Chapter 11. The Silent Spectator.

March 11, 1927

Denis Thibault, a twenty-seven-year-old knight, now clad in a light gray brigandine, was slowly moving forward, deep into the world on his piebald horse, Eostre. Where was he coming from? We didn't know. What was behind him? Perhaps his village? What limits did he leave behind—his native home or a land from which he was exiled? What past was behind him? What generations and traditions were behind him? The heir of what civilization was he? After all, one can be a knight in any paradigm of an existing civilization, right? But… where was he going? We didn't know that either. Perhaps he wanted to explore and study this world? Perhaps to explore and study, but not in the way an ordinary, unremarkable scientist does, but as a philosopher of the most exceptional qualities—one who is not interested in the scientific side of life, because it is too definite and easily definable, and accordingly simple, one who prefers to know what exists outside of forms, beyond matter, metaphysically… what is contained and resides in everything and at the same time in nothing? What future awaited him? What awaited him ahead and what were his goals?

However, we knew perfectly well that an unspoken, invisible to the human eye, agreement was once concluded between the knight Denis Thibault and his horse Eostre—the man did not know the language of the horse, and the horse did not know the human language, but this did not at all prevent them from understanding each other and concluding agreements with each other at the level of their own nature and instincts: this agreement consisted in the following—as long as the horse obeys its rider and does not throw him off its back, the rider will not plunge his sharp spurs into its relatively tender flesh. Do not all rulers of the sublunary world conclude similar social contracts with one people or another?! Be that as it may, Denis Thibault continuously moved forward, while continuously paying attention to one or another natural phenomenon, event, and process—his adventures were unusually fascinating for those who knew how to see the infinity of the Universe in a small speck of dust on a maple leaf of an ancient tree, and completely boring and, indeed, insane for those who saw this world as it is. Denis Thibault was enlightened, however, he was not an adherent of one cult, order, or movement or another—he was himself: a person who saw God and the Universe in everything, including himself, and therefore devoted a considerable amount of time to studying everything, including himself. So what "amazing" phenomena, events, and processes awaited Denis Thibault on his path, which was aimless for some, and unusually meaningful for others?! You will find out about this later.

With a leisurely step, on horseback, and accordingly with the help of the piebald Eostre, having entered the green-faced whirlpool of an indescribably lovely lawn, this twenty-seven-year-old French knight immediately distinguished a truly peach tree imbued with the nectar of fertility—dozens of rich fruits the color of a coral reef frantically lured the human nature of Denis Thibault to them at the very hour when the philosophical essence continuously called for temperance, humility, and patience in him. Denis Thibault was not a child of this world—he devoted too much time in his life to all kinds of reflections, reasoning, and antimonies, and therefore the philosopher in him overcame the man who had reminded himself of himself in those moments without extraordinary difficulty.

Having begun to study this truly amazing creation of nature, Denis Thibault involuntarily turned his gaze to the foot of this peach tree, where a large number of already well-rotted relatives of those who with such a sweet face constantly caressed the warm gaze not only of the yellow-faced sun, but also of all the boundless and at the same time so limited nature—while there, at the top, birds sang near the sweet fruits of the peach tree, here, at the bottom, worms and ants reigned, who incessantly fulfilled the so original duty prescribed to them by nature itself: like some kind of reapers, they collected the harvest prepared for them so that the ouroboros of the Universe could not break open—this worm was to be eaten by a bird later, and the bird was destined to die from the fangs of a wolf or a lynx. This is an endless, closed circle—a chain, the links of which have neither beginning nor end: the smallest particles launch global processes at the level of the Universe—what can be said about human actions… So, paying special attention to his own thoughts and feelings, and also, what is most important, his time to the close study of the actions of small insects, he saw with indescribable surprise in these ants what he had seen before in human society: here, a small ant strives to lift a huge piece of a partially rotted peach, but he does not have enough strength to realize his aspirations, and therefore he calls for help from his brothers, who, having divided the corresponding fruit into small particles, without any obstacles and hindrances began to fulfill their next tasks and goals—did not Denis Thibault act in a similar way, like that small ant, when he participated in the siege of a castle, where he himself could not perform certain combat tasks, and therefore called for help from the brothers who were near him. In these ants, Denis Thibault now saw himself and other knights, who consciously or, perhaps, without realizing it at all, embodied some higher will, the will of their own or someone else's natural instinct—in human society there are such duties that cannot be performed by one specific citizen, and accordingly which must be entrusted not to one specific citizen, but to many or even to all persons who have citizenship, because it is necessary for the good of all, for the so-called public good: and in this case it does not matter at all…