The Well of Saint Clare | Page 8

At the question, the old man lifted up his arms towards heaven, and
said:
"My son, the nature of men and animals, of plants and stones, is the
secret of the immortal gods, and I know as little as yourself what is the
reason of these horns wherewith my brow is decked, and which the
Nymphs used in olden days to wind about with garlands of flowers. I
cannot tell you the meaning of the two wrinkled folds that droop from
my neck, nor why I have the feet of a wanton goat. But I would have
you know, my son, there was once in these woods a race of women
having horned brows like mine and shaggy thighs. Yet were their
bosoms round and white, and their belly and polished loins shone in the
light. The sun was young then, and loved to fleck them with his golden
arrows, as they lay beneath the shady foliage. They were very fair, my
son; but alas! they have vanished from the woods, every one. My mates
have perished likewise, and I am left lonely, the last of my tribe."
"I would fain know your age, old man, and your lineage and country."

"My son, I was born of the Earth long ere Jupiter had dethroned Saturn,
and my eyes have looked upon the flowery freshness of the
new-created World. Not yet had the human race emerged from the clay.
Alone with me, the dancing Satyr girls set the ground ringing with the
rhythmic beat of their double hoofs. They were taller and stronger and
fairer than either Nymphs or Women; and their ampler loins received
abundantly the seed of the first-born of Earth.
"Under the reign of Jupiter the Nymphs began to inhabit fountains and
forests and mountains; while the Fauns, accoupling with the Nymphs,
formed light-footed bands that roamed the woods together. Meantime I
spent a happy life, tasting at will the clusters of the wild grapes and the
lips of the laughing Faun-girls. I enjoyed deep and restful slumbers
amid the lush grass; and I would celebrate on my rustic flute Jupiter,
Saturn's successor, for it is of my nature to praise the gods, masters of
the world.
"Alas! and I am grown old, for I am but a god, and the centuries have
blanched the hairs of my head and of my bosom, and have extinguished
the fire of my reins. I was already heavily weighted with years when
the Great Pan died, and Jupiter, meeting the same lot he had laid upon
Saturn, was dethroned by the Galilean. Since then I have dragged out
an ever-flagging life, so feeble and languid that at last it fell out I died,
and was entombed. And verily I am now but the shadow of myself. If I
still exist a little, it is because nothing ever really perishes, and none is
suffered altogether to die out. Death must never be more perfect and
complete than life. Beings lost in the Ocean of Things are like the
waves you may watch, my child, rising and falling in the Adriatic Sea.
They have neither beginning nor end, they are born and die insensibly.
Insensibly as the waves, my soul passes. A faint far-off memory of the
satyr girls of the Golden Age yet brightens my eyes, and on my lips
float soundlessly the ancient hymns of praise."
This said, he fell silent. Fra Mino gazed at the old man, and knew him,
that he was a phantom and nothing more.
"Yes! you may indeed be a goat-foot," he told him gravely, "without
being a demon; 'tis not a thing wholly incredible. Such creatures as God

framed to have no part in Adam's heritage, these can no more be
damned than they can be saved. I can never believe that the Centaur
Cheiron, who was wiser than men are, is suffering eternal torments in
the belly of Leviathan. A traveller who penetrated once into Limbo,
relates how he saw him seated in a grassy spot and conversing with
Rhipheus, the most righteous man of all the Trojans. Others indeed
affirm that Holy Paradise itself has been opened to admit Rhipheus of
Troy. Any way the case Is one where doubt Is not unlawful. But you
lied, old man, when you told me you were a Saint, who are not so much
even as a man."
The goat-foot made answer:
"My son, when I was young, I was no more used to lie than the sheep
whose milk I sucked or the he-goats with which I would butt in the joy
of my strength and beauty. Lies were unknown In those times, nor had
the sheep's fleece yet learned to assume factitious hues; and my soul
has remained unchanged from that day to this. See, I