CHAPTER LXXXVIII.

When my sense had recovered its shock, and my eyes looked dizzily round,

the charge of the beasts had swept by; and of all the wild tribes which

had invaded the magical circle, the only lingerer was the brown

Death-adder, coiled close by the spot where my head had rested. Beside

the extinguished lamps which the hoofs had confusedly scattered, the

fire, arrested by the watercourse, had consumed the grasses that fed it,

and there the plains stretched, black and desert as the Phlegroean Field

of the Poet's Hell. But the fire still raged in the forest beyond,--white

flames, soaring up from the trunks of the tallest trees, and forming,

through the sullen dark of the smoke-reek, innumerable pillars of fire,

like the halls in the City of fiends.

Gathering myself up, I turned my eyes from the terrible pomp of the lurid

forest, and looked fearfully down on the hoof-trampled sward for my two

companions.

I saw the dark image of Ayesha still seated, still bending, as I had seen

it last. I saw a pale hand feebly grasping the rim of the magical

caldron, which lay, hurled down from its tripod by the rush of the beasts,

yards away from the dim fading embers of the scattered wood-pyre. I saw

the faint writhings of a frail wasted frame, over which the Veiled Woman

was bending. I saw, as I moved with bruised limbs to the place, close by

the lips of the dying magician, the flash of the ruby-like essence spilled

on the sward, and, meteor-like, sparkling up from the torn tufts of

herbage.

I now reached Margrave's side. Bending over him as the Veiled Woman bent,

and as I sought gently to raise him, he turned his face, fiercely

faltering out, "Touch me not, rob me not! You share with me! Never!

never! These glorious drops are all mine! Die all else! I will live! I

will live!" Writhing himself from my pitying arms, he plunged his face

amidst the beautiful, playful flame of the essence, as if to lap the

elixir with lips scorched away from its intolerable burning. Suddenly,

with a low shriek, he fell back, his face upturned to mine, and on that

face unmistakably reigned Death!

Then Ayesha tenderly, silently, drew the young head to her lap, and it

vanished from my sight behind her black veil.

I knelt beside her, murmuring some trite words of comfort; but she heeded

me not, rocking herself to and fro as the mother who cradles a child to

sleep. Soon the fast-flickering sparkles of the lost elixir died out on

the grass; and with their last sportive diamond-like tremble of light, up,

in all the suddenness of Australian day, rose the sun, lifting himself

royally above the mountain-tops, and fronting the meaner blaze of the

forest as a young king fronts his rebels. And as there, where the

bush-fires had ravaged, all was a desert, so there, where their fury had

not spread, all was a garden. Afar, at the foot of the mountains, the

fugitive herds were grazing; the cranes, flocking back to the pools,

renewed the strange grace of their gambols; and the great kingfisher,

whose laugh, half in mirth, half in mockery, leads the choir that welcome

the morn,--which in Europe is night,--alighted bold on the roof of the

cavern, whose floors were still white with the bones of races, extinct

before--so helpless through instincts, so royal through Soul--rose Man!

But there, on the ground where the dazzling elixir had wasted its

virtues,--there the herbage already had a freshness of verdure which, amid

the duller sward round it, was like an oasis of green in a desert. And

there wild-flowers, whose chill hues the eye would have scarcely

distinguished the day before, now glittered forth in blooms of unfamiliar

beauty. Towards that spot were attracted myriads of happy insects, whose

hum of intense joy was musically loud. But the form of the life-seeking

sorcerer lay rigid and stark; blind to the bloom of the wild-flowers, deaf

to the glee of the insects,--one hand still resting heavily on the rim of

the emptied caldron, and the face still hid behind the Black Veil. What!

the wondrous elixir, sought with such hope and well-nigh achieved through

such dread, fleeting back to the earth from which its material was drawn,

to give bloom, indeed,--but to herbs: joy indeed,--but to insects!

And now, in the flash of the sun, slowly wound up the slopes that led to

the circle the same barbaric procession which had sunk into the valley

under the ray of the moon. The armed men came first, stalwart and tall,

their vests brave with crimson and golden lace, their weapons gayly

gleaming with holiday silver. After them, the Black Litter. As they came

to the place, Ayesha, not raising her head, spoke to them in her own

Eastern tongue. A wail was her answer. The armed men bounded forward,

and the bearers left the litter.

All gathered round the dead form with the face concealed under the black

veil; all knelt, and all wept. Far in the distance, at the foot of the

blue mountains, a crowd of the savage natives had risen up as if from the

earth; they stood motionless, leaning on their clubs and spears, and

looking towards the spot on which we were,--strangely thus brought into

the landscape, as if they too, the wild dwellers on the verge which

Humanity guards from the Brute, were among the mourners for the mysterious

Child of mysterious Nature! And still, in the herbage, hummed the small

insects, and still, from the cavern, laughed the great kingfisher. I said

to Ayesha, "Farewell! your love mourns the dead, mine calls me to the

living. You are now with your own people, they may console you; say if I

can assist."

"There is no consolation for me! What mourner can be consoled if the dead

die forever? Nothing for him is left but a grave; that grave shall be in

the land where the song of Ayesha first lulled him to sleep. Thou assist

Me,--thou, the wise man of Europe! From me ask assistance. What road

wilt thou take to thy home?"

"There is but one road known to me through the maze of the solitude,--that

which we took to this upland."

"On that road Death lurks, and awaits thee! Blind dupe, couldst thou

think that if the grand secret of life had been won, he whose head rests

on my lap would have yielded thee one petty drop of the essence which had

filched from his store of life but a moment? Me, who so loved and so

cherished him,--me he would have doomed to the pitiless cord of my

servant, the Strangler, if my death could have lengthened a hair-breadth

the span of his being. But what matters to me his crime or his madness?

I loved him! I loved him!"

She bowed her veiled head lower and lower; perhaps, under the veil, her

lips kissed the lips of the dead. Then she said whisperingly,--

"Juma the Strangler, whose word never failed to his master, whose prey

never slipped from his snare, waits thy step on the road to thy home! But

thy death cannot now profit the dead, the beloved. And thou hast had pity

for him who took but thine aid to design thy destruction. His life is

lost, thine is saved."

She spoke no more in the tongue that I could interpret. She spoke, in the

language unknown, a few murmured words to her swarthy attendants; then the

armed men, still weeping, rose, and made a dumb sign to me to go with

them. I understood by the sign that Ayesha had told them to guard me on

my way; but she gave no reply to my parting thanks.

A Strange Story — Volume 08 · 第 15 / 16 章