The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature) (12 page)

"Supper's ready, Miss." Then she saw us and looked frightened,
and motioned me to come to her, which I did, and she asked if we
had told about the cat. I said no, and she was relieved, and said
please don't; for if Miss Marget knew, she would think it was an
unholy cat and would send for a priest and have its gifts all purified
out of it, and then there wouldn't be any more dividends. So I said
we wouldn't tell, and she was satisfied. Then I was beginning to say good-bye to Marget, but Satan interrupted and said, ever so politely
-well, I don't remember just the words, but anyway he as good as
invited himself to supper, and me, too. Of course Marget was
miserably embarrassed, for she had no reason to suppose there
would be half enough food for a sick bird. Ursula heard him, and
she came straight into the room, not a bit pleased. At first she was
astonished to see Marget looking so fresh and rosy, and said so; then
she spoke up in her native tongue, which was Bohemian and
said-as I learned afterward-

"The impudent thing! inviting himself when nobody's asked
him. It's just like him-I've never seen the beat of him for making
himself easy on a short acquaintance. Send him packing, Miss
Marget-there's not victuals enough."

Before Marget could speak, Satan had the word, and was talking
back at Ursula in her own language-which was a surprise for her,
and for her mistress, too. He asked-

"Didn't I see you down the road a while ago?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, that pleases me; I see you remember me."

"Why, of course, sir. Nobody that sees you once can forget you, I
reckon. And besides, you are so good, and so-so-so aggravating."

"Can you keep a secret?"

"I can try, sir. For your goodness, though; not for your aggravatingness.

He stepped to her and whispered, "I told you it is a Lucky Cat.
Don't be troubled-it will provide."

That sponged the slate of Ursula's feelings clean of its anxieties,
and a deep financial joy shone in her eyes. The cat's value was
augmenting. It was getting full time for Marget to take some sort of
notice of Satan's invitation, and she did it in the best way, the
honest way that was natural to her. She said she had little to offer,
but that we were welcome if we would share it with her.

We had supper in the kitchen, and Ursula waited at table. A
small fish was in the frying-pan, crisp and brown and tempting, and
one could see that Marget was not expecting such respectable food
as this. Ursula brought it, and Marget divided it between Satan and me, declining to take any of it herself; and was beginning to say she
did not care for fish to-day, but she did not finish the remark. It was
because she noticed that another fish had appeared in the pan. She
looked surprised, but did not say anything. She probably meant to
inquire of Ursula about this, later. There were other surprises:
flesh, and game, and wines and fruits-things which had been
strangers in that house lately; but Marget made no exclamations,
and did what she could to look unsurprised, which was human and
natural. Satan talked right along, and was entertaining, and made
the time pass pleasantly and cheerfully; and although he told a
good many lies it was no harm in him, for he was only an angel and
did not know any better. They do not know right from wrong; I
knew this, because I remembered what he had said about it. He
accomplished one thing which I was glad of-he got on the good
side of Ursula. He praised her to Marget, confidentially, but speaking just loud enough for Ursula to hear. He said she was a fine
woman, and he hoped some day to bring her and his uncle together.
Very soon Ursula was mincing and simpering around in a ridiculous girly way, and smoothing out her gown and prinking at herself
like a foolish old hen, and all the time pretending she was not
hearing what Satan was saying. I was ashamed, for it showed us to
he what Satan considered us, a silly race and trivial. Satan said it
was time his uncle was married, for he entertained a great deal, and
always had company staying with him, and to have a clever woman
presiding over the festivities would double the attractions of the
place.

"But your uncle is a gentleman, isn't he?" asked Marget.

"Yes," said Satan, indifferently; "some even call him a Prince, out
of compliment, but he is not bigoted; to him personal merit is
everything, rank nothing."

Marget thought he must be a most lovable gentleman and much
sought after. Satan said he was; and a great help to the clergy-but
for him they would have to go out of business.

My hand was hanging down by my chair; Agnes came along and
licked it; by this act a secret was revealed. I started to say "It is all a
mistake; this is just a common ordinary cat; the hair-needles on her tongue point inward, not outward." But the words did not come,
because they couldn't. Satan smiled upon me, and I understood. It
was as if he had said, "I know your thought, but you will keep it to
yourself."

When it was dark Marget took food and wine and fruit, in a
basket, and hurried away to the jail, and Satan and I walked toward
my home. I was thinking to myself that I should like to see what
the inside of a jail was like; Satan overheard the thought, and the
next moment we were in the jail. We were in the torture-chamber,
Satan said. The rack was there, and the other instruments, and
there was a smoky lantern or two hanging on the walls and helping
to make the place look dim and dreadful. There were people there,
-a priest and executioners, but as they took no notice of us, it
meant that we were invisible. A young man lay bound, and Satan
said he was suspected of being an unsound Catholic, and the priest
and the executioners were about to inquire into it. They asked the
man to confess to the charge, and he said he could not, for it was
not true. Then they drove splinter after splinter under his nails,
and he shrieked with the pain. Satan was not disturbed, for it was
only a human being, but I could not endure it, and had to be
whisked out of there. I was faint and sick, but the fresh air revived
me, and we walked toward my home. I said it was a brutal thing.

"No, it was a human thing. You should not insult the brutes by
such a misuse of that word-they have not deserved it;" and he
went on talking like that. "It is like your paltry race-always lying,
always claiming virtues which it hasn't got, always denying them to
the Higher Animals, which alone possess them. No brute ever does
a cruel thing-that is the monopoly of the snob with the Moral
Sense. When a brute inflicts pain he does it innocently; it is not
wrong; for him there is no such thing as wrong. And he does not
inflict pain for the pleasure of inflicting it-only man does that.
Inspired by that mongrel Moral Sense of his! A Sense whose
function is to distinguish between right and wrong, with liberty to
choose which of them he will do. Now what advantage can he get
out of that? He is always choosing, and in nine cases out of ten he prefers the wrong. There shouldn't be any wrong; and without the
Moral Sense there couldn't be any. And yet he is such an unreasoning creature that he is not able to perceive that the Moral Sense
degrades him to the bottom layer of animated beings and is a
shameful possession. Are you feeling better? Let me show you
something."

In a moment we were in a French village. We walked through a
great factory of some sort, where men and women and little children were toiling in heat and dirt and a fog of dust; and they were
clothed in rags, and drooped at their work, for they were worn, and
half-starved, and weak and drowsy. Satan said-

"It is some more Moral Sense. The proprietors are rich, and very
holy; but the wage they pay to these poor brothers and sisters of
theirs is only enough to keep them from dropping dead with
hunger. The work-hours are fifteen per day, winter and summerfrom 5 in the morning till 8 at night-little children and all. And
they walk to and from the pig-sties which they inhabit-four miles
each way, through mud and slush, rain, snow, sleet and storm,
daily, year in and year out. They get four hours of sleep. They
kennel together, three families in a room, in unimaginable filth and
stench; and disease comes, and they die off like flies. Have they
committed a crime, these poor mangy things? No. Have they offended the priest? No; they are his pets-they fatten him with
their farthings, or he would have to work for his living. What have
they done, that they are punished so? Nothing at all, except getting
themselves born into your foolish race. You have seen how they
treat a misdoer there in the jail, now you see how they treat the
innocent and the worthy. Is your race logical? Are these ill-smelling
innocents better off than that heretic? Indeed, no, his punishment
is trivial compared with theirs. They broke him on the wheel and
mashed him to rags and pulp after we left, and he is dead, now, and
free of your precious race; but these poor slaves here-why, they
have been dying for years, and some of them will not escape from
life for years to come. It is the Moral Sense which teaches the
factory-proprietors the difference between right and wrong-you perceive the result. They think themselves better than dogs. Ah,
you are such an illogical, unreasoning race! And paltry-oh, unspeakably!"

Then he dropped all seriousness and just overstrained himself
making fun of us, and deriding our pride in our warlike deeds, our
great heroes, our imperishable fames, our mighty Kings, our ancient
aristocracies, our venerable history-and laughed and laughed till it
was enough to make a person sick to hear him; and finally he
sobered a little and said "but after all, it is not all ridiculous, there is
a sort of pathos about it when one remembers how few are your
days, how childish your pomps, and what shadows you are!"

Presently all things vanished suddenly from my sight, and I
knew what it meant. The next moment we were walking along in
our village; and down toward the river I saw the twinkling lights of
the Golden Stag. Then in the dark I heard a joyful cry-

"He's come again!"

It was SeppiWohlmeyer. He had felt his blood leap and his
spirits rise in a way that could mean only one thing, and he knew
Satan was near although it was too dark to see him. He came to us
and we walked along together, and Seppi poured out his gladness
like water. It was as if he was a lover and had found his sweetheart
which had been lost. Seppi was a smart and animated boy, and had
enthusiasm and expression, and was a contrast to Nikolaus and me.
Ile was full of the last new mystery, now-the disappearance of
Hans Oppert, the village loafer. People were beginning to be
curious about it, he said. He did not say anxious-curious was the
right word, and strong enough. No one had seen Hans for a couple
of days.

"Not since he did that brutal thing, you know," he said.

"What brutal thing?" It was Satan that asked.

"Well, he is always clubbing his dog, which is a good dog, and is
his only friend, and is faithful, and loves him, and does no one any
harm; and two days ago he was at it again, just for nothing-just
for pleasure-and the dog was howling and begging, and Theodor
and I begged, too, but he threatened us, and struck the dog again with all his might and knocked one of its eyes out, so that it hung
down; and he said to us, 'There, I hope you are satisfied, nowthat's what you have got for him by your damned meddling'-and
he laughed, the heartless brute." Seppi's voice trembled with pity
and anger. I guessed what Satan would say, and he said it.

"There is that misused word again-that shabby slander. Brutes
do not act like that, but only men."

"Well, it was inhuman, anyway."

"No it wasn't, Seppi, it was human-quite distinctly human. It
is not pleasant to hear you libel the Higher Animals by attributing
to them dispositions which they are free from, and which are found
nowhere but in the human heart. None of the Higher Animals is
tainted with the disease called the Moral Sense. Purify your language, Seppi; drop those lying phrases out of it."

He spoke pretty sternly-for him-and I was sorry I hadn't
warned Seppi to be more particular about the words he used. I
knew how he was feeling. He would not want to offend Satan; he
would rather offend all his kin. There was an uncomfortable silence, but relief soon came, for that poor dog came along, now, with
that eye hanging down, and went straight to Satan, and began to
moan or mutter brokenly, and Satan began to answer in the same
way, and it was plain that they were talking together in the dog
language. We all sat down in the grass, in the moonlight, for the
clouds were breaking away, now, and Satan took the dog's head in
his lap and put the eye back in its place, and the dog was comfortable, and wagged his tail and licked Satan's hand, and looked thankful and said the same-I knew he was saying it, though I did not
understand the words. Then the two talked together a bit, and
Satan said-

"Ile says his master was drunk."

"Yes, he was," said we.

"And an hour later he fell over the precipice there beyond the
Cliff Pasture."

"We know the place, it is three miles from here."

"And the dog has been often to the village, begging people to go
there, but he was only driven away and not listened to."

We remembered it, but hadn't understood what he wanted.

"He only wanted help for the man who had misused him, and he
thought only of that, and has had no food nor sought any. He has
watched by his master two nights. What do you think of your race?
Is heaven reserved for it, and this dog ruled out, as your teachers
tell you? Can your race add anything to this dog's stock of morals
and magnanimities?" He spoke to the creature, who jumped up,
eager and happy, and apparently ready for orders, and impatient to
execute them. "Get some men; go with the dog-he will show you
that carrion; and take a priest along to arrange about insurance, for
death is near."