GRECIAN GUILE.
On Thoth’s appearance Daphne advanced to meet him with all the
appearance of friendliness, although filled with suppressed emotion.
“Thou art,” she said, “the most skilled of all physicians, and thou
knowest well that time is the best drug for the uneasy mind. Forgive
my weakness. The Greeks of all people are the greatest lovers of their
native cities, and I, a Grecian maiden, cannot see why they should be
destroyed. But I will listen to reason. Why, if I love thee, should we
not live here, and happily rule this city, regardless of the rest of
the world? Why not leave thy dread ancestors to their sleep?”
She spoke to him with a soft enticing voice, and looked up to him as to
a superior.
“Daphne,” replied Thoth, “I have already yielded to thee the utmost
that my nature will permit. It is useless to ask more. For two thousand
years my race have toiled incessantly to create a new world. They await
their reward. If I raise them from their sleep, they will never consent
to forego their plans. If I raise them not—but I tell thee that is
impossible. Rise they must, now all is ready, as surely as rises the
sun.”
Love yielded in his eyes to fixed determination, and Daphne’s heart
sank within her.
“The task I have already agreed to,” he continued, “is wellnigh
hopeless. They will never admit women to an honourable place, unless
they are assured beyond doubt that the choice lies between love and
death. I must prove that my love for thee, in spite of generations of
hatred towards women by my fathers, is stronger than ever love was,
and also that their attempts to crush it have crushed at the same time
life and reason. I will strain every fibre to have thee recognised as
queen—but queen thou must be, first of all, of one city alone in a
desolate world. And, mark my words, if ever this is to be accomplished,
thou must aid me with courage and with a love equal to mine own. I must
set thee before these men—face to face—and thou must say and do as I
bid thee. If we fail, there is no alternative but instant death.”
Daphne, still clinging to hope, replied—“I know little of thy race,
and my wisdom is dense ignorance compared to thy wisdom. But, tell
me, canst thou not begin with the living—with them who have not yet
entered on their long sleep? Why should not thy fellow-rulers, as at
first was thy intention, seek for equal companions? There are many
maidens in Greece less difficult to please than I. Persuade or compel
thy followers to do as thou hast done, and then thou canst show thine
ancestors how well the plan has succeeded—after thirty years—or
twenty.”
“I cannot,” he replied, “make such a change of policy without the
consent of my great ancestor and his successors.”
“Then,” she said, “even thy union with me must rest on their consent,
and yet thou didst speak as if thou wouldst compel them to submit.”
“But I said, by force of reason and will. Know, once for all, that
unless they approve of my conduct, I will not proceed.”
“And what is to be my fate, supposing they do not consent? Thou wouldst
not leave me to perish?”
“I will do my utmost to save thee, and I will perish with thee if I
fail. But fear not—all shall be well.”
Daphne reflected, and every way of escape from the power of the
sleeping tyrants seemed closed. She had hoped at least to gain delay,
and had even tried to believe that Thoth might, through his love for
her, disregard altogether the past.
The future seemed more hopeless than ever, and she began to feel the
courage of despair. If, she thought, this man were slain suddenly,
would not the whole power of the tyrants be shattered!
She said to him, “But if thou wert to perish with me, how would it
fare with the sleepers?”
“We have never,” he said, “imagined that we could avoid all the
accidents of nature. If I were to fail, there are others to take my
place. In my absence in Greece another was appointed vice-regent, and
for every conceivable emergency provision has been made. It is useless
to discuss the matter further, or to delay longer. This very day thou
must be prepared to face the assembly.”
“And if we fail, whither shall we flee?” said Daphne.
“Nowhither,” he replied.
“And, after all thy promises, wilt thou leave me to the mercy of these
haters of women? If thy love for me is real, and if thou art prepared
to die with me, at least redeem thy promise and take me back to Greece,
and there we can await our doom. Thou dost not think,” she said,
anxiously, “that the plague has destroyed all the Greeks?”
“No,” he replied; “I have no doubt that by this time it is spent, and
that many survive.”
“Then,” she said, “if we fail, flee with me. In any case thou wilt be
an outcast from thy tribe. And I am very young, and life is very sweet.
I would fain see my country and fellows again. And in some remote
corner of the earth we might escape with a few companions from the
general doom, by thy wisdom.”
She looked at Thoth in a beseeching manner, and his heart became hot
with love. He seemed lost in thought for a long time, and then said—
“If we fail, I shall be, as thou sayest, an outcast; and the little
delay that thou prayest for may be granted.
“Listen to my plan.
“I have discovered recently a most curious and powerful substance. I
can, by breaking a small vessel, fill the council-chamber with a vapour
which shall at once send into a heavy sleep all present, unless they
are prepared by an antidote. The drug is the most powerful of all our
agents of destruction yet discovered. In a few hours the sleep will
end in irrevocable death unless the remedy is applied, and then the
recovery is slow. For love of thee, if we fail, I will use this means
for a little delay. We will then prepare everything for flight, and
only just before we depart will I administer the remedy.
“Thus we may gain a few hours’ start, and in essence I shall not fail
in my obedience. But I hope for a better result, and that reason
will prevail, and thou wilt become the queen of the earth, and not a
wanderer over a desolate earth with an outcast man. Rouse thy courage,
and at the fitting time be prepared to speak as I shall bid thee. Let
them see that thou art worthy of the highest honour.”
“What must I say?”
“After,” he replied, “I have explained the reasons for restoring women
to love and honour, thou must say two things.
“First, thou must profess the most profound admiration for everything
in this city, and, with all the excess usual in a pervert, encourage
them to hasten the destruction of the earth.”
“That is a hard task,” she replied.
“Why?” he asked. “War is the greatest course of glory, and universal
conquest might dazzle the most ambitious. All that we propose is war,
on a scale and in a manner hitherto not attempted.”
“Thy words,” she said, “throw a new light on the matter. Truly war and
conquest are glorious, and the more thorough the more glorious. Greeks
have before this warred on Greeks; and ye are, in your origin, Greek.
My former disgust seems to me most unreasonable. Trust me, I will aid
thee to the best of my power.”
“Next,” he said, “thou must express thy ardent desire to leave the real
government with the men, as before, and allow that women are by nature
inferior, and that they may be loved and honoured to the utmost without
fear. Thou must say that other Greek maidens would be more submissive
than thou.”
“This also,” she said, “seems to me most reasonable. The arts and
sciences practised in this city seem to me wondrous mysteries that no
woman could ever penetrate. Women are born to admire power in others,
not to exercise it themselves. Consider how soon I have yielded my
whole will to thine.”
Thoth was rejoiced beyond measure with these words, and the wisest of
men believed with all the simplicity of a child that Daphne spoke the
truth.
But in her heart she had devised a cunning plan by which, unaided, she
contemplated the greatest deed.