A Happy Consummation
Not many months after the publication of the “History of the Upper
World” there occurred a vastly more important event. At least, it
was vastly more important to me, and constituted the most fortunate
episode of all my life in Atlantis. Ever since that encouraging talk
with Aelios in “The Temple of the Stars,” I had been drawing gradually
nearer to her; and by slow and unconscious degrees, so subtle that
we ourselves could hardly note the change, we seemed to be entering
upon the rôle of lovers. There was no emotional demonstration, and
no deliberate reference to love, for in Atlantis it was considered
undignified to express any casual amorous sentiments; but at times,
in her eyes I would catch that reassuring look I had noted at rare
intervals before, and in our increasingly frequent meetings, her
manner seemed to be tinged by something indefinably wistful and yet
indefinably gentle, that I had not previously observed.
It might be imagined that the appearance and wide discussion of my book
would have had an adverse effect upon her; but, fortunately, I had
shown her many chapters before publication, and the contents were no
surprise to her. And while she was at one with her people in loathing
the upper world, she could hardly blame me for the conditions I
depicted. Indeed, she was soon to give proof that she did not consider
me in the least a partner in the supposed backwardness of my race.
I do not now recall the precise circumstances that led up to the
climax; I only know that it was on one of my numerous visits to her
home, when we were alone together in the tapestried room of the
pale blue lanterns. Nothing had suggested to me in advance that our
interview today was to differ from our previous interviews, and
certainly nothing could have suggested such a thought to her; but
somehow the conversation drifted into unexpected channels, and we found
ourselves provocatively near the subject of love; and somehow her words
(though I cannot now remember their trend) stirred up all my checked
and slumbering emotions, forced down the barriers of my reserve, filled
me with a sudden and unlooked-for courage, and urged my lips to frame
words that I had not premeditated then. And almost as much to my own
surprise as to hers, I found myself proposing that she marry me!
But was my rashness appropriately punished? Far from it. What was my
amazement, and what my delight, when she looked up at me with trustful,
grave blue eyes and quietly consented!
And yet it all seemed so simple that it might have been an everyday
occurrence! She had taken my proposal almost as a matter of course,
almost as if she had expected it; but at the same time the exalted and
happy light in her eyes showed that she was far from indifferent.
“I was not sure before,” she murmured, simply, after my first rapturous
exclamations. “But now I am quite certain. We will be all in all to one
another, will we not, my beloved?”
I forgot just how I replied; I have an impression that my arms
performed some lively antics, with Aelios as their goal, and that
anything I said must have been merely incidental.
“When shall the day be, Aelios?” I asked, when I was again in a mood
for discussion. “When do you say?”
“When do you want me to say?” she returned, as though surprised at my
query. “If we are both sure, what is the use of delaying?”
And, by dint of further questioning, I learned that long engagements
were unknown in Atlantis. Although usually so slow-going and leisurely,
the natives seemed to me singularly hasty in this one regard; and once
two people had decided upon marriage, it was not customary to allow
more than the few days’ interval necessary for the preparations. It
had always been so in Atlantis, Aelios explained, and she could not
imagine how it could be otherwise, for why subject the young couple
to the unnatural tension of waiting, and why make love ridiculous by
arbitrarily starving it?
Previously, when I had dared to think of the possibility of marriage
with Aelios, I had half reconciled myself to the prospect of a long
engagement, since observation had taught me nothing of Atlantean
marriage customs, and I had imagined that an interval at least of
months, might be considered proper. And so I was a little bewildered
by the unexpected imminence of our union; I was like a man who, long
blind, has suddenly beheld a flash of light; and it took me a little
while to adjust myself to the startling new unfolding vistas.
* * * * *
To begin with, I was not sure quite what was expected of me. Should I
present Aelios with a ring or similar trinket such as was customary
on earth? or was some more elaborate gift deemed necessary? In my
perplexity, I consulted Xanocles, who merely smiled at my doubts.
“Marriage with us,” he explained, “is not treated as a form of
barter; nor is it a bargain wherein precious articles must be given
as sureties. We have long ago stamped out of our marriage system all
traces of its primitive origin--all traces of that old custom which
regarded it merely as a contract of sale, and which in the beginning
demanded the parental receipt of cattle or other material property, and
later required rings or similar baubles as a tender of the purchase
price if not as a pledge of good faith. When two of our people are
married, they would consider it degrading to be expected to give
anything beyond themselves.”
But even after I had been relieved on this important subject, there
was still much that troubled me. Aelios had decided that but eight
days were to intervene before the ceremony (this being about the usual
time); and, despite all my joyous anticipations, I trembled just a
little at the thought that I was so soon to exchange my known if
monotonous bachelor life for an unknown career as Atlantean husband.
But, fortunately, my hours were so completely occupied that I had
little chance to be disturbed by doubts. For one thing, I spent a great
deal of time with Aelios; for another thing, I was much entertained
by my friends, who were astonished and yet loudly congratulatory upon
hearing the news, and insisted upon putting me through long ordeals of
questions, laughter, and amiable chaffing remarks. An entire meeting
of the Upper World Club was given over to a celebration alleged to be
in my honor; and President Gavison, after unbending from his official
sternness to wish me luck in terms that I thought just a little wistful
and a little reminiscent of his own lost happiness, was followed in
quick succession by the various other club members, all of whom strove
to express themselves with appropriate levity. Had there been such a
thing as an intoxicant in Atlantis, I am sure that we would have had a
merry old time; but, for lack of the proper stimulants, the men had to
be content with their questionable jests, with poking me mirthfully in
the ribs, with slapping me heartily on the back, with expressing the
wish that they might be in my shoes (or, rather, sandals, since these
were the only footwear in Atlantis), and with laughing and guffawing in
a generally irresponsible and uproarious manner.
But as the few remaining days slid by, did I have no thought of her
whom I had left on earth? Did I not think of Alma Huntley, she to
whom I had once pledged devotion? Perhaps I should be ashamed, but
I am not, to say that the memory of her scarcely entered my mind.
She was no more than a shadow in a world that was daily growing more
shadowy, in an existence I had outlived and could not expect to
reenter; and if at times she would obtrude herself before me like a
dim melancholy presence without color or form, such occasions were
growing increasingly rare; and now that Aelios seemed so near and our
two lives were so soon to be fused, Alma was obscured as a pale star
is obscured by the sunlight; and all the torrents of my being welled
up tumultuously toward Aelios, and it seemed as if her companionship
and her love were the only love or companionship I had ever known or
desired.
And how near I was to enjoying that companionship for life became
vividly apparent to me about three days after we had reached our
decision. Then it was that Aelios and I, in accordance with the custom
of the land, visited the local housing bureau, which was to assign us
to our new lodgings. After we had duly placed our names side by side
in a great venerable-looking ledger wherein all the wedded couples of
the past hundred years were enrolled, we passed an exciting afternoon
in the company of the chief housing representative, who showed us all
the available dwelling places with the same obliging courtesy as when
I had selected my bachelor quarters. As on the former occasion, there
were so many desirable locations that the choice was difficult; and on
passing each new threshold, Aelios would pause with a little cry of
wonder or surprise, and would point in admiration to some distinctive
feature of arrangement or decoration. Needless to say, I too was
dazzled and delighted; particularly since I had previously seen only
apartments designed for single people. None of these homes were very
large; indeed, most of them had but three or four rooms in addition to
the roof sleeping chambers and the almost invariable central court;
but they were the most home-like little nooks one could imagine, and
were made attractive not only by the lawns and flowering gardens that
surrounded them, but by their tastefully furnished rooms, whose lamps
and tapestries and statuary were never too lavish or ornate and yet
always gave an effect at once picturesque and cozy.
Our choice was in favor of a little butterfly-shaped dwelling, with
silvery walls inlaid with mother-of-pearl and high-arched windows
surrounded by vivid bands of stained glass. The interior appeared
entrancing to us both, for not only were the walls and ceilings
frescoed as though by a master hand, but the painted designs were
matched by the very rugs on the floor and the draperies that screened
the doorways; while a little statue-lined fountain that bubbled
perpetually in the court fascinated us both by its rainbow glimmering
showers of spray.
“You may move in any time after your names are registered in the
Marriage Book,” said the housing representative, when we had notified
him of our decision and he had duly recorded it. “But if ever you
should find this house unsatisfactory, you have only to enter your
complaint, and if possible we will provide you with another dwelling.
But meanwhile this will be regarded as your official residence.”
* * * * *
And with these words the housing representative bowed a gracious
retreat, while Aelios and I were left to inspect the home that was so
soon to be ours.
With the enthusiasm of children we examined every nook and corner,
growing constantly more excited as our search proceeded; Aelios was
radiant; I had never seen her eyes sparkle more brightly, her cheeks
glow more vividly; and I realized as never before how extraordinarily
fortunate I was.
And it seemed as if her emotions corresponded with mine! “Is it not the
strangest whim of fate,” she asked, “that you have come down here to
me, my beloved? How easily I might have missed you! How easily we might
each have gone through life not knowing that the other existed!”
“So it has been with all lovers since the world began,” I returned.
“Even in Atlantis, love must always seem a miracle.”
“Even in Atlantis, it always is a miracle,” she amended; and she looked
up at me with a smile so luminous and trustful, so kindly and so tinged
with a rapturous emotion, that I could not but admit that she was right.
The days that followed this delightful interview are but a blur in my
memory. Although every hour was slow-footed with the suspense and the
waiting, it seems to me that but a moment elapsed between our departure
from our chosen home and our happy return ... the intervening events
are all obscured by that never-to-be-forgotten morning when Aelios and
I entered the office of the Local Adviser and were officially united.
The actual ceremony was insignificant--indeed, there was no ceremony
at all. We had merely to record our names for a second time,
writing them in the Marriage Book which the housing representative
had mentioned--an enormously thick volume bound in blue and gold,
with thousands of pages, of which one was devoted to the history
of each marriage. There were no questions asked us; there were no
high-sounding formulas to be spoken by clockwork; there were no
official representatives of saintliness to offer dogmatic advice;
there were no vows to be taken, no promises to be made, no witnesses
to gape or snicker, no pompous giving or receiving of the bride. We
merely furnished the State with that record which it required, and
did so without having to purchase a preliminary printed tag by way of
permission; and after we had entered our names in the book, we were not
insulted with any attempt to sanctify proceedings with words of antique
witchcraft, nor humiliated by any implication that our own feelings
would not amply solemnize the day.
Of course, if we desired to celebrate our nuptials with a festival of
any sort, that was our privilege--a privilege which the State would
recognize by providing an appropriate hall for the day. And, as it
happened, most bridal couples availed themselves of this right. We
were no exception, for when our marriage had been officially recorded,
we repaired to a flower-decked chamber where a few of Aelios’ friends
and relatives were awaiting us. And after receiving greetings and
congratulations, we did not pass our time in feasting or drinking,
nor in making merry nor in riotous jests; but we danced for a while a
sedate dance timed to ethereal strains of music; and later we all sat
quietly about the room, Aelios at my side and the others on mats and
sofas opposite, while the lights were subdued, and we listened to a
still more ethereal music, which rose and quavered in a voice of joy
like the notes of melodious birds, then faintly trilled like a far-off
elfin call or throbbed and sang in an organ-burst of ecstasy, until one
was moved almost to tears by the revealed poignancy and beauty of life,
and came to look upon love with a new reverence and a new wonder.