Question

Answer the following question with the best answer possible.

How could one characterize Alymer?

harsh and unloving
wise and powerful
kind and charitable
preoccupied and stubborn


@AlexandervonHumboldt2 @EclipsedStar @lizz123

Answer 1

@Directrix @hhelpplzzzz @EclipsedStar

Answer 2

@Saisuke<3

Answer 3

wait what book is this?

Answer 4

not sure

Answer 5

hehe.. i don't think i read it before then... srry.... i hope u find the answer soon!

Answer 6

The Birthmark

In the later part of the last century, there lived a young scientist. Not long before our story begins, he abandoned his experiments for a new, spiritual experience. He washed his hands of acid stains, left his lab with an assistant, and married a beautiful woman.

In those days, it wasn't unusual for a young man's love of science to rival his love for a woman. Science, what with recent powerful discoveries of electricity, was a place for a man's intellect, imagination, spirit, and heart to find satisfaction. It was, many thought, man's key to controlling Nature.

We do not know if Aylmer, our young scientist felt so strongly. Perhaps, his love for his beautiful wife would be stronger than his love for science. This could only be so, however, if it were to tangle itself up with his love of science, to unite that strength with its own.

And so such a union did take place and from it comes an important moral.

One day, very soon after they had gotten married, Aylmer gazed at his wife. Something quietly troubled him until he spoke it out loud. "Georgiana," he said, "has it ever occurred to you that you could have that mark on your cheek removed?"

"No," she said, smiling, and then, seeing that he was serious, blushed deeply. "To tell you the truth, it has been called charming so often that I was simple enough to think maybe it was."

"Ah. Perhaps on another face it might be," he said, "but never on yours. You see, Georgiana, you came so nearly perfect from the hands of Nature that the mark shocks me as being an imperfection."

"Shocks you?" Georgiana cried, deeply hurt. Her face reddened and she burst into tears. "Then why did you marry me? You cannot love what shocks you!"

To explain this conversation, it must be mentioned that in the center of Georgiana's left cheek there was a single mark. It blended in with the texture and look of her face. When her coloring was normal, the mark was a deeper crimson than the rest of her face. When she blushed, it gradually became less and less noticeable and finally vanished. But if a shift in emotion caused her to turn pale again, there was the mark, a crimson stain upon the snowy white of her face. Aylmer sometimes felt that the mark was almost fearful in its distinctness.

The shape of the mark was similar to the human hand, though of a miniature size. Georgiana's admirers of earlier days had often said that some fairy at the house of her birth had laid her tiny handprint across the baby's cheek as a symbol of her magical power over all hearts. Many a man would have risked his life for the privilege of touching his lips to the handprint on Georgiana's cheek.

It should not be concealed, however, that the thoughts about the handprint varied a great deal, according to the beholder. Some finicky persons—all women—believed that the bloody hand, as they chose to call it, quite destroyed Georgiana's beauty, rendering her even hideous. This was as reasonable as saying that one of the small blue stains that sometimes occur in marble would turn a fine statue into a monster. Male observers, if the birthmark did not make Georgiana more attractive to them, contented themselves with wishing it away. After his marriage, for he thought little or nothing of the mark before, Aylmer found that he had become one of these men.

Had she been less beautiful, Aylmer may have been able to ignore the mark, but seeing her otherwise so perfect, he found the defect more intolerable every day of their lives. Aylmer came to believe that the birthmark symbolized her mortality and imperfection. His imagination began to render the mark as a frightful object, and it caused him more trouble and horror than Georgiana's beauty had ever given him delight.

At the time which should have been their happiest, Aylmer's thoughts reverted to the mark. With the morning twilight, he opened his eyes upon his wife's face and immediately saw the symbol of imperfection. When they sat together at night, his eyes wandered to her cheek, and he thought of death. Georgiana soon began to shudder when he looked at her. He needed only to look at her, and her skin would become so pale that the crimson hand stood out strongly, like a ruby on the whitest of marble.

Late one night when the lights were dim, so Aylmer could hardly make out the stain on his poor wife's cheek, Georgiana, for the first time, brought up the subject.

"Do you remember, my dear Aylmer," she said, attempting to smile, "have you a recollection of a dream last night about the repulsive handprint?"

"None!" Aylmer started, but then he added coldly, "I might well dream of it, for before I fell asleep it was on my mind."

"And you did dream of it?" She said quickly, for fear that tears would come. "A terrible dream! I doubt that you could forget it. Is it possible to forget what you said aloud in your sleep. 'It is in her heart now; we must have it out!' you said. Remember, Aylmer, remember the dream."

The mind is in a sad state when sleep cannot confine her ghosts, but lets them break forth into actual life. Aylmer now remembers his dream. He had dreamt that he was with Aminadab, attempting an operation to remove the mark from Georgiana's face. In his dream, the deeper went the knife, the deeper sank the little hand until its tiny grasp appeared to have caught hold of Georgiana's heart. And even then, Aylmer remained resolved to cut it away.

When he remembered the dream, Aylmer sat next to Georgiana with a guilty feeling. The truth often comes out when one's mind is ruffled in the robes of sleep. And it is then that he speaks with a directness not often found in waking moments. Until now, Aylmer had not been aware just how much the birthmark had begun to rule his mind and was shocked at the lengths that his imagination would go to in order to get some peace.

"Aymler," Georgiana said solemnly, "I know not what may be the cost to us to rid me of this mark. Perhaps its removal may cause a deformity, or it may be that the stain goes as deep as life itself. Again, do we know that there is any possibility of unclasping the firm little grip of this hand on my cheek—this hand that was laid upon me before I was even born?"

"Dearest, Georgiana, I have thought a great deal about the subject," Aylmer said. "I am convinced that we can remove it."

"If there is even the slightest chance," Georgiana said, "let us attempt it, no matter the risk. Danger is nothing to me, for life, while this hateful mark makes me the object of your horror and disgust, is not worth living. Either remove this mark or kill me. You are a scientist; you have achieved great wonders. Can you not remove this little mark, which I can cover with my fingertips? Do you not have the power?"

"Dearest wife," cried Aylmer, "doubt not my power! I have given this deep thought, and I believe I can make your dear face flawless, that I can correct what even Nature left imperfect. When I do, I will be triumphant and no man's delight will match my own. Even Pygmalion, whose perfectly sculptured woman came to life, felt not the ecstasy that I will feel."

"It is resolved, then," said Georgiana, faintly smiling. "And, Aylmer, do not spare me, even if you should find that the mark does indeed live inside my heart."

Her husband tenderly kissed her cheek—her right cheek, not the one which bore the crimson hand.

The next day Aylmer revealed a plan to Georgiana. They needed to go someplace where he could think intensely and also watch her constantly, as the operation would require both of these. Georgiana, likewise, needed to rest and relax. It was decided that they would seclude themselves in the extensive apartments that Aylmer had lived in at the laboratory in his youth.

Seated calmly there, the pale young Aylmer had investigated many scientific secrets. He had discovered what kept the fires burning in volcanoes and explained the mystery of fountains that sprung pure, clean water from the earth. Here, too, he had studied the wonders of the human form and attempted to understand the process by which Mother Nature combined her precious influences to create it.

Aylmer had long since laid to rest the idea that he might discover this secret. Nature, he decided as a young man, showed only her results, not her process. Nature permits us indeed to mar but seldom to mend. Now, however, Aylmer resumed his investigations. This time he did so not with the hopes and wishes of his youth, but because they involved much scientific truth and lay in the path to treating Georgiana.

As Aylmer led her into the laboratory, Georgiana was cold and trembling. He looked cheerfully into her face, trying to reassure her, but he was so startled by the birthmark that he shuddered. Then, Georgiana fainted.

"Aminadab! Aminadab!" Aylmer shouted for his assistant and stamped violently on the floor.

Out of the apartment came a short, bulky man. His shaggy hair smelled of chemicals. Aminadab was a very skilled worker. With his vast strength, shaggy hair and a certain earthiness, he represented man's physical nature. Aylmer, on the other hand, with his slender figure and pale, intellectual face, represented a spiritual element.

"Throw open the door of the bedroom, Aminadab," said Aylmer, "and burn a pastil."

"Yes, master," answered Aminadab. He looked at Georgiana and muttered to himself, "If she were my wife, I'd never part with that birthmark."

When she woke, Georgiana found herself breathing in a fragrance that had drawn her out of her fainting spell. The scene around her looked like a fairy tale. Aylmer had converted the somber, dingy rooms into a series of beautiful apartments fit for a lady. The walls were hung with gorgeous curtains, and the place seemed to Georgiana as if it could be a palace in the clouds.

Aylmer sat by his wife's side and watched her earnestly. Now, however, he watched without fear or alarm. Here in his laboratory, Aylmer felt much confidence. Here, it seemed that he could draw a magic circle around her and keep evil out.

"Where am I? Ah, I remember," said Georgiana, faintly, and she placed her hand over her cheek to hide the terrible mark from her husband's eyes.

"Fear not, dearest!" exclaimed Aylmer. "Do not hide from me! Believe me, Georgiana, I find happiness in your imperfection because it will be such a thrill to remove it."

"Oh, spare me!" sadly replied his wife. "Please do not look at it again. I never can forget the way you shudder when you see it."

In order to soothe Georgiana, Aylmer now performed some of the light, playful magic he had learned from his scientific studies. Airy figures and beautiful forms danced before her in beams of light. Though she realized partly that they were an optical illusion, Georgiana believed that her husband had special powers over the spiritual word. And, when she wished to step out of the dreamy world he had created, it was as if her thoughts were answered. A procession of physical things flitted across a screen. The scenery and the figures of actual life were perfectly represented, but with the sort of touch that makes images or pictures more attractive than the original. When weary of this, Aylmer commanded her to look at a container filled with soil. She did so, with little interest at first, but was soon startled to see the sprout of a plant shooting upward from the soil. Then came the slender stalk; the leaves unfolded themselves, and inside them was a flower.

"It is magical!" cried Georgiana. "I dare not touch it."

"No, pluck it," answered Aylmer. "Pluck it, and inhale its perfume while you can. The flower will wither in a few moments and leave nothing but its seeds."

She had no sooner touched the flower than the whole plant shriveled and turned to black as though it had been burned.

"Your touch was too powerful," said Aylmer, thoughtfully.

To make up for this failed experiment, Aylmer proposed that she take a portrait using one of his inventions. Her portrait was to be taken by rays of light striking a polished plate of metal. Georgiana agreed but, looking at the result, was frightened to see that her other features were blurred and only the handprint of her birthmark appeared where her cheek ought to have been. Aylmer snatched the plate and threw it into a jar of acid, which ate away at it.

Soon, Aylmer forgot these failures. As he studied, he came to Georgiana flustered and exhausted but excited by her presence. He talked of the history of science, about the alchemists who struggled to find a chemical that would turn other things to gold. Aylmer seemed to believe that this could be done. He also believed that he could concoct the elixir vitae, a potion that could prolong life for many years or, perhaps, forever. This, he realized, would produce a great discord with Nature.

"Aylmer, do you speak in earnest?" asked Georgiana in fear and amazement. "It would be terrible to have such a power, or to even dream of having it."

"Oh, do not worry, my love," said her husband. "I would not wrong either you or myself by doing such a thing, but consider how small, in comparison, is the skill needed to remove the little hand from your face."

At the mention of the birthmark, Georgiana, as usual, shrank as if a red hot iron had touched her cheek.

Again, Aylmer went to work. She could hear his voice in the other room giving directions to Arminadab. After a long time, Aylmer brought Georgiana one of his creations. He told her that she should now examine his cabinet of treasures and produce a small vial. He told her that it contained a gentle yet most powerful fragrance that could fill all the breezes that blow across a kingdom. He threw some of the perfume into the air, and the room filled with excitement and delight.

"And what is this?" asked Georgiana, pointing to a small crystal globe containing a gold-colored liquid. "It is so beautiful to the eye that I could imagine it the elixir of life."

"In one sense it is," replied Aylmer. "It is the most precious poison that was ever made in this world. By its aid, I could make anyone you should choose live forever or die instantly. The strength of the dose would determine whether he were to linger out years, or drop dead in the midst of a breath."

"Why do you keep such a terrible drug?" asked Georgiana in horror.

"Do not mistrust me, dearest," said her husband, smiling. "It is capable of more good than harm. But see! Here is a powerful potion. With a few drops of this in a vase of water, freckles may be washed away as easily as the hands are cleansed. A stronger version might remove the handprint."

"Will you use this potion on my cheek?" asked Georgiana, anxiously.

"Oh, no," Aylmer replied quickly. "This works merely on the surface. Your case demands a treatment that will go deeper."

When he spoke with Georgiana, Aylmer asked a few questions about how she was feeling, whether the temperature agreed with her. Georgiana had begun to feel as though she were being subjected to some kind of physical influence, either through the air or through her food. She felt, also—perhaps it was just her imagination—that her system was being stirred up. She felt a strange sensation creeping through her veins and tingling, half painfully, half pleasurably, in her heart. Still, when she looked in the mirror, her skin was as pale as a white rose with the crimson birthmark stamped up her cheek like before. Now, not even Aylmer hated it as much as she did.

To keep her boredom at bay while she was alone for so many hours, Georgiana began to turn over the books in Aylmer's scientific library. She met with chapters of romance and poetry and found works of philosophers from the Middle Ages. Many of these writers were by far ahead of their time but, nonetheless, were believed and perhaps imagined themselves to have discovered a force more powerful than Nature.


To Georgiana, the most engrossing find was a large folio written by Aylmer himself. In it, he had recorded every experiment of his scientific career, its aim, its methods, and its final success or failure. The book, in truth, was both a history and a symbol of his devotion and imagination as well as his practical and difficult life. He wrote of details as if there was nothing else; but, even still, they seemed to take on a spiritual life.

Georgiana, as she read, loved and respected Aylmer more than she ever had before, but with far less dependence on his judgment. She could not help but see that his most splendid successes were nearly always failures if compared to what he had intended. His brightest diamonds of discovery were mere pebbles when he compared them to those things he could not uncover. Perhaps every man of genius might recognize his own experience in Aylmer's journal.

Georgiana was so deeply affected by the journal that she laid her face upon the open folio and burst into tears. It was in this situation that she was found by Aylmer.

"It is dangerous to read in a sorcerer's books," said he with a smile, though he was clearly anxious and displeased. "Georgiana, there are pages in that journal which I can hardly read without losing my own senses. Do not lose your head in them as well."

"It has made me worship you more than ever," said Georgiana.

"Ah, wait for this one success," rejoined he, "then worship me if you will. I shall think I am hardly unworthy of it. But come, sing to me, dearest."

So she poured out the liquid of her voice to quench the thirst of his spirit. He then returned to his work with a boyish exuberance, promising her that he had nearly discovered the cure. He had not been gone long when Georgiana felt irresistibly compelled to follow him. She had forgotten to inform Aylmer of a symptom which had begun to bother her. It was a sensation in the birthmark. It was not painful, but made her restless. Rushing after her husband, she intruded for the first time into his laboratory.

The first thing that struck her eye was the furnace. That hot and feverish worker and its fire looked, by the amount of soot clustered above it, to have been burning for ages. Around the room were tubes, cylinders, crucibles for chemical research. An electrical machine stood ready for immediate use. The room felt oppressively small and close and was filled with the odors of chemicals. The room, in stark contrast to the dreamy place in which Georgiana passed her time, looked strange. Most strange, however, was the look of Aylmer himself.

He was pale as death, anxious and absorbed. He hung over the furnace and watched it as though his own gaze determined whether it worked properly. How different he was here!

"Aminadab, work carefully, for if there be a thought too much or too little it is all over," Aylmer yelled to his assistant.

"There!" mumbled Aminadab. "Look, master! Look!"

Aylmer raised his eyes hastily, and at first reddened, then grew paler than ever upon seeing Georgiana. He rushed towards her and seized her arm with a grip that left the print of his fingers upon it.

"Why have you come here? Have you no trust in your husband?" cried Aylmer, flaring with anger. "Why must you throw that stain of a birthmark over my work? Go, prying woman, leave!"

"No, Aylmer," said Georgiana with a newfound firmness, "it is not you who has a right to complain. You mistrust me and you've hidden your worries and the anxiety with which you watch the development of this experiment. Think me not so unworthy, my husband. Tell me the risk that we run, and fear not that I will shrink back. My share in it is far less than your own."

"No, Georgiana, it must not be so," Aylmer said.

"I submit," Georgiana replied. "I shall take whatever drink you bring me, even if it be a dose of poison offered to me by your hand."

"My dear wife," said Aylmer, deeply moved. "I knew not your true nature until now. Nothing shall be hidden. Know, then, that this crimson handprint which seems only on the surface of your cheek has grasped your being with a great strength. Its grip is much more forceful that I had previously thought. I have already given you chemicals powerful enough to do anything but change your entire physical system. There is only one thing left to try; and, if that fails, we are ruined."

"Why did you hesitate to tell me this?" asked Georgiana.

"Because, Georgiana," said Aylmer, in a low voice, "there is danger."

"Danger? There is but one danger—that this horrible mark shall be left upon my cheek!" cried Georgiana. "Remove it. Remove it, whatever be the cost, or we shall both go mad!"

"Heaven knows your words are too true," said Aylmer, sadly. "And now, dearest, return to your room. In a little while, all will be tested."

He escorted her back and left her with a tenderness that spoke far more than his words how much was at stake. After he left, Georgiana became lost in her thoughts. She considered Aylmer's character, and her heart trembled at his honorable love. How pure it was that he would accept nothing less than perfection! How lofty he was to refuse to be contented with less than he had dreamed of! She prayed that, for a single moment, she might satisfy his wish for perfection. Longer than one moment, she knew better than to ask for. It could not be, for his spirit was ever on the march, and each instant it required more and better than what it had the instant before.

The sound of her husband's footsteps shook her from her thoughts. He carried a crystal goblet containing a liquor colorless as water, but bright enough to be the elixir of life. Aylmer was pale; but it seemed that he was deep in thought rather than tense of spirit or doubtful.

"The concoction of the potion has been perfect," said he, in answer to Georgiana's look. "Unless all my science has deceived me, it cannot fail."

"Without it, Aylmer," observed his wife, "I might wish to put off this birthmark of death by dying. Life is but a sad possession to those of us who see the truth the way I have. Were I blinder and weaker, living might be happiness. Were I stronger, I might live on hopefully. But being what I am, I believe I am most fit to die."

"You are fit for heaven without tasting death!" replied her husband "But why do we speak of dying? The potion cannot fail. Behold its effect upon this plant."

On the window seat there stood a geranium diseased with yellow patches. Aylmer dripped a bit of the potion upon the soil in which it grew. In a little time, when the roots had absorbed the liquid, the leaves returned to their original healthy color.

"No proof was needed," said Georgiana, quietly. "Give me the goblet, and I shall drink. I trust you completely."

"Drink then, dearest," exclaimed Aylmer with passionate admiration. "There is no stain of imperfection on your spirit, and soon, your body shall match."

She drank the potion from the goblet.

"It is great," she said with a calm smile. "I think it is like water from a heavenly fountain. Now, dearest, let me sleep. My senses are closing over my spirit like the leaves around the heart of a rose at sunset."

She spoke the last words with a gentle reluctance. It required more energy than she had to find the words. Aylmer sat by her side as she slept, watching her with the anxiety of a man whose entire worth was involved in the process now being tested. Nothing escaped Aylmer the scientist. The flush of cheeks, a slight irregularity of breath, a quiver of the eyelid were noted in his journal like the years' worth of experiments. Each of those trials past had led to this moment, and it was a test of them all.

While doing this, he could not refrain from gazing at the tiny handprint and not without a shudder. Once, by a strange impulse, he pressed it with his lips. His whole spirit shrank back and, in her sleep, Georgiana murmured. Again, he resumed his watch. The crimson handprint which at first had been strongly visible grew more and more faintly outlined. With every breath she took, the mark grew less and less distinct. Its presence had been awful, but its leaving was more awful still. Watch a rainbow fading from the sky, and you will know how that mysterious symbol faded away.

"By Heaven! It is nearly gone!" said Aylmer. "I can scarcely find it now. Success! Success! It is the faintest trace now, but she is so pale!"

He drew the curtains and let the daylight fall into the room and rest upon her face. At the same time, he heard a hoarse chuckle from Aminadab.

"Ah, you!" cried Aylmer, laughing in a sort of frenzy, "You have served me well! Matter and spirit—earth and heaven—-have both done their part in this! Laugh, laugh merrily! You have earned the right to laugh."

These noises broke Georgiana's sleep. She slowly opened her eyes and looked into the mirror that Aylmer had arranged. A faint smile flitted over her lips when she saw that the mark was disappearing. But then her eyes sought Aylmer's face with a trouble and worry that he could not account for.

"My poor Aylmer!" murmured she.

"Poor? No, richest, happiest, most favored!" exclaimed he. "My dearest bride! It is successful! You are perfect!"

"My poor Aylmer," she repeated, with a more than human tenderness, "you have aimed high, you have behaved nobly. Do not regret that with so high and pure a feeling, you rejected imperfection. Do not regret that you could not accept the best the earth could give. Aylmer, dearest Aylmer, I am dying!"

Alas, it was too true! The crimson handprint had been the bond by which an angelic spirit united with a mortal body. As the last of the crimson mark—that slight imperfection—faded from her cheek, the life faded from Georgiana

The hoarse chuckle was heard again! Aminadab, it seems, had known all along that Nature and death will always triumph over man's science and the quest for immortality and perfection. Aylmer need not have flung away the happiness which would have made his mortal life seem heavenly. The pull of the immediate circumstance was too strong for him. He failed to look beyond the shadowy scope of time and find the perfect future in the present.

Answer 7

WEWIE MAMA!

Answer 8

k lemme me read it first

Answer 9

preocuppied and stubborn