I rose, and looked around me, dazed at heart. For a moment I could not
see her: she was gone, and loneliness had returned like the cloud after
the rain! She whom I brought back from the brink of the grave, had fled
from me, and left me with desolation! I dared not one moment remain thus
hideously alone. Had I indeed done her a wrong? I must devote my life to
sharing the burden I had compelled her to resume!
I descried her walking swiftly over the grass, away from the river, took
one plunge for a farewell restorative, and set out to follow her. The
last visit of the white leech, and the blow of the woman, had enfeebled
me, but already my strength was reviving, and I kept her in sight
without difficulty.
“Is this, then, the end?” I said as I went, and my heart brooded a
sad song. Her angry, hating eyes haunted me. I could understand her
resentment at my having forced life upon her, but how had I further
injured her? Why should she loathe me? Could modesty itself be indignant
with true service? How should the proudest woman, conscious of my every
action, cherish against me the least sense of disgracing wrong? How
reverently had I not touched her! As a father his motherless child, I
had borne and tended her! Had all my labour, all my despairing hope gone
to redeem only ingratitude? “No,” I answered myself; “beauty must have
a heart! However profoundly hidden, it must be there! The deeper buried,
the stronger and truer will it wake at last in its beautiful grave! To
rouse that heart were a better gift to her than the happiest life! It
would be to give her a nobler, a higher life!”
She was ascending a gentle slope before me, walking straight and steady
as one that knew whither, when I became aware that she was increasing
the distance between us. I summoned my strength, and it came in
full tide. My veins filled with fresh life! My body seemed to become
ethereal, and, following like an easy wind, I rapidly overtook her.
Not once had she looked behind. Swiftly she moved, like a Greek goddess
to rescue, but without haste. I was within three yards of her, when she
turned sharply, yet with grace unbroken, and stood. Fatigue or heat she
showed none. Her paleness was not a pallor, but a pure whiteness; her
breathing was slow and deep. Her eyes seemed to fill the heavens, and
give light to the world. It was nearly noon, but the sense was upon
me as of a great night in which an invisible dew makes the stars look
large.
“Why do you follow me?” she asked, quietly but rather sternly, as if she
had never before seen me.
“I have lived so long,” I answered, “on the mere hope of your eyes, that
I must want to see them again!”
“You WILL not be spared!” she said coldly. “I command you to stop where
you stand.”
“Not until I see you in a place of safety will I leave you,” I replied.
“Then take the consequences,” she said, and resumed her swift-gliding
walk.
But as she turned she cast on me a glance, and I stood as if run through
with a spear. Her scorn had failed: she would kill me with her beauty!
Despair restored my volition; the spell broke; I ran, and overtook her.
“Have pity upon me!” I cried.
She gave no heed. I followed her like a child whose mother pretends to
abandon him. “I will be your slave!” I said, and laid my hand on her
arm.
She turned as if a serpent had bit her. I cowered before the blaze of
her eyes, but could not avert my own.
“Pity me,” I cried again.
She resumed her walking.
The whole day I followed her. The sun climbed the sky, seemed to pause
on its summit, went down the other side. Not a moment did she pause, not
a moment did I cease to follow. She never turned her head, never relaxed
her pace.
The sun went below, and the night came up. I kept close to her: if I
lost sight of her for a moment, it would be for ever!
All day long we had been walking over thick soft grass: abruptly she
stopped, and threw herself upon it. There was yet light enough to show
that she was utterly weary. I stood behind her, and gazed down on her
for a moment.
Did I love her? I knew she was not good! Did I hate her? I could not
leave her! I knelt beside her.
“Begone! Do not dare touch me,” she cried.
Her arms lay on the grass by her sides as if paralyzed.
Suddenly they closed about my neck, rigid as those of the
torture-maiden. She drew down my face to hers, and her lips clung to my
cheek. A sting of pain shot somewhere through me, and pulsed. I could
not stir a hair’s breadth. Gradually the pain ceased. A slumberous
weariness, a dreamy pleasure stole over me, and then I knew nothing.
All at once I came to myself. The moon was a little way above the
horizon, but spread no radiance; she was but a bright thing set in
blackness. My cheek smarted; I put my hand to it, and found a wet spot.
My neck ached: there again was a wet spot! I sighed heavily, and felt
very tired. I turned my eyes listlessly around me--and saw what had
become of the light of the moon: it was gathered about the lady! she
stood in a shimmering nimbus! I rose and staggered toward her.
“Down!” she cried imperiously, as to a rebellious dog. “Follow me a step
if you dare!”
“I will!” I murmured, with an agonised effort.
“Set foot within the gates of my city, and my people will stone you:
they do not love beggars!”
I was deaf to her words. Weak as water, and half awake, I did not know
that I moved, but the distance grew less between us. She took one step
back, raised her left arm, and with the clenched hand seemed to strike
me on the forehead. I received as it were a blow from an iron hammer,
and fell.
I sprang to my feet, cold and wet, but clear-headed and strong. Had the
blow revived me? it had left neither wound nor pain!--But how came I
wet?--I could not have lain long, for the moon was no higher!
The lady stood some yards away, her back toward me. She was doing
something, I could not distinguish what. Then by her sudden gleam I knew
she had thrown off her garments, and stood white in the dazed moon. One
moment she stood--and fell forward.
A streak of white shot away in a swift-drawn line. The same instant the
moon recovered herself, shining out with a full flash, and I saw that
the streak was a long-bodied thing, rushing in great, low-curved bounds
over the grass. Dark spots seemed to run like a stream adown its back,
as if it had been fleeting along under the edge of a wood, and catching
the shadows of the leaves.
“God of mercy!” I cried, “is the terrible creature speeding to the
night-infolded city?” and I seemed to hear from afar the sudden burst
and spread of outcrying terror, as the pale savage bounded from house to
house, rending and slaying.
While I gazed after it fear-stricken, past me from behind, like a swift,
all but noiseless arrow, shot a second large creature, pure white. Its
path was straight for the spot where the lady had fallen, and, as I
thought, lay. My tongue clave to the roof of my mouth. I sprang forward
pursuing the beast. But in a moment the spot I made for was far behind
it.
“It was well,” I thought, “that I could not cry out: if she had risen,
the monster would have been upon her!”
But when I reached the place, no lady was there; only the garments she
had dropped lay dusk in the moonlight.
I stood staring after the second beast. It tore over the ground with yet
greater swiftness than the former--in long, level, skimming leaps, the
very embodiment of wasteless speed. It followed the line the other had
taken, and I watched it grow smaller and smaller, until it disappeared
in the uncertain distance.
But where was the lady? Had the first beast surprised her, creeping upon
her noiselessly? I had heard no shriek! and there had not been time to
devour her! Could it have caught her up as it ran, and borne her away to
its den? So laden it could not have run so fast! and I should have seen
that it carried something!
Horrible doubts began to wake in me. After a thorough but fruitless
search, I set out in the track of the two animals.