Chapter XXVIII.

When Taee and I found ourselves alone on the broad road that lay between

the city and the chasm through which I had descended into this region

beneath the light of the stars and sun, I said under my breath, “Child

and friend, there is a look in your father’s face which appals me. I

feel as if, in its awful tranquillity, I gazed upon death.”

Taee did not immediately reply. He seemed agitated, and as if debating

with himself by what words to soften some unwelcome intelligence. At

last he said, “None of the Vril-ya fear death: do you?”

“The dread of death is implanted in the breasts of the race to which I

belong. We can conquer it at the call of duty, of honour, of love. We

can die for a truth, for a native land, for those who are dearer to us

than ourselves. But if death do really threaten me now and here, where

are such counteractions to the natural instinct which invests with awe

and terror the contemplation of severance between soul and body?”

Taee looked surprised, but there was great tenderness in his voice as

he replied, “I will tell my father what you say. I will entreat him to

spare your life.”

“He has, then, already decreed to destroy it?”

“‘Tis my sister’s fault or folly,” said Taee, with some petulance.

“But she spoke this morning to my father; and, after she had spoken,

he summoned me, as a chief among the children who are commissioned to

destroy such lives as threaten the community, and he said to me, ‘Take

thy vril staff, and seek the stranger who has made himself dear to thee.

Be his end painless and prompt.’”

“And,” I faltered, recoiling from the child--“and it is, then, for my

murder that thus treacherously thou hast invited me forth? No, I cannot

believe it. I cannot think thee guilty of such a crime.”

“It is no crime to slay those who threaten the good of the community; it

would be a crime to slay the smallest insect that cannot harm us.”

“If you mean that I threaten the good of the community because your

sister honours me with the sort of preference which a child may feel for

a strange plaything, it is not necessary to kill me. Let me return to

the people I have left, and by the chasm through which I descended. With

a slight help from you I might do so now. You, by the aid of your wings,

could fasten to the rocky ledge within the chasm the cord that you

found, and have no doubt preserved. Do but that; assist me but to the

spot from which I alighted, and I vanish from your world for ever, and

as surely as if I were among the dead.”

“The chasm through which you descended! Look round; we stand now on the

very place where it yawned. What see you? Only solid rock. The chasm was

closed, by the orders of Aph-Lin, as soon as communication between him

and yourself was established in your trance, and he learned from

your own lips the nature of the world from which you came. Do you not

remember when Zee bade me not question you as to yourself or your

race? On quitting you that day, Aph-Lin accosted me, and said, ‘No path

between the stranger’s home and ours should be left unclosed, or the

sorrow and evil of his home may descend to ours. Take with thee the

children of thy band, smite the sides of the cavern with your vril

staves till the fall of their fragments fills up every chink through

which a gleam of our lamps could force its way.’”

As the child spoke, I stared aghast at the blind rocks before me. Huge

and irregular, the granite masses, showing by charred discolouration

where they had been shattered, rose from footing to roof-top; not a

cranny!

“All hope, then, is gone,” I murmured, sinking down on the craggy

wayside, “and I shall nevermore see the sun.” I covered my face with my

hands, and prayed to Him whose presence I had so often forgotten when

the heavens had declared His handiwork. I felt His presence in the

depths of the nether earth, and amidst the world of the grave. I looked

up, taking comfort and courage from my prayers, and, gazing with a quiet

smile into the face of the child, said, “Now, if thou must slay me,

strike.”

Taee shook his head gently. “Nay,” he said, “my father’s request is not

so formally made as to leave me no choice. I will speak with him, and

may prevail to save thee. Strange that thou shouldst have that fear of

death which we thought was only the instinct of the inferior creatures,

to whom the convictions of another life has not been vouchsafed.

With us, not an infant knows such a fear. Tell me, my dear Tish,”

he continued after a little pause, “would it reconcile thee more to

departure from this form of life to that form which lies on the other

side of the moment called ‘death,’ did I share thy journey? If so, I

will ask my father whether it be allowable for me to go with thee. I am

one of our generation destined to emigrate, when of age for it, to some

regions unknown within this world. I would just as soon emigrate now to

regions unknown, in another world. The All-Good is no less there than

here. Where is he not?”

“Child,” said I, seeing by Taee’s countenance that he spoke in serious

earnest, “it is crime in thee to slay me; it were a crime not less in

me to say, ‘Slay thyself.’ The All-Good chooses His own time to give us

life, and his own time to take it away. Let us go back. If, on speaking

with thy father, he decides on my death, give me the longest warning in

thy power, so that I may pass the interval in self-preparation.”

The Coming Race · 第 28 / 29 章