I was sitting one evening after
supper in St. Stephen’s Casino at Ramleh. My friend Alexander A., who resided
in the Casino, had invited me and another young man, an intimate friend of
ours, to have supper with him. Since it was not an evening with music, very few
people had come, and my two friends had the entire place to ourselves.
We were talking about various
things, and as we did not belong to the very rich, the conversation turned
quite naturally to money, to the independence it provides and to the pleasures
that attend it.
One of my friends was saying that
he would like to have three million francs and began describing what he would
like to do and, above all, what he would like to stop doing if he possessed
this large sum.
I, being slightly more modest,
would have been satisfied with an annual income of twenty thousand francs.
“Had I wished,” Alexander A.
said, “I would now be who knows how many times a millionaire – but I didn’t
dare.”
These words struck us as strange.
We knew our friend A.’s life well and could not recall that the opportunity to
become many times a millionaire had ever presented itself to him. We assumed,
therefore, that he was not speaking in earnest and that some pleasantry would
follow. But our friend’s face was very grave, and we asked him to explain his
enigmatic remark.
He hesitated a moment – but then
said: “If I were in other company, finding myself unexpectedly among so-called
‘evolved people,’ I wouldn’t explain myself, because they would laugh at me.
But we are slightly above so-called ‘evolved people,’ that is, our perfect
spiritual development has again made us simple, but simple without being
ignorant. We have come full circle. Thus, naturally, we have returned to our
starting point. The others have remained midway. They do not know, or even
surmise, where the road ends.”
These words did not at all
surprise us. Each of us had the highest regard for himself and for the other
two.
“Yes,” Alexander repeated, “if I
had dared, I would be a multi-millionaire – but I became frightened.
“What I am about to tell you
happened ten years ago. I did not have much money then, as now, or rather I had
no money at all; but in one way or another I was going forward and living
moderately well. I was staying on Shereef Pasha Street in a house that belonged
to an Italian widow. I had three well-furnished rooms and a personal servant,
not including the good services of the proprietress, who was at my disposal.
“One evening I had gone to
Rossini’s. After I had listened to enough foolish talk, I decided halfway
through the evening to return home and go to sleep. For I had to be up early
the next morning, having been invited on an outing at Aboukir.
“When I arrived in my room, I
began, as was my custom, to pace up and down, thinking about the day’s events.
But seeing that they were of no interest, I became sleepy and went to bed.
“I must have slept one and a half
or two hours without dreaming, because I remember that at about an hour after
midnight I was awakened by a noise in the street and remembered no dream. I
must have fallen asleep again at about one-thirty, when it seemed to me that a
man of medium height and no more than forty had entered my room. He was wearing
black clothes, which were quite old, and a straw hat. On his left hand he was
wearing a ring set with a very large emerald. This struck me as out of keeping
with the rest of his attire. He had a black beard with many white hairs, and
there was something strange about his eyes, a look at the same time mocking and
melancholy. On the whole, however, he was a rather ordinary type. The sort of
man one frequently encounters. I asked him what he wanted of me. He did not
reply right away, but looked at me to make sure that he had not made a mistake.
Then he said to me, in a humble and servile tone of voice: ‘You are poor, I
know. I have come to tell you a way to become rich. Not far from Pompey’s Stele
I know a spot where a great treasure lies hidden. I myself want no part of this
treasure – I will take only a small iron box which is to be found at the
bottom. The rest will all be yours.’
“‘And of what does this great
treasure consist?’ I asked.
“‘Of gold coins,’ he said, ‘but
above all of precious stones. It comprises ten or twelve gold coffers filled
with diamonds, pearls, and, I believe’ – as if he were making an effort to
remember – ‘with sapphires.’
“I wondered then why he did not
go by himself to take what he wanted, and why he needed me? He did not allow me
to voice my objections. ‘I know what you’re thinking. Why, you’re thinking,
don’t I go take what I want by myself? A reason exists which I cannot tell you
and which prevents me. There are certain things that even I cannot do.’ When he
said ‘even I,’ it was as if a radiance came forth from his eyes and transformed
him into an awesome magnificence for a second. But he immediately resumed his
humble manner. ‘Thus you will do me a great favor by coming with me. I
absolutely need somebody and I choose you, because I desire your well-being.
Meet me tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you from noon until four in the afternoon
in the Small Square, at the café which is near the blacksmiths’ shops.’
“With these words he
vanished.
“When I woke up the next morning,
at first there was not a trace of the dream in my mind. But after I had washed
and sat down to breakfast, it returned to my memory and seemed quite strange to
me. ‘If only it had been real,’ I said to myself, and then forgot it.
“I went on the country outing and
had a very good time. We were quite numerous – some thirty men and women – and
in unusually high spirits, but I will spare you the details for they have no
bearing on my subject.”
Here my friend D. observed: “Nor
is it necessary. For I, at least, am familiar with them. Unless I’m mistaken, I
was on that outing.”
“Were you? I don’t remember you.”
“Wasn’t that the outing Marcos G.
organized before finally leaving for England?”
“Yes, that’s right. Then you
remember how much we enjoyed ourselves. A happy time. Or rather, a time gone
by. It comes to the same. But getting back to the gist of my story – I returned
from the fête quite tired and quite late. I barely had time to change clothes
and eat before going off to some friends, a family, where a kind of
card-playing evening party was underway and where I remained, playing until
half past two in the morning. I won a hundred and fifty francs and went home
very pleased. Consequently I went to bed with a light heart and fell asleep
instantly, the day’s fatigue not being a minor factor in this.
“No sooner had I fallen asleep,
however, than something strange happened to me. I saw a light on in the room
and was wondering why I hadn’t turned it off before going to bed, when I saw
coming from the back of the room – my room was quite large – from the location
of the door, a man whom I recognized immediately. He was wearing the same black
clothes and the same old straw hat. But he looked displeased, and said to me:
‘I waited for you this afternoon, from noon until four at the café. Why didn’t
you come? I offer to make your fortune, but you’re in no hurry? I will wait for
you again at the café this afternoon, from noon until four. Don’t fail to
come.’ Thereupon he vanished like the last time.
“But this time I woke up
terrified. The room was dark. I turned on the light. The dream had been so
real, so vivid that it left me astonished and shaken. I was cowardly enough to
go see if the door was locked. It was locked as usual. I looked at the clock.
It said half past three. I had gone to bed at three.
“I won’t conceal from you, and am
not in the least ashamed to admit to you, that I was very frightened. I was
afraid to close my eyes, lest I go back to sleep and see again my fantastic
guest. I remained seated in a chair, my nerves strained. At around five, day
began to break. I opened the window and watched the street as it awakened
slowly. A few doors had swung open, and a few very early milkmen and the first
bakers’ carts were passing by. The light somehow calmed me and I returned to
bed and slept until nine.
“When I woke up at nine and
recalled the trepidation of the night, the impression began to lose much of its
intensity. Indeed, I was amazed that I had become so upset. Everybody has
cauchemars and I had had many in my life. Besides, this was hardly a cauchemar.
It is true that I had had the same dream twice. What of it? To begin with, was
I certain of having dreamed it twice? Couldn’t I have dreamed that I had seen
the same man previously? But after examining my memory carefully, I dismissed
this notion. I was certain of having had the dream two nights ago. Yet what was
strange about that? The first dream, it seems, had been very vivid and had left
such a deep impression on me that I had it again. Here, however, my logic had a
hitch in it. For I did not recall that the first dream had made an impression
on me. Throughout the previous day I had not thought of it for an instant.
During the outing and reception in the evening I thought about everything
except the dream. What of it? Doesn’t it often happen that we dream of persons
whom we haven’t seen for many years, or whom we haven’t even thought of for
many years? It appears that their memory remains engraved somewhere within the
spirit and suddenly reappears in a dream. What, therefore, was strange about my
dreaming the same thing in the space of twenty-four hours, even if I hadn’t
thought of it during the day? I further told myself that perhaps I had read
about a hidden treasure, and that this had secretly worked upon my memory. But
regardless of how much I searched, I was unable to discover any such passage.
“Finally I grew tired of thinking
and began to dress. I had to attend a wedding, and my haste and the
concentration of my thoughts on what I would wear drove the dream from my mind
altogether. I then sat down to my breakfast and, to pass the hour, I picked up
and read a periodical published in Germany – the Hesperus, I believe.
“I attended the wedding where all
the fashionable society of the city had congregated. At that time I had many
acquaintances, and because of this after the ceremony I repeated an endless
number of times that the bride was very pretty, only slightly pale, that the
groom was a fine young man, as well as rich, and the like. The wedding ended
around eleven-thirty in the morning. When it was over I went to Bulkeley
Station to see a house that had been recommended to me and that I was about to
rent for a German family from Cairo who were planning to spend the summer in
Alexandria. The house was in fact airy and well laid out, but not as large as I
had been told. All the same I promised the proprietress to recommend the place
as being suitable. She thanked me profusely, and to arouse my pity she related
all her misfortunes to me – how and when her late husband had died, how she had
even visited Europe, how she was not the sort of woman who rents her house, how
her father had been the doctor of I don’t recall which pasha, etc. This
obligation fulfilled, I returned to town. I arrived home at one in the
afternoon and ate with a hearty appetite. After I was through lunch and had
drunk my coffee, I went out to visit a friend of mine who resided in a hotel
near the Paradise Café, so that we might arrange something for the afternoon.
It was the month of August and the sun was scorching hot. I was walking down
Shereef Pasha Street slowly to keep from perspiring. The street, as always at
this hour, was deserted. I encountered only a lawyer with whom I was
transacting business relevant to the sale of a small lot in Moharrem Bey. It
was the last piece of a rather large ground-plot that I was selling bit by bit,
thus covering part of my expenses. The lawyer was an honest man, and this is
why I chose him. Only he was talkative. Better he had cheated me a little than
pestered me with his rambling. He launched into an endless harangue on the
slightest pretext – he talked to me about commercial law, Roman law, dragged in
Justinius, mentioned old lawsuits of his from Smyrna, praised himself,
explained a thousand equally irrelevant things to me, and all the while held on
to my clothes, something I abhor. I was forced to endure the chatter of this
ridiculous person, because every so often when the course of his babbling ran
dry, I would inquire about the sale which was of vital interest to me. These
efforts were taking me out of my way, but I stayed with him. We passed the
sidewalk of the Stock Exchange on Consul Square, we passed the small street
that connects the Big and the Small Square, and finally by the time we reached
the center of the Small Square, I had obtained all the information I wanted and
my lawyer, remembering that he had to pay a call on a client who lived in the
area, took his leave of me. I stood for a moment and watched him retreat,
cursing his babbling which in so much heat and sun had made me go out of my
way.
“I was about to retrace my steps
and walk to Paradise Café Street when all of a sudden the idea that I should be
in the Small Square struck me as odd. I asked myself why, then remembered my
dream. ‘This is where the famous owner of the treasure told me to meet him,’ I
thought to myself and smiled, and mechanically I turned my head toward the site
of some blacksmiths’ shops.
“Horrors! There was a small café
and there he sat. My first reaction was a sort of dizziness and I thought I was
going to fall down. I leaned against a stall and looked at him again. The same
black clothes, the same straw hat, the same features, the same gaze. He was
staring at me intently. My nerves stiffened so, that I felt liquid iron had
been poured into me. The idea that it was noonday – that people kept passing by
who were unconcerned and under the assumption that nothing extraordinary was
happening, while I, only I, knew that the most horrible thing was happening,
that a ghost was seated over there, possessing who knows what powers and
arising from what Hell, from what Erebus – paralyzed me, and I started to
tremble. The ghost did not lift his gaze from me. I was now overcome with
terror lest he stand up and approach me, lest he speak to me, lest he take me
with him, and what human power could come to my defense against him! I flung
myself into a carriage, giving the driver some remote address, I don’t recall
where.
“When I had collected myself
somewhat, I saw that we had almost arrived at Sidi Gabir. A little calmer, I started
to examine the matter. I ordered the driver to return to town. ‘I’m mad,’ I
thought, ‘surely I was mistaken. It must have been someone who resembled the
man in my dream. I must go back to find out for certain. In all probability
he’s left, and this will be proof that it wasn’t the same man, because he had
told me that he will wait for me until four.’
“With these thoughts I arrived at
the Zizinia Theater; and there, summoning all my courage, I ordered the driver
to take me to the Small Square. As we approached the café, I felt my heart
beating to the point of snapping. I had the driver stop a short distance away
from it, pulling his arm so violently that he nearly fell from his seat,
because I saw that he was drawing very near the café, and because… because the
ghost was still there.
“I then began to subject him to
close scrutiny, trying to find some dissimilarity with the man in the dream, as
if the fact that I was sitting in a carriage and subjecting him to close
scrutiny – something anyone else would have misinterpreted and demanded an
explanation for – were not enough to convince me that it was he. On the
contrary, he returned my gaze with an equally scrutinizing gaze and with a
countenance full of anxiety for the decision with which I was faced. It seemed
that he intuited my thoughts, as he had intuited them in my dream, and to
dispel any doubts as to his identity, he thrust his left hand toward me and
shoed me – showed me so clearly that I feared the driver would notice – the
emerald ring that had impressed me in my first dream.
“I screamed in terror and told
the driver, who now began to feel uneasy about his client’s health, to drive to
Ramleh Avenue. My only aim was to get away. When we reached Ramleh Avenue, I
told him to head for St. Stephen’s, but as I could see that the driver was
hesitating and mumbling to himself, I got out and paid him. I stopped another
carriage and had it take me to St. Stephen’s.
“I arrived there in a dreadful
state, entered the main hall of the Casino and, seeing myself in the mirror,
was appalled. I was as pale as a corpse. Fortunately the main hall was empty. I
fell onto a divan and began to think of what I was going to do. To return home
again was impossible. To return to that room where he had entered as a
supernatural Shadow, he whom shortly before I had seen sitting at an ordinary
café in the form of a real man, was out of the question. I was being illogical,
for of course he had the power to hunt me down anywhere. But already for some
time now I had been thinking incoherently.
“Finally I came to a decision.
This was to turn my friend G. V., who at the time was living at Moharrem Bey.”
“Which G. V.,” I asked, “That
eccentric who spent his time studying magic?”
“The very one – and this played a
part in my choice. How I managed to take the train, how I arrived at Moharrem
Bey, looking right and left like a madman in fear that the ghost would reappear
next to me, how I stumbled into G. V.’s room – I remember only faintly and with
confusion. All I remember distinctly is that when I found myself with him, I
started to cry hysterically and to tremble all over as I related my horrible
adventure to him. G. V. calmed me and, half seriously, half jokingly, told me
not to be afraid; that the phantom would not dare to enter his house, or that,
even if it did, he would chase it away at once. He was familiar, he said, with
this type of supernatural apparitions and knew how to exorcise them. He further
implored me to believe that I no longer had cause to be afraid, because the
phantom had come to me with a specific purpose – the acquisition of the iron
box which, apparently, it was not in his power to obtain without the presence
and aid of a human. He had not achieved this purpose, and must already have
realized from my terror that there was no longer any hope of achieving it. He
undoubtedly would go on to persuade someone else. V. regretted only that I had
not informed him in time to intercede, so that he himself may have seen the
phantom and spoken to it; because, he added, in the History of Phantoms, the
appearance of these spirits or demons in broad daylight is extremely rare. But
I found none of this reassuring. I spent a very restless night and the next
morning I woke with a fever. The doctor’s ignorance and the excitation of my nervous
system were the cause of a cerebral fever from which I nearly died. When I came
to recover somewhat, I asked to know what day it was. I had fallen ill on
August third and assumed that it was the seventh or the eighth. It was the
second of September.
“A small trip to an island in the
Aegean hastened and completed my convalescence. I remained for the entire
duration of my illness in the house of my friend V., who cared for me with that
kindheartedness you both know. He was annoyed with himself, however, for not
having had character enough to dismiss the doctor and to cure me through magic,
which I also believe, in this instance at least, would have cured me just as
quickly as the doctor did.
“See, my friends, the opportunity
I had to become a millionaire – but I didn’t dare. I didn’t dare, and I don’t
regret it.”
Here Alexander stopped. The deep
conviction and utter simplicity with which he had related his story prohibited
us from making any comments about it. Besides, it was twenty-seven minutes past
midnight. And since the last train for town left at twelve-thirty, we were
obliged to bid him good-bye and take our leave hurriedly.
________________________________________
*This story was published in
Modern Greek Short Stories, Odysseas, 1993.
