"Greater love hath no man."--_The Bible_.
There was a shout from the doorway leading to the secret places of the
temple as Cuxson, covered with blood and dust, half-crazed with horror,
paused for a moment as he took in the awful picture before him.
Leonie, with her hair almost sweeping the ground, lay half clothed and
seemingly dead in the arms of a native, whose face was a picture of
triumphant love for all to see; and a wild-eyed priest beat his breast
before the horrible image of the terrible, all powerful Goddess of
Destruction.
He sprang forward with another shout, which was lost in the shriek and
crash of the raging elements.
For even as he moved there was a terrific roar as of tons of exploding
dynamite, and a shriek of wind as it tore through the building, blowing
out the little flickering lights, leaving the place pitch black save
for the steady light of the full moon.
Then he swayed like a drunken man as the floor rose in a great wave and
yet another, heaving the flags this way and that, cracking and
splitting in every direction as it subsided.
"Leonie!" he shouted, though no sound could be heard above the
appalling din. "Leonie! Leonie!"
He saw her lying in a pool of moonlight as though asleep, and near her
knelt the native, with arms outstretched above her, sheltering her.
There was a moment of complete dead silence, and then with a tearing,
rending sound the dome and the temple walls split from top to base; and
with a thundering crash the great block of stone upon which was carved
the image of Kali the Terrible split in two, toppled over and fell upon
the kneeling priest.
Herds of screaming beasts hurled themselves through the riven walls and
fled across the temple floor, fighting blindly to escape. Monkeys in
hundreds scrambled over the mounds of fallen bricks, chattering and
calling like lost, frightened children; a tiger with one bound landed
noiselessly a few feet from those two in the moonlight, half reared
with a short coughing roar and bounded as noiselessly away. And God
alone knows what saved the three from instant death among the tottering
ruins.
The power of Love perchance.
The son of princes sheltering the girl slowly, oh! slowly straightened
himself, when a prolonged silence seemed to indicate the end of the
greatest earthquake that ever swept the Sunderbunds Jungle.
Blood streamed from the side of his head, battered in by a broken
fragment of the high altar that had been hurled through the air; his
left shoulder was in splinters, crushed by the collapse of the roof
which must have killed Leonie if he had not covered her with his body;
blood spouted from some great severed artery in the arm which seemed to
hang by a thread from the splintered shoulder; yet was his face aglow
with light and love, and his eyes afire with happiness as he raised a
tawny tress of hair and pressed it to his lips.
He was dying, quickly, yet he turned his head and smiled at the sound
of Jan Cuxson's boots scrambling over the impeding heaps of stone. For
one second only the torture of the sacrifice required of him flared in
the soft brown eyes; and then in the pride of his great race, and with
an effort of will beyond all telling, he put his unbroken arm round the
woman he loved so well, lifted her, got somehow to his feet, and
walked, aye! walked steadily across the few yards which separated him
from the white man.
Cuxson, not realising his terrible plight, with eyes only for the woman
_he_ loved, wrenched Leonie from his hold and swept her from head to
foot with frantic eyes.
"What have you done to her?" he demanded fiercely. "Before the
earthquake what did you do to her? Tell me--or by God I'll----"
He stopped the bitter words in time to save himself from everlasting
remorse.
For Madhu Krishnaghar suddenly straightened his battered body, and
looked the white man in the eyes.
"She is safe, O white man, safe and unharmed. Take her, keep
her--carry her by the--the short road without the--the temple
gates--to--happiness, _I_ give _her_--to--you--because _I_--I
love--her--for ever!"
There was a moment's terrible silence in which the two men stood
divided, yet united, in their great love for the one woman.
The native of India put his hand to his forehead and salaamed before
the woman for whom he had sacrificed all, then turned slowly around
towards the place where the image of his god had so lately stood.
"Kali!" he called, and his young voice was as the clashing of golden
bells at sunset. "Kali! Mother of all--I come!"
And unwitting of the great reward awaiting those who attain everlasting
peace through the victory of the greater love, he crashed face
downwards, dead, upon the flower-strewn floor, and passed for ever into
the safe keeping of the one and only God.