Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and Women
which now possessed his whole soul, to the exclusion of all other joys
and griefs, the longing to speak to her, to know that she heard him, to
hear from her one word in return, became so unendurable, that he
suddenly and hastily resumed his preparations. Stepping carefully from
the circle, he put a small brazier into its centre. He then set fire to
its contents of charcoal, and while it burned up, opened his window and
seated himself, waiting, beside it.
It was a sultry evening. The air was full of thunder. A sense of
luxurious depression filled the brain. The sky seemed to have grown
heavy, and to compress the air beneath it. A kind of purplish tinge
pervaded the atmosphere, and through the open window came the scents of
the distant fields, which all the vapours of the city could not quench.
Soon the charcoal glowed. Cosmo sprinkled upon it the incense and other
substances which he had compounded, and, stepping within the circle,
turned his face from the brazier and towards the mirror. Then, fixing
his eyes upon the face of the lady, he began with a trembling voice to
repeat a powerful incantation. He had not gone far, before the lady
grew pale; and then, like a returning wave, the blood washed all its
banks with its crimson tide, and she hid her face in her hands. Then he
passed to a conjuration stronger yet.
The lady rose and walked uneasily to and fro in her room. Another
spell; and she seemed seeking with her eyes for some object on which
they wished to rest. At length it seemed as if she suddenly espied him;
for her eyes fixed themselves full and wide upon his, and she drew
gradually, and somewhat unwillingly, close to her side of the mirror,
just as if his eyes had fascinated her. Cosmo had never seen her so
near before. Now at least, eyes met eyes; but he could not quite
understand the expression of hers. They were full of tender entreaty,
but there was something more that he could not interpret. Though his
heart seemed to labour in his throat, he would allow no delight or
agitation to turn him from his task. Looking still in her face, he
passed on to the mightiest charm he knew. Suddenly the lady turned and
walked out of the door of her reflected chamber. A moment after she
entered his room with veritable presence; and, forgetting all his
precautions, he sprang from the charmed circle, and knelt before her.
There she stood, the living lady of his passionate visions, alone
beside him, in a thundery twilight, and the glow of a magic fire.
“Why,” said the lady, with a trembling voice, “didst thou bring a poor
maiden through the rainy streets alone?”
“Because I am dying for love of thee; but I only brought thee from the
mirror there.”
“Ah, the mirror!” and she looked up at it, and shuddered. “Alas! I am
but a slave, while that mirror exists. But do not think it was the
power of thy spells that drew me; it was thy longing desire to see me,
that beat at the door of my heart, till I was forced to yield.”
“Canst thou love me then?” said Cosmo, in a voice calm as death, but
almost inarticulate with emotion.
“I do not know,” she replied sadly; “that I cannot tell, so long as I
am bewildered with enchantments. It were indeed a joy too great, to lay
my head on thy bosom and weep to death; for I think thou lovest me,
though I do not know;—but——”
Cosmo rose from his knees.
“I love thee as—nay, I know not what—for since I have loved thee, there
is nothing else.”
He seized her hand: she withdrew it.
“No, better not; I am in thy power, and therefore I may not.”
She burst into tears, and kneeling before him in her turn, said—
“Cosmo, if thou lovest me, set me free, even from thyself; break the
mirror.”
“And shall I see thyself instead?”
“That I cannot tell, I will not deceive thee; we may never meet again.”
A fierce struggle arose in Cosmo’s bosom. Now she was in his power. She
did not dislike him at least; and he could see her when he would. To
break the mirror would be to destroy his very life, to banish out of
his universe the only glory it possessed. The whole world would be but
a prison, if he annihilated the one window that looked into the
paradise of love. Not yet pure in love, he hesitated.
With a wail of sorrow the lady rose to her feet. “Ah! he loves me not;
he loves me not even as I love him; and alas! I care more for his love
than even for the freedom I ask.”
“I will not wait to be willing,” cried Cosmo; and sprang to the corner
where the great sword stood.
Meantime it had grown very dark; only the embers cast a red glow
through the room. He seized the sword by the steel scabbard, and stood
before the mirror; but as he heaved a great blow at it with the heavy
pommel, the blade slipped half-way out of the scabbard, and the pommel
struck the wall above the mirror. At that moment, a terrible clap of
thunder seemed to burst in the very room beside them; and ere Cosmo
could repeat the blow, he fell senseless on the hearth. When he came to
himself, he found that the lady and the mirror had both disappeared. He
was seized with a brain fever, which kept him to his couch for weeks.
When he recovered his reason, he began to think what could have become
of the mirror. For the lady, he hoped she had found her way back as she
came; but as the mirror involved her fate with its own, he was more
immediately anxious about that. He could not think she had carried it
away. It was much too heavy, even if it had not been too firmly fixed
in the wall, for her to remove it. Then again, he remembered the
thunder; which made him believe that it was not the lightning, but some
other blow that had struck him down. He concluded that, either by
supernatural agency, he having exposed himself to the vengeance of the
demons in leaving the circle of safety, or in some other mode, the
mirror had probably found its way back to its former owner; and,
horrible to think of, might have been by this time once more disposed
of, delivering up the lady into the power of another man; who, if he
used his power no worse than he himself had done, might yet give Cosmo
abundant cause to curse the selfish indecision which prevented him from
shattering the mirror at once. Indeed, to think that she whom he loved,
and who had prayed to him for freedom, should be still at the mercy, in
some degree, of the possessor of the mirror, and was at least exposed
to his constant observation, was in itself enough to madden a chary
lover.
Anxiety to be well retarded his recovery; but at length he was able to
creep abroad. He first made his way to the old broker’s, pretending to
be in search of something else. A laughing sneer on the creature’s face
convinced him that he knew all about it; but he could not see it
amongst his furniture, or get any information out of him as to what had
become of it. He expressed the utmost surprise at hearing it had been
stolen, a surprise which Cosmo saw at once to be counterfeited; while,
at the same time, he fancied that the old wretch was not at all anxious
to have it mistaken for genuine. Full of distress, which he concealed
as well as he could, he made many searches, but with no avail. Of
course he could ask no questions; but he kept his ears awake for any
remotest hint that might set him in a direction of search. He never
went out without a short heavy hammer of steel about him, that he might
shatter the mirror the moment he was made happy by the sight of his
lost treasure, if ever that blessed moment should arrive. Whether he
should see the lady again, was now a thought altogether secondary, and
postponed to the achievement of her freedom. He wandered here and
there, like an anxious ghost, pale and haggard; gnawed ever at the
heart, by the thought of what she might be suffering—all from his
fault.
One night, he mingled with a crowd that filled the rooms of one of the
most distinguished mansions in the city; for he accepted every
invitation, that he might lose no chance, however poor, of obtaining
some information that might expedite his discovery. Here he wandered
about, listening to every stray word that he could catch, in the hope
of a revelation. As he approached some ladies who were talking quietly
in a corner, one said to another:
“Have you heard of the strange illness of the Princess von Hohenweiss?”
“Yes; she has been ill for more than a year now. It is very sad for so
fine a creature to have such a terrible malady. She was better for some
weeks lately, but within the last few days the same attacks have
returned, apparently accompanied with more suffering than ever. It is
altogether an inexplicable story.”
“Is there a story connected with her illness?”
“I have only heard imperfect reports of it; but it is said that she
gave offence some eighteen months ago to an old woman who had held an
office of trust in the family, and who, after some incoherent threats,
disappeared. This peculiar affection followed soon after. But the
strangest part of the story is its association with the loss of an
antique mirror, which stood in her dressing-room, and of which she
constantly made use.”
Here the speaker’s voice sank to a whisper; and Cosmo, although his
very soul sat listening in his ears, could hear no more. He trembled
too much to dare to address the ladies, even if it had been advisable
to expose himself to their curiosity. The name of the Princess was well
known to him, but he had never seen her; except indeed it was she,
which now he hardly doubted, who had knelt before him on that dreadful
night. Fearful of attracting attention, for, from the weak state of his
health, he could not recover an appearance of calmness, he made his way
to the open air, and reached his lodgings; glad in this, that he at
least knew where she lived, although he never dreamed of approaching
her openly, even if he should be happy enough to free her from her
hateful bondage. He hoped, too, that as he had unexpectedly learned so
much, the other and far more important part might be revealed to him
ere long.
“Have you seen Steinwald lately?”
“No, I have not seen him for some time. He is almost a match for me at
the rapier, and I suppose he thinks he needs no more lessons.”
“I wonder what has become of him. I want to see him very much. Let me
see; the last time I saw him he was coming out of that old broker’s
den, to which, if you remember, you accompanied me once, to look at
some armour. That is fully three weeks ago.”
This hint was enough for Cosmo. Von Steinwald was a man of influence in
the court, well known for his reckless habits and fierce passions. The
very possibility that the mirror should be in his possession was hell
itself to Cosmo. But violent or hasty measures of any sort were most
unlikely to succeed. All that he wanted was an opportunity of breaking
the fatal glass; and to obtain this he must bide his time. He revolved
many plans in his mind, but without being able to fix upon any.
At length, one evening, as he was passing the house of Von Steinwald,
he saw the windows more than usually brilliant. He watched for a while,
and seeing that company began to arrive, hastened home, and dressed as
richly as he could, in the hope of mingling with the guests
unquestioned: in effecting which, there could be no difficulty for a
man of his carriage.
In a lofty, silent chamber, in another part of the city, lay a form
more like marble than a living woman. The loveliness of death seemed
frozen upon her face, for her lips were rigid, and her eyelids closed.
Her long white hands were crossed over her breast, and no breathing
disturbed their repose. Beside the dead, men speak in whispers, as if
the deepest rest of all could be broken by the sound of a living voice.
Just so, though the soul was evidently beyond the reach of all