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Read books online » Fiction » A House of Pomegranates by Oscar Wilde (free ebook novel .txt) 📖

Book online «A House of Pomegranates by Oscar Wilde (free ebook novel .txt) 📖». Author Oscar Wilde



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>was a ruby, and thick oil dripped from its hair on to its thighs.

Its feet were red with the blood of a newly-slain kid, and its

loins girt with a copper belt that was studded with seven beryls.

 

‘And I said to the priest, “Is this the god?” And he answered me,

“This is the god.”

 

‘“Show me the god,” I cried, “or I will surely slay thee.” And I

touched his hand, and it became withered.

 

‘And the priest besought me, saying, “Let my lord heal his servant,

and I will show him the god.”

 

‘So I breathed with my breath upon his hand, and it became whole

again, and he trembled and led me into the second chamber, and I

saw an idol standing on a lotus of jade hung with great emeralds.

It was carved out of ivory, and in stature was twice the stature of

a man. On its forehead was a chrysolite, and its breasts were

smeared with myrrh and cinnamon. In one hand it held a crooked

sceptre of jade, and in the other a round crystal. It ware buskins

of brass, and its thick neck was circled with a circle of

selenites.

 

‘And I said to the priest, “Is this the god?”

 

‘And he answered me, “This is the god.”

 

‘“Show me the god,” I cried, “or I will surely slay thee.” And I

touched his eyes, and they became blind.

 

‘And the priest besought me, saying, “Let my lord heal his servant,

and I will show him the god.”

 

‘So I breathed with my breath upon his eyes, and the sight came

back to them, and he trembled again, and led me into the third

chamber, and lo! there was no idol in it, nor image of any kind,

but only a mirror of round metal set on an altar of stone.

 

‘And I said to the priest, “Where is the god?”

 

‘And he answered me: “There is no god but this mirror that thou

seest, for this is the Mirror of Wisdom. And it reflecteth all

things that are in heaven and on earth, save only the face of him

who looketh into it. This it reflecteth not, so that he who

looketh into it may be wise. Many other mirrors are there, but

they are mirrors of Opinion. This only is the Mirror of Wisdom.

And they who possess this mirror know everything, nor is there

anything hidden from them. And they who possess it not have not

Wisdom. Therefore is it the god, and we worship it.” And I looked

into the mirror, and it was even as he had said to me.

 

‘And I did a strange thing, but what I did matters not, for in a

valley that is but a day’s journey from this place have I hidden

the Mirror of Wisdom. Do but suffer me to enter into thee again

and be thy servant, and thou shalt be wiser than all the wise men,

and Wisdom shall be thine. Suffer me to enter into thee, and none

will be as wise as thou.’

 

But the young Fisherman laughed. ‘Love is better than Wisdom,’ he

cried, ‘and the little Mermaid loves me.’

 

‘Nay, but there is nothing better than Wisdom,’ said the Soul.

 

‘Love is better,’ answered the young Fisherman, and he plunged into

the deep, and the Soul went weeping away over the marshes.

 

And after the second year was over, the Soul came down to the shore

of the sea, and called to the young Fisherman, and he rose out of

the deep and said, ‘Why dost thou call to me?’

 

And the Soul answered, ‘Come nearer, that I may speak with thee,

for I have seen marvellous things.’

 

So he came nearer, and couched in the shallow water, and leaned his

head upon his hand and listened.

 

And the Soul said to him, ‘When I left thee, I turned my face to

the South and journeyed. From the South cometh everything that is

precious. Six days I journeyed along the highways that lead to the

city of Ashter, along the dusty red-dyed highways by which the

pilgrims are wont to go did I journey, and on the morning of the

seventh day I lifted up my eyes, and lo! the city lay at my feet,

for it is in a valley.

 

‘There are nine gates to this city, and in front of each gate

stands a bronze horse that neighs when the Bedouins come down from

the mountains. The walls are cased with copper, and the watch-towers on the walls are roofed with brass. In every tower stands

an archer with a bow in his hand. At sunrise he strikes with an

arrow on a gong, and at sunset he blows through a horn of horn.

 

‘When I sought to enter, the guards stopped me and asked of me who

I was. I made answer that I was a Dervish and on my way to the

city of Mecca, where there was a green veil on which the Koran was

embroidered in silver letters by the hands of the angels. They

were filled with wonder, and entreated me to pass in.

 

‘Inside it is even as a bazaar. Surely thou shouldst have been

with me. Across the narrow streets the gay lanterns of paper

flutter like large butterflies. When the wind blows over the roofs

they rise and fall as painted bubbles do. In front of their booths

sit the merchants on silken carpets. They have straight black

beards, and their turbans are covered with golden sequins, and long

strings of amber and carved peach-stones glide through their cool

fingers. Some of them sell galbanum and nard, and curious perfumes

from the islands of the Indian Sea, and the thick oil of red roses,

and myrrh and little nail-shaped cloves. When one stops to speak

to them, they throw pinches of frankincense upon a charcoal brazier

and make the air sweet. I saw a Syrian who held in his hands a

thin rod like a reed. Grey threads of smoke came from it, and its

odour as it burned was as the odour of the pink almond in spring.

Others sell silver bracelets embossed all over with creamy blue

turquoise stones, and anklets of brass wire fringed with little

pearls, and tigers’ claws set in gold, and the claws of that gilt

cat, the leopard, set in gold also, and earrings of pierced

emerald, and finger-rings of hollowed jade. From the tea-houses

comes the sound of the guitar, and the opium-smokers with their

white smiling faces look out at the passers-by.

 

‘Of a truth thou shouldst have been with me. The wine-sellers

elbow their way through the crowd with great black skins on their

shoulders. Most of them sell the wine of Schiraz, which is as

sweet as honey. They serve it in little metal cups and strew rose

leaves upon it. In the market-place stand the fruitsellers, who

sell all kinds of fruit: ripe figs, with their bruised purple

flesh, melons, smelling of musk and yellow as topazes, citrons and

rose-apples and clusters of white grapes, round red-gold oranges,

and oval lemons of green gold. Once I saw an elephant go by. Its

trunk was painted with vermilion and turmeric, and over its ears it

had a net of crimson silk cord. It stopped opposite one of the

booths and began eating the oranges, and the man only laughed.

Thou canst not think how strange a people they are. When they are

glad they go to the bird-sellers and buy of them a caged bird, and

set it free that their joy may be greater, and when they are sad

they scourge themselves with thorns that their sorrow may not grow

less.

 

‘One evening I met some negroes carrying a heavy palanquin through

the bazaar. It was made of gilded bamboo, and the poles were of

vermilion lacquer studded with brass peacocks. Across the windows

hung thin curtains of muslin embroidered with beetles’ wings and

with tiny seed-pearls, and as it passed by a pale-faced Circassian

looked out and smiled at me. I followed behind, and the negroes

hurried their steps and scowled. But I did not care. I felt a

great curiosity come over me.

 

‘At last they stopped at a square white house. There were no

windows to it, only a little door like the door of a tomb. They

set down the palanquin and knocked three times with a copper

hammer. An Armenian in a caftan of green leather peered through

the wicket, and when he saw them he opened, and spread a carpet on

the ground, and the woman stepped out. As she went in, she turned

round and smiled at me again. I had never seen any one so pale.

 

‘When the moon rose I returned to the same place and sought for the

house, but it was no longer there. When I saw that, I knew who the

woman was, and wherefore she had smiled at me.

 

‘Certainly thou shouldst have been with me. On the feast of the

New Moon the young Emperor came forth from his palace and went into

the mosque to pray. His hair and beard were dyed with rose-leaves,

and his cheeks were powdered with a fine gold dust. The palms of

his feet and hands were yellow with saffron.

 

‘At sunrise he went forth from his palace in a robe of silver, and

at sunset he returned to it again in a robe of gold. The people

flung themselves on the ground and hid their faces, but I would not

do so. I stood by the stall of a seller of dates and waited. When

the Emperor saw me, he raised his painted eyebrows and stopped. I

stood quite still, and made him no obeisance. The people marvelled

at my boldness, and counselled me to flee from the city. I paid no

heed to them, but went and sat with the sellers of strange gods,

who by reason of their craft are abominated. When I told them what

I had done, each of them gave me a god and prayed me to leave them.

 

‘That night, as I lay on a cushion in the tea-house that is in the

Street of Pomegranates, the guards of the Emperor entered and led

me to the palace. As I went in they closed each door behind me,

and put a chain across it. Inside was a great court with an arcade

running all round. The walls were of white alabaster, set here and

there with blue and green tiles. The pillars were of green marble,

and the pavement of a kind of peach-blossom marble. I had never

seen anything like it before.

 

‘As I passed across the court two veiled women looked down from a

balcony and cursed me. The guards hastened on, and the butts of

the lances rang upon the polished floor. They opened a gate of

wrought ivory, and I found myself in a watered garden of seven

terraces. It was planted with tulip-cups and moonflowers, and

silver-studded aloes. Like a slim reed of crystal a fountain hung

in the dusky air. The cypress-trees were like burnt-out torches.

From one of them a nightingale was singing.

 

‘At the end of the garden stood a little pavilion. As we

approached it two eunuchs came out to meet us. Their fat bodies

swayed as they walked, and they glanced curiously at me with their

yellow-lidded eyes. One of them drew aside the captain of the

guard, and in a low voice whispered to him. The other kept

munching scented pastilles, which he took with an affected gesture

out of an oval box of lilac enamel.

 

‘After a few moments

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