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I didn't know where I was going. But I knew that I was being allowed to see all these things.
Finally I heard the unmistakable sound of Marius, that low rhythmic beat of the heart which I had heard in Cairo. And I moved toward it.
Chapter 3
3
I came into a brightly illuminated eighteenth Century salon. The stone walls had been covered in fine rosewood paneling with framed mirrors rising to the ceiling. There were the usual painted chests, upholstered chairs, dark and lush landscapes, porcelain clocks. A small collection of books in the glass-doored bookcases, a newspaper of recent date lying on a small table beside a brocaded winged chair.
High narrow French doors opened onto the stone terrace. where banks of white lilies and red roses gave off their powerful perfume.
And there, with his back to me, at the stone railing stood an eighteenth-century man.
It was Marius when he turned around and gestured for me to come out.
He was dressed as I was dressed. The frock coat was red, not violet, the lace Valenciennes, not Bruxelles. But he wore very much the same costume, his shining hair tied back loosely in a dark ribbon just as mine was, and he looked not at all ethereal as Armand might have, but rather like a superpresence, a creature of impossible whiteness and perfection who was nevertheless connected to everything around him -- the clothes he wore, the stone railing on which he laid his hand, even the moment itself in which a small cloud passed over the bright half moon.
I savored the moment: that he and I were about to speak, that I was really here. I was still clearheaded as I had been on the ship. I couldn't feel thirst. And I sensed that it was his blood in me that was sustaining me. All the old mysteries collected in me, arousing me and sharpening me. Did Those Who Must Be Kept lie somewhere on this island? Would all these things be known?
I went up to the railing and stood beside him, glancing out over the sea. His eyes were now fixed on an island not a half mile off the shore below. He was listening to something that I could not hear. And the side of his face, in the light from the open doors behind us, looked too frighteningly like stone.
But immediately, he turned to me with a cheerful expression, the smooth face vitalized impossibly for an instant, and then he put his arm around me and guided me back into the room.
He walked with the same rhythm as a mortal man, the step light but firm, the body moving through space in the predictable way.
He led me to a pair of winged chairs that faced each other and there we sat down. This was more or less the center of the room. The terrace was to my right, and we had a clear illumination from the chandelier above as well as a dozen or so candelabra and sconces on the paneled walls.
Natural, civilized it all was. And Marius settled in obvious comfort on the brocade cushions and let his fingers curl around the arms of the chair.
As he smiled, he looked entirely human. All the lines, the animation were there until the smile melted again.
I tried not to stare at him, but I couldn't help it.
And something mischievous crept into his face.
My heart was skipping.
"What would be easier for you?" he asked in French. "That I tell you why I brought you here, or that you tell me why you asked to see me?"
"Oh, the former would be easier," I said. "You talk. "
He laughed in a soft ingratiating fashion.
"You're a remarkable creature," he said. "I didn't expect you to go down into the earth so soon. Most of us experience the first death much later -- after a century, maybe even two. "
"The first death? You mean it's common -- to go into the earth the way I did?"
"Among those who survive, it's common. We die. We rise again. Those who don't go into the earth for periods of time usually do not last. "
I was amazed, but it made perfect sense. And the awful thought struck me that if only Nicki had gone down into the earth instead of into the fire -- But I couldn't think of Nicki now. I would start asking inane questions if I did. Is Nicki somewhere? Has Nicki stopped? Are my brothers somewhere? Have they simply stopped?
"But I shouldn't have been so surprised that it happened when it did in your case," he resumed as if he hadn't heard these thoughts, or didn't want to address them just yet. "You've lost too much that was precious to you. You saw and learned a great deal very fast. "
"How do you know what's been happening to me?" I asked.
Again, he smiled. He almost laughed. It was astonishing the warmth emanating from him, the immediacy. The manner of his speech was lively and absolutely current. That is, he spoke like a well-educated Frenchman.
"I don't frighten you, do I?" he asked.
