Glorious Nemesis Read online

  Without deliberating he threw on some clothes, seized his walking stick, and rushed out the door.

  “No departing today,” he said to himself decisively, practically flying towards the restaurant. “If I incur huge financial losses, so be it, it’s not as if my life were at stake. Whatever awaits me up there is much more important, just as the soul is more important than the wallet. Despite my timidity, I must, must speak with them! But will I find them there? Certainly; they no doubt intend to go to the summit of Stag’s Head, otherwise they wouldn’t be so high up so early in the day. I cannot miss them – there’s only one path up the mountain, and even though it forks beneath the summit, one trail is clearly visible from the other. I’ll probably catch up with them right on the peak. They are way ahead of me, but they’re women. It’s normally an eight-hour climb, if I put my mind to it I can make it in five.”

  He was beside himself with excitement and joy. Once in the forest he took off at a gallop up the gently rising trail and continued apace with short breaks for almost an hour until he was out of the forest, 800 metres above the valley. The path now wound steeply up the rocky slope, dotted with patches of mountain scrub. Flustered, he looked upwards to see if he could catch a glimpse of the coloured spots. He could not. He climbed higher and higher, passing the point where he had seen them from his room an hour and a half before ...

  “Just another 100 metres up to that overhanging rock! The slope is too curved at this point for me to be able to get a good view. Up there I’ll surely see them – I don’t think they should be more than 600 metres above me. It’s so hot, I’m more soaked than if I’d been drenched by rain, and I’m shamefully tired to boot. I’ll rest once I get up there; they can’t get away from me, if it’s really even them.”

  Reaching his destination – and sure enough he spotted them not more than 600 metres above him. He lay down, contented, lit a cigar, and fantasised blissfully about what might be waiting for him on the summit. Twenty minutes later he was once again ascending rapidly.

  They disappeared from his sight. When he saw them again, he was surprised at how high up they were; it looked as though they’d almost reached the glacier. “No, they couldn’t have climbed almost 1000 metres in half an hour. In the Alps, heights and distances are often deceptive!”

  Again they vanished. He walked up the steep, relatively safe path as quickly as possible for the better part of an hour. He couldn’t see them now, and though this was not out of the ordinary, it exasperated him to no end. He reached the point where the path forked in two, rested for a moment, and hurried up the left path.

  He was about 800 metres below the summit. He was walking swiftly for it had occurred to him that they might go down the opposite slope, to the hamlet on the other side of the mountain. “Come what may I’ll surely catch up with them at the top, or at least I’ll catch sight of them, they won’t have been able to get too far down.”

  When he saw them a little while later, he was overcome with joy! With his field glasses he could clearly make out that they were still about 200 metres below the ridge. Victory! Not only could he now distinguish the characteristic pallor of their cheeks, but also some of their features.

  He slackened his pace. Once more they disappeared from view, and for the first time that day the sun also vanished, dropping behind a small cloud. A cold wind blew sharply from the glacier, howling menacingly ... Then suddenly Sider heard a cry from above, very faint, yet quite audible ...

  “An accident!” He froze, stupefied, yet a moment later he was off at a trot. “Has one of them fallen? Or have they been waylaid? Ah! Some good may come of it yet! At least I’ll show them that they need me!”

  Although his legs felt leaden, he kept running upwards. But in a short while he stopped, stupefied once more.

  Several hundred paces to the right, on the other path, he saw the lady in red running down so swiftly it was a wonder she didn’t trip and fall ...

  “What’s happened? Might I be of assistance?” he shouted.

  The woman stopped in her tracks – – she cried out once more and continued running. His repeated shouts to her had no effect; she didn’t stop, she didn’t look back.

  “The other lady must have plummeted – She! ... and Her companion is running down to get help ... But why didn’t she at least turn to me for assistance? Clearly she was totally deranged with terror. Whatever the case, the mere chance that something untoward may have befallen Her is enough – I have no other choice – upwards!”

  The path led higher and higher. The clouds in the sky grew in number and size, thickening, growing more grey and brown; the wind blew colder and louder, howling all the more. Running, Sider reached the spot where they had recently rested and slumped down, feeling he’d collapse if he didn’t lie down. But in a minute he was back on his feet. He shouted several times. No answer. Or was there? ... Yes – But was it not coming from below? He looked around. Another barely audible cry. And then, through his field glasses, he saw the lady in red once again, far, far below him, standing, waving her arms, waving her shawl. She seemed to be beckoning him. He stood there, indecisive, confused. “What does it all mean? Does she want me to help her look for someone, or something? Or is she warning me? About robbers? Is it possible that her guide had been a bandit disguised as a woman? ... Silly questions! Should I heed her wishes? Yet – She must be close; a chance to replace the uncertain with the certain . . . maybe the woman below is just acting on some foolish impulse, female apprehension ... Even so – at least she knows something, while I know nothing –”

  Again the cries from the depths below reached his ears – and made up his mind for him. He started back down. All at once he heard louder cries, this time from above:

  “Here, up here!”

  He looked up. At the very edge of the glacier about 50 metres below the summit he saw – Her. She wasn’t moving, just a blue dot, even with his field glasses he couldn’t tell if She were sitting, lying down, or standing upright. But what he saw was enough. He ran up the path, taking no heed of the renewed cries from below.

  A hundred metres further up – the blue figure remained immobile. Fifty – now it disappeared behind a crag – a minute later it emerged again and quickly continued upwards.

  “What’s going on here? She probably isn’t injured, at least not seriously, otherwise She would head down. Perhaps She’s made up her mind to reach the summit despite a light injury. No doubt this demonic woman is awfully headstrong. No matter, I can be all the more of service to Her – given all that’s happened, it would not be considered intrusive for me to join Her.”

  She reached the summit plateau and vanished from his eyes when he was still 50 metres below it. He had to rest. He’d never felt so exhausted. He had completed the climb in record time. His watch showed noon. The sun hid itself completely behind a vast, thick layer of cloud.

  Finally he stood on the mountaintop. He did not see an enchanting panorama, he only saw a thin figure about 400 paces further on against a blue patch of sky, as if it were a diaphanous shadow, an outline barely discernable, spectral, moving towards the highest of the cone-shaped rocks towering another 150 metres or so above the high plateau. She clearly intended to climb that as well. Three days before, Sider had walked to its base. He’d not had time to go any higher since it would have meant getting home in the middle of the night, so he’d given up grudgingly, even though he knew from guidebooks to the Alps how dangerous it was. A very narrow path wound its way up the cone-shaped rock, coiling round it like a whip, yet in places it almost vanished among the virtually sheer rock faces.

  “At least now I’ll make the climb, and with Her,” he thought and followed after Her as quickly as possible. To his astonishment, however, She pressed on, without looking back, at an even faster pace than his. He started running over snow, glacial boulders, and sloughs. But she had already disappeared behind the first of the cone-shaped rocks.

  Running, he reached the same spot. Hardly had he placed his f
oot on the steeply rising path when he was overcome by something indescribable. A recollection, a monster emerging from the depths like the gruesome Leviathan from the dreaded abyss of the ocean; . . . and though it immediately submerged again, it long reverberated in his soul. “How horribly familiar this place seems to me ... I’ve seen it before, I’ve been here before, a long time ago – and something immense transpired here ... When, oh when? Surely it was in a dream; in my dreams I used to see Her here, too, this much is clear – but what is a dream except the continuation of reality, or is reality the continuation of the dream? The dream is the depth of the waking state to which we are blind when awake, and the falsehood and deceptiveness and illogical nature of the dream – merely the concentration of all the rays of this World-Phantasm.”

  He was now in the grips of a dread so powerful it nearly drowned out his desire. He felt inclined to turn back. A chill wind blew from the lowering sky, all the time growing colder, its bellowing becoming an increasingly high-pitched howl, as if spirits were warning him, lamenting his fate. Snow started to fall, becoming heavier and heavier, as if intending to form his burial mound. Spurred on now only by momentum, he dragged himself onwards, and a faintness that was as much physical as it was mental weighed him down.

  There was a constant danger of falling into the ever-growing chasm below. Progress was very slow, but he had already passed the halfway point.

  Then, having just avoided plummeting to his death, he was overcome with such despondency he stopped and abruptly decided to head back.

  And then he caught sight of Her once more. Only about 60 paces ahead of him. So suddenly ... She waved him onwards, beckoning him, and disappeared where the path curved behind a rock.

  Surrendering his will, Sider staggered after Her, after Her. He did not know whether he was asleep or awake, or whether he was in the netherworld. “Even if She’s the devil incarnate,” he whispered to himself dully, “and that could easily be the case, – I must, I must.”

  He reached the bend – and froze in fright. The path before him was no more: a small rock fall had torn it away. Something resembling a path continued about a metre and a half further on. It required a leap! It was impossible to walk around the rift as above and below there was nothing but smooth, sheer rock face. A leap might succeed, though it was much more likely to end with a plunge into the chasm about 30 metres below, for the path onto which the foot should land was so narrow there wasn’t even room for the other foot, and there was nothing whatsoever to grab hold of on the other side. Salto mortale. He was now so exhausted his legs were shaking, and when a more forceful gust of wind might knock him off his feet and send him plummeting – could he dare attempt such a leap ... ?

  He stood there, unable to make up his mind, his heart pounding terribly. Fear struggled savagely with shame, with pride. She had done it! He could not see Her, and certainly She had not plummeted into the abyss – he would have heard a scream, or at least the thud of a body below. A woman had pulled it off, and he, a man, should –? He found the thought unbearable!

  He took as much of a run-up as the place allowed, but stopped at the edge of the precipice. He shuddered and realised he didn’t have the courage ... ; he knew the leap would result in death. He looked down, his limbs turned to ice. What was it again that screamed at him so transcendentally, so eerily from the abyss?

  The struggle was over. In shame he retraced his steps like a whipped dog. To cheer himself up he resolved to make the leap no matter what on another occasion, when his body would be in better shape to serve his intentions. He had only gone twenty paces when an appalling, ghastly cry rang out from somewhere above:

  “You coward! You wimp!”

  He saw Her at the very top of the cone-shaped rock. He seemed to be able to make out Her infernal countenance, burning with fury and hate – –

  “You scoundrel, vile abomination, your cowardice is as great as your wretchedness, you dog, you dog!” – the Valkyrie-like voice roared once more, and the blue apparition vanished. –

  Under different circumstances such affronts from a woman he worshipped would have prompted Sider to attempt the impossible, even to go and meet his death voluntarily. Yet absolute exhaustion, an unnatural dread, and the weather now made all action unthinkable. Numbly he descended as far as the glacier and lay down ... Snow was still falling heavily, monster-like clouds had descended and were hurtling towards Sider with terrifying speed from all sides like a hydra. All of a sudden he was enveloped in the thickest fog.

  “What now?” he said to himself indolently after a moment. “I suppose it’s my duty to wait here for Her to start back down. But do I dare to stand before Her? ... She might take the path on the other side of Stag’s Head. But who could be sure of anything in this situation? She’s the devil, no doubt She’s expert in magic, She has no need of a miserable wretch like me ... Brr, how cold it is here, and I can’t even see two steps in front of me! Going down is impossible right now, even though the path is no longer very dangerous. Nothing to be done about it, I’ll have to wait it out until the fog clears. How unbearable it all is!”

  He waited, calling out often, hoping to alert the weird hiker to his presence on Her way down. Nothing. It took two hours for the fog to lift – flashes of sun but not a single living soul to be seen anywhere – the deepest silence. Slowly, not thinking about anything, Sider dragged his feet down the mountain. The stars were already starting to shine as he entered the garden restaurant like a sleepwalker.

  •

  Early the next morning he went to the hotel to inquire after Mrs Errata S. He learnt that she had returned to Cortona two days before, and on the following day she had gone for a walk in the forest behind the restaurant, as was her custom, and did not appear again until late afternoon in a most peculiar state; and thereupon she settled her entire bill without further ado and left Cortona for good before the day was out. –

  Sider spent the morning on the slopes of Stag’s Head, hoping in trepidation that he might see Her ... That afternoon he departed.

  3

  The one day postponement of his departure was enough to cause Sider to lose almost his entire fortune. He was forced to give up his independence, to work, to struggle against destitution. And this went on for a long, long time ...

  Even so, She filled his soul entirely for many years. He loved Her – absent, unknown, phantasmagorical – wildly. The horror and flights of superstition soon left his stout heart, transforming into simple love and desire. The mysterious nature of the whole affair only served to kindle his feelings. He became firm in his conviction that his beloved was an extraordinarily unique woman, a genius, eccentric to the point of being half-mad, and that all Her actions had been governed solely by a mysteriously engendered love for him, that while the motives behind Her entire course of action were momentarily shrouded in impenetrable mystery, there was no reason to view them any differently than a detective does a seemingly inexplicable crime.

  At first, he would often have the urge to set off for Cortona, and would have done so if external circumstances had not always prevented it, making it all the harder as the years went by – –

  But as time passed his love waned, as do all things; his memories faded, absorbed by grim reality. Eventually he could hardly remember the incident at all ... Oddly, the Mysterious Woman would appear more and more often in his dreams. Yet after ten years even these dreams petered out – –

  Then his material situation changed. He received a small inheritance and said to himself: “I’ll try my luck at gambling; I’ll sacrifice half my inheritance, but not one heller more!” Within three days he’d made more money in gambling houses than a normal person earns in a lifetime.

  He could now leave for the Alps whenever he wished – but the whole affair was so far behind him he was unable to stir himself to action. – He resolved to devote his life to thought and creativity, and at the same time to live it up just a little. The two, however, are incompatible, for every higher aspira
tion entails asceticism. And fate had ordained a different path for wretched Sider than for him to become a conqueror of the realm of the Spirit. Hedonism soon gained supremacy over all noble pursuits, slowly pressing him closer and closer to the ground. But debauchery can never fully satisfy even the lowbrow, let alone a spirit reaching for the heights. Sider was in the grips of over-satiation and overexcitement at one and the same time; the emptiness of his soul became more profound, calling on something to fill it.

  •

  Two years passed from the time he had acquired a new fortune. He was now forty.

  He was walking down the busiest street of a metropolis far north of the Alps. It was a late, as yet sweltering evening in August. The shimmer of electric streetlamps made the last remains of a red sunset almost imperceptible. His soul was immersed in a deep sleep; once again it dwelled in the Alps. “I wonder what She’s up to? What was She up to before? Will I ever lay eyes on Her again? ... It was so magnificent and glorious ...” Sublime tears fell from his eyes. “Is it possible that I might never see Her again? ...”

  Suddenly Her image burst from his soul like a flash of lightning so horrifically vivid that for a moment he doubted whether it was a phantasm or reality ... He shook violently, stopped and – –

  – suddenly he saw Her in reality! Just like that first time in the ravine, though now Her magical countenance passed by even closer, almost touching his cheek. But She did not glance at him.

  Later he was surprised that he hadn’t sunk to his knees, that he’d been able to hold himself up by grabbing onto a streetlamp ... How long had he stood there? ... Three seconds or three minutes? ... He’d hurried after Her, driven by blind instinct. He could not locate Her in the crowd.