Island - Aldous Huxley [133]
“Oedipus asks him what God said; and the other one says that what God said was that it was all because of some man having killed the old king, the one before Oedipus. Nobody had ever caught him, and the man was still living in Thebes, and this virus that was killing everybody had been sent by God—that’s what Creon says he was told—as a punishment. I don’t know why all these people who hadn’t done anything to anybody had to be punished; but that’s what he says God said. And the virus won’t stop till they catch the man that killed the old king and send him away from Thebes. And of course Oedipus says he’s going to do everything he can to find the man and get rid of him.”
From his downstage corner the boy began to declaim, this time in English:
“God, most Himself when most sublimely vague,
Talks, when His talk is plain, the ungodliest bosh.
Repent, He roars, for Sin has caused the plague.
But we say ‘Dirt—so wash.’”
While the audience was still laughing, another group of mourners emerged from the wings and slowly crossed the stage.
“Karuna,” said the girl in the foreground, “compassion. The suffering of the stupid is as real as any other suffering.”
Feeling a touch on his arm, Will turned and found himself looking into the beautiful sulky face of young Murugan.
“I’ve been hunting for you everywhere,” he said angrily, as though Will had concealed himself on purpose just to annoy him. He spoke so loudly that many heads were turned and there were calls for quiet.
“You weren’t at Dr. Robert’s, you weren’t at Susila’s,” the boy nagged on, regardless of the protests.
“Quiet, quiet…”
“Quiet!” came a tremendous shout from Basso Profundo in the clouds. “Things have come to a pretty pass,” the voice added grumblingly, “when God simply can’t hear Himself speak.”
“Hear, hear,” said Will, joining in the general laughter. He rose and, followed by Murugan and Mary Sarojini, hobbled towards the exit.
“Didn’t you want to see the end?” Mary Sarojini asked, and turning to Murugan, “You really might have waited,” she said in a tone of reproof.
“Mind your own business!” Murugan snapped.
Will laid a hand on the child’s shoulder. “Luckily,” he said, “your account of the end was so vivid that I don’t have to see it with my own eyes. And of course,” he added ironically, “His Highness must always come first.”
Murugan pulled an envelope out of the pocket of those white silk pajamas which had so bedazzled the little nurse and handed it to Will. “From my mother.” And he added, “It’s urgent.”
“How good it smells!” Mary Sarojini commented, sniffing at the rich arua of sandalwood that surrounded the Rani’s missive.
Will unfolded three sheets of heaven-blue notepaper embossed with five golden lotuses under a princely crown. How many underlinings, what a profusion of capital letters! He started to read.
Ma Petite Voix, cher Farnaby, avait raison—AS USUAL! I had been TOLD again and again what Our Mutual Friend was predestined to do for poor little Pala and (through the financial support which Pala will permit him to contribute to the Crusade of the Spirit) for the WHOLE WORLD. So when I read his cable (which arrived a few minutes ago, by way of the faithful Bahu and his diplomatic colleague in London), it came as NO surprise to learn that Lord A. has given you Full Powers (and, it goes without saying, the WHEREWITHAL) to negotiate on his behalf—on our behalf; for his advantage is also yours, mine and (since in our different ways we are all Crusaders) the SPIRIT’S!!
But the arrival of Lord A.’s cable is not the only piece of news I have to report. Events (as we learned this afternoon from Bahu) are rushing towards the Great Turning Point of Palanese History—rushing far more rapidly than I had previously thought to be possible. For reasons which are partly political (the need to offset a recent decline in Colonel D.’s popularity), partly Economic (the burdens of Defense are too onerous to be borne