Having placed the quaintly-shaped lamp on the pearl and silver stool in
the centre of the harem, the negro went out, returning immediately with
a small bronze urn marvellously chased, which on bended knee he
carefully handed to his mistress. At a word from Zoraida, her women and
the tall Soudanese prostrated themselves facing the table, pressing
their foreheads to the carpet. Then, turning to me, she said in deep
earnestness--
"Knowest thou that the deeds we are about to commit are a terrible
sacrilege? Though thou wilt witness strange things, yet peradventure
they may cost us our lives--nay, our very souls."
"Why?" I asked, somewhat alarmed at her sudden seriousness. "Is it
imperative that we should risk everything?"
"Every sin beareth its fruit," she replied, as, slowly rising from her
divan and holding above her head the urn the negro had brought, she
added, "Hath not the Prophet told us that when the earth shall be shaken
by a violent shock, and the mountains shall be dashed to pieces and
shall become as dust scattered abroad, we shall be separated into three
distinct classes? Those who have preceded others in the Faith shall
precede them to Paradise. The Companions of the Right Hand shall go and
dwell in the Gardens of Delight, among lote trees free from thorns and
trees of mauz always fruitful; but the Companions of the Left Hand--how
miserable shall they be! They who, like ourselves at this moment,
invoke the secret power of Eblis the Terrible, will dwell amidst the
burning winds under the shade of the great black smoke. They are the
damned, for they, in their error, have gone astray in the Valley of
Perdition. Then know, O Roumi! that thou hast chosen to accompany me
unto the dreaded Shrine of Darkness, to seek of the beneficent Granter
of Requests what is hidden, to face the terrors of the tomb, so that
thou mayest hold over thy fellows a power terrific, fatal, awful!"
Her eyes were dilated, filled with a strange, unnatural light, and I
stood aghast at her solemn speech.
"Art thou not one of the chosen?" I asked. "Art thou not--"
"Hold thy peace!" she commanded. Then, holding forth the bronze urn,
she exclaimed, "See! in this vessel are the ashes of the great
Masinissa, the Numidian king, whose body was entombed at Medrassen two
thousand years ago. By their light we will search for the Great
Unknown."
With a sudden movement she took from the urn a small handful of white
dust, and, holding it high over the lamp, sprinkled it slowly into its
faint blue flame. In a moment the place was illuminated by a white
glare so brilliant that I was compelled to shade my blinking eyes with
my hands, while at the same time the apartment was filled with a dense
smoke of a light green hue, but so pungent as to plunge me into the
agonies of asphyxiation.
Thrice she threw into the flame the ashes of the King; thrice she
uttered strange words in a drawling monotone, that were repeated by the
three servants who lay prostrate and appalled. Then, dipping her finger
in the dust, she drew it across my forehead from left to right, and
afterwards made the same sign across her own bejewelled brow and across
her bare breast.
"Rise," she said, turning to her servants. "Bring hither the elixir.
Then leave us."
All three scrambled to their feet in haste to do the bidding of their
imperious mistress, and, after the lapse of a few moments, the two
houris in white reappeared, one bearing a tiny bowl containing a
colourless liquid, while the other brought between her fingers a long
thin poignard, the hilt of which was studded with rubies and turquoises.
When they had placed them beside the lamp, and the heavy curtains had
fallen behind the two girls, Zoraida turned her great dark eyes upon me,
exclaiming--
"Thou wilt ere long learn a wonderful secret which hath been revealed to
none on earth except myself. Already hast thou taken an oath never to
disclose what thou mayest see between these walls. Know, O Cecil! that
by thy passionate love for me thou wilt bind thyself to one who can
produce strange effects from simple causes, and who can show thee
wonders undreamed of. Yonder knife and potion will bind thy soul unto
mine; thou wilt become one of the Companions of the Left Hand, whose
habitation is the shadowless Land of Torment, where the burning wind
scorches and water scalds like boiling pitch."
"Is there then no hope for those who love thee?" I asked, so mystified
and my senses so dulled by the curious odour of the smoke, that I scarce
knew what words escaped me.
"None," she replied, sighing. "Neither rest, mercy, nor the Garden of
Delights can fall to the lot of he who loveth me."
"Why?"
"Because, by regaining the wondrous secret lost to the world for so many
ages, the mark is set indelibly upon thee. Knowest thou not what is
written in Al Koran? The Prophet hath declared that when the heavens
shall be rent in sunder and shall become red as a rose and shall melt
like ointment, then neither man nor genius shall be asked concerning his
sin. The wicked will be known by their marks, and they shall be taken
by the forelocks and the feet and cast into the place of grievous
torments."
"Yes," I said. "But why is the search after this hidden force an act of
such heinous wickedness?"
"Because the secret is only to be obtained at the Shrine of Darkness.
Dost thou, after the warnings I have given thee, still consent to
accompany me among the Companions of the Left Hand--to gain the
knowledge that is forbidden?"
I gazed upon her marvellous beauty. Her magnificent eyes, bright as
those of the gazelle, were turned to mine with a look of earnest appeal
as the little hand I held trembled with suppressed excitement. The
mystic rite she had practised had intoxicated me with a burning desire
to learn more of these strange revelations that she promised, and,
dazzled by her loveliness, I was utterly reckless of the future.
"I do not fear," I replied. "I place implicit confidence in thee, and
am prepared to serve thee, and to seek the wisdom so long withheld."
"_Ibtida-an_," she exclaimed. "Thou, the Amin, must be inoculated with
the elixir;" and, taking up the gleaming poignard, she felt its point.
"It is a deadly decoction. One drop is sufficient to cause death, yet,
strangely enough, three drops have only the effect of stimulating the
brain and preparing the vision for the strange things of which thou must
remain a silent witness."
Taking my hand in hers, she pushed back the sleeve of my coat, exposing
my arm. Then, grasping a small rod of glass that lay beside the bowl,
she dipped it in the liquid and allowed a single drop to fall upon my
flesh. It burned and ate into my arm like an acid, causing me to draw
back quickly in pain, but ere I realised her intention, she had raised
the dagger and made a punctured wound, thus allowing the poison to enter
my veins and mingle with my blood.
"Quick! The second drop!" she cried, dipping the rod into the bowl
again.
"It feels like molten metal," I gasped, drawing my arm away. "It--"
"Do not hesitate," she exclaimed concernedly. "If thou dost not receive
the three drops into thy veins, the poison will prove fatal. Come, let
me conclude the formality;" and, grasping me firmly, she placed another
spot of the acid upon my arm and punctured the flesh with her knife,
repeating the operation a third time, until I had been fully inoculated
with the mysterious virus.
Then, stretching forth her own well-moulded white arm, whereon I noticed
several small red spots,--which she explained were the marks of previous
inoculations,--she stuck the point of the dagger three times into her
own delicate flesh, until the blood flowed and the fluid she had placed
upon the spots was wholly absorbed.
Casting the dagger from her with an expression of repugnance, she passed
her hand quickly across her brow, saying--
"Henceforward, O Cecil, an affinity existeth between us. Though
deserts, mountains, and rolling seas may separate us, our souls will
hold converse. We shall no longer be strangers."
The poison was taking effect upon me. Its action was slow, but a
strange, sickening giddiness crept over my brain, a feeling that the
objects around me were gradually fading. Even Zoraida's voice sounded
hollow and distant in the dreamy half-consciousness that the secret
decoction of my enchantress produced.
Was she, so young, so eminently handsome, so bewitching, the ingenious
sorceress who, according to the rumour current among the Spahis,
directed the movements of Hadj Absalam and his daring band of outlaws?
Could it be possible that beneath those fair features was a heart so
brutal and depraved as to plot murder, robbery, and horrible atrocities?
As she stood before me in her dainty silks and flashing gems, she had
no appearance of a wild freebooter and desert-wanderer, but rather that
of an Oriental child of Fortune into whose languorous life the demon
ennui had entered.
Had she not, however, called herself the Daughter of the Sun? Was not
that the name by which the _homards_ knew the guiding star of the
murderous Ennitra?
"Hearken, O Cecil!" she said, placing her hand suddenly to her breast as
if a pain shot through her heart. "The inoculation is accomplished, and
life is now fast ebbing--we are dying--"
"Poisoned!" I gasped, alarmed. "Thou dost not mean that the three
punctures will prove fatal?"
"Thou, the Amin, hast placed thy faith in me. Of a verity will I reveal
unto thee that which is known to me alone. Only by thus inviting death
can we seek converse with the Great Unseen who ruleth the Kingdom of
Shades. Our mental power, our sensibility, our very souls must be
severed from our bodies and concentrated into separate existence, ere we
may seek the knowledge that giveth us power. Even now at this moment
our souls are parting from our bodies, the dim spark of life flickers,
and we stand together on the threshold of the grave!"
I was touched and awed by the extraordinary change that came over her
while she had been speaking. Something in her tone appealed to my
sympathy, while at the same time her words made my heart sink. A woman
lying in her coffin, ready to be buried alive, might have had such a
strain in her voice. Her face was white, with that ghastliness which
comes in extreme moments to a brunette, and her eyes, starting from
their sockets, burned with a dusky, deep-set brilliance. When her
voice, that sounded in my ears like a far-off wail, had ceased, she
stood motionless, and her countenance assumed an inscrutable mask of
quiet, almost serene resignation, behind which something suggested
immeasurable depths of poignant suffering. Pale, haggard, and
deathlike, she gazed at me with dry, half-parted lips. Then I saw in
her wild eyes the fearful but unmistakable light of madness!
I was appalled at the slow, mysterious transformation of the woman I
loved.