VIII

I must have fallen asleep.  When I opened my eyes I was lying on my back, stretched out upon the ground.  The moon, which had returned in all its fullness and now hung suspended just above the little grassy hill, caught my eye.

“I will follow you,” I said with determination.  “I want so much to follow you now!  I’ll go wherever you want me to go!”

“Then come along quickly!”

I was startled at the sound of a new voice, high-pitched, resonant, even musical, like a woodwind instrument, but also strangely mechanical in tone.

“Step lively if you’re coming!” the voice continued.  “Don’t be such a lazybones!”

“Lazybones!  Lazybones!” chimed in a number of similar voices.  “Don’t be such a lazybones!”

A moment later I found myself surrounded by a troop of odd little men.

“She won’t!” I heard one of them laugh derisively.  “She can’t!”

“No, no!” said another.  “You’re absolutely right!”

“Certainly not!  Definitely not!” agreed a third.

“A lazybones!  A sluggard!” rejoined the chorus.

I thought of the eight-legged horse disappearing into the distance.  A new pain, cold like cold steel, flashed through my heart.  I rolled over onto my side.

“Get up!  Get up!” shouted the first of the strange little imps.  “You’ve got to!  You know you’ve got to!”

Suddenly I felt unspeakably tired and weak.  “I know,” I responded, “But I don’t have the strength.

“You must!  You must!” chanted the others.  “Come along quickly!  Come now!”

At once they were all around me, tugging at my nightgown, pulling and pushing me this way and that.  Ten pair of bony little hands laid hold of me and wrenched me upright, setting me on my feet.  I looked down at their misshapen little faces as if in a dream.

“Go quickly!” shouted the chief imp, stomping as if in a fit of rage.  “Go, go, go!”

“Step lively!” chanted the others.  “Don’t be such a sluggard!”

I had no choice except to comply.  Assuming that they wanted me to follow the eight-legged horse and its rider, I struggled against my own weakness and took a single step forward.

“Stop!” I heard some of them shout.

“Hold her down!  Keep her down!” cried two or three others.

Immediately I was all but smothered beneath a pile of scrawny bodies as the imps leaped wildly upon me and began pummeling me with their fists.

“She won’t!  She can’t!” they shouted.  “A sluggard!  A good-for-nothing!”

“Let me go!” I cried in pain and confusion, covering my head with my hands and pressing my face to the ground.

They jumped away at once, then drew back and stood regarding me from a distance.

“Please let me go,” I continued without getting up.  “I want to follow the man on the eight-legged horse.”

“Yes, of course!” piped the chief.  “What else?  You must follow him!”

“You must!  You must!” chanted the others.

“Well, then,” I said, getting to my feet, “I will, and I hope you will be so kind as to – ”

Instantly they threw themselves on top of me again, kicking, scratching, and beating me into the ground.  I began to cry desperately.

“You must follow him!  Yes!  Yes!  But you can’t!”  Shouted one of the little men.

“You must but you can’t!  You must but you can’t!”  They all joined in, jeering and laughing with glee.

Again the steel-like pain cut me to the quick.  I ceased struggling and lay limp on the ground, overwhelmed with despair.

 * * * * * * * * * *

VII

I obeyed.  I was led through the streets for what seemed a long, long time.  At last an alley between two long, low, dark buildings opened into a large, surprisingly empty space, grassy but treeless.  On a little hill out in the middle of this open place I saw him, standing, as it were, at the top of the earth’s curve, his heavy sack beside him on the ground.  I saw the tip of his slouched hat nodding black against clusters of stars.  Otherwise he did not move; but I felt him beckoning me to join him just the same.

Slowly, I began to move forward.  At each step the burning fire and comforting warmth within grew stronger and became more completely fused and melded together until they became one new thing:  an overwhelming sense of awe, a kind of holy fear.  By this time I was weary to the point of exhaustion, but still I did not stop.

And now the Firebird reappeared and hovered over the little hill whereon he stood.  Shadows danced in a widening circle, stretching, squatting, darting, leaping.  I came to him and laid the body at his feet.  He spoke to me, but his words were dark and strange.  When I try to recall them, they come back to me as a little song:

                                    Plant it, sow it in the ground,

                                                Cast it all away.

                                      In its time it shall be found

                                                And live again.

                                      Sow it, plant it in the earth,

                                                Seek for it no more;

                                      Until in death it finds rebirth

                                                And lives again.

Looking down, I saw that the shape at my feet was a body no longer, but a large sack of seed.  From under the brim of the tall slouched hat I could feel his eyes upon me, watching me patiently to know what I would do.  I undid the mouth of the sack, lifted it as best I could, and dragged it to the foot of the little hill.  Then I began to walk around the hill in ever-widening circles, throwing out handfuls of grain on my right and on my left as I went.

When at last the seed was spent and I have covered the whole of the grassy field with it, he said, “Now follow me!”  Nearby grazed an eight-legged horse, glossy white, sleek and strong, shimmering with a moon-like sheen.  In one swift motion he leapt to the horse’s back and set his heavy sack before him.

“Follow me if you will!” he repeated.  Then off he rode at a gallop four times as fast as that of any horse anyone has ever seen.  In seconds he had passed clean out of my sight.

For a moment I stared after him, bewildered.  Then I sat down on the ground with my head in my hands, wondering how I would ever catch up with him.  The night had now become very dark, and I found myself wishing for the sunrise with a longing intense as a physical pain.

* * * * * * * * * *

VI

I stepped through the mirror and out into the night. The sky was now spattered with stars that cast a cold but friendly light upon the ground. Not the slightest sliver of a moon did I see, but the star I had seen earlier soon reappeared, its glory surpassing the brightness of all the others.

As I watched, this star seemed to grow larger or draw nearer. At length I could see that it was trailing a streamer of flame like the tail of a fiery kite. Bright plumes and red flares shot straight out from its sides as it came closer. At last I realized that it was not a star at all. It was the flaming bird that had given me my wound.

Once again my heart was shot through with a searing pain as the Firebird descended upon me and its hot breath enveloped me. Frozen with fear in spite of the heat, I was on the verge of fainting dead away when a small voice at my ear said, “Be not afraid.”

Looking quickly to the right, I saw the small gray bird sitting perched upon my shoulder. His eyes burned a steady blue, penetrating my body with their light and kindling the glow within. The Firebird was nowhere to be seen.

“It is time we were going,” said the bird.

“Going where?” I asked in amazement.

“To find him. To follow him, of course. I have brought you out at last, and he awaits you not far from here.”

“But I don’t know the way,” I protested.

“Take first one step, and then another,” whispered the bird. “Go straight on ahead. I will not let your steps go wrong.” And he fluttered off.

Burdened as I was with the weight of the body I carried, I took a step forward. Above me and a short distance ahead the Firebird reappeared, gliding aloft on blazing wings, splashing a red-gold light over the earth. The stars humbly faded in its presence. Every tree and every blade of grass cowered and cast wildly flickering shadows. I followed the Firebird for I had no other guide, nor had I anywhere else to go.

Across the yard and into the street I followed the terrible Bird. The night was cold, I think, but I hardly noticed it at the time. Through dark and sleepy streets I carried my other self until my arms ached so that I felt I could not go on. Then I stumbled and fell, scraping my knees on the pavement, but never releasing my hold on the cold figure I was clutching. I found myself looking into its face, and it was as if I looked again into that awful mirror. Numb and tired, I wept.

“Don’t cry,” whispered the small gray bird at my ear. “You may get up if you want to. Only take one step and then another. The place is not far now.”

I raised my eyes. Against a sky like black marble speckled with silver, in a canyon between two rows of tall gray houses, was a spot of red light. The inner glow returned. Something or Someone lifted me up and set me on my feet.

“Go,” said the voice at my ear. “Christmas Eve is passing swiftly.”

* * * * * * * * * *

V

A long time passed. After a while, I raised my eyes to the window – but of course the window was no longer a window but a mirror. There I was confronted once again with the strange reflection of myself. Immediately the pain in my chest flared up and caused me to cry out in desperation. Clearer and clearer grew the image in the glass. I could see that the princess’s robe was open in front, revealing a deep wound in her heart, and I saw that she, too, wept. But she did not seem to weep as one without hope.

Perched alongside the mirror was the small gray bird. In the depths of his blue eyes burned two tiny, clear, red flames. He looked at me, and the warm, comforting glow welled up in my heart, though curiously the pain did not subside in the least. On the contrary, it remained steady, mingling strangely with the warmth.

But the oddest of all these odd things was yet to come. For out of the corner of my eye I now saw lying on the floor beside me the form of a body, dark and still as the night outside. When I stooped down to examine the face, I was astonished to find that it was my own. At this discovery, the warmth and pain swelled and mingled in my breast once again. But I was not unprepared this time.

Though I could not recall the passage, I felt certain that something I’d read in the little book had forewarned me of this: I was dead, and yet I lived. At the thought, I laughed out loud. So hard did I laugh that the tears ran down my face. Or perhaps I should say that I wept hysterically. Which, I cannot tell.

The little gray bird cocked his head at me and nodded solemnly. Then he sprang from the window sill and flew three times around the room. At the end of the last circuit he made straight for the mirror which had once been my bedroom window. To my amazement, he passed clean through. Without thinking, I bent down, lifted the body that lay on the floor, and carried it after him.

 * * * * * * * * * *

IV

At length I awoke, shocked to discover that I was alive. Beside me where I lay on the floor was a little book. Taking it up and opening it, I found myself looking into a small mirror attached to the inside of the front cover.

How strange was the image I saw reflected there! In one sense it seemed plain and ordinary enough – easily recognizable as myself. But in another way it was not like me at all. It was marked by a beauty, a depth, and a radiance which I found nothing short of astonishing. At the same time, it was laced with an ugliness I cannot describe except to say that it left me with a feeling of foreboding.

I turned away from the book and looked to the window. Outside all was dark. Gone were the moon and the star. There on the sill sat the small gray bird with still blue eyes. I stared at it dully for a moment, then caught my breath at a sudden new discovery: where I had expected to see shards of broken glass, I found instead bars of iron across my window.

I spun around to face the opposite wall. It also held a large mirror in which I discerned the same disturbing reflection of myself. It was the image of a princess, a beautiful princess whose loveliness had been marred in some way – precisely how, I could not tell. I think it was in her eyes that I saw it.

Again I turned away, but it was no use. All of the walls were hung with mirrors. They had, in fact, become large mirrors themselves, as had the ceiling and the floor. Above, below, and on every hand I was surrounded by disturbing images of myself. Even the window offered no relief. When I looked in that direction, I found that it, too, had become a sheet of bright reflective glass.

Alone with these awful reflections, I again became aware of the little book. Picking it up, I began to turn its pages and to read what was written there.

This led to a new discovery. I had quite forgotten about the deadly wound I had received from the Firebird, but now it came rushing back into my consciousness. For as I read, a burning sensation began to grow within my chest, low and smoldering at first, but increasing by the moment. I noticed that as I pondered certain passages in the book this burning became a mellow glow that filled my heart with warmth and comfort; but as I read others, it turned instead to a hot stinging pain, so that I could not help but cry out because of it. In spite of this, the words of the book so held me that I read on and on.

* * * * * * * * * *

III

 Once more he reached into the sack.  When he withdrew his hand, I saw perched upon his finger a small gray bird with eyes of piercing blue.  It was not a pretty bird.  But for its eyes it seemed to me quite drab.  I did not understand the still depths in its eyes.

“Do you know this bird?” he asked.

“No,” said I.

“This bird,” he said, “will serve quite well to bring you out to me.  For he is the Persuader.”

At that he gave a sudden jerk with his arm.  The bird fluttered upwards and burst into flames above his head.  I was dazed by a loud crack and a bright flash as of lightning.  The glass of the window shattered and I was thrown back violently into the room.

When next I looked up I saw the bird dazzlingly transformed.  To look upon it was as to look upon the sun.  It was huge and bright, like the legendary Firebird.  Its wings were two outstretched flames, its beak large and sharp as a sword.  I saw it hovering, poised in mid-air just outside my window.

Beyond it, at a safe distance, the moon and star timidly peeped out from behind the bank of clouds.  I could not speak; I could not utter a sound.  In an instant the flaming bird was upon me.  Already with its terrible beak it had pierced my heart.  I was stricken with a deadly pain.  Smoke and red fire filled my eyes and then gave way to darkness.  I knew no more.

* * * * * * * * * *

II

Then he opened up his sack.  It was filled with gifts, and somehow I knew that they were all meant for me.  I wished with all my heart that I might get a better look at them; but still I would not go out to him.

He beckoned to me kindly, saying, “Come and see for yourself.”  The things I saw there through the glass were not such as I would have asked for myself, nor could I ever have envisioned them even in my wildest dreams, yet I felt as if I had always wanted them.  Nothing in that sack was anything you have ever seen or imagined.  I was filled with wonder, but did not understand what I was seeing.

I turned my face away from the window.  “I will come another time,” I said.  “I am not dressed for the out-of-doors.  See – I am in my night things.  I will come with you when I am better prepared.”

“Better prepared,” he said to me, “you will never be.”

 * * * * * * * * *