Satan's Diary

“Don’t kiss that hand!”

I could not continue these notes yesterday. Do not laugh! This mere combination of words: do not kiss that hand! – seemed to me the most terrible utterance the human tongue was capable of. It acted upon me like a magic curse. When I recall those words now they interrupt everything I do and befog my whole being, transporting me into a new state. If I happen to be speaking I grow silent, as if suddenly stricken dumb. If I happen to be walking, I halt. If standing, I run. If I happen to be asleep, no matter how deep my slumber, I awake and cannot fall asleep again. Very simple, extremely simple words: Do not kiss that hand!

And now listen to what happened further:

And so: I bowed over Maria’s hand. But so strange and sudden was Magnus’ cry, so great was the command in his hoarse voice, that it was impossible to disobey. It was as if he had stopped a blind man on the edge of a precipice! But I failed to grasp his meaning and raised my head in perplexity, still holding Maria’s hand in mine, and looked at Magnus. He was breathing heavily, as if he had actually witnessed my fall into the abyss – and in reply to my questioning look, he said in a stifled tone:

“Let her hand alone. Maria get away from him.”

Maria released her hand and stepped aside, at a distance from me. Still perplexed I watched her, standing alone! I tried to grasp the situation. For a brief moment it seemed even extremely ludicrous and reminded me of a scene in a comedy, in which the angry father comes unexpectedly upon the sweethearts, but my silly laughter died away immediately and in obedient expectation I raised my eyes to Magnus.

Magnus hesitated. Rising with an effort, he twice paced the length of the room and halting before me, with his hands clasped behind him, said:

“With all your eccentricities, you’re a decent man, Wondergood. I have robbed you (that was how he put it) but I can no longer permit you to kiss the hand of this woman. Listen! Listen! I have already told you you must change your outlook upon men. I know it is very difficult and I sympathize with you, but it is essential that you do it, old friend. Listen! Listen! I misled you: Maria is not my daughter…I have no children. Neither is she a…Madonna. She is my mistress and she was that as recently as last night…”

Now I understand that Magnus was merciful in his own way and was intentionally submerging me slowly into darkness. But at that time I did not realize this and slowly stifling, my breath gradually dying, I lost consciousness. And when with Magnus’ last words the light fled from me and impenetrable night enveloped my being, I whipped out my revolver and fired at Magnus several times in succession. I do not know how many shots I fired. I remember only a series of laughing, flickering flames and the movements of my hand, pushing the weapon forward. I cannot remember at all how and when his aides rushed in and disarmed me. When I regained my senses this was the picture I saw: the aides were gone. I was sitting deep in my chair before the dark fireplace, my hair was wet, while above my left eyebrow there was a bandage soaked in blood. My collar was gone and my shirt was torn, my left sleeve was almost entirely torn off, so that I had to keep jerking it up constantly. Maria stood on the same spot, in the same pose, as if she had not moved at all during the struggle. I was surprised to see Toppi, who sat in a corner and gazed at me strangely. At the table, with his back to me, stood Magnus. He was pouring out some wine for himself.

When I heaved a particularly deep sigh, Magnus turned quickly and said in a strangely familiar tone:

“Do you want some wine, Wondergood? You may have a glass now. Here, drink… You see you failed to hit me. I do not know whether to be glad or not, but I am alive. To your health, old man!”

I touched my brow with my finger and mumbled:

“Blood…”

“A mere trifle, just a little scratch. It won’t matter. Don’t touch it.”

“It smells.”

“With powder? Yes, that’ll soon pass, too. Toppi is here. Do you see him? He asked permission to stay here. You won’t object if your secretary remains while we continue our conversation? He is extremely devoted to you.”

I looked at Toppi and smiled. Toppi made a grimace and sighed gently:

“Mr. Wondergood! It is I, your Toppi.”

And he burst into tears. This old devil, still emitting the odor of fur, this old clown in black, this sexton with hanging nose, this seducer of little girls – burst into tears! But still worse was it when, blinking my eyes, I, too, began to weep, I, “the wise, immortal, almighty!” Thus we both wept, two deceived devils who happened to drop in upon this earth, and human beings – I am happy to give them their due! – looked on with deep sympathy for our tears. Weeping and laughing at the same time, I asked:

“It’s difficult to be a man, Toppi?”

And Toppi, sobbing, replied obediently:

“Very difficult, Mr. Wondergood.”

But here I happened to look at Maria and my sentimental tears immediately dried. In general, that evening is memorable for the sudden and ludicrous transformations of my moods. You probably know them, old man? Now I wept and beat the lyre, like a weeping post, now I became permeated with a stony calm and a sense of unconquerable power, or I began to chatter nonsense, like a parrot scared to death by a dog, and kept up my chatter, louder, sillier and more and more unbearable, until a new mood bore me off into a deep and inexpressible sadness. Magnus caught my look at Maria and smiled involuntarily. I adjusted the collar of my torn shirt and said dryly :

“I do not know whether to be glad or sorry that I failed to kill you, old friend. I am quite calm now, however, and would like you to tell me everything about…that woman. But as you are a liar, let me question her first. Signorina Maria, you were my bride? And in a few days I hoped to call you my wife. But tell me the truth: are you really…this man’s mistress?”

“Yes, signor.”

“And…how long?”

“Five years, signor.”

“And how old are you now.”

“Nineteen, signor.”

“That means you were fourteen… Now you may continue, Magnus.”

“Oh, my God!”

(It was Toppi who exclaimed.)

“Sit down, Maria. – As you see, Wondergood,” – began Magnus in a dry and calm tone, as if he were demonstrating not himself but some sort of a chemical compound – “this mistress of mine is quite an extraordinary phenomenon. With all her unusual resemblance to the Madonna, capable of deceiving men better versed than you or I in religion, with all her really unearthly beauty, chastity and charm – she is a licentious and quite shameless creature, ready to sell herself from head to foot…”

“Magnus!”

“Calm yourself. You see how she listens to me? Even your old Toppi is cringing and blushing while she – her gaze is clear and all her features are filled with placid harmony…did you notice how clear Maria’s gaze is? Do you hear me?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Would you like wine or an orange? Take it. There it is on the table. Incidentally, observe her graceful walk: she seems to be always stepping lightly as if on flowers or clouds. What extraordinary beauty and litheness! As an old lover of hers, I may also add the following detail which you have not learned yet: she herself, her body, has the fragrance of some flowers. Now as to her spiritual qualities, as the psychologists put it. If I were to speak of them in ordinary language, I would say she was as stupid as a goose, – quite a hopeless fool. But she is cunning. And a liar. Very avaricious as regards money but she likes it only in gold. Everything she told you she learned from me, memorizing the more difficult lines…and I had quite a task in teaching her. But I feared all the time that, despite your love, you would be struck by her apparent lack of brains and that is why I kept her from you the last few days.”

Toppi sobbed:

“Oh, God! Madonna!”

“Does this astonish you, Mr. Toppi?” – Magnus asked, turning his head. “I dare say you are not alone. Do you remember, Wondergood, what I told you about Maria’s fatal resemblance, which drove one young man to suicide. I did not lie to you altogether: the youth actually did kill himself when he realized who Maria really was. He was pure of soul. He loved as you do and as you he could not bear – how do you put it? – the wreck of his ideal.”

Magnus laughed:

“Do you remember Giovanni, Maria?”

“Slightly.”

“Do you hear, Wondergood?” asked Magnus, laughing. “That is exactly the tone in which she would have spoken of me a week hence if you had killed me to-day. Have another orange, Maria… But if I were to speak of Maria in extraordinary language – she is not at all stupid. She simply doesn’t happen to have what is called a soul. I have frequently tried to look deep into her heart and thoughts and I have always ended in vertigo, as if I had been hurled to the edge of an abyss: there was nothing there. Emptiness. You have probably observed, Wondergood, or you, Mr. Toppi, that ice is not as cold as the brow of a dead man? And no matter what emptiness familiar to you you may imagine, my friends, it cannot be compared with that absolute vacuum which forms the kernel of my beautiful, light-giving star. Star of the Seas? – that was what you once called her, Wondergood, was it not?”

Magnus laughed again and gulped down a glass of wine. He drank a great deal that evening.

“Will you have some wine, Mr. Toppi? No? Well, suit yourself. I’ll take some. So that is why, Mr. Wondergood, I did not want you to kiss the hand of that creature. Don’t turn your eyes away, old friend. Imagine you are in a museum and look straight at her, bravely. Did you wish to say something, Toppi?”

“Yes, Signor Magnus. Pardon me, Mr. Wondergood, but I would like to ask your permission to leave. As a gentleman, although not much of that, I…cannot remain…at…”

Magnus narrowed his eyes derisively:

“At such a scene?”

“Yes, at such a scene, when one gentleman, with the silent approval of another gentleman, insults a woman like that, ” exclaimed Toppi, extremely irritated, and rose. Magnus, just as ironically, turned to me:

“And what do you say, Wondergood? Shall we release this little, extremely little, gentleman?”

“Stay, Toppi.”

Toppi sat down obediently.

From the moment Magnus resumed, I, for the first time, regained my breath and looked at Maria.

What shall I say to you? It was Maria. And here I understood a little what happens in one’s brain when one begins to go mad.

“May I continue?” asked Magnus. “However, I have little to add. Yes, I took her when she was fourteen or fifteen years old. She herself does not know how old she really is, but I was not her first lover…nor the tenth. I could never learn her past exactly. She either lies cunningly or is actually devoid of memory. But even the most subtle questioning, which even a most expert criminal could not dodge, neither bribes nor gifts, nor threats – and she is extremely cowardly! – could compel her to reveal herself. She does not ‘remember.’ That’s all. But her deep licentiousness, enough to shame the Sultan himself, her extraordinary experience and daring in ars amandi confirms my suspicion that she received her training in a lupanaria or…or at the court of some Nero. I do not know how old she is and she seems to change constantly. Why should I not say that she is 20 or 2000 years old? Maria…you can do everything and you know everything?”

I did not look at that woman. But in her answer there was a slight displeasure:

“Don’t talk nonsense. What will Mr. Wondergood think of me?”

Magnus broke into loud laughter and struck the table with his glass:

“Do you hear, Wondergood? She covets your good opinion. And if I should command her to undress at once in your presence…”

“Oh, my God! My God!” – sobbed Toppi and covered his face with his hands. I glanced quickly into Magnus’ eyes – and remained rigid in the terrible enchantment of his gaze. His face was laughing. This pale mask of his was still lined with traces of faint laughter but the eyes were dim and inscrutable. Directed upon me, they stared off somewhere into the distance and were horrible in their expression of dark and empty madness: only the empty orbits of a skull could gaze so threateningly and in such wrath.

And again darkness filled my head and when I regained my senses Magnus had already turned and calmly sipped his wine. Without changing his position, he raised his glass to the light, smelled the wine, sipped some more of it and said as calmly as before:

“And so, Wondergood, my friend. Now you know about all there is to know of Maria or the Madonna, as you called her, and I ask you: will you take her or not? I give her away. Take her. If you say yes, she will be in your bedroom to-day and…I swear by eternal salvation, you will pass a very pleasant night. Well, what do you say?”

“Yesterday, you, and to-day, I?”

“Yesterday I, – to-day, you.” He smiled: “What kind of man are you, Wondergood, to speak of such trifles. Or aren’t you used to having some one else warm your bed? Take her. She is a fine girl.”

“Whom are you torturing, Magnus: – me or yourself?”

Magnus looked at me ironically:

“What a wise boy! Of course, myself! You are a very clever American, Mr. Wondergood, and I wonder why your career has been so mediocre. Go to bed, dear children. Good night. What are you looking at, Wondergood: do you find the hour too early? If so, take her out for a walk in the garden. When you see Maria beneath the moonlight, 3000 Magnuses will be unable to prove that this heavenly maiden is the same creature who…”

I flared up:

“You are a disgusting scoundrel and liar, Thomas Magnus! If she has received her training in a lupanaria, then you, my worthy signor, must have received your higher education in the penitentiary. Whence comes that aroma which permeates so thoroughly your gentlemanly jokes and witticisms. The sight of your pale face is beginning to nauseate me. After enticing a woman in the fashion of a petty, common hero…”

Magnus struck the table with his fist. His bloodshot eyes were aflame.

“Silence! You are an inconceivable ass, Wondergood! Don’t you understand that I myself, like you, was deceived by her? Who, meeting Madonna, can escape deception? Oh devil! What are the sufferings of your little, shallow American soul in comparison with the pangs of mine? Oh devil! Witticism, jests, gentlemen and ladies, asses and tigers, gods and devils! Can’t you see: this is not a woman, this is – an eagle who daily plucks my liver! My suffering begins in the morning. Each morning, oblivious to what passed the day before, I see Madonna before me and believe. I think: what happened to me yesterday? Apparently, I must be mistaken or did I miss anything? It is impossible that this clear gaze, this divine walk, this pure countenance of Madonna should belong to a prostitute. It is your soul that is vile, Thomas Magnus: she is as pure as a host. And there were occasions when, on my knees, I actually begged forgiveness of this creature! Can you imagine it: on my knees! Then it was that I was really a scoundrel, Wondergood. I idealized her, endowed her with my thoughts and feelings and was overjoyed, like an idiot. I almost wept with felicity when she mumblingly repeated what I would say. Like a high priest I painted my idol and then knelt before it in intoxication! But the truth proved stronger at last. With each moment, with each hour, falsehood slipped off her body, so that, toward night, I even beat her. I beat her and wept. I beat her cruelly as does a procurer his mistress. And then came night with its Babylonian licentiousness, the sleep of the dead and – oblivion. And then morning again. And again Madonna. And again…oh, devil! Over night my faith again grew, as did the liver of Prometheus, and like a bird of prey she tortured me all day. I, too, am human, Wondergood!”

Shivering as if with cold, Magnus began to pace the room rapidly, gazed into the dark fireplace and approached Maria. Maria lifted her clear gaze to him, as if in question, while Magnus stroked her head carefully and gently, as he would that of a parrot or a cat:

“What a little head! What a sweet, little head… Wondergood! Come, caress it!”

I drew up my torn sleeve and asked ironically:

“And it is this bird of prey that you now wish to give to me? Have you exhausted your feed? You want my liver, too, in addition to my billions?”

But Magnus had already calmed himself. Subduing his excitement and the drunkenness which had imperceptibly come upon him, he returned to his place without haste and ordered politely:

“I will answer you in a moment, Mr. Wondergood. Please withdraw to your room Maria. I have something to say to Mr. Wondergood. And I would ask you, too, my honorable Mr. Toppi, to depart. You may join my friends in the salon.”

“If Mr. Wondergood will so command…” replied Toppi, dryly, without rising.

I nodded and, without looking at Magnus, my secretary obediently made his exit. Maria, too, left the room. To tell the truth, I again felt like clinging to his vest and weeping in the first few moments of my tête-à-tête with Magnus: after all, this thief was my friend! But I satisfied myself with merely swallowing my tears. Then followed a moment of brief desperation at the departure of Maria. And slowly, as if from the realm of remote recollection, blind and wild anger and the need of beating and destroying began to fill my heart. Let me add, too, that I was extremely provoked by my torn sleeve that kept slipping constantly: it was necessary for me to be stern and austere and this made me seem ridiculous…ah, on what trifles does the result of the greatest events depend on this earth! I lighted a cigar and with studied gruffness hurled into the calm and hateful face of Magnus:

“Now, you! Enough of comedy and charlatanism. Tell me what you want. So you want me to surrender to that bird of prey of yours?”

Magnus replied calmly, although his eyes were burning with anger:

“Yes. That is the trial I wanted to subject you to, Wondergood. I fear that I have succumbed slightly to the emotion of useless and vain revenge and spoke more heatedly than was necessary in Maria’s presence. The thing is, Wondergood, that all that I have so picturesquely described to you, all this passion and despair and all these sufferings of…Prometheus really belong to the past. I now look upon Maria without pain and even with a certain amount of pleasure, as upon a beautiful and useful little beast…useful for domestic considerations. You understand? What after all, is the liver of Prometheus? It is all nonsense! In reality, I should be thankful to Maria. She gnawed out with her little teeth my silly faith and gave me that clear, firm and realistic outlook upon life which permits of no deceptions and…sentimentalisms. You, too, ought to experience and grasp it, Wondergood, if you would follow Magnus Ergo.”

I remained silent, lazily chewing my cigar. Magnus lowered his eyes and continued still more calmly and dryly:

“Desert pilgrims, to accustom themselves to death, used to sleep in coffins: let Maria be your coffin and when you feel like going to church, kissing a woman and stretching your hand to a friend, just look at Maria and her father, Thomas Magnus. Take her, Wondergood, and you will soon convince yourself of the value of my gift. I don’t need her any longer. And when your humiliated soul shall become inflamed with truly inextinguishable, human hatred and not with weak contempt, come to me and I shall welcome you into the ranks of my yeomanry, which will very soon… Are you hesitating? Well, then go, catch other lies, but be careful to avoid scoundrels and Madonnas, my gentleman from Illinois!”

He broke into loud laughter and swallowed a glass of wine at one gulp. His swollen calm evaporated. Little flames of intoxication, now merry, now ludicrous, like the lights of a carnival, now triumphant, now dim, like funeral torches at a grave, again sprang forth in his bloodshot eyes. The scoundrel was drunk but held himself firmly, merely swaying his branches, like an oak before a south wind. Rising and facing me, he straightened his body cynically, as if trying to reveal himself in his entirety, and well nigh spat these words at me:

“Well? How long do you intend to think about it, you ass? Come, quick, or I’ll kick you out! Quick! I’m tired of you! What’s the use of my wasting words? What are you thinking of?”

My head buzzed. Madly pulling up that accursed sleeve of mine, I replied:

“I am thinking that you are an evil, contemptible, stupid and repulsive beast! I am thinking in what springs of life or hell itself I could find for you the punishment you deserve! Yes, I came upon this earth to play and to laugh. Yes, I myself was ready to embrace any evil. I myself lied and pretended, but you, hairy worm, you crawled into my very heart and bit me. You took advantage of the fact that my heart was human and bit me, you hairy worm. How dared you deceive me? I will punish you.”

“You? Me?”

I am glad to say that Magnus was astonished and taken aback. His eyes widened and grew round and his open mouth naïvely displayed a set of white teeth. Breathing with difficulty, he repeated:

“You? Me?”

“Yes. I – you.”

“Police?”

“You are not afraid of it? Very well. Let all your courts be powerless, remain unpunished on this earth, you evil conscienceless creature! The day will come when the sea of falsehood, which constitutes your life, will part and all your falsehood, too, will give way and disappear. Let there be no foot upon this earth to crush you, hairy worm. Let! I, too, am powerless here. But the day will come when you will depart from this earth. And when you come to Me and fall under the shadow of my kingdom…”

“Your kingdom? Hold on, Wondergood. Who are you, then?”

And right at this point there occurred the most shameful event of my entire earthly life. Tell me: is it not ridiculously funny when Satan, even in human form, bends his knee in prayer to a prostitute and is stripped naked by the very first man he meets? Yes, this is extremely ridiculous and shameful of Satan, who bears with him the breath of eternity. But what would you say of Satan when he turned into a powerless and pitiful liar and pasted upon his head with a great flourish the paper crown of a theatrical czar? I am ashamed, old man. Give me one of your blows, the kind on which you feed your friends and hired clowns. Or has this torn sleeve brought me to this senseless, pitiful wrath? Or was this the last act of my human masquerade, when man’s spirit descends to the mire and sweeps the dust and dirt with its breath? Or has the ruin of Madonna, which I witnessed, dragged Satan, too, into the same abyss?

But this was – think of it! – this was what I answered Magnus. Thrusting out my chest, barely covered with my torn shirt, stealthily pulling up my sleeve, so that it might not slip off entirely, and looking sternly and angrily directly into the stupid, and as they seemed to me, frightened eyes of the scoundrel Magnus, I replied triumphantly:

“I am – Satan!”

Magnus was silent for a moment – and then broke out into all the laughter that a drunken, repulsive, human belly can contain. Of course you, old man, expected that, but I did not. I swear by eternal salvation, I did not! I shouted something but the brazen laughter of this beast drowned my voice. Finally, taking advantage of a moment’s interval between his thundering peals of laughter, I exclaimed quickly and modestly…like a footnote at the bottom of a page, like a commentary of a publisher:

“Don’t you understand: I am Satan. I have donned the human form! I have donned the human form!”

He heard me with his eyes bulging, and with fresh thunderous roars of laughter, the outbursts shaking his entire frame, he moved toward the door, flung it open and shouted:

“Here! Come here! Here is Satan! In human…human garb!”

And he disappeared behind the door.

Oh, if I could only have fallen through the floor, disappeared or flown away, like a real devil, on wings, in that endless moment, during which he was gathering the public for an extraordinary spectacle. And now they came – all of them, damn them: Maria and all the six aides and my miserable Toppi, and Magnus himself, and completing the procession – His Eminence, Cardinal X.! The cursed, shaven monkey walked with great dignity and even bowed to me, after which he sat down, just as dignified, in an armchair and carefully covered his knees with his robes. All were wondering, not knowing yet what it was all about, and glanced now at me and now at Magnus, who tried hard to look serious.