An Incognito
For the rest of that day, and several that followed, we were
continually receiving visits from the neighboring islands; whose
inhabitants in fleets and flotillas flocked round Odo to behold the
guests of its lord. Among them came many messengers from the
neighboring kings with soft speeches and gifts.
But it were needless to detail our various interviews, or relate in
what manifold ways, the royal strangers gave token of their interest
concerning us.
Upon the third day, however, there was noticed a mysterious figure,
like the inscrutable incognitos sometimes encountered, crossing the
tower-shadowed Plaza of Assignations at Lima. It was enveloped in a
dark robe of tappa, so drawn and plaited about the limbs; and with one
hand, so wimpled about the face, as only to expose a solitary eye. But
that eye was a world. Now it was fixed upon Yillah with a sinister
glance, and now upon me, but with a different expression. However great
the crowd, however tumultuous, that fathomless eye gazed on; till at
last it seemed no eye, but a spirit, forever prying into my soul. Often
I strove to approach it, but it would evade me, soon reappearing.
Pointing out the apparition to Media, I intreated him to take means to
fix it, that my suspicions might be dispelled, as to its being
incorporeal. He replied that, by courtesy, incognitos were sacred.
Insomuch that the close-plaited robe and the wimple were secure as a
castle. At last, to my relief, the phantom disappeared, and was seen no
more.
Numerous and fervent the invitations received to return the calls
wherewith we were honored. But for the present we declined them;
preferring to establish ourselves firmly in the heart of Media, ere
encountering the vicissitudes of roaming. In a multitude of
acquaintances is less security, than in one faithful friend.
Now, while these civilities were being received, and on the fourth
morning after our arrival, there landed on the beach three black-eyed
damsels, deep brunettes, habited in long variegated robes, and with gay
blossoms on their heads.
With many salams, the strangers were ushered into my presence by an old
white-haired servitor of Media’s, who with a parting congé murmured,
“From Queen Hautia,” then departed. Surprised, I stood mute, and
welcomed them.
The first, with many smiles and blandishments, waved before me a
many-tinted Iris: the flag-flower streaming with pennons. Advancing,
the second then presented three rose-hued purple-veined Circea flowers,
the dew still clinging to them. The third placed in my hand a moss-rose
bud; then, a Venus-car.
“Thanks for your favors! now your message.”
Starting at this reception, graciously intended, they conferred a
moment; when the Iris-bearer said in winning phrase, “We come from
Hautia, whose moss-rose you hold.”
“All thanks to Hautia then; the bud is very fragrant.”
Then she pointed to the Venus-car.
“This too is sweet; thanks to Hautia for her flowers. Pray, bring me
more.”
“He mocks our mistress,” and gliding from me, they waved witch- hazels,
leaving me alone and wondering.
Informing Media of this scene, he smiled; threw out queer hints of
Hautia; but knew not what her message meant.
At first this affair occasioned me no little uneasiness, with much
matter for marveling; but in the novel pleasure of our sojourn in Odo,
it soon slipped from my mind; nor for some time, did I again hear aught
of Queen Hautia.