There Nycteris sat, and there the youth lay, all night long, in the
heart of the great cone-shadow of the earth, like two Pharaohs in one
pyramid. Photogen slept, and slept; and Nycteris sat motionless lest
she should wake him, and so betray him to his fear.
The moon rode high in the blue eternity; it was a very triumph of
glorious night; the river ran babble-murmuring in deep soft syllables;
the fountain kept rushing moon-ward, and blossoming momently to a
great silvery flower, whose petals were for ever falling like snow,
but with a continuous musical clash, into the bed of its exhaustion
beneath; the wind woke, took a run among the trees, went to sleep, and
woke again; the daisies slept on their feet at hers, but she did not
know they slept; the roses might well seem awake, for their scent
filled the air, but in truth they slept also, and the odour was that
of their dreams; the oranges hung like gold lamps in the trees, and
their silvery flowers were the souls of their yet unembodied children;
the scent of the acacia blooms filled the air like the very odour of
the moon herself.
At last, unused to the living air, and weary with sitting so still and
so long, Nycteris grew drowsy. The air began to grow cool. It was
getting near the time when she too was accustomed to sleep. She closed
her eyes just a moment, and nodded--opened them suddenly wide, for she
had promised to watch.
In that moment a change had come. The moon had got round, and was
fronting her from the west, and she saw that her face was altered,
that she had grown pale, as if she too were wan with fear, and from
her lofty place espied a coming terror. The light seemed to be
dissolving out of her; she was dying--she was going out! And yet
everything around looked strangely clear--clearer than ever she had
seen anything before: how could the lamp be shedding more light when
she herself had less? Ah, that was just it! See how faint she looked!
It was because the light was forsaking her, and spreading itself over
the room, that she grew so thin and pale! She was giving up
everything! She was melting away from the roof like a bit of sugar in
water.
Nycteris was fast growing afraid, and sought refuge with the face upon
her lap. How beautiful the creature was!--what to call it she could
not think, for it had been angry when she called it what Watho called
her. And, wonder upon wonder! now, even in the cold change that was
passing upon the great room, the colour as of a red rose was rising in
the wan cheek. What beautiful yellow hair it was that spread over her
lap! What great huge breaths the creature took! And what were those
curious things it carried? She had seen them on her walls, she was
sure.
Thus she talked to herself while the lamp grew paler and paler, and
everything kept growing yet clearer. What could it mean? The lamp was
dying--going out into the other place of which the creature in her lap
had spoken, to be a sun! But why were the things growing clearer
before it was yet a sun? That was the point. Was it her growing into a
sun that did it? Yes! yes! it was coming death! She knew it, for it
was coming upon her also! She felt it coming! What was she about to
grow into? Something beautiful, like the creature in her lap? It might
be! Anyhow, it must be death; for all her strength was going out of
her, while all around her was growing so light she could not bear it!
She must be blind soon! Would she be blind or dead first?
For the sun was rushing up behind her. Photogen woke, lifted his head
from her lap, and sprang to his feet. His face was one radiant smile.
His heart was full of daring--that of the hunter who will creep into
the tiger's den. Nycteris gave a cry, covered her face with her hands,
and pressed her eyelids close. Then blindly she stretched out her arms
to Photogen, crying, "Oh, I am so frightened! What is this? It must be
death! I don't wish to die yet. I love this room and the old lamp. I
do not want the other place! This is terrible. I want to hide. I want
to get into the sweet, soft, dark hands of all the other creatures. Ah
me! ah me!"
"What is the matter with you, girl?" said Photogen, with the arrogance
of all male creatures until they have been taught by the other kind.
He stood looking down upon her over his bow, of which he was examining
the string. "There is no fear of anything now, child. It is day. The
sun is all but up. Look! he will be above the brow of yon hill in one
moment more! Good-bye. Thank you for my night's lodging. I'm off.
Don't be a goose. If ever I can do anything for you--and all that, you
know!"
"Don't leave me; oh, don't leave me!" cried Nycteris. "I am dying! I
am dying! I cannot move. The light sucks all the strength out of me.
And oh, I am so frightened!"
But already Photogen had splashed through the river, holding high his
bow that it might not get wet. He rushed across the level, and
strained up the opposing hill. Hearing no answer, Nycteris removed her
hands. Photogen had reached the top, and the same moment the sunrays
alighted upon him: the glory of the king of day crowded blazing upon
the golden-haired youth. Radiant as Apollo, he stood in mighty
strength, a flashing shape in the midst of flame. He fitted a glowing
arrow to a gleaming bow. The arrow parted with a keen musical twang of
the bowstring, and Photogen darting after it, vanished with a shout.
Up shot Apollo himself, and from his quiver scattered astonishment and
exultation. But the brain of poor Nycteris was pierced through and
through. She fell down in utter darkness. All around her was a flaming
furnace. In despair and feebleness and agony, she crept back, feeling
her way with doubt and difficulty and enforced persistence to her
cell. When at last the friendly darkness of her chamber folded her
about with its cooling and consoling arms, she threw herself on her
bed and fell fast asleep. And there she slept on, one alive in a tomb,
while Photogen, above in the sun-glory, pursued the buffaloes on the
lofty plain, thinking not once of her where she lay dark and forsaken,
whose presence had been his refuge, her eyes and her hands his
guardians through the night. He was in his glory and his pride; and
the darkness and its disgrace had vanished for a time.