Short Fiction - Xavier de Maistre (the unexpected everything .txt) 📗

hospital; and prayer fills up the time my labours leave me. And so the year glides by, and when it is passed, it seems to me to have been but short.

The Officer

One would think it would seem an age to you.

The Leper

Troubles and vexations make the hours seem long; but the years always roll on with the same speed. And then, somehow, however unhappy one is, there is an enjoyment most men never experience, and which will seem a very singular one to you; I mean the bare fact of existing and breathing. In fine weather I spend whole days motionless on this rampart enjoying the fresh air, and the beauty of nature. At such times all my ideas are vague and indefinite; sadness rests in my heart without oppressing it; my eyes wander over that open country and the rocks that lie around us. These different aspects are so impressed upon my memory that they form, as it were, a part of my self, and each spot is a friend that I see every day with pleasure.

The Officer

I have often felt something of the same kind. When oppressed by trouble, and I fail to find in others’ hearts what my own seeks, the sight of nature and inanimate things consoles me. I devote my affection to the rocks and trees, and I feel as if all created things were friends that God has sent me.

The Leper

You encourage me in my turn to explain what passes in my own mind. I love sincerely the objects which are, as it were, my companions for life, and which I see daily. In the evening, before I retire to my tower, I bid farewell to the glaciers of Ruitorts, the dark woods of mount Saint Bernard, and the strange peaks that rise above the valley of Rhème. True though it is that the power of God is as manifest in the creation of an ant as in that of the whole universe, the grand spectacle of the mountains takes a greater hold upon my senses. I cannot look out upon those huge masses covered with eternal ice without a feeling of religious wonder. But in the vast panorama that surrounds me, there are spots of which I am especially fond; among these is the hermitage you see yonder on the summit of Charvensod. Alone, in the midst of the woods, and skirted by an untilled field, it is bathed by the last rays of the setting sun. Although I have never visited the spot, I experience a singular pleasure in seeing it. At nightfall, as I sit in my garden, I gaze upon that lonely hermitage, and my imagination finds rest there. The place has become to me sort of property. A hazy reminiscence seems to tell me that I once lived there in happier times whose memory has faded from me. Above all, I love to watch the distant mountains mingle on the horizon with the sky. Distance, like futurity, excites hope in my breast. My heavy heart beats with the faith in a far-off land, where, on some future day, I may, perhaps, taste that happiness for which I sigh, and which a secret instinct presents incessantly to my mind as possible.

The Officer

With such an ardent nature as yours, you must have had many a struggle before you could resign yourself to your destiny, and free yourself from despair.

The Leper

I should deceive you were I to leave you to suppose I have always been resigned to my fate. I have not, by any means, reached that abnegation of self which some anchorites have attained. Such an entire sacrifice of all human affections has not yet been accomplished. My life is passed in a constant struggle, and the strong aid of religion does not always suffice to restrain the flight of imagination, which often carries me, in spite of myself, into a sea of strange wishes, all of which lead me towards that world of which I know nothing, but whose fantastic image is always tormenting me.

The Officer

Could I so open my mind to you that you could read my impression of the world, all these wishes and regrets would soon vanish.

The Leper

In vain have books told me of the perversity of man, and the ills that attend humanity. My heart refuses them credence. I always picture to myself gatherings of sincere and virtuous friends; and well-matched couples whom health, youth, and prosperity crown with happiness. I see them, in my mind’s eye, treading together woods fresher and greener than those which shade my path; a more brilliant sun shines upon them than illumines my dwelling; and their lot seems the more worthy of envy when compared with my own wretchedness. In the early spring, when the wind from Piedmont whispers in our valley, I feel its life-giving breath instil itself into my heart, and I quiver with irresistible emotion. A strange yearning possesses me, and I have a confused sense of a boundless delight, which I might enjoy, but which is refused. Then I flee from my cell, and wander in the open fields that I may breathe more freely. I shun the eyes of those very men whom my heart burns to meet; and from the hilltop, hidden among the bushes like a wild animal, I look towards the town. I see from afar with envious eyes its happy inhabitants, who hardly know me. I stretch forth my hands towards them, and with deep sighs crave my share of happiness. In my transports⁠—shall I confess it?⁠—I have more than once clasped the trees of the forest in my arms, and asked God to animate them for me, and give me a friend. But the trees are mute. Their cold bark, which has nothing in common with my palpitating, burning heart, repels me. Overcome with fatigue, and weary of life, I drag myself once more to my retreat, I lay my agonies before