The Argosy | Page 4

the fact
that in the case of both of us a similar, or nearly similar, agent was
employed for a similar purpose. But, as a rule, the intellectual
difference between any two men is sufficient to render their
experiences in this respect utterly dissimilar."
"It does not follow, I presume, that all the visions induced by the
imbibing of opium, or what you term drashkil, are pleasant ones?"
"By no means. You cannot have forgotten what De Quincey has to say
on that score. But whether they are pleasant or the contrary, I accept
them as so much experience, and in so far I am satisfied. You look
incredulous, but I tell you, sir, that what I see, and what I
undergo--subjectively--while under the influence of drashkil make up
for me an experience as real, that dwells as vividly in my memory and

that can be brought to mind like any other set of recollections, as if it
were built up brick by brick, fact by fact, out of the incidents of
everyday life. And all such experiences are valuable in this wise: that
whatever I see while under the influence of drashkil I see, as it were,
with the eyes of genius. I breathe a keener atmosphere; I have finer
intuitions; the brain is no longer clogged with that part of me which is
mortal; in whatever imaginary scenes I assist, whether actor or
spectator, matters not; I seem to discern the underlying meaning of
things--I hear the low faint beating of the hidden pulses of the world.
To come back from this enchanted realm to the dull realities of
everyday life is like depriving some hero of fairyland of his magic gifts
and reducing him to the level of common humanity."
"At which pleasant level I pray ever to be kept," said Ducie; "I have no
desire to soar into those regions of romance where you seem so
thoroughly at home."
"So be it," said Platzoff drily. "The intellects of you English have been
nourished on beef and beer for so many generations that there is no
such thing as spiritual insight left among you. We must not expect too
much." This was said not ill-naturedly, but in that quiet jeering tone
which was almost habitual with Platzoff.
Ducie maintained a judicious silence and went on puffing gravely at his
meerschaum. Platzoff touched the gong and Cleon entered, for this
conversation took place before the illness of the latter. The Russian
held up two fingers, and Cleon bowed. Then Cleon opened a mahogany
box in one corner of the room, and took out of it a pipe-bowl of red
clay, into which he fitted a flexible tube five or six yards in length and
tipped with amber. The bowl was then fixed into a stand of black oak
about a foot high and there held securely, and the mouthpiece handed to
Platzoff. Cleon next opened an inlaid box, and by means of a tiny silver
spatula he cut out a small block of some black, greasy-looking mixture,
which he proceeded to fit into the bowl of the pipe. On the top of this
he sprinkled a little aromatic Turkish tobacco, and then applied an
allumette. When he saw that the pipe was fairly alight, he bowed and
withdrew.

While these preparations were going on Platzoff had not been silent. "I
have spoken to you of what I am about to smoke, both as opium and
drashkil," he said. "It is not by any means pure opium. With that great
drug are mixed two or three others that modify and influence the chief
ingredient materially. I had the secret of the preparation from a Hindoo
gentleman while I was in India. It was imparted to me as an immense
favour, it being a secret even there. The enthusiastic terms in which he
spoke of it have been fully justified by the result, as you would
discover for yourself if you could only be persuaded to try it. You
shake your head. Eh bien! mon ami; the loss is yours, not mine."
"Some of what you have termed your 'experiences' are no doubt very
singular ones?" said Ducie, interrogatively.
"They are--very singular," answered Platzoff. "In my last
drashkil-dream, for instance, I believed myself to be an Indian fakir,
and I seemed to realise to the full the strange life of one of those
strange beings. I was stationed in the shade of a large tree just without
the gate of some great city where all who came and went could see me.
On the ground, a little way in front of me, was a wooden bowl for the
reception of the offerings of the charitable. I had kept both my hands
close shut for so many years that the nails had grown