THE CYCLE OF THE SOUL
Part I
The Material Life

Jozef Rulof

World Wide Web version
© 2014 'De Eeuw van Christus'

I retreated into my own affairs again and tried to recapture my former inspiration. This was much more useful than all the history of Roni’s life. I would give myself completely to this new work. It would become even greater than my Marianne. At this very moment I felt more deeply than at the time I worked at her statue.

My servant was waiting for me. I glanced at him searchingly. There was something in the man that drew me to him and that repelled me. I would never trust him, but yet I did not send him away, I simply did not get around to it. I felt that he was watching every move I made and it irritated me. His gait was like that of a predator. Without the slightest noise and at the most unexpected moments he appeared before me, but when I wanted him and thought he would be there, the opposite was true. Him too I only knew superficially, for his face too wore a blank mask. However, he performed his duties well; I could not find fault with him for that.

‘Why are you following me?’ I asked unexpectedly.

‘Me, master? I thought that you might need help and that I could be of assistance to you, master.’

I was already sorry that I had spoken so brusquely.

‘Go and get some rest’, I said,’ I don’t need you.’

When I was alone I sat down on the couch. Before me, like a queen, stood Marianne. But were my eyes deceiving me? I sensed a change in the statue that upset me. The folds in the cloth that covered her fell differently somehow, the pattern seemed altered. This was not the way I had left it. Who besides me had been here? I wanted to summon my servant but hesitated, perhaps I only imagined it. I tried to recall how I had placed the cloth over it, but could not remember clearly. I should have thought of something else, this was too simple; it should have been wrapped tightly and sealed off, for this was not good enough. My servant would shake his head and say that he did not know what I meant. However, I wanted him to obey orders, otherwise he would have to go. I did not like intrigues, I was honest and straightforward myself, and that is what I expected of him. Had I been mistaken?

I lay down to get some sleep, but something that surrounded Marianne made me feel uneasy. I took down the cloth that covered her and returned to my couch to admire it from there. What was it that filled my mind and gave me a sense of fear? The statue looked dull, something secretive had crept in and her lustrous shine and radiation had changed to a dark, close haze. How could that be? Why did it look different now? When I was carving the statue I had been in an enviable state of mind, but now I was myself. Was that the reason I now saw her differently? Had she fallen asleep here, while at the time I had seen and sensed her awake? This variance was too great. Was she who was standing there before me asleep now? It was strange, very strange. For a long time I peered at my own art. It was very still around me, an ominous silence. What was happening to me? Was I experiencing something out of the ordinary? I reminded myself that I did not believe in miracles. But this was a most peculiar happening.

Now I thought that she was beginning to wake up. Ah, Lantos, you woke her up! You should have let her sleep. But this time I sensed her as of old and that was a great relief to me, for it would have deeply disappointed me and likely taken away the courage to achieve anything further. To have lost one’s trust is to fail. But I could trust my own feelings again, because once more I felt more deeply, though it was only in art. No, my Marianne was an artwork of the highest order. I covered her up again and went back to sleep.

But sleep eluded me, for unpleasant, terror-filled dreams disturbed my rest. I forcefully willed myself to sleep in which I succeeded only after a long time of concentration.

That morning I woke up in a sombre mood. The sun stood already high in the sky and was sending light and warmth across the earth and its humanity. I cleaned up in my studio for the reception of my guests, ‘a he- and she-devil’. I could not keep from laughing at that absurdity.

As time passed I grew more and more restless. I did not understand myself. Why was I so restless and nervous? Because of Roni? At last it became afternoon and I called for my servant to give him some instructions. In the meantime I set to work to arrange the room, so that I would be able to observe Roni’s innermost reaction when I unveiled Marianne. But where was my servant? He had never kept me waiting this long. Once more I called but received no answer. I went out to see what he was doing, but he was nowhere in the house.

What was going on? Very strange, this had never happened before. Perhaps he had gone out to make some last minute purchases, though he never went out without telling me. Now I would be obliged to answer the door myself.

Exactly on time Roni entered.

‘Alone?’ I asked.

‘She is coming, Lantos, you know how women are. She will be here shortly.’

He sat down opposite me, as I had arranged beforehand.

He looked at the covered Marianne and asked: ‘May I see your sculpture?’

‘Presently’, I said, ‘have a little patience.

‘Tell me’, I asked, ‘where do you get your inspirations and how do you feel them?’

‘What a question, Lantos, how strange; the question of a dreamer.’

‘A dreamer, you say?’

‘Isn’t it obvious’, he said, ‘that I cannot answer that question, Lantos?’

‘Can’t answer’, I repeated. Was my question then not natural? Did he, in all truth, not know it?

Our conversation switched to an other direction when he said: ‘She will soon be here, do me a great favour, Lantos, and tell me how she strikes you.’

I pathomed his feelings and thought that I had reached him deeper than before. I did right, I thought, in inviting him here and shall ask him to come again. Meanwhile the time passed. At last I heard the sound of the arrival of the visitor and I went to let her in, for my servant still had not returned. I found it very annoying.

A beautiful being stood before me, but at the same moment I thought I would die, my heart stood still, a cramp strangled my heart and I could not utter a word. I thought I beheld a miracle and that miracle was... Marianne.

Did I delude myself? Was I awake or dreaming? She too looked at me over and over again and then she tightly compressed her lips, while all colour drained from her face. With all my strength I finally succeeded in regaining my composure.

Marianne, I thought, is it you or are you her look-alike? And this was the she-devil? Together we walked towards Roni and I offered her a seat beside me, so that I could observe her closely. Notwithstanding my unsettled feelings the conversation went smoothly. She had golden, blond hair and my marble statue was like this living appearance, the same resemblance. She was exactly like my creation! Like a bolt of lightning all the stories about her and the derogatory remarks Roni had related to me flew through my mind. There was no doubt in my mind any more that it was she, my Marianne.

Scoundrel, devil in human form, how can you hurt me so. My thoughts stopped, my heart was breaking and I felt a stabbing pain in my head.

If this was Marianne sitting there, then a miracle had taken place. Suddenly I had an idea. I would know for sure whether I had made a mistake.

I asked her: ‘Will you do me a favour?’

She smiled and said: ‘Yes, certainly.’ With that she looked at Roni, but remained calm and composed.

I now noticed a greenish light that was radiating from Roni. Once before in my life I had seen this light. But where? In heaven’s name, where? I looked at her who was waiting for my request.

‘Will you sing for me? I heard that you have a beautiful voice, will you do that?’

‘With pleasure,’ she answered and prepared herself.

Roni was one big mystery.

‘Come here and sit beside me’, I said to him, ‘let’s listen together, my dear Roni.’

He did as I asked and sat down next to me. I waited and scanned him, trying to find out where I had met him before and from where I knew him.

Then Marianne’s voice set my soul vibrating. I knew now that it was she, my dear little friend. Inside of me my soul wept that we had to meet each other in this way. The scoundrel sitting beside me trampled her as well as me. Marianne sang the song from her childhood, which she so often had sung to me. I understood this song and her intentions immediately. She wanted to show me that she recognized me and that she was my childhood sweetheart. Her singing was sweet as the nightingale’s.

I suddenly noticed that the tears were running down her cheeks, but she sang on. I thought I would go crazy. When her song was finished I was with one leap beside her to thank her.

‘How can I thank you’, I blurted out awkwardly and suddenly a horrible feeling came over me.

I looked at Roni, who acted as if he had not noticed the scene, as if it did not concern him. At that very same instant something welled up from the bottom of my soul and I knew who he was!

My dream! My dream! How in the world was it possible? This being then was going to ruin my life? I jumped over to the statue, pulled the cloth down and shouted at him like a deranged man: ‘See there, Roni, you devil in a human body, this is my sculpture, my Marianne carved in marble and there stands the living Marianne.’

He trembled and made ready to attack me, but I was quicker, grabbed a chunk of marble lying within my reach and before he knew what I was up to I let it descend on his head. It split his skull and with a dull thud he fell to the floor, blood gushing from the wound.

A horrified scream brought me to myself. Marianne had collapsed and lay unconscious at my feet, before the stone statue. I lifted her onto the couch. Oh horrors, what now? Blood flowed from her mouth, was she dead too? I laid my hand on her forehead and a few minutes later she opened her eyes and looked at me. Thank God, she was alive. I wanted to speak to her, but she sank back into unconsciousness again. What a drama!

I looked at the one who had plotted it all. Now I understood all his actions. The cad. There he lay, still alive, because a rattling sound rose up from his chest. Suddenly he raised himself upright, looked at me and let out a satanic laughter that sounded horrible to my ears. Then he fell back again. He was dead and I was his murderer. I had rid the world of a monster. No being would suffer because of him any more.

Remorse I did not feel, in fact I felt quite peaceful. But what should I do now? Marianne was still unconscious. I could now see the whole picture. My servant was also in league with him. He had wanted to put me out of the way, but he had paid for it with his own life. Scoundrel that he was, how deeply he must have hated me. I thought that I hated him, but compared to his, my hate was love. Marianne he had defiled and he had begrudged me my success. It was he who had been here earlier, I had not been mistaken at all. Oh, why had I not known this before. I would have acted differently, then he would likely be alive still. I tried to think but could not come to a decision.

I was a murderer as had been predicted in my dream, but by whom? By satan? I sat down beside Marianne and waited till she would regain consciousness. She was breathing peacefully. The thoughts that went on in my head!

I began to think anew. I could remember everything clearly and it scared me when I realized what had happened. Who had made me dream? ‘Who, who?’ I shouted and thought I was going crazy. Nobody answered. I never received an answer to anything and none came this time either. Should I flee with her, back to our own country? And start a new and happy life? I felt ill, very, very ill.

‘Marianne’, I said, ‘wake up, come wake up, do not leave me alone for so long. I must talk to you and it is urgent, I feel it. Danger threatens us, wake up, Marianne.’

I wept. Never before had I cried like that. Finally it stopped, it had settled me down again. And then Marianne opened her eyes and looked at me.

‘Lantos’, she whispered, ‘Lantos.’

‘Say it again, Marianne, say it once more?’

‘Lantos, what a way to meet again.’

‘Marianne, do you love me? Can you love a murderer?’

‘I love you, Lantos, but will not be worthy of your love.’

I put my hand over her mouth to prevent her from speaking further.

‘Shall we flee, away from here and start a new life?’

‘I would like that very much’, she said, ‘but I fear that I will cause you grief.’

‘Don’t talk like that.’

‘You do not know my life, you have no idea how I have been living, Lantos.’

‘I love you, my child, tell me that you love me too. My life is yours.’

‘I love you, Lantos, but...’ she could not finish, for we were interrupted by a terrific crashing sound. I flew to the entrance. There I immediately understood the noise, I had been betrayed. A couple of men entered and put shackles on me. I offered no resistance and let them, but I only asked: ‘Who betrayed me?’

‘Your servant’, was the cold reply.

‘Do you know everything?’ I asked.

‘Save yourself the trouble.’

Marianne looked as if she was dead, however, she was alive, for suddenly she flew towards me and clamped herself tightly to me. It was a heart-rending scene.

‘Lantos, Lantos’, she wailed, ‘where are you going? Do not leave me alone.’

I told her to listen to me. ‘Hear me well, Marianne. All the things here are for you. It is not much, but I want you to accept this sculpture as a sacred remembrance. Will you do that? Let my parents know what happened.’ But I changed my mind. ‘No, don’t do that.’

‘We will do that for you’, I heard someone beside me say. ‘If it is possible.’

‘Go back, Marianne, go back to your parents, come to yourself.’

She looked up and whispered to me that it was not possible for her to return.

‘You must’, I said, ‘you have to.’ I suddenly thought of her condition. ‘Is all of it true?’

She lowered her eyes and I understood.

‘Farewell, Marianne, farewell, come and visit me, come to me, I must talk to you. Before it is too late I must speak with you. If necessary I will die, though I have not wanted this. Marianne, you are my soul, you are me, at some time you will belong to me. If life goes on, if there is an other existence we shall meet each other there... If there is an eternity!’ I called to her once more as I was led away.

I still heard her sobbing, my heart was broken. Was hers too?