A Sick Man...

... The doctor shook his head in despair, then called the goddesses to whom the sick man's care had been entrusted, and said angrily:

"Is this how you leave him to suffer these pains all this time? Old age has shown upon him while he is still young. Look, look at his face, on which the bitter yellowness of death has appeared... What have you done? And what a sin you are committing! Poor, poor young man."

Words the doctor spoke as he turned toward the door; but the goddess of the Earth hurried after him and caught hold of him, imploring:

"For God's sake, sir. For God's sake do not leave us. Mercy on him... mercy on us... mercy on souls that have so long suffered at the sight of the struggle between death and this young man." And she turned her face away to wipe tears that had begun to fill her tender eyes.

The doctor came back, deeply moved by the sight, and sat down on a chair, great weariness showing on his wrinkled face... In a calm voice he said:

"If I must set to work, then I tell you that this young man's cure depends on you, and on you alone." Then he added, moving his gaze from one to the next: "And now, since it is imperative that I know something of this young man's past life, I ask each of you to answer faithfully the questions I shall put..."

He turned to the goddess of Reform and addressed her: "It is known that this young man's care was entrusted to you long ago. What then, madam, are the services you have rendered to nourish his wasted body?"

She grew flustered and answered, after baring her teeth: "Nothing, nothing, sir. Rather, quite the contrary. Ruin upon ruin!... Parties and revolts!... Discord and strife! Chaos, chaos wherever a man's eye falls. Every member looks to his own ambitions and his own self. Himself before everything. And how should he sacrifice it? Nay, how should he prefer anything above it? Paralysis nearly fell upon the young man, but he escaped... escaped, thank God."

And she threw herself back upon her chair, her eyes brimming with tears... After a moment the doctor turned to the goddess of Literature, to ask her about her services in nourishing his mind and his spirit. The red of shame rose in her face, and she answered in a voice that was almost a whisper:

"Nothing worth mentioning. Fragments here and there, and the good among them few, very few. The gifts given to me were meager. And you know full well that we goddesses live and give in the measure of what man grants us and offers. And then... I am sorry to say it, but I will speak, for it is the truth: superficial ideas. Counterfeit feelings. Opinions that the days pass around, and then bring to life again. A spirit grown used to harsh stagnation. Chaos — yes, chaos in expression and in production."

"Where do you stand beside the goddess of the literature of the West?" the doctor answered, as if in a dream. "I beg you — I beg you," she cut in earnestly, "kindly do not forget that the goddess of the West's literature is free, while we are bound with strong chains."

"That is no excuse," the man answered with regret. "Many an oppression has had creative genius for its offspring. And then, what is your opinion of those who work only under the beacon of the saying: Give first, and I shall give second?"... But the goddess did not answer him; she sat in her place, trailing the skirts of bitter disappointment...

He turned his face toward the goddess of Art, that she might tell him what she had done to nourish his spirit and his feelings. She trembled, then answered in a quavering voice: "Spare me — spare me the answer, sir. And what would you have me answer? Several figures have begun to do their duty, but we lack encouragement and sincere work. We do not break our worn-out traditions; rather we cling to them as a child clings to its mother's clothes when some fear comes over it. And if we do leave them and move away from them, we smash everything, to reach a freedom without bounds. Chaos — chaos, sir; negligence and want of sincerity."

The doctor turned to the goddess of Life. But before he could put a question to her, she began

to speak, delight plain on her face. "As for me, sir, I have given him much, very much. I gave him all the pleasures he craved, and he left me humbled at my feet. I gave him the sweet cup of pleasure, and he drained it to the dregs..."

"But — but what pleasure do you mean?" the doctor answered, rising in fury. "Wretched is the deadly poison you made him drink, until you laid him prostrate upon his bed."

But she answered, without a trace of agitation coming over her: "You contradict yourself by yourself. You told the goddess of Literature to look to the goddess of the West and take from her. And here I have carried out that counsel in the best of fashions."

"And what counsel?" the man answered, distress showing on his sad face. "I am sorry to say that you look only at the withered husks and not at the living kernel. The current has swept you along — the new civilization has dazzled you and made you see contrary to what the truth is. And my grief for you — how you look and how you think!"

"Allow me, sir, to say," she answered in anger, "that you are a decrepit old man who does not know the meaning of true civilization."

"Wretched is a civilization founded upon imitation — and, above that, upon a lame imitation; lame, sir..." And he made ready to leave the place, but the goddess of the Earth caught hold of him, saying:

"Your pardon, your pardon, sir. I beg you to excuse this reckless one. Sir, sir, do not forsake us."

The doctor entered the sick man's room, then turned his face away, his eyes brimming with tears. "No. I cannot leave him without a helper." He broke off his thought suddenly, for he saw the young man stirring in his doze. He drew near him quietly, and the goddesses followed him.

Only moments passed before the sick young man opened his eyes, turning toward the doctor, a sweet, artless smile spreading over his face; then he turned to the goddess of the Earth, making ready to sit up, and addressed her, saying:

"Give me my crutches, give me my crutches. Quick, quick." And the goddess of the Earth came back to him, and he took the two crutches from her, then left his bed, leaning upon them, repeating: "No, I do not want to die."

He nearly fell to the ground, and the goddesses rushed to him, but he kept smiling, saying: "Do not fear, do not fear. This is the first step." Then he added, as he raised himself onto a chair:

"I thank Thee, I thank Thee, my God."

And while all were in agitation and joy, the doctor smiled and wiped away the tears that had begun to fall upon his cheeks, then said in a whisper:

"No, I shall not leave you, I shall not leave you, dear young man. You will be healed and you will live, for the future is in your hands."