Gibran Stories Omnibus

back to me a dear old friend of mine
in the person of his son.” Selma stared at me a moment as if doubting
that a visitor could have entered their house. Her hand, when I touched
it, was like a white lily, and a strange pang pierced my heart.
      We all sat silent as if Selma had brought into the room with her
heavenly spirit worthy of mute respect. As she felt the silence she
smiled at me and said,” Many a times my father has repeated to me the
stories of his youth and of the old days he and your father spent
together. If your father spoke to you in the same way, then this
meeting is not the first one between us.”
      The old man was delighted to hear his daughter talking in such a
manner and said, “Selma is very sentimental. She sees everything
through the eyes of the spirit.” Then he resumed his conversation with
care and tact as if he had found in me a magic which took him on the
wings of memory to the days of the past.
      As I considered him, dreaming of my own later years, he looked upon
me, as a lofty old tree that has withstood storms and sunshine throws
its shadow upon a small sapling which shakes before the breeze of dawn.
      But Selma was silent. Occasionally, she looked first at me and then
at her father as if reading the first and last chapters of life's
drama. The day passed faster in that garden, and I could see through
the window the ghostly yellow kiss of sunset on the mountains of
Lebanon. Farris Effandi continued to recount his experiences and I
listened entranced and responded with such enthusiasm that his sorrow
was changed to happiness.
      Selma sat by the window, looking on with sorrowful eyes and not
speaking, although beauty has its own heavenly language, loftier than
he voices of tongues and lips. It is a timeless language, common to all
humanity, a calm lake that attracts the singing rivulets to its depth
and makes them silent.
      Only our spirits can understand beauty, or live and grow with it. It
puzzles our minds; we are unable to describe it in words; it is a
sensation that our eyes cannot see, derived from both the one who
observes and the one who is looked upon. Real beauty is a ray which
emanates from the holy of holies of the spirit, and illuminates the
body, as life comes from the depths of the earth and gives colour and
scent to a flower.
      Real beauty lies in the spiritual accord that is called love which
can exist between a man and a woman.
      Did my spirit and Selma's reach out to each other that day when we
met, and did that yearning make me see her as the most beautiful woman
under the sun? Or was I intoxicated with the wine of youth which made
me fancy that which never existed.?
      Did my youth blind my natural eyes and make me imagine the
brightness of her eyes, the sweetness of her mouth, and the grace of
her figure? Or was it that her brightness, sweetness, and grace opened
my eyes and showed me the happiness and sorrow of love?
      It is hard to answer these questions, but I say truly that in that
hour I felt an emotion that I had never felt before, a new affection
resting calmly in my heart, like the spirit hovering over the waters at
the creation of the world, and from that affection was born my
happiness and my sorrow. Thus ended the hour of my first meeting with
Selma, and thus the will of Heaven freed me from the bondage of youth
and solitude and let me walk in the procession of love.
      Love is the only freedom in the world because it so elevates the
spirit that the laws of humanity and the phenomena of nature do not
alter its course.
      As I rose from my seat to depart, Farris Effandi came close to me
and said soberly, “Now my son, since you know your way to this house,
you should come often and feel that you are coming to your father's
house. Consider me as a father and Selma as a sister.” Saying this, he
turned to Selma as if to ask confirmation of his statement. She nodded
her head positively and then looked at me as one who has found an old
acquaintance.
      Those words uttered by Farris Effandi Karamy placed me side by side
with his daughter at the altar of love. Those words were a heavenly
song which started with exaltation and ended with sorrow; they raised
our spirits to the realm of light and searing flame; they were the cup
from which we drank happiness and bitterness.
      I left