A VIRGIN UNSHRINED.
Under the cloudless, star-patterned sky, in the soft, warm air that
brimmed with the fragrance of roses, they drove once more together
through the spacious streets of Al-Kyris--streets that were now nearly
deserted save for a few late passers-by whose figures were almost as
indistinct and rapid in motion as pale, flitting shadows. There was not
a sign of storm in the lovely heavens, though now and again a sullen
roll as of a distant cannonade hinted of pent-up anger lurking
somewhere behind that clear and exquisitely dark-blue ether, in which a
million worlds blazed luminously like pendulous drops of white fire.
Sah-luma's chariot whirled along with incredible swiftness, the hoofs
of the galloping horses occasionally striking sparks of flame from the
smooth mosaic-pictured pavement; but Theos now began to notice that
there was a strange noiselessness in their movements--that the whole
CORTEGE appeared to be environed by a magic circle of silence--and that
the very night itself seemed breathlessly listening in entranced awe to
some unlanguaged warning from the gods invisible.
Compared with the turbulence and terror just left behind at the King's
palace, this weird hush was uncomfortably impressive, and gave a sense
of fantastic unreality to the scene. The sleepy, mesmeric radiance of
the full moon, shining on the delicate traceries of the quaintly
sculptured houses on either hand, made them look brittle and
evanescent; the great heavy, hanging orange-boughs and the feathery
frondage of the tall palms seemed outlined in mere mist against the
sky; and the glimpses caught from time to time of the broad and quietly
flowing river were like so many flashes of light seen through a veil of
cloud. Theos, standing beside his friend with one hand resting
familiarly on his shoulder, dreamily admired the phantom-like beauty of
the city thus transfigured in the moonbeams, and though he vaguely
wondered a little at the deep, mysterious stillness that everywhere
prevailed, he scarcely admitted to himself that there was or could be
anything unusual in it. He took his position as he found it--indeed he
could not well do otherwise, since he felt his fate was ruled by some
resolute, unseen force, against which all resistance would be
unavailing. Moreover, his mind was now entirely possessed by the
haunting vision of Lysia--a vision half-human, half-divine--a
beautiful, magical, irresistible Sweetness that allured his soul, and
roused within him a wordless passion of infinite desire.
He exchanged not a syllable with Sah-luma--an indefinable yet tacit
understanding existed between them,--an intuitive foreknowledge and
subtle perception of each other's character, intentions, and aims, that
for the moment rendered speech unnecessary. And there was something,
after all, in the profound silence of the night that, while strange,
was also eloquent--eloquent of meanings, unutterable, such as lie
hidden in the scented cups of flowers when lovers gather them on idle
summer afternoons and weave them into posies for one another's wearing.
How fleetly the gilded, shell-shaped car sped on its way!--trees,
houses, bridges, domes, and cupolas, seemed to fly past in a varied
whirl of glistening color! Now and again a cluster of fire-flies broke
from some thicket of shade and danced drowsily by in sparkling tangles
of gold and green; here and there from great open squares and
branch-shadowed gardens gleamed the stone face of an obelisk, or the
white column of a fountain; while over all things streamed the long
prismatic rays flung forth from the revolving lights in the Twelve
Towers of the Sacred Temple, like flaming spears ranged lengthwise
against the limitless depth of the midnight horizon. With straining
necks, tossed manes, and foam flying from their nostrils, Sah-luma's
fiery coursers dashed onward at almost lightning speed, and the journey
became a wild, headstrong rush through the dividing air--a rush toward
some voluptuous end, dimly discerned, yet indefinite!
At last they stopped. Before them rose a lofty building, crested with
fantastic pinnacles such as are formed by ice on the roof in times of
intense cold; a great gate stood open, and pacing slowly up and down in
front of it was a tall slave in white tunic and turban, who, turning
his gleaming eyeballs on Sah-luma, nodded by way of salutation, and
then uttered a sharp, peculiar whistle. This summons brought out two
curious, dwarfish figures of men, whose awkward misshapen limbs
resembled the contorted branches of wind-blown trees, and whose coarse
and repulsive countenances betokened that malignant delight in
evil-doing which only demons are supposed to know. These ungainly
servitors possessed themselves of the Laureate's chafing steeds, and
led them and the chariot away into some unseen courtyard; while the
Laureate himself, still saying no word, kept fast hold of his
companion's arm, and hurried him along a dark avenue overshadowed with
thick boughs that drooped heavily downward to the ground--a solitary
place where the intense quiet was disturbed only by the occasional
drip, drip of dewy moisture trickling tearfully from the leaves, or the
sweet, faint, gurgling sound of fountains playing somewhere in the
distance.
On they went for several paces, till at a sharp bend in the moss-grown
path, an amethystine light broke full between the arched green
branches; directly in front of them glimmered a broad piece of water,
and out of the purple-tinted depths rose the white, nude, lovely form
of a woman, whose rounded, outstretched arms appeared to beckon them, .
. whose mouth smiled in mingled malice and sweetness, . . and round
whose looped-up tresses sparkled a diadem of sapphire flame. With a cry
of astonishment and ecstacy Theos sprang forward: Sah-luma held him
back in laughing remonstrance.
"Wilt drown for a statue's sake?" he inquired mirthfully. "By my soul,
good Theos, if thy wits thus wander at sight of a witching, marble
nymph illumed by electric glamours, what will become of thee when thou
art face to face with living, breathing loveliness! Come, thou
hotheaded neophyte! thou shalt not waste thy passion on images of
stone, I warrant thee! Come!"
But Theos stood still. His eyes roved from Sah-luma to the glittering
statue and from the statue back again to Sah-luma in mingled doubt and
dread. A vague foreboding filled his mind, he fancied that a bevy of
mocking devils peered at him from out the wooded labyrinth, ... and
that Sin was the name of the white siren yonder, whose delicate body
seemed to palpitate with every slow ripple of the surrounding waters.
He hesitated,--with that often saving hesitation a noble spirit may
feel ere willfully yielding to what it instinctively knows to be
wrong,--and for the briefest possible space an imperceptible line was
drawn between his own self-consciousness and the fascinating
personality of his lately found friend--a line that parted them asunder
as though by a gulf of centuries.
"Sah-luma," he said, in a tremulous, low tone, "tell me truly,--is it
good for us to be here?"
Sah-luma regarded him in wide-eyed amazement.
"Good? good?" he repeated with a sort of impatient disdain. "What dost
thou mean by 'good'? What is good? What is evil? Canst thou tell? If
so, thou art wiser than I! Good to be here? If it is good to drown
remembrance of the world in draughts of pleasure; if it is good to love
and be beloved; if it is good to ENJOY, aye! enjoy with burning zest
every pulsation of the blood and every beat of the heart, and to feel
that life is a fiery delight, an exquisite dream of drained-off
rapture, then it is good to be here! If," and he caught Theos's hand in
his own warm palm and pressed it, while his voice sank to a soft and
infinitely caressing sweetness, "if it is good to climb the dizzy
heights of joy and drowse in the deep sunshine of amorous eyes, . . to
slip away on elfin wings into the limitless freedom of Love's
summerland, ... to rifle rich kisses from warm lips even as rosebuds
are rifled from the parent rose, and to forget! ...--to forget all
bitter things that are best forgotten--"
"Enough, enough!" cried Theos, fired with a reckless impulse of
passionate ardor. "On, on, Sah-luma! I follow thee! On! let us delay no
more!"
At that moment a far-off strain of music saluted his ears--music
evidently played on stringed instruments. It was accompanied by a
ringing clash of cymbals; he listened, and listening, saw a smile
lighten Sah-luma's features--a smile sweet, yet full of delicate
mockery. Their eyes met; a wanton impetuosity flashed like reflected
flame from one face to the other, and then, without another instant's
pause, they hurried on.
Across a broad, rose-marbled terrace garlanded with a golden wealth of
orange-trees and odorous oleanders..... under a trellis-work covered
with magnolias whose half-shut, ivory-tinted buds glistened in the
moonlight like large suspended pearls, . . then through a low-roofed
stone-corridor, close and dim, lit only by a few flickering oil-lamps
placed at far intervals, . . then on they went, till at last, ascending
three red granite steps on which were carved some curious hieroglyphs,
they plunged into what seemed to be a vast jungle enclosed in some
dense tropical forest. What a strange, unsightly thicket of rank
verdure was here, thought Theos! ... it was as though Nature, grown
tired of floral beauty, had, in a sudden malevolent mood, purposely
torn and blurred the fair green frondage and twisted every bud awry!
Great, jagged leaves covered with prickles and stained all over with
blotches as of spilt poison, . . thick brown stems glistening with
slimy moisture and coiled up like the sleeping bodies of snakes, . .
masses of purple and blue fungi, . . and blossoms seemingly of the
orchid species, some like fleshy tongues, others like the waxen yellow
fingers of a dead hand, protruded spectrally through the matted
foliage,--while all manner of strange, overpowering odors increased the
swooning oppressiveness of the sultry, languorous air.
This uncouth botanical garden was apparently roofed in by a lofty glass
dome, decorated with hangings of watery-green silk, but the grotesque
trees and plants grew to so enormous a height that it was impossible to
tell which were the falling draperies and which the straggling leaves.
Curious birds flew hither and thither, voiceless creatures, scarlet and
amber winged; a huge gilded brazier stood in one corner from whence
ascended the constant smoke of burning incense, and there were
rose-shaded lamps all about, that shed a subdued mysterious lustre on
the scene, and bestowed a pale glitter on a few fantastic clumps of
arums and nodding lotus-flowers that lazily lifted themselves out of a
greenish pool of stagnant water sunk deeply in on one side of the
marble flooring. Theos, holding Sah-luma's arm, stepped eagerly across
the threshold; he was brimful of expectation: . . and what mattered it
to him whether the weed-like things that grew in this strange pavilion
were pure or poisonous, provided he might look once more upon the
witching face that long ago had so sweetly enticed him to his ruin! ...
Stay! what was he thinking of? Long ago? Nay, that was
impossible,--since he had only seen the Priestess Lysia for the first
time that very morning! How piteously perplexing it was to be thus
tormented with these indistinct ideas!--these half-formed notions of
previous intimate acquaintance with persons and places he never could
have known before!
All at once he drew back with a startled exclamation; an enormous
tigress, sleek and jewel-eyed, bounded up from beneath a tangled mass
of red and yellow creepers and advanced toward him with a low savage
snarl.
"Peace, Aizif, peace;" said Sah-luma, carelessly patting the animal's
head. "Thou art wont to be wiser in distinguishing 'twixt thy friends
and foes." Then turning to Theos he added--"She is harmless as a
kitten, this poor Aizif! Call her, good Theos, she will come to thy
hand--see!" and he smiled, as Theos, not to be outdone by his companion
in physical courage, bent forward and stroked the cruel-looking beast,
who, while submitting to his caress, never for a moment ceased her
smothered snarling. Presently, however, she was seized with a sudden
fit of savage playfulness,--and throwing herself on the ground before
him, she rolled her lithe body to and fro with brief thirsty roars of
satisfaction, . . roars that echoed through the whole pavilion with
terrific resonance: then rising, she shook herself vigorously and
commenced a stealthy, velvet-footed pacing up and down, lashing her
tail from side to side, and keeping those sly, emerald-like eyes of
hers watchfully fixed on Sah-luma, who merely laughed at her fierce
antics. Leaning against one of the dark, gnarled trees, he tapped his
sandaled foot with some impatience on the marble pavement, while Theos,
standing close beside him, wondered whether the mysterious Lysia knew
of their arrival.
Sah-luma appeared to guess his thoughts, for he answered them as though
they had been spoken aloud.
"Yes," he said, "she knows we are here--she knew the instant we entered
her gates. Nothing is or can be hidden from her! He who would have
secrets must depart out of Al-Kyris and find some other city to dwell
in, . . for here he shall be unable to keep even his own counsel. To
Lysia all things are made manifest; she reads human nature as one reads
an open scroll, and with merciless analysis she judges men as being
very poor creatures, limited in their capabilities, disappointing and
monotonous in their passions, unproductive and circumscribed in their
destinies. To her ironical humor and icy wit the wisest sages seem
fools; she probes them to the core, and discovers all their weaknesses;
. . she has no trust in virtue, no belief in honesty. And she is right!
Who but a madman would be honest in these days of competition and greed
of gain? And as for virtue, 'tis a pretty icicle that melts at the
first touch of a hot temptation! Aye! the Virgin Priestess of Nagaya
hath a most profound comprehension of mankind's immeasurable brute
stupidity; and, strong in this knowledge, she governs the multitude
with iron will, intellectual force, and dictative firmness: . . when
she dies I know not what will happen."
Here he interrupted himself, and a dark shadow crossed his brows. "By
my soul!" he muttered, "how this thought of death haunts me like the
unburied corpse of a slain foe! I would there were no such thing as
Death; 'tis a cruel and wanton sport of the gods to give us life at all
if life must end so utterly and so soon!"
He sighed deeply. Theos echoed the sigh, but answered nothing. At that
moment the restless Aizif gave another appalling roar, and pounced
swiftly toward the eastern side of the pavilion, where a large painted
panel could be dimly discerned, the subject of the painting being a
hideous idol, whose long, half-shut, inscrutable eyes leered through
the surrounding foliage with an expression of hateful cunning and
malevolence. In front of this panel the tigress lay down, licking the
pavement thirstily from time to time and giving vent to short purring
sounds of impatience: . . then all suddenly she rose with ears pricked,
in an attitude of attention. The panel slowly moved, it glided
back,--and the great brute leaped forward, flinging her two soft paws
on the shoulders of the figure that appeared--the figure of a woman,
who, clad in glistening gold from head to foot, shone in the dark
aperture like a gilded image in a shrine of ebony. Theos beheld the
brilliant apparition in some doubt and wonder. Was this Lysia? He could
not see her face, as she wore a thick white veil through which only the
faintest sparkle of dark eyes glimmered like flickering sunbeams; nor
was he able to discern the actual outline of her form, as it was
completely enveloped and lost in the wide, shapeless folds of her
stiff, golden gown. Yet every nerve in his body thrilled at her
presence! ... every drop of blood seemed to rush from his heart to his
brain in a swift, scorching torrent that for a second blinded his eyes
with a red glare and made him faint and giddy.
Woman and tigress! They looked strangely alike, he thought, as they
stood mutually caressing each other under the great drooping masses of
fantastic leaves. Yet where was the resemblance? What possible
similarity could there be between a tawny, treacherous brute of the
forests, full of sly malice and voracious cruelty, and that dazzling,
gold-garmented creature, whose small white hand, flashing with jewels,
now tenderly smoothed the black, silken stripes on the sleek coat of
her savage favorite?
"Down, sweet Aizif, down!" she said, in a grave, dulcet voice as softly
languorous as the last note of a love-song. "Down, my gentle one! thou
art too fond, down! so!" this as the tigress instantly removed its
embracing paws from her neck, and, trembling in every limb, crouched on
the ground in abjectly submissive obedience. Another moment, and she
advanced leisurely into the pavilion, Aizif slinking stealthily along
beside her and seeming to imitate her graceful gliding movements, till
she stood within a few paces of Theos and Sah-luma, just near the spot
where the lotus-flowers swayed over the grass-green, stagnant pool.
There she paused, and apparently scrutinized her visitors intently
through the folds of her snowy veil. Sah-luma bent his head before her
in a half haughty, half humble salutation.
"The tardy Sah-luma!" she said, with an undercurrent of laughter in her
musical tones, "the poet who loves the flattery of a foolish king, and
the applause of a still more foolish court! And so Khosrul disturbed
the flood of thine inspiration to-night, good minstrel? Nay, for that
he should die, if for no other crime! And this," here she turned her
veiled features toward Theos, whose heart beat furiously as he caught a
luminous flash from those half-hidden, brilliant eyes, "this is the
unwitting stranger who honored me by so daring a scrutiny this morning!
Verily, thou hast a singularly venturesome spirit of thine own, fair
sir! Still, we must honor courage, even though it border on rashness,
and I rejoice to see that the wrathful mob of Al-Kyris hath yet left
thee man enough to deserve my welcome! Nevertheless thou were guilty of
most heinous presumption!" Here she extended her jewelled hand. "Art
thou repentant? and wilt thou sue for pardon?"
Scarcely conscious of what he did, Theos approached her, and kneeling
on one knee took that fair, soft hand in his own and kissed it with
passionate fervor.
"Criminal as I am," he murmured tremulously, "I glory in my crime, nor
will I seek forgiveness? Nay, rather will I plead, with thee that I may
sin so sweet a sin again, and blind myself with beauty unreproved!"
Slowly she withdrew her fingers from his clasp.
"Thou art bold!" she said, with a touch of indolent amusement in her
accents. "But in thy boldness there is something of the hero. Knowest
thou not that I, Lysia, High Priestess of Nagaya, could have thee
straightway slain for that unwise speech of thine?--unwise because
over-hasty and somewhat over-familiar. Yes, I could have thee slain!"
and she laughed,--a rippling little laugh like that of a pleased child.
"Howbeit thou shalt not die this time for thy foolhardiness--thy looks
are too much in thy favor! Thou art like Sah-luma in his noblest moods,
when tired of verse-stringing and sonnet-chanting he condescends to
remember that he is not quite divine! See how he chafes at that!" and
plucking a lotus-bud she threw it playfully at the Laureate, whose
handsome face flushed vexedly at her words. "And thou art prudent, Sir
Theos--do I not pronounce thy name aptly?--thou wilt be less petulant
than he, and less absorbed in self-adoration, for here men--even poets
--are deemed no more than men, and their constant querulous claim to be
considered as demi-gods meets with no acceptance! Wilt 'blind thyself
with beauty' as thou say'st? Well then, lose thine eyes, but guard thy
heart!"
And with a careless movement she loosened her veil; it fell from her
like a soft cloud, and Theos, springing to his feet, gazed upon her
with a sense of enraptured bewilderment and passionate pain. It was as
though he saw the wraith of some fair, dead woman he had loved of old,
risen anew to redemand from him his former allegiance. O, unfamiliar
yet well-known face! ... O, slumbrous, starry eyes that seemed to hold
the memory of a thousand love-thoughts! ... O, sweet curved lips
whereon a delicious smile rested as softly as sunlight on young
rose-petals! Where, . . where, in God's name, had he seen all this
marvelous, witching, maddening loveliness BEFORE? His heart beat with
heavy, laboring thuds, . . his brain reeled, . . a dim, golden,
suffused radiance seemed to hover like an aureole above that dazzling
white brow, adorned with a clustering wealth of raven-black tresses,
whose massive coils were crowned with the strangest sort of diadem--a
wreath of small serpents' heads cunningly fashioned in rubies and rose
brilliants, and set in such a manner that they appeared to lift
themselves erect from out the dusky hair as though in darting readiness
to sting. Full of a vague, wild longing, he instinctively stretched out
his arms, . . then on a sudden impulse turned swiftly away, in a dizzy
effort to escape from the basilisk fire-gleam of those sombre, haunting
eyes that plunged into his inmost soul, and there aroused such dark
desires, such retrospective evil, such wild weakness as shamed the
betterness of his nature! Sah-luma's clear, mocking laugh just then
rang sharply through the perfumed stillness.
"Thou mad Theos! Whither art thou bound?" cried the Laureate
mirthfully. "Wilt leave our noble hostess ere the entertainment has
begun? Ungallant barbarian! What frenzy possesses thee?"
These words recalled him to himself. He came back slowly step by step,
and with bowed head, to where Lysia stood--Lysia, whose penetrating
gaze still rested upon him with strangely fixed intensity.
"Forgive me," he said, in a low, unsteady voice that to his own ears
sounded full of suppressed yet passionate appeal. "Forgive me, lady,
that for one moment I have seemed discourteous. I am not so, in very
truth. Sad fancies fret my brain at times, and--and there is that
within thine unveiled beauty which sword-like wounds my soul! I am not
joyous natured: ...unlike Sah-luma, chosen favorite of fortune, I have
lost all, all that made my life once seem fair. I am dead to those that
loved me, ... forgotten by those that honored me, . . a wanderer in
strange lands, a solitary wayfarer perplexed with many griefs to which
I cannot give a name! Nevertheless," and he drew a quick, hard breath,
"if I may serve thee, fairest Lysia,--as Sah-luma serves thee,--subject
to thy sovereign favor,--thou shalt not find me lacking in obedience!
Command me as thou wilt; let me efface myself to worship thee! Let me,
if it be possible, drown thought,--slay memory,--murder conscience,--so
that I may once more, as in the old time, be glad with the gladness
that only love can give and only death can take away!"
As he finished this unpremeditated, uncontrollable outburst his eyes
wistfully sought hers. She met his look with a languid indifference and
a half-disdainful smile.
"Enough! restrain thine ardor!" she said coldly, her dark dilating orbs
shining like steel beneath the velvet softness of her long lashes.
"Thou dost speak ignorantly, unknowing what thy words involve--words to
which I well might bind thee, were I less forbearing to thine
inconsiderate rashness. How like all men thou art! How keen to plunge
into unfathomed deeps, merely to snatch the pearl of present pleasure!
How martyr-seeming in thy fancied sufferings, as though THY little wave
of personal sorrow swamped the world! O wondrous human Egotism! that
sees but one great absolute 'I' scrawled on the face of Nature! 'I' am
afflicted, let none dare to rejoice! 'I' would be glad, let none
presume to grieve!" ... She laughed, a little low laugh of icy satire,
and then resumed: "I thank thee for thy proffered service, sir
stranger, albeit I need it not,--nor do I care to claim it at thy
hands. Thou art my guest--no more! Whether thou wilt hereafter deserve
to be enrolled my bondsman depends upon thy prowess and--my humor!"
Her beautiful eyes flashed scornfully, and there was something cruel in
her glance. Theos felt it sting him like a sharp blow. His nerves
quivered,--his spirit rose in arms against the cynical hauteur of this
woman whom he loved; yes,--LOVED, with a curious sense of revived
passion--passion that seemed to have slept in a tomb for ages, and that
now suddenly sprang into life and being, like a fire kindled anew on
dead ashes!
Acting on a sudden proud impulse he raised his head and looked at her
with a bold steadfastness,--a critical scrutiny,--a calmly
discriminating valuation of her physical charms that for the moment
certainly appeared to startle her self-possession, for a deep flush
colored the fairness of her face and then faded, leaving her pale as
marble. Her emotion, whatever it was, lasted but a second,--yet in that
second he had measured his mental strength against hers, and had become
aware of his own supremacy! This consciousness filled him with peculiar
satisfaction. He drew a long breath like one narrowly escaped from
close peril. He had now no fear of her--only a great, all-absorbing,
all-evil love, and to that he was recklessly content to yield. Her eyes
dwelt glitteringly first upon him and then on Sah-luma, as the eyes of
a falcon dwell on its prey, and her smile was touched with a little
malice, as she said, addressing them both:
"Come, fair sirs! we will not linger in this wilderness of wild
flowers. A feast awaits us yonder--a feast prepared for those who, like
yourselves obey the creed of sweet self indulgence, ... the world-wide
creed wherein men find no fault, no shadow of inconsistency! The truest
wisdom is to enjoy,--the only philosophy that which teaches us how best
to gratify our own desires! Delight cannot satiate the soul, nor mirth
engender weariness! Follow me!--" and with a lithe movement she swept
toward the door, her pet tigress creeping closely after her; then
suddenly looking back she darted a lustiously caressing glance over her
shoulder at Sah-luma and stretched out her hand. He at once caught it
in his own and kissed it with an almost brusque eagerness.
"I thought you had forgotten me!" he murmured in a vexed,
half-reproachful tone.
"Forgotten you? Forgotten Sah-luma? Impossible!" and her silvery
laughter shook the air into little throbs of music. "When the greatest
poet of the age is forgotten, then fall Al-Kyris! ... for there shall
be no more need of kingdoms!"
Laughing still and allowing her hand to remain in his, she passed out
of the pavilion, and Theos followed them both as a man might follow the
beckoning sylphs in a fairy dream.
A mellow, luminous, witch-like radiance seemed to surround them as they
went--two dazzling figures gliding on before him with the slow, light
grace of moonbeams flitting over a smooth ocean. They seemed made for
each other, ... he could not separate them in his thoughts; but the
strangest part of the matter was the feeling he had, that he himself
somehow belonged to them and they to him. His ideas on the subject,
however, were very indefinite; he was in a condition of more or less
absolute passiveness, save when strong shudders of grief, memory,
remorse or roused passion shook him with sudden force like a storm
blast shaking some melancholy cypress whose roots are in the grave. He
mused on Lysia's scornful words with a perplexed pain. Was he then so
selfish? "The one great absolute 'I' scrawled on the face of Nature!"
Could that apply to him? Surely not! since in his present state of mind
he could hardly lay claim to any distinct personality, seeing that that
personality was forever merging itself and getting lost in the more
clearly perfect identity of Sah-luma, whom he regarded with a species
of profound hero-worship such as one man seldom feels for another. To
call himself a Poet NOW seemed the acme of absurdity; how should such
an one as he attempt to conquer fame with a rival like Sah-luma already
in the field and already supremely victorious?
Full of these fancies, he scarcely heeded the wonders through which he
passed, as he followed his two radiant guides along. His eyes were
tired, and rested almost indifferently on the magnificence that
everywhere surrounded him, though here and there certain objects
attracted his attention as being curiously familiar. These lofty
corridors, gorgeously frescoed, . . these splendid groups of statuary,
. . these palm-shaded nooks of verdure where imprisoned nightingales
warbled plaintive songs that were all the sweeter for their sadness,
... these spacious marble loggias cooled by the rising and falling
spray of myriad fountains--did he not dimly recognize all these things?
He thought so, yet was not sure,--for he had arrived at a pass when he
could neither rely on his reason nor his memory. Naught of deeper
humiliation could he have than this, to feel within himself that he was
still AN INTELLECTUAL, THINKING, SENTIENT HUMAN BEING, and that yet at
the same time, his INTELLIGENCE COULD DO NOTHING TO EXTRICATE HIM from
the terrific mystery which had engulfed him like a huge flood, and
wherein he was now tossed to and fro as helplessly as a floating straw.
On, still on he went, treading closely in Sah-luma's footsteps and
wistfully noting how often the myrtle-garlanded head of his friend
drooped caressingly toward Lysia's dusky perfumed locks, whence those
jewelled serpents' fangs darted flashingly upward like light from
darkness. On, still on, till at last he found himself in a grand
vestibule, built entirely of sparkling red granite. Here were ten
sphinxes, so huge in form that a dozen men might have lounged at ease
on each one of their enormous paws; they were ranged in rows of five on
each side, and their coldly meditative eyes appeared to dwell
steadfastly on the polished face of a large black Disc placed
conspicuously on a pedestal in the exact centre of the pavement.
Strange letters shone from time to time on this ebony tablet, . .
letters that seemed to be written in quicksilver; they glittered for a
second, then ran off like phosphorescent drops of water, and again
reappeared, but the same signs were never repeated twice over. All were
different, . . all were rapid in their coming and going as flashes of
lightning. Lysia, approaching the Disc, turned it slightly; at her
touch it revolved like a flying wheel, and for a brief space was
literally covered with mysterious characters, which the beautiful
Priestess perused with an apparent air of satisfaction. All at once the
fiery writing vanished, the Disc was left black and bare,--and then a
silver ball fell suddenly upon it, with a clang, from some unseen
height, and rolling off again instantly disappeared. At the same moment
a harsh voice, rising as it were from the deepest underground, chanted
the following words in a monotonous recitative:
"Fall, O thou lost Hour, into the dreadful Past! Sink, O thou Pearl of
Time, into the dark and fathomless abyss! Not all the glory of kings or
the wealth of empires can purchase thee back again! Not all the
strength of warriors or the wisdom of sages can draw thee forth from
the Abode of Silence whither thou art fled! Farewell, lost Hour!--and
may the gods defend us from thy reproach at the Day of Doom! In the
name of the Sun and Nagaya, ... Peace!"
The voice died away in a muffled echo, and the slow, solemn boom of a
brazen-tongued bell struck midnight. Then Theos, raising his eyes, saw
that all further progress was impeded by a great wall of solid rock
that glistened at every point with flashes of pale and dark violet
light--a wall composed entirely of adamantine spar, crusted thick with
the rough growth of oriental amethyst. It rose sheer up from the ground
to an altitude of about a hundred feet, and apparently closed in and
completed the vestibule.
Surely there was no passing through such a barrier as this? ... he
thought wonderingly; nevertheless Lysia and Sah-luma still went on, and
he--as perforce he was compelled--still followed. Arrived at the foot
of the huge erection that towered above him like a steep cliff of
molten gems, he fancied he heard a faint sound behind it as of clinking
glasses and boisterous laughter, but before he had time to consider
what this might mean, Lysia laid her hand lightly on a small,
protruding knob of crystal, pressed it, and lo! ... the whole massive
structure yawned open suddenly without any noise, suspending itself as
it were in sparkling festoons of purple stalactites over the
voluptuously magnificent scene disclosed.
At first it was difficult to discern more than a gorgeous maze of
swaying light and color as though a great field of tulips in full bloom
should be seen waving to and fro in the breath of a soft wind; but
gradually this bewildering dazzle of gold and green, violet and
crimson, resolved itself into definite form and substance; and Theos,
standing beside his two companions on the elevated threshold of the
partition through which they had entered, was able to look down and
survey with tolerable composure the wondrous details of the glittering
picture--a picture that looked like a fairy-fantasy poised in a haze of
jewel-like radiance as of vaporized sapphire.
He saw beneath him a vast circular hall or amphitheatre, roofed in by a
lofty dome of richest malachite, from the centre of which was suspended
a huge globe of fire, that revolved with incredible swiftness, flinging
vivid, blood-red rays on the amber-colored silken carpets and
embroideries that strewed the floor below. The dome was supported by
rows upon rows of tall, tapering crystal columns, clear as translucent
water and green as the grass in spring, . . and between and beyond
these columns on the left-hand side there were large, oval-shaped
casements set wide open to the night, through which the gleam of a
broad lake laden with water-lilies could be seen shimmering in the
yellow moon. The middle of the hall was occupied by a round table
covered with draperies of gold, white, and green, and heaped with all
the costly accessories of a sumptuous banquet such as might have been
spread before the gods of Olympus in the full height of their legendary
prime. Here were the lovely hues of heaped-up fruit,--the tender bloom
of scattered flowers,--the glisten of jewelled flagons and goblets, the
flash of massive golden dishes carried aloft by black slaves attired in
white and crimson,--the red glow of poured-out wine; and here, in the
drowsy warmth, lounging on divans of velvet and embroidered satin,
eating, drinking, idly gossiping, loudly laughing, and occasionally
bursting into wild snatches of song, were a company of
brilliant-looking personages,--all men, all young, all handsome, all
richly clad, and all evidently bent on enjoying the pleasures offered
by the immediate hour. Suddenly, however, their noisy voices
ceased--with one accord, as though drawn by some magnetic spell, they
all turned their heads toward the platform where Lysia had just
silently made her appearance,--and springing from their seats they
broke into a boisterous shout of acclamation and welcome. One young man
whose flushed face had all the joyous, wanton, effeminate beauty of a
pictured Dionysius, reeled forward, goblet in hand, and tossing the
wine in air so that it splashed down again at his feet, staining his
white garments as it fell with a stain as of blood, he cried, tipsily:
"All hail, Lysia! Where hast thou wandered so long, thou Goddess of
Morn? We have been lost in the blackness of night, sunk in the depths
of a hell-like gloom--but lo! now the clouds have broken in the east,
and our hearts rejoice at the birth of day! Vanish, dull moon, and be
ashamed! ... for a fairer planet rules the sky! Hence, ye stars! ...
puny glow-worms lazily crawling in the fields of ether! Lysia invests
the heaven and earth, and in her smile we live! Ha! art thou there,
Sah-luma? Come, praise me for my improvised love-lines; they are as
good as thine, I warrant thee! Canst compose when thou art drunk, my
dainty Laureate? Drain a cup then, and string me a stanza! Where is thy
fool Zebastes? I would fain tickle his long ears with ribald rhyme, and
hearken to the barbarous braying forth of his asinine reflections!
Lysia! what, Lysia! ... dost thou frown at me? Frown not, sweet queen,
but rather laugh! ... thy laughter kills, 'tis true, but thy frown doth
torture spirits after death! Unbend thy brows! Night looms between them
like a chaos! ... we will have no more night, I say, but only noon! ...
a long, languorous, lovely noon, flower-girdled and sunbeam-clad!
"'With roses, roses, roses crown my head, For my days are few! And
remember, sweet, when I am dead, That my heart was true!'"
Singing unsteadily, with the empty goblet upside-down in his hand, he
looked up laughing,--his bright eyes flashing with a wild feverish
fire, his fair hair tossed back from his brows and entangled in a
half-crushed wreath of vine-leaves,--his rich garments disordered, his
whole demeanor that of one possessed by a semi-delirium of sensuous
pleasure...when all at once, meeting Lysia's keen glance, he started as
though he had been suddenly stabbed,--the goblet fell from his clasp,
and a visible shudder ran through his strong, supple frame. The low,
cold, merciless laughter of the beautiful Priestess cut through the air
hissingly like the sweep of a scimetar.
"Thou art wondrous merry, Nir-jalis," she said, in languid, lazily
enunciated accents. "Knowest thou not that too much mirth engenders
weeping, and that excessive rejoicing hath its fitting end in grievous
lamentation? Nay, even now already thou lookest more sadly! What sombre
cloud has crossed thy wine-hued heaven? Be happy while thou mayest,
good fool! ... I blame thee not! Sooner or later all things must end!
... in the mean time, make thou the most of life while life remains;
'tis at its best an uncertain heritage, that once rashly squandered can
never be restored,--either here or hereafter."
The words were gently, almost tenderly, spoken; but Nir-jalis hearing
them, grew white as death--his smile faded, leaving his lips set and
stern as the lips of a marble mask. Stooping, he raised his fallen
goblet and held it out almost mechanically to a passing slave, who
re-filled it with wine, which he drank off thirstily at a draught,
though the generous liquid brought no color back to his drawn and ashy
features.
Lysia paid no further heed to his evident discomfiture; bidding
Sah-luma and Theos follow her, she descended the few steps that led
from the raised platform into the body of the brilliant hall; the rocky
screen of amethyst closed behind her as noiselessly as it had opened,
and in another moment she stood among her assembled guests, who at once
surrounded her with eager salutations and gracefully worded flatteries.
Smiling on them all with that strange smile of hers that was more
scornful than sweet, and yet so infinitely bewitching, she said little
in answer to their greetings, . . she moved as a queen moves through a
crowd of courtiers, the varied light of crimson and green playing about
her like so many sparkles of living flame, . . her dark head, wreathed
with those jewelled serpents, lifting itself proudly erect from her
muffling golden mantle, and her eyes shining with that frosty gleam of
mockery which made them look so lustrous yet so cold. And now Theos
perceived that at one end of the splendid banquet table a dais was
erected, draped richly in carnation-colored silk, and that on this dais
a throne was placed--a throne composed entirely of BLACK crystals,
whose needle-like points sparkled with a dark flash as of bayonets seen
through the smoke of battle. It was cushioned in black velvet, and
above it was a bent arch of ivory on which glittered a twisted snake of
clustered emeralds.
With that slow, superb ease that distinguished all her actions, Lysia,
attended closely by her tigress, mounted the dais,--and as she did so a
loud clash of brazen bells rang out from some invisible turret beyond
the summit of the great dome. At the sound of the jangling chime four
negresses appeared--goblin creatures that looked as though they had
suddenly sprung from some sooty, subterranean region of gnomes--and
humbly prostrating themselves before Lysia, kissed the ground at her
feet. This done, they rose, and began to undo the fastenings of her
golden, domino-like garment; but either they were slow, or the fair
priestess was impatient for she suddenly shook herself free of their
hands, and, loosening the gorgeous mantle herself from its jewelled
clasps, it fell slowly from her symmetrical form on the perfumed floor
with a rustle as of falling leaves.
A sigh quivered audibly through the room--whether of grief, joy, hope,
relief, or despair it was difficult to tell. The pride and peril of a
matchless loveliness was revealed in all its fatal seductiveness and
invincible strength--the irresistible perfection of woman's beauty was
openly displayed to bewilder the sight and rouse the reckless passions
of man! Who could look on such delicate, dangerous, witching charms
unmoved? Who could gaze on the exquisite outlines of a form fairer than
that of any sculptured Venus and refuse to acknowledge its powerfully
sweet attraction?
The Virgin Priestess of the Sun had stepped out of her shrine; . . no
longer a creature removed, impersonal, and sacred, she had become most
absolutely human. Moreover, she might now have been taken for a
bacchante, a dancer, or any other unsexed example of womanhood inasmuch
as with her golden mantle she had thrown off all disguise of modesty.
Her beautiful limbs, rounded and smooth as pearl, could be plainly
discerned through the filmy garb of silvery tissue that clung like a
pale mist about the voluptuous curves of her figure and floated behind
her in shining gossamer folds; her dazzling white neck and arms were
bare; and from slim wrist to snowy shoulder, little twining diamond
snakes glistened in close coils against the velvety fairness of her
flesh. A silver serpent with a head of sapphires girdled her waist, and
just above the full wave of her bosom, that rose and fell visibly
beneath the transparent gathers of her gauzy drapery, shone a large,
fiery jewel, fashioned in the semblance of a human Eye. This singular
ornament was so life-like as to be absolutely repulsive, and as it
moved to and fro with its wearer's breathing it seemed now to stare
aghast,--anon to flash wickedly as with a thought of evil,--while more
often still it assumed a restlessly watchful expression as though it
were the eye of a fiend-inquisitor intent on the detection of some
secret treachery. Poised between those fair white breasts it glared
forth a glittering Menace; . . a warning of unimaginable horror; and
Theos, gazing at it fixedly, felt a curious thrill run through him, as
if, so to speak, a hook of steel had been suddenly thrust into his
quivering veins to draw him steadily and securely on toward some
pitfall of unknown tortures. Then he remembered what Sah-luma had said
about the "all-reflecting Eye, the weird mirror and potent dazzler of
human sight," and wondered whether its mystical properties were such as
to compel men to involuntarily declare their inmost thoughts, for it
seemed to him that its sinister glow penetrated into the very deepest
recesses of his mind, and there discovered all the hidden weaknesses,
follies, and passions of the worst side of his nature!
He trembled and grew faint,--his dazed eyes wandered over the dainty
grace and marvel of Lysia's almost unclad loveliness with mingled
emotions of allurement and repugnance. Fascinated, yet at the same time
repelled, his soul yearned toward her as the soul of the knight in the
Lore-lei legend yearned toward the singing Rhine-siren, whose embrace
was destruction; and then..... he became filled with a strange, sudden
fear; fear, not for himself, but for Sah-luma, whose ardent glance
burned into her dark, languid-lidded, amorous orbs with the lustre of
flame meeting flame--Sah-luma, whose beautiful flushed face was as that
of a god inspired, or lover triumphant. What could he do to shield and
save this so idolized friend of his?--this dear familiar for whom he
had such close and ever-increasing sympathy! Might he not possibly
guard him in some way and ward off impending danger? But what danger?
What spectral shadow of dread hovered above this brilliant scene of
high feasting and voluptuous revelry? None that he could imagine or
define, and yet he was conscious, of an omimous, unuttered premonition
of peril in the very air--peril for Sah-luma, always for Sah-luma,
never for himself, ... Self seemed dead and entombed forever!
Involuntarily lifting his eyes to the great green dome where the globe
of fire twirled rapidly like a rolling star, he saw some words written
round it in golden letters, they were large and distinct, and ran thus:
"Live in the Now, but question not the Afterwards!"
A wise axiom! ... yet almost a platitude, for did not every one occupy
themselves exclusively with the Now, regardless of future consequences?
Of course! Who but sages--or fools--would stop to question the
Afterwards!
Just then Lysia ascended her black crystal throne in all her statuesque
majesty, and sinking indolently amid its sable cushions, where she
shone in her wonderful whiteness like a glistening pearl set in ebony,
she signed to her guests to resume their places at table. She was
instantly obeyed. Sah-luma took what was evidently his accustomed post
at her right hand, while Theos found a vacant corner on her left, next
to the picturesque, lounging figure of the young man Nir jahs, who
looked up at him with a half smile as he seated himself, and
courteously made more room for him among the tumbled emerald silk
diapers of the luxurious divan, they now shared together. Nir jahs was
by no means sober, but he had recovered a little of his self-possession
since Lysia's sleepy eyes had darted such cold contempt upon him, and
he seemed for the present to be on his guard against giving any further
possible cause of offence.
"Thou art a new comer,--a stranger, if I mistake not?" he inquired in a
low, abrupt, yet kindly tone.
"Yes," replied Theos in the same soft sotto-voce. "I am a mere
sojourner in Al-Kyris for a few days only, ... the guest of the divine
Sah-luma."
Nir-jahs raised his eyebrows with an expression of amused wonder.
"Divine!" he ejaculated "By my faith! what neophyte have we here!" and
supporting himself on one elbow he stared at his companion as though he
saw in him some singular human phenomenon. "Dost thou really believe,"
he went on jestingly, "in the divinity of poets? Dost thou think they
write what they mean, or practice what they preach? Then art thou the
veriest innocent that ever wore the muscular semblance of man! Poets,
my friend, are the most absolute impostors, . . they melodize their
rhymed music on phases of emotion they have never experienced; as for
instance our Lameate yonder will string a pretty sonnet on the despair
of love, he knowing nothing of despair, . . he will write of a broken
heart, his own being unpricked by so much as a pin's point of trouble;
and he will speak in his verso of dying for love when he would not let
his little finger ache for the sake of a woman who worshipped him! Look
not so vaguely! 'tis so, indeed! and as for the divine part of him,
wait but a little, and thou shalt see thy poet-god become a satyr!"
He laughed maliciously, and Theos felt an angry flush rising to his
brows. He could not bear to hear Sah-luma thus lightly maligned even by
this half-drunken reveller, it stung him to the quick, as if he
personally were included in the implied accusation of unworthiness.
Nir-jalis perceived his annoyance, and added good naturedly:
"Tush, man! Vex not thy soul as to thy friend's virtues or vices--what
are they to thee? And of truth Sah-luma is no worse than the rest of
us. All I maintain is that he is certainly no better. I have known many
poets in my day, and they are all more or less alike--petulant as
babes, peevish as women, selfish as misers, and conceited as peacocks.
They SHOULD be different? Oh, yes!--they SHOULD be the perpetual youth
of mankind, the faithful singers of love idealized and made perfect.
But then none of us are what we ought to be! Besides, if we were all
virtuous, . . by the gods! the world would become too dull a hole to
live in! Enough! Wilt drink with me?" and beckoning a slave, he had his
own goblet and that of Theos filled to the brim with wine.
"To our more intimate acquaintance!" he said smilingly, and Theos,
somewhat captivated by the easy courtesy of his manner, could do no
less than respond cordially to the proffered toast. At that moment a
triumphant burst of music, like the sound of mingled flutes, hautboys,
and harps, pushed through the dome like a strong wind sweeping in from
the sea, and with it the hum and buzz of conversation began in good
earnest. Theos, lifting his gaze toward Lysia's seat, saw that she was
now surrounded by the four attendant negresses, who, standing two on
each side of her throne, held large fans of peacock plumes, which, as
they were waved slowly to and fro, emitted a thousand scintillations of
jewel-like splendor. A slave, attired in scarlet, knelt on one knee
before her, proffering a golden salver loaded with the choicest fruits
and wines; a lazy smile played on her lips--lips that outrivaled the
dewy tint of half-opening roses; the serpents in her hair and on her
rounded arms quivered in the light like living things; the great
Symbolic Eye glanced wickedly out from the white beauty of her heaving
breast; and as he surveyed her, thus resplendent in all the startling
seductiveness of her dangerous charms, her loveliness entranced and
intoxicated him like the faint perfume of some rare and powerful
exotic, ... his senses seemed to sink drowningly in the whelming
influence of her soft and dazzling grace; and though he still resented,
he could not resist her mesmeric power. No wonder, he thought, that
Sah-luma's eyes darkened with passions as they dwelt on her! ... and no
wonder that he, like Sah-luma, was content to be gently but surely
drawn within the glittering web of her magic spell--a spell fatal, yet
too bewilderingly sweet for human strength to fight against. The
mysterious sense he had of danger lurking somewhere for Sah-luma
applied, so he fancied, in no way to himself--it did not much matter
what happened to HIM--HE was a mere nobody. He could be of no use
anywhere; he was as one banished into strange exile; his brain--that
brain he had once deemed so clear, so subtle, so eminently reasoning
and all-comprehensive--was now nothing but a chaotic confusion of vague
suggestions, and only served to very slightly guide him in the
immediate present, giving him no practical clue at all as to the past
through which he had lived, or the circumstances he most wished to
remember. He was a fool--a dreamer--ungifted--unfamous! ... were he to
die, not a soul would regret his loss. His own fate therefore concerned
him little--he could handle fire recklessly and not feel the flame; he
could, so he believed, run any risk, and yet escape, comparatively free
of harm.
But with Sah-luma it was different! Sah-luma must be guarded and
cherished; his was a valuable life--the life of a genius such as the
world sees but once in a century--and it should not, so Theos
determined,--be emperilled or wasted; no! not even for the sake of the
sensuous, exquisite, conquering beauty of this dazzling Priestess of
the Sun--the fairest sorceress that ever triumphed over the frail yet
immortal Spirit of Man!