what I may call the unexplained woe of the world. The other day I visited a poor fellow who had lost his only child. He told me he could believe in nothing,—he said that what people call the goodness of God was only cruelty. ‘Why take this boy?’ he cried, rocking the pretty little corpse to and fro on his breast—‘Why rob me of the chief thing I had to live for? Oh, if I only knew—as positively as I know day is day, and night is night—that I should see my living child again, and possess his love in another world than this, should I repine as I do? No,—I should believe in God’s wisdom,—and I should try to be a good man instead of a bad. But it is because I do not know, that I am broken-hearted. If there is a God, surely He might have given us some little certain clue by way of help and comfort!’ Thus he wailed,—and my heart ached for him. Nevertheless, the clue is to be had,—and I believe it will be found suddenly in some little, deeply-hidden unguessed law,—we are on the track of it, and I fancy we shall soon find it.”
“Ah!—and what of the millions of creatures who, in the bygone eras, having no clue, have passed away without any sort of comfort?” asked El-Râmi.