heard the name before. I’m sure I never dreamed of cities of white
marble on the other side of the earth.’
“I told you last night,’ she replied evasively, ‘that they are in the
center of the shoreless sea, where the white wave circles.’
“I fancied then, as I looked out across the shining water, that
something white and ominous like foam bounded the far horizon. She
followed my glance. When again she looked toward me, I thought that
within her eyes I read fear, but the look vanished as quickly as it
came, and the old serenity took its place.
“‘That does not tell me where I am--“in the center of the shoreless
sea”--that only helps to lose me the more.’
“‘What difference does it make where one is, if one is happy? How could
happiness be situated upon a map!’
“‘But are there no steamers, no seafaring vessels?’ I insisted, looking
out beyond the islands where the smooth water stretched to the horizon,
unfurrowed of prow or oar.
“‘Of course not! Why should there be? When one reaches the Land of
the Ideal, where everything is exactly as one would have it, is it
reasonable to suppose that any one would wish to go away?’
“‘Very true. But how do they get here?’
“‘How did you?’
“‘But I mean others. How do _they_ get here?’
“‘There is only one road that can lead to a land like this. They who
are fit find it.’
“‘But do not all roads lead two ways?’
“‘All but this one.’
“‘I yield. There is no use in questioning the Sphinx.’
“We were driving through streets lined with marble buildings and
bordered on either side by smooth parkways. At frequent intervals along
the greensward were statues, decorative urns, shrubs, and flowers. Each
building, whatsoever its size, extent, or purpose, was a little work
of art and formed a helpful part of the general grouping. Nowhere was
there anything ugly or unsightly. Nowhere was there a false color or an
immature line. It was as if the people had worked together with the
single aim of making their city faultless. They seemed to know that
ugly things are immoral.
“On the larger buildings I noticed that the decorations were frequently
suggestive of the sea, as if in some remote age the city had risen from
its depth. Carved upon the marble were shells, fish, trailing vines
and weeds whose graceful sinuosities told of the swinging of tides.
When we crossed one of the long spoke-like streets which swept from
the center to the edge of the island, I saw that at its end, upon the
turf that met it at right angles, there was a group of statuary. Asra
told me that similar groups stood at the end of each street where it
touched the sea. This group represented dancing nymphs pausing suddenly
in the last wild round of some ecstatic dance, uplifted to toe-tips
by motion-mad draperies, with muscles tense, up-strained to slimmest
height, heads flung back, holding to their lips, trumpet-wise, fluted
shells, through which they were flinging defiance at the deep. This
picture stuck in my memory. It was like a pin prick of fear. In the
smiling water it made me see a menace and a danger.
“There were buildings in the city which had a look of great age. They
were yellow and mottled and streaked faintly with fine lines of gray.
Their architecture was strange. It was simple and dignified, but as
alien as the flora of an unknown land. The light fell upon these
ancient buildings tenderly, with none of the harsh obtrusiveness of
unshaded white. It was like a retrospective thought where unpleasant
things seen in the flattering mirror of the past have lost their
harshness. High above the city rose the grace of palms, and in all
directions shone blue water.
“Then began a life which lasted too brief a time and which I have
never ceased to regret; a life where all the standards of living were
reversed. How shall I tell you?
“Beauty, not gold, was king!--the intelligent appreciation, the
creation of beauty. They called it the spirit of life made visible.
There was no religion, no church; in their stead they had placed
fearlessness and joy and kindness. If you can imagine what the result
would be to take away wealth as the objective goal of a nation’s
endeavor, you will gain an idea of what I mean.
“Gradually in our walks and drives, or in our sails upon the water,
Asra instructed me in the new life, until I was beginning to forget
the old. At least I had reached the point where there was no desire of
return. I will not enter into tiresome details of the island people and
their ways, because the most important part is what came later and its
effect upon my life.
“Perhaps two weeks had elapsed since my arrival in the Opal Isles when
Asra asked me to visit with her a little rocky islet, the farthest and
most outlying of the Opal group, whence a fine view was to be had of
the island cities, and the great sea to westward. At her suggestion,
we took along a hamper of food, that we might spend the day if we
wished. I managed the red-sailed boat, and we went alone.
“Rocky and grim the island rose from the water, like the summit of a
mountain whose base had been submerged by the tides. Near the shore on
one side, opposite the landing, stood a graceful little pavilion, a
place of rest and shelter from the too direct rays of the sun. Within
were seats and a table.
“At one end of the pavilion the rock walls were near and rose high
above its roof. In the wind-sheltered crevices an airy blue flower
grew that resembled the anemone. There were occasional ferns, too.
Other vegetation there was none. The shore was strewn with dull,
copper-colored seaweeds of sharply indented edges. They resembled hairy
tentacles, long eager sea-arms reaching from the deep to drag us down.
“Asra wore the dress in which I had first seen her, the gold open-work
corselet, with the swinging pink stones and giant rubies. As I looked
at her, the light struck a flame from the ruby above her heart, and I
noticed that its color was that of the crimson sail. I remembered how I
had watched it upon the misty water, and how I had thought that it was
the color of life, when life is lived bravely.
“‘I am glad of your mood to-day,’ she said, divining my thoughts. ‘Why
can you not always be like this? Why can you not always be dominant and
fearless? That is the way to live. I do not understand you when you are
sad.’
“‘Nor I myself.’
“‘Why is it then?’
“‘The mystery of things, perhaps. I do not know exactly. Perhaps it is
because I wonder where I am.’
“‘What possible difference can place make if we are happy?’
“‘Perhaps it is because I fear the day will come when I must go away.’
“A deep light shone in her eyes. The thought flashed through my brain
that here was such a face as dwells forever in the depth of our ideals.
“‘But why need you go? What is there in the old world that you want?
Stay here with me.’
“‘Do you mean it, Asra?’ I cried, all but smothered with the joy that
burst upon my senses.
“‘Yes, why not?’
“‘Then this life is mine forever!’ I exclaimed, hastening toward her,
while she waved me gently away.
“‘To the fearless all things belong.’
“‘Asra!’ I cried, the wild joy still beating in my brain.
“Again she waved me away. ‘See!’ She spread a paper before me which she
had taken from a slender chatelaine swinging from her waist. ‘This is
the permission for me to choose whom I wish--you if I wish.’
“‘And you do wish, Asra?’
“‘Otherwise would I have told you? It depends upon you. There are
conditions. You must banish fear, doubt, sadness, forever. Do you
understand? If you were unable, it would mean ruin--such ruin as you do
not know. You must be sure of yourself.’
“‘Anything that lies within my power I will do. But is this within my
power? Can I be sure? Can I know?’
“I looked out over the sea. The broad light fell full upon it, and a
myriad merry eyes looked back at me. Its voice reached me. I listened.
The meaning was unmistakable. It was the undying laughter of the pagan
gods. At night, too, I remembered, its voice had reached me; and I
shivered to think that it was a dirge then, that it sang an eternal
dirge. And between these two voices of nature--the two voices that call
forever, the laughter and the dirge--what was there? The ideal! Yes,
the ideal, desirable and unattainable, forever, between the laughter
and the dirge.
“‘Now you have reached it!’ she exclaimed, breaking in upon my
thinking. ‘You were sure to. Now you will conquer. Put the other world
behind you. Annihilate it with your fearlessness. Be mine!’
“Her face inspirited me. Courage, like wine, strengthened my veins.
I felt that I had been lifted into a high and rarefied element. The
moments became lyric and sped onward with the lilt of song.
“‘I will not fail you. I will live with you upon your height of joy. I
will prove that I am worthy.’
“I clasped her in my arms, and the face which was like the realization
of a dream was near to mine.
“‘I knew it!’ she exclaimed, disengaging herself gently from my embrace.
“For the moment I moved in an element of lightness and joy, freed
from fear, superstition, and corroding care. I began to realize that
joy is the most important thing in the world, the most pregnant of
possibility and power. I saw a new world, a new sky, and a new earth.
Beneath her mighty touch, I saw as if for the first time the face of
the morning upon the level water. I looked across it. My fancy peopled
with triumphant phantoms the immeasurable distances that lay beyond.
Worlds on worlds sprung up in space over which joy floated like a
victorious banner and whose roadways were threaded by the gleaming
feet of love. I saw victorious and triumphant things; white arms
up-flung, red lips that shrilled in song; bright helmet plumes blown
back like flame; and between them the white, glorious face of the woman
I loved. Joy had strung my mind to a finer pitch. It had given it
temporarily the strength and the suppleness of steel. Like a thin and
glittering sword of unbreakable metal, joy stood, unsheathed of grief
and formidable forever, between me and the destructive forces of life.
Nothing now could diminish my power. I had found that for which we are
created.
“Wherever the mysterious roads of life might lead, it was joy that
waited for me at the end. All the beautiful, unalterable things in
whose creation joy had been dominant came thronging to enrich my senses.
“‘You are right. Joy is the greatest thing in the world. It is the
alkahest, the universal solvent, in which beauty becomes fluid, and,
like a returning tide of ocean, flows in and makes fecund the barren
coves and inlets of the soul.’
“‘Put away all that you have known in the past,’ she answered quickly.
‘Forget that there was ever another way of living, another land. Be
mine wholly. If you are worthy, the reward will not be slight.’
“‘The past is as if it had not been. It is a tide that has slipped back
again into the deep.’
“‘And it has washed away the writing on the sand. Look!’ She pointed to
the sea. ‘Like its deep the soul is. Nothing can sully it.’
“As a lark rises in space, its only connection with the dim earth being
ribbons of fluted sound, so did my ecstatic vision rise and hold me
high above, where petty griefs could not pull me down and where in my
focusing point of light I could draw what I wished up unto myself.
“‘I promise, Asra.’
“‘Then I choose you,’ she answered solemnly, a strange new note of
warning ringing in her voice.
“I felt as if the horses of the sun had whirled me to the heights of
light. Swift air lashed my ears. Glory inundated my senses. I felt the
vertigo of happiness. I saw poise beneficently above me then the vision
of love--the glittering, gold-cloud vision of love as it is painted
by tone in the overture to _Lohengrin_. When it passed, the elastic
swing of my vision, which had attained height sufficient to embrace
all things, brought before me, by power of contrast, the black, autumn
coast of La Bas Bretagne, as I had seen it in my gloomy childhood. The
shore was strewn with rocks, like this one, and, perched upon them,
much as was this gay pavilion, stood a church, somber and dark with
age. Upon the tower a huge dark crucifix stood, whose black shadow fell
far below. I saw again that cold autumnal sea; the slow-swinging ridges
of dim water, where the black cross wavered, and between which poised
black boats, over whose edges from time to time passed sadly the cold,
silent creatures of the sea. The bright vision faded. I fell from my
height of joy. It was as if I spun down infinitudes of space, light,
like sound, ringing as I went.
“‘Asra, you swept me with you to a dizzy height, where, for a few
moments, I saw the splendor of the worlds unfurl. But I cannot keep it.
My eyes grow dim; my senses are blurred. A thousand fears assail me. I
am afraid of the heights. I cannot live there calmly. I am not equal to
it.’
“‘What do you mean?’ Again there was that solemn note of warning that
shook my soul.
“‘Do not fail me now. You do not realize what it would mean. You do not
dream what would come.’
“Again I saw the cold gray sky of France. The dim water ridges again
swung toward me, and upon them lay blackly the shadow of sorrow. Doubts
and fears like a demon army fell upon me. They overcame me; they
crushed me.
“‘Asra, what of that dark ocean whose name is death?’
“‘What of that!’ she replied in scorn. ‘I do not fear it. Put all such
thoughts behind you. Be brave! Let us intoxicate ourselves with living,
with fancies, dreams, exquisite sensations. The present cannot last.
Therefore make it perfect. Since Life is a guest whom we may not ignore
if we would, does it not behoove us to be royal entertainers?’
“No more could that impassioned voice arouse me, nor the eyes, that
filled my soul with light. The earth had claimed me. Supinely I fell
back upon its breast. Never again could she lift me to the heights.
“‘I am not worthy of you, Asra. Can you forgive me?’ I said, folding
her in my arms and pressing my lips to hers.
“When my lips touched hers, a change passed over her. She was standing
close beside me, and yet she seemed to be distant, to have moved away.
“‘Oh, the folly! Why did you not listen to me! Why did you not bury
yourself in your dream and forget! Why did you not content yourself
with looking! There are things made only to dream of--that vanish
at the touch. Good is not good until it is useless,’ she added
enigmatically.
“‘The ideal must never be reached. _Look!_’ Wildly her voice rang out.
“I followed the direction of her eyes and her pointing hand.
“‘The white wave!’
“The sky-line was blurred beneath on-rushing water, white and
thunderous and fearful.
“‘What does it mean, the white wave?’
“‘Did I not warn you? Come, save yourself while there is time!’
“She unclasped the bracelet from my arm and flung it down. She led me
toward the rock that towered at the end of the pavilion. After walking
some distance around its projection upon the sand, we came to a dark
and narrow opening. There, handing me the food hamper, she said: ‘Go
straight ahead! Go! Go!’
“‘But you--will you not go too? What of you?’
“‘No, no! No matter. There is not time to tell you. Do as I wish. Go
quickly.’
“I looked across the sea. I saw the towering water. Its icy breath
fanned my face. Its pale crest reached the zenith. Sprayed foam beads
fell from it like marbles and dotted the blue ahead. The red sail of
our boat fluttered in fear. Without pausing to think or to reason, I
picked Asra up in my arms and darted with her into the black opening.
It was the work of an instant. There was not time for word or argument.
“No sooner had we crossed the dividing line than, with a crash, a great
rock suspended above the entrance like a door fell and shut us off from
sight of the island and the glittering wave that rolled thundering on.
There was no retreat. There was nothing to do but to go on. I had come
from the darkness and I was plunged back into it again. Neither light
nor sound reached us. Impenetrable night surrounded us. The air however
was fresh, as if it had connection with the outside. Beneath my feet a
smooth roadway of stone led downward, the declivity being sharp.
“A change had taken place in Asra, which the excitement of the first
few moments had prevented me from noticing. Her body had become light
as air, and cold and stiff. I dreaded to confront the fact and
acknowledge to myself what had happened. It was no longer the body of
a woman. It was no longer my beloved, no longer Asra, whom I held in
my arms. It was the opal which I had first seen between the moon’s
ivory horns. What a grief was this! What sorrow filled my soul! It was
useless to cry out or remonstrate. The change which I had seen upon
the night of my arrival had taken place again. I consoled myself by
thinking that, with day-light and the earth’s surface regained, she
would be herself once more. If it had not been for this thought, I
could not have gone on. I should not have tried for life. What would
there have been to live for! Why could I not reasonably expect this? I
had seen it happen before. Almost beneath my eyes the miracle had taken
place.
“Lifting the mammoth opal to my shoulder, the easier to carry it, I
sped swiftly down the smooth stone way, hoping every moment for a
ray of light to give promise of an exit, however far away. When I
reached the bottom of the declivity and found level stone beneath my
feet, there was still no sign of light, and I was so weary that I put
my burden down and slept. When I awoke, I ate some of the food in the
hamper and went on.
“I must have been deep within the heart of the earth. No sound nor
scent of living thing came here. Yet the air was fresh and free from
the damp smell of prisoned places. This was the thing that gave me
hope. Somewhere, not far away, it had met an outer current and purified
itself. The wind blew in my face. It seemed to come from the direction
in which I was going. It was not my own motion that caused it. When I
paused, I could still feel it blowing gently in my face. That gave me
heart, and was the one foundation for hope. Somewhere in the darkness
there was an exit through which the fresh air came.
“My other journey beneath the earth was as nothing in point of time in
comparison with this. Had it not been for the plentiful supply of food
within the hamper, I must have perished before I reached the surface.
As it was, I suffered greatly. I was exhausted. My feet were blistered
with walking on unyielding stone, and my arms were stiff with the
strain of holding securely that strange burden. Hope was still high in
my heart that I should see the miracle wrought anew and Asra rise from
her opal sleep. Otherwise I should have cared for nothing. Life would
not have been worth the saving.
“It was night when I came to the surface of the earth, or, at least,
darkness had fallen. I found myself upon a tiny island, no larger than
a dot upon the water, evidently a coaling station in the South Pacific.
There was but one building, a keeper’s cottage, and over it floated the
flag of France.
“The evening was not old, for the tide, which indications proved to
have been low that day, was creeping in. I did not pause to think or to
be thankful for my safety. I thought only of Asra. I was in a fever of
excitement to find out if my hope was to be realized. Would she awake
from her sleep and speak to me? Would our old life go on as before?
Carefully I deposited the precious burden upon the ground. The moon was
a slender sickle of gold and lent but little light. However, there was
a luster that came from the water, and the southern stars were bright.
By their aid I hoped to see.
“Asra was wrapped in a thick white tissue. I remembered that it had
the same billowy whiteness as the covering that slipped and fell down
at her feet like foam on the night of my arrival, when I first saw her
standing by the moon’s ivory horns. I thrust it aside, tearing it in my
haste. Before me lay a radiant opal. From it colors spouted like jets
of water in a wonder-park.
“The quick interchange of colors blinded me. I could distinguish
nothing, peer as I might. I knelt down and put my face close to the
stone in the endeavor to see. Then it was as if a rain of light
sprayed my face. It was useless. I could make out nothing. Yet the
great stone preserved perfectly the contour of her body. Surely I
should be able to see her when that play of color called up by the
light combinations of the night subsided. As I stood bravely fortifying
my soul with hope, defiant in face of discouragement, the glamour of
the old island life we had led together touched me vividly, and for an
instant’s space swung me to the heights of joy. The stone grew pale
and white. I knelt beside it. Then, plainly in its depth, I saw Asra
asleep, in her gold corselet with its little pink gems and giant rubies.
“‘Asra!’ I called. ‘Awake! We are safe now. Awake and speak to me.’
“Peering closely, I saw her smile, else some ray of restless light
touched her.
“In memory I saw once more the silk-hung chamber with its golden
phantoms, and I grieved to think that I might never see it again.
“‘Asra! The white wave is gone. There is no sign of it anywhere. We are
safe. Awake!’
“For answer I heard the sea’s undying pagan laughter. Asra faded away.
The stone’s brilliancy revived. The mad dance of spouting colors began.
I knew I could not call her back. I flung myself down beside her and
buried my face in the sand. In a frenzy of grief I determined to watch
until morning. Then, surely, the change I longed for would come. I
could not give up hope. Hope meant life. The day would settle it, and
as I wished. I lay down beside her and waited for the sun.
“What a night was that! It was the longest I ever knew. At times
weariness over-powered me, and I slept to wake with strung nerves. It
seemed as if the day would never come. I thought the stars of a dozen
nights rose and set. I thought the magic in which I was entangled had
hindered the old rotation of day and night. Every change in the night
sky was reflected in the stone, as if it were the pulse of night. A
wisp of clouds across the zenith, and it was malevolently somber; a
freshening breeze swept them away, and fire darted from it.
“The day came, gray and chill, with a pallid mist. I was drenched to
the skin, and shivering with cold. Fear, born of weariness, assailed
me. The earth-grief fell upon me like a cloak. I ached in every limb.
In what a fever of hope and fear did I hang over the stone, waiting for
the light to clear sufficiently to see. When it did, I could no longer
see the face of Asra, only her gemmed costuming and the dim outlines of
her body.
“Then the fear that she would fade away forever all but drove me mad. I
forgot hunger, weariness, everything, in the endeavor to see again the
face I loved. As I watched in such anxiety as they know who have loved
deeply, trembling the while, as if from fever, the sun sent its first
level rays across the sea. The light penetrated the stone. There was
nothing to hinder me now. I could delude myself no longer. I could see
plainly. Asra was not there.
“Beneath the snowy surface I could distinguish a mingled brightness
and the long gold lines where her body had been. While I was looking,
these, too, melted away in a dance of color. Doubt and fear had killed
her. She had warned me, too. She had told me that the result would be
something undreamed of.
“If for an instant hope sprang glowing in my heart, I could see her
dimly, but when it passed she melted away in a jeweled mist and left
me alone. In one telescopic flash of mind I realized the gloom, the
barrenness, of the years that were to come. I realized then, in the
flower of my youth, that the best of life lay behind me. From what I
had known, the paths of life must lead downward.
“Leaving her concealed in the reeds, I went to the house. I had been
correct in my supposition that it was a French coaling-station. The
keeper was greatly surprised at the presence of a stranger. When
I explained how I came, he was more surprised and shook his head
doubtfully. He declared that he had never heard of the Opal Isles. He
could not explain my presence in any satisfactory way, however, since
the only steamer which had been expected for weeks was due that day.
When I told him more of the islands, with their twelve white cities,
he no longer contradicted me. He said nothing, but he looked at me
strangely. He thought that I was mad and feared lest opposition arouse
my fury. I knew then that it would be useless to tell of my experience
to any one. No one would believe it.