The Singing Mouse Stories | Page 8

the
rose is there. Do you see him look up at the mountains, about him at the
trees? Do you see him lay his head upon the earth? Do you still see his
smile, the smile which is weary and yet not afraid? Do you hear him
sigh? And what is this he whispers, here at the end of the long and
narrowing way--'I know not if this be the end or the beginning!' Ah,
what does this man mean who whispers to himself in riddles?
"Look! It is the time of war. There is music. The blood stings. The
heart leaps. The eye flames. The soul exults. Flickering of light on steel,
the flash of servant forces used to slay, the reverberant growl of engines
made for death, the passing of men in cloth and men in blankets, the
tramp of hurrying hoofs, the falling of men who die--can you see
this--can you catch the horror, the exultation, the joy of this, I say?
They come, they go; they run their race, and it is all.
"Here are those who ride against those who slay. Do you know this one
who rides at the head, smiling, swinging his sword well and smiling all
the time? It is he who said in the mountains that riddle of the end and
the beginning--who knew that to the heart of nature we must come, for
either the end or the beginning of this, our life. Do you see upon his
breast the red rose? I think he rides to battle with the rose, knowing
what fate will come.
"You know of this biting whistle in the air--this small thing that smites
unseen? Do you know the mowing of the death scythes? Hark! I hear
the singing of this unseen thing. See! he of the rose is bitten. He has
fallen. Ay! ay! He was so brave and strong! His horse has gone. He is
alone. The grass here was so green. It is red. The rose upon his breast is
red. His face is white, but still the smile is there; and now it is calmer
and more sweet, though still he whispers, 'I know not if it be the end or

the beginning!'
"He is alone with Nature again. The heavens weep for him. The grasses
and leaves begin with busy fingers to cover him up. The earth pillows
him. He sleeps. It is all. It is done. It is the way of life. It is the end and
the beginning.
[Illustration]
"He loved the valley, the mountain, the grass, the rose. Now, since he
cherished the rose so well, see, the rose will not leave him. Out of the
dust it rises, it grows, it blooms. Against his lips it presses. It is the
beginning! He loved, he thought, he knew. He is not dead He is with
Nature. It is but the beginning!
"Let the rose press against his lips in an eternal, pure caress. There is no
end. They understand. We do not yet understand."
The pink flame of the unreal light died away. The pageant of the hills,
the panorama of the battle, faded and were gone. The table and the
books came back. Wondering at these words, I scarce could tell when
the Singing Mouse went away, leaving me staring at the barren walls
and at the white skull by my hand. ... For a moment it nearly seemed to
me the hollow eyes had light and spoke to me. For a moment almost it
seemed to me that the rose stirred deep down among its petals, and that
a wider perfume floated out upon the air.
[Illustration]

[Illustration: The Man of the Mountain]
[Illustration]
THE MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN
"Once there was a man," said the Singing Mouse, "who loved to go into
the mountains. He would go alone, far into the mountains, and climb up

to the tops of the tallest peaks. Nothing pleased him so much as to
climb to the top of some mountain where no other man had ever been.
No one ever knew what he said to the mountains, or what the
mountains said to him, but that they understood each other very well
was sure, for he could go among the mountains where other men dared
not go. At the tops of the high mountains he would sit and look out
over the country that lay beyond. He would not say what he saw, for he
said he could not tell, and that, moreover, the people would not
understand it, for they did not know the way the mountains thought.
"One time this man climbed to the top of a very high mountain peak in
a distant country. This peak looked out over a wide land, and the man
knew