The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1896-08-13
THE CURSE AND KEY.


And the student conned over all its
meanings.
How 8ne to think that this great power
of change was at the command of man.
Man was not so weak, after all, when he
could swing open at his will the great door
that led either to rest or to change. Aye,
man might be stupid, but If he were brave
he could command the power of a god.
And this wineglass held the key. How
flnel He smiled as he grasped it and held
it up to the light. How fine and red and
strong looking was the winel And it con-
tanned the key to mystery subtle, quick
poison.
He was sad and tired, and here were
oblivion and rest. He felt vaguely curious,
and here was revealment. He wished to
feel new sensation. He wished to fight
the crush and distortion of death.
For this student was not as other men.
He feared neither the beginning nor the
end He was brave with the bravery that
dares all. He was absolutely his own god.
And he laid the wineglass back on the
table He would not take the step just
now. He would wait till the night had
worn farther on.
And suddenly he began to think of the
time when he was alone and haggard and
full of strange, wild dreams.
Aye, in the great city he found some one
to care for him because he was what he
was. The fine, sweet face of a woman arose
before him as he walked the streets where
flooded and surged the tide of human life.
But the time came when he left her and
went forth to q greater and wider and a
stranger city. He went out to WOO that
hard mistress, fame.
Often he thought of her, but he thought
of her dimly. She was to him as a beauti-
full, faint memory. When her face arose
before him, it was as the face of one who
has long been dead or as a face seen in
dream, a haunting, tender face. He
knew that she must have sorrowed, but he
believed that it was better for woman to
sorrow than not to know. 1t was better
for a woman to eat of the fruit of the tree
of knowledge even though she brought
upon herself the curse of frightful suffer
ing.
And at last he heard that she was dead
He was very wise, this student His phi
1osophy was the philosophy that believes
in the realizing to the full the posi- bilities
of the present. For him today was the
day; tomorrow had not come, yesterday
was but vague drean-was dead.
And he became famous mainly because
he possessed q pagan clearnssS of sight and
because he was bold He had realized that
a great philosopher was simply man who
talked oOnvincingly concerning things of
which he really knew nothing.
And now, on this his last night, he was
sitting by the fire and thinking of the time
long ago-tl4e tame when this woman, who
had saved him, loved him-the time when
he was a dreamer of wild, impossible
dreams. How strange the tiIne-at once
so terrible and beautiful! How hungry he
used to be, how he suffered from the cold,
how he felt the sting of low, sordid poverty
that crime of crimes, that curse more
frightful than the curse of Cainl
"a hnt bpv 7a1
better man then than row, famous though
he was. If he had been really a brave and
great man, he would have taken his life in
his hand and died fighting for the spread
of liberty through the world.
Instead ne had elected to perform intel
lectual tricks before the inane, stupid
mass. And the mass rewarded him by Civ
ing him money and calling him great. His
success was a He-accursed lie He had
been panderer and a coward.
No, no; he was not a panderer, he was
not a coward! He had done the best for
himself He had grasped the golden fruit
of life when it swung within his reach. He
had used his gifts for the realizing Of his
desires.
But was not his first desire his great de-
sire? He had wished to devote his life to
the freeing of man, and he had not done SO.
Then he had not realized himself, after all.
Perhaps he should have gone on hungering
and have died on the scaffoId.
He had had verything-love, fame,
honor, riches and ell things that men mad
ly strive for-and still he wished sadly for
the old terrible days when he knew not
what the morrow would bring forth Then
there were the excitement of struggle and
the cheer of the distant star of hope And
he had grand ideal. And the shade of
the man he was in those days seemed to
arise before hi1n-the young man haggard
of face and stern of eyes And he bowed
his head III shame, for there was failure,
fine and noble and grand, and here was
success begotten OF trickery and pander-
ing.
Aye, his success had indeed been low,
degrading failure. And he had been pun
ished by safety settling upon his shout
ders-that unspeakable vulture.
He had become tired of everything. And
still he was young. But his soul was old.
He arose suddenly and raised the wine
glass aIoft. How like blood the wine as it
shone in the light
Il drink, he cried, ''to change, or to
rest, or to wild, unheard of adventure.
Come, death, and strike mel Gomez
But, lol he saw face. It was the face
of Ellen-Ellen, who had loved him as no
other woman had loved him; Ellen, who
had endured disgrace for his sake; Ellen,
who was dead
He had been thinking of her tonight,
and she was here. And now he loved her.
Safety was gone from him. Again the
power of love had come to him. This WON
an had loved him when ne was only a
vagabond student
But she was dead And still she was
here.
But, stayl Was this a trick of the imag-
nation, or was she really here? He would
see. There was now another reason for
the invoking of the power of DEATH. 1t
might mean another life and the renewal
OF a glorious love. He would sect
"EllenP' he cried. Sweetheart 1 drink
to your'-Bart Kennedy in London Sun.