Satan’s Diary, Leonid Andreyev [the beginning after the end read novel .TXT] 📗

task in teaching her. But I feared all the time that, despite your love, you would be struck by her apparent lack of brains and that is why I kept her from you the last few days.”

Toppi sobbed:

“Oh, God! Madonna!”

“Does this astonish you, Mr. Toppi?”⁠—Magnus asked, turning his head. “I dare say you are not alone. Do you remember, Wondergood, what I told you about Maria’s fatal resemblance, which drove one young man to suicide. I did not lie to you altogether: the youth actually did kill himself when he realized who Maria really was. He was pure of soul. He loved as you do and as you he could not bear⁠—how do you put it?⁠—the wreck of his ideal.”

Magnus laughed:

“Do you remember Giovanni, Maria?”

“Slightly.”

“Do you hear, Wondergood?” asked Magnus, laughing. “That is exactly the tone in which she would have spoken of me a week hence if you had killed me today. Have another orange, Maria.⁠ ⁠… But if I were to speak of Maria in extraordinary language⁠—she is not at all stupid. She simply doesn’t happen to have what is called a soul. I have frequently tried to look deep into her heart and thoughts and I have always ended in vertigo, as if I had been hurled to the edge of an abyss: there was nothing there. Emptiness. You have probably observed, Wondergood, or you, Mr. Toppi, that ice is not as cold as the brow of a dead man? And no matter what emptiness familiar to you you may imagine, my friends, it cannot be compared with that absolute vacuum which forms the kernel of my beautiful, light-giving star. Star of the Seas?⁠—that was what you once called her, Wondergood, was it not?”

Magnus laughed again and gulped down a glass of wine. He drank a great deal that evening.

“Will you have some wine, Mr. Toppi? No? Well, suit yourself. I’ll take some. So that is why, Mr. Wondergood, I did not want you to kiss the hand of that creature. Don’t turn your eyes away, old friend. Imagine you are in a museum and look straight at her, bravely. Did you wish to say something, Toppi?”

“Yes, Signor Magnus. Pardon me, Mr. Wondergood, but I would like to ask your permission to leave. As a gentleman, although not much of that, I⁠ ⁠… cannot remain⁠ ⁠… at.⁠ ⁠…”

Magnus narrowed his eyes derisively:

“At such a scene?”

“Yes, at such a scene, when one gentleman, with the silent approval of another gentleman, insults a woman like that,” exclaimed Toppi, extremely irritated, and rose. Magnus, just as ironically, turned to me:

“And what do you say, Wondergood? Shall we release this little, extremely little, gentleman?”

“Stay, Toppi.”

Toppi sat down obediently.

From the moment Magnus resumed, I, for the first time, regained my breath and looked at Maria.

What shall I say to you? It was Maria. And here I understood a little what happens in one’s brain when one begins to go mad.

“May I continue?” asked Magnus. “However, I have little to add. Yes, I took her when she was fourteen or fifteen years old. She herself does not know how old she really is, but I was not her first lover⁠ ⁠… nor the tenth. I could never learn her past exactly. She either lies cunningly or is actually devoid of memory. But even the most subtle questioning, which even a most expert criminal could not dodge, neither bribes nor gifts, nor threats⁠—and she is extremely cowardly!⁠—could compel her to reveal herself. She does not ‘remember.’ That’s all. But her deep licentiousness, enough to shame the Sultan himself, her extraordinary experience and daring in ars amandi confirms my suspicion that she received her training in a lupanaria or⁠ ⁠… or at the court of some Nero. I do not know how old she is and she seems to change constantly. Why should I not say that she is 20 or 2,000 years old? Maria⁠ ⁠… you can do everything and you know everything?”

I did not look at that woman. But in her answer there was a slight displeasure:

“Don’t talk nonsense. What will Mr. Wondergood think of me?”

Magnus broke into loud laughter and struck the table with his glass:

“Do you hear, Wondergood? She covets your good opinion. And if I should command her to undress at once in your presence.⁠ ⁠…”

“Oh, my God! My God!”⁠—sobbed Toppi and covered his face with his hands. I glanced quickly into Magnus’ eyes⁠—and remained rigid in the terrible enchantment of his gaze. His face was laughing. This pale mask of his was still lined with traces of faint laughter but the eyes were dim and inscrutable. Directed upon me, they stared off somewhere into the distance and were horrible in their expression of dark and empty madness: only the empty orbits of a skull could gaze so threateningly and in such wrath.

And again darkness filled my head and when I regained my senses Magnus had already turned and calmly sipped his wine. Without changing his position, he raised his glass to the light, smelled the wine, sipped some more of it and said as calmly as before:

“And so, Wondergood, my friend. Now you know about all there is to know of Maria or the Madonna, as you called her, and I ask you: will you take her or not? I give her away. Take her. If you say yes, she will be in your bedroom today and⁠ ⁠… I swear by eternal salvation, you will pass a very pleasant night. Well, what do you say?”

“Yesterday, you, and today, I?”

“Yesterday I⁠—today, you.” He smiled: “What kind of man are you, Wondergood, to speak of such trifles. Or aren’t you used to having someone else warm your bed? Take her. She is a fine girl.”

“Whom are you torturing, Magnus:⁠—me or yourself?”

Magnus looked at me ironically:

“What a wise boy! Of course, myself! You are a very clever American, Mr. Wondergood, and I wonder why your career has been so mediocre. Go to bed, dear children. Good night. What are you looking at, Wondergood: do you find the hour too early? If so, take her