When Lazarus rose from the grave, after three days and nights in the mysterious thraldom1 of death, and returned alive to his home, it was a long time before any one noticed the evil peculiarities2 in him that were later to make his very name terrible. His friends and relatives were jubilant that he had come back to life. They surrounded him with tenderness, they were lavish3 of their eager attentions, spending the greatest care upon his food and drink and the new garments they made for him. They clad him gorgeously in the glowing colours of hope and laughter, and when, arrayed like a bridegroom, he sat at table with them again, ate again, and drank again, they wept fondly and summoned the neighbours to look upon the man miraculously4 raised from the dead.
The neighbours came and were moved with joy. Strangers arrived from distant cities and villages to worship the miracle. They burst into stormy exclamations6, and buzzed around the house of Mary and Martha, like so many bees.
That which was new in Lazarus’ face and gestures they explained naturally, as the traces of his severe illness and the shock he had passed through. It was evident that the disintegration7 of the body had been halted by a miraculous5 power, but that the restoration had not been complete; that death had left upon his face and body the effect of an artist’s unfinished sketch8 seen through a thin glass. On his temples, under his eyes, and in the hollow of his cheek lay a thick, earthy blue. His fingers were blue, too, and under his nails, which had grown long in the grave, the blue had turned livid. Here and there on his lips and body, the skin, blistered10 in the grave, had burst open and left reddish glistening11 cracks, as if covered with a thin, glassy slime. And he had grown exceedingly stout12. His body was horribly bloated and suggested the fetid, damp smell of putrefaction13. But the cadaverous, heavy odour that clung to his burial garments and, as it seemed, to his very body, soon wore off, and after some time the blue of his hands and face softened14, and the reddish cracks of his skin smoothed out, though they never disappeared completely. Such was the aspect of Lazarus in his second life. It looked natural only to those who had seen him buried.
Not merely Lazarus’ face, but his very character, it seemed, had changed; though it astonished no one and did not attract the attention it deserved. Before his death Lazarus had been cheerful and careless, a lover of laughter and harmless jest. It was because of his good humour, pleasant and equable, his freedom from meanness and gloom, that he had been so beloved by the Master. Now he was grave and silent; neither he himself jested nor did he laugh at the jests of others; and the words he spoke16 occasionally were simple, ordinary and necessary words—words as much devoid17 of sense and depth as are the sounds with which an animal expresses pain and pleasure, thirst and hunger. Such words a man may speak all his life and no one would ever know the sorrows and joys that dwelt within him.
Thus it was that Lazarus sat at the festive18 table among his friends and relatives—his face the face of a corpse19 over which, for three days, death had reigned20 in darkness, his garments gorgeous and festive, glittering with gold, bloody-red and purple; his mien21 heavy and silent. He was horribly changed and strange, but as yet undiscovered. In high waves, now mild, now stormy, the festivities went on around him. Warm glances of love caressed22 his face, still cold with the touch of the grave; and a friend’s warm hand patted his bluish, heavy hand. And the music played joyous23 tunes24 mingled25 of the sounds of the tympanum, the pipe, the zither and the dulcimer. It was as if bees were humming, locusts26 buzzing and birds singing over the happy home of Mary and Martha.
II
Some one recklessly lifted the veil. By one breath of an uttered word he destroyed the serene27 charm, and uncovered the truth in its ugly nakedness. No thought was clearly defined in his mind, when his lips smilingly asked: “Why do you not tell us, Lazarus, what was There?” And all became silent, struck with the question. Only now it seemed to have occurred to them that for three days Lazarus had been dead; and they looked with curiosity, awaiting an answer. But Lazarus remained silent.
“You will not tell us?” wondered the inquirer. “Is it so terrible There?”
Again his thought lagged behind his words. Had it preceded them, he would not have asked the question, for, at the very moment he uttered it, his heart sank with a dread28 fear. All grew restless; they awaited the words of Lazarus anxiously. But he was silent, cold and severe, and his eyes were cast down. And now, as if for the first time, they perceived the horrible bluishness of his face and the loathsome29 corpulence of his body. On the table, as if forgotten by Lazarus, lay his livid blue hand, and all eyes were riveted30 upon it, as though expecting the desired answer from that hand. The musicians still played; then silence fell upon them, too, and the gay sounds died down, as scattered32 coals are extinguished by water. The pipe became mute, and the ringing tympanum and the murmuring dulcimer; and as though a chord were broken, as though song itself were dying, the zither echoed a trembling broken sound. Then all was quiet.
“You will not?” repeated the inquirer, unable to restrain his babbling33 tongue. Silence reigned, and the livid blue hand lay motionless. It moved slightly, and the company sighed with relief and raised their eyes. Lazarus, risen from the dead, was looking straight at them, embracing all with one glance, heavy and terrible.
This was on the third day after Lazarus had arisen from the grave. Since then many had felt that his gaze was the gaze of destruction, but neither those who had been forever crushed by it, nor those who in the prime of life (mysterious even as death) had found the will to resist his glance, could ever explain the terror that lay immovable in the depths of his black pupils. He looked quiet and simple. One felt that he had no intention to hide anything, but also no intention to tell anything. His look was cold, as of one who is entirely34 indifferent to all that is alive. And many careless people who pressed around him, and did not notice him, later learned with wonder and fear the name of this stout, quiet man who brushed against them with his sumptuous35, gaudy36 garments. The sun did not stop shining when he looked, neither did the fountain cease playing, and the Eastern sky remained cloudless and blue as always; but the man who fell under his inscrutable gaze could no longer feel the sun, nor hear the fountain, nor recognise his native sky. Sometimes he would cry bitterly, sometimes tear his hair in despair and madly call for help; but generally it happened that the men thus stricken by the gaze of Lazarus began to fade away listlessly and quietly and pass into a slow death lasting37 many long years. They died in the presence of everybody, colourless, haggard and gloomy, like trees withering38 on rocky ground. Those who screamed in madness sometimes came back to life; but the others, never.
“So you will not tell us, Lazarus, what you saw There?” the inquirer repeated for the third time. But now his voice was dull, and a dead, grey weariness looked stupidly from out his eyes. The faces of all present were also covered by the same dead grey weariness like a mist. The guests stared at one another stupidly, not knowing why they had come together or why they sat around this rich table. They stopped talking, and vaguely39 felt it was time to leave; but they could not overcome the lassitude that spread through their muscles. So they continued to sit there, each one isolated40, like little dim lights scattered in the darkness of night.
The musicians were paid to play, and they again took up the instruments, and again played gay or mournful airs. But it was music made to order, always the same tunes, and the guests listened wonderingly. Why was this music necessary, they thought, why was it necessary and what good did it do for people to pull at strings41 and blow their cheeks into thin pipes, and produce varied42 and strange-sounding noises?
“How badly they play!” said some one.
The musicians were insulted and left. Then the guests departed one by one, for it was nearing night. And when the quiet darkness enveloped43 them, and it became easier to breathe, the image of Lazarus suddenly arose before each one in stern splendour. There he stood, with the blue face of a corpse and the raiment of a bridegroom, sumptuous and resplendent, in his eyes that cold stare in the depths of which lurked44 The Horrible! They stood still as if turned into stone. The darkness surrounded them, and in the midst of this darkness flamed up the horrible apparition45, the supernatural vision, of the one who for three days had lain under the measureless power of death. Three days he had been dead. Thrice had the sun risen and set—and he had lain dead. The children had played, the water had murmured as it streamed over the rocks, the hot dust had clouded the highway—and he had been dead. And now he was among men again—touched them—looked at them—looked at them! And through the black rings of his pupils, as through dark glasses, the unfathomable There gazed upon humanity.
III
No one took care of Lazarus, and no friends or kindred remained with him. Only the great desert, enfolding the Holy City, came close to the threshold of his abode46. It entered his home, and lay down on his couch like a spouse47, and put out all the fires. No one cared for Lazarus. One after the other went away, even his sisters, Mary and Martha. For a long while Martha did not want to leave him, for she knew not who would nurse him or take care of him; and she cried and prayed. But one night, when the wind was roaming about the desert, and the rustling48 cypress49 trees were bending over the roof, she dressed herself quietly, and quietly went away. Lazarus probably heard how the door was slammed—it had not shut properly and the wind kept knocking it continually against the post—but he did not rise, did not go out, did not try to find out the reason. And the whole night until the morning the cypress trees hissed50 over his head, and the door swung to and fro, allowing the cold, greedily prowling desert to enter his dwelling52. Everybody shunned53 him as though he were a leper. They wanted to put a bell on his neck to avoid meeting him. But some one, turning pale, remarked it would be terrible if at night, under the windows, one should happen to hear Lazarus’ bell, and all grew pale and assented54.
Since he did nothing for himself, he would probably have starved had not his neighbours, in trepidation55, saved some food for him. Children brought it to him. They did not fear him, neither did they laugh at him in the innocent cruelty in which children often laugh at unfortunates. They were indifferent to him, and Lazarus showed the same indifference56 to them. He showed no desire to thank them for their services; he did not try to pat the dark hands and look into the simple shining little eyes. Abandoned to the ravages57 of time and the desert, his house was falling to ruins, and his hungry, bleating58 goats had long been scattered among his neighbours. His wedding garments had grown old. He wore them without changing them, as he had donned them on that happy day when the musicians played. He did not see the difference between old and new, between torn and whole. The brilliant colours were burnt and faded; the vicious dogs of the city and the sharp thorns of the desert had rent the fine clothes to shreds59.
During the day, when the sun beat down mercilessly upon all living things, and even the scorpions60 hid under the stones, convulsed with a mad desire to sting, he sat motionless in the burning rays, lifting high his blue face and shaggy wild beard.
While yet the people were unafraid to speak to him, same one had asked him: “Poor Lazarus! Do you find it pleasant to sit so, and look at the sun?” And he answered: “Yes, it is pleasant.”
The thought suggested itself to people that the cold of the three days in the grave had been so intense, its darkness so deep, that there was not in all the earth enough heat or light to warm Lazarus and lighten the gloom of his eyes; and inquirers turned away with a sigh.
And when the setting sun, flat and purple-red, descended61 to earth, Lazarus went into the desert and walked straight toward it, as though intending to reach it. Always he walked directly toward the sun, and those who tried to follow him and find out what he did at night in the desert had indelibly imprinted62 upon their mind’s vision the black silhouette63 of a tall, stout man against the red background of an immense disk. The horrors of the night drove them away, and so they never found out what Lazarus did in the desert; but the image of the black form against the red was burned forever into their brains. Like an animal with a cinder64 in its eye which furiously rubs its muzzle65 against its paws, they foolishly rubbed their eyes; but the impression left by Lazarus was ineffaceable, forgotten only in death.
There were people living far away who never saw Lazarus and only heard of him. With an audacious curiosity which is stronger than fear and feeds on fear, with a secret sneer66 in their hearts, some of them came to him one day as he basked67 in the sun, and entered into conversation with him. At that time his appearance had changed for the better and was not so frightful68. At first the visitors snapped their fingers and thought disapprovingly69 of the foolish inhabitants of the Holy City. But when the short talk came to an end and they went home, their expression was such that the inhabitants of the Holy City at once knew their errand and said: “Here go some more madmen at whom Lazarus has looked.” The speakers raised their hands in silent pity.
Other visitors came, among them brave warriors71 in cFlinking armour72, who knew not fear, and happy youths who made merry with laughter and song. Busy merchants, jingling73 their coins, ran in for awhile, and proud attendants at the Temple placed their staffs at Lazarus’ door. But no one returned the same as he came. A frightful shadow fell upon their souls, and gave a new appearance to the old familiar world.
Those who felt any desire to speak, after they had been stricken by the gaze of Lazarus, described the change that had come over them somewhat like this:
All objects seen by the eye and palpable to the hand became empty, light and transparent74, as though they were light shadows in the darkness; and this darkness enveloped the whole universe. It was dispelled75 neither by the sun, nor by the moon, nor by the stars, but embraced the earth like a mother, and clothed it in a boundless76 black veil.
Into all bodies it penetrated77, even into iron and stone; and the particles of the body lost their unity78 and became lonely. Even to the heart of the particles it penetrated, and the particles of the particles became lonely.
The vast emptiness which surrounds the universe, was not filled with things seen, with sun or moon or stars; it stretched boundless, penetrating79 everywhere, disuniting everything, body from body, particle from particle.
In emptiness the trees spread their roots, themselves empty; in emptiness rose phantom80 temples, palaces and houses—all empty; and in the emptiness moved restless Man, himself empty and light, like a shadow.
There was no more a sense of time; the beginning of all things and their end merged81 into one. In the very moment when a building was being erected82 and one could hear the builders striking with their hammers, one seemed already to see its ruins, and then emptiness where the ruins were.
A man was just born, and funeral candles were already lighted at his head, and then were extinguished; and soon there was emptiness where before had been the man and the candles.
And surrounded by Darkness and Empty Waste, Man trembled hopelessly before the dread of the Infinite.
So spoke those who had a desire to speak. But much more could probably have been told by those who did not want to talk, and who died in silence.
IV
At that time there lived in Rome a celebrated83 sculptor84 by the name of Aurelius. Out of clay, marble and bronze he created forms of gods and men of such beauty that this beauty was proclaimed immortal85. But he himself was not satisfied, and said there was a supreme86 beauty that he had never succeeded in expressing in marble or bronze. “I have not yet gathered the radiance of the moon,” he said; “I have not yet caught the glare of the sun. There is no soul in my marble, there is no life in my beautiful bronze.” And when by moonlight he would slowly wander along the roads, crossing the black shadows of the cypress-trees, his white tunic87 flashing in the moonlight, those he met used to laugh good-naturedly and say: “Is it moonlight that you are gathering88, Aurelius? Why did you not bring some baskets along?”
And he, too, would laugh and point to his eyes and say: “Here are the baskets in which I gather the light of the moon and the radiance of the sun.”
And that was the truth. In his eyes shone moon and sun. But he could not transmit the radiance to marble. Therein lay the greatest tragedy of his life. He was a descendant of an ancient race of patricians89, had a good wife and children, and except in this one respect, lacked nothing.
When the dark rumour90 about Lazarus reached him, he consulted his wife and friends and decided91 to make the long voyage to Judea, in order that he might look upon the man miraculously raised from the dead. He felt lonely in those days and hoped on the way to renew his jaded92 energies. What they told him about Lazarus did not frighten him. He had meditated93 much upon death. He did not like it, nor did he like those who tried to harmonise it with life. On this side, beautiful life; on the other, mysterious death, he reasoned, and no better lot could befall a man than to live—to enjoy life and the beauty of living. And he already had conceived a desire to convince Lazarus of the truth of this view and to return his soul to life even as his body had been returned. This task did not appear impossible, for the reports about Lazarus, fearsome and strange as they were, did not tell the whole truth about him, but only carried a vague warning against something awful.
Lazarus was getting up from a stone to follow in the path of the setting sun, on the evening when the rich Roman, accompanied by an armed slave, approached him, and in a ringing voice called to him: “Lazarus!”
Lazarus saw a proud and beautiful face, made radiant by fame, and white garments and precious jewels shining in the sunlight. The ruddy rays of the sun lent to the head and face a likeness94 to dimly shining bronze—that was what Lazarus saw. He sank back to his seat obediently, and wearily lowered his eyes.
“It is true you are not beautiful, my poor Lazarus,” said the Roman quietly, playing with his gold chain. “You are even frightful, my poor friend; and death was not lazy the day when you so carelessly fell into its arms. But you are as fat as a barrel, and ‘Fat people are not bad,’ as the great C?sar said. I do not understand why people are so afraid of you. You will permit me to stay with you over night? It is already late, and I have no abode.”
Nobody had ever asked Lazarus to be allowed to pass the night with him.
“I have no bed,” said he.
“I am somewhat of a warrior70 and can sleep sitting,” replied the Roman. “We shall make a light.”
“I have no light.”
“Then we will converse95 in the darkness like two friends. I suppose you have some wine?”
“I have no wine.”
The Roman laughed.
“Now I understand why you are so gloomy and why you do not like your second life. No wine? Well, we shall do without. You know there are words that go to one’s head even as Falernian wine.”
With a motion of his head he dismissed the slave, and they were alone. And again the sculptor spoke, but it seemed as though the sinking sun had penetrated into his words. They faded, pale and empty, as if trembling on weak feet, as if slipping and falling, drunk with the wine of anguish96 and despair. And black chasms97 appeared between the two men—like remote hints of vast emptiness and vast darkness.
“Now I am your guest and you will not ill-treat me, Lazarus!” said the Roman. “Hospitality is binding98 even upon those who have been three days dead. Three days, I am told, you were in the grave. It must have been cold there... and it is from there that you have brought this bad habit of doing without light and wine. I like a light. It gets dark so quickly here. Your eyebrows99 and forehead have an interesting line: even as the ruins of castles covered with the ashes of an earthquake. But why in such strange, ugly clothes? I have seen the bridegrooms of your country, they wear clothes like that—such ridiculous clothes—such awful garments... Are you a bridegroom?”
Already the sun had disappeared. A gigantic black shadow was approaching fast from the west, as if prodigious100 bare feet were rustling over the sand. And the chill breezes stole up behind.
“In the darkness you seem even bigger, Lazarus, as though you had grown stouter101 in these few minutes. Do you feed on darkness, perchance?... And I would like a light... just a small light... just a small light. And I am cold. The nights here are so barbarously cold... If it were not so dark, I should say you were looking at me, Lazarus. Yes, it seems, you are looking. You are looking. You are looking at me!... I feel it—now you are smiling.”
The night had come, and a heavy blackness filled the air.
“How good it will be when the sun rises again to-morrow... You know I am a great sculptor... so my friends call me. I create, yes, they say I create, but for that daylight is necessary. I give life to cold marble. I melt the ringing bronze in the fire, in a bright, hot fire. Why did you touch me with your hand?”
“Come,” said Lazarus, “you are my guest.” And they went into the house. And the shadows of the long evening fell on the earth...
The slave at last grew tired waiting for his master, and when the sun stood high he came to the house. And he saw, directly under its burning rays, Lazarus and his master sitting close together. They looked straight up and were silent.
The slave wept and cried aloud: “Master, what ails9 you, Master!”
The same day Aurelius left for Rome. The whole way he was thoughtful and silent, attentively102 examining everything, the people, the ship, and the sea, as though endeavouring to recall something. On the sea a great storm overtook them, and all the while Aurelius remained on deck and gazed eagerly at the approaching and falling waves. When he reached home his family were shocked at the terrible change in his demeanour, but he calmed them with the words: “I have found it!”
In the dusty clothes which he had worn during the entire journey and had not changed, he began his work, and the marble ringingly responded to the resounding103 blows of the hammer. Long and eagerly he worked, admitting no one. At last, one morning, he announced that the work was ready, and gave instructions that all his friends, and the severe critics and judges of art, be called together. Then he donned gorgeous garments, shining with gold, glowing with the purple of the byssin.
“Here is what I have created,” he said thoughtfully.
His friends looked, and immediately the shadow of deep sorrow covered their faces. It was a thing monstrous104, possessing none of the forms familiar to the eye, yet not devoid of a hint of some new unknown form. On a thin tortuous105 little branch, or rather an ugly likeness of one, lay crooked106, strange, unsightly, shapeless heaps of something turned outside in, or something turned inside out—wild fragments which seemed to be feebly trying to get away from themselves. And, accidentally, under one of the wild projections107, they noticed a wonderfully sculptured butterfly, with transparent wings, trembling as though with a weak longing108 to fly.
“Why that wonderful butterfly, Aurelius?” timidly asked some one.
“I do not know,” answered the sculptor.
The truth had to be told, and one of his friends, the one who loved Aurelius best, said: “This is ugly, my poor friend. It must be destroyed. Give me the hammer.” And with two blows he destroyed the monstrous mass, leaving only the wonderfully sculptured butterfly.
After that Aurelius created nothing. He looked with absolute indifference at marble and at bronze and at his own divine creations, in which dwelt immortal beauty. In the hope of breathing into him once again the old flame of inspiration, with the idea of awakening109 his dead soul, his friends led him to see the beautiful creations of others, but he remained indifferent and no smile warmed his closed lips. And only after they spoke to him much and long of beauty, he would reply wearily:
“But all this is—a lie.”
And in the daytime, when the sun was shining, he would go into his rich and beautifully laid-out garden, and finding a place where there was no shadow, would expose his bare head and his dull eyes to the glitter and burning heat of the sun. Red and white butterflies fluttered around; down into the marble cistern110 ran splashing water from the crooked mouth of a blissfully drunken Satyr; but he sat motionless, like a pale shadow of that other one who, in a far land, at the very gates of the stony111 desert, also sat motionless under the fiery112 sun.
V
And it came about finally that Lazarus was summoned to Rome by the great Augustus.
They dressed him in gorgeous garments as though it had been ordained113 that he was to remain a bridegroom to an unknown bride until the very day of his death. It was as if an old coffin114, rotten and falling apart, were regilded over and over, and gay tassels115 were hung on it. And solemnly they conducted him in gala attire116, as though in truth it were a bridal procession, the runners loudly sounding the trumpet117 that the way be made for the ambassadors of the Emperor. But the roads along which he passed were deserted118. His entire native land cursed the execrable name of Lazarus, the man miraculously brought to life, and the people scattered at the mere15 report of his horrible approach. The trumpeters blew lonely blasts, and only the desert answered with a dying echo.
Then they carried him across the sea on the saddest and most gorgeous ship that was ever mirrored in the azure119 waves of the Mediterranean120. There were many people aboard, but the ship was silent and still as a coffin, and the water seemed to moan as it parted before the short curved prow51. Lazarus sat lonely, baring his head to the sun, and listening in silence to the splashing of the waters. Further away the seamen121 and the ambassadors gathered like a crowd of distressed122 shadows. If a thunderstorm had happened to burst upon them at that time or the wind had overwhelmed the red sails, the ship would probably have perished, for none of those who were on her had strength or desire enough to fight for life. With supreme effort some went to the side of the ship and eagerly gazed at the blue, transparent abyss. Perhaps they imagined they saw a naiad flashing a pink shoulder through the waves, or an insanely joyous and drunken centaur124 galloping125 by, splashing up the water with his hoofs126. But the sea was deserted and mute, and so was the watery127 abyss.
Listlessly Lazarus set foot on the streets of the Eternal City, as though all its riches, all the majesty128 of its gigantic edifices129, all the lustre130 and beauty and music of refined life, were simply the echo of the wind in the desert, or the misty131 images of hot running sand. Chariots whirled by; the crowd of strong, beautiful, haughty132 men passed on, builders of the Eternal City and proud partakers of its life; songs rang out; fountains laughed; pearly laughter of women filled the air, while the drunkard philosophised and the sober ones smilingly listened; horseshoes rattled133 on the pavement. And surrounded on all sides by glad sounds, a fat, heavy man moved through the centre of the city like a cold spot of silence, sowing in his path grief, anger and vague, carking distress123. Who dared to be sad in Rome? indignantly demanded frowning citizens; and in two days the swift-tongued Rome knew of Lazarus, the man miraculously raised from the grave, and timidly evaded134 him.
There were many brave men ready to try their strength, and at their senseless call Lazarus came obediently. The Emperor was so engrossed135 with state affairs that he delayed receiving the visitor, and for seven days Lazarus moved among the people.
A jovial136 drunkard met him with a smile on his red lips. “Drink, Lazarus, drink!” he cried, “Would not Augustus laugh to see you drink!” And naked, besotted women laughed, and decked the blue hands of Lazarus with rose-leaves. But the drunkard looked into the eyes of Lazarus—and his joy ended forever. Thereafter he was always drunk. He drank no more, but was drunk all the time, shadowed by fearful dreams, instead of the joyous reveries that wine gives. Fearful dreams became the food of his broken spirit. Fearful dreams held him day and night in the mists of monstrous fantasy, and death itself was no more fearful than the apparition of its fierce precursor137.
Lazarus came to a youth and his lass who loved each other and were beautiful in their love. Proudly and strongly holding in his arms his beloved one, the youth said, with gentle pity: “Look at us, Lazarus, and rejoice with us. Is there anything stronger than love?”
And Lazarus looked at them. And their whole life they continued to love one another, but their love became mournful and gloomy, even as those cypress trees over the tombs that feed their roots on the putrescence of the grave, and strive in vain in the quiet evening hour to touch the sky with their pointed138 tops. Hurled139 by fathomless141 life-forces into each other’s arms, they mingled their kisses with tears, their joy with pain, and only succeeded in realising the more vividly142 a sense of their slavery to the silent Nothing. Forever united, forever parted, they flashed like sparks, and like sparks went out in boundless darkness.
Lazarus came to a proud sage143, and the sage said to him: “I already know all the horrors that you may tell me, Lazarus. With what else can you terrify me?”
Only a few moments passed before the sage realised that the knowledge of the horrible is not the horrible, and that the sight of death is not death. And he felt that in the eyes of the Infinite wisdom and folly144 are the same, for the Infinite knows them not. And the boundaries between knowledge and ignorance, between truth and falsehood, between top and bottom, faded and his shapeless thought was suspended in emptiness. Then he grasped his grey head in his hands and cried out insanely: “I cannot think! I cannot think!”
Thus it was that under the cool gaze of Lazarus, the man miraculously raised from the dead, all that serves to affirm life, its sense and its joys, perished. And people began to say it was dangerous to allow him to see the Emperor; that it were better to kill him and bury him secretly, and swear he had disappeared. Swords were sharpened and youths devoted145 to the welfare of the people announced their readiness to become assassins, when Augustus upset the cruel plans by demanding that Lazarus appear before him.
Even though Lazarus could not be kept away, it was felt that the heavy impression conveyed by his face might be somewhat softened. With that end in view expert painters, barbers and artists were secured who worked the whole night on Lazarus’ head. His beard was trimmed and curled. The disagreeable and deadly bluishness of his hands and face was covered up with paint; his hands were whitened, his cheeks rouged146. The disgusting wrinkles of suffering that ridged his old face were patched up and painted, and on the smooth surface, wrinkles of good-nature and laughter, and of pleasant, good-humoured cheeriness, were laid on artistically147 with fine brushes.
Lazarus submitted indifferently to all they did with him, and soon was transformed into a stout, nice-looking old man, for all the world a quiet and good-humoured grandfather of numerous grandchildren. He looked as though the smile with which he told funny stories had not left his lips, as though a quiet tenderness still lay hidden in the corner of his eyes. But the wedding-dress they did not dare to take off; and they could not change his eyes—the dark, terrible eyes from out of which stared the incomprehensible There.
VI
Lazarus was untouched by the magnificence of the imperial apartments. He remained stolidly148 indifferent, as though he saw no contrast between his ruined house at the edge of the desert and the solid, beautiful palace of stone. Under his feet the hard marble of the floor took on the semblance149 of the moving sands of the desert, and to his eyes the throngs150 of gaily151 dressed, haughty men were as unreal as the emptiness of the air. They looked not into his face as he passed by, fearing to come under the awful bane of his eyes; but when the sound of his heavy steps announced that he had passed, heads were lifted, and eyes examined with timid curiosity the figure of the corpulent, tall, slightly stooping old man, as he slowly passed into the heart of the imperial palace. If death itself had appeared men would not have feared it so much; for hitherto death had been known to the dead only, and life to the living only, and between these two there had been no bridge. But this strange being knew death, and that knowledge of his was felt to be mysterious and cursed. “He will kill our great, divine Augustus,” men cried with horror, and they hurled curses after him. Slowly and stolidly he passed them by, penetrating ever deeper into the palace.
Caesar knew already who Lazarus was, and was prepared to meet him. He was a courageous152 man; he felt his power was invincible153, and in the fateful encounter with the man “wonderfully raised from the dead” he refused to lean on other men’s weak help. Man to man, face to face, he met Lazarus.
“Do not fix your gaze on me, Lazarus,” he commanded. “I have heard that your head is like the head of Medusa, and turns into stone all upon whom you look. But I should like to have a close look at you, and to talk to you before I turn into stone,” he added in a spirit of playfulness that concealed154 his real misgivings155.
Approaching him, he examined closely Lazarus’ face and his strange festive clothes. Though his eyes were sharp and keen, he was deceived by the skilful156 counterfeit157.
“Well, your appearance is not terrible, venerable sir. But all the worse for men, when the terrible takes on such a venerable and pleasant appearance. Now let us talk.”
Augustus sat down, and as much by glance as by words began the discussion. “Why did you not salute158 me when you entered?”
Lazarus answered indifferently: “I did not know it was necessary.”
“You are a Christian159?”
“No.”
Augustus nodded approvingly. “That is good. I do not like the Christians160. They shake the tree of life, forbidding it to bear fruit, and they scatter31 to the wind its fragrant161 blossoms. But who are you?”
With some effort Lazarus answered: “I was dead.”
“I heard about that. But who are you now?”
Lazarus’ answer came slowly. Finally he said again, listlessly and indistinctly: “I was dead.”
“Listen to me, stranger,” said the Emperor sharply, giving expression to what had been in his mind before. “My empire is an empire of the living; my people are a people of the living and not of the dead. You are superfluous162 here. I do not know who you are, I do not know what you have seen There, but if you lie, I hate your lies, and if you tell the truth, I hate your truth. In my heart I feel the pulse of life; in my hands I feel power, and my proud thoughts, like eagles, fly through space. Behind my back, under the protection of my authority, under the shadow of the laws I have created, men live and labour and rejoice. Do you hear this divine harmony of life? Do you hear the war cry that men hurl140 into the face of the future, challenging it to strife163?”
Augustus extended his arms reverently164 and solemnly cried out: “Blessed art thou, Great Divine Life!”
But Lazarus was silent, and the Emperor continued more severely165: “You are not wanted here. Pitiful remnant, half devoured166 of death, you fill men with distress and aversion to life. Like a caterpillar167 on the fields, you are gnawing168 away at the full seed of joy, exuding169 the slime of despair and sorrow. Your truth is like a rusted170 sword in the hands of a night assassin, and I shall condemn171 you to death as an assassin. But first I want to look into your eyes. Mayhap only cowards fear them, and brave men are spurred on to struggle and victory. Then will you merit not death but a reward. Look at me, Lazarus.”
At first it seemed to divine Augustus as if a friend were looking at him, so soft, so alluring172, so gently fascinating was the gaze of Lazarus. It promised not horror but quiet rest, and the Infinite dwelt there as a fond mistress, a compassionate173 sister, a mother. And ever stronger grew its gentle embrace, until he felt, as it were, the breath of a mouth hungry for kisses... Then it seemed as if iron bones protruded174 in a ravenous175 grip, and closed upon him in an iron band; and cold nails touched his heart, and slowly, slowly sank into it.
“It pains me,” said divine Augustus, growing pale; “but look, Lazarus, look!”
Ponderous176 gates, shutting off eternity177, appeared to be slowly swinging open, and through the growing aperture178 poured in, coldly and calmly, the awful horror of the Infinite. Boundless Emptiness and Boundless Gloom entered like two shadows, extinguishing the sun, removing the ground from under the feet, and the cover from over the head. And the pain in his icy heart ceased.
“Look at me, look at me, Lazarus!” commanded Augustus, staggering...
Time ceased and the beginning of things came perilously179 near to the end. The throne of Augustus, so recently erected, fell to pieces, and emptiness took the place of the throne and of Augustus. Rome fell silently into ruins. A new city rose in its place, and it too was erased180 by emptiness. Like phantom giants, cities, kingdoms, and countries swiftly fell and disappeared into emptiness—swallowed up in the black maw of the Infinite...
“Cease,” commanded the Emperor. Already the accent of indifference was in his voice. His arms hung powerless, and his eagle eyes flashed and were dimmed again, struggling against overwhelming darkness.
“You have killed me, Lazarus,” he said drowsily181.
These words of despair saved him. He thought of the people, whose shield he was destined182 to be, and a sharp, redeeming183 pang184 pierced his dull heart. He thought of them doomed185 to perish, and he was filled with anguish. First they seemed bright shadows in the gloom of the Infinite.—How terrible! Then they appeared as fragile vessels187 with life-agitated blood, and hearts that knew both sorrow and great joy.—And he thought of them with tenderness.
And so thinking and feeling, inclining the scales now to the side of life, now to the side of death, he slowly returned to life, to find in its suffering and joy a refuge from the gloom, emptiness and fear of the Infinite.
“No, you did not kill me, Lazarus,” said he firmly. “But I will kill you. Go!”
Evening came and divine Augustus partook of food and drink with great joy. But there were moments when his raised arm would remain suspended in the air, and the light of his shining, eager eyes was dimmed. It seemed as if an icy wave of horror washed against his feet. He was vanquished188 but not killed, and coldly awaited his doom186, like a black shadow. His nights were haunted by horror, but the bright days still brought him the joys, as well as the sorrows, of life.
Next day, by order of the Emperor, they burned out Lazarus’ eyes with hot irons and sent him home. Even Augustus dared not kill him.
Lazarus returned to the desert and the desert received him with the breath of the hissing189 wind and the ardour of the glowing sun. Again he sat on the stone with matted beard uplifted; and two black holes, where the eyes had once been, looked dull and horrible at the sky. In the distance the Holy City surged and roared restlessly, but near him all was deserted and still. No one approached the place where Lazarus, miraculously raised from the dead, passed his last days, for his neighbours had long since abandoned their homes. His cursed knowledge, driven by the hot irons from his eyes deep into the brain, lay there in ambush190; as if from ambush it might spring out upon men with a thousand unseen eyes. No one dared to look at Lazarus.
And in the evening, when the sun, swollen191 crimson192 and growing larger, bent193 its way toward the west, blind Lazarus slowly groped after it. He stumbled against stones and fell; corpulent and feeble, he rose heavily and walked on; and against the red curtain of sunset his dark form and outstretched arms gave him the semblance of a cross.
It happened once that he went and never returned. Thus ended the second life of Lazarus, who for three days had been in the mysterious thraldom of death and then was miraculously raised from the dead.
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1
thraldom
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| n.奴隶的身份，奴役，束缚 | |
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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3
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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4
miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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7
disintegration
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| n.分散，解体 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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9
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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10
blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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11
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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13
putrefaction
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| n.腐坏，腐败 | |
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14
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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15
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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16
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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17
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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18
festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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19
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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21
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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24
tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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25
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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26
locusts
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| n.蝗虫( locust的名词复数 )；贪吃的人；破坏者；槐树 | |
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27
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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28
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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29
loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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30
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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31
scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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32
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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33
babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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34
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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35
sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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36
gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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37
lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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38
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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39
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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40
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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41
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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42
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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43
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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45
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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46
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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47
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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48
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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49
cypress
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| n.柏树 | |
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50
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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51
prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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52
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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53
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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56
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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57
ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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58
bleating
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| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的现在分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
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59
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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60
scorpions
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| n.蝎子( scorpion的名词复数 ) | |
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61
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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62
imprinted
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| v.盖印（imprint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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63
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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64
cinder
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| n.余烬，矿渣 | |
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65
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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66
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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67
basked
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的过去式和过去分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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68
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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69
disapprovingly
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| adv.不以为然地，不赞成地，非难地 | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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71
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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72
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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73
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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74
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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75
dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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77
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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79
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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80
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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81
merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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82
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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83
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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84
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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85
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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86
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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87
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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88
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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89
patricians
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| n.（古罗马的）统治阶层成员( patrician的名词复数 )；贵族，显贵 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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91
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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92
jaded
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| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
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93
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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94
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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95
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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96
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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97
chasms
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| 裂缝( chasm的名词复数 )； 裂口； 分歧； 差别 | |
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98
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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99
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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100
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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101
stouter
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| 粗壮的( stout的比较级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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102
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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103
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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104
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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105
tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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106
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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107
projections
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| 预测( projection的名词复数 )； 投影； 投掷； 突起物 | |
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108
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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109
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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110
cistern
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| n.贮水池 | |
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111
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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112
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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113
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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114
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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115
tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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116
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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117
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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118
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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119
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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120
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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121
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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122
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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123
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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124
centaur
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| n.人首马身的怪物 | |
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125
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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126
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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127
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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128
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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129
edifices
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| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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130
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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131
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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132
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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133
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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134
evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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135
engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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136
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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137
precursor
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| n.先驱者；前辈；前任；预兆；先兆 | |
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138
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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139
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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140
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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141
fathomless
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| a.深不可测的 | |
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142
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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143
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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144
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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145
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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146
rouged
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| 胭脂，口红( rouge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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147
artistically
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| adv.艺术性地 | |
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148
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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149
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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150
throngs
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| n.人群( throng的名词复数 )v.成群，挤满( throng的第三人称单数 ) | |
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151
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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152
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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153
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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154
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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155
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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156
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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157
counterfeit
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| vt.伪造，仿造；adj.伪造的，假冒的 | |
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158
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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159
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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160
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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161
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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162
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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163
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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164
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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165
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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166
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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167
caterpillar
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| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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168
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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169
exuding
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| v.缓慢流出，渗出，分泌出( exude的现在分词 )；流露出对（某物）的神态或感情 | |
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170
rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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171
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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172
alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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173
compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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174
protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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175
ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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176
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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177
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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178
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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179
perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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180
erased
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| v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；清除 | |
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181
drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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182
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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183
redeeming
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| 补偿的，弥补的 | |
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184
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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185
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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186
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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187
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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188
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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189
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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190
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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191
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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192
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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193
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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