The Quest

"We first notice the approach of this wolf by a terrible sensation. That is God's warning to us. That feeling is doubt. Have you ever known what it was to doubt, Johannes?"

Johannes, with clenched fists and compressed lips, nodded in quick and utter dismay. Yes, yes, yes! He had known what it was to doubt.

"I thought so," said Father Canisius, calmly. "It is a fearful feeling, is it not?" Raising his voice, he proceeded: "It is like the sound of howling wolves in the distance – to the wandering sheep. Let it not be in vain that you are warned, Johannes."

After a pause he continued:

"Doubt itself is a sin. He who doubts is on an inclined plane that slopes toward a fall. Have you ever heard of the hideous octopus, Johannes – that soft sea-monster with the huge eyes, and eight long arms full of suckers which, one by one, he winds around the limbs of a swimmer, before dragging him down to the deeps? You have? Well, Satan is such an octopus. Unnoticed, he reaches out his long arms, and twines them about your limbs – holding them fast with his suckers until he can stab his sharp beak into your heart. Doubt is not only a warning but positive proof that Satan has already gripped you. It is the beginning of his power. The end is everlasting pain and damnation."

Johannes raised his head and looked at the priest, who was watching the effect of his words.

In spite of his distress there was suddenly aroused in Johannes a feeling of resistance. He felt that an effort was being made to frighten him; and even if he was but a stripling he would not allow that.

"My Father does not condemn those who err in good faith," said he.

Father Canisius observed that by bearing on too hard he had awakened a rebellious spirit. He therefore became more cautious, and resumed gently:

"Certainly, Johannes. God is infinitely good and merciful. But have you not remarked that there is a justice from which you cannot escape? And do you believe that one who has been led astray can plead, 'I am not guilty, for I was deceived'? No, Johannes, you take this matter too lightly. Punishment attends sin. That is God's inexorable law. And only if He had failed to warn us – only if He had not accurately revealed to us His will, could you call that cruel and unjust. But we are warned —are instructed – and may follow good guidance. If then we continue to stray, it is our own fault and we must not complain."

"You mean the Bible, do you not, Mijnheer?"

"The Bible and the Church," said the Father, not pleased at the tone of this question. "I very well comprehend, my boy, that you, with your poetic temperament and your craving for the beautiful, have not found peace in the cold, barren, and barbarous creed of Protestantism. But the Church gives you everything – beauty, warmth, love, and exalted poetry. In the Church alone can you find peace and perfect security. You know, however, do you not, that the flock has need of a Shepherd? And you know also who that Shepherd is?"

"Do you mean the Pope?"

"I mean Christ, Johannes – our Redeemer, of whom the Pope is merely a human representative. Do you know this Shepherd? Do you not know Jesus Christ?"

"No, Mijnheer," replied Johannes, in all simplicity, "I do not know him at all."

"I thought as much; and that is why I said to you, 'Poor boy.' But if you wish to learn to know him, I will gladly help you. Do you wish me to?"

"Why not, Mijnheer?" said Johannes.

"Very well. Begin, then, by accompanying the countess to the church she has promised me to attend – Have you, indeed, arranged to go?"

"Yes, Father," replied the countess. "Oh, I am so happy that you take such an interest in us! Johannes will surely always be grateful to you."

Father Canisius pressed very cordially the hands of both of his new disciples, and, with an expression of calm satisfaction on his face, he took his leave.

The children came in, and nothing further was said that day between Johannes and his friend concerning the matter; but the countess was much more animated than usual, and wonderfully kind toward Johannes. She even kissed him again when they said good-night, as once before she had done – when with her children.

Johannes could not sleep. He was full of anxiety, and in a state of high nervous tension. When the house grew still, and the lonely, mysterious night had come, came also fear and doubt and faint-heartedness. He doubted that he doubted, and feared the doubt of the doubt. He heard the howling of the wolf that lay in wait for the wandering sheep; he felt the slippery, slimy, crawling grasp of those terrible arms, that unnoticed, had fastened their suckers everywhere to his limbs; he saw the great yellow eyes of the octopus, with the narrow, slit-shaped pupil; and he felt the mouth searching and feeling about his body for his heart, that it might stab it with the sharp, parrot-like beak. With chattering teeth he lay wide awake between the sheets – shivering and shaking, while the perspiration poured from him.

Then he heard a faint, creaking sound on the stairs, followed by a light footfall at the doorway. His door was opened, and a slim, dark form came cautiously up to the bed.

He felt a soft, warm hand on his clammy forehead, and heard Marjon's voice whispering:

"You must be faithful, Jo, and not let them make you afraid. The Father likes brave and loyal children."

"Yes, Marjon," said Johannes; and the shivering ceased, while a gentle warmth stole over and through his entire body. He dropped asleep so soon that he did not notice when she left the room.

X

"Jump out!" cried Wistik, excitedly, swinging his little red cap. "Come on – jump!"

Johannes saw no way of doing so. The window was high and quite too small. Perhaps by climbing still higher he might find a way out. A flight of stairs, and another garret. Still another narrow passage, and another stairway. Then he caught another glimpse of Wistik, astride a large eagle.

"Come on, Johannes!" cried he. "You must dare to – then nothing can happen."

Johannes was ready to venture, but he could not do it. The little window was again out of reach. Back again. Empty garrets, steep stairs – stairs without end. And there was the octopus! He knew it. Again and again he saw one of the long arms with its hundreds of suckers. Sometimes one of them lay stretched along the garret floor, so that he had to step over it. Sometimes one meandered over the stairs that Johannes was obliged to mount. The whole house was full of them.

And out-of-doors the sun was shining, and the blue air was clear and bright. Wistik was circling around the house, seated on the great eagle – the very same eagle they had come across before, in Phrygia.

Out-of-doors also rang the voice of Marjon. Hark! She was singing. She, too, was in the open air. She seemed to have made a little song, herself – words and melody – for Johannes had never before heard either of them.

"Nightly there come to me,White as the snow,Wings that I know to beStrange, here below."Up into ether blue,Pure and so high,Mounting on pinions true,Singing, I fly."Sea-gull like then I soar – Not light more swift – So near to Heaven's doorTo rock and drift!"

Alas! Johannes could not yet do that. He had no wings. He did, indeed, see rays of light at times, and here and there a bit of blue sky. But he could not get to it – he could not get out! And on he went again – upstairs, downstairs, through doorways, halls, and great garrets. And the terrible arms lay everywhere.

Again Marjon sang:

"Marvelous, matchless blue
I cleave in flight.
The spheres are not so fleet
As my winged feet.

"World after world speed by
Under my hand,
New ones I ever espy,
Countless as sand.

"Blue of the skies!
Blue of the deep!
Now make me wise – No
more to weep."

Johannes also heard the blue calling him; but what the magic word was he could not guess. He was on his knees now, before a small, garret window through which he could barely thrust his arm. Behind him he could hear a shuffling and sliding. It was the long arm again!

"It's a shame!" said Wistik again, his little face red with anger, "the way they have maligned me! I ought to be hail-fellow with the Evil One for not letting you be. What a rascal he is! Do you want to be rid of me, Johannes?"

"No, Wistik. I believe that you are good even if you have often disappointed me and made me very restless. You have shown me so much that is beautiful. But why do you not help me now? If you call me you ought to help me.

"No," said Wistik; "you must help yourself. You must act, you understand? Act! You know that It is behind you, do you not?"

"Yes, yes!" shrieked Johannes.

"But, boy, do not shriek at me! Shriek at It. It is much more afraid of you than you are of It. Try!"

That was an idea. Johannes set his teeth, clenched his fists, turned round and shouted: