back…” And these words she repeated sev-
eral times, and sighed shiveringly.
The rain
drummed and
she waited.
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ORPHEUS EMERGED 209
VIII
MICHAEL, LONG
SINCE
having abandoned his tears, was now
uproariously drunk. He had overturned
his table and the waiters were leading
him to the door.
“Revolt! Revolt!” he kept mumbling
drunkenly, and even as they were push-
ing him out into the rain, and the cus-
tomers were laughing, he kept on
repeating these words out loud. He had
been forced to pay for the glasses he’d
broken, and now, with the change in a
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ORPHEUS EMERGED 211
crumpled heap in his hand, he waved it at
the wind and rain. He started up the boule-
vard, staggering, and once he almost fell in
a puddle. Pedestrians hurrying by in the
rain have him only briefly curious glances.
Michael weaved along the boulevard,
and then paused to rest on a bench dripping
with rain. There, stuffing the money back
into his pockets, he leaned his head in his
hands and stared at a puddle at his feet.
“I refuse!” he choked, and got up and
walked on.
By now he had reached the bridge and
began walking along the concrete ramp.
Below, the river, softly needled by the rain,
flowed by slowly and in darkness. A tugboat
hooted and blew up steam towards the
bridge. Michael stopped midway across the
bridge and leaned on the railing to look
down. He was standing in the shadows, and
the rain pattered down all around him.
“It’s cold!” he cried, and a gust of wind
blew by, driving rain against his face. “It’s
cold!” he repeated with mounting disgust.
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ORPHEUS EMERGED 212
The bridge, at this point, was completely
deserted, except for one trolley car that
clanged and rattled by. As it passed,
Michael opened his mouth and screamed in
the midst of the clamour. Then he began to
moan and sway, shivering, and huddling up
in his coat.
‘I’ve never approved of this method,’ he
thought. ‘It’s much too inconvenient, and
too cold— But I’ve made my pact; I’ve made
my pact. I’ll show him—the poisoner!’ “God
has poisoned me!” he suddenly cried out
loud. “Do you hear me? God has poisoned
me with his damned essence!” No one was
around; the bridge was completely desert-
ed, and a strong wing drove slivers of rain
across the arc lights. A big ship bawled in
the dark distance.
‘But before I do this,’ Michael thought, ‘I
should really see him—Paul, Paul. Ha ha!
I’ll hurl curses in his face, the ape. Making
a fool of me, stealing my poetry and saying
that he’ll burn it, laughing at me, abetting
Marie’s damned teasing, taunting me—
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ORPHEUS EMERGED 213
the insensi-
tive, stupid,
thick-headed
ape! The great
genius of love
and life, yes,
I’ll show the
ape...’
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ORPHEUS EMERGED 214
Michael had suddenly begun to walk
back in the direction from which he had
come. He was muttering to himself out
loud. “Perhaps I’m mad now, stark raving
mad as they say—” He looked around, eyes
gleaming. “When he sees me, he’ll be terri-
fied. A lunatic! I’ll bang on his window and
tell him his hour’s up! I’ll smother the
wretch to death with me! He’ll faint when he
sees me! Ho Ho! That’ll be the topper of
them all…”
Laughing feverishly, Michael hurried on.
Suddenly he stopped and leaned again on
the railing. ‘It’s a waste of time,’ he thought.
‘I shouldn’t even warn him. Yes, that’s what
this is, this running to see him, it’s a sort of
warning: he doesn’t deserve any sympathy
of mine. I’ve none for him or anyone else.
Calls me a failure! A failure!’ Michael looked
down at the waters below, and carefully
considered them.
‘They’ll think it’s a dishonor,’ he thought,
‘but little they’ll know—it’s not dishonor to
be defeated by God. He’s put this idea in my
head; he wants me out of the way—because
I was seeking his impulse: and don’t think
that I wouldn’t have found it, if I had had the
fortitude to live on. No doubt about that, I
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ORPHEUS EMERGED 215
know my powers! But the struggle isn’t
worth it. Struggle is not happiness. I
thought I would find happiness there, curi-
ously enough— It’s a good thing I’ve been
warning Arthur. I should really go and see
Arthur before I do this, and warn him again,
specifically this time. The consequences
are what he craves, hey? I’ll bet—when the
time comes, he won’t be so sophomorically
secure behind his artistic philosophies, oh
no! But maybe he’s shrewder than me,
that’s possible… Well, this is all a pretty
waste of time.’
Michael suddenly leaned far over the
railing until his feet were off the pavement
and he was holding himself only by the
force of his hands, which were knotted
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around the bars. “Say something, death,”
he called to the waters below. “Smug
silent death, omniscient death, sottish
death. They tell me corpses dragged out of
rivers are bloated, blue, and black, like
puffed up bullfrogs, that they glisten with
scum, and that the eyes are eaten out by
rats…” Michael opened and closed his
eyes. “That’s about to happen to me!” He
was so drunk now, that he almost lost his
balance; but he only laughed. The dark-
ness below him was swirling dizzily, and
he began to feel sick from the pernod.
“Now!” he muttered. “This is how it will
feel when I am plunging into the gouffre!
Just like this! A note, should have written a
note! Still time! Oh, it’s cold, cold, cold!…”
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ORPHEUS EMERGED 217
IX
PAUL, ASLEEP IN
HELEN’S ARMS,
was suddenly awake and shivering all
over very violently. Helen’s hand, which
had been stroking his hair, paused over
his head. Paul opened his eyes.
“I’m cold!” he pronounced hoarsely.
Then, recognizing Helen, he plunged his
face into her bosom and shivered violent-
ly again, as though he had a chill. “I’m
cold, Helen. Is it so cold in the room?”
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ORPHEUS EMERGED 219
Helen frowned and placed tender finger-
tips on his brow.
“No, darling, it’s not so cold… I don’t feel
it. But your brow is all wet. You have a
fever!”
Paul was shaking in her arms. Helen
underwent a spasm of anxiety: “Paul,” she
cried, “you’re sick!” She started to get up.
Paul detained her with his hand. “No
wait,” he said. “Now, I feel all right. I’m not
cold any more, and look, I’m not shaking
any more…”
“I don’t know—your face is all wet.”
“I must have been dreaming,” Paul
assured her. “What have you been doing,
sleeping?”
“I’ve been watching you, and waiting.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I love you and I trust you.”
“That’s all that counts, then,” Paul said,
and brought his head back to her bosom.
“Oh, it’s still raining. What a terrible, terri-
ble night. And all we do is wait and wait…
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in the bar, Leo told us…”
“No,” Helen said firmly.
“But I tell you—”
“No. We can’t go to him. Don’t you know
that he has to come to us?”
Paul was silent. “That’s nonsense,” he
finally said.
“Not so much as you think,” Helen
affirmed. “Let him come to us.”
“I can’t sleep any more,” Paul said. “I
think I’ll get up and prepare two cups of cof-
fee, and I have some cookies in a bag.”
“Let me do it.”
“No, no!” cried Paul, jumping up and
laughing. “Let me do it. You’re my guest.
You’ve just arrived from a long journey, and
I’m serving you in my role as a host.”
Helen smiled. “Paul, you can be so silly
sometimes…”
“Now stay right there,” Paul cried, running
to his cupboard—for that was what he called
it, his cupboard—and beginning to rummage
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around. “I’ll bring you the whole meal on a
tray, as though you were a queen. And that—”
he said, turning triumphantly to Helen — “that
is what you are, a queen! My queen!” He ran
over and kissed Helen; then he dashed back to
his cupboard. “The Queen of the Golden Age.
Did you hear that? The Queen of the Golden
Age! That’s what Michael would call you now,
you know. He has all kinds of fancy terms for
simple beauty. He would call you a symbol of
beauty, perhaps the symbol of beauty, in the
manner of all the poets and artists! They’re all
crazy…”
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ORPHEUS EMERGED 222
Suddenly, a
violent knock-
ing came on
the window
from outside,
accompanied by
a thick cry.
“What’s that?” Paul asked, going towards
the window.
Helen didn’t answer.
Paul hastened out into the hall and went
up to open the outside door. A cold gust of
rain blew in. Michael was standing in a
puddle, with the rain dripping down his
face, glaring madly at Paul.
“Do I look mad?” he cried eagerly.
“Good Lord! You’re soaking wet!” cried
Paul. “Come on in and dry up.”
“No!” thundered Michael. “I asked you,
do I look mad?”
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“Yes, quite!”
Michael smiled with satisfaction and
shook his head to clear it of rain. “Now will
you come in?” Paul yelled, for the wind was
blowing hard and the rain was making a
great splattering noise.
Michael was smiling strangely in the
darkness. “I’ve come to tell you,” he said,
barely audible in the rainfall, “that this is
your last night on earth. It’s going to be
awful cold, my friend, where you and I are
going, the water, and the earth.”
A flurry of wind drove by them and Paul
cried, “Come on in, you fool!”
“Did you hear what I said? Your last night
on earth?”
“I don’t care,” yelled Paul impatiently,
still standing in the doorway.
“I’ll bet you’re wondering why I’m going
to do it,” Michael went on, shouting against
the rain, even though now he stood right in
front of Paul and had his face right next to
his. “Don’t you want to know the details?
The motive, you ape?”
Paul shook his head bewilderedly.
“Oh,” Michael said, “so you think that
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there aren’t any specific details to this, hey,
no motives? A man commits suicide just
because the idea appeals to him, is that it?
Well, you’re lucky. I wasn’t going to come,
because I have no sympathy for you, Paul—
but something drove me here, some idea.
“You’re not going to commit suicide,”
Paul interrupted. He began to smile angeli-
cally and blush.
“And why not?” Michael demanded sus-
piciously.
“Come in and I’ll show you why,” Paul
replied, still smiling.
“No!” yelled Michael again. “Good-bye!”
He had moved off towards the stone steps,
and Paul had suddenly run out after him and
was clutching at his coat.
“Wait a minute!” They were both stand-
ing in the rain now, and Paul was soon
drenched with rain.
“I wept,” said Michael simply, turning his
face to Paul’s. “Paul!” he suddenly cried,
taking the other’s hand and squeezing it.
“Paul, a man was killed. All today, after
what happened… Did you see how Marie
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treated me? I don’t care about her, but I tell
you she’s an impostor that one, she revels in
evil, she’s not a human being!”
“You’re being childish.”
“Oh no, I don’t think so. There are rea-
sons. I wish I could see Arthur before I do
this, and warn him. I was thinking about
him on the bridge—it will be on the bridge.
Well, Paul—” He began to pull away. But
suddenly he went on: “And I was sick in the
bar, and they threw me out. Do you know
where I’m going to sleep tonight? I’m going
to sleep in the river, alone! And you!” he
added with savage triumph, “you are going
to just expire in your mean little hovel…”
“Michael—”
“Do you want some money, Paul? Ha ha
ha. Want some money? Here!�
�� Michael
drew out a wad of bills from his coat pock-
et and scattered them like seed, with a
broad sweep of his arm, at Paul’s feet.
“Stoop! And pick them up. They’re all
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yours. Spend them within the next ten min-
utes, for that’s how long you have to live. Ha
ha ha!”
Paul was now holding Michael firmly by
the arm, and rain poured down both their
backs.
“Good-bye,” said Michael, straining away
from the other’s grip. “This is the way the
world ends, you know. Come with me and
I’ll recite you all the death lyrics in litera-
ture, and the love lyrics too, just to prove to
you how far they fall off the mark. I had the
mark!—but it was poisoned; it was the for-
bidden fruit with poison in it! I have a fever,
now, I think I’m sick—that’s where I’m get-
ting all the courage to do this…”
Paul hung on to his arm and said nothing.
“Remember the time I tried to hit you
with the floor lamp?” Michael shouted. “Oh,
I’m remembering everything now, and all
the things I wrote that don’t mean anything,
and the things I wrote that meant too much.
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On human terms, you see, that’s how life is.
On human terms. I don’t want those terms.
They’re ugly; there’s no more beauty. I
revolt! I refuse! I’m finished! God’s defeated
me…”
Paul smiled grimly.
“You smile? Do you think it’s a dishonor
to be defeated by God?”
“No,” Paul said simply.
“Do you know what it’s like?” Michael
asked, his eyes gleaming at Paul. “It’s like
being a fish trying to live on land. One suf-
focates. I’m suffocating in the ether; God’s
air is choking me. I went to it in all inno-
cence, I didn’t know it would choke me.
Now, am I supposed to return to human
conditions? Hey? Well, I damned well
refuse, that’s all. Let me go, damn you, let
me go!” And with this, Michael wrenched
away violently. But, no sooner having done
this, he himself grasped Paul’s arm. “Now,”
he said, “Prometheus—that’s a funny one,
Prometheus: Arthur called me that this