Chapter XXI. "Help!"

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

　　Did it take you so long to find it? asked the Lovely Person withthe smile. "Of course I knew you would find it in the end. Butwe had to give ourselves time. How long did it take?"Marco removed himself from beneath the touch of her hand. It wasquietly done, but there was a disdain in his young face whichmade her wince though she pretended to shrug her shouldersamusedly."You refuse to answer?" she laughed."I refuse."At that very moment he saw at the curve of the corridor theChancellor and his daughter approaching slowly. The two youngofficers were talking gaily to the girl. They were on their wayback to their box. Was he going to lose them? Was he?The delicate hand was laid on his shoulder again, but this timehe felt that it grasped him firmly."Naughty boy!" the soft voice said. "I am going to take youhome with me. If you struggle I shall tell these people that youare my bad boy who is here without permission. What will youanswer? My escort is coming down the staircase and will help me.Do you see?" And in fact there appeared in the crowd at thehead of the staircase the figure of the man he remembered.He did see. A dampness broke out on the palms of his hands. Ifshe did this bold thing, what could he say to those she told herlie to? How could he bring proof or explain who he was--and whatstory dare he tell? His protestations and struggles would merelyamuse the lookers-on, who would see in them only the impotentrage of an insubordinate youngster.There swept over him a wave of remembrance which brought back, asif he were living through it again, the moment when he had stoodin the darkness of the wine cellar with his back against the doorand heard the man walk away and leave him alone. He felt againas he had done then--but now he was in another land and far awayfrom his father. He could do nothing to help himself unlessSomething showed him a way.He made no sound, and the woman who held him saw only a flameleap under his dense black lashes.But something within him called out. It was as if he heard it.It was that strong self--the self that was Marco, and itcalled--it called as if it shouted."Help!" it called--to that Unknown Stranger Thing which hadmade worlds and which he and his father so often talked of and inwhose power they so believed. "Help!"The Chancellor was drawing nearer. Perhaps! Should he--?"You are too proud to kick and shout," the voice went on."And people would only laugh. Do you see?"The stairs were crowded and the man who was at the head of themcould only move slowly. But he had seen the boy.Marco turned so that he could face his captor squarely as if hewere going to say something in answer to her. But he was not.Even as he made the movement of turning, the help he had calledfor came and he knew what he should do. And he could do twothings at once--save himself and give his Sign--because, the Signonce given, the Chancellor would understand."He will be here in a moment. He has recognized you," thewoman said.As he glanced up the stairs, the delicate grip of her handunconsciously slackened.Marco whirled away from her. The bell rang which was to warn theaudience that they must return to their seats and he saw theChancellor hasten his pace.A moment later, the old aristocrat found himself amazedly lookingdown at the pale face of a breathless lad who spoke to him inGerman and in such a manner that he could not but pause andlisten ."Sir," he was saying, "the woman in violet at the foot of thestairs is a spy. She trapped me once and she threatens to do itagain. Sir, may I beg you to protect me?"He said it low and fast. No one else could hear his words."What! What!" the Chancellor exclaimed.And then, drawing a step nearer and quite as low and rapidly butwith perfect distinctness, Marco uttered four words:"The Lamp is lighted."The Help cry had been answered instantly. Marco saw it at oncein the old man's eyes, notwithstanding that he turned to look atthe woman at the foot of the staircase as if she only concernedhim."What! What!" he said again, and made a movement toward her,pulling his large moustache with a fierce hand.Then Marco recognized that a curious thing happened. The LovelyPerson saw the movement and the gray moustache, and that instanther smile died away and she turned quite white--so white, thatunder the brilliant electric light she was almost green andscarcely looked lovely at all. She made a sign to the man on thestaircase and slipped through the crowd like an eel. She was aslim flexible creature and never was a disappearance morewonderful in its rapidity. Between stout matrons and their thinor stout escorts and families she made her way and lostherself--but always making toward the exit. In two minutes therewas no sight of her violet draperies to be seen. She was goneand so, evidently, was her male companion.It was plain to Marco that to follow the profession of a spy wasnot by any means a safe thing. The Chancellor had recognizedher-- she had recognized the Chancellor who turned lookingferociously angry and spoke to one of the young officers."She and the man with her are two of the most dangerous spies inEurope, She is a Rumanian and he is a Russian. What they wantedof this innocent lad I don't pretend to know. What did shethreaten?" to Marco.Marco was feeling rather cold and sick and had lost his healthycolor for the moment."She said she meant to take me home with her and would pretend Iwas her son who had come here without permission," he answered."She believes I know something I do not." He made a hesitatingbut grateful bow. "The third act, sir--I must not keep you.Thank you! Thank you!"The Chancellor moved toward the entrance door of the balconyseats, but he did it with his hand on Marco's shoulder."See that he gets home safely," he said to the younger of thetwo officers. "Send a messenger with him. He's young to beattacked by creatures of that kind."Polite young officers naturally obey the commands of Chancellorsand such dignitaries. This one found without trouble a youngprivate who marched with Marco through the deserted streets tohis lodgings. He was a stolid young Bavarian peasant and seemedto have no curiosity or even any interest in the reason for thecommand given him. He was in fact thinking of his sweetheart wholived near Konigsee and who had skated with him on the frozenlake last winter. He scarcely gave a glance to the schoolboy hewas to escort, he neither knew nor wondered why.The Rat had fallen asleep over his papers and lay with his headon his folded arms on the table. But he was awakened by Marco'scoming into the room and sat up blinking his eyes in the effortto get them open."Did you see him? Did you get near enough?" he drowsed."Yes," Marco answered. "I got near enough.'The Rat sat upright suddenly."It's not been easy," he exclaimed. "I'm sure somethinghappened --something went wrong.""Something nearly went wrong--very nearly," answered Marco.But as he spoke he took the sketch of the Chancellor out of theslit in his sleeve and tore it and burned it with a match. "ButI did get near enough. And that's two."They talked long, before they went to sleep that night. The Ratgrew pale as he listened to the story of the woman in violet."I ought to have gone with you!" he said. "I see now. Anaide- de-camp must always be in attendance. It would have beenharder for her to manage two than one. I must always be near towatch, even if I am not close by you. If you had not comeback--if you had not come back!" He struck his clenched handstogether fiercely. "What should I have done!"When Marco turned toward him from the table near which he wasstanding, he looked like his father."You would have gone on with the Game just as far as youcould," he said. "You could not leave it. You remember theplaces, and the faces, and the Sign. There is some money; andwhen it was all gone, you could have begged, as we used topretend we should.We have not had to do it yet; and it was best to save it forcountry places and villages. But you could have done it if youwere obliged to. The Game would have to go on."The Rat caught at his thin chest as if he had been struckbreathless."Without you?" he gasped. "Without you?""Yes," said Marco. "And we must think of it, and plan in caseanything like that should happen."He stopped himself quite suddenly, and sat down, looking straightbefore him, as if at some far away thing he saw."Nothing will happen," he said. "Nothing can.""What are you thinking of?" The Rat gulped, because his breathhad not quite come back. "Why will nothing happen?""Because--" the boy spoke in an almost matter-of-fact tone--inquite an unexalted tone at all events, "you see I can alwaysmake a strong call, as I did tonight.""Did you shout?" The Rat asked. "I didn't know you shouted.""I didn't. I said nothing aloud. But I--the myself that is inme," Marco touched himself on the breast, "called out, `Help!Help!' with all its strength. And help came."The Rat regarded him dubiously."What did it call to?" he asked."To the Power--to the Strength-place--to the Thought that doesthings. The Buddhist hermit, who told my father about it, calledit `The Thought that thought the World.' "A reluctant suspicion betrayed itself in The Rat's eyes."Do you mean you prayed?" he inquired, with a slight touch ofdisfavor.Marco's eyes remained fixed upon him in vague thoughtfulness fora moment or so of pause."I don't know," he said at last. "Perhaps it's the samething-- when you need something so much that you cry out loud forit. But it's not words, it's a strong thing without a name. Icalled like that when I was shut in the wine-cellar. Iremembered some of the things the old Buddhist told my father."The Rat moved restlessly."The help came that time," he admitted. "How did it come to-night?""In that thought which flashed into my mind almost the nextsecond. It came like lightning. All at once I knew if I ran tothe Chancellor and said the woman was a spy, it would startle himinto listening to me; and that then I could give him the Sign;and that when I gave him the Sign, he would know I was speakingthe truth and would protect me.""It was a splendid thought!" The Rat said. "And it was quick.But it was you who thought of it.""All thinking is part of the Big Thought," said Marco slowly."It knows--It knows. And the outside part of us somehow brokethe chain that linked us to It. And we are always trying to mendthe chain, without knowing it. That is what our thinkingis--trying to mend the chain. But we shall find out how to do itsometime. The old Buddhist told my father so--just as the sunwas rising from behind a high peak of the Himalayas." Then headded hastily, "I am only telling you what my father told me,and he only told me what the old hermit told him.""Does your father believe what he told him?" The Rat'sbewilderment had become an eager and restless thing."Yes, he believes it. He always thought something like it,himself. That is why he is so calm and knows so well how towait.""Is that it!" breathed The Rat. "Is that why? Has--has hemended the chain?" And there was awe in his voice, because ofthis one man to whom he felt any achievement was possible."I believe he has," said Marco. "Don't you think soyourself?""He has done something," The Rat said.He seemed to be thinking things over before he spoke again-- andthen even more slowly than Marco."If he could mend the chain," he said almost in a whisper, "hecould find out where the descendant of the Lost Prince is. Hewould know what to do for Samavia!"He ended the words with a start, and his whole face glowed with anew, amazed light."Perhaps he does know!" he cried. "If the help comes likethoughts --as yours did--perhaps his thought of letting us givethe Sign was part of it. We--just we two every-day boys--arepart of it!""The old Buddhist said--" began Marco."Look here!" broke in The Rat. "Tell me the whole story. Iwant to hear it."It was because Loristan had heard it, and listened and believed,that The Rat had taken fire. His imagination seized upon theidea, as it would have seized on some theory of necromancy provedtrue and workable.With his elbows on the table and his hands in his hair, he leanedforward, twisting a lock with restless fingers. His breathquickened."Tell it," he said, "I want to hear it all!""I shall have to tell it in my own words," Marco said. "Andit won't be as wonderful as it was when my father told it to me.This is what I remember:"My father had gone through much pain and trouble. A great loadwas upon him, and he had been told he was going to die before hiswork was done. He had gone to India, because a man he wasobliged to speak to had gone there to hunt, and no one knew whenhe would return. My father followed him for months from one wildplace to another, and, when he found him, the man would not hearor believe what he had come so far to say. Then he hadjungle-fever and almost died. Once the natives left him for deadin a bungalow in the forest, and he heard the jackals howlinground him all the night. Through all the hours he was only aliveenough to be conscious of two things--all the rest of him seemedgone from his body: his thought knew that his work wasunfinished--and his body heard the jackals howl!""Was the work for Samavia?" The Rat put in quickly. "If hehad died that night, the descendant of the Lost Prince neverwould have been found--never!" The Rat bit his lip so hard thata drop of blood started from it."When he was slowly coming alive again, a native, who had goneback and stayed to wait upon him, told him that near the summitof a mountain, about fifty miles away, there was a ledge whichjutted out into space and hung over the valley, which wasthousands of feet below. On the ledge there was a hut in whichthere lived an ancient Buddhist, who was a holy man, as theycalled him, and who had been there during time which had notbeen measured. They said that their grandparents andgreat-grandparents had known of him, though very few persons hadever seen him. It was told that the most savage beast was tamebefore him. They said that a man- eating tiger would stop tosalute him, and that a thirsty lioness would bring her whelps todrink at the spring near his hut.""That was a lie," said The Rat promptly.Marco neither laughed nor frowned."How do we know?" he said. "It was a native's story, and itmight be anything. My father neither said it was true nor false.He listened to all that was told him by natives. They said thatthe holy man was the brother of the stars. He knew all thingspast and to come, and could heal the sick. But most people,especially those who had sinful thoughts, were afraid to go nearhim.""I'd like to have seen--" The Rat pondered aloud, but he didnot finish."Before my father was well, he had made up his mind to travel tothe ledge if he could. He felt as if he must go. He thoughtthat if he were going to die, the hermit might tell him some wisething to do for Samavia.""He might have given him a message to leave to the SecretOnes," said The Rat."He was so weak when he set out on his journey that he wonderedif he would reach the end of it. Part of the way he traveled bybullock cart, and part, he was carried by natives. But at lastthe bearers came to a place more than halfway up the mountain,and would go no further. Then they went back and left him toclimb the rest of the way himself. They had traveled slowly andhe had got more strength, but he was weak yet. The forest wasmore wonderful than anything he had ever seen. There weretropical trees with foliage like lace, and some with huge leaves,and some of them seemed to reach the sky. Sometimes he couldbarely see gleams of blue through them. And vines swung downfrom their high branches, and caught each other, and mattedtogether; and there were hot scents, and strange flowers, anddazzling birds darting about, and thick moss, and littlecascades bursting out. The path grew narrower and steeper, andthe flower scents and the sultriness made it like walking in ahothouse. He heard rustlings in the undergrowth, which mighthave been made by any kind of wild animal; once he stepped acrossa deadly snake without seeing it. But it was asleep and did nothurt him. He knew the natives had been convinced that he wouldnot reach the ledge; but for some strange reason he believed heshould. He stopped and rested many times, and he drank some milkhe had brought in a canteen. The higher he climbed, the morewonderful everything was, and a strange feeling began to fillhim. He said his body stopped being tired and began to feel verylight. And his load lifted itself from his heart, as if it werenot his load any more but belonged to something stronger. EvenSamavia seemed to be safe. As he went higher and higher, andlooked down the abyss at the world below, it appeared as if itwere not real but only a dream he had wakened from--only adream."The Rat moved restlessly."Perhaps he was light-headed with the fever," he suggested."The fever had left him, and the weakness had left him," Marcoanswered. "It seemed as if he had never really been ill atall-- as if no one could be ill, because things like that wereonly dreams, just as the world was.""I wish I'd been with him! Perhaps I could have thrown theseaway--down into the abyss!" And The Rat shook his crutcheswhich rested against the table. "I feel as if I was climbing,too. Go on."Marco had become more absorbed than The Rat. He had lost himselfin the memory of the story."I felt that I was climbing, when he told me," he said. "Ifelt as if I were breathing in the hot flower-scents and pushingaside the big leaves and giant ferns. There had been a rain, andthey were wet and shining with big drops, like jewels, thatshowered over him as he thrust his way through and under them.And the stillness and the height--the stillness and the height!I can't make it real to you as he made it to me! I can't! I wasthere. He took me. And it was so high--and so still--and sobeautiful that I could scarcely bear it."But the truth was, that with some vivid boy-touch he had carriedhis hearer far. The Rat was deadly quiet. Even his eyes had notmoved. He spoke almost as if he were in a sort of trance."It's real," he said. "I'm there now. As high as you--goon--go on. I want to climb higher."And Marco, understanding, went on."The day was over and the stars were out when he reached theplace were the ledge was. He said he thought that during thelast part of the climb he never looked on the earth at all. Thestars were so immense that he could not look away from them.They seemed to be drawing him up. And all overhead was likeviolet velvet, and they hung there like great lamps of radiance.Can you see them? You must see them. My father saw them allnight long. They were part of the wonder.""I see them," The Rat answered, still in his trance-like voiceand without stirring, and Marco knew he did."And there, with the huge stars watching it, was the hut on theledge. And there was no one there. The door was open. Andoutside it was a low bench and table of stone. And on the tablewas a meal of dates and rice, waiting. Not far from the hut wasa deep spring, which ran away in a clear brook. My father drankand bathed his face there. Then he went out on the ledge, andsat down and waited, with his face turned up to the stars. Hedid not lie down, and he thought he saw the stars all the time hewaited. He was sure he did not sleep. He did not know how longhe sat there alone. But at last he drew his eyes from the stars,as if he had been commanded to do it. And he was not alone anymore. A yard or so away from him sat the holy man. He knew itwas the hermit because his eyes were different from any humaneyes he had ever beheld. They were as still as the night was,and as deep as the shadows covering the world thousands of feetbelow, and they had a far, far look, and a strange light was inthem.""What did he say?" asked The Rat hoarsely."He only said, `Rise, my son. I awaited thee. Go and eat thefood I prepared for thee, and then we will speak together.' Hedidn't move or speak again until my father had eaten the meal.He only sat on the moss and let his eyes rest on the shadows overthe abyss. When my father went back, he made a gesture whichmeant that he should sit near him."Then he sat still for several minutes, and let his eyes rest onmy father, until he felt as if the light in them were set in themidst of his own body and his soul. Then he said, `I cannot tellthee all thou wouldst know. That I may not do.' He had awonderful gentle voice, like a deep soft bell. `But the workwill be done. Thy life and thy son's life will set it on itsway.'"They sat through the whole night together. And the stars hungquite near, as if they listened. And there were sounds in thebushes of stealthy, padding feet which wandered about as if theowners of them listened too. And the wonderful, low, peacefulvoice of the holy man went on and on, telling of wonders whichseemed like miracles but which were to him only the `working ofthe Law.' ""What is the Law?" The Rat broke in."There were two my father wrote down, and I learned them. Thefirst was the law of The One. I'll try to say that," and hecovered his eyes and waited through a moment of silence.It seemed to The Rat as if the room held an extraordinarystillness."Listen!" came next. "This is it:" `There are a myriad worlds. There is but One Thought out ofwhich they grew. Its Law is Order which cannot swerve. Itscreatures are free to choose. Only they can create Disorder,which in itself is Pain and Woe and Hate and Fear. These theyalone can bring forth. The Great One is a Golden Light. It isnot remote but near. Hold thyself within its glow and thou wiltbehold all things clearly. First, with all thy breathing being,know one thing! That thine own thought--when so thoustandest--is one with That which thought the Worlds!' ""What?" gasped The Rat. "My thought--the things I think!""Your thoughts--boys' thoughts--anybody's thoughts.""You're giving me the jim-jams!""He said it," answered Marco. "And it was then he spoke aboutthe broken Link--and about the greatest books in the world--thatin all their different ways, they were only saying over and overagain one thing thousands of times. Just this thing--`Hate not,Fear not, Love.' And he said that was Order. And when it wasdisturbed, suffering came--poverty and misery and catastrophe andwars.""Wars!" The Rat said sharply. "The World couldn't do withoutwar--and armies and defences! What about Samavia?""My father asked him that. And this is what he answered. Ilearned that too. Let me think again," and he waited as he hadwaited before. Then he lifted his head. "Listen! This is it:" `Out of the blackness of Disorder and its outpouring of humanmisery, there will arise the Order which is Peace. When Manlearns that he is one with the Thought which itself creates allbeauty, all power, all splendor, and all repose, he will not fearthat his brother can rob him of his heart's desire. He willstand in the Light and draw to himself his own.' ""Draw to himself?" The Rat said. "Draw what he wants? Idon't believe it!""Nobody does," said Marco. "We don't know. He said we stoodin the dark of the night--without stars--and did not know thatthe broken chain swung just above us.""I don't believe it!" said The Rat. "It's too big!"Marco did not say whether he believed it or not. He only went onspeaking."My father listened until he felt as if he had stoppedbreathing. Just at the stillest of the stillness the Buddhiststopped speaking. And there was a rustling of the undergrowth afew yards away, as if something big was pushing its waythrough--and there was the soft pad of feet. The Buddhist turnedhis head and my father heard him say softly: `Come forth,Sister.'"And a huge leopardess with two cubs walked out on to the ledgeand came to him and threw herself down with a heavy lunge nearhis feet.""Your father saw that!" cried out The Rat. "You mean the oldfellow knew something that made wild beasts afraid to touch himor any one near him?""Not afraid. They knew he was their brother, and that he wasone with the Law. He had lived so long with the Great Thoughtthat all darkness and fear had left him forever. He had mendedthe Chain."The Rat had reached deep waters. He leaned forward--his handsburrowing in his hair, his face scowling and twisted, his eyesboring into space. He had climbed to the ledge at themountain-top; he had seen the luminous immensity of the stars,and he had looked down into the shadows filling the worldthousands of feet below. Was there some remote deep in him fromwhose darkness a slow light was rising? All that Loristan hadsaid he knew must be true. But the rest of it--?Marco got up and came over to him. He looked like his fatheragain."If the descendant of the Lost Prince is brought back to ruleSamavia, he will teach his people the Law of the One. It was forthat the holy man taught my father until the dawn came.""Who will--who will teach the Lost Prince--the new King--when heis found?" The Rat cried. "Who will teach him?""The hermit said my father would. He said he would also teachhis son--and that son would teach his son--and he would teachhis. And through such as they were, the whole world would cometo know the Order and the Law."Never had The Rat looked so strange and fierce a thing. A wholeworld at peace! No tactics--no battles--no slaughtered heroes--no clash of arms, and fame! It made him feel sick. And yet--something set his chest heaving."And your father would teach him that--when he was found! Sothat he could teach his sons. Your father believes in it?""Yes," Marco answered. He said nothing but "Yes." The Ratthrew himself forward on the table, face downward."Then," he said, "he must make me believe it. He must teachme--if he can."They heard a clumping step upon the staircase, and, when itreached the landing, it stopped at their door. Then there was asolid knock.When Marco opened the door, the young soldier who had escortedhim from the Hof-Theater was standing outside. He looked asuninterested and stolid as before, as he handed in a small flatpackage."You must have dropped it near your seat at the Opera," hesaid. "I was to give it into your own hands. It is yourpurse."After he had clumped down the staircase again, Marco and The Ratdrew a quick breath at one and the same time."I had no seat and I had no purse," Marco said. "Let us openit."There was a flat limp leather note-holder inside. In it was apaper, at the head of which were photographs of the Lovely Personand her companion. Beneath were a few lines which stated thatthey were the well known spies, Eugenia Karovna and Paul Varel,and that the bearer must be protected against them. It wassigned by the Chief of the Police. On a separate sheet waswritten the command: "Carry this with you as protection.""That is help," The Rat said. "It would protect us, even inanother country. The Chancellor sent it--but you made the strongcall --and it's here!"There was no street lamp to shine into their windows when theywent at last to bed. When the blind was drawn up, they werenearer the sky than they had been in the Marylebone Road. Thelast thing each of them saw, as he went to sleep, was thestars--and in their dreams, they saw them grow larger and larger,and hang like lamps of radiance against the violet--velvet skyabove a ledge of a Himalayan Mountain, where they listened to thesound of a low voice going on and on and on.