THE FEAST OF FAREWELL
On the first day of the new Atalantan month a great banquet was held in
the hall of the palace which was long remembered in Atalanta and called
the Feast of Farewell. All the notables of both the court and the city
were present by the Queen’s invitation.
The Queen and the princess-elect, Mayana, sat each upon their throned
and canopied couches at the head of the hall, with Melanitis and
Radcliffe on the right hand and Abercromby and Minya on the left. Below
them the Professor and the engineer occupied the seats reserved for
distinguished guests.
Ranged around the hall were the guards and attendants who waited upon
the guests, led by Cleophon, who was resplendent in the dress and
accoutrements of his new position.
The little tables in front of each, richly inlaid with precious metals
and carved with quaint design, were laden with the choicest delicacies
of Atalanta and with slender goblets of tinted liquids. Festoons of
flowers in every hue sparkled and glistened upon the walls. Panels were
slid to and fro to admit streams of radiant sunlight to gild various
parts of the banquet-room.
From other parts, usually those that were left in shadow, there
came siren strains of the most bewitching music, now rising, now
falling, now ascending to a volume of sound, now dying away in a
distant harmony. When any speaker rose to speak there was an instant
hush. Poetry and song were frequently introduced; on that occasion
terrestrial melodies were loudly in demand, particularly those of the
more romantic type. Abercromby and Radcliffe had brought some such in
the Asteroid for the benefit of the former, as the latter could not
play, and had not much capacity as a songster. One was the Invitation
Song, and another a religious ballad, “I will give you rest.” Melanitis
had turned both of these into Atalantan verse, and they were both sung
to a number of instruments, and produced a deep impression upon the
audience.
“Love launched a fairy boat” was a song beyond the power of Radcliffe
and Melanitis to sing--the memories were too heart-searching for them;
but the music was played, and, from the very fact that it was so
different from the weird and Oriental-like compositions of Atalanta,
it excited the more surprise and interest. The national airs of the
different European countries were performed, but these, for the most
part, were less popular.
After all this had lasted awhile the Queen rose from her throne and
addressed the vast assembly.
“Friends and notables of the Flowery Land, it has been customary
from time to time, especially before setting out for our southern
progresses, for the princes of Atalanta to gather the chiefs of their
people together. Never within the memory of the oldest here present
have we had an occasion parallel to this, either by reason of the
shadows of the past or the extraordinary circumstances of the present.”
The Queen then detailed the late insurrection, paid a warm tribute to
the loyalty which had saved her throne, extolled the goodness and the
benevolence of the late King, and asserted her own desire to follow in
his steps and to try to do for her people what he had done.
Then she said: “My sister Melanitis has long desired to be relieved of
the highest cares of state, and, by her own act of free choice, has
besought me to associate her cousin rather than herself in the direct
and central rule of our empire. She will, therefore, occupy the less
onerous post of ruler of our island of Melandria, by whose people she
has for a long time been greatly beloved. Her betrothal to him whom we
once called the stranger from Karamandra, but who is now, for the great
services which he has rendered to us, enrolled in the highest circle of
our nobility, has been recently announced to you, and ere they take up
their residence in the island their union by marriage will have been
formally ratified by us. It will take place after this assembly has
been dispersed, in the presence of the usual chosen witnesses.”
Neither Radcliffe nor Melanitis had been told that matters were quite
so imminent, and they exchanged glances. Abercromby managed to slip a
piece of paper into Radcliffe’s hand. “Thought I would get all your
business over at once, old chap. I fixed it up before the meeting.
Don’t turn this into poetry, please!”
“Most earnestly do I desire that the blessing of Heaven may rest upon
them,” said the Queen, “and upon their efforts to do my people good.
I wish all to know that I publicly sanction these efforts, and that
I allow the Christian philosophy to be taught in Atalanta both by
speech and writing, with this one exception, that I shall not allow,
for some time to come, the holding of assemblies in the promenades and
open fields, but only in buildings appointed for the purpose, and,
of course, in private dwellings. But this prohibition does not apply
to the island unless my sister enforces it there by her own act. The
Prince Consort of Melandria (for so will his title be henceforward
expressed) will, I am sure, yield an implicit obedience to the one
restriction I think good to place upon him.
“The Festival of the Sun is for ever abolished. It may be that in the
future some pageant in a Christian form may be sanctioned, but neither
I nor he are at all desirous of doing this. I am imposing no faith upon
Atalanta, whether old or new. I am in substantial agreement with the
Christian religion in most parts wherein it supplements ours, and the
Princess Mayana holds the same attitude as myself.
“I think it will be for the good of the people that the new spiritual
movement should win its way. Further, you all know that my friend
Abercromby has asked my cousin Minya to be his wife. At this also we
shall greatly rejoice, and for his services, which have been likewise
great, he too shall be counted amongst the highest in the land. As for
the three other members of the expedition, the two men who were its
actual leaders, being eminent men of science amongst their people, are
soon to leave us and to return to their own world, but I will send
greeting through them to the ruler of their particular country, the
island of Britain, telling him how much I regret that his people are,
for the most part, so evil that I cannot permit any direct intercourse
between them and my own subjects.
“The servant of the expedition, one Jackson by name, has been cruelly
martyred by the priests in the Temple, to my very deep regret, for
he was a good man and fought nobly for us in the hour of the great
rebellion. He lies beneath the bridge of Amalona, honoured amongst the
illustrious dead. He it was who, by his wisdom and sagacity, guided
Prince Claretson of Melandria to the place where the sacred manuscript,
which will no doubt be added to the terrestrial Bible, was discovered,
in the securing of which my sister and the prince had a terrible
struggle with a wild beast.
“I have no more to add, notables and friends. For the first time I
greet you as your mother and Queen, and my chief regret this day is,
that we are so soon to lose two whom we should have been glad to see
always with us.”
The banquet was prolonged to a very late hour. Music and song, poetry
and recitation, were constantly recurring. There was a short patriotic
ode, entitled “The Saluting of the Banner,” which was always sung on
state occasions--
Wave the banner high,
Loyal hearts reply,
The throne of Atalanta shall endure;
Aided from above,
Rooted in our love,
What is more triumphantly secure?
In its shelter we rejoice,
And sing with grateful voice
To those whose love protects us every day;
Wide the scarlet banner flings
Its all-protecting wings,
O’er the happy land that owns its peaceful sway.
Before the guests dispersed, little Minya, who had perhaps the sweetest
voice in the court circle, sang one of the most touching of the
half-romantic, half-religious lyrics of Atalanta, called “Waiting for
the Light.”
All the company rose to their feet when the first plaintive notes were
struck.
It was a song specially hated by the idolatrous party, but dear to
the hearts of others, and now very welcome to the Royalists, both for
religious and political reasons:--
Waiting for the light on the distant hills,
Whence we bade farewell to the Traveller unknown,
He who came to tend us and heal us of our ills,
Ere He took His journey, friendless and alone.
Did we understand Him in His lowly guise?
Did our glad hearts open to the wisdom that He taught?
Rather did we wonder in a dull surprise,
Could it be divinity these gracious marvels wrought?
We were always waiting further proof to see,
Closing our proud minds to the proofs already given;
Now we stand all friendless in our agony,
Waiting for a light that can only come from Heaven.
Ages now have sped since the sad and shameful day,
When we drove Him from us with a cold good-bye,
O’er Keraunea’s hills He took His weary way,
Leaving us to mourn and to wander till we die!
Waiting, we are turning questioning eyes to Heaven,
As we stand bewildered in the maze of life.
Shall the hour relieve us when the clouds are riven,
And a heavenly message end our mental strife?
We may _seem_ contented in the Flowery Land,
’Neath the skies all sunlit--never draped in night--
Yet an aching heart tries in vain to understand
Why the ages leave us waiting for the light!
The echoes died away amid a wailing chant which, from every part of the
hall, rose, swelled, and faded. In deep silence each guest defiled past
the canopied throne, inclined with a deep reverence to the Queen and
the princesses, and then left the hall.
“I could not have stood much more of that,” said the engineer. “Never
in my life have I had such an experience as this evening. I wonder
whether these queer people can be screwed up to put their feelings into
real future practice?”
“The dons would have felt rather funny if this had been a Gaudy,”
remarked the Professor. “Radcliffe will have all his work well cut out.
I should like to take a peep in here, say, ten years hence.”
“Now, my prince, there is one more job in hand to-night before we
retire to rest,” said Abercromby. “Step this way and get married,
please.”
“Martin Luther wanted one of his friends to attend that he might be
sure that he was married after all,” answered Radcliffe. “Which is it
with me? I never felt so bewildered in all my life. Anyway, I have got
Melanitis.”
“That is the chief thing, my noble prince. The clear air of bracing
Melandria will set you right on all side topics. Come along, there is
the Queen calling to you. She will be wanting to know what the dickens
you are keeping them all waiting for.”
The ceremony was of the simplest kind. They knelt before Mexitli, and
she joined their hands together. When they rose up Abercromby said,
“_My_ state ceremony will be a little more complicated, but then _I_
shall be doing it for the first time. You _have_ paid all the necessary
fees, so now you can skiddadle; there is neither bellringer, clerk, nor
parson, except your own august self. Farewell for the present, and be
better children than you were at Barmouth.”
* * * * *
The next morning all was astir in the palace. For the last time the
Asteroid lay fixed in position upon the terrace square. At the morning
meal a feeling of sadness hung over the party, which not even the
gay sallies of Abercromby could fully dispel. The Professor and the
engineer made short speeches full of good sense and kindly expression.
They then took a farewell of the Princess Mayana, who was compelled,
from reasons of state business, to remain behind. All the others were
to journey with their friends as far as they could.
At ten o’clock by terrestrial time the engines were set going, and the
Asteroid winged its aerial flight from Atalanta city. Nearly the whole
population had gathered in the streets and promenades, and cheer after
cheer of greeting was sent up. In order to please her departing guests,
the Queen ordered that a somewhat different route to Melandria should
be taken. This time they sped across in a due westerly direction, not
veering southwards till they had got to a distance of about fifty miles
from the city. Villas and country houses continued to approach and to
recede beneath them, and at last, after crossing a line of hills, the
waters of the great western ocean came in sight.
The northern end of Melandria could just be observed on the distant
horizon, and on a spur of ground that projected some way into the sea
they caught sight of a tall building with a graceful tower, several
hundred feet in height. At first the Professor and engineer thought it
was a lighthouse.
“Nay,” replied Mexitli, “this is a signalling station from whence, by
flashes of light, messages are conveyed to and from the Observatory
on Aptaura. Most usually, these messages consist of a statement of
supplies sent to, or received by, the astronomers, but sometimes news
of scientific interest is conveyed. If you all had but only come by
way of the southern pole we should have heard of you at once, and then
perhaps----”
“We might not have got into so much mischief,” supplied the Professor.
The Queen laughed. “I see your conscience is still sensitive,
Carmichael.”
“What are they signalling to us?” cried Minya. “Why I do believe----”
she finished the sentence with an exclamation.
“I can read the code,” said Melanitis. “Look! it runs: ‘Why not signal
from Aptaura to Karamandra?’”
“A nice suggestion,” said the Queen. “Who has made it, I wonder? Some
one who wanted me to receive it in a roundabout way.”
They held on, above the waves which were agitated by a grand swell and
current, and soon the heights of the twilight island rose before them,
and, an hour later, they had reached the Peak, as it was called, and
were in the house of Andron.
“Andron, this is rather hard upon you,” said Melanitis in a kindly
tone. “I won’t tell you you are relieved of your post, for who want
to be relieved when they love their work? I will tell you instead,
that you are to be promoted to another and a higher post at the palace
itself.”
“I feel deeply grateful for all the kind recognition which any services
of mine rendered to my country have already received,” said Andron;
“and the chief thing that gives me pleasure now is to have the honour
of inviting you and the prince to remain under my roof till the day
when you are formally installed in my place.”
The party were soon partaking of hospitality upon the lawn of the
house, with its fine view over the southern sea, and the splendid
crescent-shaped esplanade of houses that lined the bay.
Conversation took, as before, a scientific turn, and the ex-governor of
Melandria was directly asked by the Professor to state his views as to
the possibility of interplanetary signalling. He told him what a stir
had been made upon the earth by the mere rumour of a message from Mars,
as the supposed outbreak of recent light on that planet had been called.
“We know little about Mars,” answered Andron, “much less than you
probably do, which may well be, seeing that we are more than sixty
millions of miles from it. I see no reason to think that remote and
snowbound planet has, at least now, any inhabitants. But it has always
struck me that communication might some day be established between
Atalanta and your world, which is sometimes only twenty-four millions
of miles apart, only our planet is so awkwardly situated as regards
yours that, when we are nearest to you, you can only see us as a thin
extended crescent. But, as you before told me, our giant Aptaura can be
discerned in your telescopic vision as a tiny sparkling point, due, of
course, to the sun’s rays impinging upon its top. I have always thought
that a signal might be conveyed to you from us, and if so, as you have
learned our language, an alphabet could be constructed.”
“Did _you_ convey a suggestion to me from Aptaura this very morning,
Andron?” said the Queen, smiling.
“Yes, he did,” replied Ayacatil; “he was afraid that if he ventured it
too directly you would veto him at once.”
“Have you really any suggestions to make?” said the Queen.
“As the sun’s rays strike the peak of Aptaura with almost overwhelming
power,” answered Andron, “I cannot see why they might not be focussed
in a powerful reflector, and a beam shot skywards in the direction of
Karamandra. If they can only see our signal, much will be gained. They
might afterwards transmit one of their own from a Karamandran mountain
peak, and, though their hills are much smaller, yet their world,
appearing as a full circle to us, could more easily be observed by us.”
“But there is something more than this matter which we have been
considering,” said Ayacatil. “If, which God forbid, any accident should
happen to your machine in space, the whole fruit of your researches
would be lost. I advise that your manuscripts be sealed up in a
fire-proof cylinder which, in a last extremity, could be thrown out,
and it would of necessity fall into the attraction of your world.”
“Admirable!” said Mexitli.
“We have prepared such a contrivance,” answered Andron, “and it will
give us much pleasure to present you with it.”
The cylinder was duly inspected, and all agreed that it should be
sealed up when they reached Aptaura.
The next two days Clarence and Frank spent largely in the society of
the friends they were so soon to lose.
The Queen and Melanitis spent most of their time together, and it was
noted by many how serenely happy the princess looked.
And then came the day when the whole party stood upon the mighty
mountain peak of Venus. They were facing the cold hemisphere of the
south. The green-red star, the “little queen of the night,” shone upon
them. Towards it, in a few minutes, the prow of the Asteroid would be
turned.
Mexitli held out both her hands to Carmichael and to Carysfort.
“Farewell,” she said; “we met in hostility, we part in friendship. My
best wishes for you, for your nation, for the teeming millions of the
human races; may they learn to appreciate more and more what their
Divine Prince and Saviour has done for them. We are infinitely the
better for your sojourning amongst us. You broke our laws at the first
only through ignorance, as I now gladly admit, and your conduct since
has been irreproachable.”
“May your Majesty enjoy a long and glorious reign,” said the Professor.
“May all that the Prince of Melandria and Abercromby carry out here
be a blessing both to them and to you. Perhaps it was our fault that
we have not enjoyed ourselves from the first as we might have done.
Once more I thank you for your kindness. To my dying day I shall never
forget Atalanta.”
“Good-bye, Queen,” said Carysfort. “A plain Englishman always has ten
times more to say than he knows how to express in words.”
“I understand,” replied Mexitli.
“Tell the Vice-Chancellor,” said Frank, “I think I could pass if I
went back to Cambridge now. I know Atalantan if I don’t know much more
Greek.”
“Good-bye,” said Radcliffe; “when you happen to run over to Oxford,
just give my love to old Prebendary Seaton. I fear I did not visit in
his parish quite as much as I should; tell him that I have a large
parish now.”
“Good-bye all,” said Melanitis. “My prayers will go with you. When
we meet again there will be no parting.” Then she put her hand into
Radcliffe’s.
“Good-bye,” said Minya. “Tell the English ladies the names of the four
English songs which we like best.”
“Good-bye, Professor and Engineer,” said Abercromby. “I ... there, it’s
not a bit of use, I’m stuck.”
“Don’t attempt it, man,” said Carmichael as he entered the Asteroid.
“Come along, Carysfort, it’s really time we were off. Here is the MS.
cylinder. We won’t forget _that_. Start the engines.”
_POSTSCRIPT_