Foucault's pendulum - Umberto Eco [277]
Madame Olcott questioned the first form: “Kelley, is that you?’’
From the form a voice came. It was definitely not Theo Fox speaking. The voice, distant, said in halting English: “Now... I do reveale a...a mighty Secret, if ye marke it well...”
“Yes, yes,” Madame Olcott insisted.
The voice went on: “This very place is call’d by many names... Earth... Earth is the lowest element of all... When thrice ye have turned this Wheele about... thus my greate Secret I have revealed....”
Theo Fox made a gesture with his hand, as if to beg mercy. “No, hold on to it,” Madame Olcott said to him. Then she addressed the owl shape: “I recognize you, Khunrath. What have you to tell us?”
The owl spoke: “Hallelu... ‘aah... Hallelu... ‘aah... Hallelu...’aah... Was...”
“Was?”
“Was helfen Fackeln Licht... oder Briln...so die Leut... nicht sehen... wollen...”
“We do wish,” Madame Olcott said. “Tell us what you know.”
“Symbolon kosmou... ta antra... kai tan enkosmion dun-ameon erithento... oi theologoi...”
Leo Fox was also exhausted. The owl’s voice weakened, Leo’s head slumped, the effort to sustain the shape was too great. But the implacable Madame Olcott told him to persevere and addressed the last shape, which now had also taken on anthropomorphic features. “Saint-Germain, Saint-Germain, is that you? What do you know?”
The shape began to hum a tune. Madame Olcott called for silence. The musicians stopped, and the dancers no longer howled, but they continued spinning, though with increasing fatigue.
The shape was singing: “Gentle love, this hour befriends me...”
“It’s you; I recognize you,” Madame Olcott said invitingly. “Speak, tell us where, what...”
The shape said: “II etait nuit....La tete couverte du voile de lin... j’arrive, je trouve un autel de fer, j’y place le rameau mysterieux... Oh, je crus descendre dans un abime... des galeries composees de quartiers de pierre noire... mon voyage souterrain...”
“He’s a fraud, a fraud!” Aglie cried. “Brothers, you all know these words. They’re from the Tres Sainte Trinosophie, I wrote it myself; anyone can read it for sixty francs!” He ran to Geo Fox and began shaking him by the arm.
“Stop, you imposter!” Madame Olcott screamed. “You’ll kill him!”
“And what if I do?” Aglife shouted, pulling the medium off the chair.
Geo tried to support himself by clinging to the form he had secreted, but it fell with him and dissolved on the floor. Geo slumped in the sticky matter that he continued to vomit, until he stiffened, lifeless.
“Stop, madman,” Madame Olcott screamed, seizing Aglie. And then, to the other brothers: “Stand fast, my little ones. They must speak still. Khunrath, Khunrath, tell him you are real!”
Leo Fox, to survive, was trying to reabsorb the owl. Madame Olcott went around behind him and pressed her fingers to his temples, to bend him to her will. The owl, realizing it was about to disappear, turned toward its creator: “Phy, Phy Diabolos,” it muttered, trying to peck his eyes. Leo gave a gurgle, as if his jugular had been severed, and sank to his knees. The owl disappeared in a revolting muck (“Phiii, phiii,” it went), and into it, choking, the medium also fell, and was still. Madame Olcott, furious, turned to Theo, who was doing his best to hold on: “Speak, Kelley! You hear me?”
But Kelley did not speak. He was trying to detach himself from the medium, who now yelled as if his bowels were being torn. The medium struggled to take back what he had produced, clawing the air. “Kelley, earless Kelley, don’t cheat again,” Madame Olcott cried. Kelley, unable to separate himself from the medium, was now trying to smother him, turning into a kind of chewing gum, from which the last Fox brother was unable to extricate himself. Theo, too, sank to his knees, choking, entangled in the parasite blob that was devouring him; he rolled and writhed as if enveloped in flame. The thing that had been Kelley covered him like a shroud, then melted,