Ill ill
"ARDATH'
THE STORY OF A DEAD SELF
BY
MARIE CORELL1
AUTHOR OF
""HE SOUL OF LILITH," "A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS,'
"VENDETTA." "THELMA, " ''WORMWOOD," ETC.
CHICAGO
THE HENNEBERRY COMPANY
554 WABASH AVENUE
PART I.
SAINT AND SKEPTIC.
"What merest whim
Seems all this poor endeavor after Fame
To one who keeps within his steadfast aim
A love immortal, an immortal too!
Look not so 'wildered, for these things are true,
And never can be born of atomies
That buzz about our slumbers like brain-flies,
Leaving us fancy-sick. No, I am sure
My restless spirit never could endure
To brood so long upon one luxury,
Unless it did, though fearfully, espy
A hope beyond the shadow of a dream!"
KKATS.
"ARDATH"
CHAPTER I.
THE MONASTERY.
DEEP in the heart of the Caucasus mountains a wild
storm was gathering. Drear shadows drooped and thick-
ened above the Pass of Dariel, that terrific gorge which.
like a mere thread, seems to hang between the toppii*jj
frost-bound heights above and the black abysmal depths
below; clouds, fringed c ninously with lurid green awd
white, drifted heavily yet swiftly across the jagged peaks
where, looming largely out of the mist, the snow-cap-
ped crest of Mount Kazbek rose coldly white against the
darkness of the threatening sky. Night was approach-
ing, though away to the west a broad gash of crimson, a
seeming wound in the breast of heaven, showed where
the sun had set an hour since. Now and again the ris-
ing wind moaned sobbingly through the tall and spectral
pines that, with knotted roots fast clenched in the reluc-
tant earth, clung tenaciously to their stony vantage-
ground ; and mingling with its wailing murmur,there came
a distant hoarse roar as of tumbling torrents, while at
far-off intervals could be heard the sweeping thud of an
avalanche slipping from point to point on its disastrous
downward way. Through the wreathing vapors the steep,
bare sides of the near mountains were pallidly visible,
their icy pinnacles, like uplifted daggers, piercing with
sharp glitter the density of the low-hanging haze, from
which large drops of moisture began presently to ooze
rather than fall. Gradually the wind increased, and soon
with sudden fierce gusts shook the pine trees into shud-
dering anxiety ; the red slit in the sky closed, and a
g]eam of forked lightning leaped athwart the driving
darkness. An appalling crash of thunder followed al-
8 "ARDATH"
most instantaneously, its deep boom vibrating in sullenly
grand echoes on all sides of the pass, and then, with a
swirling, hissing rush of rain the unbound hurricane burst
forth alive and furious. On, on! splitting huge boughs
and flinging them aside like straws, swelling the rivers
into riotous floods that swept hither and thither, carrying
with them masses of rock and stone and tons of loosened
snow; on, on! with pitiless force and destructive haste,
the tempest rolled, thundered, and shrieked its way
through Dariel. As the night darkened and the clamor
of the conflicting elements grew more sustained and vio-
lent, a sudden sweet sound floated softly through the
turbulent air, the slow, measured tolling of a bell. To
and fro, to and fro, the silvery chime swung with mild
distinctness; it was the vesper-bell ringing in the Mon-
astery of Lars, far up among the crags crowning the ra-
vine. There the wind roared and blustered its loudest;
it whirled round and round the quaint castellated build-
ing, battering at the gates and moving their heavy iron
hinges to a most dolorous groaning; it flung rattling
hailstones at the narrow windows, and raged and howled
at every corner and through every crevice; while snaky
twists of lightning played threateningly over the tall iron
cross that surmounted the roof, as though bent on strik-
ing it down and splitting open the firm old walls it
guarded. All was war and tumult without, but within
a tranquil peace prevailed, enhanced by the grave mur-
mur of organ music; men's voices mingling together in
mellow unison chanted the Magnificat and the uplifted,
steady harmony ot the grand old anthem rose trium-
phantly above the noise of the storm. The monks who
inhabited this mountain eyrie, once a fortress, now a re-
ligious refuge, were assembled in their little chapel, ?
sort of grotto roughly hewn out of the natural rock. Fif-
teen in number, they stood in rows of three abreast, their
white woolen robes touching the ground, their white cowls
back, and their dark faces and flashing eyes turned de-
voutly toward the altar, whereon blazed in strange and
solitary brilliancy a cross of fire. At the first glance it
was easy to see that they were a peculiar community,de-
voted to some peculiar form of worship, for their cos-
tume was totally different in character and detail from
any such as are worn by the various religious fraternities
THE MONASTERY 9
ol the Greek, Roman, or Armenian faith, and one espe-
cial feature of their outward appearance served as a dis-
tinctly marked sign of their severance from all known
monastic orders this was the absence of the disfiguring
tonsure. They were all fine-looking men, seemingly in
the prime of life, and they intoned the Magnificat not
drowsily or droningly, but with a rich tunefulness and
warmth of utterance that stirred to a faint surprise and
contempt the jaded spirit of one reluctant listener pres-
ent among them. This was a stranger who had arrived
that evening at the Monastery, and who intended re-
maining there for the night a man of distinguished and
somewhat haughty bearing, with a dark, sorrowful, poetic
face, chiefly remarkable for its mingled expression of
dreamy ardor and cold scorn; an expression such as the
unknown sculptor of Hadrian's era caught and fixed in
the marble of his ivy-crowned Bacchus-Antinous, whose
half sweet, half-cruel smile suggests a perpetual doubt
of all things and all men. He was clad in the rough-
and-ready garb of the traveling Englishman, and his
athletic figure, in its plain-cut modern attire, looked curi-
ously out of place in that mysterious grotto, which, with
its rocky walls and flaming symbol of salvation, seemed
suited only to the picturesque, prophet-like forms of the
white gowned brethren whom now he surveyed, as he
stood behind their ranks, with a gleam of something like
mockery in his proud, weary eyes.
" What sort of fellows are these?" he mused. "Fools or
knaves? They must be one or the other, else they would
not thus chant praises of a Deity of whose existence there
is, and can be, no proof. It is either sheer ignorance
or hypocrisy, or both combined. I can pardon ignorance,
but not hypocrisy, for however dreary the results of Truth,
yet Truth alone prevails ; its killing bolt destroys the
illusive beauty of the universe, but what then? Is it
not better so than that the universe should continue to
seem beautiful only through the medium of a lie?"
His straight brows drew together in a puzzled frown-
ing line as he asked himself this question, and he moved
restlessly. He was becoming impatient; the chanting
of the monks grew monotonous to his ears; the lighted
crocs on the altar dazzled him with its glare. Moreover,
he disliked all forms of religious service; though as a
10 "ARDATH*
lover of classic lore it is probable he would have wit-
nessed a celebration in honor of Apollo or Diana with
the liveliest interest. But the very name of Christianity
was obnoxious to him. Like Shelley, he considered that
creed a vulgar and barbarous superstition. Like Shel-
ley, he inquired: "If God has spoken, why is the world
not convinced?" He began to wish h'e had never set foot
inside this abode of what he deemed a pretended sanc-
tity, although, as a matter of fact, he had a special pur-
pose of his own in visiting the place a purpose so utterly
at variance with the professed tenets of his present
life and character that the mere thought of it secretly
irritated him, even while he was determined to accom-
plish it. As yet he had only made acquaintance with
two of the monks, courteous, good-humored personages,
who had received him on his arrival with the customary
hospitality which it was the rule of the monastery to
afford to all belated wayfarers journeying across the
perilous Pass of Dariel. They had asked him no ques-
tions as to his name or nation; they had simply seen in
him a stranger overtaken by the storm and in need of
shelter, and had entertained him accordingly. They had
conducted him to the refectory, where a well-piled log
fire was cheerfully blazing, and there had set before him
an excellent supper, flavored with equally excellent wine.
He had, however, scarcely begun to converse with them
when the vesper-bell had rung, and, obedient to its sum-
mons, they had hurried away, leaving him to enjoy his
repast in solitude. When he had finished it, he had
sat for a while dreamily listening to the solemn strains
of the organ, which penetrated to every part of the build-
ing, and then, moved by a vague curiosity to see how
many men there were dwelling thus together in this lonely
retreat, perched like an eagle's nest among the frozen
heights of Caucasus, he had managed to find his way,
guided by the sound of the music, through various long
corridors and narrow, twisting passages, into the cavern-
ous grot where he now stood feeling infinitely bored and
listlessly dissatisfied. His primary object in entering
the chapel had been to get a good full view of the monks,
and of their faces especially; but at present this was im-
possible, as from the position he was obliged to occupy
behind them their backs alone were visible.
YH1 MONASTERY II
'"And who knows," he thought moodily, "how long
they will go on intoning their dreary -Latin doggerel?
Priestcraft and sham ! There's no escape from it anj r -
where, not even in the wilds of Caucasus! I wonder
if the man I seek is really here, or whether after all 1
have been misled. There are so many contradictory
stories told about him that one doesn't know what to be-
lieve. It seems incredible that he should be a monk;
it is such an altogether foolish ending to an intellectual
career. For whatever may be the form of faith professed
by this particular fraternity, the absurdity of the whole
system of religion remains the same. Religion's day is
done ; the very sense of worship is a mere coward in-
stinct, a relic of barbarism which is being gradually
eradicated from our natures by the progress of civiliza-
tion. The world knows by this time that creation is an
empty jest; we are all beginning to understand its bathos!
And if we must grant that there is some mischievous su-
preme Farceur who, safely shrouded in invisibility, con-
tinues to perpetrate so poor and purposeless a joke for
his own amusement and our torture, we need not, for
that matter, admire his wit nor flatter his ingenuity!
For life is nothing but vexation and suffering. Are we
dogs, that we should lick the hand that crushes us?"
At that moment the chanting suddenly ceased. The
organ went on, as though musically meditating to itself
in minor chords, through which soft upper notes, like
touches of light on a dark landscape, flickered ripplingly.
One monk separated himself from the clustered group,
and, stepping slowly up to the altar, confronted the rest
of his brethren. The fiery cross shone radiantly behind
him, its beams seeming to gather in a lustrous halo
round his tall, majestic figure; his countenance, fully
illumined and clearly visible, was one never to be for-
gotten for the striking force, sweetness and dignity ex-
pressed in its every feature. The veriest scoffer that
ever made mock of fine beliefs and fair virtues must have
been momentarily awed and silenced in the presence of
such a man as this a man upon whom the grace ol
perfect life seemed to have fallen like a royal robe, in-
vesting even his outward appearance with spiritual au-
thority and grandeur. At sight of him, the stranger's
indifferent air rapidly changed to one of eager interest.
If "ARDATH*
Leaning forward, he regarded him intently with a look
of mingled astonishment and unwilling admiration. The
monk meanwhile extended his hands as though in bless
ing, and spoke aloud, his Latin words echoing through
the rocky temple with the measured utterance of poetical
rhythm. Translated they ran thus:
"Glory to God, the Most High, the Supreme and Eternal!"
And with one harmonious murmur of accord the breth-
ren responded:
"Glory for ever and evert Amen!"
"Glory to God, the Ruler of Spirits and Master of Angels!'
"Glory/or ever and ever! Amen!"
"Glory to God who in love never wearies of loving!"
"Glory for eve r and ever! Anie>i >' '
"Glory to God in the Name of His Christ our Redeemer!"
"Glory for ever and ever! Amen.'"
"Glory to God for the joys of the Past, the Present and Future!"
"Glory for ever and ever! Amen ."'
"Glory to God for the Power of Will and the working of Wisdom!"
' ' Glory far ever and ever! Amen /' '
"Glory to God for the briefness of life, the gladness of death, and the
promised Immortal Hereafter!"
"Glory for ever and ever! Amen!"
Then came a pause, during which the thunder outside
added a tumultuous Gloria of its own to those already
recited ; the organ died away into silence, and the monk,
now turning so that he faced the altar, sank reverently
on his knees. All present followed his example, with
the exception of the stranger, who, as if in deliberate
defiance, drew himself resolutely up to his full height,
and, folding his arms, gazed at the scene before him
with a perfectly unmoved demeanor. He expected to
hear some long prayer, but none came. There was an ab-
solute stillness, unbroken save by the rattle of the
raindrops against the high oriel window, and the whist-
ling rush of the wind. And as he looked, the fiery cross
began to grow dim and pale, little by little, its scintillat-
ing luster decreased, till at last it disappeared alto-
gether, leaving no trace of its former brilliancy but a
small, bright flame that gradually took the shape of a
seven-pointed star which sparkled through the gloom
like a suspended ruby. The chapel was left almost in
complete darkness; he could scarcely discern even the
white figures of the kneeling worshipers. A haunting
sense of the supernatural seemed to permeate that deep
THE JUONASTXKT 13
hush and dense shadow, and notwithstanding his habit-
ual tendency to despise all religious ceremonies, there
was something novel and strange about this one which
exercised a peculiar influence upon his imagination. A
sudden cold fancy possessed him that there were others
present besides himself and the brethren, but who these
"others" were, he could not determine. It was an alto-
gether uncanny, uncomfortable impression; yet it was
very strong upon him, and he breathed a sigh of intense
relief when he heard the soft melody of the organ once
more, and saw the oaken doors of the grotto swing wide
open to admit a flood of cheerful light from the outer
passage. The vespers were over, the monks rose and
paced forth two by two, not with bent heads and down-
cast eyes as though affecting an abased humility, but
with the free and stately bearing of kings returning from
some high conquest. Drawing a little further back into
his retired corner, he watched them pass, and was forced
to admit to himself that he had seldom or never seen
finer types of splendid, healthful, and vigorous manhood
at its best and brightest. As noble specimens of the
human race alone, they were well worth looking at; they
might have been warriors, princes, emperors, he thought
anything but monks. Yet monks they were, and fol-
lowers of the Christian creed he so specially condemned,
for each one wore on his breast a massive golden cruci-
fix, hung to a chain and fastened with a jeweled star.
"Cross and star!" he mused, as he noticed this brilliant
and singular decoration, "an emblem of the fraternity,
I suppose, meaning what? Salvation and immortality?
Alas, they are poor, witless builders on shifting sand if
they place any hope or reliance on those two empty
words, signifying nothing! Do they, can they honestly
believe in God, I wonder? or are they only acting the
usual worn-out comedy of a feigned faith?"
And he eyed them somewhat wistfully as their white-
apparelled figures went by. Ten had already left the
chapel ; two more passed, then other two, and last of
all came one alone one who walked slowly, with a
dreamy, meditative air, as though he were deeply ab-
sorbed in thought. The light from the open door streamed
fully upon him as he advanced; it was the monk who
had recited the seven Glorias. The stranger no sooner
14 ^ARDATH*
beheld him than he instantly stepped forward and touched
him on the arm.
"Pardon!" he said hastily in English, "I think I am
not mistaken; your name is, or used to be, Heliobas?"
The monk bent his handsome head in a slight yet
graceful salutation, and smiled.
"I have not changed it," he replied. "I am Heliobas
still." And his keen, steadfast blue eyes rested half in-
quiringly, half-compassionately, on the dark, weary,
troubled face of his questioner, who, avoiding his direct
gaze, continued:
"I should like to speak to you in private. Can I do
so now to night at once?"
"By all means!" assented the monk, showing no sur-
prise at the request. "Follow me to the library; we
shall be quite alone there."
He led the way immediately out of the chapel, and
through a stone- paved vestibule, where they were met
by the two brethren who had first received and enter-
tained the unknown guest, and who, not finding him in
the refectory Where they had left him, were now coming
in search of him. On seeing in whose company he was,
however, they drew aside with a deep and reverential
obeisance to the personage called Heliobas; he, silently
acknowledging it, passed on, closely attended by the
stranger, till he reached a spacious, well lighted apart-
ment, the walls of which were entirely lined with books.
Here, entering and closing the door, he turned and con-
fronted his visitor, his tall, imposing figure in its trailing
white garments calling to mind the picture of some saint
or evangelist, and with grave yet kindly courtesy, said:
"Now, my friend, I am at your disposal. In what way
can Heliobas, who is dead to the world, serve one for
whom surely as yet the world is everything?"
CHAPTER II.
CONFESSION.
His question was not very promptly answered. The
Stranger stood still, regarding him intently for two or
CONFESSION 15
three minutes with a look of peculiar pensiveness and
abstraction, the heavy double fringe of his long, dark
lashes giving an almost drowsy pathos to his proud and
earnest eyes. Soon, however, his absorbed expression
changed to one of somber scorn.
"The world!" he said slowly and bitterly. "You think
I care for the world? Then you read me wrongly at the
very outset of our interview, and your once reputed skill
as a seer goes for naught. To me the world is a grave-
yard full of dead worm-eaten things, and its imaginary
Creator, whom you have so be-praised in your orisons
to-night, is the sexton who entombs, and the ghoul who
devours his own hapless creation! I myself am one of
the tortured and dying, and I have sought you, simply
that you may trick me into a brief oblivion of my doom,
and mock me with the mirage of a life that is not, and
can never be! How can you serve me? Give me a few
hours' respite from wretchedness! that is all I ask!"
As he spoke his face grew blanched and haggard, as
though he suffered from some painfully repressed inward
agony. The monk Heliobas heard him with an air of
attentive patience, but said nothing ; he, therefore, after
waiting for a reply and receiving none, went on in colder
and more even tones :
"I dare say my words seem strange to you, though they
should not do so, if, as reported, you have studied all
the varying phases of that purely intellectual despair
which, in this age of excessive over-culture, crushes men
who learn too much and think too deeply. But before
going further I had better introduce myself. My name
is Alwyn "
"Theos Alwyn, the English author, I presume?" inter-
posed the monk interrogatively.
"Why, yes!" this in accents of extreme surprise. "How
did you know that?"
"Your celebrity," politely suggested Heliobas, with a
wave of the hand and an enigmatical smile that might
have meant anything or nothing.
Alwyn colored a little. "You mistake," he said indif-
ferently, "I have no celebrity. The celebrities of my
country are few, and among them, those most admired
are jockeys and divorced women! I merely follow in
the rear-line of the art or profession of literature; I am
i 6 "ARDATH"
that always unluckiest and most undesirable kind of an
author, a writer of verse. I lay no claim, not now at any
rate, to the title of poet. While recently staying in Paris
I chanced to hear of you "
The monk bowed ever so slightly; there was a dawn-
ing gleam of satire in his brilliant eyes.
"You won special distinction and renown there, I be-
lieve, before you adopted this monastic life?" pursued
Alwyn, glancing at him curiously.
"Did I?" and Heliobas looked cheerfully interested.
"Really I was not aware of it, I assure you! Possibly
my ways and doings may have occasionally furnished the
Parisians with something to talk about instead of the
weather, and I know I made some few friends and an
astonishing number of enemies, if that is what you mean
by distinction and renown!"
Alwyn smiled his smile was always reluctant, and
had in it more of sadness than sweetness; yet it gave his
features a singular softness and beauty; just a ray of
sunlight falling on a dark picture will brighten the tints
into a momentary warmth of seeming life.
"All reputation means that, I think," he said, "unless
it be mediocre; then one is safe; one has scores of friends,
and scarce a foe. Mediocrity succeeds wonderfully well
nowadays; nobody hates it, because everyone feels how
easily they themselves can attain to it. Exceptional talent
is aggressive; actual genius is offensive; people are in-
sulted to have a thing held up for their admiration
which is entirely out of their reach. They become like
bears climbing a greased pole; they see a great name
above them a tempting, sugary morsel which they would
fain snatch and devour and when their uncouth efforts
fai.l, they huddle together on the ground beneath, look
up with dull, peering eyes, and impotently snarl ! But
you " and here his gaze rested doubtfully, yet question-
ingly, on his companion's open, serene countenance, "you,
if rumor speaks truly, should have been able to tame
your bears, and turn them into dogs, humble and couch-
ant. Your marvelous achievements as a mesmerist "
"Excuse me," interrupted Heliobas quietly, "I never
was a mesmerist."
"Well, as a spiritualist, then; though I cannot admit
the existence of any such thing as spiritualism."
CONFESSION 17
"Neither can I," returned Heliobas, with perfect good-
humor, "according to the generally accepted meaning of
the term. Pray go on, Mr. Alwyn."
Alwyn looked at him, a little puzzled and uncertain
how to proceed. A curious sense of irritation was grow-
ing up in his mind against this monk with the grand head
and Hashing eyes eyes that seemed to strip bare his in-
nermost thoughts, as lightning strips bark from a tree.
"I was told," he continued after a pause, during which
he had apparently considered and prepared his words,
"that you were chiefly known in Paris as being the pos-
sessor of some mysterious internal force call it magnetic,
hypnotic, or spiritual, as you please which, though
perfectly inexplicable, was yet plainly manifested and
evident to all who placed themselves under your influence.
Moreover, that by this force you were able to deal scientif-
ically and practically with the active principle of intelli-
gence in man, to such an extent that you could, in some
miraculous way, disentangle the knots of toil and perplex-
ity in an over taxed brain, and restore to it its pristine
vitality and vigor. Is this true? If so, exert your power
upon me, for something, I know not what, has of late
frozen up the once overflowing fountain of my thoughts,
and I have lost all working ability. When a man can
no longer work, it were best he should die, only unfortu
nately I cannot die unless I kill myself, which it is pos-
sible I may do ere long. But in the meantime" he hes-
itated a moment, then went on, "in the meantime, I have
a strong wish to be deluded I use the word advisedly.,
and repeat it deluded into an imaginary happiness,
though I am aware that as an agnostic and searcher after
truth truth absolute, truth positive such a desire on
my part seems even to myself inconsistent and unreason-
able. Still I confess to having it; and therein I know
I betray the weakness of my nature. It may be that I
am tired," and he passed his hand across his brow with
a troubled gesture, "or puzzled by the infinite, incurable
distress of all living things. Perhaps I am growing mad!
who knows? but whatever my condition, you, if report
be correct, have the magic skill to ravish the mind away
from its troubles, and transport it to a radiant Elysium
of sweet illusions and ethereal ecstasies. Do this for
me, as you have done it for others; and whatever pay-
t8 "ARDATH"
ment you demand, whether in gold or gratitude, shall be
yours. '"
He ceased ; the wind howled furiously outside, flinging
gusty dashes of rain against the one window of the room,
a tall arched casement that clattered noisily with every
blow inflicted upon it by the storm. Heliobas gave him a
swrtt, searching glance, half pitying, half disdainful.
"Haschisch or opium should serve your turn," he said
curtly. "I know of no other means whereby to tempora-
rily still the clamorings of conscience."
Alwyn flushed darkly. "Conscience?" he began in
rather a resentful tone.
"Ay, conscience," repeated HeJ/obas firmly. "There
is such a thing. Do you profess to be wholly without
it?"
Alwyn deigned no reply; the ironical bluntness of the
question annoyed him.
"You have formed a' very unjust opinion of me, Mr.
Alwyn," continued Heliobas, "an opinion which neither
honors your courtesy nor your intellect pardon me for
saying so. You ask me to 'mock' and 'delude' you, as
if it were my custom and delight to make dupes of my
suffering fellow-creatures. You come to me as though I
were a mesmerist or magnetizer such as you can hire for
a few guineas in any civilized city in Europe; nay, I
doubt not but that you consider me that kind of so-called
'spiritualist' whose enlightened intelligence and heaven-
aspiring aims are demonstrated in the turning of tables
and general furniture gyration. .1 am, however, hope-
lessly deficient in such knowledge. I should make a
most unsatisfactory conjurer. Moreover, whatever you
may have heard concerning me in Paris, you must re-
member I am in Paris no longer. I am a monk, as you
:see, devoted to my vocation; I am completely severed
from -the world, and my ditties and occupations in the
present are widely different from those which employed
me in the past. Then, I gave what aid I could to those
who honestly needed it and sought it without prejudice or
personal distrust; but now my work among men is fin-
ished, and I practice my science, such as it is, on others
no more, except in very rare and special cases."
Alwyn heard, and the lines of his face hardened into
an expression of rigid hauteur.
CONFESSION ig
"I suppose I am to understand by this that you will
do nothing for me?" he said stiffly.
"Why, what can I do?" returned Heliobas, smiling a
little. "All you want so you say is a brief forgetful-
ness of your troubles. Well, that is easily obtainable
through certain narcotics, if you choose to employ them
and take the risk of their injurious action on your bod-
ily system. You can drug your brain and thereby fill it
with drowsy suggestions of ideas; of course, they would
only be suggestions, and very vague and indefinite ones
too; still they might be pleasant enough to absorb and
repress bitter memories for a time. As for me, my poor
skill would scarcely avail you, as I could promise you
neither self-oblivion nor visionary joy. I have a cer-
tain internal force, it is true a spiritual force which,
when strongly exercised, overpowers and subdues the
material, and by exerting this I could, if I thought it
well to do so, release your Soul that is, the Inner In-
telligent Spirit which is the actual You from its house
of clay, and allow it an interval of freedom. But what
its experience might be in that unfettered condition,
whether glad or sorrowful, I am totally unable to pre-
dict."
Ahvyn looked at him steadfastly.
"You believe in the soul?" he asked.
"Most certainly."
"As a separate personality that continues to live on
when the body perishes?"
"Assuredly."
"And you profess to be able to liberate it for a time
from its mortal habitation "
"I do not profess," interposed Heliobas quietly; "I
can do so. "
"But with the success of the experiment your power
ceases? You cannot foretell whether the unimprisoned
creature will take its course to an inferno of suffering or
a heaven oj delight? Is this what you mean?"
Heliobas bent his head in grave assent.
Alwyn broke into a harsh laugh. "Come then!" he
exclaimed with a reckless air, "begin your incantations
at once! Ssnd me hence, no matter where, so long as
I am for a while escaped from this den of a world, this
dungeon with one small window through which, with th?
ao "ARDATH"
death-rattle in our throats, we stare vacantly at the
blank, unmeaning horror Oi the universe! Prove to me
that the soul exists ye gods! prove it! and if mine
can find its way straight to the mainspring of this re-
volving creation, it shall cling to the accursed wheels and
stop them, that they may grind out the tortures of life
no more !"
He flung up his hand with a wild gesture: his counte-
nance, darkly threatening and defiant, was yet beautiful
with the evil beauty of a rebellious and fallen angel.
His breath came and went quickly; he seemed to chal-
lenge some invisible opponent. Heliobas meanwhile
watched him much as a physician might watch in his
patient the workings of a new disease; then he said in
purposely cold and tranquil tones:
"A bold idea! Singularly blasphemous, arrogant, and
fortunately for us all impracticable! Allow me to re-
mark that you are over-excited, Mr. Alwyn ; you talk as
madmen may, but as reasonable men should not. Come,"
and he smiled a smile that was both grave and sweet,
"come and sit down; you are worn out with the force of
your own desperate emotions; rest a few minutes and re-
cover yourself."
His voice, though gentle, was distinctly authoritative,
and Alwyn, meeting the full gaze of his calm eyes, felt
bound to obey the implied command. He therefore
sank listlessly into an easy-chair near the table, pushing
back the short, thick curls from his brow with a wearied
movement; he was very pale, an uneas)' sense of shame
was upon him, and he sighed a quick sigh of exhausted
passion. Heliobas seated himself opposite and looked
at him earnestly; he studied with sympathetic attention
the lines of dejection and fatigue which marred the at-
tractiveness of features otherwise frank, poetic and
noble. He had seen many such men. Men in their
prime who had begun life full of high faith, hope, and
lofty aspiration, yet whose fair ideals, once bruised in
the mortar of modern atheistical opinion, had perished
forever, while they themselves, like golden eagles sud-
denly and cruelly shot while flying in mid-air, had fallen
helplessly, broken-winged, among the dust heaps of the
world, never to rise and soar sunward again. Thinking
this, his accents were touched with a certain compas-
sion when, after a pause, he said softly:
CONFESSION 21
"Poor boy! poor, puzzled, tired brain that would fain
judge Infinity by merely finite perception! You were a
far truer poet, Theos Alwyn, when as a world-foolish,
heaven inspired lad you believed in God, and, therefore,
in godlike gladness, found all things good."
Alwyn looked up; his lips quivered.
"Poet poet!" he murmured. "Why taunt me with
the name?" He started upright in his chair. "Let me
tell you all," he said suddenly, "you may as well know
what his made me the useless wreck I am; though per-
haps I shall only weary you."
"Far from it," answered Heliobas gently. "Speak
freely; but remember I do not compel your confidence."
"On the contrary, I think you do!" and again that
faint, half -mournful smile shone for an instant in his
deep, dark eyes, "though you may not be conscious of it.
Anyhow, I fesl impelled to unburden my heart to you:
I have kept silence so long. You know what it is in the
world, one must always keep silence; always shut in
one's grief and force a smile, in company with the rest
of the tormented forced-smiling crowd We can never
be ourselves our veritable selves for if we were, the
air would resound with our ceaseless lamentations. It
is horrible to think of all the pent-up sufferings of hu
manity all the inconceivably hideous agonies that re-
main forever dumb and unrevealed. When I was young
how long ago that seems! yes, though my actual years
are but thirty, I feel an alder-elde of accumulated cen-
turies upon me when I was young, the dream of my
life was Poesy. Perhaps I inherited the fatal love of
it from my mother; she was a Greek, and she had a sub-
tle music in her that nothing could quell, not even my
father's English coldness. She named me Theos, little
guessing what a dreary sarcasm that name would prove.
It was well, I think, that she died early."
"Well for her, but perhaps not so well for you," said
Heliobas, with a keen, kindly glance at him.
Alwyn sighed. "Nay, well for us both, for I should
have chafed at her loving restraint, and she would un-
questionably have been disappointed in me. My father
was a conscientious, methodical business man, who spent
all his days up to almost the last moment of his life in
amassing money, though it never gave him any joy so far
*a "ARDATH"
as I could see, and when at his death I became sole pos-
sessor of his hardly-earned fortune I felt far more sorrow
than satisfaction. I wished he had spent his gold on
himself and left me poor, for it seemed to me I had need
for nothing save the little I earned by my pen. I was
content to live like an anchorite and dine off a crust for
the sake of the divine Muse I worshiped. Fate, how-
ever, willed it otherwise, and though I scarcely cared
for the wealth I inherited, it gave me at least one bless-
ing that of perfect independence. I was free to follow
my own chosen vocation, and for a brief wondering while
I deemed myself happy happy as Keats must have been
when the fragment of 'Hyperion' broke from his frail
life as thunder breaks from a summer cloud. I was as
a monarch swaying a scepter that commanded both earth
and heaven ; a kingdom was mine a kingdom of golden
ether, peopled with shining shapes Protean; alas! its
fates are shut upon me now, and I shall enter it no
more!"
"'No more' is a long time, my friend!" interposed
Heliobas gently. "You are too despondent, perchance
too diffident, concerning your own ability."
"Ability!" and he laughed wearily. "I have none; I
am as weak and inapt as an untaught child; the music
of my heart is silenced. Yet there is nothing I would
not do to regain the ravishment of the past when the
sight of the sunset across the hills, or the moon's silver
transfiguration oithe sea filled me with deep and inde-
scribable ecstasy, when the thought of love, like a full
chord struck from a magic harp, set my pulses throbbing
with delirious delight; fancies, thick as leaves in sum-
mer, crowded my brain; earth was a round charm hung
on the breast of a smiling divinity; men were gods ;
women were angels ; the world seemed but a wide scroll
for the signatures of poets, and mine, I swore, should
be clearly written!"
He paused, as though ashamed of his own fervor, and
glanced at Heliobas, who, leaning a little forward in his
chair, was regarding him with friendly and attentive in-
terest; then he continued more calmly:
"Enough! I think I had something in me then some-
thing that was new and wild, and though it may s^eir,
self-praise to say so, full of that witching glamour we
CONFESSION 23
name Inspiration; but whatever that something was call
it genius, a trick of song, what you will it was soon
crushed out of me. The world is fond of slaying its sing-
ing-birds and devouring them for daily fare one rough
pressure of finger and thumb on the little melodious
throats and they are mute forever. So I found when at
last, in mingled pride, hope and fear, I published my
poems, seeking for them no other recompense save fair
hearing and justice. They obtained neither; they were
tossed carelessly by a few critics from hand to hand,
jeered at for a while, and finally flung back to me as
lies lies all! The finely-spun web of fairy fancy, the
delicate interwoven intricacies of thought these were
torn to shreds with as little compunction as idle children
feel when destroying for their own cruel sport the vel-
vety wonder of a moth's wing, or the radiant roses and
emerald pinions of a dragon-fly. I was a fool so I was
told with many a languid sneer and stale jest to talk
of hidden mysteries in the whisper of the wind and the
dash of the waves such sounds were but common cause
and effect. The stars were merely conglomerated masses
of heated vapor condensed by the work of ages into me-
teorites and from meteorites into worlds, and these went
on rolling in their appointed orbits, for what reason no-
body knew, but then nobody cared. And love the key-
note of the theme to which I had set my mistaken life
in tune love was only a graceful word used to politely
define the low but very general sentiment of coarse ani-
mal attraction; in short, poetry such as mine was alto-
gether absurd and out of date when confronted with the
facts of every-day existence facts which plainly taught
us that man's chief business here below was simply to
live, breed, and die, the life of a silkworm or caterpillar
on a slightly higher platform of ability; beyond this
nothing!"
"Nothing?" murmured Heliobas, in a tone of sugges-
tive inquiry; "really nothing?"
"Nothing!" repeated Alwyn, with an air of resigned
hopelessness; "for I learned that, according to the results
arrived at by the most advanced thinkers of the day,
there was no God, no Soul, no Hereafter; the loftiest
efforts of the highest heaven-aspiring minds were doomed
to end in npn-frujtion, failure, and annihilation. Among
24 "ARDATH"
all the desperately hard truths that came rattling down
upon me like a shower of stones, I think this was the
crowning one that killed whatever genius I had. I use
the word 'genius' foolishly, though, after all, genius it-
self is nothing to boast of, since it is only a morbid and
unhealthy condition of the intellectual faculties, or at
least as demonstrated to me as such by a scientific friend
of my own, who, seeing I was miserable, took great pains
to make me more so, if possible. He proved, to his own
satisfaction if not altogether to mine, that the abnormal
position of certain molecules in the brain produced an
eccentricity of peculiar bias in one direction which, prac-
tically viewed, might be described as an intelligent form
of monomania, but which most people chose to term
'genius,' and that from a purely scientific standpoint it
was evident that the poets, painters, musicians, sculptors,
and all the widely renowned 'great ones' of the earth
should be classified as so many brains more or less
affected by abnormal molecular formation, which, strictly
speaking, amounted to brain-deformity. He assured me
that to the properly balanced, healthily organized brain
of the human animal, genius was an impossibility, it
was a malady as unnatural as rare. 'And it is singular,
very singular,' he added with a complacent smile, 'that
the world should owe all its finest art and literature
merely to a few varieties of molecular disease!' I thought
it singular enough, too; however, I did not care to ar-
gue with him; I only felt that if the illness of genius
had at any time affected me, it was pretty well certain
I should now suffer no more from its delicious pangs and
honey-sweet fever. I was cured! The probing-knife of
the world's cynicism had found its way to the musically
throbbing center of divine disquietude in my brain, and
had there cut down the growth of fair imaginations for-
ever. I thrust aside the bright illusions that had once
been my gladness; I forced myself to look with unflinch-
ing eyes at the wide waste of universal nothingness re-
vealed to me by the rigid positivists and iconoclasts of the
century; but my heart died within me; my whole being
froze, as it were, into an icy apathy; I wrote no more; I
doubt whether I shall ever write again. Of a truth, there
is nothing to write about. All has been said. The days
of the Troubadours are past; one cannot string canticles
CONFESSION 25
of love for men and women whose ruling passion is the
greed of gold. Yet I have sometimes thought life would
be drearier even than this, were the voices of poets alto-
gether silent; and I wish yes! I wish I had it in my
power to brand my sign-manual on the brazen face of
this coldly callous age brand it deep in those letters
of living fire called Fame."
A look of baffled longing and ungratified ambition came
into his musing eyes; his strong, shapely white hand
clenched nervously, as though it grasped some unseen
yet perfectly tangible substance. Just then the storm
without, which had partially lulled during the last few
minutes, began its wrath anew; a glare of lightning
blazed against the uncurtained window, and a heavy
clap of thunder burst overhead with the sudden crash of
an exploding bomb.
"You care for fame?" asked Heliobas abruptly, as soon
as the terrific uproar had subsided into a distant, dull
rumbling, mingled with the pattering dash of hail.
"I care for it yes!" replied Alwyn, and his voice was
very low and dreamy. "For though the world is a grave-
yard, as I have said, full of unmarked tombs, still here
and there we find graves, such as Shelley's or Byron's,
whereon pale flowers, like sweet suggestions of ever-si-
lenced music, break into continuous bloom. And shall I
not win my own death-garland of asphodel?"
There was an indescribable, almost heart-rending pa-
thos in his manner of uttering these last words a hope
lessness of effort and a despairing sense of failure which
he himself seemed conscious of, for, meeting the fixed
and earnest gaze of Heliobas, he quickly relapsed into
his usual tone of indolent indifference.
"You see," he said, with a forced smile, "my story is
not very interesting! No hair-breadth escapes, no thrill-
ing adventures, no love intrigues ; nothing but mental
misery, for which few people have any sympathy. A
child with a cut finger gets more universal commiseration
than a man with a tortured brain and breaking heart;
yet there can be no question as to which is the more in-
tense and long-enduring anguish of the two. However,
such as my troubles are, I have told you all. I have
laid bare my 'wound of living' a wound that throbs,
and burns, and aches more intolerably with every pass
2b "ARDATH"
ing hcur and day; it is not unnatural, I think, that 1
should seek for a little cessation of suffering: a brief
dreaming space in which to rest for a while, and escape
from the dreadful truth Truth that, like the flaming
sword placed east of the fabled garden of Eden, turns
ruthlessly every way, keeping us out of the forfeited par-
adise of imaginative aspiration, which made the men
of old time great because they deemed themselves im-
mortal. It was a glorious faith! that strong conscious-
ness, that in the change and upheaval of whole universes
the soul of man should forever over-ride disaster. But now
that we know ourselves to be of no more importance, rel-
atively speaking, than the animalculae in a drop of
stagnant water, what great works can be done, what noble
deeds accomplished, in the face of the declared and
proved futility of everything? Still, if you can, as you
say, liberate me from this fleshly prison and give me new
sensations and different experiences, why then, let me de-
part with all possible speed; for I am certain I shall
find in the storm-swept areas of space nothing worse than
life as lived in this present world. Remember, I am
quite incredulous as to your professed power," he paused
and glanced at the white-robed, priestly figure opposite,
then added lightly: "but I am curious to test it all the
same. Are you ready to begin your spells? arvd shall ]
say the Nunc Dimittis?"
CHAPTER III.
DEPARTURE.
HELIOBAS was silent ; he seemed engaged in deep and
anxious thought; and he kept his steadfast eyes fixed
on Alwyn's countenance, as though he sought there the
clew to some difficult problem.
"What do you know of the Nunc Dimittis?" he asked
at last, with a half-smile. "You might as well say the
Pater Noster; both canticle and prayer would be equally
unmeaning to you! For poet as you are or let me say
as you were inasmuch as no atheist was ever a poet at
the same time "
DEPARTURE 2J
"You are wrong," interrupted Alwyn quickly. "Shel-
ley was an atheist."
"Shelley, my good friend, was not an atheist.* He
strove to be one nay, he made pretense to be one but
throughout his poems we hear the voice of his inner and
better self appealing to that Divinity and Eternity which,
in spite of the material part of hiai, he instinctively felt
existent in his own being. I repeat, poet as you were,
and poet as you will be again when the clouds
mind are cleared, you present the strange But not uncom-
mon spectacle of an immortal spirit righting to disprove
its own immortality. In a word, you will not believe
in the soul."
"I cannot!" said Alwyn, with a hopeless gesture.
"Why?"
"Science can give us no positive proof of its exist-
ence; it cannot be defined."
"What do you mean by science?" demanded Heliobas.
"The foot of the mountain, at which men now stand,
groveling and uncertain how to climb? or the glittering
summit itself, which touches God's throne?"
Alwyn made no answer.
"Tell me," pursued Heliobas, "how do you define the
vital principle? What mysterious agency sets the heart
beating and the blood flowing? By the small porter's
lantern of to day's so-called science, will you fling a
light on the dark riddle of an apparently purposeless
universe, and explain to me why we live at all?"
"Evolution," responded Alwyn shortly, "and necessity."
"Evolution from what?" persisted Heliobas. "From
one atom? What atom? And from whence came the
atom? And why the necessity of any atom?"
"The human brain reels at such questions," said Alwyn
vexedly and with impatience. "I cannot answer them
no one can!"
"No one?" Heliobas smiled very tranquilly. "Do not
be too sure of that. And why should the human brain
'reel'? the sagacious, calculating, clear human brain
that never gets tired, or puzzled, or perplexed ! that set-
tles everything in the most practical and common-sense
manner, and disposes of God altogether as an extraneous
sort of bargain not wanted in the general economy of
* See the la?t two verses of "Adonais. 1
a8 "ARDATH"
our little solar system. Ay, the human brain is a won-
derful thing! and yet by a sharp, well-directed knock
with this, "and he took up from the table a paper knife with
a massive, silver-mounted, weighty horn-handle, "I could
deaden it in such wise that the soul could no more hold
any communication with it and.it would lie an inert mass
in the cranium, of no more use to its owner than a par-
alyzed limb."
"You mean to infer that the brain cannot act without
the influence of the soul?"
"Precisely! If the hands on the telegraph dial will
not respond to the electric battery, the telegram cannot,
be deciphered. But it would be foolish to deny the ex-
istence of the electric battery because the dial is unsat-
isfactory! In like manner, when, by physical incapacity,
(or inherited disease, the brain can no longer receive the
impressions or electric messages of the Spirit, it is prac-
tically useless. Yet the Spirit is there all the same,
dumbly waiting for release and another chance of expan-
sion."
''Is this the way you account for idiocy and mania?"
asked Alwyn incredulously.
"Most certainly; idiocy and mania always come from
man's interference with the laws of health and of na-
ture; never otherwise. The soul placed within us by
the Creator is meant to be fostered by man's unfettered
will; if man chooses to employ that unfettered will in
wrong directions, he has only himself to blame for the
disastrous results that follow. You may perhaps ask
why God has thus left our wills unfettered: the answer
is simple that we may serve Him by choice and not by
compulsion. Among the myriad million worlds that
acknowledge His goodness gladly and undoubtingly,
\ why should He seek to force unwilling obedience from
us castaways?"
"As we are on this subject, " said Alwyn, with a tinge
of satire in his tone, "if you grant a God, and make
Him out to be Supreme Love, why in the name of His
supposed inexhaustible beneficence should we be cast-
aways at all?"
"Because in our over-weening pride and egotism we
have elected to be such," replied Heliobas "As angels
have fallen, so have we. But we are not altogether cast*
DEPARTURE 2$
aways now, since his signal," and he touched the cross
on his breast, "shone in heaven." Alwyn shrugged his
shoulders disdainfully.
"Pardon me," he murmured coldly, "with every desire
to respect your religious scruples, I really cannot, per-
sonally speaking, accept the tenets of a worn-out faith,
which all the most intellectual minds of the day reject
as mere ignorant superstition. The carpenter's son of
Judea was no doubt a very estimable person, a socialist
teacher whose doctrines were very excellent in theory
but impossible of practice. That there was anything
divine about him I truly deny; and I confess I am sur-
prised that you, a man of evident culture, do not seem
to see the hollow absurdity of Christianity as a system
of morals and civilization. It is an ever-sprouting seed
of discord and hatred between nations; it has served as
a casus belli of the most fanatical and merciless charac-
ter; it is answerable for whole seas of cruel and unnec-
essary bloodshed ' .
"Have you nothing new to say on the subject?" inter-
posed Heliobas with a slight smile. "I have heard all
this so often before, from divers kinds of men both ed-
ucated and ignorant, who have a willful habit of forget-
ting all that Christ Himself prophesied concerning His
creed of self-renunciation, so difficult to selfish human-
ity: 'Think not that I come to send peace on the earth.
I come, not to send peace, but a sword.' Again, 'Ye
shall be hated of all men for My sake,'
'all ye shall be offended because of Me.' Such plain
words as these seem utterly thrown away upon this pres-
ent generation. And do you know I find a curious lack
of originality among so-called 'freethinkers;' in fact,
their thoughts can hardly be designated as 'free' when
they all run in such extreme!}' narrow grooves of simili-
tude; a flock of sheep mildly trotting under the guidance
of the butcher to the slaughter-house could not be more
tamely alike in their bleating ignorance as to where they
are going. Your opinions, for instance, differ scarce a
whit from those of the common boor, who, reading his
penny Radical paper, thinks he can dispense with God, and
talk of the 'carpenter's son of Judea' with the same easy
flippancy and scant reverence as yourself. The 'intel-
lectual minds of the day' to which you allude are extraor-
jo "ARDATH"
dinarily limited of comprehension, and none of them,
literary or otherwise, have such a grasp of knowledge as
any of these dead and gone authors," and he waved his
hand toward the surrounding loaded book-shelves, "who
lived centuries ago, and are now, as far as the general
public is concerned, forgotten. All the volumes you see
here are vellum manuscripts copied from the original
slafs of baked clay, stone tablets and engraved sheets
of ivory, and among them is an ingenious treatise by
one Remeni Adranos, chief astronomer to the then king
of Babylonia, setting forth the atom and evolution theory
with far more clearness and precision than any of your
modern professors. All such propositions are old old
as the hills, I assure you; and these days in which you
live are more suggestive of the second childhood of the
world than its progressive prime. Especially in your own
country the general dotage seems to have reached a sort
of climax, for there you have the people actually forget-
ting, deriding, or denying their greatest men, who form
the only lasting glories of their history; they have ever
done their futile best to tarnish the unsoilable fame of
Shakespeare. In that land you, who, according to your
own showing, started for the race of life full of high
hopes and inspiration to still higher endeavor, you have
been poisoned by the tainted atmosphere of atheism
which is slowly and insidiously spreading itself through
all ranks, particularly among the upper classes, who,
while becoming every day more lax in their morals and
more dissolute of behavior, consider themselves far too
wise and 'highly cultured* to believe in anything. It
is a most unwholesome atmosphere, charged with the
morbidities and microbes of national disease and down-
fall; it is difficult to breathe it without becoming fever-
smitten; and in your denial of the divinity of Christ, I
do not blame you any more than I would blame a poor
creature struck down by a plague. You have caught the
negative, agnostic, and atheistical infection from others;
it is not the natural, healthy condition of your temper-
ament."
"On the contrary it is, so far as that point goes," said
Alwyn with sudden heat. "I tell you I am amazed, ut-
terly amazed, that you, with your intelligence, should
uphold such a barbaric idea as the Divinity of Christ!
DEPARTURE 3!
Human reason revolts at it, and after all, make as lighf
of it as you will, reason. is the only thing that exalts us
a little above the level of the beasts."
"Nay, the beasts share the gift of reason in common
with us," replied Heliobas, "and man only proves his
ignorance if he denies the fact. Often, indeed, the very
insects show superior reasoning ability to ourselves any
thoroughly capable naturalist would bear me out in
this assertion."
"Well, well!" and Alwyn grew impatient. "Reason
or no reason, I again repeat that the legend on which
Christianity is founded is absurd and preposterous; why,
if there were a grain of truth in it, Judas Iscariot, in-
stead of being universally condemned, ought to be hon'
ored and canonized as the first of saints."
"Must I remind you of your early lesson days?" asked
Heliobas mildly. "You will find it written in a Book you
appear to have forgotten, that Christ expressly prophesied
'Woe to that man' by whom He was betrayed. I tell
you, little as you credit it, there is not a word that ths
Sinless One uttered while on this earth, that has not
been or shall not be in time fulfilled. But I do not wish
to enter into any controversies with you ; you have told
me your story, I have heard it with interest, and I may
add with sympathy. You are a poet, struck dumb by
materialism because you lacked strength to resist the
shock; you would fain recover your singing-speech, and
this is, in truth, the reason why you have come to me,
You think that if you could gain some of the strange
experiences which others have had while under my influ-
ence, you might win back your lost inspiration, though
you do not know why you think t' is; neither do I I
I can only guess. "
"And your guess is ?" demanded Alwyn with an air
of affected indifference.
"That some higher influence is working for your res-
cue and safety," replied Heliobas. "What influence, I
dare not presume to imagine, but there are always an-
gels near."
"Angels!" Alwyn laughed aloud. "How many more fairy
tales are you going to weave for me out of your fertile
Oriental imagination? Angels! See here, my good Helio-
bas, I am perfectly willing to grant that you may be a
38 "ARDATH"
very clever man, with an odd prejudice in favor of Chris-
tianity, but I must request that you will not talk to me
of angels and spirits, or any such nonsense, as if I were
a child waiting to be amused, instead of a full-grown
man with "
"With so full-grown an intellect that it has outgrown
God!" finished Heliobas serenely. "Quite so! Yet an-
gels after all are only immortal souls such as yours or
mine when set free of their earthly tenements. For in-
stance, when I look at you thus," and he raised his eyes
with a lustrous, piercing glance, "I see the proud, strong
and rebellious angel in you far more distinctly than your
outward shape of man; and you, when you look at
me "
He broke off, for Alwyn at that moment sprang from
his chair, and, staring fixedly at him, uttered a quick,
fierce exclamation.
"Ah, I know you now!" he cried in sudden and extra-
ordinary excitement, "I know you well! We have met
before! Why, after all that has passed, do we meet
again?"
This singular speech was accompanied by a still more
singular transfiguration of countenance; a dark, fiery
glory burned in his eyes, and in the stern, frowning won*
der and defiance of his expression and attitude, there
was something grand yet terrible, menacing yet super-
naturally sublime. He stood so for an instant's space,
majestically somber, like some haughty, discrowned em-
peror confronting his conqueror; a rumbling, long-con-
tinued roll of thunder outside seemed to recall him to
himself, and he pressed his hand tightly over his eye-
lids, as though to shut out some overwhelming vision.
After a pause he looked up again, wildly, confusedly,
almost beseechingly, and Heliobas, observing this, rose
and advanced toward him.
"Peace!" he said, in low, impressive tones, "we have
recognized each other; but on earth such recognitions
are brief and soon forgotten!" He waited for a few sec-
onds, then resumed lightly: "Come, look at me now!
what do you see?"
Alwyn scanned his features eagerly and with some
bewilderment.
"Nothing but yourself !" he replied, sighing deeply
DEPARTURE 33
as he spoke. 'Yet, oddly enough, a moment ago I fan-
cied you had altogether a different appearance, and I
thought I saw no matter what! I cannot describe it!"
His brows contracted in a puzzled line. "It was a curi-
ous phenomenon very curious and it affected me
strangely;" he stopped abruptly, then added, with a
slight flush of annoyance on his face, "I perceive you
are an adept in the art of poetical illusion!"
Heliobas laughed softly. "Of course. What else can
you expect of a charlatan, a trickster, and a monk to
boot! Deception, deception throughout, my dear sir;
and have you not asked to be deceived?"
There was a fine, scarcely perceptible satire in his
manner; he glanced at the tall oaken clock that stood
in one corner of the room; its hands pointed to eleven.
"Now, Mr. Alwyn, " he went on, "I think we have talked
quite enough for this evening, and my advice is, that
you retire to rest and think over what I have said to
you. I am willing to help you if I can, but with your
beliefs, or rather your non-beliefs, I do not hesitate to
tell you frankly that the exertion of my internal force
upon yours in your present condition might be fraught
with extreme danger and suffering. You have spoken of
truth, 'the dreadful truth;' this being, however, nothing
but truth according to the world's opinion, which changes
with every passing generation, and therefore is not truth
at all There is another truth the everlasting truth
the pivot of all life, which never changes; and it is wit-h
this alone that my science deals. Were I to set you at
liberty as you desire, were your intelligence too suddenly
awakened to the blinding awfulness of your mistaken
notions of life, death, and futurity, the result might bs
more overpowering than either you or I can imagine! I
have told you what I can do; your incredulity does not
alter the fact of my capacity. I can sever you
that is, your soul, which you cannot define, but which
nevertheless exists from your body, like a moth from
its chrysalis ; but I dare not even picture to myself what
scorching flame the moth might not heedlessly fly into!
You might, in your temporary state of release, find that
new impetus to your thoughts you so ardently desire, er
you might not; in short, it is impossible to form a guess
as to whether your experience might be one of supernal
34 "ARDATH"
ecstasy or inconceivable horror." He paused a moment
Alwyn was watching him with a close intentness thai
bordered on fascination, and presently he continued:
it is best, from all points of view, that you should con-
sider the matter more thoroughly than you have yet done-
hmk it over well and carefully until this time to morrow '
then, if you are quite resolved "
"I am resolved now!" said Alwyn slowly and deter-
minedly. If you are so certain of your influence, come'
unbar my chains ! open the prison-door! Let me go
hence to-night; there is no time like the present!"
ro-mght!" and Heliobas turned his keen, bright eye
full upon him, with a look of amazement and reproach
To-night! without faith, preparation, or prayer vou
are willing to be tossed through the realms of space like
a gram of dust in a whirling tempest? Beyond the elit
^h^ir^j^ri^ stars > th e h da ^e ss>
ove
over
fK- f Fondest silenc
of vibrating sound-you-^ will dare tc
His voice thrilled with passion, his aspect was so sol-
emn and earnest and imposing, that Alwyn, awed and
startled, remained for a moment mute; then, lifting his
head proudly, answered: -
talX 68 ' j *"%'* " V a "l immortal l wil1 te *t my immor-
? ?' Lu' 11 u? G d and find these an g fi ls you talk
about. What shall prevent me?"
"Find the angels!" Heliobas surveyed him sadly as
he spoke Nay pray rather that they may find thee!"
?n w rli g ^ StCadily at Alw y n ' s Countenance,
on which there was just then the faint glimmer of a
rather mocking smile, and, as he looked, his own face
darkened suddenly into an expression of vague trouble
t a h n rl,cTv S1 7 SS ' a u d * StrangG <l Uiver P assed v ^ibly
through him from head to foot.
"You are bold, Mr. Alwyn," iie said at last, moving
Lr^ 6 T y > K m ,, hlS gU6St and s ? eak 'ng with some ap
parent effort, "bold to a fault, but at the same time
you are ignorant of all that lies behind the veil of ti.c
Unseen. I should be much to blame if I sent you hence
to-night, utterly unguided, utterly uninstructed. I my-
self must think and pray before I venture to incur so ter-
DEPA&TUR* JJ
rible a responsibility. To-morrow, perhaps; to-night,
no! I cannot; moreover, I will not!"
Alwyn flushed hotly with anger. "Trickster!" he
thought. "He feels he has no power over me, and he
fears to run the risk of failure."
'Did I hear you aright?" he said aloud in cold; deter-
mined accents. 'You cannot? you will not? By Heaven!"
and his voice rose, "I say you shall!" As he uttered
these words a rush of indescribable sensations overcame
him; he seemed all at once invested with some myste-
rious, invincible, supreme authority; he felt twice a man
and more than half a god, and, moved by an irresistible
impulse which he could neither explain nor control, he
made two or three hasty steps forward, when Heliobas,
swiftly retreating, waved him off with an eloquent gest-
ure oi mingled appeal and menace.
"Back! back!" he cried warningly. "If you come one
inch nearer to me I cannot answer for your safety; back,
I say! Good God! you do not know your own power!"
Alwyn scarcely heeded him ; some fatal attraction drew
him on, and he still advanced, when all suddenly he
paused, trembling violently. His nerves began to throb
acutely, the blood in his veins was like fire; there was
a curious strangling tightness in his throat that inter-
rupted and oppressed his breathing; he stared straight
before him with large, luminous, impassioned eyes.
What w/iat was that dazzling something in the air that
flashed and whirled and shone like glittering wheels of
golden flame? His lips parted; he stretched out his
hands in tne uncertain manner of a blind man feeling his
way. "O God! God!" he muttered; as though stricken
by some sudden amazement ; then, with a smothered,
gasping cry, he staggered and fell heavily forward on
the floor insensible!
At the self-same instant the window blew open with a
loud crash; it swung backward and forward on its hinges,
and a torrent of rain poured through it slantwise into
the room. A remarkable change had taken place in the
aspect and bearing of Heliobas; he stood as though
rooted to the spot, trembling from head to foot; he had
lost all his usual composure; he was deathly pale, and
breathed with difficulty. Presently, recovering himself
ft little, he strove to shut the swinging casement, but
36 "ARDATH"
the wind was so boisterous that he had to pause a mo-
ment to gain strength for the effort, and instinctively he
glanced out at the tempestuous night. The clouds were
scurrying over the sky like great black vessels on a foam-
ing sea; the lightning flashed incessantly, and the thun-
der reverberated over the mountains in tremendous vol-
leys as of besieging cannon. Stinging drops of icy sleet
dashed his face and the front of his white garb as he
inhaled the stormy freshness of the strong upward-sweep-
ing blast for a few seconds, and then, with the air of one
gathering together all his scattered forces, he shut to
the window firmly and barred it across. Turning now
to the unconscious Alwyn, he lifted him from the floor
to a low couch near at hand, and there laid him gently
down. This done, he stood looking at him with an ex-
pression of the deepest anxiety, but made no attempt
to rouse him from his deathlike swoon. His own habit-
ual serenity was completely broken through; he had all
the appearance of having received some unexpected and
overwhelming shock; his very lips were blanched and
quivered nervously.
He waited for several minutes attentively watching
the recumbent figure before him, till gradually, very grad-
ually, that figure took upon itself the pale, stern beauty
of a corpse from which life has but recently and pain-
lessly departed. The limbs grew stiff and rigid; the
features smoothed into that mysteriously wise placidity
which is so often seen in the faces of the dead; the
closed eyelids looked purple and livid, as though bruised,
there was not a breath, not a tremor, to offer any out-
ward suggestion of returning animation; and when, after
some little time, Heliobas bent down and listened,
there was no pulsation of the heart it had ceased to
beat! To all appearances Alwyn was dead; any physi-
cian would have certified the fact, though how he had
come by his death there was no evidence to show. And
in that condition stirless, breathless, white as marble,
cold and inanimate as stone Heliobas left him. Not in
indifference, but in sure knowledge knowledge far be-
yond all mere medical science that the senseless clay
would in due time again arise to life and motion; that
the casket was but temporarily bereft of its jewel; and
that the jewel itself, the soul of the poet, had by a su-
*-AKGELUS DOMINI* $]
perhuman access of will managed to break its bonds and
escape elsewhere. But whither? Into what vast realms
of translucent light or drear shadow? This was a ques-
tion to which the mystic monk, gifted as he was with a
powerful spiritual insight into "things unseen and eter-
nal," could find no satisfactory answer, and in his anxious
perplexity he betook himself to the chapel, and there,
by the red glimmer of the crimson star that shone dimly
above the altar, he knelt alone and prayed in silence till
the heavy night had passed, and the storm had slain it-
self with the sword of its own fury on the dark slopes
of the Pass of Dariel
CHAPTER IV.
"ANGELUS DOMINI"
THE next morning dawned pallidly over a sea of gray
mist; not a glimpse of the landscape was visible; noth-
ing but a shadowy vastness of floating vapor that moved
slowly, fold upon fold, wave upon wave, as though bent
on blotting out the world. A very faint chill light peered
through the narrow arched window of the room where
Alwyn lay, still wrapped in that profound repose, so
like the last long sleep from which some of our modern
scientists tell us there can be no awakening. His con-
dition was unchanged, the wan beams of the early day
falling across his features intensified their waxen still-
ness and pallor ; the awful majesty of death was on him,
the pathetic helplessness and perishableness of body
without spirit. Presently the monastery bell began to
ring for matins, and as its clear chime struck through
the deep silence, the door opened, and Heliobas, accom-
panied by another monk, whose gentle countenance and
fine soft eyes betokened the serenity of his disposition,
entered the apartment. Together they approached the
couch, and gazed long and earnestly at the supernat-
urally slumbering man.
"He is still far away," said Heliobas at last, sighing
as he spoke. "So far away that my mind misgives me.
Alas, Hilarionl how limited is our knowledge 1 even with
3& "AKDAT&*
all the spiritnal aids of spiritual life how little can be
accomplished! We learn one thing, and another pre-
sents itself; we conquer one difficulty, and another in-
stantly springs up to obstruct our path. Now, if I had
only had the innate perception required to foresee the
possible flight of this released immortal creature, might
I not have saved it from some incalculable misery and
suffering?"
"I think not," answered in rather musing accents the
monk called Hilarion "I think not. Such protection can
never be exercised by mere human intelligence : if this
soul is to be saved or shielded in its invisible journey-
ings, it will be by some means that not all the marvels
of our science can calculate. You say he was without
faith?"
"Entirely."
"What was his leading principle?"
"A desire for what he called truth," replied Heliobas.
"He, like many others of his class, never took the
trouble to consider very deeply the inner meaning of Pi-
late's famous question, 'What is truth?' We know what
it is, as generally accepted : a few so-called facts which
in a thousand years will all be contradicted, mixed up
with a few finite opiaicns propounded by unstable-minded
men. In brief, truth, according to the world, is simply
whatever the world is pleased to consider as truth for
the time being. 'Tis a somewhat slight thing to stake
one's immortal destinies upon!"
Hilarion raised one of Alwyn's cold, pulseless hands;
it was stiff, and white as marble.
"I suppose," he said, "there is no doubt of his return-
ing hither?"
"None whatever," answered Heliobas decisively. "His
life on earth is assured for many years yet, inasmuch
as his penance is not finished, his recompense not won.
Thus far my knowledge of his fate is certain."
"Then you will bring him back to-day?" pursued Hi-
larion.
"Bring him back? I? I cannot!" said Heliobas,
with a touch of sad humility in his tone. "And for this
very reason I feared to send him hence, and would not
have done so, without preparation at any rate, could I have
bad my way. His departure was more strange than I
"ANGELUS DOMINI'* 39
have ever known ; moreover, it was his own doing, not
mine. I had positively refused to exert my influence
upon him, because I felt he was not in my sphere, and
that therefore neither I nor any of those higher intelli-
gences with which I am in communication could control
or guide his wanderings. He, however, was as posi-
tively determined that I should exert it, and to this end
he suddenly concentrated all the pent-up fire of his na-
ture in one rapid effort of will, and advanced upon me.
I warned him, but in vain. Quick as lightning flash
meets lightning flash, the two invisible immortal forces
within us sprang into instant opposition with this
difference, that while he was ignorant and unconscious
of his power, I was cognizant and fully conscious of
mine. Mine was focused, as it were, upon him; his
was untrained and scattered; the result was that mine
won the victory; yet, understand me well, Hilarion, if I
could have held mysaif in, I would have done so. It
was he, he who drew my force out of me as one would
draw a sword out of its scabbard; the sword maybe ever
so stiffly fixed in its sheath, but the strong hand will
wrench it forth somehow, and use it for battle when
needed."
"Then," said Hilarion wonderingly, "you admit this
man possesses a power greater than your own?"
"Ay, if he knew it!" returned Heliobas quietly. "But
he does not know! Only an angel could teach him, and
in angels he does not believe."
"He may believe now ?" .
"He may. He will, he must, if he has gone where I
would have him go."
"A poet, is he not?" queried Hilarion softly, bending
down to look more attentively at the beautiful Antinous-
like face, colorless and cold as sculptured alabaster.
"An uncrowned monarch of a world of song!" respond-
ed Heliobas, with a tender inflection in his rich voice.
"A genius such as the earth sees but once in a century!
But he has been smitten with the disease of unbelief and
deprived of hope, and where there is no hope there is
no lasting accomplishment." He paused, and with a
touch as gentle as a woman's, rearranged the cushions
under Alvvyn's heavy head, and laid his hand in grave
benediction on the broad whits brow shaded by its clus-
40 "ARDATH"
tering waves of dark hair. "May the Infinite Love bring
him out of danger into peace and safety 1' he said sol-
emnly; then turning away, he took his companion by
the arm, and they both left the room, closing the door
quietly behind them. The chapel bell went on tolling
slowly, slowly, -ending muffled echoes through the fog
for some minutes; then it ceased, and a profound still-
ness reigned.
The monastery was always a very silent habitation;
situated as it was on so lofty and barren a crag, it was
far beyond the singing-reach of the smaller sweet-throated
birds; now and then an eagle clove the mist with a
whir of wings and a discordant scream on his way to-
ward some distant mountain eyrie, but no other sound
of awakening life broke the hush of the slowly-widening
dawn. An hour passed, and Alwyn still remained in the
same position, as pallidly quiescent as a corpse stretched
out for burial. By-and-by a change began to thrill mys-
teriously through the atmosphere, like the flowing of
amber wine through crystal; the heavy vapors shud-
dered together as though suddenly lashed by a whip of
flame; they rose, swayed to and fro, and parted asunder;
then, dissolving into thin milk white veils of fleecy
film, they floated away, disclosing, as they vanished,
the giant summits of the encircling mountains, that
lifted themselves to the light one above another in the
form of frozen billows. Over these a delicate pink flush
flitted in tremulous, wavy lines; long arrows of gold began
to pierce the tender, shimmering blue of the sky; soft
puffs of cloud tinged with vivid crimson and pale green
were strewn along the eastern horizon likt flowers in
the path of an advancing hero, and ther. all at once
there was a slight cessation of movement in the heavens,
an attentive pause as though the whole universe waited
for some great splendor as yet unrevealed. That splendor
came: in a red blaze of triumph the sv,n rose, pouring
a shower of beamy brilliancy over th* white vastness
of the heights covered with perpetual snow; jagged peaks,
sharp as scimiters and sparkling with ice, caught fire,and
seemed to melt away in an absorbing <sea of radiance ; the
waiting clouds moved on, redecked in deeper hues of
royal purple, and the full morning glory was declared.
As the dazzling effulgence streamed through the wii)
"ANGELUS DOMINI* 4!
dow and flooded the couch where Alwyn lay, a faint
tinge of color returned to his face, his lips moved, hia
broad chest heaved with struggling sighs, his eyelids
quivered, his before rigid hands relaxed, and folded
themselves in an attitude of peace and prayer. Like a
statue becoming slowly and magically flushed with life,
the warm hues of the naturally flowing blood deepened
through the whiteness of his skin; his breathing grew
more and more easy and regular, his features gradually
assumed their wonted appearance, and presently, with-
out any violent start or exclamation, he awoke! But
was it a real awakening? or rather a continuation of
some strange impression received in slumber?
He rose to his feet, pushing back the hair from his
brow with an entranced look of listening wonderment;
his eyes were humid, yet brilliant; his whole aspect was
that of one inspired. He paced once or twice up and
down the room, but he was evidently unconscious of his
surroundings; he seemed possessed by thoughts which
absorbed his whole being. Presently he seated himself
at the table, and absently fingering the writing materials
that were upon it, he appeared meditatively to question
their use and meaning. Then, drawing several sheets
of paper toward him, he began to write with extraordi-
nary rapidity and eagerness; his pen traveled on smooth-
ly, uninterrupted by blot or erasure. Sometimes he
paused, but when he did, it was always with an upraised,
attentively listening expression. Once he murmured
aloud, "Ardath! No, I shall not forget! We will meet
at Ardath!" and again he resumed his occupation. Page
after page he covered with close writing no weak, un-
certain scrawl, but a firm, bold, neat caligraphy, his
own peculiar characteristic hand. The sun mounted
higher and higher in the heavens, hour after hour passed,
and still he wrote on, apparently unaware of the flitting
time. At mid-day the bell, which had not rung since
early dawn, began to swing quickly to and fro in the
chapel turret; the deep bass of the organ breathed on
the silence a thunderous monotone, and a bee-like mur-
mur of distant voices proclaimed the words: "Angelut
Domini nuntiavit Maria,"
At the first sound of f tis chant, the spell that en-
phained Alwyn's rnind wa? Broken; drawing a quick dash-
42 *'ARDATH"
ing line under what he had written, he sprang up erect
arid dropped his pen.
"Heliobas!" he cried loudly, "HeliobasI Where is the
Field of Ardath?"
His voice seemed strange and unfamiliar to his own
ears; he waited, listening, and the chanting went on:
"Et Verbum caro factum est, et habitavit in nobis. "
Suddenly, as if he could endure his solitude no longer,
he rushed to the door and threw it open, thereby nearly
flinging himself against Heliobas. who was entering the
room at the same moment. He drew back, stared wildly,
and passing his hand across his forehead confusedly,
forced a laugh.
"I have been dreaming," he said; then with a passion-
ate gesture he added: "God! if the dream were true!"
He was strongly excited, and Heliobas, slipping one
arm round him in a friendly manner, led him back to
the chair he had vacated, observing him closely as he
did so.
"You call this dreaming?" he inquired with a slight
smile, pointing to the table strewn with manuscript on
which the ink was not yet dry. "Then dreams are more
productive than active exertion! Here is goodly matter
for printers. A fair result it seems of one morning's
labor. "
Alwyn started up, seized the written sheets and scanned
them eagerly.
"It is my handwriting!" he muttered in a tone of stu-
pefied amazement.
"Of course! Whose handwriting should it be?" re-
turned Heliobas, watching him with scientifically keen
yet kindly interest.
"Then it is true!" he exclaimed. "True, by the sweet-
ness of her eye; true by the love-lit radiance of her
smile; true, O thou God whom I dared to doubt 1 true
by the marvels of Thy matchless wisdom!"
And with this strange outburst, he began to read in
feverish haste what he had written. His breath came
and went quickly, his cheeks flushed, his eyes dilated;
line after line he perused with apparent wonder and rap-
ture, when suddenly, interrupting himself, he raised his
head and recited in a half- whisper:
"With thundering notes of song sublim*
I cast my sins away from me:
A MYSTIC TRYST 43
On stairs of sound I mount, I climb*
The angels wait and pray for mel
"I heard that stanza somewhere when I was a boy;
why do I think of it now? She has waited, so she said,
these many thousand days!"
He paused meditatively, and then resumed his read-
ing. Heliobas touched his arm.
"It will take you some time to read that, Mr. Alwyn, "
he gently observed. "You have written more than you
know."
Alwyn roused himself and looked straight at the
speaker. Putting down his manuscript and resting one
hand upon it, he gazed with an air of solemn inquiry
into the noble face turned steadfastly toward his
own. ,
"Tell me," he said wistfully, "how has it happened?
This composition is mine and yet not mine. For it is
a grand and perfect poem of which I dare not call my-
self the author; I might as well snatch Her crown of
starry flowers and call myself an angel!'*
He spoke with mingled fervor and humility. To any-
ordinary observer he would have seemed to be laboring
under some strange hallucination, but Heliobas was more
deeply instructed.
"Come, come! your thoughts are wide of this world,"
he said kindly. "Try to recall them! I can tell you
nothing, for I know nothing; you have been absent many
hours."
"Absent? Yes," and Alwyn's voice thrilled with an
infinite regret. "Absent from earth ah! would to God
I might have stayed with her, in Heaven! My love, my
love! Where shall I find her if not on the Field of Ar-
dath?"
CHAPTER V.
A MYSTIC TRYST.
As he uttered the last words, his eyes darkened into
a soft expression of musing tenderness, and he remained
silent for many minutes, during which the entranced, al-
44 ARDATH"
most unearthly beauty cf his face underwent a gradual
change; the mystic light that had for a time transfigured
it faded and died away, and by degrees he recovered ali
his ordinary self-possession. Presently glancing at Heii
obas, who stood patiently waiting till he should have
overcome whatever emotions were at work in his mind,
he smiled.
"You must think me mad!" he said. "Perhaps I am,
but if so, it is the madness of love that has seized n;e.
Love! It is a passion I have never known befere; 1
have used it as a mere thread whereon to string madri-
gals, a background of uncertain tint serving to show off
the brighter hues of poesy; but now now I am enslaved
and bound, conquered and utterly subdued by love
love for the sweetest, queenliest, most radiant creature
that ever captured or commanded the worship of man!
I may seem mad, but I know I am sane; I realize the ac-
tual things of this world about me; my mind is clear,
my thoughts are collected, and yet I repeat, I love! ay!
with all the force and fervor of this strongly beating hu-
man heart of mine," and he touched his breast as he
spoke. "And it comes to this, most wise and worthy
Heliobas, if your spells have conjured up this vision of
immortal youth and grace and puritj' that has suddenly
assumed such sovereignty over my life, then you must
do something further ; you must find, or teach me how
to find, the living reality of my dream!"
Heliobas surveyed him with some wonder and commis-
eration.
"A moment ago and you yourself declared your dream
was true!" he observed. "This," and he pointed to the
manuscript on the table, "seemed to you sufficient to prove
it. Now you have altered your opinion why? I have
worked no spells upon you, and I am entirely ignorant as
to what your recent experience has been. Moreover,
what do you mean by a 'living reality?' The flesh and
blood, bone and substance that perishes in a brief sev-
enty years or so and crumbles into indistinguishable
dust? Surely, if, as I conjecture from your words, you
have seen one of the fair inhabitants of higher spheres
than ours, you would not drag her spiritual and death-
unconscious brightness down to the level of the 'reality*
of a merely human life? Nay, if you would, you could not!"
A MYSTIC TRYST 4.5
Alwyn looked at him inquiringly and with a perplexed
air.
"You speak in enigmas," he said somewhat vexedlj.
"However, the whole thing is an enigma and would puz-
zle the most sagacious head. That the physical work-
ings of the brain in a state of trance should arouse in
me a passion of love for an imaginary being, and, at
the same time, enable me to write a poem such as must
make the fame of any man, is certainly a remarkable and
noteworthy result of scientific mesmerism!"
"Now, my dear sir," interrupted Heliobas in a tone of
good natured remonstrance, "do not, if you have any
respect for science at all, do not, I beg of you, talk to
me of the 'physical workings' of a dead brain!"
"A dead brain!" echoed Alwyn. "What do you mean?"
"What I say," returned Heliobas composedly. "'Phys-
ical workings' of any kind are impossible unless the
motive power of physical life be in action. You, re-
garded as a human creature merely, had during several
hours practically ceased to be; the vital principle no
longer existed in your body, having taken its departure
with its inseparable companion, the soul. When it re-
turned, it set the clockwork of your material mechanism
in motion again, obeying the sovereignty of the_ spirit
that sought to express by material means the utterance
of heaven-inspired thought. Thus your hand mechan-
ically found its way to the pen; thus you wrote, uncon-
scious of what you were writing, yielding yourself
entirely to the guidance of the spiritual part of your
nature, which at that particular juncture was absolutely
predominant, though now, weighted anew by earthy
influences, it has partially relaxed its supernal sway.
All this I readily perceive and understand; but what
you did, and where you were conducted during the
time of your complete severance from the tenement of
clay in which you are again imprisoned, this I have yet
to learn. "
While Heliobas was speaking, Alwyn's countenance
had grown vaguely troubled, and now into his deep po-
etic eyes there came a look of sudden penitence.
"True!" he said softly, almost humbly. "I will tell
you everything while I remember it, though it is not
likely I shall ever forget! I believe there must be some
46 "ARDATH"
truth after all in what you say concerning the soul; at
any rate, I do not at present feel inclined to call your
theories in question. To begin with, 1 find myself un-
able altogether to explain what it was that happened to
me during my conversation with you last night. It was
a very strange sensation! I recollect that I had expressed
a wish to be placed under your magnetic or electric in-
fluence and that you had refused my request. Then an
odd idea suggested itself to me - namely, that I could,
if I chose, compel your assent, and, filled with this no-
tion, I think I addressed you, or was about to address you,
in a rather peremptory manner, when, all at once, a flash
of blinding lighr struck me fiercely across the eyes like
a scourge! Stung with the hot pain and dazzled by the
glare, I turned away from you and fled or so it seemed
fled on my own instinctive impulse, into darkness!"
He paused and drew a long, shuddering breath, like
one who has narrowly escaped imminent destruction.
"Darkness!" he went on in low accents that thrilled
with the memory of a past fear, "dense, horrible, fright-
ful darkness that palpitated heavily with the labored mo-
tion of unseen things darkness that clung and closed
about me in "masses of clammy, tangible thickness! its
advancing and resistless weight rolled over me like a
huge waveless ocean, and, absorbed within it, I was
drawn down down down toward some hidden, impal-
pable but all-supreme agony, the dull, unceasing throbs
of which I felt, yet could not name. 'O God? I cried
.aloud, abandoning myself to wild despair, 'O God! Where
art ThouF Then I heard a great rushing sound as of
a strong wind beaten through with wings, and a Voice,
grand and sweet as a golden trumpet blown suddenly
in the silence of night, answered, 'Here and Every-
where!' With that, a slanting stream of opaline radiance
cleft the gloom with the sweep of a sword-blade, and I
was caught up quickly, I know not how, for I saw noth-
ing!"
Again he paused and looked wistfully at Heliobas, who
in turn regarded him with gentle steadfastness.
"It was wonderful terrible!" he continued slowly,
"yet beautiful! that Invisible Strength that rescued,
surrounded, and lifted me; and "here he hesitated, and
a faint flush colored his cheeks and stole up to the roots
A MYSTIC IfcYS'f 47
of his clustering hair "dream or no dream, I feel ]
cannot now altogether reject the idea of an existing Di-
vinity. In brief, I believe in God I"
"Why?" asked Heliobas quietly.
Alwyn met his gaze frankly and with a soft brighten-
ing of his handsome features.
"I caanot give you any logical reasons," he said.
"Moreover, logical reasoning would not now affect me
in a matter which seems to me more full of conviction
than any logic. I believe, simply because I believe!"
Heliobas smiled, a very warm and kindly smile, but
said nothing, and Alwyn resumed his narrative.
"As I tell you, I was caught up, snatched out of that
black profundity with inconceivable swiftness, and when
the ascending movement ceased, I found myself floating
lightly like a wind-blown leaf through twining arches of
amber mist, colored here and there with rays of living
flame; I heard whispers, and fragments of song and
speech, all sweeter than the sweetest of our known
music, and still I saw nothing. Presently some one
called me by name, 'Theos! TheosT I strove to an-
swer ; but I had no words wherewith to match that
sliver-toned, far-reaching utterance; and once again the
rich vibrating notes pealed through the vaporous fire-
tinted air: 'Theos, my beloved.' Higher higher!' All
my being thrilled and quivered to that call; I yearned
to obey; I struggled to rise; my efforts were in vain;
when, to my joy and wonder, a small, invisible hand,
delicate yet strong, clasped mine, and I was borne aloft
with breathless, indescribable, lightning-like rapidity
on on and ever upward, till at last, alighting on a
smooth, fair turf, thick-grown with fragrant blossoms
of strange loveliness and soft hues, I beheld her! and
she bade me welcome!"
"And who," questioned Heliobas, in tones of hushed
reverence, "who was this being that thus enchants your
memory?"
"1 know not!" replied Alwyn, with a dreamy smile of
rapture on his lips and in his eyes. "And yet her face
oh! the entrancing beauty of that face! was not alto-
gether unfamiliar. I felt that I must have loved and
lost her ages upon ages ago. Crowned with wh :f ~
flowers, and robed in a garb that seemed spun from
}d "ARDATH'
summer moonbeams, she stood, a smiling maiden-sweet-
ness in a paradise of glad sights and sounds; ah! Eve
with the first sunrise radiance on her brows, was not
more divinely fair! Venus, new-springing from the sil-
ver sea-foam, was not more queenly glorious! I will
remind thee of all thou hast forgotten,' she said, and I
understood her soft, half-reproachful accents. 'It is
not yet too late! Thou hast lost much and suffered much,
and thou hast blindly erred, but notwithstanding all
these things, thou art my beloved since these many
thousand days!'"
"Days which the world counts as years," murmured
Heliobas. "You saw no one but her?''
"No one we were alone together. A vast woodland
stretched before us ; she took my hand and led me be-
neath broad arching trees to where a lake, silvered by
some strange radiance, glittered diamond like in the stir-
rings of a balmy wind. Here she bade me rest, and sank
gently on the flowery bank beside me. Then, viewing
her more closely, I greatly feared her beauty, for I saw
a wondrous halo wide and dazzling a golden aureole
that spread itself around her in scintillating points of
light light that reflected itself also on me, and bathed
me in its luminous splendor. And as I gazed at her in
speechless awe, she leaned toward me nearer and nearer,
her deep, pure eyes burning softly into mine; her hands
touched me, her arms closed round me, her bright head
lay in all its shining loveliness on my breast! A trem-
ulous ecstasy thrilled me as with fire; I gazed upon her
as one might gaze on some fluttering, rare-plumaged bird;
I dared not move or speak ; I drank her sweetness down
into my soul! Now and then a sound as of distant harps
playing broke the love weighted silence, and thus we
remained together, a heavenly breathing-space of word-
less rapture; till suddenly and swiftly, as though she
had received an invisible summons, she arose, her looks
expressing a saintly patience, and laying her two hands
upon my brow: 'Write ' she said, 'write and proclaim a
message of hope to the Sorrowful Star! Write and let
thine utterance be a true echo of the eternal music with
which these spheres are filled! Write to the rhythmic
beat of the harmonies within thee, for lo! once more,
as in aforetime, my changeless love renews in thee the
A MYSTIC TRYST 49
power of perfect song!* With that she moved away se-
renely and beckoned me to follow; I obeyed in haste
and trembling: long rays of rosy light swept after her
like trailing wings; and as she walked, the golden nim-
bus round her form glowed with a thousand brilliant and
changeful hues, like the rainbow seen in the spray of fall-
ing water! Through lush green grass thick with blos-
som, under groves heavy with fragrant leaves and laden
with the songs of birds, over meadows cool and moun-
tain sheltered, on we went she, like the goddess of ad-
vancing Spring, I eagerly treading in her radiant foot-
steps and presently we came to a place where two paths
met, one all overgrown with azure and white flowers,
that ascended away and away into undiscerned distance,
the other sloping steeply downward and full of shadows,
yet dimly illumined by a pale, mysterious splendor, like
frosty moonlight streaming on sad-colored seas. Here
she turned and faced me, and I saw her divine eyes
droop with the moisture of unshed tears. 'Theos! Theos!'
she cried, and the passionate cadence of her voice was
as the singing of a nightingale in lonely woodlands:
'Again again we must part! Part! O my beloved! my
beloved! How long wilt thou sever me from thy soul
and leave me alone and sorrowful amid the joys of Heav-
en?' As she thus spoke, a sense of utter shame and loss
and failure overwhelmed me ; pierced to the very core
of my being by an unexplained yet most bitter remorse,
I cast myself down in deep abasement before her ; I caught
her glittering robe, I strove to say 'Forgive!' but I was
speechless as a convicted traitor in the presence of a
wronged queen! All at once the air about us was rent
by a great noise of thunder intermingled with triumphal
music. She drew her sheeny garment from my touch
in haste, and, stooping to me where I knelt, she kissed
my forehead. 'Thy road lies there,' she murmured in
quick, soft tones, pointing to the vista of varying light
and shadow; 'mine yonder!' and she looked toward the
flower garlanded avenue. Hasten! It is time thou
wert far hence! Return to thine own star, lest its por-
tals be closed on thee forever and thou be plunged into
deeper darkness! Seek thou the Field of Ardath! At
Christ lives, 1 will meet thee there! Farewell!* With
these words she left me, passing away, arrayed in glory.
5o "ARDATH"
treading on flowers, and ever ascend <<ig till she disap-
peared ! While I, stricken with a great repentance, went
slowly, as she bade me, down into the shadow, and a
rippling breeze-like melody, as of harps and lutes most
tenderly attuned, followed me as I descended. And
-now," said Alwyn, interrupting his narrative and speak-
ing with emphatic decision, "surely there remains but
one thing for me to do that is, to find the Field of Ar-
dath. "
Heliobas smiled gravely. "Nay, if you consider the
whole episode a dream," he observed, "why trouble
yourself? Dreams are seldom realized, and as to the
name of Ardath, have you ever heard it before?"
"Never!" replied Alwyn. "Still, if there be such a
place on this planet I will most certainly journey thith-
er! Maybe you know something of its whereabouts?"
"Finish your story," said Heliobas, quietly evading
the question. "I am curious to hear the end of your
strange adventure."
"There is not much more to tell," and Alwyn sighed a
little as he spoke. I wandered further and further into
the gloom, oppressed by many thoughts and troubled by
vague fears, till presently it grew so dark that I could
scarcely see where I was going, though I was able to
guide myself in the path that stretched before me by
means of the pale, luminous rays that frequently pierced
the deepening obscurity, and these rays I now noticed
fell ever downward in the form of a cross. As I went
on 1 was pursued, as it were, by the sound of those
delicate harmonies played on invisible sweet strings ;
and after a while I perceived at the extreme end of the
long, dim vista a door standing open, through which I
entered and found myself alone in a quiet room. Here
I sat down to rest; the melody of the distant harps and
lutes still floated in soft echoes on the silence, and pres
ently words came breaking through the music, like buds
breaking from their surrounding leaves words that I was
compelled to write down as quickly as I heard them,
and I wrote on and on, obeying that symphonious and
rhythmical dictation with a sense of growing ease and
pleasure, when all suddenly a dense darkness overcame
nie, followed by a gradual dawning gray and golden
tight, the words dispersed into fragmentary half-sylla-
A MYSTIC TRYST 51
bles ; the music died away; I started up amazed, to find
myself here here in this monastery of Lars, listening
to the chanting of the Angelus. "
He ceased, and looked wistfully out through the win-
dow at the white, encircling rim of the opposite snow-
mountains, now bathed in the full splendor of noon.
Heliobas advanced and laid one hand kindly on his
shoulder.
"And do not forget," he said, "that you have brought
with you from the higher regions a poem that will in all
probability make your fame. 'Fame! fame! next grand-
est word to God!" so wrote one of your craft, and no
doubt you echo the sentiment. Have you not desired to
blazon your name on the open scroll of the world?
Well! now you can have your wish the world waits to
receive your signature."
"That is all very well," and Alwyn smiled rather du-
biously as he glanced at the manuscript on the table be-
side him. "But the question is, considering how it was
written, can I, dare I call this poem mine?"
"Most assuredly you can, " returned Heliobas, "though
your hesitation is a worthy one, and as rare as it is
worthy. Well would it be for all poets and artists were
they to pause thus, and consider before rashly calling
their work their own! Self-appreciation is the death-blow
of genius. The poem is as much yours as your life is
yours no more and no less. In brief, you have recov-
ered your lost inspiration; the lately dumb oracle speaks
again; and are you not satisfied?"
"No!" said Alwyn quickly, with a sudden brightening
of his eyes as he met the keenly searching glance that
accompanied this question. "No! for I love! and the
desire of love burns in me as ardently as the desire of
fame!" He paused, and in quieter tones continued:
"You see I speak freely and frankly to you, as though "
and he laughed a little "as though I were a good Cath-
olic, and you my father confessor! Good Heavens! if
some of the men I know in London were to hear me,
they would think me utterly crazed! But craze or no
craze, I feel I shall never be satisfied now till I find out
whether there is anywhere in the world a place called
Ardath. Can you, will you help me in the search? I
am almost ashamed to ask you, for you have already done
53 "ARDATH"
so much for me, and I really owe to your wonderful
power my trance or soul-liberty, or whatever it may be
called "
"You owe me nothing," interposed Heliobas calmly,
'not even thanks. Your own will accomplished your
freedom, and I am not responsible for either your de-
parture or your return. It was a predestined occurrence,
yet perfectly scientific and easy of explanation. Your
inward force attracted mine down upon you in one strong
current, with the result that your spirit instantly parted
asunder from your body, and in that released condition
you experienced what you have described. But / had
no more to do with that experience than I shall have
with your journey to the 'Field of Ardath,' should you
decide to go there."
"There is an 'Ardath' then!" cried Alwyn excitedly.
Heliobas eyed him with something of scorn. "Nat-
urally! Are you still so much of a skeptic that you think
an angel would have bidden you seek a place that had
no existence? Oh yes! I see you are inclined to treat
your ethereal adventure as a mere dream, but I know it
was a reality, more real than anything in this present
world." And turning to the loaded bookshelves he took
down a large volume, and spread it open on the table.
"You know this book?" he asked.
Alwyn glanced at it. "The Bible! Of course!" he
replied indifferently. "Everybody knows it!"
"Pardon!" and Heliobas smiled. "It would be more
correct to say nobody knows it. To read is not always
to understand. There are meanings and mysteries in it
which have never yet been penetrated, and which only
the highest and most spiritually gifted intellects can
ever hope to unravel. Now," and he turned over the
pages carefully till he came to the one he sought, "I
think there is something here that will interest you list-
en!" and he read aloud: "'The Angel Uriel came unto
me and said: Go into a field of flowers where no house
is builded and eat only the flowers of the field; taste no
flesh, drink no wine, but eat flowers only. And pray
unto the Highest continually, and then will I come and
talk to thee, So I went my way into the field which is
called Ardath '"
"The very place!" exclaimed Alwyn, eagerly bending
A MYSTIC TRYST 53
ever the sacred book; then drawing back with a gesture
of disappointment, he added: "But you are reading
from Esdras; the Apocrypha! An utterly unreliable /
source of information!"
"On the contrary, as reliable as any history ever writ-
ten," rejoined Heliobas calmly. "Study it for yourself;
you will see that the prophet was at that time resident
in Babylon; the field he mentions was near the city "
"Yes was!" interrupted Alwyn incredulously.
"Was and is," continued Heliobas. "No earthquake
has crumbled it, no sea has invaded it, and no house has
been 'builded' thereon. It is, as it was then, a waste
field lying about four miles west of the Babylonian ruins,
and there is nothing whatever to hinder you from jour-
neying thither when you please."
Alwyn' s expression as he heard this was one of stupe-
fied amazement. Part of his so-called "dream" had al-
ready proved itself true; a "Field of Ardath" actually
existed !
"You are certain of what you say?" he demanded.
"Positively certain!" returned Heliobas.
There was a silence, during which a little tinkling
bell resounded in the outer corridor, followed by the
tread of sandaled feet on the stone pavement. Heliobas
closed the Bible and returned it to its shelf.
"That was the dinner-bell," he announced cheerfully.
"Will you accompany me to the refectory, Mr. Alwyn?
We can talk further of this matter afterward."
Alwyn roused himself from the fit of abstraction into
which he had fallen, and gathering . together the loose
sheets of his so strangely written manuscript, he arranged
them all in an orderly heap without speaking. Then
he looked up and met the earnest eyes of Heliobas with
an expression of settled resolve in his own.
"I shall set out for Babylon to-morrow," he said quietly.
"As well go there as anywhere; and on the result of my
journey I shall stake my future! In the meantime '
He hesitated, then suddenly extending his hand with a
frank grace that became him well, "In spite of my brus-
querie last night, I trust we are friends?"
"Why, most assuredly we are!" returned Heliobas,
heartily pressing the proffered palm. "You had your
doubts of me and you have them still; but what of that?
54 "ARDATH"
I take no offense at unbelief. I pity those who suffer
from its destroying influence too profoundly to find room
in my heart for anger. Moreover, I never try to convert
anybody; it is so much more satisfactory when skeptics
convert themselves, as you are unconsciously doing!
Come, shall we join the brethren?"
Over Alwyn's face flitted a transient shade of uneas
iness and hauteur.
"I would rather they knew nothing about all this,
he began.
"Make your mind quite easy on that score," rejoinea
Hcliobas. "None of my companions here are aware o\
your recent departure, except my very old personal friena
Hilarion, who, with myself, saw your body while in its
state of temporary death. But he is one of those remark-
ably rare wise men who know when it is best to be
silent; then again, he is ignorant as to the results oi
your soul transmigration, and will, as far as I am con-
cerned, remain in ignorance. Your confidence, I assure
you, is perfectly safe with me as safe as though it had
been received under the sacred seal of confession. "
With this understanding Alwyn seemed relieved anq
satisfied, and thereupon they left the apartment to
gether.
CHAPTER VI.
"NOURHALMA" AND THE ORIGINAL ESDRAS.
LATER on in the afternoon of the same day, when tiws
sun, poised above the western mountain-range, appeared
to be lazily looking about with a drowsy golden smile of
farewell before descending to his rest, Alwyn was once
more alone in the library. Twilight shadows were al-
ready gathering in the corners of the long, low room, but
he had moved the writing table to the window, in order
to enjoy the magnificence of the surrounding scenery, and
sat where the light fell full upon his face as he leaned
back in his chair, with his hands clasped behind his nead
in an attitude of pleased, half-meditative indolence. He
had just finished reading from beginning to end of the
"NOVRHALMA" AND THE ORIGINAL ESDRAS 55
poem he had composed in his trance; there was not a
line in it he could have wished altered, not a word that
would have been better omitted j the only thing it lacked
was a title, and this was the question on which he now
pondered. The subject of the poem itself was not new
to him; it was a story he had known from boyhood-
an old Eastern love legend, fantastically beautiful as
many *uch legends are, full of grace and passionate fer-
vor, a theme fitted for the nightingale-utterance of a
singer like the Persian Hafiz, though even Hafiz would
have found it difficult to match the exquisitely choice
language and delicately ringing rhythm in which this
quaint idyll of long past ages was now most perfectly
set. like a jewel in fine gold. Alwyn himself entirely
realized the splendid literary value of the composition ;
he knew that nothing more artistic in conception or
more finished in treatment had appeared since the bt.
Agnes Eve" of Keats; and as he thought of this, he
yielded to a growing sense of self-complacent satisfaction
which gradually destroyed all the deeply devout hunul-
itv he had at first felt concerning the high and mysteri-
ous origin of his inspiration. The old inherent pride of
his nature re-asserted itself; he reviewed all the circum-
stances of his "trance" in the most practical manner, ana
calling to mind how the poet Coleridge had improvised
the delicious fragment of "Kubla Khan" in a dream, he
began to see nothing so very remarkable in his own un-
conscious production of a complete poem while under
mesmeric or magnetic influences.
"After all," he mused, "the matter is simple enough,
.when one reasons it out. I have been unable to write
anything worth writing for a long time, and I told He
liobas as much. He, knowing my apathetic condition
of brain, employed his force accordingly, though he ^ de-
nies having done so, and this poem is evidently the resul
of my own long pent-up thoughts that struggled for ut-
terance, yet could not before find vent in words. The
only mysterious part of the affair is this Field of Ardath
-how its name haunts me-and how her face shines be-
fore the eyes of my memory! That she should be a phan-
tom of my own creation seems impossible; for when
have I. even in my wildest freaks of fancy, ever imag-
ined, a ceoature half so fair?"
56 "ARDATH"
His gaze rested dreamily on the opposite snow clad
peaks, above which large fleecy clouds, themselves mov-
ing mountains, were slowly passing, their edges glowing
with purple and gold as they neared the sinking sun.
Presently rousing himself, he took up a pen, and first
of all addressing an envelope to
THE HONORABLE FRANCIS VILLIERS,
CONSTITUTIONAL CLUB,
LONDON,
he rapidly wrote off the following letter:
*
MONASTERY OF LARS,
PASS OF DARIEL, CAUCASUS.
My DEAR VILLIERR: Start not at the above address! I am not yet
vowed to perpetual seclusion, silence, or celibacy I That I of all men in
the world should br in a monastery will seem to you, who know my
prejudices, in the last degree absurd; nevertheless, here I am. though
here I do not remain, as it is my fixed intention to-morrow at day-break
to depart straightway from hence en mute for the supposed site and ruins
of Babylon Yes, Babylon! Why not? Perished greatness has always
been a more interesting subject of contemplation to me than existing lit-
tleness, and I dare say I shalt wander among the tumuli of the ancient
fallen city with more satisfaction than in the hot humanity-packed streets
of London, Paris or Vienna all destined to become tumuli in their turn.
Moreover, I am on the track of an adventure, on the search of a new sen-
sation, having tried nearly all the old and found thtm nil. You know my
nomadic and restless disposition; perhaps there is something of the Greek
gypsy about me a craving for constant change of scene and surround-
ings. However, as my absence from you and England is likely to be
somewhat prolonged, 1 send you in the meantime a poem there! "Sea-
son your admiration for a while" and hear me out patiently. I am
perfectly aware of all you would say concerning the utter folly and useless-
ness of writing poetry at all in this present age of milk-and-water litera-
ture, shilling sensationals and lascivious society dramas, and I have a
very keen recollection, too, of the way in which my last book was mal-
treated by the entire press. Good Heavens! How the critics yelped like
dogs about my heels, snapping, sniffing and snarling. I could have wept
then like the sensativefool I was I can laugh now! In brief, my friend
for you are my friend, and the best of all possible good fellows I have
made up my mind to conquer those that have risen against me, to break
through the ranks of pedantic and preconceived opinions, and to climb
the heights of fame, regardless of the little popular pipers of tame verse
that obstruct my path and blow their tin whistles in the public ears
to drown, if possible, my song I WILL be heard! and to this end I pin
my faith on the work I now transmit to your care. Have it published
immediately and in the best style; I will cover all expenses. Advertise
sufficiently, yet with becoming modesty, for "puffery 'is a thing I heartily
despise, and were the whole press to turn round and applaud me as much
as it has hitherto abused and ridiculsd me, I would not have one of its
penny lilies of condescendingly ignorant approval quoted in connection
"NOURHALMA" AND THE ORIGINAL ESDKAS 57
with what mast be a perfectly unostentatious and simple announcement of
this new production from my pen. The manuscript is exceptionally clear,
even for me, who do not as a rule write a very bad scrawl, so that you
can scarcely have much bother with the proof-correcting-though even
were this the case, and the printers turned out to be incorrigible block-
heads and blunderers, I know you would grudge neither time nor trouble
expended in my service. Good Frank Villiers! How much I owe you
and yet I willingly incur another debt of gratitude by placing this matter
in your hands, and am content to borrow more of your friendship, but
only, believe me, in order to repay it again with th % tru . M y n / e "*V t */
the way do you remember when we visited the last Paris Salon ^together,
how fascinated we were by one picture the head of a monk *j|
looked out like a veritable illumination from under the folds of a drooping
white cowl? aud how on referring to our catalogues we found it described
the portrait of one "Heliobas," an Eastern mystic a psychist formerly
well known in Paris, but since retired into monastic life Well I have
discovered him here; he is apparently the superior chief o this order
though what order it is and when founded is more than I can tell There
are fifteen monks altogether, living contentedly in this old ^If-ruined
habitation among the barren steeps of the frozen Caucasus-splendid,
princely-looking fellows, all of them. Heliobas himself being an excep-
tionally fine specimen of his race, I have just dined with he whole com-
munity and h P ave been fairly astonished by the fluent brilliancy and wit
of thefr conversation. They speak all languages, English mcluded, and
no subject comes amiss to them, for they are familiar with the
latest political situations in all countries-they know all about the newest
scientific discoveries (which, by-the-by, they smile at blandly as though
Seseiast were mere child's play), and they discuss our mote i social
problems and theories with a Socratic-hke mcisiveness and Composure
such as our parliamentary howlers would do well to imitate. The r doc-
trine is-but I will not bore you by a theological disquisition-enough to
say it is founded on Christianity, and that at present I don't quite know
what make of it! And now, my dear Villiers farewell! An answer to
this isunnecessary; besides, I can give you no address as itis uncertain
where I shall be for the next two or three months If . I dont get
as much pleasure as I anticipate from the contemplation tof the ^Baby-
lonian rnTnt, I shall probably take up my abode m Bagdad for; a im ; eand
try to fancy myself back in the days of "good Haroun Alraschid. At
any rate, whatever becomes of me. I know I have entrusted my poem to
safe hands, and all I ask of you is that it may be brought out with he
least possible delay, for its immediate publication seems to me just now the
most Sy Important thing in the world, except-except the adventure
Twhich fam^t present engaged, of which more hereafter when we.
meet. Until then think as well of me as you can and believe me
Ever and most truly your friend,
THEOS ALWYN.
This letter finished, folded and sealed Alwyn once
more took up his manuscript and meditated anew con-
cerning its title. Stay! why not call it by the name of
the ideal heroine whose heart-passion and sorrow formed
the nucleus of the legend-a name that he in very truth
was all unconscious of having chosen, but which occurred
58 "ARDATH"
frequently with musical persistence throughout the en-
tire poem. "NOURHALMA'" It had a soft sound; it seemed
to breathe of Eastern languor and love-singing; it was
surely the best title he could have. Straightway decid-
ing thereon, he wrote it clearly at the top of the first
page, thus: "Nourhalma; a Love Legend of the Past;"
then turning to the end, he signed his own name with a
bold flourish, thus attesting his indisputable right to
the authorship of what was not only destined to be
the most famous poetical masterpiece of the day, but
was also soon to prove the most astonishing, complex,
and humiliating problem ever suggested to his brain.
Carefully numbering the pages, he folded them in a neat
packet, which he tied strongly and sealed; then address-
ing it to his friend, he put letter and packet together,
and eyed them both somewhat wistfully, feeling that
with them went his great chance of immortal fame. Im-
mortal fame ! What a grand vista of fair possibilities
those words unveiled to his imagination. Lost in pleas-
ant musings, he looked out again on the landscape. The
sun had sunk behind the mountains so far, that nothing
was left of his glowing presence but a golden rim from
which great glittering rays spread upward like lifted
lances poised against the purple and roseate clouds. A
slight click caused by the opening of the door disturbed
his revery ; he turned round in his chair, and half rose
from it as Heliobas entered, carrying a small, richly-
chased silver casket.
"Ah, good Heliobas, here you are at last!" he said
with a smile. "I began to think you were never com-
ing. My correspondence is finished, and, as you see,
my poem is addressed to England, where I pray it may
meet with a better fate than has hitherto attended my
efforts. "
"You pray? " queried Heliobas meaningly, "or you
hope? There is a difference between the two. "
"I suppose there is," he returned nonchalantly. "And
certainly to be correct I should have said I hope, for
I never pray. What have you there?" this as Heliobas
set the casket he carried down on the table before him.
"A reliquary? And is it supposed to contain a fragment
of the true cross? Alas!. I cannot believe in these frag-
ments; there are too many of them!"
"NOURHALMA" AND THE ORIGINAL ESDRAS 59
Heliobas laughed gently.
'You are right ! Moreover, not a single splinter of
the true cross is in existence. It was, like other crosses
then in general use, thrown aside as lumber, and had
rotted away into the earth long before the Empress
Helena started on her piously-crazed wanderings. No,
I have nothing of that sort in here," and taking a key
from a small chain that hung at his girdle, he unlocked,
the casket. "This has been in the possession of the va-
rious members of our order for ages; it is our chief treas-
ure, and is seldom, I may say never, shown to strangers,
but the mystic mandate you have received concerning
the 'Field of Ardath' entitles you to see what I think
must needs prove interesting to you under the circum-
stances." And, opening the box, he lifted out a small,
square volume, bound in massive silver and double-clasped.
"This," he went on, "is the original text of a portion
of the 'Visions of Esdras, ' and dates from the thirtieth
year after the downfall of Babylon's commercial pros-
perity."
Alwyn uttered an exclamation of incredulous amaze-
ment. "Not possible!" he cried; then he added ea-
gerly: "May I look at it?"
Silently Heliobas placed it in his outstretched hand.
As he undid the clasps a faint odor like that of long-
dead rose-leaves came like a breath on the air ; he opened
it, and saw that its pages consisted of twelve moder-
ately thick sheets of ivory, which were covered all over
with curious, small characters, finely engraved thereon
by some evidently sharp and well-pointed instrument.
These letters were utterly unknown to Alwyn; he had
seen nothing like them in any of the ancient tongues,
and he examined them perplexedly.
"What language is this? ' he asked at last, looking
up. "It is not Hebrew, nor yet Sanskrit, nor does it
resemble any of the discovered forms of hieroglyphic
writing. Can you understand it?"
"Perfectly!" returned Heliobas. "If I could not, then
much of the wisdom and science of past ages would be
closed to rny researches. It is the language once com-
monly spoken by certain great nations which existed
long before the foundations of Babylon wsre laid. Lit-
tle by little it fell into disuse, till it was only kept up
60 "ARDATH"
among scholars and sages, and in time became known
only as 'the language of prophecy.' When Esdras wrote
his visions they were originally divided into two hundred
and four books, and, as you will see by referring to what
is now called the Apocrypha,* he was commanded to
publish them all openly to the 'worthy and unworthy'
all except the 'seventy last,' which were to be deliv-
ered solely to such as were 'wise among the people.'
Thus, one hundred and thirty-four were written in the
vulgar tongue, the remaining seventy in the 'language
of prophecy,' for the use of deeply learned and scientific
men alone. The volume you hold is one of those sev-
enty. "
"How did you come by it?" asked Alwyn, curiously
turning the book over and over.
"How did our Order come by it, you mean," said
Heliobas. "Very simple. Chaldean fraternities existed
in the time of Esdras, and to the supreme chief of these,
Esdras himself delivered it. You look dubious, but I
assure you it is quite authentic; we have its entire his-
tory up to date."
"Then are you all Chaldeans here?"
"Not all but most of us. Three of the brethren are
Egyptians, and two are natives of Damascus. The rest
are, like myself, descendants of a race supposed to have
perished from off the face of the earth, yet still powerful
to a degree undreamed of by the men of this puny age."
Alwyn gave an upward glance at the speaker's regal
form a glance of genuine admiration.
"As far as that goes, " he said, with a frank laugh, "I'm
quite willing to believe you and your companions are
kings in disguise; you all have that appearance! But
regarding this book," and again he turned over the sil-
ver-bound relic, "if its authenticity can be proved as
you say, why, the British Museum would give, ah let
me see it would give "
"Nothing!" declared Heliobas quietly, "believe me,
nothing. The British Government would no doubt ac-
cept it as a gift, just as it would with equal alacrit)^ ac-
cept the veritable signature of Homer, which we also
possess in another retreat of ours on the Isle of Lemnos.
But our treasures are neither for giving nor selling, and
* Vidt a Esdras riv. 44-48,
"NOURHALMA" AND THE ORIGINAL ESDRAS 6r
with respect to this original 'Esdras,' it will certainly
never pass out of our hands. "
"And what of the other missing sixty-nine books?
asked Alwyn.
"They may possibly be somewhere in the world; two
of them, I know, were buried in the coffin of one of the
last princes of Chaldea; perhaps they will be unearthed
some day. There is also a rumor to the effect thatEsdras
engraved his 'Last Prophecy' on a small oval tablet of
pure jasper, which he himself secreted, no one knows
where. But to come to the point of immediate issue,
shall I find out and translate for you the allusions to
the 'Field of Ardath' contained in this present volume?"
"Do," said Alwyn eagerly, at once returning the book
to Heliobas, who, seating himself at the table, began
carefully looking over its ivory pages. "1 am all impa-
tience! Even without the vision I have had, I should
still feel a desire to see this mysterious field for its own
sake; it must have some very strange associations to be
worth specifying in such a particular manner."
Heliobas answered nothing he was entirely occupied
in examining the small, closely engraved characters in
which the ancient record was written; the crimson after-
glow of the now descended sun flared through the win
dow and sent a straight rosy ray on his bent head and
white robes, lighting to a more lustrous brilliancy the
golden cross and jeweled star on his breast, and flashing
round the silver clasps of the time-honored relic before
him. Presently he looked up.
"Here we have it!" and he placed his finger on one es-
pecial passage. "It reads as follows:
" 'And the Angel bade me enter a waste field, anci the field was barren
and dry save of herbs, and the name of the field was ARDATH.
" 'And I wandered therein through the hours of the long night, and the
silver eyes of the field did open before me and I saw signs and wonders:
" 'And I heard a voice crying aloud, Esdras, Esdras
" 'And I arose and stood on my feet and listened and refrained not till
I heard the voice again,
" 'Which said unto me, Behold the field thou thoughtest barren, how
great a glory hath the moon unveiled!
" 'And I beheld and was sore amazed: for I was no longer myself but
another.
" 'And the sword of death was in that other's soul, and yet that other
was but myself in pain;
" 'And I knew not those things that were once familiar, and my heart
failed within me for very fear.
62 "ARDATH"
'"And the voice cried aloud again, saying: Hide thee from the perils
of the past and the perils of the future, for a great and terrible thing is
come upon thee, against which thy strength is as a reed in the wind and
thy thoughts as flying sand,
' ' '*And, lo, I lay as one that had been dead, and mine understanding was
taken from me. And he (the Angel) took me by the right hand and com-
forted me and set me upon my feet and said unto me:
" 'What aileth thee? and why art thou so disquieted? and why is thine
understanding troubled and the thoughts of thine heart?
" 'And I said Because thou hast forsaken me and yet I did according
to thy words, and I went into the field, and lo! I have seen and yet see
that I am not able to express.' "
Here Heliobas paused, having read the last sentence
with peculiarly impressive emphasis.
"That is all," he said. "I see no more allusions to
the name of 'Ardath.' The last three verses are the
same as those in the accepted Apocrypha."
CHAPTER VII.
AN UNDESIRED BLESSING.
ALWYN had listened with an absorbed yet somewhat
mystified air of attention.
"The venerable Esdras was certainly a poet in his own
way!" he remarked lightly. "There is something very
fascinating about the rhythm of his lines, though I con-
fess I don't grasp their meaning. StilL I should like
to have them all the same; will you let me write them
out just as you have translated them?"
Willingly assenting to this, Heliobas read the ex-
tract over again, Alwyn taking down the words from his
dictation.
"Perhaps," he then added musingly, "perhaps it would
Be as well to copy a few passages from the Apocrypha
also."
Whereupon the Bible was brought into requisition,
and the desired quotations made, consisting of verses
xxiv. to xxvi.f in the ninth chapter of the Second Book
of Esdras, and verses xxv. and xxvi. in the tenth chap-
*See 2 Esdras x. 30-32.
\ T'\* reader is requested to refer to the parts of Esdras here indicated.
AN UNDESIRED BLESSING 6$
ter of the same. This done, Heliobas closed and clasped
the original text of the prophet's work and returned it
to its casket; then addressing his guest in a kindly yet
serious tone, he said : "You are quite resolved to under-
take this journey, Mr. AJwyn?"
Alwyn looked dreamily out of the window at the flame
of the sunset-hues reflected from the glowing sky on the
white summit of the mountains.
"Yes I I think so!" The answer had a touch of in-
decision in it.
"In that case," resumed Heliobas, "I have prepared a
letter of introduction for you to one of our order known
as Elze'ar of Melyana; he is a recluse, and his hermit-
age is situated close to the Babylonian ruins. You will
find rest and shelter there after the fatigues of travel.
I have also traced out a map of the district, and the
exact position of the field you seek; here it is," and he
laid a square piece of parchment on the table, "you can
easily perceive at a glance how the land lies. There
are a few directions written at the back, so I think you
will have no difficulty. This is the letter to Elzear, "
here he held out a folded paper "will you take it now?'
Alwyn received it with a dubious smile, and eyed the
donor as if he rather suspected the sincerity of his in-
tentions.
"Thanks very much," he murmured listlessly. "You
are exceedingly good to make it all such plain sailing
for me; and yet, to be quite frank with you, I can't help
thinking I am going on a fool's errand."
"If that is your opinion, why go at all?" queried Heli-
obas, with a slight disdain in his accents. "Return to
England instead forget the name of 'Ardath, ' and for-
get also the one who bade you meet her there, and who
has waited for you 'these many thousand days!'"
Alwyn started as if he had been stung.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "if I could be certain of seeing
her again if good God! the idea seems absurd if
that flower-crowned wonder of my dream should actually
fulfill her promise and keep her tryst "
"Well!" demanded Heliobas. "If so, what then?"
"Why, then I will believe in anything!" he cried. "No
miracle will seem miraculous no impossibility impossi-
ble!"
64 "ARDATH 1 '
Heliobas sighed, and regarded him thoughtfully.
"You think you will believe!" he said somewhat sadly;
"but doubts such as yours are not easily dispelled. An-
gels have ere now descended to men, and men have
neither received nor recognized them. Angels walk by
our side through crowded cities and lonely woodlands,
they watch us when we sleep, they hear us when we pray,
and yet the human eye sees nothing save the material
objects within reach of its vision and is not very sure
of those; while it can no more discern the spiritual pres-
ences than it can without a microscope discern the lovely
living creatures contained in a drop of dew or a ray of
sunshine. Our earthly sight is very limited it can
neither perceive the infinitely little nor the infinitely
great. And it is possible, nay, it is most probable, that
even as Peter of old denied his Divine Master, so you,
if brought face to face with the angel of your last night's
experience, would deny and endeavor to disprove her
identity. "
"Never!" declared Alwyn, with a passionate gesture.
"I should know her among a thousand!"
For one instant Heliobas bent upon him a sudden,
searching, almost pitiful glance; then withdrawing his
gaze, he said gently :
"Well, well! let us hope for the best; God's ways are
inscrutable; and you tell me that now now after your
strange so-called 'vision' you believe in God?"
"I did say so, certainly," and Alwyn's face flushed a
little, "but "
"Ah! you hesitate! there is a 'but' in the case!" and
Heliobas turned upon him with a grand reproach in his
brilliant eyes. "Already stepping backward on the road!
Already rushing once again into the darkness " He
paused ; then laying one hand on the young man's shoul-
der, continued in mild yet impressive accents: "My
friend, remember that the doubter and opposer of God
is also the doubter and opposer of his own well-being.
Let this unnatural and useless combat of human reason
against divine instinct cease within you you, who as a
poet are bound to equalize your nature, that it may the
more harmoniously fulfill its high commission. You know
what one of your modern writers says of life? that it is
a 'Dream ID which we clutch at shadows as though they
AN UNDES1RF.D BLESSING 65
were substances and sleep deepest when fancying our-
selves most awake.'* Believe me, you have slept long
enough; it is time you awoke to the full realization oi
you destinies."
Alvvyn heard in silence, feeling inwardly rebuked and
h?J.f ashamed ; the earnestly spoken words moved him
more than he cared to show ; his head drooped he made
no reply. After all, he thought, he had really no more
substantial foundation for his unbelief than others had
for their faith. With all his studies in the modern
schools of science, he was not a whit more advanced in
learning than Democritus of old Democritus who based
his system of morals on the severest mathematical lines,
taking as his starting-point a vacuum and atoms, and
who, after stretching his intellect on a constant rack of
searching inquiry for years, came at last to the unhappy
conclusion that man is absolutely incapable of positive
knowledge, and that even if truth is in his possession
he can never be certain of it. Was he, Theos Alwyn,
wiser than Democritus? or was this stately Chaldean
monk, with the clear, pathetic eyes and tender smile, and
the symbol of Christ on his breast, wiser than both
wiser in the wisdom of eternal things than any of the
subtle- minded ancient Greek philosophers or modern
imitators of their theories? Was there, could there be
something not yet altogether understood or fathomed in
the Christian creed? As this idea occurred to him he
looked up and met his companion's calm gaze fixed upon
him with a watchful gentleness and patience.
"Are you reading my thoughts, Heliobas?" he asked
with a forced laugh. "I assure you they are not worth
the trouble."
Heliobas smiled, but made no answer. Just then one
of the monks entered the room with a large lighted lamp,
which he set on the table, and the conversation, thus in-
terrupted, was not again resumed.
The evening shadows were now closing in rapidly, and
already above the furthest visible snow-peak the first risen
star sparkled faintly in the darkening sky. Soon the
vesper bell began ringing as it had rung on the previous
night when Alwyn, newly arrived, had sat alone in the
refectory, listlessly wondering what manner of men he
* Carlyle's Sartor Kesarttu
66 "ABDATH"
had come among, and what would be the final result of
his adventure into the wilds of Caucasus. His feelings
had certainly undergone some change since then, inas-
much as he was no longer disposed to ridicule or con-
demn religious sentiment, though he was nearly as far
from actually believing in religion itself as ever. The
attitude of his mind was still distinctly skeptical, the
immutable pride of what he considered his own firmly
rooted convictions was only very slightly shaken, and he
DOW even viewed the prospect of his journey to the
"Field of Ardath" as a mere fantastic whim a caprice of
his own fancy which he chose to gratify just for the sake
of curiosity.
But notwithstanding the stubbornness of the material-
istic principles with which he had become imbued, his
higher instincts were, unconsciously to himself, begin-
ning to be roused ; his memory involuntarily wandered
back to the sweet, fresh days of his earliest manhood be-
fore the poison of doubt had filtered through his soulj his
character, naturally of the lofty, imaginative and ardent
cast, reasserted its native force over the blighting blow
of blank atheism which had for a time paralyzed its
efforts; and as he unwittingly yielded more and more to
the mild persuasion of these genial influences, so the
former Timon-like bitterness of his humor gradually
softened. There was no trace in him now of the da/k,
ironic and reckless scorn that, before his recent visionary
experience, had distinguished his whole manner and
bearing ; the smile came more readily to his lips, and
he seemed content for the present to display the sunny
side of his nature a nature impassioned, frank, gener-
ous and noble, in spite of the taint of overweening, am-
bitious egotism which somewhat warped its true quality
and narrowed the range of its sympathies. In his then
frame of mind, a curious, vague sense of half pleasurable
penitence was upon him; delicate, undefined, almost
devotional suggestions stirred his thoughts with the re-
freshment that a cool wind brings to parched and droop-
ing flowers so that when Heliobas, taking up the sil-
ver "Esdras" reliquary and preparing to leave the apart-
ment in response to the vesper summons, said gently,
"Will you attend our service, Mr. Alwyn?" he assented
at once with a pleased alacrity which somewhat aston-
AN UNDESIRED BLESSING 67
ished himself as he remembered how on the previous
evening he had despised and inwardly resented all forms
of religious observance.
However, he did not stop to consider the reason of
his altered mood; he followed the monks into chapel
with an air of manly grace and quiet reverence that be-
came him much better than the offensive and defensive
demeanor he had erewhile chosen to assume in the same
prayer hallowed place. He listened to the impressive
ceremonial from beginning to end without the least ta
tigue or impatience, and though when the brethren knelt
he could not humble himself so far as to kneel also, he
still made a slight concession to appearances by sitting
down and keeping his head in a bent posture, "out of
respect for the good intentions of these worthy men, "
as he told himself to silence the inner conflict of his own
opposing and contradictory sensations. Th^ service cpn-
eluded, he waited as before to see the monks pass out,
and was smitten with a sudden surprise, compunction
and regret, when Heliobas, who walked last as usual,
paused where he stood, and confronted him, saying:
"I will bid you farewell here, my friend! I have many
things to do this evening, and it is best I should see you
no more before your departure."
"Why?" asked Alwyn, astonished. "I had hoped for
another conversation with you."
"To what purpose?" inquired Heliobas mildly. "That
I should assert and you deny facts that God Himself
will prove in His own way and at His own appointed
time? Nay, we should do no good by further argu-
ments."
"But," stammered Alwyn hastily, flushing hotly as he
spoke, "you give me no chance to thank you, to express
my gratitude "
"Gratitude?" questioned Heliobas almost mournfully,
with a tinge of reproach in his soft, mellow voice. "Are
you grateful for being, as you think, deluded by a trance
cheated, as it were, into a sort of semi-belief in the
life to come by means of mesmerism? Your first request
to me, I know, was that you might be deceived by my
influence of imaginary happiness, and now you fancy
your last night's experience was merely the result of
that eminently foolish desire! You are wrong, and as
68 "ARDATH"
matters stand, no thanks are needed. If I had indeed
mesmerized or hypnotized you, I might perhaps have
deserved some reward for the exertion ot my purely pro-
fessional skill, but, as I have told you already, I have
done absolutely nothing. Your fate is, as it has always
been, in your own hands. You sought me of your own
accord, you used me as an instrument an unwilling in-
strument, remember whereby to break open the prison
doors of your chafed and fretting spirit, and the end of
it all is that you depart from hence to-morrow of your
own free will and choice, to fufill the appointed tryst
made with you, as you believe, by a phantom in a vis-
ion. In brief " here he spoke more slowly and with
marked emphasis "you go to the 'Field of Ardath' to
solve a puzzling problem namely, as to whether what
we call life is not a dream and whether a dream may
net perchance be proved reality ! In this enterprise of
yours I have no share, nor will I say more than this:
God speed you on your errand!"
He held out his hand. Alwyn grasped it, looking
earnestly meanwhile at the fine intellectual face, the
cleai% pathetic eyes, the firm yet sensitive mouth, on
which there just then rested a serious yet kindly smile.
"What a strange man you are, Heliobas!" he said
impulsively; "I wish I knew more about you!"
Heliobas gave him a friendly glance.
"Wish rather that you knew more about yourself," he
answered simply. "Fathom your own mystery of being;
you shall find none deeper, greater, or more difficult of
comprehension. "
Alwyn still held his hand, reluctant to let it go. Fi-
nally releasing it with a slight sigh, he said:
"Well, at any rate, though we part now it will not be
for long. We must meet again!"
"Why, if we must, we shall!" rejoined Heliobas cheer-
ily. "Must cannot be prevented. In the meantime fare-
well!"
"Farewell!" and as this word was spoken, their eyes
met. Instinctively and on a sudden impulse Alwyn
Dowed his head in the lowest and most reverential salu-
tation he had perhaps ever made to any creature of mor-
tnl mold, and as he did so Heliobas paused in the act
of turning away.
AN U DESIRED BLESSING 69
"Do you care for a blessing, gentle skeptic?" he asked
in a soft tone that thrilled tenderly through the silence
of the dimly lit chapel; then, receiving no reply, he laid
one hand gently on the young man's dark, clustering
curls, and with the other slowly traced the sign of the
cross upon the smooth, broad fairness of his forehead.
"Take it, my son the only blessing I can give thee the
blessing of the Cross of .Christ, which in spite of thy
desertion claims thee, redeems thee, and will yet possess
thee for its own!"
And before Alwyn could recover from his astonishment
sufficiently to interrupt and repudiate this, to him, un-
desired form of benediction, Heliobas had gone, and he
was left alone. Lifting his head, he stared out into the
further corridor, down which he just perceived a distant
glimmer of vanishing white robes, and for a moment he
was filled with speechless indignation. It seemed to him
that the sign thus traced on his brow must be actually
visible, like a red brand burnt into his flesh, and all his
old and violent prejudices against Christianity rushed
back upon him with the resentful speed of once-baffled
foes returning anew to storm a citadel. Almost as rap-
idly, however, his anger cooled; he remembered that in
his vision of the previous night the light that had guided
him through the long, shadowy vista had always pre-
ceded him in the form of a cross, and in a softer mood
he glanced at the ruby star shining steadily above the
otherwise darkened altar. Involuntarily the words "We
have seen His star in the east and are come to worship
Him," occurred to his memory, but he dismissed them
as instantly as they suggested themselves, and finding
his own thoughts growing perplexing and troublesome,
he hastily left the chapel.
Joining some of the monks who were gathered in a
picturesque group round the fire in the refectory, he sat
chatting with them for about half an hour or so, hoping
to elicit from then in the course of conversation some
particulars concerning the daily life, character and pro-
fessing aims of their superior, but in this attempt he
failed. They spoke of Heliobas as believing men may
speak of saints, with hushed reverence and admiring
tenderness, but on any point connected with his faith or
the spiritual nature of his theories they held their peace,
TO
f
evidently deeming the subject too sacred for discussion.
Baffled in all his inquiries, Alwyn at last said good-night,
and retired to rest in the small sleeping apartment pre-
pared for his accommodation, where he enjoyed a sound,
refreshing and dreamless slumber.
The next morning he was up at daybreak, and long
before the sun had risen above the highest peak of Cau-
casus he had departed from the Lars Monastery, leaving
a handsome donation in the poor-box toward the various
charitable works in which the brethren were engaged,
such as the rescue of travelers lost in the snow, or the
burial of the many victims murdered on or near the Pass
of Dariel by the bands of fierce mountain robbers and
assassins that at certain seasons infest that solitary re-
gion. Making the best of his way to the fortress of
Passanaur, he there joined a party of adventurous Rus-
sian climbers who had just successfully accomplished
the ascent of Mount Kazbek ; and in their company pro-
ceeded through the rugged Aragua valley to Tiflis, which
he reached that same evening. From this dark and dis-
mal-looking town, shadowed on all sides by barren and
cavernous hills, he dispatched the manuscript of his
mysteriously composed poem, together with the letter
concerning it, to his friend Villiers in England, and then,
yielding to a burning sense of impatience within him-
self impatience that would brook no delay he set out
resolutely and at once on his long pilgrimage to the
"land of sand and ruin and gold," the land of terrific
prophecy and stern fulfillment, the land of mighty and
mournful memories, where the slow river Euphrates
clasps in its dusky yellow ring the ashes of great king-
doms fallen to rise no more.
CHAPTER VIII.
BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON.
IT was no light or easy journey he had thus rashly
undertaken on the faith of a dream for dream he still
believed it to be. Many weary days and nights were
consumed in the comfortless tedmm of travel; and
BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON 7*
though he constantly told himself what unheard-of fplJy
it was to pursue an illusive chimera of his own imagina-
tiona mere phantasm which had somehow or other
taken posession of his brain at a time when that brain
must have been acted upon (so he continued to think)
by strong mesmeric or magnetic influence he went on
his way all the same with a sort of dogged obstinacy
which no fatigue could daunt or lessen. He never lay
down to rest without the faint hope of seeing once again,
if only in sleep, the radiant being whose haunting words
had sent him on this quest of "Ardath," but herein his
expectations were not realized. No more flower-crowned
angels floated before him; no sweet whisper of love,
encouragement, or promise came mysteriously on his
ears in the midnight silences; his slumbers were always
profound and placid as those of a child, and utterly
dreamless.
One consolation he had, however he could write.
Not a day passed without his finding some new inspira-
tionsome fresh quaint, and lovely thought, that flowed
of itself into most perfect and rhythmical utterance; glo-
rious lines of verse, glowing with fervor and beauty,
seemed to fall from his pencil without any effort on his
part ; and if he had had reason in former times to doubt
the strength of his poetical faculty, it was now very
certain he could do so no longer. His mind was as a
fine harp newly strung, attuned, and quivering with the
consciousness of the music pent up within it, and as he
remembered the masterpiece of poesy he had written in
his seeming trance, the manuscript of which would soon
be in the hands of the London publishers, his heart
swelled with a growing and irrepressible sense of pride.
For he knew and felt, with an undefinable yet positive
certainty, that however much the public or the critic
might gainsay him, his fame as a poet of the very high-
est order would ere long be asserted and assured. A deep
tranquility was in his soul a tranquility that seemed
to increase the further he went onward; the restless
weariness that had once possessed him was past, and a
vaguely sweet content pervaded his being, like the odor
of "early roses pervading warm air. He felt, he hoped,
he loved, and yet his feelings, hopes and longings turned
to something altogether undeclared and indefinite, as
;a "ARDATH"
softly dim and distant as the first faint white cloud-sig
nal wafted from the moon in heaven, when, on the point
of rising, she makes her queenly purpose known to her
waiting star-attendants.
Practically considered, his journey was tedious and
for the most part dull and uninteresting. In these Satan-
like days of "going to and fro in the earth and walking
up and down in it," traveling has lost much of its old
romantic charm; the idea of traversing long distances
no more fills the expectant adventurer with a pleasurable
sense of uncertainty and mystery; he knows exactly what
to anticipate; it is all laid out for him plainly on the
level lines of the commonplace, and nothing is left to
his imagination. The continent of Europe has been ran-
sacked from end to end by tourists who have turned it
into a sort of exhausted pleasure-garden, whereof the
various entertainments are too familiarly known to arouse
any fresh curiosity; the East is nearly in the same con-
dition; hordes of British and American sight-seers scam-
per over the empire-strewn soil of Persia and Syria with
the unconcerned indifference of beings to whom not only
a portion of the world's territory, but a whole world itself,
belongs; and soon there will not be an inch of ground
left on the narrow extent of our poor planet that has not
been trodden by the hasty, scrambling, irreverent foot-
steps of some one or other of the ever prolific, all-spread-
ing English speaking race.
On his way Alwyn met many of his countrymen, trav-
elers who, like himself, had visited the Caucasus and
Armenia, and were now en route some for Damascus,
some for Jerusalem and the Holy Land; others again for
Cairo and Alexandria, to depart from thence homeward
by the usual Mediterranean line ; but among these birds-
of-passage acquaintance he chanced upon none who were
going to the ruins of Babylon. He was glad of this,
for the peculiar nature of his enterprise rendered a com-
panion altogether undesirable; and though on one occa-
sion he encountered a gentleman novelist with a note-
book, who was exceedingly anxious to fraternize with
him and discover whither he was bound, he succeeded
in shaking off this would-be incubus at Mosul, by tak-
ing him to a wonderful old library in that city where
there were a number of French translations of Turkish
BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON 73
Syriac romances. Here the gentleman-novelist
straightway ascended to the seventh heaven of piagiar-
ism,and began to copy energetically whole scenes and des-
criptive passages from dead-and-gone authors, unknown
to English critics, for the purpose of inserting them
hereafter into his own "original" work of fiction; and in
his congenial occupation he forgot all about the "dark,
handsome man, with the wide brows of a Marc Antony
and the lips of a Catullus," as he had already described
Alwyn in the note-book before mentioned. While in
Mosul, Alwyn picked up a curiosity in the way of liter-
ature, a small quaint volume entitled "The Final Philos-
ophy of Algazzali the Arabian." It was printed in two
languages, the original Arabic on one page and, facing
it, the translation, in very old French. The author, born
A. D. 1058, described himself as "a poor student striv-
ing to discern the truth of things," and his work was as
serious, incisive, patiently exhaustive inquiry into the
workings of nature, the capabilities of human intelli-
gence, and the deceptive results of human reason. Read-
ing it, Alwyn was astonished to find that nearly all the
ethical propositions offered for the world's consideration
to-day by the most learned and cultured minds, had been
already advanced and thoroughly discussed by this same
Algazzali. One passage in particular arrested his atten-
tion as being singulary applicable to his own immediate
condition ; it ran as follows :
'I began to examine the objects of sensation and
speculation, to see if they could possibly admit of doubt.
Then doubts crowded upon me in such numbers that
my incertitude became complete. Whence results the
confidence I have in sensible things? The strongest of
all our senses is sight, yet if we look at the stars they
seem to be as small as money-pieces; but mathematical
proofs convince us that they are larger than the earth.
These and other things are judged by the senses, but
rejected by reason as false. I abandoned the senses, there-
fore, having seen my confidence in their absolute truth
shaken. Perhaps, said I, there is no assurance but in
the notions of reason that is to say, first principles, as
that ten is more than three? Upon this the senses re-
plied: What assurance have you that your confidence in
reason is not of the same nature as your confidence in
74 "ARDATH"
us? When you relied on us, reason stepped in and
gave us the lie; had not reason been there you would
have continued to rely on us. Well, may there not exist
some other judge superior to reason who, if he ap-
peared, would refute the judgments of reason in the same
way that reason refuted us? The non-appearance of such
a judge is no proof of his non-existence! I strove to
answer this objection, and my difficulties increased when
I came to reflect on sleep. I said to myself : During
sleep you give to visions a reality and consistence, and
on awakening you are made aware that they were nothing
but visions. What assurance have you that all you feel
and know does actually exist? It is all true as respects
your condition at the moment, but it is nevertheless pos-
sible that another condition should present itself which
should be to your awakened state that which your awak-
ened state is now to your sleep, so that as respects this
higher condition your waking is but sleep. "
Over and over again Alwyn read these words and pon-
dered on the deep and difficult problems they suggested,
and he was touched by an odd sense of shamed com-
punction, when, at the close of the book, he came upon
Algazzali's confession of utter vanquishment and hu-
mility thus simply recorded:
"I examined my actions, and found the best were those
relating to instruction and education, and even there I
saw myself given up to unimportant sciences all useless
in another world. Reflecting on the aim of my teaching,
I found it was not pure in the sight of the Lord. I saw
that all my efforts were directed toward the acquisition
of glory to myself. Having therefore distributed my
wealth, I left Bagdad and retired into Syria, where I
remained in solitary struggle with my soul, combating
my passion, and exercising myself in the purifica-
tion of my heart and in preparation for the other
world. '*
This ancient philosophical treatise, together with the
mystical passage from the original text of Esdras and
the selected verses from the Apocrypha, formed alJ
Alwyn's stock of reading for the rest of his journey; the
rhapsodical lines of the prophet he knew by heart as one
knows a favorite poem, and he often caught himself un..
consciously repeating the strange words:
Y THE WATERS OF BABYLON 75
"Behold the field thou thoughtest barren, how great a glory hath the
moon unveiled!
"And I beheld and was sore amazed: for I was no longer myself but
another.
' 'And the s%vord of death was in that other's soul, and yet that other
was but myself in pain;
"And I knew not those things that were once familiar, and my heart
failed within me for very fear."
What did they mean? he wondered, or had they any
meaning at all beyond the faint, far-off suggestions of
thought, that may occasionally and with difficulty be dis-
cerned through obscure and reckless ecstasies of Ian-
guage which, "full of sound and fury, signify nothing?"
Was there, could there be anything mysterious or sacred
in this "waste field" anciently known as "Ardath?"
These questions flitted hazily from time to time through
his brain, but he made no attempt to answer them either
by refutation or reason; indeed, sober, matter of-fact
reason, he was well aware, played no part in his present
undertaking.
It was late ia the afternoon of a sultry, parching day
when he at last arrived at Hillah. This dull little town,
built at the beginning of the twelfth century out of the
then plentifully scattered fragments of Babylon, has
nothing to offer to the modern traveler save various an-
noyances in the shape of excessive heat, dust or rather
fine blown sand dirt, flies, bad food and general dis-
comfort; and finding the aspect of the place not only
untempting but positively depressing, Alwyn left his
surplus luggage at a small and unpretentious hostelry
kept by a Frenchman who catered specially for archaeo-
logical tourists and explorers, and, after an hour's rest,
set out alone and on foot for the "eastern quarter" of
the ruins, namely, those which are considered by inves-
tigators to begin about two miles above Hillah. A little
beyond them and close to the river-bank, according to
the directions he had received, dwelt the religious recluse
for whom he brought the letter of introduction from
Heliobas a letter bearing on its cover a superscription
in Latin, which, translated, ran thus: "To the venerable
and much esteemed Elze"ar of Melyana, at the Hermitage,
near Hillah. In faith, peace and good-will Greeting."
Anxious to reach Elzear's abode before nightfall, he
walked on as briskly as the heat and heaviness of the
sandy soil would allow, keeping to the indistinctly traced
path that crossed and recrossed at intervals the various
ridges of earth strewn with pulverized fragments of brick,
bitumen and potter)', which are now the sole remains
of stately buildings once famous in Babylon.
A low, red sun was sinking slowly on the edge of the
horizon, when, pausing to look about him, he perceived
in the near distance the dark outline of the great mound
known as Birs-Nimroud, and realized with a sort oi
shock that he was actually surrounded on all sides I)
the crumbled and almost indistinguishable ruins of the
formerly superb, all-dominant Assyrian city that had
been "as a golden cup in the Lord's hand," and was now
no more in very truth than a "broken and an empty
vessel." For the words, "And Babylon shall become
heaps," have certainly been verified with startling exact
itude; "heaps" indeed it has become nothing but heaps;
heaps of dull earth, with here and there a few faded green
tufts of wild tamarisk, which, while faintly relieving the
blankness of the ground, at the same time intensify its
monotonous dreariness. Alwyn, beholding the mournful
desolation of the scene, felt a strong sense of disappoint-
ment; he had expected something different; his imagi-
nation had pictured these historical ruins as being oi
larger extent and more imposing character. His eyes
rested rather wearily on the slow, dull gleam of the Eu-
phrates, as it wound past the deserted spaces where "the
mighty city, the astonishment of nations" had once
stood, and, poet though he was to the very core of his
nature, he could see nothing poetical in these spectral
mounds and stone heaps, save in the significant remem-
brance they offered of the old Scriptural prophecy: "Baby
Ion is fallen is fallen! Her princes, her wise men, her
captains, her rulers, and her mighty men shall sleep a
perpetual sleep and not wake, saith the King who is the
Lord of Hosts." And truly it seemed as if the curse
which had blighted the city's by-gone splendor had
doomed even its ruins to appear contemptible.
Just then the glow of the disappearing sun touched
the upper edge of Birs-Nimroud, giving it for one instant
a weird effect, as though the ghost of some Babylonian
watchman were waving a lit torch from its summit; but
the lurid glare soon faded, and a dead gray twilight &et-
*
1Y THE WATERS OF BABYLOM 77
tied solemnly down over the melancholy landscape. With
a sudden feeling of dejection and lassitude upon him,
Alwyn, heaving a deep sigh, went onward, and soon per-
ceived, lying a little to the north of the river, a small
roughly erected tenement with a wooden cross on its
roof. Rightly concluding that this must be Elz6ar of
Melyana's hermitage, he quickly made his way thither
and knocked at the door.
It was opened to him at once by a white-haired, pic-
turesque old man, who received him with a mute sign
of welcome, and who at the same time laid one hand
lightly but expressively on his own lips to signify that
he was dumb. This was Elze"ar himself. He was attired
in the same sort of flowing garb as that worn by the monks
of Dariel; and with his tall, spare figure, long silvery
beard, and deep-sunken yet still brilliant dark eyes, he
might have served as a perfect model for one of the in-
spired prophets of by-gone, ancient days. Though Nature
had deprived him of speech, his serene countenance spoke
eloquently in his favor, its mild, benevolent expression
betokening that inward peace of the heart which so often
renders old age more beautiful than youth. He perused
with careful slowness the letter Alwyn presented to him,
and then, inclining his head gravely, he made a courte-
ous and comprehensive gesture, to intimate that himself
and all that his house contained were at the service of
the new-comer. He proceeded to testify the sincerity
of his assurance at once by setting a plentiful supply of
food and wine before his guest, waiting upon him, more-
over, while he ate and drank, with a respectful humility
which somewhat embarrassed Alwyn, who wished to
spare him the trouble of such attendance and told him
so many times with much earnestness. But all to no
purpose; Elze"ar only smiled gently and continued to per-
form the duties of hospitality in his own way; it was evi-
dently no use interfering with him. Later on he showed
his visitor a small cell-like apartment containing a neat
bed, together with a table, a chair, and a large crucifix,
which latter object was suspended against the wall, and
indicating by eloquent signs that here the weariest trav-
eler might find good repose, he made a low salutation and
leparted altogether for the night.
What a still plaoe, the "Hermitage" was, thought Alwyn,
78
as soon as Elzar's retreating steps had died away into
silence. There was not a sound to be heard anywhere,
not even the faint rustle of leaves stirred by the wind.
And what a haunting, grave, wistfully tender expres-
sion filled the face of that sculptured image on the cross,
which, in intimate companionship with himself, seemed
to possess the little room! He could not bear the
down-drooping, appealing, penetrating look in those
heavenly-kind yet piteous eyes; turning abruptly away,
he opened the narrow window and folding his arms on
the sill, surveyed the scene before him. The full mcon
was rising slowly; round and large, she hung like a yel-
low shield on the dark, dense wall of the sky. The ruins
of Babylon were plainly visible, the river shone like a
golden ribbon, the outline of Birs-Nimroud was faintly
rimmed with light, and had little streaks of amber ra-
diance wandering softly up and down its shadowy slopes.
"And I went into the field called 'Ardath,' and there
I sat among the flowers!" mused Alwyn half aloud, his
dreamy gaze fixed on the gradually brightening heavens.
"Why not go there at once now?"
CHAPTER IX.
THE FIELD OF FLOWERS.
THIS idea had no sooner entered his mind than he pre
pared to act upon it, though only a short while previously,
feeling thoroughly overcome by fatigue, he had resolved
to wait till next day before setting out for the chief goal
of his long pilgrimage. But now, strangely enough, all
sense of weariness had suddenly left him ; a keen impa-
tience burned in his veins, and a compelling influence
stronger than himself seemed to lure him on to the in-
stant fulfillment of his purpose. The more he thought
about it the more restless he became, and the more
eagerly desirous to prove, with the least possible delay,
the truth or the falsity of his mystic vision at Dariel.
By the light of the small lamp left on the table he con-
sulted his map the map Heliobas had traced- and also
THE FIELD OF FLOWERS 79
the written directions that accompanied it, though these
he had read so often over and over again that he knew
them by heart. They were simply and concisely worded
thus: "On the east bank of the Euphrates, nearly oppo-
site the 'Hermitage,' there is the sunken fragment of a
bronze gate, formerly belonging to the palace of the
Babylonian kings. Three miles and a half to the south-
west of this fragment and in a direct line with it, straight
across the country, will be found a fallen pillar of red
granite half buried in the earth. The square tract of
land extending beyond this broken column is the field
known to the prophet Esdras as the Field of Ardath."
He was on the bank of the Euphrates already, and a walk
of three miles and a half could surely be accomplished
in an hour or very little over that time. Hesitating no
longer, he made his way out of the house, deciding that
if he met Elze"ar he would say he was going for a moon-
light stroll before retiring to rest. That venerable re-
cluse, however, was nowhere to be seen, and as the door
of the "Hermitage" was only fastened with a light latch
he had no difficulty in effecting a noiseless'exit. Once
in the open air he stopped, startled by the sound of full,
fresh youthful voices singing in cle^r and harmonious
unison, "Kyrie eleison! Chris te eleison! Kyrie eleison.''
He listened, looking everywhere about him in utter
amazement. There was no habitation in sight save
Elzear's, and the chorus certainly did not proceed from
thence, but rather seemed to rise upward through the
earth, floating in released, sweet echoes to and fro upon
the hushed air. "Kyrie eleison! Christe eleison!" how it
swayed about him like, close chime of bells!
He stood motionless, perplexed, and wondering; was
there a subterranean grotto near at hand where devotional
chants were sung? or and a slight tremor ran through
him at the thought was there something supernatural
in the music, notwithstanding its human-seeming speech
and sound? Just then it ceased; all was again silent
as before, and angry with himself for his own foolish
fancies, he set about the task of discovering the "sunken
fragmont" Heliobas had mentioned. Very soon he
found it, driven deep into the soil, and so blackened
and defaced by time that it was impossible to trace any
of the elaborate carvings th.it must have once '
OO "ARDATH* 1
it. In fact, it would not have been recognizable as the
portion of a gate at all, had it not still possessed an
enormous hinge which partly clung to it by means of
one huge, thickly rusted nail. Close beside it grew a
tree of weird and melancholy appearance; its trunk was
split asunder and one half of it was withered. The
other half, leaning mournfully on one side, bent down
its branches to the ground, trailing a wealth of long,
glossy green leaves in the dust of the ruined city. This
was the famous tree called by the natives Athela, of
which old legends say that it used to be a favorite ever-
green much cultivated and prized by the Babylonian no-
bility, who, loving its shade, spared no pains to make it
grow in their hanging gardens and spacious courts,
though its nature was altogether foreign to the so^l. And
now, with none to tend it, or care whether it flourishes
or decays, it faithfully clings to the deserted spot where
it was once so tenderly fostered, showing its sympathy
with the surrounding desolation, by growing always in
split halves, one withered and one green a broken-hearted
creature, yet loyal to the memory of past love and joy.
Alwyn stood under its dark boughs, knowing nothing of
its name or history ; every now and then a wailing whis-
per seemed to shudder through it, though there was no.
wind, and he heard the eerie lamenting sigh with art
involuntary sense of awe. The whole scene was far more-
impressive by night than by day. The great earth-
mounds of Babylon looked like giant graves enclosed in,
a glittering ring of winding waters. Again he examined'
the embedded fragment of the ancient gate, and theni
feeling quite certain of his starting point, he set his face
steadily toward the southwest; there the landscape be-
fore him lay flat and bare in the beamy luster of the
moon. The soil was sandy and heavy to the tread; more-
over, it was an excessively hot night too hot to walk
fast. He glanced at his watch; it was a few minutes
past ten o'clock. Keeping up the moderate pace the
heat enforced, it was possible he might reach the mys-
terious field about half past eleven, perhaps earlier. And
now his nerves began to quiver with strong excitement-
had he yielded to the promptings of his own feverish
impatience, he would most probably have run all the way
in spite of the sultriness of the air; but he restrained
THE FIELD OF FLOWERS 8l
this impulse, and walked leisurely on purpose, reproach
iug himsulf as he went along for the utter absurdity
of his expectations.
"Was ever madman more mad than I?" he murmured
with some self-contempt. "What logical human being
in his right mind would be guilty of such egregious
folly! But am I logical? Certainly not! Am I in my
right mind? I think I am yet I may be wrong. The
question remains, what is logic? and what is being in
one's right mind? No one can absolutely decide! Let
me see if I can review calmly my ridiculous position.
It comes to this: I insist on being mesmerized I have
a dream and I see a woman in the dream" here he
suddenly corrected himself "a woman did I say? No!
she was something far more than that! A lovely phan-
tom, a dazzling creature of my own imagination, an ex-
quisite ideal whom I will one day immortalize yes
immortalize in song!"
He raised his eyes, as he spoke> to the dusky firmament
thickly studded with stars, and just then caught sight of
a fleecy, silver-rimmed cloud passing swiftly beneath
the moon and floating downward toward earth; it was
shaped like a white-winged bird, and was here and there
tenderly streaked with pink as though it had just trav-
eled from some distant land where the sun was rising.
It was the only cloud in the sky, and it had a peculiar,
almost phenomenal effect by reason of its rapid motion,
there being not the faintest breeze stirring. Alwyn
watched it gliding down the heavens till it had entirely
disappeared, and then began his meditations anew.
"Any one even without magnetic influence being brought
to bear upon him might have visions such as mine! Take
an opium-eater, for instance, whose life is one long con-
fused vista of visions; suppose he were to accept all the
wild suggestions offered to his drugged brain, and per-
sist in following them out to some sort of definite con-
clusion, the only place for that man would be a lunatic
asylum. Even the most ordinary persons, whose minds
are never excited in any abnormal way, are subject to
very curious and inexplicable dreams, but for all that,
they are not such fools as to believe in them. True,
there is my poem, I don't know how I wrote it, yet
written it is, and complete from beginning to end; an
82 "ARDATH"
actua* tangible result of my vision, and strange enouf n
in its way, to say the least of it. But what is stranger
still, that I love the radiant phantom that I saw yes, actu-
ally love her with a love no mere woman, were she tair
as Troy's Helen, could ever arouse in me! Of course in
spite of the contrary assertions made by that remarkably
interesting Chaldean monk, Heliobas I feel I am the vic-
tim of a brain delusion; therefore, it is just as well I
should see this 'Field of Ardath' and satisfy myself that
nothing comes of it, in which case I shall be cured of
my craze."
He walked on for some time, and presently stopped a
moment to examine his map by the light of the moon.
As he did so, he became aware of the extraordinary, al-
most terrible stillness surrounding him. He had thought
the "Hermitage" silent as a closed tomb, but it was
nothing to the silence here. He felt it inclosing him
like a thick wall on all sides; he heard the regular pul-
sations of his own heart even the rushing of his own
blood but no other sound was audible. Earth and the
air seemed breathless, as though with some pent-up mys-
terious excitement; the stars were like so- many large
living eyes eagerly gazing down on the solitary human
being who thus wandered at night in the land of the
prophets of old; the moon itself appeared to stare at
him in open wonderment. He grew uncomfortably con-
scious of this speechless watchfulness of nature; he
strained his ears to listen, as it were, to the deepening
dumbness of all existing things, and to conquer the
strange sensations that were overcoming him ; he pro-
ceeded at a more rapid pace, but in two or three min-
utes came again to an abrupt halt. For there in front
of him, right across his path, lay the fallen pillar which,
according to Heliobas, marked the boundary of the field
he sought! Another glance at his map decided the posi-
tion; he had reached his journey's end at last! What
was the time? He looked it was just twenty minutes
past eleven.
A curious, unnatural calmness suddenly possessed him ;
he surveyed with a quiet, almost cold unconcern, the
prospect before him a wide, level square of land cov-
ered with tufts of coarsest grass and clumps of wild tarn-
arisk nothing more. This was the "Field of Ardatb"
FIELD OF FLOWERS 83
this bare, unlovely wilderness without so much as a tree
to grace its outline! F/om where he stood ha could view
its whole extent, and a? he. Dsiidld its complete desola-
tion he smiled a fain., iiaii- cuter smile. He thought
of the words in the ancient took of "Esdras:" "And the
angel bade me enter a wa^e field, and the field was
barren and dry save of herbs, and the name of the field
was 'Ardath.' And I wandered therein through the
hours of the long night, and the silver eyes of the field
did open before me, and therein I saw signs and won-
ders."
"Yes, the field is 'barren and dry' enough in all con-
science!" he murmured listlessly. "But as for the 'silver
eyes/ and the 'signs and wonders,' they must have ex.
isted only in the venerable prophet's imagination, just as
my flower-crowned angel-maiden exists in mine. Well
now, Theos Alwyn, " he continued, apostrophizing him-
self aloud, "are you contented? Are you quite convinced
of your folly? and do you acknowledge that a fair dream
is as much of a lie and a cheat as all the other fair-
seeming things that puzzle and torture poor human na-
ture? Return to your former condition of reasoning and
reasonable skepticism, ay, ven atheism if you will, for
the materialists are right you cannot prove a God or
the possibility of any purely spiritual life. Why thus
hanker after a phantom loveliness? Fame fame! Win
fame! That is enough for you in this world, and as for
a next world, who believes in it? and who, believing,
cares?'
Soliloquizing in this fashion, he set his foot on "Ar-
dath" itself, determining to walk across and around it
from end to end. The grass was long and dry, yet it
made no rustle beneath his tread; he seemed to be shod
with the magic shoes of silence. He walked on till he
reached about the middle of the field, where, perceiving
a broad, flat stone near him, he sat down to rest. There
was a light mist rising, a thin moonlit colored vapor
that crept 'slowly upward from the ground and remained
hovering like a wide, suddenly-spun gossamer web, some
two or three inches above it, thus giving a cool, lu-
minous, watery effect to the hot and arid soil.
"According to the Apocrypha, Esdras 'sat among the
(lowers,'" he idly murmured. "Well! perhaps there w"-te
84 "ARDATH"
flowers in those days, but it is very evident there are
none now* A more dreary, utterly desolate place than
itkis famous 'Ardath' I have never seen!"
At that moment a subtle fragrance scented the still
air a fragrance deliciously sweet, as of violets mingled
with myrtle. He inhaled the delicate odor, surprised
and confounded.
"Flowers after all!" he exclaimed. "Or maybe some
-aromatic herb " and he bent down to examine the
turf at his feet. To his amazement he perceived a thick
cluster of white blossoms, star-shaped and glossy-leaved,
with deep golden centers, where bright drops of dew
sparkled like brilliants, and from whence puffs of perfume
rose like incense swung at unseen altars! He looked at
them in doubt that was almost dread. Were they real?
were these the "silver eyes" in which Esdras had seen
"signs and wonders?" or was he hopelessly brain-sicft
with delusions, and dreaming again?
He touched them hesitatingly; they were actual living
things, with creamy petals soft as velvet; he was about t o
gather one of them, when all t once his attention was
caught and riveted by something like a faint shadow
gliding across the plain. A smothered cry escaped his
lips he sprang erect and gazed eagerly forward, half in*
hope, half in fear. What slight figure was that, pacing
slowly, serenely, and all alone in the moonlight? With-
out another instant's pause he rushed impetuously to-
ward it, heedless that as he went he trod on thousands
of those strange starry blossoms, which now with sud-
den growth covered and whitened every inch of the
ground, thus marvelously fulfilling the words spoken of
old: "Behold the field thou thoughtest barren, how great
a .glory hath the moon unveiled!"
CHAPTER X.
GOD'S MAIDEN EDRIS.
HE ran on swiftly for a few paces, then coming more
closely in view of the misty shape he pursued, he checked
himself abruptly and stood still, his heart sinking with
GOD'S MAIDED EDRIS 85
* bitter and irrepressible sense of disappointment. Here
surely was no angel wanderer from unseen spheres ! Only
a girl, clad in floating gray draperies that clung softly to
her slim figure, and trailed behind her as she moved
sedately along through the snow-white blossoms that
bent beneath her noiseless tread. Ha had no eyes for
the strange flower-transfiguration of the lately barren
land; ail his interest was centered on the slender, grace-
ful form of the mysterious maiden. She, meanwhile,
went on her way, till she reached the western boundary
of the field; there she turned, hesitated a moment, and
then came back straight toward him. He watched her
approach as though she were some invincible fate, and
a tremor shook his limbs as she drew nearer still nearer !
He could see her distinctly now, all but her face; that
was in shadow, for her head was bent and her eyes were
downcast. Her long, fair hair flowed in a loose, rippling
mass over her shoulders; she wore a wreath of the "Ar-
dath" flowers, and carried a cluster of them clasped be-
tween her small, daintily shaped hsnds. A few steps
more, and she was close beside him ; she stopped as if in
expectation of some word or sign, but he stood mute and
motionless, not daring to speak or stir. Then, without
rusing her eyes, she passed passed like a flitting va-
por and he remained as though rooted to the spot, in
a sort of vague, dumb bewilderment! His stupefaction
Mas brief, however; rousing himself to a swift resolu-
tion, he hastened after her.
"Stay! stay!" he cried aloud.
Obedient to his call, she paused, but did not turn.
He came up with her; he caught at her robe, soft to
the touch as silken gauze, and overwhelmed by a sud-
den emotion of awe and reverence, he sank on his knees.
"Who and what are you?" he murmured in trembling
tones. "Tell me! If you are mortal maid I will not
harm you, I swear! See! I am only a poor crazed fool
that loves a dream that stakes his life upon a chance
of heaven; pity me as you are gentle! but do not fear
me only speak!"
No answer came. He looked up, and now in the rich
radiance of the moon beheld her face; how like, and
yet how altogether unlike it was to the face of the an-
gel in his vision! For that ethereal being had seemed
86 "ARDATH"
oazzingly, supremely beautiful beyond all mortal power
of description, whereas this girl was simply fair, small,
and delicate, with something wistful and pathetic in the
lines of her sweet mouth, and shadows as of remembered
sorrows slumbering in the depths of her serene,dove-like
eyes. Her fragile figure drooped wearily as though she
were exhausted by some long fatigue; yet, gazing down
upon him, she smiled, and in that smile the faint re-
semblance she bore to his spirit-ideal flashed out like a
beam of sunlight, though it vanished again as quickly
as it had shone. He waited eagerly to hear her voice-
waited in a sort of breathless suspense, but as she still
kept silence he sprang up from his kneeling attitude and
seized her hands how soft they were and warm! he
folded them in his own and drew her closer to himself;
the flowers she held fell from her grasp, and lay in a
tumbled, fragrant heap between them. His brain was
in a whirl the past and the future the real and the
unreal the finite and the infinite seemed all merging
into one another without any shade of difference or divi-
sion.
"We have met very strangely, you and I," he said,
scarcely conscious of the words he uttered. "Will you
not tell me your name?"
A faint sigh escaped her.
"My name is Edris, " she answered, in low, musical
accents, that carried to his sense of hearing a suggestion
of something sweet and familiar.
"Edris!" he repeated, "Edris!" and gazing at her
dreamily, he raised her hands to his lips and kissed
them gently. "My fairest Edris! From whence do you
come?"
She met his eye with a mild look of reproach and wor
derment.
"From a far, far country, Theos!" And he started a^
she thus addressed him. "A land where no love is wasted
and no promise forgotten !"
Again that mystic light passed over her pale face; the
blossom-coronal she wore seemed for a moment to glit-
ter like a circlet of stars. His heart beat quickly. Could
he believe her? Was she in very truth that shining Peri
whose aerial loveliness had so long haunted his imagi-
nation? Nay! it was impossible! for if she were, why
GOD'S MAIDEN EDRIS 87
should she veil her native glory in such simple maiden
guise?
Searchingly he studied every feature of her counte-
nance, and, as he did so, his doubts concerning her
spirit origin became more and more confirmed. She was
a living, breathing woman, an actual creature of flesh
and blood, yet how account for her appearance on the
field of "Ardath?" This puzzled him, till all at once a
logical explanation of the whole mystery dawned upon
his mind. Heliobas had sent her hither on purpose to
meet him! Of course! How dense he had been not to
see through so transparent a scheme before! The clever
Chaldean had resolved that he, Theos Alwyn, should
somehow be brought to accept his trance as a real expe-
rience, so that henceforth his faith in "things unseen and
eternal" might be assured. Many psychological theorists
would uphold such a deceit as not only permissible, but
even praiseworthy, if practiced for the furtherance of a
good cause. Even the venerable hermit Elzar might
have shared in the conspiracy and this "Edris, " as she
called herself, was no doubt perfectly trained in the part
she had to play! A plot for his conversion! Well! he
would enter into it himself, he resolved. Why not?
The girl was exquisitely fair a veritable Psyche of soft
charms! and a little love making by moonlight would
do no harm. Here he suddenly became aware that while
these thoughts were passing through his brain he had
unconsciously allowed her hands to slip from his hold,
and she now stood apart at some little distance, her
eyes fixed full upon him with an expression of most
plaintive piteousness. He made a hasty step or two to-
ward her, and as he did so, his pulses began to throb
with an extraordinary sensation of pleasure pleasure
so keen as to be almost pain.
"Edris!" he whispered, "Edris " and stopped irreso-
lutely.
She looked up at him with the appealing wistfulness
of a lost and suffering child, and a slight shudder ran
through all her delicate frame.
"I am cold, Theos!" she murmured half-beseech ingly,
stretching out her hands to him once more hands as
fine and fair as lily-leaves little white hands which he
gazed at wonderingly, yet did not take; "cold and very
88
weary! The way has been long, and the earth is
dark!"
"Dark!" repeated Alwyn mechanically, still absorbed
in the dubious contemplation of her lovely, yielding
form, her sweet upturned face, and gold glistening hair.
"Dark? Here? Beneath the brightness of the moon.?
Nay, I have seen many a full day look less radiant than
this night of stars!"
Her eyes dwelt upon him with a certain pathetic be-
wilderment; she let her extended arms drop wearily at he*
side, and a shadow of pained recollection crossed the fair 1
ness of her features.
"Ah, I forgot!" and she sighed deeply. "This is that
strange, sad world, where darkness is called light."
At these words, uttered with so much sorrowful mean-
ing, a quick thrill stirred Alwyn's blood, an inexplicable
sharp thrill, that was like the touch of scorching flame.
He gazed at her perplexedly; his pride resented what
he imagined to be the deception practiced upon him,
but at the same time he was not insensible to the weird
romance of the situation.
He began to consider that as this fair girl, trained so
admirably in mystical speech and manner, had evidently
been sent on purpose to meet him, he could scarcely be
blamed for taking her as she presented herself, and en-
joying to the full a thoroughly novel and picturesque
adventure.
His eyes flashed as he surveyed her standing there
before him, utterly unprotected and at his mercy ; h'R
old, languid, skeptical smile played on his proud lips--
that smile of the marble Antinous which says: "Bring
me face to face with truth itself and I shall still doubt t"
An expression of reluctant admiration and awakening
passion dawned on his countenance; he was about to
speak, when she, whose looks were fastened on him with
intense, powerful, watchful, anxious entreaty, suddenly
wrung her hands together as though in despair, and
gave vent to a desolate, sobbing cry that smote him to
the very heart.
"Theos! Theos!" and her voice pealed out on the
breathless air in sweet, melodious, broken echoes; "O
my unfaithful beloved! what can I do for thee? A love
unseen thou wilt not understand a love made manifest
-GOD'S MAIDEN EDRI3 89
thou wilt not recognize! Alas! my journey is in vain,
my errand hopeless! For while thine unbelief resists
my pleading, how can I lead thee from danger into safety?
how bridge the depths between our parted souls? how
win for thee pardon and blessing from Christ the King!"
Bright tears filled her eyes and fell fast and thick through
her long, drooping lashes, and Alwyn, smitten with re-
morsa at the sight of such grief, sprang to her side over-
come by shame, love and penitence.
"Weeping and for me?" he exclaimed. "Sweet Edris!
Gentlest of maidens! Weep not for one unworthy, but
rather smile and speak again of love!" And now his
words, pouring forth impetuously, seemed to utter them-
selves independently of any previous thought. "Yes!
speak only of love, and the discourse of those tuneful
lips shall be my gospel; the glance of those soft eyes my
creed; and as for pardon and blessing, I crave none but
thine! I sought a dream I have found a fair reality a
living proof of love's divine omnipotence! Love is the
only god -who would doubt his sovereignty, or grudge
him his full measure of worship? Not I, believe me!"
And carried away by the force of a resistless inward
fervor, he threw himself once more at her feet. "See!
h"?re do I pay my vows at love's high altar! heart's de-
sire shall be the prayer heart's ecstasy the praise I To-
gether we will celebrate our grand service of love, and
Heaven itself shall sanctify this Eve of St. Edris and
All Angels!"
She listened, looking down upon him with grave,
half-timid tenderness; her tears dried, and a sudden
hope irradiated her fair face with a soft, bright flush,
as lovely as the light of morning falling on newly opened
flowers. When he ceased, she spoke, her accents breaftfng
through the silence like clear notes of music sweetly sung.
"So be it!" she said. "May Heaven truly sanctify all
pure thoughts, and free the soul of my beloved from sin !"
And slowly bending forward, as a delicate iris-blos-
som bends to the sway of the wind, she laid her hands
about his neck, and touched his lips with her own.
Ah! what divine ecstasy what wild and fiery trans-
port filled him then! Her kiss, like a penetrating light-
ning-flash, pierced to the very center of his being; the
moonbeams swam round him in eddying circJes of gold;
90 "ARDATH"
the white field heaved to and fro; he caught her waist
tnd clung to her, and in the burning marvel of that mo-
ment he forgot everything save that, whether spirit or
mortal, she was in woman's witching shape, and that all
the glamour of her beauty was his for this one night at
least this night which now in the speechless, glorious
delirium of love that overwhelmed him, seemed, like the
Mahometan's night of Al-Kadr, "better than a thousand
months!"
Drawn to her by some subtle, mysterious attraction
which he could neither explain nor control, and absorbed
in a rapture beyond all that his highest and most daring
flights of poetical fancy had ever conceived, he felt as
though his very life were ebbing out of him to become
part of hers; and this thought was strangely sweet a
perfect consummation of all his best desires!
All at once a cold shudder ran freezingly through his
veins; a something chill and impalpable appeared to
pass between him and her caressing arms; his limbs
grew numb and heavy; his sight began to fail him; he
was sinking sinking, he knew not where, when suddenly
she withdrew herself from his embrace. Instantly his
strength came back to him with a rush; he sprang to
his feet and stood erect, breathless, dizzy and confused,
his pulses beating like hammer-strokes,and every fiber in
his frame quivering with excitement.
Entranced, impassioned, elated filled with unutterable
joy, he would have clasped her again to his heart ; but
she retreated swiftly from him, and, standing several
paces off, motioned him not to approach her more
nearly. He scarcely heeded her warning gesture; plung-
ing recklessly through the flowers, he had almost reached
her side, when, to his amazement and fear, his eager
progress was stopped!
Stopped by some invisible, intangible barrier, which,
despite all his efforts, forcibly prevented him from ad-
vancing one step further; she was close within an arm's
length of him, and yet he could not touch her! Nothing
apparently divided them, save a small breadth of the
"Ardath" blossoms gleaming ivory-soft in the moonlight ;
nevertheless that invincible influence thrust him back
and held him fast as though he were chained to the
ground with weights of iron!
GOD'S MAIDEN EDRIS 91
"Edris!" he cried loudly, his former transport of de-
light changed into agony, "Edris! Come to me! I can-
not come to you. What is this that parts us?"
"Death!" she answered, and the solemn word seemed
to toll slowly through the still air like a knell.
He stood bewildered and dismayed. Death? What
could she mean? What, in .the name of all her beauti-
ful, delicate, glowing youth, had she to do with death?
Gazing at her in mute wonder, he saw her stoop and
gather one flower from the clusters growing thickly around
her ; she held it shield-wise against her breast, where it
shone like a large white jewel, and regarded him with
sweet, wistful eyes full of a mournful longing.
"Death lies between us, my beloved!" she continued.
"One line of shadow only one little line! But thou
mayest not pass it save when God commands, and I I
cannot! For I know naught of death, save that it is a
heavy, dreamless sleep allotted to over-wearied mor-
tals, wherein they gain brief rest 'twixt many lives lives
that, like recurring dawns, rouse them anew to labor.
How often hast thou slept thus, my Theos, and forgot-
ten me!"
She paused, and Alwyn met her clear, steadfast looks
with a swift glance of something like defiance. For as
she spoke, his previous idea concerning her came back
upon him with redoubled force. He was keenly conscious
of the vehement fever of love into which her presence
had thrown him, but all the same he was unable to dis-
possess himself of the notion that she was a pupil and an
accomplice of Heliobas, thoroughly trained and practiced
in his mysterious doctrine, and that therefore she most
probably had some magnetic power in herself, that at her
pleasure not only attracted him to her, but also held him
thus motionless at a di stance front her.
She talked, of course, in an indefinite, mystic way
either to intimidate or convince him, but and he smiled
a little in any case it only rested with himself to un-
mask this graceful pretender to angelic honors! And
while he thought thus, her soft tones trembled on the
silence again ; he listened as a dreaming mariner might
listen to the fancied singing of the sea-fairies.
"Through long, bright aeons of endless glory," she said,
"I have waited and prayed for thee! I have pleaded thy
ga "ARDATH"
cause before the blinding splendors of God's throne. I
have sung thee songs of thy native Paradise, but thou,
grown dull of hearing, hast Cc.ught but the echo of the
music! Life after life hast thou lived, and given no
thought to me, yet I remember and am faithful ! Heaven
is not all Heaven to me without thee, my beloved, and
now in this time of thy last probation, now, if thou
lovest me indeed "
"Love thee?" suddenly exclaimed Theos, half beside
himself with the strange passion of yearning her words
awakened in him. "Love thee, Edris? Ay! as the
gods loved when earth was young! with the fulness of
the heart and the vigor of glad life, even so I love thee!
What sayest thou of Heaven? Heaven is here here
on this bridal field of 'Ardath,' o'er-canopied with stars!
Come, sweet one, cease to play this mystic midnight
fantasy. I have done with dreams! Edris, be thyself
for thou art woman, not angel thy kiss was warm a
wine. Nay, why shrink from me?" this, as she re-
treated still further away, her eyes flashing with unearthl p
brilliancy "I will make thee a queen, fair Edris, ss
poets ever make queens of the women they love; my
fame shall be a crown for thee to wear a crown that
the whole world, gazing on, shall envy!"
And in the heat and ardor of the moment, forgetful of
the unseen barrier that divided her from him, he made a
violent effort to spring forward, when lo! a wave cf rip-
pling light appeared to break from beneath her feet; it
rolled toward him, and completely flooded the space
between them like a glittering pool, and in it the flowers
of "Ardath*' swayed to and fro as water-lilies on a wood-
land lake sway to the measured dash of passing oars!
Starting back with a cry of terror, he gazed wildly on
this miracle; a voice richer than all music rang silvery
clear across the liquid radiance.
"Fame!" said the voice. "Wouldst thou crown Me,
Theos, with so perishable a diadem?"
Paralyzed and speechless, he lifted his straining, daz-
zled eyes. Was that Edris? that lustrous figure, deli-
cate as a sea-mist with the sun shining through? He
started upon her as a dying man might stare for the last
time on the face of his nearest and dearest. He saw her
soft gray garrnents change to glistening white; the wreath.
GOU'S MAIDEN EDRIS 93
sYie wore sparkled as with a million dewdrops; a rose-
ate halo streamed above her and around her; long streaks
of crimson flared down the sky like threads of fire swung
from the stars, and in the deepening glory, her counte-
nance, divinely beautiful, yet intensely sad, expressed
the touching hope and fear of one who makes a final
farewell appeal. Ah God! he knew her now too late,
too late he knew her the Angel of his vision stood be-
fore him! and humbled to the very dust and ashes of de-
spair, he loathed himself for his unworthiness and lack
of faith!
"O doubting and unhappy one!" she went on, in ac-
cents sweeter than a chime of golden bells. "Thou art
lost in the gloom of the Sorrowful Star, where naught is
known of life save its shadows! Lost, and as yet I can-
not rescue thee. Ah! forlorn Edris that I am, left lonely
up in Heaven! But prayers are heard, and God's great
patience never tires; learn therefore 'from the perils oj
the past, the perils of the future,'' and weigh against
an immortal destiny of love the worth of fame!"
Wider and more dazzling grew the brilliancy surround-
ing her. Raising her eyes, she clasped her hands in an
attitude of impassioned supplication.
"O fair King Christ!" she cried, and her voice seemed
to strike a melodious passage through the air, "Thou
canst prevail!" A burst of music answered her music
that rushed wind-like downward and swept in strong,
vibrating chords over the land; again the " Kyrie eleison!
Christe eleison: Kyrie eleison!" pealed forth in the
same full, youthful-toned chorus that had before sound-
ed so mysteriously ^utside Elz6ar's hermitage, and the
separate crimson rays glittering aurora-wise about her
radiant figure suddenly melted altogether in the form
of a great cross, which, absorbing moon and stars in its
fiery redness, blazed from end to end of the eastern horizon!
Then like a fair white dove or delicate butterfly she
rose; she poised herself above the bowing "Ardath"
bloom, anon soaring aioft, she floated higher higher
and ever higher, serenely and with aerial slow ease, till,
drawn into the glory of that wondrous flaming cross,
whose outstretched beams seemed waiting to receive
her, she drifted straight upward through its very center,
and so vanished!
94 "ARDATH"
Theos stared aghast at the glowing sky; whither had
she gone? Her words still rang in his ears, the warmth
of her kisses still lingered on his lips; he loved her he
worshiped her why, why had she left him, "lost," as
she herself had said, in a world that was mere empti-
ness without her? He struggled for utterance.
"Edris!" he whispered hoarsely, "Edris! My angel-
love! Come back! Come back pity me forgive
Edris!"
His voice died in a hard sob of imploring agony;
smitten to the very soul by a remorse greater than he
could bear, his strength failed him, and he fell sense-
less, face forward among the flowers of the prophet's
field flowers, that, circling snowily around his dark
and prostrate form, looked like fairy garlands bordering
a poet's grave!
PART II,
IN ALKYR1S.
''That which bath been, is now: and that which is to be, hath already
been; and God requireth that which is past!"
ECCLESIASTES.
CHAPTER I.
THE MARVELOUS CITY.
PROFOUND silence profound unconsciousness oblivi-
ous rest! Such are the soothing ministrations of
kindly Nature to the overburdened spirit Nature who
in her tender wisdom and maternal solicitude will not
permit us to suffer beyond a certain limit. Excessive
pain, whether it be physical or mental, cannot last long,
and human anguish, wound up to its utmost quivering
pitch, finds at the very height of desolation a strange
hushing, Lethean calm. Even so it was with Theos Al-
wyn; drowned in the deep stillness of a merciful swoon,
he had sunk, as it were, out of life, far out of the furthest
reach or sense of time, in some vast, unsounded gulf
shadows where earth and heaven were alike forgotten!
How long he lay thus he never knew; but he was
reused at last roused by the pressure of something cold
and sharp against his throat; and on languidly opening
his eyes he found himself surrounded by a small body
of men in armor, who, leaning on tall pikes which glist-
ened brilliantly in the full sunlight, surveyed him with
looks of derisive amusement. One of these, closer to
him than the rest, and who seemed from his dress and
bearing to be some officer in authority, held instead of
a pike a short sword, the touch of whose pointed steel
blade had been the effectual means of awakening him
from his lethargy.
"How now!" said this personage in a rough voice, as
he withdrew his weapon. "What idle fellow art thou?
Traitor or spy? Fool thou must be, and breaker of
the king's law, else thou hadst never dared to bask in
such swine-like ease outside the gates of Al-Kyris the
Magnificent!"
98 "ARDATH"
Al-Kyris the Magnificent! What was the man talking
about? Uttering a hasty exclamation, Alwyn staggered
to his feet with an effort, and shading his eyes from the
hot glare of the sun, stared bewilderedly at his interloc-
utor.
"What what is this?" he stammered dreamily. "I do
not understand you! I I have slept on the 'Field of
Ardath!'"
The soldiers burst into a loud laugh, in which their
leader joined.
"Thou hast drunk deep, my friend!' he observed, put-
ting up his sword with a sharp clatter into its shining
sheath. "What name sayest thou? Ardath? We know
it not, nor dost thou, I warrant, when sober! Go to,
make for thy home speedily! Ay, ay! the flavor of
good wine clings to thy mouth still it's a pleasant
sweetness that I myself am partial to, and I can pardon
those who, like thee, love it somewhat too well! Away!
and thank the gods thou hast fallen into the hands of
the king's guard, rather than Lysia's priestly patrol! See!
the gates are open in with thee! and cool thy head at
the first fountain!"
"The gates! What gates?" Removing his hand from
his eyes Alwyn gazed around confusedly. He was stand-
ing on an open stretch of level road, dustily white and
dry with long-continued heat, and right in front of him
was an enormously high wall, topped with rows of brist-
ling iron spikes, and guarded by the gates alluded to
huge, massive portals, seemingly made of finely moulded
brass, and embellished on either side by thick, round,
stone watch-towers, from whose summits scarlet pennons
drooped idly in the windless air. Amazed, and full of a
vague, trembling terror, he fixed his wondering looks once
more upon his strange companions, who in their turn re-
garded him with cool military indifference.
"I must be mad or dreaming!" he thought; then
growing suddenly desperate he stretched out his hands
with a wild, appealing gesture.
"I swear to you I know nothing of this place!" he
cried. "I never saw it before! Some trick has been
played on me; who brought me here? Where is Eizear
the hermit? the ruins of Babylon? where is Good
what fearful freak of fate is this?"
THE MARVELOUS CITY 99
The Soldiers laughed again; their commander looked
at him a little curiously.
"Nay, art thou one of the escaped of Lysia's lovers?"
he asked suspiciously. "And has the silver nectar failed
of its usual actio-n, and driven thy senses to the winds,
that thou ravest thus? For if thou art a stranger and
knowest naught of us, how speakest thou our language?
Why wearest thou the garb of our citizens? '
Alwyn shrank and shivered as though he had received
a deadening blow; an awful, inexplicable chill horror
froze his blood. It was true! He understood the lan-
guage spoken; it was perfectly familiar to him more
so than his own native tongue. Stop ! what was his
native tongue?
He tried to think, and the sick fear at his heart grew
stronger; he could not remember a word of it! And
his dress! he glanced at it dismayed and appalled; he
had not noticed it till now. It bore some resemblance
to the costume of ancient Greece, and consisted of a
white linen tunic and loose upper vest, both garment
being kept in place by a belt of silver. From this belt
depended a sheathed dagger, a square writing tablet,
and a pencil-shaped implement which he immediately
recognized as the antique form of stylus. His feet were
shod with sandals, his arms were bare to the shoulder,
and clasped at the upper part by two broad silver armlets
richly chased.
Noting all these details, the fantastic awfulness of
his position smote him with redoubled force, and he felt
as a madman may feel when his impending doom has
not entirely asserted itself when only grotesque and leer-
ing suggestions of madness cloud his brain, when hid-
eous faces, dimly discerned, loom out of the chaos of his
nightly visions, and when all the air seems solid dark-
ness with one white line of fire cracking it asunder in
the midst, and that the fire of his own approaching frenzy.
Such a delirium of agony possessed Alwyn at that mo-
ment; he could have shrieked, laughed, groaned, wept,
and fallen down in the dust before these bearded armed
men, praying them to slay him with their weapons there
where he stood and put him mercifully and at once out
of his mysterious misery! But an invisible influence
stronger than himself prevented him from becoming al-
loo "ARDATH"
together the victim of his own torturing emotions, and
he remained erect and still as a marble figure, with a
wondering, white, piteous face of such unutterable afflic-
tion that the officer who watched him seemed touched,
and, advancing, clapped his shoulder in a friendly man-
ner. r -v
"Come, come!" he said. "Thou needst fear nothing:
we are not the men to blab of thy trespass against the
city's edict, for, of a truth, there is too much whispering
away of young and goodly lives nowadays. What! thou
art not the first gay gallant, nor wilt thou be the last,
that has seen the world turn upside down in a haze of
love and late feasting! If thou hast not slept long enough,
why, sleep again and thou wilt but not here "
He broke off abruptly; a distant clatter of horses'
hoofs was heard, as of one galloping at full speed. The
soldiers started, and assumed an attitude of attention;
their leader muttered something like an oath, and, seizing
Alwyn by the arm, hurried him to the brazen gates
which, as he had said, stood open, and literally thrust
him through.
"In, in, my lad!" he urged with rough kindliness.
"Thou hast a face fairer than that of the king's own
minstrel, and why wouldst thou die for sake of an extra
cup of wine? If Lysia is to blame for this scattering
of thy wits, take heed thou do not venture near her more;
it is ill jesting with the serpent's sting! Get thee hence
quickly, and be glad of thy life; thou hast many years
before thee yet, in which to play the lover and fool!"
With this enigmatical speech he signed to his men to
follow him ; they all filed through the gates, which
closed after them with a jarring clang. A dark bearded
face peered out of a narrow loop-hole in one of the
watch-towers, and a deep voice called:
"What of the hour?"
The officer raised his gauntleted hand, and answered
promptly:
"Peace and safety!"
"Salutation!" cried the voice again.
"Salutation!" responded the officer, and with a reassur-
ing nod and smile to the bewildered Alwyn, he gathered
his little band around him, and they all marched off, the
measured clink-clank of their footsteps making metallic
THE MARVELOUS CITY IOI
music, as they wheeled round a corner and disappeared
from sight.
Left to himself, Alwyn's first idea was to sit down in
some quiet corner, and endeavor calmly to realize what
strange and cruel thing had chanced to him. But hap-
pening to look up, he saw the bearded face in the watch-
tower observing him suspiciously ; he therefore roused
himself sufficiently to walk away, on and on, scarce
heeding whither he went, till he had completely lost
sight of those great gold-glittering portals which had
shut him, against his will, within the walls of a large,
splendid and populous city. Yes! hopelessly perplex-
ing and maddening as it was, there could be no doubt
of this fact, and though he again and again tried to con-
vince himself that he was laboring under some wild and
exceptional hallucination, his senses all gave evidence
of the actual reality of his situation; he felt, he moved,
he heard, he saw he was even beginning to be conscious
of hunger, thirst and fatigue.
The further he went, the more gorgeous grew the sur-
roundings; his unguided steps wandered, as it seemed, of
their own accord, into wide streets, paved entirely with
mosaics, and lined on both sides with lofty, picturesque
and palace-like buildings; he crossed and recrossed broad
avenues, shaded by tall, feathery palms, and masses of
graceful flowering foliage; he passed rows upon rows
of brilliant shops whose frontage glittered with the
most costly and beautiful wares of every description,
and as he strolled about aimlessly, uncertain whither to
go, he was constantly jostled by the pressing throngs of
people that crowded the thoroughfares, all more or less
apparently bent on pleasure, to judge from their animated
countenances and frequent bursts of gay laughter.
The men were for the most part arrayed like himself,
though here and there he met some few whose garments
were of soft silk instead of linen, who wore gold belts
in place of silver, and who carried their daggers in
sheaths that were literally encrusted all over with flash-
ing jewels.
As he advanced more into the city's center, the crowds
increased, so much so that the noise of traffic and clat-
ter of tongues became quite deafening to his ears.
Richly ornamented chariots drawn by spirited horsea>
if. --.-.
102 "ARDATH"
and driven by personages whose attire seemed to be a
positive blaze of gold and gems, rolled past in a contin-
uous procession ; fruit-sellers, arraying their lovely, luscious
merchandise in huge, gilded, moss-wreathed baskets,
stood at almost every corner; flower-girls, fair as flowers,
bore aloft in their gracefully upraised arms wide wicker
trays, overflowing with odorous blossoms tied into clus-
ters and wreaths; and there were countless numbers of
curious little open square carts to which mules wearing
collars of bells were harnessed, the tinkle-tinkle of their
constant passage through the throng making incessant
merry music. These vehicles bore the names of traders
purveyors in wine and dealers in all sorts of provisions
but with the exception of such necessary business
caterers, the streets were full of elegant loungers of both
sexes, who seemed to have nothing whatever to do but
amuse themselves.
The women were especially noticeable for their lazy
grace of manner; they glided to and fro with an indolent
floating ease that was indescribably bewitching, the more
so as many of them were endowed with exquisite beauty
of form and feature beauty greatly enhanced by the
artistic simplicity of their costume, which was composed
of a straight, clinging gown, slightly gathered at the
throat, and bound about the waist with a twisted girdle
of silver, gold, and, in some cases, jewels; their arms,
like those of the men, were bare, and their small, delicate
feet were protected by sandals fastened with crossed
bands of ribbon coquettishly knotted. The arrangement
of their hair was evidently a matter of personal taste, and
not the slavish copying of any set fashion; some allowed
it to hang in loosely flowing abundance over their shoul-
ders, others had it closely braided or coiled carelessly
in a thick, soft mass at the top of the head, but all with-
out exception wore white veils veils, long, transparent
and filmy as gossamer, which they flung back or draped
about them at their pleasure; and presently, after watch-
ing several of these fairy creatures pass by, and listen-
ing to their low laughter and dulcet speech, a sudden
memory leaped into Alwyn's confused brain an old, old
memory that seemed to have lain hidden among his
thoughts for centuries the memory of a story called
"Lamia," told in verse as delicious as music aptly played.
THE MARVELOUS CITY 103
Who wrote the story? He could not tell, but he recol-
lected that it was about a snake in the guise of a beau-
tiful woman. And these women in this strange city
looked as if they also had a snake-like origin, there was
something so soft and lithe and undulating about their
movements and gestures.
Weary of walking, distracted by fcns ever increasing
clamor, and fealing lost among the crowd, he at last per-
ceived a wide and splendid square, surrounded with
stately houses, and having in its center a huge white
granite obelisk which towered like a pillar of snow
against the dense blue of the sky. Below it a massively
sculptured lion, also of white granite, lay couchant,
holding a shield between its paws, and on either side
two fine fountains ware in full play, the delicate spiral
columns of water being dashed up and beyond the extreme
point of the obelisk, so that its stone face was wet and
glistening with the tossing rainbow shower.
Here he turned aside out of the main thoroughfare;
there ware tall, shady trees all about, and fantastically
carved benches underneath them; he determined to sit
down and rest, and steadily think out his involved and
peculiar condition of mind.
As he passed the sculptured lion, he saw certain words
engraved on the shield it held; they were, "Through
the Lion and the Serpent shall Al-Kyris flourish. "
There was no disorder in his intelligence concerning
this sentence; he was able to read it clearly and compre-
hensively; and yet, what was the language in which
it was written, and how did he come to know it so thor-
oughly? With a sigh that was almost a groan, he sank
listlessly on a seat, and, burying his head in his hands
to shut out all the strange sights which so direfully per-
plexed his reason, he began to subject himself to a pa-
tient, serious cross-examination.
In the first place, Who was he? Part of the required
answer came readily Theos. Theos what? His brain
refused to clear up this point; it repeated Theos Theos,
over and over again, but no more!
Shuddering with a vague dread, he asked himself the
n-:xt question: From whence had he come? The reply
\v is direct and decisive From Ardath
Bi-it what was Ardath? It was neither a country nor
104 "ARDATH' 1
a city, it was a "waste field," where he had seen ah!
whom had he seen? He struggled furiously with him-
self for some response to this none came! Total, dumb
blankness was the sole result of the inward rack to which
he subjected his thoughts!
And where had he been before he ever saw "Ardath?"
Had he no recollection of any other place, any other
surroundings? Absolutely none torture his wits as he
would absolutely none! This was frightful incredi-
ble! Surely, surely, he mused piteously, there must have
been something in his life before the name of "Ardath 1
had swamped his intelligence!
He lifted his head; his face had grown ashen-gray
and rigid in the deep extremity of his speechless
trouble and terror; there was a sick faintness at his heart,
and, rising, he moved unsteadily to one of the great
fountains, and there dipping his hands in the spray, he
dashed some drops on his brow and eyes. Then, mak-
ing a cup of his hollowed palms, he drank thirstily sev-
eral draughts of the cool, sweet water; it seemed to allay
the fever in his blood.
He looked around him with a wild, vague smile. Al-
Kyris of course he was in Al-Kyris! Why was he so
distressed about it? It was a pleasant city; there was
much to see, and also much to learn! At that instant a
loud blast of silver-toned trumpets split the air, followed
by a. storm-roar of distant acclamation surging up from
thousands of throats; crowds of men and women sud-
denly flocked into the square, across it, and out of it
again, all pressing impetuously in one direction ; and
urged forward by the general rush as well as by a corre-
sponding impulse within himself,he flung all meditation
to the winds, and plunged recklessly into the shouting,
on-sweeping throng. He was borne swiftly with it down
a broad avenue lined with grand old trees and decked
with flying flags and streamers, to the margin of a noble
river, as still as liquid amber in the wide sheen and
heat of the noonday sun. A splendid marble embank-
ment, adorned with colossal statues, girdled it on both
sides, and here, under silken awnings of every color,
pattern and design, an enormous multitude was assem-
bled, its white-attired, closely packed ranks stretching
far away into the blue distance on either hand.
THE MARVELOUS CITY 105
All the attention of this vast concourse appeared to be
centered on the slow approach of a strange gilded vessel,
that with great curved prow and scarlet sails flapping
idly in the faint breeze, was gliding leisurely yet majes-
tically over the azure blaze of the smooth water. Huge
oars like golden fins projected from her sides and dipped
lazily every now and then, apparently wielded by the
hands of invisible rowers, whose united forces supplied
the lack of the needful wind; and as he caught sight of
this cumbrously quaint galley, Theos, moved by sudden
interest, elbowed his way resolutely through the dense
crowd till he gained the edge of the embankment, where,
leaning against the marble balustrade, he watched with
a curious fascination its gradual advance.
Nearer and nearer it came brighter and brighter
glowed the vivid scarlet of its sails; a solemn sound of
stringed music rippled enchantingly over the glassy river,
mingling itself with the wild shoutings of the populace
shouting that seemed to rend the hollow vault of heav-
en! Nearer nearer and now the vessel slid round and
curtsied forward; its propelling fins moved more rapidly
another graceful sweep and lo! it fronted the surging
throng like a glittering, fantastic apparition drawn out of
dreamland!
Theos stared at it, dazzled and stricken with a half-
blind, breathless wonder; was ever a ship like this, he
thought a ship that sparkled all over as though it were
carved out of one great burning jewel? Golden hangings,
falling in rich, loose folds, draped it gorgeously from stem
to stern; gold cordage looped the sails; on the deck a
band of young girls clad in white, and crowned with
flowers, knelt, playing softly on quaintly shaped instru-
ments, and a cluster of tiny, semi-nude boys, fair as
young cupids, were grouped in pretty, reposeful attitudes
along the edge of the gilded prow, holding garlands of
red and yellow blossoms which trailed down to the sur-
face of the water beneath.
As a half-slumbering man may note a sudden brilliant
glare of sunshine flashing on the wall of his sleeping-
chamber, so Theos at first viewed this floating page int
in confused, uncomprehending bewilderment, when all at
once his stupefied senses were roused to hot life and pul-
sating action ; with a smothered cry of ecstasy he fixed
106 "ARDATH"
his straining, eager gaze on one supreme fair figure the
central glory of the marvelous picture!
A woman or a goddess? a rainbow flame in mortal
shape? a spirit of earth, air, fire, water? or a thought
of beauty embodied into human sweetness and made
perfect? Clothed in gold attire, and girdled with -gems
she stood, leaning indolently against the middle mast
of the vessel, her great, somber, dusky eyes resting drows-
ily on the swarming masses of people, whose frenzied
roar of rapture and admiration resounded like the break-
ing of billows.
Presently, with a slow, solemn smile on her haughtily
curved lips, she extended one hand and arm, snow-white
and glittering with jewels, and made an imperious gest-
ure to command silence. Instantly a profound hush en-
sued. Lifting a long, slender white wand, at the end of
which could be plainly seen the gleaming silver head
of a serpent, she described three circles in the air with
a perfectly even, majestic motion, and as she did this,
her marvelous eyes turned toward Theos, and dwelt
steadily upon him.
He met her gaze fully, absorbing into his inmost soul
the mesmeric spell of her matchless loveliness; he saw,
without actually realizing the circumstance, that the
whole vast multitude around him had fallen prostrate in
an attitude of worship, and still he stood erect, drinking
in the warmth of those dark, witching, sleepy orbs that
flashed at him half-resentfully, half- mockingly ; and then,
the beauty-burdened ship began to sway gently, and
move onward she, that wondrous siren queen, was van-
ishing vanishing she and her kneeling maidens, and
music, and flowers; vanishing where?
With a start he sprang from his post of observation.
He felt he must go after her at all risks; he must find
out her place of abode, her rank, her title, her name.
All at once, he was roughly seized by a dozen or more
of hands; loud, angry voices shouted on all sides:
"A traitor! a traitor!" "An infidel!"
"A spy!" "A malcontent!"
"Into the river with him!"
"He refuses worship!" "He denies the gods!"
"Bear him to' the tribunal!" And in a trice of time
he was completely surrounded and hemmed in by an
SAH-LUMA 107
exasperated, gesticulating crowd, whose ominous looks
and indignant mutterings were plainly significant of
prompt hostility. With a few agile movements he suc-
ceeded in wrenching himself free from the grasp of his
assailants, and standing among them like a stag at bay,
he cried:
"What have I done? How have I offended? Speak!
Or is it the fashion of Al-Kyris to condemn a man un-
heard?"
No one answered this appeal; the very directness of
it seemed to increase the irritation of the mob, that,
pressing closer and closer, began to jostle and hustle
him in a threatening manner that boded ill for his safety.
He was again taken prisoner, and struggling in the grasp
of his captors, he was preparing to fight for his life as
best he could against the general fury, when the sound
of musical strings, swept carelessly upward in the as-
cending scale, struck sweetly through the clamor. A
youth, arrayed in crimson, and carrying a small golden
harp, marched sedately between the serried ranks that
parted right and left at his approach, thus clearing the
way for another personage who followed him a grace
ful Adonis-like personage in glistening white attire, who
wore a myrtle-wreath on his dark abundant, locks, and
whom the populace, forgetting for a moment the cause of
their recent disturbance, greeted with a ringing and ec-
static shout of "HAIL, SAH LUMA"
Again and again this cry was uplifted, till far away
on the extreme outskirts of the throng the joyous echo of
it was repeated faintly yet distinctly: "HAIL! ALL HAIL,
SAHfrLUMAl"
CHAPTER II.
SAH-LUMA.
THE new-comer thus enthusiastically welcomed bowed
right and left, with a condescending air, in response to
the general acclamation; and advancing to the spot
where Theos stood, an enforced prisoner in the close grip
of three or four able-bodied citizens, he said:
108 "ARDATH*
"What turbulence is here? By my faith! when I heard
the noise of quarrelsome contention jarring the sweetness
of this nectarous noon, methought I was no longer in
Al-Kyris, but rather in some western city of barbarians
where music is but an unvalued name!"
And he smiled a dazzling child-like smile, half pet-
ulant, half-pleased a smile of supreme self-conscious-
ness, as of one who knew his own resistless power to
charm away all discord.
Several voices answered him in clamorous unison:
'A traitor, Sah-luma!" "A profane rebel!" "An un-
believer!" "A most insolent knave!" "He refused hom-
age to the high priestess!" "A renegade from the faith!'
"Now, by the sacred veil!" cried Sah-luma impatiently,
"think ye I can distinguish your jargon, when like ig-
norant boors ye talk all at once, tearing my ears to
shreds with such unmelodious tongue-clatter! Whom
have ye seized thus roughly? Let him stand forth!"
At this command, the men who held Theos relaxed
their grasp, and he, breathless and burning with indig-
nation at the treatment he had received, shook himself
quickly free of all restraint and sprang forward, confront-
ing his rescuer. There was a brief pause, during which
the two surveyed each other with looks of mutual amaze-
ment. What mysterious indication of affinity did they
read in one another's faces? Why did they stand mo-
tionless, spellbound and dumb for a while, eyeing
half-admiringly, half enviously, each other's personal
appearance and bearing?
Undoubtedly a curious, far-off resemblance existed be-
tween them, yet it was a resemblance that had nothing
whatever to do with the actual figure, mien, or counte-
nance. It was that peculiar and often undefinable sim-
ilarity of expression, which, when noticed between two
brothers who are otherwise totally unlike, instantly pro-
claims their relationship.
Theos realized his own superior height and superior
muscular development, but what were these physical
advantages compared to the classic perfection of Sah-
luma's beauty? beauty combining the delicate with the
vigorous, such as is shadowed forth in the artist-concep-
tions of the god Apollo. His features, faultlessly regu-
lar, were redeemed from all effeminacy by the ennobling
SAH-LUMA ICQ
impress of high thought and inward inspiration; his eyes
were dark, with a brilliant under-reflection of steel-gray
in them, that at times flashed out like the soft glitter of
summer-lightning in the dense purple of an August heav-
en; his olive tinted complexion was flushed warmly with
the glow of health, and he had broad, bold intellectual
brows, over which the rich hair clustered in luxuriant
waves hair that was almost black, with here and there
a curious fleck of reddish gold brightening its curling
masses, as though a stray sunbeam or two had been
caught and entangled therein. He was arrayed in a cos-
tume of the finest silk; his armlets, belt, and dagger-
sheath were all of jewels, and the general brilliancy of
his attire was furthermore increased by a finely worked
flexible collar of gold, set with diamonds. The first
exchange of wondering glances over, he viewed Theos
with a critical, half-supercilious air.
"What art thou?" he demanded. "What is thy call-
ing?"
Theos hesitated, then spoke boldly and unthinkingly.
"I am a poet!" he said.
A murmur of irrepressible laughter and derision ran
through the listening crowd. Sah-luma's lips curled
haughtily.
"A poet!" and his fingers played idly with the dagger
at his belt. "Nay, not so! There is but one poet in
Al-Kyris, and I am he!"
Theos looked at him steadily; a subtle sympathy at-
tracted him toward this charming boaster. Involuntarily
he smiled, and bent his head courteously.
"I do not ask to figure as your rival," he began.
"Rival!" echoed Sah luma. "I have no rivals!"
A burst of applause from those nearest to them in the
throng declared the popular approval of this assertion,
and the boy bearing the harp, who had loitered to listen
to the conversation, swept the strings of his instrument
with a triumphant force and fervor that showed how
thoroughly his feelings were in harmony with the ex-
pression of his master's sentiments. Sah-luma conquered,
with an effort, his momentary irritation, and resumed
coldly:
"From whence do you come, fair sir? We should
know your name; fQfts are not so common." This with
an accent of irony.
no "ARDATH"
T'aken aback by the question, Theos stood irresolute,
and uncertain what to say. For he was afflicted with a
strange and terrible malady such as he dimly remembered
having heard of, but never expected to suffer from a
malady in which his memory had become almost a blank
as regarded the past events of his life, though every now
and then shadowy images of bygone things flitted across
his brain, like the transient reflections of wind-swept
clouds on still, translucent water. Presently, in the
midst of his painful indecision, an answer suggested itself
like a whispered hint from some invisible prompter.
"Poets like Sah-luma are no doubt as rare as nightin-
gales in snow!" he said, with soft deference, and an in-
creasing sense of tenderness for his haughty, handsome
interlocutor. "As for me, I am but a singer of sad songs
that are not worth the hearing. My name is Theos ; I
come from far beyond the seas, and am a stranger in Al-
Kyris therefore, if I have erred in aught, I must be
blamed for ignorance, not malice."
As he spoke Sah-luma regarded him intently. Theos
met his gaze frankly and unflinchingly. Surely there was
some singular power of attraction between the two, for
as their flashing eyes again dwelt earnestly on one an-
other, they both smiled, and Sah-luma, advancing, prof-
fered his hand. Theos at once accepted it, a curious
sensation of pleasure tingling through his frame, as he
pressed those slender brown fingers in his own cordial
clasp.
"A stranger in Al-Kyris? and from beyond the seas?
Then by my life and honor I insure thy safety and bid
thee welcome! A singer of sad songs? Sad or merry,
that thou art a singer at all makes thee the guest of the
king's laureate." A look of conscious vanity illumined
his face as he thus announced with proud emphasis his
own title and claim to distinction. "The brotherhood of
poets," he continued laughingly, "is a mystic and doubtful
tie that hath oft been questioned; but provided they do
not, like ill-conditioned wolves, fight each other out of
the arena, there should be joy in the relationship." Here
turning full upon the crowd, he lifted his rich, melodious
voice to higher and more ringing tones:
"It is like you, O hasty and misjudging Kyrisians,
that finding a harmless wanderer from far-off lands, pres-
8AH-LUMA 111
ent at the pageant of the Midsummer Benediction, ye
should pounce upon him, even as kites on a straying
sea-bird, and maul him with your ruthless talons! Has
he broken the law of worship? Ye have broken the law
of hospitality! Has he failed to kneel to the passing
Ship of the Sun? So have ye failed to handle him with
due courtesy! What report shall he bear hence of your
gentleness and culture, to those dim and unjoyous shores
beyond the gray-green wall of ocean-billows, where the
very name of Al-Kyris serves as a symbol for all that is
great and wise and wondrous in the whole round circle
of the world? Moreover, ye know full well that for-
eigners and sojourners in the city are exempt from wor-
ship, and the king's command is that all such should be
well and nobly entertained, to the end that when they
depart they may carry with them a full store of pleasant
memories. Hence, scatter-brains, to your homes! No
festival can ye enjoy without a gust of contention. Ye are
ill made instruments all, whose jarring strings even I,
crowned minstrel of the kin^. can scarce keep one day
in happy tune. Look you now! this stranger is my
guest! Is there a man in Al-Kyris who will treat as an
enemy one whom Sah-luma calls friend?"
A storm of applause followed this little extempore
speech applause accompanied by an odorous rain of
flowers. There were many women in the crowd, and
these had pressed eagerly forward to catch every word
that dropped from the poet-laureate's mellifluous lips;
now, moved by one common impulse, they hastily snatched
off their posies and garlands, and flung them in lavish
abundance at his feet. Some of the blossoms chancing
to fall on Theos and cling to his garments, he quickly
shook them off, and gathering them' together, presented
them to the personage for whom they were intended.
He, however, gayly rejected them, moving his small
sandled foot playfully among the thick wealth of red
and white roses that lay waiting to be crushed beneath
his tread.
"Keep thy share!" he said, with an amused flash of his
glorious eyes. "Such offerings are my daily lot! I can
spare thee one handful from the overflowing harvest of
my song!"
It was impossible to be offended with such charming
112 "ARDATH*
self-complacency; the naive conceit of the man was as
harmless as the delight of a fair girl who has made her
first conquest; and Theos, smiling, kept the flowers.
By this time the surrounding throng had broken up into
little knots and groups, all illhumor on the part of the
populace had completely vanished, and large numbers
were now leaving the embankment and dispersing in
different directions to their several homes. All those
who had been within hearing distance of Sah-luma's
voice appeared highly elated, as though they had enjoyed
some special privilege and pleasure ; to be reproved by
the laureate was evidently considered better than being
praised by any one else. Many persons pressed up to
Theos, and shaking hands with him, offered their eager
excuses and apologies for the misunderstanding that had
lately taken place, explaining, with much animation both
of look and gesture, that the fact of his wearing the
same style of dress as themselves had induced them to
take it for granted that he must be one of their fellow-
citizens, and therefore subject to the laws of the realm.
Theos was just beginning to feel somewhat embarrassed
by the excessive politeness and cordiality of his recent
antagonists, when Sah-luma, again interposing, cut all
explanations short.
"Come, come! cease this useless prating!" he said im-
peratively yet good-naturedly. "In everything ye showed
your dullard ignorance and lack of discernment. For,
concerning the matter of attire, are not the fashions of
Al-Kyris copied more or less badly in every quarter of
the habitable globe? even as our language and literature
form the chief study and delight of all scholars ard edu-
cated gentlemen? A truce to your discussions! Let us
get hence and home." Here he turned to Theos with a
graceful salutation. "You, my good friend, will doubt-
less be glad to rest and recover from my countrymen's
ungentle treatment of your person."
Thus saying, he made a slight commanding sign; the
clustering people drew back on either side, and he, tak
ing Theos by the arm, passed through their ranks, talk
ing, laughing, and nodding graciously here and there as
he went, with the half-kindly, half-indifferent ease of an
affable monarch who occasionally bows to some of his
poorest subjects. As he trod over the flowers that lay
SAH-LUMA 113
heaped about his path, several girls rushed impetuously
forward, struggling with each other for possession of
those particularly favored blossoms that had received the
pressure of his foot, and kissing them, they tied them in
little knots, and pinned them proudly on the bosoms of
their white gowns.
One or two, more daring, stretched out their hands to
touch the golden frame of the harp as it was carried
past them by the youth in crimson a pretty fellow
enough, who looked extremely haughty, and almost in-
dignant at this effrontery on the part of the fair poet-
worshipers; but he made no remonstrance, and merely
held his head a little higher and walked with a more
consequential air, as he followed his master at^ a re-
spectful distance. Another long, ecstatic shout of "Hail,
Sah-luma!" arose on all sides, rippling away away
down, as it seemed, to the very furthest edge of echoing
resonance, and then the remainder of the crowd quickly
scattered right and left, leaving the spacious embank-
ment almost deserted, save for the presence of several
copper-colored, blue- shirted individuals who were com-
mencing the work of taking down and rolling up the
silken awnings, accompanying their labors by a sort of
monotonous chant, that, mingling with the slow, gliding
splash of the river, sounded as weird and mournful as
the sough of the wind through leafless trees.
Meanwhile Theos, in the company of his new friend,
began to express his thanks for the timely rescue he
had received, but Sah-luma waved all such acknowledg-
ments aside.
"Nay, I have only served thee as a crowned laureate
should ever serve a lesser minstrel," he said, with that
indescribably delicious air of self-flattery which was so
whimsical, and yet so winning. "And I tell thee in all
good faith, that for a newly arrived visitor in Al-Kyris,
thy first venture was a reckless one! To omit to kneel
in the presence of the high priestess during her benedic-
tion, was a violation of our customs and ceremonies dan.
gerous to life and limb! A religiously excited mob is
merciless, and if I had not chanced upon t>ie scene of
action "
"I should have been no longer the man I am!" smiled
Theos, looking down on his companion's light, lithe,
H4 "ARDATH"
elegant form as it moved gracefully by his side. "But
that I failed in homage to the high priestess was a most
unintentional lack of wit on my part, for if that was the
high priestess that dazzling wonder of beauty who lately
passed in a glittering ship, on her triumphant way down
the river, like a priceless pearl in a cup of gold "
"Ay, ay!" and Sah-luma's dark brows contracted in a
slight frown. "Not so many fine words, I pray thee!
Thou couldst not well mistake her there is only one
Lysia!"
"Lysia!" murmured Theos dreamily, and the musical
name slid off his lips with a soft, sibilant sound, "Lysia!
And I forgot to kneel to that enchanting, that adorable
being! O unwise, benighted fool! where were my
thoughts? Next time I see her I will atone; no matter
what creed she represents, I will kiss the dust at her
feet and so make reparation for my sin!"
Sah-luma glanced at him with a somewhat dubious ex-
pression.
"What! art thou already persuaded?" he queried
lightly, ''and wilt thou also be one of us? Well, thou
wilt need to kiss the dust in very truth, if thcu servest
Lysia; no half-measures will suit where she, the un-
touched and immaculate, is concerned," and here there
was a faint inflection of mingled mockery and sadness in
his tone. "To love her is, for many men, an absolute
necessity, but the Virgin Priestess of the Sun and the
Serpent receives love, as statues may receive it moving
all others to frenzy, she is herself unmoved!"
Theos listened, scarcely hearing. He was studying
every line in Sah-luma's face and figure with fixed and
wistful attention. Almost unconsciously he pressed the
arm he held, and Sah-luma looked up at him with a half
smile.
"I fancy we shall like each other!" he said. "Thou
art a Western singing bird-of-passage and I a nested
nightingale amid the roses of the East our ways of mak-
ing melody are different we shall not quarrel!"
"Quarrel!" echoed Theos amazedly. "Nay! I might
quarrel with my nearest and dearest, but never with
thee, Sah-luma! For I know thee for a very prince of
poets! and would as soon profane the sanctity of the
tyjuse herself, as violate thy proffered friendship!"
SAH-LUMA II*>
"Why, so!" returned Sah-luma, his brilliant eyes flash-
ing with undisguised pleasure. "An thou thinkest thus
of me we shall be firm and fast companions ! Thou hast
spoken well and not without good instruction. I per-
ceive my fame hath reached thee in thine own ocean-
girdled lands, where music is as rare as sunshine. Right
glad am I that chance has thrown us together, for now
thou wilt be better able to judge of my master skill in
sweet word- weaving! Thou must abide with me for all
the days of thy sojourn here. Art willing?"
"Willing? Ay! more than willing!" exclaimed Theos,
enthusiastically. "But, if I burden hospitality
"Burden!" and Sah-luma laughed. "Talk not of bur-
dens to me! I, who have feasted kings, and made light
of their entertaining! Here," he added as he led the
way through a broad alley, lined with magnificent palms
"here is the entrance to my poor dwelling!" and a
sparkling, mischievous smile brightened his features.
"There is room enough in it, methinks, to hold thee,
even if thou hadst brought a retinue of slaves!"
He pointed before him as he spoke, and Theos stood
for a moment stock-still and overcome with astonish-
ment at the size and splendor of the palace whose gates
they were just approaching. It was a dome-shaped
building of the purest white marble, surrounded on all
sides by long fluted colonnades, and fronted by a spacious
court, paved with mosaics, where eight flower-bordered
fountains dashed up to the hot blue sky incessant show
ers of refreshing spray.
Into this court and across it, Sah-luma led his won-
dering guest; ascending a wide flight of steps, they en-
tered a vast open hall, where the light poured in through
rose-colored and pale blue glass, that gave strange, yet
lovely effect of mingled sunset and moonlight to the
scene. Here, reclining about on cushions cf silk and
velvet, were several beautiful girls in various attitudes of
indolence and ease; one laughing black haired houri was
amusing herself with a tame bird which flew to and from
her uplifted finger; another, in a half-sitting posture,
played cup-and-ball with much active and graceful dex-
terity, some were working at gold and silver embroidery;
others; clustered in a semi-circle round a large osier bas-
ket filled with myrtle, were busy weaving garlands of
Il6 "ARDATH*
the fragrant leaves; and one maiden, seemingly younger
than the rest, and of lighter and more delicate complex-
ion, leaned somewhat pensively against an ebony-framed
harp, as though she were considering what sad or -sug-
gestive chords she should next awaken from its respon-
sive strings. As Sah-luma and Theos appeared, these
nymphs all rose from their different occupations and
amusements, and stood with bent heads and folded
hands in statuesque silence and humility.
"These are my human rosebuds !" said Sah-luma softly
and gayly, as holding the dazzled Theos by the arm he
escorted him past these radiant and exquisite forms.
"They bloom, and fade, and die, like the flowers thrown
by the populace proud and happy to feel that their per-
ishable loveliness has even for a brief while been made
more lasting by contact with my deathless poet fame!
Ah, Niphrata!" and he paused at the side of the girl
standing by the harp. "Hast thou sung many of my
songs to-day? or is thy voice too weak for such impas-
sioned cadence? Thou art pale I miss thy soft blush
and dimpling smile; what ails thee, my honey-throated
oriole?"
"Nothing, my lord," answered Niphrata in a loiv
tone, raising a pair of lovely dusky violet eyes, fringed
with long black lashes. "Nothing, save that my heart
is always sad in thine absence!"
Sah-luma smiled, well pleased.
"Let it be sad no longer then!" he said, caressing her
cheek with his hand, and Theos saw a wave of rich
color mounting swiftly to her fair brows at his touch, as
though she were a white popp}' warming to crimson in
the ardent heat of the sun. "I love to see thee merry
tnirth suits a young and beauteous face like thine! Look
you, sweet! I bring with me here a stranger from far-
off lands, one to whom Sah-luma's name is as a star in
ihe desert ! I must needs have thy voice in all its full
lusciousness of tune to warble for his pleasure those
heart-entangling ditties of mine which thou hast learned
to render with such matchless tenderness. Thanks, Gi-
senya" this as another maiden advanced, and gently re-
moving the myrtle wreath he wore, placed one just freshly
woven on his clustering curls. Then, turning to Theos,
he inquired: "Wilt xhou also wear a minstrel garland^
my friend? Niphrata or Gisenya will crown
SAH-LUMA 117
"I am not worthy," answered Theos, bending his head
in low salutation to the two lovely girls, who stood
eyeing him with a certain wistful wonder. "One spray
from Sah-luma's discarded wreath will best suffice me!"
Sah-luma broke into a laugh of absolute delight.
"I swear thou speakest well and like a true man!" he
said joyously. "Unfamous as thou art, thou deservest
honor for the frank confession of thy lack of merit! Be-
lieve me, there are some boastful rhymers in Al-Kyris
who would benefit much by a share of thy becoming
modesty! Give him his wish, Gisenya. " And Gisenya,
obediently detaching a sprig of myrtle from the wreath
Sah-luma had worn all day, handed it to Theos with a
graceful obeisance. "For who knows but the leaves
may contain a certain witchery we wot not of, that shall
eadovv him with a touch of the divine inspiration!"
At that moment, a curious figure came shuffling across
tie splendid hall that of a little old man somewhat
shabbily attired, upon whose wrinkled countenance
I here seemed to be a fixed malign smile, like the smile
cf a mocking Greek mask. He had small, bright, beady
black eyes placed very near the bridge of his large hooked
nose; his thin wispy, gray locks streamed scantily over
his bent shoulders, and he carried a tall staff to support
his awkward steps a staff with which he made a most
disagreeable tapping noise on the marble pavement as
he came along.
"Ah, Sir Gad-about!" he exclaimed in a harsh, squeaky
voice as he perceived Sah luma. "Back again from your
elf-advertising in the city! Is there any poor soul left
in Al-Kyris whose ears have not been deafened by the
parrot-cry of the name of Sah-luma? If there is at him,
at him, my dainty warbler of tiresome trills! at him,
and storm his senses with a rhodomontade of rhymes with-
out reason! at him, immortal of the immortals! bard of
bards! stuff him with quatrains and sextains! beat him
with blank verse blank of all meaning! lash him with
ballad and sonnet-scourges, till the tortured wretch,
howling for mercy, shall swear that no poet save Sah-
luma ever lived before, or will ever live again, on the
fx.ce of the shuddering and astonished earth!"
And breathless with this extraordinary outburst, he
struck his staff loudly on the floor, and straightway felj
u8 "ARDATH"
into such a violent fit of coughing that his whole lean
body shook with the paroxysm.
Sah-luma laughed heartily laughter in which he was
joined by all the assembled maidens, including the gentle,
pensive-eyed Niphrata Standing erect in his glisten-
ing princely attire, with one hand resting familiarly on
Theos' arm, and the sparkle of mirth lighting up his
handsome features, he formed the greatest contrast im-
aginable to tne little, shrunken old personage, who, cling,
ing convulsively to his staff, was entirely absorbed in his
efforts to control and overcome his sudden and unpleas-
ant attack of threatened suffocation.
"Theos, my friend," he said still laughing, "thou must
know the admirable Zabastes a man of vast importance
in his own opinion! Have done thy wheezing, "he con-
tinued, vehemently thumping the struggling old gentle-
man^on the back. "Here is another of the minstrel craft
thou hatest; hast aught of bitterness in thy barbed
tongue wherewith to welcome him as guest to mine
abode?"
Thus adjured, the old man peered up at Theos inquis-
itively, wiping away the tears that his coughing had
brought into his eyes, and after a minute or two began
also to laugh in a smothered, chuckling way a laugh that
resembled the croaking of frogs in a marshy pool.
"Another one of the minstrel-craft!" he echoed deri-
sively. "Ay, ay! Like meets like, and fool consorts
with fool! The guest of Sah-luma! Hearken, young
man," and he drew closer, the malign grin widening on
his furrowed face, "thou shalt learn enough trash here
to stock thee with idiot songs for a century! Thou
shalt gather up such fragments of stupidity as shall
provide thee with food for all the puling love'-sick girls
of a nation! Dost thou write follies also? thou shalt
not write them here thou shalt not even think them!
for here Sah-luma the great, the unrivaled Sah-luma
is sole lord of the land of poesy. Poesy! By all the
gods, I would the accursed art had never been invented!
So might the world have been spared many long-drawn
nothings, enwoofed in obscure and distracting phraseol-
ogy! Thou a would-be poet? Go to! make bricks,
mend sandals, dig entrenchments., fight for thy ccuntry,
and leave the idle stringing of words, and the tinkling
SAH-LUMA Jig
of rhyme, to children like Sah-luma, who play with
life instead of living it!"
And with this, he hobbled off uneasily, grunting and
grumbling as he went, and waving his staff magisterially
n^ht and left to warn the smiling maidens out of his
vviy, and once more Sah-luma's laughter, clear and
joyous, pealed through the vaulted vestibule.
"Poor Zabastes!" he said in a tone of good-humored
tolerance. "He has the most caustic wit of any man in
Al-Kyris! He is a positive marvel of perverseness and
ill humor, well worth the four hundred golden pieces I
pay him yearly for his task of being my scribe and crit-
ic. Like all of us he must live, eat, and wear decent
clothing, and that his only literary skill lies in the
abuse of better men than himself, is his misfortune rather
than his fault. Yes, he is my paid critic paid to rail
against me on all occasions, public or private, for the
merriment of those who care to listen to the mutterings
of his discontent; and, by the sacred veil! I cannot
choose but laugh myself whenever I think of him. He
deems his words carry weight with the people; alas,
poor soul, his scorn but adds to my glory, his derision
to my fame Nay, of a truth I need him, even as the
king needs the court fool, to make mirth for him in
vacant moments, for there is something grotesque in the
contemplation of his cankered clownishness, that sees
naught in life but the eating, the sleeping, the building,
and the bargaining. Such men as he can never bear to
know that there are others, gifted by heaven, for whom
all common things take radiant shape and meaning; for
whom the flowers reveal their fragrant secrets; for whom
birds not only sing,but speakin most melodious utterance;
for whose dreamy eyes the very sunbeams spin bright
fantasies in mid-air more lasting than the kingdoms of
the world. Blind and unhappy Zabastes. He is ignorant
as a stone, and for him the mysteries of Nature are for-
ever veiled. The triumphal hero-march of the stars, the
brief, bright rhyme of the flashing comet, the canticle of
the rose as she bares her crimson heart to the smile of
the sun, the chorus of green leaves chanting orisons to
the wind, the never completed epic of heaven's lofty
solitudes where the white moon paces, wandering like a
maiden in search of love; all these and other unnunv
1*0 "ARDATH*
bered joys he has lost joys that Sah-luma, child of the.
high gods and favorite of Destiny, drinks in with tl.e
light and the air !"
His eyes softend with a dreamy, intense luster thit
gave them a new and almost pathetic beauty, while
Theos, listening to each word he uttered, wondered
whether there were ever any sounds sweeter than the
rise and fall of his exquisite voice a voice as deli-
ciously clear and mellow as a golden flute tenderly
played.
"Yes, though we must laugh at Zabastes we should
also pity him," he resumed in gayer accents. 'His fate
is not enviable! He is nothing but a critic he could
not well be a lesser man one who, unable himself to do
any great work, takes refuge in finding fault with the
works of others. And those who abhor true poesy are in
time themselves abhorred; the balance of Justice never
errs in these things. The poet wins the whole world s
love, and immortal fame his adverse critic brief con-
tempt, and measureless oblivion" Come!" he added,
addressing Theos, "we will leave these maidens to their
duties and pastimes. Niphrata!" here his dazzling
smile flashed like a beam of sunlight over his face,
"thou wilt bring us fruit and wine yonder; we shall pass
the afternoon together within-doors. Bid my steward
prepare the rose chamber for my guest, and let Athazel
and Zimra attend there to wait upon him."
All the maidens saluted, touching their heads as with
their hands in token of obedience, and Sah-luma, leading
the way, courteously beckoned Theos to follow. He did
so, conscious as he went of two distinct impressions:
first, that the mysterious mental agitation he had suffered
from when he had found himself so unexpectedly in a
strange city, was now completely dispelled; and secondly,
that he felt as though he must have known Sah-Juma
all his life ! His memcr)' still remained a blank as regarded
his. past career, but this fact had ceased to trouble him,
and he was perfectly tanquil, and altogether satisfied
with his present surroundings. In short, to be in Al-
Kyris seemed to him quite in keeping with the necessaify
course of events, while to be the friend and companion
of Sah luma was more natural and familiar to his miitd
all onqe natural ancj familiar things 1
A POET S PALACE 121
CHAPTER III.
A POET'S PALACE.
GLIDING along with that graceful, almost phantom-
like swiftness of movement that was so much a part of
his manner, Sah-luma escorted his visitor to the further
end of the great hall. There, throwing aside a curtain
of rich azure silk which partially draped two large fold-
ing-doors, he ushered him into a magnificent apartment
opening out upon the terrace and garden beyond a gar-
den filled with such a marvelous profusion of foliage and
flowers, that, looking at it from between the glistening
marble columns surrounding the palace, it seemed as
though the very sky above rested edge-wise on towering
pyramids of red and white bloom. Awnings of pale blue
stretched from the windows across the entire width of
the spacious outer colonnade, and here, two small boys,
half-nude, and black as polished ebony, were huddled
together on the mosaic pavement, watching the arrogant
deportment of a superb peacock that strutted majestically
to and fro with boastfully spreading tail and glittering
crest as brilliant as the gleam of the hot sun on the
silver fringe of the azure canopies.
"Up, lazy rascals!" cried Sah-luma imperiously, as
with the extreme point of his sandaled foot he touched
the dimpled, shiny back of the nearest boy. "Up, and
away! Fetch rose-water and sweet perfumes hither.
By the gods! ye have let the incense in yonder burner
smoulder!" and he pointed to a massive brazen vessel,
gorgeously ornamented, from whence rose but the very
faintest blue whiff of fragrant smoke "Off witrrye both,
ye basking blackamoors! bring fresh frankincense, and
palm leaves wherewith to stir this heated air; hence and
back again like a lightning -flash! or out of my sight
forever!"
While he spoke, the little fellows stood trembling and
ducking their woolly heads, as though they half expected
to be seized by their irate master and flung, like black
balls, out into the wilderness of flowers, but glancing
122 "ARDATH"
timidly up and perceiving that even in the midst of his
petulance he smiled, they took courage, and as soon as
he had paused, they darted off with the swiftness of fly-
ing arrows, each striving to outstrip the other in a race
across the terrace and garden. Sah-luma laughed as he
watched them disappear, and then stepping back into
the interior of the apartment, he turned to Theos and
bade him be seated. Theos sank unresistingly into a
low, velvet-cushioned chair, richly carved and inlaid with
ivory, and stretching his limbs indolently therein, sur-
veyed with new and ever-growing admiration the supple,
elegant figure of his host, who, throwing himself full
length on a couch covered with leopard skins, folded his
arms behind his head, and eyed his guest with a com-
placent smile of vanity and self-approval.
'"Tis not an altogether unfitting retreat for a poet's
musings," he said, assuming an air of indifference, as he
glanced round his luxurious, almost royally appointed
room; "I have heard of worse. But truly it needs the
highest art of all known nations to worthily deck a hab-
itation wherein the divine Muse may daily dwell ; never-
theless, air, light, and flowers are not lacking, and on
these, methinks, I could subsist were I deprived of all
other things."
Theos sat silent, looking about him wistfully. Was
ever poet, king, or even emperor, housed more sumptu-
ously than this? he thought, as his eyes wandered to the
domed ceiling, wreathed with carved clusters of grapes
and pomegranates; the walls, frescoed with glowing
scenes of love and song-tournament; the groups of superb
statuary that gleamed whitely out of dusky velvet-draped
corners; the quaintly shaped book-cases, overflowing
with books, and made so as to revolve round and round
at a touch, or move to and fro on noiseless wheels; the
grand busts, both in bronze and marble, that stood on
tall pedestals or projecting brackets; and, while he dimly
noted all these splendid evidences of unlimited wealth
and luxury, the perfume and luster of the place, the
glitter of gold and azure, silver and scarlet, the Orien-
tal languor pervading the very air, and above all the rich
amber and azure-tinted light that bathed every object
in a dream-like and fairy radiance, plunged his senses
into a delicious confusion, a throbbing fever of delight
A POET'S PALACE 123
to which he could give no name, but which permeated
every fiber of his being.
He felt half-blinded with the brilliancy of the scene,
the dazzling glow of color, the sheen of deep and deli-
cate hues cunningly intermixed and contrasted, the gor-
geous lavishness of waving blossoms that seemed to surge
up like a sea to the very windows, and though many
thoughts flitted hazily through his brain, he could not
shape them into utterance. He stared vaguely at the
floor; it was paved with variegated mosaic and strewn
with the soft, dark, furry skins of wild animals. At a
little distance from where he sat there was a huge
bronze lectern, supported by a sculptured griffin with
horns horns which, curving over at the top, turned up-
ward again in the form of candelabra. The harp-bearer
had brought in the harp, and it now stood in a conspic-
uous position, decked with myrtle, some of the garlands
woven by the maidens being no doubt used for this pur-
pose.
Yet there was something mirage-like and fantastic in
the splendor that everywhere surrounded him; he felt
as though he were one of the spectators in a vast audi-
torium where the curtain had just risen on the first
scenes of the play. He was dubiously considering, in
his own perplexed mind, whether such princely living
were the privilege, or right, or custom of poets in gen-
eral, when Sah-luma spoke again, waving his hands
toward one of the busts near him a massive, frowning
head, magnificently sculptured.
"There is the glorious Oruzel!" he said. "The father,
as we all must own, of the art of poesy, and indeed of
all true literature. Yet there be some who swear he
never lived at all ay! though his poems have come
down to us; and many are the arguments I have had
with so-called wise men like Zabastes, concerning his
style and method of versification. Everything he has
written bears the impress of the same master-touch;
nevertheless, garrulous controversialists hold that his
famous, work the 'Ruva Kalama,' descended by oral tra-
dition from mouth to mouth till it came to us in its
'improved' present condition. 'Improved!'" and Sah-
luma laughed disdainfully. "As if the mumbling of an
epic poem from grandsire to grandson could possibly
1 24
improve it. It would rather be deteriorated, if not al-
together changed into the merest doggerel. Nay, nay!
the 'Ruva-Kalama' is the achievement of one great
mind not twenty Oruzels were born in succession to
write it; there was, there could be, only one, and he,
by right supreme, is chief of the bards immortal. As
well might fools hereafter wrangle together and say there
were many Sah-lumas! only I have taken good heed
posterity shall know there was only one, unmatched for
love-impassioned singing throughout the length and
breadth of the world!"
He sprang up from his recumbent posture and attracted
Theos' attention to another bust even finer than the
last; it was placed on a pedestal wreathed at the sum-
mit and at the base with laurel.
"The divine Hyspiros!" he exclaimed, pointing to it
in a sort of ecstasy. "The master from whom, it matr
be, I have caught the perfect entrancement of my own
verse-melody. His fame, as thou knowest, is unrivaled
and universal; yet canst thou believe it there hat'*
been of late an ass found in Al-Kyris who hath chosei
him as a subject for his braying, and other asses join
in the uneuphonious chorus. The marvelous plays cf
Hyspiros! the grandest tragedies, the airiest comedies,
the tenderest fantasies ever created by human brain, have
been called in question by these thistle-eating animals;
and one most untractable mule-head hath made pretense
to discover therein a passage of secret writing which
shall, so the fool thinks, prove that Hyspiros was not
the author of his own works, but only a literary cheat,
and forger of another and lesser man's inspiration. By
the gods I one's sides would split with lauphter at the
silly brute, were he not altogether too contemptible to
provoke even derision! Hyspiros a traitor to the art he
served and glorified? Hyspiros a literary juggler and
trickster? By the serpent's head! they may as well seek
to prove the fiery sun in heaven a common oil lamp, as
strive to lessen by one iota the transcendent glory of
the noblest poet the centuries have ever seen!"
Warmed by enthusiasm, with his eyes flashing and the
impetuous words coursing from his lips, his head thrown
back, his hand uplifted, Sah-luma looked magnificent ;
Theos, to whose misty brain the names of Oru/fc)
A POET'S PALACE 125
dud Hyspiros carried no positively distinct meaning,
was nevertheless struck by a certain suggestiveness in
his remarks that seemed to bear on some discussion in
the literary world that had taken place quite recently.
He was puzzled, and tried to fix the precise point round
which his thoughts strayed so hesitatingly, but he could
arrive at no definite conclusion. The brilliant meteor-
like Sah-luma meantime flashed hither and thither about
the room, selecting certain volumes from his loaded
book-stands, and bringing them in a pile, he set them
on a small table by his visitor's side.
"These are some of the earliest editions of the plays
of Hyspiros," he went on, talking in that rapid, fluent
way of his that was as musical as a bird's song. "They
are rare and curious. See you ! the names of the scribes
and the dates of issue are all distinct. Ah! the treasures
of poetry enshrined within these pages! Was ever pa-
pyrus so gemmed with pearls of thought and wisdom? If
there were a next world, my friend," and here he placed
his hand familiarly on his guest's shoulder, while the
bright steel-gray under gleam sparkled in his splendid
eyes, "'twould be worth dwelling in for the sake of Hys-
piros, as grand a god as any of the thunderers in the
empyrean!"
"Surely there is a next world," murmured Theos,
scarcely knowing what he said. "A world where thou
and I, Sah-luma, and all the masters and servants of
song shall meet and hold high festival!"
Sah-luma laughed again, a little sadly this time, and
shrugged his shoulders.
"Believe it not!" he said, and there was a touch of
melancholy in his rich voice. "We are midgets in a sun-
beam emmets on a sand-hill, no more. Is there a next
world, thinkest thou, for the bees who die of surfeit in
the nilica-cups? for the whirling drift of brilliant butter-
flies that sleepily float with the wind unknowing whither,
till, met by the icy blast of the north, they fall like
broken and colorless leaves in the dust of the high road?
Is there a next world for this?" and he took from a tall
vase near at hand a delicate flower, lily shaped and de-
liciously odorous. "The expression of its soul or mind
is in its fragrance, even as the expression of ours finds
vent in thought and aspiration; have we more right tn
til
Jive again than this most innocently fair blossom, un-
smirched by deeds of evil? Nay! I would more easily
believe in a heaven for birds and flowers, than for
women and men!"
A shadow of pain darkened his handsome face as he
spoke, and Theos, gazing full at him, became suddenly
filled with pity and anxiety; he passionately longed to
assure him that there was in very truth a future higher
and happier existence he, Theos, would vouch for the
fact! But how? and why? What could he say? what
could he prove?
His throat ached, his eyeballs burned; he was, as it
were, forbidden to speak, notwithstanding the yearning
desire he felt to impart to the soul of his new-found
friend something of that indescribable sense of ever-
last in gness which he himself was now conscious of,
even as one set free of prison is" conscious of liberty.
Mute, and with a feeling as of hot, unshed tears welling
up from his very heart, he turned over the volumes of
Hyspiros almost mechanically; they were formed of
sheets of papyrus artistically bound in loose leather cov-
erings and tied together with gold-colored ribbon.
The Kyrisian language was, as has been before stated,
perfectly familiar to him, though he could not tell how
he had acquired the knowledge of it, and he was able to
see at a glance that Sah-luma had good cause to be en-
thusiastic in his praise of the author whose genius he
so fervently admired. There was a ringing richness in
the rush of the verse, a wealth of simile, combined with
a simplicity and directness of utterance, that charmed
the ear while influencing the mind, and he was begin-
ning to read in sotto voce the opening lines of a spir-
ited battle-challenge running thus:
"I tell thee, O thou pride-enthroned King,
That from these peaceful fields, these harvest lands,
Strange crops shall spring, not sown by thee or thine!
Arm'd millions, bristling weapons, helmed men
Dreadfully plum'd and eager for the fray,
Steel-crested myrmidons, toss'd spears, wild steeds,
Uplifted flags and pennons, horrid swords,
Death-gleaming eyes, stern hands to grasp and tear
Life from beseeching life, till all the heavens
Shriek havoc to the terror-trembling stars"
when the two small black pages lately dispatched in
such haste by Sah-luma returned, each one bearing a
A POET'SPALACE 127
huge gilded bowl filled with rose-water, together with
fine linen cloths, lace-fringed, and soft as satin.
Kneeling humbly down, one before Theos, the other
before Sah-luma, they lifted these great shining bowls
on their heads, and remained motionless. Sah-luma
dipped his face and hands in the cool, fragrant fluid
Theos followed his example; and when these light ablu-
tions were completed, the pages disappeared, coming
back almost immediately with baskets of loose rose-
leaves, white and red, which they scattered profusely
about the room. A delightful odor, subtly sweet and yet
not faint, began to freshen the already perfumed aiv,
and Sah-luma, flinging himself again on his couch, mo-
tioned Theos to take a similar resting-place opposite.
He at once obeyed, yielding anew to the sense of in-
dolent luxury and voluptuous ease his surroundings
engendered, and presently the aroma of rising incense
mingled itself with the scent of the strewn rose-petals;
the pages had replenished the incense-burner, and now,
these duties done so far, they brought each a broad, long-
stalked palm-leaf, and, placing themselves in proper posi-
tion, began to fan the two young men slowly and with
measured gentleness, standing as mute as little black
statues, the only movement about them being the occa-
sional rolling of their white eyeballs and the swaying to
and fro of their shiny arms as they wielded the graceful,
bending leaves.
"This is the way a poet should ever live!" murmured
Theos, glancing up from the soft cushions among which
he reclined, to San iuma, who lay with his eyes half
closed and a musing smile on his beautiful mouth.
"Self-centered in a circle of beauty, with naught but fair
suggestions and sweet thoughts to break the charm of
solitude. A kingdom of happy fancies should be his,
with gates shut fast against unwelcome intruders gates
that should never open save to the conquering touch of
woman's kiss! for the master-key of love must unlock
all doors, even the doors of a minstrel's dreaming!"
"Thinkest thou so?" said Sah-luma lazily, turning his
dark, delicate head slightly round on his glistening pale-
rose satin pillow. "Nay, of a truth there are times when
I could bar out women from my thoughts as mere dis-
turbers of the translucent element of poesy in which my
1 28 "ARDATH"
spirit bathes. There is fatigue in love; these pretty
human butterflies too oft weary the flower whose honey
they seek to drain. Nevertheless, the passion of Jove
hath a certain tingling pleasure in it I yield to it when
it touches me, even as I yield to all other pleasant
things; but there are some who unwisely carry desire too
far and make of love a misery instead of a pastime.
Many will die for love fools are they all! To die for
fame for glory that I can understand; but for love!"
He laughed, and taking up a crushed rose-petal, he
flipped it into the air with his finger and thumb. "I
would as soon die for sake of that perished leaf as for
sake of a woman's transient beauty! "
As he uttered these words Niphrata entered, carrying
a golden salver on which were placed a tall flagon, two
goblets, and a basket of fruit. She approached Theos
first, and he, raising himself on his elbow, surveyed
her with fresh admiration and interest while he poured
out wine from the flagon into one of those glittering
cups, which he noticed were rough with the quantity of
small gems used in their outer ornamentation.
He was struck by her fair and melancholy style of
loveliness, and as she stood before him with lowered
eyes, the color alternately flushing and paling on her
cheeks, and her bosom heaving restlessly beneath the
loosely drawn folds of her primrose-hued gown, an in-
explicable emotion of pity smote him, as if he had sud-
denly been made aware of some inward sorrow of hers
which he was utterly powerless to console. He would
have spoken, but just then could find nothing appropriate
to say; and when he had selected a fine peach from the
heaped-up dainties offered for his choice, he still watched
her as she turned to Sah-Iuma, who smiled, and bade
her set down her salver on a low bronze stand at his
side. She did so, and then with the warm blood burning
in her cheeks, stood waiting and silent. Sah-luma, with
a lithe movement of his supple form, lifted himself into
a half-sitting posture, and, throwing one arm round her
waist, drew her close to his breast and kissed her.
"My fairest moonbeam!" he said gayly. "Thou art as
noiseless and placid as thy yet unembodied sisters that
stream through heaven and dance on the river when the
world is sleeping. Myrtle!" and he detached a spray from
A POET'S PALACE 129
tbe bosom of her dress. "What hast thou to do with the
poet's garland? By my faith, thou art like Theos yon-
der, and hast chosen to wear a sprig of my faded crown
for thine adornment is't not so?" A hot and painful
blush crimsoned Niphrata's face, a softness as of sup
pressed tears glistened in her e)'es; she made no answer,
out looked beseechingly at the little twig Sah-luma
held. "Silly child!" he went on laughingly, replacing it
himself against her bosom, where the breath seemed to
struggle with such panting haste and fear. "Thou art
welcome to the dead leaves sanctified by song, if thou
thinkest them of value; but I would rather see the rose-
bud of love nestled in that pretty white breast of thine,
than the cast-off ornaments of fame!"
And, filling himself a cup of wine, he raised it aloft,
looking at Theos smilingly as he did so.
"To your health, my noble friend!" he cried. "And
to the joys of the passing hour!"
"A wise toast!" answered Theos, placing his lips to
his own goblet's rim. "For the past is past, 'twill never
return; the future we know not, and only the present
can be called our own ! To the health of the divine Sah-
luma, whose fame is my glory! whose friendship is dear
to me as life!"
And with this, he drained off the wine to the last drop.
Scarcely had he done so, when the most curious sensa-
tion overcame him a sensation of bewildering ecstasy, as
though he had drunk of some ambrosial nectar or magic
drug which had suddenly wound up his nerves to an
acute tension of indescribable delight. The blood coursed
more swiftly through his veins; he felt his face flush
with the impulsive heat and ardor of the moment ; he
laughed as he set the cup down empty; and throwing
himself back on his luxurious couch, his eyes flashed on
Sah-luma's with a bright, comprehensive glance of com-
plete confidence and affection. It was strange to note
how quickly Sah-luma returned that glance; how thor-
oughly, in so short a space of time, their friendship had
cemented itself into a more than fraternal bond of union!
Niphrata meanwhile stood a little aside, her wistful look
wandering from one to the other as though in something
of doubt or wonder. Presently she spoke, inclining her
fair head toward Sah-luma
130 "ARDATH"
"My lord goes to the palace to-night to make his val-
ued voice heard in the presence of the king?" she in-
quired timidly.
"Even so, Niphrata!" responded the laureate, pass-
ing his hand carelessly through his clustering curls. "I
have been summoned thither by the royal command.
But what of that, little one? Thou knowest 'tis a
common occurrence, and that the court is bereft of all
pleasure and sweetness when Sah-luma is silent!"
"My lord's guest goes with him?" pursued Niphrata
gently.
"Ay, most assuredly!" and Sah-luma smiled at Theos
as he spoke. "Thou wilt accompany me to the king,
my friend?" he went on. "He will give thee a welcome
for my sake, and though of a truth his majesty is most
potently ignorant of all things save the arts of love and
warfare, nevertheless he is man as well as monarch, and
thou wilt find him noble in his greeting and generous of
hospitality."
"I will go with thee, Sah-luma, anywhere!" replied
Theos quickly. "For, in following such a guide, I fol-
low my own most perfect pleasure!"
Niphrata looked at him meditatively, with a melan-
choly expression in her lovely eyes.
"My lord Sah-luma's presence indeed brings joy!" she
said softly and tremulously. "But the jo)' is too sweet
and brief, for when he departs none can fill the place he
leaves vacant!" She paused. Sah-luma's gaze rested
on her intently, a half-amused, half tender light leaping
from under the drooping shade of his long, silky black
lashes. She caught the look, and a little shiver ran
through her delicate frame; she pressed one hand en her
heart, and resumed in steadier and more even tones: "My
lord has perhaps not heard of the disturbances of the
early morning in the city?" she asked. ' The riotous
crowd in the market-place, the ravings of the Prophet
Khosrul, the sudden arrest and imprisonment of many,
and the consequent wrath of the king?"
"No, by my faith!" returned Sah-luma, yawning slight-
ly and settling his head more comfortably on his pillows.
"Nor do I care to heed the turbulence of a mob that
cannot guide itself and yet resists all guidance. Ar-
rests? imprisonments? they are common; but why in the
A POET'S PALACE 131
iume of the sacred veil do they not arrest and imprison
the actual disturbers of the peace, the mystics and phi-
losophers whose street orations filter through the minds
of the disaffected, rousing them to foolish frenzy and
disordered action? Why, above all men, do they not
seize Khosrul? a veritable madman, for all his many
years and seeming wisdom! Hath he not denounced
the faith of Nagaya and foretold the destruction of the
city times out of number? and are we not wear to death
of his bombastic mouthing? If the king deemed a poet's
counsel worth the taking, he would long ago have shut
this bearded ranter within the four walls of a dungeon,
where only rats and spiders would attend his lectures on
approaching doom!"
"Nay, but, my lord," Niphrata ventured to say timidly,
"the king dare not lay hands on Khosrul "
"Dare not!" laughed Sah-luma, lazily stretching out
his hand and helping himself to a luscious nectarine
from the basket at his side. "Sweet Niphrata, settest
thou a limit to the power of th king? As well draw a
boundary line for the imagination of the poet! Khosrul
may be loved and feared by a certain pumber of supersti-
tious malcontents who look upon a madman as a sort
of sacred wild animal; but the actual population of Al-
Kyris, the people who are the blood, bone, and sinew
of the city these are not in favor of change either in
religion, laws, manners, or customs. But Khosrul is old,
and that the king humors his vagaries is simply out ol
pity for his age and infirmity, Niphrata, not because ol
fear! Our monarch knows no fear!"
"Khosrul prophesies terrible things!" murmured the
girl hesitatingly. "1 have often thought if they should
come true!"
"Thou timid dove!" and Sah-luma, rising from hi
couch, kissed her neck lightly, thus causing a delicate
flush of crimson to ripple through the whiteness of her
skin. "Think no more of such folly thou wilt anger
me! That a doting graybeard like Khosrul should trouble
the peace of Al-Kyris the Magnificent! By the gods!
the whole thing is absurd ! Let me hear no more of mobs
or riots, or road-rhetoric; my soul abhors even the sug-
gestion of discord. Tranquility! Divinest calm, dis-
turbed only by the flutterings of winged thoughts hovering
132 "ARDATH"
over the cloudless heaven of fancy! this this alone is
the sum and center of my desires, and to-day I find that
even thou, Niphrata," here his voice took upon itself an
injured tone, "thou, who art usually so gentle, hast
somewhat troubled the placidity of my mind by thy
foolish talk concerning common and unpleasant circum
stances " He stopped short and a line of vexation and
annoyance made its appearance between his broad, beau-
tiful brows; while Niphrata, seeing this expression cf
almost baby-petulance in the face she adored, threw her-
self suddsnely at his feet, and raising her lovely eyes
swimming in tears, she exclaimed:
"My lord! Sah-luma! Singing-angel cf Niphrata's
soul! Forgive me! It is true, thou shouldst nevti hear
of strife or contention among the coarser tribe of men,
and I I, poor Niphrata, would give my life to shield
thee from the faintest shadow of annoy! I would have
thy path all woven sunbeams ; thou shouldest live like
a fairy monarch embowered 'mid roses, sheltered from
rough winds, and folded in loving arms, fairer maybe,
but not more fond than mine!" Her voice broke; stoop-
ing, she kissed the silver fastening of his sandal, and
springing up, rushed from the room before a word could
be uttered to bid her stay.
Sah-luma looked after her with a pretty, half-pleased
perplexity.
"She is often thus!" he said in a tone of playful resig-
nation. "As I told thee, Theos, women are butterflies,
hovering hither and thither on uneasy pinions, uncertain
of their own desires. Niphrata is a woman riddle; some-
times she angers me, sometimes she soothes, now she
prattles of things that concern me not, and anon con-
verses with such high and lofty earnestness of speech,
that I listen amazed, and wonder where she hath gath-
ered up her store of seeming wisdom. "
"Love teaches her all she knows!" interrupted Theos
quickly and with a meaning glance.
Sah-luma laughed languidly, a faint color warming
the clear olive pallor of his complexion.
"Ay, poor tender little soul, she loves me," he said
carelessly. "That is no secret! But then all women
love me; I am more like to die of a surfeit of love than
of anything clsel" He moved toward the open window,
THE SUMMONS OF THE SIGNET 133
"Come," he added. "It is the hour of sunset; there is
a green hillock in my garden yonder from whence we can
behold the pomp and panoply of the golden god's depart-
ure. 'Tis a sight I never miss; I would have thee share
its glory with me."
"But art thou, then indifferent to woman's tenderness?"
asked Theos half-banteringly as he took his arm. "Dost
thou love no one?"
"My friend," replied Sah-luma seriously, "I love my-
self! I see naught that contents me more than my own
personality, and with all my heart I admire the miracle
and beauty of my own existence! There is nothing even
in the completest fairness of womanhood that satisfies
me so much as the contemplation of my own genius, re-
alizing as I do its wondrous power and perfect charm!
The life of a poet such as I am is a perpetual marvel !
The whole universe ministers to my needs; humanity
becomes the merest bound slave to the caprice of my
imperial imagination. With a thought I scale the stars
with a wish I float in highest ether among spheres un-
discovered, yet familiar to my fancy. I converse with
the spirits of flowers and fountains, and the love of woman
is a mere drop in the deep ocean of my unfathome3
delight. Yes, I adore my own identity, and of a truth
self-worship is the only creed the world has ever followed
faithfully to the end."
He glanced up with a bright, assured smile. Theos
met his gaze wonderingly, doubtfully, but made no reply,
and together they paced slowly across the marble ter-
race, and out into the glorious garden, rich with the
riotous roses that clambered and clustered everywhere,
their hues deepening to flame-like vividness in the burn-
ing radiance of the sinking sun.
CHAPTER IV.
THE SUMMONS OF THE SIGNET.
THEY walked side by side for some little time without
speaking, through winding paths of alternate light and
shade, sheltered by the lattice-work of crossed aq4
134 "ARDATH"
twisted green boughs, where only the amorous chant of
chirming birds now and then broke the silence with lit
ful and tender sweetness. All the air about them was
fragrant and delicate; tiny rainbow-winged midges
whirled round and danced in the warm sunset glow like
flecks of gold in amber wine, while here and there the
distant glimmer of tossing fountains, or the soft emerald
sheen of a prattling brook that wound in and out the
grounds, among banks of moss and drooping fern, gave
a pleasant touch of coolness and refreshment to the bril-
liant verdure of the luxuriant landscape.
"Speaking of creeds, Sah-luma, " said Theos at last,
looking down with a curiousness of compassion and pro-
tection at his companion's slight, graceful form, "wh;it
religion is it that dominates this city and people? To-
day, through want of knowledge, it seems I committed
a nearly unpardonable offense by gazing at th<; beauty of
the virgin priestess when I should have inelt fac^-
hidden to her benediction; thou must tell rn* something
of the common laws of worship, that I err not thus
blindly again."
Sah-luma smiled.
"The common laws of worship are the common laws
of custom," he replied. "No more, no less. And in this
we are much like other nations. We believi; in no ac-
tual creed who does? We accept a certain given defi-
nition of a supposititious divinity, together with the
suitable maxims and code of morals accompanying that
definition. We call this religion, and we wear it as we
wear our clothing, for the sake of necessity and decency,
though truly we are not half so concerned about it as
about the far more interesting details of taste in attire.
Still, we have grown used to our doctrine, and some of
us will fight with each other for the difference of a word
respecting it; and as it contains within itself many
seeds of discord and contradiction, such dissensions are
frequent, especially among the priests, who, were they but
true to their professed vocation, should be able to find
ways of smoothing over all apparent inconsistencies, and
maintaining peace and order. Of course we, in union
with all civilized communities, worship the sun, even
as thou must do; in this one leading principle at least,
our fajth is universal!"
THE SUMMONS OF THE SIGNET IJ5
Theos bent his head in assent. He was scarcely con-
scious of the action, but at that moment he felt, with
Sah luma, that there was no other form of divinity ac-
knowledged in the world than the refulgent orb that
gladdens and illumines earth, and visibly controls the
seasons
"And yet," went on Sah-luma thoughtfully, "the well-
instructed know through our scientists and astronomers
(many of whom are now languishing in prison for the
boldness of their researches and discoveries) that the
sun is no divinity at all, but simply a huge planet, a
dense body surrounded by a luminous, flame-darting
atmosphere, neither self-acting nor omnipotent, but only
one of many similar orbs moving in strict obedience to
fixed mathematical laws. Nevertheless, this knowledge
is wisely kept back as much as possible from the multi-
tude; for, were science to unveil her marvels too openly
to semi-educated and vulgarly constituted minds, the re-
sult would be, first atheism, next republicanism, and
finally anarchy and ruin. If these evils which like birds
of prey continually hover about all great kingdoms are
to be averted, we must, for the welfare of the country
and people, hold fast to some stated form and outward
observance of religious belief."
He paused. Theos gave him a quick, searching glance.
"Even if such belief should have no shadow of a true
foundation?" he inquired. "Can it be well for men to
cling superstitiously to a false doctrine?"
Sah-luma appeared to consider this question in his
own mind for some minutes before replying.
"My friend, it is difficult to decide what is false and
what is true," he said at last with a little shrug of his
shoulders; "but I think that even a false religion is better
for the masses than none at all. Men are closely allied
to brutes; if the moral sense ceases to restrain them
they at once leap the boundary line and give as much
rein to their desires and appetites as the hyenas and
tigers. And in some natures the moral sense is only kept
alive by fear fear of offending some despotic invisible
force that pervades the universe, and whose chief and
most terrible attribute is not so much creative as destruc-
tive power. To propitiate and pacify an unseen supreme
destroyer is the aim of all religions, and it is for this
136 "ARDATH"
reason we add to our worship of the sun, that of the
white serpent, Nagaya the Mediator. Nagaya is the fa-
vorite object of the people's adoration; they may forget
to pay their vows to the sun, but never to Nagaya, who is
looked upon as the emblem of eternal wisdom, the only
pleader whose persuasions avail to soften the tyrannic
humor of the invincible devourer of all things. We know
how men hate wisdom and cannot endure to be instructed,
and yet they prostrate themselves in abject crowds
before wisdom's symbol ever}' day in the sacred temple
yonder; though I much doubt whether such constant de-
votional attendance is not more for the sake of Lysia,
than the Deified Worm!"
He laughed, with a little undercurrent of scorn in his
laughter, and Theos saw, as it were, the lightning of an
angry or disdainful thought flashing through the somber
splendor of his eyes.
"And Lysia is ?" began Theos suggestively.
"The high priestess of Nagaya," responded Sah-luma
slowly. "Charmer of the god, as well as of the hearts
of men ! The hot passion of love is to her a toy, clasped
and unclasped so in the pink hollow of her hand," and
as he spoke he closed his fingers softly on the air and
unclosed them again with an expressive gesture. "And
so long as she retains the magic of her beauty, so long
will Nagiya-worship hold Al-Kyris in check. Otherwise
who knows there have been many disturbances of
late; the teachings of the philosophers have aroused a
certain discontent, and there are those who are weary
of perpetual sacrifices and the shedding of innocent
blood. Moreover, this mad Khosrul of whom Niphrala
spoke lately thunders angry denunciations of Lysia and
Nagaya in the open streets, with so much fervid eloquence
that they who pass by cannot choose but hear; he hath
a strange craze, a doctrine of the future which he most
furiously proclaims in the language prophets use. He
holds that far away, in the center of a circle of pure
light, the true God exists a vast, all-glorious Being who
with exceeding marvelous love controls and guides cre-
ation toward some majestic end, even as a musician
doth melodize his thought from small, sweet notes to
perfect chord-woven harmonies. Furthermore, that,
thousands of years hence, this God will embody a por-
THE SUMMONS OF THE SIGNET 137
tion of His own existence in human form and will send
hither a wondrous creature, half-God, half-man, to live
our life, die our death, and teach us by precept and
example the surest way to eternal happiness. Tis a
theory both strange and wild; hast ever heard of it be-
fore?"
He put the question indifferently, but Theos was mute.
That horrible sense of a straining desire to speak when
speech was forbidden again oppressed him; he felt as
though he were being strangled with his own unfailing
tears. What a crushing weight of unutterable thoughts
burdened his brain! He gazed up at the serenely glow-
ing sky in aching, dumb despair, till slowly, very slowly,
words came at last like dull throbs of pain beating be-
tween his lips:
"I think I fancy I have heard a rumor of such doc-
trine, but I know as little of it as as thou, Sah-luma.
I can tell thee no more than thou hast said." He
paused, and gaining more firmness of tone went on:
seems to me a not altogether impossible conception of
divine benevolence, for if God lives at all, He must be
capable of manifesting Himself in many ways, both small
and great, common and miraculous, though of a truth
there are no miracles beyond what appear as such to our
limited sight and restricted intelligence. But tell me,"
and here his voice had a ring of suppressed anxiety with-
in it, "tell me, Sah-luma, thine own thoughts concern-
ing it."
"I? I think naught of it," replied Sah-luma with airy
contempt. ''Such a creed may find followers in time to
come; but now, of what avail to warn us of things that
do not concern our present modes of life? Moreover,
in the face of all religions, my own opinion should not
alter; I have studied science sufficiently well to know
that there is no God, and I am too honest to worship an
unproved and merely imaginary identity "
A shudder, as of extreme cold, ran through Theos,
veins, and as if impelled on by some invisible monitor
he said, almost mournfully:
"Art thou sure, Sah-luma, thou dost not instinctively
feel that there is a higher Power hidden behind the veil
of visible nature? and that in the far beyond there may
be an eternity of joy where thou shalt find all thy grand-
est aspirations at last fulfijjed?"
138 "ARDATH"
Sah luma laughed a clear, vibrating laugh, as mellow
as the note of a thrush in spring-time.
"Thou solemn soul!" he exclaimed mirthfully. 'My
aspirations are fulfilled. I aspire to no more than fame,
and that I hold that I shall keep so long as this world
is lighted by the sun."
"And what use is fame to thee in death?" demanded
Theos with sudden and emphatic earnestness.
Sah luma stood still ; over his beautiful face came a
shadow of intense melancholy; he raised his brilliant
eye full of wistful pathos and pleading.
"I pray thee, do not make me sad, my friend," he
murmured tremulously. "These thoughts are like mut-
tering thunder in my heaven. Death!" and a quick sigh
escaped him. '"Twill be the breaking of my harp and
heart the last note of my failing voice and ever-silenced
song."
A moisture as of tears glistened on the silky fringe of
his eyelids; his lips quivered; he had the look of a
Narcissus regretfully bewailing his own perishable love-
liness. On a swift impulse of affection Theos threw one
arm round his neck in the fashion of a confiding school-
boy walking with his favorite companion.
"Nay,thou shall never die, Sah-luma!" he said with a
sort of passionate eagerness. "Thy bright soul shall live
forever in a sunshine sweeter than that of earth's fairest
midsummer noon. Thy songs can never be silenced while
heaven pulsates with the unwritten music of the spheres,
and even were the crown of immortality denied to lesser
men, it is, it must be the heritage of the poet! For to
him all crowns belong, all kingdoms are thrown open, a 11
barriers broken down even those that divide us from
the unseen ; and God Himself has surely a smile to
spare for His singers who have made the sad world joyful
if only for an hour!"
Sah-luma looked up with a pleased yet wondering
glance.
"Thou hast a silvery and persuasive tongue!" he said
gently. "And thou speakest of God as if thou knewest
one akin to Him. Would I could believe all thou sayest,
but alas! I cannot. We have progressed too far in knowl-
edge, my friend, for faith, yet ' He hesitated a moment,
then with a touch of caressing entreaty in his tone went
THE SUMMONS OF THE SIGNET 139
01. : "Thinkest thou in very truth that I shall live again?
For I confess to thee, it seems beyond all things strange
and terrible to feel that this genius of mine this spirit
of melody which inhabits my frame, should perish ut-
terly without further scope for its abilities. There have
been moments when my soul, ravished by inspirations,
has, as it were, seized earth like a full goblet of wine,
and quaffed its beauties, its pleasures, its loves, its glo-
ries, all in one burning draught of song! when I have
stood in thought on the shadowy peaks of time, waiting
for other worlds to string like beads on my thread of
poesy when wondrous creatures habited in light and
wreathed with stars have floated round and round me in
rosy circles of fire; and once, methought 'twas long ago
now I heard a Voice distinct and sweet that called me
Upward, onward, and away, I know not where save that
a hidden love awaited me!" He broke off with a rapt,
almost angelic expression in his eyes, then sighing a
little he resumed: "All dreams, of course! vague phan-
toms creations of my own imaginative brain, yet fair
enough to fill my heart with speechless longings for ethe-
real raptures unseen, unknown ! Thou hast, methinks,
a certain faith in the unsolved mysteries, but I have
n jne; for sweet as the promise of a future life may seem,
there is no proof that it shall ever be. If one died and
rose again from the dead, then might we all believe and
hope; but otherwise "
O miserable Theos! What would he not have given to
utter aloud the burning knowledge that ate into his mind
like slow-devouring fire! Again mute! again oppressed
by that strange swelling at the heart that threatened to
break forth in stormy sobs of penitence and prayer! In-
stinctively he drew Sah-luma closer to his side his
breath came thick and fast he struggled with all his
might to speak the words, "One has died and risen from
the dead!" but not a syllable could he form of the de-
sired sentence.
"Thou shalt live again, Sah-luma!" was all he could
say, in low, half-smothered accents. "Thou hast within
thee a flame that cannot perish."
Again Sah-luma' s eyes dwelt upon him with a curious-
appealing tenderness.
"Thy words savor of sweet consolation!" he said half-
140 "ARDATH"
gayly, half-sadly. "May they be fulfilled! And if, indeed
there is a brighter world than this beyond the skies, I
fancy thou and I will know each other there, as here,
and be somewhat close companions! See!" and he pointed
to a green hillock that rose up like a shining emerald
from the darker foliage of the surrounding trees, "yonder
is my point of vantage, whence we shall behold the sun
go down like a warrior sinking on the red field of battle;
the chimes are ringing even now for his departure
listen'"
They stood still for a space, while the measured, swing-
ing cadence of bells came pealing through the stillness
bells of every tone, that smote the air with soft or loud
resonance as the faint wind wafted the sounds toward
them; and then they began to climb the little hill, Sah-
luma walking somewhat in advance, with a tread as light
and elastic as that of a young fawn.
Theos, following, watched his movements with a
strange affection; every turn of his head, every gesture
of his hand seemed fraught with meaning as yet inexpli-
cable. The grass beneath their feet was soft as velvet
and dotted with a myriad of wild-flowers; the ascent was
gradual and easy, and in a few minutes they had reached
the summit, where Sah-luma, throwing himself indolently
on the smooth turf, pulled Theos gently down by his
side. There they rested in silence, gazing at the magnifi-
cent panorama laid out before them a panorama as
lovely as a delicately pictured scene of fairy-land. Above,
the sky was of a dense yet misty rose-color; the sun,
low on the western horizon, appeared to rest in a vast,
deep purple hollow, rifted here and there with broad
gashes of gold; long shafts of light streamed upward in
order like the waving pennons of an angel army march-
ing; and beyond, far away from this blaze of splendid
color, the wide ethereal expanse paled into tender blue,
whereon light clouds of pink and white drifted like the
fluttering blossoms that fall from apple-trees in spring.
Below, and seen through a haze of rose and amber,
lay the city of Al-Kyris, its white domes, towers, and
pinnacled palaces rising out of the mist like a glorious
mirage afloat on the borders of a burning desert. Al-
Kyris the Magnificent! it deserved its name, Theos
thought, as, shading his eyes from the red glare, he took
THE SUMMONS OF IKE SIGNET 14!
a wondering and gradually comprehensive view of the
enormous extent of the place. He soon perceived that
it was defended by six strongly fortified walls, each placed
within the other at long distances apart, so that it might
have been justly described as six cities all merged to
gether in one, and from where he sat he could plainly
discern the great square where he had rested in the
morning, by reason of the white granite obelisk that
lifted itself sheer up against the sky, undwarfed by any
of the surrounding buildings.
This gigantic monument was the most prominent ob-
ject in sight, with the exception of the sacred temple,
which Sah-luma presently pointed out a round fortress-
like piece of architecture ornamented with twelve gilded
towers, from which bells were now clashing and jangling
in a storm of melodious persistency. The hum of the
city's traffic and pleasure surged on the air like the noise
made by swarming bees; while every now and then the
sweet, shrill tones of some more than usually clear girl's
voice crying, out the sale of fruit or flowers, soared up
song-wise through the luminous semi-transparent vapor
that half-veiled the clustering house-tops, tapering spires,
and cupolas in a delicate nebulous film.
Completely fascinated by the wizard-like beaut)' of
the scene, Theos felt as though he could never look upon
it long enough to master all its charms; but his eyes
ached with the radiance in which everything seemed
drenched as with flame, and turning his gaze once more
toward the sun, he saw that it had nearly disappeared.
Only a blood-red rim peered spectrally above the gold
and green horizon, and immediately overhead a silver
rift in the sky had widened slowly in the center and
narrowed at its end, thus taking the shape of a great out-
stretched sword that pointed directly downward at tht*
busy, murmuring, glittering city beneath.
It was a strange effect, and made on the mind of Theos
a strange impression; he was about to call Sah-luma's
attention to it, when an uncomfortable consciousness
that they were no longer alone came over him. Instinc-
tively he turned round, uttered a hasty exclamation, and
springing erect, found himself face to face with a huge
black a man of some six feet in height and muscular in
proportion, who, clad in a vest and tunic of the iuost
14.2 "ARDATH"
vivid scarlet hue, leered confidentially upon him as their
eyes met. Sah-luma, rising also, but with less precip-
itation, surveyed the intruder languidly and with a cer-
tain haughtiness.
"What now, Gazra? Always art thou, like a worm in
the grass, crawling on thine errands with less noise than
the wind makes in summer; I would thy mistress kept
a fairer messenger!"
The black smiled, if so hideous a contortion of his
repulsive countenance might be called a smile, and slowly
raising his jetty arms, hung all over with curings of coral
and amber, made a curious gesture, half of salutation, half
of command. As he did this, the clear olive cheek of Sah-
luma flushed darkly red; his chest heaved, and linkiug
his arm through that of Theos, he bent his head slightly
and stood like one in an enforced attitude of attention.
Then Gazra spoke, his harsh strong, voice seeming to
come from some devil in ths ground rather than from a
human throat.
"The Virgin Priestess of the Sun and the Divine Nn-
gaya hath need of thee to-night, Sah-luma!" he said, wi li
a sort of suppressed derision un^rlying his words, ar d-
taking from his breast a ring that glittered like a star,
he held it out in the palm of one hand. "And also, " he
added, "to thy friend the stranger, to whom she desirs
to accord a welcome. Behold her signet!"
Theos, impelled by curiosity, would have taken them
ring up to examine it, had not Sah-luma restrained him
by a warning pressure of his arm; he was only just ab'e
to see that it was in the shape of a coiled-up serpent
with ruby eyes, and a darting tongue tipped with small
diamonds. What chiefly concerned him, however, w/is
the peculiar change in Sah-luma's demeanor; something
in the aspect or speech of Gazra had surely exercised a
remarkable influence upon him. His frame trembled
through and through with scarcely controlled excitement;
his eyes shot forth an almost evil fire, and a coJd, calm,
somewhat cruel smile played on the perfect outline of
his delicate mouth. Taking the signet from Gazra's
palm, he kissed it with a kind of angry tenderness, the
replied:
"Tell thy mistress we shall obey her behest ! Doubtless
she knows, as she knows all things, that to-night i am
THE SUMMONS OF THE SIGNET 143
summoned by express command to the palace of our sov-
ereign lord the king; I am bound thither first, as is my
duty, but afterward " He broke off as if he found it
impossible to say more, and waved his hand in a light
sign of dismissal. But Gazra did not at once depart.
He again smiled that lowering smile of his which re-
sembled nothing so much as a hung criminal's death-
grin, and returned the jeweled signet to his breast.
"Afterward yes afterward!" he said in emphatic yet
mock solemn tones. "Even so!" Advancing a little, he
laid his heavy, muscular hand on Theos' chest and ap-
peared mentally to measure his height and breadth.
"Strong nerves, iron sinews, goodly flesh and blood!
'twill serve!" and his great protruding eyes gleamed
maliciously as he spoke, then bowing profoundly he
aided, addressing both Sah-luma and Theos: "Noble
sirs, to-night out of all men in Al-Kyris shall you be the
most envied. Farewell!" and once more making that
curious salutation which had in it so much imperiousness
and so little obeisance, he walked backward a few paces
in the full luster of the set sun's after glow, which inten-
sified the vivid red of his costume and lit up all the
ornaments of clear cut amber that glittered against his
swarthy skin, then turning, he descended the hillock so
swiftly that he seemed to have melted out of sight as ut-
terly as a dark mist dissolving in air.
"By my word, a most sooty and repellant bearer of a
lady's greeting!" laughed Theos lightly, as he sauntered
atm-in-arm with his host on the downward path leading
to the garden and palace; "and I have yet to learn the
true meaning of his message."
"'Tis plain enough," replied Sah-luma somewhat sulkily,
with the deep flush still coming and going on his face
"It means that we are summoned thou as well as I
to one of Lysia's midnight banquets; an honor that falls
to few a mandate none dare disobey. She must have
spied thee out this morning the only unkneeling soul
in all tb.2 abject multitude; hence, perhaps, her present
desire for thy company."
There was a touch of vexation in his voice, but Theos
hseded it not. His heart gave a great bound against
his rius as though pricked by a fire-tipped arrow;
something swift and ardent stirred in his blood like the
144 "ARDATH"
flowing of quicksilver; the picture of the dusky-eyed,
witchingly beautiful woman he had seen that morning
in her gold-adorned ship seemed to float between him
and the light; her face shone out like a growing glory-
flower in the tangled wilderness of his thoughts, and
his lips trembled a little as he replied:
"She must be gracious and forgiving, then, even as
she is fair! For, in my neglect of reverence due, I mer-
ited her scorn not her courtesy. But tell me, Sah-
iuma, how could she know I was a guest of thine?"
Sah-luma glanced at him half-pityinglv, half-disdain-
fully.
"How could she know? Easily! inasmuch as she knows
all things. 'T would have been strange indeed had she
not known," and he caught at a down-drooping rose and
crushed its fragrant head in his hand with a sort of
wanton petulance. "The king himself is less acquainted
with his people's doings than the wearer of the all-reflect-
ing eye! Thou hast not yet seen that weird mirror and
potent dazzler of human sight; no, but thou wilt see it ere
long the glittering fiend-guardian of the whitest breast
that ever shut in passion"." His voice shook, and he
paused ; then with some effort continued : "Yes, Lysia
has her secret commissioners everywhere throughout the
length and breadth of the city, who report to her each
circumstance that happens no matter how trifling and
doubtless we were followed home, tracked step by step
as we walked together, by one of her stealthy-footed
servitors; in this there would be naught unusual."
"Then there is no freedom in Al Kyris, " said Theos
wonderingly, "if the whole city thus lies under the cir-
cumspection of a woman?"
Sah-luma laughed rather harshly.
"Freedom ! By the gods ! 'tis a delusive word embody-
ing a vain idea. Where is there any freedom in life?
All of us are bound by chains and restricted in one way
or the other; the man who deems himself politically free
is a slave to the multitude and his own ambition; while
he who shakes himself loose from the trammels of cus
torn and creed becomes the tortured bondsman of desire,
tied fast with bruising cords to the rack of his own
unbridled sense and appetite. There is no such thing as
freedom, rr y friend, unless haply it may be found in
SAH-LUMA SINGS 145
death. Come, let us in to supper; the hour grows late,
and my heart aches with an unsought heaviness. I must
cheer me with a cup of wine, or my songs to-night will
sadden rather than rouse the king. Come, and thou
shalt speak to me again of the life that is to be lived
hereafter," and he smiled with a certain pathos in his
smile; "for there are times, believe me, when, in spite
of all my fame and the sweetness of existence, I weary
of earth's days and nights, and find them far too brief
and mean to satisfy my longings. Not the world, but
worlds, should be the poet's heritage.
Theos looked at him with a feeling of unutterable
yearning, affection, and regret, but said nothing; and
together they ascended the steps of the stately marble
terrace and paced slowly across it, keeping as near to
each other as shadow to substance, and thus re-entered
the palace, where the sound of a distant harp alone pen-
etrated the perfumed stillness. It must be Niphrata
who was playing, thought Theos, and what strange and
plaintive chords she swept from the vibrating strings!
They seemed laden with the tears of broken-hearted
women dead and buried ages upon ages ago!
CHAPTER V.
SAH-LUMA SINGS.
As they left the garden the night fell, or appeared to
fall, with almost startling suddenness, and at the same
time, in swift defiance of the darkness, Sah-luma's palace
was illuminated from end to end by thousands of colored
lamps, all apparently lit at once by a single flash of elec-
tricity. A magnificent repast was spread for the laureate
and his guest, in a lofty, richly frescoed banqueting-hall;
a repast voluptuous enough to satisfy the most ardent
votary that ever followed the doctrines of Epicurus.
Wonderful dainties and still more wonderful wines were
served in princely profusion, and while the strangely
met and sympathetically united friends ate and irank.
146 "AROATH"
<
delicious music was played on stringed instruments by
unseen performers. When, at intervals, these pleasing
sounds ceased, Sah-luma's conversation, brilliant, witty,
refined, and sparkling with light anecdote and lighter
jest, replaced with admirable sufficiency the lett off
harmonies, and Theos, keenly alive to the sensuous lux-
ury of his own emotions, felt that he had never before
enjoyed such an astonishing, delightful, and altogether
fairy-like feast. Its only fault was that it came to
an end too soon, he thought, when, the last course of
fruit and sweet comfits being removed, he rose reluc-
tantly from the glittering board, andprepared to accom-
pany his host, as agreed, to the presence of the
sing.
In a very short time so bewilderingly short as to
seem a mere breathing-space he found himself passing
through the broad avenues and crowded thoroughfares of
Al-Kyris on his way to the royal abode He occupied
a place in Sah luma's chariot, a gilded car shaped some-
what like the curved half of a shell, deeply hollowed, and
set on two high wheels that as, they rolled, made scarcely
any sound. There was no seat, and both he and Sah-
luma stood erect, the latter using all the force of his
slender brown hands to control the spirited prancing of
the pair of jet-black steeds which, harnessed tandem-
wise to the light vehicle, seemed more than once disposed
to break loose into furious gallop, regardless of their
master's curbing rein.
The full moon was rising gradually in a sky as densely
violet as purple pansy-leaves, but her mellow luster was
almost put to shame by the brilliancy of the streets,
which were lit up on both sides by vari-colored lamps
that diffused a peculiar intense yet soft radiance, pro-
duced, as Sah-luma explained, from stored-up electricity.
On the twelve tall towers of the sacred temple shone
twelve large revolving stars, that as they turned emitted
vivid flashes of blue, green, and amber flame like light-
house signals seen from ships veering shoreward ; and
the reflections thus cast on the mosaic pavement, ming-
ling with the paler beams of the moon, gave a weird and
most fantastic effect to the scene. Straight ahead, a blaz-
ing arch raised like a bent bow against heaven and hav-
ing in its center the word
SAH-LUMA SINGS 147
ZEPHORANIM
written in scintillating letters of fire, indicated to all
beholders the name and abode of the powerful monarch
under whose dominion, according to Sah-luma, Al-Kyris
had reached its present height of wealth and prosperity.
Theos looked everywhere about him, seeing yet scarcely
realizing the wonders on which he gazed ; leaning one
arm on the burnished edge of the car, he glanced now
and then up at the dusky skies growing thick with swarm-
ing worlds, and meditated dreamily whether it might
not be within the range of possibility to be lifted with
Sah-luma, chariot, steeds and all, into that beautiful
fathomless empyrean, and drive among planets as
though they were flowers, reining in at last before some
great golden gate, which, unbarred, should open into a
lustrous glory-land fairer than all fair regions ever pic-
tured!
How like a god Sah-luma looked! he mused, his eyes
resting tenderly on the light, glittering form he was never
weary of contemplating. Could there be a more perfect
head than that dark one crowned with myrtle? could
there be a more dazzling existence than that enjoyed
by this child of happy fortune this royal laureate of a
mighty king? How many poets starving in garrets and
waiting for a hearing would not curse their unlucky des-
tinies when comparing themselvse with such a prince of
poesy, each word of whose utterance was treasured and
enshrined in the hearts of a grateful and admiring peo-
ple!
This was fame indeed fame at its utmost best, and
Theos sighed once or twice restlessly, as he inwardly re-
flected how poor and unsatisfying were his own poetical
powers and how totally unfitted he was to cope with a
rival so vastly his superior. Not that he by any means
desired to cross swords with Sah-luma in a duel of song
that was an idea that never entered his mind; he was
simply conscious of a certain humiliated feeling, an im-
pression that if he would be a poet at all, he must go
back to the very first beginning of the art and re-learn
all he had ever known, or thought he knew.
Many strange and complex emotions were at work
within him emotions which he could neither control nor
148 "ARDATH"
analyze; and though he felt himself fully alive alive
to his very finger-tips he was ever and anon aware of
a curious sensation like that experienced by a suddenly
startled somnambulist, who, just on the point of awak-
ing, hesitates reluctantly on the threshold of dreamland,
unwilling to leave one realm of shadows for another
more seeming-true yet equally transient. Entangled in
perplexed reveries, he scarcely noticed the brilliant
crowds of people that were flocking hither and thither
through the streets, many of whom, recognizing Sah-
luma waved their hands or shouted some gay word of
greeting he saw, as it were, without seeing. The whirl-
ing pageant around him was both real and unreal ; there
was always a deep sense of mystery that hung like a
cloud over his mind a cloud that no resolution of his
could lift and often he caught himself dimly speculat-
ing as to what lay behind that cloud. Something, he
felt sure something that, like the clew to an intricate
problem, would explain much that was now altogether
incomprehensible ; moreover, he remorsefully realized
that he had formerly known that clew and had foolishly
lost it, but how he could not tell.
His gaze wandered from the figure of Sah-luma to that
of the attendant harp-bearer who, perched on a narrow
foothold at the back of the chariot, held his master's
golden instrument aloft as though it were a flag of soog,
the signal of a poet's triumph, destined to float above the
world forever!
Just then the equipage arrived at the king's palace.
Turning the horses' heads with a sharp jerk, so that
the mettlesome creatures almost sprang erect on their
haunches, Sah-luma drove them swiftly into a spacious
courtyard, lined with soldiers in full armor and brilliantly
illuminated, where two gigantic stone sphinxes, with lit
stars ablaze between their enormous brows, guarded a
flight of steps that led up to what seemed to be an end-
less avenue of white marble columns. Here slaves in
gorgeous attire rushed forward, and seizing the prancing
coursers by the bridle rein, held them fast while the
laureate and his companion alighted. As they did so, a
mighty and resounding clash of weapons struck the tes-
selated pavement; every soldier flung his drawn sword on
the ground and doffed his helmet, and the cry of
SAH-LUMA
HAIL, SAH-LUMA!"
rose in one brief, mellow, manly shout that echoed vibrat-
ingly through the heated air. Sah-luma meanwhile
ascended half way up the steps, and there turning round,
smiled and bowed with an exquisite grace and infinite
condescension, and again Theos gazed at him yearningly,
lovingly, and somewhat enviously too. What a picture
he made, standing between the great, frowning sculptured
sphinxes! Contrasted with those cold and solemn vis-
ages of stone, he looked like a dazzling butterfly or stray
bird of paradise. His white garb glistened at every point
with gems, and from his shoulders, where it was fastened
with large sapphire clasps, depended a long mantle of
cloth of gold, bordered thickly with swansdown. This
he held up negligently in one hand as he remained for
a moment in full view of the assembled soldiery, gra-
ciously acknowledging their enthusiastic greetings; then
with easy and unhasting tread he mounted the rest of"
the stairway, followed by Theos and his harp-bearer, and
passed into the immense outer entrance-hall of the royal
palace, known, as he explained to his guest, as the Hall
of the Two Thousand Columns.
Here, among the massively carved pillars, which looked
like straight, tall, frosted trunks of trees, were assembled
hundreds of men, young and old, evident aristocrats and
nobles of high degree, to judge from the magnificence
of their costumes; while in and out their brilliant ranks
glided little pages in crimson and blue; black slaves
semi nude or clothed in vivid colors; court officials with
jeweled badges and insignias of authority ; military
guards clad in steel armor and carrying short drawn
scimiters all talking, laughing, gesticulating and el-
bowing one another as they moved to and fro, and so
thickly were they pressed together that at first sight it
seemed impossible to penetrate through so dense a
crowd ; but no sooner did Sah-luma appear, than they
all fell back in orderly rows, thus making an open, avenue-
like space for his admittance.
He walked slowly, with proudly-assured mien and a
confident smile, bowing right and left in response to the
respectful salutations he received from all assembled.
Many persons glanced inquisitively at Theos, but as he
I5O "ARDATH?'
was the laureate's companion he was saluted with nearly
equal courtesy. The old critic Zabastes, squeezing his
lean, bent body from out the throng, hobbled after Sah
luma, at some little distance behind the harp-bearer,
muttering to himself as he went, and bestowing many
a side-leer and malicious grin on those among his ac-
quaintance whom he here and there recognized. Theos
noted his behavior with a vague sense of amusement;
the man took such evident delight in his own ill humcr.
and seemed to be so thoroughly convinced that his opin-
ion on all affairs was the only one \\orth having
"Thou must check thy tongue to day, Zabastes!" said
a handsome youth in dazzling blue afid silver who, just
then detaching himself from the crowd, laid a hand on
the critic's arm and laughed as he spoke. "I doubt me
much whether the king is in humor for thy grim fooling!
His majesty hath been seriously discomposed since his
return from the royal tiger-hunt this morning, notwith-
standing that his unerring spear slew two goodly and
most furious animals. He is wondrous sullen, and only
the divine Sah-luma is skilled in the art of soothing his
troubled spirit. Therefore, if thou hast aught of crab'
bed or cantankerous to urge against thy master's genius,
thou hadst best reserve it for another time, lest thy
withered head roll on the market-place with as little rev-
erence as a dried gourd flung from a fruiterer's stall!"
"I thank thee for thy warning, young jackanapes!" re-
torted Zabastes, pausing in his walk and leaning on his
staff while he peered with this small, black, bad-tempered
eyes at the speaker. "Thou art, methinks, somewhat
over well-informed for a little lackey! What knowest
thou of his majesty's humors? Hast been his fly-i'-the-
ear or cast-off sandal-string? I pray thee extend not thy
range of learning beyond the proper temperature of the
bath, and the choice of rare unguents for thy skin
greater knowledge than this would injure the tender tex-
ture of thy fragile brain! Pah!" and Zabastes sniffed
the air in disgust. "Thou hast a most vile odor of jes-
samine about thee ! I would thou wert clean of perfumes
and less tawdry in attire!"
Chuckling hoarsely he ambled onward, and chancing
to catch the wondering backward glance of Theos, he
made expressive signs with his finger in derision of Sah-
SAH-LUMA SINGS 151
luma's sweeping mantle, which now, allowed to fall to
its full length, trailed along the marble floor with a
rich, rustling sound, the varied light sparkling on it at
every point and making it look like a veritable shower of
gold
On through the seemingly endless colonnades they
passed, till they came to a huge double door formed of
two glittering, colossal, winged figures holding enormous
uplifted shields. Here stood a personage clad in a silver
coat-of-mail, so motionless that at first he appeared to
be part of the door, but at the approach of Sah-luma he
stirred into life and action-, and touching a spring beside
him, the arms of the twin colossi moved, the great
double shields were slowly lowered, and the portals slid
asunder noiselessly, thus displaying the sumptuous
splendor of the royal presence chamber.
This was a spacious and lofty saloon, completely lined
with gilded columns, between which hung numerous
golden lamps, having long pointed amber pendants that
flashed down a million sparkles as of sunlight on the
magnificent mosaic floor beneath. On the walls were
rich tapestries storied with voluptuous scenes of love as
well as ghastly glimpses of warfare, and languishing
beauties reposing in the arms of their lovers, or listening
to the songs of passion, were depicted side by side with
warriors dead on the field of battle, or struggling hand
to hand in grim and bleeding conflict. The corners of
this wonderful apartment were decked with all sorts of
flags and weapons, and in the middle of the painted
ceiling was suspended a huge bird with the spread wings
of an eagls and the head of an owl that held in its curved
talons a superb girandole formed of a hundred extended
swords, each bare blade having at its point a bright
lamp in the shape of a star, while the clustered hilts
composed the center.
Officers in full uniform were ranged on both sides of
the room, and a number of other men richly attired, stood,
about, conversing with each other in low tones, but
though Theos took in all these details rapidly at a
glance, his gaze soon became fixed on the glittering pa-
vilion that occupied the furthest end of the saloon,
\vh?re, on a massive throne of ivory and silver, sat the
chief object of attraction Zephoranim the king. The
13* "ARDATH**
steps of the royal dai's were strewn ankle-deep with flow-
ers, on either hand a bronze lion lay couchant, and four
gigantic black statues of men supported the monarch's
gold-fringed canopy, their uplifted arms being decked
with innumerable rows of large and small pearls. Tl:e
king's features were not just then visible he was lean-
ing back in an indolent attitude, resting on his elbow,
and half covering his face with one hand. The individ-
ual in the silver coat-of mail whispered something in
Sah luma's ear, either byway of warning or advice, and
then advanced, prostrating himself before the dai's and
touching the ground humbly with his forehead and hands.
The king stirred slightly, but did not alter his position ;
he was evidently wrapped in a deep and seemingly un-
pleasant revery,
"Dread my lord " began the herald in-waiting. A
movement of decided impatience on the part of the mon-
arch caused him to stop short.
"By my soul!" said a rich, strong voice that made
itself distinctly audible throughout the spacious hall.
"Thou art ever shivering on the edge of thy duty when
thou shouldst plunge boldly into the midst thereof! How
long wilt mouth th) 7 words? Canst never speak plain?"
"Most potent sovereign!" went on the stammering
herald, "Sah-luma waits thy royal pleasure!"
"Sah-luma!" and the monarch sprang erect, his eyes
flashing fire. "Nay, that he should wait bodes ill for
thee, thou knave! How dar'st thou bid him wait? En-
treat him hither with all gentleness, as befits mine equal
in the realm!' 1
As he thus spoke, Theos was able to observe him
more attentively. Indeed, it seemed as the ugh a sud-
den and impressive pause had occurred in the action of
a drama, in order to allow him as spectator to thoroughly
master the meaning of one special scene. Therefore he
took the opportunity offered, and looking full at Zeph-
oranira, thought he had never beheld so magnificent a
man. Of stately height and herculean build, he was
most truly royal in outward bearing, though a physiog-
nomist, judging him from the expression of his counte-
nance, would at once have given him all the worst vices
of a reckless voluptuary and utterly selfish sensualist.
His straight, low brows indicated brute force rather
SAH-LUMA SINGS 153
tkan intellect; his eyes, full, dark and brilliant, had in
them a suggestion of something sinister and cruel, de-
spite their fine clearness and luster, while the heavy lines
of his mouth, only partly concealed by a short, thick-
black beard, plainly betokened that the monarch's ten-
dencies were by no means toward the strict and narrow
paths of virtue.
Nevertheless, he was a splendid specimen of the human
animal at its best physical development, and his attire,
which was a mixture of the civilized and savage, suited
him as it certainly would not have suited any less stal-
wart frame. His tunic was of the deepest purple broid-
ered with gold ; his vest, of pale amber silk, was thrown
open so as to display to the greatest advantage his broad
muscular chest and throat glittering all over with gems,
and he wore, flung loosely across his left shoulder, a
superb leopard skin, just kept in place by a clasp of dia-
monds. His feet were shod with gold colored sandals,
his arms were bare and lavishly decked with jeweled
armlets, his rough, dark hair was tossed carelessly above
his brow, whereon a circlet of gold studded with large
rubies glittered in the light. From his belt hung a great
sheathed sword, together with all manner of hunting im-
plements, and beside him, on a velvet-covered stand,
Ly a short scepter,having at its tip one huge, egg-shaped
pearl, set in sapphires.
Noting the grand poise of his figure, and the statuesque
g</ace of his attitude, a strange, hazy, far-off memory
began to urge itself on Theos' mind, a memory that
with every second grew more painfully distinct : He had
seen Zephoranim before! Where, he could not tell, but
he was as positive of it as that he himself lived, and this
inward conviction was accompanied by a certain unde-
finable dread a vague terror and foreboding, though he
knew no actual cause for fear.
He had, however, no time to analyze his emotion, for
just then the herald-in-waiting, having performed a
backward evolution from the throne to the threshold of
the audience-chamber, beckoned impatiently to Sah-
luma, who at once stepped forward, bidding Theos keep
close behind him. The harp-bearer followed, and thus
all three approached the dais where the king still stood
erect, awaiting them, Zabastes the critic glided in also,
154 "ARDATH"
almost unnoticed, and joined a group of courtiers at the
furthest end of the long, gorgeously lighted room, while
at sight of the laureate the assembled officers saluted,
arid all conversation ceased. At the foot of the throne
Sah-luma paused, but made no obeisance. Raising his
glorious eyes to the monarch's face he smiled, and
Theos beheld with amazement that here it was not the
poet who reverenced the king, but the king who rever-
enced the poet!
What a strange state of things! he thought. Espe-
cially when the mighty Zephoranim actually descended
three steps of his flower-strewn dais, and grasping Sah-
luma's hands, raised them to his lips with all the
humility of. a splendid savage paying homage to his intel-
lectual conqueror! It was a scene Theos was destined
never to forget, and he gazed upon it as one gazes on a
magnificently painted picture, wherein two central figures
fascinate and most profoundly impress the beholder's
imagination. He heard with a vague sense of mingled
pleasure and sadness the deep mellow tones of the mon-
arch's voice vibrating through the silence:
"Welcome, my Sah-luma! Welcome at all times, but
chiefly welcome when the heart is weighted by care! I
have thought of thee all day, believe me! ay, since
early dawn, when on my way to the chase, I heard in
the depths of the forest a happy nightingale sing'ng.
and deemed thy voice had taken bird-shape and followed
me! And that I sent for thee in haste, blame me not; as
well blame the desert athirst for rain, or the hungry
heart agape for love to come and fill it!" Here his rest-
less eye flashed on Theos, who stood quietly behind Sah-
luma, passive, yet expectant of he knew not what.
"Whom hast thou there? A friend?" This as Sah-
luma apparently explained something in a low tone.
"He is welcome also for thy sake" and he extended
one hand, on which a great ruby signet burned like a
red star, to Theos, who, bending over it, kissed it with
the grave courtesy he fancied due to kings. Zephoranim
appeared good-naturedly surprised at this action, and
eyed him somewhat scrutinizingly as he said: "Thou
art not of Sah-luma's divine calling assuredly, fair sir,
else thou wouldst hardly stoop to a mere crowned head
like mine! Soldiers and statesmen may bend the knee
SAH-LUMN SINGS 155
to their chosen rulers,but to whom shall poets bend? They
who with arrowy lines cause thrones to totter and fall;
they who with deathless utterance brand with infamy
or hallow with honor the most potent names of kings
and emperors; they by whom alone a nation lives in the
annals of the future what homage do such elect gods
owe to the passing holders of one or more earthly scep-
ters? Thou art too humble, methinks, for the minstrel-
vocation. Dost call thyself a minstrel or a student of
the art of song?"
Theos looked up, his eyes resting full on the monarch's
countenance, as he replied in low, clear tones:
"Most noble Zephoranim, I am no minstrel, nor do I
deserve to be called even a student of that high, sweet
music-wisdom in which Sah-luma alone excels! All T
dare hope for is that I may learn of him in some small
degree the lessons he has mastered, that at some future
time I may approach as nearly to his genius as a com-
mon flower on earth can approach to a fixed star in the
furthest blue of heaven!"
Sah luma smiled and gave him a pleased, appreciative
glance. Zephoranim regarded him somewhat curiously.
"By my faith, thou'rt a modest and gentle disciple of
poesy!" he said. "We receive thee gladly to our court
as suits Sah-luma's pleasure and our own! Stand thee
near thy friend and master, and listen to the melody of
his matchless voice. Thou shalt hear therein the mys-
teries of many things unraveled, and chiefly the mystery
of love, in which all other passions center and have
power. "
Re-ascending the steps of the dais, he flung himself
indolently back in his throne, whereupon two pages
brought a magnificent chair of inlaid ivory and placed
it near the foot of the dais at his right hand. In this
Sah-luma seated himself, the pages arranging his golden
mantle round him in shining, picturesque folds, while
Theos, withdrawing slightly into the background, stood
leaning against a piece of tapestry on which the dead
figure of a man was depicted lying prone on the sward
with a great wound in his heart, and a bird of prey hov-
ering above him expectant of its grim repast. Kneeling
on one knee close to Sah luma, the harp-bearer put the
harp in tyne, and swept his fingers lightly over the
156 "ARDATH"
strings then came a pause. A clear, small bell chimed
sweetly on the stillness, and the king, raising himself a
little, signed to a black slave who carried a tall silver
wand emblematic of some office.
'Let the women enter," he commanded. "Speak but
Sah-luma's name and they will gather like waves rising
to the moon, but bid them be silent as they come, lest
they disturb thoughts more lasting than their loveliness/'
This with a significant glance toward the laureate,
who, sunk in his ivory chair, seemed rapt in meditation.
His beautiful face had grown grave, even sad. He played
idly with the ornaments at his belt, and his eyes had a
drowsy yet odd light within them, as they flashed now
and then from under the shade of his long curling lashes.
The slave departed on his errand, and Zabastes, edging
himself out from the hushed and attentive throng of no-
bles, stood, as it were, in the foreground of the picture,
his thin lips twisted into a sneer, and his lean hands
grasping his staff viciousty, as though he longed to strike
somebody down with it.
A moment or so passed, and then the slave returned,
his silver rod uplifted, marshaling in a lovely double
procession of white-veiled female figures that came gliding
along as noiselessly as fair ghosts from forgotten tombs,
each one carrying a garland of flowers. They floated,
rather than walked, up to the royal da'is, and there pros-
trated themselves two by two before the king, whose
fiery glance rested upon them more carelessly than ten-
derly, and as they rose, they threw back their veils,
displaying to full view such exquisite faces, 'such lan-
guishing, brilliant eyes, such snow-white necks and arms,
such graceful, voluptuous forms that Theos caught at the
tapestry near him in reeling dazzlement of sight and
sense, and wondered how Sah-luma, seated tranquilly in
the reflective attitude he had assumed, could maintain so
unmoved and indifferent a demeanor.
Indifferent he was, however, even when the unveiled
fair ones, turning from the king to the poet, laid all their
garlands at his feet. He scarcely noticed the piled-up
flowers, and still less the lovely donors, who, retiring
modestly backward, took their places on low silken di-
vans provided for their accommodation in a semi-circlo
\pimd the throne. Aerain a silence ensued. Sah-luma
SAH-LUMA SINGS l$J
evidently centered Jike a spider in a web of his own
thought-weaving, and nis attendant gently swept the
strings of the harp again to recall his wandering fancies.
Suddenly he looked up, his eyes were somber, and a
musing trouble shadowed the brightness of his face.
"Strange it is, O Kingl" he said in low, suppressed
tones that had in them a quiver of pathetic sweetness,
"strange it is that to-night the soul of my singing dwells
on sorrow! Like a stray bird flying 'mid falling leaves,
or a ship drifting out from sunlight to storm, so does
my fancy soar among drear flitting images evolved from
the downfall of kingdoms, and I seem to behold in the
distance the far-off shadow of death "
"Talk not of death!" interrupted the king loudly and
in haste. "'Tis a raven note that hath been croaked in
mine ears too often and too harshly already! What!
hast thou been met by the mad Khosrul who lately
sprang on me, even as a famished wolf of prey, and
grasping my bridle rein, bade me prepare to die? 'Twas
an ill jest, and one not to be lightly forgiven! 'Prepare
to die, O Zephoranim!' he cried; 'for thy time of reck-
oning is come!' By my soul !" and the monarch broke into
a boisterous laugh had he bade me prepare to live
'^ would have been more to the purpose! But yon fran-
tic gray-beard prates of naught but death 'twere well
he should be silenced." And as he spoke, he frowned,
his hand involuntarily playing with the jeweled hilt of
his sword.
"Ay, death is an unpleasant suggestion!" suddenly
said Zabastes, who had gradually moved up nearer and
neaver till he made one of the group immediately round
Sah luma. '"Tis a word that should never be mentioned
in the presence of kings! Yet, notwithstanding the in-
civility of the statement, it is most certain that his most
potent majesty, as well as his majesty's most potent
laureate, must die !" And he accompanied the words
"must die " with two decisive taps of his staff, smack-
ing his withered lips meanwhile as though he tasted
something peculiarly savory.
"And thou also, Zabastes!" retorted the king with a
dark smile, jestingly draw'ng his sword and pointing it
full at him; then, as the old critic shrank slightly at
trie gleam of the bare steel, replacing it dashingly in Us
158 "ARDATH'*
sheath: "Thou also! and thine ashes shall be cast to the
four winds of heaven, as suits thy vocation, while those
of thy master and thy master's king lie honorably urned
in porphyry and gold!"
Zabastes bowed with a sort of mock humility.
"It may be so, most mighty Zephoranim, he returned,
composedly. "Nevertheless ashes are always ashes, ana
the scattering of them is but a question of time! For
urns of gold and porphyry do but excite the cupidity of
the vulgar-minded, and the ashes therein sealed, whether
of king or poet, stand as little chance of reverent han-
dling by future generations as those of many lesser men.
And 'tis doubtful whether the winds will know any dif-
ference in the scent or quality of the various pinches of
human dust tossed on their sweeping circles, for the sub-
stance of a man reduced to earth-atoms is always the
same, and not a grain of him can prove whether he was
once a monarch crowned, a minstrel pampered, or a
critic contemned!"
And he chuckled as one having the best of the argu-
ment. The king deigned no answer, but turned his eyes
again on Sah-luma, who still sat pensively silent.
"How long wilt thou be mute, my singing emperor?"
he demanded gently. "Canst thou not improvise a can-
ticle of love even in the midst of thy soul's sudden sad
ness?"
At this Sah-luma roused himself. Signing to his attend
ant, he took the harp from him, and resting it lightly
on his knee, passed his hands over it once or twice, half
musingly, half doubtfully. A ripple of music answered
his delicate touch, music as soft as the evening wind
murmuring among willows. Another instant, and his
voice thrilled on the silence, a voice wonderful, far reach
ing, mellow and luscious as with suppressed tears, con
taining within it a passion that pierced to the heart of
the listener, and a divine fullness such as surely was never
before heard in human tones !
Theos leaned forward breathlessly, his pulse beating
with unwonted rapidity what what was it that Sah-
luma sang? A love-song! in those caressing vowel sounds
which composed the language of Al-Kyris a love song,
burning as strong wine, tender as the murmur of the sea
on mellow, moon, entranced evenings, an arrowy shaft of
THE PROPHET OF DOOM 159
rhyme tipped with fire and meant to strike home to the
core of feeling and there inflict delicious wounds; but, as
each well-chosen word echoed harmoniously on his ears,
Theos shrank back shuddering in every limb a black
frozen numbness seemed to pervade his being, an awful
maddening terror possessed his brain, and he felt as
though he were suddenly thrown into a vast dark chaos
where no light should ever shine! For Sah-luma's song
was his own \his own, his very own! He knew it well!
He had written it long ago in the hey day of his youth
when he had fancied all the world was waiting to be set
to the music of his inspiration; he recognized every fancy,
every couplet, every rhyme! The delicate glowing bal-
lad was his his alone, and Sah-luma had no right to it!
He, Theos, was the poet, not this royally favored lau-
reate who had stolen his ideas and filched his jewels of
thought ay! and he would tell him so to his face! he
would speak ! he would cry aloud his claims in the
presence of the king and demand instant justice!
He strove for utterance; his voice was gone! his lips
were moveless as the lips of a stone image! Stricken
absolutely mute, but with his sense of hearing quickened
to an almost painful acuteness, he stood erect and mo-
tionless rage and fear contending in his heart, enduring
the torture of a truly terrific mystery of mind-despair
forced in spite of himself, to listen passively to the love-
thoughts of his own dead past revived anew in his rival's
singing !
CHAPTER VI.
THE PROPHET OF DOOM.
A FEW slow, dreadful minutes elapsed, and then then
the first sharpness of his strange mental agony sub-
sided. The strained tension of his nerves gave way, and
a dull apathy of grief inconsolable settled upon him.
He felt himself to be a man mysteriously accursed
banished, as it were, out of life and stripped of all he had
once held dear and valuable. How had it happened?
Why was he set apart thus solitary, poor, and empty of
160 -'ARDATH"
all worth, while another reaped the fruits of his genius t
He heard the loud plaudits of the assembled court
shaking the vast hall as the laureate ended his song, and,
drooping his head, some stinging tears welled up in his
eyes and fell scorchingly on his clasped hands tears
wrung from the very depth of his secretly tortured soul.
At that moment the beautiful Sah-luma turned toward
him smiling, as one who looked for more sympathetic
approbation than that offered by a mixed throng, and
meeting that happy, self-conscious, bland, half-inquiring
gaze, he strove his best to return the smile. Just then,
Zephoranim's fiery glance swept over him with a curious
expression of wonder and commiseration. "By the gods,
yon stranger weeps!" said the monarch in a half ban-
tering tone. Then with more gentleness he added, "Yet
'tis not the first time Sah-luma's voice hath unsealed a
fountain of tears! No greater triumph can minstrel have
than this to move the strong man's heart to woman's
tenderness! We have heard tell of poets who, singing of
death, have persuaded many straightway to die, but when
t.hy sing of sweeter themes, of lovers' vows, of passioi?-
frenzies, and languorous desires, cold is the blood that
will not warm and thrill to their divinely eloquent allure-
ments, Come hither, fair sir!" and he beckoned to Theos,
who mechanically advanced in obedience to the com-
mand; "Thou hast thoughts of thine own, doubtless, con-
cering love, and love's fervor of delight Hast aught
new to tell us of its bewildering spells, whereby the
most dauntless heroes in ever}' age have been caught,
conquered and bound by no stronger chain than a tress
of hair, or a kiss more luscious than all the honey hid-
den in lotus flowers?"
Theos looked up dreamily; his eyes wandered from
the king to Sah-luma as though in wistful search for
some missing thing; his lips were parched and his brows
ached with a heavy weight of pain, but he made an effort
to speak and succeeded, though his words came slowly
and without any previous reflection on his own part.
"Alas, most potent sovereign!" he murmured, "I am
a man of sad memories, whose soul is liks the desert,
barren of all beauty! I may have sung of love in my
time, but my songs were never new, never worthy to last
one little hour! And whatsoever of faith, passion or
THE PROPHET OF DOOM j6l
Iveart-ecstasy my fancy could with devious dreams de-
vise, Sah-luma knows, and in Sah-luma's song all my
best thoughts are said!"
There was a ring of intense pathos in his voice as he
spoke, and the king eyed him compassionately.
"Of a truth thou seemest to have suffered!" he observed
in gentle accents. "Thou hast a look as of one bereft of
joy. Hast lost some maiden love of thine? and dost
thou mourn her still?"
A pang bitter as death shot through Theos' heart. Had
the monarch suddenly pierced him with his great sword
he could scarcely have endured more anguish! For the
knowledge rushed upon him that he had indeed lost a
love so faithful, so unfathomable, so pure and perfect,
that all the world weighed in the balance against it would
have seemed but a grain of dust compared to its inesti-
mable value ; but what that love was, and from whom it
emanated, he could no more tell than the tide can tell
ii syllabled language the secret of its attraction to the
moon. Therefore he made no answer, only a deep half
smothered sigh broke from him, and Z^phoranim, appar-
ently touched by his dejection, continued good-naturedly:
"Nay, nay ! we will not seek to pry into the cause of
thy spirit's heaviness. Enough! think no more of our
thoughtless question there is a sacredness in sorrow!
Nevertheless, we shall strive to make thee in part forget
thy grief ere thou leavest our court and city. Meanwhile
sit thou there" and he pointed to the lower step of the
dai's "and thou, Sah-luma, sing again, and this time let
thy song be set to a less plaintive key."
He leaned back in his throne, and Theos sat wearily
down among the flowers at the foot of the dai's as com-
manded. He was possessed by a strange inward dread
the dread of altogether losing the consciousness of his
own identity and while he strove to keep a firm grasp
on his mental faculties, he at the same time abandoned
all hope of ever extricating himself from the perplexing
enigma in which he was so darkly involved. Forcing
himself by degrees into comparative calmness, he deter-
mined to resign himself to his fate, and the idea he had
just had of boldly claiming the ballad sung by Sah-luma
as his own, completely passed out of his mind.
lio> con: ,1 he speak against this friend whom he loved
162 "ARDATH"
ay! more than he had ever loved any living thing?
Besides, what could he prove? To begin with, in his
present condition he could give no satisficory account
of himself. If he were asked questions concerning his
nation or birthplace he could not answer them; he did
not even know where he had come from, save that his
memory persistently furnished him with the name of a
place called "Ardath. " But what was this "Ardath" to
him? he mused. What did it signify? what had it to
do with his immediate position? Nothing, so far as he
could tell! His intellect seemed to be divided into two
parts one a total blank, the other rilled with crowding
images that, while novel, were yet curiously familiar. And
how could he accuse Sah-luma of literary theft, when he
had none of his own dated manuscripts to bear out his
case? Of course he could easily repeat his boyhood's
verses word for word, but what of that? He, a stranger
in the city, befriended, and protected by the laureate,
would certainly be considered by the people of Al-Kyris
as far more likely to steal Sah-luma's thoughts thaiv
that Sah-luma should steal his!
No! there was no help for it. As matters stood he
could say nothing; he could only feel as though he were
the sorrowful ghost of some long-ago dead author re-
turned to earth to hear others claiming his works and
passing them off as original compositions. And thus he-
was scarcely moved to any fresh surprise when Sah-luma,
giving back the harp to his attendant, rose up, and
standing erect in an attitude unequaled for grace and
dignity, began to recite a poem he remembered to have
written when he was about twenty years of age a poem
daringly planned, which when published had aroused the
bitterest animosity of the press critics on account of
what they called its "forced sublimity." The sublim-
ity was by no means "forced"; it was the spontaneous
outcome of a fresh and ardent nature full of enthusiasm
and high soaring aspiration, but the critics cared noth-
ing for this; all they saw was a young man presuming to
be original, and down they came upon him accordingly.
He recollected all the heart-sore sufferings he had
endured through that ill-fated and cruelly condemned
composition, and now he was listlessly amazed at the
breathless rapture and excitement it evoked nere in this
THE PROPHET OF DOOM 163
K/arvelous city of Al Kyris, where everything seemed
more strange and weird than the strangest dream! It was
a story of the gods before the world was made, of love
deep buried in far eternities of light, of vast celestial
shapes whose wanderings through the deep blue of space
were tracked by the birth of stars and suns and wonder-
spheres of beauty a fanciful legend of translucent heav-
enly passion, telling how all created worlds throbbed
amorously in the purple seas of pure ether, and ho.v
love, and love alone, was the dominant chord of the tri-
umphal march of the universe. And with what matchless
eloquence Sah-luma spoke the glowing lines! with what
clear and rounded tenderness of accent ! how exquisitely
his voice rose and fell in a rhythmic rush like the wind
surging through many leaves! while ever and anon in
the very midst of the divinely entrancing joy that chiefly
characterized the poem, his musicianly art infused a
touch of minor pathos, a suggestion of the eternal com-
plaint of Nature which even in the happiest moments
a:,serts itself in mournful undertones. The effect of his
splendid declamation was heightened by a few soft run-
ning passages dexterously played on the harp by his at-
tendant harpist and introduced just at the right time.
And Theos, notwithstanding the peculiar position in
v/hich he was placed, listened to every well-remembered
word of his own work thus recited with a gradually deep-
ening sense of peace; he knew not why, for the verses
in themselves were strangely passionate and wild. The
various impressions produced on the hearers were curi-
ous to witness : the king moved restlessly, his bronzed
cheeks alternately flushing and paling, his hand now
grasping his sword, now toying with the innumerable
jewels that blazed on his breast; the women's eyes at
one moment sparkled with delight and at the next grew
humid with tears; the assembled courtiers pressed for-
ward, awed eager and attentive; the very soldiers on
guard seemed entranced, and not even a small side-whis-
per disturbed the harmonious fall and flow of dulcet
speech that rippled from the laureate's lips.
When he ceased, there broke forth such a tremendous
uproar of applause that the amber pendants of the
lamps swung to and fro in the strong vibration of so
many uplifted voices; shouts of frenzied rapture echoed
164 "ARDATH**
again and again through the vaulted roof like thuds of
thunder; shouts in which Theos joined as why should
he not? He had as good a right as any one to applaud
his own poem! It had been sufficiently abused hereto-
fore; he was glad to find it now so well appreciated, at
least in Al Kyris! though he had no intention of putting
forward any claim to its authorship. No; for it was evi-
dent he had in some inscrutable way been made an out-
cast from all literary honor, and a sort of wild reckless-
ness grew up within him a bitter mirth arising from
curiously mingled feelings of scorn for himself and ten-
derness for Sah-luma and it was in this spirit that he
loudly cheered the triumphant robber of his stores ot
poesy, and even kept up the plaudits long after they might
possibly have been discontinued. Never, perhaps, did any
poet receive a grander ovation, but the exquisitely tranquil
vanity of the laureate was not a whit moved by it; his
dazzling smile dawned like a gleam of sunshine all over
his beautiful face, but save for this, he gave no sign of
even hearing the deafening acclamation that resounded
about him on all sides.
"A new Hyspiros!" cried the king enthusiastically,
and, detaching a magnificently cut ruby from among the
gems he wore, he flung it toward his favored minstrel. It
flashed through the air like a bright spark of flame and
fell, glistening redly on the pavement just half-way be-
tween Theos and Sah-luma. Theos eyed it with faintly
amused indifference; the laureate bowed gracefully, but
did not stoop to raise it he left that task to his harp-
bearer, who, taking it up, presented it to his master
humbly on one knee. Then, and only then Sah-luma
received it, kissed it lightly, and placed it negligently
among his other ornaments, smiling at the king as he did
so with the air of one who graciously condescends to ac-
cept a gift out of kindly feeling for the donor. Zabastes
meanwhile had witnessed the scene with an expression
of mingled impatience, malignity and disgust written
plainly on his furrowed features, and as soon as the hub-
bub of applause had subsided, he struck his staff on the
ground with an angry clang, and exclaimed irritably:
"Now may the gods shield us from a plague of foo?s!
What means this throaty clamor? Ye praise what ye
do not understand, like all the *est of the discerning
THE PROPHET OF DOOM 165
public! Many is the time, as the weariness of my spirit
witnesseth, that I have heard Sah-luma rehearse, but
never in all my experience of his prolix multiloquence
hath he given utterance to such a senseless jingle-jangle
of verse-jargon as to night! Strange it is that the so-
called 'poetical' trick of confusedly heaping words to-
gether regardless of meaning should so bewilder men
and deprive them of all wise and sober judgment! By
my faith! I would as soon listen to the gabble of geese
in a farmyard as to the silly glibness of such inflated
twaddle, such mawkish sentiment, such turgid garrulity,
such ranting verbosity "
A burst of laughter interrupted and drowned his harsh
voice, laughter in which none joined more heartily than
Sah-luma himself. He had resumed his seat in his ivory
chair, and leaning back lazily, he surveyed his critic
with tolerant good humor and complete amusement, while
the king's stentorian "Ha, ha, ha!" resounded in ringing
peals through the great audience chamber.
"Thou droll knave!" cried Zephoranim at last, dashing
away the drops his merriment had brought into his
eyes, "wilt thou kill me with thy bitter-mouthed jests?
Of a truth my sides ache at thee! What ails thee now?
Come, we will have patience, if so be our mirth can be
restrained. Speak! What flaw can'st thou find in our
Sah-luma' s pearl of poesy? What spots on the sun of
his divine inspiration? As the Serpent lives, thou art
an excellent mountebank and well deservest thy master's
pay!"
He laughed again, but Zabastes seemed in no wise
disconcerted. His withered countenance appeared to
harden itself into lines of impenetrable obstinacy. Tuck-
ing his long staff under his arm, he put his fingers together
in the manner of one who inwardly counts up certain num-
bers and with a preparatory smack of his lips he began
"Free speech being permitted to me, O most mighty
Zephoranim, I would in the first place say that the poem
so greatly admired by your Majesty is totally devoid of
common sense. It is purely a caprice of the imagina-
tion and what is imagination? A mere aberration of the
cerebral nerves, a morbidity of brain in which the thoughts
brood on the impossible on things that have never been
and never will be. Thus, Sah-luma' s verse resembles the
i 66 "ARDATH"
incoherent ravings of a moon-struck madman; moreover,
it hath a prevailing tone of forced sublimity" here Theos
gave an involuntary start, then, recollecting where he was
resumed his passive attitude I: which is in every way
distrustful to the ears that love plain language. For in-
stance, what warrant is there for this most foolish line?
'The solemn chanting of the midnight stars.'
Tis vile, 'tis vile! for whoever heard the midnight stars
or any other stars chant? who can prove that the heav-
enly bodies are given to the study of music? Hath Sah-
luma been present at their singing-lessons?" Here the
old critic chuckled, and warming with his subject, ad-
vanced a step nearer to the throne as he went on, "Hear
yet another jarring simile:
" 'The wild winds moan for pity of the world*
Was ever a more indiscreet lie? A brazen lie! for
the tales of shipwreck sufficiently prove the pitilessness
of winds, and however much a verse-weaver may pretend
to be in the confidence of nature, he is after all but tliie
dupe of his own frenetic dreams. One couplet halh
most discordantly annoyed my senses 'tis the veriest
doggerel :
" 'The sun with amorous clutch
Tears off the emerald girdle of the rose! "
O monstrous piece of extravagance! for how can the
sun (his Deity set apart) 'clutch' without hands? and
as for 'the emerald girdle of the rose' I know not what
it means, unless Sah-luma considers the green calyx of the
flower a 'girdle,' in which case his wits must be far gone,
for no shape of girdle can any sane man descry in the
common natural protection of a bud before it blooms!
There was a phrase, too, concerning nightingales and
the gods know we have heard enough and too much of
those overpraised birds! " Here he was interrupted
by one of his frequent attacks of coughing, and again
the laughter of the whole court broke forth in joyous
echoes.
'Laugh laugh!" said Zabistes, recovering himself and
eyeing the throng with a derisive smile. "Laugh, ye
witless bantlings born of folly! and cling as ye will to
THE PROPHET OF DOOM l6?
tne unsubstantial dreams your laureate blows for you in
the air like a child playing with soap-bubbles! Empty
and perishable are they all they shine for a moment,
then break and vanish and the colors wherewith they
sparkled, colors deemed immortal in their beauty, shall
pass away like a breath and be renewed no more!"
"Not so!" interposed Theos suddenly, unknowing why
bespoke, but feeling inwardly compelled to take up Sah-
luma's defense, "for the colors are immortal, and permeate
the universe whether seen in the soap-buble or the rain-
bow! Seven tones of light exist, coequal with the seven
tones in music, and much of what we call art and poesy
is but the constant reflux of these never-dying tints and
sounds. Can a critic enter more closely into the secrets
of nature than a poet? Nay! for he would undo all cre-
ation were he able, and find fault with its fairest produc-
tions! The critical mind dwells too persistently on the
mere surface of things ever to comprehend or probe the
central deeps and well-springs of thought. Will a Zabas-
tr:s move us to tears and passion? Will he make our
pulses beat with any happier thrill, or stir our blood
into a warmer glow? He may be able to sever the petals
of a lily and name its different sections, its way oi
growth and habitude, but can he raise it from the ground
alive and fair, a perfect flower, full of sweet odors and
still sweeter suggestions? No! but Sah-luma with en-
trancing art can make us see, not one lily but a thousand
lilies, all waving in the light wind of his fancy; not one
world but a thousand worlds, circling through the empy-
rean of his rhythmic splendor ; not one joy but a thou
sand joys, all quivering song-wise through the radiance ol
his clear illumined inspiration! The heart, the human
heart alone is the final touchstone of a poet's genius, and
when that responds, who shall deny his deathless fame?"
Loud applause followed these words, and the king,
leaning forward, clapped Theos familiarly on the shoulder.
'"Bravely spoken, sir stranger!" he exclaimed, "Thou
hast well vindicated thy friend's honor! And by my
soul! thou hast a musical tongue of thine own! Who
knows but that thou also may be a poet yet in time to
come! And thou Zabastes" here he turned upon the
*id critic, who, while Theos spoke, had surveyed him
ith much cynical disdain ''get thee hence! Thine ar
I 68 "ARDATH*
guments are all at fault as usual! Thou art tiiyself a
disappointed author hence thy spleen! Thou art blind
and deaf, selfish and obstinate; for thee the very sun
is a blot rather than a brightness. Thou couldst, in
thine own opinion, have created a fairer luminary doubt-
less had the matter been left to thee! Ay, ay! we
know thee for a beauty-hating fool, and though we laugh
at thee, we find thee wearisome! Stand thou aside and
be straightway forgotten! We will entreat Sah-luma
for another song."
The discomfited Zabastes retired, grumbling to himself
in an undertone, and the laureate, whose dreamy eyes
had till now rested on Theos, his self-constituted advo-
cate, with an appreciative and almost tender regard, once
more took up his harp, and striking a few rich, soft chords
was about to sing again, when a great noise as of clank-
ing armor was heard outside, mingled with a steadily
increasing sonorous hum of many voices and the tramp,
tramp of marching feet. The doors were flung open,
the herald-in-waiting entered in hot haste and excite-
ment, and prostrating himself before the throne, ex-
claimed:
"O great King, may thy name live forever! Khosrul is
taken!"
Zephoranim's black brows drew together in a dark
scowl and he set his lips hard.
"So! For once thou art quick-tongued in the utterance
of news!" he said half-scornfully. "Bring hither the
captive; as he chafes at his bonds we will ourselves
release him' 1 and he touched his sword significantly
"to a wider freedom than is found on earth!"
A thrill ran through the courtly throng at these words,
and the women shuddered and grew pale. Sah-luma,
irritated at the sudden interruption that had thus dis-
tracted the general attention from his own fair and flat-
tered self, gave an expressively petulant glance toward
Theos, who smiled back at him as soothingly as one
who seeks to coax a spoiled child out of its ill humor,
and then all eyes were turned expectantly toward the
entrance of the audience chamber.
A band of soldiers, clad from head to foot in glittering
steel armor, and carrying short drawn swords, appeared,
and marched with quick, ringing steps across the hall
THE PROPHET OF DOOM 169
toward the throne. Arrived at the dai's, they halted,
wheeled about, saluted, and parted asunder in two com-
pact lines, thus displaying in their midst the bound and
manacled figure of a tall, gaunt, wild-looking old man,
with eyes that burned like bright flames beneath the
cavernous shadow of his bent and shelving brows a man
whose aspect was so grand, and withal so terrible, that
an involuntary murmur of mingled admiration and affright
broke from the lips of all assembled, like a low wind
surging among leaf -laden branches This was Khosrul,
the prophet of a creed that was to revolutionize the
world, the fanatic for a faith as yet unrevealed to men,
the dauntless foreteller of the downfall of Al-Kyris and
its king.
Theos stared wonderingly at him, at his funerael black
garments which clung to him with the closeness of a
shroud, at his long, untrimmed beard and snow-white
hair that fell in disordered, matted locks below his shoul-
ders, at his majestic form which, in spite of cords and
fetters, he held firmly erect in an attitude of fearless and
composed dignity. There was something supernaturally
grand and awe-inspiring about him something com-
manding as well as defiant in the straight and steady
look with which he confronted the king and for a moment
or so a deep silence reigned, silence apparently born of
superstitious dread inspired by the mere fact of his pres-
ence. Zephoranim's glance rested upon him with cold
and supercilious indifference. Seated haughtily upright
in his throne, with one hand resting on the hilt of his
sword, he showed no sign of anger against or interest in
his prisoner, save that to the observant eye of Theos the
veins in his forehead seemed to become suddenly knot-
ted and swollen, while the jewels on his bare ch^st
heaved restlessly up and down with the unquiet panting
of his quickened breath.
"We give thee greeting, Khosrul!" he said slowly and
with a sinister smile. "The lion's paw has struck thee
djwn at last! Too long hast thou trifled with our pa-
tience. Thou must abjure thy heresies or die! What
sayest thou now of doom, of judgment, of the waning
of glory? Wilt prophesy? wilt denounce the faith?
wilt mislead the people? wilt curse the king? Thou
mad sorcerer I devil-bewitched and blasphemous! What
170 "ARDATH"
shall hinder me from at once slaying thee?" And he
half drew his formidable sword from its sheath.
Khosrul met his threatening gaze unflinchingly.
"Nothing shall hinder thee, Zephoranim, " he replied,
and his voice, deeply musical and resonant, struck to
Theos' heart with a strange, foreboding chill. "Nothing
save thine own scorn of cowardice!"
The monarch's hand fell from his sword hilt, a flush
of shame reddened his dark face. He bent his fiery eyes
full on the captive, and there was something in the sor-
rowful grandeur of the old man's bearing, coupled with
his enfeebled and defenseless condition, that seemed to
touch him with a sense of compassion, for, turning sud-
denly to the armed guard, he raised his hand with a
gesture of authority:
"Unloose his fetters!" he commanded.
The men hesitated, apparently doubting whether they
had heard aright.
Zephoranim stamped his foot impatiently.
"Unloose him, I say! By the gods! must I repeat th<j
same thing twice? Since when have soldiers grown desf
to the voice of their sovereign? And why have ye bound
this aged fool with so many and tight bonds? His
veins and sinews are not of iron. Methinks ye might tied
him with thread and met but small resistance! I have
known many a muscular deserter from the army fastened
less securely when captured! Unloose him, and quickly,
too! Our pleasure is that ere he dies he shall speak,
and he will, in his own defense as a free man."
In trembling haste and eagerness the guards at once
set to work to obey this order. The twisted cords were
untied, the heavy iron fetters wrenched asunder, and in
a very short space Khosrul stood at comparative liberty.
At first he did not seem to understand the king's gen-
erosity toward him in this respect, for he made no at-
tempt to move. His limbs were rigidly composed as
though they were still bound, and so stiff and motion-
less was his weird, attenuated figure that Theos, behold-
ing him, began to wonder whether he were made of
actual flesh and blood, or whether he might not more
possibly be some gaunt specter, forced back by mystic
art from another world in order to testify of things un-
known to living men. Zephoranim, ps^ajiwbile. called
THE PROPHET OF DOOM Ifl
lor his cup-bearer, a beautiful youth radiant as Ganymede
who, at a sign from his royal master, approached the
prophet, and, pouring wine from a jeweled flagon into a
goblet of gold, offered it to him with a courteous salute
and smile. Khosrul started violently like one suddenly
wakened from a deep dream. Shading his eyes with his
lean and wrinkled hand, he stared dubiously at the young
and gayly-attired servitor, then pushed the goblet aside
with a shuddering gesture of aversion.
"Away away!" he muttered in a thrilling whisper
that penetrated to every part of the vast hall. "Wilt
force me to drink blood?" He paused, and in the same
low, horror stricken tone, continued: "Blood blood! It
stains the earth and sky! its red, red waves swallow up
the land! the heavens grow pale and tremble the sil-
ver stars blacken and decay, and the winds of the desert
make lament for that which shall come to pass ere ever
the grapes be pressed or the harvest gathered! ,Blood
blood! The blood of the innocent! 'tis a scarlet sea,
v/herein like a broken and empty ship, Al-Kyris found-
ers founders never to rise again!"
These words, uttered with such hushed yet passionate
intensity, produced a most profound impression. Several
courtiers exchanged uneasy glances, and the women half
lose from their seats, looking toward the king as though
silently requesting permission to retire. But an imperi-
ous negative sign from Zephoranim obliged them to
resume their places, though they did so with obvious
nervous reluctance.
"Thou art mad, Khosrul!" then said the monarch in
calmly measured accents: "And for thy madness, as
also for thine age, we have till now retarded justice, out
of pity. Nevertheless, excess of pity in great kings to
oft degenerates into weakness, and this we cannot suffer
to be said of us, not even for the sake of sparing thy few
poor remaining years. Thou hast overstepped the limit
of our leniency, and madman as thou art, thou showest
a madman's cunning. Thou dost break the laws and art
dangerous to the realm; thou art proved a traitor, and
must straightway die. Thou art accused "
"Of honesty!' interrupted Khosrul suddenly, with a
fcjuch of melancholy satire in his tone. "I have spoken
truth in an age of lies! 'Tis a most death-worthy deedl*
iji "'ARDATH
He ceased, and again seemed to retire within himself
as though he were a voice entering at will into the cav-
ern image of man. Zephoranim frowned angrily, yet an-
swered nothing, and a brief pause ensued. Theos grew
more and more painfully interested in the scene there
was something in it that to his mind seemed fatefully
suggestive and fraught with impending evil. Suddenly
Sah-luma looked up, his bright face alit with laughter.
"Now, by the sacred veil," he said gayly, addressing
himself to the king. "Your majesty considers this ven-
erable gentleman with too much gravity! I recognize in
him one of my craft a poet, tragic and taciturn of
humor and with a taste for melodramatic simile. Marked
you not the mixing of his word-colors in the picture he
drew of Al-Kyris, foundering like a wrecked ship in a
blood-red sea, while overhead trembled a white sky, set
thick with blackening stars? As I live, 'twas not ill-
devised for a madman's brain. And so solemn a ranter
should serve your majesty to make merriment withal,
in place of my poor Zabastes, whose peevish jests grow
somewhat stale, owing to the critic's chronic want of
originality! Nay, I myself shall be willing to enter into
a rhyming joust with so diconsolately morose a contem-
porary ; and who knows whether, betwixt us twain, the
chords of the major and minor may not be harmonized
in some new and altogether marvelous fashion of music
such as we wot not of?" And, turning to Khosrul, he
added: "Wilt break a lance of song with me, sir gray-
beard? Thou shalt croak of death, and I will chant of
love, and the king shall pronounce judgment as to which
melody hath the most potent and lasting sweetness."
Khosrul lifted his head and met the laureate's half-
mirthful, half-mocking smile with a look of infinite com-
passion in his own deep, solemnly penetrating eyes.
"Thou poor, deluded singer of a perishable day!" he
said mournfully. "Alas for thee, that thou must die so
soon, and be so soon forgotten! Thy fame is worthless
as a grain of sand blown by the breath of the sea; thy
pride and thy triumph, evanescent as the mists of the
morning that vanish in the heat of the sun! Great has
been the measure of thine inspiration; yet thou hast
missed its true teaching, and of all the golden threads
of poesy placed freely in thy hands thou hast not woven
THE PROPHET OF DOOM 173
one clew whereby thou shouldst find God! Alas, Sah-
luma! Bright soul unconscious of thy fate! Thou shalt
be suddenly and roughly slain, and there sits thy de-
stroyer!"
And as he spoke he raised his shrunken, skeleton like
hand and pointed steadily to the king. There was a
momentary hush a stillness as of stupefied amazement
and horror; then, to the apparent relief of all present,
Zephoranim burst out laughing.
'By all the virtues of Nagaya, " he cried, "this is most
excellent fooling. I, Zephoranim, the destroyer of my
friend and first favorite in *the realm? Old man, thy
frenzy exceeds belief and exhausts patience, though of
a truth I am sorry for the shattering of thy wits. 'Tis
sad that reason should be lacking to one so reverend
and grave of aspect. Dear to me as my royal crown is
the life of Sah-luma, through whose inspired writings
alone my name shall live in the annals of future history
for the glory of the great poet must ever surpass the
renown of the greatest king. Were Al-Kyris besieged
by a thousand enemies and these strong palace-walls
razed to the ground by the engines of warfare, we would
ourselves defend Sah-luma! ay, even cry aloud in the
heat of combat that he, the chief minstrel of our land,
should be sheltered from fury and spared from death, as
the only one capable of chronicling our vanquishment or
victory!"
Sah-luma smiled and bowed gracefully in response to
this enthusiastic assurance of his sovereign's friendship,
but nevertheless there was a slight shadow of uneasiness
on his bold, beautiful brow. He had evidently been un-
comfortably impressed by Khosrul's words, and the rest-
less anxiety reflected in his face communicated itself by
a sort of electric thrill to Theos, whose heart began to
beat heavily with a sense of vague alarm. "What is this
Khosrul?" he thought half resentfully, "and how dares
he predict for the adored, the admired Sah-luma, so
dark and unmerited an end?" Hark! what was that low,
far-off rumbling, as of underground wheels rolling at full
speed? He listened, then glanced at those persons who
stood nearest to him. No one seemed to hear anything
unusual. Moreover, all eyes were fixed fearfully on
Khosrul, whose before rigidly somber demeanor had sud-
174 "ARDATH"
denly changed, and who now with raised head, tossed
hair, outstretched arms, and wild gesture, looked like a
flaming terror personified.
"Victory! Victory!" he cried, catching at the king's
last word. "There shall be no more victory for thee,
Zephoranim! Thy conquests are ended, and the flag of
thy glory shall cease to wave on the towers of thy strong
citadels! Deach stands behind thee! Destruction clamors
at thy palace-gates, and the enemy that cometh upon thee
unawares is a*j enemy that none shall vanquisher subdue >
not even they who are mightiest among the mighty!
Thy strong men of war shall be trodden down as wheat ;
thy captains and rulers shall tremble and wail as children
bewildered with fear; thy great engines of battle shall
be to thee as naught, and the arrows of thy skilled archera
shall be useless as straws in the gathering tempest of fire
and fury. Zephoranim! Zephoranim!" and his voice
thrilled with terrific emphasis through the vaulted cham-
ber "the days of recompense are come upon thee, swift
and terrible as the desert-wind! The doom of Al Kyris
is spoken, and who shall avert its fulfillment? Al-Kyris
the Magnificent shall fall shall fall! Its beauty, its
greatness, its pleasantness, its power, shall be utterly
destroyed, and ere the waning of the midsummer moon
not one stone of its glorious buildings shall be left to
prove that here was once a city Fire! fire " and here
he ran abruptly to the foot of the royal dais, his dark
garments brushing against Theos as he passed, and
springing on the first step, stood boldly within hand-
reach of the king, who, taken aback by the suddenness
of his action, stared at him with a sort of amazed and
angry fascination. "To arms, Zephoranim! To arms!
Take up thy sword and shield get thee forth and fight
with fire! Fire! How shall the king quench it? How
shall the mighty monarch defend his people against it?
See you not how it fills the air with red, devouring
tongues of flame? The thick smoke reeks of blood! Al-
Kyris the Magnificent, the pleasant city of sin, the idol-
atrous city, is broken in pieces and is become a waste of
ashes! Who will join with me in a lament for Al-Kyris?
I will call upon the desert of the sea to hear my voice ;
I will pour forth my sorrows on the wind, and it shall
carry the burden of grief to the four quarters of the earth.
tHE PROPHET OF DOOM 175
All nations shall shudder and be astonished at the dire-
ful end of Al-Kyris, the city beautiful, the empress of
kingdoms! Woe unto Al-Kyris, for she hath suffered
herself to be led astray by her rulers! She hath drunken
deep of the innocent blood and hath followed after idols.
Her abominations are manifold, and the hearts of her
young men and maidens are full of evil! Therefore be-
cause Al-Kyris deligiit^th in pride and despiseth repent-
ance, so shall destruction descend furiously upon her,
even as a sudden tempest in the mid-watches of the
night. She shall be swept away from the surface of the
earth; wolves shall make their lair in her pleasant gar-
den, and the generations of men shall remember her no
more! O ye kings, princes and warriors! Weep, weep
for the doom of Al-Kyris!" and now his wild voice sank
by degrees into a piteous plaintiveness "Weep! for never
again on earth shall be found a fairer dwelling-place
for the lovers of joy! Never again shall be builded a
grander city for the glory and wealth of a people! Al-
Kyris! Al-Kyris! Thou that boasteth of ancient days
and long lineage! thou art become a forgotten heap of
ruin! the sands of the desert shall cover thy temples and
palaces, and none hereafter shall inquire concerning
thee! None shall bemoan thee, none shall shed tears
for the grievous manner of thy death, none shall know
the name of thy mighty heroes and men of fame for thou
shalt vanish utterly and be lost far out of memory even
as though thou hadst never been!"
Here he stopped abruptly and caught his breath hard;
his blazing eyes, preternaturally large and brilliant, fixed
themselves steadfastly on the sculptured ivor}' shield
that surmounted the back of the kings' throne, and over
his drawn and wrinkled features came an expression of
such ghastly horror that instinctively every one present
turned their looks in the same direction. Suddenly a
shriek, piercing and terrible, broke from his lips a shriek
that like a swiftly descending knife seemed to saw the
air discordantly asunder.
"See! see!" he cried in fierce haste and eagerness.
3ee how the crested head gleams! How the soft, shiny
throat curves and glistens ! how the lithe body twists
and twines! Hence! hence, accursed snake! thou poi-
soner of peace! thou quivering sting in the flesh! thou
176 "ARDATH"
destroyer of the strength of manhood! What hast thou
to do with Zephoranim, that thou dost wind thy many
coils about his heart? Lysia! Lysia! " here the king
started violently, his face flushing darkly red "Thou
delicate abomination ! Thou tyrannous treachery ! what
shall be done unto thee in the hour of darkness? Put
off, put off the ornaments of gold and jewels wherewith
thou adornest thy beauty, and crown thyself with the
crown of an endless affliction! for thou shalt be girdled
round about with flame, and fire shall be thy garment!
Thy lips that have drunken sweet wine shall be steeped
in bitterness ! Vainly shalt thou make thyself fair and
call aloud on thy legion of lovers the)' shall be as dead
men, deaf to thine entreaties, and none shall answer
thee no, not one! None shall hide thee from shame or
offer thee comfort ; in the midst of thy lascivious delights
shalt thou suddenly perish, and my soul shall be avenged
on thy sins, thou unvirgined virgin! thou queen-courtesan!"
Scarcely had he uttered the last word, when the king
with a furious oath sprang upon him, grasped him by the
throat, and thrusting him fiercely down on the steps of
the dais, placed one foot on his prostrate body. Then
drawing his gigantic sword, he lifted it on high. The
bright blade glittered in air, an audible gasp of terror
broke from the throng of spectators. Another second, and
KhoFrul's life would have paid the forfeit of his temeri-
ty when crash! a sudden and tremendous clap of thun-
der shook the hall, and every lamp was extinguished!
Impenetrable darkness reigned thick, close, suffocating
darkness the thunder rolled away in sullen, vibrating
echoes, and there was a short, impressive silence. Then
piercing through the profound gloom came the clamorous
cries and shrieks of frightened women, the horrible, sel-
fish scrambling, pushing and struggling of a bewildered,
panic-stricken crowd, the helpless, nerveless, unreasoning
distraction that human beings exhibit when striving to-
gether for escape from some imminent deadly peril ; and
though the king's stentorian voice could be heard above
all the tumult loudly commanding order, his alternate
threats and persuasions were of no avail to calm the
frenzy of fear into which the whole court was thrown.
Groans and sobs, wild entreaties to Nagaya and the Sun-
God, curses from the soldiery, who, intent on saving
THE PROPHET OF DOOM 177
themselves, were brutally trying to force a passage to
the door regardless of the wailing women, whose frantic
appeals for rescue and assistance were heartrending to
near all these sounds increased the horror of the situa-
tion, and Theos, blind, giddy, and confused, listened to
tho uproar around him with something of the affrighted
compassion that a stranger in hell might be supposed
to feel when harkening to the ceaseless plaints of the
self tortured wicked. He endeavored to grope his way
to Sah-luma's side; and just then the lights appeared,
lights that were not of earth's kindling strange wan-
dering flames that danced and flitted along the tapestried
walls like will-o'-the wisps on a dark morass, and flung
a ghastly blue glare on the pale uneasy, faces of the
scared people, till, gathering in a sort of lurid ring round
the throne, they outlined in strong relief the enraged
Titanesque figure of Zephoranim, whose upraised sword
looked in itself like an arrested flash of lightning.
Brighter and brighter grew the weird luster, illumining
the whole scene the vast length of the splendid hall, the
shining armor of the soldiers, the white robes of the
women, the flags and pennons that hung from the roof
and swayed to and fro as though blown by a gust of wind
every object near and distant was soon as visible as
in broad day and then a terrible cry of rage burst from
the king, the cry of a maddened wild beast.
"Death and fury!" he shouted, striking his sword with
a fierce clang against the silver pedestal of the throne.
"Where is Khosrul ?"
The silence of an absolute dismay answered. Khosrul
had fled! Like a cloud melting in air, or a ghost van-
ishing into the nether-world, he had mysteriously disap-
peared he had escaped, no one knew how, from under
the very feet and out of the very grasp of the irate mon-
arch, whose baffled wrath now knew no bounds.
"Dolts, idiots, cowards!" and he hurled these epithets
at the timorous crowd with all the ferocity of a giant
hurling stones at a swarm of pygmies. "Babes that are
frightened by a summer thunderstorm! Ye have let yon
accursed heretic slip from my hands ere I had choked
him with his own lie! O ye fools! Ye puny villains!
I take shame to myself that I am king of such a race of
weaklings! Lights! Bring lights hither, ye whimpering
178 "ARDATH"
slaves ye shivering poltroons! What! call yourselves
menl Nay ye are feeble girls pranked out in men's
attire, and your steel corslets cover the faintest hearts
that ever failed for dastard fear! Shut fast the palace-
gates! close every barrier! search every court and
corner, lest haply this base false prophet be still here in
hiding he that blasphemed with ribald tongue the high
priestess of our faith, the holy virgin Lysia! Are ye alJ
turned renegades and traitors that ye will suffer him to
go free and triumph in his lawless heresy? Ye shame-
less knaves! Ye milk-veined rascals ! What abject terror
makes ye thus quiver like aspen-leaves in a storm. This
darkness is but a conjurer's trick to scare women, and
KhosruPs followers can so play with the strings of elec-
tricity that ye are duped into accepting the witch-glamour
as heaven's own cloud flame! By the gods! If Al-Kyris
falls, as yon dotard pronounceth, her ruins shall bury but
few heroes! O superstitious and degraded souls! X
would ye were even as I am a man dauntless a soldier
unafraid!"
His powerful and indignant voice had the effect of
partially checking the panic and restoring something
like order. The pushing and struggling for an immediate
exit ceased, the armed guards in shamed silence began
to marshal themselves together in readiness to start on
the search for the fugitive, and several pages rushed in
with flaring torches, which cast a wondrous fire-glow on
the surging throng of eager and timid faces, the brilliant
costumes, the flash of jewels, the glimmering of swords
and the dark outlines of the fluttering tapestry all form-
ing together a curious chiaro-oscuro, from which the mas-
sive figure of Zephoranim stood out in bold and striking
prominence against the white and silver background of
his throne. Vaguely bewildered and lost in a dim stu-
pefaction of wonderment, Theos looked upon everything
with an odd sense of strained calmness the glittering
saloon whirled before his eyes like a passing picture in
a magic glass and then, an imperative knowledge forced
itself upon his mind he had witnessed this selfsame
scene before! Where? and when? Impossible to say,
but he distinctly remembered each incident! This im-
pression, however, left him as rapidly as it had come be-
fore he had any time to puzzle himself about it and
A VHIGIN UNSHKiN* 179
just at that moment Sah-luma's hand caught his own.
Sah-luma's voice whispered in his ear:
"Let us away, my friend! There will be naught now
but mounting of guards and dire confusion. The king is
as a lion roused and will not cease growling till his ven-
geance be satisfied! A plague on this shatter-pated
prophet! He hath broken through my music and jarred
poesy into discord! By the sacred veil! Didst ever hear
such a hideous clamor of contradictory tongues? all striv-
ing to explain what defies explanation, namely, Khosrul's
flight, for which, after all> no one is to blame so much
as Zephoranim himself; but 'tis the privilege of mon-
archs to shift their own mistakes and follies on to the
shoulders of their subjects! Come! Lysia awaits us, and
will not easily pardon our tardy obedience to her sum-
mons. Let us hence ere the gates of the palace close."
Lysia! The "unvirgined virgin," the "queen-courtesan!"
So had said Khosrul. Nevertheless her name, like a sil-
ver clarion, made the heart of Theos bound with inde-
scribable gladness and feverish expectation, and without
an instant's pause he readily yielded to Sah-luma's guid-
ance through the gorgeously colored confusion of the
swaying crowd. Arm-in-arm, the twain, one a poet re-
nowned, the other a poet forgotten, threaded their rapid
way between the ranks of nobles, officers, slaves, and
court-lackeys who were all excitedly discussing the
recent scare, the prophet's escape, and the dread wrath
of the king, and hurrying along the vast hall of the Two
Thousand Columns, they passed together out into the
night
CHAPTER VI|.
A VIRGIN UNSHRINED,
UNDER the cloudless, star-patterned sky, in the soft,
warm air that brimmed with the fragrance of roses, they
drove once more together through the spacious streets
of Al Kyris streets that were now nearly deserted save
for a few late passers by whose figures were almost as
in4istinct and rapid in motion as pale, flitting shadows.
ISO '*ARDATH*
There was not a sign of storm in the lovely heavens,
though now and again a sullen roll as of a distant can-
nonade hinted of pent-up anger lurking somewhere be-
hind that clear and exquisitely dark-blue ether, in which
a million worlds blazed luminously like pendulous drops
of white fire. Sah-luma's chariot whirled along with
incredible swiftness, the hoofs of the galloping horses
occasionally striking sparks of flame from the smooth,
mosaic-pictured pavement; but Theos now began to
notice that there was a strange noiselessness in their
movements that the whole cortege appeared to be en-
vironed by a magic circle of silence, and that the very
night itself seemed breathlessly listening in entranced
awe to some unlanguaged warning from the gods invisible.
Compared with the turbulence and terror just left be-
hind at the king's palace, this weird hush was uncom-
fortably impressive, and gave a sense of fantastic unreal-
ity to the scene. The sleepy, mesmeric radiance of the
full moon, shining on the delicate traceries of the quaintly
sculptured houses on either hand, made them look brittle
and evanescent; the great heavy hanging orange boughs
and the feathery frondage of the tall palms seemed out-
liend in mere mist against the sky; and the glimpses
caught from time to time of the broad and quietly flowing
river were like so many flashes of light seen through a
veil of cloud, Theos, standing beside his friend with
one hand resting familiarly on his shoulder, dreamily
admired the phantom-like beauty of the city thus trans-
figured in the moonbeams, and though he vaguely wondered
a little at the deep, mysterious stillness that every-
where prevailed, he scarcely admitted to himself there
was, or could be, anything unusual in it. He took his
position as he found it indeed, he could not well do
otherwise, since he felt that his fate was ruled by some
resolute unseen force, against which all resistance would
be unavailing. Moreover, his mind was now entirely pos-
sessed by the haunting vision of Lysia a vision half
human, half divine a beautiful, magical, irresistible
sweetness that allured his soul, and roused within him a
wordless passion of infinite desire.
He exchanged not a syllable with Sah-luma an inde-
finable yet tacit understanding existed between them, an
intuitive foreknowledge and subtle perception of each
A VIRGIN UNSHklNED l8l
other's character, intentions, and aims, that for the mo-
ment rendered speech unnecessary. And there was some-
thing, after all, in the profound silence of the night
that, while strange, was also eloquent eloquent of mean-
ings unutterable, such as lie hidden in the scented cups
of flowers when lovers gather them on idle summer after-
noons and weave them into posies for one another's
wearing. How fleetly the gilded, shell-shaped car sped
on its way! Trees, houses, bridges, domes, and cupolas,
seemed to fly past in a varied whirl of glistening color!
Now and again a cluster of fire-flies broke from some
thicket of shade and danced drowsily by in sparkling
tangles of gold and green. Here and there from great
open squares and branch-shadowed gardens gleamed the
stone face of an obelisk, or the white column of a foun-
tain, while over all things streamed the long, prismatic
fays flung forth from the revolving lights in the twelve
towers of the Sacred Temple, like flaming spears ranged
lengthwise against the limitless depth of the midnight
horizon. With straining necks, tossed manes, and foam
flying from their nostrils, Sah-luma's fiery coursers dashed
onward at almost lightning speed, and the journey be-
came a wild, headlong rush through the dividing air a
rush toward some voluptuous end, dimly discerned, yet
indefinite!
At last they stopped. Before then rose a lofty building,
crested with fantastic pinnacles such as are formed by
ice on the roof in times of intense cold. A great gate
stood open, and pacing slowly up and down in front of
it was a tall slave in white tunic and turban, who, turn-
ing his gleaming eyeballs on Sah-luma, nodded by way
of salutation, and then uttered a sharp, peculiar whistle.
This summons brought out two curious dwarfish figure?
of men, whose awkward, misshapen limbs resembled the
contorted branches of wind-blown trees, and whose coarse
and repulsive countenances betokened that malignant
delight in evil-doing which only demons are supposed to
know. These ungainly servitors possessed themselves
of the laureate's chafing steeds, and led them and the
chariot away into some unseen courtyard, while the lau-
reate himself, still saying no word, kept fast hold of his
companion's arm, and hurried him along a dark avenue
overshadowed with thick houghs that drooped heavily
i 2 "ARDATH"
downward to the ground a solitary place where thfe in-
tense quiet was disturbed only by the occasional drip,
drip of dewy moisture trickling tearfully from the leaves
or the sweet, faint, gurgling sound of fountains playing
somewhere in the distance.
On they went for several paceSj till at a sharp bend in
the moss-grown path an amethystine light broke full be-
tween the arched green branches. Directly in front of
them glimmered a broad piece of water, and out of the
purple- tinted depths rose the white, nude, lovely form
of a woman, whose rounded outstretched arms appeared
to beckon them whose mouth smiled in mingled malice
and sweetness, and round whose looped-up tresses sparkled
a diadem of sapphire flame. With a cry of astonishment
and ecstasy Theos sprang forward. Sah-luma held him
back in laughing remonstrance.
"Wilt drown for a statue's sake?" he inquired mirth-
fully. "By my soul, good Theos, if thy wits thus wan-
der at sight of witching marble nymph illumined by
electric glamours, what will become of thee when thou
art face to face with living, breathing loveliness? Come,
thou hot-headed neophyte! thou shalt not waste thy
passion on images of stone, I warrant thee! Come ! '
But Theos stood still. His eyes roved from Sah-luma
to the glittering statue and from the statue back again
to Sah-luma in mingled doubt and dread. A vague fore
boding rilled his mind; he fancied that a bevy of mock-
ing devils peered at him from out the wooded labyrinth,
and that Sin was the name of the white siren j'onder,
whose delicate body seemed to palpitate with every slow
ripple of the surrounding waters. He hesitated, with
that often saving hesitation a noble spirit may feel ere
willfully yielding to what it instinctively knows to be
wrong; and for the briefest possible space an impercep
tible line was drawn between his own self-consciousness
and the fascinating personality of his lately found friend
a line that parted them asunder as though by a gulf of
centuries!
"Sah-luma," he said, in a tremulous, low tone, "tell
me truly, is it good for us to be here?"
Sah luma regarded him in wide-eyed amazement.
"Good? good?" he repeated with a sort of impatient
disdain. "What dost thou mean by 'good'? What is
A VIRGIN UNSHRINED l8j
good? What is evil? Canst thou tell? If so, ttiou art
wiser than I! Good to be here? If it is good to drown
remembrance of the world in draughts of pleasure; if it
is good to love and be beloved; if it is good to enjoy,
ay! enjoy with burning zest every pulsation of the blood
and every beat of the heart, and to feel that life is a fiery
delight, an exquisite dream of .drained-off rapture, then
it is good to be here! If," and he caught Theos' hand
in his own warm palm and pressed it, while his voice
sank to a soft and infinitely caressing sweetness, "if it
is good to climb the dizzy heights of joy and drowse
in the deep sunshine of amorous eyes, to slip away on
elfin wings into the limitless freedom of love's summer
land, to rifle rich kisses from warm lips even as rosebuds
are rifled from the parent rose, and to forget ! to forget
all bitter things that are best forgotten "
"Enough, enough," cried Theos, fired with a reckless
impulse of passionate ardor. "On, on, Sah-luma! I
follow thee! On! let us delay no more!"
At that moment a far-off strain of music saluted his
ears music evidently played on stringed instruments.
It was accompanied by a ringing clash of cymbals.
He listened, and listening, saw a smile lighten Sah-
luma's features a smile sweet, yet full of delicate mock-
yry. Their eyes m^t; a wanton impetuosity flashed like
reflected flame from one face to the other and then,
without another instant's pause, they hurried on.
Across a broad rose-marble terrace garlanded with a
golden wealth of orange trees and odorous oleanders, un-
der a trellis work covered with magnolias whose half-shut
ivory-tinted buds glistened in the moonlight like large
suspended pearls, then through a low-roofed stone corri-
dor, close and dim, lit only by a few flickering lamps
placed at far intervals still on they went, till at last,
ascending three red granite steps on which were carved
some curious hieroglyphs, they plunged into what seemed
to be a vast jungle enclosed in some dense tropical for-
est. What a strange, unsightly thicket of rank verdure
was here! thought Theos. It was as though nature,
grown tired o? floral beauty, had, in a sudden malevolent
mood, purposely torn and blurred the fair gresn frondage
and twisted every bud awry! Great jagged leaves cov-
ered with prickles and stained all over with blotches as
184 "ARDATH"
of spilt poison, thick brown stems glistening with slimy
moisture and coiled up like the sleeping bodies of snakes,
masses of purple and blue fungi, and blossoms, seemingly
of the orchid species, some like fleshy tongues, others
like the waxen yellow fingers of a dead hand, protruded
spectrally through the matted foliage, while all manner
of strange, overpowering odors increased the swooning
oppressiveness of the sultry, languorous air.
This uncouth botanical garden was apparently roofed in
by a lofty glass dome, decorated with hangings of watery-
green silk, but the grotesque trees and plants grew to so
enormous a height that it was impossible to tell which
were the falling draperies and which the straggling leaves.
Curious birds flew hither and thither, voiceless, scarlet
and amber winged; a huge gilded brazier stood in one
corner, from whence ascended the constant smoke of
burning incense, and there were roses- haded lamps all
about, that shed a subdued, mysterious luster on th e
scene, and bestowed a pale glitter on a few fantastic
clumps of arums and nodding lotus-flowers that lazil /
lifted themselves out of a greenish pool of stagnant watrr
sunk deeply in on one side of the marble flooring. Theo;*,
holding Sah-luma's arm, stepped eagerly across th e
threshold. He was brimful of expectation; and what
mattered it to him whether the weed-like things that
grew in this strange pavilion were pure or poisonous,
provided he might look once more upon the witching
face that long ago had so sweetly enticed him to his
ruin! Stay! what was be thinking of? Long ago? Nay.
that was impossible, since he had only seen the priest-
ess Lysia for the first time that very morning. How
piteously perplexing it was to be thus tormented with
these indistinct ideas these half-formed notions of pre-
vious intimate acquaintance with persons and places he
never could have known before!
All at once be drew back with a startled exclamation!
An enormous tigress, sleek and jewel-eyed, bounced up
from beneath a tangled mass of red and yellow creep-
ers, and advanced toward him with a low, savaga snarl.
"Peace, Aizif, peace!" said Sah-luma, carelessly pat-
ting the animal's head. "Thou art wont to be wiser in
distinguishing 'twixt thy friends and foes." Then turn-
ing to Theos he added: "She is harmless as a kitten,
A VIRGIN UNSHRINKD 185
this poor Aizif! Call her, good Theos she will come
to thy hand see!" and he smiled, as Theos, not to be
outdone by his companion in physical courage, bent
forward and stroked the cruel-looking beast, who, while
submitting to his caress, never for a moment ceased her
smothered snarling. Presently, however, she was seized
with a sudden fit of savage playfulness, and throwing
herself on the ground before him, she rolled her lithe
body to and fro with brief, thirsty roars of satisfaction
roars that echoed through the whole pavilion with ter-
rific resonance; then rising, she shook herself vigorously,
and commenced a stealthy, velvet-footed pacing up and
down, lashing her tail from side to side, and keeping
those sly emerald like eyes of hers watchfully fixed on
Sah-luma, who merely laughed at her fierce antics. Lean-
ing against one of the dark gnarled trees, he tapped his
sandaled foot with some impatience on the marble pave-
ment, while Theos, standing close beside him, wondered
whether the mysterious Lysia knew of their arrival.
Sah-luma appeared to guess his thoughts, for he an-
swered them as though the) 7 had been spoken aloud.
"Yes," he said, "she knows we are here; she knew the
instant we entered her gates. Nothing is or can be
hidden from her! He who would have secrets must depart
out of Al Kyris and find some other city to dwell in,
for here he shall be unable to keep even his own coun-
sel. To Lysia all things are made manifest; she reads
human nature as one reads an open scroll, and with
merciless analysis she judges men as being very poor
creatures, limited in their capabilities, disappointing and
monotonous in their passions, unproductive and circum
scribed in their destinies. To her ironical humor and
icy wit the wisest sages seem fools; she probes them to
the core, and discovers all their weaknesses; she has no
trust in virtue, no belief in honesty. And she is right!
Who but a madman would be honest in these days of
competition and greed of gain? And as for virtue, 'tis
a pretty icicle that melts at the first touch of a hot temp-
tation ! Ay, the Virgin Priestess of Nagaya hath a
rr ost profound comprehension of mankind's immeasurable
brute stupidity; and, strong in this knowledge, she gov-
erns the multitude with iron will, intellectual force and
dictative firmness. When she dies I know not what will
happen. "
I&6 "ARDATH*
Here he interrupted himeslf, and a dark shadow crossed
his brows. "By my soul!" he muttered, "how this
thought of death haunts me like the unburied corpse of
a slain foe! I would there were no such thing as death.
'Tis a crusl and wanton sport of the gods to give us life
at all if life must end so utterly and so soon!"
He sighed deeply. Theos echoed the sigh, but an-
swered nothing. At that moment the restless Aizif gave
another appalling roar, and pounced swiftly toward the
eastern side of the pavilion, where a large painted panel
could be dimly discerned, the subject of the painting
being a hideous idol, whose long, half-shut, inscrutable
eyes leered through the surrounding foliage with an ex-
pression of hateful cunning and malevolence. In front
of this panel the tigress lay down, licking the pavement
thirstily from time to time and giving vent to short
purring sounds of impatience. Then all suddenly she rose
with ears pricked, in an attitude of attention. The panel
slowly moved; it glided back, and the great brute leaped
forward, flinging her two soft paws on the shoulders of
the figure that appeared the figure of a woman, who,
clad in glistening gold from head to foot, shone in the
dark aperture like a gilded image in a shrine of ebony.
Theos beheld the brilliant apparition in some doubt and
wonder. Was this Lysia? He could not see her face,
as she wore a thick white veil through which only the
faintest sparkle of dark eyes glimmered like flickering
sunbeams; nor was he able to discern the actual outline
of her form, as it was completely enveloped and lost in
the wide, shapeless folds of her stiff golden gown. Yet
every nerve in his body thrilled at her presence every
drop of blood seemed to rush from his heart to his brain
in a svv'ift, scorching torrent that for a second blinded
his eyes with a red glare and made him faint and giddy.
Woman and tigress! They looked strangely alike, he
thought, as they stood mutually caressing each other
under the great drooping masses of fantastic leaves. Yet,
where was the resemblance? What possible similarity
could there be between a tawny, treacherous brute of the
forests, full of sly malice and voracious cruelty, and that
dazzling, gold-garmented creature, whose small white
hand, flashing with jewels, now tenderly smoothed the
black silken stripes on the sleek coat of her savage fa-
vorite?
A VIRGIN UNSHRINED 187
"Down, sweet Aizif, down!" she said in a grave, dulcet
voice, as softly languorous as the last note of a love song.
"Down, my gentle one! thou art too fond. Down! So!"
this as the tigress instantly removed its embracing
paws from her neck, and, trembling in every limb,
crouched on the ground in abjectly submissive obedience.
Another moment and she advanced leisurely into the
pavilion, Aizif slinking stealthily along beside her and
Deeming to imitate her graceful, gliding movements, till
she stood within a few pace; of Theos and Sah-luma,
just near the spot where the lotus-flowers swayed over
the grass-green stagnant pool. There she paused, and
apparently scrutinized her visitors intently through the
folds of her snowy veil. Sah-luma bent his head before
her in a half-haughty, half-humble salutation.
"The tardy Sah-luma!" she said, with an under-current
of laughter in her musical tones "the poet who loves the
flattery of a foolish king, and the applause of a still more
foolish court! And so Khosrul disturbed the flood of
thine inspiration to-night, good minstrel? Nay, for that
he should die, if for no other crime! And this" here
she turned her veiled features toward Theos, whose heart
beat furiously as he caught a luminous flash from those
half-hidden, brilliant eyes "this is the unwitting stranger
who honored me by so daring a scrutiny this morning!
Verily thou hast a singularly venturesome spirit of thine
own, fair sir! Still, we must honor courage, even though
it border on rashness, and I rejoice to see that the wrath-
ful mob of Al-Kyris hath yet left thee man enough to
deserve my welcome! Nevertheless, thou wert guilty of
most heinous presumption!" Here she extended her jew-
eled hand. "Art thou repentant? and wilt thou sue for
pardon?"
Scarcely conscious of what he did, Theos approached
her, and kneeling on one knee, took that fair, soft hand
in his own and kissed it with passionate fervor.
"Criminal as I am," he murmured tremulously, "1
glory in my crime, nor will I seek forgiveness. Nay,
rather will I plead with thee that I may sin so sweet a
sin again, and blind m)'self with beauty unreproved!"
Slowly she withdrew her fingers from his clasp.
"Thou art bold!" she said, with a touch of indolent
amusement i.rj her accents. "But in thy boldness there
i 88 "ARDATH"
is something of the hero. Knowest thou not that I, Lysia,
high priestess of Nagaya, could have thee straightway
slain for that unwise speech of thine unwise because
over-hasty and somewhat over-familiar. Yes, I could hava
thee slain!" and she laughed, a rippling little laugh like
that of a pleased child. "Howbeit thou shalt not die
this time for thy fool hardiness; thy looks are too much
in thy favor! Thou art like Sah-luma in his noblest
moods, when tired of versS-stringing and sonnet chanting
he condescends to remember that he is not quite divine!
See how he chafes at that!" and plucking a lotus bud
she threw it playfully at the laureate, whose handsome
face flushed vexedly at her words. "An* thou art prudent,
Sir Theos do I not pronounce thy name aptly thou
wilt be less petulant than he, and less absorbed in self-
adoration, for here men even poets are deemed no more
than men, and their constant querulous claim to be con-
sidered as demi-god, meets with no acceptance! Wilt
'blind thyself with beauty' as thou say'st? Well then,
lose thine eyes, but guard thy heart "
And with a careless movement she loosened her veil;
it fell from her like a soft cloud, and Theos, springing
to his feet, gazed upon her with a sense of enraptured
bewilderment and passionate pain. It was as though he
saw the wraith of some fair dead woman he had loved of
old, risen anew to redemand from him his former alle-
giance. O unfamiliar yet well known face! O slumbrous
starry eyes that seemed to hold the memory of a thou-
sand love-thoughts! O sweet curved lips whereon a de-
licious smile rested as softly as sunlight on young rose
petals! Where where, in God's name had he seen
all this marvelous, witching, maddening loveliness bf-
fort? His heart beat with heavy, laboring thuds, his
brain reeled, a dim, golden, suffused radiance seemed to
hover like an aureole above that dazzling white brow
adorned with a clustering wealth of raven black tresses
whose massive coils were crowned with the strangest
sort of diadem a wreath of small serpents' heads cun-
ningly fashioned in rubies and rose brilliants, and set
in such a manner that they appeared to lift themselves
erect from out the dusky hair as though in darting read-
iness to sting. Full of a vague, wild longing, he instinc-
tively stretched out his arms; then on a sudden impulse
A VIRGIN UNSHRINED I&9
turned swiftly away, in a dizzy effort to escape from the
basilisk fire-gleam of those somber, haunting eyes that
plunged into his inmost soul, and there aroused such
dark desires, such retrospective evil, such wild weakness
as shamed the betterness of his nature? Sah-luma's clear,
mocking laugh just then rang sharply through the per
fumed stillness.
'Thou mad Theos I Whither art thou bound?" cried
the laureate mirthfully. "Wilt leave our noble hostess
ere the entertainment has begun? Ungallant barbarian!
What frenzy possesses thee?"
These woxds recalled him to himself. He came back
slowly step oy step, and with bowed head, to where
Lysia stood Lysia, whose penetrating gaze still rested
upon him with strangely fixed intensity.
"Forgive me," he said, in a low, unsteady voice that
to his own ears sounded full of suppressed yet passion-
ate appeal. "Forgive me, lady, that for one moment I
have seemed discourteous. I am not so, in very truth.
Sad fancies fret my brain at times, and and there is
that within thine unveiled beauty which sword-like
wounds my soul! I am not joyous-natured. Unlike
Sah-luma, chosen favorite of fortune, I have lost all, a.ll
that made my life once seem fair. I am dead to those
that loved me, forgotten by those that honored me, a
wanderer in strange lands, a solitary wayfarer perplexed
with many griefs to which I cannot give a name! Never-
theless," and he drew a quick, hard breath, "if I may
serve thee, fairest Lysia, as Sah luma serves thee, sub-
ject to thy sovereign favor, thou shalt not find me lack-
ing in obedience! Command me as thou wilt; let me
efface myself to worship thee! Let me,if it be possible,
drown thought, slay memory, murder conscience, so that
I may once more, as in the old time, be glad with the
gladness that only love can give, and only death can take
a\vay !"
As he finished this unpremeditated, uncontrollable out-
burst his eyes wistfully sought hers. She met his look
\vith a languid indifference and a half disdainful smile.
. "Enough ! Restrain thine ardor!" she said coldly, her
dirk, dilating orbs shining like steel beneath the velvet
softness of her long lashes. "Thou dost speak ignorantly,
unknowing what thy words involve words to which 1
tgd "ARDATH"
well might bind thee, were I less forbearing to thine
inconsiderate rashness. How like all men thou art! How
keen to plunge into unfathomed deeps, merely to snatch
the pearl of present pleasure! How martyr-seeming in
thy fancied sufferings, as though thy litile wave of per-
sonal sorrow swamped the world! O wondrous human
egotism! that sees but one great absolute T sera v, led on
the face of Nature! T am afflicted, let none dare to
rejoice! T would be glad, let none presume to grieve!"
She laughed, a little low, laugh of icy satire, and then
resumed: "I thank thee for thy proffered service, Sir
Stranger, albeit I need it not, nor do I care to claim it
at thy hands. Thou art my guest no more. Whether
thou wilt hereafter deserve to be enrolled my bondsman
depends upon thy prowess and my humor!"
Her beautiful eyes flashed scornfully, and there was
something cruel in her glance. Theos felt it sting him
like a sharp blow. His nerves quivered; his spitit rose
in arms against the cynical hauteur of this woman whom
he loved; yes loved, with a curious sense of revived
passion passion that seemed to have slept in a tcmb for
ages and that now suddenly sprang into life and being,
like a fire kindled anew on dead ashes.
Acting on a sudden, proud impulse he raised his head
and looked at her with a bold steadfastness, a critical
scrutiny, a calmly discriminating valuation of her phys-
ical charms that for the moment certainly appeared to
startle her self possession, for a deep flush colored the
fairness of her face and then faded, leaving her pale as
marble. Her emotion, whatever it was, lasted but a
second, yet in that second he had measured his mental
strength against hers, and had become aware cf his own
supremacy! This consciousness filled him with peculiar
satisfaction. He drew a long breath like one narrowly
escaped from close peril. He had now no fear of hei
only a great, all-absorbing, all-evil love, and to that he
was recklessly content to yield. Her eyes dwelt glit-
teringly first upon him and then on Sah-luma, as the
eyes of a falcon dwell on his prey, and her smile was
touched with a little malice, as she said, addressing them
both:
"Come, fair sirs! we will not linger in Ihis wilderness
ef wild flowers. A feast awaits us yonder, a feast pre-
A VIRGIN UNSHRINED XQ?
pared for those who, like yourselves, obey the creed of
sweat self-indulgence the world-wide creed wherein
men find no fault, no shadow of inconsistency! The
cruest wisdom is to enjoy the only philosophy that
which teaches us how best to gratify our own desires!
Delight cannot satiate the soul, nor mirth engender
weariness! Follow me!" and with a lithe movement she
swept toward the door, her pet tigress creeping closely
after her. Then suddenly looking back, she darted a lus-
trously caressing glance over her shoulder at Sah-luma
and stretched out her hand He at once caught it in
his own and kissed it with an almost brusque eagerness.
"I thought you had forgotten me!" he murmured in a
vexed, half-reproachful tone.
"Forgotten you? Forgotten Sah-luma? Impossible!"
and her silvery laughter shook the air into little throbs
of music. "When the greatest poet of the age is forgot-
ten, then fall, Al-Kyris! for there shall be no more need
of kingdoms!"
Laughing still and allowing her hand to remain in his,
she passed out of the pavilion, and Theos followed them
both as a man might follow the beckoning sylphs in a
fair)' dream.
A mellow, luminous, witch-like radiance seemed to
surround them as they went two dazzling figures gliding
on before him with the slow, light grace of moonbeams
flitting over a smooth ocean. They seemed made for each
other he could not separate them in his thoughts; but
the strangest part of the matter was the feeling he had
that he himself somehow belonged to them and they to
him. His ideas on the subject, however, were very in-
definite; he was in a condition of more or less absolute
passiveness, save when strong shudders of grief, memory,
remorse, or roused passion shook him with sudden force,
like a storm-blast shaking some melancholy cypress whose
roots are in a grave. He mused on Lysia's scornful
words with a perplexed pain. Was he then so selfish?
"The one great absolute T scrawled on the face of na-
ture!" Could that apply to him? Surely not, since in
his present state of mind he could hardly lay claim to
any distinct personality, seeing that that personality was
iorever merging itself and getting lost in the more
ciearly perfect identity of Sah-luma/ whom he regarded
19* "ARDATH"
with a species of profound hero-worship, such as one
man seldom feels for another. To call himself a poet
uow seemed the acme of absurdity. How should such
an one as he attempt to conquer fame with a rival like
Sah-luma already in the field and already supremely vic-
torious?
Full of these fancies, he scarcely heeded the wonders
through which he passed, as he followed his two radiant
guides along. His eyes were tired, and rested almost
indifferently on the magnificence that everywhere sur-
rounded him, though here and there certain objects
attracted his attention as being curiously familiar. These
lofty corridors, gorgeously frescoed; these splendid
groups of statuary; these palm-shaded nooks of verdure,
where imprisoned nightingales warbled plaintive songs
that were all the sweeter for their sadness ; these spa-
cious marble loggie, cooled by the rising and falling spray
.of myriad fountains did he not dimly recognize all these
things? He thought so, yet was not sure, for he had
arrived at a pass when he could rely on neither his rea-
son nor his memory. Naught of deeper humiliation could
he have than this, to feel within himself that he was
still an intellectual, thinking, sentient human being,
and that yet, at the same time, his intelligence could do
nothing to extricate him from the terrific mystery which
had engulfed him like a huge flood, and wherein he w^s
tossed to and fro as helplessly as a floating straw.
On, still on he went, treading closely in Sah-luma s
footsteps, and wistfully noting how often the myrtle-
garlanded head of his friend drooped caressingly toward
Lysia's dusky, perfumed locks, whence those jeweled
serpents' fangs darted flashingly upward like light from
darkness. On, still on, till at last he found himself in
a grand vestibule, built entirely of sparkling red granite.
Here were ten sphinxes, so huge in form that a dozen
men might have lounged at ease on each one cJ their
enormous paws; they were ranged in rows of five on
each side, and their coldly meditative eyes appeared to
dwell steadfastly on the polished face of a large black
disk placed conspicuously on a pedestal in the exact cen-
ter of the pavement. Strange letters shone from time to
time on this ebony tablet, letters that seemed to be writ-
ten in quicksilver; they glittered for a second, then ran
A VIRGIN UNSHRINED 193
a like phosphorescent drops of water, and again reap-
peared, but the same signs were never repeated twice
over. All were different, all were rapid in their coming
and going as flashes of lightning. Lysia, approaching
the disk, turned it slightly. At her touch it revolved
like a flying wheel, and for a brief space was literally
covered with mysterious characters, which the beautiful
priestess perused with an apparent air of satisfaction.
All at once the fiery writing vanished ; the disk was left
black and bare, and then a silver ball fell suddenly upon
it, with a clang, from some unseen height, and, roll-
ing off again, instantly disappeared. At the same moment
a harsh voice, rising as it were from the deepest under-
ground, chanted the following words in a monotonous
recitative:
"Fall, O thou lost Hour, into the dreadful Past! Sink,
O thou Pearl of Time, into the dark and fathomless abyss!
Not all the glory of kings or the wealth of empires can
purchase thee back again! Not all the strength of war-
riors or the wisdom of sages can draw thee forth from
the Abode of Silence whither thou art fled ! Farewell,
lost Hour! and may the gods defend us from thy re-
proach at the Day of Doom! In the name of the Sun
and Nagaya Peace!"
The voice died away in a muffled echo, and the slow,
solemn boom of a brazen-tongued bell struck midnight.
Then Theos, raising his eyes, saw that all further prog-
ress was. impeded by a great wall of solid rock that
glistened at every point with flashes of pale and dark vio-
let light a wall composed entirely of adamantine spar,
crusted thick with the rough growth of oriental amethyst.
It rose sheer up from the ground to an altitude of about
a hundred feet, and apparently closed in and completed
the vestibule.
Surely there was no passing through such a barrier as
this? he thought wonderingly. Nevertheless Lysia and
Sah-luma still went on, and he, as perforce he was com-
pelled, still followed. Arrived at the foot of the huge
erection that towered above him like a steep cliff of
molten gems, he fancied he heard a faint sound behind
it as of clinking glasses and boisterous laughter; but
before he had time to consider what this might mean,
Lysia laid her hand lightly on a small, protruding knob
194 "ARDATH"
of crystal, pressed it and lo! the whole massive struc-
ture yawned open suddenly without any noise, suspending
itself as it were in sparkling festoons of purple stalcc
tites over the voluptuously magnificent scene disclosed.
At first it was difficult to discern more than a gorgeous
maze of swaying light and color, as though a great field
of tulips in full bloom should be seen waving to and fro
in the breath of a soft wind; but gradually this bewil-
dering dazzle of gold and green, violet and crimson, re-
solved itself into definite form and substance, and Theos,
standing beside his two companions on the elevated
threshold of the partition through which they had en-
tered, was able to look down and survey with tolerable
composure the wondrous details of the glittering picture
a picture that looked like a fairy-fantasy poised in a
haze of jewel like radiance as of vaporized sapphire. '
He saw beneath him a vast circular hall or amphithe-
ater, roofed in by a lofty dome of richest n alachite,
from the center of which was suspended a huge globe
of fire, that revolved with incredible swiftness, flinging
vivid blood-red rays on the amber-colored silken carpets
and embroideries that strewed the floor below. The
dome was supported by rows upon rows of tall, taper-
ing, crystal columns, clear as translucent water and
green as the grass in spring, and between and beyond
these columns on the left-hand side there were large
oval-shaped casements set wide open to the night,
through which the gleam of a broad lake laden with
water-lilies could be seen shimmering in the yellow moon.
The middle of the hall was occupied by a long table
covered with draperies of gold, white, and green, and
heaped with all the costly accessories of a sumptuous
banquet such as might have been spread before the gcds
of Olympus in the full height of their legendary prin:e.
Here were the lovely hues of heaped-up fruit, the tender
bloom of scattered flowers, the glisten of jeweled flagons
and goblets, the flash of massive gold dishes carried aloft
by black slaves attired in white and crimson, the red
glow of poured-out wine; and here, in the drowsy warmth,
lounging on divans of velvet and embroidered satin,
eating, drinking, idly gossiping, loudly laughing, and
occasionally bursting into wild anthems of song, were a
company of brilliant-looking personages all men, all
A VIRGIN UNSHRINED IQ5
young, all handsome, all richly clad, and all evidently
bent on enjoying the pleasures offered by the immediate
hour. Suddenly, however, their noisy voices ceased ;
with one accord, as though drawn by some magnetic
spell, they all turned their heads toward the platform
where Lysia had just silently made her appearance, and
springing from their seats they broke into a boisterous
shout of acclamation and welcome. One young man,
whose flushed face had all the joyous, wanton, effeminate
beauty of a pictured Dionysius, reeled forward, goblet in
hand, and tossing the wine in air so that it splashed
down again at his feet, staining his white garments as
it fell with a stain as of blood, he cried tipsily:
"All hail, Lysia! Where hast thou wandered so long,
thou Goddess of Morn? We have been lost in the black-
ness of night, sunk in the depths of a hell-like gloom,
but lo! now the clouds have broken in the east, and our
hearts rejoice at the birth of day! Vanish, dull moon,
and be ashamed! for a fairer planet rules the sky! Hence,
ye stars! puny glow-worms lazily crawling in the fields
of ether! Lysia invests the heaven and earth, and in
her smile we live! Ha! art thou there, Sah-luma? Come,
praise me for my improvised love-lines; they are as
good as thine, I warrant thee! Canst compose when thou
art drunk, my dainty laureate? Drain a cup then, and
sing me a stanza! Where is thy fool Zabastes? I would
fain tickle his long ears with ribald rhyme, and hearken
to the barbarous braying forth of his asinine reflections!
Lysia! what, Lysia! dost thou frown at me? Frown
not, sweet queen, but rather laugh! thy laughter kills,
'tis true, but thy frown doth torture spirits after death!
Unbend thy brows! Night looms between them like a
chaos! we will have no more night, I say, but only noon
a long, languorous, lovely noon, flower-girdled and sun-
beam-clad !
"With roses, roses, roses crown my head,
For ray days are few!
And remember, sweet, when I am dead,
That my heart was true!"
Singing unsteadily, with the empty goblet upside down
in his hand, he looked up laughing, his bright eyes flash-
ing with a wild, feverish fire, his fair hair tossed back
from his brows and entangled in a half-crushed wreath
196 "ARDATH*
of vine-leaves, his rich garments disordered, his whole
demeanor that of one possessed by a semi-delirium of
sensuous pleasure, when all at once, meeting Lysia's keen
glance, he started as though he had been suddenly stabbed,
the goblet fell from his clasp, and a visible shudder ran
through his strong, supple frame. The low, cold, merci-
less laughter of the beautiful priestess cut through the
air hissingly like the sweep of a scimitar.
"Thou art wondrous merry, Nir-jalis, " she said, in lan-
guid, lazily enunciated accents. "Knowest thou not that
too much mirth engenders weeping, and that excessive
rejoicing hath its fitting end in grievous lamentation?
Nay, even now already thou lookest more sadly! What
somber cloud has crossed thy wine-hued heaven? Be
happy while thou mayest, gcod fool! I blame thee. not!
Sooner or later all things must end! In the meantime,
make thou the most of life while life remains. 'Tis at
best an uncertain heritage, that once rashly squan-
dered can never be restored, either here or hereafter."
The words were gently, almost tenderly, spoken; but
Nir-jalis, hearing them, grew white as death his smile
faded, leaving his lips set and stern as the lips of a mar-
ble mask. Stooping, he raised his fallen goblet ard held
it out almost mechanically to a passing slave, who re-
filled it with wine, which he drank off thirstily at a
draught, though the generous liquid brought no color
back to his drawn and ashy features.
Lysia paid no further heed to his evident discomfiture.
Bidding Sah-luma and Theos follow her,she descended the
few steps that led from the raised platform into the
body of the brilliant hall. The rocky screen of amethyst
closed behind her as noiselessly as it had opened, and
in another moment she stood among her assembled
guests, who at once surrounded her with eager sah tations
and gracefully worded flatteries. Smiling on tl cm ?11
with that strange smile of hers that was more scornful
than sweet, and yet so infinitely bewitching, she said little
in answer to their greetings she moved as a queen moves
through a crowd of courtiers, the varied light of crimson
and green playing about her like so many sparkles of
living flame, her dark head, wreathed with those jru elcd
serpents, lifting itself proudly erect from her muffling
golden mantle, and her eyes shining with that frosty
4 VIRGIN UN SHRINED I $7
gisara of mockery which made them look so lustrous yet
so cold. And now Theos perceived that at one end of
the splendid banquet-table a dais was erected, draped
richly in carnation colored silk, and that on this dais a
ihrone was placed a throne composed entirely of black
crystals, whose needle like points sparkled with a dark
flash as of bayonets seen through the smoke of battle.
It was cushioned in black velvet, and above it was a bent
arch of ivory on which glittered a twisted snake of clus-
Jtred emeralds.
With that slow, superb ease that distinguished all her
actions, Lysia, attended closely by her tigress, mounted
the dais, and as she did so a loud clash of brazen bells
rang out from some invisible turret beyond the summit
of the grsat donu. At the sound of the jangling chime
four negrvjiises appeared goblin creatures that looked as
though th^y had suddenly sprung from some sooty sub-
terranean region of gnomes and humbly prostrating
themselves before Lysia, kissed the ground at her
feet. This dons, they rose, and began to undo the fast-
enings of her golden, domino-like garment; but either
they were slow, or the fair priestess was impatient, for
she suddenly shook herself free of their hands, and, loos-
ening the gorgeous mantle herself from its jeweled clasps,
it fell slowly from her symmetrical form on the perfumed
floor with a rustle as of falling leaves.
A sigh quivered audibly through the room whether
of grief, joy, hope, relief, or despair, it was difficult to
tell. The pride and peril of a matchless loveliness was
revealed in all its fatal seductiveness and invincible
strength, the irresistible perfection of woman's beauty
was openly displayed to bewilder the sight and rouse the
reckless passions of man! Who could look on such
delicate, dangerous, witching charms unmoved? Who
could gaze on the exquisite outlines of a form fairer than
that of any sculptured Venus and refuse to acknowledge
its powerfully sweet attraction?
The Virgin Priestess ot the Sun had stepped out of
her shrine; no longer a creature removed, impersonal,
and sacred, she had become most absolutely human.
Moreover, she might now have been taken for a bac-
chante, a dancer, or any other unsexed example of woman-
hood, inasmuch as with her golden o*uUle she had thrown
198 "ARDATH"
off all disguise of modesty. Her beautiful limbs, rounded
and smooth as pearl, could be plainly discerned through
the filmy garb of silvery tissue that clung like a pale
mist about the voluptuous curves of her figure and floated
behind her in tiny gossamer folds; her dazzling white
neck and arms were bare ; and from slim \\rists to snowy
shoulder, little twining diamond snakes glistened in
close coils against the velvety fairness of her flesh A
silver serpent with a head of sapphires girdled her waist,
and just above the full wave of her bosom, that rose and
fell visibly beneath the transparent gathers of her gauzy
drapery, shone a large,fiery jewel, fashioned in the sem-
blance of a human eye. This singular ornament was so
life-like as to be absolutely repulsive, and as it moved to
and fro with its wearer's breathing it seemed now to stare
aghast anon to flash wickedly as with a thought of evil
while more often still it assumed a restlessly watchful
expression as though it were the eye of a fiend-inquisitor
intent on the detection of some secret treachery. Poised
between those fair white breasts it glared forth, a glifc-
tering menace, a warning of unimaginable horror; ami
Theos, gazing at it fixedly, felt a curious thiill ruM
through him, as if, so to speak, a hook of steel had
been suddenly thrust into his quivering veins to draw
him steadily and securely on toward some pitfall of un-
known tortures. Then he remembered what Sah Juma
had said about the "all reflecting eye, the weird mirror
and potent dazzler of human sight," and wondered
whether its mystical properties were such as to compel
men to involuntarily declare their inmost thoughts, for
it seemed to him that its sinister glow penetrated into
the very deepest recesses of his mind, and there discov-
ered all the hidden weaknesses, follies, and passions of
the worst side of his nature!
He trembled and grew faint; his dazed eyes wandered
over the dainty grace and marvel of Lysia's almost un-
clad loveliness with mingled emotions of allurement and
repugnance. Fascinated, yet at the same time repelled,
his soul yearned toward her as the soul of the knight in
the Lorelei legend yearned toward the singing Rhine-
siren, whose embrace was destruction; and then he be-
came filled with a strange, sudden fear fear, not for him-
self, but for Sah-luma, whose ardent glance burned into
A VIRGIN UNSHRINKD 199
%.er dark, languid-lidded, amorous orbs with the luster of
flame meeting flame Sah-luma, whose beautiful flushed
face was as that of a god inspired or lover triumphant.
Wait could he do to shield and save this so idolized
friend of his this dear familiar for whom he had such
close and ever-increasing sympathy? Might he not pos-
sibly guard him in some way and ward off impending
danger? But what danger? What spectral shadow, ol
dread hovered above this brilliant scene of high feasting
and voluptuous revelry? None that he could imagine
or define, and yet he was conscious of an ominous unut-
tered premonition of peril in the very air peril for Sah
liima, always for Sah-luma, never for himself. Self
ssemad dead and entombed forever! Involuntarily lift-
ing his eyes to the great green dome where the globe of
fife twirled rapidly like a rolling star, he saw some words
written round it in golden letters; they were larger and
distinct,and ran thus:
"Live in the Now, but question not the Afterward!"
A wise axiom' Yet almost a platitude, for did not
e-/ery one occupy themselves exclusively with the Now.
regardless of future consequences? Of course! Who
but sages or fools would stop to question the After-
ward !
Just then Lysia ascended her black crystal throne in
ail her statuesque majesty, and sinking indolently amid
its sable cushions, where shs shone in her wonderful
whiteness like a glistening pearl set in ebony, she signed
to her guests to resume their places at table. She was
instantly obeyed. Sah-luma took what was evidently
his accustomed post at her right hand, while Theos found
a vacant corner on her left, next to the picturesque
lounging figure of the young man Nir-jalis, who looked
up at him with a halt smile as he seated himself, and
courteously made more room for him among the tumbled
emerald-silky draperies of the luxurious divan they now
shared together. Nir-jalis was by no means sober, but
he had recovered a little of his self-possession, since
l,ysia's sleepy eyes had darted such cold contempt upon
him, and he seemed for the present to be on his guard
against giving any further possible cause of offense.
"Thou art a new-comer, a stranger, if I mistake not?"
>e inquired in a low, abrupt, yet kindly tone.
"AfcDATH*
"Yes," replied Theos in the same soft sotto voce. "I
am a mere sojourner in Al-Kyris for a few days only,
the guest of the divine Sah-luma. "
Nir-jalis raised his eyebrows with an expression of
amused wonder.
"Divine" he ejaculated. "By my faith! what neophyte
have we here?" and supporting himself on one elbow, he
stared at his companion as though he saw in him seme
sigular human phenomenon. |c Dost thou really believe,' 1
he went on jestingly, "in the divinity of poets? Dost
thou think they write what they mean, or practice vhat
they preach? Then art thou the veriest innocent that
ever wore the muscular semblance of man! Poets, my
friend, are the most absolute impostors! they melodize
their rhymed music on phases of emotion they have
never experienced ; as, for instance, our laureate yonder
will string a pretty sonnet on the despair of love, he
knowing nothing of despair; he will write of a broken
heart, his own being unpricked by so much as a pin's
point of trouble; and he will speak in his verse of dy-
ing for love, when he would not let his little finger ache
for the sake of a woman who worshiped him! Look not
so vaguely! 'Tis so, indeed! And as for the divine
part of him, wait but a little, and thou shalt see thy
poet god become a satyr!"
He laughed maliciously, and Theos felt an angry flush
rising to his brows. He could not bear to hear Sah lt;ma
thus lightly maligned even by this half-drunken reveler;
it stung him to the quick, as if he personally were in-
cluded in the implied accusation of unworthiness. Nir-
jalis perceived his annoyance, and added good naturedly:
"Tush, man! Vex not thy soul as to thy friend's vir-
tues or vices what are they to thee? And of a truth
Sah-luma is no worse than the rest of us. All I main-
tain is, that he is certainly no better. I have known
many poets in my day, and they are all more cr less
alike petulant as babes, peevish as women, selfish as
misers, and conceited as peacocks. They shciild be differ-
ent? Oh, yes! they should be the perpetual youth of
mankind, the faithful singers of love idealized and made
perfect. But then, none of us are what we ought to be!
Besides, if we were all virtuous, by the gods! the world
would become too dull a home to live in! Enough!
A VIRGIN UNSHRINED 2GJ
Wilt drink with me?" and beckoning a slave, he had his
own goblet and that of Theos filled to the brim with
wine.
"To our more intimate acquaintance!" he said smil-
ingly, and Theos, somewhat captivated by the easy
courtesy of his manner, could do no less than respond
cordially to the proffered toast. At that moment a tri-
umphant burst of music, like the sound of mingled
flutes, hautboys, and harps, rushed through the dome
like a strong wind sweeping in from the sea, and with
it the hum and buzz of conversation began in good
earnest. Theos, lifting his gaze toward Lysia's seat,
saw that she was now surrounded by the four attendant
negresses, who, standing two on each side of her throne,
held large fans of peacock plumes, which, as they were
waved slowly to and fro, emitted a thousand scintillations
of jewel-like splendor. A slave, attired in scarlet, knelt
on one knee before her, proffering a golden salver loaded
with the choicest fruits and wines; a lazy smile played
on her lips lips that outrivaled the dewy tint of half
opening roses; the serpents in her hair and on her rounded
arms quivered in the light like living things; the great
symbolic eye glanced wickedly out from the white beauty
of her heaving breast; and as he surveyed her, thus re
splendent in all the startling seductiveness of her danger-
ous charm, her loveliness entranced and intoxicated him
like the faint perfume of some rare and powerful exotic;
his senses seemed to sink drowningly in the whelming
influence of her soft and dazzling grace, and though he
still resented, he could not resist her mesmeric power.
No wonder, he thought, that Sah-luma's eyes darkened
with passion as they dwelt on her! And no wonder that
he, like Sah-luma, was content to be gently but surely
drawn within the glittering web of her magic spell a
spell fatal, yet too bewilderingly sweet for human strength
to fight against. The mysterious sense he had of danger
lurking somewhere for San-luma, applied, so he fancied,
in no way to himself; it did not much matter what hap-
pened to him he was a mere nobody. He could be of
no use anywhere; he was as one banished into strange
exile; his brain that brain he had once deemed so clear,
so subtle, so eminently reasoning and all-comprehensive
"was now nothing but a chaotic confusion of vague sug
2oa "ARDATH*
gestions, and only served to very Si .cly guide him iv
the immediate present, giving him no practical clew at
all as to the past through which he had lived, or the
circumstances he most wished to remember. He was a
fool, a dreamer, ungifted, unfamous! Were he to die,
not a soul would regret his loss. His own fate, therefore,
concerned him little; he could handle fire recklessly and
not feel the flame. He could, so he believed, run any
risk, and yet escape comparatively free of harm.
But with Sah-luma it was different! Sah-luma must
be guarded and cherished; his was a valuable life the
life of a genius such as the world sees but once in a cen-
turyand it should not, so Theos determined, be im-
periled or wasted. No! not even for the sake of the
sensuous, exquisite, conquering beauty of this dazzling
Priestess of the Sun the fairest sorceress that ever tri-
umphed over the frail yet immortal spirit of manl
CHAPTER VIII.
THE LOVE THAT KILLS.
How the time went he could not tell ; in so gay and
gorgeous a scene hours might easily pass with the swift-
ness of unmarked moments. Peals of laughter echoed
now and again through the vaulted dome, and excited
voices were frequently raised in clamorous disputations
and contentious arguments that only just sheered off the
boundary line of an actual quarrel. All sorts of topic,
were discussed the laws, the existing mode of govern-
mant, the latest discoveries in science, and the military
I rowess of the king but the conversation chiefly turned
on the spread of disloyalty, atheism, and republicanism
among the population of Ai-Kyris, and the influence of
Khosrul on the minds of the lower classes. The episode
of the prophet's late capture and fresh escape seemed
to be perfectly well known to all present, though it had
occurred so recently; one would have thought the de-
tailed account of it had been received through some pri-
vate telephone communicating with the king's palace.
TH LOVE THAT KILLS 203
As the banquet progressed and the wine flowed more
lavishly, the assembled guests grew less and less cir-
cumspect in their general behavior; they flung them-
selves full length on their luxurious couches in the lazi
est attitudes, now pulling out handfuls of flowers from
the tall porcelain jars that stood near, and pelting one
another with them for mere idle diversion; now summon-
ing the attendant slaves to refill their wine-cups while
they lay lounging at ease among their heaped-up cush-
ions of silk and embroidery; and yet, with all the volup-
tuous freedom of their manners, the picturesque grace
that distinguished them was never wholly destroyed.
These young men were dissolute, but not coarse; bold,
but not vulgar; they took their pleasure in a delicately
wanton fashion that was infinitely more dangerous in its
influence on the mind than would have been the gross
mirth and broad jesting of a similar number of unedu-
cated plebeians. The rude licentiousness of an unculti-
vated boor has its safety valve in disgust and satiety, but
the soft, enervating sensualism of a trained and cultured
epicurean aristocrat is a moral poison whose effects are
so insidious as to be scarcely felt till all the native no-
bility of character has withered, and naught is left of a
man but the shadow-wreck of his former self.
There was nothing repulsive in the half-ironical, half
mischievous merriment of these patrician revelers^ their
witticisms were brilliant and pointed, but never indeli-
cate; and if their darker passions were roused, and ready
to run riot, they showed as yet no sign of it. They en-
foyettyesl with that selfish animal enjoyment and love
of personal indulgence which all men, old and young
without exception, take such delight in unless indeed
they be sworn and sorrowful anchorites, and even then
you may be sure they are always regretting the easy
license and libertinage of their by gone days of unbridled
independence, when they could foster their pet weak-
nesses, cherish their favo'rite vices, and laugh at all creeds
and all morality as though Divine Justice were a mere
empty name, and they themselves the super-essence of
creation. Ah, what a ridiculous spectacle is man! the
two-legged pigmy of limited brain, and still more limited
sympathies, that, standing arrogantly on his little grave,
the earth, coolly criticises the universe, settles laws, and
2O4 "ARDATH*
measures his puny stature against that awful Unknown
Force, deeply hidden, but majestically existent, which
for want ot ampler designation we call God God, whcm
some of us will scarcely recognize, save with a mixture
of doubt, levity, and general reluctance; God, whom
we never obey unless obedience is enforced by calamity;
God, whom we never truly love, because so many of us
prefer to stake our chances of the future on the possi-
bility of His non-existence!
Strangely enough, thoughts of this God, this despised
and forgotten Creator, came wandering hazily over Theos 1
mind at the present moment when, glancing round the
splendid banquet table, he studied the different faces of
all assembled, and saw self, self, self, indelibly im-
pressed on every one of them. Not a single countenance
was there that did not openly betray the complacent
hauteur and tranquil vanity of absolute egotism, Sah-
luma's especially. But then Sah-luma had something
to be proud of his genius; it was natural that he should
be satisfied with himself he was a great man! But was
it well for even a great man to admire his own great-
ness? This was a pertinent question, and somewhat diffi-
cult to anwer. A genius must surely be more or less
conscious of his superiority to those who have no genius?
Yet why? May it not happen, on occasions, that the so-
called fool shall teach a lesson to the so-called wise
man? Then where is the wise man's superiority, if a
fool can instruct him? Theos found these suggestions
curiously puzzling; they seemed simple enough, and ye*
they opened up a vista of intricate disquisition which htf
was in no humor to follow. To escape from his own re-
flections he began to pay close attention to the conversa-
tion going on around him, and listened with an eager,
almost painful interest, whenever he heard Lysia's
sweet, languid voice chiming through the clatter of
men's tongues like the silver stroke of a small bell ring-
ing in a storm at sea.
"And how hast thou left thy pale beauty, Niphrata?"
she was asking Sah-luma in half cold, half caressing
accents. "Does her singing still charm thee as of yore?
I understand thou hast given her her freedom. Is that
prudent? Was she not safer as thy slave?"
Sah-luma glanced up quickly in surprise "Safer? She
THE LOVE THAT KILLS 205
is as safe as a rose in its green sheath," he replied.
"What harm should come to her?"
"I spoke not of harm," said Lysia, with a lazy smile.
"But the day may come, good minstrel, when thy sheathed
rose may seek some newer sunshine than thy face, when
thy much poesy may pall upon her spirit, and thy love-
songs grow stale, and she may string her harp to a differ-
ent tune than the perpetual adoration hymn of Sah-
1 u in a !"
The handsome laureate looked amused.
'Let her do so then!" he laughed carelessly. "Were
she to leave me I should not miss her greatly; a thou-
sand pieces of gold will purchase me another voice as
sweet as hers, another maid as fair! Meanwhile the
child is free to shape her own fate her own future. I
bind her no longer to my service; nevertheless, like the
jessamine flower, she clings, and will not easily unwind
the tendrils of her heart from mine. "
"Poor jessamine flower!" murmured Lysia negligently,
with a touch of malice in her tone. "What a rock it
doth embrace; how little vantage-ground it hath where-
in to blossom!" And her drowsy eyes shot forth a fiery
glance from under their heavily fringed, drooping white
lids.
Sah-luma met her look with one of mingled vexation
and reproach; she smiled, and raising a goblet of wine
to her lips, kissed the brim, and gave it to him with
an indescribably graceful, swaying gesture of her whole
form that reminded one of a tall white lily bowing in the
breeze. He seized the cup eagerly, drank from it, and
returned it; his momentary annoyance, whatever it was,
passed, and a joyous elation illumined his fine features.
Then Lysia, refilling the cup, kissed it again and handed
it to Theos with so much soft animation and tenderness,
in her face as she turned to him, that his enforced calm-
ness nearly gave way, and he had much ado to restrain
himself from falling at her feet in a transport of passion,
and crying out: "Love me, O thou sorceress-sovereign
of beauty! love me, if only for an hour, and then let me
die! for I shall have lived out all the joys of life in one
embrace of thine!" His hand trembled as he took the
goblet, and he drank half its contents thirstily; then im-
itating Sah-luma's example, he returned it to her with a
2o6 "ARDATH"
profound salutation. Her eyes dwelt meditatively upon
him.
"What a dark, still, melancholy countenance is thine,
Sir Theos!" she said abruptly. "Thou art, for sure, a
man of strongly repressed and concentrated passions ;
'tis a nature I love! I would there were more of thy
proud and chilly temperament in Al-Kyris! Our men
are like velvet-winged butterflies, drinking honey all day
and drowsing in sunshine full to the brows of folly;
frail and delicate as the little dancing maidens of the
king's seraglio; nervous too, with weak heads that are
apt to ache on small provocation, and bodies that are apt
to fail easily when thus lightly fatigued. Ay! thou art
a man, clothed complete in manliness ; moreover
She paused, and leaning forward so that the dark shower
of her perfumed hair brushed his arm: ' Hast ever heard
travelers talk of volcanoes those marvelous mountains
that oft wear crowns of ice on their summits and yet hold
unquenchable fire in their depths? Methinks thou dost
resemble these, and that at a touch, the flames would
leap forth uncontrolled!"
Her magical low voice, more melodious in tone than
the sound of harps played by moonlight on the water,
thrilled in his ears and set his pulses beating madly.
With an effort he checked the torrent of love -words
that rushed to his lips, and looked at her in a sort of
wildly wondering appeal Her laughter rang out in sil-
very sweet ripples, and throwing herself lazily back in
her throne, she called:
"Aizif! Aizif!"
The great tigress instantly bounded forward like an
obedient hound, and placed its fore paws on her knees,
while she playfully held a sugared comfit high above its
head.
"Up, Aizif, up!" she cried mirthfully. "Up! and be
like a man for once! Snatch thy pleasure at all hazards."
With a roar, the savage brute leaped and sprang, its
sharp white teeth fully displayed, its sly green eyes glis-
teningly prominent, and again Lysia's rich laughter pealed
forth, mingling with the impatient snarls of her terrific
favorite. Still she held the tempting morsel in her little
snowy hand, that glittered all over with rare gems, and
Still the tigress continued to make impotent attempts
THE LOVE THAT KILLS 307
lo reach it, growing more and more ferocious with every
fresh effort, till, all at once, she shut her palm upon the
dainty so that it could not be seen, and lightly catching
the irritated beast by the throat, brought its eyes on a
level with her own. The effect was instantaneous; a
strong shudder passed through its frame; it cowered and
crouched lower and lower in abject fear; the sweat broke-
out, and stood in large drops on its sleek hide, and,
panting heavily, as the firm grasp of its mistress slowly
relaxed, it sank down prone in trembling abasement
on the second step of the dais, still looking up into those
densely brilliant gazslle eyes, that were full of such deadly
fascination and merciless tyranny.
"Good Aizif!" said Lysia then, in that languid, soft
voice that, while so sweet, suggested hidden treachery.
"Gentle fondling! Thou hast fairly earned thy reward!
Here, take it!" and unclosing her roseate palm, she
showed the desired bonne-bouche, and offered it with a
pretty coaxing air, but the tigress now refused to touch
it, and lay as still as an animal of painted stone.
"What a true philosopher she is, my sweet Aizif!"
she went on amusedly, stroking the creature's head.
"Her feminine wit teaches her what the dull brains of
ivien can never grasp namely, that pleasures, no matter
how sweet, turn to ashes and wormwood when once ob-
tained, and that the only happiness in this world is the
charm of desire. There is a subject for thee, Sah-luma!
Write an immortal ode on the mysteries, the delights,
the never ending ravishment of desire! but carry not
thy fancy on to desire's fulfillment, for there thou shalt
find infinite bitterness ! The soul that willfully gratifies
its dearest wish has stripped life of its supremest joy,
and stands thereafter in an emptied sphere, sorrowful
and alone, with nothing left to hope for, nothing to look
forward to, save death, the end of all ambition!"
"Nay, fair lady," said Theos suddenly, "we who deem
ourselves the children of the high gods, and the off-
spring of a Spirit Eternal, may surely aspire to some
thing beyond this death, that, like a black seal, closes
up the brief scroll of our merely human existence! And
to us, therefore, ambition should be ceaseless, for if we
master the world, there are yet more worlds to win ; and
it we find one heaven, we do but accept it as a pledge of
208 "ARDATH"
other heavens beyond it! The aspirations of man are
limitless, hence his best assurance of immortality; else
why should he perpetually long for things that here are
impossible of attainment things that, like faint floating
clouds rimmed with light, suggest, without declaring,
a glory unperceived?"
Lysia looked at him steadfastly, an undergleam ol
malice shining in her slumberous eyes.
"Why? Because, good sir, the gods love mirth; and
the wanton immortals are never more thoroughly diverted
than when, leaning downward from their clear empyrean,
they behold man, their insect-toy, arrogating to himseil
a share in their imperishable essence] To keep up the
eternal jest, they torture him with vain delusions, and
prick him on with hopes never to be realized. Ay! and
the whole vast heaven may well shake with thunderous
laughter at the pride with which he doth put forth his
puny claim to be elected to another and fairer state of
existence! What hath he done; what does he do to
merit a future life? Are his deeds so noble? Is his
wisdom so great? Is his mind so stainless? He, the
oppressor of all nature and of his brother-man he, the
insolent, self-opinionated tyrant, yet bound slave of the
earth on which he dwells why should he live again and
carry his ignoble presence into the splendors of an eter-
nity too vast for him to comprehend? Nay, nay ! I per-
ceive thou art one of the credulous, for whom a reason-
less worship to an unproved deity is, for the sake of
state-policy, maintained; I had thought thee wiser! But
no matter! thou shalt pay thy vows to the shrine of
Nagaya to-morrow, and see with what glorious pomp
and panoply we impose on the faithful, who, like thee,
believe, in their own deathless and divinely constituted
natures, and enjoy, to the full, the grand conceit that
persuades them of their right to immortality ! r>
Her words carried with them a certain practical posi-
t ; reness of meaning, and Theos was somewhat impressed
by their seeming truth. After all, it was a curious and
unfounded conceit of man to imagine himself the pos-
sessor of an immortal soul, and yet, if all things were
the outcome of a divine creative influence, was it not
unjust of the creative influence to endow all humanity
with such a belief if it had no foundation what-
THE LOVE THAT KILLS 2CK}
ever? And could injustice be associated with divine
law?
He, Theos, for instance, was certain of his own im-
mortality; so certain that, surrounded as he was by this
Drilliant company of evident atheists, he felt himself to
be the only real and positive existing being among an
assembly of shadow-figures; but it was not the time or
the place to enter into a theological discussion, espec
ially with Lysia, and, for the moment at least, he allowed
her assertions to remain uncontradicted. He sat, how-
ever, in a somewhat stern silence, now and then glanc
ing wistfully and anxiously at Sah-luma, on whom the
potent wines were beginning to take effect, and who had
just thrown himself down on the dai's at Lysia's feet,
close to the tigress that still lay crouched there in im-
movable quiet. It was a picture worthy of the grandest
painter's brush, that glistening throne black as jet, with
the fair form of Lysia shining within it, like a white
sea-nymph at rest in a grotto of ocean-stalactites; the
fantastically attired negresses on each side, with their
waving peacock plumes; the vivid carnation color of the
da'is, against which the black and yellow stripes of the
tigress showed up in strong and brilliant contrast; and
the graceful, jewel-decked figure of the poet laureate,
who, half-sitting, half-reclining on a black velvet cush-
ion, leaned his handsome head indolently against the
silvery folds of Lysia's robe, and looked up at her with
eyes in which burned the ardent admiration and scarcely
restrained passion of a privileged lover.
Suddenly and quite involuntarily Theos thought of
Niphrata; alas, poor maiden! how utterly her devotion
to Sah-luma was wasted! What did he care for her timid
tenderness, her unselfish worship? Nothing! less than
nothing! He was entirely absorbed by the sovereign,
peerless beauty of this wonderful high-priestess, this
witch-like weaver of spells more potent than those of
Circe; and musing thereon, Theos was sorry for Niphrata,
he knew not why. He felt that she had somehow been
wronged, that she suffered, and that he, as well as Sah-
luma, was in some mysterious way to blame for this,
though he could by no means account for his own share
in the dimly suggested reproach. This peculiar remorse-
ful emotion was transitory, like all the vaguely incom-
2io "ARDATH"
plete ideas that traveled mistily through his perplexed
brain, and he soon forgot it in the increasing animation
and interest of the scene that immediately surrounded
him.
The general conversation was becoming more and n ere
noisy, and the laughter more and more boisterous. Sev-
eral of the young men were now very much the worse
for their frequent libations, and Nu-jalis, particularly,
began to show marked symptoms of an inclination to
break loose from all the bonds of prudent reserve. He
lay full length on his silk divan, his feet touching Theos,
who sat upright, and, singing little snatches of song to
himself, he pulled the vine wreath from his tumbled fair
locks as though he found it too weighty, and fiung it on
the ground among the other debris of the ieast. Then
folding his arms lazily behind his head, he stared straight
and fixedly before him at Lysia, seeming to note everv
jewel on her dress, every curve of her body, every slight
gesture of her hand, every faint, cold smile that played
on her lovely lips. One young man whom the others
addressed as Ormaz, a haughty, handsome fellow enough,
though with rather a sneering mouth just visible undej
his black mustache, was talking somewhat excitedly on
the subject of Khosrul's cunningly devised flight; for it
seemed to be universally understood that the venerable
prophet was one of the Circle of Mystics, persons whose
knowledge of science, especially in matters connected
with electricity, enabled them to perform astonishing
juggleries, that were frequently accepted by the unini-
tiated vulgar as almost divine miracles. Not very long
ago, according to Ormaz, who was animatedly recalling
the circumstance for the benefit of the company, the
xvords "FALL, AL KYRIS!" had appeared emblazoned in
letters of fire on the sky at midnight, and the phenome-
non had been accompanied by two tremendous volleys of
thunder, to the infinite consternation of the multitude,
who received it as a supernatural manifestation. But a
member of the king's privy council, a satirical skeptic
and mistruster of everybody's word but his own, under-
took to sift the matter, and adopting the dress of the
Mystics, managed to introduce himself into one of their
secret assemblies, where, with considerable astonishment,
he saw them make use of a small wire, by means o
THE LOVE THAT FILLS 211
v.'hich they wrote in characters ot azure flame on the
whiteness of a blank wall; moreover, he discovered that
they possessed a lofty turret built secretly and securely
in a deep, unfrequented grove of trees, from whence,
with the aid of various curious instruments and reflect-
ors, they could fling out any pattern or device they chose
on the sky, so that it should seem to be written by the
finger of lightning. Having elucidated these mysteries,
and become highly edified thereby, the learned council-
or returned to the king, and gave full information as to
the result of his researches, whereupon forty Mystics
were at once arrested and flung into prison for life, and
their nefarious practices were made publicly known to
all the inhabitants of the city. Since then, no so called
"spiritual" demonstrations had taken place till now,
when on this very night Zephoranim's presence chamber
had been suddenly enveloped in the thunderous and ter-
rifying darkness which had so successfully covered Khos-
rul's escape.
"The king should have slain him at once," declared
Ormaz emphatically, turning to Lysia as he spoke. "I
am surprised that His Majesty permitted so flagrant an
impostor and trespasser of the law to speak ons word,
or. live one moment in his royal presence."
"Thou art surprised, Ormaz, at most things, especially
those which savor of simple good-nature and forbearance,"
responded Lysia coldly. "Thou art a wolfish youth, and
wouldst tear thine own brother to shreds if he thwarted
thy pleasure! For myself I see little cause for astonish-
ment, that a soldier hero like Zephoranim should take
some pity on so frail and aged a wreck of human wit a*
Khosrul. Khosrul blasphemes the faith what then?
Do ye no; all blaspheme?"
<; Not in the open streets!" said Ormaz hastily.
"No, ye have not the mettle for that!" and Lysia
smiled darkly, while the great eye on her breast flashed
forth a sardonic luster. "Strong as ye all are, and young,
ve lack the bravery of the weak old man who, mad as
he may be, has at least the courage of his opinions !
Who is there here that believes in the sun as a god, or
in Nagaya as a mediator? Not one; but ye are cultured
)ypocrites all, and careful to keep your heresies secret!"
"And thou, Lysia 1" suddenly cried Nir-jSUs "Why
212 "ARDATH*
if thou canst so liberally admire the valor of thy sworn
enemy, Khosrul, why dost not thou step boldly forth,
and abjure the faith thou art priestess of, yet in thy
heart deridest as a miserable superstition?"
She turned her splendid, flashing orbs slowly upon
him; what an awful, chill, steoly glitter leaped forth from
their velvet -soft depths!
"Prithee, be heedful of thy speech, good Nir-jalis, " she
said, with a quiver in her voice curiously like the sup-
pressed snarl of her pet tigress. "The majoity of men
are fools like thee and need to be ruled according to
their folly."
Ormaz broke into a laugh. "And thou dost rule them,
wise virgin, with a rod of iron!" he said satirically.
"The king himself is but a slave in thy hands."
"The king is a devout believer," remarked a dainty,
effeminate looking youth, arrayed in a wonderfully pic-
turesque garb of glistening purple. "He pays his vows
to Nagaya three times a day, at sunrise, noon, and sunset,
and 'tis said he hath oft been seen of late in silent medi-
tation alone before the sacred veil, even after midnight.
Maybe he is there at this verj' moment, offering up a
royal petition for those of his less pious subjects who,
like ourselves, love good wine more than long prayers.
Ah! he is a most austere and noble monarch, a very
anchorite and pattern of strict religious discipline!"
And he shook his head to and fro with an air of mock
solemn fervor. Every one laughed, and Ormaz playfully
threw a cluster of half-crushed roses at the speaker.
"Hold thy foolish tcngue Pharnim," he said. "The
king doth but show a fitting example to his people; there
is a time to pray, and a time to feast, and our Zephor-
anim can do both as becomes a man. But of his mid-
night meditations I have heard naught. Since when
hath he deserted his court of love for the colder cham-
bers of the sacred temple?"
"Ask Lysia!" muttered Nir-jalis drowsily under his
breath. "She knows more of the king than she cares
to confess!"
His words were spoken in a low voice, and yet they
were distinct enough for all present to hear. A glance
of absolute dismay went round the table, and a breath-
less silence followed, like the ominous hush of a heated
THE LOVE THAT KtLLS 21 3
atmosphere before a thunderclap. Nir-jalis, apparently
struck by the sudden stillness, looked lazily round from
among the tumbled cushions where he reclined, a vacant,
tipsy smile on his lips.
"What a company of mutes ye are!" he said thickly.
"Did ye not hear me? I bade ye ask Lysia, " and all at
once he sat bolt upright, his face crimsoning as with an
access of passion. "Ask Lysia!" he repeated loudly.
"Ask her why the miguty Zephoianim creeps in and
out the sacred temple at midnight like a skulking slave
instead of a king at midnight, when he should be shut
within his palace walls playing the fool among his
women! I warrant 'tis not piety thit persuades him to
wander through the underground passage of the tombs
alone and in disguise! Sali-luaia pretty, pampered hound
as thou art thou art n^ar enough to Our Lady of Witch-
eries ask her, ask her, she knows," and his voice sank
into an incoherent murmur, "she knows more than she
cares to confess! '
AnDthsr deep and death-like pause, ensued, and then
Lysia's silvery cold tones smote the profound silence
with calm, clear resonance.
"Friend Nir-jalis," she said how tuneful were her
accents, how chilly s\veet harsmili "methinks thou art
grown altogether too wise for this world! 'Tis pity thou
shouldst continue to linger in so narrow and incomplete
a sphere! Dspart hence therefore! I shall freely excuse
thine absence, since thy hour has come!"
And, taking from the table at her side a tall crystal
chalice fashioned in the form of a lily set on a golden
stem, she held it up toward him. Starting wildly from
his couch he looked at her, as though doubting whether
ha had heard her words aright; a strong shudder shook
him from head to foot; his hands clenched themselves
convulsively together, and then slowly, slowly, he stag-
gered to his feet and stood upright. He was suddenly
but effectually sobered, the flush of intoxication died off
his cheeks, and his eyes grew strained and piteous.
Theos, watching him in wonder and fear, saw his broad
chest heave with the rapid-drawn gasping of his breath;
he advanced a step or two, then all at once stretched out
his hands in imploring agony.
"Lysia" he murmured huskily. "Lysia! pardon! spare
me! For the sake oj past 1-j^e. have pity!"
214 "ARDATH"
At this Sah-hnna sprang up from his lounging posture
on the dais, his hand on the hilt of his dagger, his whole
face flaming with wrath.
"By my soul!" he cried, "what doth this fellow prate
of? Past love? Thou profane boaster! how darest thou
speak of love to the priestess of the faith?"
Nir-jalis heeded him not. His eyes were fixed en
Lysia, like the eyes of a tortured animal who vainly
seeks for mercy at the hand of its destroyer. Step by
step he came hesitatingly to the foot of her throne, and
it was then that Theos perceived near at hand a perton-
age he immediately recognized the black, scarlet-clad
slave, Gazra, who had brought Lysia' s message to Sah-
luma that same afternoon. He had made his appearance
now so swiftly and silently that it was impossible to tell
where he had come from, and he stood close to Nir-jalis,
his muscular arms folded tightly across his chest, and
his hideous mouth contorted into a grin of cruel amuse-
ment and expectancy. Absolute quiet reigned within the
magnificent hall, the music had ceased, and not a sound
could be heard, save the delicate murmur of the wind
outside swaying the water lilies on the moonlit lake.
Every one's attention was centered on the unhappy
young man, who, with lifted head and rigidly-clasped
hands, faced Lysia as a criminal faces a judge Lysia,
whose exquisite voice lost none of its richness as she
spoke his doom.
"By the vow which thou hast vowed to me, Nir-jalis,"
she said slowly, "and by thine oath sworn on the sym-
bolic eye of Raphon" here she touched the dreadful
jewel on her breast "which bound thy life to my keep-
ing, and thy death to my day of choice, I herewith be-
stow on thee the chalice of oblivion the silver nectar
of peace! Sleep, and wake no more! Drink and die!
The gateways of the Kingdom of Silence stand open to
receive thee! Thy service is finished! Fare thee well!"
And with the utterance of the last word, she gave him
the glittering cup she held. He took it mechanically,
and for one instant glared about him on all sides, scan-
ning the faces of the attentive guests as though in the
faint hope of some pity, some attempt at rescue. But
not a single look of compassion was bestowed upon him
save by Theos who, full of struggliiig amazement and
THE LOVE THAT KILLS 215
horror, would have broken into indignant remonstrance,
had not an imperative glance from Sah-luma warned him
that any interference on his part would only make mat-
ters worse. He, therefore, sorely against his will, and
only for Sah-luma's sake, kept silence, watching Nir-jalis
meanwhile in a sort of horrible fascination.
There was somsthing truly awful in the radiant, un-
quenchable laughter that lurked in Lysia's lovely eyes,
something positively devilish in the calm grace of her
manner,as with a negligent movement she reseated herself
in her crystal throne, and taking a knot of magnolia
flowers that lay beside her, idly toyed with their creamy
buds, all the while keeping her basilisk gaze fixed im-
movably and relentlessly on her sentenced victim. He,
grasping the lily shaped chalice convulsively in his right
hand, looked up despairingly to the polished dome of
malachite, with its revolving globe of fire that shed a
solemn blood red glow upon his agonized young face;
a smile was on his lips, the dreadful smile of desperate,
maddened misery.
"O ye malignant gods!" he cried fiercely. "Ye im-
mortal furies that made woman for man's torture! Bear
witness to my death, bear witness to my parting spirit's
malediction! Cursed be they who love unwisely and
too well ! Cursed be all the wiles of desire and the
haunts of dear passion! Cursed be all fair faces whose
fairness lures man to destruction 1 Cursed be the warmth
of caresses, the beating of heart against heart, the kisses
that color midnight with fire! Cursed be love from birth
unto death! May its sweetness be brief, and its bitter-
ness endless; its delights a snare, and its promise treach-
ery! O ye mad lovers fools all!" and he turned his
splendid wild eyes round on the hushed assemblage.
"Despise me and my words as ye will, throughout ages
to come the curse of the dead Nir-jalis shall cling!"
He lifted the goblet to his lips, and just then his delir-
rio'.is glance lighted on Sah-luma.
"I drink to thee, Sir Laureate!" he said hoarsely and
with a ghastly attempt at levity. "Sing as sweetly as
thou wilt, thou must drain the same cup ere long!"
And without another second's hesitation he drank of}
the entire contents of the chalice at a draught. Scarcely
had he done so, when with a savage scream he fell prone
216 "ARDATH"
on the ground, his limbs twisted in acute agony, his
features hideously contorted, his hands beating the air
wildly, as though in contention with some invisible foe,
while, in strange and terrible dissonance with his tor-
tured cries, Lysia's laughter, musically mellow, broke
out in little quick peals, like the laughter of a very
young child.
"Ah, ah, Nir jalis!" she exclaimed. "Thou dost suffer!
That is well! I do rejoice to see thee fighting for life
m the very jaws of death! Fain would I have all men
thus tortured out of their proud and tyrannous existence,
their strength made strengthless, their arrogance brought
to naught, their egotism and vain glory beaten to the
dust! Ah, ah! thou that wert the complacent braggart
of love, the self-sufficient proclaimer of thine own prow-
ess, where is thy boasted vigor now? Writhe on, good
fool, thy little day is done ! All honor to the silver nec-
tar whose venom never fails!"
Leaning forward eagerly, she clapped her hands in a
sort of fierce ecstasy, and apparently startled by the
sound, the tigress rose up from its couchant posture, and
shaking i.jelf with a snarling yawn, glared watchfully
at the convulsed human wretch whose struggles became
with each moment more and more frightful to witness.
The impassive, cold-blooded calmness with which all the
men present, even Sah-luma, looked on at the revolting
spectacle of their late comrade's torture, filled Theos
with shuddering abhorrence. Sick at heart, he strove
to turn away his eyes from the straining throat and up-
turned face of the miserable Nir-jalis a face that had a
moment or two before been beautiful, but that was now
so disfigured as to be almost beyond recognition. Pres-
ently, as the anguish of the poisoned victim increased,
shriek after shriek broke from his pallid lips. Rolling him-
self on the ground like a wild beast, he bit his hands and
arms in his frenzy till he was covered with blood, and
again and yet again the dulcet laughter of the high-priest-
ess echoed through the length and breadth of the splen-
did hall, and even Sah luma, the poet Sah-luma, conde-
scended to smile! That smile, so cold, so pure, so unpity-
ing,made Theos for a moment hate him; of what use,he
thought, was it to be a writer of soft and delicate verse,
if the inner nature of the man was merciless, selfish, and
THE LOVE THAT KILLS 217
utterly regardless of the woes of others? The rest of the
guests were profoundly indifferent. They kept silence, it
is true,but they went on drinking their wine with perfectly
unabated enjoyment; they were evidently accustomed to
such scenes. The attendant slaves stood all mute and
motionless, with the exception of Gazra, who surveyed
the torments of Nir-jalis with an air of professional in-
terest, and appeared to be waiting till they should have
reached that pitch of excruciating agony when nature,
exhausted, gives up the conflict and welcomes death as
a release from pain.
But this desirable end was not yet. Suddenly spring-
ing to his feet, Nir-jalis tore open his richly jeweled
vest, and pressed his two hands hard upon his heart;
the veins in his flesh were swollen and blue; his labored
breath seemed as though it must break his ribs in its
terrible panting struggle; his face, livid and lined with
purple marks like heavy bruises, bore not a single trace
of its former fairness, and his eyes, rolled up and fixed
glassily in their quivering sockets, seemed to be dread-
fully filled with the speechless memory of his lately
spoken curse. He staggered toward Theos, and drop-
ped heavily on his knees.
"Kill me!" he moaned piteously, feebly pointing to
the sheathed dagger in the other's belt. "In mercy
kill me! One thrust release me this agony is more
than I can bear kill kill "
His voice died away in an inarticulate gasping cry,
and Theos stared down upon him in dizzy fear and hor-
ror ! For he had seen this same Nir-jalis dying thus
cruelly before! O God where where had this tragedy
been previously enacted? Bewildered and overcome
with unspeakable dread, he drew his dagger he would
at least, he thought, put the tortured sufferer out of his
misery but scarcely had his weapon left the sheath,
when Lysia's clear cold, voice exclaimed:
"Disarm him!" and with the silent rapidity of a light-
ning flash, Gazr& glided to his side, and the steel was
snatched from his hand. Full of outraged pride and
wrath, he sprang up, a torrent of words rushing to his
lips, but before he could utter one, two slaves pounced
upon him, and holding his arms, dexterously wound a
silk scarf tight about his mouth.
218 "ARDATH"
"Be silent!" whispered some one in his ear. "As you
value your life and the life of Sah luma, be silent!"
But he cared nothing for this warning. Reckless of
consequences, he tore the scarf away, and breaking loose
from the hands that held him, made a bound toward
Lysia there he paused. Her eyes met his languidl}',
shedding a somber, mysterious light upon him through
the black shower of her abundant hair; the evil glitter
of the great symbolic gem she wore fixed him with its
stony yet mesmeric luster; a delicious smile parted her
roseate lips, and breaking off a magnolia bud from the
cluster she held, she kissed and gave it to him.
"Be at peace, good Theos! she said in a low, tender
tone. "Beware of taking up arms in the defense of the
unworthy; rather reserve thy courage for those who know
how best to reward thy service!"
As one in a trance he took the flower she offered; its
fragrance, subtle and sweet, seemed to steal into his
veins, and rob his manhood of all strength. Sinking
submissively at her feet, he gazed up at her in wondering
wistfulness and ardent admiration. Never was there a
woman so bewilderingly beautiful as she! What were the
sufferings of Nir-jalis now? What was anything compared
to the strangely enervating ecstasy he felt in letting his
eyes dwell fondly on the fairness of her face, the white-
ness of her half-veiled bosom, the delicate sheeny dazzle
of her polished skin, the soft and supple curves of her
whole exquisite form? And spell-bound by the witchery
of her loveliness, he almost forgot the very presence
of her dying victim. Occasionally, indeed, he glanced
at the agonized creature where he lay huddled on the
ground in the convulsive throes of his dreadful death-
struggle, but it was now with precisely the same quiet
and disdainful smile as that for which he had momen-
tarily hated Sah-luma. There was a sound of singing
somewhere singing that had a mirthful under-throbbing
in it, as though a thousand light-footed fairies were
dancing to its sweet refrain 1 And Nir-jalis heard it;
dying inch by inch as he was, he heard it, and with a
last superhuman effort forced himself up once more to
his feet, his arms stiffly outstretched, his anguished eyes
full of a softened, strangely piteous glory.
"To die!" he whispered in awed accents that pene
THE LOVE THAT KILLS 219
trated the air with singular clearness. "To die! nay,
not so! There is no death! I see it all! I know! To
die if to live to live again and to remember to remem-
ber and repent the past!"
And with the last word he fell heavily, face forward, a
corpse At the same moment a terrific roar resounded
through the dome, and the tigress Aizif sprang stealthily
.iown from the dais, and pounced upon the warm, life-
less body, mounting guard over it in an ominously signifi-
cant attitude, with glistening eyes, lashing tail, and
nervously quivering claws. A slight thrill of horror ran
through the company, but not a man moved.
"Aizif! Aizif!" called Lysia imperiously.
The animal locked round with an angry snarl, and
seemed for once disposed to disobey the summons of its
mistress, She therefore rose from her throne, and, step-
ping forward, with a swift, agile grace caught the sav-
age beast by the neck, and dragged it from its desired
prey. Then, with thrj point of her little silver-sandaled
foot, she turned the fallen face of the dead man slightly
round, so that she might observe it more attentively,
and noting its livid disfigurement, smiled.
"So much for the beauty and dignity of manhood!"
she said, with a contemptuous shrug of her snowy shoul-
ders. "All perished in the space of a few brief moments!
Look you, ye fair sirs that take pride in your strength
and muscular attainments! Ye shall not find in all Al
Kyris a fairer face or more nobly knit frame than was pos-
sessed by this dead fool, Nir jalis; and yet, lo! how the
silver nectar doth make havoc on the sinews of adamant,
the nerves of steel, the stalwart limbs! Tried by the
touchstone of death, ye are, with all your vaunted intel-
ligence, your domineering audacity and self-love, no
better than the slain dogs that serve vultures for car-
rion! Moreover, ye are less than dogs in honesty, and
vastly shamed by them in fidelity."
She laughed scornfully as she spoke, still grasping
the tigress by the neck in one slight hand, and her glo-
rious eyes flashed a mocking defiance on all the men
assembled. Their countenances exhibited various ex*
pressions of uneasiness amounting to fear; some few
smiled forcedly, others feigned a careless indifference;
ah iuma flushed an angry red, and Theps, though he
1 iao "ARDATH"
knew not why, felt a sudden pricking sense of shame.
She marked all these signs of disquietude with appar-
ently increasing amusement, for her lovely face grew
warm and radiant with suppressed, malicious mirth. She
made a slight imperative gesture of command to Gazta,
who at once approached, and, bending over the dead
Nir jalis, proceeded to strip off all the gold clasps and
valuable jewels that had so lavishly adorned that ill-
fated young man's attire ; then beckoning another slave,
nearly as tall and muscular as himself, they attached to
the neck and feet of the corpse round, leaden, bullet-shaped
weights, fastened by means of heavy iron chains. This
done, they raised the body from the floor and carried
it between them to the central and largest casement of
all that stood open to the midnight air, and with a dex-
terous movement flung it out into the waters of the lake
beneath. It fell with a sullen splash, the pale lilies en
the surface rocking stormily to and fro as though blov.n
by a gust of wind, while great circling ripples shone
softly in the yellow gleam of the moonlight, as the dead
man sank down, down, down like a stone into his crys-
tal-quiet grave.
Lysia returned to her throne with a serene step and
unruffled brow, followed by the sulky and disappointed
Aizif. Smiling gently on Theos and Sah-luma,she restated
herself, and touched a small bell at her side. It gave a
sharp kling klang like a suddenly struck cymbal, and
lo! the marble floor yawned, and the banquet table with
all its costly fruits and flowers vanished underground
with the swiftness of lightning! The floor closed again,
the broad, circular center space of the hall was now clear
from all obstruction, and the company of revelers reused
themselves a little from their drowsy postures cf half
inebriated languor. The singing voices, that had stirred
Nir-jalis to sudden animation even in his dying agony,
sounded nearer and nearer, and the globe of fire over-
head changed its hue from that of crimson to a delicate
pink. At the extreme end of the glittering vista of pale-
green transparent columns, a door suddenly opened, and
a flock of doves came speeding forth, their white, spread
wings colored softly in the clear rose-radiance; they cir-
cled round and round the dome three times, then flut
tered in a palpitating arch over Lysia's head, and final!}
THE LO/E THAT KILLS 221
sped straight across the hall to the other end, where
they streamed snowily through another aperture and
disappeared. Still nearer rippled the sound of singing,
and all at once a troop of girls came dancing noiselessly
as fire-flies into the full quivering pinkness of the jewel-
like light that floated about them girls as lovely, as
delicate, as dainty as cyclamens that wave in the Wbods
in the early days of an Italian spring. Their garments
were so white, so transparent, so filmy and clinging,
that they looked like elves robed in mountain vapor
rather than human creatures. There were fifty of them
in ail, and as they tripped forward, they, like the doves
that had heralded their approach, surrounded Lysia flut-
teringly, saluting her with gestures of exquisite grace
and devout humility, while she, enthroned in supreme
fairness, with her tigress crouched beside her, looked
down on them like a goddess calmly surveying a crowd
of vestal worshipers. Their salutations done, they
rushed pell-mell, like a shower of white rose leaves drift-
ing before a gale, into the exact center of the hall, and
there poising bird like, with their snowy arms upraised
as though about to fly, they waited, their lovely faces
radiant with laughter, their eyes flashing dangerous al-
lurements, their limbs glistening like polished alabaster
through the gauzy attire that betrayed rather than con-
cealed their exquisite forms. Then came the soft pizzicato
of pulled strings, and a twinkling jangle of silver bells
beating out a measured, languorous rhythm, and with one
accord they all merged together in the voluptuous grace
of a dance more ravishing, more wild and wondrous than
ever poet pictured in his word-fantasies of fairy land!
Theos drank in the intoxicating delight of the scene
with eager, dazzled eyes, and heavily beating heart; the
mysterious passion of mingled love and hatred he felt
for Lysia stole over him more strongly than ever in the
sultry air of this strange night this night of sweet de-
lirium, in which all that was most dangerous and erring
in his nature woke into life and mastered his better will !
A curious, instinctive knowledge swept across his mind
namely, that Sah-lw*a' s emotions were the faithful
reflex of his own; but as h had felt no anger against
his rival in fame, so now he had no jealousy of his pos-
sible rival in love. Their sympathies were too closely
222 "ARDATH"
united for distrust to mar the friendship so ardently
begun; nevertheless, as he fell resistlessly deeper and
deeper into the glittering snares that were spread for
his destruction, he was conscious of evil though he lacked
force to overcome it. At any rate he would save Sah-
luma from harm, he resolved, if he could not save him-
self T Meantime he watched the bewildering evolutions
and witching entanglements of the gliding maze of fair
faces, snowy bosoms, and twining limbs, that palpitated
to and fro under the soft rose light of the dome, like
white flowers colored by the sunset, and, glancing ever
and again at Lysia's imperial sorceress beauty, he thought
dreamily, "Better the love that kills than no love at
all!" And he thereupon gave himself up a voluntary
captive to the sway of his own passions, determining to
enjoy the immediate present, no matter what the future
might have in store. Outside, the water-lilies nodded
themselves to sleep in their shrouding dark leaves,
and the unbroken smoothness of the lake spread itself
out in the moon, like a sheet of molten gold, over the spot
where Nir-jalis had found his chilly rest. "The curse of
the dead Nir-jalis shall cling!" Yes, possibly, in the
hereafter; but now his parting malison seemed but a fool-
ish clamor against destiny. He was gone! None of his
late companions missed him, none regretted him; like
all dead men, once dead he was soon forgotten !
CHAPTER IX.
A STRANGE TEMPTATION.
ON w^nt the dance faster, faster, and ever faster!
Only the pen of some mirth-loving, rose crowned Greek
bard could adequately describe the dazzling, wild beauty
and fantastic grace of those whirling fairy forms, that
now, inspired to a bacchante-like ardor, urged one an-
other to fresh speed with brief,soft cries of musical rap-
ture, now intermingling all together in an undulating
garland of living loveliness, now parting asunder with an
air of sweet coquettishness and caprice, anon meeting
A STRANGE TEMPTATION 22}
again, and winding arm within arm, till bending forward
in attitudes of the tenderest entreaty, they seemed, with
their languid, praying eyes and clasped hands, to be
waiting for love to soothe the breathless sweetness of
their parted lips with kisses! The light in the dome
again changed its hue. From pale rose pink it flickered
to delicate amber green, flooding the floor with a radi-
ance as of watery moonbeams, and softening the daintily
draped outlines of that exquisite group of human blos-
soms, till they looked like the dimly imagined shapes of
nereids floating on the glistening width of the sea.
And now the extreme end of the vast hall began to
waver to and fro as though shaken at its foundation by
subterranean forces. A flaring shaft of flame struck
through it like the sweeping blade of a Titan's sword,
and presently, with a thunderous noise, the whole wall
split asunder, and recoiling backward on either side,
disclosed a garden, golden with the sleepy glory of the
late moon, and peacefully fair in all tha dreamy attrac-
tiveness of drooping foliage, of its turf, and star-sprin-
kled, violet sky. In full view, and lit up by the reflected
radiance flung out from the dome, a rushing waterfall
made sonorous, surgy music of its own, as it tumbled
headlong into a rocky recess overgrown with lotus-lilies
and plumy fern. Hare and there, small white and gold
tents or pavilions glimmered invitingly through the
shadows cast by the great magnolia trees, from whose
lovely half-shut buds balmy odors crept deliciously
through the warm air. The sound of sweet pipes and
faintly tinkling cymbals echoed from distant shady nooks,
as though elfin shepherds were guarding their fairy flocks
in some hidden corner of this ambrosial pasturage, and
ever by degrees the light grew warmer and more mellow
in it, till it resembled the deep hue of an autumn yellow
sunset, flecked through with emerald haze.
Another clash of cymbals! this time stormily persistent
and convincing another yet another! and then a chime
of bells, a steady, ringing, persuasive chime, such as brings
tears to the eyes of many a wanderer, who, hearing a
similar sound when far away from home, straightway
thinks of the village church of his earlier years, those
years of the best happiness we ever know on earth, be-
cause we enjoy in them the bliss of ignorance, the glory
"ARDATH"
of youth ! A curious stifling sensation began to oppress
Thcos' heart as he listened to those bells; they reminded
him of such strange things things to which he could
not give a name things foolish, yet sweet; odd sug-
gestions of fair women who were wont to pray for those
they loved, and who believed alas, the pity of it that
their prayers would be heard and granted ! What was
it that these dear, loving, credulous ones said, when in
the silence of the night they offered up their patient
supplications to an irresponsive Heaven? "Lead us not
into temptation but deliver us from evil!" Yes, he re-
membered, those were the words, the simple, wise words
that for positive, practical minds had neither a meaning
nor reason, and that yet were so infinitely pathetic in
their perfect humility and absolute trust!
"Lead us not into temptation!" He murmured the
phrase under his breath as he gazed with straining eyes
out into the languorous beauty of that grand scene that
spread its dewy, emerald glamour before him, and "de-
liver us from evil!" broke from his lips in a half sobbing
sigh, as the peal of the chiming bells,softened by degrees
into a subdued tunefulness of indistinct and tremulous
semitones, and the clarion clearness of the cymbals
again smote the still air with forceful and jarring clangor.
Then, like a rainbow-garmented Peri floating easefulJy
out of some far off sphere of sky wonders, an aerial mai-
den shape glided into the full luster of the varying light
a dancer, nude save for the pearly, glistening veil that
was carelessly cast about her dainty limbs, her white
arms and delicate ankles being adorned with circlets of
tiny golden bells, which kept up a melodious jingle-
jangle as she moved. And now began the strangest
music music that seemed to hover capriciously between
luscious melody and harsh discord, a wild and curious
medley of fantastic minor suggestions in which the imag-
inative soul might discover hints of tears and folly, love
and madness. To this uncertain yet voluptuous measure
the glittering girl-dancer leaped forward with a startling,
beautiful abruptness, and halting, as it were, on the
boundary line between the dome and the garden beyond,
raised her rounded arms in a snowy arch above her head,
and so, for one brief, instant, looked like an exquisite
angel ready to soar upward to her native realm. Her
A STRANGE TEMF1ATIOH
pause Was a mere breathing space in duration. Drop-
ping her ar:ns again with a swift decision that set all
the little bells on them clashing stormily, she straight-
way hurled herself, so to speak, into the giddy paces
of a dance that was more like an enigma than an exer-
cise. Round and round she floated wildly, like an opal-
winged butterfly in a net of sunbeams, now seemingly
shaken by delicate tremors as aspen leaves are shaken
by the faintest wind, now assuming the most voluptuous
eccentricities of posture, sometimes bending wistfully
toward the velvet turf on which she trod, as though she
listened to the chanting of demon voices underground,
and again, with her waving white hands, appearing to
summon spirits downward from their wanderings in upper
air. Her figure was in perfect harmony with the seduc-
tive grace of her gestures; not only her twinkling feet,
but her whole body danced; her very features bespoke
entire abandonment to the frenzy of her rapid move-
ment ; her large black eyes flashed with something of
fierceness as well as languor; her raven hair streamed
behind her like a dark wing; her parted lips pouted and
quivered with excitement and ardor, while ever and anon
she turned her beautiful head toward the eagerly atten-
tive group of revelers who watched her performance,
with an air of indescribable sweetness, malice, and mock-
ery. Again and again she whirled, she flew, she sprang,
and wild cries of "Hail, Nelida!" "Triumph to Nelida!"
resounded uproariously through the dome. Suddenly
the character of the music changed; from an appealing,
murmurous complaint and persuasion it rose to a mar-
tial and almost menacing fervor; the roll of drums and
the shrill, reedy warbling of pipes and other fluty minstrel-
sy crossed the silver thread of strung harps and viols;
the light from the fiery globe shot forth a new effulgence,
this time in two broad rays, one a dazzling pale azure,
the other a clear, pearly white. Nelida's graceful move-
ments grew slower and slower, till she merely seemed
to sway indolently to and fro like a mermaid rocking
herself to sleep on the summit of a wave; and then,
from among the veiling shadows of the trees, there
stepped forth a man beautiful as a sculptured god, of
magnificently moulded form and noble stature, clothed
from chest to knee in a close-fitting garb of what seemed
226 "ARDATH*
to be a thick network of massively linked gold. His
dark hair was crowned with ivy, and at his belt gleamed
an unsheathed dagger. Slowly and with courtly grace he
approached the panting Nelida,who now, with half closed
eyes and slackening steps, looked as though she \\ere
drowsily footing her way into dreamland. He touched
her snowy shoulder; she started with an inimitable ges
ture of surprise a smile, brilliant as morning, dawned
on her face; withdrawing herself slightly, she assumed an
air of haughtily sweet disdain and refusal; then, capri-
ciously relenting, she gave him her hand, and in another
instant, to -the sound of a joyous melody that seemed
to tumble through the air as billows tumble on the
beach, the dazzling pair whirled away in a giddy waltz,
like two bright flames blown suddenly together by the
wind. No language could give an adequate idea of the
marvelous bewitchment and beauty of their united move-
ments, as they flew over the dark, smooth turf, with the
flower-laden trees drooping dewily about them, and the
yellow moonbeams like melted amber beneath their noise-
less feet, while the pale sapphire and white radiations
from the dome, sparkling upon them aureole -wise, gave
them the appearance of glittering birds circling through
a limitless space of luminous and never clouded ether.
On, on! and they scarcely touched the earth as they
spun dizzily round and round, their gracefully entwined
limbs shining like polished ivory in the light on, on !
with ever increasing swiftness they sped, till their two
forms seemed to merge into one; when, as though op-
pressed by their own abandonment of joy, they paused
hoveringly, their embracing arms closing round one an-
other, their lips almost touching, their eyes reflecting
each other's ardent looks ; then their figures grew less
and less distinct; they appeared to melt mysteriously
into the azure, pearly light that surrounded them and
finally, like faint clouds fading on the edge of a sea hori-
zon, they vanished! The effect of this brief voluptuous
dance, and its equall)' voluptuous end, was simply inde-
scribable. The young men, who had watched it through
in silence and flushed ecstasy, now sprang from their
touches with shouts of rapture and unrestrained excite-
ment, and seizing the other dancing maidens who had
till now remained in clustered, half -hidden groups bs-
A STRANGE TEMPTATION 227
h/nd the crystalline columns of the hall, whirled them
off into the inviting pleasaunce beyond, where the little
white and gold pavilions peeped through the heavy foli-
age; and before Theos, in the picturesque hurry and
confusion of the scene, could quite realize what had
happened, the great globe in the dome was suddenly
extinguished, a firm hand closed imperiously on his
own, and he was drawn along swiftly, he knew not
whither!
A slight tremor shook him as he discovered that Sah-
luma was no longer by his side, the friend whom he so
ardently desired to protect had gone, and he could not
tell where. He glanced about him; in the semi-obscurity
he was able to discern the sheen of the lake with its
white burden of water-lilies, and the branchy outlines
of the moonlit garden, and yes it was Lysia whose
grasp lay so warmly on his arm Lysia whose lovely,
tempting face was so perilously near his own Lysia whose
smile colored the soft gloom with such alluring luster!
His heart beat,his blood burned; he strove in vain to im-
agine what fate was now in store for him. He was
conscious of the beauty of the night that spread its star-
embroidered splendors about him, conscious, too, of the
vital youth and passion that throbbed amorously in his
\eins, endowing him with that keenly sweet, headstrong
rapture which is said to come but once in a lifetime, and
v/hich, in the very excess of its fond folly, is too often
apt to bring sorrow and endless remorse in its train.
One moment more, and he found himself in an exquis-
itely adorned pavilion of painted silk, faintly lit by one
lamp of tenderest rose luster, and carpeted with gold-
spangled tissue. It was surrounded by a thicket of
orange trees in full bloom, and the fragrance of the wax-
en white flowers clung heavily to the air, breathing forth
delicate suggestions of languor and sleep. The measured
rush of the near waterfall alone disturbed the deep si-
lence, with now and then the subdued and plaintive
thrill of a nightingale soothing itself to rest with its own
song in some deep-shadowed copse. Here, on a couch
of heaped up stemless roses, such as might have been
prepared for the repose of Titania, Lysia seated herself,
while Theos stood gazing at her in fascinated wonder-
ment and gradually increasing masterfulness of passion
228 "AR&ATH"
She looked lovelier than ever in that dim, soft, mingled
light of rosy lamp and silver moonbeams; her smile
was no longer cold but warmly sweet; her eyes had lost
their mocking glitter, and swam in a soft languor that
was strangely bewitching; even the orbed Symbol on her
white bosom seemed for once to drowse. Her lips parted
in a faint sigh, a glance like fire flashed from beneath
her black silken lashes.
"Theos!" she said tremulously. "Theoe!" and waited.
He, mute and oppressed by indistinct hovering recol-
lections, fed his gaze on her seductive fairness for one
earnest moment longer, then suddenly advancing, he knelt
before her, and took her unresisting hands in his.
"Lysia!" and his voice,even to his own oars, had a sol-
emn as well as passionate thrill. "Lysia. what wouldst
thou have with me? Speak! for my heart aches with
a burden of dark memories memories conjured up by
the wizard spell of thine eyes, those eyes so cruel-sweet
that seem to lure me to my soul's ruin! Tell me, have
we not met before loved before wronged each other and
God before parted before? Maybe 'tis tut a brainsick
fancy, nevertheless, my spirit knows thee, feels thee,
clings to thee, and yet recoils from thee as one whom I
did love in bygone days of old! My thoughts of thee
are strange, fair Lysia!" and he pressed her warm, deli-
cate fingers with unconscious fierceness. "I would have
sworn that in the past thou didst betray me!"
Her low laugh stirred the silence into r faint, tuneful
echo.
"Thou foolish dreamer!" she murmured, half mocking-
ly, half tenderly. "Thou art dazed with wine, steeped
in song, bewitched with beauty, and knowest nothing of
what thou sayest! Methinks thou art a crazed poet, and
more fervid than San-luma in the mystic nature of thine
utterance; thou shouldst be laureate, not he! What if
thou wert offered his place his fame?"
He looked at her, surprised and perplexed, and pa-^sed
an instant before replying. Then he said slowly:
"So strange a thing could never be, for SHh-luma's
place, once empty, could not again be filled! I grudge
him not his glory-laurels; moreover, what is frme com-
pared to love!" He uttered the last words in a low tone,
as though he spoke them to himself; she heard, and a
flash of triumph brightened her beautiful face.
I STRANGL TEMPTATION 22Q
"Ah!" and she drooped her head lower and lower till
her dark, fragrant tresses touched his brow, "then thou
dost love me?"
He started. A dull pang ached in his heart, a chill
of vague uncertainty and dread. Love ! was it love in-
deed that he felt? Love or base desire? Love! The
word rang in his ears with the same sacred suggestive-
ness as that conveyed by the chime of bells. Surely,
love was a holy thing, a passion pure, impersonal, divine,
and deathless, and it seemed to him that somewhere it
had been written or said: "Wheresoever a man seeketh
himself, there he falleth from love." And he, did he
not seek himself, and the gratification of his own imme-
diate pleasure? Painfully he considered; it was a supreme
moment with him a moment when he felt himself to
be positively held within the grasp of some great arch-
angel, who, turning grandly reproachful eyes upon him,
demanded:
"Art thou the servant of love or the slave of self?"
And while he remained silent, the silken sweet voice of
the fairest woman he had ever seen once more sent its
musical cadence through his brain in that fateful ques-
tion:
"Thou dost love me?"
A deep sigh broke from him; he moved nearer to her;
he entwined her warm waist with his arms, and stared
upon her as though he drank her beauty in with his eyes.
Up to the crowning masses of her dusky hair where the
little serpents' heads darted forth glisteningly, over the
dainty curve of her white shoulders and bosom where
the symbolic eye seemed to regard him with a sleepy
weirdness, down to the blue-veined small feet in the sil-
very sandals, and up again to the red witchery of her
mouth and black splendor of those twin fire jewels that
flashed beneath her heavy lashes, his gaze wandered
hungrily, searchihgly, passionately; his heart beat with
a loud, impatient eagerness, like a wild thing struggling
in its cage, but though his lips moved, he said no word.
She too was silent. So passed or seemed to pass some
minutes minutes that were almost terrible in the weight
of mysterious meaning they held unuttered. Then, with
a half smothered cry, he suddenly released her and sprang
erect.
23O "ARDATH*
"Love!" he cried. "Nay 'tis a word for children and
angels, not for me! What have I to do with love? What
hast thou thou, Lysia, who dost make the lives of men
thy sport and their torments thy mockery ! There is no
name for this fever that consumes me when I look upon
thee ; no name for this unquiet ravishment that draws
me to thee in mingled bliss and agony! If I must perish
of mine own bitter-sweet frenzy, let me be slain now and
most utterly; but love has no abiding place 'twixt roe
and thee, Lysia! Love! ah, no, no! Speak no more of
love it hath a charmed sound, recalling to my soul some
glory I have lost!'
He spoke wildly, incoherently, scarcely knowing what
he said, and she, half lying on her couch of roses, looked
at him curiously, with somber, meditative eyes. A smile
of delicate derision parted her lips.
"Of a truth, our late feasting hath roused in thee a
most singular delirium !" she murmured indolently, with a
touch of cold amusement in her accents. "Thou dost
seem to dwell in the past rather than the present! What
ails thee? Come hither, closer!" and she stretched out
her lovely arms, on which the twisted diamond snakes
glittered in such flashing coils. "Come: or is thy man-
ful guise mere feigning, and dost thou fear me?"
"Fear thee," and, stung to a sudden heat, Theos made
one bound to her side, and seizing her slim wrists, held
them in a vice-like grip. "So little do I fear thee,
Lysia, so well do I know thee, that in my very caressos
I would slay thee, couldst thou thus be slain! Thou
art to me the living presence of an unforgotten sin, a
sin most deadly sweet and unrepented of. Ah! why dost
thou tempt me?" and he bent over her more ardently.
"Must I not meet my death at thy hands? I must, and
more than death! yet for thy kiss I will risk hell, for
one embrace of thine I will brave perdition! Ah, cruel
enchantress!" and winding his arms about her, he drew
her close against his breast and looked down on the
dreamy fairness of her face. 'Would there were such
a thing as death for souls like mine and thine! Would
we might die most absolutely thus, heart against heart,
never to wake again and loathe each other! Who speaks
of the cool sweetness of the grave, the quiet ending of
all strife; the unbreaking seal of fate, the deep and stir-
A STRANGE TEMPTATION
rest? These things are not, and never were for
the grave gives up its dead, the strife is forever and
ever resumed, the seal is broken, and in all the labor-
ing universe there shall be found no rest, and no for-
getfulness ah, God! no forgetfutness!" A shudder ran
through his frame, and, clasping her almost roughly, he
stooped toward her till his lips nearly touched hers.
"Thou art accursed, Lysia, and I share thy curse! Speak,
how shall we cheer each other in the shadow-realm of
fiends? Thou shalt be queen there, and I thy servitor.
We will make us merry with the griefs of others, our
music shall be the dropping of lost women's tears, and
the groans of betrayed and tortured men, and the light
around us shall be. quenchless fire? Shall it not be so,
Lysia? and thinkest thou that we shall ever regret the
loss of heaven?"
The words rushed impetuously from his lips; he
thought little, and cared less what he said, so long as
he could, by speech, no matter how incoherent, relieve
in part the terrible oppression of vague memories that
burdened his brain. But she, listening, drew herself
swiftly from his embrace and stood up, her large eyes
fixed full upon him with an expression of wondering
s:orn and fear.
"Thou art mad!" she said, a quiver of alarm in her
voice; "mad as Khosrul and all his evil croaking breth-
ren! I offer thee love, and thou pratest of death. Life
is here in all the fullness of the now, for thy delight,
and thou ravest of an immortal hereafter which is not,
and can never be! Why talk thus wildly? Why gaze
on me with so distraught a countenance? But an hour
agone thou wert the model of a cold discretion and quiet
valor. Thus I had judged thee worthy of my favor
favor sought by many, and granted to few; but an* thou
dost wander amid such chaotic and unreasoning fancies,
thou canst not serve me, nor therefore canst thou win
the reward that would otherwise have awaited thee."
Here she paused, a questioning, keen under-glance
flashed from beneath her dark lashes. He, however,
with pained wistful, eyes raised steadfastly to hers,
gave no sign of apology or contrition for the disconnected
strangeness of his recent outburst, only he became grad-
ually conscious of an inward, growing calm as though the
233 "AXDATH"
divine Voice that had once soothed the angry waves
of Galilee were now hushing his turbulent emotions with
a soft "Peace, be still!" She watched him closely, and
all at once apparently rendered impatient by his impas-
sive attitude, she came coaxingly toward him, and laid
one soft hand on his shoulder.
"Canst thcu not be happy, Theos?" she whispered
gently; "happy as other men are when loved, as thou
art loved?"
His upturned gaze rested on the glittering serpents'
heads that crowned her dusky tresses, then on the great
eye that stared watchfully between her white breasts.
A strong tremor shook him, and he sighed.
"Happy as other men are, when they love and are de-
ceived in love!" he said; "yes, even so, Lysia. I can
be happy!"
She threw one arm about him. "Thou shall not be
deceived,' she murmured quickly; "thou shalt be hon-
ored above the noblest in the realm; thy dearest hopes
shall be fulfilled ; thy utmost desires shall be granted
riches, power, fame all shall be thine, if thou wilt do
my bidding!"
She uttered the last words with slow and meaning
emphasis. He met her eager burning looks quietly,
almost coldly. The curious, numb apathy of his spirit
increased, and when he spoke, his voice was low and faint
like the voice of one who speaks unconsciously in his
sleep.
"What canst thou ask that I will not grant?" he said
listlessly. "Is it not as it was the old time thou to
command, and I to obey? Speak, fair queen! How
can I serve thee?"
Her anwer came, swift and fierce as the hiss of a
snake.
"Kill Sah-lumar
The brief sentence leaped into his brain with the swift,
fiery action of some burning drug. A red mist rose to
his eyes. Pushing her fiercely from him, he started to
his feet in a bewildered, sick horror. Kill Sah-luma!
Kill the gracious, smiling, happy creature, whose every
minute of existence was a joy! kill the friend he loved
the poet he worshiped! Kill him! ah, God! never!
never! He staggered back dizzily, and Lysia, with a
A STRANGE TEMPTATION 233
sudden, stealthy spring, like that of her favorite tigress,
threw herself against his breast and looked up at him,
her splendid eyes ablaze with passion, her black hair
streaming, her lips curved in a cruel smile, and the hate-
ful jewel on her breast seeming to flash with a ferocious
vindictiveness.
"Kill him!" she repeated eagerly. "Now in his sot-
tish slumber; when he hath lost sight of his poet mission
in the hot fumes of wine; now, when, despite his
genius, he hath made of himself a thing lower than the
beasts! Kill him! I will keep good counsel, and none
shall ever know who did the deed ! He loves me, and
I weary of his love I would have him dead dead as
Nir-j-alis; but were he to drink the silver nectar,the whole
city would cry out upon me for his loss; therefore he
may not perish so. But an' thou wilt slay him see!"
And she clung to Theos with the fierce tenacity of some
wild animal. "All this beauty of mine is thine thy days
and nights shall be dreams of rapture; thou shall be
second to none in Al-Kyris; thou shalt rule with me
over king and people, and we will make the land a pleas-
ure-garden for our love and joy! Here is thy weapon"
and she thrust into his hand a dagger, the very dag-
ger her slave Gazra had deprived him of, when by its
prompt use he might have mercifully ended the cruel
torments of Nir-jalis. "Let thy stroke be strong and
unfaltering; stab him to the heart, the cold, cold, sel-
fish heart that has never ached with a throb of pity!
Kill him! 'tis an easy task; for lo"! how fast he sleeps !"
And suddenly throwing back a rich gold curtain that
depended from one side of the painted pavilion, she
disclosed a small interior chamber hung with amber and
crimson, where, on a low, much tumbled couch, covered
vith crumpled, glistening draperies, lay the king's chief
minstrel, the dainty darling of women, the laureate of
the realm, sunk in a heavy drunken stupor, so deep as to
be almost death-like. Theos stared upon him amazed
and bewildered. How came he there? Had he heard
any of the conversation that had just passed between
Lysia and himself? Apparently not; he seemed bound
as with chains in a stirless lethargy. His posture was
careless yet uneasy; his brilliant attire was torn and
otherwise disordered, and some of his priceless jewel*
234 "ARDATH"
had fallen on the couch and gleamed here and there like
big stray dewdrops. His face was deeply flushed, and
his straight, dark brows were knit frowningly; his breath-
ing was hurried and irregular; one arm was thrown above
his head, the other hung down nervelessly, the lelaxed
fingers hovering immediately above a costly jeweled cup
that had dropped from his clasp; two emptied wine
flagons lay cast on the ground beside him, and he had
evidently experienced the discomfort and feverous heat
arising from intoxication, for his silken vest was loosened
as though for greater ease and coolness, thus leaving the
smooth breadth of his chest bare and fully exposed. To
this Lysia pointed with a fiendish glee, as she pulled
Theos forward.
"Strike now 1" she whispered. "Quick! Why dost
thou hesitate?"
He looked at her fixedly. The previous hot passion
he had felt for her froze like ice within his veins; her
fairness seemed no longer so distinctly fair; the witching
radiance of her eyes had lost its charm, and he motioned
her from him with a silent gesture of stern repugnance.
Catching sight of the sheeny glimmer of the lake through
the curtained entrance of the tent, he made a sudden
spring thither, dashed aside the draperies, and flung the
dagger he held far out toward the watery mirror. It
whirled glittering through the air, and fell with a quick
splash into the silver, rippling depths. And gravely con-
tented he turned upon her, dauntless and serene in the
consciousness of power.
"Thus do I obey thee!" he said in firm tones that
thrilled through and through with scorn and indignation.
'Thou evil beauty! thou fallen fairness! Kill Sah-luma?
Nay, sooner would I kill myself or thee! His life is a
glory to the world his death shall never profit thee!"
For one instant a lurid anger blazed in her face; the
/iext her features hardened themselves into a rigidly cold
expression of disdain, though her eyes widened with
wrathful wonder. A low laugh broke from her lips.
"Ah!" she cried, "art thou angel or demon that thou
darest defy me? Thou shouldst be either or both, to
array thyself in opposition against the high-priestess of
Nagaya, whose relentless will hath caused empires to
totter and thrones to fall! His life a glory to the world?"
A. STRANGE TCEMPTATiON 335
she pointed to Sah luma's recumbent figure with a
gesture of loathing and contempt. "His? Ths life of
a drunken voluptuary, a sensual egotist! a poet who
sees no genius save his own, and who condemns all vice,
save that which he himself indulges in? 'A laureled
swine! a false god of art! And for him thou dost reject
me! ah, thou fool!" and her splendid eyes shot forth re-
sentful fire; "thou rash, unthinking, headstrong fool!
thou knowest not what thou hast lost! Ay, guard thy
friend as thou wilt, thou dost guard him at thine own
peril! Think not that he or thou shall escape my ven-
geance! What! dost thou play the heroic with me
thou, who art man, and therefore no hero? For men
are cowards all, except when in the heat of battle they
follow the pursuit of their own brief glory poltroons
and knaves in spirit, incapable of resisting their own
passions! and wilt thou pretend to be stronger than
the rest? Wilt thou take up arms against thyself and
destiny? Thou madman!" and her lithe form quiv-
ered with concentrated rage "thou puny wretch that
dost first clutch at, and then refuse my love! Thou,
who dost oppose thy miserable force to the fate that
hunts thee down! Thou, who dost gaze at me with such
grave child-foolish eyes! Beware, beware of me! I hate
thee as I hate all men! I will humble thee as I have
humbled the proudest of thy sex! Wheresoever thou
goest I will track thee out and torture thee! And thou
shalt die miserably, lingeringly, horribly, as I would
have every man die could I fulfill my utmost heart's de-
sire! To-night be free; but to-morrow, as thou livest,
I will claim thee!"
Like an enraged queen she stood, one white jeweled,
arm stretched forth menacingly, her bosom heaving, and
her face aflame with wrath; but Theos, leaning against
Sah-luma's couch, heard her with as much impassive-
ness as though her threatening voice were but the sound
of an idle wind. Only when she ceased he turned his un-
troubled gaze calmly and full upon her, and then, to his
own infinite surprise, she shivered and shrank backward,
while over her countenance flitted a vague, undefinable,
almost spectral expression of terror. He saw it, and
swift words came at once to his lips words that uttered
themselves without premeditation.
336 "ARDATH"
"To-morrow, Lysia, thou shalt claim nothing!" he
said in a still, composed voice that to himself had some-
thing strange and unearthly in its tone, "not even a
grave! Get thee hence! Pray to thy gods if thou hast
any, for truly there is need of prayer! Thou shalt not
harm Sah-luma. His love for thee may be his present
curse, but it shall not work his future ruin! As for me,
thou canst not slay me, Lysia, seeing that to myself I
am dead already dead, yet alive in thought and thot:
dost now seem to my soul hut the shadow of a past
crime, the ghost of a temptation overcome and baffled:
Ah, thou sweet sin!" here he suddenly moved toward
her and caught her hands hard, looking fearlessly the
while at her flushed, half-troubled face "I do confess
that I have loved thee; I do own that I have found
thee fair; but now, now that I see thee as thou art, in
all the nameless horror of thy beauty, I do entreat"
and his accents sank to a low yet fervent supplication
"I do entreat the most high God that I may be re-
leased from thee forever!"
She gazed upon him with dilated, terrified eyes, and
he dimly wondered, as he looked, why she should seem
to fear him? Not a word did she utter in reply. Step
by step she retreated from him, her glittering exquisite
form grew paler and more indistinct in outline, and
presently, catching at the gold curtain that divided the
two pavilions, she paused, still regarding him stead-
fastly. An evil smile curved her lips, a smile of cold
menace and derisive scorn. The iris-colored jewel on her
breast darted forth vivid flashes of azure and green and
gray, the snakes in her hair seemed to rise and hiss at
him, and then, with an awful, unspoken threat written
resolvedly on every line of her fair features, she let the
gold draperies fall softly, and so disappeared, leaving
him alone with Sah-luma.
He stood for a moment half amazed, half perplexed;
then, drawing a deep breath, he pushed the clustering
hair off his forehead with an unconscious gesture of re-
lief. She was gone, and he felt as though he had gained
a victory over something, though he knew not what. The
cool air from the lake blew refreshingly on his heated
brow, and a thousand odors from orange flowers and
jessamine floated caressingly about him. The night was
A STRANGE TEMPTATION
very still, and, approaching the opening of the tent, he
looked out. There, in the soft sky gloom, moved the
majestic procession of the undiscovered worlds, seeming
to be no more than bright dots on the measureless ex-
panse of pure ether; there, low on the horizon, the
yellow moon swooned languidly downward in a bed of
fleecy cloud; the drowsy chirp of a dreaming bird came
softly now and again from the deep-branched shadows
of the heavy foliage, and the lilies on the surface of the
lake nodded mysteriously among the slow ripples, like
wise white elves whispering to one another some secret
of fairyland. And Sah luma still slept, and still that
puzzled and weary frown darkened the fairness of his
broad brow, and coming back to his side, Theos stood
watching him with a yearning and sorrowful wistfulness.
Gathering up the jewels that had fallen out of his
dress, he replaced them one by one, and strove to re-
arrange the tossed and tumbled garb as best he might.
While he was thus occupied his hand happened to touch
the tablet that hung by a silver chain from the laureate's
belt. He glanced at it; it was covered with fine writ-
irig, and turning it more toward the light he soon made
out four stanzas, perfectly rhymed and smoothly flowing
as a well-modulated harmony. He read them slowly with
a faint smile; he recognized them as his own. They
were part of a poem he had long ago begun, yet had
never finished! And now Sah-Luma had the same idea!
Moreover, he had chosen, the same rhyme, the same
words! Well, after all, what did it matter? Nothing, he
felt, so far as he was concerned. He had ceased to care
for his own personality or interests. Sah-luma had be-
come dearer to him than himself!
His immediate anxiety was centered in the question
of how to rouse his friend from the torpor in which he
lay,and get him out of this voluptuous garden of delights
before any lurking danger could overtake him. Full of
this intention, he presently ventured to draw aside the
curtain that concealed Lysia's pavilion, and looking in,
he saw to his great relief that she was no longer there.
Her couch of crushed roses scented the place with heavy
fragrance, and the ruby lamp was still burning, but she
herself had departed. Now was the time for escape!
thought Theos; now, while she was absent. Now, if Sah-
238 "ARDATH"
luma could be persuaded to come away, he might reach
his own palace in safety; and once there, he could be
warned of the death that threatened him through the
treachery of the woman he loved. But would he believe
in, or accept the warning? At any rate some efiort must
be made to rescue him, and Theos, withour more ado.
pent above him and called aloud:
"Sah-lumal Wake! Sah-lumal"
CHAPTER X.
THE PASSAGE OF THE TOMBS.
SAH-LUMA stirred uneasily and smiled in his sleep.
"More wine!" he muttered thickly; "more, more \
say. What! wilt thou stint the generous juice thMt
warms my soul to song? Pour pour out lavishly! 1
will mix the honey of thy luscious lips with the crimson
bubbles on this goblet's brim, and the taste thereof
shall be as nectar dropped from Paradise! Nay, nay!
I will drink to none but myself to the immortal bard
Sah-luma poet of poets named first and greatest on
the scroll of fame! Ay, 'tis a worthy toast and merits
a deeper draught of mellow vintage! Fill fill again!
The world is but the drunken dream of a god poet, and
we but the mad revelers a of shadow day! 'Twill pass
'twill pass. Let us enjoy ere all is done drown thought
in wine and love and music wine and music "
His voice broke in a short, smothered sigh. Theos
surveyed him with mingled impatience and pity and
something of repulsion, and there was a warm touch of
indignant remonstrance in his tone when he called again:
"Sah-luma! Rouse thee, man, for very shame's sake!
Art thou dead to the honor of thy calling that thou dost
wilfully consent to be the victim of wine-bibbing and de-
bauchery? O thou frail soul! How hast thou quenched
the heavenly essence within thee? Why wilt thou be thus
self-disgraced and all inglorious? Sah-luma! Sah- J uma!"
and he shook him violently by the arm "Up, up, thou
truant to the faith of art! I will not let thee drowse
THE PASSAGE OF THE TOMBS
t\ie hours away in such unseemliness. Wake! for the
night is almost past; the morning is at hand, and dan-
ger threatens thee. Wouldst thou be found here drunk
at sunrise?"
This time Sah-luma was thoroughly disturbed, and
with a half-uttered oath he sat up, pushed his tumbled
hair from his brows, and stared at his companion in
blinking, sleepy wonderment.
"Now, by my soul ! thou art a most unmannerly ruffian ! "
he said pettishly, yet with a vacant smile; "what ques-
tion didst thou bawl unmusically in mine ear? Will I
be drunk at sunrise! Ay and at sunset too, Sir Mala-
pert, if that will satisfy thee! Hast thou been grudged
sufficient wine, and dost thou envy me my slumber?
What dost thou here? where hast thou been?" And,
becoming more conscious of his surroundings, he sud-
denly stood up, and, catching hold of Theos to support
himself, gazed upon him suspiciously with very dim and
bloodshot eyes: "Art thou fresh from the arms of the
lavishing Nelida? Is she not fair; a choice morsel for
a lover's banquet? Doth she not dance a madness into
the veins? Ay, ay! She was reserved for thee, my
j oily roisterer, but thou art not the first nor wilt thou
I'M the last that hath reveled in her store of charms! No
matter!" and he laughed foolishly "better a wild
dancer than a tame prude!" Here he looked about him
f.n confused bewilderment. "Where is Lysia? Was she
not here a moment since?" and he staggered toward the
neighboring pavilion, and dashed the dividing curtain
aside. "Lysia! Lysia!" he shouted noisily. Then, re-
ceiving no answer, he flung himself down on the vacant
couch of roses, and gathering up a handful of flowers,
kissed them passionately. "The witch has flown!" he
said, laughing again that mirthless, stupid laugh as he
spoke. "She doth love to tantalize me thus! Tell me!
what dost thou think of her? Is she not a peerless moon
of womanhood? Doth she not eclipse all known or im-
aginable beauty? Ay! and I will tell thee a secret she
is mine mine from the dark tresses down to the dainty
feet mine, all mine, so long as I shall please to call
her so! notwithstanding that the foolish people of Al-
Kyris think she is impervious to love, self-centered, holy
and 'immaculate!' Bah! as if a woman ever was 'im-
240 "ARDATH"
maculate!' But mark you! though she loves me me,
crowned laureate of the realm she loves no other man!
And why? Because no other man is found half so worthy
of love All men must love her. Nir-jalis loved her,
and he is dead because of over-much presumption. And
many there be who shall still die likewise, for love of
her, but I am her chosen and elected one ; her faith is
mine, her heart is mine, her very soul is mine ! Mine 1
would swear, though all the gods of the past, present,
and future denied her constancy!"
Here his uncertain, wandering gaze met the grave,
pained, and almost stern regard of Theos. "Why dost
thou st'.re thus owl-like upon me?" he demanded irrita-
bly. "Art thou my friend and worshiper? Wilt preach?
Wilt moralize on the folly of the time, the vices of the
age? Thou lookest it but prithee hold thy peace an'
thou lovest me! We can but live and die and there's
an end all's over with the best and wisest of us soon.
Let us be merry while we may!"
And he tossed a cluster of roses playfully in the air,
catching them as they fell again in a soft shower of
severed, fluttering pink and white petals. Theos listened
to his rambling, unguarded words with a sense of acute
personal sorrow. Here was a man, young, handsome, and
endowed with the rarest gift of nature, a great poetic
genius a man who had attained in early manhood the
highest worldly fame, together with the friendship of a
king, and the love of a people yet what was he in him-
self? A mere petty egotist, a poor deluded fool, the un-
resisting prey of his own passions; the besotted slave of
a treacherous woman and the voluntary degrader of his
own life! What was the use of genius then, if it could
not aid one to overcome self? What the worth of fame,
if it were not made to serve as a bright incentive and
noble example to others of less renown? As this thought
passed across his mind, Theos sighed. He felt curiously
conscience-stricken, ashamed, and humiliated, through
Sah-luma, and solely for Sah-luma's sake! At present,
however, his chief anxiety was to get his friend safely out
of Lysia's pavilion before she should return to it, and
his spirit chafed within him at each moment of en-
forced delay.
"Come come, Sah-luma 1" he said at last, gently, yet
THE PASSAGE OF THE TOMBS 24!
with persuasive earnestness. "Come away from this
place. The feast is over, the fair ones are gone. Why
should we linger? Thou art half asleep. Believe me,
'tis time thou wert home and at rest. Lean upon me
so! That is well!" this, as the other rose unsteadily to
his feet and lurched heavily against him "now let me
guide thee, though of a truth I know not the way through
this wondrous woodland maze. Canst tell me whither
we should turn, or hast thou no remembrance of the
nearest road to thine own dwelling?"
Thus speaking, he managed to lead his stupefied com-
panion out of the tent into the cool, dewy garden, where,
feeling somewhat refreshed by the breath of the nightwind
blowing on his face, Sah-luma straightened himself, and
made an absurd attempt to look exceedingly dignified.
"Nay, and thou wilt depart with such scant ceremony, "
he grumbled peevishly, "get thee hence and find out
the road as best thou mayest! Why should I aid thee?
For myself, I am well contented here to remain and
sleep. No better couch can the poet have than this vio-
let-scented moss" and he waved his arm with a gran-
diloquent gesture "no grander canopy than this star-be-
sprinkled heaven! Leave me, for my eyes are wondrous
heavy, and I would fain slumber undisturbed till the
break of day! By my soul, thou art a rough companion!"
and he struggled violently to release himself from
Theos' resolute and compelling grasp "where wouldst
thou drag me?"
"Out of danger and the shadow of death!" replied
Theos firmly. "Thy life is threatened, Sah-luma, and
I will not see thee slain! If thou canst not guard thyself,
then I must guard thee! Come, delay no longer, I
beseech thee! Do I not love thee, friend? And would
I urge thee thus without good reason? O thou misguided
soul! Thou dost most ignorantly court destruction, but
if my strength can shield thee, thou shalt not die before
thy time!"
And he hurried his pace, half-leading, half-carrying
the reluctant poet, who, however, was too drowsy and
lethargic to do more than feebly resent his action. And
thus they went together along a broad path that seemed
to extend itself in a direct line straight across the grounds,
but which in reality turned and twisted abouf through
242 "ARDATH"
all manner of perplexing nooks and corners. Now under
the trees so closely intei woven that not a glimpse of sky
could be seen through the dense darkness of the crossed
boughs; now by gorgeous banks of roses,pale yellow and
white, that looked like frozen foam in the dying glitter
of the moon; now beneath fairy-light trellis work, over-
grown with jessamine, and peopled by thousands of danc-
ing fire-flies, while at every undulating bend or sharp
angle in the road, Theos' heart beat quickly in fear lest
they should meet some armed retainer or spy of Lysia's
who might interrupt their progress, or perhaps peremp-
torily forbid their departure. Nothing of the kind hap-
pened, or seemed to happen. The splendid gardens were
all apparently deserted, and not a living soul was any-
where to be seen. Presently, through an archway of
twisted magnolia stems, Theos caught a glimpse of the
illuminated pool with the marble nymph in its center
which had so greatly fascinated him on his first arrival,
and he pressed forward eagerly, knowing that now they
could not be very far from the gates of exit. All at one';
the tall figure of a man clad in complete armor came into
sudden view between some heavily drooping boughs.
It stood out for a second, and then hurriedly disappeared,
muffling its face in a black mantle as it fled. Not, how-
ever, before Theos had recognized those dark, haughty
features, those relentless brows, and that stern, almost
lurid smile! And with a quick convulsive movement he
grasped his companion's arm.
"Hist, Sah-luma!" he whispered; "saw you not the
king?"
Sah-luma started as though he had received a dagger
thrust; his very lips turned pale in the moonlight.
"The king?" he echoed, with an accent of incredulous
amazement, "the king? Thou art mad! It could not be!
Where didst thou see him?"
In silence Theos pointed to the dark shrubbery. Sah-
luma shook himself free of his friend's hold and, stand-
ing erect, gazed in the direction indicated, with an ex-
pression of mingled fear, mistrust, bewilderment, and
wrath on his features. He was suddenly but effectually
sobered, and all the delicate beauty of his face came
back like the rich tone of a fine picture restored. His
hand fell instinctively toward the jeweled hilt of the
ponjard. at his belt.
THE PASSAGE OF THE TOMBS 243
"The king?" he muttered under his breath, "the king?
Then is Khosrul right after all, and must one learn wis-
dom from a madman? By my soul! if I thought " Here
he checked himself abruptly and turned upon Theos:"Nay,
thou art deceived!" he said with a forced smile, "'twas
not the king! 'twas some rash unknown intruder whose
worthless life must pay the penalty of his trespass!"
and he drew his flashing weapon from its sheath "this
shall unmask him! And thou, my friend, get thee away
and home! Fear nothing for my safety. Go hence and
quickly! I'll follow thee anon!"
And before Theos could utter a word of warning, he
plunged impetuously into the innermost recesses of the
dense foliage behind which the mysterious armed figure
had just vanished, and was instantly lost to sight.
"Sah-luma! Sah-luma!" called Theos passionately.
"Come back! Whither wilt thou go? Sah-luma!"
Only silence answered him, silence rendered even more
profound by the subdued, faint rustling of the wind
among the leaves; and agitated by all manner of vague
alarms and dreary forebodings, he stood still for a mo-
ment, hesitating as to whether he should follow his
friend or no. Some instinct stronger than himself, how-
ever, persuaded him that it would be best to continue his
road. He therefore went on slowly, hoping against hope
that Sah-luma might still rejoin him, but herein he was
disappointed Ha waited a little while near the illu-
minated water, dreamily eyeing the beautiful marble
nymph, crowned with her wreath of amethystine flame.
She resembled Lysia somewhat, he thought, only this
was a frozen fairness, while the perilous charms of the
cruel high-priestess were those of living flesh and blood.
Yet the remembrance of all the tenderly witching loveli-
ness that might have been his, had he slain Sah-luma at
her bidding, now moved him neither to regret nor lover's
passion, but only touched his spirit with a sense of bit-
ter repulsion, while a strange pity for the poet laureate's
infatuation awoke in him pity, that any man could b.^ so
reckless, blind, and desperate as to love a woman for
her mere perishable beauty of body, and never care to
know whether the graces of her mind were equal to the
graces of her form.
"We men have yet to learn the true meaning of love,"
244 "ARDATH"
he mused rather sadly. "We consider it from the selfish
standpoint of our own unbridled passions; we willingly
accept a fair face as the visible reflex of a fair soul, and
nine times out of ten we are utterly mistaken! We be-
gin wrongly, and we therefore end miserably. We should
love woman for what she is and not for what she appears
to be. Yet how are we to fathom her nature; how shall
we guess; how can we decide? Are we fooled by an
evil fate; or do we, in our loves and marriages, deliber-
ately fool ourselves?"
He pondered the question hazily without arriving at
any satisfactory answer; and as Sah-luma still did not
return, he resumed his slow, unguided, and solitary way.
He presently found himself in a close boscage of tall
trees straight as pines, and covered with very large, thick
leaves that exhaled a peculiarly faint odor, and here, paus-
ing abruptly, he looked anxiously about him. This was
certainly not the avenue through which he had previously
come with Sah-luma, and he soon felt uncomfortably
convinced that he had somehow taken the wrong path.
Perceiving a low iron gate standing open in front of
him, he went thither, and discovered a steep stone
staircase leading down, down, into what seemed to be
a vast well, black and empty as a starless midnight.
Peering doubtfully into this gloomy pit, he fancied he
saw a small blue flame wavering to and fro at the bot-
tom, and pricked by a sudden impulse of curiosity he
made up his mind to descend.
He went down slowly and cautiously, counting each
step as he placed his foot upon it. There were a hun-
dred steps in all, and at the end the light he had seen
completely vanished, leaving him in the most profound
darkness. Confused and startled, he stretched out his
hands instinctively, as a blind man might do, and thus
came in contact with something sharp, pointed, and icy
cold, like the frozen talon of a dead bird. Shuddering
at the touch, he recoiled, and was about to try and grope
his way up the stairs again, when the light once more
appeared, this time casting a thin, slanting, azure blaze
through the dense shadows, and he was able gradually
to realize the horrors of the place into which he had un-
wittingly adventured. One faint cry escaped his lips,
and then he was mute and motionless, chilled to the
THE PASSAGE OF THE TOMBS 245
very heart. A great awe and speechless dread over-
whelmed him, for he, a living man and fully conscious of
life, stood alone, surrounded by a ghastly multitude ol
skeletons skeletons bleached white as ivory and glisten-
ing with a smooth, moist polish of pearl. Shoulder to
shoulder, arm against arm, they stood, placed upright,
and as close together as possible. Every bony hand held
a rusty spear, and on every skull gleamed a small metal
casque inscribed with hieroglyphic characters. Thousands
of eyeless sockets seemed to turn toward him in blank
yet questioning wonder, suggesting awfully to his mind
that the eyes might still be there, fallen far back into
the head from whence they yet saw, themselves unseen;
thousands of grinning jaws seemed to mock at him, as
he leaned half fainting against the damp weed-gro.va
portal; he fancied he could hear the derisive laugh of
death echoing horribly through those dimly distant
arches! This, this, ha thought wildly, was the sequel
to his brief and wretched history! For this 012 end hs
had wandered out of the ways of his former life, and
forgotten almost all he had ever known. Here was the
only poor finale an all-wise and all-potent God could
contrive for the close of his mirvelous symphony of cre-
ative love and light! Ah, crusl, cruel! Then there was
no justice, no pity, no compensation in all the width
and breadth of the universe, if dsath indeed was the end
of everything! And God, or the Great Force called by
that name, was nothing but a Tyrant and Torturer ot
his helpless creature, man! So thinking, dully and
feebly, he pressed his hands oa his aching eyes, to shut
out the sight of that grim crowd of fleshless, rigid shapes
that everywhere confronted him. The darkness of the
place seemed to descend upon him crushingly, and, reel-
ing forward, he would have fallen in a swoon, had not a
strong hand suddenly grasped his arm and supported
him firmly upright.
"How now, my son!" said a grave, musical voice that
had in it a certain touch of compassion; "what ails
thee, and why art thou here? Art thou condemned to
die? or dost thou saek an escape from death?' 1
Making an effort to overcome the sick giddiness that
confused his brain, he looked up. A bright lamp flared
in his eyes, contrasting so dazzlingly with ths surround-
246 "ARDATH* 1
ing gloom that for a moment he was half blinded by its
brilliancy; but presently, steadying his gaze, he was
able to discern the dark outline of a tall, black garmented
figure standing beside him, the figure of an old rran,
whose severe and dignified aspect at first reminded him
somewhat of the prophet Khosrul, only that Khcsrul's
rugged features had borne the impress of patient, long-
endured bitter suffering, and the personage who now
confronted him had a face so calm and seriously impas-
sive that it might have been taken for that of one newly
dead, from whose lineaments all traces of earthly passion
had forever smoothed away.
"Art thou condemned to die, or dost then seek an es-
cape from death?" The question had, or seemed to
have, a curious significance. It reiterated itself almost
noisily in his ears; his mind was troubled by vague sur-
mises and dreary forebodings; speech was difficult to
him, and his lips quivered pathetically when he at last
found force to frame his struggling thoughts into lan-
guage.
"Escape from death!" he murmured, gazing wildly
round as he spoke, on the vast skeleton crowd that en-
circled him. ' Old man, dost thou also talk of dream-
like impossibilities? Wilt thou also maintain a creed of
hope when naught awaits us but despair? Art thou fooled
likewise with the glimmering soul-mirage of a never to-
be realized future? Escape from death? How? and
where? Are not these dry and vacant forms sufficiently
eloquent of the al-omnipotence of decay?" and he caught
his unknown companion almost fiercely by the long robe,
while a sound that was half a sob and half a sigh came
from his aching throat. "Lo you, how emptily they stare
upon us! How frozen-piteous is their smile! Poor,
poor frail shapes! Nay! who would think these hollow
shells of bone had once been men? Men with strong
hearts, warm flowing blood, and throbbing pulses; men
of thought and action, who, maybe, did most nobly bear
themselves in life upon the earth, and yet are now for-
gotten! Men, ah! great Heaven! Can it be that these
most rueful, loathly things have loved, and hoped, and
labored through all their days for such an end as this?
Escape from death! Alas, there is no escape! 'Tis evi-
dent we all must die die, and with dust-quenched eyes
THE PASSAGE OF THE TOMBS
unlearn our knowledge of the sun, the stars, the marvels
of the universe; for us no more shall the flowers bloom
or the sweet birds sing. The poem of the woild will
write itself anew in every roseate flushing of the dawn,
but we we who have enjoyed therein; we who have
sung the praises of the light, the harmonies of the wind
and sea, the tunefulness of woods and fields; we whose
ambitious thoughts have soared archangel-like through
unseen empyreans of space, there to drink in a honeyed
hope of Heaven we shall be but dead! mute, cold,
and stirless as deep, undug stones dead! Ah, God,
thou Utmost Cruelty!" and in a sudden access of grief
and passion he raised one hand and shook it aloft with
a menacing gesture. "Would I might look upon thee
face to face, and rebuke thee for thy merciless injus-
tice !"
He spoke wildly, as though possessed by a sort of
frenzy. His unknown companion heard him with an air
of mild and pitying patience.
"Peace peace! Blaspheme not the Most High, my
son!" he said gently, yet reproachfully. "Distraught
as thou dost seem with some strange misery, and sick
with fears, forbear thine ignorant fury against him who
hath, for love's dear sake alone, created thee. Control
thy soul in patience! Surely thou art afflicted by thine
own vain and false imaginings, which for a time contort
and darken the clear light of truth. Why dost thou thus
disquiet thyself concerning the end of life, seeing that
verily it hath no end? And that what we men call death
is not a conclusion, but merely a new beginning? Waste
not thy pity on these skeleton forms the empty dwell-
ings of martial spirits long since fled. As well weep over
fallen husks of corn from which the blossoms have sprung
right joyously upward! This world is but our roadside
hosterly, wherein we, heaven-bound sojourners, tarry for
one brief, restless night. Why regret the loss of the poor
refreshment offered thee here, when there are a thousand
better feasts awaiting thee elsewhere on thy way? Come,
let me lead thee hence. This place is known as the
Passage of the Tombs, and communicates with the inner
court of the Sacred Temple, and if, as I fear, thou art a
stray fugitive from the accursed Lysia's band of lovers,
tbou mayest be tracked hither and quickly slain. Come,
g^.8 *'ARDATH"
I will show thee a secret labyrinth by which thou canst
gain the embankment of the river and from thence be-
take thyself speedily home if thou hast a home" here
he paused and a keen, questioning glance flashed in his
dark eyes. "But notwithstanding thy fluency of speech
and fashion of attire, methinks thou hast the lost and
solitary air of one who is a stranger in the city of Al-
Kyris?"
Theos sighed.
"A stranger I am indeed!" he said drearily. "A stranger
to my very self and all my former belongings! Ask n:e
no questions, good father, for, as I live, I cannot an-
swer them! I am oppressed by a nameless and mysteri-
ous suffering; my brain is darkened; my thoughts but
half-formed and never wholly uttered, and I, I who once
deemed human intelligence and reason all supreme, all
clear, all absolute, am now compelled to use that rea-
son reasonlessly, and to work with that intelligence in
helpless ignorance as to what end my rrental toil shall
serve! Woful and strange it is yet true. I am as a
broken straw in a whirlwind, or the pale ghost of my
own identity groping for things in a land of shadows.
I know not whence I came, nor whither I go! Nay,
do not fear me. I am not mad ; I am conscious of my
life, my strength, and physical well-being, and though
I may speak wildly, I harbor no ill intent toward any
man my quarrel is with God alone!"
He paused, then resumed in calmer accents: "You
judge rightly, reverend sir. I am a stranger in Al-Kyris.
I entered the city gates this morning when the sun
was high, and, ere noon, I found courteous welcome and
princely shelter I am the guest of the poet, Sah-luma. "
The old man looked at him half compassionately.
"Ah, Sah-luma is thine host?" he said with a touch
of melancholy surprise in his tone. Then wherefore
art thou here here in this dark abode where none may
linger and escape with life? How earnest thou within
the bounds of Lysia's fatal pleasuance? Has the lau-
reate's friendship thus misguided thee?"
Theos hesitated before replying. He was again moved
by that curious, instinctive dread of hearing Sah-luma's
name associated with any sort of reproach, and his voice
h.ad a somewhat defiant ring as he answered:
THE PASSAGE OF THE TOMBS 249
"Nay, surely I am neither child nor woman that I
should weakly yield to guidance or misleading! Some
trifling matter of free will remains to me in spite of mine
affliction, and that I have supped with Sah-luma at the
palace of the high priestess has been as much my choice
as his example. Who among men would turn aside from
high feasting and mirthful company? Not I, believe
me ! And Sah-luma's desires herein were but the reflex
of mine own! We came together through the woodland,
and parted but a moment since "
He stood abruptly, startled by a sudden clash as of
steel and the tramp, tramp of approaching feet. His
aged companion caught him by the arm :
"Hush!" he whispered. "Not a word more not a
breath or thy life must pay the penalty! Quick! Fol-
low me close! Step softly! There is a hiding-place
near at hand where we may crouch unseen, till these
dread visitants pass by."
Moving stealthily and with anxious precaution, he
led the way to a niche hollowed deeply out in the thick-
ness of the wall, and turning his lamp aside so that not
the faintest glimmer of it could be perceived, he took
Theos by the hand, and drew him into what seemed
to be a huge cavernous recess, utterly dark and icy
cold.
Here, crouching low in the furthest gloom, they both
waited silently, Theos ignorant as to the cause of the
sudden alarm, and wondering vaguely what strange new
circumstance was about to happen. The measured tramp,
tramp of feet came nearer and nearer, and in another
moment the flare of smoking torches illumined the
vaulted passage, casting many a ruddy flicker and flash
on the ivory-gleaming whiteness of the vast skeleton
army, that stood with such grim and pallid patience, as
though waiting for a marching signal.
Presently there appeared a number of half-naked men,
carrying short axes stained with blood coarse, savage,
cruel-looking brutes all, whose lowering faces bore the
marks of a thousand unrepented crimes. These were fol-
lowed by four tall personages clad in flowing white robes
and closely masked, and finally there came a band of
black slaves clothed in vivid scarlet, dragging between
them two writhing, bleeding creatures one a man, the
250 "ARDATH"
other a girl in her earliest youth, both convulsed by the
evident last agonies of death.
Arrived at the center of that part of the vault where
the skeleton crowd was thickest, this horrible cortege
halted, while 6ne of the masked personages undid from
his girdle a large bunch of keys. And now Theos, watch-
ing everything with dreadful interest from the obscure
corner where he was, thanks to his unknown friend, suc-
cessfully concealed, perceived for the first time a low
iron door, heavily barred, and surmounted by sharp
spikes as long as drawn daggers. When this dreary
portal was, with many a jarring groan and clang, slowly
opened, such an awful cry broke from the lips of the
tortured man as might have wrung compassion from the
most hardened tyrant. Wresting himself fiercely out
of the grasp of the slaves who held him, he struggled to
'his feet, while the blood poured from the cruel wounds
that were inflicted all over his body, and raising his
manacled hands aloft he cried:
"Mercy! Mercy! Not for me, but for her for her,
my love, my life, my tenderest little one! What is her
crime, ye fiends? Why do ye deem love a sin and pas-
sion a dishonor? Shall there be no more heart longings
because ye are cold? Spare her! She is so young, so
fond, so innocent of all reproach save one, the shame of
loving me! Spare her! or, if ye will not spare, slay
her at once! Now now, with swift, compassionate sword,
but cast her not alive into yon hideous serpent's den!
not alive ah no, no ye gods, have pity! "
Here his voice broke and a sudden light passed over
his agonized countenance. Gazing steadfastly at the
girl, whose, beautiful white body now lay motionless on
the cold stone, with a cloud of fair hair falling veil-like
over it, his eyes seemed to strain themselves out of their
sockets in the intenity of his eager regard when all at
once he gave vent to a wild peal of delirious laughter
and exclaimed:
"Dead dead! Thanks be to the merciless gods for this
one gift of grace at the last! Dead dead! Oh, the
blessed favor and freedom of death! Sweetheart, they
can torture thee no more! Ah, devils that ye are!" and
his voice, grown frantically loud, pierced the gloomy
arches with terrible resonance, as he saw the red-gar
ITKE PASSAGE OF THE TOMBS 35!
mented slaves vainly endeavoring to rouse, with fero-
cious blows and thrusts, new life in the fair, stiffening
corpse before them. "This time ye are baffled! Baffled
and I live to see your vanquishment! Give her to me!"
and he stretched out his trembling arms. "Give her; she
is dead, and ye cannot offer to Nagaya any lifeless thing!
I will weave her a shroud of her own gold hair; I will
bury her softly away in the darkness; I will sing to her
as I used to sing in the silent summer evenings, when
we fancied our secret of forbidden love unknown, and
with my lips on hers, I will pray pray for the pardon
of passion grown stronger than life! "
He ceased, and swaying forward, fell. A shiver ran
through his limbs, one deep, gasping sigh, and all was
over. The band of torturers gathered round the body,
uttering fierce oaths and exclamations of dismay.
"Both dead!" said one of the individuals in white.
"'Tis a most fatal augury!"
"Fatal indeed!" said another, and turning to the men
with the blood-stained axes, he added angrily: "Ye were
too swift and lavish of your weapons; ye should have let
these criminals suffer slowly inch by inch, and yet have
left them life enough wherewith to linger on in anguish
many hours."
The wretches thus addressed looked sullen and humil-
iated, and approaching the two corpses would have bru-
tally inflicted fresh wounds on them had not the seeming
chief of the party interfered.
"Let be, let be!" he said austerely. "Ye cannot cause
the dead to feel would that it were possible! Then
might the glorious and godlike thirst of vengeance in our
great high-priestess be somewhat more appeased in this
matter. For the unlawful communion of love between a
vestal virgin and an anointed priest cannot be too ut-
terly abhorred and condemned, and these twain, who thus
did foully violate their vows, have perished far too eas-
ily. The sanctity of the temple has been outraged, Ly-
sia will not be satisfied, and how shall we pacify her
righteous wrath, concerning this too tranquil death of
the undeserving and impure?"
Drawing all together in a close group, they held a whis-
pered consultation, and finally, appearing to have come
to some sort of decision, they took up the dead bodie?
one after another, and flung them carelessly into the dark
aperutre lately unclosed. As they did this, a stealthy
rustling sound was heard, as of some great creature mov-
ing to and fro in the far interior, but they soon locked
and barred the iron portal once more, and then took
their departure rather hurriedly, leaving the vault by
the way Theos had entered it namely, up the stone
stairway that led into Lysia's palace gardens. As the
last echo of their retreating steps died away and the last
glimmer of their lurid torches vanished, Theos sprang
out from his hiding place. His venerable companion
slowly followed.
"O God! Can such things be!" he cried loudly, reck'
less of all possible risk for himself as his voice rang
penetratingly through the deep silence. "Were these
brute murderers actual men, or but the wandering, grim
shadows of some long past crime? Nay, surely I do but
dream; and ghouls and demons born out of nightmare
sleep do vex my troubled spirit! Justice justice for the
innocent! Is there none in all Al-Kyris?"
"NoneT'replied the old man who stood beside him,
lamp in hand, fixing his dark, melancholy eyes upon him
as he spoke. 'None neither in Al-Kyris nor in any
other great city on the peopled earth. Justice? I, who
am named Zuriel the Mystic, because of my tireless
searching into things that are hidden from the unstudious
and unthinking, I know that justice is an idle name, an
empty braggart-word forever on the mouths of kings and
judges, but never in their hearts. Moreover, what is guilt,
what is innocence? Both must be defined according to
the law of the realm wherein we dwell, and from that
law there can be no appeal. These men we lately saw
were the chief priests and executioners of the Sacred
Temple. They have simply fulfilled their duty. The
culprits slain deserved their fate. They loved where lov-
ing was forbidden. Torture and death was the strictly
ordained punishment, and herein was justice justice as
portioned out by the penal code of the high court of
council."
Theos heard, and gave an expressive gesture of loath-
ing and contempt.
"O narrow jurisdiction! O short-sighted, false equity!"
he exclaimed passionately. "Are there different laws for
THE PASSAGE OF THE TOMBS 253
high and low? Must the weak and defenseless be con-
demned to death for the self-same sin committed openly
by their more powerful brethren who yet escape scot-
free? What of the high priestess, then? If these poor
lover-victims merited their doom, why is not Lysia slain?
Is not she a willingly violated vestal? Doth she not
count her lovers by the score? Are riot her vows long
since broken? Is not her life a life of wanton luxury
and open shame? Why doth the law, beholding these
things, remain in her case dumb and ineffectual?"
"Hush, hush, my son!" said the aged Zuriel anxiously.
"These stone walls hear thee far too loudly. Who knows
but they may echo forth thy words to unsuspected listen-
ers? Peace peace! Lysia is as much queen as Zepho-
ranim is king of Al-Kyris, and surely thou knowest that
the sins of tyrants are accounted virtues so long as they
retain their ruling powers? The public voice pronounces
Lysia chaste, and Zephoranim faithful. Who then shall
dare to disprove the verdict? 'Tis the same in all coun-
tries, near and far the law serves the strong while pro-
fessing to defend the weak. The rich man gains his
cause the beggar loses it. How can it be otherwise,
while lust of gold prevails? Gold is the moving force
of this our era. Without it kings and ministers are im-
potent and armies starve; with it, all things can be ac-
complished, even to the concealment of the foulsst crimes.
Come, come!" and he laid one hand kindly on Theos"
arm "thou hast a generous and fiery spirit, but thou
shouldst never have been born into this planet if thou
seekest such a thing as justice! No man will ever deal
true justice to his fellow-man on earth, unless perhaps
in ages to come, when the old creeds are swept away
for new, and a grander, wider, purer form of faith is ac-
cepted by the people. For religion in Al-Kyris to-day
is a hollow mockery a sham, kept up partly from fear,
partly from motives of policy; but every thinker is an
atheist at heart. Our splendid civilization is tottering
toward its fall, and should the fore-doomed destruction
of this city come to pass, vast ages of progress, dicov-
ery, and invention will be swept away as though they
had never been!"
He paused and sighed, then continued sorrowfully;
"There is, there must be something wrong in the mecb
254 "ARDATH**
anism of life.some little hitch that stops the even wheel,
some curious perpetual mischance that crosses us at every
turn; but 1 doubt not all is for the best, and will prove
most truly so hereafter!"
"Hereafter!" echoed Theos bitterly. "Thinkest thou
that even God, repenting of the evil he hath done, will
ever be able to compensate us by any future bliss, for
all the needless anguish of the present?"
Zuriel looked at him with a strange, almost spectral
expression of mingled pity, fear, and misgiving; but he
offered no reply to this home-thrust of a question. In
grave silence and with slow, majestic tread he began to
lead the way along through the dismal labyrinth of black,
winding arches, holding his blue lamp aloft as he went,
the better to lighten the dense gloom.
Theos followed him, silent also, and wrapped in stern
and mournful musings of his own musings through which
faint threads of pale recollection connected with his past
glimmered hazily from time to time, perplexing rather
than enlightening his bewildered brain.
Presently he found himself in a low, narrow vestibule
illumined by the bright yet soft radiance of a suspended
star and here, coming close up with his guide and ob-
serving his dress and manner more attentively, he sud-
denly perceived a shining something which the old man
wore hanging from his neck and which flashed against
the sable hue of his garment like a wandering moonbeam.
Stopping abruptly, he examined this ornament with
straining, wistful gaze, and slowly, very slowly, recog-
nized its fashion of construction. It was a plain silver
cross nothing more. Yet at sight of the sacred, strange
yet familiar symbol, a cord seemed to snap in his brain.
Tears rushed to his tired eyes, and, with a sharp cry, he
fell on his knees, grasping his companion's robe wildly,
as a drowning man grasps at a floating spar, while the
venerable Zuriel, startled at this action, stared down
upon him in evident amazement and terror.
"Rescue! Rescue!" he cried. "O thou blessed among
men! Thou dost wear the sign of eternal safety the
sign of the way, the truth, and the life! 'Without the
way there is no going, without the truth there is no
knowing, without the life there is no living!' Now do
I know thee for a saint in Al-Kyris, for thou dost openly
THE CRIMSON RIVER 355
avow thyself a follower of the divine faith that fools
despise and selfish souls repudiate. Ah! I do beseech
thee, thou good and holy man, absolve me of my sin of
unbelief ! Teach me help me and I will hear thy coun-
sels with the meekness of a listening child! See you, I
kneel! I pray! I, even I, am humiliated to the very dust
of shame! I have no pride; I seek no glory; I do entreat,
even as I once rejected, the blessing of the cross, where-
by I shall regain my lost love, my despised pardon, my
vanished peace!"
And with pathetic earnestness he raised his hands
toward the silver emblem, and touched it tenderly, rev-
erently. Then, as though unworthy, he bent his head
low and waited eagerly for a name, a name that he him-
self could not remember, a name suggested by the cross,
but not declared. If that name were once spoken in the
form of a benediction, he felt instinctively that he would
straightway be released from the mysterious spell of mis-
ery that bound his intelligence in such a grievous thrall.
But not a word of consolation did his companion utter.
On the contrary, he seemed agitated by the strangest
surprises and alarm.
"Now may all the gods in heaven defend thee, thou
unhappy, desperate, distracted soul!" he said in trem-
bling, affrighted accent. "Thou dost implore the blessing
of a faith unknown, a mystery predicted but not yet ful-
filled, a creed that shall not be declared to men for full
five thousand years!"
CHAPTER XI.
THE CRIMSON RIVER.
AT these unexpected words Theos sprang wildly to his
feet. An awful darkness seemed to close in upon him,
and a chaotic confusion of memories began to whirl and
drift through his mind like flotsam and jetsam tossed
upon a storm-swept sea. The aged and shadowy- looking
Zuriel stood motionless, watching him with something
of timid pity and mild patience.
"Five thousand years!" he muttered hoarsely, pressing
256 "ARDATH 11
his hands to his aching brows, while his eyes again fixed
themselves yearningly on the cross. "Five thousand
years before before what?"
He caught the old man's arm, and, in spite of him-
self, a laugh, wild, discordant, and out of keeping with
his inward emotions, broke from his parched lips. "Thou
doting fool," he cried, almost furiously. "Why dost
thou mock me, then, with this false image of a hope un-
realized? Who gave thee leave to add more fuel to my
flame of torment? What means this symbol to thine
eyes? Speak, speak! What admonition does it hold
for thee; what promise; what menace; what warning;
what love? Speak speak! Oh, shall I force confession
from thy throat or must I die unsatisfied and slain by
speechless longing! What didst thou say five thousand
years? Nay, by the gods, thou liest!" and he pointed
excitedly to the sacred emblem. "I tell thee that holy
sign is as familiar to my suffering soul as the chiming of
bells at sunset! as well known to my sight as the unfold-
ing of flowers in the fields of spring! What shall be
done or said of it, in five thousand years, that has not
already been said and done?"
Zuriel regarded him more compassionately than ever,
with a penetrating, mournful expression in his serious
dark eyes.
"Alas, alas, my son! thou art most grievously dis-
traught!'* he said in troubled tones. 'Thy words but
prove the dark disorder of thy wits. May Heaven soon
heal thee of thy mental wound! Restrain thy wild and
wandering fancies; for surely thou canst not be farriliar,
as thou sayest, with this silver symbol, seeing that it is
but the talisman* or badge of the Mystic Brethren o* Al-
Kyris, and has no signification whatsoever save for the
elect. It was designed some twenty years ago by the
inspired chief of our order, Khosrul, and such as are still
his faithful disciples wear it as a record and constant
reminder of its famous prophecy."
Theos heard, and a dull apathy stole over him. His
recent excitement died out under the chilling weight of
Vague yet bitter disappointment.
"And this prophecy?" he asked listlessly. "What is
its nature and whom doth it concern?"
* The cross was held in singular veneration in the temple of Serapis,
and by many tribes io the East, ages before the coming of Christ.
THE CRIMSON RIVER 257
c 'Nay, in very truth it is a strange and marvelous
thing!" replied Zuriel, his calm voice thrilling with a
mellow touch of fervor. "Khosrul, 'tis said, has heard
the angels whispering in Heaven, and his attentive ears
iiave caught the echo of their distant speech. Thus,
spiritually instructed, he doth powerfully predict salva-
tion for the human race, and doth announce, that in five
thousand years or more a God shall be moved by won-
drous mercy to descend from Heaven, and take the form
of man, wherein, unknown, despised, rejected, he will
live our life from commencement to finish, teaching,
praying, and sanctifying by his divine presence the whole
sin-burdened earth. This done, he will consent to suffer
a most cruel death, and the manner of his death will be
that he shall hang, nailed hands and feet to a cross, as
though he were a common criminal. His holy brows
shall be bound about with thorns, and after hours of
agony he, innocent of every sin, shall perish miserably,
friendless, unpitied, and alone. But afterward and
mark you! this is the chiefest glory of all he will rise
again triumphant from the grave to prove his Godhead,
and to convince mankind beyond all doubt and question
that there is indeed an immortal hereafter an actual
free eternity of life, compared with which this, our
transient existence, is a mere brief breathing space of
pause and probation, and then for evermore his sacred
name shall dominate and civilize the world "
"What name?" interrupted Theos with eager abrupt-
ness. "Canst thou pronounce it ?"
Zureil shook his head.
"Not I, my son," he answered gravely. "Not even
Khosrul can penetrate thus far ! The name of him who
is to come is hidden deep among God's unfathomed
silences! It should suffice thee that thou knowest now
the sum and substance of the prophecy. Would I might
live to see the days when all shall be fulfilled! But, alas!
my remaining years are few upon the earth, and Heaven's
time is not ours!"
He sighed, and resumed his slow pacing onward.
Theos walked beside him as a man may walk in sleep,
uncertainly and with unseeing eyes, his heart beating
loudly, and a sick sense of suffocation in his throat.
What did it all meant Had his life gone back in some
2j>3 "ARDATH"
strange way ; or had he merely dreamed of a former ex-
istence different to this one? He remembered now what
Sah-luma had told him respecting Khosrul's "new" theory
of a future religion a theory that to him had seemed so
old, so old! so utterly exhausted and worn threadbare!
In what a cruel problem was he hopelessly involved !
what a useless, perplexed, confused being he had be-
come! he who would once have staked his life on the
unflinching strength and capabilities of human reason!
After a pause:
"Forgive me!" he said in a low tone and speaking with
some effort, "forgive me and have patience with my lag-
gard comprehension. J am perplexed at heart and siow
of thought. Wilt thou assure me faithfully that this
God-Man thou speakest of is not yet born on earth?"
The faintest shadow of a wondering smile flickered
over the old man's wrinkled countenance, like the reflec-
tion of a passing taper- flame on a faded picture.
"My son, my son!" he murmured with compassionate
tolerance, "have I not told thee that jli'c .thousand ycurs
and more must pass away ere the prediction be accc m
plished? I marvel that so plain a truth should thus dis-
quiet thee! Now, by my soul, thou lookest pallid as the
dead! Come, let us hasten on more rapidly; thy faint-
ing spirits will revive in fresher air."
He hurried his pace as he spoke, and glided along with
such a curious, stealthy noiselessness that by and by
Theos began dubiously to wonder whether, after all, he
was real personage or a phantom. He noticed that his
own figure seemed to possess much more substantiality
and distinctness of outline than that of this mysterious
Zuriel, whose very garments resembled floating cloud
rather than actual woven fabric. Was his companion
then a flitting specter?
He smiled at the absurdity of the idea, and, to change
the drift of his own foolish fancies, he asked suddenly,
"Concerning this wondrous city of Al-Kyris is it of
very ancient days, and long lineage?"
"The annals of its recorded history reach over a f eriod
of twelve thousand years, 1 ' replied Zuriel; "but 'tis the
present fashion to count from the deification of Na^aya,
or the snake, and according to this we are new ,n the
pine hundred and eighty ninth year of so-called grace
THE CRIMSON RIVER 859
and knowledge: rather say dishonor and crime I for a
crueller, more bloodthirsty creed than the worship of
Nayaga never debased a people! Who shall number up
the innocent victims that have been sacrificed in the
great temple of the sacred Python! and even on this
very day which has just dawned, another holocaust is to
be offered on the veiled shrine, or so it hath been pub-
licly proclaimed throughout the city, and the crowd will
flock to see a virgin's blood spilt on the accursed altars
where Lysia, in all the potency of triumphant wicked-
ness, presides. But if the auguries of the stars prevail,
'twill be for the last time!" Here he paused and looked
fixedly at Theos, "Thou dost turn straightway to Sah-
luma, is it not so?"
Theos bent his head in assent.
"Art thou true friend, or mere flatterer to that spoiled
child of fair fame and fortune?"
"Friend!" cried Theos with eager enthusiasm; "I would
give my life to save his!"
"Ay verily? is it so?" and Zuriel's melancholy eyes
dwelt upon him with a strange and somber wistfulness.
"Then, as thou art a man, persuade him out of evil into
good! Rouse him to noble shame and nobler penitence
for all those faults which mar his poet-genius and de-
prive it of immortal worth! Urge him to depart from
Al-Kyris while there is yet time, ere the bolt of destruc-
tion falls! And mark you well this final warning! bid
him to-day avoid the temple and beware the king!"
As he said this, he stopped, and extinguished the lamp
he carried. There was no longer any need of it, for a
broad patch of gray light fell through an aperture in the
wall, showing a few rough steps that led upward, and,
pointing to these, he bade the bewildered Theos a kindly
farewell.
"Thou wilt find Sah-luma's palace easily," he said
"Not a child in the streets but knows the way thither.
Guard thy friend, and be thyself also on guard against
coming disaster; and if thou art not yet resolved to die,
escape from the city ere to night's sun-setting. Soothe
thy distempered fancies with thoughts of God, and cease
not to pray for thy soul's salvation ! Peace be with thee!"
He raised his hands with an expressive gesture of
benediction, and, turning round abruptly, disappeared.
"AXDATH"'
Where had he gone? how had he vanished? It was im-
possible to tell; he seemed to have melted away like a
mist into utter nothingness! Profoundly perplexed, Theos
ascended the steps before him, his mind anxiously re-
revolving all the strange adventures of the night, while a
dim sense of some unspeakable coming calamity brooded
darkly upon him.
The solemn admonitions he had just heard affected
him deeply, for the reason that they appeared to apply
so specially to Sah-luma; and the idea that any evil fate
was in store for the bright, beautiful creature, whom he
had, oddiy enough, learned to love more than himself,
moved him to an almost womanish apprehension. In
case of pressing necessity, could he exercise any authority
over the capricious movements of the willful laureate,
whose egotism was so absolute, whose imperious wayc
were so charming, whose commands were never ques-
tioned?
He doubted it! for Sah-Luma was accustomed to fol-
low the lead of his own immediate pleasure, in reckless
scorn of consequences, and it was not likely he would
listen to the persuasions or exhortations, however friendly,
of any one presuming to run counter to his wishes.
Again and again Theos asked himself: "If Sah-luma
of his own accord, and despite all warning, deliberately
rushed into deadly peril, could I, even loving him as 1
do, rescue him?" And as he pondered on this, a strange
answer shaped itself unbidden in his brain an answer
that seemed as though it were spoken aloud by some
interior voice : "No, no! ten thousand times no! You
could not save him any more than you could save your-
self from the results of your own misdoing! If you
voluntarily choose evil, not all the forces in the world
can lift you into good; if you voluntarily choose danger,
not all the gods can bring you into safety? Free will
is the divine condition attached to human life, and each
man by thought, word, and deed determines his own
fate, and decides his own future!"
He sighed despondingly; a curious, vague contrition
stirred within him j he felt as though he were, in some
mysterious way, to blame for all his poet-friend's short-
comings.
In a tew minutea he found himself on the broad mar
THE CRIMSON RIVER 26l
ble embankment, close to the very spot from whence he
had first beheld the beautiful high priestess sailing slowly
by in all her golden pomp and splendor; and as he
thought of her now, a shudder, half of aversion, half of
desire, quivered through him, flushing his brows with
the warm uprising blood that yet burned rebelliously at
the remembrance of her witching, perfect loveliness!
Here, too, he had met Sah-luma. Ah, Heaven! how
many things had happened since then! how much he
had seen and heard! Enough, at any rate, to convince
him that the men and women of Al-Kyris were inore or
less the same as those of other great cities he seemed
to have known in far-off, half-forgotten days; that they
plotted against each other, deceived each other, accused
each other falsely, murdered each other, and were fools,
traitors, and egotists generally, after the customary fash-
ion of human pigmies; that they set up a sham to serve
as religion, gold being their only god; that the rich
wantoned in splendid luxury, and willfully neglected the
poor; that the king was a showy profligate, ruled by a
treacherous courtesan, just like many other famous kings
and princes, who because, of their stalwart martial bear-
ing, and a certain surface good-nature, manage to con-
ceal their vices from the too-lenient eyes of the subjects
they mislead; and that, finally, all things were evidently
tending toward some great convulsion and upheaval,
possibly arising from discontent and dissension among
the citizens themselves, or, likelier still, from the sud-
den invasion of a foreign foe; for any more terrific ter-
mination of events did not just then suggest itself to his
imagination.
Absorbed in thought, he walked some paces along the
embankment, before he perceived that a number of peo-
ple were already assembled there men, women, and
children, who, crowding eagerly together to the very
edge of the parapet, appeared to be anxiously watching
the waters below.
What unusual sight attracted them? And why were
they all so silent, as though struck dumb by some un-
utterable dismay? One or two, raising their heads,
turned their pale, alarmed faces toward Theos as he ap-
proached, their eyes seeming to mutely inquire his opin-
ion concerning the alarming phenomenon which held
them thus spellbound and
262 "ARDATH"
He made his way quickly to where the)' stood, and,
looking where they looked, uttered a sharp, involuntary
exclamation. The river, the clear, rippling river, was red
as blood! Beneath the slowly breaking light of dawn,
that streaked the heavens with delicate lines of silver*
gray and daffodil, the whole visible length and breadth
of the heaving waters shone with a darkly flickering
crimson hue, deeper than the luster of the deepest ruby,
flowing sluggishly the while as though clogged with some
thick and weedy slime.
As the sky brightened gradually into a pale ethereal
blue, so the tide became ruddier and more pronounced in
color, and presently, as though seized by a resistless
panic, the group of staring, terrified bystanders broke
up suddenly, and rushed away in various directions, cov-
ering their faces as they fled, and uttering loud cries of
lamentation and despair.
Theos alone remained behind. Resting his folded
arms on the sculptured balustrade, he gazed down, down
into those crimson depths till their strange tint dazzled
and confused his sight; looking up for relief to the east-
ern horizon, where the sun was just bursting out in full
splendor from a pavilion of violet cloud, the red reflec-
tion was still before his eyes, so much so that the very
air seemed flushed with spreading fire.
And then, like the sound of a tocsin ringing in his
ears, the words of the prophet Khosrul, as pronounced
in the presence of the king, recurred to his memory with
new and suggestive force: ".Blood blood! 'tis a scarlet
sea wherein like a broken and empty ship Al-Kyr is founders
founders never to rise again!"
Still painfully oppressed by an increasing sense of some
swift-approaching disaster, his thoughts once more re-
verted anxiously to Sah-luma. He must be warned, yes!
even if he disdained all warning! Yet warn him against
what? " Bid him avoid the temple and beware the king!"
So had said Zuriel the mystic; but to the laureled
favorite of the monarch and idol of the people such an
admonition would seem more than absurd! It was use-
less to talk to him about the prophecies of Khosrul; he
had heard them all, and laughed them to scorn.
"How can I," then mused Theos disconsolately "how
can I make him believe that some undeclared evil threat-
THE CRIMSON RIVER 2Oj
ens him, when he is at the very pinnacle of fame and
fortune, with all Al-Kyris at his feet? He would never
listen to me, nor would any persuasion of mine induce
him to leave the. city where his name is so glorious and
his renown so firmly established. Of Lysia's treachery
I may perhaps convince him; yet even in this attempt
I may fail, and incur his hatred for my pains! If I had
only myself to consider!" And here his reflections sud-
denly took a strange turn. If he had only himself to
consider well, what then? Was it not just within the
bounds of probability that, under the same circumstances,
he might ba precisely as self-willed and as haughtily
opinionated as the friend whose arrogance he deplored
yet could not alter?
So pointed a suggestion was not exactly suited to his
immediate humor, and he felt curiously vexed with him-
self for indulging in such a foolish association of ideas!
The positions were entirely different, he argued, angrily
addressing the troublesome inward monitor that every now
and then tormented him. There was no resemblance what-
ever between himself, the unknown, unfamed wanderer
in a strange land, and the brilliant Sah-luma, chosen
poet laureate of the realm!
No resemblance none at all ! he reiterated over and
over again in his own mind, except except well ! ex-
cept in perhaps a few trifling touches of character and
temper that were scaicely worth the noting! At this
juncture, his uncomfortable reverie was interrupted by
the sound of a harsh metallic voice close behind
him.
"What fools there are in the world!" said the voice, in
emphatic accents of supreme contempt. "What braying
asses! What earth-snouting swine! Saw you not yon
crowd of whimpering idiots flying helter-skelter, like
chaff before the wind, weeping, wailing, and bemoaning
their miserable little sins, scattering dust on their addled
pates, and howling on their gods for mercy, all, forsooth,
because for once in their unobserving lives they behold
the river red instead of green! Ay me! 'tis a thing to
laugh at, this crass and brutish ignorance of the multi-
tude; no teaching will ever cleanse their minds from the
cobwebs of vulgar superstition; and I, in common with
every wise and worthy sage of sound repute and knowl-
264 "ARDATH"
edge, must needs waste all my scientific labors on a per-
petually ungrateful public!"
Turning hastily round, Theos confronted the speaker,
a tall, spare man with a pale, clean-shaven, intellectual
face, small, shrewd, speculative eye, and very straight,
neatly parted locks a man on whose every lineament was
expressed a profound belief in himself, and an equally pro-
found scorn for the opinions of any one who might pos-
sibly presume to disagree with him. He smiled con-
descendingly as he met Theos' half-surprised, half-in-
quiring look, and saluted him with a gravely pompous
air, which, however, was not without a saving touch of
that indescribable easy grace which seemed to distin-
guish the manners of all the inhabitants of Al-Kyris.
Theos returned the salutation with equal gravity, where-
upon the new-comer, waving his hand majestically, con-
tinued:
"You, sir, I see, are young, and probably you are en-
rolled among the advanced students of one or other of oui
great collegiate institutions ; therefore the peculiar,
though not at all unnatural, tint of the river this morn-
ing is of course no mystery to you, if, as I presume, you
follow the scientific classes of instruction in the physi-
ology of nature, the manifestation of simple and complex
motive force, and the perpetual evolution of atoms?"
Theos smiled. The grandiloquent manner of this self-
important individual amused him.
"Most worthy sir," he replied, "you form too favor-
able an opinion of my scholarly attainments! I am a
stranger in Al-Kyris, and know naught of its educational
system, or the interior mechanism of its wondrous civiliza-
tion! I come from far-off lands, where, if I remember
rightly, much is taught and but little retained, where
petty pedagogues persist in dragging new generations of
men through old and worn-out ruts of knowledge that
future ages shall never have need of; and concerning
even the progress of science I confess to a certain in-
credulity, seeing that, to my mind, science somewhat
resembles a straight line drawn clear across country, but
leading, alas! to an ocean wherein all landmarks are lost
and swallowed up in blackness. Over and over again
the human race has trodden the same pathway of re-
search, and over and over again lias it stood bewildered
THE CRIMSON RIVER 265
and baffled on the shores of the same vast sea. The most
marvelous discoveries are, after all, mere child's play
compared to the tremendous secrets that must remain
forever unrevealed ; and the poor arid trifling comprehen-
sion of things that we, after a lifetime of study, suc-
ceed in attaining is only just sufficient to add to our
already burdened existence the undesirable clogs of dis-
content and disappointed endeavor. We die in almost
as much ignorance as we were born, and when we come
face to face with the last dark mystery, what shall our
little wisdom profit us?"
With his arms folded in an attitude of enforced patience
and complacent superiority, the other listened.
"Curious, curious!" he murmured in a mild sotto
voce. "A would-be pessimist! ay, ay, 'tis very greatly
the fashion for young men in these days to assume the
manner of elderly and exhausted cynics who have tried
everything and approve of nothing! 'Tis a strange craze!
But, my good sir, let us keep to the subject at present
under discussion. Like all unripe philosophers, you
wander from the point. I did not ask you for your opin-
ion concerning the uselessness or the efficiency of learn-
ring; I merely sought to discover whether you, like the
silly throng that lately scattered right and left of you,
had any foolish foreboding respecting the transformed
color of this river a color which, however seeming-pe-
culiar, arises, as all good scholars know, from causes that
are perfectly simple and easily explainable "
Theos hesitated: his eyes wandered involuntarily to
the flowing tide, which now, with the fully risen sun,
seemed more than ever brilliant and lurid in its sanguinary
hue.
"Strange things have been said of late concerning Al-
Kyris, " he answered at last, slowly and after a thought-
ful pause. "Things that, though wild and vague, are
not without certain dark presages and ominous sugges-
tions. This crimson flood may be, as you say, the nat-
ural effect of purely natural causes; yet, notwithstanding
this, it seems to me a singular phenomenon nay, never
a wisrd and almost fatal augury!"
His companion laughed a gentle, careless laugh of
amused disdain.
"Phenomenon! augury!" he exclaimed, shrugging his
a66 "ARDATH"
shoulders lightly. "These words, my young friend, are
terms that nowadays belong exclusively to the vocabu-
lary of the uneducated masses ; we and by we 1 mean
scientists and men of the highest culture have long ego
rejected them as unmeaning and therefore unnecessary.
Phenomenon is a particularly vile expression, serving
merely to designate anything wonderful and uncommon;
whereas, to the scienific eye, there is nothing left in the
world that ought to excite so vulgar and barbarous an
emotion as wonder; nothing so apparently rare that can
not be reducsd at once from the ignorant exaggerations
of enthusiasm to the sensible level of the commonplace!
The so-called 'marvels' of nature have, thanks to the ad-
vancement of practical education, entirely ceased to affect
by either surprise or admiration the carefully matured,
mathematically adjusted, and technically balanced brain
of the finished student or professor of organic evolution;
and as for the idea of 'auguries' or portents, nothing
could well be more entirely at variance with our present
system of progressive learning, whereby human reason
is trained and taught to pulverize into indistinguishable
atoms all supernatural propositions, and to gradually
eradicate from the mind the absurd notion of a Deity or
deities, whom it is necessary to propitiate in order to
live well. Much time is, of course, required to elevate
the multitude above all desire for a religion; but the
seed has been sown, and the harvest will be reaped, and
a glorious era is fast approaching, when free-thinking,
free speaking people of all nations shall govern them-
selves and rejoice in the grand and godless light of uni-
versal liberty!"
Somewhat heated by the fervor of his declamatory
utterance, he passed his hand among his straight locks ;
whether to cool his forehead, or to show off the numer-
ous jeweled rings on his fingers, it was difficult to say,
and continued more calmly:
"No, young sir! the color of this river a color which
I willingly admit resembles the tint of flowing human
blood has naught to do with foolish omens and fore-
casts of evil. 'Tis simply caused by the influx of some
foreign alluvial matter, probably washed down by storm
from the sides of the distant mountains whence these
waters have their rising. See you not how the tide is
THE CRIMSON RIVER 267
thick and heavy with an unfloatable cargo of red sand?
Some sudden disturbance of the soil, or a volcanic move-
ment underneath the ocean, or even a distant earthquake
any of these may be the reason."
"May be? Why not say must be," observed Theos
half ironically, "since learning makes you sure?"
His companion pressed the tips of his fingers delicately
together, as though blandly deprecating this observa-
tion.
"Nay, nay! none of us, however wise, can say 'must
be,'" he argued suavely. "It is not, strictly speaking,
possible in this world to pronounce an incontestable cer-
tainty. "
"Not even that two and two are four?" suggested
Theos, smiling.
"Not even that!" replied the other with perfect gravity,
"Inasmuch as in the kingdom of Hypharus, whose bor-
ders touch ours, the inhabitants, also highly civilized, do
count their quantities by a totally different method ; and
to them two and two are not four, the numbers two and
four not being included in their system of figures. Thus,
a professor from the colleges of Hypharus could obsti-
nately deny what to us seems the plainest fact known to
common sense; yet were I to argue against him I should
never persuade him out of his theory, nor could he move
me one jot from mine. And viewed from our different
standpoints, therefore, the first simple multiplication of
numbers could never be proved correct beyond all ques-
tion!"
Theos glanced at him in wonder. The man must be
mad, he thought, since surely any one in his senses
could see that two objects placed with other two must
necessarily make four!
"I confess you surprise me greatly, sir!" he said, and,
in spite of himself, a little quiver of laughter shook his
voice. "What I asked was by way of jest, and I never
thought to hear so simple a subject treated with so much
profound and almost doubting seriousness! See!" and
he picked up four small stones from the roadway. "Count
these one by one; how many have you? Surely even a
professor from Hypharus could find no more and no less
than four? '
Very deliberately, and with unruffled equanimity, the
268 "ARDATH 1 *
other took the pebbles in his hand, turned Ihem ovei
and over, and finally placed them in a row on the edge
of the blaustrade near which he stood.
"There seem to be four," he then observed placidly,
"but I would not swear to it, nor to anything else of
which the actuality is only supported by the testimony
of my own eyas and sense of touch."
"Good heavens, man!" cried Theos, in amazement,
"but a moment since, you were praising the excellence
of reason, and the progressive system of learning that
was to educate human beings into a contempt for the
supernatural and spiritual, and yet almost in the same
breath you tell ma you cannot rely on the evidence of
your own senses ! Was there ever anything more utterly
incoherent and irrational!"
And he flung the pebbles into the redly flowing
river with a gesture of irritation and impatience. The
scientist, if scientist he could be called, gazed at him
abstractedly, and stroked his well-shaven chin with a
somewhat dejected air. Presently heaving a deep sigh,
he said:
"Alas, I have again betrayed myself ! 'tis my fatal des-
tiny! Always by some unlooked-for mischance I am
compelled to avow what most I desire to conceal! Can
you not understand, sir," and he laid his hand persua-
sively on Theos' arm, "that a theory may be one thing
and one's own private opinion another? My theory is
my professsion. I live by it! Suppose I resigned it
well, then I should also have to resign my present posi-
tion in the Royal Institution College, my house, my
servants, and my income. I advance the interests of
pure human reason, because the age has a tendency to
place reason as the first and highest attribute of man,
and it would not pay me to pronounce my personal pref-
erence for the natural and vastly superior gift of intel-
lectual instinct. 1 advise my scholars to become atheists,
because I perceive they have a positive passion for athe-
ism, and it is not my business, nor would it be to my
advantage, to interfere with the declared predilections
of my wealthiest patrons. Concerning my own ideas
on these matters, they are absolutely nil. I have no fixed
principles, because," and his brows contracted in a puz-
zled line, "it is entirely out of my ability to fix any
THE CRIMSON RIVER 269
thing! The whole world of manners and morals is in a
state of perpetual ferment and consequent change; equally
restless and mutable is the world of nature, for at any
moment mountains may become plains, and plains mount-
tains; the dry land may be converted into oceans, and
oceans into dry land, and so on forever. In this incessant
shifting of the various particles that make up the uni-
verse, how can you expect a man to hold fast to so unsta-
ble a thing as an idea? And, respecting the testimony
offered by sight and sense, can you rely upon such slip-
pery evidence?"
Theos moved uneasily; a slight shiver ran through hik.
veins, and a momentary dizziness seized him, as of ont
who, gazing down from some lofty mountain peak, see*
naught below but the white, deceptive blankness of n
mist that veils the deeper deathful chasms from his eyes.
Coald he rely on sight and sense; dared he take oath
that these frail guides of his intelligence could never be
deceived? Doubtfully he mused on this, while his c^m-
panion continued:
"For example, I look an arm's length into space; my
eyes assure me that I might behold nothing save empty
air; my touch corroborates the assertion of my eyes,
and yet science proves to me that every inch 01 that
arm's length of supposed blank space is rilled with thou-
sands of minute living organisms that no human vision
shall ever be able to note or examine! Wonder not,
therefore, that I decline to express absolute confidence
in any fact, however seemingly obvious, such as tnat two
and two are four, and that I prefer to say the blood-red
color of this river may be caused by an earth-tremor or
a land-slip, rather than positively assert that it must
be so; though I confess that, as far as my knowledge
guides me, 1 incline to the belief that 'must be' is, in
this instance, the correct term."
He sighed again, arid rubbed his nose perplexedly.
Theos glanced at him curiously, uncertain whether to
laugh at or pity him.
"Then the upshot of all your learning, sir," he said,
"is that one can never be quite certain of anything?"
"Exactly so!" replied the pensive sage with a grave
shake of his head. "Judged by the very finest lines of
metaphysical argument, you cannot really be sure whether
"ARDATH*
you behold in me a person or a phantasm! You think you
see me I think I see you, but after all it is only an
impression mutually shared an impression which, like
many another, less distinct, may be entirely erroneous!
Ah, my dear young sir! education is advancing at a very
rapid rate, and the art of close analysis is reaching such
a pitch of perfection that I believe we shall soon be able
logically to prove, not only that we do not actually ex-
ist, but moreover that we never have existed! And here-
in, as I consider, will be the final triumph of philoso-
phy!"
"A poor triumph!" murmured Theos wearily. "What,
in such a case, would become of all the nobler sentiments
and passions of man love, hope, gratitude, duty, am-
bition?"
"They would be precisely the same as before," re-
joined the other complacently; "only we should have
learned to accept them merely as the means whereby to
sustain the impression that we live an impression which
would always be agreeable, however delusive!"
Theos shrugged his shoulders. "You possess a pecu
liarly constituted mind, sir," he said, "and I congratu-
late you on the skill you display in following out a some-
what puzzling investigation to almost its last hair-
breadth of a conclusion; but, pardon me, I should scarcely
think the discussion of such debatable theories conducive
to happiness."
"Happiness!" and the scientist smiled scornfully. "'Tis
a fool's term, and designates a state of being that can
only pertain to foolishness! Show me a perfectly happy
man, and I will show you an ignorant witling, light-
headed, hard-hearted, and of a most powerfully good
digestion! Many such there be now wantoning among
us, and the head and chief of them all is perhaps the
most popular numskull in Al-Kyris the poet bah! let
us say the braying jackass in office, the laureled Sah-
luma!"
Theos gave an indignant start, the hot color flushed
his brows; then he restrained himself by an effort.
"Control the fashion of your speech, I pray you, sir!"
he said, with excessive haughtiness. "The noble lau-
reate is my friend and host. I suffer no man to use his
name unworthily in my presence!"
THE CRIMSON RIVER 271
The sage drew back, and spread out his hands in a
pacifying manner.
"Oh, I crave your pardon, good stranger!" he mur-
mured, with a kind of apologetic satire in his acrid
voice. "I crave it most abjectly. Yet, to somewhat
excuse the hastiness of my words, I would explain that
a contempt for poets is now universal among persons of
profound enlightenment and practical knowledge "
"I am aware of it!" interrupted Theos swiftly and with
passion; "I am aware that so-called 'wise' men, rooted
in narrow prejudice, with a smattering of even narrower
logic, presume, out of their immeasurable littleness, to
decry and make mock cf the truly great, who, thanks to
God's unpurchasable gift of inspiration, can do without
the study of books or the teaching of pedants; who flare
through the world flame-winged and full of song, like
angels passing heavenward, and whose voices, rich with
music, not only sanctify the by-gone ages, but penetrate
with echoing, undying sweetness the ages still to come!
Contempt for poets! Ay, 'tis common! the petty, boast-
ful pedagogues of surface learning ever look askance on
these kings in exile, these emperors masked, these gods
disguised! But humiliated, condemned, or rejected, they
are still the supreme rulers of the human heart, and a
love-ode, chanted in the long-ago by one such fire-lip-
ped minstrel, outlasts the history of many kingdoms!"
He spoke with rapid, almost unconscious fervor, and,
as he ended, raised one hand with an enthusiastic gesture
toward the now brilliant sapphire sky and glowing sun.
The scientist looked at him furtively and smiled a
bland, expostulatory smile.
"Oh, you are young! you must be very young!" he said
forbearingly. "In a little time you will grow out of all
this ill-judged fanaticism for, an art, the pursuance of
which is really only wasted labor! Think of the ab-
surdity of it! what can be more foolish than the writing
of verse to express or to encourage emotion in the hu-
man subject, when the great aim of education at the
present day is to carefully eradicate emotion by degrees,
till we succeed in completely suppressing it? An out-
burst of feeling is always vulgar the highest culture con-
sists in being impassively equable of temperament, and
absolutely indifferent to the attacks of either ioy or sor-
272 "AkOATH"
row. I should be inclined to ask you to consider this
matter more seriously, and from the strictly common
sense point of view, did I not know that for you to un-
dertake a course of useful meditation while you remain
in Sah-luma's companionship would be. impossible quite
impossible! Nevertheless our discourse has been so far
interesting, that I shall be happy to meet you again and
give you an opportunity for further converse should you
desire it. Ask for the head professor of scientific posi
tivism, any day in the Stranger's Court of the Royal In-
stitutional College, and I will at once receive you! My
name is Mira-Khabur Professor Mira-Khabur at your
service!"
And laying one hand on his breast he bowed profoundly.
"A professor of positivism who is himself never pos-
itive!" observed Theos with a slight smile.
"Ah, pardon!" returned the other gravely. "On the
contrary, I am always positive of the ^wpositiveness
of positivism!"
And with this final vindication of his theories he made
another stately obeisance and went his way. Theos looked
after his tall, retreating figure, half in sadness, half in
scorn. This proudly incompetent, learned-ignorant Mira-
Khabur was no uncommon character. Surely there were
many like him !
Somewhere in the world, somewhere in far lands of
which the memory was now as indistinct as the outline
of receding shores blurred by a faling mist, Theos seemed
painfully to call to mind certain cold blooded casuists
he had known, who had attempted to explain away the
mysteries of life and death by rule and line calculations,
and who for no other reason than their mathematically
argued denial of God's existence had gained for them-
selves a temporary spurious celebrity. Yes! surely he had
met such men but where? Realizing, with a sort of
shock, that he was quite as much in the dark as ever
with regard to any real cognizance of his former place of
abode and the manner of life he must have led before
he entered this bewildering city of Al-Kyris, he roused
himself abruptly, and resolutely banishing the heavy
thoughts that threatened to oppress his soul, he began
without further delay to direct his steps toward San
luma's palace,
THE CRIMSdN RIVER 273
He glanced once more at the river before leaving
the embankment; it was still blood-red, and every
now and then between the sluggish ripples, multi-
tudes of dead fish could be seen drifting along in shoals,
and tangled in nets of slimy weed, that at a little dis-
tance looked like the floating tresses of drowned women.
It was an uncanny sight, and though it might certainly
be, as the wise Mira Khabur had stated, the purely
natural effect of purely natural causes, still those natural
causes were not as yet explained satisfactorily. An earth-
quake or a landslip would perhaps account sufficiently
for everything, but then an inquiring mind would desire
to know where the earthquake or landslip occurred, and
also why these supposed far-off disturbances should thus
curiously affect the rivers surrounding Al-Kyris. An-
swers to such questions as these were not forthcoming
either from Professor Mira-Khabur or any other saga-
cious pundit; and Theos was, therefore, still most illog-
ically and unscientifically puzzled, as well as supersti-
tiously uneasy.
Turning up a side street, he quickened his pace in
order to overtake a young vendor of wines whom he pre-
ceived sauntering along in front of him, balancing a flat
tray, loaded with thin crystal flasks, on his head. How
gloriously the sunshine quivered through those delicately
tinted glass bottles, lighting up the glittering liquid con-
tained , within them! Why, they looked more like soap-
bubbles than anything else! and the boy who carried
them moved with such a lazy, noiseless grace that he
might have been taken for a dream-sylph rather than a
human being!
"Hold, my lad!" called Theos, running after him.
"Tell me, is this the way to the palace of the king's
laureate?"
The youth looked up what a beautiful creature he
was, with his brilliant dark eyes and dusky-warm com-
plexion!
"Why ask for the king's laureate?" he demanded
v/ith a pretty scorn. "The people's Sah-luma lives yon-
der!" and he pointed to a mass of towering palms
from whose close and graceful frondage a white dome
rose glistening in the clear air. "Our poet's fame is
not the outgrowth of a mere king's favor; 'tis the glad
274 "ARDATH*
and willing tribute of the nation's love and praise! A
truce to monarchs! they will soon be at a discount in Al-
Kyris!"
And with a flashing glance of defiance, and a saucy
smile, he passed on, easily sauntering as before.
"A budding republican!" thought Theos amusedly, as
he pursued his course in the direction indicated. "That
is how the 'liberty, equality, fraternity' system always
begins first among the street boys who think they ought
to be gentlemen, then among shopkeepers who persuade
themselves that they deserve to be peers; then comes a
time of topsy-turvydom and fierce contention, and by-and-
by everything gets shaken together again in the form
of a republic, wherein the street boys and shopkeepers
are not a whit better off than they were under a mon-
archy they become neither peers nor gentlemen, but stay
exactly in their original places, with the disadvantage oi
finding their trade decidedly damaged by the change
that has occurred in the national economy! Strange
that the inhabitants of this world should make such a
fuss about resisting tyranny and oppression, when each
particular individual man, by custom and usage, tyran-
nizes over and oppresses his fellow man to an extent that
would be simply impossible to the fiercest kings!"
Thus meditating, a few steps more brought him to the
entrance of Sah-luma's princely abode. The gates stood
wide open, and a pleasant murmur of laughter and soft
singing floated toward him across the splendid court
where the great fountains were tossing up to the bright
sky their straight, glistening columns of snowy spray.
He listened, and his heart leaped with an intense relief
and joy Sah-luma, the beloved Sah-luma, was evidently
at home and as yet unharmed; these mirthful sounds
betokened that all was well. The vague trouble and
depression that had weighed upon his soul for hours
now vanished completely, and hastening along, he sprang
lightly up the marble stairs, and into the rainbow col-
ored, spacious hall, where the first person he saw was
Zabastes the critic.
"Ah, good Zabastes!" he cried gayly, "where is thy
master Sah-luma? Has he returned in safety?"
"In safety?" croaked Zabastes with an accent of ironic
surprise. ''To be sure! Is be a baby in swaddling
THE CRIMSON RIVER
clothes that he cannot be trusted out alone to take care
of himself? In safety? ay! I warrant you he is safe
enough, and silly enough, and lazy enough to please any
one of his idiot flatterers. Moreover, my 'master'" and
he emphasized this word with indescribable bitterness
"hath slept as soundly as a swine, and hath duly
bathed with the punctiliousness of a conceited swan,
and being suitably combed, perfumed, attired, and
throned as becomes his dainty puppetship. is now con-
descending to partake of vulgar food in the seclusion of
his own apartment. Go thither and you shall find his
verse-stringing mightiness nobly enshrined as a god
among a worshiping crowd of witless maidens; he
hath inquired for you many times, which is somewhat
of a wonder, seeing that as a rule he concerns his mind
with naught save himself! Furthermore, he is graciously
pleased to be in a manner solicitous on behalf of the
maiden Niphrata, who hath suddenly disappeared from
the household, leaving no message to explain the causes
of her evanishment. Hast seen her? No?" and the
old man thumped his stick petulantly on the floor as Theos
shook his head in the negative. "Tis the only feminine
creature I ever had patience to speak with, a modest
wench and a gentle one, and were it not for her idola-
trous adoration of Sah-luma, she would be fairly sensible
withal. No matter! she has gene; everything goes, even
good women, and nothing ]asts save felly, of which there
shall surely never be an end!"
Here, apparently conscious that he had shown more
feeling in speaking of Niphrata than was usual with him,
he looked up impatiently and waved his staff toward
Sah-luma' s study: "In, in, boy! In to the chief of poets
and prince of egotists! He waits your service; he is all
agape and thirsty for more flattery and delicate cajole-
ment; stuff him with praise, good youth! and who knows
but a portion of his mantle may descend on you hereafter
and make of you as conceited and pretty a bantling bard
for the glory of proud posterity!"
And chuckling audibly, he hobbled down a side pas-
sage, while Theos, half angry, half amused, crossed
the hall quickly,and arrived at the door of the laureate's
private sanctum, where, gently drawing aside the silken
draperies, he looked in for a moment without being
276 "ARDATH"
himself perceived. What a picture he beheld! How
perfect in every shade of color, in every line of detail!
Sah-luina, reclining in a quaintly carved ebony chair,
was toying with the fruit and wine set out before him
on an ivory and gold stand; his dress, simpler than it
had been on the previous evening, was of fine white linen
gathered loosely about his classic figure; he wore neither
myrtle wreath nor jewels; the expression of his face was
serious, even noble, and his attitude was one of languid
grace and unstudied ease that became him infinitely well.
The maidens of his household waited near him ; some
of them held flowers; one, kneeling at a small lyre, seemed
just about to strike a few chords, when Sah-luma silenced
her by a light gesture:
"Peace, Zoralin!" he said softly, "I cannot listen; thou
hast not my Niphrata's tenderness!"
Zoralin, a beautiful dark girl, with hair as black as
night and eyes that looked as though they held sup-
presssed yet ever burning fire, let her hands instantly
drop from the instrument, and sighing, shrank back a
little in abashed silence. At that moment Theos ad-
vanced, and the laureate sprang up delightedly:
"Ah, at last, my friend!" he cried, enthusiastically
clasping him by both hands, "where, in the name of the
gods, hast thou been roaming? How did we part? By
my soul, I forget! but no matter! thou art here once
more, and as I live, we will not separate again so easily!
My noble Theos!" and he threw one arm round his neck,
"I have missed thee more than I can tell, these past few
hours. Thou dost seem so sympathetically conjoined
with me, that verily I think I am but half myself in thine
absence! Come, sit thee down and break thy fast! I
almost feared thou hadst met with some mischance on
thy way hither, and that I should have had to sally
forth and rescue thee again even as I did yesternoon!
Say, hast thou occupied thyself with so much friendly
consideration on my behalf as I have on thine?"
He laughed gayly as he spoke, and Theos, looking
into his bright, beautiful face, was, for a moment, too
deeply moved by his own strange inward emotions to
utter a word in reply. Why did he love Sah-luma so
ardently? he wondered. Why was it that every smile
on that proud mouth, every glance of those flashing eyes.
WASTED PASSION 277
possessed such singular, overwhelming fascination for
him? He could not tell, but he readily yielded to the
magic influence of his friend's extraordinary attractive-
ness, and sitting down beside him in the azure light
and soft fragrance of his regal apartment, he experinced
a sudden sense of rest, satisfaction, and completeness,
such as may be felt by a man at one with himself, and
with all the world !
CHAPTER XII.
WASTED PASSION.
THE assembled maidens had retired modestly into the
background, while the laureate had thus joyously greeted
his returned guest; but now, at a signal from their lord,
they again advanced, and taking up the glittering dishes
of fruit and the flasks of wine, proffered them in turn to
Theos with much deferential grace and courtesy. He
was by no means slow in responding to the humble atten-
tions of these fair ones; there was a sort of deliciously
dreamy enchantment in being waited upon by such ex-
quisitely lovely creatures! The passing touch of their
little white hands that supported the heavy golden salvers
seemed to add new savor to the luscious fare; the tim-
orous fire of their downcast eyes, softly sparkling through
the veil of their long lashes, gave extra warmth to the
ambrosial wine, and he could not refrain from occasion-
ally whispering a .tender flattery or delicate compliment
in the ear of one or other of his sylph- like servitors,
though they all appeared curiously unmoved by his
choicely worded adulation. Now and then a pale, flicker-
ing blush or sudden smile brightened their faces, but for
the most part they maintained a demure and serious
demeanor, as though possessed by the very spirit of in-
vincible reserve. With Sah-luma it was otherwise; they
hovered about him like butterflies round a rose, a thou-
sand wistful, passionate glances darted upon him when
he, unconscious or indifferent, apparently saw nothing;
many a deep, involuntary sigh was stifled quickly ere it
could escape the rosy lips whose duty it was to wreathe
278 "ARDATH"
themselves with smiles, and Theos noticing these things
thought :
"Heavens! how this man is loved! and yet, he, out
of all men, is perhaps the most ignorant of love's true
meaning !"
Scarcely had this reflection entered his mind than he
became bitterly angry with himself for having indulged
in it. How recreant, how base an idea! how incompat-
ible with the adoring homage he felt for his friend!
What ! Sah-luma, a poet, whose songs of love were so
perfect, so wildly sweet and soul entrancing he, to be
ignorant of love's true meaning? Oh, impossible! and a
burning flush of shame rose to Theos' brow shame that
he could have entertained such a blasphemy against his
idol for a moment! Then that curious, vague, soft con-
trition he had before experienced stole over him once
again, a sudden moisture filled his eyes and, turning ab-
ruptly toward his host, he held out his own just filled
goblet:
"Drink we the loving-cup together, Sah-luma!" he
said, and his voice trembled a little with its own deep
tenderness. "Pledge me thy faith as I do pledge thee
mine! And, for to-day at least, let me enjoy thy boon
companionship; who knows how soon we may be forced
to part forever!" And he breathed the last word softly
with a faint sigh.
Sah-luma looked at him with an expressive glance of
bright surprise.
"Part?" he exclaimed joyously; "nay, not we, my
friend! Not till we find each other tiresome, not till we
prove that our spirits, like over mettlesome steeds, do
chafe and fret one another too rudely in the harness of
custom ; wherefore then, and then only, 'twill be time
to break loose at a gallop, and seek each one a wider
pasture land! Meanwhile, here's to thee! :f and bending
his handsome head, he readily drank a deep draught of
the proffered wine. "May all the gods hold fast our bond
of friendship!"
And with a graceful salute he returned the jeweled cup
half empty. Theos at once drained off what yet remained
within it, and then, leaning more confidentially over the
laureate's chair, he whispered:
"Hast thou in very truth forgotten thy rashness of last
WASTED PASSION 379
night, Sah-luma? Surely thou must guess how unquiet
I have been concerning thee! Tell me, was thy hot pur-
suit in vain, or didst thou discover the king?"
"Peace!" and a quick frown darkened the smooth
beauty of S?.h-luma's face as he grasped Theos' arm hard
to warn him into silence; then forcing a smile, he an-
swered in the same low tone, "'Twas not the king; it
could not be! Thou wert mistaken."
"Nay, but," persisted Theos gently, "convince me of
mine error! Didst thou overtake and steadily confront
yon armed and muffled stranger?"
"Not I!" and Sah-luma shrugged his shoulders petu-
lantly. "Sleep fell upon me suddenly when I left thee,
and methinks I must have wandered home like a shad-
ow in a dream! Was I not drunk last night? Ay! and
so in likelihood wert thou! Little could we be trusted
to recognize either king or clown!" He laughed, then
added, "Nevertheless, I tell thee once again 'twas not
the king. His majesty hath too much at stake to risk
so dangerous a pleasantry!"
Theos heard, but he was dissatisfied and ill at ease;
Sah-luma's careless contentment increased his own dis-
quietude. Just then a curious,looking personage entered
the apartment; a gray-haired, dwarfish negro, who car-
ried slung across his back a large bundle, consisting of
several neatly rolled up pieces of linen, one of which he
presently detached from the rest, and set down before
the laureate, who in return gave him a silver coin, at the
game time asking jestingly:
"Is the news worth paying for to day, Zibya; or is it
the same ill-written, clumsy chronicle of trumpery com-
monplace events?"
Zibya, slipping the coin he had received into a wide
leathern pouch which hung from his girdle, appeared to
meditate a moment, then he replied:
"If the truth must be told, most illustrious, there is
nothing whatever to interest the minds of the cultured.
The cheap scribes of the Daily Circular cater chiefly for
the mob, and do all in their power to foster morbid qual-
ities of disposition and murderous tendencies among the
lower orders; hence, though there is nothing in the news-
sheet pertaining to literature or the fine arts, there is
much concerning the sudden death of the young sculptor
280 "ARDATH"
Nir-jalis, whose body was found flung on the banks of
the river this morning."
Theos started. Sah-luma listened with placid indiffer-
ence. "'Tis a case of self-slaughter," pursued Zibya
chattily, "or so say the wise writers who are supposed to
know everything self-slaughter committed during a state
of temporary insanity! Well, well! I myself would have
had a different opinion."
"And a sagacious one, no doubt!" interrupted Sah-
luma coldly, and with a dangerous flash as of steel in his
eyes; "but be advised, good Zibya! give thine .opinion
no utterance!"
The -old negro shrank back nervously, making numer-
ous apologetic gestures, and waited in abashed silence
till the laureate's features regained their wonted soft
serenity. Then he ventured to speak again, though not
without a little hesitation.
"Concerning the topics of the hour," he murmured
timorously, "my lord is perhaps not aware that the river
itself is a subject of much excited discussion, the water
having changed to a marvelous blood-color during the
night, which singular circumstance hath caused a great
panic among the populace. Even now as I passed by
the embankment, the crowd there was thick as a hive of
swarming bees!"
He paused, but Sah-luma made no remark, and he
continued more glibly: "Also, to-day's Circular contains
the full statement of the king's reward for the capture
of the prophet Khosrul, and the formal programme of
the sacrificial ceremonial announced to take place this
evening in the Temple of Nagaya. All is set forth in
the fine words of the petty public scribes, who needs
must make as much as possible out of little, and there is
likewise a so-called fac-simile of the king's signature,
which will naturally be of supreme interest to the vulgar.
Furthermore, it is proclaimed that a grand combat of
wild beasts in the royal arena will follow immediately
after the service in the temple is concluded; methinks
none will go to bed early, seeing there is so full a list
of amusements!"
He paused again, somewhat out of breath, And Sah-
luma meanwhile unrolled the linen scroll he had pur-
chased, which measured about twenty-four inches in
WASTED PASSION 28l
length and twenty in width. Carefully ruled black and
red lines divided it into nearly the same number of col-
umns as those on the page of an ordinary newspaper,
and it was covered with close writing, here and there
embellished by bold, profusely ornamented headings.
One of these, "Death of the Sculptor Nir-jalis, " seemed
to burn into Theos' brain like letters of fire. How was
it, he wondered, that the body of that unfortunate victim
had been found on the shore of the river, when he him-
self had seen it loaded with iron weights, and cast into
the lake that formed part of Lysia's fatal garden? Pres-
ently Sah-luma passed the scroll to him with a smile,
saying lightly:
"There, my friend, is a specimen of the true mob lit-
erature! written to-day, forgotten to-morrow! 'Tis a
droll thing to meditate upon, the ephemeral nature of
all this pouring out of unnecessary words and stale stock
phrases! And wouldst thou believe it, Theos! each lit-
tle paid scribe that adds his poor quota to this ill-assorted
trash deems himself wiser and greater far than any poet
or philosopher dead or living! Why, in this very news
sheet I have seen the immortal works of the divine
Hyspiros so hacked by the blunt knives of ignorant and
vulgar criticism that, by my faith! were it not for con-
tempt, one would be disposed to nail the hands of such
trumpery scribblers to a post, and scourge their bare
backs with thorny rods to cure them of their insolence.
Nay, even my fool Zabastes hath found place in these
narrow columns, to write his carping diatribes against
me, the king's laureate! As I live, his cumbersome dic-
tion hath caused me infinite mirth, and I have laughed
at his crabbed and feeble wit till my sides have ached
most potently! Now get thee gone, fellow! thou and
thy news!" and he nodded a good-humored dismissal to
the deferential Zibya, who, with his woolly grayhead
very much on one side, stood listening gravely and ap-
provingly to all that was said. "Yet stay! has gossip
whispered thee the name of the poor virgin self- destined
for this evening's sacrifice?"
"No, my lord," responded Zibya promptly, "'tis veiled
in deeper mystery than usual. I have inquired of many,
but in vain, and even the chief flamen of the outside court
of the temple, always drunk and garrulous as he is, can
282 "ARDATH"
tell me naught of the holy victim's title or parentage.
' 'Tis a passing fair wench!' said he, with a chuckle,
'that is all I know concerning her a passing fair wench!'
Ah!" and Zibya rolled up the whites of his eyes and
sighed in a comically contemplative manner, "if ever a
flamen deserved exclusion from his office, it is surely yon
ancient, crafty, carnal-minded soul! So keen a glance
for a woman's beauty is not a needful qualification for
a servant of the Snake divine! Methinks we have fallen
upon evil days! maybe the crazsd prophet is right after
ail, and things are coming to an end!"
"Like thy discourse, I hope, Zibya! ' observed Sah-
luma, yawning and flinging himself lazily back on his
velvet couch. "Get hence, and serve thy customers with
their cheap news; depend upon it, some of them are
cursing thee mightily for thy delay! And if thou shouldst
chance to meet the singing maiden of my household,
Niphrata, bid her make haste homeward ; she hath been
absent since the break of morn, too long for my content-
ment. Maybe I did unwisely to give the child her free-
dom; as slave she would not have presumed to gad
abroad thus wantonly, without her lord's permission.
Sa)*, if thou seest her, that I am wrathful; the thought
of mine anger will be as a swift wing to waft her hither
like a trembling dove, afraid, all penitent and eager for
my pardon! Remember! be sure thou tell her of my
deep displeasure!"
Zibya. bowed profoundly, his outstretched hands almost
touching the floor in the servility of his obeisance, and
backed out of the room as humbly as though he were
leaving the presence of royalty. When he had gone,
Theos looked up from the news-scroll he was perusing:
"Is it not strange Niphrata should have left thee
thus, Sah-luma?" he said with a touch of anxiety in his
tone. "Maybe" and he hesitated, conscious of a strange
unbidden remorse that, suddenly and without any ap-
parent reason, overwhelmed his conscience "Maybe she
was not happy?"
"Not happy!" ejaculated Sah-luma amazedly, "not
happy with me; not happy in my house, protected by
my patronage? Where then, if not here, could she find
happiness?"
And his beautiful, flashing eyes betokened his entire
WASTED PASSION 283
and naive astonishment at the mere supposition. Theos
smiled involuntarily. How charming, after all, was Sah-
luma's sublime egotism! how almost child-like was his
confidence in himself and his own ability to engender
joy! All at once the young girl Zoralin spoke; her
accents were low and timorous:
"May it please my lord Sah-luma to hear me," she
said, and paused.
"Thy lord Sah-luma hears thee with pleasure, Zoralin,"
replied the laureate gently. "Thou dost speak more
sweetly than many a bird doth sing!"
A rich, warm blush crimsoned the maiden's cheeks at
these dulcet words; she drew a quick, uneasy breath,
and then went on:
"I love Niphrata!" she murmured in a soft tone of
touching tenderness, "and I have watched her often
when she deemed herself unseen. She has, methinks,
shed many tears for sake of some deep heart-buried sor-
row ! We have lived as sisters, sharing the same room,
and the same couch of sleep; but alas! in spite of all
my lord's most constant kindly favor, Niphrata is not
happy, and and I have sometimes thought," here her
mellow voice sank into a nervous indistinctness, "that it
maybe because she loves my lord Sah-luma far too well"
And as she said this she looked up with a sudden
affright in her dark, lovely eyes, as though she were
alarmed at her own presumption. Sah-luma met her
troubled gaze calmly and with a bright smile of compla-
cent vanity.
"And dost thou plead for thine absent friend, Zoralin?"
he asked with just sufficient satire in his. utterance to
render it almost cruel. "Am I to blame for the foolish
fancies of all the amorous maidens in Al-Kyris? Many
there be who love me well, what then? Must I love
many in return? Nay! Not so! the poet is the wor-
shiper of ideal beauty, and for him the brief passions
of mortal men and women serve as mere pastime to while
away an hour! But, by my faith, thou hast gained won-
drous boldness in thy speech to prate so glibly of the
heart's emotion. What knowest thou concerning such
things, thou who hast counted scarcely fifteen summers?
Hast thou caught contagion from Niphrata, and art
top. ick for love?"
284 "ARDATH"
Oh, the dazzling smile with which he accompanied
this poignant question! the pitiless, burning ardor he
managed to convey into the sleepy brilliancy of his soft,
poetic eyes! the beautiful languor of his attitude,as lean-
ing his head back easily on one arm, he turned upon the
shrinking girl a look that seemed intended to pierce into
the very inmost recesses of her soul! The roseate color
faded from her cheeks; white as a marble image she
stood, her breath coming between her lips in quick,
frightened gasps:
"My lord!" she stammered, "I" here her voice failed
her, and suddenly covering her face with her hands, she
broke into a passion of weeping. Sah-luma's delicate
brows darkened into a close frown, and he waved his
hand with a petulant gesture of impatience.
"Ye gods! what fools are women!" he said wearily.
"Ever hovering uncertainly on a narrow verge between
silly smiles and sillier tears! As I live, they are most
uncomfortable playfellows! and dwelling with them long
would drive all the inspiration out of a man, no matter
how nobly he were gifted! Ye butterflies! ye little flut-
tering souls!" and beginning to laugh as readily as he
had frowned, he addressed the other maidens, who,
though they did not dare to move or speak, were evi-
dently affected by the grief of their companion. "Go
hence all! and take this sensitive baby Zoralin into your
charge and console her for her fancied troubles; 'tis a
mere frenzy of feminine weakness and will pass like an
April shower. Bat, by the sacred veil! if I saw much of
woman's weeping, I would discard forever wom-an's com-
pany, and dwell in peaceful hermit fashion alone among
the tree tops! So heed the warning, pretty ones! Let
me witness none of your tears if ye are wise, or else say
farewell to Sah-luma, and seek some less easy and less
pleasing service!"
With this injunction he signed to them all to depart;
whereupon the awed and trembling girls noiselessly sur-
rounded the still convulsively sobbing Zoralin, and gently
leading her away, they quickly withdrew, each one mak-
ing a profound obeisance to their imperious master ere
leaving his presence. When they had finally disappeared,
3ah-luma heaved a sigh of relief.
"Can anything equal the perverseness of these frivol-
WASTED PASSION 285
ous feminine toys!" he murmured pettishly, turning his
head round toward Theos as he spoke. "Was ever a
more foolish child than Zoralin? Just as I would fain
have consoled her for her prickling heartaches, she must
needs pour out a torrent of tear-drops to change my hu-
mor and quench her own delight! 'Tis the most irksome
inconsistency !'.'
Theos glanced at him with a vague emotion of wonder
and self-reproachful sadness. "Nay, wouldst thou in-
deed have consoled her, Sah-luma?" he inquired gravely.
"How?"
"How?" and Sah-lurna laughed musically. "My simple
friend, dost thou ask me such a babe's question?" He
sprang from his couch, and standing erect, pushed his
clustering dark hair off his wide, bold brows. "Am I
disfigured, aged, lame, or crooked-limbed? Cannot these
arms embrace; these lips engender kisses; these eyes
wax amorous? And shall not one brief hour of love
with me console the weariest maid that ever pined for
passion? Now, by my faith! how solemn is thy counte-
nance! Art thou an anchorite, good Theos, and wouldst
thou have me scourge my flesh and groan, because the
gods have given me youth and vigorous manhood?"
He drew himself up with an inimitable gesture of pride;
his attitude was statuesque and noble, and Theos looked
at him as he would have looked at a fine picture, with
a sense of critically satisfied admiration.
"Most assuredly I am no anchorite, Sah-luma!" he
said, smiling slightly, yet with a touch of sorrow in his
voice. "But methinks the consolement thou wouldst
offer to enamored maids is far more dangerous than
lasting! Thy love to them means ruin, thy embraces
shame, tl.y unthinking passion death! What! wilt thou
be a spendthrift of desire? Wilt thou drain the fond
souls of women as a bee drains the sweetness of flowers?
Wilt thou, being honey-cloyed, behold them droop and
wither around thee, and wilt thou leave them utterly
destroyed and desolate? Hast thou no vestige of a
heart, my friend; a poet-heart to feel the misery of the
world, the patient grief of all appealing nature, com-
mingled with the dreadful yet majestic silence of an un-
known God? Oh, surely thou hast this supremest gift
of genius this loving, enduring, faithful, sympathetic
286 "ARDATH"
heart! for without it, how shall thy fame be neld long
in remembrance? How shall thy muse-grown laurels
escape decay? Tell me!" and leaning forward, he caught
his friend's hand in his eagerness. "Thou art not made
of stone, tnou art human, thou art not exempt from
mortal suffering."
"Not exempt no!" interposed Sah-luma thoughtfully,
"but, as yet, I have never really suffered!"
Never really suffered! Theos dropped the hand he
held, and an invisible barrier seemed to rise slowly up
between him and his beautiful companion. Never really
suffered ! then he was no true poet after all, if he was
ignorant of sorrow! If he could not spiritually enter
into the pathos of speechless griefs and unshed tears, if
he could not absorb into his own being the prayers and
plaints of all creation, and utter them aloud in burning
and immortal language, his calling was in vain, is elec-
tion futile! This thought smote Theos with the strength
of a sudden blow; he sat silent, and weighted with a
dreary feeling of disappointment to which he was unable
to give any fitting expression.
"I have never really suffered," repeated Sah-luma
slowly, "but I have imagined suffering! That is enough
for me! The passions, the tortures, the despairs of im-
agination are greater far than the seeming 'rea? petty
afflictions with which human beings daily perplex them-
selves. Indaed, I have often wondered," here his eyes
grew more earnest and reflective "whether this busy
working of the brain called 'imagination' may not per-
haps be a special phase or supreme effort of memory,
and that therefore we do not imagine so much as we re-
member. For instance, if we have ever lived before,
our present recollection may, in certain exalted states
of the mind, serve to bring back the shadow-pictures of
things long gone by, good or evil deeds, scenes of love
and strife, the real and divine events, in which we have
possibly enacted each our different parts as unwittingly
as we enact them here!" He sighed and seemed some-
what troubled, but presently continued in a lighter tone,
"Yet, after all, it is not necessary for the poet to per-
sonally experience the emotions whereof he writes. The
divine Hyspiros depicts murderers, cowards and slaves
in his sublime tragedies, but thinkest thou it was essen-
WASTED PASSION 287-
tial for him to become a murderer, coward, and slave him.
self in order to delineate these characters? And I I
write of love, love spiritual, love eternal, love fitted for
the angels I have dreamed of, but not for such animals
as men, and what matters it that I know naught of such
love, unless perchance I knew it years ago in some far
off, fairer sphere! For me the only charm of worth in
woman is bea*uty! Beauty! to its entrancing sway my
senses all make swift surrender "
"Oh, too swift and too degrading a surrender!" inter-
rupted Theos suddenly, with reproachful vehemence. "Thy
words do madden patience! Better a thousand times that
thou shotildst perish, Sah-luma, now in the full pleni-
tude of thy poet glory, than thus confess thyself a prey
to thine own passions, a credulous victim of Lysia's
treachery!"
For one second the laureate stood amazed; the next,
he sprang upon his guest and grasped him fiercely by the
throat.
"Treachery?" he muttered with white lips, "treachery?
Darest thou speak of treachery and Lysia in the same
breath? O thou rash fool! dost thou blaspheme my
lady's name and yet not fear to die?"
And his lithe brown fingers tightened their clutch.
But Theos cared nothing for his own life ; some inward
excitation of feeling kept him resolute and perfectly con-
trolled.
"Kill me, Sah-luma!" he gasped. "Kill me, friend
whom I love! death will be easy at thy hands! Deprive
me of my sad existence; 'tis better so, than that I should
have slain thee last night at Lysia's bidding!"
At this, Sah-luma suddenly released his hold and
started backward with a sharp cry of anguish; his face
was pale, and his beautiful eyes grew strained and pit-
eous.
"Slain me! me! at Lysia's bidding!" he murmured
wildly, "O ye gods, the world grows dark! Is the sun
quenched in heaven? At Lysia's bidding! Nay, by
my soul, my sight is dimmed! I see naught but flaring
red in the air. Why!" and he laughed discordantly,
"thou poor Theos, thou shalt use no dagger's point, for lo!
I am dead already! Thy words have killed me! Go,
tell her how well her cruel mission hath sped, my very
288 "ARDATH"
soul is slain, at her bidding! Hasten to her, wilt thou?"
and his accents trembled with pathetic plaintiveness.
"Say I am gone! lost! drawn into a night of everlasting
blackness, like a taper blown swiftly out by the wind;
tell her that Sah-luma the poe.. Sah-luma, the foolish,
credulous Sah-luma who loved her so madly is no
more!"
His voice broke, his head drooped, while Theos, whose
every nerve throbbed in responsive sympathy with the
passion of his despair, strove to think of some word of
comfort, that, like soothing balm, might temper the
bitterness of his chafed and wounded spirit, but could
find none. For it was a case in which the truth must
be told, and truth is always hard to bear if it destroys,
or attempts to destroy, any one of our cherished self-
delusions!
"My friend, my friend!" he said presently with gentle
earnestness, "control this fury of thy heart! Why such
unmanly sorrow for one who is not worthy of thee?"
Sah-luma looked up; his black, silky lashes were wet
with tears.
"Not worthy! Oh, the old, poor consolation!" he
exclaimed, quickly dashing the drops from his eyes.
"Not worthy? No! what mortal woman is ever worthy
of a poet's love? Not one in all the world! Neverthe-
less, worthy or unworth} , true or treacherous, naught
can make Lysia otherwise than fair! Fair beyond all
fairness!- and I I was sole possessor of her beauty! for
me her eyes warmed into stars of fire, for me her kisses
ripened in their pearl and ruby nest, all all forme! and
now " He flung himself desolately on his couch, and
fixed his wistful gaze on his companion's grave, pained
countenance, till all at once a hopeful light flashed
across his features a light that seemed to shine through
him like an inwardly kindled flame.
"Ah! what a querulous fool am I?" he cried joyously,
so joyously that Theos knew not whether to be glad or
sorry at his sudden and capricious change of mood.
"Why should I thus bemoan myself for fancied wrong?
Good, noble Theos, thou hast been misled! My Lysia's
words were to try thy mettle! to test thee to the core,
and prove thee truly faithful as Sah-luma's friend. She
bade thae slay me? Even so but hadst thou rashly un-
WASTED PASSION 289
dertaken such a deed, thine own life would have paid
tiie forfeit! Now 1 begin to understand it all 'tis plain!"
and his face grew brighter and brighter, as he cheated
himself into the pleasing idea his own fancy had sug-
gested ; "she tried thee, she tempted thee, she found
thee true and incorruptible. Ah! 'twas a jest, my friend"
arid entirely recovering from his depression, he clapped
his hand heartily on Theos' shoulder. "'Twas all a jest!
and she, the fair inquisitor, will herself prove it so ere
long, and make merry with our ill-omened fears! Why,
I can laugh now at mine own despondency! Come,
look thou also more cheerily, gentle Theos, and pardon
these uncivil fingers that so nearly gripped thee into si-
lence!" and he laughed. "Thcu art the best and kind-
est of loyal comrades, and I will so assure Lysia of thy
merit, that she shall institute no more torture trials upon
thy frank and trusting nature. Heigho!" and stretch-
ing out this arms lazily, he heaved a sigh of tranquil sat-
isfaction, "methought I was wounded unto death! but
'twas the mere fancied prick of an arrow after all, and
I am well again ! What, art thou still melancholy, still
somber? Nay, surely thou wilt not be a veritable kill-
joy?"
Theos stood mute and sorely perplexed. He saw at
once how useless it was now to try and convince Sah-
luma of any danger threatening him through the instiga-
tion of the woman he loved; he would never believe it!
And yet something must be done to put him on his
guard. Taking up the scroll of the public news, where
the account of the finding of the body of Nir-jalis was
written with all that exaggerated attention to repulsive
details which seems to be a special gift of the cheap
reporters, Theos pointed to it.
''His was a cruel end!" he said in a low, uncertain
voice. "Sah-lmua, canst thou expect mercy from a
woman who has once been so merciless?"
"Bah!" returned the laureate lightly. "Who and what
was Nir-jalis? A hewer of stone images a nobody! he
will not be missed! Besides, he is only one of many
who have perished thus."
Only one of many!" ejaculated Theos with a shudder
of aversion, "and yet, O thou most reckless and mis-
judged soul! thou dost love this wanton murderers!"
29 "AfcDATH*'
A warm flush tinted Sah-luma's olive skin ; his hand
clenched and unclenched slowly, as though he held some
struggling prisoned thing, and raising his head he looked
at his companion full and steadily, with a singularly sol-
emn and reproving expression in his luminous eyes.
"Hast thou not loved her also?" he demanded, a faint
serious smile curving his lips as he spoke. "If only for
the space of some few passing moments, was not thy
soul ravished, thy heart enslaved, thy manhood conquered
by her spell? Ay! Thou dost shrink at that!" And his
smile deepened as Theos, suddenly conscience-stricken,
avoided his friend's too scrutinizing gaze. "Blame me
not, therefore, for thine own weakness!"
He paused, then went on slowly, with a meditative
air, "I love her, yes! as a man must always love the
woman that baffles him, the woman whose moods are
complex and fluctuating as the winds on the seas, and
whose humor sways between the softness of the dove
and the fierceness of the tiger. Nothing is more fatally
fascinating to the masculine sense than such a crea-
ture, more especially if to this temperament is united
rare physical grace, combined with keen intellectual
power. 'Tis vain to struggle against the irresistible
witchery exercised over us by the commingling of beauty
and ferocity. We see it in the wild animals of the for-
est, and the highest soaring birds of the air, and we like
nothing better than to hunt it, capture it, tame it, or
kill it! as suits our pleasure!"
He paused again, and again smiled a grave, reluc-
tant, doubting smile, such as seemed to Theos oddly fa-
miliar, suggesting to his bewildering fancy that he must
have seen it before, on his own face, reflectd in a mir-
ror!
"Even thus do I love Lysia!" continued Sah luma.
"She perplexes me, she opposes her will to mine; the
very irritation and ferment into which I am thrown
by her presence, adds fire to my genius, and but for the
spur of this never satiated passion, who knows whether
I should sing so well!"
He was silent for a little space; then he resumed in
a more ordinary tone:
"The wretched Nir jalis, whose fate thou dost so per-
sistently deplore, deserved his end for his presumption;
WASTED PASSION 2gi
didst thou not hear his insolent insinuation concerning
the king?"
"I heard it yes!" replied Theos, "and I saw no harm
in the manner of its utterance."
"No harm!" exclaimed Sah-luma excitedly, "no harm!
Nay, but I forget! thou art a stranger in Al-Kyris, and
therefore thou art ignorant of the last words spoken by
the Sacred Oracle some hundred or more years ago. They
are these:
11 ' When the high-priestess
Is the king's mistress,
Then fall Al-Kyris!'
'Tis absolute doggerel, and senseless withal; never-
theless it hath caused the enactment of a law, which is
to the effect that the reigning monarch of Al-Kyris shall
never, under an)' sort of pretext, confer with the high-
priestess of the temple on any business whatsoever, and
that, furthermore, he shall never be permitted to look
upon her face except at the times of public service and
state ceremonials. Now, dost thou not at once perceive
how vile were the suggestions of Nir-jalis, and also how
foolish was thy fancy last night with regard to the armed
masquerader thou didst see in Lysia's garden?"
Theos made no reply, but sat absorbed in his own re-
flections. He began now to understand much that had
before seemed doubtful and mysterious. No wonder,
he thought, that Zephoranim's fury against the audacious
Xhosrul had been so excessive! For had not the crazed
prophet called Lysia an "unvirgined virgin and queen
courtesan?" And according to Sah-luma's present ex-
planation, nothing more dire and offensive in the way of
open blasphemy could well be uttered! Yet the question
still remained, wasKhosrul right or wrong? This was
a problem which Theos longed to investigate and yet re-
coiled from. Instinctively he felt that upon its answer
hung the fate of Al-Kyris, and also, what just then
seemed more precious than anything else, the life of
Sah-luma. He could not decide with himself why this
was so; he simply accepted his own inward assurance
that so it was. Presently he inquired:
"How comes it, Sah-luma, that the corpse of Nir-
jalis was found on the shores of the river? Did we not
see it weighted with iron and laid elsewhere?"
292 "ARDATH"
"O simpleton!" laughed Sah-luma, "thinkest thou
Lysia's lake of lilies is a common grave for criminals?
The body of Nir-jalis sank therein, 'tis true; but was
there no after-means of lifting it from thence, and plac-
ing it where best such carrion should be found? Hath
not the high-priestess of Nagaya slaves enough to work
her will? Verily thou dost trouble thyself overmuch
concerning these trivial every-day occurrences. I marvel
at thee! Hundreds have drained the silver nectar gladly
for so fair a woman's sake, hundreds will drink it gladly
still for the mere privilege of living some brief days in
presence of such peerless beauty! But, speaking of the
river, didst thou remark it on thy way hither? '
"Ay!" responded Theos dreamily. '"Twas red as
blood!"
"Strange!" and Sah-luma looked thoughtful for an in-
stant; then rousing himself, said lightly, "'Tis from
some simple cause, no doubt, yet 'twill create a silly
panic in the city, and all the fanatics for Khosrul's new
creed will troop forth, shouting afresh their prognostica-
tions of death and doom. By my faith, 'twill be a most
desperate howling! and I'll not walk abroad till the
terror hath abated. Moreover, I have work to do. Some
lately budded thoughts of mine have ripened into glo-
rious conclusion, and Zabastes hath orders presently to
attend me that he may take my lines down from mine
own dictation. Thou shall hear a most choice legend
of love an* thou wilt listen " here he laid his hand
affectionately on Theo's shoulder "a legend set about,
methinks, with wondrous jewels of poetic splendor! 'Tis
a rare privilege I offer thee, my friend, for as a rule
Zabastes is my only auditor ; but I would swear thou art
no plagiarist,and wouldst not dishonor thine own intelli-
gence so far as to filch pearls of fancy from another min-
strel! As well steal my garments as my thoughts! for
verily the thoughts are the garments of the poet's soul,
and the common thief of things petty and material is no
whit more contemptible than he who robs an author of
ideas wherewith to deck the bareness of his own poor
wit! Come, place thyself at ease upon this cushioned
couch, and give me thy attention. I feel the fervor rising
full within me I will summon Zabastes," hare he
pulled a small silken cord which at once set a clanging
"NOURHALMA" 293
bell echoing loudly through the palace. "And thou shall
freely hear, and freely judge the latest offspring of my
fertile genius, my lyrical romance 'Nourhalma!'"
Theos started violently. He had the greatest diffi-
culty to restrain the anguished cry that rose to his lips.
"Nourhalma!" O memory! slow filtering, reluctant mem-
ory! why, why was his brain thus tortured with these
conflicting pangs of piteous recollection! Little by lit-
tle, like sharp, deep stabs of nervous suffering, there
came back to him a few faint, fragmentary suggestions,
which gradually formed themselves into a distinct and
comprehensive certainty: "Nourhalma" was the title
of his own poem the poem he had written, surely not
so very long ago, among the mountains of the Pass of
Dariel!
CHAPTER XIII.
"NOURHALMA. "
His first emotion on making this new mental re-dis-
covery was, as it had been before the king's audience
hall, one of absolute terror, feverish, mad terror, which
for a few moments possessed him so utterly that, turn-
ing away, he buried his aching head among the cushions
where he reclined, in order to hide from his companion's
eyes any outward sign that might betray his desperate
misery. Clenching his hands convulsively, he, silently
and with all his strength, combated the awful horror of
himself that grew up spectrally within him, the dread-
ful, distracting uncertainty of his own identity that again
confused his brain and paralyzed his reason.
At last, he thought wildly, at last he knew the mean-
ing of hell ! the frightful spiritual torment of a baffled
intelligence set adrift among the wrecks and shadows of
things that had formerly been its pride and glory! What
was any physical suffering compared to such a frenzy of
mind agony? Nothing! less than nothing! This was
the everlasting thirst and fire spoken of so vaguely by
prophets and preachers; the thirst and fire of the soul's
unquenchable longing to unravel the dismal tangle of its
294 "ARDATH"
own by-gone deeds ; the striving forever in vain to stead*
fastly establish the wavering mystery of its own exist-
ence!
"O God ! God! what hast thou made of me !" he groaned
inwardly, as he endeavored to calm the tempest of his
unutterable despair. "Who am I? Who was I in that
far past which, like the pale spirit of a murdered friend,
haunts me so indistinctly yet so threateningly! Surely
the gift of poesy was mine! surely I, too, could weave
the harmony of words and thoughts into a sweet and fit-
ting music. How comes it then that all Sah-luma's
work is but the reflex of my own? O woful, strange,
and bitter enigma! when shall it be unraveled? 'Nour-
halma!' 'Twas the name of what I deemed my master-
piece! O silly masterpiece, if it prove thus easy of im-
itation! Yet stay! let me be patient! titles are often
copied unconsciously by different authors in different
lands, and it may chance that Sah-luma's poem is after
all his own, not mine. Not mine, as were the ballads and
the love ode ha chanted to the king last night! O des-
tiny! inscrutable, pitiless destiny! rescue my tortured
soul from chaos! declare unto me who, who is the pla-
giarist and thief of song myself or Sah-luma?"
The more he perplexed his mind with such questions,
the deeper grew the darkness of the inexplicable dilem-
ma, to which a fresh obscurity was now added in his sud-
denly distinct and distressful remembrance of the "Pass
of Dariel." Where was this place, he wondered wearily?
When had he seen it; whom had he met there; and
how had he come to Al-Kyris from there? No answer
could his vexed brain shape to these demands; he recol-
lected the "Pass of Dariel" just as he recollected the
"Field of Ardath," without the least idea as to what con-
nection existed between them and his own personal ad-
ventures. Presently controlling himself, he raised his
head and ventured to look up. Sah-luma stood beside
him, his fine face expressive of an amiable solicitude.
"Was the sunshine too strong, my friend, that thou
didst thus bury thine eyes in thy pillow?" he inquired.
"Pardon my discourteous lack of consideration for thy
comfort ! I love the sun myself so well that methinks I
could meet his burning rays at full noon-day and yet
take pleasure in the warmth of such a golden smile!
"NOURHALMA" 295
But thou perchance art unaccustomed to the light of
eastern lands, wherefore thy brows must not be per-
mitted to ache on, uncared for. See! I have lowered
the awnings, they give a pleasant shade, and, in very
truth, the heat to day is greater far than ordinary; one
would think the gods had kindled some new fire in
heaven!"
And as he spoke he took up a long palm-leaf fan and
waved it to and fro with an exquisitely graceful move-
ment of wrist and arm, while Theos, gazing at him in
mute admiration, forgot his own griefs for the time in
the subtle, strange, and absorbing spell exercised upon
him by his host's irresistible influence. Just then, too,
Sah-luma appeared handsomer than ever in the half
subdued tints of radiance that flickered through the
lowered pale blue silken awnings; the effect of the room
thus shadowed was as of a soft azure mountain mist lit
sideways by the sun a mist through which the white
garmented, symmetrical figure of the laureate stood forth
in curiously brilliant outlines, as though every curve of
supple shoulder and prcud throat were traced with a
pencil of pure light. Scarcely a breath of air made its
way through the wide-open casements ; the gentle dash-
ing noise of the fountains in the court alone disturbed
the deep, warm stillness of the morning, or the occasional
sweeping rustle of peacocks' plumes as these stately
birds strutted majestically up and down, up and down,
on the marble terrace outside.
Soothed by the luxurious peace of his surroundings,
the delirium of Theos' bewildering affliction gradually
abated; his tempest-tossed mind regained to a certain
extent its equilibrium, and falling into easy converse
with his fascinating companion, he was soon himself
again that is, as much himself as his peculiar condition
permitted him to be. Yet he was not altogether free
from a certain eager and decidedly painful suspense with
regard to the "Nourhalma" problem, and he was con-
scious of what he in his own opinion considered an ab-
surd and unnecessary degree of excitement, when the
door of the apartment presently opened to admit Zabas-
tes, who entered, carrying several sheets of papyrus and
other materials for writing.
The old critic's countenance was expressively glum
296 "ARDATH"
and ironical; he, however, was compelled, like all the
other paid servants of the household, to make a low and
respectful obeisance as soon as he found himself in Sah-
luma's presence an act of homage which he performed
awkwardly, and with evident ill-will. His master nodded
condescendingly in response to his reluctant salute, and
signed to him to take his place at a richly carved writ-
ing-table adorned with the climbing figures of winged
cupids exquisitely wrought in ivory. He obeyed, shuffling
thither uneasily, and sniffing the rose-fragrant air as he
went, like an ill-conditioned cur scenting a foe, and seat-
ing himself in a high-backed chair, he arranged his gar-
ments fussily about him, rolled up his long embroidered
sleeves to the elbow, and spread his writing implements
all over the desk in front of him with much mock-solemn
ostentation. Then, rubbing his lean hands together, he
gave a stealthy glance of covert derision round at Sah-
luma and Theos a glance which Theos saw and in his
heart resented, but which Sah-luma, absorbed in his own
reflections, apparently failed to notice.
"All is in readiness, my lord!" he announced in his
disagreeable croaking tones; "here are the clean and
harmless slips of river reed waiting to be soiled and
spotted with my lord's indelible thoughts; here also are
the innocent quills of the white heron, as yet unstained
by colored writing fluid, whether black, red, gold, sil-
ver, or purple! Mark you, most illustrious bard, the
touching helplessness and purity of these meeak servants
of a scribbler's fancy! Blank papyrus and empty quills!
Bethink you seriously whether it were not better to
leave them thus unblemished, the simple products of
unfaulty nature, than use them to indite the wondrous
things of my lord's imagination, whereof, all wondrous
though they seem, no man shall ever be the wiser!"
And he chuckled, stroking his stubbly gray beard the
while, with a blandly suggestive, yet malign look directed
at Sah-luma, who met it with a slight cold smile of
faintly amused contempt.
"Peace, fool!" he said; "that barbarous tongue of
thine is like the imperfect clapper of a broken bell that
strikes forth harsh and undesired sounds suggesting noth-
ing! Thy present duty is to hear, and not to speak;
therefore listen discerningly and write with exactitude :
"NOURHALMA" 297
h<j shall thy poor blank scrolls of reed grow rich with
gems gems of high poesy that the whole world shall
hoard and cherish miser-like when the poet who created
their bright splendor is no more!"
He sighed a short, troubled sigh and stood for a mo-
ment silent in an attitude of pensive thought. Theos
watched him yearningly, waiting in almost breathless
suspense till he should dictate aloud the first line of his
poem. Zabastes meanwhile settled himself more com
lortably in his chair, and taking up one of the long quills
with which he was provided, dipped it in a reddish-pur-
ple liquid which at once stained its point to a deep
roseate hue, so that when the light flickered upon it
from time to time, it appeared as though it were tipped
with fire. How intense the heat was, thought Theos! as
with one hand he pushed his clustering hair from his
brow, not without noticing that his action was imitated
almost at once by Sah-luma, who also seemed to feel
the oppressiveness of the atmosphere. And what a blaze
of blue pervaded the room! delicate, ethereal blue, as of
shimmering lakes and summer skies melted together into
one luminous radiance radiance that, while filmy, was
yet perfectly transparent, and in which the laureate's
classic form appeared to be gloriously enveloped, like
that of some new descended god!
Theos rubbed his eyes to cure them of their dazzled
ache ; what a marvelous scene it was to look upon, he
mused! would he, could he ever forget it? Ah, no! never,
never! not until his dying day would he be able to ob-
literate it from his memory, and who could tell whether
even after death he might not still recall it !
Just then Sah-luma raised his hand by way of signal
to Zabastes; his face became earnest, pathetic, even grand
in the fervent concentration cf his thoughts; he was
about to begin his dictation. Now now! and Theos
leaned forward nervously, his heart beating with appre-
hensive expectation. Hush! the delicious suave melody
of his friend's voice penetrated the silence like the sweet
harmonic of a harp-string:
"Write, said he slowly, "write first the title of my
poem thus: 'Nourbaima: A Love Legend of the Past.'"
There was a pause, cluri;jg which the pen of Zabastes
traveled quickly over the papyrus for a moment, then
298 "'ARDATH"
stopped. Theos, almost suffocated with anxiety, could
hardly maintain even the appearance of calmness: the
title proclaimed with its second appendage was precisely
the sams as that of his own work, but this did not now
affect him so much. What he waited for with such pain-
fully strained attention, was the first line of the poem.
If it was his line he knew it already! it ran thus:
"A central sorrow dwells in perfect joy "
Scarcely had he repeated this to himself inwardly, than
Sah-luma, with majestic grace and sweetness of utterance,
dictated aloud:
"A central sorrow dwells in perfect joy!"
"Ah, Godr
The sharp cry, half fierce, half despairing, broke from
Theos' quivering lips in spite of all the efforts he made
to control his agitation, and the laureate turned toward
him with a surprised and somewhat irritated movement
that plainly evinced annoyance at the interruption.
"Pardon, Sah-luma!" he murmured hastily. "'Twas
a slight pang at the heart troubled me, a mere nothing!
I take shame to myself to have cried out for such a pin's
prick! Speak on! thy first line is as soft as honey-dew,
as suggestive as the light of dawn on sleeping flowers!"
And, leaning dizzily back on his couch, he closed his
eyes to shut in the hot and bitter tears that welled up
rebelliously and threatened to fall, notwithstanding his
endeavor to restrain them. His head throbbed and burned
as though a chaplet of fiery thorns encircled it, instead
of the once desired crown of fame he had so fondly
dreamed of winning!
Fame? Alas! that bright, delusive vision had fled
forever; there were no glory-laurels left growing for him
in the fields of poetic art and inspiration; Sah-luma, the
fortunate Sah-luma, had gathered and possessed them
all! Taking everything into serious consideration, he
came at last to the deeply mortifying conclusion that it
must be himself who was the plagiarist, the unconscious
imitator of Sah-luma's ideas and methods and the worst
of it was that his imitation was so terribly exact!
Oh, how heartily he despised himself for his poor and
pitiful lack of originality! I>own to the very depths pf
"NOURHALMA" 2Q9
humiliation he sternly abased his complaining, strug-
gling, wounded, and sorely resentful spirit; he then and
there became the merciless executioner of his own claims
to literary honor, and deliberately crushing all his past
ambition, mutinous discontent, and uncompliant desires
with a strong master-hand, he lay quiet, as patiently un-
moved as is a dead man to the wrongs inflicted on his
memory, and forced himself to listen resignedly to every
glowing line of his no, not his but Sah-luma's poem,
the lovely, gracious, delicate, entrancing poem he remem-
bered so well! And by and by, as each mellifluous stanza
sounded softly on his ears, a strangely solemn tranquility
swept over him a most soothing, halcyon calm, as though
some passing angel's hand had touched his brow in ben-
ediction.
He looked at Sah-luma, net enviously now, but all
admiringly; it seemed to him that he had never heard a
sweeter, tenderer music than the story of "Nourhalma"
as recited by his friend. And so to that friend he silently
awarded his own wished for glory, praise, and everlasting
fame! that glory, praise, and fame which had formerly
allured his fancy as being the best of all the world could
offer, but which he now entirely and willingly relinquished
in favor of this more deserving and dear comrade, whose
superior genius he submissively acknowledged!
There was a great quietness everywhere; the rising
and falling inflections of Sah-luma's soft, rich voice rather
deepened than disturbed the stillness; the pen of Zabas-
tes glided noiselessly over the slips of papyrus, and the
small sounds of the outer air, such as the monotonous
hum of bees among the masses of lily-bloom that towered
in white clusters between the festooned awnings; the
thirsty twittering of birds idling under the long palm
leaves to shelter themselves from the heat, and the in-
cessant splash of the fountains, all seemed to be, as it
were, mere appendages to enhance the breathless hush
of nature. Presently Sah-luma paused, and Zabastes,
heaving a sigh of relief, looked up from his writing and
laid down his pen.
"The work is finished, most illustrious?" he demanded,
a curious smile playing on his thin, satirical lips.
"Finished?" echoed Sah luma disdainfully. "Nay, 'tis
but the end of the first canto."
300 "ARDATH"
The scribe gave vent to a dismal groan.
"Ye gods!" he exclaimed, "is there more to come of
this bombastic ranting and vile torturing of phrases un-
heard of, and altogether unnatural? O Sah-luma! mar-
velous Sah-luma! twaddler Sah-luma! what a brain-box
is thine! How full of dislocated word puzzles and sim-
iles gone mad! Now, as I live, expect no mercy from
me this time!" and he shook his head threateningly, "for
if the public news-sheet will serve me as mine anvil, I
will so pound thee in pieces with the sledge-hammer of
my criticism that, by the ship of the sun ! for once Al-
Kyris shall be moved to laughter at thee! Mark me, good
tuner up of tinkling foolishness! I will so choose out
and handle thy feeblest lines that they shall seem but the
doggerel of a street ballad-monger! I will give so bald
an epitome of -this sickly love-tale that it shall appear to
all who read my commentary the veriest trash that ever
poet penned! Moreover, I can most admirably misquote
thee, and distort thy meanings with such excellent, bitter
jesting that thou thyself shalt scarcely recognize thine
own production! By Nagaya's shrine! what a feast 'twill
be for my delectation!" and he rubbed his hands glee-
fully. "With what a weight of withering analysis lean
pulverize this idyl of 'Nourhalma' into the dust and
ashes of a common-sense contempt!"
While Zabastes thus spoke, Sah-luma had helped him-
self, by way of refreshment, to two ripe figs in whose
luscious crimson pulp his white teeth met, with all the
enjoying zest of a child's healthy appetite. He now held
up the rind and stalks of these devoured delicacies, and
smiled.
"Thus wilt thou swallow up my poem in thy glib clum-
siness, Zabastes!" he said lightly, "and thus wilt thou
hold up the most tasteless portions of the whole for the
judgment of the public! 'Tis the manner of thy craft;
yet see!" and with a dexterous movement of his arm, he
threw the fruit-peel through the window far out into the
garden beyond. "There goes thy famous criticism!" and
he laughed; "and those that taste the fruit itself at first
hand will not soon forget its flavor! Nevertheless I hope
indeed that thou wilt strive to slaughter me with thy blunt
paper sword! I do most mirthfully relish the one-sided
combat, in which I stand in silence to receive thy b. J ows,
"NOURHALMA" 301
myself unhurt and tranquil as a marble god whom ruffians
rail upon! Do I not pay thee to abuse me? Here, thou
crusty soul! drink and be content!" And with a charm-
ing condescension he handed a full goblet of wine to his
cantankerous critic, who accepted it ungraciously, mut-
tering in his beard the necessary words of thanks for his
master's consideration. Then, turning to Theos, the lau-
reate continued :
"And thou, my friend, what dost thou think of 'Nour-
halma' so far? Hath it not a certain exquisite smooth-
ness of rhythm, like the ripple of a woodland stream clear-
winding through the reeds? And is there not a tender
witchery in the delineation of my maiden-heroine, so
warmly fair, so wildly passionate? Methinks she doth
resemble some rich flower of our tropic fields, blooming
at sunset and dead at moonrise!"
Theos waited a moment before replying. Truth to tell,
he was inwardly overcome with shame to remember how
wantonly he had copied the description of this same
Nourhalma! and plaintively he wondered how he could
have unconsciously committed so flagrant a theft! Sum-
moning up all his self-possession, however, he answered
bravely:
"Thy work, Sah-luma, is worthy of thyself ! need I
say more? Thou hast most aptly proved thy claim upon
the whole world's gratitude such lofty thoughts, such
noble discourse upon love, such high philosophy, where-
in the deepest, dearest dreams of life are grandly pic-
tured in enduring colors these things are gifts to poor
humanity whereby it must become enriched and proud!
Thy name, bright soul, shall be as a quenchless star on
the dark brows of melancholy Time; men gazing there-
at shall wonder and adore, and even I, the least among
thy friends, may also win from thee a share of glory!
For, simply to know thee, to listen to thy heaven-in-
spired utterance, might bring the most renownless stu-
dent some reflex of thine honor! Yes, thou art great, Sah-
luma! great as the greatest of earth's gifted sons of song!
and with all my heart I offer thee my homage, and pride
myself upon the splendor oi tny iam t
And as the eager, enthusiastic words came from his
: ips, he beheld Sah-luma's beautiful countenance brighten
more and more, till it appeared mysteriously transfigured
302 "ARDATH"
into a majestic angel-face that for one brief moment star-
tled him by the divine tenderness of its compassionate
smile! This expression, however, was transitory. It
passed, and the dark eyes of the laureate gleamed with
a merely serene and affectionate complacency as he said:
"I thank thee for thy praise, good Theos! thou art in-
deed the friendliest of critics! Hadst thou thyself been
the author of 'Nourhalma' thou couldst not have spoken
with more ardent feeling. Were Zabastes like thee,
discerningly just and reasonable, he would be all unfit for
his vocation, for 'tis an odd circumstance that praise in
the public news-sheet does a writer more harm than
good, while ill-conditioned and malicious abuse doth very
materially increase and strengthen his reputation. Yet,
after all, there is a certain sense in the argument, for if
much eulogy be penned by the cheap scribes, the reading
populace at once imagine these fellows have been bribed
to give their over zealous approval, or that they are close
friends and banquet comrades of the author whom they
arduously uphold; whereas, on the contrary, if they in-
dulge in bitter invective, flippant gibing, or clumsy sat-
ire like my amiable Zabastes here" and he made an
airy gesture toward the silent yet evidently chafing critic
"(and, mark you! he is not bribed, but merely paid
fair wages to fulfill his chosen and professed calling)
why, thereupon the multitude exclaim, 'What! this poet
hath such enemies? nay then, how great a genius he must
be!' and forthwith they clamor for his work, which, if it
speaks not for itself, is then and only then to be deemed
faulty, and meriting oblivion. 'Tis the people's verdict
which alone gives fame."
"And yet the people are often ignorant of what is
noblest and best in literature!" observed Theos musingly.
"Ignorant in some ways, yes!" agreed Sah-luma, "but
in many others, no! They may be ignorant as to why
they admire a certain thing,, yet they admire it all the
same, because their natural instinct leads them so to do.
And this is the special gift which endows the uncultured
masses with an occasional sweeping advantage over the
cultured few the superiority of their instinct. As in
cases of political revolution, for example, while the finely
educated orator is endeavoring by all the force of artful
rhetoik to prove that all is in order and as it should be,
"NOURHALMA'* 36$
the mob, moved by one tremendous impulse, discover
for themselves that everything is wrong, and moreover
that nothing will come right, unless the} .ise up and
take authority. Accordingly, down go tha thrones and
the colleges, the palaces, the temples and the law
assemblies, all like so many toys before the resi tless in-
stinct of the people, who revolt at injustice, an6-who feel
and know when they are injured, though they are not
clover enough to explain where their injury lies. And
so, as they cannot talk about it coherently, any more than
a lion struck by an arrow can give a learned dissertation
on his wound, they act and the hate and fury of their
action upheaves dynasties! Again, reverting to the ques-
tion of taste and literature, the mob, untaught and un-
trained in the subtleties of art, will applaud to the echo
certain grand and convincing home-truths set forth in
the plays of the divine Hyspiros, simply because they
instinctively feel them to be truths, no matter how far
they themselves may be from acting up to the standard
of morality therein contained. The more highly cultured
will hear the same passages unmoved, because they, in
the excess of artificially gained wisdom, have deadened
their instincts so far that, while they listen to a truth
pronounced, they already consider how best they can
confute it, an.d prove the same a lie! Honest enthusiasm
is impossible to the over punctilious and pedantic scholar;
but, on the other hand, I would have it plainly under-
stood that a mere brief local popularity is not fame. No!
for the author who wins the first never secures the last.
What I mean is, that a book or poem, to be great and
keep its greatness hereafter, must be judged worthy by
the natural instinct of peoples. Their decision, I own,
may be tardy, their hesitation may be prolonged through
a hundred or more years, but their acceptance, whether
it be declared in the author's life-time or ages after his
death, must be considered final. I would add, moreover,
that this world-wide decision has never yet been, and
never will be, hastened by any amount of written crit-
icism ; it is the responsive beat of the enormous pulse
of life that thrills through all mankind, high and low,
gentle and simple; its great throbs are slow and solemnly
measured, and yet, if once it answers to a poet's touch,
that poet's name is made glorious forever!"
"ARDATH"
He spoke with a rush of earnestness and eloquence
that was both persuasive and powerful, and he now stood
silent and absorbed, his dreamy eyes resting meditatively
on the massive bust of the immortal personage he called
Hyspiros, which smiled out in serene, cold whiteness
from the velvet-shadowed shrine it occupied. Theos
watched him with fascinated and fraternal fondness.
Did ever man possess so dulcet a voice? he thought; so
grave and rich and marvelously musical, yet thrilling
with such heart-moving suggestions of mingled pride
and plaintiveness.
"Thou art a most alluring orator, Sah-luma!" he said
suddenly. "Methinks I could listen to thee all day and
never tire!"
"I* faith, so could not I!" interposed Zabastes grimly.
"For when a bard begins to gabble goose-like platitudes
which merely concern his own vocation, the gods only
know when he can be persuaded to stop! Nay, 'tis more
irksome far than the recitation of his professional jingle,
for to that there must in time come a merciful fitting
end; but, as I live, if 'twas my custom to say prayers,
I would pray to be delivered from the accursed volubility
of a versifier's tongue! And perchance it will not be
considered out of my line of duty if I venture to remind
my most illustrious and renowned muster" this with a
withering sneer "that if he has any more remarkable
nothings todictate concerning this particularly inane crea-
tion of his fancy, 'Nourhalma,' 'twill be well that we
should proceed therewith, for the hours wax late and
the sun veereth toward his House of Noon."
And he spread out fresh slips of papyrus and again
prepared his long quill.
Sah-luma smiled, as one who is tolerant of the whims
of a hired buffoon, and this time seating himself in his
ebony chair, was about to commence dictating his second
canto, when Theos, yielding to his desire to speak aloud
the idea that had just flashed across his brain, said ab-
ruptly:
"Has it ever seemed to thee, Sah-luma, as it now does
to me, that there is a strange rese rtblance between thy
imaginative description of the ideal 'Nourhalma' and the
actual charms and virtues of thy strayed singing maid
Niphrata?"
"NOURHALMA" 305
Sah-luma looked up, thoroughly astonished, and
laughed.
"No ! Verily, I have not traced, nor can I trace the
smallest vestige of a similarity! Why, good Theos, there
is none not the least in the world < for this heroine of
mine, Nourhalma loves in vain and sacrifices all, even
her innocent and radiant life, for love, as thou wilt hear
in the second half of the poem; moreover, she loves one
who is utterly unworthy of her faithful tenderness. Now,
Niphrata is a child of delicate caprice; she loves me
me, her lord and methinks I am not negligent or un-
deserving of her devotion! Again, she has no strength
of spirit; her timorous blood would freeze at the mere
thought of death; she is more prone to play with flowers
and sing for pure delight of heart than perish for the sake
of love! 'Tis an unequal simile, my friend! As well
compare a fiery planet with a twinkling dew drop as
draw a parallel between the heroic, ideal maid Nourhalma
and my fluttering singing bird Niphrata!" v
Theos sighed involuntarily, but, forcing a smile, let
the subject drop and held his peace, while Sah-luma,
taking up the thread of his poetical narrative, went on
reciting. When the story began to ripen toward its con-
clusion, he grew more animated. Rising, he paced the
room as he declaimed the splendid lines that now rolled
gloriously one upon another like deep-mouthed billows
thundering on the shore; his gestures were all indicative
of the fervor of his inward ecstasy; his eyes flashed; his
features glowed with that serene, proud light of con-
scious power and triumph that rests on the calm, wide
brows of the sculptured Apollo ; and Theos, leaning on
one arm in a half sitting posture, contemplated him with
a curious sensation of wistful eagerness and passionate
pain, such as might be felt by some forgotten artist,mys-
teriously permitted to come out of his grave and wander
back to earth, there to see his once-rejected pictures
hung in places of honor among the world's chief treas-
ures.
A strange throb of melancholy satisfaction stirred his
pulses as he reflected that he might now, without any
self conceit, at least admire the poem. Since he had
decided that it was no longer his, but another's, he was
free to bestow on it as much as he would of unstinting
306 "ARDATH"
praise! For it was very fine; there could be no doubt
of that, whatever Zabastes might say to the contrary,
and it was not only fine, but intensely, humanly pathetic,
seeming to strike a chord of passion such as had never
before been sounded a chord to which the world would
be compelled to listen; yes, compelled, thought Theos
exultingly, as Sah-luma drew nearer and nearer the close
of his dictation. The deep quiet all around was so heavy
as to be almost uncomfortable in its oppressiveness; it
exercised a sort of strain upon the nerves
Hark! what was that? Through the hot and silent air
swept a sullen, surging noise as of the angry shouting of
a vast multitude; then came the fast and furious gallop
of many horses, and again that fierce, resentful roar of
indignation, swelling up as it seemed from thousands of
throats. Moved all three at once by the same instinctive
desire to know what was going on, Theos, Sah-luma, and
Zabastes sprang from their different places in the room
and hurried out on the marble terrace, dashing aside the
silken awnings as they went, in order the better to see
the open glimpses of the city thoroughfares that lay be-
low. Theos, leaning far out over the western half of the
balustrade, was able to command a distant view of the
great square in which the huge white granite obelisk
occupied so prominent a position, and fixing his eyes
attentively on this spot, saw that it was filled to over-
flowing with a dense mass of people, whose white-rat-
mented forms, pressed together in countless numbers,
swayed restlessly to and fro like the rising waves of a
stormy sea.
Lifted above this troubled throng, one tall, dark figure
was distinctly outlined against the dazzling face of the
obelisk a figure that appeared to be standing on the back
of the colossal lion that lay couchant beneath. And as
Theos strained his sight to distinguish the details of the
scene more accurately, he suddenly beheld a glittering
regiment of mounted men in armor, charging straightly
and with cruelly determined speed right into the centev
of the crowd, apparently regardless of all havoc to life
and limb that might ensue. Involuntarily he uttered an
exclamation of horror at what seemed to him so wanton
and brutal an act, when just then Sah-luma caught him
eagerly by the arm Sah-luma, whose soft oval counte^
THE FALL OF THE OBELISK 307
nance was brilliant with excitement, and in whose eyes
gleamed a mingled expression of mirth and ferocity.
"Come, come, my friend!" he said hastily. "Yonder
is a sight worth seeing! 'Tis the mad Khosrul who is
thus entrenched and fortified by the mob; as I live,
that sweeping gallop of His Majesty's Royal Guards is
magnificent! They will seize the prophet this time with-
out fail ay, if they slay a thousand of the populace in
the performance of their duty! Come, let us hasten to
the scene of action 'twill be a struggle I would not
miss for all the world!"
He sprang down the steps of the loggia, accompanied
by Theos, who was equally excited, when all at once
Zabastes, thrusting out his head through a screen of vine
leaves, cried after them:
"Sah-luma! Most illustrious! What of the poem?
It is not finished!"
"No matter," returned Sah-luma. "'Twill be finished
hereafter!"
And he hastened on, Theos treading close in his foot-
steps, and thinking as he went of the new enigma thus
proposed to puzzle afresh the weary workings of his
mind. His poem of "Nourhalma," or rather the poem
he had fancied was his, had been entirely completed
down to the last line; now Sah-luma's was left "to be
finished hereafter. "
Strange that he should find a pale glimmering of con-
solation in this a feeble hope that perhaps, after all,
at some future time he might be able to produce a few,
a very few lines of noble verse that should be deemed
purely original enough, perchance, to endow him with a
faint, far halo of diminished glory such as plodding stu-
dents occasionally win by following humbly yet ardently,
even as he now followed Sah-luma, in the paths of ex-
cellence marked out by greater men!
CHAPTER XIV.
THE FALL OF THE OBELISK.
IN less time than he could have imagined possible,
V><? found himself in the densely crowded square, buffet-
308 "ARDATH"
ing and struggling against an angry and rebellious mob,
who, half-terrified, had evidently set themselves to re-
sist the determined charge made by the mounted soldiery
into their midst. For once Sah luma's appearance created
no diversion; he was pushed and knocked about as un-
ceremoniously as if he were the commonest citizen of
them all. He seemed carelessly surprised at this, but
7ievertheless took his hustling very good-humoredly, and
keeping his shoulders well squared, forced his way with
Theos by slow degrees through the serried ranks of peo-
ple, many of whom, roused to a sort of frenzy, threw
themselves in front of the advancing horses of the guard,
and seizing the reins, held on to these like grim death,
reckless of all danger.
As yet no weapons were used either by the soldiers or
the populace ; the former seemed for the present contented
to simply ride down those who impeded their progress,
and that they had done so in terrible earnest was plainly
evident from the numbers of wounded creatures that lay
scattered about on every side in an apparently half-dy-
ing condition. Yet there was surely a strange insensibil-
ity among them all, inasmuch as, in spite of th^ conten-
tion and confusion, there were no violent shrieks of either
pain or fury, no exclamations of rage or despair, no
sound whatever, indeed, save a steady.sullen, monotonous
snarl of opposition, above which the resonant voice of
the prophet Kliosrul rang out like a silver clarion.
"O people doomed and made desolate!" he cried. "O
nation once mighty, brought low to the dust of destruc-
tion! Hear me, ye strong men and fair women, and
you, ye poor little children who never again shall see the
sun rise on the thousand domes of Al-Kyris! Lift up
the burden of bitter lamentation! lift it up to the heaven
of heavens, the throne of the All-Seeing Glory, the
Giver of Law, the Destroyer of Evil! Weep weep for
your sins and the sins of your sons and your daughters;
cast off the jewels of pride; rend the fine raiment; let
your tears be abundant as the rain and dew! Kneel
down and cry aloud on the great and terrible unknown
God the God ye have denied and wronged, the Founder
of worlds, who doth hold in his hand the sun as a torch
and scattered! stars with the fire of his breath! Miurn
and bend ye all beneath the iron strok* of destiny; for
THE FALL OF THE OBELISK $09
know ye oot how fierce a thing is come upon Al Kyris
a thing that lips cannot utter nor words define, a thing
more horrible than strange sounds in thick darkness,
move deadly than the lightning when it leaps from
heaven with intent to slay? O city stately beyond all
cities! Thy marble palaces are already ringed round
with a river of blood! The temples of thy knowledge,
wherein thy wise men have studied to exceed all wis-
dom, begin to totter to their fall! Thou shalt be swept
away even as a light heap of ashes, and what shall all
thy learning avail thee in that brief and fearful end?
Hear me, O people of Al- Kyris! Hear me and cease to
strive among yourselves; resist not thus desperately the
king's armed minions, for to them I also speak and say,
Lo! the time approaches when a stronger hand than that
of the mighty Zephoranim shall take me prisoner and
bear me hence where most I long to go! Peace, I com-
mand you; in the name of that God whose truth I do
proclaim, peace!"
As he uttered the last word an instantaneous hush fell
upon the crowd; every head was turned toward his grand,
gaunt, almost spectral figure; and even the mounted sol-
diery reined up their plunging, chafing steeds and re-
mained motionless, as though suddenly fixed to the ground
y some powerful magnetic spell. Theos and Sah-luma
took immediate advantage of this lull in the conflict to
try and secure for themselves a better point of vantage,
though there was much difficulty in pressing through the
closely packed throng, inasmuch as not a man moved to
give them passage-room.
Presently, however, Sah-luma managed to reach the
nearest one of the two great fountains which adorned
either side of the obelisk, and springing as lightly as a
bird on its marble edge, he stood erect there, his pictur-
esque form presenting itself to the view like a fine statue
set against the background of sun-tinted, foaming water
that dashed high above him and sprinkled his garments
with drops of sparkling spray. Theos at once joined
him, and the two friends, holding each other by the arm,
gazed down on the silent, mighty multitude around
them a huge concourse of the citizens of Al Kyris, who,
strange as this part of their behavior seemed, still paid
no heed to the presence of their laureate, but with pale,
3 1C "ARDATH 1 "'
rapt faces and anxious, frightened eyes riveted their at-
tention entirely on the somber,black garmented prophet,
whose thin, ghostly arms, outstretched above them, ap-
peared to mutely invoke in their behalf some special
miracle of mercy.
"See you not," whispered Sah-luma to his companion,
"how yon aged fool wears upon his breast the symbol
of his own prophecy? 'Tis the maddest freak to thus
display his death-warrant! Only a month ago the king
issued a decree warning all those whom it might con-
cern, that any one of his born subjects presuming to car-
ry the sign of Khosrul's newly invented faith should surely
die! And that the crazed reprobate carries it himself
makes no exemption from the rule!"
Theos shuddered. His eyes were misty, but he could
very well see the emblem to which Sah-luma alluded.
It was the cross again, the same sacred prefigurement
of things "to come," according to the perplexing expla-
nation given by the mystic Zuriel whom he had met in
the Passage of the Tombs, though to his own mind it
conveyed no such meaning. What was it, then? If
not a prototype of the future, was it a record of the
past? He dared not pursue this question it seemed to
send his brain reeling on the verge of madness! He made
no answer to Sah-luma's remark, but fixed his gaze
wistfully on the tall, melancholy shape that like a black
shadow darkened the whiteness of the obelisk, and his
sense of hearing became acute almost to painfulness
when once more Khosrul's deep, vibrating tones pealed
solemnly through the heavy air.
"God speaks to Al-Kyris!" And as the prophet en-
unciated these words with majestic emphasis, a visible
thrill ran through the hushed assemblage. "God saith:
'Get thee up, O thou city of pleasure, from th)' couch
of sweet wantonness; get thee up, gird thee with fire,
and flee into the desert of forgotten things! For thou
art become a blot on the fairness of my world and a
shame to the brightness of my heaven! Thy rulers are
corrupt ; thy teachers are proud of heart and narrow of
judgment; thy young men and maidens go astray and
follow each after their own vain opinions; in thy great
temples and holy places falsehood abides, and vice holds
tourt in thy glorious palaces. Wherefore, because thou
THE FALL OF THE OBELISK 31 1
hast neither sought nor served me, and because thou hast
set up gold as thy god and a multitude of riches as thy
chief good, lo! now mine eyes have grown weary of be-
holding thee, and I will descend upon thee suddenly and
destroy thee, even as a hill of sand is destroyed by the
whirlwind, and thou shalt be known in the land of my
creatures nc more! Wee to thee that thou hast taken
pride in thy wisdom and learning, for therein lies thy
much wickedness! If thou wert truly wise thou wouldst
have found me; if thou wert nobly learned thou wouldst
have understood my laws; but thou art proved altogether
gross, foolish, and incapable, and the studies whereof
thou hast boasted, the writings of thy wise men, the
charts of sea and land, the maps of thy chief astronomers,
the engraved tablets of learning in gold, in silver, in ivory,
in stone, thy chronicles of battle and conquest,the docu-
ments of thine explorers in far countries, the engines of
thine invention whereby thou dost press the lightning
into thy service and make the air respond to the mes-
sages of thy kings and councilors all these shall be
thrust away into an everlasting silence and no man here-
after shall be able to declare that such things have ever
been!"
Here the speaker paused; and Thos, surveying the
vast listening crowds, fancied they looked like an audi-
^nce of moveless ghosts rather than human beings, so
still, so pallid, so grave were they, one and all. Khosrul
continued in softer, more melancholy accents, that, while
plaintive were still singularly impressive.
"O my ill-fated, my beloved fellow-countrymen!" he
exclaimed, extending his arms with a vehemently plead-
ing gesture, as though in the excess of emotion he would
have drawn all the people to his heart. "Ye unhappy
ones, have I not given ye warning? Have I not bidden
ye beware of this great evil which should come to pass?
evil for which there is no remedy, none, neither in the
earth, nor the sea, nor the invisible comforts of the air!
For God hath spoken, and who shall contradict the
thunder of his voice? Behold, the end is at hand of all
the pleasant things of Al-Kyris the feasting and the
musical assemblies, the cymbal symphonies and the choir
dances, the labors of students and the triumphs of sages
all these shall seem but the mockery of madness in the
312 "ARDATH"
swift descending night of overwhelming destruction!
Woe is me that ye would not listen when I called, but
turned every man to his own devices and the following
after idols! Nay, now, what will ye do in extremity?
Will ye chant hymns to the sun? Lo ! he is deaf and
blind, for all his golden glory, and is but a taper set in
the window of the sky, to be extinguished at God's good
pleasure! Will ye supplicate Nagaya? O fools and des-
perate! how shall a brute beast answer prayer? Vain,
vain is all beseeching; shut forever are the doors of
escape; therefore cover yourselves with the garments of
burial; prepare each one his grave and rich funeral
things; gather together the rosemary and myrrh, the
precious ointments and essences, the strings of gold and
the jeweled talismans whereby ye think to fight against
corruption, and fall down, every man in his own wrought
hollow in the ground, face turned to earth, and die; for
death hath broken through the strong gates of Al-Kyris
and hath taken the city magnificent captive unknowingly!
Alas! alas! that ye would not follow whither I led, that
ye would not harken to the vision of the future, dimly
yet gloriously revealed! The future! the future!"
He broke off suddenly, and raising his eyes to the deep
blue sky above him, seemed for a moment as though
he were caught up in the clouds of some wondrous dream.
Stili the enormous throng of people stood hushed and
motionless. Not a word, not a sound escaped them;
there was something positively appalling in such abso-
lute immobility at least it appeared so to Theos, who
could not understand this dispassionate behavior on the
part of so large and lately-excited a multitude. All at
once a voice marvelously tender, clear, and pathetic
trembled on the silence. Was it, could it be the voice
of Khosrul ? Yes! but so changed, so solemn> so infinitely
sweet that it might have been some gentle angel speak-
ing:
"Like a fountain of sweet water in the desert or the
rising of the moon in a gloomy midnight," he said slowly,
"even so is the hope and promise of the Supremely Be-
loved! Through the veiling darkness of the coming ages
his light already shines upon my soul! O blessed ad-
vent! O happy future! O days when privileged humanity
shall bridge by love the gulf between this world and
THE KALI. OF THE OBELISK 313
heaven ! What shall be said of Him who cometh to re-
deem us, O my foreseeing spirit? What shall be told
concerning his most marvelous beauty? Even as a dove
that for pity of its helpless younglings doth battle soft-
breasted with a storm, even so shall he descend from out
his glory sempiternal arid teach us how to conquer sin
and death ay, even with the meekness of a little child
he shall approach and choose his dwelling here among
us! O Heavenly Child! O Wisdom of God contained
in innocence ! happy the learning that shall learn from
thee! noble the pride that shall humble itself before thy
gentleness!* O Prince of manhood and divinity entwined !
Thou shalt acquaint thyself with human griefs and pa-
tiently unravel the perplexities of human longings! To
prove thy sacred sympathy with suffering, thou shalt be
content to suffer; to explain the mystery of death, thou
shalt even be content to die! O people of Al-Kyris, hear
ye all the words that tell of this wonderful, inestimable
King of Peace. Mine aged eyes do see him now, far,
far off in the rising mist of unformed future things! The
cross the cross, on which his man's pure life dissolves
itself in glory, stretches above me in spreading beams
of light! Ah! 'tis a glittering pathway in the skies,
whereon men and the angels meet and know each other!
He is the strong and perfect Spirit that shalt break loose
from death and declare the insignificance of the grave.
He is the lingering Star in the East that shall rise and
lighten all spiritual darkness the unknown, unnamed
Redeemer of the world, the Man-God Savior that shall
come!"
"Shall come?" cried Theos suddenly roused to the
uttermost pitch of frenzied excitement, and pronouncing
each word with loud and involuntary vehemence. "Nay!
*Theidea of a Savior who should be born as man to redeem the world
was prevalent among all nations, and dates from the remotest ages.
Coming down to what must be termed quite a modern period compared
to that in which the city of Al-Kyris had its existence, we find that the
Romans under Octavius Caesar were wont to exclaim at their sacred
meetings, "The times foretold bv the Sybil axe. arrived; may a new age
soon restore that Saturn! Soon may the child be born who shall banish
the age of iron!" Tacitus and Suetonius both mention the prophecies "in
the sacred books of the priests" which declare that the "east shall be in
commotion." and that "men from Judea" shall subject "everything to
their dominion."
214 "ARDATH"
for he has come ! He died for us and rose again from the
dead more than eighteen hundred years ago!"
A frightful silence followed a breahtless cessation of
even tiie faintest quiver of sound. The mighty mass of
people, apparently moved by one accord, turned with
swift, stealthy noiselessness toward the audacious speaker;
thousands of glittering eyes were fixed upon him in sol-
emnly inquiring wonderment, while he himself, now al
together dismayed at the effect of his own rash utterance,
thought he had never experienced a more awful moment!
For it was as though all the skeletons he had lately seen
in the Passage of the Tombs had suddenly clothed them-
selves with spectral flesh and hair and the shadowy gar-
ments of men, and had advanced into the broad daylight
to surround him in their terrible lifeless ranks and
wrench from him the secret of an after existence concern-
ing which they were ignorant !
How ghostly and drear seemed that dense crowd in
this new light of his delirious fancy! A clammy dew
broke out on his forehead ; he saw the blue skies, the
huge buildings in the square, the obelisk, the fountains,
the trees, all whirling round him in a wild dance of the
dizziest distraction, when Sah-luma's rich voice close to
his ear recalled his wandering senses.
"Why, man, art thou drunk or mad?" And the laure-
ate's face expressed a kind of sarcastic astonishment.
"What a fool thou hast made of thyself, good comrade!
By my soul! how shall thy condition be explained to
these open-mouthed starers below? See how they gape
upon thee; thou art most assuredly a noticeable spectacle !
An yon maniac prophet doth evidently judge thee as one
of his craft, a fellow-professional howler of marvels, else
he would scarcely deign to fix his eyes so obstinately on
thy countenance! Nay, verily thou dost outrival him
in the strangeness of thy language! What moved thee to
such frenzied utterance? Surely thou hast a stroke of
the sun! Thy words were most absolutely devoid of
reason as senseless as the jabber of an idiot to his own
shadow on the wall!"
Theos was mute; he had no defense to offer. The
crowd still stared upon him, and his heart beat fast with
THE FALL OF THE OBELISK 315
a mingled sense of fear and pride fear of his present
surroundings, pride that he had spoken out his convic-
tion boldly, reckless of all consequences. And this pride
was a most curious thing to analyze, because it did not
so much consist in the fact of his having openly con-
fessed his inward thought as that he felt he had gained
some special victory in thus acknowledging his belief in
the positive existence of Hie "Savior" who formed the
subject of Khosrul's prophecy. Full of a singular sort of
self-congratulation which yet had nothing to do with
selfishness, he became so absorbed in his own reflections
that he started like a man brusquely aroused from sleep
when the prophet's strong, grave voice apostrophized him
personally over the heads of the throng:
"Who and what art thou that dost speak of the FUTURE
as though it were the PAST? Hast thou held converse
with the angels, and is past and future one with thee in
the dream of the departing present? Answer me, thou
stranger to the city of Al-Kyris! Has God taught thee
the way to everlasting life?"
Again that awful silence made itself felt like a deadly
chill on the sunlit air. The quiet, patient crowds seemed
waiting in hushed suspense for some reply which should
be as a flash of spiritual enlightenment to leap from one
to the other with kindling heat and radiance and vivify
them all into a new and happier existence. But now
when Theos most strongly desired to speak, he remained
dumb as stone! Vainly he struggled against and con-
tended with the invisible, mysterious, and relentless des-
potism that smote him on the mouth, as it were, and
deprived him of all power of utterance; his tongue was
stiff and frozen; his very lips were sealed! Trembling
violently, he gazed beseechingly at Sah-luma, who held
his arm in a firm and friendly grasp, and who, apparently
quickly perceiving that he was distressed and embar-
rassed, undertook himself to furnreh forth what he
evidently considered a fitting response to Khosrul's
adjuration.
"Most venerable seer!" he cried mockingly, his bright
face radiant with mirth and his dark eyes flashing a care-
less contempt as he spoke, "thou art as short-sighted as
thine own auguries if thou canst not at once comprehend
the drift of my friend's humor! He hath caught the
316 "ARDATH"
infection of thy fanatic eloquence, and, like thee, xnows
naught of what he says; moreover, he hath good wine
and sunlight mingled in his blood, whereby he lath
been doubtless moved to play a jest upon thee. ] pray
thee heed him not. He is as tree to declare thy propnec>
is of the past as thou art to insist on its being of the.
future, in both ways 'tis a most foolish fallacy! Never-
theless, continue thy entertaining discourse, Sir Gray-
beard, and if thou must needs address thyself to any one
soul in particular, why, let it be to me; vor though,
thanks to my own excellent good sense, I 'uave no faith
in angels, nor crosses, nor everlasting life, nor any of
the strange riddles wherewith thou seekest to perplex and
bewilder the brains of the ignorant, still am I laureate of
the realm, and ready to hold argument with thee, yea,
until such time as these dumfounded soldiers and citi-
zens of Al-Kyris shall remembe* their duty sufficiently
to seize and take thee captive in the king's great
name!"
As he ceased, a deep sigh *an, like the first sound of
a rising wind among trees, xnrough the heretofore mo-
tionless multitude, a fain,, dawning, yet doubtful smile
reflected itself on ther.r fces, and the old familiar shout
broke feebly from their lips:
"Hail, Sah-luma ! l^t us hear Sah-luma!" Sah-luma
looked down upon the n all in airy derision.
"O fickle, terror-st,icken fools!" he exclaimed. "O
thankless and disloyal people! What! ye will see me
now? Ye will hear aie? Ay! but who shall answer for
your obedience to my words? Nay, is it possible that I,
your country's chosen chief minstrel, should have stood
so long among >e, disregarded? How comes it your
dull eyes and ears were fixed so fast upon yon dotard
miscreant whose Jays are numbered? Methought 'twas
but Sah-luma's voice that could persuade ye to assemble
thus in such locust-like swarms; since when have the
poet and the people of Al-Kyris ceased to be as one?"
A vague muttering sound answered him, whether of
shame or dissatisfaction it was difficult to tell. Khosrul's
vibrating accents struck sharply across that muffled
murmur.
"The poet and the people of Al-K)'ris are furthe; asun-
der than light and darkness 1" he cried vehemently. "For
THE PALL OF THE OBELISK 317
ihe poet has been false to his high vocation, and the
people trust in him no more!"
There was an instant's hush a hush, as it seemed, ot
grieved acquiescence on the part of the populace and
during that brief pause Theos' heart gave a fierce bound
against his ribs, as though some one had suddenly shot
at him with a poisoned arrow. He glanced quickly at
Sah-luma; but Sah-luma stood calmly unmoved, his
handsome head thrown back, a cynical smile on his lips,
and his eyes darker than ever with an intensity of unut-
terable scorn.
"Sah-luma! Sah-luma!" and the piercing, reproachful
voice of the prophet penetrated every part of the spacious
square like a sonorous bell ringing over a still landscape.
"O divine spirit of song pent up in gross clay, was ever
mortal more gifted than thou! In thee was kindled the
white fire of heaven; to thee were confided the memories
of vanished worlds; for thee God bade his nature wear
a thousand shapes of varied meaning; the sun, the moon,
the stars were appointed as thy servants ; for thou wert
born POET, the mystically chosen teacher and consoler of
mankind! What hast thou done, Sah-luma; what ha&t
thou done with the treasures bestowed upon thee by the
all-endowing angels? How hast thou used the talisman
of thy genius? To comfort the afflicted? to dethrone and
destroy the oppressor? to uphold the cause of justice? to
rouse the noblest instincts of thy race? to elevate and
purify the world? Alas! alas! thou hast made thyself the
idol of thy muse, and, thou being but perishable, thy
name shall perish with thee! Thou hast drowsed away
thy manhood in the lap of vice; thou hast slept and
dreamed when thou shouldst have been awake and vigi-
lant ; not I, but thou shouldst have warned this people
of their coming doom! Not I, but thou shouldst have
marked the threatening signs of the pregnant hour; not
I, but thou shouldst have perceived the first faint glim-
mer of God's future scheme of glad salvation ; not I, but
thou shouldst have taught and pleaded, and swayed by
thy matchless scepter of sweet song the passions of thy
countrymen! Hadst thou been true to that first flame of
thought within thee, O Sah-lnma, how thy glory would
have dwarfed the power of kings! Empires might have
fallen, cities decayed, and nations been absorbed in ruin,
3i& "ARDATH"
and yet thy clear-convincing voice, rendered imperish-
able by its faithfulness, should have sounded forth in
triumph above the foundering wrecks of Time! O poet,
unworthy of thy calling! How thou hast wantoned with
the sacred muse! How thou hast led her stainless feet
into the mire of sensual hypocrisies and decked he)
with the trumpery gew-gaws of a meaningless fuii
speech! How thou hast caught her by the virgina;
hair and made her chastity the screen for all thine ow,i
licentiousness! Thou shouldst have humbly sought h ;r
benediction; thou shouldst have handled her with genile
reverence and patient ardor; from her wise lips th m
shouldst have learned how best to practice those virti es
whose praise thou didet evasively proclaim ; thou shoul Jst
have shrined her, throned her, worshiped her and served
her, yea, even as a sinful man may serve an angel who
loves him!"
Ah, what a strange, cold thrill ran through Theos JLS he
heard these last words: "As a sinful man may serve an
angel who loves him!" How happy the man thus loved!
how fortunate the sinner thus permitted to served Who
was he? Could there be any one so marvelously privi-
leged? He wondered dimly, and a dull, aching pain
throbbed heavily in his brows. It was a very singular
thing, too, that he should find himself strongly and per-
sonally affected by Khosrul's address to Sah-luma; yet
such was the case, so much so, indeed, that he accepted
all the prophet's reproaches as though they applied
solely to his own past life! He could not understand
his emotion ; nevertheless, he kept on dreamily regretting
that things were as Khosrul had said that he had not
fulfilled his vocation, and that he had neither been hum-
ble enough, nor devout enough, nor unselfish enough to
deserve the high and imperial name of POET.
Round and round like a flying mote this troublesome
idea circled in his brain ; he must do better in the future,
he resolved, supposing than any future remained to him
in which to work. He must redeem the past! Here he
roused his mental faculties with a start and forced him-
self to realize that it was Sah-luma to whom the prophet
spoke Sah-luma, only Sah-luma, not himself!
Then straightway he became indignant on his friend's
behalf; why should Sah luma be blamed? Sah-luma was
THE FALL OF THE OBELISK
a, glorious poet a master singer of singers! His fame
must and should endure forever! Thus thinking, lie
regained his composure by degrees and strove to assume
the same air of easy indifference as that exhibited by his
companion, when again Khosrul's declamatory tones
thundered forth with an absoluteness of emphasis that
was both startling and convincing:
"Hear me, Sah-luma, chief minstrel of Al-Kyris! Hear
me, thou who hast willfully wasted the golden moments
of never-returning time! Thou art marked out for death
death sudden and fierce as the leap of the desert panther
on its prey ! death that shall come to thee through the
traitorous speech of the evil woman whose beauty has
sapped thy strength and rendered thy glory inglorious!
death that for thee, alas! shall be mournful and utter
oblivion! Naught shall it avail thee that thy musical
weaving of words hath been graven seven times over
on tablets of stone and agate and ivory, of gold and
white silex and porphyry and the unbreakable rose-ada-
mant none of these shall suffice to keep thy name in
remembrance ; for what cannot be broken shall be melted
with flame, and what cannot be erased shall be buried
miles deep in the bosom of earth, whence it never again
shall be lifted into the light of day! Aye, thou shalt be
forgotten forgotten as though thou hadst never sung.
Other poets shall chant in the world, yet maybe none
so well as thou; other laurel and myrtle wreaths shall
be given by countries and kings to bards unworthy, of
whom none, perchance, shall have thy sweetness! But
thou thou, the most grandly gifted, gift-squandering
poet the world has ever known, shall be cast among the
dust of unremembered nothings, and the name of Sah-
luma shall carry no meaning to any man born in the
-coming hereafter! For thou hast cherished within thy-
self the poison that withers thee the deadly poison of
doubt, the denial of God's existence, the accursed blank-
ness of disbelief in the things of life eternal! Where-
fore thy spirit is that of one lost and rebellious, whose
best works are futile, whose days are void of example,
and whose carelessly grasped torch of song shall be sud-
denly snatched from thy hand and extinguished in dark-
ness ! God pardon thee, dying poet ! God give thy part-
ing soul a chance of penance and of sweet redemption)
320 "ARDATH"
God comfort thee in that drear land of shadow whithei
thou art bound! God bring thee forth again from chaoa
to a nobler future! Sin-burdened as thou art, my bless-
ing follows thee in thy last agony! Sah-luma, //^r.
angel, self-exiled from thy peers, farewell!"
The effect of these strange words was so extraordina-
rily impressive that for one instant the astonished and
evidently affrighted crowds pressed round Sah-luma ea-
gerly, staring at him in morbid fear and wonder, as
though they expected him to drop dead before them in
immediate fulfillment of the prophet's solemn valedic-
tion. Theos, oppressed by an inward, sickening sense of
terror, also regarded him with close and anxious solici-
tude, but was almost reassured at the first glance.
Never was a greater opposition offered to Khosrul's
gloomy prognostications than that contained in the hand-
some laureate's aspect at that moment. His supple,
graceful figure, alert with life, his glowing face, flushed
by the sun and touched with that faintly amused look of
serene scorn, his glorious eyes brilliant as jewels under
their drooping, amorous lids, and the regal poise of his
splendid shoulders and throat as he lifted his head a
little more haughtily than usual and glanced indifferently
down from his foothold on the edge of the fountain at the
upturned, questioning faces of the throng all, even to
the careless balance and ease of his attitude, betokened
his perfect condition of health and the entire satisfaction
he had in the consciousness of his own strength and
beauty.
He seemed about to speak, and raised his hand with
the graceful yet commanding gesture of one accustomed to
the art of elegant rhetoric, when suddenly his expression
changed. Shrugging his shoulders slightly as who should
say, "Here comes the conclusion of the matter no time
for further argument," he silently pointed across the
square, while a smile, dazzling yet cruel, played on his
delicately parted lips a smile the covert meaning of
which was soon explained. For all at once a brazen
roar of trumpets split the silence into torn and discord-
ant echoes. The crowd turned swiftly, and, seeing who
it was that approached, rushed hither and thither in the
wildest confusion, making as though they would have
fled and in less than a minute a gleaming cohort of
THE FALL OF THE OBELISK 321
mounted and armed spearmen galloped furiously into the
thick of theme/Se.
Following these came a superb car drawn by six jet-
black horses that plunged and pranced through the mul-
titude with no more heed than if these groups of living
beings had been mere sheaves of corn a car flashing
from end to end with gold and precious stones, in which
towered the erect, massive form of Zephoranim, the king.
His dark face was ablaze with wrath. Tightly grasping
the reins of his reckless steeds, he drew himself haughtily
upright and turned his rolling, fierce black eyes indig-
nantly from side to side on the scared people as he drove
through their retreating ranks,smiting down and mangling
with the sharp spikes of his tall chariot-wheels, men,
women, and children, without care or remorse, till he
forced his terrible passage straight to the foot of the
obelisk. There he came to an abrupt standstill, and
lifting high his strong hand and brawny arm glittering
with jewels, he cried:
"Soldiers! Seize yon traitorous rebel! Ten thousand
pieces of gold for the capture of Khosrul!"
There was an instant of hesitation; not one of the
populace stirred to obey the order. Then suddenly, as
though released by their monarch's command from some
mesmeric spell, the before inactive mounted guards
started into action, cantered sharply forward and sur-
rounded the obelisk, while the armed spearmen closed
together and made a swift advance upon the venerable
figure that stood alone and defenseless, tranquilly await-
ing their approach. But there was evidently some un-
known and mysterious force pent up within the prophet's
feeble frame, for when the soldiers were just about at
arm's length from him, they seemed all at once troubled
and irresolute, and turned their looks away, as though
fearing to gaze too steadfastly upon that grand thought-
furrowed countenance, in which the eyes, made young by
inward fervor, blazed forth with unearthly luster beneath
a silvery halo of tossed white hair. Zephoranim per-
ceived this touch of indecision on the part of his men,
and his black brows contracted in an omnious frown.
"Halt!" he shouted fiercely, apparently to make it seem
io them that the pause in the action of the soldiery was
in compliance with his own behest. "Halt! Bind him
and bring him hither. I myself will slay him I"
322 "ARDATH"
"Halt!" echoed a voice, discordantly sharp and wile
"Halt thou also, great Zephoranim ! for DEATH bars thj
further progress!" And Khosrul, manifestly possessed
by some superhuman access of frenzy, leaped from his
position on the back of the stone lion, and slipping ag-
ilely through the ranks of the startled spearmen and
guards, who were all unprepared for the suddenness and
rapidity of his movements, he sprang boldly on the edge
of the royal chariot, and there clung to the jeweled
wheel, looking like a gaunt aerial specter, an ambassador
of coming ruin. The king, speechless with amazement
and fury, dragged at his huge sword till he wrenched it
.out of its sheath; raising it, he whirled it round his head
so that it gave a murderous hiss in the air and yet
was his strong arm paralyzed that he forebore to
strike?
"Zephoranim!" cried Khosrul, in tones that were pierc-
ing and dolorous as the whistling of the wind among
hollow reeds, "Zephoranim, thou shall die to-night! art thou
ready? Art thou ready, proud king ready to be made less
than the lowest of the low? Hush! Hush!" and his aged
face took upon itself a ghastly greenish pallor. "Hear you
not the muttering of the thunder underground? There
are strange powers at work; powers of the undug earth
and unfathomed sea! Hark how they tear at the stately
foundations of Al-Kyris! Flame! flame! it is already
kindled! it shall enwrap thee with more closeness than
thy coronation robe, O mighty sovereign, with more
gloating fondness that the serpent twining arms of thy
beloved! Listen, Zephoranim, listen!"
Here he stretched out his skinny hand and pointed
upward; his eyes grew fixed and glassy, his throat rat-
tled convulsively. At that moment the monarch, recov-
ering his self-possession, once more lifted his sword
with direct and deadly aim, but the prophet, uttering a
wild shriek, caught at his descending wrist and gripped
it fast.
"See! See!" he exclaimed. "Put up thy weapon!
Thou shall never need it where thou art summoned! Lo!
how yon blood-red letters blaze against the blue of heav-
en ! There there it comes! Read read! 'Tis written
plain: AL-KYRIS SHALL FALL AND THE KING SHALL DIE!'
Hist! hist! Dumb oracles speak and dead voices find
THE FALL OF THE OBELISK 323
tongue! Hark how they chant together the old forgot-
ten warning:
'When the high-priestess
Is the king's mistress
Then fall Al-Kyris!'
Fall Al-Kyris! Ay, the city of a thousand palaces shall
fall to-night! To-night! O night of desperate horror!
and thou, O king, shalt die\"
And as he shrilled the last word on the air with ter-
rific emphasis, he threw up his arms like a man sud-
denly shot, and, reeling backward, fell heavily on the
ground, a corpse.
A great cry went up from the crowd; the king leaned
eagerly out of his car.
"Is the fool dead, or feigning death?" he demanded,
addressing one of a group of soldiers standing near.
The officer stooped and felt the motionless body.
"O great king, live forever! He is dead!"
Zephoranim hesitated. Cruelty and clemency strug-
gled for the mastery in the varying expression of his
frowning face, but cruelty conquered. Grasping his
sword firmly, he bent still farther forward out of his
chariot, and with one swift, keen stroke severed the life-
less prophet's head from its trunk, and taking it up on
the point of his weapon, showed it to the multitude. A
smothered, shuddering sigh that was half a groan rip-
pled through the dense throng a sound that evidently
added fresh irritation to the already heated temper of
the haughty sovereign. With a savage laugh he tossed
his piteous trophy on the pavement, where it lay in a
pool of its own blood, the white hair about it stained
ruddily, and the still open eyes upturned as though in
dumb appeal to heaven. Then, without deigning to utter
another word or to bestow another look upon the sur-
rounding crowd of his disconcerted subjects, he gathered
up his coursers' reins and prepared to depart.
Just then the sun went behind a cloud, and only a
side beam of radiance shot forth, pouring itself straight
down on the royally attired figure of the monarch and
the headless body of Khosrul, and at the same time bring-
ing into sudden and prominent relief the silver cross
that glittered on the breast of the bleeding corpse, and
that seemed to mysteriously offer itself as the key to
324 "ARDATH"
some unsolved enigma. As if drawn by one strangely
mutual attraction, all eyes, even those of Zephoranim
himself, turned instinctively toward the flashing emblem
which appeared to burn like living fire on that perished
mass of stiffening clay; and there was a brief silence, a
pause, during which Theos, who had watched every-
thing with curiously calm interest, such as may be felt
by a spectator watching the progress of a finely acted
tragedy, became conscious of the same singular sensa-
tion he had already several times experienced namely,
that he h<id witnessed the whole of this scene before!
He remembered it quite well, particularly that appar-
ently trifling incident of the sunlight happening to shine
so brilliantly on the dead man and his cross while the
rest of the vast assemblage were in comparative shadow.
It was very odd. His memory was like a wonderful art
gallery in which some pictures were fresh of tint, while
others were dim and faded; but this special "tableau"
in the square of Al-Kyris was very distinctly painted in
brilliant and vivid colors on the somber background of
his past recollections, and he found the circumstance so
remarkable that he was on the point of saying some-
thing to Sah-luma about it, when the sun came out again
in full splendor, and Zephoranim's spirited steeds started
forward at a canter.
The king, controlling them easily with one hand, ex-
tended the other majestically by way of formal salutation
to his people. His tall, muscular form was displayed to
the best advantage; the narrow jeweled fillet that bound
his rough, dark locks emitted a myriad scintillations of
light; his close-fitting coat of mail, woven from thou-
sands of small links of gold, set off his massive chest and
shoulders to perfection; and as he moved along royally
in his sumptuous car, the effect of his striking presence
was such that a complete change took place in the be-
fore sullen humor of the populace. For, seeing him thus
alive and well in direct opposition to Khosrul's ominous
prediction, even as Sah-luma also stood unharmed in
spite of his having been apostrophized as a "dying poet,"
the mob, always dazzled by outward show, suddenly set
up a deafening roar of cheering. The pallid hue of ter-
ror vanished from faces that had but lately looked spec-
trally thin with speechless dread, and crowds of servile
THE FALL OF THE OBELISK 325
petitioners and place hunters began to press eagerly
round their monacrh's chariot when all at once a woman
in the throng gave a wild scream and rushed away shriek-
ing:
" The obelisk! The obelisk!"
Every eye was instantly turned toward the stately
pillar of white granite that sparkled in the sunlight like
an immense carven jewel. Great heaven! It was tot-
tering to and fro like the unsteady mast of a ship at sea!
One look sufficed, and a frightful panic ensued a hor-
rible, brutish stampede of creatures without faith in any-
thing human or divine save their own wretched person-
alities. The king, infected by the general scr.re, urged
his horses into furious gallop, and dashed through the
cursing, swearing, howling throng like an embodied
whirlwind, and for a few seconds nothing seemed dis-
tinctly visible but a surging mass of infuriated humanity
fighting with itself for life.
Theos alone remained singularly calm; hii sole con-
sideration was for his friend Sah-luma, whom he en-
twined with one arm as he sprang down froxn the posi-
tion they had hitherto occupied on the brink of the foun-
tain, and made straight for the nearest of the six broad
avenues that opened directly into the square. Sah-luma
looked pale, but was apparently unafraid; he said noth-
ing, and passively allowed himself to be piloted by Theos
through the madly raging multitude, which, oddly enough,
parted before them like mist before the wind, so that in
a magically short interval they successfully reached a
place of safety.
And they reached it not a moment too scon. For the
obelisk was now plainly seen to be lurching forward at
an angle of several degrees; strange mulfled, roaring
sounds were heard at its base, as though demons were
digging up its foundations; then, seemingly shaken by un-
derground tremors, it began to oscillate violently, a ter-
rific explosion was heard as of the bursting of a giant
bomb, and immediately afterward the majestic monolith
toppled over and fell with a crash of a colossal cannon-
ade that sent its thunderous reverberations through and
through the length and breadth of the city! Hundreds
of persons were killed and wounded; many of the
mounted guards and spearmen who were striving to force
326 "ARDATH"
a way of escape through the crowd were struck down
and crushed pell-mell with their horses as they rode; the
desperate people trampled each other to death in their
frenzied efforts to reach the nearest outlet to the river
embankment; but when once the obelisk had actually
fallen,all this turmoil was for an instant checked,and the
gasping, torn, and bleeding survivors of the struggle
stopped, as it were, to take breath, and stared in blank
dismay upon the strange ruin before them.
Theos, still holding Sah-luma by the arm with the pro-
tecting fondness of an elder brother guarding a younger,
gazed also at the scene with quiet, sorrowfully wonder-
ing eyes. For it meant something to him, he was sure,
because it was so familiar; yet he found it impossible
to grasp the comprehension of that meaning. It was a
singular spectacle enough: the lofty, four-sided white
pillar that had so lately been a monumental glory of Al-
Kyris had split itself with the violence of its fall into
two huge desolate-looking fragments, which now lay
one on each side of the square, as though flung hither
by a Titan's hand; the great lion had been hurled from
its position and overturned like a toy, while the shield
it had supported between its paws had entirely disap-
peared in minutely scattered atoms; the fountains had
altogether ceased playing. Now and then a thin vapor-
ous stream of smoke appeared to issue between the cran-
nies of the pavements; otherwise there was no visible
sign of the mysterious force that had wrought so swift
and sudden a work of destruction; the sun shone bril-
liantly, and over all the havoc beamed the placid bright-
ness of a cloudless summer sky.
The most prominent object of all amid the general
devastation, and the one that fascinated Theos more than
the view of the destroyed monolith and the debased
lion, was the uninjured head of the prophet Khosrul.
There it lay, exactly between the sundered halves of
the obelisk; pale rays of light glimmered on its blood-
stained silvery hair and open, glazed eyes; a solemn
smile seemed graven on its waxen-pallid features. And
at a little distance off, on the breast of the black robed
headless corpse that remained totally uncrushed in an
open space by itself, among the surrounding heaps of
slain and wounded, glistened the cross like a fiery gem
A GOLDEN TRESS
an all-significant talisman that, as he beheld it, filled
Theos' heart with a feverish craving, an inexplicable
desire mingled with remorse far greater than any fear.
Instinctively he drew Sah-luma away away; still keep-
ing his wistful gaze fixed on that uncomprehended, yet
soul-recognized symbol, till gradually the drooping
branches of trees interrupted and shadowed the vista,
and, as he moved farther and farther backward, closed
their soft network of green foliage like a closing curtain
on the strange but awfully remembered scene, shutting
it out from his bewildered sight forever!
CHAPTER XV.
A GOLDEN TRESS.
ONCE clear of the square, the two friends apparently
became mutually conscious of the peril they had just es-
caped, and coming to a sudden standstill they looked at
each other in blank, stupefied silence. Crowds of peo-
ple streamed past them, wandering hither and thither in
confused, cloudy masses, some with groans and dire
lamentations bearing away their dead and wounded,
others rushing frantically about, beating their breasts,
tearing their hair, calling on the gods, and lamenting
Khosrul, while not a few muttered curses on the king.
And ever and anon the name of "Lysia," coupled with
heavy execrations, was hissed from mouth to mouth,
which Theos, overhearing, began to foresee might serve
as likely cause for Sah-luma' s taking offense and pos-
sibly resenting in his own person this public disparage-
ment of the woman he loved. Therefore, without more
ado, he roused himself from his momentarily dazed con-
dition, and urged his comrade on at a quick pace toward
the safe shelter of his own palace, where at any rate he
could be kept out of the reach of immediate harm.
The twain walked side by side, exchanging scarcely a
word. Sah-luma seemed in a manner stunned by the
violence of the late catastrophe, and Theos was too busy
with his own thoughts to speak. On their way they
328 "ARBATH"
were overtaken by the king's chariot/ It flew by with
a glittering whirl and clatter, amid sweeping clouds of
dust, through which the dark face of Zephoranim loomed
out upon them like an almost palpable shadow. As it van-
ished Sah-luma stopped short and stared at his com-
panion in utter amazement.
"By my soul!" he exclaimed indignantly, "the whole
world must be going mad! 'Tis the first time in all ray
days of laureateship that Zephoranim hath failed to rever-
ently salute me as he passed!"
And he looked far more perturbed than when the falling
obelisk had threatened him with imminent- destruction,
Theos caught his arm with a quick movement of vexed
impatience.
"Tush, man, no matter!" he said hastily. "What are
kings to thee thou who art an emperor of song? These
little potentates that wield earth's scepters are as fickle
in their moods as the very mob they are supposed to gov-
ern; moreover, thou knowest Zephoranim hath had enough
to-day to startle him out of all accustomed rules of cour-
tesy. Be assured of it, his mind is like a ship at sea,
storm-tossed and at the mercy of the winds. Thou canst
not surely blame him that for once, after so strange a
turbulence and unwonted a disaster, he hath no eyes for
thee whose sole sweet mission is to minister to pleasure."
"To minister to pleasure!" echoed Sah-luma petu-
lantly. "Nay, have I done nothing more than this? Art
thou already grown so disloyal a friend that thou wilt
half repeat the jargon of yon dead fanatic Khosrul, who
dared to tell me I had served my art unfittingly? Have
I not ministered to grief as well as joy, to hours of pain
and bitterness as well as to long days of ease and amor-
ous dreaming? Have I not " here he paused and a
warm flush crept through the olive pallor of his skin;
his eyes grew plaintive and wistful, and he threw one
arm round Theos' neck as he continued: "No! after all,
'tis vain to deny it. I have hated grief, I have loathed
the very suggestion of care, I have thrust sorrow out of
my sight as a thing vile and unwelcome, and I have chosen
to sing to the world of rapture more than pain, inasmuch
as methinks humanity suffers enough without having its
cureless anguish set to the music of a poet's rhythm to
incessantly haunt and torture its already breaking heart. "
A GOLDEN TRESS 329
"Say rather to soothe and tranquilize, " murmured
Theos, more to himself than to his friend; "for sup-
pressed sorrow is hardest to endure, and when grief once
rinds apt utterance 'tis already half-consoled! So should
the world's great singers tenderly proclaim the world's
most speechless miseries, and who knows but vexed cre-
ation, being thus relieved of pent-up woe, may not take
new heart of grace and comfort?"
The words were spoken in a soft sotto-voce, and Sah-
luma seemed not to hear. He leaned, however, very
confidingly and affectionately against Theos' shoulder
as he walked along, and appeared to have speedily for-
gotten his annoyance at the recent slighting conduct of
the king.
"I marvel at the downfall of the obelisk!" he said
presently. '"Twas rooted full twenty feet deep in solid
earth; maybe the foundations were ill-fitted; neverthe-
less, if history speak truly, it hath stood unshaken for
two thousand years! Strange that it should be new
hurled forth thus desperately! I would I knew the hid-
den cause. Many, alas! have met their death to day,
pushed out of life in haste all unprepared. One wcn-
ders where such souls have fled! Something there is that
troubles me. Methinks I am more than half disposed
to leave Al-Kyris for a time, and wander forth into a
world of unknown things "
"With me!" cried Theos impetuously. "Come with
me, Sah-luma! Come now, this very day! I, too, have
been warned of evil evil undeclared, yet close at hand.
Let us escape from danger while time remains! Let
us depart!"
"Whither should we go?" And Sah-luma, pausing in
his walk, fixed his large, soft eyes full on his companion
as he put the question.
Theos was mute. Covered with confusion, he asked
himself the same thing. "Whither should we go?" He
had no knowledge of the country that lay outside Al-
Kyris; he had no distinct remembrance of any other
place than this in which he was. All his past existence
was as blotted and blurred as a child's spoiled and dis-
carded copy-book. True, he retained two names in his
thoughts, namely, "Ardath" and "The Pass of Dariel, "
but he was hopelessly ignorant as to what these meant
330 "ARDATH"
or how he had become connected with them. He was
roused from his distressful cogitation by Sah-luma's
voice speaking again half-gayly, half-sadly :
"Nay, nay, my friend, we cannot leave the city, we
two, alone and unguided, for beyond the gates is the
desert wide and bare, with scarce a spring of cool water
in many weary miles; and beyond the desert is a forest
gloomy and tiger-haunted, wherein the footsteps of man
have seldom penetrated. To travel thus far we should
need mach preparation many servants, many beasts of
burden, and many months' provisions; moreover, 'tis
a foolish fancy crossed my mind at best for what should
I, the laureate of Al-Kyris, do in other lands? Besides,
my departure would indeed be the desolation of the city;
well may Al-Kyris fall when Sah-luma no longer abides
within it! Saaward the way lies open. Maybe in days
to come we twain miy take ship and sail hence for a
brief sojourn to those distant western shores, whence
thou, though thou sayest naught of them, must assuredly
have come. I have often dreamed idly of a gray coast
washed with dull rain and swathed in sweeping mists
where ever and anon the sun shines through; a country
cheerless, where a poet's fame like mine might ring the
darkness of the skies with light and stir the sleepy silence
into song!"
Still Theos said nothing; there were hot tears in his
throat that choked his utterance. He gazed up at the
glowing sky above him ; it was a burning vault of cloud-
less blue, in which the sun glared forth witheringly, lika
a scorching mass of flame. Oh for the freshness of "a
gray coast washed with dull rain and swathed in sweep-
ing mists," such as Sah-luma spoke of! And what
a strange, sickening yearning suddenly filled his soul for
the unforgotten sonorous dash of the sea! He drew a
quick breath and pressed his friend's arm with uncon-
scious fervor. Why, why could he not take this dear
companion away out of possible peril away to those far
lands dimly remembered, yet now so completely lost
sight of that they seemed to him but as a delusive mirage
faintly discerned above the rising waters of Lethe? Sigh-
ing deeply, he controlled his emotion and forced himself
to speak calmly, though his voice trembled:
now, then, but hereafter, thou'lt be my fellpw
A GOLDEN TRESS 331
v \ m
traveler, Sah-luma? 'Twill be a joyous time when we,
set free of present hindrance, may journey through a
myriad glorious scenes together, sharing such news and
mutual gladness that perchance we scarce shall miss the
splendor of Al-Kyris left behind! Meanwhile I would
that thou couldst promise me one thing " Here he
paused, but seeing Sah-luma' s inquiring look, went on
in a low, eager tone: "Go not to the temple to-night;
absent thyself from this sacrifice, which, though it be the
law of the realm, is nevertheless mere murderous barbar-
ity; and inasmuch as the king is wrathful I pray thee
avoid his presence!"
Sah-luma broke into a laugh. "Now, by my faith,
good comrade, as well ask me for my head as demand
such impossibilities! Absent myself from the temple to-
night of all nights in the world, when, owing to these
late phenomenal occurrences in the city, every one who
is of repute and personal distinction will be present to
assist at the service and offer petitions to the fabulous
gods that haply their supposed indignation may be
averted? My friend, if only for the sake of custom I
must be there. Moreover, I should be liable to banish-
ment from the realm for so specially marked a breach
of religious discipline. And as for the king, he is my
puppet. Were he savage as a starving bear, my voice
could tame him; and concerning his late churlishness,
'twas no doubt mere heat of humor, and thou shalt see
him sue to me for pardon as only monarchs can sue to
the bards who keep them on their thrones. Knowest thou
not that were I to string three stanzas of a fiery repub-
lican ditty and set it floating on the lips of the people,
that song would sing down Zephoranim from his royal
estate more surely than the fury of an armed conqueror?
Believe it! we, the poets, rule the nations; a rhyme has
oft had power to kill a king!"
Theos smiled at the proud boast, but made no reply,
as by this time they had reached the laureate's palace and
were ascending the steps that led into the entrance halL
A young page advanced to meet them, and dropping on
one knee before his master, held out a small scroll tied
across and across with what appeared to be a thick strand
of amber-colored floss silk.
"For the most illustrious ckief of poets, Sah-luma, M
332 ''ARDATH"
said the little lad, keeping his head bent humbly as he
spoke. "It was brought lately by one masked, who rode
in haste and fear, and ere he could be questioned, swift
departed."
Sah-luma took the missive carelessly, scarcely glanc-
ing at it, and crossed the hall toward his own apartment,
Theos following him. On his way, however, he paused
and turned around.
"Has Niphrata yet come home?" he demanded of the
page, who still lingered.
"No, my lord; naught hath been seen or heard con-
cerning her."
Sah-luma gave a petulant gesture of annoyance and
passed on. Arrived in his study he seated himself, and
allowed his eyes to rest more attentively on the packet
just given him. As he looked, he uttered a slight ex-
clamation. Theos hastened to his side.
"What has happened, Sah-luma? Hast thou ill news?"
"Ill news? Nay, of a truth I know not," and the lau-
reate gazed up blankly into his friend's face. "But this,
and he touched the fair, silken substance that tied the
scroll he held "this is Niphrata's hair!"
"Niphrata's hair!" Theos was too much surprised to
do more than repeat the words mechanically, while a
strange pang shot through his heart as of inward shame
or sorrow.
"Naught can deceive me in the color of that gold!"
went on Sah-luma dreamily, as with careful, somewhat
tremulous fingers he gently loosened the twisted, shin-
ing threads that were so delicately knotted together, and,
smoothing them out to their full length, displayed what
was indeed a lovely tress of hair; bright as woven sun-
light with a rippling wave in it, that, like the tendril of
a vine, caught and wound about his hand as though it
were a fond and feeling thing.
"See you not, Theos, how warm and soft and shudder-
ing a curl it is? It clings to me as if it knew my touch
as if it half-remembered how many and many a time it
hath been drawn with its companions to my lips and
kissed fuli tenderly! How sad and desolate it seems,
thus severed and alone!"
He spoke gently, yet not without a touch of passion,
*nd twined the fair tresses lingeringly round his fingers;
A GOLDEN TRESS 333
then with the air of one who is instinctively prepared
for some unpleasing tidings, he opened the scroll and
perused its contents in silence As he read on his face
grew very pale and full of pained and wondering regret;
quietly he passed the missive to Theos, who took it from
his hand with a tremor of something like fear. Th*
delicately traced characters with which it was covered
floated for a moment in a faint blur before his eyes, then
they resolved themselves into legible shape and mean'ng
as follows:
"To the ever-worshiped and immortally renowned Sah-luma, Poet-
Laureate of the Kingdom of Al-Kyris.
"Blame me not, O my beloved lord, that I have left thy dearest pres-
ence thus unwarnedly forever, staying no time to weary thee with my too
fond and foolish tears and kisses of farewell. I owe to thee the gift of
freedom, and while I thank thee for that gift, I do employ it now to serve
me as a sacrifice to love an immolation of myself upon the altars of my
own desire. For thou knowest I have loved thee, O Sah-luma! not too
well but most unwisely; for what am I that thou shouldst stoop to cover
my unworthiness with the royal purple of thy poet-passion what could
I ever be save the poor trembling slave-idolator, of whose endearments
thou must needs most speedily tire? Nevertheless, I cannot still this
hunger of my heart, this love that stings me more than it consoles; and,
out of the very transport of my burning thoughts I have learned many
and strange things things whereby I, a woman, feeble and unlessoned.
have grasped the glimmering foreknowledge of events to come events
wherein I do perceive for thee, thou chiefest among men, some dark and
threatening disaster. Wherefore I have prayed unto the most high
gods, that they will deign to accept me as thy hostage to misfortune, and
set me as a bar between thy life and dawiv.ng peril, so that I, long value-
less, may serve at least a while to avert doom from thee, who art unpar-
agoned throughout the world!
"Thus I go forth alone to brave and pacify the wrath of immortals.
Call me not back nor weep for my departure thou wilt not miss me
long! To die for thee, Sah-luma, is better than to live for thee, for
living I must needs be conquered by my sin of love and lose myself and
thee; but in the quiet afterward of death no passion shall have strength
to mar the peaceful, patient waiting of my soul on thine! Fare well, thou
utmost heart of my weak heart thou only life of my frail life! Think
of me sometimes if thou wilt, but only as of a flower thou didst gather
once in some past half-forgotten springtime a flower that, as it slowly
withered, blessed the dear hand in whose warm clasp it died!
"NlPHRATA."
Tears rose to Theos' eyes as he finished reading these
evidently unpremeditated, pathetic words that suggested
so much more than they actually declared. He silently
returned the scroll to Sah-luma, who sat very still,
thoughtfully stroking the long, bright curl that was
334 "ARDATH"
twisted around his fingers like a glittering strand of spun
glass, and he felt all at once so unreasonably irritated
with his friend that he was even inclined to find fault
with the very grace and beauty of his person ; the mere
indolence of his attitude was. for the moment, provok-
ing.
"Why art thou so unmoved?" he demanded almost
sternly. "What hast thou done to Niphrata to thus
grieve her gentle spirit beyond remedy?"
Sah-luma looked up like a surprised child.
"Done? Nay, what should I do? 1 have let her love
me!"
O sublime permission! He had K let her love" him!
He had condescendingly allowed her, as it were, to waste
all the treasures of her soul upon him! Theos stared at
him in vague amazejnant, while he, apparently tired of
his own reflections, continued with some impatience:
"What more could she desire? I never barred her
from my presence nor checked the fervor of her greetings.
I wore the flowers she chose, I listened to the songs she
sang, and when she looked more fair than ordinary I
stinted not the warmth of my caresses. She was too
meek and loving for my fancy; no will save mine, no
happiness save in m)' company, no thought beyond my
pleasure one wearies of such a fond excess of sweetness!
Nevertheless, her sole delight was still to serve me ;
could I debar her from that joy because I saw therein
some danger for her peace? Slave as she was, I made
her free, and lo! how capriciously she plays with her
late-given liberty! 'Tis always the way with women
no man shall ever learn how best to please them ! She
knew I loved her not as lovers love, she knew my hear*
was elsewhere fixed and fated; and if, notwithstanding
this knowledge, she still chose to love me, then assuredly
her grief is of her own cresting. Methinks 'tis I who am
most injured in this matter. All the day long I have
tormented myself concerning the silly maiden's absence,
while she, seized by some crazed idea of new adventure,
has gone forth heedlessly, scarce knowing whither. Her
letter is the exalted utterance of an over-wrought, ex'
cited brain; she has in all likelihood caught the conta-
gion of superstitious alarm that seems just now to pos-
sess thi whole city, and shs knows naught of what sh^
A GOLDEN TRESS 335
writes or what she means to do. To leave me forever,
as she says, is out of her power, for I will demand her
back at the hands of Lysia or the king, and no demand
of mine has ever been refused. Moreover, with Lysia's
aid her hiding-place is soon and easily discovered."
"How?" asked Theos mechanically, still surveying
the beautiful, calm features of the charming egotist whose
nature seemed such a curious mixture of loftiness and
littleness. "She may have left the city."
"No one can leave the city without express permis-
sion," rejoined Sah-luma tranquilly. "Besides, didst
thou not see the black disc last night in Lysia's pal-
ace?"
Theos nodded assent. He at once remembered the
strange revolving thing that had covered itself with bril-
liant letters at the approach of the high priestess, and
he waited somewhat eagerly to hear the meaning of so
singular an object explained.
"The priests of the Temple of Nagaya, " went on
Sah-luma, "are the greatest scientists in the world, with
the exception of the lately formed Circle of Mystics, who,
it must be confessed, exceed them in certain new lines
of discovery. But setting aside the mystic school, which
it behooves us not to speak of, seeing it is condemned
by law, there are no men living more subtly wise in
matters pertaining to aerial force and light phenomena
than the Servants of the Secret Doctrine of the Temple.
All seeming marvelous things are to them mere child's
play, and the miracles by which they keep the multitude
in awe are not by any means vulgar, but most exquis-
itely scientific. As for instance, at the great New Year
festival, called by us 'The Sailing Forth of the Ship of
the Sun,' which takes place at the commencement of the
spring solstice, a fire is kindled on the summit of the
highest tower, and a ship of gold rises from the center
of the flames, carrying the body of a slain virgin east-
ward. 'Tis wondrously performed, and I, like others,
have gaped upon the splendor of the scene half-credulous
and wholly dazzled. For the ship doth rise aloft with
excellent stateliness, ploughing the air with as much
celerity as sailing-vessels plough the seas. Departing
straightway from the watching eyes of thousands of spec-
tators, it plunges deep, or so it seems, into the very heart
336 "ARDATH
of the rising sun, which doth apparently absorb it in de-
vouring flames of glory, for never again doth it return
to earth, and none can solve the mystery of its vanish-
ing! 'Tis a graceful piece of jugglery and perfectly ac-
complished, while as for oracles* that command and
repeat their commands in every shade of tone, from mild
to wrathful, there are only too many of these; moreover,
the secret of their manufacture is well known to all
students of acoustic science. But concerning the black
disc in Lysia's hall, it is a curiously elaborate piece of
workmanship. It corresponds with an electric wheel in
the interior chamber of the temple, where all the priests
and flamens meet and sum up the entire events of the
day, both public and private, condensing the same into
brief hieroglyphs. Setting their wheel in motion, they
start a similar motion in the disc, and the bright char-
acters that flash upon it and disappear like quicksilver
are the reflections of the working electric wires which
write what only Lysia is skilled to read. From sunset
to midnight these messages keep coming without inter-
mission, and all the most carefully concealed affairs of
Al-Kyris are discovered by the temple spies and conveyed
to Lysia by this means. Whatever the news, it is re-
peated again and again on the disc, till she, by rapidly
turning it with a peculiar movement of her own, causes
a small bell to ring in the Temple, which signifies to
her informers that she has understood all their communi-
cations, and knows everything. Her inquisitorial system
is searching and elaborate; there is no secret so care-
fully guarded that the black disc will not in time reveal!"
Theos listened wonderingly and with a sense of repug-
nance and fear; he felt as though the beautiful priestess,
with her glittering robes and the dreadful jeweled eye
upon her breast, were just then entering the room stealth-
ily and rustling hither and thither like a snake beneath
covering leaves. She was an ever-present temptation
a bewildering snare and distracting evil. Was it not pos-
sible to shake her trail off the life of his friend, and also
to pluck from out his own heart the poison-sting of her
fatal, terrible fascination? A red mist swam before his
eyes; his lips were dry and feverish, and his voice
sounded hoarse and faint in his own ears when he forced
himself to speak again.
*The phonograph was known and used for the utterance of oracles by
one Savaa tne Asmounian, a priest-king. <rt aacient Egypt.
A GOLDEN TRESS 337
"So thou dost think that wheresoever Niphrata hath
strayed, Lysia can find her?" he said.
"Assuredly!" returned Sah-luma with easy compla-
;cei>cy. "I would swear that even at this very moment
'Lysia could restore her to my arms in safety."
"Then why," suggested Theos anxiously, "why not go
rforth and seek her now?"
"Nay, there is time!" And Sah-luma half-closed his
llanguid lids and stretched himself lazily. "I would not
have the child imagine I vexed myself too greatly for
'her unkind departure; she must have space wherein to
weep and repent her of her folly. She is the strangest
maiden!" And he brushed his lips lightly against the
golden curl he held. "She loves me, and yet repulses
all attempted passion. I remember" here his face grew
more serious "1 remember one night in the beginning
of summer the moon was round and" high in heaven; we
were alone together in this room; the lamps burned low
and she Niphrata sang to me. Her voice was full, and
withal tremulous; her form, bent to her ebony harp,
was soft and yielding as an iris stem; her eyes, turned
upon mine, seemed wonderingly to question me as to the
worth of love or so I fancied. The worth of love ! I
would have taught it to her then in the rapture of an
hour, but seized with sudden, foolish fear she fled, leav-
ing me dissatisfied, indifferent, and weary. No matter!
When she returns again her mood will alter, and though
I love her not as she would fain be loved, 1 shall find
means to make her happy."
"Nay, but she speaks of dying," said Theos quickly.
"Wilt thou constrain her back from death?"
"My friend, all women speak of dying when they are
love-wearied," replied Sah-luma with a slight smile.
"Niphrata will not die she is too young and fond of
life; the world is as a garden wherein she has but lately
entered, all ignorant of the pleasures that await her
there. 'Tis an odd notion that she has of danger threat-
ening me. Thou, also, good Theos, art become full of
omens, and yet there is naught of visible ill to trouble
the fairness of the day. "
He stepped out as he spoke on the terrace and looked
up at the intense calm of the lovely sky. Thecs followed
him and stood leaning on the balustrade amone: the
338 "ARDATH"
clambering vines, watching him with earnest, half-re
gretful, half-adoring eyes. He, meanwhile, gathered a
scarcely-opened white rosebud, and, loosening the tress
of Niphrata's hair from his fingers, allowed it to hang
to its full rippling length; then laying the flower against
it, he appeared dreamily to admire the contrast between
the snowy blossom and shining curl.
"Many strange men there are in -the world," he said
softly; "lovers and fools who set priceless store on a rose
and a lock of woman's hair! I have heard of some who,
dying, have held such trifles chiefest of all their worldly
goods, and have implored that, whereas their gold and
household stuff can be bestowed freely on him who first
comes to claim it, the faded flower and senseless tress
may be laid on their hearts to comfort them in the cold
and dreamless sleep from which they shall not wake
again!" He sighed, and his eyes darkened into a deep
and musing tenderness. "Poets there have been too,
and are, who would string many a canticle on this soft,
severed lock and gathered blossom ; and many a quaint
conceit could I myself contrive concerning it, did I not
feel more prone to tears to-day than minstrelsy. Canst
thou believe it, Theos?" and he forced a laugh, though
his lashes were wet, "I, the joyous Sah luma, am for
once most truly sad. This tress of hair doth seem to
catch my spirit in a chain that binds me fast, and draws
me onward, onward to some mournful end I may not
dare to see!"
And as he spoke he mechanically wound the golden
curl round and about the stem of the rosebud in the
fashion of a ribbon, and placed the two entwined to-
gether in his breast. Theos looked at him wistfully, but
was silent; he himself was too full of dull and melancholy
misgivings to be otherwise than sad also. Instinctively
he drew closer to his friend's side, and thus they re-
mained for some minutes, exchanging no words and gaz-
ing dreamily out on the luxurious foliage of the trees, and
rha wealth of bright blossoms that adorned the landscape
before them.
"Thou are confident Niphrata will return?" questioned
Theos presently, in a low tone.
"She will return," rejoined Sah-luma quietly, "be-
cause she will do anything for love of me."
THE PRIEST ZEL 339
"For Icve's sake she may die!" said Theos.
Sah-luma smiled.
"Not so, my friend. For love's sake she will livcl"
CHAPTER XVI.
THE PRIEST ZEL.
As he uttered the last word the sound of an approach-
ing light step disturbed the silence. It was one of the
young girls of the household a dark, haughty-looking
beauty whom Theos remembered to have seen in the
palace-hall when he first arrived, lying indolently among
cushions and playing with a tame bird which flew to
and fro at her beckoning. She advanced now with an
almost imperial stateliness; her salute to Sah-luma was
graceful, yet scarcely submissive, while he, turning ea-
gerly toward her, seemed gladdened and relieved at her
appearance, his face assuming a gratified expression
like that of a child who, having broken one toy, is eas-
ily consoled with another.
"Welcome, Irenya!" he exclaimed gayly. "Thou art
the very bitter sweetness I desire. Thy naughty pout
and coldly mutinous eyes are pleasing contrasts to the
over-languid heat and brightness of the day! What news
hast thou, my sweet? Is there fresh havoc in the city
more deaths, more troublous tidings? Nay, then hold thy
peace, for thou art not a fit messenger of woe; thou'rt
much too fair!"
Irenya' s red lips curled disdainfully; the "naughty
pout" was plainly visible.
"My lord is pleased to flatter his slave 1" she said with
a touch of scorn in her musical accents. "Certes, of ill
news there is more than enough, and evil rumors have
never been lacking these many months, as my lord
would have known had he deigned to listen to the com-
mon talk of those who are not poets but merely sad and
suffering men. Nevertheless, though I may think, I speak
not at all of matters such as these, and for my present
errand 'tis but to say that a priest of the inner temple
waits without, desirous of instant speech with the most
illustrious Sah-luma,"
340 "ARDATH"
"A priest of the inner temple!" echoed the laureate,
wonderingly. "By my faith, a most unwelcome visitor!
What business can he have with me?"
"Nay, that I know not," responded Irenya calmly.
"He hath come hither, so he bade me say, by command
of the Absolute Authority."
Sah-luma's face flushed and he looked annoyed. Then,
taking Theos by the arm, he turned away from the ter-
race and re-entered his apartment, where he flung him-
self full length on his couch, pillowing his handsome
head against a fold of glossy leopard skin, which formed
a most becoming background for the soft, dark, oval
beauty of his features.
'"Sit thee down, my friend," he said, glancing smil-
ingly at Theos and signing to him to take possession of
a luxurious lounge-chair near him. "If we must needs
receive this sanctified professor of many hypocrisies,
we will do it with suitable indifference and ease. Wilt thou
stay here with us, Irenya?" he added, stretching out
one arm and catching the maiden round the waist in
spite of her attempted resistance. "Or art thou in a
froward mood, and wilt thou go thine own proud way
without so much as a consoling kiss from Sah-luma?"
Irenya looked full at him, a repressed anger blazing
in her large black eyes.
"Let my lord save his kisses for those who value them!"
she said contemptuously. '"Twere pity he should waste
them upon me, to whom they are unmeaning and therefore
all unwelcome!" He laughed heartily, and instantly
loosened her from his embrace.
"Off, off with thee, sweet virtue, fairest prude!" he
cried, still laughing. "Live out thy life as thou wilt,
empty of love or passion; count the years as they slip
by, leaving thee each day less lovely and less fit for pleas-
ure; grow old, and on the brink of death look back, poor
child, and see the glory thou hast missed and left be-
hind thee. The light of love and youth that once de-
parted can dawn again no more!"
And lifting himself slightly from his cushions, he
kissed his hand playfully to the girl, who, as though
suddenly overcome by a sort of vague regret, still lin-
gered, gazing at him, while a faint color crept through
her cheeks like the deepening hue on the leaves of an
THE PRIEST 2EL $4!
opening rose. Sah-luma saw her hesitation, and his
face grew yet more radiant with malicious mirth.
"Hence, hence, Irenya !" he exclaimed. "Escape temp-
tation quickly while thou mayest! Support thy virgin
pride in peace; thou shalt never say again Sah-luma' s
kisses are unwelcome! The poet's touch shall never
wrong or sanctify thy name; thou art safe from me as pil-
lared icicles in everlasting snow ! Dear little one, be
happy without love, if that be possible ; nevertheless,
take heed thou do not weakly clamor in the after years
for once-rejected joy! Now bid yon waiting priest at-
tend me; tell him I can but spare a few brief moments'
audience."
Irenya's head drooped. Theos saw tears in her eyes,
but she managed to restrain them, and with something
of a defiant air she made her formal obeisance and with-
drew. She did not return again, but a page appeared in-
stead, ushering in with ceremonious civility a tall per-
sonage, clad in flowing white robes and muffled up to the
eyes in a mantle of silver tissue a majestic, myste-
rious, solemn-looking individual, who, pausing on the
threshold of the apartment, described a circle in the air
with a small staff he carried and said in monotonous
accents :
"By the going in and the passing out of the sun
through the gates of the East and the gates of the West,
by the vulture of gold and white lotus and the countless
virtues of Nagaya, may peace dwell in this house for-
ever !"
"Agreed to with all my heart!" responded Sah-luma,
carelessly looking up from his couch, but making no at-
tempt to rise. "Peace is an excellent thing, most holy
father!"
"Excellent!" returned the priest, slowly advancing and
undoing his mantle so that his face became fully visible.
"So truly excellent, indeed, that at times it is needful to
make war in order to insure it."
He sat down, as he spoke, in a chair which was placed
for him at Sah-luma's bidding by the page who had
ushered him in, and he maintained a grave silence till
that young servitor had departed. Theos meanwhile
studied his countenance with some curiosity; it was so
strangely impassive, )'et at the same time so full of dis-
342 "ARDATH"
tinctly marked intellectual power. The features were
handsome but also singularly repulsive; they were ren-
dered to a certain degree dignified by a full dark beard,
which, however, failed entirely to conceal the receding
chin and compressed, cruel mouth; the eyes were keen
and crafty and very clear; the forehead was high and
intelligent and deeply furrowed with lines that seemed
to be the result of much pondering over close and cun-
ning calculation, rather than the marks of profound, un-
selfish, and ennobling thought. The page having left
the room, Sah-luma began the conversation:
"To what unexpected cause, most righteous sir, am I
indebted for the honor of this present visit? Methinks
I recognize the countenance of the famous Zel, the high-
priest of the sacrificial altar; if so, 'tis marvelous so
great a man should venture forth alone and unattended
to the house of one who loves not priestly company, and
who hath at best for all professors of religion a some-
what indifferent welcome!"
The priest smiled coldly.
"Most rightly dost thou speak, Sah-luma," he an-
swered, his measured, metallic voice seeming to strike
a wave of chilling discord through the air, "and most
frankly hast thou thus declared one of thy many defi-
ciencies. Atheist as thou art and to that manner born,
thou art in very deed outside the pale of all religious
teaching and consolement; nevertheless, there is much
gentle mercy shown thec by the virgin priestess of
Nagaya" here he solemnly bent his head and made the
rapid sign of a circle on his breast "who, knowing thy
great genius, doth ever strive with thoughtful zeal to
draw thee closely within the saving Silver Veil! Yet it
is possible that even her patience with thy sins may tire at
last; wherefore, while there is time offer due penance to
the offended gods and humble thy stiff heart before the
holy maid, lest she expel thee from her sight forever,"
He paused; a satirical, half-amused smile hovered round
Sah-luma' s delicate mouth; his eyes flashed.
"All this is the mere common rhetoric of the temple
craft," he said indolently, "Why not, good Zel, give
plainer utterance to thine errand? We know each other's
follies well enough to spare formalities Lysia has sent
the hither what then? What says the beauteous vir-
gin to her willing
THE PRIEST JEL 343
\n undertone of mockery rang through the languid,
silvery sweetness of his accents, and the priest s dark
brows knitted in an irritated frown.
"Thou art over flippant of speech, Sah-luma!" he ob-
served austerely. "Take heed thou be not snared into
misfortune by the glibness of thy tongue! Thou dost
speak of the chaste Lysia with unseemly lightness! Learn
to be reverent, and so shalt thou be wiser!"
Sah-luma laughed and settled himself more easily on
his couch, turning in such a manner as to look the
stately Zel full in the face. They exchanged one glance,
expressive as it seemed of some mutual secret under-
standing, for the priest coughed as though he were em-
barrassed, and stroked his beard deliberately with one
hand in an endeavor to hide the strange smile that, de-
spite his efforts to conceal it, visibly lightened his cold
eyes to a sudden tigerish brilliancy.
"The mission with which I am charged," he resumed
presently, "is to thee, chief laureate of the realm, and
runs as followeth: Whereas thou hast of late avoided
many days of public service in the temple, so that those
among the people who admire thee follow thine ill ex-
ample and absent themselves also with equal readiness,
the priestess undented, the noble Lysia, doth to-night
command thy presence as a duty not to be foregone.
Therefore, come thou and take thy part in the great
sacrifice, for these late tumults and disasters in the city,
notably the perplexing downfall of the obelisk.have caused
all hearts to fail and sink for very fear The river dark-
ens in its crimson hue each passing hour; strange
noises have been heard athwart the sky and in the
deeper underground, and all these drear, unwonted
things are so many cogent reasons why we should in sol-
emn unison implore the favor of Nagaya and the gods,
whereby further catastrophes may be perchance averted.
Moreover, for motives of most urgent state policy it is
advisable that all who hold place, dignity, and renown
within the city should this night be seen as fervent sup-
plicants before the sacred shrine; so may much threat-
ening rebellion be appeased and order be restored out
of impending confusion. Such is the message I am bid-
den to convey to thee. Furthermore, I am required to
bear back again to the high priestess thy faithful prom-
344 "ARDATH"
ise that her orders shall be surely and entirely obeyed.
Thou art not wont" and a pale sneer flitted over his
features "to set her mandate at defiance."
Sah-luma bit his lips angrily and folded his arms above
his head with a lazy yet impatient movement.
"Assuredly I shall be present at the service," he said
curtly. "There needed no such weighty summoning!
'Twas my intention to join the ranks of worshipers to-
night, though for myself I have no faith in worship.
The gods, I ween, are deaf, and care not a jot whether
we mortals weep or sing. Nevertheless, I shall look on
with fitting gravity and deport myself with due deco-
rum throughout the ceremonious ritual, though verily I
tell thee, reverend Zel, 'tis tedious and monotonous at
best, and concerning the poor maiden sacrifice, it is a
shuddering horror we could well dispense with."
"I think not so," replied the priest calmly. "Thou,
who art well instructed in the capricious humors of men,
must surely know how dearly the majority of them love
the shedding of blood 'tis a clamorous, brute instinct in
them which must be satisfied. Better, therefore, that
we, the anointed priests, should slay one willing victim
for the purpose of religion than that they, the ignorant
mob, should kill a thousand to gratify their lust of mur-
der. An unresentful, all-loving Deity would be impos-
sible of comprehension to a mutually hating and malig-
nant race of beings; all creeds must be accommodated
to the dispositions of the million."
"Pardon me," suddenly interrupted Theos. "I am a
stranger, and in a great measure ignorant of this city's
customs, but I confess I am amazed to hear a priest up-
hold so specious an argument. What! must divine re-
ligion ba dragged down from its pure throne to pander
to the selfish passions of the multitude? Because men
are vile, must a vile god be invented to suit their savage
caprices? Because men are cruel, must the unseen Cre-
ator of things be delineated as even more barbarous than
they, in order to give them some pietistical excuse for
wickedness? I ask these questions not out of wanton
curiosity, but for the sake of instruction."
The haughty Zel turned upon him in severe aston-
ishment.
"Sir," he said, "stranger undoubtedly thou art, and so
THE PRIEST ZEL 345
bold a manner of speech most truly savors of the utterly
uneducated Western barbarian! All wise and prudent
governments have learned that a god fit for the adora-
tion of men must be depicted as much like men as possi-
ble. Any absolutely superhuman attributes are unnec-
essary to the character of a useful deity, inasmuch as no
man ever will or ever can understand the worth of su-
perhuman qualities. Humanity is only capable of wor-
shiping self; thus it is necessary that when people are
persuaded to pay honor to an elected divinity, they
should be well and comfortably assured in their own
minds that they are but offering homage to an image of
self placed before them in a deified or heroic form. This
satisfies the natural idolatrous cravings of egotism, and
this is all that priests or teachers desire. Now, in the
worship of Nagaya we have the natures of man and
woman conjoined; the snake is the emblem of male wis-
dom united with female subtlety, and the two essences
mingled in one make as near an approach to what we
may imagine the positive divine capacity as can be de-
vised on earth by earthly intelligences. If, on the other
hand, such an absurd doctrine as that formulated in the
fanatic madman Khosrul's 'prophecy' could be imagined
as actually admitted and proclaimed to the nations, it
would have very few followers, and the sincerity of those
few might well be open to doubt. For the Deity it
speaks of is supposed to be an immortal God disguised
as man a God who voluntarily rejects and sets aside
his own glory to serve and save his perishable creatures.
Thus the root of that religion would consist in self-abne-
gation, and self-abnegation is, as experience proves, ut-
terly impossible to the human being."
"Why is it impossible?" asked Theos with a quiver
of passionate earnestness in his voice. "Are there none
in all the world who would sacrifice their own interests
to further another's welfare and happiness?"
The priest smiled a delicately derisive smile.
"Certainly not!" he replied blandly. "The very ques-
tion strikes me as singularly foolish, inasmuch as we
live in a planet where, if we do not serve ourselves and
look after our own personal advantage, we may as well
die the minute we are born, or better still, never be born
at all. There is no one living- at least, not in the wide
346 "ARDATH"
realm of Al-Kyris who would put himself to the small-
est inconvenience for the sake of another, were that
other his nearest and dearest blood relation. And in
matters of love and friendship 'tis the same as in bus-
iness: each man eagerly pursues his own chance of en-
joyment. Even when he loves, or fancies he loves, a
woman, it is solely because her beauty or attractiveness
gives him temporary pleasure, not because he has any
tenderness or after-regard for the nature of her feelings.
How can it be otherwise? We elect friends that are
useful to us personally; we care little for their intrinsic
merit, and we only tolerate them as long as they hap
pen to suit our taste. For generally on the first occa-
sion of a disagreement or difference of opinion we shake
ourselves free of them without either regret or remorse,
and seek others who will be meek enough not to offer
us any open contradiction. It is and it must be always
so; self is the first person we are bound to consider, and
all religions, if they are intended to last, must prudently
recognize and silently acquiesce in this, the chief dogma
of man's constitution."
Sah-luma laughed. "Excellently argued, most politic
Zel!" he exclaimed. "Yet methinks it is easy to worship
self without either consecrated altars or priestly assist-
ance!"
"Thou shouldst know better than any one with what
facility such devotion can be practiced!" returned Zel
ironcially, rising as he spoke, and beginning to wrap
his mantle round him preparatory to departure. "Thou
hast a wider range of perpetual adoration than most
man, seeing thou dost so fully estimate the value of thine.
own genius! Some heretics there are in the city who
say thy merit is but a trick of song shared by thee in
common with the birds, who truly seem to take no pride
in the particular sweetness of their unsyllabled language,
but thou thyself art better instructed, and who shall
blame thee for the veneration with which thou dost daily
contemplate thine own intellectual powers? Not I,
believe me!" And his crafty eyes glittered mockingly as
he arranged his silver gauze muffler so that it entirely
veiled the lower part of his features. "And though I
do somewhat regret to learn that thou, among other no-
blemen of fashion, hast of late taken part in the atheist-
THE PRIEST ZEL 347
ical discussions encouraged by the positivist school of
thought, still, as a priest, my duty is not so much to
reproach as to call thee to repentance. Therefore I in-
wardly rejoice to know thou wilt present thyself before
the shrine to-night, if only for the sake of custom "
"'Only' for the saice of custom!" repeated Sah-luma
amusedly. "Nay, good Zel, custom should be surely
classified as an exceeding powerful god, inasmuch as it
rules all things, from the cut of our clothes to the form
of our creeds!"
"True!" replied Zel imperturbably. "And he who
despises custom becomes an alien from his kind a moral
leper among the pure and clean."
"Oh, say rather a lion among sheep, a giant among
pygmies!" laughed the laureate. "For, by my soul! a man
who had the courage to scorn custom and set the small
hypocrisies of society at defiance would be a glorious
hero a warrior of strange integrity whom it would be
well worth traveling miles to see!"
"Khosrul was such an one!" interposed Theos sud-
denly.
"Tush, man! Khosrul was mad!" retorted Sah-luma.
"Are not all men thought mad who speak the truth?"
queried Theos gently.
The priest Zel looked at him with proud and supercil-
ious eyes.
"Thou hast strange notions for one still young," he
said. "What art thou a new disciple of the mystics or
a student of the positive doctrines?"
, Theos met his keen gaze unflinchingly. "What am
I?" he murmured sadly, and his voice trembled. "Rev-
erend priest, I am nothing. Great are the sufferings of
men who have lost their wealth, their home, their friends,
but I I have lost myself! Were I anything, could I
ever hope to be anything, I would pray to be accepted
a servant of the cross that far-off, unknown faith to
which my tired spirit clings!"
As he uttered these words, he raised his eyes. How
dim and misty at the moment seemed the tall white fig-
ure of the majestic Zel! And in contrast to it, how brill-
iantly distinct Sah-luma's radiant face appeared, turned
toward him in inquiring wonderment! He felt a swoon-
ing dizziness upon him, but the sensation swiftly passed,
348 > "ARDATH"
and he saw the haughty priest's dark brows bent in a
frown of ominous disapproval.
'"Tis well thou art not a citizen of Al-Kyris," he said
scornfully. "To strangers we accord a certain license
of opinion, but if thou wert a native of these realms thy
speech would cost thee dear! As it is, I warn thee!
Dare not to make public mention of the cross the
accursed emblem of the dead Khosrul's idolatry ; guard
thy tongue heedfully; and thou, Sah-luma, if thou dost
bring this rashling with thee to the temple, thou must
take upon thyself all measures for his safety. For in
these days some words are like firebrands, and he who
casts them forth incautiously may kindle flames that
only the forfeit of his life can quench!"
There was a quiver of suppressed fury in his tone, and
Sah-luma lifted his lazy lids and looked at him with an
air of tranquil indifference.
"Prithee, trouble not thyself, most eminent Zel!" he
answered nonchalantly. "I will answer for my friend's
discretion. Thou dost mistake his temperament; he is
a budding poet, and utters many a disconnected thought
which hath no meaning save to his own fancy-swarming
brain; he saw the fanatic Khosrul die, and the picture
hath impressed him for the moment nothing more! I
pledge my word for his demurest prudence at the service
to-night; I would not have him absent for the world.
'Twere pity he should miss the splendor of a scene which
doubtless hath been admirably contrived, by priestly art
and skill, to play upon the passions of the multitude.
Tell me, good Zel, what is the name of the self-offered
victim?"
The priest flashed a strangely malevolent glance at
him.
"Tis not to be divulged," he replied curtly. "The
virgin is no longer counted among the living she is as
one already departed; the name she bore hath been
erased from the city registers, and she wears instead the
prouder title of 'Bride of the Sun and Nagaya.' Re-
strain thy curiosity until night hath fallen: it m?\y be
that thou, who hast a wide acquaintance among fair
maideas, wilt recognize her countenance."
"Nay, I trust 1 know her not," said Sah-luma care-
lessly. "For though all women die for me when once
THE PRIEST ZEL 349
their beauty fades, still am I loath to see them perish
ere their prime."
"Yet many are doomed to perish so," rejoined the
priest impassively, "men as well as women, and me-
thinks those who are best beloved of the gods are chosen
first to die. Death is not difficult, but to live long enough
tor life to lose all savor,and love all charm, this is a bitter-
ness that comes with years and cannot be consoled"
And retreating slowly toward the door, he paused, as
he had previously done, on the threshold.
"Farewell, Sah-luma, " he said. 'Beware that noth-
ing hinders thee from the fulfillment of thy promise,
and let thy homage to the holy maid be reverent at the
parting of the silver veil!"
He waited, but Sah-luma made no answer; he there-
fore raised his staff and described a circle with it in the
same solemn fashion that had distinguished his entrance.
"By the coming forth of the moon through the ways
of darkness, by the shining of stars, by the sleeping sun
and the silence of night, by the all-seeing eye of Raphon
and the wisdom of Nagaya, may the protection of the
gods abide in this house forever!"
As he pronounced these words he noiselessly departed
without any salutation whatever to Sah-luma, who heaved
a sigh of relief when he had gone, and, rising from his
couch, came and placed one hand affectionately on
Theos' shoulder.
"Thou foolish, yet dear comrade!" he murmured. "What
moves thee to blurt forth such strange and unwarranta-
ble sayings? Why wouldst thou pray to be a servant of
the cross, or why, at any rate, if thou hast taken a fancy
for the dead Khosrul's new doctrine, wert thou so rash
as to proclaim thy sentiment to yon unprincipled, blood-
thirsty Zel, who would not scruple to poison the king
himself if his majesty gave sufficient cause of offense?
Dost thou desire to be straightway slain? Nay, I will
not have thee run tnus furiously into danger; thou wilt
be offered the silver nectar like Nir-jalis, and not even
the intercession of my friendship would avail to save thee
then!"
Theos smiled rather sadly.
"And thus would end forever my mistakes and follies,"
he answered softly. "And I should perchance discover
350 "ARDATH"
the small hidden secret of things the little, simple, un-
guessed clew that would unravel the mystery and mean-
ing of existence! For can it be that the majestic mar-
vel of created nature is purposeless in its design that
we are doomad to think thoughts which can never be
realizsd; to dream dreams that perish in the dreaming;
to build up hopes without foundation; to call upon God
when there is no God; to long for heaven when there is
no heaven? Ah! no, Sah-luma; surely we are not the
msre fools and dupes of time; surely there is some
eternal beyond which is not annihilation some greater,
vaster sphere of soul-development where we shall find
all that we have missed on earth!"
Sah-luma's face clouded and a sigh escaped him.
"I would my thoughts were similar to thine!" he said
sorrowfully. "1 would I could believe in an immortal
destiny, but, alas! my friend, there is no shadow of
ground for such a happy faith none either in sense or
science. I have reflected on it many a time till I have
wearied myself with mournful musing, and the end of
all my meditation has been a useless protest against the
great inevitable a clamor of disdain hurled at the huge,
blind, indifferent force that poisons the deep sea of space
with an ever-productive spawn of wasted life! Anon I
have flouted my own despair, and have consoled myself
with the old wise maxim that was found inscribed on the
status of a smiling god some centuries ago, 'Enjoy your
lives, ye passing tribes of men; take pleasure in folly,
for this is the only wisdom that avails! Happy is he
whose days are filled with the delight of love and laugh-
ter, for there is nothing better found on earth, and what-
ever ye do, whether wise or foolish, the same end comes
to all!' Is not this true philosophy, my Theos? What
can a man do better than enjoyl"
"Much depends on the particular form of enjoyment,"
responded Theos thoughtfully. "Some there are, for
example, who might find their greatest satisfaction in
the pleasures of the table, others in the gratification of
sensual desires and gross appetites; are these to be left
to follow their own devices, without any effort being
made to raise them from the brute level where they lie?"
"Why, in the name of all the gods, should they be
raised?" demanded Sah-luma impatiently. "If their
THE PRIEST ZEL 351
choice is to grovel in mire, why ask them to dwell in a
palace? They would not appreciate the change!"
"Again," went on Theos, "there are others who are
only happy in the pursuit of wisdom, and the more they
learn the more they seek to know. One wonders one
cannot help wondering are their aspirations all in vain,
and will the grave seal down their hopes forever?"
Sah-luma paused a moment before replying.
"It seems so," he said at last, slowly and hesitatingly.
"And herein I find the injustice of the matter, because
however great may be the imagination and fervor of a
poet, for instance, he never is able wholly to utter his
thoughts. Half of them remain in embryo, like buds of
flowers that never come to bloom; yet they are there,
burning in the brain and seeming too vast of conception
to syllable themselves into the common speech of mor-
tals! I have often marveled why such ideas suggest
themselves at all, as they can neither be written nor
spoken, unless" and here his voice sank into a dreamy
softness "unless, indeed, they are to be received as hints
foreshadowings of greater works destined for our ac-
complishment hereafter!"
He was silent a minute's space, and Theos, watching
him wistfully, suddenly asked:
"Wouldst thou be willing to live again, Sah-luma, if
such a thing could be?"
"Friend, I would rather never die!" responded the
laureate, half-playfully, half-seriously. "But if I were
certain that death was no more than a sleep, from which
I should assuredly awaken to another phase of existence,
I know well enough what I would do!"
"What?" questioned Theos, his heart beginning to beat
with an almost insufferable anxiety.
"I would live a different life now\" answered Sah-luma
steadily, looking his companion full in the eyes as he
spoke, while a grave smile shadowed rather than light-
ened his features. "I would begin at once, so that when
the new future dawned for me I might not be haunted
or tortured by the remembrance of a misspent pastl
For if we are to believe in any everlasting things at all,
we cannot shut out the fatal everlastingness of memory!"
His words sounded unlike himself; his voice was as
the Yoice of some reproving angel speaking, and Theos,
352 "AH.OATH"
listening, shuddered, he knew not wby, and held his
peace.
"Never to be able to forget\" continued Sah-luma in
the same grave, sweet tone, "never to lose sight of
one's own by-gone wilful sins this would be an immor-
tal destiny too terrible to endure! For then inexorable
retrospection would forever show us where we had missed
the way and how we had failed to use the chances given
us. Moreover, we might haply find ourselves surround-
ed" and his accents grew slower and more emphatic
"by strange phantoms of our own creating, who would
act anew the drama of our obstinate past follies, per-
plexing us thereby into an anguish greater than mortal
fancy can depict. Thus, if we indeed possessed the pos-
itive foreknowledge of the eternal regeneration of our
lives, 'twould be well to free them from all hindrance to
perfection here here, while we are still conscious of
time and opportunity." He paused, then went on in
his customary gay manner: "But fortunately we are not
positive, nothing is certain, no truth is so satisfactorily
demonstrated that some wiseacre cannot be found to dis-
prove it; hence, it happens, my friend," and his face
assumed its wonted Careless expression, "that we men
whose common sense is offended by priestly hypocrisy
and occult necromantic jugglery; we, who perhaps in our
innermost heart of hearts ardently desire to believe in
a supreme Divinity and the grandly progressive, sublime
intention of the universe, but who, discovering naught
but ignoble cant and imposture everywhere, are inconti-
nently thrown back on our own resources hence, it
comes, I say, that we are satisfied to accept ourselves,
each man in his own personality, as the beginning and
end of existence, and to minister to that absolute self
which after all concerns us most, and which will continue
to engage our best service until well, until history can
show us a perfectly selfless example, which, if human
nature remains consistent with its own traditions, will
assuredly never be!"
This was almost more than Theos could bear; there
was a tightening agony at his heart that made him long
to cry out, to weep, or better still, to fling himself on
his knees and pray pray to that far-removed mild Pres-
ence, that "selfless Example," who, he knew, had hal-
THE PRIEST ZEL 353
lowed and dignified the world, and yet whose holy and
beloved name he, miserable sinner, was unworthy to even
remember ! His suffering at the moment was so intense
that he fancied some reflection of it must be visible in
his face. Sah-luma, however, apparently saw nothing;
he stepped across the room, and out to the vine-shaded
loggia, where he turned and beckoned his companion to
his side.
"Come! 1 he said, pushing his hair oft his brows with
a languid gesture. "The afternoon wears onward, and
the very heavens seem to smoke with heat; let us seek
cooler air beneath the shade of yonder cypresses, whose
dark green boughs shut out the glaring sky. We'll talk
of love and poesy and tender things till sunset; I will
recite to thee a ballad of mine that Niphrata loved; 'tis
called 'An Idyl of Roses,' and it will lighten this hot and
heavy silence, when even birds sleep, and butterflies
drowse in the hollowed shelter of the arum-leaves. Come,
wilt thou? To-night perchance we shall have little time
for pleasant discourse!"
As he spoke, Theos obediently went toward him with
the dazed sensations of one under the influence of mes-
merism; the dazzling face and luminous eyes of the lau-
reate exercised over him an indescribable yet resistless
authority, and it was certain that wherever Sah-luma led
the way he was bound to follow. Only as he mechan-
ically descended from the terrace into the garden, and
linked his arm within that of his companion, he was
conscious of a vague feeling of pity for himself pity that
he should have dwindled into such a nonentity, when
Sah-luma was so renowned a celebrity; pity, too, that he
should have somehow never been able to devise anything
original in the art of poetry!
This last was evident, for he knew already that the
'Idyl of Roses" Sah-luma proposed reciting could be no
other than what he had fancied was /u's"ldy\ of Roses"
a poem he had composed, or rather plagiarized in some
mysterious fashion before he had even dreamed of the
design of "Nourhalma. " However, he had become in
part resigned to the peculiar position he occupied; he
was just a little sorry for himself, and that was all. Even
as the parted spirit of a dead man might hover ruthfully
above the grave of its perished mortal body, so he com-
354 "ARDATH"
passionated his own forlorn estate, and heaved a passing
sigh of regret, not only for all he once had been, but also
for all he could never be\
CHAPTER XVII.
IN THE TEMPLE OF NAGAYA.
THE hours wore on with stealthy rapidity, but the two
friends, reclining together under a deep-branched can-
opy of cypress boughs, paid little or no heed to the flight
of time. The heat in the garden was intense; the grass
was dry and brittle as though it had been scorched by
passing flames, and a singularly profound stillness
reigned everywhere, there being no wind to stir the faint-
est rustle among the foliage. Lying lazily upon his
back, with his arms clasped above his head, Theos looked
dreamily up at the patches of blue sky seen between the
dark green gnarled stems, and listened to the measured
cadence of the laureate's mellow voice as he recited with
much tenderness the promised poem.
Of course it was perfectly familiar; the lines were pre-
cisely the same as those which he, Theos, remembered
to have written out, thinking them his own, in an old
manuscript book he had left at home. "At home!"
Where was that? It must be a very long way off! He
half closed his eyes, a sense of delightful drowsiness
was upon him; the rise and fall of his friend's rhythmic
utterance soothed him into a languid peace; the "Idyl
of Roses" was very sweet and musical, and though he
knew it of old, he heard it now with special satisfaction,
inasmuch as, it being no longer his, he was at liberty to
bestow upon it that full measure of admiration which he
felt it deserved.
Yet every now and then his thoughts wandered, and
though he anxiously strove to concentrate his attention
on the lovely stanzas that murmured past his ears like
the gentle sound of waves flewed beneath the mesmerism
of the moon, his brain was in a continual state of fer-
ment, and busied itself with all manner of vague sugges
tions to which he could give no name.
IN THE TEMPLE OF NAGAYA 355
A great weariness weighed down his spirit a dim con-
sciousness of the futility of all ambition and all endeav-
or; he was haunted, too, by the sharp hiss of Lysia's
voice when she had said: "Kill Sah-luma\' Her look,
her attitude, her murderous smile, troubled his memory
and made him ill at ease; the thing she had thus de-
manded at his hands seemed more monstrous than if
she had bidden him kill himself! For there had been
one moment, when, mastered by her beauty and the
force of his own passion, he would have killed himself
had she requested it, but to kill his adored, his beloved
friend ah, no! not for a thousand sorceress queens as
fair as she!
He drew a long breath; an irresistible desire for rest
came over him ; the air was heavy and warm and frag-
rant; his companion's dulcet accents served as a lullaby
to his tired mind. It seemed a long time since he had
enjoyed a pleasant slumber, for on the previous night
he had not slept at all. Lower and lower drooped his
aching lids ; he was almost beginning to slip away-lowly
into a blissful consciousness when, all at once, Sah-
luma ceased reciting, and a harsh brazen clang of bells
echoed through the silence, storming to and fro with a
violent, hurried uproar, suggestive of some sudden alarm.
He sprang to his feet, rubbing his eyes; Sah-luma rose
also, a slightly petulant expression on his face.
"Canst thou do no better than sleep," he queried com-
plainingly, "when thou art privileged to listen to an
immortal poem?"
Impulsively Theos caught his hand and pressed it fer-
vently.
"Nay, dost thou deem me so indifferent, my noble
friend? he cried. "Thou art mistaken, for though per-
chance mine eyes were closed, my ears were open; I
heard thy every word, I loved thy every line! What
dost thou need of praise, thou who canst do naught but
work which, being perfect, is beyond all criticism!"
Sah-luma smiled, well satisfied, and the little lines of
threatening ill-humor vanished from his countenance.
"Enough!" he said. "I know that thou dost truly
honor me above all poets, and that thou wouldst not will-
ingly offend. Hearest thou how great a clamor the ringers
of the temple make to-night? 'Tisbut the sunset chime,
356 "ARDATH"
yet one would think they were pealing forth an angrv
summons to battle."
"Already sunset!" exclaimed Theos, surprised. "Why,
it seems scarcely a minute since, that we came
hither!"
"Ay! such is the magic charm of poesy!" rejoined
Sah-luma complacently. "It makes the hours flit like
moments, and long days seem but short hours! Never-
theless, 'tis time we were within doors and at supper,
for if we start not soon for the temple, 'twill be difficult
to gain an entrance, and I, at any rate, must be early in
my place beside the king."
He heaved a short, impatient sigh, and as he spoke,
all Theos' misgivings came rushing back upon him in
full force, filling him with vague sorrow, uneasiness, and
fear. But he knew how useless it was to try and impart
any of his inward forebodings to Sah-luma Sah-luma,
who had so lightly explained Lysia's treacherous conduct
to his own entire satisfaction; Sah-luma, on whom neither
the prophecies of Khosrul nor the various disastrous
events of the day had taken any permanent effect, while
no attempt could now be made to deter him from at-
tending the sacrificial service in the temple, seeing he
had been so positively commanded thither by Lysia,
through the medium of the priest Zel.
Feeling bitterly his own incompetency to exercise any
protective influence on the fate of his companion, Theos
said nothing, but silently followed him as he thrust
aside the drooping cypress boughs, and made his way
out to more open ground; his lithe, graceful figure look-
ing even more brilliant and phantom-like than ever,
contrasted with the deep green gloom spread about him
by the hoary, moss-covered trees that were as twisted and
grotesque in shape as a group of fetich idols. As he bent
back the last branchy barrier, however, and stepped into
the full light, he stopped short, and uttering a loud ex-
clamation, lifted his hand and pointed westward, his dark
eyes dilating with amazement and awe.
Theos at once came swiftly up beside him, and looked
where he looked; what a scene of terrific splendor he
beheld! Right across the horizon, that glistened with
a pale green hue like newly frozen water, a cloud, black
as the blackest midnight, lay heavy and motionless, in
IN THE TEMPLE OF NAGAYA 357
lorra resembling an enormous leaf fringed at the edges
with tremulous lines of gold.
This nebulous mass was absolutely stirless ; it ap-
peared as though it had been thrown, a ponderous weight,
into the vault of heaven, and having fallen, there pur-
posed to remain. Ever and anon beamy threads of
lightning played through it luridly, veining it with long,
arrowy flashes of orange and silver, while, poised imme-
diately above it was the sun, looking like a dull scarlet
seal a ball of dim fire destitute of rays.
On all sides the sky was crossed by wavy flecks of
pearl and sudden glimpses as of burning topaz, and
down toward the earth drooped a thin azure fog a filmy
curtain, through which the landscape took the strangest
tints and unearthly flushes of color. A moment, and
the spectral sun drooped suddenly to the lower dark-
ness, leaving behind it a glare of gold and green; low-
ering purple shadows crept across the heavens, darken-
ing them as smoke darkens flame, but the huge cloud,
palpitating with lightning, moved not at all nor changed
its shape so much as a hair's breadth; it appeared like
a vast pall spread out in readiness for the solemn state-
burial of the world.
Fascinated by the aspect of the weird sky-phenome-
non, Theos was at the same time curiously impressed
by a sense of its unreality; indeed, he found himself
considering it with the calm attentiveness of one who is
brought face to face with a remarkable picture effectively
painted. This peculiar sensation, however, was, like
many others of his experience, very transitory; it passed,
and he watched the lightnings come and go with a cer-
tain hesitating fear, mingled with wonder. Sah-luma
was the first to speak.
"Storm at last!" he said, forcing a smile, though his
face was unusually pale. "It has threatened us all day;
'twill break before the night is over. How sullenly
yonder heavens frown! They have quenched the sun in
their sable darkness as though he were a beaten foe!
This will seem an ill sign to those who worship him as
a god, for truly he doth appear to have withdrawn him-
self in hate and anger. By my soul! 'tis a dull and omi-
nous eve!" and a slight shudder ran through his delicate
frame, as he turned toward the white pillared loggia
358 "ARDATH"
garlanded with its climbing vines, roses, and passion-
flowers, through which there now floated a dim, golden,
suffused radiance reflected from lamps lit within. "1
would the night were past, and that the new day had
come!"
With these words he entered the house, Theos accom-
panying him, and together they went at once to the ban-
queting hall. There they supped royally, served by si-
lent and attentive slaves; they themselves, feeling mu-
tually depressed, yet apparently not wishing to communi-
cate their depression one to the other, conversed but
little. After the repast was finished, they set forth on
foot to the temple, Sah-luma informing his companion
as they went, that it was against the law to use any
chariot or other sort of conveyance to go to the place of
worship, the king himself being obliged to dispense with
his sumptuous car on such occasions, and to walk thither
as unostentatiously as any one of his poorest subjects.
"An excellent rule, " observed Theos reflectively. "For
the pomp and glitter of an earthly potentate's display
assorts ill with the homage he intends to offer to the im-
mortals, and kings are no more than commoners in the
light of an all supreme Divinity."
"True, if there were an all-supreme Divinity!" rejoined
Sah-luma diyly. "But in their present state of well
founded doubt regarding the existence of any such omnip-
otent personage, thinkest thou there is a monarch liv-
ing who is sincerely willing to admit the possibility of
any power superior to himself? Not Zephoranim, be-
lieve me; his enforced humility on all occasions of pub-
lic religious observances serves him merely as a new
channel wherein to proclaim his pride. Certes, in obe-
dience to the priests, or rather, let us say, in obedience
to the high-priestess, he paces the common foot-path
in company with the common folk, uncrowned and simply
clad; but what avails this affectation of meekness? All
know him for the king; all make servile way for him ;
all flatter him; and his progress to the temple resembles
as much a triumphal procession as though he were
mounted in his chariot and returning from some wondrous
victory. Besides, humility, in my opinion, is more a
weakness than a virtue; and even granting it were a vir-
tue/ it is not possible to kings, not as long as people
OX THE TEMPLE OF NAGAYA 359
continue to fawn on royalty like groveling curs and lick
the sceptered hand that often loathes their abject touch!"
He spoke with a certain bitterness and impatience, as
though he were suffering from some inward nervous irri-
tation, and Theos observing this, prudently made no at-
tempt to continue the conversation. They were just
then passing down a narrow, rather dark street, lined
on both sides by lofty buildings of quaint and elaborate
architecture. Long, gloomy shadows had gathered in this
particular spot, where for a short space the silence was
so intense that one could almost hear one's own heart
beat. Suddenly a yellowish green ray of light flashed
across the pavement, and lo! the upper rim of the moon
peered above the housetops, looking strangely large and
rosily brilliant; the air seemed all at once to grow suffo-
cating and sulphureous, and between whiles there came
the faint plashing sound of water lapping against stone
with a monotonous murmur as of continuous soft whis-
pers.
The vast silence, the vast night, were full of a solemn
weirdness; the moon, curiously magnified to twice her
ordinary size, soared higher and higher, firing the lofty
solitudes of heaven with long, shooting radiations of
rose and green, while still in the purple hollow of the
horizon lay that immense, immovable cloud, nerved, as it
were, with living lightning which leaped incessantly from
its center like a thousand swords drawn and redrawn
from as many scabbards.
Presently the deep, booming noise of a great bell smote
heavily on the stillness a sound that Theos, oppressed
by the weight of unutterable for-bodings, welcomed with a
vague sense of relief, while Sah-luma, hearing it, quick
ened his pace. They soon reached the end of the street,
which terminated in a spacious quadrangular court guard-
ed on all sides by gigantic black statues, and quickly
crossing this place, which was entirely deserted, they came
out at once into a dazzling blaze of light; the Temple
of Nagaya in all its stately magnificence towered before
them, a stupendous pile of marvelously delicate architec-
ture, so fine as to seem like lace-work rather than stone.
It was lit up from base to summit with glittering
lamps of all colors; the twelve revolving stars of its
twelve tall turrets cast forth wide beams of penetrating
360 "ARDATH"
radiance into the deepening darkness of the night; aloft
in the topmost crown of pinnacles swung the prayer-
commanding bell, while the enormous crowds swarming
thick about it gave it the appearance of a brilliant Pha-
ros set in the midst of a surging sea. The steps lead-
ing up to it were strewn ankle-deep with flowers, the
doors stood open, and a thunderous hum of solemn music
vibrated in wave-like pulsations through the heavy,
heated air.
Half blinded by the extreme effulgence, and confused by
the jostling to and fro of a multitude immeasurably greater
than any he had ever seen or imagined, Theos instinc-
tively stretched out his hand in the helpless fashion of
one not knowing whither next to turn; Sah-luma imme-
diately caught it in his own, and hurried him along with-
out saying a word.
How they managed to glide through the close ranks
of pushing, pressing people, and effect an entrance, he
never knew; but when he recovered from his momentary
dazed bewilderment, he found himself inside the temple,
standing near a pillar of finely fluted white marble that
shot up like the stem of a palm-tree and lost its final
point in the dim yet sparkling splendor of the immense
dome above. Lights twinkled everywhere; there was
the odor of faint perfumes mingled with the fresher fra-
grance of flowers; there were distant glimpses of jeweled
shrines, and the leering faces of grotesque idols clothed
in draperies of amber, purple and green, and between
the multitudinous columns that ringed the superb fane
with snowy circles one within the other, hung glittering
lamps, set with rare gems and swinging by long chains
of gold.
But the crowning splendor of the whole was concen-
trated on the place of the secret inner shrine. There
an arch of pale blue fire spanned the dome from left to
right; there, from huge bronze vessels mounted on tall
tripods the smoke of burning incense arose in thick and
odorous clouds ; there, children clad in white and wear-
ing garlands of vivid scarlet blossoms stood about in
little groups as still as exquisitely modeled statues,
their small hands folded and their eyes downcast; there,
the steps were strewn with branches of palm, flowering
oleander, rose-laurel, and olive sprays, but the sanctuary
itself was not visible.
IN THE TEMPLE OF N AGAVA 361
Before that Holy of Holies hung the dazzling folds of
the "Silver Veil," a curtain of the most wonderfully
woven silver tissue, that, seen in the flashing azure light
of the luminous arch above it, resembled nothing so
much as a suddenly frozen sheet of foam. Across it was
emblazoned in large characters:
I AM THE PAST, THE PRESENT, THE FUTURE,
THE MIGHT-HAVE-BEEN, AND THE SHALL-NOT-BE,
THE EVER, AND THE NEVER,
NO MORTAL KNOWETH MY NAME.
As Theos, with some difficulty, owing to the intense
brilliancy of the veil, managed to decipher these words,
he heard a solitary trumpet sounded a clear-blown note
that echoed itself many times among the lofty arches
before it finally floated into silence. Recognizing this
as an evident signal for some new and important phase
in the proceedings, he turned his eyes away from the
place of the shrine, and looking round the building, was
surprised to see how completely the vast area was filled
with crowds upon crowds of silent and expectant people.
It seemed as though not the smallest wedge could have
been inserted between the shoulders of one man and an-
other, yet where he stood with Sah-luma there was plenty
of room. The reason of this, however, was soon appar-
ent ; they were in the place reserved for the king and
the immediate officers of the royal household, and scarcely
had the sweet vibration of that clear trumpet-blast died
away, when Zephoranim himself appeared, walking slowly
and majestically in the midst of a select company of his
nobles and courtiers.
He wore the simple white garb of an ordinary citizen
of Al-Kyris, together with a silver belt and plain-sheathed
dagger j not a jewel relieved the classic severity of his
costume, and not even the merest fillet of gold on his
rough dark hair denoted his royal rank. But the pride
of precedence spoke in his flashing eyes, the arrogance
of authority in the self-conscious poise of his figure, and
haughtiness of his step; his brows were knitted in some-
thing of a frown, and his face looked pale and slightly
Careworn. He spied out Sah-luma at once, and smiled
362 "ARDATH"
kindly; there was not a trace of coldness in his manner
toward his favored minstrel, and Theos noted this with
a curious sense of sudden consolation and encourage-
ment. "Why should I have feared Zephoranim?" he
thought. "Sah-luma has no greater friend, except my-
self. The king would be the last person in the world
to do him any injury!"
Just then a magnificent burst of triumphal music rolled
through the Temple the music of some mighty instru-
ment, organ-like in sound, but several tones deeper than
the grandest organ ever made, mingled with children's
voices singing. The king seated himself on a cushioned
chair directly in front of the silver veil; Sah-luma took
a place at his right hand, giving Theos a low bench close
beside him, while the various distinguished personages
who had attended Zephoranim disposed themselves in-
differently wherever they could find standing room, only
keeping as near to their monarch as they were able to
do in the extreme pressure of so vast a congregation.
For now every available inch of space was occupied ;
as far as eye could see there were rows upon rows of men
and white-veiled women; Theos imagined there must
have been more than five thousand people present. On
went the huge pulsations of melody, surging through the
incense-laden air like waves thudding incessantly on a
rocky shore, and presently out of a side archway near the
sanctuary steps came with slow and gliding noiselessness
a band of priests, walking two by two, and carrying
branches of palm. These were all clad in purple and
crowned with ivy-wreaths; they marched sedately, keep-
ing their eyes lowered, while their lips moved constantl)',
as though they muttered inaudible incantations. Wav-
ing their palm-boughs to and fro, they paced along past
the king and down the center aisle of the temple; then
turning, they came back again to the lowest step of the
shrine, and there they all prostrated themselves, while
the children stood near; the incense-burners flung fresh
perfumes on the glowing embers, and chanted the fol-
lowing recitative:
"O Nagaya, great, everlasting and terrible!
Thou who dost wind thy coils of wisdom into the heart!
Thou whose eyes, waking and sleeping, do behold all things!
Thou who art the joy of the sun and the master of virgins!
If ear us. we beseech thee, when we call upon thy namel"
iN THE TEMPLE OF NAGAYA 363
Their young treble voices were clear and piercing, and
pealed up to the dome to fall again like the drops of dis-
tinct round melody from a lark's singing throat, and
when they ceased there came a short, impressive pause.
The silver veil quivered from end to end as though swayed
by a faint wind, and the flaming arch above turned from
pale blue to a strange shimmering green. Then, in mel-
low unison, the kneeling priests intoned:
1 'O thou who givest words o power to the dumb mouth of th soul in
Hades; hear us, Nagfiya!
O thou who openest the grave and givest peace to the heart; plead for
us, Nagaya!
O thou who art companion of the sun and controller of the east and of
the west; comfort us, Nagaya!"
Here thy ended, and the children began again not to
chant but to sing a strange and tristful tune, wilder
than any that vagrant winds could play on the strings of
an aeolian lyre.
"O virgin of virgins, holy maid, to what shall we resemble the?
Chaste daughter of the sun, how shall we praise thy peerless beauty?
Thou art the gate of the house of stars! thou art the first of the seven
jewels of Nagaya!
Thou dost wield the scepter of ebony, and the Eye of Raphon behold?
thee with love and contentment!
Thou art the chiefest of women, thou hast the secrets of earth and
heaven, thou knowest the dark mysteries!
Hail Lysia! Queen of the Hall of Judgment!
Hail, pure pearl iu the sea of the Sun's glory!
Declare unto us, we beseech thee, the will of Nagiya!"
They closed this canticle softly and slowly; then fling-
ing themselves prone, they pressed their faces to the
earth, and again the glittering veil waved to and fro
suggestively, while Theos, his heart beating fast, watched
its shining woof with straining eyes and a sense of suffo-
cation in his throat. What ignorant fools, what mad
barbarians, what blind blasphemers were these people,
he indignantly thought, who could thus patiently hear
the praise of an evil woman like Lysia publicly pro-
claimed with almost divine honors!
Did they actually intend to worship her? he wondered.
If so, he, at any rate, would never bend the knee to one so
vile! He might have done so once, perhaps but now 1
At that instant a flute-like murmur of melody crept up-
ward as it seemed from the ground, with a plaintive
364 "ARDATH**
whispering sweetness like the lament of some exiletf
fairy, so exquisitely tender and pathetic, and yet withal
so heart-stirring and passionate, that despite himseli
he listened with a strange, swooning sense of languor
stealing insidiously over him a dreamy lassitude, that,
while it made him feel enervated and deprived of strength
was still not altogether unpleasing; a faint sigh escaped
his lips, and he kept his gaze fixed on the silver veil as
pertinaciously as though behind it lay the mystery of his
soul's ruin or salvation.
How the light flashed on its shimmering folds like the
rippling phosphorescence on southern seas! as green and
clear and brilliant as rays reflected from thousands and
thousands of glistening emeralds! And that haunting,
sorrowful, weird music! How it seemed to eat into his
heart and there waken a bitter remorse combined with
an equally bitter despair!
Once more the veil moved, and this time it appeared to
inflate itself in the fashion of a sail caught by a sudden
breeze; then it began to part in the middle very slowly
and without sound. Further and further back on each
side it gradually receded, and, like a lily disclosed
between unfolding leaves, a figure, white, wonderful, and
angelically fair, shone out, the center jewel of the stately
shrine a shrine whose immense carven pillars, grotesque
idols, bronze and gold ornaments, jeweled lamps and
dazzling embroideries only served as a sort of neutral-
tinted background to intensify with a more lustrous
charm the statuesque loveliness revealed. O Lysia, un-
virgined priestess of the sun and Nagaya, how gloriously
art thou arrayed in sin! O singular sweetness whose
end must needs be destruction, was ever .woman fairer
than thou ! O love, love, lost in the dead long-ago, and
drowned in the uttermost darkness of things evil, wilt
thou drag my soul with thee again into everlasting night !
Thus Theos inwardly raved, without any real compre-
hension of his own thoughts, but only stricken by a fe-
verish passion of mingled love and hatred as he stared
on the witching sorceress whose marvelous beauty was
such wonder and torture to his eyes; what mattered it
to him that king, laureate, and people had all prostrated
themselves before her in reverent humility? He knew
her nature, he had fathomed her inborn wickedness, and
IN THE TEMPLE O* NAG A/-* 365
though his senses were attracted by her, his spirit loath-
ingly repelled her. He therefore remained seated, stiffly
upright, watching her with a sort of passive, immovable
intentness. As she now appeared before him, her love-
liness was absolutely and ideally perfect; she looked
the embodiment of all grace, the model of all chastity.
She stood quite still, her hands folded on her breast,
her head slightly lifted, her dark eyes upturned; her
unbound black hair streamed over her shoulders in loose,
glossy waves, and above her brows her diadem of ser-
pents' heads sparkled like a corona of flame. Her robe
was white, made of some silky, shining stuff that glis-
tened with soft, pearly hues; it was gathered about her
waist by a twisted golden girdle. Her arms were bare,
decked as before with the small jeweled snakes that
coiled upward from wrist to shoulder; and when after a
brief pause she unfolded her hands and raised them with
a slow, majestic movement above her head, the great sym-
bolic eye flared from her bosom like a darting coal, seem-
ing to turn sinister glances on all sides as though on the
search for some suspected foe.
Fortunately, no one appeared to notice Theos* delib-
erate non-observance of the homage due to her, no one
except Lysia herself. She met the open defiance, scorn,
and reluctant admiration of his glance, and a cold smile
dawned on her features a smile more dreadful in its
very sweetness than any frown; then, turning away her
beautiful, fathomless, slumberous eyes, and still keeping
her arms raised, she lifted up her voice a voice mellow
as a golden flute, that pierced the silence with a straight
arrow of pure sound, and chanted:
"Give glory to the sun, O ye people! for his light doth illumine your
darknessl"
And the murmur of the mighty crowd surged back in
answer:
"We give him glory J"
Here came a brief clash of brazen bells, and tfrhen the
clamor ceased Lysia continued:
"Give glory to the moon, O ye people! for she is the servant of th
sua and the ruler of the house of sleep!"
Again the people responded:
366 "ARDATH*
" We give her glory?" and again the bells jangled
tempestuously.
' 'Give glory to Nagdya, O ye people! for he alone can turn aside the
wrath of the immortalsl"
" We give him glory!" rejoined the multitude, and,
" We give him glory!" seemed to be shouted high among
the arches of the temple with a strange sound as of the
mocking laughter of devils.
This preliminary over, there came out of unseen doors
on both sides of the sanctuary twenty priests in compa-
nies of ten each, ten advancing from the left, ten from
the right. These were clad in flowing garments of car-
nation-colored silk, heavily bordered with gold, and the
leader of the right-hand group was the priest Zel. His
demeanor was austere and dignified; he carried a square
cushion covered in black, on which lay a long, thin,
cruel-looking knife with a jeweled hilt. The chief of
the priests, who stood on the left, bore a very tall and
massive staff of polished ebony, which he solemnly pre-
sented to the high-priestess, who grasped it firmly in one
slight hand, and allowed its end to rest steadily on the
ground, while its uppermost point reached far above her
head.
Then followed the strangest, weirdest scene that ever
the pen of poet or brush of painter devised; a march
round and round the temple of all the priests, bearing
lighted flambeaux and singing in chorus a wild litany
a confused medley of supplications to the sun and
Nagaya, which, accompanied as it was by the discordant
beating of drums and the clanging of bells, had an evi-
dently powerful effect on the minds of the assembled
populace, for presently they also joined in the maddening
chant, and growing more and more possessed by the con-
tagious fever of fanaticism, began to howl and shriek and
clap their hands furiously,creating a frightful din, suggest-
ive of some fiendish clamor in hell.
Theos, half deafened by the horrible uproar, as well
as roused to an abnormal pitch of restless excitement,
looked round to see how Sah-luma comported himself.
He was sitting quite still, in a perfectly composed atti-
tude; a faint derisive smile played on his lips; his pro-
file, as it just then appeared, had the firmness and the
IH THE TEMPLE OF NAGAYA 367
pure, soft outline of a delicately finished cameo; his
splendid eyes now darkened, now lightened with passion,
as he gazed at Lysia, who, all alone in the center of the
shrine, held her ebony staff as perpendicularly erect as
though it were a tree rooted fathoms deep in earth,
keeping herself, too, as motionless as a figure of frozen
snow.
And the king what of him? Glancing at that bronze-
like, brooding countenance, Theos was startled and at
the same time half fascinated by its expression. Such
a mixture of tigerish tenderness, servile idolatry, in-
temperate desire, and craven fear he had never seen de-
lineated on the face of any human being. In the black,
thirsty eyes there was a look that spoke volumes a
look that betrayed what the heart concealed, and reading
that featured emblazonment of hidden guilt, Thecs knew
beyond all doubt that the rumors concerning the high
priestess and the king were true, that the dead Khosrul
had spoken rightly, that Zephoranim loved Lysia!
Love? It seemed too tame a word for the pent-up fury
of passion that visibly and violently consumed the man.
What would be the result?
"When the high priestess
Is the king's mistress
Then fall Al-Kyris!"
These foolish doggerel lines! Why did they suggest
themselves? They meant nothing. The question did
not concern Al-Kyris at all; let the city stand or fall as
it list, who cared, so long as Sah-luma escaped injury!
Such, at least, was the tenor of Theos' thoughts, as he
rapidly began to calculate certain contingencies that now
seemed likely to occur. If, for instance, the king were
made aware of Sah-luma's intrigue with Lysia, would
not his rage and jealousy exceed all bounds? And if,
on the other hand, Sah-luma were convinced of the king's
passion for the same fatally fair traitress, would not his
wrath and injured self-love overbear all loyalty and pru-
dence?
And between the two powerful rivals who thus by
stealth enjoyed her capricious favors, what would Lysia's
own decision be? Like a loud hissing in his ears, he
heard again the murderous command a command which
was half a menace "Kill Sah-lumar
368 "APDATH"
Faint shudders as of icy cold ran through him; he
nerved himself to meet some deadly evil, though he
could not guess what that evil might be; he was willing
to throw away all the past that haunted him, and cut oh 1
all hope of a future, provided he could only baffle the
snares of the pitiless beauty to whom the torture of men
was an evident joy, and rescue his beloveJ and gifted
friend 1 from her perilous attraction! Making a strong
effort to master the inward conflict of fear and pain that
tormented him, he turned his attention anew to the gor-
geous ceremony that was going on. The march of the
priests had come to an abrupt end. They stood now on
each side of the shrine, divided in groups of equal num-
bers, tossing their flambeaux around and above them to
the measured ringing of bells. At every upward wave of
these flaring torches, a tongue of fire leaped aloft, to in-
stantly break and descend in a sparkling shower of gold;
the effect of this was wonderful in the extreme, as, by the
dexterous way in which the flames were flung forth, it ap-
peared to the spectators' eyes as though a luminous snake
were twisting and coiling itself to and fro in mid-air.
All loud music ceased; the multitude calmed down by
degrees, and left off their delirious cries of frenzy or
rapture; there was nothing heard but a monotonous
chanting in undertone, of which not a syllable was dis-
tinctly intelligible. Then from out a dark portal, un-
perceived in the shadowed gloom of a curtained niche,
there advanced a procession of young girls, fifty in all,
clad in pure white and closely veiled.
They carried small citherns, and, arriving in front of
the shrine, they knelt down in a semi-circle, and very
gently began to strike, the short responsive strings. The
murmur of a lazy rivulet among whispering reeds, the
sighing suggestions of leaves ready to fall in autumn, the
little, low, languid trilling of nightingales just learning
to sing any or all of these might be said to resemble
the dulcet melody they played, while every delicate
arpeggio, every rippling chord, was muffled with a soft
pressure of their hands ere the sound had time to become
vehement. This elf-like harping continued for a short
interval, during which the priests, gathering in a ring
round a huge, bronze, font-shaped vessel hard by, dipped
their flambeaux therein and suddenly extinguished them.
IN THE TEMPLE OF NAGAYA 369
At the same moment the lights in the body of the
Temple were all lowered ; only the arch spanning the
shrine blazed in undiminished brilliancy, its green tint
appearing more intense in contrast with the surrounding
deepening shadow. And now, with a harsh, clanging
noise as of the turning of heavy bolts and keys, the back
of the sanctuary parted asunder in the fashion of a re-
volving doorway, and a golden grating was disclosed,
its strong, glistening bars welded together like knotted
ropes and wrought with marvelous finish and solidity.
Turning toward this semblance of a prison cell, Lysia
spoke aloud, her clear tones floating with mellifluous
slowness above the half-hushed quiverings of the cithern
choir:
"Come forth, O Nagaya, thou who didst slumber in the bosom of space
ere ever the world was made!
"Come forth, O Nagaya, thou who didst behold the sun born out of
chaos, and the earth enriched with ever-productive life!
' Come forth, O Nagaya, friend of the gods and the people, and com-
fort us with the divine silence of thy wisdom supernal!"
While she pronounced these words, the golden grating
ascended gradually inch by inch, with a steady clank as
of the upward winding of a chain, and when she ceased,
there came a mysterious, rustling, slippery sound, sug-
gestive of some creeping thing forcing its way through
wet and tangled grass, or over dead leaves; one instant
more, and a huge serpent, a species of p)'thon, glided
through the round aperture made by the lifted bars, and
writhed itself slowly along the marble pavement straight
to where Lysia stood.
Once it stopped, curving back its glistening body in a
strange loop as though in readiness to spring, but it soon
resumed its course and arrived at the high priestess's
feet. There, its whole frame trembled and glowed with
extraordinary radiance; the prevailing color of its skin
was creamy white, marked with countless rings, and
scaly bright spcts of silver, purple, and a peculiarly livid
blue, and all these tints came into brilliant prcminence,
as it crouched before Lysia and twisted its sinuous neck
to and fro with an evidently fawning and supplicatory
gesture, while she, keeping her somber dark eyes fixed full
upon it, moved not an inch from her j csiticn, but, ma-
jestically serene, continued to hold the tall staff of ebony
straight and erect as a growing palm.
370 "ARDATH"
The cithern-playing had now the soothing softness oi
a mother's lullaby to a tired child, and as the liquid
notes quavered delicately on the otherwise deep stillness,
the formidable reptile began to coil itself ascendingly
round and round the ebony rod, higher and higher, one
glistening ring after another higher still, till its eyes
were on a level with the "eye of Raphon" that flamed on
Lysia's breast; there it paused in apparent reflective-
ness, and seemed to listen to the slumberous strains that
floated toward it in wind-like breaths of sound, then,
starting afresh on its upward way, it carefully and with
almost human tenderness avoided touching Lysia's hand,
which now rested on the staff between two thick twists
of its body, and finally it reached the top, where, fully
raising its crested head, it displayed the prismatic tints
of its soft, restless, wavy throat, which was adorned
furthermore by a flexible circlet of magnificent diamonds.
Nothing more striking or more singular could Theos
imagine than the scene now before him the beautiful
woman, still as sculptured marble, and the palpitating
snake coiled on that mast-like rod and uplifted above
her, while round the twain knelt the priests, their faces
covered in their robes, and from all parts of the temple
the loud shout arose:
ALL HAIL, NAGAYA!"
'Praise, honor, and glory be unto thee for ever and ever!"
Then it was that the proud king flung himself to earth
and kissed the dust in abject submission; then Sah luma,
carelessly complaisant, bent the knee and smiled to him-
self mockingly as he performed the act of veneration; then
tl.e enormous multitude, with clasped hands and beseech-
ing looks, fell down and worshiped the glittering beast
of the field, whose shining, emerald-like, curiously sad
eyes roved hither and thither with a darting, melancholy
eagerness over all the people who called it Lord!
To Theos' imagination it looked a creature more sor-
rowful than fierce, a poor, charmed brute, that, while
netted in the drowsy woofs of its mistress Lysia's mag-
netic spell, seemed as though it dimly wondered why
it should thus be raised aloft for the adoration of infat-
uated humankind. Its brilliant crest quivered and emit-
ted little arrowy scintillations of luster; the "god" was
IN THE TEMPLE OF NAGAVA 371
ill at ease in the midst of all his splendor, and two or
three times bent back his gleaming neck as though de-
sirous of descending to the level ground.
But when these hints of rebellion declared themselves
in the tremors running through the scaly twists of his
body, Lysia looked up, and at once compelled, as it
were, by involuntary attraction, "Nagaya the Divine"
looked down. The strange, subtle, mesmeric, sleepy
eyes of the woman met the glittering, green, mournful eyes
of the snake, and thus the two beautiful creatures re-
garded each other steadfastly and with an apparent
vague sympathy, till the "deity," evidently overcome by
a stronger will than his own, and resigning himself to
the inevitable, twisted his radiant head back again to the
op of the ebony staff, and again surveyed the kneeling
crowds of worshipers.
Presently his glistening jaws opened, his tongue darted
forth vibratingly,and he gave vent to a low,hissing sound,
erecting and depressing his crest with extraordinary
rapidity, so that it flashed like an aigrette of rare gems.
Then, with slow and solemn step, the priest Zel ad-
vanced to the front of the shrine, and spreading out his
hands in the manner of one pronouncing a benediction,
said loudly and with emphasis :
"Nagaya the Divine doth hear the prayers of his people!
Nagaya the Supreme doth accept the offered sacrifice!
BRING FORTH THE VICTIM!"
The last words were spoken with stern authoritative-
ness, and scarcely had they been uttered when the great
entrance doors of the temple flew open, and a procession
of children appeared, strewing flowers and singing:
"O happy bride, we bring thee unto joy and peace!
To thee are opened the palaces of the air,
The beautiful silent palaces where the bright stars dwell;
O happy bride of Nagaya! how fair a fate is thine!"
Pausing, they flung wreaths and garlands among the
people and continued:
"O happy bride! for thee are past all sorrow and sin,
"Thou shall never know shame, or pain or grief or the weariness of
tears;
"For thee no husband shall prove false, no children prove ungrateful;
"O happy bride of Nagaya! how glad a fate is thine!
"O happy bride! when thou art wedded to the beautiful god, the god
of rest,
372 "ARDATH"
' Thoushalt forget all trouble and dwell among sweet dreams for eter!
"Thou art the blessed one, chosen for the love-embraces of Nagaya!
'O happy bride! how glorious a fate is thine!"
Thus they sang in the soft, strange vowel-language of
Al-Kyris, and tripped along with that innocent, unthink-
ing gayety usual to such young creatures, up the center
aisle toward the sanctuary. They were followed by four
priests in scarlet robes and closely masked, and walking
steadfastly between these came a slim girl clad in
white, veiled from head to foot and crowned with a
wreath of lotus-lilies. All the congregation, as though
moved by one impulse, turned to look at her as she
passed, but her features were not as yet discernible
through the mist-like draperies that enfolded her.
The singing children, always preceding her and scat-
tering flowers, having arrived at the steps of the shrine,
grouped themselves on either side, and the red-garmented
priests, after having made several genuflections to the
glittering python that now, with reared neck and quiver-
ing fangs, seemed to watch everything that was going on
with absorbed and crafty vigilance, proceeded to unveil
the maiden martyr, and also to tie her slight hands be
hind her back by means of a knotted silver cord. Then
in a firm voice the priest Zel proclaimed:
"Behold the elected bride of the sun and the Divine Nag&ya!
"She bears away from the city the burden of your sins, O ye people!
and by her death the gods are satisfied!
"Rejoice greatly, for ye are absolved, and by the Silver Veil and the
Eye of Raphon we pronounce on all here present tha blessing of pardon
and peace 1"
As he spoke, the girl turned round as though in obedi-
ence to some mechanical impulse, and fully confronted the
multitude; her pale, pure face, framed in a shining aureole
of rippling fair hair, floated before Theos' bewildered
eyes like a vision seen indistinctly in a magic crystal,
and he was for a moment uncertain of her identity; but
quick as a flash Sah-luma's glance lighted upon her, and
with a cry of horror that sent desolate echoes through
and through the arches of the temple, he started from
his seat, his arms outstretched, and his whole frame
convulsed and quivering.
"Niphrata! Niphrata!" and his rich voice shook with a
THE SACRIFICE 373
passion of appeal. "O ye god-! what mad, blind, mur-
derous cruelty! Zephoranim!" arid he turned impetu-
ously on the astonished monarch, "as thou hvest crowned
king, I say this maid is mine! and in the very presence
of Nagaya, 1 swear she shall not diel"
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE SACRIFICE.
A SOLEMN silence ensued. Consternation and wrath
were depicted on every countenance. The sacred service
was interrupted ; a defiance had been hurled, as it were,
in the very teeth of the god Nagaya, and this horrible
outrage to religion and law had been actually committed
by the laureate of the realm! It was preposterous, in-
credible ! and the gaping crowds reached over each other s
shoulders to stare at the offender, pressing forward eager,
wondering, startled faces, which to Theos looked far
more spectral than ever, seen in the shimmering green
radiance that was thrown flickeringly upon them irom
the luminous arch above the altar. The priests stood
still in speechless indignation; Lysia moved not at all,
nor raised her eyes; only her lips parted in a very slight,
cold smile.
Seized with mortal dread, Theos gazed helplessly at
his reckless, beautiful poet-friend, who, with head erect
and visage white as a waning moon, haughtily confronted
his sovereign and audaciously asserted his right to be
heard, even in the holy place of worship. The king was
the first to break the breathless stillness ; his words
came harshly from his throat, and the great muscles in
his neck seemed to swell visibly with his hardly con-
trolled anger.
"Peace! Thou art suddenly distraught, Sah-luma!
said in half smothered, fierce accents. "How darest
thou uplift thy clamorous tongue thus wantonly before
Naoaya, and interrupt the progress of his sacred ritual.
Check thy mad speech! If ever yonder maid were thine.,
'tis certain she is thine no longer; she hath offered her-
374 "ARBATH*
self, a voluntary sacrifice, and the gods are pleased U
claim what thou perchance hast failed to value!"
For all answer, Sah-luma flung himself desperately at
the monarch's feet.
"Zephoranim," he cried again, "I tell thee she is
mine! mine, as truly mine as love can make her! Oh,
she is chaster than lily-buds in her sweet body; but in
her spirit she is wedded wedded to me, Sah-luma,
whom thou, O king, hast ever delighted tc, honor! And
now must I kneel to thee in vain, thou whose victories
I have sung, whose praises I have chanted in burning
words that shall carry thy name forever with triumph
down to unborn generations? Wilt thou become inglo-
rious a warrior stricken strengthless by the mummeries
of priestcraft, the juggleries of a perishing creed? Thou
art the ruler of Al-Kyris, thou and thou only! Restore
to me this innocent virgin-life that has scarcely yet
begun to bloom; speak but the word and she is saved;
and her timely rescue shall add luster to the record of
thy noblest deeds!"
His matchless voice, full of passionate pulsations, ex-
ercised for a moment a resistless influence and magnetic
charm. The king's lowering brows relaxed, and a gleam
of pity passed like light across his countenance. In-
stinctively he extended his hand to raise Sah-luma from
his humble attitude, as though, even in his wrath, he
were conscious of the immense intellectual superiority
of a great poet to ever so great a king; and a thrill of
involuntary compassion seemed at the same time to run
sympathetically through the vast congregation. Theos
drew a quick breath of relief, and glanced at Niphrata,
how cold and unconcerned was her demeanor! Did she
not hear Sah-luma's pleading in her behalf? No mat-
ter, she would be saved, he thought, and all would yet
be well!
And truly it now appeared as if mercy, and not cruelty,
were to be the order of the hour, for just then the priest
Zel, after having exchanged a few inaudible words with
Lysia, advanced again to the front of the shrine and
spoke in distinct tones of forced gentleness and bland
forbearance:
"Hear me, O king, princes, and peop.'e! Whereas it
hath unhappily occurred, to the wonder and sorrow oi
THE SACRIFICE 375
many, that the holy spouse of the divine Nagaya is de-
layed in her desired departure, by the unforeseen oppo-
sition and unedifying contumacy of Sah-luma, poet-lau-
reate of this realm ; and lest it may be perchance imag-
ined by vhe uninitiated that the maiden is in any way
unwilling to fulfill her glorious destiny, the high and im-
maculate priestess of the shrine doth bid me here pro-
nounce a respite a brief interval wherein, if the king
and the people be willing, he who is named Sah-luma
shall, by virtue of his high renown, be permitted to ad-
dress the virgin victim, and ascertain her own wishes
from her own lips. Injustice cannot dwell within this
sacred temple, and if, on trial, the maiden chooses the
transitory joys of earth in preference to the everlasting
joys of -the palaces of the sun, then in Nagaya's name
shall she go free; inasmuch as the god loves not a reluc-
tant bride, and better no sacrifice at all, than one that is
grudgingly consummated!"
' He ceased, and Sah-luma sprang erect, his eyes spar-
kling, his whole demeanor that of a man unexpectedly
disburdened from some crushing grief.
"Thanks be unto the benevolent destinies!
claimed, flashing a quick glance of gratitude toward Lysia
the statuesque Lysia, on whose delicately curved lips
the faintly derisive smile still lingered. "And in return
for the life of my Niphrata, I will give a thousand jewels
rare beyond all price to deck Nagaya's tabernacle, and
I will pour libations to the sun for twenty days and
nights, in token of my heart's requital for mercy well
bestowed!"
Stooping, he kissed the king's hand; whereupon, at
a sign from Zel, one of the priests attired in scarlet,
unfastened Niphrata's bound hands, and led her as one
leads a blind child, straight up to where Sah-luma and
Theos stood, close beside the king, who, together with
many others, stared curiously upon her. How fixed and
feverishly brilliant were her large dark-blue eyes! How
set were the sensitive lines of her mouth! How inciffer-
ent she seemed, how totally unaware of the laureate's
presence! The priest who brought her retired into the
background, and she remained where he left her, quite
mute and motionless. Oh, how every nerve in Theos'
body throbbed with inexpressible agony as he beheld
376 "ARDATH"
her thus! The wildest remorse possessed him; it was
as though he looked on the dim picture of a ruin which
he himself had recklessly brought, -and he could have
groaned aloud in the horrible vagueness of his incompre-
hensible despair! Sah-luma caught the girl's hand, ami
peered into her white, still face.
"Niphrata! Niphrata!" he said in a tremulous half-
whisper, "I am here Sah-luma! Dost thou not know
me?"
She sighed, a long, shivering sigh, and smiled ; what
a strange, wistful, dying smile it was! but she m?Ae no
answer.
"Niphrata," continued the laureate passionately, press-
ing the little cold fingers that lay so passively in his
grasp, "look at me ! I have come to save thee to take
thee home again ; home to thy flowers, thy birds, thy
harp, thy pretty chamber with its curtained nook, where
thy friend Zoralin waits and weeps all day for thee! O
ye gods! how weak am I!" and he fiercely dashed away
the drops that glistend on his black,silky lashes. "Come
with me, sweet one, " he resumed tenderly. "Come! Why
art thou thus silent thou whose voice hath man^' a time
outrivaled the music of the nightingales! Hast thou nc
word for me, thy lord? Come !" and Theos, struggling to
repress his own rising tears, heard his friend's accents
sink into a still lower, more caressing cadence. "Thou
shalt never again have cause for grief, rny Niphrata.
never! We will never part! Listen! am I not he whom
thou lovest?"
The poor child's set mouth trembled, her beautiful, sad
eyes gazed at him uncomprehendiug.
"He whom I love is not here!" she said in tired, soft
tones. "I left him, but he followed me; and now he
waits for me yonder!" And she turned resolutely toward
the sanctuary, as though compelled to do so by some
powerful mesmeric attraction. "See you not how fair
he is!" and she pointed with her disengaged hand to the
formidable python, through whose huge coils ran the
tremors of impatient and eager breathing. "How ten-
derly his eyes behold me those e)'es that I have wor-
shiped so patiently, so faithfully, and yet that never light-
ened into love for me till now ! O thou more than be-
loved! How beautiful thou art, my adored ene, my heart's
THE SACRIFICE 377
idol!" and a look of pale exaltation lightened her fea-
tures, as she fixed her wistful gaze, like a fascinated
bird, on the shadow}' recess whence the serpent had
emerged. "There, there thou dost rest on a couch of
fadeless roses; how softly the moonlight enfolds thee with
a radiance as of outspread wings! I hear thy voice
charming the silence ; thou dost call me by my name
oh, once poor name made rich by thy sweet utterance!
Yes, my beloved, I am ready, I come! I shall die in thy
embraces nay, I shall not die, but sleep, and dream a
dream of love that shall last forever and ever! No more
sorrow, no more tears, no mere heart-sick longings "
Here she stopped in her incoherent speech, and strove
to release her hand from Sah-luma's, her blue eyes filling
with infinite anxiety and distress.
"I pray thee, good stranger," she entreated with
touching mildness, "whosoever thou art, delay me not,
but let me go! I am but a poor love-sorrowful maid on
whom Lcve hath at last taken pity! Be gentle, there-
fore, and hinder me not on my way to Sah-luma. I have
waited for happiness so long, so long!"
Her young, plaintive voice quavered into a half-sob,
and again she endeavored to break away from the lau-
reate's hold. But he, overcome by the excess of his own
grief and agitation, seized her other hand and drew her
close up to him.
"Niphrata, Niphrata!" he cried despairingly, "what
evil hath befallen thee? Where is thy sight, thy mem-
ory. Look! Look straight in these eyes of mine, and
read there my truth and tenderness! I am Sah-luma,
thine own Sah-luma thy poet, thy lover, thy slave; all
that thou wouldst have me be, I am ! Whither wouldst
thou wander in search of me? Thou hast no further to
go, dear heart, than these arms; thou art safe with me,
my singing bird. Come, let me lead thee hence, and
home !"
She watched him while he spoke, with a strange ex-
pression of distrust and uneasiness. Then, by a violent
effort, she wrenched her hands from his clasp, and stood
aloof, waving him back with an eloquent gesture of
amazed reproach.
"Away!" she said in firm accents of sweat severity.
"Thou art a demon that dost seek to tempt my soul to
378 "ARIJATH"
ruin! Thou Sah-luma!" and she lifted her lily-crowned
head with a movement of proud rejection. "Nay, thou
mayest wear his look, his smile, thou mayest even bor-
row the clear heaven-luster of his eyes, but I tell thee
thou art fiend, not angel, and I will not follow thee
into the tangled ways of sin! Oh, thou knowest not the
meaning of true love, thou! There is treachery on thy
lips, and thy tongue is trained to utter honeyed false-
hood! Methinks thou hast wantonly broken many a
faithful heart, and made light jest of many a betrayed
virgin's sorrow ! And thou darest to call thyself my
poet, my Sah-luma, in whom there is no guile, and who
would die a thousand deaths rather than wound the
frailest soul that trusted him! Depart from me, thou
hypocrite in poet's guise thou cruel phantom of my
love back to that darkness where thou dost belong, and
trouble not my peace!"
Sah-luma recoiled from her, amazed and stupefied.
Theos clenched his hands together in a sort of physical
effort to keep down the storm of emotions working with-
in him, for Niphrata's words burnt into his brain like
fire; too well, too well he understood their full inten-
sity of meaning! She loved the ideal Sah-luma, the Sah-
luma of her own pure fancies and desires not the real
man as he was, with all his haughty egotism, vainglory,
and vice, vice in which he took more pride than shame.
Perhaps she had never known him in his actual character;
she, like other women of her lofty and ardent type, had
no doubt set up the hero of her life as a god in the
shrine of her own holy and enthusiastic imagination, and
had there endowed him with resplendent virtues, which
he had never once deemed it worth his while to prac-
tice. Oh, the loving hearts of women! How much men
have to answer for, when they voluntarily break these
clear mirrors of affection, wherein they, all unworthy,
have been for a time reflected angel-wise, with all the
warmth and color of an innocently adoring passion shin-
ing about them like the prismatic rays in a vase of pol-
ished crystal! To Niphrata, Sah-luma remained as a sort
of splendid divinity, for whom no devotion was too vasi,
too high, or too complete; better, oh, surely far better,
that she should die in her beautiful self-deception, ihair
live to see her elected idol descend to his true level, and
THE SACRIFICE 379
cpeniy display all the weaknesses of his volatile, flip-
pant, godless, sensual, yet, alas! most fascinating and
genius-gifted nature a nature which, overflowing as it
was with potentialities of noble deeds, yet lacked sufficient
intrinsic faith and force to accomplish them! This thought
stung Theos like a sharp arrow-prick, and filled him
with a strange, indescribable penitence ; and he stood in
dumb misery, remorsefully eyeing his friend's conster-
nation, disappointment and pained bewilderment, with-
out being able to offer him the slightest consolation.
Sah-luma was indeed the very picture of dismay; if he
had never stinered in his life before, surely he suffered
now! Niphrata, the tender, the humbly adoring Niph-
rata positively rejected him, refused to recognize his
actual presence, and turned insanely away from him to-
ward some dream-ideal Sah-luma, who, she fancied
could only be found in that unexplored country bordered
by the cold river of Death! Meanwhile, the silence in
the temple was intense; the priests were like so many
wax figures fastened in fixed positions; the king, leaning
slightly forward in his chair, had the appearance of a
massively moulded image of bronze; and to Theos' over-
wrought condition of mind, the only actually living
things present seemed to be the monster serpent, v.hose
scaly folds palpitated visibly in the strong light, and
the hideous "eye of Raphon" that blazed on Lysia's
breast with a menacing stare, as of a wrathful ghoul.
All at once a flash of comprehension lightened the lau
reate's sternly perplexed face; a bitter laugh broke from
his lips.
"She has been drugged!" he cried fiercely, pointing
to Niphrata's white and rigid form, "poisoned by some
deadly potion, devised of devils to twist and torture the
quivering centers of the brain ! Accursed work! Will
none undo it?" and springing forward nearer the shrine,
he raised his angry, impassioned eyes to the dark, in-
scrutable ones of the high-priestess, who met his troubled
look with serene and irresponsive gravity. "Is there
no touch of human pity in things divine, no mercy in
the icy fate that rules our destinies? This child knows
naught of what she dees; she hath been led astray in a
moment of excitement and religious exaltation ; her mind
hath lost its balance ; her thoughts float disconnectedly
380 "ARDATH"
on a sea of vague illusions! Ah, by the gods! I i ndei
stand it all now!" arid he suddenly threw himself v n ni'5
knees, his appealing gaze resting, not on the snaKe-d(;-
ity, but on the lovely countenance of Lysia, fait ar/((
brilliant as a summer morn, with a certain waveiir,<;
light of triumph about it, like the reflected radiants
of sunbeams. "She is under the influence of R.iphoni
O withering madness! O cureless misery! She h, rultcf
by that most horrible secret force, unknown as yet t\>
the outer world of men, and she hears things that aic
not, and sees what has no existence! O Lysia, daughte/
of the sun! I do beseech thee, by all the inborn gentlt-
ness of womanhood, unwind the mystic spell!"
A serious smile of feigned sorrowful compassion partecf
the beautiful lips of the priestess; but she gave no word
or sign in answer; and the weird jewel on her breast at
that moment shot forth a myriad scintillations as of
pointed sharp steel. Some extraordinary power in it or
in Lysia herself was manifestly at work, for with a vio-
lent start Sah-luma rose from his knees, and staggered
helplessly backward, one hand pressed to his eyes as
though to shut out some blinding blaze of lightning. He
seemed to be vagusly groping his way to his former place
beside the king, and Theos seeing this, quickly caught
him by the arm and drew him thither, whispering anx-
iously the while:
"Sah-luma! Sah-luma! what ails thee?'
The laureate turned upon him a bewildered, piteoas
face, white with an intensity of speechless anguish.
"Nothing!" he faltered, "nothing! 'Tisover, the child
must die!" Then all suddenly the hard drawn lines of
his countenance relaxed; great tears gathered in his eyes,
and fell slowly one by one, and moving aside, he shrank
away as far as possible into the shadow cast by a huge
column close by. "O Niphrata! Niphrata! ' Theos
heard him say in a voice broken by despair, "why do I
love thee only now, now, when thou art lost to me for-
ever?"
The king looked after him half compassionately, half
sullenly; but presently paid no further heed to his dis-
tress. Theos, however, kept near him, whispering what
ever poor suggestions of comfort he could, in the e -;-
tre.TUty of his own grief, dsvjse a hopeless task, for to
THE SACRIFICE 381
all his offered solace Sah-luma made but the one reply:
"Oh, 1st me weep! Let me weep for the untimely
death of innocence!
And now the cithern-playing, which had ceased, com-
menced again, accompanied by the mysterious, thrilling
bass notes of the invisible organ-like instrument, whose
sound resembled the roll and rush of huge billows break-
ing into foam. As the rich and solemn strains swept
grandly through the spacious temple, Niphrata stretched
out her hands toward the high-priestess, a smile of won-
derful beauty lighting up her fair child-face.
"Take me, O ye immortal gods!" she cried, her voice
ringing in clear tune above all the other music, "take
me, and bear me away on your strong, swift wings to the
everlasting palaces of air, wherein all sorrows have end,
and patient love meets at last its long-delayed reward!
Take me for lo! I am ready to depart! My soul is
wounded, and weary of its prison; it struggles to be
free! O destiny, I thank thee for thy mercy! I praise
thee for the glory thou dost here unveil before mine eyes!
Pardon my sins! accept my life! sanctify my love!"
A murmur of relief and rejoicing ran rippling through
the listening crowds; a weight seemed lifted from their
minds; the victim was willing to die after all! the sac-
rifice would be proceeded with. There was a slight
pause, during which lha priests crossed and repressed
the sanctuary many times, one of them descending the
steps to tie Niphrata' s hands behind her back as beiore.
In the immediate interest of the moment, Sah-luma and
his hot interference seemed to be almost forgotten. A
few people, indeed, cast injured and indignant looks
toward the corner where he leaned dejectedly, and once
the wrinkled, malicious head of old Zabastes peered at
him with an expression of incredulous amazement, but
otherwise no sympathy was manifested by any one for
the popular laureate's suffering and discomfiture. He
was the nation's puppet; its tame bird, whose business
was to sing when hidden but he was not expected to
have any voice in matters of religion or policy, and still
less was he supposed to intrude any of his own personal
griefs on the public notice. Let him sing! and sing
well, that was enough; but let him dare to be afflicted,
and annoy others with his wants and troubles, why then
3^* "AfcDATH"
he at once became uninteresting! he might even die for
all anybody cared! This was the unspoken, sullen
thought that Theos, sensitive to the core on his friend's
behalf, instinctively felt to be smouldering in the heart
of the mighty multitude, and he resented the half im-
plied, latent ungratefulness of the people with all his
soul.
"Fools!" he muttered under his breath, "for you, and
such as you, the wisest sages toil in vain! Ou you Art
wastes her treasures of suggestive loveliness! low grov-
elers in earth, ye have no eyes for heaven! O ignorant
ungenerous, fickle hypocrites, whose ruling passion is
the greed of gold! Why should great men perish, that
ye may live? And yet your acclamations make up the
thing called fame! Fame? Good God! 'tis a brief shout
in the universal clamor, scarce heard and soon forgotten!"
And filled with strange bitterness, he gazed disconso-
lately at Niphrata, who stood like one in a trance of ec-
stasy, patently awaiting her doom, her lovely, innocent
blue eyes gladly upturned to the long, jewel-like head
of Nagaya, which, twined round the summit of the ebony
staff, seemed to peer down at her in a sort of drowsy
reflectiveness. Then, all suddenly, Lysia spoke how
enchanting was the exquisite modulation of that slow
languid, silvery voice!
"Come hither, O maiden fair, pure, and faithful!
The desire of thy soul is granted!
Before thee are the gates of the Unknown World!
Already they open to admit thee;
Through their golden bars gleam the glory of thy future'
Speak! What seest thou?"
A moment of breathless silence ensued; all present
seemed to be straining their ears to catch the victim's
answer. It came, soft and clear as a bell :
I see a wondrous land, o'er^canopied with skies of
gold and azure ; white flowers grow in the fragrant fields-
there are many trees, I hear the warbling of many birds'
J see fair faces that smile upon me, and gentle hands
that beckon: Figures that wear glistening robes, and
carry garlands of roses and myrtle, pass slowly, singin
as they go! How beautiful they are! How strangel
bow sweet!"
And as she uttered these words, in accents cf dreamy
THE SACRIFICE 383
delight, she ascended the first step of the shrine. Theos,
looking, held his breath in wonder and fear, while Sah
luma, with a groan, turned himself resolutely away, and,
pressing his forehead against the great column where he
stood, hid his eyes in his clasped hands.
The high-priestess continued:
"Come hither, O maiden of chaste and patient life!
Rejoice greatly, for thy virtue hath pleased the gods:
The undiscovered marvels of the stars are thine,
Earth has no more control over thee:
Heaven is thine absolute heritage!
Behold! the Ship of the Sun awaits thee!
Speak! What seest thou?"
A soft cry of rapture came from the girl's lips.
"Oh, I see glory everywhere!" she exclaimed, "light
everywhere! peace everywhere! O joy, joy! The face of
my beloved shines upon me; he calls, he bids me come
to him! Ah! we shall be together at last; we twain
shall be as one, never to part, never to doubt, never to
suffer more! Oh, let me hasten to him! Why should
I linger thus, when I would fain be gone!"
And she sprang eagerly up the second and third steps
of the sanctuary, and faced Lysia, her head thrown back,
her blue eyes ablaze with excitement, her bosom heaving,
and her delicate features transfigured and illumined by
unspeakable, inward, delirious bliss. Just then the priest
Zel lifted the long, jeweled-hilted knife from the black
cushion where it had lain till now, and crouching stealth-
ily in the shadow behind Lysia, held it in both hands,
pointed straight forward in a level line with Niphrata's
breast. Thus armed, he waited, silent and immovable.
A slight shudder of morbid expectancy seemed to quiver
through the vast congregation, but Theos' nerves were
strung up to such a pitch of frenzied horror that he could
neither speak nor sigh. Motionless as a statue, he could
only watch, with freezing blood, each detail of the extra-
ordinary scene. Once more the high priestess spoke:
"Come hither, O happy maiden whose griefs are ended:
The day of thy triumph and reward has dawned! ^
For thee the immortals unveil the mysteries of being,
To thee they openly declare all secrets.
To thee the hidden things of wisdom are made manifest:
For the last time ere thou leavest U3, hear, a.nd Answer,
Speak! What seest tbou?"
"ARDATH"
"LOVE!" replied Niphrata in a tone ot thrilling and
soiemn tenderness, "LOVE, the eternal all, in which dark
things are made light! LOVE, that is never served in
vain! LOVE, wherein lost happiness is rediscovered and
perfected! O DIVINE LOVE, by whom the passion of
my heart is sanctified! Absorb me in the quenchless
glory of thine immortality! Draw me to thyself, and let
me find in thee my soul's completion!"
Her voice sank to a low, prayerful emphasis; her look
was as of a rapt angel waiting for wings. Lysia's gaze
dwelt upon her with slow-dilating wonder and contempt:
such a devout and earnest supplication was evidently
not commonly heard from the lips of Nagaya's victims.
At that instant, too, Nagaya himself seemed curiously
excited and disturbed; his great, glittering coils quivered
so violently as to shake the rod on which he was twined,
and when his priestess raised her mesmeric, reproving
eyes toward him, he bent his head rebelliously, and sent
a vehement hiss through the silence, like the noise made
by the whirl of a scirniter.
Suddenly, and with deafening abruptness, a clap of
thunder, short and sharp as a quick volley of musketry,
crashed overhead, accompanied by a strange, circular
sweep of lightning that blazed through the windows of
the temple, illumining it from end to end with a bril-
liant blue glare. The superstitious crowds exchanged
starUed looks of terror; the king moved uneasily and
glanced frowningly about him; it was plainly manifest
that no one had forgotten the disastrous downfall of the
obelisk, and there seemed to be a contagion of alarm in
the very air. But Lysia was perfectly self-possessed;
in fact she appeared to accept the threat of a storm as
an imposing and by no means undesirable adjunct to the
mysteries of the sacrificial rite, for, riveting her basi-
lisk eyes on Niphrata, she said in firm, clear, decisive
accents:
"The gods grow impatient! Wherefore, O princes and
people of Al-Kyris, let us hasten to appease their anger!
Depart, O stainless maid! depart hence, and betake thee
tj the golden throne of the Sun, our lord and ruler! and,
in ihs name of Nagaya, may tne shedding of thy virginal
blood avert from us and ours the wrath of the immortals!
Linger no longer; Nagaya accepts thee and the hour
strikes death*"
TttE CUt OF WRATH AND TREMBLING 385.
!
With the last word, a sullen bell boomed heavily
through and through the temple, and at once, like a fren-
zied bird or butterfly winging its way into scorching
flame, Niphrata rushed forward with swift, unhesitating,
dreadful precision straight on the knife outheld by the
untrembling, ruthless .hands of the priest Zel! One sec-
ond, and Theos, sick with horror, saw her speeding thus;
the next and the whole place was enveloped in dense
darknessl
CHAPTER XIX. .
THE CUP OF WRATH AND TREMBLING.
A FLASH of time, an instant of black, horrid eclipse,
too brief for the utterance of even a word or cry and
then, with an appalling roar, as of the splitting of huge
rocks and the tearing asunder of mighty mountains, the
murky gloom was lifted, rent, devoured, and swept away
on all sides by a sudden bursting-forth of fire! Fire leaped
up alive in twenty different parts of the building, spring-
ing aloft in spiral coils from the marble pavement that
yawned crashingly open to give the impetuous flames
their rapid egress. Fire climbed Hthely round and round
the immense carven columns, and ran, nimbly dancing
and crackling its way, among the painted and begemmed
decorations of the dome. Fire unfastened and shook
down the swinging lamps, the garlands, the splendid
draperies of silk ,and cloth of gold. Fire fire every-
where! and the madly affrighted multitude, stunned by
the abrupt shock of terror, stood for a second paralyzed
and inert; then, with one desperate yell of wild brute
fear and ferocity, they rushed headlong in a struggling,
shrieking, cursing, sweltering swarm toward the great
closed portals of the central aisle. As they did so, a
tremendous weight of thunder seemed to descend solidly
on the roof with a thudding burst as though a thousand
walls had been battered down at one blow; the whole
edifice rocked and trembled in the terrific reverberation,
and almost simultaneously the doors were violently jerked
open, wrenched fror their hinges, and hurled. all burning
38t "ARDATK''
and split with flame, against the forward-fighting crowds'
Several hundreds fell under the fiery mass, a charred
heap of corpses; the raging remainder pressed on in
frenzied hate, clambering over piles of burning dead,
trampling on scorched, disfigured faces that perhaps but
a moment since had been dear tg them, each and all
bent on forcing a way out to the open air. In the midst
of the overwhelming awfulness of the scene, Theos still
retained sufficient presence of mind to remember that,
whatever happened, his first care must be for Sah-luma
always for Sah-luma, no matter who else perished! and
he now held that beloved comrade closely clasped by the
arm, while he eagerly glanced about him on every side
for some outlet through which to make a good and swift
escape.
The most immediate place of safety seemed to be the
inner sanctuary of Nagaya ; it was untowched by the
flames, and its titanic pillars of brass and bronze sug-
gested, in their very massiveness, a nearly impregnable
harbor of refuge. The king had fled thither, and now
stood, like a statue of undaunted, gloomy amazement,
beside Lysia, who on her part appeared literally frozen
with terror. Her large, startled eyes, roving here and
there in helpless anxiety, alone gave any animation to
the deathly, rigid whiteness of her face, and she still me-
chanically supported the sacred ebony staff, without ap-
parently being aware of the fact, that the snake deity,
convulsed through all his coils with fright, had begun
to make therefrom his rapid descent. The priests, the
virgins, the poor unhappy little singing children flocked
hurriedly together, and darted to the back of the great
shrine, in the manifest intention of reaching some pri-
vate way of egress known only to themselves; but their
attempts were evidently frustrated, for no sooner had
they gone than they sped back again, their faces scorched
and blackened, and, uttering cries and woeful lamenta-
tions, they flung themselves wildly among the struggling
crowds in the main body of the temple, and fought for
life in the jaws of death, every one for self, and no one
for another! Volumes of smoke rolled up from the ground
in thick and suffocating clouds, accompanied by inces-
sant sharp reports like the close firing of guns ; jets o/
flame and showers of cirders broke forth fountain-like,
CUP OF WBATH AND TREMBLING 387
scattering hot destruction on every hand,while a few fly-
ing sparks caught the end of the "silver veil" and withered
it into nothingness with one bright, resolute flare!
Half maddened by the shrieks and dying groans that re-
sounded everywhere about him, and yet all the time feel-
ing as though he were some spectator set apart, and con-
demned to watch the progress of a ghastly phantasma-
goria in hell, Theos was just revolving in his mind
whether it would not be possible to make a determined
climb for escape through one of the tall painted windows,
some of which vere not yet reached by the fire, when,
with a sudden, passionate exclamation, Sah-luma broke
horn his hold and rushed to the sanctuary. Quick as
lightning, Theos followed him followed him close, as
he sprang up the steps and confronted Lysia with eager,
outstretched arms. The dead Niphrata lay near him,
fair as a sculptured saint, with the cruel wound of sacri-
fice in her breast, but he seemed not to see that piteous
corpse of faithfulness! His grief for her death had been
a mere transient emotion; his stronger earthly passions
reasserted their tempestuous sway, and for sweet things
perished and gone to heaven he had no further care. On
Lysia, and on Lysia's living beauty alone, his eyes flamed
their ardent glory.
"Come! come!" he cried, "come, my love my life.
Let me save thee! Or, if I cannot save thee, let us die
together 1"
Scarcely had the words left his lips, when the king,
with a swift forward movement like the pounce of some
desert panther, turned fiercely upon him; amazement, jeal-
ousy, distrust, revenge, all gathering storm ily in the
black frown of his bent, vindictive brows. His great
chest heaved pantingly; his teeth glittered wolfishly
through his jetty beard, and, in the terrible nerve ten-
sion of the moment, the fury of the spreading conflagra-
tion was forgotten, at any rate by Theos, who, stricken
numb and rigid by a shock of alarm too poignant for ex-
pression, stared aghast at the three figures before him
Sah-luma, Lysia, Zephoranim especially Zephoranim,
whose bursting wrath threatened to choke his utterance.
"Wkat sayest thou, Sah-luma?" he deman V3 in a
precious, gasping whisper. "Repeat thy words i
Repeat 'them!" and his hand clutched at his dagger-hilt t
388 "AkDATH"
while his restless, lowering glance fiasned from Lysia
to the laureate, and from the laureate back to Lysia
again. "Death encompasses us; this is no time for trifling!
Speak 1" and his voice suddenly rose to a frantic shout
of rage "Speak! What is this woman to thee?"
"Everything!" returned Sah-luma with prompt and
passionate fearlessness, his glorious eyes blazing a
proud defiance as he spoke; "everything that woman
can be, or ever shall be, unto man! Call her by what-
soever name a foolish creed enjoins virgin-daughter of
the sun, or high-priestess of Nagaya she is neverthe-
less mine! and mine only! I am her lover!"
"THOU!" and with a hoarse cry Zephoranim sprang
upon and seized him by the throat. "Thou liest! I 1,
crowned king of Al-Kyris, /am her lover! chosen by her
out of all men! and dost thou dare to pretend that she
hath preferred thee, a mere singer of mad songs, to me?
Thou unscrupulous knave! I tell thee she is mine! Dost
hear me? Mine, mine, mine/" and he shrieked the last
word out in a perfect hurricane of passion. "My queen!
my mistress! heart of my heart! soul of my soul! Let
the city burn to ashes, and the whole land be utterly
consumed ; in death as in life Lysia is mine! and the gods
themselves shall never part her from me!"
And suddenly releasing his grasp, he hurled Sah-luma
away as he might have hurled aside a toy figure, and a
peal of reckless, musical laughter echoed mockingly
through the vaulted shrine. It was Lysia's laughter! and
Theos' blood grew cold as he heard its cruel, silvery
ring even so had sha laughed when Nir-jalis died!
Sah-luma reeled backward from the king's thrust, but
did not fall; white and trembling, with his sad and
splendid features frozen, as it were, into a sculptured
mask of agonized beauty, he turned upon the treach-
erous woman he loved, the silent challenge of his
eloquent eyes. Oh, that look of piteous pain and won-
der! a whole life-time's wasted opportunities seemed
concentrated in its unspeakable reproach ! She met it
with a sort of triumphant, tranquil indifference; an un-
coa .tollable wicked smile curved the corners of her red
lips; the sacred ebony staff had somehow slipped from
h ;r hands, and it now lay on the ground, the half un-
coiled serpent still clinging to it, in glittering lengths
appeared $o fee quit* tno fr jonlesa
THE CUP OF WRATH A3D TREMBLING 389
"Ail, Lysia, hast thou played me false!" cried the un-
iiappy laureate at last, as with a quick, impulsive move-
ment he caught her round, jeweled arm in a resolute
grip, "alter all thy vows, thy endearments, thy embraces,
hast thou betrayed me? Speak truly! Art thou net all
in all to me; hast thou not given thyself, body and soul,
into my keeping? To this braggart king I deign no an-
swerone word of thine will suffice! Be brave, be
faithful! Declare thy love for me, even as thou hast
oft declared it a thousand remembered times!"
Over the face of the beautiful priestess swept a strange
expression of mingled fear, antagonism, loathing, and
exultation. Her eyes wandered to the red-tongued, leap-
ing flames that tossed in eddying rings round the temple,
running every second nearer to the place where she stood,
and in that one glance she seemed to recognize the hope-
lessness of rescue and certainty of death. A careless.
haughty acceptance of her fate manifested itself in the
pallid resolve of her drawn features, but as she allowtj
her gaze to return and dwell on Sah-luma, the old mali-
cious mirth flashed and gave luster to her loveliness, and
she laughed again a laugh of uttermost, bitter scorn.
"Declare my love for thee!" she said in thrilling ac-
cents. 'Thou boaster! Let the gods, who have kindled
this fiery end for us, bear witness to my hatred! I hate
thee! Ay, even thee!" and she pointed at him jeeringly,
a he recoiled from her in wide-eyed anguish and amaze-
u.ent. "No man have I ever loved, but thee have I
hated most of all! All men have I despised for their
folly, greed and vain-glory; I have fought them with
their own weapons of avarice, cunning, cruelty, and false-
hood, but thou hast been even beneath my contempt!
'Twas scarcely worth my while to fool thee, thou wert
so easily fooled! 'Twas idle sport to rouse thy passions,
they were so easily roused! Poet and perjurer singer
and sophist! Thou to whom the genius of poesy was as
a pearl set in a swine's snout! thou wert not worthy to
be my dupe, seeing that thou earnest to me already in
bonds, the dupe of thine own self! Niphrata loved thee,
and thou didst play with and torture her more unmerci-
fully than wild beasts play with and torture their prey;
but thou couldst never trifle with me! O thou who hast
-aken such pride in the breaking of many women's hearts,
learn that thou hast never stirred one throt ol passion
in mine! that I have loathed thy beauty while caressing
thee, and longed to slay thee while embrac : ng thee! and
that even now I would I saw thee dead before me, ere I
myself am forced to die!"
Pausing in the swift torrent of her words, her white
breast heaved violently with the rise and fall of her
panting breath; her dark, brilliant eyes dilated, while
the symbolic jewel she wore, and the crown of serpents'
heads in her streaming hair, seemed to glitter about her
like so many points of lightning. At that instant one
side of the sanctuary split asunder, giving way to a burst-
ing wreath of flames. Seeing this, sne uttered a pierc-
ing cry, and stretched out her arms;
"Zephoranim! Save me!"
In a second, the king sprang toward her, but not be-
fore Sah-luma, wild with wrath, nad interposed himself
between them.
"Back!" he exclaimed passionately, addressing the
infuriated monarch. "While I live, Lysia is mine! let
her hate and deny me as she will ! and sooner than see
her in thine arms, O king, I will slay her where she
stands!"
His bold attitude was magnificent; his countenance
more than beautiful in its love-betrayed despair, and for
a moment the savage Zephoranim paused irresolute, his
scowling brows bent on his erstwhile favorite minstrel
with an expression that hovered curiously between bit-
terest enmity and reluctant reverence. There seemed
to be a struggling consciousness in his mind, of the im-
mortality of a poet as compared with the evanescent
power of a king, and also a quick realization of the truth
that, let his anger be what it would, the}' twain were
partakers in the same evil, and were mutually deceived
by the same false woman! But ere his saving sense of
justice could prevail, a ripple of discordant, delirious
laughter broke once more from Lysia's lips; her eyes
shone vindictively, her whole face became animated with
a sudden glow of fiendish triumph.
"Zephoranim!" she cried, "hero! warrior! king! thou
who hast risked thy crown and throne and life for my
sake and the love of me! Wilt lose me now? Wilt let
me perish in these raging flames, to satisfy this wanton
THE COP OF WRATH AND TREMBLING 39 l
liar and unbeliever in the gods, to whose disturbance of ,
the holy ritual we surely owe this present fiery disaster!
Save me, O strong and noble Zephoranim! Save me,
and with me save the city and the people! A/// Sah-
luma!"
O barbarous, inexorable words! they rang like a desolat-
in* knell in the ears of the bewildered, fear-stiicken
Tleos, and startled him from his rigid trance of speech-
less misery. Uttering an inarticulate dull groan, he made
a violent effort to rush forward to serve as a living
shield of defense to his adored friend, to ward off the
imminent blow! Too late! too late! Zephoramm's dag-
ger glittered in air, and rapidly descended. One gasping
cry' and Sah-luma lay prone, beautiful as a slam Adonis,
the rich red blood pouring from his heart, and a faint,
stern smile frozen on the proud lips whose dulcet singing-
speech was now struck dumb forever! With a shriek of
agony, Theos threw himself beside his murdered com-
rade; heedless of king, priestess, flames, and all the out-
breaking fury of earth and heaven, he bent above
motionless form, and gazed yearningly into the fair, col-
orless face.
"Sah-luma! Sah-luma!"
No sign! No tremulous stir of breath! Dead dead-
dead in his prime of years, dead in the zenith of his
glory! all the delicate, dreaming genius turned to dust
and ashes! all the ardent light of inspiration quenched
in the never-lifting darkness of the grave! And iri the
first delirious paroxysm of his grief Theos felt as though
life, time, and the world were ended for him also, with
this one suddenly destroyed existence!
"O thou mad king!" he cried fiercely, "thou hast slam
the chief wonder of thy realm and reign! Die now when
thou wilt, thou shalt only be remembered as the mit
derer of Sah-luma! Sah-luma, whose name shall
when thine is covered in shameful oblivion!"
Zephoranim frowned, and threw the Wood-stained dag-
ger from him. , .
"Peace, clamorous fool!" he said. "Sah-luma hath
gone but a moment before me; as poet he hath received
precedence even in death! When the last hour comes
ior all of us, it matters not how we die, and wheth
.% hereafter remembered or forgotten I care not !
392 "ARDATH"
lived as a man should live, fearing nothing and con
quered by none, except perchance by love that hath
brought many kings ere now to untimely ruin!" Here
his moody eyes lighted on Lysia. "How many lovers
hast thou had, fair soul?" he demanded in a stern yet
tremulous voice. "A thousand? I would swear this dead
minstrel of mine was one, for though I slew him at thy
bidding, I saw the truth in his dying eyes! No matter!
We shall meet in Hades, and there we shall have ample
time to urge our rival claims upon thy favor! Ah!" and
he suddenly laid his two strong hands on her white, un-
covered shoulders, and gazed at her reproachfully as she
shrank a little beneath his close scrutiny, "thou divine
traitress! Have I not challenged the very heavens for
thy sake? And lo! the prophecy is fulfilled and Al-Kyris
must fall! How many men would have loved thee as I
have loved? None; not even this dead Sah-luma, slain
like a dog to give thee pleasure! Come! Let me kiss
thee once again ere death makes cold our lips! False
or true, thou art nevertheless fair! and the wrathful gods
know best how I worship thy fairness!"
And folding his arms about her, he kissed her passion-
ately. She clung to him like a lithe serpentine thing;
her eyes ablaze, her uiouth quivering with suppressed
hysterical laughter. Pointing to Sah-luma' s body, she
said in a strange, excited whisper:
"Nay, hast thou slain him in very truth, Zephoranim;
slain him utterly? For I have heard that poets cannot
die; they live when the whole world deems them daad;
they rise from their shut graves and re -in vest the earth
with all the secrets of past tima. Oh! my brain reels. I
talk mere madness; there is no afterward of death! No,
no! No gods, no anything but blankness, forgetfulness,
and silence, for us and for all men. How good it is!
How excellently devised a jest, that the whole wide uni-
verse should be but a cheat of time a bubble blown
into space, to float, break, and perish, all for the idle
sport of some unknown and shapeless devil-mystery!"
Shuddering, half-laughing, half-weeping, she clasped
her hands round the monarch's throat, and hid her wild
eyes in his breast, while he, unnerved by her distraction
and his own inward torture, glared about him on all sides
for some glimmsring chance of rescue, but could see
THE CUP OF WRATH AND TREMBLING . J93
none. The flames were now attacking the shrine on every
side like a besieging army, their leaping darts of b ue
and crimson gleaming here and there with indescribable
velocity; and still Theos knelt by Sah-luma's corpse in
dry-eyed despair, endeavoring with feverish zeal to stanch
the oozing blood with a strip torn from his own garments,
and listening anxiously for the feeblest heart-throb, cr
smaller pulsation of smouldering life in the senseless,
stiffening clay.
All at once a hideous scream assailed his ears; an-
other and yet another rang above the crackling roar of
the gradually conquering fire, and half-lifting Sah-luma's
body in his arms, he looked up. O horror, horror ! His
nerves contracted, his blood seemed to turn to ice in
his veins, his head swam giddily, and he thought the
moment of his own death had come, for surely no man
could behold the sight he saw and yet continue to live
on! Lysia the captor was made captive at last; bound,
helpless, imprisoned, and hopelessly doomed; Nagaya
had claimed his own! The huge snake, terrified beyond
all control at the bursting breadth of fire environing the
shrine,had turned in its brute fear to the mistress it
for years been accustomed to obey, and had now, with one
stealthy, noiseless spring, twisted its uppermost coil
close about her waist, where its restless head, alarmed
eyes, and darting fangs all glistened together like a blaz-
ing cluster of gems. The more she struggled to release
herself from its dreadful embrace, the tighter its body
contracted and the more maddened with fright it be-
came. Shriek upon shriek broke from her lips and
pierced the suffocating air, while with all his great mus-
cular force Zephoranim, the king, strove in desperate
agony to tear her from the awful clutch of the monster
he had but lately knelt to as divine. In vain, in vain!
The strongest efforts were useless; the cruel, beautiful,
pitiless priestess of Nagaya was condemned to suffer the
same frightful death she had so often mercilessly decreed
for others! Closer and closer grew the fearful python's
constricting clasp; nearer and nearer swept the dancing
battalion of destroying flames! For one fleeting breath
of time, Theos stared aghast at the horrid scene; then
making a superhuman effort, he raised Sah-iuma's corpse
entirely from the ground and staggered with his burden
ARDATH :i
away away from the burning shrine, the funeral pyre,
as it vaguely seemed to him, of a wasted love and a dead
passion!
Whither should he go? Down into the blazing area of
the fast perishing temple? Surely no safety could be
found there, where the fire was raging at its utmost height;
yet he went on mechanically, as though urged forward
by some force superior to his own, always clinging to
the idea that his friend still lived, and that if he could
only reach some place of temporary shelter he might yet
be able to restore him. It was possible the wound was
not fatal ; far more possible to his mind than that so
gloriously famed a poet should be dead!
So he dimly thought, while he stumbled dizzily along,
his forehead wet with clammy dews, his limbs trembling
under the weight he bore, his eyes half-blinded by the
hot, flying sparks and drifting smoke, and his soul shaken
and appalled by the ghastly sights that met his view
wheresoever he turned. Crushed and writhing bodies of
men, women, and children, half living, half dead, heaps
of corpses fast blazing to ashes, broken and fallen col-
umns, yawning gaps in the ground from which were cast
forth volleys of red cinders and streams of lava; all these
multitudinous horrors surrounded him, as wifh uncertain,
faltering steps he moved on, like a sick man walking in
sleep, carrying his precious burden. He knew nothing
of where he was bound; he saw no outlet anywhere, no
corner wherein the fire-fiend had not set up devouring
dominion; but, nevertheless, he steadily continued his
difficult progress, clasping Sah-luma's corpse with a
strange tenacity, and concentrating all his attention on
protecting it from the withering touch of the ravenous
flames. All at once, as he strove to force his way over a
fallen altar from which the hideous, presiding stone idol
had toppled headlong, killing in its descent some twenty
or thirty people whose bodies lay crushed beneath it, a
face horribly disfigured and tortured into a mere burnt
sketch of its former likeness twisted itself up and peered
at him the face of Zabastes, the critic. His protruding
"/HE CUP OF WRATH AND TREMBLING 395
eyes glistened with something of their old malign ex-
pression as he perceived whose helpless form it was that
was being carried by.
"What! is the famous Sah-luma gone?" he gasped,
his words half choking him in their utterance, as he
stretched out a skinny hand and caught at Thecs' gar-
ments. "Good youth, stay, stay! Why burden thyself
with a corpse when thou mightest rescue a living man?
Save me! Save me! I was the poet's adverse critic;
and who but I should write his eulogy now that he is
no more? Pity, pity, most courteous, gentle sir! Save
me, if only for the sake of Sah-luma' s future honor!
Thou knowest not how warmly, how generously, how
nobly, I can praise the dead!"
Theos gazed down upon him in unspeakable, melan-
choly scorn; was it only through time-serving creatures
such as this miserable Zabastes, that the after-glory of
perished poets was proclaimed to the world? What, then,
was the actual worth of fame?
Shuddering, he wrenched himself away, and passed on
silently, heedless of the savage curses the despairing
scribe yelled after him as he went, and he involuntarily
pressed the dear corpse of his beloved friend closer to
his heart, as though he thought he could reanimate it by
this mute expression of tenderness! Meanwhile the fire
raged continuously; the temple was fast becoming a pil-
lared mass of flames, and presently, choked and giddy
with the sulphureous vapors, he stopped abruptly, strug-
gling for breath. His time had come at last, he thought;
he, with Sah-luma, must die!
Just then a loud muttering and rolling of thunder swept
in eddying vibrations round him, followed by a -sharp
splitting noise; raising his aching eyes, he saw straight
before him a yawning, gloomy archway, like the solemn
portal of a funeral vault, dark, yet with a white glimmer
of steps leading outward, and a dim sparkle as of stars
in heaven. A rush of new vigor inspired him at this
sight, and he resumed his way, stumbling over countless
corpses strewn among fallen blocks of marble, and every
now and then looking back in awful fascination to the
fiery furnace of the body of the temple, where, of all
the vast numbers that had lately crowded it from end to
end, there were only a hundred or so remaining alive,
39$ "ARDATH"
and these were fast perishing in frightful agony. The
shrine of Nagaya was enveloped in thick, black smoke,
crossed here and there by flashes of tlame; the bare out-
line of its titanic architecture was scarcely discernible.
Yet the thought of the dreadful eni of Lysia, the love-
liest woman he had ever seen, moved him now to no
emotion whatever, save gladness. Some deadly evil
seemed burnt out of his life; moreover, her command
had slain Sah-luma! Enough ; no fate, however horri-
ble, could be more so than she in her wanton wicked-
ness deserved! But alas! her beauty! He dared not-
think of its subtle, slumberous charm; and, stung to a
new sense of desperation, he plunged recklessly toward
the dusky aperture he had seen, which appeared to en
large itself mysteriously as he approached, like the open-
ing gateway of some magic cavern.
Suddenly a faint groan at his feet startled him; and
looking down hastily, he perceived an unfortunate man
lying half-crushed under the ponderous fragment of a
split column, which had fallen across his body in such
manner that any attempt to extricate him would have
been worse than useless. By the bright light of the
leaping flames, Theos had no difficulty in recognizing
the pallid countenance of his late acquaintance, the
learned professor of positivism, Mira-Khabur, who was
evidently very near his woeful and most positive end!
Struck by an impulse of compassion, he paused; yet
what could he say? In such a case, where rescue was
impossible, all comfort seemed mockery; and while he
stood silent and irresolute, he fancied the professor
smiled! It was a very ghastly smile; nevertheless, it
had in it a curious touch of bland a.id scrupulous in-
quiry.
"Is not this a very remarkable occurrence?" asked
a voice so feeble and far-away that it was difficult to
believe it came from the lips of the suffering sage. "Of
course it arises from a volcanic eruption, and the
mystery of the red river is solved!" Here an irre-
pressible moan of anguish broke through his heroic
effort at equanimity. It is not a phenomenon " and a
gleam of obstinate self-assertion lit up his poor glazing
eyes. "Nothing is phenomenal; only I am not able to
explain I have no time to analyze my very singular
sensations!"
THE CUP OF WRATH AND TREMBLING 397
A rush of blood choked his utterance, his throat rat-
tled, he was dead; and the dreary, speculative smile froze
on his mouth in the likeness of a solemn sneer. At that
moment a terrific swirling, surging noise, like the furious
boiling of an underground whirlpool, rumbled heavily
through the air, and lo! with a sudden, swift shock that
sent Theos reeling forward and almost falling under the
burdensome weight he carried, the earth opened, disclos-
ing a hue pit of black nothingness, an enormous chaim,
into which, with an appalling clamor as of a hundred
incessant peals of thunder, the whole main area of the
temple, together with its mass of dead and dyir.g human
beings, sank in less than five seconds, the ground clos-
ing instantaneously over its prey with a sullen rear, as
though it were some gigantic beast devouring fcod toe
long denied. And instead of the vanished fane arose a
mighty pillar of fire a vast, increasing volume of scarlet
and gold flame that spread outward and upward, higher
and higher in tapering lines and dome-like curves of
living light, while Theos, being hurled along restlessly
by the force of the convulsion, had reached, though he
knew not how, the dark and quiet cell-like portal with
its outleading steps, the only visible last hope and chance
of safety; and he now leaned against its cold stone
arch, trembling in every limb, clasping the dead Sah-
luma close, and looking back in affrighted awe at the
tossing vortex of fury from which he had miraculously
escaped. And, as he looked, a host of spectral faces
seemed to rise whitely out of the flames and wonder at
himfaces that were solemn, wistful, warning, and be-
seeching by turns; they drifted through the fire and
smiled, and wept, and vanished, to reappear again and
yet again; and as with painfully beating heart he strove
to combat the terror that seized him at this strange
spectacular delusion, all suddenly the heavy wreaths of
smoke, that had till now hung over the inner shrine of
Na^aya, parted like drapery drawn aside from a picture,
and for a brief breathing space of direst agony he saw
Lysia once more Lysia in a torture as horrible as any
ever depicted in a bigot's idea of his enemy's hell
Round and round her writhing form the sacred serpent
was twined in all his many coils ; with both hands she
had grasped the creature's throat in her frenzy, striving
398 "ARDATH*
to thrust back its quivering fangs from her breast, where
on the evil "Eye of Raphon" still gleamed distinctly with
its adamantine, chilly stare; at her feet lay the body of
the king, her lover, dead and wrapped in a ring of flames!
Alone, all, all alone, she confronted death in its most
appalling shape; her countenance was distorted, yet
beautiful still with the beauty of a maddened Medusa;
white and glittering as a fair ghost invoked from some
deadly gulf of pain, she stood, a phantom figure of min-
gled loveliness and horror, circled on ever) 7 side by fire!
With wild, straining eyes, Theos gazed upon her thus
for the last time. For with a crash that seemed to rend
the very heavens the great bronze columns surrounding
her, which had, up to the present, resisted the repeated
onslaughts of the flames, bent together all at once and
fell in a melting ruin, and the victorious fire roared loudly
above them, enveloping the whole shrine anew in dense
clouds of smoke and jets of flame; Lysia had perished!
All that proud loveliness, that dazzling supremacy, that
superb voluptuousness,that triumphant dominion, swept
away into a heap of undiscoverable ashes! And Zeph-
oranim's haughty spirit, too, had fled fled, stained with
guilt and most unroyal dishonor, all for the sake of one
woman's fairness the fairness of body only, the brilliant
mask of flesh that too often hides the hideousness of a
devil's nature!
For one moment Theos remained stupefied by the sheer
horror of the catastrophe; then, recalling his bewildered
wits to his aid, he peered anxiously through the arch-
way where he rested; there seemed to be a dim red glow
at the end of the downward-leading steps, as well as a
dusky azure tint, like a patch of midnight sky. The
temple was now nothing but a hissing, shrieking pyra-
mid of flame; the hot and blinding glare was almost too
intense for his eyes to endure, yet so fascinated was he
by the sublime terror and grandeur of the spectacle,
that he could scarcely make up his mind to turn away
from it! The thought of Sah-luma, however, gave the
needful spur to his flagging energies, and, without paus-
ing to consider where he might be going, he slowly and
hesitatingly descended the steps before him, and pres-
ently reached a sort of small, open court paved with
black marble. Here he tenderly laid his burden down-
THE CUP OF WRATH AND TKFMfiLING 399
a burden grown weightier with each moment of its
bearing and letting his aching arms drop listlessly at
his sides, he looked up dreamily, not all at once com-
prehending the cause of the vast lurid light that crim-
soned the air like a wide aurora borealis everywhere about
him; then, as the truth suddenly flashed on his mind,
he uttered a loud, irrepressible cry of amazement and
awe !
Far as his gaze could see, east, west, north, soi Hi,
the whole city of Al-Kyris was in flames, and the binn-
ing temple of Nagaya was but a mere spark in the enor-
mous breadth of the general conflagration! Palaces,
domes, towers, and spires were tottering to red destruc-
tion ; fire, fire everywhere; nothing but fire, save when
a furious gust of scorching wind blew aside the masses
of cindery smoke, and showed glimpses of sky and the
changeless shining of a few cold, quiet stars. He cast
one desperate glance frcm earth to heaven; how was it
possible to escape from this kindling furnace of utter
annihilation? Where all were manifestly doomed, how
could he expect to be saved? And moreover, if Sah-
luma was indeed dead, what remained for him but to die
also?
* * * *
Calming the frenzy of his thoughts by a strong effort,
he began to vaguely wonder why and how it happened
that the place where he now was this small and insig-
nificant court had so far escaped the fire, and was as
cool and somber as a sacred tomb set apart for some
hero or poet. Poet! the word acted as a stimulant to
his tired, struggling brain, and he all at once remem-
bered what Sah-lnma had said to him at their first meet
ing: "There is but one poet in Al-Kyris, and I am he!"
Oh, true, true! Only one poet! Only one glory of the
great city, that now served him as funeral pyre! Only
one name worth remembering in all its perishing history -
the name of SAH-LUMA ! Sah-luma, the beautiful, the
gifted, the famous, the beloved he was dead!
thought, in its absorbing painfulness, straightway drove
out aU others, and Theos, who had carried nis comrade's
400 "ARDATH"
i
corpse bravely and unshrinkingly through a fiery vortex
of imminent peril, now sank on his knees all desolate
and unnerved, his hot tears dropping fast on that lair,
still, white face that he knew would never iiush to the
warmth of life again!
"Sah-luma! Sah-luma!" he whispered. "My friend,
my more than brother! Would I could have died for
thee! Would thou couldst have lived to fulfill the noble
promise of thy genius! Better far thou hadst been
spared to the world than I, for I am nothing, but thou
wert everything!"
And taking the clay-cold hands in his own, he kissed
them reverently, and, with an unconscious memory not
born of his recent adventures, folded them on the dead
laureate's breast in the fasnion of a cross.
As he did this, an icy spasm seemed to contract his
heart; seized by a sudden insufferable anxiety, he stared
like one spellbound into Sah-luma' s wide-open, fixed,
and glassy eyes. Dsad eyes, yet how full of mysterious
significance! What what was their weird secret, their
imminent meaning? Why did their dark and frozen
depths appear to retain a strange, living under-gleam of
melting, sorrowful, beseeching sweetness, like the eyes
of one who prays to be remembered, though changed, after
long absence? What hot and terrible delirium was this
that snatched at his whirling brain as he bent closer and
closer over the marble quiet countenance and studied
with a sort of fierce intentness every line of those deli-
cate, classic features, on which high thought had left so
marked an impress of dignity and power! What a mar-
velous, half-reproachful, half-appealing smile lingered
on the finely carved, set lips! How wonderful, how
beautiful, how beloved beyond all words was this fair
dead god of poesy on whom he gazed with such a pas-
sion of yearning!
Stooping more and more, he threw his arms round the
senseless form, and, partly lifting it from the ground,
brought the wax-pallid face nearer to his own, so near
that the cold mouth almost touched his ; then filled
with an awful, unnamable misgiving, he scanned his
murdered comrade's perished beauty in puzzled, vague
bewilderment, much as an ignorant dullard might per-
plex-^dly scan the incomprehensible characters of some
THE CUP OF WRATH AND TREMBLING 4-OI
hieroglyphic scroll. And as he looked, a sharp pang
shot through him like a whizzing ball of fire, a convul-
sion of mental agony shook his limbs; he could have
shrieked aloud in the extremity of his torture, but the
struggling cry died gasping in his throat. Still as stone,
he kept his strained, steadfast gaze fixed on Sah luma's
corpse, slowly absorbing the full horror of a tremendous
suggestion, that, like a scorching lava flood, swept into
ever}' subtle channel of his brain! For the dead Sah-
luma's eyes grew into the semblance of his own eyes!
The dead Sah- luma's face smiled spectrally back at him
in the image of his own face! It was as though he be-
held the picture of himself, slain and reflected in a ma-
gician's mirror! Round him the very heavens seemed
given up to fire, but he heeded it not; the world might
be at an end and the day of Judgment proclaimed; noth-
ing would have stirred him from where he knelt in that
dreadful stillness of mystic martyrdom, drinking in the
gradual, glimmering consciousness of a terrific truth; the
amazing, yet scarcely graspable solution of a supernat-
ural enigma an enigma through which, like a man lost
in the depths of a dark forest, he had wandered up and
down, seeking light, yet finding none!
"O God!" he humbly prayed, "thou, with whom all
things are possible, give eyes to this blind trouble of
my heart! I am but as a grain of dust before thee, a
poor perishable atom, devoid of simplest comprehension.
Do thou of thy supernal pity teach me what I must
know ! "
As he thought out this unuttered petition, a tense
cord seemed to snap suddenly in his brain, a rush of
tears came to his relief, and through their salt and bit-
ter haze the face of Sah-luma appeared to melt into a
thin and spiritual brightness, a mere aerial outline of
what it had once been; the glazed dark eyes seemed to
flash living lightning into his; the whole lost personal-
ity of the dead poet seemed to environ him with a mys-
terious, potent, incorporeal influence an influence that
he felt he must now or never repel, reject, and utterly
resist! With a shuddering cry, he tore his reluctant
arms away from the beloved corpse; with trembling,
tender fingers he closed and pressed do\\n the white
eyelids of those love-expressing eyes, and kissed the
, poetic brow !
402 "ARDATH"
"Whatever thou wert or art to me, Sah-luma, " he
murmured in sobbing haste, "thou knowest that I loved
thee, though now I leave thee! Farewell!" and his voice
broke in its strong agony. "Oh, how much easier to
divide body from soul than part myself from thee, Sah-
luma, beloved Sah-luma! God give thee good rest! God
pardon thy sins, and mine!"
And he pressed his lips once more on the folded rigid
hands; as he did so, he inadvertently touched the writ-
ing tablet that hung from the dead laureate's girdle.
The red glow of the fire around him enabled him to see
distinctly what was written on it; there were about twenty
lins of verse in exquisitely clear and fine caligraphy;
and as he read, he knew them well ; they were the last
lines of the poem "Nourhalma!"
He dared trust his own strength no longer; one wild,
adoring, lingering, parting look at his dead rival in song,
whom he had loved better than himself, and then, full
of a nameless fear, he fled; fled recklessly and with
swift, mad fury, as though demons followed in pursuit;
fled through the burning city as a lost and frenzied spirit
might speed through the deserts of hell! Everywhere
about him resounded the crackling of flames, and the
crash of falling buildings; mighty pinnacles and lofty
domes melted and vanished before his eyes in a blaze of
brilliant destruction! On, on he went, meeting confused,
scattered crowds of people, whose rushing white-gar-
mented figures looked like flying ghosts befors a storm;
the cries and shrieks of women and children, and the
groans of men were mingled with the restless roaring of
lions and other wild beasts burned out of their dens in
the Royal Arena, the distant circle of which could be
dimly seen, surrounded by fountain-like jets of fire. Some
of the maddened animals ran against him as he sped
along the blazing thoroughfares, but he made no attempt
to avoid them, nor was he sensible of any other terror
than that which was within himself and was purely men-
tal. On, on, still on he went, a desperate, lonely man,
lost in a hideous nightmare of flame and fury, seeing
nothing but one vast flying rout of molten red and gold,
speaking to none, utterly reckless as to his own fate,
only impelled on and on, but whither he knew not, nor
cared to know!
THE CUP OF WRATH AND TREMBLING 403
All at once his strength gave way, his nerves seemed
to break asunder like so many over wound harp strings ;
a sudden silvery clanging of bells rang in his ears, and
with them came a sound of multitudinous soft, small
voices: "Kyrie Eleison! Kyrie Eleison!
Hush! What was that? What did it mean? Halt-
ing abruptly, he gave a wild glance round him, up to
the sky, where the flaring flames spread in tangled
lengths and webs of light, then straight before him to
the city of Al-Kyris, now a wondrous vision of redly
luminous columns and cupolas, with the wet gleam of
the river enfolding its blazing streets and towers ; and
while he yet beheld it, lo! // receded from his view!
Further, further, further away, till it seemed nothing
but the toppling and smouldering of heavy clouds after
the conflagration of the sunset!
Hark! hark again! "Kyrie Eleison! Kyrie Eleison!
With a sense of reeling rapture and awe he listened he
understood ; he found the NAME he had so long forgot-
ten !
"CHRIST, have mercy upon me!" he cried; and in that
one urgent supplication he uttered all the pent-up an-
guish of his soul. Blind and dizzy with the fevered
whirl of his own emotions,he stumbled forward and fell-
fell heavily over a block of stone; stunned by the
shock, he lost consciousness, but only for a moment; a
dull aching in his temples roused him, and making a
faint effort to rise, he turned slowly and languidly on
his arm, and with a long,deep, shuddering sigh, AWOKE!
He was on the "Field of Ardath." Dawn had just
broken. The east was one wide, shimmering stretch of
warm gold, and over it lay strips of blue and gray, like
fragments of torn battle-banners. Above him sparkled
the morning star, white and glittering as a silver lamp,
404 "ARDATH"
among the delicate spreading tints of saffron and green,
and beside him, her clear, pure features flushed by the
roseate splendor of the sky, her hands clasped ou her
breast, and her sweet eyes full of an iniinite tenderness
and yearning, knelt EDRIS Edris, his flower-crowned
angel, whom last he had seen drifting upward and away
like a dove through the glory of the cross in heaven!
CHAPTER XX.
SUNRISE.
ENTRANCED in amazed ecstasy he lay quite quiet, afraid
to speak or stir! This gentle presence, this fair beseech-
ing face might vanish if he moved ! So he dimly fancied,
as he gazed up at her in mute wonder and worship, his
devout eyes drinking in her saintly loveliness, from the
deep burnished gold of her hair to the soft white slim-
ness of her prayerfully fiblded hands. And while he
looked, old thoughts like home-returning birds began to
hover round his soul ; sweet and dear remembrances,
like the sunset lighting up the windows of an empty
house, began to shine on the before semi-darkened nooks
and crannies of his brain. Clearer and clearer grew the
reflecting mirror of his consciousness; trouble and per-
plexity seemed passing away forever from his mind; a
great and solemn peace environed him, and he began to
believe he had crossed the boundary of death and had
entered at last into the kingdom of heaven! Oh, let him
not break this holy silence! Let him rest so, with all
the glory of that angel-visage shed like summer sun-
beams over him ! Let him absorb into his innermost being
the exquisite tenderness of those innocent, hopeful, watch-
ful, starry eyes whose radiance seemed to steal into the
golden morning and give it a sacred poetry and infinite
marvel of meaning! So he mused, gravely contented,
while all through the brightening skies overhead, came
the pale pink flushing of the dawn like a far fluttering
and scattering of rose leaves. Everything was so still
that he could hear his own heart beating forth healthful
SUNRISE 405
and regular pulsations, but he was scarcely conscious of
his own existence; he was only aware of the vast, beau-
tiful, halcyon calm that encircled him shelteringly and
soothed all care way.
Gradually, however, this deep and delicious tranquility
began to yield to a sweeping rush of memory and com-
prehension; he knew who he was and where he was,
though he did not as yet feel absolutely certain of life
and life's so-called realities. For if the city of Al-Kyris
with all its vivid wonders, Us distinct experiences, its
brilliant pageantry, had been indeed a DREAM, then surely
it was possible he might be dreaming still; neverthe-
less, he was able to gather up the fragments of lost rec-
ollection consecutively enough to realize, by gentle de-
grees, his actual identit)' and position in the world; he
was Theos Alzvyn, a man of the nineteenth century after
Christ. Ah! thank God for that! After Christ! no't one
who had lived five thousand years before Christ's birth!
And this quiet, patient maiden at his side who was
she? A vision or an actually existent being? Unable
to resist the craving desire of his heart, he spoke her
name as he now remembered it spoke it in a faint,
awed whisper.
"Edris!"
"Theos, my beloved!"
O sweet and thrilling voice, more musical than the
singing of birds in a sun-filled spring!
He raised himself a little, and looked at her more in-
tently; she smiled, and that smile, so marvelous in its
pensive peace and lofty devotion, was as though all the
light of an unguessed paradise had suddenly flashed upon
his soul.
"Edris!" he said again, trembling in the excess cf
mingled hope and fear. "Hast thou then returned again
from heaven to lift me out of darkness? Tell me, fair
angel, do I wake or sleep? Are my senses deceived?
Is this land a dream? Am I myself a dream, and thou
the only manifest sweet truth in a world of drifting shad-
ows? Speak to me, gentle saint! In what vast mystery
have I been engulfed, in what timeless trance of soul-
bewilderment, in what blind uncertainty and pain? O
Sweet! resolve my worldless wonder! Where have I
strayed? What have I seen? Ah, let not my rough
406 "ARDATH"
speech fright thee back to Paradise ! Stay with me,
comfort me! I have lost thee so long, let me not lose
thee now!"
Smiling still, she bent over him and pressed her warm,
delicate fingers lightly on his brow and lips. Then
softly she arose and stood erect,
"Fear nothing, my beloved !" she answered, her silvery
accents sending a throb of holy triumph through the air.
"Let no trouble disquiet thee, and no shadow of mis-
giving dim the brightness of thy waking moments! Thou
hast slept one night on the 'Field of Ardath' in the
Valley of Vision; but lo! the night is past! "and she
pointed toward the eastern horizon now breaking into
waves of rosy gold. "Rise ! and behold the dawning of
thy new day!
Roused by her touch, and fired by her tone, and the
grand, unworldly dignity of her look and bearing, he
sprang up ; but as he met the full, pure splendor of her
divine eyes, and saw, wavering round her, a shining
aureole of amber radiance like a wreath of woven sun-
beams, his spirit quailed within himhe remembered
all his doubts of her, his disbelief and, falling at her
feet, he hid his face in a shame that was better than
all glory, and humiliation that was sweeter than all
pride.
"Edris ! Immortal Edris!" he passionately prayed.
"As thou art a crowned saint in heaven, shed light on
the chaos of my soul! From the depths of a penitence
past thought and speech I plead with thee! Hear me,
my Edris; thou who art so maiden-meek, so tender-pa-
tient! hear me, help me, guide me; I am all thine! Say,
didst thou not summon me to meet thee here upon this
wondrous 'Field of Ardath?' Did I not come hither
according to thy words? and have I not seen things that
I am not able to express or understand? Teach me, wise
and beloved one! I doubt no more! I know myself and
thee: thou art an angel, but I, alas! what am I? A grain
of sand in thy sight and in God's, a mere nothing, com-
prehending nothing, unable even to realize the extent of
my own nothingness! Edris, O Edris! thou canst not
love me! thou mayest pity me perchance, and pardon,
and bless me gently in Christ's dear name! but love!
thy love! Oh, let rne not aspire to such heights of joy,
where I have no right, no worthiness!"
SUNRISE 407
"No worthiness!" echoed Edris. What a rapture
trembled through her sweet, caressing voice! "My Theos,
who is so worthy to win back what is thine own as thou?
All heaven has wondered at thy voluntary exile; thy
place in God's supernal sphere has long been vacant;
thy right to dwell there none have questioned; thy throne
is empty thy crown unclaimed! Thou art an angel
even as I; but thou art in bonds while I am free! Ah,
how sad and strange it is to me to see thee here thus
fettered to the sorrowful star, when countless aeons since
thou mightest have enjoyed full liberty in the eternal light
of the everlasting Paradise!"
He listened; a strong, sweet hope began to kindle in
him like flame, but he made no answer. Only he caught
and kissed the edge of her garment; its soft, gray,
cloudy texture brushed his lips with the odorous cool-
ness of a furled rose-leaf. She seemed to tremble at his
action, but he dared not look up. Presently he felt the
pulsing pressure of her hands upon his head, and a rush
of strange, warm vigor thrilled through his veins like an
electric flash of new and never-ending life.
"Thou wouldst seek after and know the truth!" she
said "truth celestial, truth unchangeable, truth that
permeates and underlies all the mystic inward workings
of the universe, workings and secret laws unguessed by
man! Vast as eternity is this truth, ungraspable in all
its manifestations by the merely mortal intelligence;
nevertheless, thy spirit, being chastened to noble humil-
ity and repentance, hath risen to new heights of com-
prehension, whence thou canst partly penetrate into the
wonders of worlds unseen. Did I not tell thee to 'learn
from the perils of the past the perils of 'the future? and
understandest ;hou not the lesson of the vision of Al-
Kyris? Thou hast seen the dream reflection of thy former
poet fame and glory in old time. Thou wcrt Sah-luma!"
An agony of shame possessed him as he heard. His
soul at once seized the solution of the mystery; his
quickened thought plunged plummet-like straight through
the depths of the bewildering phantasmagoria, in which
mere reason had been of no practical avail, and straight-
way sounded its whole seemingly complex, but actually
Dimple meaning. He was Sah-luma or, rather, he had
Sah-luma in some far stretch of long-receded time,
408 "ARDATH"
and in his dream of a single night he had loved the bril
liant phantom of his former self more than his own present
identity. Not less remarkable was the fact that in this
strange sleep-mirage he had imagined himself to be per-
fectly unselfish, whereas all the while he had honored, flat-
tered, and admired the mere appearance of himself more
than anything or everything in the world. Ay! even
his occasional reluctant reproaches to himself in the
ghostly impersonation of Sah-luma had been far more
tender than severe.
O deep and bitter ingloriousness! O speechless deg-
radation of all the higher capabilities of man! To love
one's own ephemeral shadow-existence so utterly as to
exclude from thought and sympathy all other things,
whether human or divine! And was it not possible that
this specter of self might still be clinging to him? Was
it dead with the dream of Sah-luma? or had Sah-luma
never truly died at all! And was the fine fire-spun es-
sence that had formed the spirit of the laureate of Al-
Kyris yet part of the living substance of his present
nature he, a world-unrecognized English poet of the
nineteenth century? Did all Sah-luma' s light follies,
idle passions, and careless cruelties remain inherent in
him? Had he the same pride of intellect, the same vain-
glory, the same indifference to God and man? Oh no,
no! he shuddered at the thought; and his head sank
lower and lower beneath the benediction-touch of her
whose tenderness revived his noblest energies, and lit
anew in his heart the pure, bright fire of heaven-encom-
passing aspiration.
"Thou wert Sah-lumaT went on the mildly earnest
voice; "and all the wide, ungrudging fame given to
earth's great poets in ancient days was thine! Thy name
was on all men's mouths; thou wert honored by kings;
thou wert the chief glory of a great people, great though
misled by their own false opinions, and the city of Al-
Kyris, of which thou wert the enshrined jewel, was
mightier far than any now built upon the earth. Christ
had not come to thee, save by dim types and vague
prefigurements which only praying prophets could dis-
cern; but God had spoken to thy soul in quiet moments,
and thou wouldst neither hear him nor believe in him.
I had called thee, but thou wouldst not listen; thou
SUNRISE 409
didst foolishly prefer to hearken to the clamorous' tempt-
ing of thine own beguiling human passions, and \vert
altogether deaf to an angel's whisper. Things of the
earth, earthy, gained dominion over thee; by them thou
wert led astray, deceived, and at last forsaken; the
genius God gave thee thou didst misuse and indolently
waste; thy brief life came, as thou hast seen, to sudden,
piteous end, and the proud city of thy dwelling was de
stroyed by fire! Not a trace of it was left to mark the
spot where once it stood: the foundations of Babylon
were laid upon it, and no man guessed that it had ever
been. And thy poems, the fruit of thy heaven-sent but
carelessly accepted inspiration; who is there that remem-
bers them? No one! save THOU! Thou hast recovered
them like sunken pearls from the profound ocean of lim-
itless memory, and to the world of to-day thou dost re-
peat the self-same music to which Al-K\ris listened en-
tranced so many thousands of generations ago!"
A deep sigh that was half a groan broke from his lips;
he could not take the measurement of his own utter
littleness and incompetency ! He could create nothing
new! Everything he had written, as he fancied only just
lately, had been written by himself before. The prob-
lem of the poem "Nourhalma," was explained; he had
designed it when he had played his part on the stage of
life as Sah-luma, and perhaps not even then for the first
time. In this pride-crushing knowledge there was only
one consolation namely, that if his dream were a true
reflection of his past, and exact in details as he felt it
must be, then "Nourhalma" had not been given to Al-
Kyris ; it had been composed, but not made public.
Hence, so far, Lt was new to the world, though not new
to himself.
Yet he had considered it wondrously new; a "perfectly
original" idea! Ah! who dares to boast of any idea as
humanly "original," seeing that all ideas whatsoever
must be referred back to God and admitted as his, and
his only? What is the wisest man that ever lived, but
a small, pale, ill-reflecting mirror of the eternal thought
that controls and dominates all things? He remembered
with conscience-stricken confusion what pleasure he had
felt, what placid satisfaction, what unqualified admira-
tion, when listening: to his own works recited by the
4^O "ARDATH"
ghost-presentment of his former self pleasure that had
certainly exceeded whatever pain he had suffered by the
then enigmatical and perplexing nature of the incident.
Oh, what a foolish atom he now seemed, viewed by the
standard of his newly aroused higher consciousness;
how poor and passive a slave to the glittering, beck-
oning phantasm of his own perishable fame!
Thus on the "Field of Ardath" he drained the cup of
humiliation to the dregs; the cup which, like that offered
to the prophet of Holy Writ, was "full as it were with
water, but the color of it was like fire; " the water of
tears, the fire of faith; and with that prophet he might
have said, "When I had drunk of it my heart uttered
understanding, knd wisdom grew in my breast, for my
spirit strengthened my memory."
Meanwhile Edris, still keeping her gentle hands on his
bent head, went on:
"In such wise didst thou, my beloved, as the famous
Sah-luma, mournfully perish, and the nations remem-
bered thee no more! But thy spiritual, indestructible
essence lived on, and wandered dismayed and forlorn
through a myriad forms of existance in the depths of per-
petual darkness which must be, even as the everlasting
light is. Thy immortal but perverted will bore thee
always further from God, further from him, and so far
from me, that thou wert at times beyond even an angel's
ken! Ages upon ages rolled away; the centuries be-
tween earth and earth's purposed redemption passed,
and, though in heaven these measured spaces of time
that appear so great to men are as a mere world's month
of summer, still, to me, for once God's golden days
seemed long! I had lost thee Thou wert my soul's
other soul, my king! my immortality's completion! and
though thou wert, alas! a fallen brightness, yet I held
fast to my one hope, the hope in thy diviner nature,
which, though sorely overcome, was not and could not be
wholly destroyed. I knew the fate in store for thee;
I knew that thou with other erring spirits wert bound
to live again on earth when Christ had built his holy
way therefrom to heaven, and never did I cease for
thy dear sake to wait and watch and pray! At
last I found thee; but ah! how I trembled for thy des-
tiny! To thee had been delivered, as to all the children
SUNRISE 411
of men, the final message of salvation, the message of
love and pardon which made all the angels wonder; but
thou didst utterly reject it; and with the same willful
arrogance of thy former self, Sah-luma, thou wert blindly
and desperately turning anew into darkness! O my be-
loved, that darkness might have been eternal, and
crowded with memories dating from thy beginning of life!
Nay, let me not speak of that supernal agony, since
Christ hath died to quench its terrors! . . . Enough!
by a happy chance, through my desire, thine own roused
better will, and the strength of one who hath many
friends in heaven, thy spirit was released to temporary
liberty, and in thy vision at Dariel, which was no vis-
ion but a truth, I bade thee meet me here. And why?
Solely to test thy power of obedience to a divine im-
pulse unexplainable by human reason; and I rejoiced as
only angels can rejoice, when of thine own free will
thou didst keep the tryst I made with thee! Yet thou
knewest me not ! or rather thou ivouldst not know me, till
I left thee? 'Tis.ever the way of mortals, to doubt their
angels in disguise!"
Her sweet accents shook with a liquid thrill sugges-
tive of tears, but he was silent. It seemed to him that
he would be well content to hold his peace forever, if
forever he might hear her thus melodiously speak on!
Had she not called him her "other soul, her king, the
immortality's completion!" and on those wondrous words
of hers his spirit hung, impassioned, dazzled, and en-
tranced beyond all time and space and nature and ex-
perience!
After a brief pause, during which his ravished mind
floated among the thousand images and vague feelings
of a whole past and future merged in one splendid and
celestial present, she resumed, always softly and with
the same exquisite tenderness of tone:
" T lft thee, dearest, but a moment, and in that mo-
ment He who hath himself shared in human sorrows and
sympathies, he who is the embodiment of the essence of
God's love, came to my aid. Plunging thy senses in
deep sleep, as hath been done before to many a saint
and prophet of old time here on this very field of 'Ar-
iath,' he summoned up before thee the phantoms of a
portion of thy past phantoms which, to thee. seemed
412 "ARDATH"
far more ieal than the living presence of thy faithful
Edris! Alas, my beloved! thou art not the only one on
the sorrowful star who accepts a dream tor reality and
rejects reality as a dream!"
She paused again, and again continued: "Neverthe-
less, in some degree thy vision of Al-Kyris was true, in-
asmuch as thou wert shown therein, as in a mirror, one
phase, one only, of thy former existence upon earth.
The final episode was chosen, as by the end of a man's
days alone shall he be judged! As much as thy dream-
ing sight was able to see, as much as thy brain was able
to bear, appeared before thee, but that thou, slumber-
ing, wert yet a conscious personality among phantoms,
and that these phantoms spoke to thee, charmed thee,
bewildered thee, tempted thee, and swayed thee, this
was the Divine Master's work upon thine own retrospec-
tive thought and memory. He gave the shadows of thy
by-gone life seeming color, sense, motion, and speech.
He blotted out from thy remembrance his own most holy
name, and, shutting up the present from thy gaze, he
sent thy spirit back into the past. There, thou, perplexed
and sorrowful, didst painfully reweave the last fragments
of thy former history, and not till thou hadst abandoned
the shadow of thyself didst thou escape from the fear
of destruction! Then, when apparently all alone, and
utterly forsaken, a cloud of angels circled round thee.
Then, at thy first repentant cry for help, he who has never
left an earnest prayer unanswered bade me descend hither,
to waken and comfort thee! On, never was his bidding
more joyously obeyed! Now I have plainly shown thee
the interpretation of thy dream; and dost thou not com-
prehend the intention of the Highest in manifesting ic
unto thee? Remember the words of God's Prophet of
old:
' 'Behold the field thou thoughtest barren, how great a glory hath the
moon unveiled!
" 'And I beheld and was sore amazed, for I was no longer myself, bat
another.
" 'And the sword of death was in that other's soul and yet that other
was but myself in pain:
" 'And I knew not the things which were once familiar, and my he>irt
failed within me for very fear!' "
She spoke the quaint and mystic lines with a grave,.
pure, rhythmic utterance that was like ttie fa* -erf sing-
, SUNRISE 413
;ng of sweet psalmody; and, when she ceased, the still-
ness that followed seemed quivering with the rich vibra-
tions of her voice the very air was surely rendered
softer and more delicate by such soul-moving sound!
But Theos, who had listened dumbly until now, began
to feel a sudden sorrowful aching at his heart; a sense
of coming desolation; a consciousness that she would
soon depart again and leave him; and, with a mingled
reverence and passion, ventured to draw one of the fair
hands that rested on his brows down into his own clasp,
tie met with no resistance, and half-happy, half-ago-
nized, he pressed his lips upon its soft and dazzling
whiteness, while the longing of his soul broke forth in
words of fervid, irrepressible appeal.
"Edris!" he implored, "If thou dost love me, give me
my death! Here, now, at thy feet where I kneel! Of
what avail is it for me to struggle in this dark and diffi-
cult world! Oh, deprive me of this fluctuating breath
called life and let me live indeed! I understand; I know
all thou hast said ; I have learned my own sins as in a
glass darkly. I have lived on earth before, and, as it
seems, made no good use of life and now, now I have
found Thee! Then why must I lose thee? thou who
earnest to me so sweetly at the first? Nay, I cannot part
from thee; I will not! If thou leavest me, I have no
strength to follow thee; I shall but miss the way to
thine abode!"
"Thou canst not miss the way!" responded Edris
softly. "Look up, my Theos! Be of good cheer, thou
poet to whom Heaven's greatest gifts of song are now
accorded! Look up and tell me, is not the way made
plain?"
Slowly, and in reverential fear, he obeyed, and raised
his eyes, still holding her by the hand, and saw behind
her a distinctly marked shadow that seemed flung down-
ward by the reflection of some brilliant light above, the
shadow of a cross, against which her delicate figure stood
forth in shining outlines. Seeing, he understood, but
nevertheless his mind grew more and more disquieted.
A thousand misgivings crowded upon him; he thought
of the world; he remembered what it was; he was liv-
ing in an age of heresy and wanton unbelief, where not
oniv Christ's divinity was made blasphemous meek of,
414 "ARDATH"
but where even God's existence was itself called in ques-
tion; and as for angels! a sort of shock ran through his
nerves as he reflected that though preachers preached
concerning these supernatural beings; though the very-
birth of Christ rested on angels' testimony ; though poets
wrote of them, and painters strove to deliniate them on
their most famous canvases, each and all thus practically
demonstrating the secret instinctive intuition of human-
ity that such celestial forms are yet it was most abso-
lutely certain that not a man in the prosaic nineteenth
century would, if asked, admit to any actual belief in
their existence! Inconsistent? yes! but are not men more
inconsistent than the very beasts of the field their
tyranny controls? What, as a rule, do men believe in?
Themselves! only themselves! They are, in their own
opinion, the be-all and the end-all of everything; as if
the supreme creative force called God were incapable of
designing any higher form of thinking-life than their
pigmy bodies which strut on two legs, and, with two
eyes and a small, quickly staggered brain, profess to un
derstand and weigh the whole foundation and plan of
the universe !
Growing swiftly conscious of all that, in the purgatory
of the present, awaited him, Theos felt as though the
earth-chasm that had swallowed up Al-Kyris in his dream
had opened again before him, affrighting him with its
black depth of nothingness and annihilation, and in a
sudden agony of self-distrust he gazed yearningly at the
fair, wistful face above him, the divine beauty that was
his after all, if he only knew how to claim it ! Something,
he knew not what, filled him with a fiery restlessness,
a passion of protest and aspiration, which for a moment
was so strong that it seemed to him he must, with one
fierce effort, wrench himself free from the trammels of
mortality, and straightway take upon him the majesty
of immortal nature, and so bear his angel-love company
whithersoever she went. Never had the fetters of flesh
weighed upon him with such heaviness; but, in spite
of his feverish longing to escape, some authoritative yet
gentle force held him prisoner.
"God!" he muttered, "Why am I thus bound? Why
can I not be free?" .
"Because thy time for freedom 1 has not come!" said
SUNRISE 415
Edris, quickly answering his thought. "Because thou
iictst work to do that is not yet done! Thy poet-labors
have, up till now, been merely repetition, the repeti-
tion of thy former self. Go! the tired world waits for a
new gospel of poesy, a new song that shall rouse it from
its apathy, and bring it closer unto God and all things
high and fair ! Write ! for the nations wait for a trumpet-
voice of truth; the great poets are dead; their spirits
are in heaven, and there is none to replace them on the
sorrowful star save thou! Not for fame do thy work,
nor for wealth, but for love and the glory of God; for
love of humanity, for love of the beautiful, the pure, the
holy ; let the race of men hear one more faithful apostle
of the Divine Unseen, ere earth is lost in the withering
light of a larger creation! Go! perform thy long-neg-
lected mission; that mission of all poets worthy the
name, to raise the world! Thou shalt 'not lack strength
nor fervor, so long as thou dost write for the benefit of
others. Serve God and live! Serve self and die! Such
is the eternal law of spheres invisible: the less thou
seest of self, the more thou seest of heaven! thrust self
away, and lo! God invests thee with his presence! Go
forth into the world, a king uncrowned, a master of
song, and fear not that I, Edris, will forsake thee I,
who have loved thee since the birth of time!"
He met her beautiful, luminous, inspired eyes, with a
sad interrogativeness in his own. What a hard fate
was meted out to him! To teach the world that scoffed
at teaching; to rouse the gold thirsting mass of men to
a new sense of things divine! O vain task! O dreary
impossibility. Enough, surely, to guide his own will
aright, without making any attempt to guide the wills
of others!
Her mandate seemed to him almost cruel; it was like
driving him into a howling wilderness, when with one
touch, one kiss, she might transport him into Paradise!
If she were in the world; if she were always with him
ah! then how different, how easy life would be. Again
he thought of those strange, entrancing words of hers,
"My other soul, my king, my immortality's completion!"
and a sudden wild idea took swift possession of his
brain.
!" he cried, "if I may not yet come to thee,
416
then come thou to me. Dwell thou with me. Oh, by the
force of my love, which God knoweth, let me draw thee,
thou fair light, into my heart's gloom. Hear me while
I swear my faith to thee as at some holy shrine ! As 1
live, with all my soul I do accept thy Master Christ,
as mine utmost good, and his cross as my proudest
glory; but yet, bethink thee, Edris, bethink thee of this
world, its willful sin, its scorn of God, and all the evil
that like a spreading thunder-cloud darkens it day by
day! Oh, wilt thou leave me desolate and alone?
Fight as I will, I shall often sink' under blows; conquer
as I may, I shall suffer the solitude of conquest, unless
thou art with me! Oh, speak! Is there no deeper divine
intention in the marvelous destiny that has brought us
together? thou, pure spirit, and I, weak mortal? Has
love, the primal mover of all things, no hold upon thee?
If I am, as thou sayest, thy beloved, loved by thee so
long, even while forgetful of and unworthy of thy love,
can I not now, now when I am all thine, persuade thee
to compassionate the rest of my brief life on earth?
Thou art in woman's shape, here on this field of Ardath,
and yet thou art not woman! Oh, could my love con-
strain thee, in God's name, to wear the mask of mortal
body for my sake, would not our union even now make
the sorrowful star seem fair? Love, love, love! come
to mine aid, and teach me how to shut the wings of this
sweet bird of paradise in mine own breast! God! spare
her to me for one of thy swift moments which are our
mortal years. Christ, who became a mere child for pity
of us, let me learn from' thee the mystic spell that makes
thine angel mine!"
Carried away by his own forceful emotion, he hardly
knew what he said; but an unspeakable dizzy joy flooded
his soul, as he caught the look she gave him a wild,
sweet, amazed, half-tender, half-agonized, wholly human
look, suggestive of the most marvelous possibilities! One
effort, and she released her hand from his, and moved a
little apart, her eyes kindling with celestial sympathy is,
which there was the very faintest touch of self-surrender.
Self surrender? what! from an angel to a mortal? At
no! it could not be; yet he felt filled all at once with
terrible sense of povrer that at the same time was ruin
gled with the deepest humility and fear.
417
"Hush!" she said, and her lovely low voice was tremu-
lous; "Hush! Thou dost speak as if we were already
in God's world! I love thee, Theos! an 1 truly, because
thou art prisoned here, I love the sad t; nil also; Lut
dost thou think to what thou wouldst so < a^riy persuade
me? To live a mortal life? to die? to pi': s thrcugh the
darkest phases of world-existence kncv.n in ail the teem-
ing spheres? Nay!" and a look of pathetic sorrow came
over her face. "How could I, even for thee, my Thecs,
forsake my home in heaven?*'
Her last words were half questioning, half hesitating.
Her manner was as of one in doubt] and Thecs, kneel-
ing still, surveyed her in wcrshiping silence. Then
he suddenly remembered what the monk and mystic,
Heliobas, had said to him at Dariel on fhe morning after
his trance cf soul liberty: "If, as I conjecture, you have
seen one of the fair inhabitants of higher spheres than
ours, you would not drag her spiritual and death uncon-
scious brightness down to the level of the 'reality' cf
a merely human life? Nay, if you would you could not!"
And nov/, strange to say, he felt that he could, but would
not; and he was overcome with remcrse and penitence
for the egotistical nature of his own appeal.
"My love my life!" he said brokenly, "forgive me,
forgive my selfish prayer! Self spoke, not I, yet I Lad
thought self dead and buried forever!" A faint sigh
escaped him. "Believe me, sweet, I would not have
thee lose one hour of heaven's ecstasies. I \vculd not have
thee saddened by earth's willful miseries no! not even
foi that lightning-moment which numbers up n-an's mor-
tal days! Speed back to Angel-land, my Edris! I will
love thee till I die, and leave the afterward to Christ.
Be glad, thou fairest, dearest one! Unfurl thy rainbow
wings and fly from me, and wander singing through the
groves of heaven, making all heaven musical ; perchance
in the silence of the night I may catch the echo of Ihy
voice and fancy thou art near! And trust ir.e, Edris!
trust me; for my faith shall not falter, my hope shall
not waver; and though in the world I may, I must have
tribulation, yet will I believe in Him who hath by sim
pie love overcome the world!"
He ceased ; a great quiet seemed to fall upon him
the quiet of a deep and passive resignation
4i 8 . "ARDATH"
Edris drew nearer to him, timidly as a shy bird, yet
with a wonderful smile quivering on her lips and in the
clear depths of her starry eyes. Very gently she placed
her arms about his neck and looked down at him with
divinely compassionate tenderness.
"Thou beloved one!" she said; "thou whose spirit waa
formerly equal to mine and to all angels in God's sight-
though through pride it fell! Learn that thou art nearei
to me now than thou hast been for a myriad ages. B<;
tween us are renewed the strong, sweet ties that shal-
nevermore be broken, unless " and her voice faltered-
"Unless thou of thine own free will break them agait
in spite of all my prayers! For because thou art im
mortal even as I, though thou art pent up in mortality
even so must ttty will remain immortally unfettered, am 1
what thou dost firmly elect to do, God will not prevent
The dream of thy past was a lesson, not a command
Thou art free to forget or remember it as thou will
while on earth, since it is only after death that memory
is ineffaceable, and, with its companion remorse, con-
stitutes hell. Obey God, or disobey him. He will no*
force thee either way; constrained love hath no value!
Only this is the universal law, that whosoever diso
beys, his disobedience recoils on his own head, as oi
necessity it must; whereas obedience is the working ir
perfect harmony with all nature, and of equal necessit)
brings its own reward. Cling to the cross for one mo-
ment the moment called by mortals life and it shall
lift thee straightway into highest heaven! There will 1
wait for thee, and there thou shalt make me thine own
forever!"
He sighed and gazed at her wistfully.
"Alas, my Edris! Not till then?" he murmured.
She bent over him and kissed his forehead; a caress
as brief and light as the passing flutter of a bird's wing.
"Not till then!" she whispered. "Unless the longing
of thy love compels!"
He started. What did she mean? His eyes flasher!
eager inquiry into hers, so soft and brilliantly clear,
with the light of an eternal peace dwelling in their
liquid, mysterious ioveliness, and, mr^g^f his qsestfct:
ing look, the angelic smile brightened more gloriously
round her lips. But there was now something altogether
4i$
unearthly in her beauty; a wondrous inward luminous-
ness began to transfigure her face and foim. He saw
her garments whiten to a sparkling radiance as of sup-
beams on snow; the halo round her bright hair deepened
into flame-like glory; her stature grew loftier, aifd be-
rame, as it were, endowed with supreme and splendid
majesty; and the exquisite fairness of her countenance
waxed warmly transparent, with the delicate hue of a
white rose, through which the pink color faintly flushes
soft suggestions of ruddier life. His gaze dwelt upon her
in unspeakable, wondering adoration, mingled with a
sense of irrepressible sorrow and heaviness of heart; he
felt she was about to leave him, and wais it not a parting
of soul from soul?
Just then the sun stepped royally forth from between
the red and gold curtains of the east, and in that blaze
of earth's life radiance her figure became resplendentl)
invested with vivid rays of roseate luster that far sur-
passed the amber shining of the orb of day! Awed,
dazzled, and utterly overcome, he yet strove to keep his
straining eyes steadily upon her, conscious that her smile
still blessed him with its tenderness. He made a wild
effort to drag himself nearer to her, to touch once more
the glittering edge of her robe, to detain her one little
moment longer! Ah! how wistfully,how fondly she looked
upon him! Almost it seemed as if she might, after all,
consent to stay! He stretched out his arms with a pa-
thetic gesture of love, fear, and soul-passionate suppli-
cation.
"Edris! Edris!" he cried half despairingly. "Oh, by
the strength of thine angelhood have pity on the weak-
ness of my manhood!"
Surely she heard, or seemed to hear! and yet she gave
no answer! No sign; no promise; no gesture of fare-
well; only a look of divine, compassionating, perfect
love, a look so pure, so penetrating, so true, so raptur-
ous, that flesh and blood could bear the glory of her
transfigured presence no longer, and, blind with the
burning effulgence of her beauty, he shut his eyes and
covered his face. He knew now, if he had never known
it before, what was meant by "an angel standing in the
Moreover, he also knew that what humanity calls
*Revlation chap dx v sy.
420 "ARDATH"
"miracles" are possible, and do happen, and that instead
of being violations of the law of nature as we under-
stand it, they are but confirmations of that law in its
deeper depths, depths which, controlled by spiritual
force alone, have not yet been sounded by the most
searching scientists. And what is material force, but
the visible manifestation of the spiritual behind it? He
who accepts the material and denies the spiritual, is in
the untenable position of one who admits an effect and
denies a cause! And if both spiritual and material be
accepted, then how can we reasonably dare to set a limit
to the manifestations of either the one or the other.
When he at last looked up, Edris had vanished! He
was alone alone on the field of "Ardath, " the field that
was "barren" in very truth, now she, his angel, had been
drawn away, as it seemed, into the sunlight, absorbed
like a paradise-pearl into those rays of life-giving gold
that lit and warmed the reddening earth and heaven!
Slowly and dizzily he rose to his feet, and gazed about
him in vague bewilderment. He had passed one night
on the field! One night only; and he felt as though he
had lived through years of experience ! Now, the vision
was ended, Edris, the reality, had fled, and the world
was before him; the world, with all the unsatisfying
things it grudgingly offers ; the world in which Al-Kyris
had been a "city magnificent" in the centuries gone,
and in which he, too, had played his part before, and
had won fame, to be forgotten as soon as dead! Fame!
how he had longed and thirsted for it; and what a fool-
ish, undesirable distinction it seemed to him now!
Steadying his thoughts by a few moments of calm re-
flection, he remembered what he had in charge to do,
to rsdeem his past! To use and expend whatever force
was in him for the good, the help, the consolement, and
the love of others, not to benefit himself! This was
his task, and the very comprehension of it gave him a
rush of vigor and virile energy that at once lifted the
cloud of love-loneliness from his soul.
"My Edris! " he whispered, "thou shall have no cause
to weep for me in heaven again. With God's help I will
win back my lost heritage!"
As he spoke the words, his eyes caught a glimpse of
something white on the turf where, but a moment since,
his angel-love had stood. He stooped toward it; it was
one half-opened bud of the wonderful ' Ardath flowers"
that had covered the field in such singular profusion on
the previous night when she first appeared. One only!
might he not gather it?
He hesitated j then very gently and reverently broke
it off, and tenderly bore it to his lips. What a beau-
tiful blossom it was! its fragrance was unlike that of
any other flower; its whiteness was more pure and soft
than that of the rarest edelweiss on Alpine snows, and
its partially disclosed golden center had an almost lu-
minous brightness. As he held it in his hand, all sorts
of vague, delicious thoughts came sweeping across his
brain; thoughts that seemed to set themselves to music
wild and strange and new, and suggestive of the sweet-
est, noblest influences! A thrill of expectation stirred
in him, as of great and good things to be done; grand
changes to be wrought in the complex web of human
destiny, brought about by the quickening and develop-
ment of a pure, unselfish spiritual force, that might
with saving benefit flow into the perplexed and weary
intelligence of man; and cheered, invigorated, and con-
scious of a circling, widening, ever-present supreme
Power that with all-surrounding love was ever on the
side of work done for love's sake, he gently shut the
flower within his breast, resolving to carry it with him
wheresoever he went, as a token and proof of the "signs
and wonders" of the prophet's field.
And now he prepared to quit the scene of his mystic
vision, in which he had followed with prescient pain
the brief, bright career, the useless fame, the evil love-
passion, and final fate of bis former self; and crossing
the field with lingering tread, he looked back many
times to the fallen block of stone where he had first per-
ceived God's maiden Edris, stepping softly through the
bloom. When should he again meet her? Alas! not till
death, the beautiful and beneficent herald of true liberty,
summoned him to those lofty heights of Paradise where
she had habitation. Not till then unless unless and
his heart beat with a sudden tumult as he recollected
her last words "unless the longing of thy love com-
pels!"
Could love compel her, he wondered, to come to him
once more while yet he lived on earth? Perhaps; and
yet if he indeed had such power of love, would it be
generous or just to exert it? No; for to draw her down
from heaven to earth seemed to him now a sort of sac-
rilege; dearer to him was her joy than his own. But
suppose the possibility of her being actually happy with
him in mortal e/xistence; suppose that love, when abso-
lutely pure, unselfishly mutual, helpful and steadfast,
had it in its gift to make even the sorrowful star a
heaven in miniature what then?
He would not trust himself to think of this. The
mere shadowy suggestion of such supreme delight filled
him with a strong passion of yearning, to which, in his
accepted creed of self-abnegation, he dared not yield!
Firmly restraining, resisting, and renouncing his own
desires, he mentally raised a holy shrine for her in his
soul, a shrine of pure faith, warm with eternal aspira-
tions and bright with truth, wherein he hallowed the
memory of her beauty with a sense of devout, lover-like
gladness. She was safe; she was content; she blossomed
flower-like in the highest gardens of God, where all things
fared well; enough for him to worship her at a distance,
to keep the clear reflection of her loveliness in his mind,
and to live so that he might deserve to follow and find
her when his work on earth was done. Moreover,
heaven to him was no longer a vague, mythical realm,
ill-defined by the prosy descriptions of church-preachers.
It was an actual WORLD to which he was linked, in
which he had possessions, of which he was a native, and
for the perpetuation and enlargement of whose splendor
all worlds existed!
Arrived at the boundary of the field, the spot marked
by the broken, half-buried pillar of red granite Heliobas
had mentioned, he paused, thinking dreamily of the
words of Esdras, who in answer to his angel-visitant's
inquiry, "Why art thou so disquieted?" had replied,
"Because thou hast forsaken me, and yet I did accord-
ing to thy words, and I went into the field and lo! I
have seen and yet see, that J am not able to express."
SUNRISE 423
Whereupon the angel had said, "Stand up manfully and
I will advise thee!"
"Stand up manfully!" Yes! this is what he, Thcos
Alwyn, meant to do. He would "stand up manfu...y"
against the howling iconoclasm and atheism of the age;
he would be poet henceforth in the true meaning of the
word, namely, maker; he would make, not break the
grand ideal hopes and heaven climbing ambitions cf hu-
manity. He would endeavor his utmost best to be that
"hierarch and pontiff of the world,' as a modern rugged
apostle of truth has nobly said, "who Prcmetheus-like
can shape new symbols and bring new fire from heaven
to fix them into the deep infinite faculties of man."
With a brief,silent prayer he turned away at last and
walked slowly in the lovely silence of the early Eastern
morning, back to the place from whence he had last
night wandered, the hermitage of Elzar, near the ruin. c
of Babylon. He soon came in sight cf it, and also per-
ceived Elzdar himself, stooping over a small plot of
ground in front of his dwelling, apparently gathering
herbs. When he approached, the old man looked up
and smiled, giving him a silent, expressively courteous
morning greeting ; by his manner it was evident that he
thought his guest had merely been out for an early stroll
ere the heat cf the day set in. And yet Al-Kyris! How
real had seemed that dream existence in that dream-city!
The figure of Elzear looked scarcely more substantial
than the phantom forms of Sah-luma, Zephoranim,
Khosrul, Zuriel, or Zabastes; while Lysia's exquisite
face and seductive form, Niphrats's pensive beauty, and
all the local characteristics of the place, were stamped
on the dreamer's memory as faithfully as scenes flashed
by the sun on the plates of photography ! True, the
pictures were perhaps now slightly fading into the sim-
ilitude of pale negatives; but still, would not everything
that happened in the actual world merge into that same
undecided dimness with the lapse of time?
He thought so, and smiled at the thought; the transi-
tory nature of earthly things was a subject for joy to
him now, not regret. With a kindly word or two to his
venerable host, he went through the open dcor of the
hermitage and entered the little room he had left only T,
few hours previously. It appeared to him as familiar
424 "ARDATH"
and atffamiliar as Al Kyris itself, till raising his eyes
he saw the great crucifix against the wall, the sacred
symbol whose meaning he had forgotten and hopelessly
longed for in his dream, and from which, before his
visit to the field of "Ardath," he had turned with a sense
of bitter scorn and proud rejection. But now now he
gazed upon it in unspeakable remorse, in tenderest de-
sire to atone; the sweet, grave, patient eyes of the holy
figure seemed to meet his with a wondrous challenge of
love, longing, and most fraternal, sympathetic compre-
hension of his nature. He paused, looking, and the pre-
eminently false words of George Herbert suddenly oc-
curred to him, "Thy Savior sentenced joy!" O blasphemy!
Sentenced joy? Nay! rather re-created it, and invested
it with divine certainties, beyond all temporal change
or vanishment! Yielding to a swift impulse, he threw
himself on his knees, and with clasped hands leaned his
brows against the feet of the sculptured Christ. There
he rested in wordless peace, his whole soul entranced
in a divine passion of faith, hope, and love ; there with
the "Ardath flower" in his breast he consecrated his life
to the highest good, and there in absolute humility and
pure, child-like devotion he crucified SELF forever.
PART III.
POET AND ANGEL
1 O golden hair! . . O gladness of an houi
Made flesh and blood!"
" Who speaks of glory and the force of love
And thou not near, my maiden-minded dove!
With all the coyness, all the beauty sheen
Of thy rapt face? A fearless virgin-queen,
A queen of peace art thou, and on thy head
The golden light of all thy hair is shed
Most nimbus-like, and most suggestive too
Of youthful saints enshrined and garlanded.
Our thoughts are free and mine have found at last
Their apt solution, and from out the Past
There seems to shine as 'twere a beacon-fire:
And all the land is lit with large desire
Of lambent glory; all the quivering sea
Is big with waves that wait the morn's decree
As I, thy vassal, wait thy beckoning smile
Athwart the splendors of my dreams of thee!"
"A Lover's Litanies." ERIC MACKAY.
CHAPTER I.
FRESH LAURELS.
IT was a dismal March evening. London lay swathed
in a melancholy fog, a fog too dense to be more than
temporarily disturbed even by the sudden gusts of the
bitter east wind. Rain fell steadily, sometimes changing
to sleet, that drove in sharp showers on the slippery roads
and pavements, bewildering the tired horses and stirring
up much irritation in the minds of those ill-fated foot-
passengers whom business, certainly not pleasure, forced
to encounter the inconveniences of the weather. Against
one house in particular, an old-fashioned, irregular build-
ing situated in a somewhat out-of the way but pictur-
esque part of Kensington, the cold, wet blast blew with
specially keen ferocity, as though it were angered by
the sounds within, sounds that in truth rather resembled
its own cross groaning. Curious short grunts and plain-
tive cries, interspersed with an occasional pathetic, long-
drawn whine, suggested dimly the idea that somebody
was playing, or trying to play en a refractory stringed
instrument, the well-worn composition known as Raff's
"Cavatina. " And, in fact, had the vexed wind been
able to break through the wall and embody itself into a
substantial bsing, it would have discovered the producer
of the half-fierce, half mournful noise in the person of
the Honorable Frank Villiers, who with that amazingly
serious ardor so often displayed by amateur lovers of
*music, was persistently endeavoring to combat the diffi-
culties of the violoncello. He adored his big instrument;
the more unmanageable it became in his hands, the more
he loved it. Its grumbling complaints at his unskillful
touch delighted him. When he could succeed in awak-
ening a peevish, dull sob from its troubled depths, he
felt a positive thrill of almost professional triumph, and
he refused to be daunted in his efforts by the frequently
barbaric clamor his awkward lowing v.rnng from the
428 "ARDATH"
tortured strings. He tried every sort of music, easy
and intricate, and his happiest hours were those when,
with glass in eye and brow knitted in anxious scrutiny,
he could peer his way through the labyrinth of a sonata
or fantasia much too complex for any one but a trained
artist, enjoying to the full the mental excitement of
the discordant struggle, and comfortably conscious that,
as his residence was "detached," no obtrusive neighbor
could either warn him to desist or set up an opposition
nuisance next door by constant practice on the distress-
ingly over-popular piano. One thing very much in his
favor was that he never manifested any desire to per-
form in public. No one had ever heard him play; he
pursued his favorite amusement in solitude, and was
amply satisfied if, when questioned on the subject of
music, he could find an opportunity to say, with a con-
scious, modest air, "My instrument is the "cello." That
was quite enough self-assertion for him, and if any one
ever urged him to display his talent, he would elude the
request with such charming grace and diffidence that
many people imagined he must really be a great musical
genius who only lacked the necessary insolence and
aplomb to make that genius known. The 'cello apart,
Villiers was very generally recognized as a discerning
dilettante in most matters artistic. He was an excellent
judge of literature, painting, and sculpture; his house,
though small, was a perfect model of taste in design
and adornment; he knew where to pick up choice bits
of antique furniture, dainty porcelain, bronzes, and wood-
carvings, while in the acquisition of rare books he was
justly considered a notable connoisseur. His delicate
and fastidious instincts were displayed in the very
arrangement of his numerous volumes none were placed
on such high shelves as to be out of hand-reach; all
were within close touch and ready to command, ranged
in low carved oak cases or on revolving stands, while
a few particularly rare editions and first folios were shut
in in curious little side-niches with locked glass doors,
somewhat resembling small shrines such as are used for
the reception of sacred relics. The apartment he called
his "den," where he now sat practicing the "Cavatina"
for about the two hundredth time, was perhaps the
most fascinating nook in the whole house, inasmuch aa
FRESH LAURELS 429
it contained a little bit of everything, arranged with that
perfect attention to detail which makes each object,
small and great, appear not only ornamental, but posi-
tively necessary. In one corner a quaint old jar over-
flowed with the brightness of fresh yellow daffodils ; in
another a long, tapering Venetian vase held feathery
clusters of African grass and fern; here the medallion of
a Greek philosopher or Roman emperor gleamed whitely
against the somberly painted wall ; there a Rembrandt
portrait flashed out from the semi obscure background
of some rich, carefully disposed fold of drapery, while
a few admirable casts from the antique lit up the deeper
shadows of the room, such as the immortally youthful
head of the Apollo Belvedere, the wisely serene counte-
nance of the Pallas Athene that Goethe loved, and the
Cupid of Praxiteles.
Judging from his outward appearance only, few would
have given Villiers credit for being the man of penetra-
tive and almost classic refinement he really was; he
looked far more athletic than aesthetic. Broad shouldered
and deep-chested, with a round, blunt head firmly set
on a full, strong throat, he had on the whole a some-
what obstinate and pugilistic air which totally belied his
nature. His features, open and ruddy, were, without
being handsome, decidedly attractive; the mouth was
rather large, yet good-tempered; the eyes bright, blue,
and sparklingly suggestive of a native inborn love of
humor. There was something fresh and piquant in the
very expression of naive bewilderment with which he
now adjusted his eyeglass, a wholly unnecessary appen-
dage, and set himself strenuously to examine anew the
chords of that extraordinary piece of music which others
thought so easy and which he found so puzzling; he
could manage the simple melody fairly well, but the
chords!
"They are the very devil!" he murmured plaintively,
staring at the score and hitching up his unruly instru-
ment more securely against his knee. "Perhaps the
bow wants a little rosin."
This was one of his minor weaknesses ; he would
never quite admit that false notes were his own fault.
"They couldn't be, you know!" he mildly argued, ad-
dressing the obtrusive neck of th,e 'cello, which had a
43 "ARDATH"
curiously stubborn way of poking itself into his chin
and causing him to wonder how it got there. Surely
the manner in which he held it had nothing to do with
this awkward occurrence! "I'm not such a fool as not
to understand how to find the right notes aLer all my
practice! There's something wrong with the strings, or
the bridge has gone awry, or" and this was his last re-
source "the bow wants more rosin!"
Thus he hugged himself in deliciously willful igno-'
ranee of his own shortcomings, and shut his ears to the
whispered reproaches of musical conscience. Had he
been married, his wife would no doubt have lost no time
in enlightening him. She would have told him he was
a wretched player, that his scrapings on the 'cello were
enough to drive one mad, and sundry other assurances
of the perfectly conjugal type of frankness; but as it
chanced, he was a happy bachelor, a free and independ-
ent man with more than sufficient means to gratify his
particular tastes and whims. He was partner in a stead-
ily prosperous banking concern, and had just enough to
do to keep him pleasantly and profitably occupied. Asked
why he did not marry, he replied, with blunt and almost
brutal honesty, that he had never yet met a woman whose
conversation he could stand for more than an hour.
"Silly or clever," he said, "they are all possessed of
the same infinite tedium. Either they say nothing or
they say everything; they are always at the two ex-
tremes, and announce themselves as dunces or blue-
stockings. One wants the just medium, the dainty
commingling of simplicity and wisdom that shall yet be
pure womanly, and this is precisely the jewel 'far above
rubies' that one cannot find. I've given up the search
long ago, and am entirely resigned to my lot. I like
women very well, I may say very much, as friends, but
to take one on chance as a comrade for life no, thank
you!"
Such was his fixed opinion and consequent rejection
of matrimony; and for the rest, he studied art and lit-
erature and became an authority on both, so much so
that on one occasion he kept a goodly number of X- c P^ e
away from visiting the Royal Academy exlv':/irl<rri, he
having voted it a "disgrace to art."
"English artists occupy the last grade i; *'.o* whole
LAURELS
school of painting," he had said indignantly, with that
decisive manner of his which somehow or other carried
conviction. "The very Dutch surpass them, and instead
of trying to raise their standard, each year sees them
groveling in lower depths. The Academy is becoming
a mere gallery of portraits, painted to please the ca-
prices of vain men and women at a thousand or two
thousand guineas apiece; ugly portraits, too, wooden,
portraits, utterly uninteresting portraits of prosaic no-
bodies. Who cares to see 'No. 154. Mrs. Flummery in
her presentation dress,' except Mrs. Fummery's own
particular friends? Or '283. Miss Smox, eldest daugh-
ter of Professor A. T, Smox?' Or '546. Baines Bryce,
Esq.?' Who is Baines Bryce? Nobody ever heard of
him before. He may be a retired pork butcher for all
any one knows! Portraits, even of celebrities, are a
mistake. Take Algernon Charles Swinburne, for in-
stance, the man who, when left to himself, writes some
of the grandest lines in the English language; he had
his portrait in the Academy, and everybody ran away
from it, it was such an unutterably hideous disappoint-
ment. It was a positive libel, of course. Swinburne
has certainly not much beauty, but instead of idealizing
the poet in him, the silly artist painted him as if he had
no more intellectual distinction than a bill-sticker. En-
glish art! pooh! don' t speak to me about it! Go to Spain,
Italy, Bavaria see what they can do, and then say a
Miserere for the sins of the R. A's!"
Thus he would talk, and his criticisms carried weight
with a tolerably large circle of influential and wealthy
persons, who, when they called upon him and saw the
perfection of his house and the rarity of his art-collec-
tions, came at once to. the conclusion that it would be
wise, as well as advantageous to themselves, to consult
him before purchasing pictures, books, statues, or china,
BO that he occupied the powerful position of being able
with a word to start an artist's reputation or depreciate
it, as he chose, a distinction he had not desired, and
which was often a source of trouble to him, because there
were so few, so very few, whose work he felt he could
conscientiously approve and encourage. He was em-
inently good-natured and sympathetic; he could not
give pain to others without being infinitely more pained
432 "ARDATH"
himself and yet, for all his amiability, there was a stub-
born instinct in him which forbade him to promote, by
word or look, the f^tal nineteenth-century spread oi
mediocrity. Either a thing must be truly great and ca-
pable of being measured by the . !ghest standards, or for
him it had no value. This rule he carried out iu all
branches of art except his own 'cello-playing. That was
not great, that would never be great, but it was his pet
pastime; he chose it in preference to the billiards, bet-
ting, and bar-lounging that make up the amusements of
the majority of the hopeful manhood of London, and, as
has been said, he never inflicted it on others.
He rubbed the rosin now thoroughly up and down his
bow and glanced at the quaint old clock an importa-
tion from Niirnberg that ticked solemnly in one corner
near the deep bay-window, across which the heavy olive-
green plush curtains were drawn, to shut out the pene-
trating chill of the wind. It wanted ten minutes to
nine. He had given orders to his man-servant that he
was on no account to be disturbed that evening; no
matter what visitors called for him, none were to be ad-
mitted. He had made up his mind to have a long and
energetic practice, and he felt a secret satisfaction as
he heard the steady patter of the rain outside ; the very
weather favored his desire for solitude; no one was likely
to venture forth on such a night.
Still gravely rubbing his bow, his eyes traveled from
the clock in the corner to a photograph on the mantel-
shelf the photograph of a man's face, dark, haughty,
beautiful, yet repellent in its beauty, and with a certain
hard sternness in its outline 'the face of Theos Alwyn.
From this portrait his glance wandered to the table,
where amid a picturesque litter of books and papers,
lay a square, simply bound volume with an ivory leaf-
cutter thrust in it to mark the place where the reader
left off, and its title plainly lettered in gold at the back
"NOURHALMA."
"I wonder where he is!" he mused, his thoughts nat-
urally reverting to the author of the book. "He cannot
know what all London knows, or surety he would be
back here like a shot! It is six months ago now since
I received his letter and that poem in manuscript from
Tiflis in Armenia, and not another line has he sent to
FRESH LAURELS 433
tell me of his whereabouts! Curious fellow he is; but,
by Jove! what a genius! No wonder he has besieged
fame and taken it by storm. I don't remember any sim-
ilar instance, except that of Byron, in which such an un-
precedented reputation was made so suddenly. And in
Byron's case it was more the domestic scandal about him
than his actual merit that made him the rage. Now,
the world knows literally nothing about Alwyn's private
life or character; there's no woman in his history that I
know of; no vice ; he hasn't outraged the law, upset
morals, flouted at decency, or done anything that ac-
cording to modern fashions ought to have made him
famous. No! he has simply produced a perfect poem,
stately, grand, pure, and pathetic, and all of a sudden
some secret spring in the human heart is touched, some
long-closed valve opened, and lo and behold! all intel-
lectual society is raving about him; his name is in every-
body's mouth', his book in every one's hand. I don't
altogether like his being made the subject of a 'craze.'
Experience shows me it's a kind of thing that doesn't
last. In fact, it can't last; the reaction invariably sets
in. And the English public is of all publics the most
insane in its periodical frenzies and the most capricious.
Now it is all agog for a 'shilling sensational;' then it dis-
cusses itself hoarse over a one-sided theological novf:l
made up out of theories long ago propounded and ex-
haustively set forth by Voltaire and others of his school ;
anon it revels in the gross descriptions of shameless
vice depicted in an 'accurately translated' romance of
the Paris slums; now it writes thousands of letters to a
black man, to sympathize with him because he has been
called black! Could anything be more absurd? It has
even followed the departure of an elephant from the
Zoo in weeping crowds! However, I wish all the crazes
to which it is subject were as harmless and wholesome
as the one that has seized i't for Alwyn's book, for if true
poetry were brought to the front instead of being, as it
often is, sneered at and kept in the background, we
should have a chance of regaining the lost divine art
that, wherever it has been worthily followed, has proved
the glory of the greatest nations. And then we should
not have to put up with such detestable inanities as are
produced every day by persons calling themselves poets,
434 "ARDATH"
who are scarcely fit to write mottoes for dessert crack
ersj and we might escape for good and all from the in.
fliction of 'magazine verse,' which is emphatically a
positive affront to the human intelligence. Ah me! what
wretched upholders we are of Shakespeare's standard!
Keats was our last splendor ; then there is an unfilled
gap, bridged in part by Tennyson; and now comes Al-
wyn blazing abroad like a veritable meteor, only I be-
lieve he will do more than merely flare across the
heavens; he promises to become a notable fixed star."
Here he smiled, somewhat pleased with his own skill
in metaphor, and having rubbed his bow enough, he
drew it lingeringly across the 'cello strings. A long,
sweet, shuddering sound rewarded him, like the upward
wave of a wind among high trees, and he heard it with
much gratification. He would try the "Cavatina" again
now, he decided, and bringing his music-stand closer, he
settled himself in readiness to begin. Just then the
Ntirnberg clock commenced striking the hour, accom-
panying each stroke with a very soft and mellow little
chime of bells that sent fairy-like echoes through the
quiet room, A bright flame started up from the glow-
ing fire in the grate, flinging ruddy flashes along the
walls. A rattling gust of rain dashed once at the win-
dows, the tuneful clock ceased, and all was still. Villers
waited a moment, then with heedful earnestness started
the first bar of Raff's oft-murdered composition, when
a knock at the door disturbed him and considerably
ruffled his equanimity.
"Come in!" he called testily.
His man-servant appeared, a half pleased, half-guilty
Ico : on his staid countenance.
"Please, sir, a gentleman called "
"Well! You said I was out?'
"No, sir; leastways I thought you might be at home
to him, sir."
"Confound you!" exclaimed Villiers petulantly, throw-
ing down his bow in disgust. "What business had you
to think anything about it? Didn't I tell you I wasn't
at home to anybody?"
"Come, come, Villiers!" said a mellow voice outside,
with a ripple of suppressed laughter in its tone. "Don't
be inhospitable. I'm sure you are at home to me!"
FRESH LAURELS 435
Aad passing by the servant, who at once retired, the
speaker entered the apartment, lifted his hat, and waited.
Villiers sprang from his chair in delighted astonishment.
"Alwyn/ n he cried, and the two friends, whose friend-
ship dated from boyhood, clasped each ether's hands
heartily and were for a moment both silent, half -ashamed
of those affectionate emotions to which impulsive wom-
en may freely give vent, but to which men may not yiek
without being supposed to lose somewhat of the
of manhood. ,
"By Tove!" said Villiers at last, drawing .a deep
breath "This is a surprise. Only a few minutes ago I
was considering whether we should not have to note
you down in the newspapers as one of the mysterious
disappearances' grown common of late. Where <
come from, old fellow?"
"From Paris just directly," responded Alwyn, divesl
me himself of his overcoat and stepping outside
door to hang it on an evidently familiar nail in the pas-
sage and then re-entering, "but from Bagdad in the first
instai.ee. I visited that city, sacred to fairy-lore, and
from th-snce journeyed to Damascus like one
vorite merchants in the 'Arabian Nights;' then I went
to Beyrout and Alexandria, from which latter place I
took ship homeward, stopping at delicious Yen ic
n "Then a you did the Holy Land, I suppose?" queried
Villiers, regarding him with sudden and growing mqui
year fellow, certainly not! The Holy Land in-
vested by touts and overrun by tourists, would neit
appeal to my imagination nor my sentiment, and in its
present state of vulgar abuse and unchristian sacr
It is better left unseen by those who wish to revere its
associations. Don't you think so?"
He smiled as he put the question, and drawing up an
oid-fashioned oak chair to the fire, seated himself. Vil
Hers meanwhile stared at him in unmitigated
ment. What had corne to the fellow? he wondered.
How had he managed to invest himself with such an
overpowering distinction of look and grace of bean
He had always been a handsome man-yes, but
was certainly something more than handsome abou
436 "ARDATH"
now. There was a singular magnetism in the flash of
the fine, soft eyes, a marvelous sweetness in the firm lines
of the perfect mouth, a royal grandeur and freedom in
the very poise of his well-knit figure and noble head,
that certainly had not before been apparent in him.
Moreover, that was an odd remark for him to make
about "wishing to revere" the associations of the Holy
Land very odd, considering his former skeptical theo-
ries!
Rousing himself from his momentary bewilderment,
Villiers remembered the duties of hospitality.
"Ha've you dined, Alwyn?" he asked, with his hand
on the bell.
"Excellently!" was the response, accompanied by a
bright upward glance. "I went to that big hotel oppo-
site the park, had dinner, left the surplus of my luggage
in charge, selected one small portmanteau, took a hansom
and came on here, resolved to pass one night at least
under your roof "
"One night!" interrupted Villiers. "You're very much
mistaken if you think you are going to get off so easily!
You'll not escape from me for a month, /tell you! Con-
sider yourself a prisoner!"
"Good! Send for the luggage tomorrow!" laughed
Alwyn, flinging himself back in his chair in an attitude
of lazy comfort. "I give in! I resign myself to nv<
fate! But what of the 'cello?"
And he pointed to the bulgy-looking casket of sweet
sleeping sounds; sleeping generally so far as Villiers
was concerned, but ready to wake at the first touch of
the master-hand. Villiers glanced at it with a comical
air of admiring vanquishment.
"Oh, never mind the 'cello!" he said indifferently.
"That can bear being put by for a while. It's a most
curious instrument; sometimes it seems to sound better
when I have let it rest a little. Just like a human
thing, you know, it gets occasionally tired of me, I sup-
pose. But, I say, why didn't you come straight here,
bag, biggag9, and all? What business had you to stop
on the way at any hotel? Do you call that friendship?"
Alwyn laughed at his mock-injured tone.
"I apologize, Villiers! I really do! B;it I felt it
would be scarcely civil of me to come down upon vou
FRESH LAURELS 437
for bed, board, and lodging without giving you previous
notice, and at the same time I wanted to take you by
surprise, as I did. Besides, I wasn't sure whether I
should find you in town; of course I knew I should be
welcome if you were!"
"Rather!" assented Villiers shortly and with affected
gruffness. "If you were sure of nothing else in this
world you might be sure of that!" He paused, squared
his shoulders, and put up his eyeglass , through which
he scanned his friend with such a persistently scrutiniz
ing air that Alwyn was somewhat amused.
"What are you staring at me for?" he demanded gayly,
"Am I so bronzed?"
"Well, you are rather brown," admitted Villiers slowly,
"but that doesn't surprise me. The fact is, it's very
odd and I can't altogether explain it; but somehow I
find you changed, positively very much changed, too!"
"Changed? In appearance, do you mean? ' How?"
"'Look here upon this picture and on this,'" quoted
Villiers dramatically,taking down Alwyn's portrait from
the mantel-shelf and mentally comparing it with the
smiling original. ' "No two heads were ever more alike
and yet more distinctly unlike. Here," and he tapped the
photograph, "you have the appearance of a modern
Timon or Orestes; but now, as you actually are,
more resemblance in your face to that," and he pointed
to the serene and splendid bust of the Apollo, "than to
this 'counterfeit presentment' of your former self."
Alwyn flushed, not so much at the implied compli
ment as at the words "former self." But quickly shak-
ing off his embarrassment, he glanced round at the
"Apollo" and lifted his eyebrows incredulously.
"Then all I can say, my dear boy, is, that that eye-
glass of yours represents objects to your view in a classic
light which is entirely deceptive, for I fail to trace the
faintest similitude between my own features and that
the sunborn lord of laurels."
"Oh, you may not trace it," said Villiers calmly,
nevertheless others will. Some people say that no man
knows what he really is like, and that even his own re-
flection in the glass deceives him. Besides, it is not
much the actual contour of the features that impress
oneit is the look; you have the look of the Greek god,
the look of conscious power and inward happiness."
He spoke seriously, thoughtfully, surveying his friend
with a vague feeling of admiration akin to reverence.
Alwyn stooped and stirred the fire into a brighter blaze.
"Well, so far my looks do not belie me," he said
gently,after a pause. "1 am conscious of both power and
joy!"
"Why, naturally!" And Villiers laid one hand affec-
tionately on his shoulder. "Of course the face of the
whole world has changed for you, now that you have
won such tremendous fame!"
"Fame!" Alwyn sprang upright so suddenly that Vil
liers was quite startled. "Fame! Who says I am famous?"
And his eyes flashed forth an amazed, almost haughty
resentment.
His friend stared, then laughed outright.
"Who says it? Why, all London says it! Do you
mean to tell me, Alwyn, that you've not seen the En-
glish papers and magazines containing all the critical
reviews and discussions on your poem of 'Nourhalma'?"
Alwyn winced at the title. What a host of strange
memories it recalled !
"I have seen nothing," he replied hurriedly. "I have
made it a point to look at no papers, lest I should
chance on my own name coupled, as it has been before,
with the languid abuse co:nmon to criticism in thi.i
country. Not that I should have cared now!" and a
slight smile played on his lips; "in fact, I have ceased
to care. Moreover, as I know modern success in liter
ature is chiefly commanded by the praise of a 'clique'
or the services of 'log rollers,' and as I am not included
in any of the journalistic rings, I have neither hoped
nor expected any particular favor or recognition from
the public." .
"Then," said Villiers excitedly, seizing him by the
hand, "let me be the first to congratulate you! It is
often the way that, when we no longer specially crave a
thing, that thing is suddenly thrust upon us whether we
will or no, and so it happened in your case. Learn,
therefore, my dear fellow, that your poem which you
sent to me from Tiflis, and which was published under
my supervision about four months Ago. has already run
through six editions and is now in its seventh. Seven
FRESH LAURELS 4.39
editions of a poem a poem, mark you in four months,
isn't bad. Moreover, the demand continues, and the
long and short of it is that your name is actually, at the
present moment, the most celebrated in all London; in
fact, you are very generally acknowledged the greatest
poet of the day. And," continued Villiers, wringing his
triend's hand with uncommon fervor, <: I say, God bless
you, old boy! If ever a man deserved success, >ou do!
'Nourhalma 1 is magnificent! Such a genius as yours
will raise the literature of the age to a higher standard
than it has known since the death of Adonias* You
can't imagine how sincerely I rejoice at your tri-
umph!"
Alwyn was silent. He returned his companion s cor-
dial hand-pressure almost unconsciously. He stood
leaning against the mantel-piece and looking gravely
down into the fire. His first emotion was one of repug-
nance, of rejection. What did he need of this will-o'-
the-wisp called fame, dancing again across his path,
this transitory torch of world-approval? Fame in Lon-
don ! What was it, what could it be, compared to the
brilliancy of the fame he had once enjoyed as laureate
of Al-Kyris? As this thought passed across his m nd,
he gave a quick, interrogative glance at Villiers, who
was observing him with much wondering intentness, and
his handsome face lightened with sudden laughter.
"Dear old boy I" he said, with a very tender inflection
in his mellow, mirthful voice, "you are the best of good
fellows, and I thank you heartily for your news, which,
if it seem satisfactory to you, ought certainly to be sat-
isfactory to me! But tell ms frankly, if I am as famous
as you say, how did I become so? How was it workec
lP "Worked up?" Villiers was completely taken back
by the oddity of this question.
"Come!" continued Alwyn persuasively, his fi
sparkling with mischievous good-humor, "you can't make,
me believe that 'all England' took to me suddenly c
its own accord; it is not so romantic, so poetry-loving,
so independent, or so generous as that! How Vvas my
'celebrity' first started? If my book, which has all
disadvantage of being a poem instead of a novel. \
* Keat*.
440 "ARDATH"
suddenly leaped into high favor and renown, why, then
some leading critic or other must have thought that I
myself was dead!"
The whimsical merriment of his face seemed to reflect
itself on that of Villiers.
"You're too quick-witted, Alwyn, positively you are!"
he remonstrated with a frankly humorous smile. "But,
as it happens, you're perfectly right. Not one critic,
but M/v*-*-three of our most influential men, too
thought you were dead, and that 'Nourhalma' was a
posthumous work of perished genius/"
CHAPTER II.
fABASTESISM AND PAULISM.
THE delighted air of triumphant conviction with which
Alwyn received this candid statement was irresistible,
and Villiers' attempt at equanimity entirely gave way
before it. He broke into a roar of laughter, laughter
in which his friend joined, and for a minute or two the
room rang with the echoes of their mutual mirth.
"It wasn't my doing," said Villiers at last whan, he
could control himself a little, "and even now I don't
in the least know how the misconception arose. 'Nour-
halma' was published, according to your instructions, as
rapidly as it could be got through the press, and I had
no preliminary 'puffs' or announcements of any kind
circulated in the papers. I merely advertised it with a
notable simplicity thus: 'Nourhalma: A Love-Legend
of the Past. A Poem. By Theos Alwyn.' That was
all. Well, when it came out copies of it were sent,
according to custom, round to all the leading news-
paper offices, and for about three weeks after its publi-
cation I saw not a word concerning it anywhere. Mean-
while I went on advertising. One day at the Constitu-
tional Club, while glancing over the Parthenon, I sud-
denly spied in it a long review, occupying four columns
and headed 'A Wonder Poem," and just out of curiosity
I began to read it. I remember in fact, I shall nsvet
2ABASTESI3M AND PAUL1SM 44!
forget its opening sentence, it was so original," and he
laughed again. "It commenced thus: 'It has been truly
said that those whom the gods love die young,' and
then on it went, dragging in memories of Chatterton and
Shelley and Keats.till I found myself } r awning and won-
dering what the deuce the writer was driving at. Pres-
ently, about the end of the second column, I came to
the assertion that 'the posthumous pcem of 'Nourhalma"
must be admitted as one of the most glorious produc-
tions in the English language.' This woke me up con-
siderably, and I read on, groping my way through all
sorts of wordy phrases and used-up arguments, till my
mind gradually grasped the fact that the critic of the
Parthenon had evidently never heard of Theos Alwyn
before, and being astonished and perhaps perplexed by
Ihe original beauty and growing style of 'Nourhalma,'
had jumped, without warrant, to the conclusion that this
author must be dead. The wind-up of his lengthy dis-
sertation was, as far as I can recollect, a? follows: 'It
is a thousand pities this gifted poet is no more. Splen-
did as the work of his youthful genius is, there is no
doubt but that, had he lived, he would ha\e endowed
the world anew with an inheritance of thought worthy
of the grandest master-minds.' Well, when I had fully
realized the situation, I began to think to myself, shall
I enlighten this Sir Oracle of the press, and tell him
the 'dead* author he so enthusiastically eulogizes is alive
and well, or was so at any rate, the last time I heard
from him? I debated the question seriously, and after
much cogitation decided to leave him, for the present,
in ignorance. First of all, because critics like to con-
sider themselves the wisest men in the word, and hate
to be told anything; secondly, because I rather enjoyed
the fun. The publisher of 'Nourhalma,' a very excel-
lent fellow, sent me the critique, and wrote asking me
whether it was true that the author of the poem was
really dead, and if not, whether he should contradict the
report. I waited a bit before answering that letter, and
while I waited, two more critiques appeared in two of the
most assertively pompons and dictatorial journals of the
day, echoing the eulogies of the Parthenon, declaring
'this dead poet' worthy 'to rank with the highest oi
the immortals' and a number of other similar grandiose
442 "ARDATH"
declarations. One reviewer took an infinite deal of pains
to prove 'that if the genius of Theos Alwyn had only
been spared to England he must have infallibly been
elected poet-laureate as soon as the post became vacant,
and that, too, without a single dissentient voice, save
such as were raised in envy or malice. But being dead,'
continued this estimable scribe, 'all we can say is that
he yet speaketh, and that "Nourhalma" is a poem of
which the literary world cannot be otherwise than justly
proud. Let the tears that we shed for this gifted sing-
er's untimely decease be mingled with gratitude for the
priceless value of the work his creative genius has be-
queathed to us!'"
Here Villiers paused, his blue eyes sparkling with in-
ward amusement, and looked at Alwyn, whose face,
though perfectly serene, had now the faintest, softest
shadow of a grave pathos hovering about it.
"By this time," he continued, "I thought we had
had about enough sport, so I wrote off to the publisher
to at once contradict the erroneous rumor. But now
that publisher had his story to tell. He called upon
me, and with a blandly persuasive air said, that as
'Nourhalma' was having an extraordinary sale, was it
worth while to deny the statement of your death just
yet? He was very anxious, but I was firm, and lest he
should waver, I wrote several letters myself to the lead-
ing journals, to establish the certainty, so far as I was
aware, of your being in the land of the living. And
then, what do you think happened?"
Alwyn met his bright, satirical glance with a look that
was half-questioning, half wistful, but said nothing.
"It was the most laughable and at the same time the
most beautifully instructive lesson ever taught by the
whole annals of journalism. The press turned round
like a weathercock with the wind, and exhausted every
epithet of abuse they could find in the dictionaries.
'Nourhalma' was a 'poor, ill-conceived work;' 'an out-
rage to intellectual perception;' 'a good idea, spoilt
in the treatment; an amazingly obscure attempt at sub-
Hmity,' et cetera. But there, you can yourself peruse
all the criticisms, both favorable, and adverse, for I have
acted the part of the fond granny to you in the careful
cutting out and pasting of everything I could find writ-
ZABASTESISM AND PAULISM 443
ten concerning you and your work, in a book devoted
to the purpose, and I believe I've missed nothing. Mark
you, however, the Parthenon never reversed its judg-
ment, nor did the other two leading journals of literary
opinion; it wouldn't do for such big-wigs to confess
they had blundered, you know, and the vituperation of
the smaller fry was just the other weight in the balance
which made^the thing equal. The sale of 'Nourhalma'
grew fast and furious. All expenses were cleared three
times over, and at the present moment the publisher is
getting conscientiously anxious (for some publishers are
more conscientious than some authors will admit) to
hand you over a nice little check for an amount which
is not to be despised in this work-a-day world, I assure
you. "
"I did not write for money," interrupted Alwyn qui-
etly. "Nor shall I ever do so."
"Of course not," assented Villiers promptly "No
poet, and indeed no author whatsoever who lays claim
to a fraction of conscience, writes for money only. Those
with -whom money is the first consideration debase their
art into a coarse huckstering trade, and are no better
than contentious bakers and cheese-mongers, who jostle
each other in a vulgar struggle as to which shall sell
perishable goods at the highest profit. None of the
lasting works of the world were written so. Neverthe-
less, if the public voluntarily choose to lavish what they
can of their best on the author who imparts to them
inspired thoughts and noble teachings, then that author
must not be churlish, or slow to accept the gratitude
implied. I think the most appropriate maxim for a poet
to address to his readers is, 'Freely ye have recehecl,
freely give.'"
There was a moment's silence. Alwyn resumed his
seat in the chair near the fire, and Villiers, leaning one
arm on the mantel-piece, still stood looking down upon
him.
"Such, my dear fellow," he went on complacently, "is
the history of the success of 'Nourhalma.' It certainly
began with the belief that you were no longer able to
benefit by the eulogy received, but all the same that eu-
logy has been uttered and cannot be /^uttered. It lias
led all the lovers of the highest literature to get the
444 "ARDATH"
book for themselves, and to prove your actual worth,
independently of press opinion, and the result is an
immense and steadily widening verdict in your favor.
Speaking personally, I have never read anything that
gave me quite so much artistic pleasure as this poem of
yours except 'Hyperion,' only 'Hyperion' is distinctly
classical, while 'Nourhalma' takes us back into some
hitherto unexplored world of antique paganism, which,
though essentially pagan, is wonderfully full of pure
and lofty sentiment. When did the idea first strike you?"
"A long time ago," returned Alwyn, with a slight,
serious smile. "I assure you it is by no means original!"
Villiers gave him a quick, surprised glance.
"No? Well, it seems to me singularly original," he
uaid. "In fact, one of your critics says you are too
original. Mind you, Alwyn, that is a very serious fault
jn this imitative age."
Alwyn laughed a little. His thoughts were very busy.
Again in imagination he beheld the burning "temple of
Nagaya" in his dream of Al-Kyris. Again he saw him-
self carrying the corpse of his former self through fire
and flame, and again he heard the last words of the dy-
ing Zabastes. "I was the poet's adverse critic, and
who but I should write his eulogy? Save me, if only
for the sake of Sah-luma's future honor! Thou knowest
not how warmly, how generously, how nobly, I can
praise the dead!"
True. How easy to praise the poor, deaf, stirless clay
when sen^e and spirit have fled from it forever! No fear
to spoil a corpse by flattery; the heavily sealed-up eyes
can never more unclose to lighten with glad hope or
fond ambition; the quiet heart cannot leap with grati-
tude or joy at that "word spoken in due season" which
aids its noblest aspirations to become realized. The dead
poet! Press the cold clods of earth over him, and then
rant above his grave. Tell him how great he was, what
infinite possibilities were displayed in his work, what
excellence, what merit, what subtlety tfl fe*u4(ht. what
grace of style! Rant and rave; print rcwiza qf acclaim-
ing verbosity; pronounce orations; raise up statues;
mark the house he lived and starved in with a laudatory
medallion, and print his once rejected stanzas in every
s,ort of type and fashion, from the cheap to the costly ;
ZABASTESISM AND PAtfLISM 44$
teach the multitude how worthy he was to be loved and
honored, and never fear that he will move from his rigid
and chill repose to be happy for once in his life, and
to learn with amazement that the world he toiled so pa-
tiently for is actually learning to be grateful for his ex-
istence! Once dead and buried, he can be safely made
glorious. He cannot either affront us with his superior
intelligence or make us envy the splendors of his fame.
Some such thoughts as these passed through Alwyn's
mind as he dreamily gazed into the red hollows of the
fire and reconsidered all that his friend had told him.
He had no personal acquaintances on the press, no literary
club or clique to haul him up into the topgallant mast
of renown by persistent puffery. He was not related,
even distantly, to any great personage, either states-
man, professor, or divine; he had not the mysterious
recommendation of being a "university man;" none of
the many "wheels within wheels," which are nowadays
so frequently set in motion to make up a momentary
literary furore, were his to command; and yet the Par-
thenon had praised him! Wonder of wonders! The
Parthenon was a singularly obtuse journal, which glanced
at the whole world of letters merely through the eyes
of three or four men of distinctly narrow and egotistical
opinions, and these three or four men kept it as much
as possible to themselves, using its columns chiefly for
the purpose of admiring one another. As a- consequence
of this restricted arrangement, very few outsiders could
expect to be noticed for their work, unless they were in
the "set," or at least had occasionally dined with 'one
of the mystic three or four, and so it had chanced that
Alwyn's first venture into literature had been totally
disregarded by the Parthenon. In fact, that first venture,
being a small and unobtrusive book, had, most prob-
ably, been thrown into the waste-paper basket, or sold
for a few pence to the second-hand dealer. And now
novf because he had been imagined dead the Parthe-
non's leading critic had singled him out and held him
for univeisaj admiration.
WeJ* well! After all, "Nourhalma" was a posthu-
mous work. // had been written before, ages since, when
he, as Sah-luma, had perished ere he had had time to
give it to the world. He had merely remembered it
446 "ARDATH"
drawn it forth again, as it were, from the dim, deep vis-
tas of past deeds, so those who had reviewed it as the
production of one dead in youth were right in their
judgment, though they did not know it. It was old, noth-
ing but repetition; but now he had something new and true
and passionate to say something that, if God pleased,
it should be his to utter with the clearness and forcible-
ness common to the Greek thunderers of yore, who spoke
out what was in them, grandly, simply, and with the
fearless majesty of thought that recked nothing of opin-
ions. Oh! he would rouse the hearts of men from paltry
greed and covetousness, from lust and hatred and all
things evil! No matter if he lost his own life in the
effort, he would still do his utmost best to lift, if only
in a small degree, the deepening weight of self-wrought
agony from self-blinded mankind. Yes! he must work
to fulfill the commands and deserve the blessing of
Edris!
Edris! ah, the memory of her pure angel-loveliness
rushed upon him like a flood of invigorating warmth
and light, and when he looked up from his brief reverie,
his countenance, beautiful and kindling with inward
ardor, affected Villiers strangely, almost as a very grand
and perfect strain of music might affect and unsteady
one's nerves. The attraction he had always felt for his
poet friend deepened to quite a fervent intensity of admi-
ration, but he ,was not the man to betray his feelings
outwardly, and to shake off his emotion he rushed into
speech again.
"By the bye, Alwyn, your old acquaintance, Professor
Moxall, is very much 'down' on your book. You know
he doesn't write reviews, except on matters connected
with evolutionary phenomena, but I met him the other
day, and he was quite upset about you. 'Too transcen-
dental!' he said, dismally shaking his bald pate to and
fro. 'The whole poem is a vaporous tissue of absurd
impossibilities! Ah dear, dear me! what a terrible fall-
ing-off in a young man of such hopeful ability! I thought
he had done with poetry forever. I took the greatest
pains to prove to him what a ridiculous pastime it was,
and how unworthy to be considered for a moment serious-
ly as an art, and he seemed to understand my reasoning
thoroughly. Indeed, he promised to be one of our most
ZABASTESlaM AND PAUL1SM 447
oowerful adherents; he had an excellent grasp of the
material sciences, and a fine contempt for religion. Why,
with such a quick, analytical brain as his, he might have
carried on Darwin's researches to an extremer point of
the origination of species than has yet been reached!
All a ruin, sir! a positive ruin! A man who will in cold
blood write such lines as these
" 'Grander is death than life, and sweeter far
The splendor of the infinite future, than our eyes,
Weary with tearful watching, yet can see"
condemns himself as a positive lunatic! And young
Alwyn, too! He who had so completely recognized the
foolishness and futility of expecting any other life than
this one! Good heavens! "Nourhalma, " as I under-
stand it, is a sort of pagan poem; but with such incred-
ible ideas and sentiments as are expressed in it, the
author might as well go and be a Christian at once!'
And with that he hobbled off, for it was Sunday after-
noon, and he was on his way to St. George's Hall to
delight the assembled skeptics, by telling them in an
elaborate lecture what absurd animalculae they all were."
Alwyn smiled, There was a soft light in his eyes, an
expression of serene contentment on his face.
"Poor old Moxall!" he said gently. "I am sorry for
him! He makes life very desolate, both for himself
and others who accept his theories. I'm afraid his dis-
appointment in me will have to continue, for, as it hap-
pens, I am a Christian that is, so far as I can, in my
unworthiness, be a follower of a faith so grand, and
pure, and true!"
Villiers started. His mouth opened in sheer astonish-
ment; he could scarcely believe his own ears, and he
uttered some sound between a gasp and an exclamation
of incredulity. Alwyn met his widely-wondering gaze
with a most sweet and unembarrassed calm.
"How amazed you look," he observed half playfully.
"Religion must be at a very low ebb, if in a so-called
Christian country you are surprised to hear a man openly
acknowledge himself a disciple of the Christian creed."
There" was a brief pause, during which the chimin^
clock rang out the hour musically on the stillness. Then
Viih'ers, still in a state of most profound bewilderment.
4.48 "ARDATH"
sat down deliberately in a chair opposite Ahvyn's, and
placed one hand familiarly on his knee.
"Look here, old fellow," he said impressively, "do
you really mean it? Are you 'going over' to some church
or other?"
Alwyn laughed. His friend's anxiety was so genuine.
"Not I!" he responded promptly. "Don't be alarmed,
Villiers; I am not a 'convert* to any particular set form
of faith. What I care for is the faith itself. One can
follow and serve Christ without any church-dogma. He
has himself told us plainly, in words 'simple enough for
a child to understand, what he would have us do, and
though I, like many others, must regret the absence of
a true universal church where the servants of Christ
may meet all together without a shadow of difference in
opinion, and worship him as he should be worshiped,
still that is no reason why I should refrain from endeav-
oring to fulfill, as far as in me lies, my personal duty
toward him. The fact is, Christianity has never yet been
rightly taught, grasped, or comprehended. Moreover,
as long as men seek through it their own worldly ad-
vantage, it never will be, so that the majority of peo-
ople are really as yet ignorant of its true spiritual mean-
ing, thanks to the quarrels and differences of sects and
preachers. But notwithstanding the unhappy position
of religion at the present day, I repeat, I am a Chris-
tian, if love for Christ, and implicit belief in him, can
make me so."
He spoke simply, and without the slightest affectation
of reserve. Villiers was still puzzled.
"1 thought, Alwyn," he ventured to say presently, with
some little diffidence, "that you entirely rejected the
idea of Christ's divinity as a mere superstition?"
"In dense ignorance of the extent of God's possibil-
ities, I certainly did so," returned Alwyn quietly. "But
I have had good reason to see that my own inability to
comprehend supernatural causes was entirely to blame
for that rejection. Are we able to explain all the numer-
ous and complex variations and manifestations of mat-
ter? No. Then why do we dare to doubt the certainly
conceivable variations and manifestations of spirit? The
doctrine of a purely kuman Christ is untenable. A creed
founded on that idea alone, would make no way with
SABASTE.HSM AND PAULISM 449
the immortal aspirations of the soul. What link could
there be between a mere man like ourselves and heaven?
None whatever; it needs the DIVINE in Christ to over-
leap the darkness of the grave, to serve us as the sym-
bol of certain resurrection; to teach us that this life is
not the ALL but only one loop in the chain of existences
only one of the 'many mansions' in the Father's House.
Human teachers of high morals there have always been
in the world Confucius, Buddha, Zoroaster, Socrates,
Plato there is no end to them, and their teachings have
been valuable so far as they went, but even Plato's ma-
jestic arguments in favor of the immortality of the soul
fall short of anything sure and graspable. They were
so many prefigurements of what was to come, just as
the sign of the cross was used in the temple of Serapis,
and was held in singular mystic veneration by various
tribes, of Egyptians, Arabians, and Indians, ages before
Christ came. And now that these pffefigurements have
resolved themselves into an actual divine symbol, the
doubting world still hesitates, and by this hesitation par-
alyzes both its will and instinct, so that it fails to cut
out the core of Christianity's true solution, or to learn
what Christ really meant when he said : 'I am the
Way, the Truth, and the Life ; no man cometh to the
Father but by me.' Have you ever considered the par-
ticular weight of that word 'man' in that text? It is
rightly specified that 'no man cometh,' for there are
hosts of other beings, in other universes, who are not of
our puny race, and who do not need to be taught either
the way, truth, or life, as they know all three, and have
never lost their knowledge from the beginning."
His voice quivered a little, and he paused. Villiers
watched him with a strange sense of ever-deepening fas-
cination and wonder.
"I have lately studied the whole thing carefully," he
resumed presently, "and I see no reason why we, who
call ourselves a progressive generation, should revert
back to the old theory of Cerinthus, who, as early as
sixty-seven years after Christ, denied his divinity. There
is nothing new in the hypothesis; it is no more original
than the doctrine of evolution, which was skillfully enor.gh
handled by Democritus, and probably by many another
before him, Voltaire certainly threshed out the subject
450 "ARDATH"
exhaustively, and I think Carlyle's address to him on
the uselessness of his work is one of the finest of its
kind. Do you remember it?"
Villiers shook his head in the negative, whereupon
Alwyn rose, and, glancing along an evidently well-remem-
bered book-shelf, took from thence "Sartor Resartus"
and turned over the pages quickly.
"Here it is," and he read out the following passage:
"'Cease, my much-respected Herr von Voltaire, shut thy
sweet voice; for the task appointed thee seems finished.
Sufficiently hast thou demonstrated this proposition, con
siderable or otherwise: That the my thus of the Chris-
tian religion looks not in the eighteenth century as it did
in the eighth. Alas, were thy six-and-thirty quartos, and
the six-and-thirty thousand other quartos and folios and
flying sheets or reams, printed before and since on the
same subject, all needed to convince us of so little? But
what next? Wilt thou help us to embody the divine
spirit of that religion in a new mythus, in a new vehicle
and vesture, that our souls, otherwise too like perishing,
may live? What! thou hast no faculty in that kind?
Only a torch for burning and no hammer for building?
Take our thanks then and thyself away!"
Villiers smiled, and straightened himself in military
fashion, as was his habit when particularly gratified.
"Excellent old Teufelsdrockh!" he murmured sotto
voce. "He had a rugged method of explaining himself,
but it was decisive enough in all conscience."
"Decisive and to the point," assented Alwyn, putting
the book back in its place, and then confronting his
friend. "And he states precisely what is wanted by the
world to-day, wanted pressingly, eagerly namely, that
the 'divine spirit' of the Christian religion should be
set forth in a 'new vehicle and vesture' to keep pace
with the advancing inquiry and scientific research of
man. And truly for this, it need only be expounded ac-
cording to its old, pure, primal, spiritual intention, and
then the more science progresses the more true will it
be proved. Christ distinctly claimed his divinity, and
everywhere gave manifestations of it. Of course it can
be said that these manifestations rest on testimony, and
that the 'testimony* was drawn up afterward and is a
spurious invention; but we have no more proof that it
ZABASTESISM AND PAULISM 451
is spurious than we have of* Homer's Iliad being a com-
pilation of several writers and not the work of a Homer
at all. Nothing, not even the events of the past week,
can be safely rested on absolute, undiffering testimony,
inasmuch as no two narrators tell the same story alike.
But all the same we have the Iliad ; it cannot be taken
from us by any amount of argument, and we have the
fruits of Christ's gospel, half -obscured as it is, visible
among us. Everywhere, civilization of a high and aspir-
ing order has followed Christianity, even at the cost of
blood and tears slavery has been abolished, and women
lifted from unspeakable degradation to honor and rev-
erence, and had men been more reasonable and self-con-
trolled, the purifying work would have been done peace-
fully and without persecution. It was St. Paul's preach-
ing that upset all the beautiful, pristine simplicity of
the faith \ it is very evident he had no 'calling or elec-
tion' such as he pretended. I wonder Jeremy Ben-
tham's conclusive book on the subject is not more univer-
sally known. Paul's sermonizing gave rise to a thousand
different shades of opinion and argument, and, for a
mere hair's -breadth of needless discussion, nation has
fought against nation, and man against man, till the very
name of religion has been made a ghastly mockery. That,
however, is not the fault of Christianity, but the fault
of those who profess to follow it, like Paul, while merely
following a scheme of their own personal advantage or
convenience; and the result of it all is that at this very
moment there is not a church in Christendom where
Christ's actual commands are really and to the letter
fulfilled."
"Strong!" ejaculated Villiers with a slight smile.
"Mustn't say that before a clergyman!"
"Why not?" demanded Alwyn. "Why should not
clerics be told once and for all how ill they perform
their sacred mission? Look at the wilderness of spread-
ing atheism to-day, and look at the multitudes of men
and women who are hungering and thirsting for a greater
comprehension of spiritual things than they have hither-
to had! And yet the preachers trudge drowsily on in
the old ruts they have made for themselves, and give
neither sympathy nor heed to the increasing pain, fever-
*See Chapter III., "In Al-Kyris" the allusion to "Oruzil."
452 ' "ARDATM"
ish bewilderment, and positive want of those they pro
fess to guide. Concerning science, too: what is the
good of telling a toiling, more or less suffering race that
there are eighteen millions of suns in the Milky Way,
and that, viewed by the immensity of the universe, man
is nothing but a small, mean, and perishable insect?
Humanity hears the statement with dull, perplexed brain,
and its weight of sorrow is doubled. It demands at
once, why, if an insect, its insect-life should BE at all,
if nothing is to come of it but weariness and woe? The
marvels of scientific discovery offer no solace to the
huge majority of the afflicted, unless we point the lesson
that the soul of man is destined to live through more
than these wonders, and that the millions of planetary
systems in the Milky Way are but the ALPHA BETA of the
sublime hereafter which is our natural heritage if we
will but set ourselves earnestly to win it. Moreover, we
should not foolishly imagine that we are to lead good
lives merely for the sake of some suggested reward or
wages. No, but simply because in practicing progres-
sive good we are equalizing ourselves and placing our-
selves in active working harmony with the whole pro-
gressive good of the Creator's plan. We have no more
right to do a deliberately evil thing than a musician has
right to spoil a melody by a false note on his instru-
ment. Why should we willfully jar God's music, of
which we are a part? I tell you, that religion as taught
to-day is rather one of custom and fear than love and
confidence ; men cower and propitiate when they should
be full of thankfulness and praise ; and as for any reserve
on these matters, I have none; in fact, I fail to see why
truth spiritual truth should not be openly proclaimed
now, even as it is sure to be proclaimed hereafter."
His manner had warmed with his words, and he lifted
his head with an involuntary gesture of eloquent resolve,
his eyes flashing splendid scorn for all things hypocrit-
ical and mean Villiers looked at him, feeling curi-
ously moved and impressed by his fervent earnestness.
"Well, I was right in one thing, at any rate, Alwyn,"
he said softly. "You are changed there's not a doubt
about it. But it seems to me the change is distinctly
for the better. It does my heart good to hear you speak
with such distinct and manly emphasis on a subject
2ABASTESISM AND PAULISM 453
which, though it is one of the burning questions of the
day, is too often treated irreverently, or altogether dis-
missed with a few sentences of languid banter or cheap
sarcasm. As regards myself personally, I must say that
a man without faith in an} r thing but himself has always
seemed to me exactly in keeping with the description
given of an atheist by Lady Ashburton to Carlyle,
namely, 'a person who robs himself not only of clothes,
but of flesh as well, and walks about the world in his
bones.' And oddly enough, in spite of all the contro-
versies going on about Christianity, I have always really
worshiped Christ in my heart of hearts, and yet I can't
go to church! I seem to lose the idea of him alto-
gether there; but" and his frank face took upon itself
a dreamy light of deep feeling "there are times when,
walking alone in the fields, or through a very quiet grove
of trees, or on the sea shore, I begin to think of his
majestic life and death, and the immense, unfailing sym-
pathy he showed for every sort of human suffering, and
then I can really believe in him as divine friend, com-
rade, teacher, and king, and I am scarcely able to de-
cide which is the deepest emotion in my mind toward
him love or reverence."
He paused. Alwyn's eyes rested upon him with a
quick, comprehensive friendliness. In one exchange of
looks the two men became mutually aware of the strong
undercurrents of thought that lay beneath each other's
individual surface history, which perhaps had never been
so clearly recognized before, and a kind of swift, speech-
less, satisfactory agreement between their two separate
natures seemed suddenly drawn up, ratified and sealed
in a glance.
"I have often thought," continued Villiers more
lightly, and smiling as he spoke, "that we are all angels
or devils angels in our best moments, devils in our
worst. If we could only keep the best moments always
uppermost! 'Ah, poor deluded human nature!' as old
Moxall says, while in the same breath he contradicts
himself by asserting that human reason is the only in-
fallible means of ascertaining anything! How it can be
'deluded' and 'infallible' at the same time, I can't quite
understand! But, Alwyn, you haven't told me how you
like the 'get-up' of your book."
d.54 "ARDATH"
And he handed the volume in question to its author,
who turned it over with the most curious air of care-
less recognition. In his fancy he again saw Zabastes
writing each line of it down to Sah-luma's dictation!
"It's very well printed," he sarid at last, "and very
tastefully bound. You have superintended ihe work con
amore t Villiers, and I am as obliged to you as friend-
ship will let me be. You know what that means?"
"It means no obligation at all," declared Villiers
gayly, "because friends who are in the least worthy the
name take delight in furthering each other's interests,
and have no need to be thanked for doing what is par-
ticularly agreeable to them. You really like the appear-
ance of it, then? But you've got the sixth edition.
This is the first."
And he took up from a side-table a quaint, small quarto,
bound in a very superb imitation of old embossed leather,
which Alwyn beholding was at once struck by the re-
semblance it bore to the elaborate designs that had
adorned the covers of the papyrus volumes possessed
by his shadow-self, Sah-luma!
"This is very sumptuous!" he said with a dreamy
smile. "It looks quite antique."
"Doesn't it?" exclaimed Villiers, delighted. "I had
it copied from a first edition of Petrarca which happens
to be in my collection. This specimen of 'Nourhalma'
has become valuable and unique. It was published at
ten -and six, and can't be got anywhere under five or six
guineas, if for that. Of course, a copy of each edition
has been set aside for you. "
Alwyn laid down the book with a gentle indifference.
"My dear fellow, I've had enough of 'Nourhalma,'"
he said. "I'll keep a copy of the first edition, if only
as a souvenir of your good will and energy in bringing
it out so admirably, but for the rest the book belongs
to me no more, but to the public, and so let the public
do with it what they will 1"
Villiers raised his eyebrows perplexedly.
"I believe after all, Alwyn, you don't really care for
your fame."
"Not in the least," replied Alwyn, laughing. "Why
should I?"
"You longed for it once as the utmost good."
ZABASTESISM AND PAULISM 455
"True; but there are other utmost goods, my friend,
that 1 desire more keenly."
"But are they attainable?" queried Villiers. "Men,
and especially poets, often hanker after what is not pos-
sible to secure."
"Granted," responded Ahvyn cheerfully. "But I do
not crave for the impossible. I only seek to recover what
I have lost."
"And that :s?"
"What most men have lost, or are insanely doing
their best to lose," said Alwyn meditatively "a grasp
of things eternal through the veil of things temporal."
There was a short silence, during which Villiers eyed
his friend wistfully.
"What was that 'adventure' you spoke about in your
letter from the monastery on the Pass of Dariel?" he
asked after a while. "You said you were on the search
for a new sensation. Did you experience it?"
Alwyn smiled. "1 certainly did!"
"Did it arise from a contemplation of the site of the
ruins of Babylon?"
"Not exactly. Babylon, or rather the earth-mounds
which are now called Babylon, had very little to do with
it."
"Don't you want to tell me about it?" demanded Vil-
liers abruptly.
"Not just yet," answered Alwyn with good-humored
frankness, "not to-night, at any rate. But I will tell
you, never fear. For the present we've talked enough.
Don't you think bed suggests itself as a fitting conclusion
to our converse?"
Villiers laughed and acquiesced, and after pressing his
friend to partake of something in the way of supper,
which refreshment was declined, he preceded him to a
small, pleasantly cozy room, his "guest chamber," as he
called it, but which was really almost exclusively set
apart for Alwyn's use alone, and was always in readiness
lor him whenever he chose to occupy it. Turning on
the pretty electric lamp, that lit the whole apartment
with a soft and shaded luster, Villiers shook hands heart-
ily with his old school fellow and favorite comrade, and
bidding him a brief but cordial good-night, left him to
repose.
456 "ARDATH
As soon as he was alone, Alwyn took out from his
breast-pocket a small velvet letter-case, from which he
gently drew forth a slightly pressed but unfaded white
flower. Setting this in a glass of water, he placed it
near his bed, and watched it for a moment. Delicately
and gradually its pressed petals expanded, its golden
corolla brightened in hue, a subtle, sweet odor perme-
ated the air, and soon the angelic "immortelle" of tne
field of "Ardath" shone wondrously as a white star in
the quiet room. And when the lamp was extinguished
and the poet slept, that strange, fair blossom seemed to
watch him like a soft, luminous eye in the darkness a
symbol of things divine and lasting, a token of far and
brilliant worlds where even flowers cannot fadel
CHAPTER III.
REALISM.
AT the end of about a week or so, it became very gen-
erally known among the mystic "upper ten" of artistic
and literary circles that Theos Alwyn, the famous author
of "Nourhalma," was, to put it fashionably, "in town."
According to the classic phrasing of a leading society
journal, "Mr. Theos Alwyn, the poet, whom some of our
contemporaries erroneously reported as dead, has arrived
in London from his tour in the East. He is for thf
present a guest of the Honorable Francis Villiers. " The
consequence of this and other similar announcements was
that the postman seemed never to be away from Villiers'
door, and every time he came he was laden with letters
and cards of invitation addressed for the most part to
Villiers himself, who, with something of dismay, saw
his study table getting gradually covered with accumu-
lating piles of society-litter, such as is comprised in the
various formal notifications of dinners, dances, balls,
soirees, "at homes," and all the divers sorts of entertain-
ment with which the English "s'amusent moult triste-
ment." Some of these invitations, less ceremonious,
were in the form of pretty little notes from great ladies,
REALISM 457
who entreated their "dear Mr. Villiers" to give them the
"extreme honor and pleasure" ot his company at cer-
tain select and extra brilliant receptions, where royalty
itself would be represented, adding as an earnest post-
script, "and do bring the lion you know, your very in-
teresting friend, Mr. Alwyn, with you!" A good many
such billets-doux were addressed to Alwyn personally,
and as he opened and read them he was somewhat
amused to see how many who had formerly been mere
bowing acquaintances were now suddenly, almost mag-
ically, transformed into apparently eager, admiring, and
devoted friends.
"One would think these people really liked me for
myself," he said one morning, tossing aside a particu-
larly gushing, pressing note from a lady who was cele-
brated for the motlej' crowds she managed to squeeze
into her rooms, regardless of any one's comfort or con-
venience. "And yet, as the matter stands, they ac-
tually know nothing of me. I might be a villain of the
deepest dye, a kickable cad, or a coarse ruffian, but so
long as I have written a 'successful' book and am a
'somebody' a literary 'notable' what matter my tastes
my morals, or my disposition? If this sort of thing is
fame, all I can say is, that it savors of very detestable
vulgarity!"
"Of course it does!" assented Villiers ; "but what else
do you expect from modern society? What can you ex-
pect from a community which is chiefly ruled by moneyed
parvenus, but vulgarity? If you go to this woman's
place, for instance"- and he glanced at the note Alwyn
had thrown on the table "you will share the honors of
the evening with the famous man-milliner of Bond Street,
an 'artist* in gowns ; the female upholsterer and house-
decorator, likewise an 'artist;' the ladies who 'compose'
bonnets in Regent Street, also 'artists;' and chiefest
among the motley crowd, perhaps, the so-called new
'apostle' of aestheticism, a ponderous gentleman who
says nothing and does nothing, and who, by reason of
his stupendous inertia and taciturnity, is considered the
greatest 'gun* of all ! It's no use your going among
such people. In fact, no one who has any reverence
left in him for the truth of art can mix with those whose
profession of it is a mere trade and hypocritical sham.
"ARDATH*
Such dunderheads would see no artistic difference be-
tween Phidias and the man of to-day who hews out
and sets up a common marble mantelpiece! I'm not a
fellow to moan over the 'good old times;' no, not a bit
of it, for those good old times had much in them thai
was decidedly bad, but I wish progress would not rob
us altogether of refinement."
"But society professes to be growing more and more
cultured every day, " observed Alwyn.
"Oh, it professes! yes, that's just the mischief of it.
Its professions are not worth a groat. It professes to
be one thing, while anybody with eyes can see that it
actually is another. The old style of aristocrat and
gentleman is dying out ; the new style is the horsey
lord, the betting duke, the coal-dealing earl, the stock-
broking viscounts! Trade is a very excellent thing, a very
necessary and important thing, but its influence is dis-
tinctly not refining. I have the greatest respect for my
cheesemonger, for instance (and he has an equal respect
for me since he has found that I know the difference
between real butter and butterine), but all the same I
don't want to see him in Parliament. I am arrogant
enough to believe that I, even I, having studied some-
what, know more about the country's interest than he
does. I view it by the light of ancient and modern
historical evidence ; he views it according to the demand
it makes on his cheese. We may both be narrow and
limited in judgment. Nevertheless I think, with all due
modesty, that his judgment is likely to be more limited
than mine. But it's no good talking about it. This
dear old land is given up to a sort of ignorant democ-
racy, which only needs time to become anarchy j and we
haven't got a strong man among us who dares speak out
the truth of the inevitable disasters looming above us all.
And society is not only vulgar but demoralized. More-
over, what is worse is that, aided by its preachers and
teachers, it is sinking into deeper depths of demoraliza-
tion with every passing month and year of time."
Alwyn leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, a sor-
rowful expression clouding his face.
"Surely things are not so bad as they seem, Villiers, "
he said gently. "Are you not taking a pessimistic view
of affairs?"
REALISM 459
"Not at all!" and Villiers, warming with his subject,
v;alked up and down the room excitedly. "Nor am I
judging by the narrow observation of any particular 'set'
or circle. I look at the expressive, visible outcome of
the whole, the plainly manifest signs of the threatening
future. Of coursa there are ever so many good people,
earnest people, thinking people but they are a mere hand-
ful, compared to the overpowering millions opposed to
them, and whose motto is 'Evil, be thou my good. ' Now
you, for instance, are full of splendid ideas, and lucid
plans of check and reform; you are seized with a pas-
sionate desire to do something great for the world, and
you are ready to speak the truth fearlessly on all occa-
sions. But just think of the enormous task it would
be to stir to even half an inch of aspiring nobleness the
frightful mass of corruption of London to-day! In all
trades and professions it is the same story; everything
is a question of gain. To begin with, look at the church,
the 'pillar of the state'! There, all sorts of worthless,
incompetent men are hastily thrust into livings by
wealthy patrons who care not a jot as to whether they
are morally or intellectually fit for their sacred mission,
and a disgraceful, universal muddle is the result. From
this muddle, which resembles a sort of stagnant pool,
emerge the strangest fungus-growths clergymen who
take to private theatricals, ostensibly for the purposes of
charity, but really to gratify their own tastes and lean-
ings toward the mummer's art, all the time utterly re-
gardless of the effect their behavior is likely to have on
the minds of the unthinking populace who are led by
the newspapers, and who read therein bantering inquiries
as to whether the Church is coquetting with the Stage;
whether the two are likely to become one; and whether
religion will in the future occupy no more serious con-
sideration than the drama? What is one to think, when
one sees clerical notabilities seated in the stalls of a
theater, complacently looking on at the representation
of a 'society-play' degrading in plot, repulsive in detail,
and in nearly every case having to do with a married
woman who indulges in a lover as a matter of course
a play full of ambiguous side-hits and equivocal jests,
which, if the men of the Church were staunch to their
vocation, they would be the first to condemn. Why, I
460 "ARDATH"
t
saw the other day in a fairly reliable journaf that some
of these excellent 'divines' were going to start 'smok-
ing sermons,' a sort of imitation of smoking-concerts, I
suppose, which are vile enough, in all conscience; but
to mix up religious matters with the selfish 'smoke-
mania' is viler still. I say that any clergyman who will
allow men to smoke in his presence, while he is preach-
ing sacred doctrine, is a coarse cad, and ought to be
hounded out of the Church!"
He paused, his face flushing with vigorous, righteous
wrath. Alwyn's eyes grew dark with an infinite pain.
His thoughts always fled back to his dream of Al-Kyris,
with a tendency to draw comparisons between the past
and the present. The religion of that long-buried city
had been mere mummery and splendid outward show.
What was the religion of London? He moved rest-
lessly.
"How all the old warnings of history repeat them-
selves!" he said suddenly. "An age of mockery, sham
sentiment, and irreverence has always preceded a down-
fall. Can it be possible that we are already receiving
hints of the downfall of England?"
"Ay, not only of England, but of a good many other
nations besides," said Villiers; "or if not actual down-
fall, change and terrific upheaval. France and England,
particularly, are the prey of the demon of realism, and
all the writers who should use their pens to inspire and
elevate the people assist in degrading them. When their
books are not obscene, they are blasphemous. Russia,
too, joins in the cry of realism! realism! Let us have
the filth of the gutters, the scourings of dust-holes, the
corruption of graves, the odors of malaria, the howlings
of drunkards, the revelings of sensualists the worst
side of the world in its vilest aspect, which is the only
real aspect to those who are voluntarily vile! Let us
see to what a reeking depth of unutterable, shameless
brutality man can fall if he chooses not, as formerly,
when it was shown to what glorious heights of noble
supremacy he could rise! For, in this age, the heights
are called 'transcendental folly,' and the reeking depths
are called Realism!"
"And yet what is realism really?" queried Alwyn.
"Does anybody know? It is supposed to be the actuality
REALISM |6l
of every-day existence, without any touch of romance or
pathos to soften its frequently hideous commonplace, but
the fact is, the commonplace is not the real. The highest
flights of imagination in the human being fail to grasp
the reality of the splendors everywhere surrounding
him, and, viewed rightly, realism would become romance,
and romance realism. We see a ragged woman in the
streets picking up scraps for her daily food ; that is what
we may call realistic; but we are not looking at the
actual woman after all ! We cannot see her inner self,
or form any certain comprehension of the possible ro-
mance or tragedy which that inner self has experienced
or is experiencing. We see the outer appearance of the
woman, but what of that? The realism of the suffering
creature's hidden history lies beyond us so far beyond
us that it is called romance because it seems so impos-
sible to fathom or understand."
"True, most absolutely true!" said Villiers emphat-
ically; "but it is a truth you will get very few to admit.
Everything to-day is in a state of unsubstantiality and
sham. We have even sham realism as well as sham sen-
timent, sham religion, sham art, sham morality. We
have a Parliament that sits and jabbers lengthy plati-
tudes that lead to nothing, while army and navy are
slowly slipping into a state of helpless desuetude, and
the mutterings of discontented millions are almost unre-
garded. The specter of revolution, assuming somewhat
of the shape in which it appalled the French in 1798, is
dimly approaching in the distance. Even our London
county council bears the far-off faint shadow of a very
prosaic resemblance to the national assembly of that era,
and our weak efforts to cure cureless grievances, and to
deafen our ears to crying evils, are very similar to the
clumsy attempts made by Louis XVI. and his partisans
to botch up a terribly bad business. Oh, the people,
the people! They are unquestionably the flesh, blood,
bone, and sinew of the country, and the English people, 1
say what sneerers will to the contrary, are a good peo-
ple patient, plodding, forbearing, strong, and on the
whole most equable tempered; but their teachers teach
them wrongly, and confuse their brains instead of clear-
ing them, and throw a weight of compulsory education
at their heads, without caring how they rray use it, o?
462 "ARDATH"
how such a blow from the clenched fist of knowledge
may stupefy and bewilder them and the consequence
is, that now, were a strong man to rise, with a lucid
brain, an eloquent power of expressing truth, a great
sympathy with his kind, and an immense indifference to
his own fate in the contest, he could lead this vast,
waiting, wondering, growling, hydra-headed London
wheresoever he would I"
"What an orator you are, Villiers!" said Alwyn with
a half-smile. "I never heard you come out so strongly
before. "
"My dear fellow." replied Villiers in a calmer tone,
"it's enough to make any man with warm blood in his
veins feel! Everywhere signs of weakness, cowardice,
compromise, hesitation, vacillation, incompetency; and
everywhere, in thoughtful minds, the keen sense of fate
advancing, like the giant in the seven-leagued boots, at
huge strides every day. The ponderous law and the
stolid police hem us in on each side, as though the na-
tion were a helpless infant toddling between two portly
nurses. We dare not denounce a scoundrel and liar, but
must needs put up with him, lest we should be involved
in an action for libel, and we dare not knock down a
vulgar bully,lest we should be given in charge for assault.
Hence liars and scoundrels and vulgar bullies abound,
and men skulk and grin and play the double-face till
they lose all manfulness. Society sits smirking foolishly
on the top of a smouldering volcano, and the chief sym-
bols of greatness among us, religion, poesy, art, are
burning as feebly as tapers in the catacombs. The church
resembles a drudge who, tired of routine, is gradually
sinking into laziness and inertia. And the press ye
gods! the press!"
Here speech seemed to fail him. He threw himself
into a chair, and, to relieve his mind kicked, away the
advertisement sheet of the morning's newspaper with so
much angry vehemence that Alwyn laughed outright.
"What ails you now, Villiers?" he demanded mirth-
fully. "You are a regular fire-eater a would-be cru-
sader against a modern Sciracen host ! Why are you
choked with such seemingly unutterable wrath? What-
of the press? It is at any rate free."
"Freel 1 cried Villiers. sitting bolt upright and shoot-
REALISM 463
5ng out the word like a bullet from a gun. "Free? the
press? It is the veriest bound slave that was ever ham-
pered by the chains of party prejudice,, and the only
attempt at freedom it ever makes in its lower grades is
an occasional outbreak into scurrility. And yet think
what a majestic power for good the true, real liberty of
the press might wield over the destinies of nations!
Broadly viewed, the press should be the strong, prac-
tical, helping right hand of civilization, dealing out equal
justice, equal sympathy, equal instruction; it should be
the fosterer of the arts and sciences, the every-day guide
of the morals and culture of the people; it should not
specially advocate any cause save honor; it should be
as far as possible the unanimous voice of the nation.
It should be, but what is it? Look round and judge for
yourself. Every daily paper panders more or less to the
lowest tastes of the mob, while if the higher sentiments
of man are not actually sneered at, they are made a sub-
ject for feeble su
