The Neck
by
A Legend of a Lake.
On a certain lake there once lived a Neck, or Water Sprite, who desired, above all things, to obtain a human soul. Now when the sun shone this Neck rose up and sat upon the waves and played upon his harp. And he played so sweetly that the winds stayed to listen to him, and the sun lingered in his setting, and the moon rose before her time. And the strain was in praise of immortality.
Furthermore, out of the lake there rose a great rock, whereon dwelt an aged hermit, who by reason of his loneliness was afflicted with a spirit of melancholy; so that when the fit was on him, he was constantly tempted to throw himself into the water, for his life was burdensome to him. But one day, when this gloomy madness had driven him to the edge of the rock to cast himself down, the Neck rose at the same moment, and sitting upon a wave, began to play. And the strain was in praise of immortality. And the melody went straight to the heart of the hermit as a sunbeam goes into a dark cave, and it dispelled his gloom, and he thought all to be as well with him as before it had seemed ill. And he called to the Neck and said, “What is that which thou dost play, my son?”
And the Neck answered, “It is in praise of immortality.”
Then said the hermit, “I beg that thou wilt play frequently beneath this rock; for I am an aged and solitary man, and by reason of my loneliness, life becomes a burden to me, and I am tempted to throw it away. But by this gracious strain the evil has been dispelled. Wherefore I beg thee to come often and to play as long as is convenient. And yet I cannot offer thee any reward, for I am poor and without possessions.”
Then the Neck replied, “There are treasures below the water as above, and I desire no earthly riches. But if thou canst tell me how I may gain a human soul, I will play on till thou shalt bid me cease.”
And the hermit said, “I must consider the matter. But I will return to-morrow at this time and answer thee.”
Then the next day he returned as he had said, and the Neck was waiting impatiently on the lake, and he cried, “What news, my father?”
And the hermit said, “If that at any time some human being will freely give his life for thee, thou wilt gain a human soul. But thou also must die the selfsame day.”
“The short life for the long one!” cried the Neck; and he played a melody so full of happiness that the blood danced through the hermit’s veins as if he were a boy again. But the next day when he came as usual the Neck called to him and said, “My father, I have been thinking. Thou art aged and feeble, and at the most there are but few days of life remaining to thee. Moreover, by reason of thy loneliness even these are a burden. Surely there is none more fit than thou to be the means of procuring me a human soul. Wherefore I beg of thee, let us die to-day.”
But the hermit cried out angrily, “Wretch! Is this thy gratitude? Wouldst thou murder me?”
“Nay, old man,” replied the Neck, “thou shalt part easily with thy little fag-end of life. I can play upon my harp a strain of such surpassing sadness that no human heart that hears it but must break. And yet the pain of that heartbreak shall be such that thou wilt not know it from rapture. Moreover, when the sun sets below the water, my spirit also will depart without suffering. Wherefore I beg of thee, let us die to-day.”