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Authors: Joseph Lewis French
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What caused this sudden
disappearance? Had she a lover or a husband? Yes, that was the
solution! Some signal from a happy fellow-being had vibrated through
the avenues of the forest, and she had obeyed the summons.
The agony of my sensations, as I arrived at this conclusion, startled
me. I tried to reject the conviction that my reason forced upon me. I
battled against the fatal conclusion,—but in vain. It was so. I had no
escape from it. I loved an animalcule!
It is true that, thanks to the marvellous power of my microscope, she
appeared of human proportions. Instead of presenting the revolting
aspect of the coarser creatures, that live and struggle and die, in the
more easily resolvable portions of the water-drop, she was fair and
delicate and of surpassing beauty. But of what account was all that?
Every time that my eye was withdrawn from the instrument, it fell on a
miserable drop of water, within which, I must be content to know, dwelt
all that could make my life lovely.
Could she but see me once! Could I for one moment pierce the mystical
walls that so inexorably rose to separate us, and whisper all that
filled my soul, I might consent to be satisfied for the rest of my life
with the knowledge of her remote sympathy. It would be something to
have established even the faintest personal link to bind us
together,—to know that at times, when roaming through those enchanted
glades, she might think of the wonderful stranger, who had broken the
monotony of her life with his presence, and left a gentle memory in her
heart!
But it could not be. No invention of which human intellect was capable
could break down the barriers that nature had erected. I might feast my
soul upon the wondrous beauty, yet she must always remain ignorant of
the adoring eyes that day and night gazed upon her, and, even when
closed, beheld her in dreams. With a bitter cry of anguish I fled from
the room, and, flinging myself on my bed, sobbed myself to sleep like a
child.
VI - The Spilling of the Cup
I arose the next morning almost at daybreak, and rushed to my
microscope. I trembled as I sought the luminous world in miniature that
contained my all. Animula was there. I had left the gas-lamp,
surrounded by its moderators, burning when I went to bed the night
before. I found the sylph bathing, as it were, with an expression of
pleasure animating her features, in the brilliant light which
surrounded her. She tossed her lustrous golden hair over her shoulders
with innocent coquetry. She lay at full length in the transparent
medium, in which she supported herself with ease, and gambolled with
the enchanting grace that the nymph Salmacis might have exhibited when
she sought to conquer the modest Hermaphroditus. I tried an experiment
to satisfy myself if her powers of reflection were developed. I
lessened the lamplight considerably. By the dim light that remained, I
could see an expression of pain flit across her face. She looked upward
suddenly, and her brows contracted. I flooded the stage of the
microscope again with a full stream of light, and her whole expression
changed. She sprang forward like some substance deprived of all weight.
Her eyes sparkled and her lips moved. Ah! if science had only the means
of conducting and reduplicating sounds, as it does the rays of light,
what carols of happiness would then have entranced my ears! what
jubilant hymns to Adonais would have thrilled the illumined air!
I now comprehended how it was that the Count de Gabalis peopled his
mystic world with sylphs,—beautiful beings whose breath of life was
lambent fire, and who sported forever in regions of purest ether and
purest light. The Rosicrucian had anticipated the wonder that I had
practically realized.
How long this worship of my strange divinity went on thus I scarcely
know. I lost all note of time. All day from early dawn, and far into
the night, I was to be found peering through that wonderful lens. I saw
no one, went nowhere, and scarce allowed myself
disappearance? Had she a lover or a husband? Yes, that was the
solution! Some signal from a happy fellow-being had vibrated through
the avenues of the forest, and she had obeyed the summons.
The agony of my sensations, as I arrived at this conclusion, startled
me. I tried to reject the conviction that my reason forced upon me. I
battled against the fatal conclusion,—but in vain. It was so. I had no
escape from it. I loved an animalcule!
It is true that, thanks to the marvellous power of my microscope, she
appeared of human proportions. Instead of presenting the revolting
aspect of the coarser creatures, that live and struggle and die, in the
more easily resolvable portions of the water-drop, she was fair and
delicate and of surpassing beauty. But of what account was all that?
Every time that my eye was withdrawn from the instrument, it fell on a
miserable drop of water, within which, I must be content to know, dwelt
all that could make my life lovely.
Could she but see me once! Could I for one moment pierce the mystical
walls that so inexorably rose to separate us, and whisper all that
filled my soul, I might consent to be satisfied for the rest of my life
with the knowledge of her remote sympathy. It would be something to
have established even the faintest personal link to bind us
together,—to know that at times, when roaming through those enchanted
glades, she might think of the wonderful stranger, who had broken the
monotony of her life with his presence, and left a gentle memory in her
heart!
But it could not be. No invention of which human intellect was capable
could break down the barriers that nature had erected. I might feast my
soul upon the wondrous beauty, yet she must always remain ignorant of
the adoring eyes that day and night gazed upon her, and, even when
closed, beheld her in dreams. With a bitter cry of anguish I fled from
the room, and, flinging myself on my bed, sobbed myself to sleep like a
child.
VI - The Spilling of the Cup
I arose the next morning almost at daybreak, and rushed to my
microscope. I trembled as I sought the luminous world in miniature that
contained my all. Animula was there. I had left the gas-lamp,
surrounded by its moderators, burning when I went to bed the night
before. I found the sylph bathing, as it were, with an expression of
pleasure animating her features, in the brilliant light which
surrounded her. She tossed her lustrous golden hair over her shoulders
with innocent coquetry. She lay at full length in the transparent
medium, in which she supported herself with ease, and gambolled with
the enchanting grace that the nymph Salmacis might have exhibited when
she sought to conquer the modest Hermaphroditus. I tried an experiment
to satisfy myself if her powers of reflection were developed. I
lessened the lamplight considerably. By the dim light that remained, I
could see an expression of pain flit across her face. She looked upward
suddenly, and her brows contracted. I flooded the stage of the
microscope again with a full stream of light, and her whole expression
changed. She sprang forward like some substance deprived of all weight.
Her eyes sparkled and her lips moved. Ah! if science had only the means
of conducting and reduplicating sounds, as it does the rays of light,
what carols of happiness would then have entranced my ears! what
jubilant hymns to Adonais would have thrilled the illumined air!
I now comprehended how it was that the Count de Gabalis peopled his
mystic world with sylphs,—beautiful beings whose breath of life was
lambent fire, and who sported forever in regions of purest ether and
purest light. The Rosicrucian had anticipated the wonder that I had
practically realized.
How long this worship of my strange divinity went on thus I scarcely
know. I lost all note of time. All day from early dawn, and far into
the night, I was to be found peering through that wonderful lens. I saw
no one, went nowhere, and scarce allowed myself
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