Brother of the Third Degree: Chapter VI. The Woman in Black
The manner of M. Durant had served to somewhat allay my agitation, and when I reached my room I drew the sealed letter from my pocket without delay. The envelope was made of linen, and could not be torn, while the sealed portion on the back was covered with a wax stamp bearing mystic characters—the interlaced triangles with an Egyptian tau in the center, and surrounded by a serpent with a Chaldean swastica at the meeting of mouth and tail. Breaking the seal, I drew forth the following note, written in a small feminine hand: Sir, Your application has been favorably reported. My carriage will call for you this afternoon. If you wish to proceed, accompany without question, and bring this note with you. MADAME PETROVNA. "There must be crises in men's lives; here in the last twenty-four hours I have found my long-lost mother, lost my father, and received word from the mysterious Brotherhood which seems destined to control my life." I re-opened the letter from my father, and now for the first time the triangle which followed his signature attracted my attention. It was not like the other writing in color,—it was not writing! I stepped to the window and rubbed my finger over it, looking at it closely. It looked like a kind of carbon substance built up or embossed upon the paper, yet it would not rub off. As I stood gazing and wondering if it could be a precipitated sign, to my utter astonishment it commenced to fade away, until it had entirely disappeared. "My God! Am I a victim of magic?" I cried, as I stared at the now blank space. "Am I surrounded by powers invisible? Are they good or evil?" Then I recalled what I had read in an occult book, that a man is surrounded by powers I placed the letters carefully away in my pocket, and went down to the lawn to enjoy a morning walk, all the time filled with eager expectancy for the evening. I had not been walking long when Camille, seeing me, came down, and laughingly remarking that I was thinking too much, insisted that I take a drive with her. Thinking a little recreation would do me good and aid in preparing for the coming trials that I now pictured in my mind, I accepted her invitation, and we were soon flying along the beautiful boulevards and enjoying the fresh morning air of the great city of art. An hour later, having driven until our horses were a little warm, we stopped at the Louvre. Entering the great picture gallery, our attention was immediately attracted by a large crowd standing before a picture that had apparently only recently been placed on exhibition. As we approached, a tall, Oriental-looking man with an orange-colored turban on his head, left the Turning to the picture, which was of exceptionally large size, the first thing that attracted my attention was the predominance of mystic symbols. It was entitled "The Dawn," and was signed by a combination of the five and six-pointed stars. Fastened in the center at the top by a golden, five-pointed star, two magnificent curtains in red swept to the right and left. That on the right was held back by a young man in all the beauty of Apollo. Holding back the curtain with his left hand, in his right he held a golden wand made like a winged Caduceus, while upon his forehead was a golden sign of Mercury. The figure on the left was a woman, a Venus in all her beauty. The golden sign of Venus on her forehead seemed to scintillate, and the winged globe, sky-blue in color, that rested in her hand seemed to be a thing of life. The foreground in front of the curtain was black, and in the vapors of a smothering smoke were hosts of horrid creatures overshadowing three groups, representing war, pestilence and famine. Back of the curtain all was filled with a golden light, and rich fields and beautiful cities, thronged with happy, joyous people, festooning, as on a holiday, Spell-bound we gazed, our soul's mysterious The director immediately left, while the newcomers conversed in low tones. In a few moments the director returned, accompanied by some aids carrying a large covering, which they immediately put over the magnificent picture, the men standing by until it was accomplished. As they turned away I heard the leader say to the Oriental: "Yes, it was an unusual indiscretion on the part of Zerol to place that here. A man with the most fragmentary knowledge would, with an hour's study, learn enough to be dangerous. Hereafter he must let us inspect such productions." Camille and I, both being connoisseurs, appreciated the work, but could not understand the action of the men in thus concealing it. As we left the gallery she said the spokesman was Gen. "Yes, Madame," I replied, inferring immediately that it was the Madame herself whom I was talking to, "the knowledge of the colleges is all very well so far as it goes, and as long as it is confined to facts as they exist without explanations; but their knowledge is only superficial and does not satisfy the mind that would know the true nature of things in themselves." "Ah!" and that same tingle of pleasure again went through me, "then Monsieur is of a philosophical turn of mind, is he?" "From my childhood, Mademoiselle," said I, changing the form of my address in the hope of getting some clue to her identity, "I have been taught in a philosophical manner, and, therefore, naturally look at everything in that light." Thus no clue to her identity was given as the conversation continued and the carriage rolled rapidly along. But every word uttered by my unknown companion filled me, nevertheless, with a never-before-experienced feeling of pleasure, and I drank in each musical word as some delicious beverage. So absorbed was I with my companion that I took no notice of the route we were travelling. Once she was looking at the palm of her fair white hand, and I took advantage of the opportunity and asked: "Does Mademoiselle believe in palmistry?" She closed her hand quickly, and turning to me replied: "Is not the palm of the hand, if protected, one of the most sensitive parts of the body, and does not the Scriptures say that the hand is all covered over with light? Let me see Monsieur's hand." I held out my open hand, and she took it gently. Oh, what means this great joy that steals around my heart? What pleasure in that touch! Did I mistake? Her veil was double and I could not see her face, but I thought I saw a tremor shake her form and there was a slight quiver in her voice as she said: "And does Mademoiselle believe in past lives?" I asked. Without answering she continued: "But the lines and mounts say, Monsieur, that you will love deeply when you do love; and that you will meet her in your twenty-second year, or very near that point. May I ask your age, Monsieur?" "I am twenty-two," I answered, with what was to me unusual warmth. And did a secret feeling make me wish that what she said was true? Just then the carriage stopped, and as she dropped my hand I looked out. We were in front of a granite arch which marked the entrance to a palatial residence, situated in the middle of a large lawn surrounded by a high iron fence with granite posts. Glancing up, a group of statuary surmounting the arch attracted my attention. A huge bronze tiger, the very picture of subjugated humiliation, was held in chains by a winged cupid standing on a golden egg. Whoever these people are, I thought, they understand the secret of art. It is evident that group has a meaning and value which comes from other than a mere skill in execution. My companion had noticed my admiring glances, and, as the iron gates swung open, as by a secret order, and we passed through, she asked: "I might mistake; will you explain?" I answered. "The group, with the egg, comprehends, in its entirety, a great deal; but to explain briefly, the tiger symbolizes man's animal or tiger nature—the beast which is subjugated and chained by love, which, according to the Mystics, comes from a golden egg." There was a soul-stirring tenderness in her words as she thus answered, and for the first time in my life I felt the thrillings of a new-born love. "Beautiful thought," I answered; "if one can judge these people by their art, they must be pure and good." They are," she replied We were now driving along the gravel road through the carefully-kept lawn. The velvety sward adorned with flowers and trees reflected the rays of the afternoon sun in all of nature's beauty. Truly, I thought, if this is the way I am to be initiated, it is anything but that which I had thought. I had pictured terrible ordeals and blood-curdling tests, and here I had been met by a woman who, while I had never seen her face, I knew must be beautiful, and everything seemed bright and joyful. Then I thought, perhaps this I handed her the note I had received in the morning. She placed it in a drawer in the table and continued: "Your name Colono?" "Yes, Madame," I answered. "Well, young man, what do you come here for?" I thought her tone and manner of speech somewhat brusque, but answered: "To seek entrance into the Brotherhood." "What are your motives?" she asked, her piercing eyes never leaving mine. "I desire knowledge. Knowledge is the end and aim of my life." "For what do you want this knowledge? Is it for any personal ends or selfish purposes?" "No selfish purpose prompts me," I answered. "It is an inborn desire within me. Ever since I was a child, I have longed to know the real meaning of things; and the mystery of life has had an irresistible fascination to my mind." "And you think there is a Brotherhood that can assist you to this knowledge, do you?" "Where did you get this knowledge?" she asked abruptly. "My parents have always taught me so," I answered. "Oh! and is that all the foundation you have for your affirmation?" "My parents being members of this Brotherhood would know, and they would not deceive me; furthermore, I have an inner consciousness which tells me this Brotherhood exists; and that among its members are exalted men and women who possess wondrous knowledge, powers and God-like wisdom." "Ah! you believe in an inner consciousness then, do you?" A momentary softness came over her face, and I thought I detected more of the woman in her tone. "I believe man is a temple of the Divinity, and that within him are divine powers and possibilities," I answered. "Man is not only a temple of the Divinity—man is the Divinity—Perfect man is God," she replied, with a vehemence that forbade contradiction. Then, suddenly changing the subject, she asked: Now, while I had been raised in the midst of wealth and aristocracy, I was what some over-conservative, people would call an extremist; and I answered accordingly: "I believe it is abnormal, monstrous, and contrary to the divine intention. A social state where altruism and industry are made the victims of greed and sloth cannot long mock eternal justice, and its end draws near." This strange woman, by the supreme power of will controlled her features; but I could see from the brilliant light in her eyes that I had voiced her sentiments. "And how will it end?" she asked. "That depends on man. If in time the moral sentiment becomes sufficiently strong, the present lamentable condition of things will give place to something higher; but, if this moral change is too long delayed, then, like all civilizations of the past, we will sink into the chaos of an awful night; and then, from the shattered fragments of what is left, through years and centuries of toil and pain, build up again." The restless activity which always came over me in moments of great earnestness, commenced to rise within. I could hardly sit still, and moved restlessly from side to side. "Madame, I would do all within my power; but what can I do? I am but one little insignificant man; and look how much is to be done." "You, as an isolated and separate man can do little, but as an instrument of the Infinite, much." I was about to reply, when she again abruptly changed the conversation by asking: "Have you the exact hour and date of your birth?" Remembering the dates given me by M. Durant I answered accordingly. Without evincing any surprise at the exactness of my knowledge as to the hour, which is very seldom known, she wrote it down in a small book. Then opening a drawer she drew forth and handed me a card, saying: "Report at that address to-morrow morning at nine o'clock; keep the card for presentation, and, without informing any one, go alone. You are now excused." My veiled conductor was awaiting me in the hall. Without a word she led by a different route to the hall below, where another surprise awaited me. The side-hall through which we were passing was covered with finely executed portrait paintings "No one less than my father and mother," I replied. "Oh, Mademoiselle, how did they come there? And so natural!" "All high-degree members of the Brotherhood are there," she answered. "Would you like to have your picture there?" "It will be, if it is in the power of man to put it there." "Monsieur knows not the meaning of his
"My parents did it, and so can I. All men can attain to the same great end if they but will. They trust me to do it, and I will. But, is Mademoiselle's picture there?" "Ah! How could a poor, weak woman like me become so great? Do you know, Monsieur, that none can have their picture there who harbor thoughts of love? Then how can woman who is born to love ever reach that end?" My heart was now throbbing in my throat; it seemed to me her words had a secret meaning, and it was all I could do to regulate my breath, as I answered: "But my mother loved, and she is there." "Then she had to sacrifice that love." Now did the words of my parents once more steal across my memory. Again did I recall the sad parting of my mother on the fated steamer. Then all the mysteries of the last few days crowded on my mind, and I was once more about to lose my self-control, when my companion, seeming to divine my thoughts, said: "There are three great steps in man's progress to perfection, and these are all included under the one word—self-control. Separately they are—control of body, control of mind, control of heart. Most truly, I thought, as each word set mine on fire. Oh, how I did long to see the face behind that cruel veil of black! Now I thought of my father's words about my sympathetic soul. Surely this is mine, I thought; I will ask her of the doctrine. "Mademoiselle, talking of love, do you believe in sympathetic souls?" She turned half around, and I surely saw her hand tremble and heard her voice quiver as she answered: "Yes, I do." I, too, was trembling now, but steadying my voice, I asked: "What is the teaching, Mademoiselle? Does it mean that all souls have their mates and no others?" "No; that may be the popular idea of the doctrine, but it is erroneous. The true teaching is, that there are souls—not all—who have become inseparably conjoined because of a harmonious union in lives gone by. These cases are rare, but they do exist." I was about to question further, when the carriage came to a stop in front of the Durant mansion. " Are we here already? My! how short theTHE WOMAN IN BLACK.
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