Louis Lambert — Honoré de Balzac, trans. Katharine Prescott Wormeley

‘*Farewell, ye discoverers who seek the Hast through the thick darkness of abstractions as grand as first principles; and ye martyrs of thought, led by thought to the true light! Farewell, realms of inquiry, where I can hear the moans of insulted genius, the sigh of the sage to whom light comes —too late!

‘‘T perceive the angelic harmonies, the wafted fragrance, the incense from the heart exhaled by those who move on, praying, comforting, diffusing divine light and heavenly balm to sorrowing souls. Courage, Choir of Love! to whom the nations cry, ‘Comfort us! Protect us!’ Courage, and farewell!

‘‘Farewell, rock of granite, thou shalt become a flower; farewell, flower, thou shalt be a dove; farewell, dove, thou shalt be a wo.nan; farewell, woman, thou shalt be Suffering; farewell, man, thou shalt be Belief; farewell, you, who-shall be all love and prayer!”’

Exhausted by fatigue, this inexplicable being for the first time leaned on Wilfrid and Minna to support her back to her house. Wilfrid and Minna felt some mysterious contagion from her touch. They had gone but a few steps when they met David in tears.

‘She is going to die; why have you brought her here ?”’ he exclaimed from afar.

Seraphita was lifted up by the old: man, who had recoyered the strength of youth, and he flew with her to the door of the Swedish castle, like an eagle carrying some white lamb. to. his eyry.

p. 155

VI
THE ROAD TO HEAVEN

O* THE DAY after Seraphita had had this foretaste of her end, and had bidden farewell to the earth, as a prisoner looks at his cell before quitting it forever, she was suffering such pain as compelled her to remain in the absolute quietude of those who endure extreme anguish. Wilfrid and Minna went to see her, and found her lying on her couch of furs. Her soul, still shrouded in the flesh, shone through the veil, bleaching it, as it were, from day to day. The progress made by the spirit in undermining the last barrier which divided it from the infinite was called sickness; the hour of life was named death. David wept to see his mistress suffering, and refused to listen to her consolations; the old man was as unreasonable as a child. The pastor was urgent on Seraphita to take some remedies; but all was in vain.

One morning she asked for the two she had been so fond of, telling them that this was the last of her bad days. Wilfrid and Minna came in great alarm; they knew that they were about to lose her. Seraphita smiled at them, as those smile who are departing to a better world; her head drooped like a flower overweighted with dew, which opens its cup for the last time and exhales its last fragrance to the air. She looked at them with sadness, of which they were the cause; she had ceased to think of herself, and they felt this without being able to express their grief, mingled as it was with gratitude.

p. 158

Wilfrid remained standing, silent and motionless, lost in such contemplation as is suggested by things so vast that they make us understand, here on earth, the Supreme Immensity. Minna, emboldened by the weakness of this powerful being, or perhaps by her dread of losing her beloved forever, bent down and murmured, ‘‘Seraphitus—let me follow you!”’

**Can I hinder you ?”’

**But why do you not love me enough to remain here ?”’

“T could not love anything here.”’

‘‘What, then, do you love ?”’

“Heaven.”

‘*Are you worthy of heaven if you thus despise God’s creatures here ?”’