The Obscure Library
Translation of "El Puñal", by Leopoldo Lugones
The translation of the short story "El Puñal" by Leopoldo Lugones was made and is copyrighted by Victoria Fattore. If you wish to publish this translation elsewhere, please contact me at theobscurelibrary@gmail.com.
The Dagger
I
Never before had my laborious solitude proved as fruitful as in that morning. Through my own means, I indeed found the secret word of the Druze initiates, the imperative anagram of the conclave with which they intended to call upon another by mental influence, in spite of both distance and obstacles – the true golden key of the formidable brotherhood – the disciples of the Old Man of the Mountain.
No one ignores the mysterious, so obscure as to be legendary, existence of this Order of Assassins, which during the 11th to 13th centuries terrorised the Muslim Orient, establishing themselves even among the crusaders until among themselves they gave rise to the Templar brotherhood, which is no less enigmatic to the history of Christendom.
Difficult studies of its darkly romantic character and of its founder, the Old Man of the Mountain, led me to this more chimerical than historical result, which however was more interesting to a poet. More precisely, the Old Man of the Mountain was the schoolmate of the famous Persian bard Omar Khayam…
The fruit, therefore, of strenuous labour, which was not without its perils, according to what I had been warned of by the Egyptian Mansur Bey as if in passing, when he referenced the story I titled "The eyes of the queen"; I think it is useless to add how intensely happy it made me.
I mentioned perils, since they are present in all explorations of the mysterious, even when they comprise only the unease of the soul or the excessive tension of rational thought, besides also the possible influx of unknown forces. Thus the discoverer of gunpowder became the victim of his own invention, and Riemann, the genius mathematician of spherical space, fell into the abyss of madness.
Moreover, my study combined my preference for research topics whose absolute lack of interest was in itself a negative luxury – that is, the splendid futility of a productive mind which supports itself with what it does not gain – with a love for adventure that could be said to taunt destiny… I hasten to add that this self-assessment, which as a matter of fact is already concluded, explains some of the difficulties inherent to this tale.
I do not intend to disappear in it by making use of an impersonal narrative, whose efficacy I recognise, because this is not actually a novel, but a story.
A fatalist by temperament and experience, I fearlessly violated the known prescription of not carelessly speaking secret words, where a phonetic blunder might turn them against the speaker, and repeatedly uttered the possible sound of the one I had discovered: when voiced it was curiously similar to the famous monosyllable "ohm" of hindu theosophists. Yet everyone knows that all of the occult fraternities of the Orient have common points of intersection.
I was occupied with this when, to my great surprise, given the strict instructions for maintaining the isolation that safeguards my morning work, the maid announced a visitor.
–Heavens, Maggie –I exclaimed impatiently–, didn't I tell you that…
–Yes, sir, I have turned him away twice; but the gentleman seems to be quite upset, and he says that he comes at the behest of emir Arslan.
–The emir? This is another matter altogether–I consented, not without wondering about this unexpected interruption of my discipline, which my prudent friend knows and respects with the strictness of a hard-working man.
No doubt this is something serious –I thought; and trusting that the silent reproach of my writings with still drying ink and open books would shorten this bothersome visit:
–Let him in –I said.
II
The stranger, who appeared to be about forty-two and had a friendly, elegant, and understated appearance, hesitated slightly at the door.
Maybe he was taken aback by some hint of animosity in my expression, which I hastened to correct out of politeness; and I attribute this brief concern to a vague impression of having heard him murmur in Arabic while he took the seat I had offered:
–Asáhu jairón! (now that's better).
After that he raised his voice, which was manly and direct, yet very soft, and spoke to me in slightly guttural Spanish:
–Pardon me, sir, for having improperly invoked the name of the emir, our friend. The truth is that I have come for my own sake, or rather yours. Since you know of the Holy Fidelity, you know perfectly well that I am answering your call.
And, on seeing my surprise, which I did not try to hide:
–You may have dreamt of it last night; but this morning you uttered it awake. I thought something was threatening you. Thus I insisted on seeing you.
I felt a sense of astonishment, which was closer to reverence than fear.
The secret word had indeed come to me as I woke, just like the lessons we forget as children and dejectedly go to bed, only to end up learning them in our sleep.
The stranger added simply:
–It was not a lucky guess or the result of your studious dedication, which in other respects is highly commendable. It has a more remote origin, as you will see for yourself. However, please allow me to ask you something. You must be a Spaniard of non-mixed race. This usually indicates some Arabic ancestry. Does your first name correspond to the saint shown on the calendar on the day of your birth?
–No; it was the idea of my godmother.
–An idea is always a revelation. Thus you have in your name the double L initials that correspond to your astrological sign (Gemini, isn't it?), and, repeated by its phonetic content, the influence of Leo, which signifies the preeminence of violence in your destiny.
–Confirmed –I added, showing him the palm of my left hand with cheerful, whimsical abandon– by the double sign of violent death…
The stranger stared intensely at the crisp web of lines on my palm. –And also with the sign of the dagger in the valley of Saturn! Good grief, Mr. Lugones–he added, laughing–, your case could be concerning.
–Why?–I interrupted. –If it is really fated, it is pointless to oppose the inevitable.
My calm demeanor, which had been shaken for an instant, had returned, and it impelled me to launch a sort of counter-attack to my disconcerting interlocutor.
It was only then that I was able to notice something no less strange:
Why was I answering his impertinently unusual questions without being bothered?
The appearance of my visitor was enough to explain it. As I mentioned, he did not look to be over forty-two, even though he was doubtlessly much older; but his real age could not be fathomed.
He was evidently someone who had mastered the mysteries, and who makes a permanent impression on whoever sees them, even in passing.
Under wavy hair of intense duskiness, his forehead rose with serene vigour, seemingly luminous with sensitivity, as if it had been made transparent as clear alabaster by his thoughts, which inflamed his dark, gold-speckled eyes with an irresistible splendour. The nose, of almost Greek straightness, accentuated with its assertive lines the solidity of his face, which was sculpted by its intensely gaunt appearance. Jowls and cheekbones, closely together, were outlined under the fluid tranquility of his beard. The entirety of his large face conveyed a strong expression, which was defined with the sharp clarity given to the sword by its edge. His countenance, which was internally consumed by the ardour of the spiritual flame, was animated by the variegated metallic and leathery aspect of branches withered by the sun. A most serene nobility made him stand apart, yet this isolation was not severe, but rather dignified the authority of the slow hand that smoothed his beard with a fluid gesture.
Only the downturned corners of his mouth showed the bitter desolation of defeat. However, this feature altered the whole expression with such intensity, that it instilled in me a painful cordiality. It created a greater closeness, humanising this distant man.
Distant indeed, as if he were constantly coming closer without ever arriving, from the depths of a mirror.
III
–Fate –he said, referring to my words with deep sadness–, is what drives me to implore your help in favour of an innocent.
And without awaiting my reply:
–According to your studies, do you believe that the term "assassin", which was used by Western chroniclers to refer to the members of the Holy Fidelity, is correct?
–Certainly not–I answered. –It is a well-known mistake related to the Arabic term "hashishin", or the taker of "hashish", and the criminal system that was attributed to its members, due to their sinister title of the "Knights of the Dagger".
–And do you know why they took "hashish" and always carried a dagger with them?
–Regarding the dagger, I do indeed, yet about the "hashish", no, unless I accept the legend according to which the initiates were inebriated in order to give them an anticipated impression of Paradise, putting them in the same situation as the "waking sleeper" of the Thousand and One Nights…
My visitor smiled disdainfully.
–And the dagger?–he asked.
–The dagger was a precaution against hostile shadowy powers: sharp steel, like of the Indian Sikhs; and as a patriotic need, given the nationalistic character of the brotherhood.
–I had no idea that you had unraveled so much of the secret of the doctrine. Desperate patriotism, indeed!
"We were no more than a hundred thousand to defend the Fatimid Orient against the invasion of the crusaders, the reaction of the Abbasids, which were so powerful in Baghdad, and the usurpation of the Ayyubids, commanded by none other than Saladin, who defeated Richard the Lionheart."
"Impotent in the face of such numbers, outside of our fortified mountains, the defense of our homeland demanded executions by dagger."
"Thus we only chose the leaders."
"Enemy kings, sultans, ministers: these were the victims of the Holy Fidelity."
"Assassins, maybe, always heroes, frequently martyrs; no member ever avoided peril or gave in to torment."
"Forced to execute the powerful in public fairs and ceremonies, which were the only way of getting close to them, by simulating the enthusiasm of the admirer, the devotion of the convert, the dedication of the servant, the adept knew that after his avenging thrust, his own death would certainly follow."
"No-one ever shirked their terrible duty."
"And what was offered in return? What could an order, which was condemned to death by the powers of the earth, offer them; isolated in fortresses on mountains impassable even to the eagles; abstinent from wine and all personal property besides their weapons and the clothes they wore, and a respect towards women which was closer to worship…"
"No Muslim, and they are many, can be compared to them regarding the latter. Woman, even if adulterous, is sacred to the Druze."
"The legend of the 'hashish', which anticipated the sensual excess and the kisses of the houris, is thus absurd: a child's game, inconceivable to the brave and wise which turned the first great lodge, called the House of Wisdom, into an veritable academy of sciences, famous throughout the Orient."
"A free school where all profane sciences could be learned, with an annual income of two hundred and fifty thousand gold dinars. In the beginning of the 11th century, sir, when in barbarous Europe no king possessed this sum!"
–Was it not–I inquired with a certain impertinent pedantry–, that academy in Cairo, whose sessions were presided by the caliphs, and whose doctoral mantles are used until now in English universities?
–The one with the green flag, the oldest in the world –confirmed my visitor, taking out of his pocket an old ribbon of the same colour, covered in faded golden letters.
In that instant, a brisk autumn breeze came impetuously through the window beside him.
However, to my great astonishment, the ribbon that hung from his fingers stayed unmoving as if it were a wooden plank. I had seen as it was unfurled, and yet my papers still trembled from the strong wind.
Nevertheless, I was able to restrain my surprise while he matter-of-factly rolled up the pennant.
–The initiation proscribed the "hashish" upon reaching the third grade, with the objective of putting the adept into a trance in order to receive the communication of certain occult powers.
"It was no different from the 'kikeón', which was taken by the initiates of the mysteries of Eleusis; and the Christians consecrate with wine, which is also an intoxicating beverage. In the second century they were accused of mystical inebriation, just like 'our' brothers nine hundred years later."
Whence did I get the mad idea in this moment that, despite his modern appearance, this man had seen what he had talked about?
Was it his remote expression, the certainty of his words, the singular incident of the flag?...
I don't know. However, that "our brothers" of his last sentence had certainly bothered me; since, not even due to a mistake of speech, a connection with the, so to speak, classic assassins did not agree with me.
I started to deduce, maybe too late, the nature of the risk of which I was warned by Manzur Bey.
My interlocutor immediately understood; and after gazing at me with such intensity that it gave me the impression of a vague flash of scarlet, he answered in mental sympathy:
–Knowing history is equivalent to living it, since time is an illusion of our temporary personality, like the retreating landscape in front of a moving vehicle.
And in the same deeply resounding tone:
–What differentiated us among secret fraternities, with the only exception of the hindu Sikhs, what was at the same time our strength and our weakness, was what we imposed as the condition for initiation, the purity of the blood.
"A man may not obtain the grades unless his mother and father are Druze, except for certain very rare cases of self-initiation, which indeed reveal unknown affinities. However, these individuals are unable to discover more than a few odd keys: the anagram of evocation, for example…"
"Only thus –he continued– is an infallible unity achieved, through the rebirth of the same souls in the same community for thousands of years; for in reincarnation there are also crossbreedings and bastards. And yet, in the same way, we were reduced to the handful that we are today."
"It is the perfection of nobility that was imposed, certainly not because of pride, by the Old Man of the Mountain, the great Hasan Sabah, who, even though he was more powerful than kings, never used his title nor was flattered by any praises in the savage austerity of his mountain castle, whose name itself was a symbol: Al-Mout, death."
"There in his eagle's aerie he perished after forty years of dominion, with no more possessions than two linen shirts and a robe made of dromedary fur, facing the sky, on the naked rock."
IV
Again I had the clear impression that I was listening to an actual witness. This also increased the contradictory impression that he was at the same time near and far away.
–The name of "assassins", which was given to us by invaders and usurpers, was thus as slanderous as the accusation of ungodliness.
"You certainly know that the final secret of our doctrine teaches the equality of all religions in their common purpose of practical morality, and the revelation of God in each soul through benevolence: God is in yourself."
"Thus the supreme object of virtue is man. The practice of human fraternity is worth more than all ritual practices, including charity and chastity. Truth is superior to prayer. Work is the supreme dignity of life."
"Here is the heresy of which we were accused by the Christian and Muslim fanatics."
"Entirely devoted to the defense of the homeland, we acted in conformity to our true designation as the 'Fedavi': the sacrificed. Because our vow of loyalty entailed absolute abnegation."
"This is the origin of our colours: the white of the unlimited sacrifice and the red of the offering of our own blood, which gives rise to supreme generosity."
"This is what the crusaders learned in our initiation, which then was not closed, the crusaders which later became the Knights Templar: the ones of the white surcoat and scarlet cross."
"Thus remained the traces in the surnames and crests in Europe which, as is well known, took these emblems from the Orient."
"The Sidneys of England have the name that we gave to the first degree of initiation and to the Old Man of the Mountain: 'Sidna', our lord."
"The heraldic crescent, with the tips pointing upward, which we took from Egypt, where it was the pharaonic symbol of power, is present in the shield of the d'Anglure of the Vosges and of the Lunones of Asturias, who I think were your ancestors…"
But my incredulous smile, after hearing what seemed to me a trite heraldic mention, made him aware of the importance I accord to such fantastical vainglories.
–Be it as it may –he added, slightly hesitating–, there were many templar initiations which this order kept secret, especially when they were more strongly persecuted. The daggers belonged to these true executors, and only very rare specimens have survived until our own time, being of the type called Nakkashal-Móut, the chiseler of death, which was only made by the Asian 'fedavis'.
"Thus I found the one I possess in the ramshackle shop of a jew in Angoulême." He courteously passed me the weapon, which I examined with interest.
It was a triangular blade of about fifteen centimetres, so smooth that its fourfold fuller was flattened by the clarity of a single reflection.
However, what made it an impressive piece of extraordinary merit was its bronze hilt.
Its guard was composed of a tombstone eroded by time, on whose exterior its probably European owner had later engraved, with crude lines, the words ci-git (here lies), a square with a central point, the symbol of judgment, and a fallen torch.
The grip was a skeleton which walked with a slanted gait on the tombstone, holding its shroud over its bony shoulder with its left hand while the right, down by the hips, hid among the folds of the funereal cloth a dagger at the ready to cause harm.
Its anatomy, of astonishing perfection, even showed the detailed form of the spinal column in the obscure cavity of the thorax, floating in that cavity where the light obliquely crossed the hollow of the throat and the intercostal space. The sacrum, pelvis, the bones of the leg which were uncovered, the arms and the hands, all were equally well sculpted.
Under the opening of the shroud, the skull's wide smile was horrendous. The cloth fell behind it in ample folds of sinister elegance.
And yet, despite all the carvings and reliefs, the grip was remarkably comfortable to hold.
Without reducing in any way the anatomical rigour and poise of the figure, each of its crevices cradled the natural position of each finger, no matter if the dagger was held forward or backwards.
–Incredible!–I exclaimed.
–If you gaze intently at the blade –the visitor added– and think without distraction of an absent person, soon you will see them, as if they were beside you.
–As in the black mirrors –I said, recalling the spheres of obscure varnish which are used for this purpose by the Chinese and Japanese.
–Precisely –he said.
Thus, it didn't arouse any further curiosity on my part; however, I had the very natural impulse to look at him.
I noticed with astonishment that when I fixed my eyes on the dagger, his countenance disappeared. The blade did not reflect him in its unaltered clarity.
To collect myself without letting him notice, I evoked the figure of a friend, which was presented to me as expected. But he, taking the weapon from me delicately, continued:
–It was crucial–he said–to know your opinion about the assassins. Otherwise I would not risk the task which I want to propose to you. I would have limited myself to avoiding the consequences of a discovery which is only impelled by curiosity.
The cold decisiveness of this tone expressed a threat so plainly that, without failing to alarm me deeply, also aroused my indignation. However, all reproach died instantly on my lips.
The expression of the stranger bore a mortal anguish. His visible pain was so far removed from any offense, that any hostile suspicion was transformed into compassion.
His voice now sounded more friendly and hoarse:
–Please know –he said– that our veneration of women is due to considering them the fatal cause of all bliss and all suffering.
"It is not in vain that we originate from Fatima the Perfect, the blessed daughter of the Prophet."
"Because of this we are under the power of Woman, who, either as angel or demon, is the gateway to Paradise and Hell."
"And because of her we are, among all, the Knights of Beauty and Pain."
"In popular romance, which was passed down by the Arabs of Spain, the old truth still holds that, for the perfect knight, to love is to die."
"Thus, the only ones to obtain immortality are those who master the love of a woman."
"Such a person might appear once every hundred years!"
"Solomon, with all his wisdom, could not do it."
"The angels fell due to the love of woman, and the gods of compassion incarnate in the delight of her bosom."
"In her is the secret of all heroism and glory."
"Thus was born the Holy Fidelity of the 'fedavis', those sacrificed to unlimited bravery, and the Fatimid dynasty which in the person of Abu Famin gave to Islam the most glorious of its caliphs."
V
A dark flash crossed the face of my visitor, almost vanishing in the depths of his desolation:
–It happened one afternoon by the Gazelle Well, between Lebanon and Damascus.
"A druze maiden, which I recognised due to her gracious one-eyed veil which covered her face, was watering a chestnut mare. A magnificent animal, on whose right flank I noticed the same mark that my own horse bore: the kiffeh or pole crowned by a circle, which designated the Beni Rashid of Arabia."
"I entered into conversation with the young woman."
"When she recognised that I was a white sheik, that is, an initiate, she greeted me respectfully, yet looking straight at me with the serenity of true nobility."
"A celestial light, this interior clarity which can be so rarely seen in a gaze, filled her large blue eye nestled between dark lashes."
"Common people only see by the light that enters their eyes. But the ability to illuminate is reserved only for the pupils of angels."
"In the clear crepuscular sky the solitary moon reigned candidly."
"There approached the supreme hour of communication with souls and things, which could be called the ecstasy of the desert."
"As a cheek, the earth blushed, and like a face, the sky paled."
"The silence of this vastness held the immediacy of presence."
"The quietude possessed an awareness of infinite crystalline subtlety."
"The Great Breath of the world arose in the fragrant afternoon."
"A dark bird alighted on the palm by the well –and then and there the line of my fate was broken in eternity."
"Suddenly, with astonishing lucidity, I was aware of the certainty of my fall."
"In all the centuries, my day had come."
"Before me, a mystery was revealed which made the prophets tremble: the presence of an angel."
"The angel that every man has written in his destiny, but which he frequently is only able to find in the course of many lifetimes."
"Thus true love is such a rare occurrence."
"That being came to me in the form of an earthly woman, which is its most terrible guise, because it necessarily entails misfortune."
"And thus, on that day, when I submitted myself to the love of that woman, I accepted the law of death."
"My first step into the abyss was an uncontrollable desire to see her face, which I satisfied by dismounting with the pretext of watering my horse, with the true objective, however, of hiding behind it to look at my dagger's blade."
"Her face appeared with divine beauty in the tenderness of its youth."
"In our race, blue eyes and blond hair are not rare."
"However, even though the pupils of this creature resembled two great skydrops, her hair was a most gorgeous brown: this sombre hue, toasted by copper reflections, gave an oriental allure to the women of Byzantium and Sicily."
"Her delicate profile and graceful mouth heightened her angelic appearance."
"The oval of her face traced a line of beauty that only remained in the pure races, the unmistakable sign of superiority for the artist."
"In the abandon of her demeanour with which she loosened the bridle and waited for the animal to stop drinking, her head bent with the contemplative ease of a flower, which might be the most irresistible grace of the maiden."
"Languid sweetness held vaguely by the crepuscular blue, as incarnating in a lily."
"However, in her crystal clear countenance, in the wide intelligent brow, in the vibrant sensibility of her grace, the Lebanese lineage, older than the cedars of Solomon, was ennobled with naive pride; that heroic race which tears out its own lovesickness, plucking the lute with eagle feathers."
"Her name, determined by her horoscope, was Nur: Clarity; but she ignored the decree of the stars. Her parents, as I found out later, had concealed it to avoid her distress or disappearance, since it preceded both tragedy and glory."
"Tragedy!"
"I have reasons to believe that it is linked to my destiny; but the glory is the mystery that I need to silence, since in accepting the fatality of love I surrendered to the danger of death."
"This is what forces me to implore for your help."
"In order to ensure as much as possible the serenity of that soul, I expatriated myself, knowing, however, that destiny, already unleashed, would put her in my path again. The fundamental lines of her hand are the same as mine, indicating that our destinies are ruled by the same star."
"Destiny has been fulfilled. Nur is here."
"She has come accompanied by an Armenian lady in search of her brother, her only kin left by the last war against Türkiye."
"But when they found out, certain compatriots which reside here decided to prevent one of our women–for the first time in a thousand years, by God!–to compromise her expected role in the destiny of her race, abandoning her native land and uncovering her face to foreigners."
"You could never imagine what this means to the eagle-blooded mountain people of the cedars. Imagine two modest elders, merchants who barely lift their heads here, are willing to abandon everything to escort Nur back."
"The dilemma is set: either she returns on the same ship, or she will suffer the law of the dagger."
"My situation as a 'fallen one' prevents me from averting it. Only if she returns would I be able to accompany her hidden in the same boat, to avoid being seen by the elders that escort her."
"Thus, to save her life, I ultimately need to risk mine, either by dragging her towards the fatality of my love, if it, being stronger than I, plunges me into a crime hitherto avoided, or by fighting for the freedom of the Orient with the last of the fedavis, who lead the revolt in Afghanistan…"
–And how do you belive I can…–I interrupted him, overcome with his sorrowful gravitas.
–The old blood of the eagles speaks in Nur, who does not want to return.
"She would only obey emir Arslan, who, despite his voluntary exile, is the head of our nation."
–Then why don't you ask him yourself?
–Because the emir does not know me, since he is not and could never be an initiate. The leader of the druze by paternal line, his mother, even though she came from ancient arabic nobility, with the Prophet himself in her lineage, was not druze.
"I beg of you not to waste time, since the ship will set sail tomorrow."
"If you are unable to see the emir in person, I will take the liberty to give you, with a thousand pardons for my audacity, this draft of a persuasive letter."
VI
I laid eyes on the piece of paper he handed me.
It was a letter with a humanitarian plea, given the urgency of the issue, at the request of a friend who wanted to remain anonymous. While I read it slowly due to the strangeness of the request and the delicacy of the intervention that was asked of me, my visitor added with an increasingly muffled tone:
–If I die fighting on the Afghan border, in remembrance and in gratitude you will receive the dagger you have seen, and maybe also a behest.
I sharply raised my face to protest this arbitrary complication. But surprise pinned me to my seat.
My visitor had disappeared.
He had disappeared like a ghost, which I say without the pretence of avoiding romantic tawdriness.
I do not want, nor am I able to, make sense of this difficulty by deforming or literarily embellishing things when faced with the reader's incredulity.
I will add, to simply tell it all, without possessing the pretension ascribed to me, since in this case I would have easily written a credible tale, that thereupon I ran to the front door, unsuccessfully, as was to be expected.
However, after lunch, when I had completely recovered my peace of mind, I called upon the maid:
–Maggie, about the gentleman that came this morning…–I started.
Restrainedly, and certain to what seemed to her a distraction on my part, she added:
–Yes, sir; the messenger who brought the letter to the door.
I added some vague advice to overcome the astonishing trance and to be alone, as soon as possible.
For the one who had introduced the visitor herself, there had not been any visitor. But the draft, the true proof, upon my soul, was there, with all its letters.
Nonetheless, I wrote to the emir in the same terms, which despite my anguished resistance to humiliation were essential, and shortly after I received word from the man himself that the young druze woman was sailing to Beirut.
What became of the fantastical fedavi?
In the forsakenness of the high seas, did he consummate his tragedy as an "assassin"?
Did he fight with his allies of another time in the lands of remote Afghanistan?
Was not all of this an illusion of my mind, lead astray by the temptation of the "accursed sciences"?
A dream, maybe? A dialogue with a shadow?...
VII
Some time later, in a serene night twinkling with stars and permeated by a fragrant breeze, someone played, in the devout seclusion of the living room, a Beethoven sonata.
We were rocked by the musical wave in the celestial melancholy of perfect love, more divine, perhaps, because it cannot last, when after an intense section played with powerful zest, I thought I heard an object fall behind the piano.
Indeed, nothing had moved; but when the piece was done, the player observed:
–I thought I heard something fall while I played.
–It's probably nothing– I said.–An ashtray put there accidentally.
But, when everyone had left the room, I anxiously moved the piano.
My intuition had not deceived me. It was the dagger. The peculiar thing about it, my dear reader, is that the dagger is in my possession, as all the friends of my house know.
Yet it arrived "dead" to me, that is, with the blade completely dull.
Due to excess of use? Because it lost its magical properties? The fact remains that nothing is reflected in its grey steel splattered with several reddish spots.