Of course, I started showering her with questions, but she suddenly fell silent and her plump face contorted in fright.
‘Oh Lord, what if he’s offended with me because I gossip about it? What if there won’t be a third Sign now?’
And she ran out, all flustered, leaving me to be devoured by envy – which has been my entire lot just recently.
How I had envied Ophelia! How I had hated her. How I had wanted to be in her place!
But it had turned out that her place was the murky water under the Ustinsky Bridge, where rubbish floats on the surface and fat leeches wriggle in the silt.
Genji rang the doorbell at four minutes to five – I was lying on the bed and watching the face of the clock for want of anything better to do.
‘She’s b-been found,’ he said when I opened the door.
‘Who?’ I asked.
‘Who?’ he repeated in surprise. ‘Ophelia!’
One of his acquaintances in the police had told him about a drowned woman found in the Yauza whose description matched the missing girl. Genji had already been to the morgue, but he hadn’t been able to provide a positive identification; after all, he had only seen her in a dark room, and her face had changed.
‘I went to Prospero’s house, but he wasn’t at home,’ said Genji. ‘You’re the only aspirant whose address I know, and that’s only b-because I happened to walk you home once. Let’s go, Columbine . . .’
And so we went . . .
Yes, it was Ophelia, without the slightest doubt. The attendant jerked back the dirty grey sheet with its sickening blotches and I saw the skinny little body stretched out on a narrow zinc-covered table, the sharp features of the little face, the familiar half-smile frozen on her bloodless lips. Ophelia was lying there completely naked: I could see her thin collarbones and ribs and her sharp hips through her bluish skin; her hands were clenched into tiny little fists. For a moment I thought the body looked like a plucked chicken.
If the Eternal Bridegroom chooses me, will I lie there like that too – naked, with glassy eyes, and will the drunk attendant hang an oilcloth number on my foot?
I had a fit of genuine hysterics.
‘She didn’t want to die! She shouldn’t have died!’ I shouted, sobbing on Genji’s chest in an absolutely pitiful fashion. ‘She wasn’t even a real aspirant! He couldn’t have chosen her!’
‘Who is he?’
‘Death!’
‘Then why say “he”, instead of “she”?’
I didn’t explain to the slow-witted dunce about der Tod: instead I surprised even myself by showering him with reproaches.
‘Why did you bring me to this dreadful place? You’re lying when you say you couldn’t identify her! She hasn’t changed all that much! You deliberately wanted to make me suffer!’
And then he said quietly, but very clearly: ‘You’re right. I wanted you t-to see her like this.’
‘But . . . but why?’ I asked, choking on my indignation.
‘To wake you up. To make you realise that this insanity has to be stopped,’ said Genji, nodding towards the blue body of the drowned woman. ‘No m-more deaths. That’s why I joined your society.’
‘So you don’t want to be Death’s Bridegroom, then?’ I asked stupidly.
‘I have already played that p-part once, many years ago,’ he replied with a sombre air. ‘I thought I was marrying a beautiful young woman, but instead I married death. Once is enough.’
I didn’t understand this allegory. In fact, I couldn’t understand anything at all.
‘But you fired the revolver!’ I exclaimed, remembering. ‘And twice! Prospero told us. Or was that some kind of trick?’
He shrugged one shoulder, seeming slightly embarrassed.
‘Something of the kind. You see, Mademoiselle Columbine, in some ways, I’m quite a rare phenomenon: I always win at any game of chance. I don’t know how to explain this anomaly, but I came to terms with it a long time ago and sometimes make use of it for practical purposes, as I did during my meeting with Mr Prospero. Even if there had been b-bullets in four out of the five chambers, I would quite certainly have got the empty one. But one chance of death against four of life is simply a joke.’
I didn’t know how to take this bizarre explanation. Was it plain ordinary bragging or did he really have some special relationship with fate?
Genji said: ‘Do not forget what you have seen here. And for God’s sake, don’t do anything stupid, no matter what miraculous signs may be manifested to you. I shall destroy this loathsome temple of corpse worship. Oh yes, I haven’t told you yet – a messenger brought me a note from Prospero. You’re certain to get one t-today as well. The meetings are to recommence. We are expected tomorrow at nine, as usual.’
I immediately forgot about Genji and his plans for destruction, and even about the cold mortuary, with its stench of decay.
Tomorrow! Tomorrow evening I shall see him again!
I shall awake and start to live again.
She thought him magically handsome
Today I shall present to you the very finest of my inventions!’ the Doge declared, as he swept into the dimly lit drawing room.
Columbine thought him magically handsome in his crimson velvet blouse with a cambric frill, a beret tilted on one side of his head and short suede boots. A genuine Mephistopheles! The resemblance was emphasised by the dagger glittering with precious stones hanging at his side.
A brief gust of air followed him in through the door and the candles on the table fluttered and went out, leaving only the uncertain light of the brazier.
The Doge drew his dagger from its sheath, touched each candle with it in turn and – wonder of wonders – they lit up again, one after another.
Then Prospero glanced round at the assembled company, and everyone’s eyes lit up just as the candles had done a moment earlier. Columbine felt the usual effect of that hypnotic glance. She was suddenly feverish and found it hard to breathe; she felt that she was finally waking up at last, emerging from a hibernation that had lasted for three whole days while there had not been any evening meetings.
Columbine and also, she assumed, all the others, were swept away by the most magical and wonderful feeling that anyone can experience – the anticipation of a miracle.
The sorcerer halted by the table, and it was only then that most of those present noticed that all the chairs except one, the chairman’s, had disappeared, and there was something covered with a patterned shawl lying in the middle of the table: something large, high and round, like a wedding cake.
‘I used to be an engineer and, so they say, quite a good one,’ said the Doge, smiling slyly into his grey moustache. ‘But I assure you, none of my inventions can compare with the brilliant simplicity of this one. Ophelia has been united with the Eternal Bridegroom. We are glad for her, but now who will help us to maintain contact with the World Beyond? I have racked my brains over this problem and found an answer. What informs a man most clearly and unambiguously of the attitude that fate takes toward him?’
He waited a moment for an answer, but none of the eleven seekers spoke.
‘Come now!’ Prospero encouraged them. ‘It was one of you who gave me the idea of the solution – Prince Genji.’
Everybody looked at Genji. He was frowning at the Doge, as if suspecting some cunning trick.