Tell me, Wilfrid, could any of the women you once knew create such a glorious retreat for herself as this? I am conscious here of a feeling seldom inspired by the sight of cities, a longing to lie down amid this quickening verdure.Here, with eyes to heaven and an open heart, lost in the bosom of immensity, I could hear the sighings of the flower, scarce budded, which longs for wings, or the cry of the eider grieving that it can only fly, and remember the desires of man who, issuing from all, is none the less ever longing.But that, Wilfrid, is only a woman's thought.You find seductive fancies in the wreathing mists, the light embroidered veils which Nature dons like a coy maiden, in this atmosphere where she perfumes for her spousals the greenery of her tresses.You seek the naiad's form amid the gauzy vapors, and to your thinking my ears should listen only to the virile voice of the Torrent.""But Love is there, like the bee in the calyx of the flower," replied Wilfrid, perceiving for the first time a trace of earthly sentiment in her words, and fancying the moment favorable for an expression of his passionate tenderness.
"Always there?" said Seraphita, smiling.Minna had left them for a moment to gather the blue saxifrages growing on a rock above.
"Always," repeated Wilfrid."Hear me," he said, with a masterful glance which was foiled as by a diamond breast-plate."You know not what I am, nor what I can be, nor what I will.Do not reject my last entreaty.Be mine for the good of that world whose happiness you bear upon your heart.Be mine that my conscience may be pure; that a voice divine may sound in my ears and infuse Good into the great enterprise I have undertaken prompted by my hatred to the nations, but which Iswear to accomplish for their benefit if you will walk beside me.What higher mission can you ask for love? what nobler part can woman aspire to? I came to Norway to meditate a grand design.""And you will sacrifice its grandeur," she said, "to an innocent girl who loves you, and who will lead you in the paths of peace.""What matters sacrifice," he cried, "if I have you? Hear my secret.Ihave gone from end to end of the North,--that great smithy from whose anvils new races have spread over the earth, like human tides appointed to refresh the wornout civilizations.I wished to begin my work at some Northern point, to win the empire which force and intellect must ever give over a primitive people; to form that people for battle, to drive them to wars which should ravage Europe like a conflagration, crying liberty to some, pillage to others, glory here, pleasure there!--I, myself, remaining an image of Destiny, cruel, implacable, advancing like the whirlwind, which sucks from the atmosphere the particles that make the thunderbolt, and falls like a devouring scourge upon the nations.Europe is at an epoch when she awaits the new Messiah who shall destroy society and remake it.She can no longer believe except in him who crushes her under foot.The day is at hand when poets and historians will justify me, exalt me, and borrow my ideas, mine! And all the while my triumph will be a jest, written in blood, the jest of my vengeance! But not here, Seraphita; what I see in the North disgusts me.Hers is a mere blind force; I thirst for the Indies! I would rather fight a selfish, cowardly, mercantile government.Besides, it is easier to stir the imagination of the peoples at the feet of the Caucasus than to argue with the intellect of the icy lands which here surround me.Therefore am I tempted to cross the Russian steps and pour my triumphant human tide through Asia to the Ganges, and overthrow the British rule.Seven men have done this thing before me in other epochs of the world.Iwill emulate them.I will spread Art like the Saracens, hurled by Mohammed upon Europe.Mine shall be no paltry sovereignty like those that govern to-day the ancient provinces of the Roman empire, disputing with their subjects about a customs right! No, nothing can bar my way! Like Genghis Khan, my feet shall tread a third of the globe, my hand shall grasp the throat of Asia like Aurung-Zeb.Be my companion! Let me seat thee, beautiful and noble being, on a throne! Ido not doubt success, but live within my heart and I am sure of it.""I have already reigned," said Seraphita, coldly.
The words fell as the axe of a skilful woodman falls at the root of a young tree and brings it down at a single blow.Men alone can comprehend the rage that a woman excites in the soul of a man when, after showing her his strength, his power, his wisdom, his superiority, the capricious creature bends her head and says, "All that is nothing"; when, unmoved, she smiles and says, "Such things are known to me," as though his power were nought.
"What!" cried Wilfrid, in despair, "can the riches of art, the riches of worlds, the splendors of a court--"She stopped him by a single inflexion of her lips, and said, "Beings more powerful than you have offered me far more.""Thou hast no soul," he cried,--"no soul, if thou art not persuaded by the thought of comforting a great man, who is willing now to sacrifice all things to live beside thee in a little house on the shores of a lake.""But," she said, "I am loved with a boundless love.""By whom?" cried Wilfrid, approaching Seraphita with a frenzied movement, as if to fling her into the foaming basin of the Sieg.
