Satan’s Diary Leonid Andreyev (ebook reader play store TXT) 📖

astonishment, with the expression: what more does this fool want? Ah, yes, he has money. And lazily he asked:

“And so, you’ll not forget, Mr.⁠ ⁠… friend!” And his automobile was magnificent and just as magnificent was the huge chauffeur, resembling a gendarme, attired for the new role. When we had reascended the stairs (our respectful lackeys meanwhile gazing upon me as on a royal personage) and entered our apartments, Magnus fell into a long, ironic silence. I asked:

“How old is this creature?”

“Didn’t you know, Wondergood? That’s bad. He is 32 years old. Perhaps less.”

“Did the Cardinal really speak of him and ask you to give him money?”

“Yes⁠—from what you may have left after the Cardinal’s wants are attended to.”

“That is probably due to the fact that the monarchist form of government is also in vogue in heaven. Can you conceive of a republic of saints and the administration of the world on the basis of popular representation? Think of it: even devils will then receive the vote. A King is most necessary, Wondergood. Believe me.”

“Nonsense! This is not worthy even of a jest.”

“I am not jesting. You are mistaken. And pardon me for being so direct, my friend: in his discussion about kings he was above you, this time. You saw only a creature, a countenance of purely material limitations and ridiculous. He conceived himself to be a symbol. That is why he is so calm and there is no doubt that he will return to his beloved people.”

“And will do a little shooting.”

“And will do a little shooting. And will throw a little scare into them. Ah, Wondergood, how stubborn you are in your refusal to part with the multiplication table! Your republic is a simple table, while a king⁠—do you realize it?⁠—is a miracle! What can there be simpler, sillier and more hopeless than a million bearded men, governing themselves⁠—and how wonderful, how miraculous when this million of bearded fellows are governed by a creature! That is a miracle! And what possibilities it gives rise to! It seemed very funny to me when you spoke with so much warmth about the law, this dream of the devil. A king is necessary for the precise purpose of breaking the law, in order that the will may be above the law!”

“But laws change, Magnus.”

“To change is only to submit to necessity and to new law, which was unknown to you before. Only by breaking the law do you elevate the will. Prove to me that God himself is subject to his own laws, i.e., to put it simply, that he cannot perform miracles, and tomorrow your shaven monkey will share the fate of loneliness and all the churches will be turned into horse stables. The miracle, Wondergood, the miracle⁠—that is what holds human beings on this cursed earth!”

Magnus emphasized these words by banging the table with his fist. His face was gloomy. In his dark eyes there flickered unusual excitement. Speaking as if he were threatening someone, he continued:

“He believes in miracles and I envy him. He is insignificant, he is really what you might call a creature, but he believes in miracles. And he has already been a king and will be a king again! And we!⁠ ⁠…”

He waved his hand contemptuously and began to pace the carpet like an angry captain on the deck of his vessel. With much respect I gazed upon his heavy, explosive head and blazing eyes: for the first time I realized what Satanic ambitions there were concealed in this strange gentlemen. “And we!” Magnus noticed my gaze and shouted angrily:

“Why do you look at me like that, Wondergood? It’s silly! You are thinking of my ambition? That’s foolish, Wondergood! Would not you, a gentleman of Illinois, also like to be⁠ ⁠… well, at least, Emperor of Russia, where the will is still above the law?”

“And on what particular throne have you your eye, Magnus?” I replied, no longer concealing my irony.

“If you are pleased to think of me so flatteringly, Wondergood, I will tell you that I aim much higher. Nonsense, my friend! Only bloodless moralists have never dreamt of a crown, just as only eunuchs have never tempted themselves with the thought of woman. Nonsense! But I do not seek a throne⁠—not even the Russian throne: it is too cramping.”

“But there is another throne, Signor Magnus: the throne of God.”

“But why only the throne of God? And have you forgotten Satan’s, Mr. Wondergood?”

And this he said to Me⁠ ⁠… or did the whole street know that my throne was vacant? I bowed my head respectfully and said:

“Permit me to be the first to greet you⁠ ⁠… Your Majesty.”

Magnus turned on me in wild wrath, gnashing his teeth, like a dog over a contested bone. And this angry atom wants to be Satan! This handful of earth, hardly enough for one whiff for the Devil, is dreaming to be crowned with my crown! I bowed my head still lower and dropped my eyes: I felt the gleaming flame of contempt and divine laughter blazing forth within them. I realized that it must not be given to my honored ward to know this laughter. I do not know how long we remained silent, but when our eyes met again they were clear, pure and innocent, like two bright rays in the shade. Magnus was the first to speak:

“And so?” he said.

“And so?” I replied.

“Will you order money for the king?”

“The money is at your disposal, my dear friend.”

Magnus looked at me thoughtfully.

“It’s not worth while,” he decided. “This miracle is old stuff. It requires too many police to compel belief. We shall perform a better miracle.”

“Oh, undoubtedly. We shall contrive a better device. In two weeks?”

“Yes, about that!” replied Magnus cordially.

We shook hands warmly in parting and in about two hours the gracious king sent each of us a decoration: some sort of a star for me and something else for Magnus. I rather pitied the poor idiot who continued to play his lone hand.

April 16,