Free The Fiery Angel by Valery Bruisov Page B

dissolve like clouds.
    I must not conceal the fact, and I will say here and now, that Renata later gave another explanation of the knockings that to many will perhaps appear more simple and natural, but, from everything, I gather that it was his first one that was true, and even if she were mistaken about them, it was only in that she did not recognise in them the usual devices of the Devil, who seeks ever to enmesh the soul in his dubious webs. But at that time I had no occasion even to reflect upon what she said, for I gave myself up wholly to a feeling of astonishment at the nearness to us of the world of demons, that, for the most of human beings, is as if situated on the further side of some inaccessible ocean that can be traversed only in the galleys of magic and sorcery. And, moreover, while Renata spoke, the knockings sounded gay upon the wall above her bed, as if confirming her words. But as never, and in no circumstances of my life, did the torch of free experimentation, lit in my soul by the books of the great humanists, flicker out in me, addressing myself to the knocking being I asked with extreme daring:
    “If you who make these knockings are truly a demon, and if you hear my words, knock thrice.”
    At once, clearly, there resounded three knocks, and at the moment they were as terrifying as if an invisible hammer were knocking through my skull at my brain. But quickly, overpowering this weakness, with renewed daring and not comprehending the dark abyss towards which I was thrusting myself, I asked again:
    “Are you a friend to us or an enemy? If a friend—knock thrice.”
    Immediately sounded three knockings. After these Renata, too, rose in her bed, and her eyes became alive again as she asked:
    “In the name of God I conjure you, Knocker, speak! Do you know anything of my master, Count Heinrich? If you know, knock thrice.”
    Three knocks sounded.
    Then an uncontrollable trembling seized Renata and, sitting up, she seized my hand and, pressing it with her thin fingers, she quickly began to put questions to our conversationist, one after another; where is Count Heinrich? how soon will he return? when will she see him? how angry is he with her?—questions to it would be very difficult to reply with knockings. But, intervening, I tried to bring some system into the conversation and established that three knocks would always mean an affirmation, two a negation, after which we only had to put our questions in such a way that they could be answered by a single “yes” or “no.” It did not then occur to me that commerce with infernal powers might be sinful, or even dangerous, indeed I was even ready to pride myself on the new method of demonomancy I had invented, and a long conversation ensued between us and our guest.
    We asked him: who is he, whether he be a demon? And that he answered us, yes. Then we asked him, what is he called? And by going through a number of names and all the sounds of the alphabet, we learned that his name was Elimer. Then we asked him whether he knew Count Heinrich, and that he answered us, yes. We asked whether Count Heinrich were in Köln, and to that he replied, no. We asked, would Count Heinrich arrive in Köln, and to that he replied, yes. We asked: when? soon? not to-day? perhaps to-morrow? and learned that it would be to-morrow. Then, continuing our questioning, we learned that we must await Count Heinrich the next evening, not going out anywhere, in this very room, that he will find his own way to Renata, that he has not forgotten her, that he is not angry with her, that he has forgiven all, loves her as before, and wishes to be with her.
    All these answers were to Renata as the words of the Saviour ‘ talipha, kumi ’ to the dead virgin. She too revived, and, forgetting her weariness, she tirelessly put one question after another, nearly always about the selfsame thing with the words but slightly altered, only to hear once more this ‘yes’ so sweet to her. And when