THE FALL OF THE VEILS.
Lucius and Domitia stepped out of the boat; he moored it to the side, and
they walked together to the little temple. This was not one to which a
college of priests was attached, nor even an ædiculum, with a guardian who
had charge of it, to open it on special festivals; it had been erected by
the father of Corbulo in deference to the wish of his wife, who had taken
it into her head to become a votary of Isis, this having become a
fashionable cult. But on her death the doors had been closed, and it had
fallen into neglect, till the return of Longa Duilia from the East with
the Chaldee Magus from Antioch. It was now fashionable to dabble in
sorcery, and a distinguished lady liked to be able to talk of her Magus,
to seek his advice, and, at table, air a superficial familiarity with the
stars, and the Powers and Æons, the endless genealogies of emanations from
the primæval and eternal Light.
Longa had engaged the Magus when at Antioch, but when somewhat summarily
sent to Europe by her husband, she had not taken her Chaldæan magician
with her. As, however, she had no wish to appear in Rome without him, she
had laid it on her husband when he returned to bring the man with him, and
if he did not return himself, to despatch the Magus to her.
On her arrival in the villa at Gabii, she had given up the temple of Isis
to Elymas, and he had converted it into a place for study.
Before the door hung a heavy curtain, and this Lamia raised to allow
Domitia to pass within. The interior would have been wholly dark, but that
a brazier with glowing charcoal stood within, and into the fire the
magician threw gums, that flamed up and diffused a fragrant smoke.
By the flicker Domitia observed that a bed was laid above a small fissure
in the marble floor—a rent caused by earthquake—through which vapor of an
intoxicating nature issued.
On this bed lay a woman, or rather a figure that Domitia took to be that
of a woman, but it was covered with much drapery that concealed face and
hands.
The brazier was near the head, and by it stood Elymas in a tall headdress,
with horns affixed, that met in front. He wore a black garment reaching to
the feet.
In the darkness nothing could be seen save his erect figure, and face
shining out like a lamp, when he cast resinous drops on the fire, and the
motionless couched form of the woman.
Domitia, somewhat frightened, put her hand on the arm of Lamia, to make
sure that he was present and could assist her, should need for assistance
arise;—that is to say, should her courage fail, or the visions she
expected to see prove too alarming.
Then the Magus said:
“As I have told thee, lady, out of the ineffable Light stream rays that
are both luminous and life-producing. These rays penetrate to the lowest
profundity of matter, and as they pass through the higher atmospheres,
gather about them the particles of vapor, and become angels and demons.
But other rays passing further down, and assuming grosser envelopes,
become men and women, some more animal than others, some with higher
spiritual natures than the rest, according as in them matter or spirit
dominates. And the rays darting into further depths become the beasts of
the field, the fishes of the sea, even the very worm that bores in the
soil. As thou knowest, he who stands on a high mountain can see far
horizons to right and to left as well as the objects below him. So, to the
Eternal, all is visible, the past on one side, the present before Him, and
the future on the other side, all in one vision. To Him there is no past,
and no present, and no future, for Time is not—all is comprehended in one
view. But we, who are below, see only the present, remember the past, and
conjecture what is future. If we would see future as well as past, we must
rise above matter, mount from our base level to the altitude of spirit.
Thence all is clear. But this is not possible to all, only to those elect
ones in whom the flesh is subdued, and to it the spirit remains attached
only by a fibre. Such is Helena. Through her thou shalt see what thou
desirest. Now behold!”
He pointed into the darkness before him, and both Domitia and Lucius saw a
spark that grew in intensity and shone like a star.
“That,” said Elymas, “is a crystal. It is the lens through which the rays
of the Eternal and Immortal Light pass to the soul of Helena, out of
Infinite Altitude and Illimitable Space. She is enveloped in seven veils.
Now she lieth in a trance, and seeth naught. But I will invoke this Fount
of Life and Light and Knowledge, and will gather the rays together into
her soul through yonder crystal, and she will see in vision what thou
desirest. Seven veils cover her, and seven are the revelations that will
be made. I cannot assure thee that all will be future—some may be scenes
of the past, for to the All-Seeing, the Eye of Eternity, there is neither
past nor future; all is present.”
“Well, so be it,” said Lamia, “By the past we can judge the future. Let us
see things that have been and we can form some notion of what is shown us
as future. If the one be incorrect, then the other is untrustworthy.”
“Thou shalt behold nothing,” said the Magus, “for it is not thou who
consultest me, but the lady Domitia Longina.”
“How shall I see, and not he who stands beside me?” asked the girl. Her
heart fluttered with apprehension.
The sorcerer stooped, and drew from under the covering the right hand of
the prostrate woman, and bade Domitia hold it.
She took the hand in hers; it was stiff and cold as that of a corpse, and
she shuddered.
“Hold her hand in thine,” said Elymas, “and I will invoke the Source of
Spirits, and as I withdraw each veil that covers her face, she will see
something, and she seeing it, the sense of sight will pass through her
hand to thee, and thou wilt see also, inwardly, yet very really. Only let
not go her hand, or all will become dark.”
Then he went before the crystal, that stood on an altar like a truncated
column; and he uttered words rapidly in a strange tongue, then turned,
threw a handful of spices upon the coals, and a dense aromatic smoke
filled the interior. It dissipated, and Domitia uttered a faint cry.
“What ails thee?” asked Lucius.
Thinking she was frightened, he added—“Let us go forth. This is mere
jugglery.”
“But I see,” she said in tremulous tones.
“What dost thou see?”
“O Lucius! It is the garden at Cenchræa—and my father! O, my father!” she
sobbed.
One veil had been withdrawn.
“Enough,” said Lucius. “I think naught of this: every one is aware how the
noble Cnæus Corbulo came by his death.”
“Then see again,” said the Magus. He took hold of a second veil that
covered the prostrate woman, drew it off, and let it fall on the ground.
Lucius felt the left hand of Domitia contract suddenly on his arm. He
looked before him, but saw nothing save the crystal, in which moved
lights. It was iridescent as an opal.
Then Domitia exclaimed:
“It was he! the physician Luke—who cut the thong. But for him, we should
have run down the Imperial trireme. He did it!”
“What mean you?” asked the young man in surprise.
“Lucius, I see it all—the sea, the vessel on which is Nero
carousing;—ourselves—we are running at her. And he has cut the thong, the
paddle flies up, and our course is altered.”
Then the Magus uttered a few words, and withdrew the third veil.
The young man heard his companion breathing heavily; but she said nothing.
He waited awhile and then, stooping to her, asked:
“Seest thou aught?”
“Yes,” she answered in a whisper. “Yet not with my bodily eyes, I know not
how—but I see—”
“What?”
“The end of Nero. Now thou hast thrown the mantle over his face—enough!”
Then Elymas turned and said:
“Hitherto thou hast beheld that which is past. Sufficeth it? or wilt thou
even look into that which is to be?”
“It sufficeth,” said Lucius, and would have drawn his companion away. But
she held to the hand of the woman on the bed, and said firmly:
“No, my friend. Now I have seen things that are past, I will even look
into the future. It was for this I came hither.”
And now again did the magician utter prayers, and wave his hands.
Thereupon strange lights and changes appeared in the crystal, and it
seemed of milky moonlight hue, yet with shoots as of lightning traversing
it. All at once the Magus took off the fourth veil and cast it on the
marble floor.
Lucius remained motionless, looking at the changing light in the crystal,
and feeling the nervous hand of Domitia twitching on his arm. He thought
that he heard her laugh, but almost immediately with a cry, she loosed her
hand from the unconscious woman on the couch, threw her arms round the
neck of Lamia, and sank sobbing on his breast.
It was some time before she was sufficiently recovered to speak, and then
was reluctant to disclose what she had seen. Lucius, however, urged her
with gentle persuasion, and, clinging to him, between sobs, in whispers
she confided:
“Oh, Lucius! I thought—I—I saw that the day had come when you and
I—Lucius, when I went to your house and was lifted across the threshold,
and then, as I stretched my hands to you and took yours—then, all at once,
a red face came up behind—whence I know not—and two long hands thrust us
apart. Then I let go—I let go—and—and I saw no more.”
“When that day comes, my Domitia, no hands shall divide us, no face be
thrust between. Now come forth. You have seen enough.”
“Nay, I will look to the end.” She took the hand of Helena, into which
some flexibility and warmth were returning.
“Art thou willing?” asked the Magus.
She nodded, and the fifth veil fell.
For full five minutes Domitia stood rigid, without moving a muscle, hardly
breathing.
Then Lucius said:
“See what a purple light shines out of the crystal. What is thy vision
now, Domitia? By the light that beams, it should be right royal.”
“It is royal,” she said in faint tones. “Lucius! what that Christian
prophet spoke, that have I also seen—the beast with seven heads, one
wounded to the death, and there cometh up another out of the deadly wound,
and—it hath the red face I saw but just now. And it climbeth to a throne
and lifteth me up to sit thereon. Away with the vision. It offendeth me.
It maketh my blood turn ice cold!”
“Hast thou a desire to see further?” asked the Magus.
“I can see naught worse than this,” said Domitia.
A shudder ran through her, and her teeth chattered as with frost.
Then Elymas again waved his hands, and chanted, “Askion, Kataskion, lix,
Tetras, damnameneus,” and raised and cast down the sixth veil.
At once from the crystal a red light shone forth, and suffused the whole
cell of the temple with a blood-colored illumination, and by it Lucius
could see that there was in it no image present, only a dense black veil
behind the altar on which the stone glowed like a carbuncle. He heard the
breath pass through the teeth of Domitia, like the hissing of a serpent.
He looked at her, her face was terrible, inflamed. The eyes stiffened, the
teeth were set, the brow knitted and lowering. Then she said:
“I stand on the beast, and the sword of my father pierces his heart.”
Lucius wondered; there was a look of hate, a hideousness in her face, such
as he had not conceived it possible so beautiful and sweet a countenance
could have assumed.
Then Elymas cast off the last veil.
For a moment all was darkness. The red light in the crystal had expired.
In stillness and suspense, not without fear, all waited, all standing save
Helena, who had recovered from her trance, and she paused expectant on her
couch.
Then a minute spark appeared in the crystal, of the purest white light,
that grew, rapidly sending out wave on wave of brilliance, so intense, so
splendid, so dazzling, that the magician, unable to endure the effulgence,
turned and threw himself into a corner, and wrapped his head about with
his mantle. And the medium turned with a cry, as though the light caused
her physical pain, buried her face in the pillow, and groped on the floor
for the veils to cast over her head to exclude the light.
Lucius, unable to endure the splendor, covered his eyes with his palm.
But Domitia looked at it, and her face grew soft, the scowl went from her
brow, and a wondrous tenderness and sorrow came into her eyes; great tears
rose and rolled down her cheeks, and glittered like diamonds in the
dazzling beam.
Then she said with a sob:
“_Ubi lux—ibi Felicitas._”
Suddenly an explosion. The orb was shattered into a thousand sparks, and
all was black again in the temple—black as deepest night.
Then Lucius caught Domitia to him, put his hand behind him, drew back the
curtain, and carried her forth into the calm evening air, and the light of
the aurora hanging over the setting sun.
She sobbed, gradually recovered herself, drew a profound sigh, and said:
“Oh, Lucius! where is light, there is felicity!”
[Illustration: “SHE SAID WITH A SOB: ‘UBI LUX—IBI FELICITAS.’” _Page
104._]