There was nothing for it but for Peter to go to the inn and have food sent in. But I had the devil's own job to get him to do it. His character lacks decision.
I made him take two or three sniffs of snow. That put him right, and now he's gone off to the inn.
I'm very glad to be alone. I always felt those servants were spying. The house is delightfully quiet.
As I write there are two beautiful people looking over my shoulder. They have been sent to watch over me and guide me, and prepare me for the great destiny which is in store for me.
Here comes Peter with the waiter and a tray. I must hide this book. The secrets of the spiritual life must be kept from the profane.
It's all right. Peter is my soul-mate after all. We couldn't eat much. It's only natural; all base appetites have to be killed out before one is ready to go on. Peter ate very little himself; and then he said:
" I know why we couldn't get the Devil to come the other night. It was having those servants about. I remember now that grandfather only had two in the house, and he used to send them away when he had anything big on. Let's see what we can do to-night."
That was delightful. That was his old self.
We thought it would be a good plan to coke up pretty hard before starting.
Chapter VI.
Cold Turkey
Seplember 23
I Don't remember what happened. I know why. Basil told me long ago that the mind only kept count of material things. So these spiritual events are recorded in a higher kind of mind of which we are not conscious until we get accustomed to spiritual life. So all I can put down is that we had a complete success.
The Devil, of course, needs a human interpreter if he is to communicate with this world, and so he took possession of Peter. He has been preparing Peter to represent him. He will make Peter pope, and I am to be in the Vatican disguised, to help him because he can't do without me.
My own spiritual guide is named Keletiel. She is a wonderful being, wears peacock blues and greens. She has white wings like a swan, and carries a sheaf of many-coloured flowers. She has long, loose, black curling hair down to her waist. There is a golden band round her forehead, studded with sapphires, with her name on it. I can always tell her by this.
There has to be a token, because she changes her size so much. Sometimes she is a tiny thing, not up to my knee, and sometimes she is two or three times as high as the North Tower.
Peter and I are covered with blood. We came out of the circle before the Devil had gone, and he scratched us all to pieces. Luckily we got back before he killed us, but we lost consciousness and woke up a long while later. That's why we can't remember what happened.
I have some idea that I had a terrible quarrel with Peter, but I can't remember any details.
I think he does, though, but he won't tell me.
I don't know why he should act like that. The only thing I can think is that Gretel Webster may have come down to see him perhaps in her astral body, and put him against me somehow....
He was lying on the sofa in his pyjamas. I wanted to be kissed, and went over to him with some cocaine. But he didn't move. He looked at me with wide open eyes. There was some dreadful fear in them, and he said,
" Black, the plague of the pit, Her pustules visibly fester."
Of course, I knew he didn't mean it, but I was hurt. I gave him the cocaine.
It roused him. He sat up and then he held me by the shoulders and looked straight at my face and said
" Dragon of lure and dread, Tiger of fury and lust,
The quick in chains to the dead, The slime alive in the dust, Brazen shame like a flame An orgy of pregnant pollution With hate beyond aim or nameOrgasm, death, dissolution! "
And then he began shrieking, and ran out of the house down to the lake and dived right in. He swam a few strokes and then came out and walked slowly up to the house.
I found some towels in the linen chest. I was afraid of his catching a chill, so I rubbed him hard all over. He seemed to have forgotten everything. He was quite nice and normal but just a little scared.
I can't make out what's the matter with him. He acts as if he had learnt some terrible secret which he had to keep from me. He always seems afraid of being spied on or overheard.
I went up to the magic room to-night. Peter was sitting in the old man's chair writing in a book. I couldn't understand it at first. I had come straight up, and he was fast asleep downstairs! Then, of course, the whole mystery became clear.
While he's asleep, his astral double comes up and does magic. I knew it was very dangerous to disturb any one's astral double, so I tiptoed out of the room ; but the double followed me noiselessly. Every time I looked over my shoulder he was there, though he was very quick at dodging back round the corner or into a doorway....
Peter has been very preoccupied for some time. He writes out telegrams on forms, and then tears them up ; and then he seems to think that isn't safe, and picks the pieces up and burns them. I asked him about it ; but he would say nothing, and got very angry.
I think I know what it is, though. I found a sheet of paper which he had forgotten to destroy-a letter to the War Office, warning them against German plots, and telling some things that have happened down here. I could hardly read it ; his handwriting is absolutely gaga.
He talks a great deal to himself. I overheard some of it. He thinks there may be a German spy in the War Office and is afraid to trust the post or telegraph.
He kept on saying, " I'm at my wits' end." Then he went off into muttering about the plots against him.
I am sure I could help him out if he would only trust me. I wonder if it's all delusion on his part. He certainly has some funny ideas.
For one thing, he pretends to see spiritual guides, which is impossible, because he is not pure enough. Besides, the things he says he sees are all horrible and disgusting.
But he says nothing at all now, any more. He begins to speak to me and checks himself....
It is very dark to-night. Rain is falling. Peter has gone down to the lake with his gun.
I have taken this book from its hiding place. I am horribly frightened.
I had no appetite at lunch, and Peter wouldn't eat. He burst out in a hysterical appeal to me, reminded me of our love, and said he couldn't believe it was all a sham. Why had I gone into the plot to drive him to death ? He doesn't eat, because he thinks the food is poisoned; and when he saw that I wasn't eating, it convinced him that I was in the plot against him.
I tried to tell him this was all nonsense. I told him that I was not in any plot against him. It didn't set his mind at ease. I had to tell him my great secret that I am the woman clothed with the sun in the Book of Revelations, and that he must protect me.
I proved to him that this was the only explanation. The reason why he couldn't live with me as my husband was that my angel had told me that I was going to bring the Messiah into the world.
We went into a heated argument. I don't remember what happened ; but as usual, it turned into a quarrel.
One must be concentrated on the spiritual life, so the slightest interruption from the senses, if it's only the wind in the trees, is a terribly irritating thing.
" Satan is the prince of the power of the air," it says in the Bible, so he sends these noises in the air to disturb my mind.
How can I give birth to the Messiah if I am not caught up into the