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UNVEILING A PARALLEL.
A Romance
[Illustration]
by
TWO WOMEN OF THE WEST
Copyright 1893,
by
Arena Publishing Company.
All rights reserved.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE.
Chapter I. A Remarkable Acquaintance 5
Chapter II. A Woman 28
Chapter III. The Auroras' Annual 59
Chapter IV. Elodia 88
Chapter V. The Vaporizer 106
Chapter VI. Cupid's Gardens 124
Chapter VII. New Friends 147
Chapter VIII. A Talk With Elodia 157
Chapter IX. Journeying Upward 190
Chapter X. The Master 220
Chapter XI. A Comparison 248
Chapter 1.
A REMARKABLE ACQUAINTANCE.
"A new person is to me always a great event, and
hinders me from sleep."
--EMERSON.
You know how certain kinds of music will beat everything out of your
consciousness except a wild delirium of joy; how love of a woman will
take up every cranny of space in your being,--and fill the universe
beside,--so that people who are not en rapport with the strains that
delight you, or with the beauty that enthralls you, seem pitiable
creatures, not in touch with the Divine Harmony, with Supreme
Loveliness.
So it was with me, when I set my feet on Mars! My soul leaped to its
highest altitude and I had but one vast thought,--"I have triumphed; I
am here! And I am alone; Earth is unconscious of the glory that is
mine!"
I shall not weary you with an account of my voyage, since you are more
interested in the story of my sojourn on the red planet than in the
manner of my getting there.
It is not literally red, by the way; that which makes it appear so at
this distance is its atmosphere,--its "sky,"--which is of a soft
roseate color, instead of being blue like ours. It is as beautiful as
a blush.
I will just say, that the time consumed in making the journey was
incredibly brief. Having launched my aeroplane on the current of
attraction which flows uninterruptedly between this world and that,
traveling was as swift as thought. My impression is that my speed was
constantly accelerated until I neared my journey's end, when the
planet's pink envelope interposed its soft resistance to prevent a
destructive landing.
I settled down as gently as a dove alights, and the sensation was the
most ecstatic I have ever experienced.
When I could distinguish trees, flowers, green fields, streams of
water, and people moving about in the streets of a beautiful city, it
was as if some hitherto unsuspected chambers of my soul were flung
open to let in new tides of feeling.
My coming had been discovered. A college of astronomers in an
observatory which stands on an elevation just outside the city, had
their great telescope directed toward the Earth,--just as our
telescopes were directed to Mars at that time,--and they saw me and
made me out when I was yet a great way off.
They were able to determine the exact spot whereon I would land, about
a mile distant from the observatory, and repaired thither with all
possible speed,--and they have very perfect means of locomotion,
superior even to our electrical contrivances.
Before I had time to look about me, I found myself surrounded, and
unmistakably friendly hands outheld to welcome me.
There were eight or ten of the astronomers,--some young, some
middle-aged, and one or two elderly men. All of them, including the
youngest, who had not even the dawn of a beard upon his chin, and the
oldest, whose hair was silky white, were strikingly handsome. Their
features were extraordinarily mobile and expressive. I never saw a
more lively interest manifest on mortal countenances than appeared on
theirs, as they bent their glances upon me. But their curiosity was
tempered by a dignified courtesy and self-respect.
They spoke, but of course I could not understand their words, though
it was easy enough to interpret the tones of their voices, their
manner, and their graceful gestures. I set them down for a people who
had attained to a high state of culture and good-breeding.
I suddenly felt myself growing faint, for, although I had not fasted
long, a journey such as I had just accomplished is exhausting.
Near by stood a beautiful tree on which there was ripe fruit. Some one
instantly interpreted the glance I involuntarily directed to it, and
plucked a cluster of the large rich berries and gave them to me, first
putting one in his own mouth to show me that it was a safe experiment.
While I ate,--I found the fruit exceedingly refreshing,--the company
conferred together, and presently one of the younger men approached
and took me gently by the arm and walked me away toward the city. The
others followed us.
We had not to go farther than the first suburb. My companion, whom
they called Severnius, turned into a beautiful park, or grove, in the
midst of which stood a superb mansion built of dazzling white stone.
His friends waved us farewells with their hands,--we responding in
like manner,--and proceeded on down the street.
I learned afterwards that the park was laid out with scientific
precision. But the design was intricate, and required study to follow
the curves and angles. It seemed to me then like an exquisite mood of
nature.
The trees were of rare and beautiful varieties, and the shrubbery of
the choicest. The flowers, whose colors could not declare
themselves,--it being night,--fulfilled their other delightful
function and tinctured the balmy air with sweet odors.
Paths were threaded like white ribbons through the thick greensward.
As we walked toward the mansion, I stopped suddenly to listen to a
most musical and familiar and welcome sound,--the plash of water. My
companion divined my thought. We turned aside, and a few steps brought
us to a marble fountain. It was in the form of a chaste and lovely
female figure, from whose chiseled fingers a shower of glittering
drops continually poured. Severnius took an alabaster cup from the
base of the statue, filled it, and offered me a drink. The water was
sparkling and intensely cold, and had the suggestion rather than the
fact of sweetness.
"Delicious!" I exclaimed. He understood me, for he smiled and nodded
his head, a gesture which seemed to say, "It gives me pleasure to know
that you find it good." I could not conceive of his expressing himself
in any other than the politest manner.
We proceeded into the house. How shall I describe that house? Imagine
a place which responds fully to every need of the highest culture and
taste, without burdening the senses with oppressive luxury, and you
have it! In a word, it was an ideal house and home. Both outside and
inside, white predominated. But here and there were bits of color the
most brilliant, like jewels. I found that I had never understood the
law of contrast, or of economy in art; I knew nothing of "values," or
of relationships in this wonderful realm, of which it maybe truly
said, "Fools rush in where angels fear to tread."
I learned subsequently that all Marsians of taste are sparing of rich
colors, as we are of gems, though certain classes indulge in
extravagant and gaudy displays, recognizing no law but that which
permits them to have and to do whatsoever they like.
I immediately discovered that two leading ideas were carried out in
this house; massiveness and delicacy. There was extreme solidity in
everything which had a right to be solid and stable; as the walls, and
the supporting pillars, the staircases, the polished floors, and some
pieces of stationary furniture, and the statuary,--the latter not too
abundant. Each piece of statuary, by the way, had some special reason
for being where it was; either it served some practical purpose, or it
helped to carry out a poetical idea,--so that one was never taken
aback as by an incongruity.
Some of the floors were of marble, in exquisite mosaic-work, and
others were of wood richly inlaid. The carpets were beautiful, but
they were used sparingly. When we sat down in a room a servant usually
brought a rug or a cushion for our feet. And when we went out under
the trees they spread carpets on the grass and put pillows on the
rustic seats.
The decorations inside the house were the most airy and graceful
imaginable. The frescoes were like clouds penetrated by the rarest
tints,--colors idealized,--cunningly wrought into surpassingly lovely
pictures, which did not at once declare the artist's intention, but
had to be studied. They were not only an indulgence to the eye, but a
charming occupation for the thoughts. In fact, almost everything about
the place appealed to the higher faculties as well as to the senses.
There comes to us, from time to time, a feeling of disenchantment
toward almost everything life has to offer us. It never came to me
with respect to Severnius' house. It had for me an interest and a
fascination which I was never able to dissect, any more than you would
be able to dissect the charm of the woman you love.
With all its fine artistic elaborations, there was a simplicity about
it which made it possible for the smallest nature to measure its
capacity there, as well as the greatest. The proper sort of a
yardstick for all uses has inch-marks.
Severnius took me upstairs and placed a suite of rooms at my command,
and indicated to me that he supposed I needed rest, which I did
sorely. But I could not lie down until I had explored my territory.
The room into which I had been ushered, and where Severnius left me,
closing the noiseless door behind him, looked to me like a pretty
woman's boudoir,--almost everything in it being of a light and
delicate color. The walls were cream-tinted, with a deep frieze of a
little darker shade, relieved by pale green and brown decorations. The
wood work was done in white enamel paint. The ceiling was sprinkled
with silver stars. Two or three exquisite water-colors were framed in
silver, and the andirons, tongs and shovel, and the fender round the
fire-place, and even the bedstead, were silver-plated.
The bed, which stood in an alcove, was curtained with silk, and had
delicacies of lace also, as fine and subtle as Arachne's web. The
table and a few of the chairs looked like our spindle-legged
Chippendale things. And two or three large rugs might have been of
Persian lamb's wool. A luxurious couch was placed across one corner of
the room and piled with down cushions. An immense easy chair, or
lounging chair, stood opposite.
The dressing table, of a peculiarly beautiful cream-colored wood, was
prettily littered with toilet articles in carved ivory or silver
mountings. Above it hung a large mirror. There was a set of shelves
for books and bric-a-brac; a porphyry lamp-stand with a lamp dressed
in an exquisite pale-green shade; a chiffonier of marquetry.
The mantel ornaments were vases of fine pottery and marble statuettes.
A musical instrument lay on a low bamboo stand. I could not play upon
it, but the strings responded sweetly to the touch.
A little investigation revealed a luxurious bath-room. I felt the need
of a bath, and turned on the water and plunged in. As I finished, a
clock somewhere chimed the hour of midnight.
Before lying down, I put by the window draperies and looked out. I was
amazed at the extreme splendor of the familiar constellations. Owing
to the peculiarity of the atmosphere of Mars, the night there is
almost as luminous as our day. Every star stood out, not a mere
twinkling eye, or little flat, silver disk, but a magnificent sphere,
effulgent and supremely glorious.
Notwithstanding that it was long before I slept, I awoke with the day.
I think its peculiar light had something to do with my waking. I did
not suppose such light was possible out of heaven! It did not dazzle
me, however; it simply filled me, and gave me a sensation of peculiar
buoyancy.
I had a singular feeling when I first stepped out of bed,--that the
floor was not going to hold me. It was as if I should presently be
lifted up, as a feather is lifted by a slight current of air skimming
along on the ground. But I soon found that this was not going to
happen. My feet clung securely to the polished wood and the soft wool
of the rug at the bedside. I laughed quietly to myself. In fact I was
in the humor to laugh. I felt so happy. Happiness seemed to be a
quality of the air, which at that hour was particularly charming in
its freshness and its pinkish tones.
I had made my ablutions and was taking up my trousers to put them on,
when there was a tap at the door and Severnius appeared with some soft
white garments, such as he himself wore, thrown over his arm. In the
most delicate manner possible, he conveyed the wish that I might feel
disposed to put them on.
I blushed,--they seemed such womanish things. He misinterpreted my
confusion. He assured me by every means in his power that I was
entirely welcome to them, that it would give him untold pleasure to
provide for my every want. I could not stand out against such
generosity. I reached for the things--swaddling clothes I called
them--and Severnius helped me to array myself in them. I happened to
glance into the mirror, and I did not recognize myself. I had some
sense of how a barbarian must feel in his first civilized suit.
At my friend's suggestion I hung my own familiar apparel up in the
closet,--you may imagine with what reluctance.
But I may say, right here, that I grew rapidly to my new clothes. I
soon liked them. There was something very graceful in the cut and
style of them.
They covered and adorned the body without disguising it. They left the
limbs and muscles free and encouraged grace of pose and movement.
The elegant folds in which the garments hung from the shoulders and
the waist, the tassels and fringes and artistic drapery arrangements,
while seemingly left to their own caprice, were as secure in their
place as the plumage of a bird,--which the wind may ruffle but cannot
displace.
I suspect that it requires a great deal of skill to construct a
Marsian costume, whether for male or female. They are not altogether
dissimilar; the women's stuffs are of a little finer quality
ordinarily, but their dress is not usually so elaborately trimmed as
the men's garb, which struck me as very peculiar. Both sexes wear
white, or a soft cream. The fabric is either a sort of fine linen, or
a mixture of silk and wool.
After Severnius and I came to understand each other, as comrades and
friends, he laughingly compared my dress, in which I had made my first
appearance, to the saddle and housings of a horse. He declared that he
and his friends were not quite sure whether I was a man or a beast.
But he was too polite to give me the remotest hint, during our early
acquaintance, that he considered my garb absurd.
When, having completed my toilet, I indicated to him that I was ready
for the next thing on the program,--which I sincerely hoped might be
breakfast,--he approached me and taking my hand placed a gold ring on
my finger. It was set with a superb rubellite enhanced with pearls.
The stone was the only bit of color in my entire dress. Even my shoes
were of white canvas.
I thanked him as well as I was able for this especial mark of favor. I
was pleased that he had given me a gem not only beautiful, but
possessing remarkable qualities. I held it in a ray of sunlight and
turned it this way and that, to show him that I was capable of
appreciating its beauties and its peculiar characteristics.
He was delighted, and I had the satisfaction of feeling that I had
made a good impression upon him.
He led the way down-stairs, and luckily into the breakfast room.
We were served by men dressed similarly to ourselves, though their
clothing was without trimming and was of coarser material than ours.
They moved about the room swiftly and noiselessly. Motion upon that
planet seems so natural and so easy. There is very little inertia to
overcome.
Our meal was rather odd; it consisted of fruits, some curiously
prepared cereals, and a hot palatable drink. No meat.
After this light but entirely satisfactory repast we ascended the
grand stairway--a marvel of beauty in its elaborate carvings--and
entered a lofty apartment occupying a large part of the last _etage_.
I at first made out that it was a place devoted to the fine arts. I
had noticed a somewhat conspicuous absence, in the rooms below, of the
sort of things with which rich people in our country crowd their
houses. I understood now, they were all marshaled up here.
There were exquisitely carved vessels of all descriptions, bronzes,
marbles, royal paintings, precious minerals.
Here also were the riches of color.
The brilliant morning light came through the most beautiful windows I
have ever seen, even in our finest cathedrals. The large central
stained glasses were studded round with prisms that played
extraordinary pranks with the sunbeams, which, as they glanced from
them, were splintered into a thousand scintillating bits, as splendid
as jewels.
We sat down, I filled--I do not know why--with a curious sense of
expectancy that was half awe.
Across one end of the great room was stretched a superb curtain of
tapestry,--a mosaic in silk and wool.
Severnius did not make any other sign or gesture to me except the one
that bade me be seated.
I watched him wonderingly but furtively. He seemed to be composing
himself, as I have seen saintly people compose themselves in church.
Not that he was saintly; he did not strike me as being that kind of a
man, though there was that about him which proclaimed him to be a good
man, whose friendship would be a valuable acquisition.
He folded his hands loosely in his lap and sat motionless, his glance
resting serenely on one of the great windows for a time and then
passing on to other objects equally beautiful.
We were still enwrapped in this august silence when I became conscious
that somewhere, afar off, beyond the tapestry curtain, there were
stealing toward us strains of unusual, ineffable music, tantalizingly
sweet and vague.
Gradually the almost indistinguishable sounds detached themselves
from, and rose above, the pulsing silence,--or that unappreciable
harmony we call silence,--and swelled up among the arches that ribbed
the lofty ceiling, and rolled and reverberated through the great dome
above, and came reflected down to us in refined and sublimated
undulations.
Our souls--my soul,--in this new wonder and ecstasy I forgot
Severnius,--awoke in responsive raptures, inconceivably thrilling and
exalted.
I did not need to be told that it was sacred music, it invoked the
Divine Presence unmistakably. No influence that had ever before been
trained upon my spiritual senses had so compelled to adoration of the
Supreme One who holds and rules all worlds.
"He lifts me to the golden doors;
The flashes come and go;
All heaven bursts her starry floors,
And strows her lights below,
And deepens on and up! the gates
Roll back. * * * *"
This I murmured, and texts of our scriptures, and fragments of
anthems. It was as if I brought my earthly tribute to lay on this
Marsian shrine.
The gates did roll back, the heavens were broken up, new spiritual
heights were shown to me, up which my spirit mounted.
I looked at Severnius. His eyes were closed. His face, lighted as by
an inner illumination, and his whole attitude, suggested a "waiting
upon God," that
"Intercourse divine,
Which God permits, ordains, across the line."
There stole insensibly upon the sound-burdened air, the hallowed
perfume of burning incense.
I conjectured, and truly as I afterward learned, that I was in my
friend's private sanctuary. It was his spiritual lavatory, in which he
made daily ablutions. A service in which the soul lays aside the forms
necessary in public worship and stands unveiled before its God.
It was a rare honor he paid me, in permitting me to accompany him. And
he repeated it every morning during my stay in his house, except on
one or two occasions. It speedily became almost a necessity to me. You
know how it is when you have formed a habit of exercising your muscles
in a gymnasium. If you leave it off, you are uncomfortable, you have a
feeling that you have cheated your body out of its right. It was so
with me, when for any reason I was obliged to forego this higher
exercise. I was heavy in spirit, my conscience accused me of a wrong
to one of the "selfs" in me,--for we have several selfs, I think.
There was not always music. Sometimes a wonderful voice chanted psalms
and praises, and recited poems that troubled the soul's deepest
waters. At first I did not understand the words, of course, but the
intonations spoke to me the same as music does. And I felt that I knew
what the words expressed.
Often there was nothing there but The Presence, which hushed our
voices and set our souls in tune with heavenly things. No matter, I
was fed and satisfied.
At the end of a sweet half-hour, the music died away, and we rose and
passed out of the sacred place. I longed to question Severnius, but
was powerless.
He led the way down into the library, which was just off the wide
entrance hall. Books were ranged round the walls on shelves, the same
as we dispose ours. But they were all bound in white cloth or white
leather.
The lettering on the backs was gold.
I took one in my hand and flipped its leaves to show Severnius that I
knew what a book was. He was delighted. He asked me, in a language
which he and I had speedily established between ourselves, if I would
not like to learn the Marsian tongue. I replied that it was what I
wished above all things to do. We set to work at once. His teaching
was very simple and natural, and I quickly mastered several important
principles.
After a little a servant announced some visitors, and Severnius went
out into the hall to receive them. He left the door open, and I saw
that the visitors were the astronomers I had met the night before.
They asked to see me, and Severnius ushered them into the library. I
stood up and shook hands with each one, as he advanced, and repeated
their own formula for "How do you do!" which quite amused them. I
suppose the words sounded very parrot-like,--I did not know where to
put the accent. They congratulated me with many smiles and
gesticulations on my determination to learn the language,--Severnius
having explained this fact to them. He also told them that I had
perhaps better be left to myself and him until I had mastered it, when
of course I should be much more interesting to them and they to me.
They acquiesced, and with many bows and waves of the hand, withdrew.
The language, I found, was not at all difficult,--not so arbitrary as
many of our modern languages. It was similar in form and construction
to the ancient languages of southern Europe. The proper names had an
almost familiar sound. That of the country I was in was Paleveria. The
city was called Thursia, and there was a river flowing through
it,--one portion of Severnius' grounds, at the back of the house,
sloped to it,--named the Gyro.