The Seeds of Enchantment | Page 9

understand; but the drift of it he could follow. And,
following, he passed gradually from amazement to a deep sense of
shock, of outrage.
It was as though these two had abandoned all restraints, relapsed into
the utterest hedonism; as if they embraced some cult of pleasure
beyond every conventional, every unconvential morality. "Not
immoral," thought Beamish, "but a-moral. The drug has destroyed, put
to sleep, somehow or other abrogated, that faculty we call personal
conscience."

Apparently, they felt no sorrow for Melie's death, no jealousy of each
other's passion. Indeed, mutual desire now frankly admitted seemed to
bind them closer in comradeship. But, listen as he might, Beamish
could hear no scabrous word; the talk was all of Beauty, of Flowers, of
sweet music, of poetry and of Love: only, in the mouths of these two,
Beauty and Flowers and music and poetry and Love Love especially
became mere instruments of pleasure, selfish toys for body and mind...
Suddenly, Beamish began to envy. How happy these two must be! How
wonderful to feel free, as they seemed free, from all the constraining
stupidities; to live solely for pleasure; to know neither jealousy nor
hatred. Thus, men would be in the millennium. Besides, as a medico, it
was surely his duty to test this new drug... The drug might be of
enormous value, of curative value... In mental cases, for instance
hysteria, neurasthenia... Drugs, properly prescribed, were not harmful...
On the contrary... Look at opium, codein, heroin, cannabis indica,
cocaine... Benefits to the human race... Pity that weak people abused
them!...
Cyprian Beamish, M.D., Glasgow, dipped finger and thumb into the
snuff-box, extracted a bean, paused with it halfway to his mouth and
ate.
For about thirty seconds the doctor's scientific mind took accurate notes.
"Dissolves in the mouth on mastication," "Cool in taste," " Slightly
sucrose." Then he forgot science. Science, after all, was rather a bore:
science contributed nothing to the Art of Life: the world would be
much jollier without science... But what a jolly place the world was!
Outside, rain ceased abruptly. Twilight came; and on twilight's heels,
night.
"To love," said de Gys, "passionately but not overpossessively;to love
as the flowers love; to love without grudging; to be free of all
superstitions--"
"Yes" Dicky's voice took up the tale "to be free! To feel the magic of
moonlight in one's veins! To feel the youth of the world pulsing and

throbbing through one's heart! To know that all constraint is vile, an
outrage to the gods and goddesses, to Dionysus and Aphrodite and Pan
who is greater than all. Old friend, we have eaten of the Tree of Life,
you and I, of all men on earth to-day, we alone know Truth."
"And truth," Beamish spoke raptly, "truth is Beauty, especially the
Beauty of Woman..."
Silence fell on them. They sat a-dream, quiet as the pale girl beyond the
door; the girl whom they had momentarily forgotten. They were fully
conscious of each other's bodies, of the light above their heads, and the
whirling fan, and the open snuff-box on the table. Only, in their minds,
visions shimmered: unto each his desire.
"Qa passe" announced the Frenchman suddenly; and he looked at
Dicky, a little flash as of jealousy in his eyes.
"Oui. Ca passe." The Long'un rose from his chair, stared down puzzled
into Cyprian's face. "De Gys, what happened? Were we drugged? Look
at old Beamish he's fast asleep."
But the Frenchman had relapsed into vision-land, and Cyprian's voice
answered:
"I'm not asleep, Long'un, only rather happy. I'm sorry I made such a
fuss about that death-certificate. One mustn't be suspicious of people,
must one? You understand that."
"Yes," said Dicky, "I understand."
He did not understand, not in the least. He only realized that for the
space of a whole hour life had become utterly exquisite, a glory. And
now life was itself again drab.
"Somebody will have to see about the funeral," thought Dicky...
Meanwhile, Beamish dreamed. In that dream all the subconscious
hopes of Beamish's mind took unto themselves visible shape, became

realities. He saw the second country of his desire, no longer nebulous
but actually in being a vision accomplished. Such a country it was:
sunshine glowing on its flower-studded lawns, on its great trees heavy
with bloom, on its glassy water-courses: a country of infinite peace, of
infinite leisure... For all among the lawns and the trees, all adown the
banks of the glassy water-courses, Beamish could see young men and
maidens dancing to soft music, dancing and singing and making love in
the sunshine. "It is real," he said, aloud. "Real! I shall never doubt
again."
"What is real?" asked Dicky's voice.
"The land of heart's desire."
"Yes" de Gys rose abruptly from his chair "one sees that when one