Seraphita | Page 9

this nature rarefied by space do you not feel
within you something deeper far than mind, grander than enthusiasm,
of greater energy than will? Are you not conscious of emotions whose
interpretation is no longer in us? Do you not feel your pinions? Let us
pray."
Seraphitus knelt down and crossed his hands upon his breast, while
Minna fell, weeping, on her knees. Thus they remained for a time,
while the azure dome above their heads grew larger and strong rays of
light enveloped them without their knowledge.
"Why dost thou not weep when I weep?" said Minna, in a broken voice.
"They who are all spirit do not weep," replied Seraphitus rising; "Why
should I weep? I see no longer human wretchedness. Here, Good
appears in all its majesty. There, beneath us, I hear the supplications
and the wailings of that harp of sorrows which vibrates in the hands of
captive souls. Here, I listen to the choir of harps harmonious. There,
below, is hope, the glorious inception of faith; but here is faith--it
reigns, hope realized!"
"You will never love me; I am too imperfect; you disdain me," said the
young girl.
"Minna, the violet hidden at the feet of the oak whispers to itself: 'The
sun does not love me; he comes not.' The sun says: 'If my rays shine

upon her she will perish, poor flower.' Friend of the flower, he sends
his beams through the oak leaves, he veils, he tempers them, and thus
they color the petals of his beloved. I have not veils enough, I fear lest
you see me too closely; you would tremble if you knew me better.
Listen: I have no taste for earthly fruits. Your joys, I know them all too
well, and, like the sated emperors of pagan Rome, I have reached
disgust of all things; I have received the gift of vision. Leave me!
abandon me!" he murmured, sorrowfully.
Seraphitus turned and seated himself on a projecting rock, dropping his
head upon his breast.
"Why do you drive me to despair?" said Minna.
"Go, go!" cried Seraphitus, "I have nothing that you want of me. Your
love is too earthly for my love. Why do you not love Wilfrid? Wilfrid
is a man, tested by passions; he would clasp you in his vigorous arms
and make you feel a hand both broad and strong. His hair is black, his
eyes are full of human thoughts, his heart pours lava in every word he
utters; he could kill you with caresses. Let him be your beloved, your
husband! Yes, thine be Wilfrid!"
Minna wept aloud.
"Dare you say that you do not love him?" he went on, in a voice which
pierced her like a dagger.
"Have mercy, have mercy, my Seraphitus!"
"Love him, poor child of Earth to which thy destiny has indissolubly
bound thee," said the strange being, beckoning Minna by a gesture, and
forcing her to the edge of the saeter, whence he pointed downward to a
scene that might well inspire a young girl full of enthusiasm with the
fancy that she stood above this earth.
"I longed for a companion to the kingdom of Light; I wished to show
you that morsel of mud, I find you bound to it. Farewell. Remain on
earth; enjoy through the senses; obey your nature; turn pale with pallid

men; blush with women; sport with children; pray with the guilty; raise
your eyes to heaven when sorrows overtake you; tremble, hope, throb
in all your pulses; you will have a companion; you can laugh and weep,
and give and receive. I,--I am an exile, far from heaven; a monster, far
from earth. I live of myself and by myself. I feel by the spirit; I breathe
through my brow; I see by thought; I die of impatience and of longing.
No one here below can fulfil my desires or calm my griefs. I have
forgotten how to weep. I am alone. I resign myself, and I wait."
Seraphitus looked at the flowery mound on which he had seated Minna;
then he turned and faced the frowning heights, whose pinnacles were
wrapped in clouds; to them he cast, unspoken, the remainder of his
thoughts.
"Minna, do you hear those delightful strains?" he said after a pause,
with the voice of a dove, for the eagle's cry was hushed; "it is like the
music of those Eolian harps your poets hang in forests and on the
mountains. Do you see the shadowy figures passing among the clouds,
the winged feet of those who are making ready the gifts of heaven?
They bring refreshment to the soul; the skies are about to open and
shed the flowers of spring upon the earth. See, a gleam is darting from
the pole. Let us