Pygmalion's Spectacles Read online

strange song, plaintive and sweet asthe medley of river and flower music. And again her eyes were sad.

  "What song is that?" he asked.

  "It is a song sung by another Galatea," she answered, "who is mymother." She laid her hand on his arm. "I will make it into English foryou." She sang:

  "The River lies in flower and fern, In flower and fern it breathes a song. It breathes a song of your return, Of your return in years too long. In years too long its murmurs bring Its murmurs bring their vain replies, Their vain replies the flowers sing, The flowers sing, 'The River lies!'"

  Her voice quavered on the final notes; there was silence save for thetinkle of water and the flower bugles. Dan said, "Galatea--" and paused.The girl was again somber-eyed, tearful. He said huskily, "That's a sadsong, Galatea. Why was your mother sad? You said everyone was happy inParacosma."

  "She broke a law," replied the girl tonelessly. "It is the inevitableway to sorrow." She faced him. "She fell in love with a phantom!"Galatea said. "One of your shadowy race, who came and stayed and thenhad to go back. So when her appointed lover came, it was too late; doyou understand? But she yielded finally to the law, and is foreverunhappy, and goes wandering from place to place about the world." Shepaused. "I shall never break a law," she said defiantly.

  Dan took her hand. "I would not have you unhappy, Galatea. I want youalways happy."

  She shook her head. "I _am_ happy," she said, and smiled a tender,wistful smile.

  They were silent a long time as they trudged the way homeward. Theshadows of the forest giants reached out across the river as the sunslipped behind them. For a distance they walked hand in hand, but asthey reached the path of pebbly brightness near the house, Galatea drewaway and sped swiftly before him. Dan followed as quickly as he might;when he arrived, Leucon sat on his bench by the portal, and Galatea hadpaused on the threshold. She watched his approach with eyes in which heagain fancied the glint of tears.

  "I am very tired," she said, and slipped within.

  Dan moved to follow, but the old man raised a staying hand.

  "Friend from the shadows," he said, "will you hear me a moment?"

  Dan paused, acquiesced, and dropped to the opposite bench. He felt asense of foreboding; nothing pleasant awaited him.

  "There is something to be said," Leucon continued, "and I say it withoutdesire to pain you, if phantoms feel pain. It is this: Galatea lovesyou, though I think she has not yet realized it."

  "I love her too," said Dan.

  The Grey Weaver stared at him. "I do not understand. Substance, indeed,may love shadow, but how can shadow love substance?"

  "I love her," insisted Dan.

  "Then woe to both of you! For this is impossible in Paracosma; it is aconfliction with the laws. Galatea's mate is appointed, perhaps even nowapproaching."

  "Laws! Laws!" muttered Dan. "Whose laws are they? Not Galatea's normine!"

  "But they are," said the Grey Weaver. "It is not for you nor for me tocriticize them--though I yet wonder what power could annul them topermit your presence here!"

  "I had no voice in your laws."

  The old man peered at him in the dusk. "Has anyone, anywhere, a voice inthe laws?" he queried.

  "In my country we have," retorted Dan.

  "Madness!" growled Leucon. "Man-made laws! Of what use are man-made lawswith only man-made penalties, or none at all? If you shadows make a lawthat the wind shall blow only from the east, does the west wind obeyit?"

  "We do pass such laws," acknowledged Dan bitterly. "They may be stupid,but they're no more unjust than yours."

  "Ours," said the Grey Weaver, "are the unalterable laws of the world,the laws of Nature. Violation is always unhappiness. I have seen it; Ihave known it in another, in Galatea's mother, though Galatea isstronger than she." He paused. "Now," he continued, "I ask only formercy; your stay is short, and I ask that you do no more harm than isalready done. Be merciful; give her no more to regret."

  He rose and moved through the archway; when Dan followed a moment later,he was already removing a square of silver from his device in thecorner. Dan turned silent and unhappy to his own chamber, where the jetof water tinkled faintly as a distant bell.

  Again he rose at the glow of dawn, and again Galatea was before him,meeting him at the door with her bowl of fruit. She deposited herburden, giving him a wan little smile of greeting, and stood facing himas if waiting.

  "Come with me, Galatea," he said.

  "Where?"

  "To the river bank. To talk."

  They trudged in silence to the brink of Galatea's pool. Dan noted asubtle difference in the world about him; outlines were vague, the thinflower pipings less audible, and the very landscape was queerlyunstable, shifting like smoke when he wasn't looking at it directly. Andstrangely, though he had brought the girl here to talk to her, he hadnow nothing to say, but sat in aching silence with his eyes on theloveliness of her face.

  Galatea pointed at the red ascending sun. "So short a time," she said,"before you go back to your phantom world. I shall be sorry, verysorry." She touched his cheek with her fingers. "Dear shadow!"

  "Suppose," said Dan huskily, "that I won't go. What if I won't leavehere?" His voice grew fiercer. "I'll not go! I'm going to stay!"

  The calm mournfulness of the girl's face checked him; he felt the ironyof struggling against the inevitable progress of a dream. She spoke."Had I the making of the laws, you should stay. But you can't, dear one.You can't!"

  Forgotten now were the words of the Grey Weaver. "I love you, Galatea,"he said.

  "And I you," she whispered. "See, dearest shadow, how I break the samelaw my mother broke, and am glad to face the sorrow it will bring." Sheplaced her hand tenderly over his. "Leucon is very wise and I am boundto obey him, but this is beyond his wisdom because he let himself growold." She paused. "He let himself grow old," she repeated slowly. Astrange light gleamed in her dark eyes as she turned suddenly to Dan.

  "Dear one!" she said tensely. "That thing that happens to the old--thatdeath of yours! What follows it?"

  "What follows death?" he echoed. "Who knows?"

  "But--" Her voice was quivering. "But one can't simply--vanish! Theremust be an awakening."

  "Who knows?" said Dan again. "There are those who believe we wake to ahappier world, but--" He shook his head hopelessly.

  "It must be true! Oh, it must be!" Galatea cried. "There must be morefor you than the mad world you speak of!" She leaned very close."Suppose, dear," she said, "that when my appointed lover arrives, I sendhim away. Suppose I bear no child, but let myself grow old, older thanLeucon, old until death. Would I join you in your happier world?"

  "Galatea!" he cried distractedly. "Oh, my dearest--what a terriblethought!"

  "More terrible than you know," she whispered, still very close to him."It is more than violation of a law; it is rebellion! Everything isplanned, everything was foreseen, except this; and if I bear no child,her place will be left unfilled, and the places of her children, and of_their_ children, and so on until some day the whole great plan ofParacosma fails of whatever its destiny was to be." Her whisper grewvery faint and fearful. "It is destruction, but I love you more than Ifear--death!"

  Dan's arms were about her. "No, Galatea! No! Promise me!"

  She murmured, "I can promise and then break my promise." She drew hishead down; their lips touched, and he felt a fragrance and a taste likehoney in her kiss. "At least," she breathed. "I can give you a name bywhich to love you. Philometros! Measure of my love!"

  "A name?" muttered Dan. A fantastic idea shot through his mind--a way ofproving to himself that all this was reality, and not just a page thatany one could read who wore old Ludwig's magic spectacles. If Galateawould speak his name! Perhaps, he thought daringly, perhaps then hecould stay! He thrust her away.

  "Galatea!" he cried. "Do you remember my name?"

  She nodded silently, her unhappy eyes on his.

  "Then say it! Say it, dear!"


  She stared at him dumbly, miserably, but made no sound.

  "Say it, Galatea!" he pleaded desperately. "My name, dear--just myname!" Her mouth moved; she grew pale with effort and Dan could havesworn that his name trembled on her quivering lips, though no soundcame.

  At last she spoke. "I can't, dearest one! Oh, I can't! A law forbidsit!" She stood