stranger were talking together, not in Latin nor in any
Gallic tongue, but in an unknown language, and veyy gravely.
They pointed with their hands now to heaven and now to the
earth. Sigier, to whom the paths by the river were familiar,
guided the venerable stranger with jiarticular care to the
narrow planks which here and there bridged the mud; the
following watched them inquisitively; and some of the stu-
dents envied the privileged boy who might walk with these
two great masters of speech. Finally, the Doctor took leave
of the stranger, and the ferry-boat pushed off.
At the moment when the boat was afloat on the wide river,
communicating its motion to the soul, the sun pierced the
clouds like a conflagration blazing up on the horizon, and
poured forth a flood of light, coloring slate roof-tops and
humbler thatch with a ruddy glow and tawny reflections,
fringed Philippe Auguste's towers with fire, flooded the sky,
dyed the waters, gilded the plants, and aroused the half-
sleeping insects. The immense shaft of light set the clouds
on fire. It was like the last verse of the daily hymn. Every
heart was thrilled ; nature in such a moment is sublime.
As he gazed at the spectacle, the stranger's eyes moistened
with the tenderest of human tears : Godefroid too was weep-
ing; his trembling hand touched that of the elder man, who,
looking round, confessed his emotion. But thinking his dig-
nity as a man compromised, no doubt, to redeem it, he said
in a deep voice :
"I weep for my native land. I am an exile ! Young man,
in such an hour as this I left my home. There, at this hour,
the fireflies are coming out of their fragile dwellings and
clinging like diamond sparks to the leaves of the iris. At
this hour the breeze, as sweet as the sweetest poetry, rises
up from a valley bathed in light, bearing on its wings the
richest fragrance. On the horizon I could see a golden
city like the Heavenly Jerusalem — a city whose name I may
not speak. There, too, a river winds. But that city and its
buildings, that river of which the lovely vistas, and the pools
of blue water, mingled, crossed, and embraced each other,
which gladdened my sight and filled me with love — whei;e
are they?
"At that hour the waters assumed fantastic hues under
the sunset sky, and seemed to be painted pictures : the stars
dropped tender streaks of light, the moon spread its pleas-
ing snares ; it gave another life to the trees, to the color and
form of things, and a new aspect to the sparkling water,
the silent hills, the eloquent buildings. The city spoke, it
glittered, it called to me to return !
"Columns of smoke rose up by the side of the ancient
m. THE EXILES
pillars, whose marble sheen gleamed white through the
night; the lines of the horizon were still visible through
the inists of evening; all was harmony and mystery. Nature
would not say farewell ; she desired to keep me there. Ah !
It was all in all to me; my mother and my child, my wife
and my glory ! The very bells bewailed my condemnation.
Oh, land of marvels ! It is as beautiful as heaven. From
that hour the wide world has been my dungeon. Beloved
land, why hast thou rejected me?
"But I shall triumph there yet !"' he cried, speaking
with an accent of such intense conviction and such a ringing
tone, that the boatman started as at a trumpet call.
The stranger was standing in a prophetic attitude and gaz-
ing southwards into the blue, pointing to his native home
across the skyey regions. The ascetic pallor of his face had
given place to a glow of triumph, his eyes flashed, he was
as grand as a lion shaking his mane.
"But you, poor child,", he went on, looking at Godefroid,
whose cheeks were beaded with glittering tears, "have you,
like me, studied life from blood-stained pages? What can
you have to weep for, at your age ?"
"Alas !" said Godefroid, "I regret a land more beautiful
than any land on earth — a land I never saw and yet re-
member. Oh, if I could but cleave the air on beating wings,
I would fly "
"Whither?" asked the exile.
'TJp there," replied the boy.
On hearing this answer, tlie stranger seemed surprised ; he
looked darkly at the youth, who remained silent. They
seemed to communicate by an unspeakable effusion of the
spirit, hearing each other's yearnings in the teeming silence,
and going forth side by side, like two doves sweeping the air
on equal wing, till the boat, touching the strand of the island,
roused them from their deep reverie.
Then, each lost in thought, they went together to the ser-
geant's house.
"And so the boy believes that he is an angel exiled from
THE EXIOjS 28S
Aeaveii !" thought the tall stranger. "Which of ns all has a
right to undeceive him ? Not I — I, who am so often lifted
by some magic spell so far above the earth ; I who am dedicate
to God; I who am a mystery to myself. Have I not already
seen the fairest of the angels dwelling in this mire? Is this
child more or less crazed than I am ? Has he taken a bolder
step in the way of faith? He believes, and his belief no
doubt will lead him into some path of light like that in which
I walk. But though he is as beautiful as an angel, is he not
too feeble to stand fast in such a struggle?"
Abashed by the presence of his companion, whose voice of
thunder expressed to him his own thoughts, as lightning
expresses the will of Heaven, the boy was satisfied to gaze
at the stars with a lover's eyes. Overwhelmed by a luxury of
sentiment, which weighed on' his heart, he stood there timid
and weak — a midge in the sunbeams. Sigier's discourse
had proved to them the mysteries of the spiritual world; the
tall, old man was to invest them with glory ; the lad felt them
in himself, though he could in no way express them. The
three represented in living embodiment Science, Poetry, and
Feeling.
On going into the house, the Exile shut himself into his
room, lighted the inspiring lamp, and gave himself over to
the ruthless demon of Work, seeking words of the silence
and ideas of the night. Godefroid sat down in his window
sill, by turns gazing at the moon reflected in the water, and
studying the mysteries of the sky. Lost in one of the trances
that were frequent with him, he traveled from sphere to
sphere, from vision to vision, listening for obscure rustlings
and the voices of angels, and believing that he heard them ;
seeing, or fancying that he saw, a divine radiance in which
he lost himself; striving to attain the far-away goal, the
source of all light, the fount of all harmony.
Presently the vast clamor of Paris, brought down on the
current, was hushed ; lights were extinguished one by one
in the houses : silence spread over all ; and the huge city slept
like a tired giant.
Midnight struck. The least noise, the fall of a. leaf, or the
flight of a jackdaw changing its perching-place among the
pinnacles of Notre-Dame, would have been enough to bring
the stranger's mind to earth again, to have made the youth
drop from the celestial heights to which his soul had soared
on the wings of rapture.
And then the old man heard v;ith dismay a groan mingling
with the sound of a heavy fall — the fall, as his experienced
ear assured him, of a dead body. He hastened into Gode-
froid's room, and saw him lying in a heap with a long rope
tight round his neck, the end meandering over the floor.
When he had untied it, the poor lad opened his eyes.
"Where am I ?" he asked, with a hopeful gleam.
"In your own room," said the elder man, looking with sur-
prise at Godefroid's neck, and at the nail to which the cord
had been tied, and which was still in the knot.
"In heaven ?" said the boy, in a voice of music.
"No ; on earth !"
Godefroid rose and walked along the path of light traced
on the floor by the moon through the window, which stood
open; he saw the rippling Seine, the willows and plants on
the island. A misty atmosphere hung over the waters like a
smoky floor.
On seeing the view, to him so heartbreaking, he folded his
hands over his bosom, and stood in an attitude of despair;
the Exile came up to him with astonishment on his face.
"You meant to kill yourself ?'* he asked.
"Yes," replied Godefroid, while the stranger passed his^
hand about his neck again and again to feel the place where
the rope had tightened on it.
But for some slight bruises, the young man had been but
little hurt. His friend supposed that the nail had given way
at once under the weight of the body, and the terrible at-
tempt had ended in a fall without injury.
"And why, dear lad, did you try to kill yourself?"
"Alas!" said Godefroid, no longer restraining the tears
that rolled down his cheeks, "I heard the Voice from on high ;
THE EXILES 285
it called me by name ! It had never named me before, but
this time it bade me to Heaven ! Oh, how sweet is that
voice! — As I could not fly to Heaven," he added artlessly,
"I took the only way we know of going to God."
"My child ! oh, sublime boy !" cried the old man, throwing
his arms round Godefroid, and clasping him to his heart.
"You are a poet ; you can boldly ride the whirlwind ! Your
poetry does not proceed from your heart; your living, burn-
ing thoughts, your creations, move and grow in your soul. — -
Go, never reveal your ideas to the vulgar! Be at once the
altar, the priest, and the victim !
"You know Heaven, do you not? You have seen those
myriads of angels, white-winged, and holding golden sis-
trums, all soaring with equal flight towards the Throne, and
you have often seen their pinions moving at the breath of
God as the trees of the forest bow with one consent before
the storm. Ah, how glorious is unlimited space ! Tell me."
The stranger clasped Godefroid's hand convulsively, and
they both gazed at the firmament, whence the stars seemed
to shed gentle poetry which they could bear.
"Oh, to see God !" murmured Godefroid.
"Child!" said the old man suddenly, in a sterner voice,
"have you so soon forgotten the holy teaching of our good
master, Doctor Sigier? In order to return, you to your
heavenly home, and I to my native land on earth, must we
not obey the voice of God ? We must walk on resignedly in
the stony paths where His almighty finger points the way.
Do not you quail at the thought of the danger to which you
exposed yourself? Arriving there without being bidden,
and saying, 'Here I am !' before your time, would you not
have been cast back into a world beneath that where your
soul now hovers ? Poor outcast cherub ! Should you not
rather bless God for having sufl^ered you to live in a sphere
where you may hear none but heavenly harmonies? Are you
not as pure as a diamond, as lovely as a flower?
"Think what it is to know, like me, only the City of Sor-
rows ! — Dwelling there I have worn out my heart. — To search
286 THE EXILES
the tombs for thoir horrible secrets; to wipe hands steeped
in blood, counting them over night after night, seeing them
rise up before me imploring forgiveness which I may not
grant; to mark the writhing of the assassin and the last
shriek of his victim ; to listen to appalling noises and fearful
silence, the silence of a father devouring his dead sons; to
wonder at the laughter of the damned; to look for some
human form among the livid heaps wrung and trampled by
crim.e; to learn words such as living men may not hear with-
out dying; to call perpetually on the dead, and always to
accuse and condemn ! — Is that living ?"
"Cease !" cried Godef roid ; "I cannot see you or hear you
any further ! My reason wanders, my eyes are dim. You
light a fire within me which consumes me."
"And yet I must go on !" said the senior, waving his hand
with a strange gesture that worked on the youth like a
spell.
For a moment the old man fixed Godefroid with his large,
weary, lightless eyes; then he pointed with one finger to the
ground. A gulf seemed to open at his bidding. He remained
standing in the doubtful light of the moon; it lent a glory
to his brow which reflected an almost solar gleam. Though
at first a somewhat disdainful expression lurked in the
wrinkles of his face, his look presently assumed the fixity
which seems to gaze on an object invisible to the ordinary
organs of sight. His eyes, no. doubt, were seeing then the
remoter images which the grave has in store for us.
Never, perhaps, had this man presented so grand an as-
pect. A terrible struggle was going on in his soul, and re-
acted on his outer frame; strong man as he seemed to be,
he bent as a reed bows under the breeze that comes before a
storm. Godefroid stood motionless, speechless, spellbound;
some inexplicable force nailed him to the floor; and, as hap-
pens when our attention takes us out of ourselves while watch-
ing a fire or a battle, he was wholly unconscious of his body.
"Shall I tell you the fate to which you were hastening,
poor angel of love ? Listen ! It has been given to me to see
THE EXILES 281
immeasurable space, bottomless gulfs in whicb all human
creations are swallowed up, the shoreless sea whither flows
the vast stream of men and of angels. As I made my way
through the realms of eternal torment, I was sheltered under
the cloak of an immortal — the robe of glory due to genius,
and which the ages hand on — I, a frail mortal ! When I
wandered through the fields of light where the happy souls
play, I was borne up by the love of a woman, the wings of ar
angel; resting on her heart, I could taste the inefPable pleas
ures whose touch is more perilous to us mortals than are the
torments of the worser world.
"As I achieved my pilgrimage through the dark regions
below I had mounted from torture to torture, from crime to
crime, from punishment to punishment, from awful silence
to heartrending cries, till I reached the uppermost circle of
Hell. Alread}', from afar, I could see the glory of Para-
dise shining at a vast distance; I was still in darkness, but
on the borders of day. I flew, upheld by my Guide, borne
along by a power akin to that which, during our dreams,
wafts us to spheres invisible to the eye of the body. The halo
that crowned our heads scared away the shades as we passed,
like impalpable dust. Far above us the suns of all the worlds
shone with scarce so much light as the twinkling fireflies of
my native land. I was soaring towards the fields of air where,
round about Paradise, the bodies of light are in closer array,
where the azure is easy to pass through, where worlds in-
numerable spring like flowers in a meadow.
"There, on the last level of the circles where those phan-
toms dwell that I had left behind me, like sorrows one would
fain forget, I saw a vast shade. Standing in an attitude of
aspiration, that soul looked eagerly into space; his feet were
riveted by the will of God to the topmost point of the margin,
and he remained for ever in the painful strain by which we
project our purpose when we long to soar, as birds about to
take wing. 1 saw the man ; he neither looked at us nor heard
us; every muscle quivered and throbbed; at each separate
instant he seemed to feel, though he did not move, all the
•288 THE EXILES
fatigue of traversing the infinite that divided him from Para-
dise where, as he gazed steadfastly, he believed he had
glimpses of a beloved image. At this last gate of Hell, as
at the first, I saw the stamp of despair even in hope. The
hapless creature was so fearfully held by some unseen force,
that his anguish entered into my bones and froze my blood.
I shrank closer to my Guide, whose protection restored me to
peace and silence.
"Suddenly the Shade gave a cry of joy — a cry as shrill a&
that of the mother bird that sees a hawk in the air, or sus-
pects its presence. We looked where he was looking, and
saw, as it were, a sapphire, floating high up in the abysses of
light. The glowing star fell with the swiftness of a sun-
beam when it flashes over the horizon in the morning and its
first rays shoot across the world. The Splendor became clearer
and grew larger; presently I beheld the cloud of glory in
which the angels move — a shining vapor that emanates from
their divine substance, and that glitters here and there like
tongues of flame. A noble face, whose glory none may en-
dure that have not won the mantle, the laurel, and the palm
— the attribute of the Powers — rose above this cloud as white
and pure as snow. It was Light within light. His wings as
they waved shed dazzling ripples in the spheres through
which he descended, as the glance of God pierces through
the universe. At last I saw the archangel in all his glory.
The flower of eternal beauty that belongs to the angels of
the Spirit shone in him. In one hand he held a green palm
branch, in the other a sword of flame : the palm to bestow
on the pardoned soul, the sword to drive back all the hosts
of Hell with one sweep. As he approached, the perfumes
of Heaven fell upon us as dew. In the region where the
archangel paused, the air took the hues of opal, and moved
in eddies of which he was the centre. He paused, looked at
the Shade, and said:
" 'To-morrow.'
"Then he turned heavenwards once more, spread hi^ wings,
and clove through space as a vessel cuts through the waves,
THE EXILES 289
hardly showing her white sails to the exiles left on some de-
serted shore.
"The Shade uttered appalling cries, to which the damned
responded from the lowest circle, the deepest in the im-
mensit}' of suffering, to the more peaceful zone near the sur-
face on which we were standing. This worst torment of all
had appealed to all the rest. The turmoil was swelled by the
roar of a sea of fire which formed a bass to the terrific har-
mony of endless millions of suffering souls.
"Then suddenly the Shade took flight through the doleful
city, and down to its place at the very. bottom of Hell; but
as suddenly it came up again, turned, soared through the
endless circles in every direction, as a vulture, confined for
the first time in a cage, exhausts itself in vain efforts. The
Shade was free to do this ; he could wander through the zones
of Hell icy, fetid, or scorching without enduring their pangs ;
he glided into that vastness as a sunbeam makes its way into
the deepest dark.
" 'God has not condemned him to any torment,' said the
Master; 'but not one of the souls you have seen suffering
their various punishments would exchange his anguish for
the hope that is consuming this soul.'
"x\nd just then the Shade came back to us, brought
thither by an irresistible force which condemned him to parch
on the verge of Hell. My divine Guide, guessing my cu-
riosity, touched the unhappy Shade with his palm-branch.
He, who was perhaps trying 'to measure the age of sorrow
that divided Mm from that ever-vanishing 'To-morrow,'
started and gave a look full of all the tears he had already
shed.
" 'You would know my woe ?' said he sadly. 'Oh, I love
to tell it. I am here, Teresa is above; that is all. On earth
we were happ3% we were always together. When I saw my
loved Teresa Donati for the first time, she was ten years
old. We loved each other even then, not knowing what love
meant. Our lives were one; I turned pale if she were pale,
J was happy in her joy^ we gave ourselves up to the pleasure
290 THE EXILES
of thinking and feeling together; and we learned what love
was, each through the other. We were wedded at Cremona;
we never saw each other's lips but decked with the pearls of
a smile; our eyes always shone; our hair, like our desires,
flowed together; our heads were always bent over one book
when we read, our feet walked in equal step. Life was one
long kiss, our home was a nest.
" "^One day, for the first time, Teresa turned pale and said^
"I am in pain !" — And I was not in pain !
" 'She never rose again. 1 saw her sweet face change, her
golden hair fade — and I did not die ! She smiled to hide
her sufferings, but I could read them in her blue eyes, of
which I could interpret the slightest trembling. "Honorino,
I love you!" said she, at the very moment when her lips
turned white, and she was clasping my hand still in hers
when death chilled them. So I killed myself that she might
not lie alone in her sepulchral bed, under her marble sheet.
Teresa is above, and I am here. I could not bear to leave
her, but God has divided us. Why, then, did He unite us
on earth? He is jealous! Paradise was no doubt so much
the fairer on the day when Teresa entered in.
" 'Do you see her ? She is sad in her bliss ; she is parted
from me ! Paradise must be a desert to her.'
" 'Master,' said I with tears, for I thought of my love,
Vhen this one shall desire Paradise for God's sake alone,
shall he not be delivered?' And the Father of Poets mildly
bowed his head in sign of assent.
"We departed, cleaving the air, and making no more noise
than the birds that pass overhead sometimes when we lie in
the shade of a tree. It would have been vain to try to cheek
the hapless shade in his blasphemy. It is one of the griefs of
the angels of darkness that they can never see the light even
when they are surrounded by it. He would not have under-
stood us."
At this moment the swift approach of many horses rang
through the stillness, the dog barked, the constable's deep
THE EXILES 291
growl replied; the horsemen dismounted, knocked at the
door; the noise was so unexpected that it seemed like some
sudden explosion.
The two exiles, the two poets, fell to earth through all the
space that divides us from the skies. The painful shock of
this fall rushed through their veins like strange blood, hiss-
ing as it seemed, and full of scorching sparks. Their pain
was like an electric discharge. The loud, heavy step of a
man-at-arms sounded on the stairs with the iron clank of his
sword, his cuirass, and spurs; a soldier presently stood be-
fore the astonished stranger.
"We can return to Florence," said the man, whose bass
voice sounded soft as he spoke in Italian.
"What is that you say?" asked the old man,
"The Bianchi are triumphant."
"Are you not mistaken ?" asked the poet.
"No, dear Dante !" replied the soldier, whose warlike tones
rang with the thrill of battle and the exultation of victory.
"To Florence ! To Florence ! Ah, my Florence !" cried
Dante Alighieri, drawing himself up, and gazing into the
distance. In fancy he saw Italy ; he was gigantic.
"But I — when shall I be in Heaven?" said Godefroid,
kneeling on one knee before the immortal poet, like an angel
before the sanctuary.
"Come to Florence," said Dante in compassionate tones.
"Come ! when you see its lovely landscape from the heights
of Fiesole you will fancy yourself in Paradise."
The soldier smiled. For the first time, perhaps for the
only time in his life, Dante's gloomy and solemn features
wore a look of joy; his eyes and brow expressed the happi-
ness he has depicted so lavishly in his vision of Paradise. He
thought perhaps that he heard the voice of Beatrice.
A light step, and the rustle of a woman's gown, were audi-
ble in the silence. Dawn was now showing its first streaks of
light. The fair Comtesse de Mahaut came in and flew to
Godefroid.
"Come, my chili my son ! I may at last acknowledge
292 THE EXILES
you. Your birth is recognized, your rights are under the pro-
tection of the King of France, and you will find Paradise in
your mother's heart."
"I hear, I know, the voice of Heaven !" cried the youth in
rapture.
The exclamation roused Dante, who saw the young man
folded in the Countess' arms. He took leave of them with a
look, and left his young companion on his mother's bosom.
"Come away !" he cried in a voice of thunder. "Death to
the Guelphs !"
Paris, October 183L
MAITRE CORNELIUS
To Monsieur Le Comte Georges Mniszech.
Some envious persons, v/hen they see one of the oldest and mos^
illustrious of Sarmatian names adorning this page, may imagine
that I am endeavoring, as goldsmiths do, to enhance a piece of
modern work by the addition of an ancient gem, — a fashion of
the day. But you, my dear Count, and a few others, will know
that I aim at paying my debt to talent, old memories, and friend-
ship.
In 1479, on All Saints' day, at the moment when this tale
opens, vespers were just over in the cathedral of Tours.
The Archbishop Helie de Bourdeilles rose from his throne,
himself to pronounce the blessing on tlie worshipers. The
sermon had been length)^ dusk had fallen before the ser-
vice was ended, and utter darkness prevailed in many parts
of the great church, of which the towers, at that time, were
not finished.
However, a considerable number of tapers were burning