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diff --git a/1640-8.txt b/1640-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 09a97f8..0000000 --- a/1640-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11137 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lilith, by George MacDonald - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Lilith - -Author: George MacDonald - -Posting Date: October 15, 2008 [EBook #1640] -Release Date: February, 1999 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LILITH *** - - - - -Produced by John Bechard - - - - - -LILITH - -By George MacDonald - - - - -I took a walk on Spaulding's Farm the other afternoon. I saw the setting -sun lighting up the opposite side of a stately pine wood. Its golden -rays straggled into the aisles of the wood as into some noble hall. I -was impressed as if some ancient and altogether admirable and shining -family had settled there in that part of the land called Concord, -unknown to me,--to whom the sun was servant,--who had not gone into -society in the village,--who had not been called on. I saw their -park, their pleasure-ground, beyond through the wood, in Spaulding's -cranberry-meadow. The pines furnished them with gables as they grew. -Their house was not obvious to vision; their trees grew through it. I -do not know whether I heard the sounds of a suppressed hilarity or not. -They seemed to recline on the sunbeams. They have sons and daughters. -They are quite well. The farmer's cart-path, which leads directly -through their hall, does not in the least put them out,--as the muddy -bottom of a pool is sometimes seen through the reflected skies. -They never heard of Spaulding, and do not know that he is their -neighbor,--notwithstanding I heard him whistle as he drove his team -through the house. Nothing can equal the serenity of their lives. Their -coat of arms is simply a lichen. I saw it painted on the pines and oaks. -Their attics were in the tops of the trees. They are of no politics. -There was no noise of labor. I did not perceive that they were weaving -or spinning. Yet I did detect, when the wind lulled and hearing was done -away, the finest imaginable sweet musical hum,--as of a distant hive in -May, which perchance was the sound of their thinking. They had no idle -thoughts, and no one without could see their work, for their industry -was not as in knots and excrescences embayed. - -But I find it difficult to remember them. They fade irrevocably out -of my mind even now while I speak and endeavor to recall them, and -recollect myself. It is only after a long and serious effort to -recollect my best thoughts that I become again aware of their -cohabitancy. If it were not for such families as this, I think I should -move out of Concord. - -Thoreau: "WALKING." - - - - -CHAPTER I. THE LIBRARY - -I had just finished my studies at Oxford, and was taking a brief holiday -from work before assuming definitely the management of the estate. My -father died when I was yet a child; my mother followed him within a -year; and I was nearly as much alone in the world as a man might find -himself. - -I had made little acquaintance with the history of my ancestors. Almost -the only thing I knew concerning them was, that a notable number of them -had been given to study. I had myself so far inherited the tendency as -to devote a good deal of my time, though, I confess, after a somewhat -desultory fashion, to the physical sciences. It was chiefly the wonder -they woke that drew me. I was constantly seeing, and on the outlook to -see, strange analogies, not only between the facts of different sciences -of the same order, or between physical and metaphysical facts, but -between physical hypotheses and suggestions glimmering out of the -metaphysical dreams into which I was in the habit of falling. I was at -the same time much given to a premature indulgence of the impulse to -turn hypothesis into theory. Of my mental peculiarities there is no -occasion to say more. - -The house as well as the family was of some antiquity, but no -description of it is necessary to the understanding of my narrative. -It contained a fine library, whose growth began before the invention -of printing, and had continued to my own time, greatly influenced, of -course, by changes of taste and pursuit. Nothing surely can more impress -upon a man the transitory nature of possession than his succeeding to -an ancient property! Like a moving panorama mine has passed from before -many eyes, and is now slowly flitting from before my own. - -The library, although duly considered in many alterations of the house -and additions to it, had nevertheless, like an encroaching state, -absorbed one room after another until it occupied the greater part of -the ground floor. Its chief room was large, and the walls of it were -covered with books almost to the ceiling; the rooms into which it -overflowed were of various sizes and shapes, and communicated in modes -as various--by doors, by open arches, by short passages, by steps up and -steps down. - -In the great room I mainly spent my time, reading books of science, -old as well as new; for the history of the human mind in relation to -supposed knowledge was what most of all interested me. Ptolemy, Dante, -the two Bacons, and Boyle were even more to me than Darwin or Maxwell, -as so much nearer the vanished van breaking into the dark of ignorance. - -In the evening of a gloomy day of August I was sitting in my usual -place, my back to one of the windows, reading. It had rained the greater -part of the morning and afternoon, but just as the sun was setting, the -clouds parted in front of him, and he shone into the room. I rose and -looked out of the window. In the centre of the great lawn the feathering -top of the fountain column was filled with his red glory. I turned to -resume my seat, when my eye was caught by the same glory on the one -picture in the room--a portrait, in a sort of niche or little shrine -sunk for it in the expanse of book-filled shelves. I knew it as the -likeness of one of my ancestors, but had never even wondered why it hung -there alone, and not in the gallery, or one of the great rooms, among -the other family portraits. The direct sunlight brought out the painting -wonderfully; for the first time I seemed to see it, and for the first -time it seemed to respond to my look. With my eyes full of the light -reflected from it, something, I cannot tell what, made me turn and cast -a glance to the farther end of the room, when I saw, or seemed to see, -a tall figure reaching up a hand to a bookshelf. The next instant, my -vision apparently rectified by the comparative dusk, I saw no one, -and concluded that my optic nerves had been momentarily affected from -within. - -I resumed my reading, and would doubtless have forgotten the vague, -evanescent impression, had it not been that, having occasion a moment -after to consult a certain volume, I found but a gap in the row where it -ought to have stood, and the same instant remembered that just there I -had seen, or fancied I saw, the old man in search of a book. I looked -all about the spot but in vain. The next morning, however, there it -was, just where I had thought to find it! I knew of no one in the house -likely to be interested in such a book. - -Three days after, another and yet odder thing took place. - -In one of the walls was the low, narrow door of a closet, containing -some of the oldest and rarest of the books. It was a very thick door, -with a projecting frame, and it had been the fancy of some ancestor to -cross it with shallow shelves, filled with book-backs only. The harmless -trick may be excused by the fact that the titles on the sham backs -were either humorously original, or those of books lost beyond hope of -recovery. I had a great liking for the masked door. - -To complete the illusion of it, some inventive workman apparently had -shoved in, on the top of one of the rows, a part of a volume thin enough -to lie between it and the bottom of the next shelf: he had cut away -diagonally a considerable portion, and fixed the remnant with one of -its open corners projecting beyond the book-backs. The binding of the -mutilated volume was limp vellum, and one could open the corner far -enough to see that it was manuscript upon parchment. - -Happening, as I sat reading, to raise my eyes from the page, my glance -fell upon this door, and at once I saw that the book described, if -book it may be called, was gone. Angrier than any worth I knew in it -justified, I rang the bell, and the butler appeared. When I asked him if -he knew what had befallen it, he turned pale, and assured me he did not. -I could less easily doubt his word than my own eyes, for he had been all -his life in the family, and a more faithful servant never lived. He left -on me the impression, nevertheless, that he could have said something -more. - -In the afternoon I was again reading in the library, and coming to a -point which demanded reflection, I lowered the book and let my eyes go -wandering. The same moment I saw the back of a slender old man, in a -long, dark coat, shiny as from much wear, in the act of disappearing -through the masked door into the closet beyond. I darted across the -room, found the door shut, pulled it open, looked into the closet, -which had no other issue, and, seeing nobody, concluded, not without -uneasiness, that I had had a recurrence of my former illusion, and sat -down again to my reading. - -Naturally, however, I could not help feeling a little nervous, and -presently glancing up to assure myself that I was indeed alone, -started again to my feet, and ran to the masked door--for there was -the mutilated volume in its place! I laid hold of it and pulled: it was -firmly fixed as usual! - -I was now utterly bewildered. I rang the bell; the butler came; I told -him all I had seen, and he told me all he knew. - -He had hoped, he said, that the old gentleman was going to be forgotten; -it was well no one but myself had seen him. He had heard a good deal -about him when first he served in the house, but by degrees he had -ceased to be mentioned, and he had been very careful not to allude to -him. - -"The place was haunted by an old gentleman, was it?" I said. - -He answered that at one time everybody believed it, but the fact that I -had never heard of it seemed to imply that the thing had come to an end -and was forgotten. - -I questioned him as to what he had seen of the old gentleman. - -He had never seen him, he said, although he had been in the house from -the day my father was eight years old. My grandfather would never hear -a word on the matter, declaring that whoever alluded to it should be -dismissed without a moment's warning: it was nothing but a pretext of -the maids, he said, for running into the arms of the men! but old Sir -Ralph believed in nothing he could not see or lay hold of. Not one of -the maids ever said she had seen the apparition, but a footman had left -the place because of it. - -An ancient woman in the village had told him a legend concerning a Mr. -Raven, long time librarian to "that Sir Upward whose portrait hangs -there among the books." Sir Upward was a great reader, she said--not -of such books only as were wholesome for men to read, but of strange, -forbidden, and evil books; and in so doing, Mr. Raven, who was probably -the devil himself, encouraged him. Suddenly they both disappeared, and -Sir Upward was never after seen or heard of, but Mr. Raven continued to -show himself at uncertain intervals in the library. There were some who -believed he was not dead; but both he and the old woman held it easier -to believe that a dead man might revisit the world he had left, than -that one who went on living for hundreds of years should be a man at -all. - -He had never heard that Mr. Raven meddled with anything in the house, -but he might perhaps consider himself privileged in regard to the books. -How the old woman had learned so much about him he could not tell; but -the description she gave of him corresponded exactly with the figure I -had just seen. - -"I hope it was but a friendly call on the part of the old gentleman!" he -concluded, with a troubled smile. - -I told him I had no objection to any number of visits from Mr. Raven, -but it would be well he should keep to his resolution of saying nothing -about him to the servants. Then I asked him if he had ever seen the -mutilated volume out of its place; he answered that he never had, and -had always thought it a fixture. With that he went to it, and gave it a -pull: it seemed immovable. - - - - -CHAPTER II. THE MIRROR - -Nothing more happened for some days. I think it was about a week after, -when what I have now to tell took place. - -I had often thought of the manuscript fragment, and repeatedly tried -to discover some way of releasing it, but in vain: I could not find out -what held it fast. - -But I had for some time intended a thorough overhauling of the books in -the closet, its atmosphere causing me uneasiness as to their condition. -One day the intention suddenly became a resolve, and I was in the act of -rising from my chair to make a beginning, when I saw the old librarian -moving from the door of the closet toward the farther end of the room. -I ought rather to say only that I caught sight of something shadowy from -which I received the impression of a slight, stooping man, in a shabby -dress-coat reaching almost to his heels, the tails of which, disparting -a little as he walked, revealed thin legs in black stockings, and large -feet in wide, slipper-like shoes. - -At once I followed him: I might be following a shadow, but I never -doubted I was following something. He went out of the library into the -hall, and across to the foot of the great staircase, then up the stairs -to the first floor, where lay the chief rooms. Past these rooms, I -following close, he continued his way, through a wide corridor, to the -foot of a narrower stair leading to the second floor. Up that he went -also, and when I reached the top, strange as it may seem, I found myself -in a region almost unknown to me. I never had brother or sister to -incite to such romps as make children familiar with nook and cranny; I -was a mere child when my guardian took me away; and I had never seen the -house again until, about a month before, I returned to take possession. - -Through passage after passage we came to a door at the bottom of a -winding wooden stair, which we ascended. Every step creaked under my -foot, but I heard no sound from that of my guide. Somewhere in the -middle of the stair I lost sight of him, and from the top of it the -shadowy shape was nowhere visible. I could not even imagine I saw him. -The place was full of shadows, but he was not one of them. - -I was in the main garret, with huge beams and rafters over my head, -great spaces around me, a door here and there in sight, and long vistas -whose gloom was thinned by a few lurking cobwebbed windows and small -dusky skylights. I gazed with a strange mingling of awe and pleasure: -the wide expanse of garret was my own, and unexplored! - -In the middle of it stood an unpainted inclosure of rough planks, the -door of which was ajar. Thinking Mr. Raven might be there, I pushed the -door, and entered. - -The small chamber was full of light, but such as dwells in places -deserted: it had a dull, disconsolate look, as if it found itself of no -use, and regretted having come. A few rather dim sunrays, marking their -track through the cloud of motes that had just been stirred up, -fell upon a tall mirror with a dusty face, old-fashioned and rather -narrow--in appearance an ordinary glass. It had an ebony frame, on the -top of which stood a black eagle, with outstretched wings, in his beak a -golden chain, from whose end hung a black ball. - -I had been looking at rather than into the mirror, when suddenly I -became aware that it reflected neither the chamber nor my own person. I -have an impression of having seen the wall melt away, but what followed -is enough to account for any uncertainty:--could I have mistaken for a -mirror the glass that protected a wonderful picture? - -I saw before me a wild country, broken and heathy. Desolate hills of -no great height, but somehow of strange appearance, occupied the middle -distance; along the horizon stretched the tops of a far-off mountain -range; nearest me lay a tract of moorland, flat and melancholy. - -Being short-sighted, I stepped closer to examine the texture of a stone -in the immediate foreground, and in the act espied, hopping toward me -with solemnity, a large and ancient raven, whose purply black was here -and there softened with gray. He seemed looking for worms as he came. -Nowise astonished at the appearance of a live creature in a picture, -I took another step forward to see him better, stumbled over -something--doubtless the frame of the mirror--and stood nose to beak -with the bird: I was in the open air, on a houseless heath! - - - - -CHAPTER III. THE RAVEN - -I turned and looked behind me: all was vague and uncertain, as when -one cannot distinguish between fog and field, between cloud and -mountain-side. One fact only was plain--that I saw nothing I knew. -Imagining myself involved in a visual illusion, and that touch would -correct sight, I stretched my arms and felt about me, walking in this -direction and that, if haply, where I could see nothing, I might yet -come in contact with something; but my search was vain. Instinctively -then, as to the only living thing near me, I turned to the raven, -which stood a little way off, regarding me with an expression at once -respectful and quizzical. Then the absurdity of seeking counsel from -such a one struck me, and I turned again, overwhelmed with bewilderment, -not unmingled with fear. Had I wandered into a region where both the -material and psychical relations of our world had ceased to hold? Might -a man at any moment step beyond the realm of order, and become the sport -of the lawless? Yet I saw the raven, felt the ground under my feet, and -heard a sound as of wind in the lowly plants around me! - -"How DID I get here?" I said--apparently aloud, for the question was -immediately answered. - -"You came through the door," replied an odd, rather harsh voice. - -I looked behind, then all about me, but saw no human shape. The terror -that madness might be at hand laid hold upon me: must I henceforth place -no confidence either in my senses or my consciousness? The same instant -I knew it was the raven that had spoken, for he stood looking up at me -with an air of waiting. The sun was not shining, yet the bird seemed to -cast a shadow, and the shadow seemed part of himself. - -I beg my reader to aid me in the endeavour to make myself -intelligible--if here understanding be indeed possible between us. I was -in a world, or call it a state of things, an economy of conditions, an -idea of existence, so little correspondent with the ways and modes of -this world--which we are apt to think the only world, that the best -choice I can make of word or phrase is but an adumbration of what -I would convey. I begin indeed to fear that I have undertaken an -impossibility, undertaken to tell what I cannot tell because no speech -at my command will fit the forms in my mind. Already I have set down -statements I would gladly change did I know how to substitute a truer -utterance; but as often as I try to fit the reality with nearer words, I -find myself in danger of losing the things themselves, and feel like one -in process of awaking from a dream, with the thing that seemed familiar -gradually yet swiftly changing through a succession of forms until its -very nature is no longer recognisable. - -I bethought me that a bird capable of addressing a man must have the -right of a man to a civil answer; perhaps, as a bird, even a greater -claim. - -A tendency to croak caused a certain roughness in his speech, but his -voice was not disagreeable, and what he said, although conveying little -enlightenment, did not sound rude. - -"I did not come through any door," I rejoined. - -"I saw you come through it!--saw you with my own ancient eyes!" asserted -the raven, positively but not disrespectfully. - -"I never saw any door!" I persisted. - -"Of course not!" he returned; "all the doors you had yet seen--and you -haven't seen many--were doors in; here you came upon a door out! The -strange thing to you," he went on thoughtfully, "will be, that the more -doors you go out of, the farther you get in!" - -"Oblige me by telling me where I am." - -"That is impossible. You know nothing about whereness. The only way to -come to know where you are is to begin to make yourself at home." - -"How am I to begin that where everything is so strange?" - -"By doing something." - -"What?" - -"Anything; and the sooner you begin the better! for until you are at -home, you will find it as difficult to get out as it is to get in." - -"I have, unfortunately, found it too easy to get in; once out I shall -not try again!" - -"You have stumbled in, and may, possibly, stumble out again. Whether you -have got in UNFORTUNATELY remains to be seen." - -"Do you never go out, sir?" - -"When I please I do, but not often, or for long. Your world is such -a half-baked sort of place, it is at once so childish and so -self-satisfied--in fact, it is not sufficiently developed for an old -raven--at your service!" - -"Am I wrong, then, in presuming that a man is superior to a bird?" - -"That is as it may be. We do not waste our intellects in generalising, -but take man or bird as we find him.--I think it is now my turn to ask -you a question!" - -"You have the best of rights," I replied, "in the fact that you CAN do -so!" - -"Well answered!" he rejoined. "Tell me, then, who you are--if you happen -to know." - -"How should I help knowing? I am myself, and must know!" - -"If you know you are yourself, you know that you are not somebody else; -but do you know that you are yourself? Are you sure you are not your own -father?--or, excuse me, your own fool?--Who are you, pray?" - -I became at once aware that I could give him no notion of who I was. -Indeed, who was I? It would be no answer to say I was who! Then I -understood that I did not know myself, did not know what I was, had no -grounds on which to determine that I was one and not another. As for the -name I went by in my own world, I had forgotten it, and did not care to -recall it, for it meant nothing, and what it might be was plainly of -no consequence here. I had indeed almost forgotten that there it was a -custom for everybody to have a name! So I held my peace, and it was my -wisdom; for what should I say to a creature such as this raven, who saw -through accident into entity? - -"Look at me," he said, "and tell me who I am." - -As he spoke, he turned his back, and instantly I knew him. He was no -longer a raven, but a man above the middle height with a stoop, very -thin, and wearing a long black tail-coat. Again he turned, and I saw him -a raven. - -"I have seen you before, sir," I said, feeling foolish rather than -surprised. - -"How can you say so from seeing me behind?" he rejoined. "Did you ever -see yourself behind? You have never seen yourself at all!--Tell me now, -then, who I am." - -"I humbly beg your pardon," I answered: "I believe you were once the -librarian of our house, but more WHO I do not know." - -"Why do you beg my pardon?" - -"Because I took you for a raven," I said--seeing him before me as -plainly a raven as bird or man could look. - -"You did me no wrong," he returned. "Calling me a raven, or thinking me -one, you allowed me existence, which is the sum of what one can -demand of his fellow-beings. Therefore, in return, I will give you a -lesson:--No one can say he is himself, until first he knows that he IS, -and then what HIMSELF is. In fact, nobody is himself, and himself is -nobody. There is more in it than you can see now, but not more than you -need to see. You have, I fear, got into this region too soon, but none -the less you must get to be at home in it; for home, as you may or -may not know, is the only place where you can go out and in. There are -places you can go into, and places you can go out of; but the one place, -if you do but find it, where you may go out and in both, is home." - -He turned to walk away, and again I saw the librarian. He did not appear -to have changed, only to have taken up his shadow. I know this seems -nonsense, but I cannot help it. - -I gazed after him until I saw him no more; but whether distance hid him, -or he disappeared among the heather, I cannot tell. - -Could it be that I was dead, I thought, and did not know it? Was I in -what we used to call the world beyond the grave? and must I wander about -seeking my place in it? How was I to find myself at home? The raven -said I must do something: what could I do here?--And would that make me -somebody? for now, alas, I was nobody! - -I took the way Mr. Raven had gone, and went slowly after him. Presently -I saw a wood of tall slender pine-trees, and turned toward it. The odour -of it met me on my way, and I made haste to bury myself in it. - -Plunged at length in its twilight glooms, I spied before me something -with a shine, standing between two of the stems. It had no colour, -but was like the translucent trembling of the hot air that rises, in a -radiant summer noon, from the sun-baked ground, vibrant like the smitten -chords of a musical instrument. What it was grew no plainer as I went -nearer, and when I came close up, I ceased to see it, only the form -and colour of the trees beyond seemed strangely uncertain. I would have -passed between the stems, but received a slight shock, stumbled, -and fell. When I rose, I saw before me the wooden wall of the garret -chamber. I turned, and there was the mirror, on whose top the black -eagle seemed but that moment to have perched. - -Terror seized me, and I fled. Outside the chamber the wide garret -spaces had an UNCANNY look. They seemed to have long been waiting for -something; it had come, and they were waiting again! A shudder went -through me on the winding stair: the house had grown strange to me! -something was about to leap upon me from behind! I darted down the -spiral, struck against the wall and fell, rose and ran. On the next -floor I lost my way, and had gone through several passages a second time -ere I found the head of the stair. At the top of the great stair I had -come to myself a little, and in a few moments I sat recovering my breath -in the library. - -Nothing should ever again make me go up that last terrible stair! -The garret at the top of it pervaded the whole house! It sat upon it, -threatening to crush me out of it! The brooding brain of the building, -it was full of mysterious dwellers, one or other of whom might any -moment appear in the library where I sat! I was nowhere safe! I would -let, I would sell the dreadful place, in which an aërial portal stood -ever open to creatures whose life was other than human! I would purchase -a crag in Switzerland, and thereon build a wooden nest of one story with -never a garret above it, guarded by some grand old peak that would send -down nothing worse than a few tons of whelming rock! - -I knew all the time that my thinking was foolish, and was even aware of -a certain undertone of contemptuous humour in it; but suddenly it was -checked, and I seemed again to hear the croak of the raven. - -"If I know nothing of my own garret," I thought, "what is there -to secure me against my own brain? Can I tell what it is even now -generating?--what thought it may present me the next moment, the next -month, or a year away? What is at the heart of my brain? What is behind -my THINK? Am I there at all?--Who, what am I?" - -I could no more answer the question now than when the raven put it to -me in--at--"Where in?--where at?" I said, and gave myself up as knowing -anything of myself or the universe. - -I started to my feet, hurried across the room to the masked door, where -the mutilated volume, sticking out from the flat of soulless, bodiless, -non-existent books, appeared to beckon me, went down on my knees, and -opened it as far as its position would permit, but could see nothing. I -got up again, lighted a taper, and peeping as into a pair of reluctant -jaws, perceived that the manuscript was verse. Further I could not carry -discovery. Beginnings of lines were visible on the left-hand page, -and ends of lines on the other; but I could not, of course, get at the -beginning and end of a single line, and was unable, in what I could -read, to make any guess at the sense. The mere words, however, woke in -me feelings which to describe was, from their strangeness, impossible. -Some dreams, some poems, some musical phrases, some pictures, wake -feelings such as one never had before, new in colour and form--spiritual -sensations, as it were, hitherto unproved: here, some of the phrases, -some of the senseless half-lines, some even of the individual words -affected me in similar fashion--as with the aroma of an idea, rousing -in me a great longing to know what the poem or poems might, even yet in -their mutilation, hold or suggest. - -I copied out a few of the larger shreds attainable, and tried hard to -complete some of the lines, but without the least success. The only -thing I gained in the effort was so much weariness that, when I went to -bed, I fell asleep at once and slept soundly. - -In the morning all that horror of the empty garret spaces had left me. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. SOMEWHERE OR NOWHERE? - -The sun was very bright, but I doubted if the day would long be fine, -and looked into the milky sapphire I wore, to see whether the star in it -was clear. It was even less defined than I had expected. I rose from the -breakfast-table, and went to the window to glance at the stone again. -There had been heavy rain in the night, and on the lawn was a thrush -breaking his way into the shell of a snail. - -As I was turning my ring about to catch the response of the star to the -sun, I spied a keen black eye gazing at me out of the milky misty blue. -The sight startled me so that I dropped the ring, and when I picked it -up the eye was gone from it. The same moment the sun was obscured; -a dark vapour covered him, and in a minute or two the whole sky was -clouded. The air had grown sultry, and a gust of wind came suddenly. -A moment more and there was a flash of lightning, with a single sharp -thunder-clap. Then the rain fell in torrents. - -I had opened the window, and stood there looking out at the precipitous -rain, when I descried a raven walking toward me over the grass, with -solemn gait, and utter disregard of the falling deluge. Suspecting who -he was, I congratulated myself that I was safe on the ground-floor. At -the same time I had a conviction that, if I were not careful, something -would happen. - -He came nearer and nearer, made a profound bow, and with a sudden winged -leap stood on the window-sill. Then he stepped over the ledge, jumped -down into the room, and walked to the door. I thought he was on his way -to the library, and followed him, determined, if he went up the stair, -not to take one step after him. He turned, however, neither toward the -library nor the stair, but to a little door that gave upon a grass-patch -in a nook between two portions of the rambling old house. I made haste -to open it for him. He stepped out into its creeper-covered porch, and -stood looking at the rain, which fell like a huge thin cataract; I stood -in the door behind him. The second flash came, and was followed by a -lengthened roll of more distant thunder. He turned his head over his -shoulder and looked at me, as much as to say, "You hear that?" then -swivelled it round again, and anew contemplated the weather, apparently -with approbation. So human were his pose and carriage and the way he -kept turning his head, that I remarked almost involuntarily, - -"Fine weather for the worms, Mr. Raven!" - -"Yes," he answered, in the rather croaky voice I had learned to know, -"the ground will be nice for them to get out and in!--It must be a -grand time on the steppes of Uranus!" he added, with a glance upward; "I -believe it is raining there too; it was, all the last week!" - -"Why should that make it a grand time?" I asked. - -"Because the animals there are all burrowers," he answered, "--like the -field-mice and the moles here.--They will be, for ages to come." - -"How do you know that, if I may be so bold?" I rejoined. - -"As any one would who had been there to see," he replied. "It is a great -sight, until you get used to it, when the earth gives a heave, and -out comes a beast. You might think it a hairy elephant or a -deinotherium--but none of the animals are the same as we have ever -had here. I was almost frightened myself the first time I saw the -dry-bog-serpent come wallowing out--such a head and mane! and SUCH -eyes!--but the shower is nearly over. It will stop directly after the -next thunder-clap. There it is!" - -A flash came with the words, and in about half a minute the thunder. -Then the rain ceased. - -"Now we should be going!" said the raven, and stepped to the front of -the porch. - -"Going where?" I asked. - -"Going where we have to go," he answered. "You did not surely think you -had got home? I told you there was no going out and in at pleasure until -you were at home!" - -"I do not want to go," I said. - -"That does not make any difference--at least not much," he answered. -"This is the way!" - -"I am quite content where I am." - -"You think so, but you are not. Come along." - -He hopped from the porch onto the grass, and turned, waiting. - -"I will not leave the house to-day," I said with obstinacy. - -"You will come into the garden!" rejoined the raven. - -"I give in so far," I replied, and stepped from the porch. - -The sun broke through the clouds, and the raindrops flashed and sparkled -on the grass. The raven was walking over it. - -"You will wet your feet!" I cried. - -"And mire my beak," he answered, immediately plunging it deep in the -sod, and drawing out a great wriggling red worm. He threw back his head, -and tossed it in the air. It spread great wings, gorgeous in red and -black, and soared aloft. - -"Tut! tut!" I exclaimed; "you mistake, Mr. Raven: worms are not the -larvæ of butterflies!" - -"Never mind," he croaked; "it will do for once! I'm not a reading man -at present, but sexton at the--at a certain graveyard--cemetery, more -properly--in--at--no matter where!" - -"I see! you can't keep your spade still: and when you have nothing to -bury, you must dig something up! Only you should mind what it is before -you make it fly! No creature should be allowed to forget what and where -it came from!" - -"Why?" said the raven. - -"Because it will grow proud, and cease to recognise its superiors." - -No man knows it when he is making an idiot of himself. - -"Where DO the worms come from?" said the raven, as if suddenly grown -curious to know. - -"Why, from the earth, as you have just seen!" I answered. - -"Yes, last!" he replied. "But they can't have come from it first--for -that will never go back to it!" he added, looking up. - -I looked up also, but could see nothing save a little dark cloud, the -edges of which were red, as if with the light of the sunset. - -"Surely the sun is not going down!" I exclaimed, struck with amazement. - -"Oh, no!" returned the raven. "That red belongs to the worm." - -"You see what comes of making creatures forget their origin!" I cried -with some warmth. - -"It is well, surely, if it be to rise higher and grow larger!" he -returned. "But indeed I only teach them to find it!" - -"Would you have the air full of worms?" - -"That is the business of a sexton. If only the rest of the clergy -understood it as well!" - -In went his beak again through the soft turf, and out came the wriggling -worm. He tossed it in the air, and away it flew. - -I looked behind me, and gave a cry of dismay: I had but that moment -declared I would not leave the house, and already I was a stranger in -the strange land! - -"What right have you to treat me so, Mr. Raven?" I said with deep -offence. "Am I, or am I not, a free agent?" - -"A man is as free as he chooses to make himself, never an atom freer," -answered the raven. - -"You have no right to make me do things against my will!" - -"When you have a will, you will find that no one can." - -"You wrong me in the very essence of my individuality!" I persisted. - -"If you were an individual I could not, therefore now I do not. You are -but beginning to become an individual." - -All about me was a pine-forest, in which my eyes were already searching -deep, in the hope of discovering an unaccountable glimmer, and so -finding my way home. But, alas! how could I any longer call that house -HOME, where every door, every window opened into OUT, and even the -garden I could not keep inside! - -I suppose I looked discomfited. - -"Perhaps it may comfort you," said the raven, "to be told that you have -not yet left your house, neither has your house left you. At the same -time it cannot contain you, or you inhabit it!" - -"I do not understand you," I replied. "Where am I?" - -"In the region of the seven dimensions," he answered, with a curious -noise in his throat, and a flutter of his tail. "You had better follow -me carefully now for a moment, lest you should hurt some one!" - -"There is nobody to hurt but yourself, Mr. Raven! I confess I should -rather like to hurt you!" - -"That you see nobody is where the danger lies. But you see that large -tree to your left, about thirty yards away?" - -"Of course I do: why should I not?" I answered testily. - -"Ten minutes ago you did not see it, and now you do not know where it -stands!" - -"I do." - -"Where do you think it stands?" - -"Why THERE, where you know it is!" - -"Where is THERE?" - -"You bother me with your silly questions!" I cried. "I am growing tired -of you!" - -"That tree stands on the hearth of your kitchen, and grows nearly -straight up its chimney," he said. - -"Now I KNOW you are making game of me!" I answered, with a laugh of -scorn. - -"Was I making game of you when you discovered me looking out of your -star-sapphire yesterday?" - -"That was this morning--not an hour ago!" - -"I have been widening your horizon longer than that, Mr. Vane; but never -mind!" - -"You mean you have been making a fool of me!" I said, turning from him. - -"Excuse me: no one can do that but yourself!" - -"And I decline to do it." - -"You mistake." - -"How?" - -"In declining to acknowledge yourself one already. You make yourself -such by refusing what is true, and for that you will sorely punish -yourself." - -"How, again?" - -"By believing what is not true." - -"Then, if I walk to the other side of that tree, I shall walk through -the kitchen fire?" - -"Certainly. You would first, however, walk through the lady at the piano -in the breakfast-room. That rosebush is close by her. You would give her -a terrible start!" - -"There is no lady in the house!" - -"Indeed! Is not your housekeeper a lady? She is counted such in a -certain country where all are servants, and the liveries one and -multitudinous!" - -"She cannot use the piano, anyhow!" - -"Her niece can: she is there--a well-educated girl and a capital -musician." - -"Excuse me; I cannot help it: you seem to me to be talking sheer -nonsense!" - -"If you could but hear the music! Those great long heads of wild -hyacinth are inside the piano, among the strings of it, and give that -peculiar sweetness to her playing!--Pardon me: I forgot your deafness!" - -"Two objects," I said, "cannot exist in the same place at the same -time!" - -"Can they not? I did not know!--I remember now they do teach that with -you. It is a great mistake--one of the greatest ever wiseacre made! No -man of the universe, only a man of the world could have said so!" - -"You a librarian, and talk such rubbish!" I cried. "Plainly, you did not -read many of the books in your charge!" - -"Oh, yes! I went through all in your library--at the time, and came out -at the other side not much the wiser. I was a bookworm then, but when I -came to know it, I woke among the butterflies. To be sure I have given -up reading for a good many years--ever since I was made sexton.--There! -I smell Grieg's Wedding March in the quiver of those rose-petals!" - -I went to the rose-bush and listened hard, but could not hear the -thinnest ghost of a sound; I only smelt something I had never before -smelt in any rose. It was still rose-odour, but with a difference, -caused, I suppose, by the Wedding March. - -When I looked up, there was the bird by my side. - -"Mr. Raven," I said, "forgive me for being so rude: I was irritated. -Will you kindly show me my way home? I must go, for I have an -appointment with my bailiff. One must not break faith with his -servants!" - -"You cannot break what was broken days ago!" he answered. - -"Do show me the way," I pleaded. - -"I cannot," he returned. "To go back, you must go through yourself, and -that way no man can show another." - -Entreaty was vain. I must accept my fate! But how was life to be lived -in a world of which I had all the laws to learn? There would, however, -be adventure! that held consolation; and whether I found my way home or -not, I should at least have the rare advantage of knowing two worlds! - -I had never yet done anything to justify my existence; my former world -was nothing the better for my sojourn in it: here, however, I must earn, -or in some way find, my bread! But I reasoned that, as I was not to -blame in being here, I might expect to be taken care of here as well as -there! I had had nothing to do with getting into the world I had just -left, and in it I had found myself heir to a large property! If that -world, as I now saw, had a claim upon me because I had eaten, and could -eat again, upon this world I had a claim because I must eat--when it -would in return have a claim on me! - -"There is no hurry," said the raven, who stood regarding me; "we do not -go much by the clock here. Still, the sooner one begins to do what has -to be done, the better! I will take you to my wife." - -"Thank you. Let us go!" I answered, and immediately he led the way. - - - - -CHAPTER V. THE OLD CHURCH - -I followed him deep into the pine-forest. Neither of us said much while -yet the sacred gloom of it closed us round. We came to larger and yet -larger trees--older, and more individual, some of them grotesque with -age. Then the forest grew thinner. - -"You see that hawthorn?" said my guide at length, pointing with his -beak. - -I looked where the wood melted away on the edge of an open heath. - -"I see a gnarled old man, with a great white head," I answered. - -"Look again," he rejoined: "it is a hawthorn." - -"It seems indeed an ancient hawthorn; but this is not the season for the -hawthorn to blossom!" I objected. - -"The season for the hawthorn to blossom," he replied, "is when the -hawthorn blossoms. That tree is in the ruins of the church on your -home-farm. You were going to give some directions to the bailiff about -its churchyard, were you not, the morning of the thunder?" - -"I was going to tell him I wanted it turned into a wilderness of -rose-trees, and that the plough must never come within three yards of -it." - -"Listen!" said the raven, seeming to hold his breath. - -I listened, and heard--was it the sighing of a far-off musical wind--or -the ghost of a music that had once been glad? Or did I indeed hear -anything? - -"They go there still," said the raven. - -"Who goes there? and where do they go?" I asked. - -"Some of the people who used to pray there, go to the ruins still," he -replied. "But they will not go much longer, I think." - -"What makes them go now?" - -"They need help from each other to get their thinking done, and their -feelings hatched, so they talk and sing together; and then, they say, -the big thought floats out of their hearts like a great ship out of the -river at high water." - -"Do they pray as well as sing?" - -"No; they have found that each can best pray in his own silent -heart.--Some people are always at their prayers.--Look! look! There goes -one!" - -He pointed right up into the air. A snow-white pigeon was mounting, with -quick and yet quicker wing-flap, the unseen spiral of an ethereal stair. -The sunshine flashed quivering from its wings. - -"I see a pigeon!" I said. - -"Of course you see a pigeon," rejoined the raven, "for there is the -pigeon! I see a prayer on its way.--I wonder now what heart is that -dove's mother! Some one may have come awake in my cemetery!" - -"How can a pigeon be a prayer?" I said. "I understand, of course, how -it should be a fit symbol or likeness for one; but a live pigeon to come -out of a heart!" - -"It MUST puzzle you! It cannot fail to do so!" - -"A prayer is a thought, a thing spiritual!" I pursued. - -"Very true! But if you understood any world besides your own, you would -understand your own much better.--When a heart is really alive, then it -is able to think live things. There is one heart all whose thoughts -are strong, happy creatures, and whose very dreams are lives. When some -pray, they lift heavy thoughts from the ground, only to drop them on it -again; others send up their prayers in living shapes, this or that, the -nearest likeness to each. All live things were thoughts to begin with, -and are fit therefore to be used by those that think. When one says to -the great Thinker:--'Here is one of thy thoughts: I am thinking it now!' -that is a prayer--a word to the big heart from one of its own little -hearts.--Look, there is another!" - -This time the raven pointed his beak downward--to something at the foot -of a block of granite. I looked, and saw a little flower. I had never -seen one like it before, and cannot utter the feeling it woke in me by -its gracious, trusting form, its colour, and its odour as of a new world -that was yet the old. I can only say that it suggested an anemone, was -of a pale rose-hue, and had a golden heart. - -"That is a prayer-flower," said the raven. - -"I never saw such a flower before!" I rejoined. - -"There is no other such. Not one prayer-flower is ever quite like -another," he returned. - -"How do you know it a prayer-flower?" I asked. - -"By the expression of it," he answered. "More than that I cannot tell -you. If you know it, you know it; if you do not, you do not." - -"Could you not teach me to know a prayer-flower when I see it?" I said. - -"I could not. But if I could, what better would you be? you would not -know it of YOURSELF and ITself! Why know the name of a thing when the -thing itself you do not know? Whose work is it but your own to open your -eyes? But indeed the business of the universe is to make such a fool of -you that you will know yourself for one, and so begin to be wise!" - -But I did see that the flower was different from any flower I had ever -seen before; therefore I knew that I must be seeing a shadow of the -prayer in it; and a great awe came over me to think of the heart -listening to the flower. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. THE SEXTON'S COTTAGE - -We had been for some time walking over a rocky moorland covered with -dry plants and mosses, when I descried a little cottage in the farthest -distance. The sun was not yet down, but he was wrapt in a gray cloud. -The heath looked as if it had never been warm, and the wind blew -strangely cold, as if from some region where it was always night. - -"Here we are at last!" said the raven. "What a long way it is! In half -the time I could have gone to Paradise and seen my cousin--him, you -remember, who never came back to Noah! Dear! dear! it is almost winter!" - -"Winter!" I cried; "it seems but half a day since we left home!" - -"That is because we have travelled so fast," answered the raven. "In -your world you cannot pull up the plumb-line you call gravitation, and -let the world spin round under your feet! But here is my wife's house! -She is very good to let me live with her, and call it the sexton's -cottage!" - -"But where is your churchyard--your cemetery--where you make your -graves, I mean?" said I, seeing nothing but the flat heath. - -The raven stretched his neck, held out his beak horizontally, turned it -slowly round to all the points of the compass, and said nothing. - -I followed the beak with my eyes, and lo, without church or graves, all -was a churchyard! Wherever the dreary wind swept, there was the raven's -cemetery! He was sexton of all he surveyed! lord of all that was laid -aside! I stood in the burial-ground of the universe; its compass the -unenclosed heath, its wall the gray horizon, low and starless! I had -left spring and summer, autumn and sunshine behind me, and come to the -winter that waited for me! I had set out in the prime of my youth, and -here I was already!--But I mistook. The day might well be long in that -region, for it contained the seasons. Winter slept there, the night -through, in his winding-sheet of ice; with childlike smile, Spring came -awake in the dawn; at noon, Summer blazed abroad in her gorgeous beauty; -with the slow-changing afternoon, old Autumn crept in, and died at the -first breath of the vaporous, ghosty night. - -As we drew near the cottage, the clouded sun was rushing down the -steepest slope of the west, and he sank while we were yet a few yards -from the door. The same instant I was assailed by a cold that seemed -almost a material presence, and I struggled across the threshold as if -from the clutches of an icy death. A wind swelled up on the moor, and -rushed at the door as with difficulty I closed it behind me. Then all -was still, and I looked about me. - -A candle burned on a deal table in the middle of the room, and the first -thing I saw was the lid of a coffin, as I thought, set up against the -wall; but it opened, for it was a door, and a woman entered. She was all -in white--as white as new-fallen snow; and her face was as white as her -dress, but not like snow, for at once it suggested warmth. I thought her -features were perfect, but her eyes made me forget them. The life of -her face and her whole person was gathered and concentrated in her eyes, -where it became light. It might have been coming death that made her -face luminous, but the eyes had life in them for a nation--large, and -dark with a darkness ever deepening as I gazed. A whole night-heaven -lay condensed in each pupil; all the stars were in its blackness, and -flashed; while round it for a horizon lay coiled an iris of the eternal -twilight. What any eye IS, God only knows: her eyes must have been -coming direct out of his own! the still face might be a primeval -perfection; the live eyes were a continuous creation. - -"Here is Mr. Vane, wife!" said the raven. - -"He is welcome," she answered, in a low, rich, gentle voice. Treasures -of immortal sound seemed to be buried in it. - -I gazed, and could not speak. - -"I knew you would be glad to see him!" added the raven. - -She stood in front of the door by which she had entered, and did not -come nearer. - -"Will he sleep?" she asked. - -"I fear not," he replied; "he is neither weary nor heavy laden." - -"Why then have you brought him?" - -"I have my fears it may prove precipitate." - -"I do not quite understand you," I said, with an uneasy foreboding as to -what she meant, but a vague hope of some escape. "Surely a man must do a -day's work first!" - -I gazed into the white face of the woman, and my heart fluttered. She -returned my gaze in silence. - -"Let me first go home," I resumed, "and come again after I have found or -made, invented, or at least discovered something!" - -"He has not yet learned that the day begins with sleep!" said the -woman, turning to her husband. "Tell him he must rest before he can do -anything!" - -"Men," he answered, "think so much of having done, that they fall asleep -upon it. They cannot empty an egg but they turn into the shell, and lie -down!" - -The words drew my eyes from the woman to the raven. - -I saw no raven, but the librarian--the same slender elderly man, in a -rusty black coat, large in the body and long in the tails. I had seen -only his back before; now for the first time I saw his face. It was -so thin that it showed the shape of the bones under it, suggesting the -skulls his last-claimed profession must have made him familiar with. But -in truth I had never before seen a face so alive, or a look so keen or -so friendly as that in his pale blue eyes, which yet had a haze about -them as if they had done much weeping. - -"You knew I was not a raven!" he said with a smile. - -"I knew you were Mr. Raven," I replied; "but somehow I thought you a -bird too!" - -"What made you think me a bird?" - -"You looked a raven, and I saw you dig worms out of the earth with your -beak." - -"And then?" - -"Toss them in the air." "And then?" - -"They grew butterflies, and flew away." - -"Did you ever see a raven do that? I told you I was a sexton!" - -"Does a sexton toss worms in the air, and turn them into butterflies?" - -"Yes." - -"I never saw one do it!" - -"You saw me do it!--But I am still librarian in your house, for I never -was dismissed, and never gave up the office. Now I am librarian here as -well." - -"But you have just told me you were sexton here!" - -"So I am. It is much the same profession. Except you are a true sexton, -books are but dead bodies to you, and a library nothing but a catacomb!" - -"You bewilder me!" - -"That's all right!" - -A few moments he stood silent. The woman, moveless as a statue, stood -silent also by the coffin-door. - -"Upon occasion," said the sexton at length, "it is more convenient to -put one's bird-self in front. Every one, as you ought to know, has a -beast-self--and a bird-self, and a stupid fish-self, ay, and a creeping -serpent-self too--which it takes a deal of crushing to kill! In truth -he has also a tree-self and a crystal-self, and I don't know how many -selves more--all to get into harmony. You can tell what sort a man is by -his creature that comes oftenest to the front." - -He turned to his wife, and I considered him more closely. He was above -the ordinary height, and stood more erect than when last I saw him. His -face was, like his wife's, very pale; its nose handsomely encased the -beak that had retired within it; its lips were very thin, and even they -had no colour, but their curves were beautiful, and about them quivered -a shadowy smile that had humour in it as well as love and pity. - -"We are in want of something to eat and drink, wife," he said; "we have -come a long way!" - -"You know, husband," she answered, "we can give only to him that asks." - -She turned her unchanging face and radiant eyes upon mine. - -"Please give me something to eat, Mrs. Raven," I said, "and -something--what you will--to quench my thirst." - -"Your thirst must be greater before you can have what will quench it," -she replied; "but what I can give you, I will gladly." - -She went to a cupboard in the wall, brought from it bread and wine, and -set them on the table. - -We sat down to the perfect meal; and as I ate, the bread and wine -seemed to go deeper than the hunger and thirst. Anxiety and discomfort -vanished; expectation took their place. - -I grew very sleepy, and now first felt weary. - -"I have earned neither food nor sleep, Mrs. Raven," I said, "but you -have given me the one freely, and now I hope you will give me the other, -for I sorely need it." - -"Sleep is too fine a thing ever to be earned," said the sexton; "it must -be given and accepted, for it is a necessity. But it would be perilous -to use this house as a half-way hostelry--for the repose of a night, -that is, merely." - -A wild-looking little black cat jumped on his knee as he spoke. He -patted it as one pats a child to make it go to sleep: he seemed to me -patting down the sod upon a grave--patting it lovingly, with an inward -lullaby. - -"Here is one of Mara's kittens!" he said to his wife: "will you give it -something and put it out? she may want it!" - -The woman took it from him gently, gave it a little piece of bread, and -went out with it, closing the door behind her. - -"How then am I to make use of your hospitality?" I asked. - -"By accepting it to the full," he answered. - -"I do not understand." - -"In this house no one wakes of himself." - -"Why?" - -"Because no one anywhere ever wakes of himself. You can wake yourself no -more than you can make yourself." - -"Then perhaps you or Mrs. Raven would kindly call me!" I said, still -nowise understanding, but feeling afresh that vague foreboding. - -"We cannot." - -"How dare I then go to sleep?" I cried. - -"If you would have the rest of this house, you must not trouble yourself -about waking. You must go to sleep heartily, altogether and outright." -My soul sank within me. - -The sexton sat looking me in the face. His eyes seemed to say, "Will you -not trust me?" I returned his gaze, and answered, - -"I will." - -"Then come," he said; "I will show you your couch." - -As we rose, the woman came in. She took up the candle, turned to the -inner door, and led the way. I went close behind her, and the sexton -followed. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. THE CEMETERY - -The air as of an ice-house met me crossing the threshold. The door -fell-to behind us. The sexton said something to his wife that made her -turn toward us.--What a change had passed upon her! It was as if the -splendour of her eyes had grown too much for them to hold, and, sinking -into her countenance, made it flash with a loveliness like that of -Beatrice in the white rose of the redeemed. Life itself, life eternal, -immortal, streamed from it, an unbroken lightning. Even her hands -shone with a white radiance, every "pearl-shell helmet" gleaming like -a moonstone. Her beauty was overpowering; I was glad when she turned it -from me. - -But the light of the candle reached such a little way, that at first I -could see nothing of the place. Presently, however, it fell on something -that glimmered, a little raised from the floor. Was it a bed? Could -live thing sleep in such a mortal cold? Then surely it was no wonder -it should not wake of itself! Beyond that appeared a fainter shine; and -then I thought I descried uncertain gleams on every side. - -A few paces brought us to the first; it was a human form under a sheet, -straight and still--whether of man or woman I could not tell, for the -light seemed to avoid the face as we passed. - -I soon perceived that we were walking along an aisle of couches, on -almost every one of which, with its head to the passage, lay something -asleep or dead, covered with a sheet white as snow. My soul grew -silent with dread. Through aisle after aisle we went, among couches -innumerable. I could see only a few of them at once, but they were on -all sides, vanishing, as it seemed, in the infinite.--Was it here lay my -choice of a bed? Must I go to sleep among the unwaking, with no one to -rouse me? Was this the sexton's library? were these his books? Truly it -was no half-way house, this chamber of the dead! - -"One of the cellars I am placed to watch!" remarked Mr. Raven--in a low -voice, as if fearing to disturb his silent guests. "Much wine is set -here to ripen!--But it is dark for a stranger!" he added. - -"The moon is rising; she will soon be here," said his wife, and her -clear voice, low and sweet, sounded of ancient sorrow long bidden adieu. - -Even as she spoke the moon looked in at an opening in the wall, and a -thousand gleams of white responded to her shine. But not yet could I -descry beginning or end of the couches. They stretched away and away, as -if for all the disparted world to sleep upon. For along the far receding -narrow ways, every couch stood by itself, and on each slept a lonely -sleeper. I thought at first their sleep was death, but I soon saw it was -something deeper still--a something I did not know. - -The moon rose higher, and shone through other openings, but I could -never see enough of the place at once to know its shape or character; -now it would resemble a long cathedral nave, now a huge barn made into -a dwelling of tombs. She looked colder than any moon in the frostiest -night of the world, and where she shone direct upon them, cast a bluish, -icy gleam on the white sheets and the pallid countenances--but it might -be the faces that made the moon so cold! - -Of such as I could see, all were alike in the brotherhood of death, all -unlike in the character and history recorded upon them. Here lay a man -who had died--for although this was not death, I have no other name to -give it--in the prime of manly strength; his dark beard seemed to flow -like a liberated stream from the glacier of his frozen countenance; his -forehead was smooth as polished marble; a shadow of pain lingered about -his lips, but only a shadow. On the next couch lay the form of a girl, -passing lovely to behold. The sadness left on her face by parting was -not yet absorbed in perfect peace, but absolute submission possessed the -placid features, which bore no sign of wasting disease, of "killing care -or grief of heart": if pain had been there, it was long charmed asleep, -never again to wake. Many were the beautiful that there lay very -still--some of them mere children; but I did not see one infant. The -most beautiful of all was a lady whose white hair, and that alone, -suggested her old when first she fell asleep. On her stately countenance -rested--not submission, but a right noble acquiescence, an assurance, -firm as the foundations of the universe, that all was as it should -be. On some faces lingered the almost obliterated scars of strife, the -marrings of hopeless loss, the fading shadows of sorrows that had seemed -inconsolable: the aurora of the great morning had not yet quite melted -them away; but those faces were few, and every one that bore such brand -of pain seemed to plead, "Pardon me: I died only yesterday!" or, "Pardon -me: I died but a century ago!" That some had been dead for ages I knew, -not merely by their unutterable repose, but by something for which I -have neither word nor symbol. - -We came at last to three empty couches, immediately beyond which lay the -form of a beautiful woman, a little past the prime of life. One of her -arms was outside the sheet, and her hand lay with the palm upward, in -its centre a dark spot. Next to her was the stalwart figure of a man of -middle age. His arm too was outside the sheet, the strong hand almost -closed, as if clenched on the grip of a sword. I thought he must be a -king who had died fighting for the truth. - -"Will you hold the candle nearer, wife?" whispered the sexton, bending -down to examine the woman's hand. - -"It heals well," he murmured to himself: "the nail found in her nothing -to hurt!" - -At last I ventured to speak. - -"Are they not dead?" I asked softly. - -"I cannot answer you," he replied in a subdued voice. "I almost forget -what they mean by DEAD in the old world. If I said a person was dead, my -wife would understand one thing, and you would imagine another.--This is -but one of my treasure vaults," he went on, "and all my guests are not -laid in vaults: out there on the moor they lie thick as the leaves of a -forest after the first blast of your winter--thick, let me say rather, -as if the great white rose of heaven had shed its petals over it. All -night the moon reads their faces, and smiles." - -"But why leave them in the corrupting moonlight?" I asked. - -"Our moon," he answered, "is not like yours--the old cinder of a -burnt-out world; her beams embalm the dead, not corrupt them. You -observe that here the sexton lays his dead on the earth; he buries very -few under it! In your world he lays huge stones on them, as if to keep -them down; I watch for the hour to ring the resurrection-bell, and wake -those that are still asleep. Your sexton looks at the clock to know when -to ring the dead-alive to church; I hearken for the cock on the spire to -crow; 'AWAKE, THOU THAT SLEEPEST, AND ARISE FROM THE DEAD!'" - -I began to conclude that the self-styled sexton was in truth an insane -parson: the whole thing was too mad! But how was I to get away from it? -I was helpless! In this world of the dead, the raven and his wife were -the only living I had yet seen: whither should I turn for help? I was -lost in a space larger than imagination; for if here two things, or -any parts of them, could occupy the same space, why not twenty or ten -thousand?--But I dared not think further in that direction. - -"You seem in your dead to see differences beyond my perception!" I -ventured to remark. - -"None of those you see," he answered, "are in truth quite dead yet, and -some have but just begun to come alive and die. Others had begun to die, -that is to come alive, long before they came to us; and when such are -indeed dead, that instant they will wake and leave us. Almost every -night some rise and go. But I will not say more, for I find my words -only mislead you!--This is the couch that has been waiting for you," he -ended, pointing to one of the three. - -"Why just this?" I said, beginning to tremble, and anxious by parley to -delay. - -"For reasons which one day you will be glad to know," he answered. - -"Why not know them now?" - -"That also you will know when you wake." - -"But these are all dead, and I am alive!" I objected, shuddering. - -"Not much," rejoined the sexton with a smile, "--not nearly enough! -Blessed be the true life that the pauses between its throbs are not -death!" - -"The place is too cold to let one sleep!" I said. - -"Do these find it so?" he returned. "They sleep well--or will soon. Of -cold they feel not a breath: it heals their wounds.--Do not be a coward, -Mr. Vane. Turn your back on fear, and your face to whatever may come. -Give yourself up to the night, and you will rest indeed. Harm will not -come to you, but a good you cannot foreknow." - -The sexton and I stood by the side of the couch, his wife, with the -candle in her hand, at the foot of it. Her eyes were full of light, but -her face was again of a still whiteness; it was no longer radiant. - -"Would they have me make of a charnel-house my bed-chamber?" I cried -aloud. "I will not. I will lie abroad on the heath; it cannot be colder -there!" - -"I have just told you that the dead are there also, - - 'Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks - In Vallombrosa,'" - -said the librarian. - -"I will NOT," I cried again; and in the compassing dark, the two gleamed -out like spectres that waited on the dead; neither answered me; each -stood still and sad, and looked at the other. - -"Be of good comfort; we watch the flock of the great shepherd," said the -sexton to his wife. - -Then he turned to me. - -"Didst thou not find the air of the place pure and sweet when thou -enteredst it?" he asked. - -"Yes; but oh, so cold!" I answered. - -"Then know," he returned, and his voice was stern, "that thou who -callest thyself alive, hast brought into this chamber the odours of -death, and its air will not be wholesome for the sleepers until thou art -gone from it!" - -They went farther into the great chamber, and I was left alone in the -moonlight with the dead. - -I turned to escape. - -What a long way I found it back through the dead! At first I was too -angry to be afraid, but as I grew calm, the still shapes grew terrible. -At last, with loud offence to the gracious silence, I ran, I fled -wildly, and, bursting out, flung-to the door behind me. It closed with -an awful silence. - -I stood in pitch-darkness. Feeling about me, I found a door, opened it, -and was aware of the dim light of a lamp. I stood in my library, with -the handle of the masked door in my hand. - -Had I come to myself out of a vision?--or lost myself by going back to -one? Which was the real--what I now saw, or what I had just ceased to -see? Could both be real, interpenetrating yet unmingling? - -I threw myself on a couch, and fell asleep. - -In the library was one small window to the east, through which, at this -time of the year, the first rays of the sun shone upon a mirror whence -they were reflected on the masked door: when I woke, there they shone, -and thither they drew my eyes. With the feeling that behind it must lie -the boundless chamber I had left by that door, I sprang to my feet, -and opened it. The light, like an eager hound, shot before me into the -closet, and pounced upon the gilded edges of a large book. - -"What idiot," I cried, "has put that book in the shelf the wrong way?" - -But the gilded edges, reflecting the light a second time, flung it on -a nest of drawers in a dark corner, and I saw that one of them was half -open. - -"More meddling!" I cried, and went to close the drawer. - -It contained old papers, and seemed more than full, for it would -not close. Taking the topmost one out, I perceived that it was in my -father's writing and of some length. The words on which first my eyes -fell, at once made me eager to learn what it contained. I carried it -to the library, sat down in one of the western windows, and read what -follows. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. MY FATHER'S MANUSCRIPT - -I am filled with awe of what I have to write. The sun is shining golden -above me; the sea lies blue beneath his gaze; the same world sends its -growing things up to the sun, and its flying things into the air which -I have breathed from my infancy; but I know the outspread splendour a -passing show, and that at any moment it may, like the drop-scene of a -stage, be lifted to reveal more wonderful things. - -Shortly after my father's death, I was seated one morning in the -library. I had been, somewhat listlessly, regarding the portrait that -hangs among the books, which I knew only as that of a distant ancestor, -and wishing I could learn something of its original. Then I had taken a -book from the shelves and begun to read. - -Glancing up from it, I saw coming toward me--not between me and the -door, but between me and the portrait--a thin pale man in rusty black. -He looked sharp and eager, and had a notable nose, at once reminding me -of a certain jug my sisters used to call Mr. Crow. - -"Finding myself in your vicinity, Mr. Vane, I have given myself the -pleasure of calling," he said, in a peculiar but not disagreeable -voice. "Your honoured grandfather treated me--I may say it without -presumption--as a friend, having known me from childhood as his father's -librarian." - -It did not strike me at the time how old the man must be. - -"May I ask where you live now, Mr. Crow?" I said. - -He smiled an amused smile. - -"You nearly hit my name," he rejoined, "which shows the family insight. -You have seen me before, but only once, and could not then have heard -it!" - -"Where was that?" - -"In this very room. You were quite a child, however!" - -I could not be sure that I remembered him, but for a moment I fancied I -did, and I begged him to set me right as to his name. - -"There is such a thing as remembering without recognising the memory in -it," he remarked. "For my name--which you have near enough--it used to -be Raven." - -I had heard the name, for marvellous tales had brought it me. - -"It is very kind of you to come and see me," I said. "Will you not sit -down?" - -He seated himself at once. - -"You knew my father, then, I presume?" - -"I knew him," he answered with a curious smile, "but he did not care -about my acquaintance, and we never met.--That gentleman, however," he -added, pointing to the portrait,--"old Sir Up'ard, his people called -him,--was in his day a friend of mine yet more intimate than ever your -grandfather became." - -Then at length I began to think the interview a strange one. But in -truth it was hardly stranger that my visitor should remember Sir Upward, -than that he should have been my great-grandfather's librarian! - -"I owe him much," he continued; "for, although I had read many more -books than he, yet, through the special direction of his studies, he was -able to inform me of a certain relation of modes which I should never -have discovered of myself, and could hardly have learned from any one -else." - -"Would you mind telling me all about that?" I said. - -"By no means--as much at least as I am able: there are not such things -as wilful secrets," he answered--and went on. - -"That closet held his library--a hundred manuscripts or so, for printing -was not then invented. One morning I sat there, working at a catalogue -of them, when he looked in at the door, and said, 'Come.' I laid down my -pen and followed him--across the great hall, down a steep rough descent, -and along an underground passage to a tower he had lately built, -consisting of a stair and a room at the top of it. The door of this room -had a tremendous lock, which he undid with the smallest key I ever saw. -I had scarcely crossed the threshold after him, when, to my eyes, he -began to dwindle, and grew less and less. All at once my vision seemed -to come right, and I saw that he was moving swiftly away from me. In a -minute more he was the merest speck in the distance, with the tops -of blue mountains beyond him, clear against a sky of paler blue. I -recognised the country, for I had gone there and come again many a time, -although I had never known this way to it. - -"Many years after, when the tower had long disappeared, I taught one of -his descendants what Sir Upward had taught me; and now and then to this -day I use your house when I want to go the nearest way home. I must -indeed--without your leave, for which I ask your pardon--have by this -time well established a right of way through it--not from front to back, -but from bottom to top!" - -"You would have me then understand, Mr. Raven," I said, "that you go -through my house into another world, heedless of disparting space?" - -"That I go through it is an incontrovertible acknowledgement of space," -returned the old librarian. - -"Please do not quibble, Mr. Raven," I rejoined. "Please to take my -question as you know I mean it." - -"There is in your house a door, one step through which carries me into a -world very much another than this." - -"A better?" - -"Not throughout; but so much another that most of its physical, and many -of its mental laws are different from those of this world. As for moral -laws, they must everywhere be fundamentally the same." - -"You try my power of belief!" I said. - -"You take me for a madman, probably?" - -"You do not look like one." - -"A liar then?" - -"You give me no ground to think you such." - -"Only you do not believe me?" - -"I will go out of that door with you if you like: I believe in you -enough to risk the attempt." - -"The blunder all my children make!" he murmured. "The only door out is -the door in!" - -I began to think he must be crazy. He sat silent for a moment, his head -resting on his hand, his elbow on the table, and his eyes on the books -before him. - -"A book," he said louder, "is a door in, and therefore a door out.--I -see old Sir Up'ard," he went on, closing his eyes, "and my heart swells -with love to him:--what world is he in?" - -"The world of your heart!" I replied; "--that is, the idea of him is -there." - -"There is one world then at least on which your hall-door does not -open?" - -"I grant you so much; but the things in that world are not things to -have and to hold." - -"Think a little farther," he rejoined: "did anything ever become yours, -except by getting into that world?--The thought is beyond you, however, -at present!--I tell you there are more worlds, and more doors to them, -than you will think of in many years!" - -He rose, left the library, crossed the hall, and went straight up to -the garret, familiar evidently with every turn. I followed, studying his -back. His hair hung down long and dark, straight and glossy. His coat -was wide and reached to his heels. His shoes seemed too large for him. - -In the garret a light came through at the edges of the great roofing -slabs, and showed us parts where was no flooring, and we must step from -joist to joist: in the middle of one of these spaces rose a partition, -with a door: through it I followed Mr. Raven into a small, obscure -chamber, whose top contracted as it rose, and went slanting through the -roof. - -"That is the door I spoke of," he said, pointing to an oblong mirror -that stood on the floor and leaned against the wall. I went in front -of it, and saw our figures dimly reflected in its dusty face. There -was something about it that made me uneasy. It looked old-fashioned and -neglected, but, notwithstanding its ordinary seeming, the eagle, perched -with outstretched wings on the top, appeared threatful. - -"As a mirror," said the librarian, "it has grown dingy with age; but -that is no matter: its clearness depends on the light." - -"Light!" I rejoined; "there is no light here!" - -He did not answer me, but began to pull at a little chain on the -opposite wall. I heard a creaking: the top of the chamber was turning -slowly round. He ceased pulling, looked at his watch, and began to pull -again. - -"We arrive almost to the moment!" he said; "it is on the very stroke of -noon!" - -The top went creaking and revolving for a minute or so. Then he pulled -two other chains, now this, now that, and returned to the first. A -moment more and the chamber grew much clearer: a patch of sunlight had -fallen upon a mirror on the wall opposite that against which the other -leaned, and on the dust I saw the path of the reflected rays to the -mirror on the ground. But from the latter none were returned; they -seemed to go clean through; there was nowhere in the chamber a second -patch of light! - -"Where are the sunrays gone?" I cried. - -"That I cannot tell," returned Mr. Raven; "--back, perhaps, to where -they came from first. They now belong, I fancy, to a sense not yet -developed in us." - -He then talked of the relations of mind to matter, and of senses to -qualities, in a way I could only a little understand, whence he went -on to yet stranger things which I could not at all comprehend. He spoke -much about dimensions, telling me that there were many more than three, -some of them concerned with powers which were indeed in us, but of which -as yet we knew absolutely nothing. His words, however, I confess, took -little more hold of me than the light did of the mirror, for I thought -he hardly knew what he was saying. - -Suddenly I was aware that our forms had gone from the mirror, which -seemed full of a white mist. As I gazed I saw, growing gradually visible -beyond the mist, the tops of a range of mountains, which became clearer -and clearer. Soon the mist vanished entirely, uncovering the face of a -wide heath, on which, at some distance, was the figure of a man moving -swiftly away. I turned to address my companion; he was no longer by my -side. I looked again at the form in the mirror, and recognised the wide -coat flying, the black hair lifting in a wind that did not touch me. I -rushed in terror from the place. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. I REPENT - -I laid the manuscript down, consoled to find that my father had had a -peep into that mysterious world, and that he knew Mr. Raven. - -Then I remembered that I had never heard the cause or any circumstance -of my father's death, and began to believe that he must at last have -followed Mr. Raven, and not come back; whereupon I speedily grew ashamed -of my flight. What wondrous facts might I not by this time have gathered -concerning life and death, and wide regions beyond ordinary perception! -Assuredly the Ravens were good people, and a night in their house would -nowise have hurt me! They were doubtless strange, but it was faculty -in which the one was peculiar, and beauty in which the other was -marvellous! And I had not believed in them! had treated them as unworthy -of my confidence, as harbouring a design against me! The more I thought -of my behaviour to them, the more disgusted I became with myself. Why -should I have feared such dead? To share their holy rest was an honour -of which I had proved myself unworthy! What harm could that sleeping -king, that lady with the wound in her palm, have done me? I fell a -longing after the sweet and stately stillness of their two countenances, -and wept. Weeping I threw myself on a couch, and suddenly fell asleep. - -As suddenly I woke, feeling as if some one had called me. The house was -still as an empty church. A blackbird was singing on the lawn. I said to -myself, "I will go and tell them I am ashamed, and will do whatever -they would have me do!" I rose, and went straight up the stairs to the -garret. - -The wooden chamber was just as when first I saw it, the mirror dimly -reflecting everything before it. It was nearly noon, and the sun would -be a little higher than when first I came: I must raise the hood a -little, and adjust the mirrors accordingly! If I had but been in time to -see Mr. Raven do it! - -I pulled the chains, and let the light fall on the first mirror. -I turned then to the other: there were the shapes of the former -vision--distinguishable indeed, but tremulous like a landscape in a -pool ruffled by "a small pipling wind!" I touched the glass; it was -impermeable. - -Suspecting polarisation as the thing required, I shifted and shifted the -mirrors, changing their relation, until at last, in a great degree, so -far as I was concerned, by chance, things came right between them, and -I saw the mountains blue and steady and clear. I stepped forward, and my -feet were among the heather. - -All I knew of the way to the cottage was that we had gone through a -pine-forest. I passed through many thickets and several small fir-woods, -continually fancying afresh that I recognised something of the country; -but I had come upon no forest, and now the sun was near the horizon, -and the air had begun to grow chill with the coming winter, when, to my -delight, I saw a little black object coming toward me: it was indeed the -raven! - -I hastened to meet him. - -"I beg your pardon, sir, for my rudeness last night," I said. "Will you -take me with you now? I heartily confess I do not deserve it." - -"Ah!" he returned, and looked up. Then, after a brief pause, "My wife -does not expect you to-night," he said. "She regrets that we at all -encouraged your staying last week." - -"Take me to her that I may tell her how sorry I am," I begged humbly. - -"It is of no use," he answered. "Your night was not come then, or you -would not have left us. It is not come now, and I cannot show you the -way. The dead were rejoicing under their daisies--they all lie among the -roots of the flowers of heaven--at the thought of your delight when the -winter should be past, and the morning with its birds come: ere you -left them, they shivered in their beds. When the spring of the universe -arrives,--but that cannot be for ages yet! how many, I do not know--and -do not care to know." - -"Tell me one thing, I beg of you, Mr. Raven: is my father with you? Have -you seen him since he left the world?" - -"Yes; he is with us, fast asleep. That was he you saw with his arm on -the coverlet, his hand half closed." - -"Why did you not tell me? That I should have been so near him, and not -know!" - -"And turn your back on him!" corrected the raven. - -"I would have lain down at once had I known!" - -"I doubt it. Had you been ready to lie down, you would have known -him!--Old Sir Up'ard," he went on, "and your twice great-grandfather, -both are up and away long ago. Your great-grandfather has been with us -for many a year; I think he will soon begin to stir. You saw him last -night, though of course you did not know him." - -"Why OF COURSE?" - -"Because he is so much nearer waking than you. No one who will not sleep -can ever wake." - -"I do not at all understand you!" - -"You turned away, and would not understand!" I held my peace.--But if I -did not say something, he would go! - -"And my grandfather--is he also with you?" I asked. - -"No; he is still in the Evil Wood, fighting the dead." - -"Where is the Evil Wood, that I may find him?" - -"You will not find him; but you will hardly miss the wood. It is the -place where those who will not sleep, wake up at night, to kill their -dead and bury them." - -"I cannot understand you!" - -"Naturally not. Neither do I understand you; I can read neither your -heart nor your face. When my wife and I do not understand our children, -it is because there is not enough of them to be understood. God alone -can understand foolishness." - -"Then," I said, feeling naked and very worthless, "will you be so good -as show me the nearest way home? There are more ways than one, I know, -for I have gone by two already." - -"There are indeed many ways." - -"Tell me, please, how to recognise the nearest." - -"I cannot," answered the raven; "you and I use the same words with -different meanings. We are often unable to tell people what they NEED to -know, because they WANT to know something else, and would therefore only -misunderstand what we said. Home is ever so far away in the palm of your -hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get -there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not -at home, has to go home. You thought you were at home where I found you: -if that had been your home, you could not have left it. Nobody can leave -home. And nobody ever was or ever will be at home without having gone -there." - -"Enigma treading on enigma!" I exclaimed. "I did not come here to be -asked riddles." - -"No; but you came, and found the riddles waiting for you! Indeed you -are yourself the only riddle. What you call riddles are truths, and seem -riddles because you are not true." - -"Worse and worse!" I cried. - -"And you MUST answer the riddles!" he continued. "They will go on asking -themselves until you understand yourself. The universe is a riddle -trying to get out, and you are holding your door hard against it." - -"Will you not in pity tell me what I am to do--where I must go?" - -"How should I tell YOUR to-do, or the way to it?" - -"If I am not to go home, at least direct me to some of my kind." - -"I do not know of any. The beings most like you are in that direction." - -He pointed with his beak. I could see nothing but the setting sun, which -blinded me. - -"Well," I said bitterly, "I cannot help feeling hardly treated--taken -from my home, abandoned in a strange world, and refused instruction as -to where I am to go or what I am to do!" - -"You forget," said the raven, "that, when I brought you and you declined -my hospitality, you reached what you call home in safety: now you are -come of yourself! Good night." - -He turned and walked slowly away, with his beak toward the ground. I -stood dazed. It was true I had come of myself, but had I not come with -intent of atonement? My heart was sore, and in my brain was neither -quest nor purpose, hope nor desire. I gazed after the raven, and would -have followed him, but felt it useless. - -All at once he pounced on a spot, throwing the whole weight of his body -on his bill, and for some moments dug vigorously. Then with a flutter of -his wings he threw back his head, and something shot from his bill, cast -high in the air. That moment the sun set, and the air at once grew very -dusk, but the something opened into a soft radiance, and came pulsing -toward me like a fire-fly, but with a much larger and a yellower light. -It flew over my head. I turned and followed it. - -Here I interrupt my narrative to remark that it involves a constant -struggle to say what cannot be said with even an approach to precision, -the things recorded being, in their nature and in that of the creatures -concerned in them, so inexpressibly different from any possible events -of this economy, that I can present them only by giving, in the forms -and language of life in this world, the modes in which they affected -me--not the things themselves, but the feelings they woke in me. Even -this much, however, I do with a continuous and abiding sense of -failure, finding it impossible to present more than one phase of a -multitudinously complicated significance, or one concentric sphere of a -graduated embodiment. A single thing would sometimes seem to be and mean -many things, with an uncertain identity at the heart of them, which kept -constantly altering their look. I am indeed often driven to set down -what I know to be but a clumsy and doubtful representation of the mere -feeling aimed at, none of the communicating media of this world being -fit to convey it, in its peculiar strangeness, with even an approach -to clearness or certainty. Even to one who knew the region better than -myself, I should have no assurance of transmitting the reality of -my experience in it. While without a doubt, for instance, that I was -actually regarding a scene of activity, I might be, at the same moment, -in my consciousness aware that I was perusing a metaphysical argument. - - - - -CHAPTER X. THE BAD BURROW - -As the air grew black and the winter closed swiftly around me, the -fluttering fire blazed out more luminous, and arresting its flight, -hovered waiting. So soon as I came under its radiance, it flew slowly -on, lingering now and then above spots where the ground was rocky. Every -time I looked up, it seemed to have grown larger, and at length gave me -an attendant shadow. Plainly a bird-butterfly, it flew with a certain -swallowy double. Its wings were very large, nearly square, and flashed -all the colours of the rainbow. Wondering at their splendour, I became -so absorbed in their beauty that I stumbled over a low rock, and lay -stunned. When I came to myself, the creature was hovering over my head, -radiating the whole chord of light, with multitudinous gradations and -some kinds of colour I had never before seen. I rose and went on, but, -unable to take my eyes off the shining thing to look to my steps, I -struck my foot against a stone. Fearing then another fall, I sat down to -watch the little glory, and a great longing awoke in me to have it in my -hand. To my unspeakable delight, it began to sink toward me. Slowly at -first, then swiftly it sank, growing larger as it came nearer. I felt -as if the treasure of the universe were giving itself to me--put out my -hand, and had it. But the instant I took it, its light went out; all was -dark as pitch; a dead book with boards outspread lay cold and heavy in -my hand. I threw it in the air--only to hear it fall among the heather. -Burying my face in my hands, I sat in motionless misery. - -But the cold grew so bitter that, fearing to be frozen, I got up. The -moment I was on my feet, a faint sense of light awoke in me. "Is it -coming to life?" I cried, and a great pang of hope shot through me. -Alas, no! it was the edge of a moon peering up keen and sharp over a -level horizon! She brought me light--but no guidance! SHE would not -hover over me, would not wait on my faltering steps! She could but offer -me an ignorant choice! - -With a full face she rose, and I began to see a little about me. -Westward of her, and not far from me, a range of low hills broke the -horizon-line: I set out for it. - -But what a night I had to pass ere I reached it! The moon seemed to know -something, for she stared at me oddly. Her look was indeed icy-cold, but -full of interest, or at least curiosity. She was not the same moon I -had known on the earth; her face was strange to me, and her light yet -stranger. Perhaps it came from an unknown sun! Every time I looked up, -I found her staring at me with all her might! At first I was annoyed, -as at the rudeness of a fellow creature; but soon I saw or fancied a -certain wondering pity in her gaze: why was I out in her night? Then -first I knew what an awful thing it was to be awake in the universe: I -WAS, and could not help it! - -As I walked, my feet lost the heather, and trod a bare spongy soil, -something like dry, powdery peat. To my dismay it gave a momentary heave -under me; then presently I saw what seemed the ripple of an earthquake -running on before me, shadowy in the low moon. It passed into the -distance; but, while yet I stared after it, a single wave rose up, and -came slowly toward me. A yard or two away it burst, and from it, with a -scramble and a bound, issued an animal like a tiger. About his mouth and -ears hung clots of mould, and his eyes winked and flamed as he rushed -at me, showing his white teeth in a soundless snarl. I stood fascinated, -unconscious of either courage or fear. He turned his head to the ground, -and plunged into it. - -"That moon is affecting my brain," I said as I resumed my journey. "What -life can be here but the phantasmic--the stuff of which dreams are made? -I am indeed walking in a vain show!" - -Thus I strove to keep my heart above the waters of fear, nor knew that -she whom I distrusted was indeed my defence from the realities I took -for phantoms: her light controlled the monsters, else had I scarce taken -a second step on the hideous ground. "I will not be appalled by that -which only seems!" I said to myself, yet felt it a terrible thing to -walk on a sea where such fishes disported themselves below. With that, a -step or two from me, the head of a worm began to come slowly out of the -earth, as big as that of a polar bear and much resembling it, with a -white mane to its red neck. The drawing wriggles with which its huge -length extricated itself were horrible, yet I dared not turn my eyes -from them. The moment its tail was free, it lay as if exhausted, -wallowing in feeble effort to burrow again. - -"Does it live on the dead," I wondered, "and is it unable to hurt the -living? If they scent their prey and come out, why do they leave me -unharmed?" - -I know now it was that the moon paralysed them. - -All the night through as I walked, hideous creatures, no two alike, -threatened me. In some of them, beauty of colour enhanced loathliness -of shape: one large serpent was covered from head to distant tail with -feathers of glorious hues. - -I became at length so accustomed to their hurtless menaces that I -fell to beguiling the way with the invention of monstrosities, never -suspecting that I owed each moment of life to the staring moon. Though -hers was no primal radiance, it so hampered the evil things, that I -walked in safety. For light is yet light, if but the last of a countless -series of reflections! How swiftly would not my feet have carried me -over the restless soil, had I known that, if still within their range -when her lamp ceased to shine on the cursed spot, I should that moment -be at the mercy of such as had no mercy, the centre of a writhing heap -of hideousness, every individual of it as terrible as before it had but -seemed! Fool of ignorance, I watched the descent of the weary, solemn, -anxious moon down the widening vault above me, with no worse uneasiness -than the dread of losing my way--where as yet I had indeed no way to -lose. - -I was drawing near the hills I had made my goal, and she was now not far -from their sky-line, when the soundless wallowing ceased, and the burrow -lay motionless and bare. Then I saw, slowly walking over the light soil, -the form of a woman. A white mist floated about her, now assuming, now -losing to reassume the shape of a garment, as it gathered to her or was -blown from her by a wind that dogged her steps. - -She was beautiful, but with such a pride at once and misery on her -countenance that I could hardly believe what yet I saw. Up and down she -walked, vainly endeavouring to lay hold of the mist and wrap it around -her. The eyes in the beautiful face were dead, and on her left side was -a dark spot, against which she would now and then press her hand, as -if to stifle pain or sickness. Her hair hung nearly to her feet, and -sometimes the wind would so mix it with the mist that I could not -distinguish the one from the other; but when it fell gathering together -again, it shone a pale gold in the moonlight. - -Suddenly pressing both hands on her heart, she fell to the ground, and -the mist rose from her and melted in the air. I ran to her. But she -began to writhe in such torture that I stood aghast. A moment more -and her legs, hurrying from her body, sped away serpents. From her -shoulders fled her arms as in terror, serpents also. Then something -flew up from her like a bat, and when I looked again, she was gone. The -ground rose like the sea in a storm; terror laid hold upon me; I turned -to the hills and ran. - -I was already on the slope of their base, when the moon sank behind one -of their summits, leaving me in its shadow. Behind me rose a waste and -sickening cry, as of frustrate desire--the only sound I had heard since -the fall of the dead butterfly; it made my heart shake like a flag in -the wind. I turned, saw many dark objects bounding after me, and made -for the crest of a ridge on which the moon still shone. She seemed to -linger there that I might see to defend myself. Soon I came in sight of -her, and climbed the faster. - -Crossing the shadow of a rock, I heard the creatures panting at my -heels. But just as the foremost threw himself upon me with a snarl of -greedy hate, we rushed into the moon together. She flashed out an angry -light, and he fell from me a bodiless blotch. Strength came to me, and -I turned on the rest. But one by one as they darted into the light, they -dropped with a howl; and I saw or fancied a strange smile on the round -face above me. - -I climbed to the top of the ridge: far away shone the moon, sinking to -a low horizon. The air was pure and strong. I descended a little way, -found it warmer, and sat down to wait the dawn. - -The moon went below, and the world again was dark. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. THE EVIL WOOD - -I fell fast asleep, and when I woke the sun was rising. I went to the -top again, and looked back: the hollow I had crossed in the moonlight -lay without sign of life. Could it be that the calm expanse before me -swarmed with creatures of devouring greed? - -I turned and looked over the land through which my way must lie. It -seemed a wide desert, with a patch of a different colour in the -distance that might be a forest. Sign of presence, human or animal, was -none--smoke or dust or shadow of cultivation. Not a cloud floated in -the clear heaven; no thinnest haze curtained any segment of its circling -rim. - -I descended, and set out for the imaginable forest: something alive -might be there; on this side of it could not well be anything! - -When I reached the plain, I found it, as far as my sight could go, of -rock, here flat and channeled, there humped and pinnacled--evidently the -wide bed of a vanished river, scored by innumerable water-runs, without -a trace of moisture in them. Some of the channels bore a dry moss, and -some of the rocks a few lichens almost as hard as themselves. The air, -once "filled with pleasant noise of waters," was silent as death. -It took me the whole day to reach the patch,--which I found indeed a -forest--but not a rudiment of brook or runnel had I crossed! Yet through -the glowing noon I seemed haunted by an aural mirage, hearing so plainly -the voice of many waters that I could hardly believe the opposing -testimony of my eyes. - -The sun was approaching the horizon when I left the river-bed, and -entered the forest. Sunk below the tree-tops, and sending his rays -between their pillar-like boles, he revealed a world of blessed shadows -waiting to receive me. I had expected a pine-wood, but here were trees -of many sorts, some with strong resemblances to trees I knew, others -with marvellous differences from any I had ever seen. I threw myself -beneath the boughs of what seemed a eucalyptus in blossom: its flowers -had a hard calyx much resembling a skull, the top of which rose like a -lid to let the froth-like bloom-brain overfoam its cup. From beneath -the shadow of its falchion-leaves my eyes went wandering into deep after -deep of the forest. - -Soon, however, its doors and windows began to close, shutting up aisle -and corridor and roomier glade. The night was about me, and instant -and sharp the cold. Again what a night I found it! How shall I make my -reader share with me its wild ghostiness? - -The tree under which I lay rose high before it branched, but the boughs -of it bent so low that they seemed ready to shut me in as I leaned -against the smooth stem, and let my eyes wander through the brief -twilight of the vanishing forest. Presently, to my listless roving -gaze, the varied outlines of the clumpy foliage began to assume or -imitate--say rather SUGGEST other shapes than their own. A light wind -began to blow; it set the boughs of a neighbour tree rocking, and all -their branches aswing, every twig and every leaf blending its individual -motion with the sway of its branch and the rock of its bough. Among -its leafy shapes was a pack of wolves that struggled to break from -a wizard's leash: greyhounds would not have strained so savagely! I -watched them with an interest that grew as the wind gathered force, and -their motions life. - -Another mass of foliage, larger and more compact, presented my fancy -with a group of horses' heads and forequarters projecting caparisoned -from their stalls. Their necks kept moving up and down, with an -impatience that augmented as the growing wind broke their vertical -rhythm with a wilder swaying from side to side. What heads they were! -how gaunt, how strange!--several of them bare skulls--one with the skin -tight on its bones! One had lost the under jaw and hung low, looking -unutterably weary--but now and then hove high as if to ease the bit. -Above them, at the end of a branch, floated erect the form of a woman, -waving her arms in imperious gesture. The definiteness of these and -other leaf masses first surprised and then discomposed me: what if they -should overpower my brain with seeming reality? But the twilight became -darkness; the wind ceased; every shape was shut up in the night; I fell -asleep. - -It was still dark when I began to be aware of a far-off, confused, -rushing noise, mingled with faint cries. It grew and grew until a tumult -as of gathering multitudes filled the wood. On all sides at once -the sounds drew nearer; the spot where I lay seemed the centre of a -commotion that extended throughout the forest. I scarce moved hand or -foot lest I should betray my presence to hostile things. - -The moon at length approached the forest, and came slowly into it: with -her first gleam the noises increased to a deafening uproar, and I began -to see dim shapes about me. As she ascended and grew brighter, the -noises became yet louder, and the shapes clearer. A furious battle was -raging around me. Wild cries and roars of rage, shock of onset, struggle -prolonged, all mingled with words articulate, surged in my ears. Curses -and credos, snarls and sneers, laughter and mockery, sacred names and -howls of hate, came huddling in chaotic interpenetration. Skeletons and -phantoms fought in maddest confusion. Swords swept through the phantoms: -they only shivered. Maces crashed on the skeletons, shattering them -hideously: not one fell or ceased to fight, so long as a single joint -held two bones together. Bones of men and horses lay scattered and -heaped; grinding and crunching them under foot fought the skeletons. -Everywhere charged the bone-gaunt white steeds; everywhere on foot or -on wind-blown misty battle-horses, raged and ravened and raved the -indestructible spectres; weapons and hoofs clashed and crushed; while -skeleton jaws and phantom-throats swelled the deafening tumult with the -war-cry of every opinion, bad or good, that had bred strife, injustice, -cruelty in any world. The holiest words went with the most hating blow. -Lie-distorted truths flew hurtling in the wind of javelins and bones. -Every moment some one would turn against his comrades, and fight more -wildly than before, THE TRUTH! THE TRUTH! still his cry. One I noted who -wheeled ever in a circle, and smote on all sides. Wearied out, a pair -would sit for a minute side by side, then rise and renew the fierce -combat. None stooped to comfort the fallen, or stepped wide to spare -him. - -The moon shone till the sun rose, and all the night long I had glimpses -of a woman moving at her will above the strife-tormented multitude, now -on this front now on that, one outstretched arm urging the fight, the -other pressed against her side. "Ye are men: slay one another!" she -shouted. I saw her dead eyes and her dark spot, and recalled what I had -seen the night before. - -Such was the battle of the dead, which I saw and heard as I lay under -the tree. - -Just before sunrise, a breeze went through the forest, and a voice -cried, "Let the dead bury their dead!" At the word the contending -thousands dropped noiseless, and when the sun looked in, he saw never a -bone, but here and there a withered branch. - -I rose and resumed my journey, through as quiet a wood as ever grew out -of the quiet earth. For the wind of the morning had ceased when the sun -appeared, and the trees were silent. Not a bird sang, not a squirrel, -mouse, or weasel showed itself, not a belated moth flew athwart my path. -But as I went I kept watch over myself, nor dared let my eyes rest on -any forest-shape. All the time I seemed to hear faint sounds of mattock -and spade and hurtling bones: any moment my eyes might open on things I -would not see! Daylight prudence muttered that perhaps, to appear, ten -thousand phantoms awaited only my consenting fancy. - -In the middle of the afternoon I came out of the wood--to find before -me a second net of dry water-courses. I thought at first that I had -wandered from my attempted line, and reversed my direction; but I soon -saw it was not so, and concluded presently that I had come to another -branch of the same river-bed. I began at once to cross it, and was in -the bottom of a wide channel when the sun set. - -I sat down to await the moon, and growing sleepy, stretched myself on -the moss. The moment my head was down, I heard the sounds of rushing -streams--all sorts of sweet watery noises. The veiled melody of the -molten music sang me into a dreamless sleep, and when I woke the sun -was already up, and the wrinkled country widely visible. Covered with -shadows it lay striped and mottled like the skin of some wild animal. As -the sun rose the shadows diminished, and it seemed as if the rocks were -re-absorbing the darkness that had oozed out of them during the night. - -Hitherto I had loved my Arab mare and my books more, I fear, than live -man or woman; now at length my soul was athirst for a human presence, -and I longed even after those inhabitants of this alien world whom the -raven had so vaguely described as nearest my sort. With heavy yet hoping -heart, and mind haunted by a doubt whether I was going in any direction -at all, I kept wearily travelling "north-west and by south." - - - - -CHAPTER XII. FRIENDS AND FOES - -Coming, in one of the channels, upon what seemed a little shrub, the -outlying picket, I trusted, of an army behind it, I knelt to look at -it closer. It bore a small fruit, which, as I did not recognise it, -I feared to gather and eat. Little I thought that I was watched from -behind the rocks by hundreds of eyes eager with the question whether I -would or would not take it. - -I came to another plant somewhat bigger, then to another larger still, -and at length to clumps of a like sort; by which time I saw that they -were not shrubs but dwarf-trees. Before I reached the bank of this -second branch of the river-bed, I found the channels so full of them -that it was with difficulty I crossed such as I could not jump. In one -I heard a great rush, as of a multitude of birds from an ivied wall, but -saw nothing. - -I came next to some large fruit-bearing trees, but what they bore looked -coarse. They stood on the edge of a hollow, which evidently had once -been the basin of a lake. From the left a forest seemed to flow into -and fill it; but while the trees above were of many sorts, those in the -hollow were almost entirely fruit-bearing. - -I went a few yards down the slope of grass mingled with moss, and -stretched myself upon it weary. A little farther down stood a tiny tree -full of rosiest apples no bigger than small cherries, its top close to -my hand; I pulled and ate one of them. Finding it delicious, I was in -the act of taking another, when a sudden shouting of children, mingled -with laughter clear and sweet as the music of a brook, startled me with -delight. - -"He likes our apples! He likes our apples! He's a good giant! He's a -good giant!" cried many little voices. - -"He's a giant!" objected one. - -"He IS rather big," assented another, "but littleness isn't everything! -It won't keep you from growing big and stupid except you take care!" - -I rose on my elbow and stared. Above and about and below me stood a -multitude of children, apparently of all ages, some just able to run -alone, and some about twelve or thirteen. Three or four seemed older. -They stood in a small knot, a little apart, and were less excited -than the rest. The many were chattering in groups, declaiming and -contradicting, like a crowd of grown people in a city, only with greater -merriment, better manners, and more sense. - -I gathered that, by the approach of my hand to a second apple, they knew -that I liked the first; but how from that they argued me good, I did not -see, nor wondered that one of them at least should suggest caution. I -did not open my mouth, for I was afraid of frightening them, and sure -I should learn more by listening than by asking questions. For I -understood nearly all they said--at which I was not surprised: to -understand is not more wonderful than to love. - -There came a movement and slight dispersion among them, and presently a -sweet, innocent-looking, lovingly roguish little fellow handed me a huge -green apple. Silence fell on the noisy throng; all waited expectant. - -"Eat, good giant," he said. - -I sat up, took the apple, smiled thanks, and would have eaten; but the -moment I bit into it, I flung it far away. - -Again rose a shout of delight; they flung themselves upon me, so as -nearly to smother me; they kissed my face and hands; they laid hold of -my legs; they clambered about my arms and shoulders, embracing my head -and neck. I came to the ground at last, overwhelmed with the lovely -little goblins. - -"Good, good giant!" they cried. "We knew you would come! Oh you dear, -good, strong giant!" - -The babble of their talk sprang up afresh, and ever the jubilant shout -would rise anew from hundreds of clear little throats. - -Again came a sudden silence. Those around me drew back; those atop of me -got off and began trying to set me on my feet. Upon their sweet faces, -concern had taken the place of merriment. - -"Get up, good giant!" said a little girl. "Make haste! much haste! He -saw you throw his apple away!" - -Before she ended, I was on my feet. She stood pointing up the slope. On -the brow of it was a clownish, bad-looking fellow, a few inches taller -than myself. He looked hostile, but I saw no reason to fear him, for he -had no weapon, and my little friends had vanished every one. - -He began to descend, and I, in the hope of better footing and position, -to go up. He growled like a beast as he turned toward me. - -Reaching a more level spot, I stood and waited for him. As he came near, -he held out his hand. I would have taken it in friendly fashion, but -he drew it back, threatened a blow, and held it out again. Then I -understood him to claim the apple I had flung away, whereupon I made a -grimace of dislike and a gesture of rejection. - -He answered with a howl of rage that seemed to say, "Do you dare tell me -my apple was not fit to eat?" - -"One bad apple may grow on the best tree," I said. - -Whether he perceived my meaning I cannot tell, but he made a stride -nearer, and I stood on my guard. He delayed his assault, however, until -a second giant, much like him, who had been stealing up behind me, was -close enough, when he rushed upon me. I met him with a good blow in the -face, but the other struck me on the back of the head, and between them -I was soon overpowered. - -They dragged me into the wood above the valley, where their tribe -lived--in wretched huts, built of fallen branches and a few stones. Into -one of these they pushed me, there threw me on the ground, and kicked -me. A woman was present, who looked on with indifference. - -I may here mention that during my captivity I hardly learned to -distinguish the women from the men, they differed so little. Often I -wondered whether I had not come upon a sort of fungoid people, with just -enough mind to give them motion and the expressions of anger and greed. -Their food, which consisted of tubers, bulbs, and fruits, was to me -inexpressibly disagreeable, but nothing offended them so much as to show -dislike to it. I was cuffed by the women and kicked by the men because I -would not swallow it. - -I lay on the floor that night hardly able to move, but I slept a good -deal, and woke a little refreshed. In the morning they dragged me to the -valley, and tying my feet, with a long rope, to a tree, put a flat stone -with a saw-like edge in my left hand. I shifted it to the right; they -kicked me, and put it again in the left; gave me to understand that I -was to scrape the bark off every branch that had no fruit on it; kicked -me once more, and left me. - -I set about the dreary work in the hope that by satisfying them I should -be left very much to myself--to make my observations and choose my time -for escape. Happily one of the dwarf-trees grew close by me, and -every other minute I plucked and ate a small fruit, which wonderfully -refreshed and strengthened me. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. THE LITTLE ONES - -I had been at work but a few moments, when I heard small voices near me, -and presently the Little Ones, as I soon found they called themselves, -came creeping out from among the tiny trees that like brushwood filled -the spaces between the big ones. In a minute there were scores and -scores about me. I made signs that the giants had but just left me, -and were not far off; but they laughed, and told me the wind was quite -clean. - -"They are too blind to see us," they said, and laughed like a multitude -of sheep-bells. - -"Do you like that rope about your ankles?" asked one. - -"I want them to think I cannot take it off," I replied. - -"They can scarcely see their own feet!" he rejoined. "Walk with short -steps and they will think the rope is all right." - -As he spoke, he danced with merriment. - -One of the bigger girls got down on her knees to untie the clumsy knot. -I smiled, thinking those pretty fingers could do nothing with it, but in -a moment it was loose. - -They then made me sit down, and fed me with delicious little fruits; -after which the smaller of them began to play with me in the wildest -fashion, so that it was impossible for me to resume my work. When the -first grew tired, others took their places, and this went on until the -sun was setting, and heavy steps were heard approaching. The little -people started from me, and I made haste to put the rope round my -ankles. - -"We must have a care," said the girl who had freed me; "a crush of one -of their horrid stumpy feet might kill a very little one!" - -"Can they not perceive you at all then?" - -"They might see something move; and if the children were in a heap on -the top of you, as they were a moment ago, it would be terrible; for -they hate every live thing but themselves.--Not that they are much alive -either!" - -She whistled like a bird. The next instant not one of them was to be -seen or heard, and the girl herself had disappeared. - -It was my master, as doubtless he counted himself, come to take me home. -He freed my ankles, and dragged me to the door of his hut; there he -threw me on the ground, again tied my feet, gave me a kick, and left me. - -Now I might at once have made my escape; but at length I had friends, -and could not think of leaving them. They were so charming, so full of -winsome ways, that I must see more of them! I must know them better! -"To-morrow," I said to myself with delight, "I shall see them again!" -But from the moment there was silence in the huts until I fell asleep, I -heard them whispering all about me, and knew that I was lovingly watched -by a multitude. After that, I think they hardly ever left me quite -alone. - -I did not come to know the giants at all, and I believe there was -scarcely anything in them to know. They never became in the least -friendly, but they were much too stupid to invent cruelties. Often I -avoided a bad kick by catching the foot and giving its owner a fall, -upon which he never, on that occasion, renewed his attempt. - -But the little people were constantly doing and saying things that -pleased, often things that surprised me. Every day I grew more loath -to leave them. While I was at work, they would keep coming and going, -amusing and delighting me, and taking all the misery, and much of the -weariness out of my monotonous toil. Very soon I loved them more than -I can tell. They did not know much, but they were very wise, and seemed -capable of learning anything. I had no bed save the bare ground, but -almost as often as I woke, it was in a nest of children--one or other of -them in my arms, though which I seldom could tell until the light came, -for they ordered the succession among themselves. When one crept into my -bosom, unconsciously I clasped him there, and the rest lay close around -me, the smaller nearer. It is hardly necessary to say that I did not -suffer much from the nightly cold! The first thing they did in the -morning, and the last before sunset, was to bring the good giant plenty -to eat. - -One morning I was surprised on waking to find myself alone. As I came -to my senses, however, I heard subdued sounds of approach, and presently -the girl already mentioned, the tallest and gravest of the community, -and regarded by all as their mother, appeared from the wood, followed by -the multitude in jubilation manifest--but silent lest they should rouse -the sleeping giant at whose door I lay. She carried a boy-baby in her -arms: hitherto a girl-baby, apparently about a year old, had been the -youngest. Three of the bigger girls were her nurses, but they shared -their treasure with all the rest. Among the Little Ones, dolls were -unknown; the bigger had the smaller, and the smaller the still less, to -tend and play with. - -Lona came to me and laid the infant in my arms. The baby opened his eyes -and looked at me, closed them again, and fell asleep. - -"He loves you already!" said the girl. - -"Where did you find him?" I asked. - -"In the wood, of course," she answered, her eyes beaming with delight, -"--where we always find them. Isn't he a beauty? We've been out all -night looking for him. Sometimes it is not easy to find!" - -"How do you know when there is one to find?" I asked. - -"I cannot tell," she replied. "Every one makes haste to tell the other, -but we never find out who told first. Sometimes I think one must have -said it asleep, and another heard it half-awake. When there is a baby in -the wood, no one can stop to ask questions; and when we have found it, -then it is too late." - -"Do more boy or girl babies come to the wood?" - -"They don't come to the wood; we go to the wood and find them." - -"Are there more boys or girls of you now?" - -I had found that to ask precisely the same question twice, made them -knit their brows. - -"I do not know," she answered. - -"You can count them, surely!" - -"We never do that. We shouldn't like to be counted." - -"Why?" - -"It wouldn't be smooth. We would rather not know." - -"Where do the babies come from first?" - -"From the wood--always. There is no other place they can come from." - -She knew where they came from last, and thought nothing else was to be -known about their advent. - -"How often do you find one?" - -"Such a happy thing takes all the glad we've got, and we forget the last -time. You too are glad to have him--are you not, good giant?" - -"Yes, indeed, I am!" I answered. "But how do you feed him?" - -"I will show you," she rejoined, and went away--to return directly with -two or three ripe little plums. She put one to the baby's lips. - -"He would open his mouth if he were awake," she said, and took him in -her arms. - -She squeezed a drop to the surface, and again held the fruit to the -baby's lips. Without waking he began at once to suck it, and she went on -slowly squeezing until nothing but skin and stone were left. - -"There!" she cried, in a tone of gentle triumph. "A big-apple world it -would be with nothing for the babies! We wouldn't stop in it--would we, -darling? We would leave it to the bad giants!" - -"But what if you let the stone into the baby's mouth when you were -feeding him?" I said. - -"No mother would do that," she replied. "I shouldn't be fit to have a -baby!" - -I thought what a lovely woman she would grow. But what became of them -when they grew up? Where did they go? That brought me again to the -question--where did they come from first? - -"Will you tell me where you lived before?" I said. - -"Here," she replied. - -"Have you NEVER lived anywhere else?" I ventured. - -"Never. We all came from the wood. Some think we dropped out of the -trees." - -"How is it there are so many of you quite little?" - -"I don't understand. Some are less and some are bigger. I am very big." - -"Baby will grow bigger, won't he?" - -"Of course he will!" - -"And will you grow bigger?" - -"I don't think so. I hope not. I am the biggest. It frightens me -sometimes." - -"Why should it frighten you?" - -She gave me no answer. - -"How old are you?" I resumed. - -"I do not know what you mean. We are all just that." - -"How big will the baby grow?" - -"I cannot tell.--Some," she added, with a trouble in her voice, "begin -to grow after we think they have stopped.--That is a frightful thing. We -don't talk about it!" - -"What makes it frightful?" - -She was silent for a moment, then answered, - -"We fear they may be beginning to grow giants." - -"Why should you fear that?" - -"Because it is so terrible.--I don't want to talk about it!" - -She pressed the baby to her bosom with such an anxious look that I dared -not further question her. - -Before long I began to perceive in two or three of the smaller children -some traces of greed and selfishness, and noted that the bigger girls -cast on these a not infrequent glance of anxiety. - -None of them put a hand to my work: they would do nothing for the -giants! But they never relaxed their loving ministrations to me. They -would sing to me, one after another, for hours; climb the tree to reach -my mouth and pop fruit into it with their dainty little fingers; and -they kept constant watch against the approach of a giant. - -Sometimes they would sit and tell me stories--mostly very childish, and -often seeming to mean hardly anything. Now and then they would call a -general assembly to amuse me. On one such occasion a moody little -fellow sang me a strange crooning song, with a refrain so pathetic that, -although unintelligible to me, it caused the tears to run down my face. -This phenomenon made those who saw it regard me with much perplexity. -Then first I bethought myself that I had not once, in that world, looked -on water, falling or lying or running. Plenty there had been in some -long vanished age--that was plain enough--but the Little Ones had never -seen any before they saw my tears! They had, nevertheless, it seemed, -some dim, instinctive perception of their origin; for a very small child -went up to the singer, shook his clenched pud in his face, and said -something like this: "'Ou skeeze ze juice out of ze good giant's -seeberries! Bad giant!" - -"How is it," I said one day to Lona, as she sat with the baby in her -arms at the foot of my tree, "that I never see any children among the -giants?" - -She stared a little, as if looking in vain for some sense in the -question, then replied, - -"They are giants; there are no little ones." - -"Have they never any children?" I asked. - -"No; there are never any in the wood for them. They do not love them. If -they saw ours, they would stamp them." - -"Is there always the same number of the giants then? I thought, before I -had time to know better, that they were your fathers and mothers." - -She burst into the merriest laughter, and said, - -"No, good giant; WE are THEIR firsters." - -But as she said it, the merriment died out of her, and she looked -scared. - -I stopped working, and gazed at her, bewildered. - -"How CAN that be?" I exclaimed. - -"I do not say; I do not understand," she answered. "But we were here and -they not. They go from us. I am sorry, but we cannot help it. THEY could -have helped it." - -"How long have you been here?" I asked, more and more puzzled--in the -hope of some side-light on the matter. - -"Always, I think," she replied. "I think somebody made us always." - -I turned to my scraping. - -She saw I did not understand. - -"The giants were not made always," she resumed. "If a Little One doesn't -care, he grows greedy, and then lazy, and then big, and then stupid, and -then bad. The dull creatures don't know that they come from us. Very -few of them believe we are anywhere. They say NONSENSE!--Look at little -Blunty: he is eating one of their apples! He will be the next! Oh! oh! -he will soon be big and bad and ugly, and not know it!" - -The child stood by himself a little way off, eating an apple nearly -as big as his head. I had often thought he did not look so good as the -rest; now he looked disgusting. - -"I will take the horrid thing from him!" I cried. - -"It is no use," she answered sadly. "We have done all we can, and it -is too late! We were afraid he was growing, for he would not believe -anything told him; but when he refused to share his berries, and said -he had gathered them for himself, then we knew it! He is a glutton, and -there is no hope of him.--It makes me sick to see him eat!" - -"Could not some of the boys watch him, and not let him touch the -poisonous things?" - -"He may have them if he will: it is all one--to eat the apples, and to -be a boy that would eat them if he could. No; he must go to the giants! -He belongs to them. You can see how much bigger he is than when first -you came! He is bigger since yesterday." - -"He is as like that hideous green lump in his hand as boy could look!" - -"It suits what he is making himself." - -"His head and it might change places!" - -"Perhaps they do!" - -"Does he want to be a giant?" - -"He hates the giants, but he is making himself one all the same: he -likes their apples! Oh baby, baby, he was just such a darling as you -when we found him!" - -"He will be very miserable when he finds himself a giant!" - -"Oh, no; he will like it well enough! That is the worst of it." - -"Will he hate the Little Ones?" - -"He will be like the rest; he will not remember us--most likely will -not believe there are Little Ones. He will not care; he will eat his -apples." - -"Do tell me how it will come about. I understand your world so little! I -come from a world where everything is different." - -"I do not know about WORLD. What is it? What more but a word in your -beautiful big mouth?--That makes it something!" - -"Never mind about the word; tell me what next will happen to Blunty." - -"He will wake one morning and find himself a giant--not like you, good -giant, but like any other bad giant. You will hardly know him, but I -will tell you which. He will think he has been a giant always, and will -not know you, or any of us. The giants have lost themselves, Peony says, -and that is why they never smile. I wonder whether they are not glad -because they are bad, or bad because they are not glad. But they can't -be glad when they have no babies! I wonder what BAD means, good giant!" - -"I wish I knew no more about it than you!" I returned. "But I try to be -good, and mean to keep on trying." - -"So do I--and that is how I know you are good." - -A long pause followed. - -"Then you do not know where the babies come from into the wood?" I said, -making one attempt more. - -"There is nothing to know there," she answered. "They are in the wood; -they grow there." - -"Then how is it you never find one before it is quite grown?" I asked. - -She knitted her brows and was silent a moment: - -"They're not there till they're finished," she said. - -"It is a pity the little sillies can't speak till they've forgotten -everything they had to tell!" I remarked. - -"Little Tolma, the last before this baby, looked as if she had something -to tell, when I found her under a beech-tree, sucking her thumb, but she -hadn't. She only looked up at me--oh, so sweetly! SHE will never go -bad and grow big! When they begin to grow big they care for nothing but -bigness; and when they cannot grow any bigger, they try to grow fatter. -The bad giants are very proud of being fat." - -"So they are in my world," I said; "only they do not say FAT there, they -say RICH." - -"In one of their houses," continued Lona, "sits the biggest and fattest -of them--so proud that nobody can see him; and the giants go to his -house at certain times, and call out to him, and tell him how fat he is, -and beg him to make them strong to eat more and grow fat like him." - -The rumour at length reached my ears that Blunty had vanished. I saw a -few grave faces among the bigger ones, but he did not seem to be much -missed. - -The next morning Lona came to me and whispered, - -"Look! look there--by that quince-tree: that is the giant that was -Blunty!--Would you have known him?" - -"Never," I answered. "--But now you tell me, I could fancy it might be -Blunty staring through a fog! He DOES look stupid!" - -"He is for ever eating those apples now!" she said. "That is what comes -of Little Ones that WON'T be little!" - -"They call it growing-up in my world!" I said to myself. "If only she -would teach me to grow the other way, and become a Little One!--Shall I -ever be able to laugh like them?" - -I had had the chance, and had flung it from me! Blunty and I were alike! -He did not know his loss, and I had to be taught mine! - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. A CRISIS - -For a time I had no desire save to spend my life with the Little Ones. -But soon other thoughts and feelings began to influence me. First awoke -the vague sense that I ought to be doing something; that I was not -meant for the fattening of boors! Then it came to me that I was in a -marvellous world, of which it was assuredly my business to discover -the ways and laws; and that, if I would do anything in return for the -children's goodness, I must learn more about them than they could tell -me, and to that end must be free. Surely, I thought, no suppression of -their growth can be essential to their loveliness and truth and purity! -Not in any world could the possibility exist of such a discord between -constitution and its natural outcome! Life and law cannot be so at -variance that perfection must be gained by thwarting development! But -the growth of the Little Ones WAS arrested! something interfered with -it: what was it? Lona seemed the eldest of them, yet not more than -fifteen, and had been long in charge of a multitude, in semblance and -mostly in behaviour merest children, who regarded her as their mother! -Were they growing at all? I doubted it. Of time they had scarcely the -idea; of their own age they knew nothing! Lona herself thought she had -lived always! Full of wisdom and empty of knowledge, she was at once -their Love and their Law! But what seemed to me her ignorance might in -truth be my own lack of insight! Her one anxiety plainly was, that her -Little Ones should not grow, and change into bad giants! Their "good -giant" was bound to do his best for them: without more knowledge of -their nature, and some knowledge of their history, he could do nothing, -and must therefore leave them! They would only be as they were -before; they had in no way become dependent on me; they were still -my protectors, I was not theirs; my presence but brought them more in -danger of their idiotic neighbours! I longed to teach them many things: -I must first understand more of those I would teach! Knowledge no -doubt made bad people worse, but it must make good people better! I was -convinced they would learn mathematics; and might they not be taught to -write down the dainty melodies they murmured and forgot? - -The conclusion was, that I must rise and continue my travels, in the -hope of coming upon some elucidation of the fortunes and destiny of the -bewitching little creatures. - -My design, however, would not so soon have passed into action, but for -what now occurred. - -To prepare them for my temporary absence, I was one day telling them -while at work that I would long ago have left the bad giants, but that I -loved the Little Ones so much--when, as by one accord, they came rushing -and crowding upon me; they scrambled over each other and up the tree and -dropped on my head, until I was nearly smothered. With three very little -ones in my arms, one on each shoulder clinging to my neck, one standing -straight up on my head, four or five holding me fast by the legs, others -grappling my body and arms, and a multitude climbing and descending upon -these, I was helpless as one overwhelmed by lava. Absorbed in the merry -struggle, not one of them saw my tyrant coming until he was almost upon -me. With just one cry of "Take care, good giant!" they ran from me like -mice, they dropped from me like hedgehogs, they flew from me up the tree -like squirrels, and the same moment, sharp round the stem came the bad -giant, and dealt me such a blow on the head with a stick that I fell to -the ground. The children told me afterwards that they sent him "such -a many bumps of big apples and stones" that he was frightened, and ran -blundering home. - -When I came to myself it was night. Above me were a few pale stars that -expected the moon. I thought I was alone. My head ached badly, and I was -terribly athirst. - -I turned wearily on my side. The moment my ear touched the ground, I -heard the gushing and gurgling of water, and the soft noises made me -groan with longing. At once I was amid a multitude of silent children, -and delicious little fruits began to visit my lips. They came and came -until my thirst was gone. - -Then I was aware of sounds I had never heard there before; the air was -full of little sobs. - -I tried to sit up. A pile of small bodies instantly heaped itself at my -back. Then I struggled to my feet, with much pushing and pulling from -the Little Ones, who were wonderfully strong for their size. - -"You must go away, good giant," they said. "When the bad giants see you -hurt, they will all trample on you." - -"I think I must," I answered. - -"Go and grow strong, and come again," they said. - -"I will," I replied--and sat down. - -"Indeed you must go at once!" whispered Lona, who had been supporting -me, and now knelt beside me. - -"I listened at his door," said one of the bigger boys, "and heard the -bad giant say to his wife that he had found you idle, talking to a lot -of moles and squirrels, and when he beat you, they tried to kill him. He -said you were a wizard, and they must knock you, or they would have no -peace." - -"I will go at once," I said, "and come back as soon as I have found out -what is wanted to make you bigger and stronger." - -"We don't want to be bigger," they answered, looking very serious. -"We WON'T grow bad giants!--We are strong now; you don't know how much -strong!" - -It was no use holding them out a prospect that had not any attraction -for them! I said nothing more, but rose and moved slowly up the slope of -the valley. At once they formed themselves into a long procession; some -led the way, some walked with me helping me, and the rest followed. They -kept feeding me as we went. - -"You are broken," they said, "and much red juice has run out of you: put -some in." - -When we reached the edge of the valley, there was the moon just lifting -her forehead over the rim of the horizon. - -"She has come to take care of you, and show you the way," said Lona. - -I questioned those about me as we walked, and learned there was a great -place with a giant-girl for queen. When I asked if it was a city, they -said they did not know. Neither could they tell how far off, or in what -direction it was, or what was the giant-girl's name; all they knew was, -that she hated the Little Ones, and would like to kill them, only she -could not find them. I asked how they knew that; Lona answered that she -had always known it. If the giant-girl came to look for them, they must -hide hard, she said. When I told them I should go and ask her why she -hated them, they cried out, - -"No, no! she will kill you, good giant; she will kill you! She is an -awful bad-giant witch!" - -I asked them where I was to go then. They told me that, beyond the -baby-forest, away where the moon came from, lay a smooth green country, -pleasant to the feet, without rocks or trees. But when I asked how I was -to set out for it. - -"The moon will tell you, we think," they said. - -They were taking me up the second branch of the river bed: when they saw -that the moon had reached her height, they stopped to return. - -"We have never gone so far from our trees before," they said. "Now mind -you watch how you go, that you may see inside your eyes how to come back -to us." - -"And beware of the giant-woman that lives in the desert," said one of -the bigger girls as they were turning, "I suppose you have heard of -her!" - -"No," I answered. - -"Then take care not to go near her. She is called the Cat-woman. She is -awfully ugly--AND SCRATCHES." - -As soon as the bigger ones stopped, the smaller had begun to run back. -The others now looked at me gravely for a moment, and then walked slowly -away. Last to leave me, Lona held up the baby to be kissed, gazed in -my eyes, whispered, "The Cat-woman will not hurt YOU," and went without -another word. I stood a while, gazing after them through the moonlight, -then turned and, with a heavy heart, began my solitary journey. Soon the -laughter of the Little Ones overtook me, like sheep-bells innumerable, -rippling the air, and echoing in the rocks about me. I turned again, and -again gazed after them: they went gamboling along, with never a care in -their sweet souls. But Lona walked apart with her baby. - -Pondering as I went, I recalled many traits of my little friends. - -Once when I suggested that they should leave the country of the bad -giants, and go with me to find another, they answered, "But that would -be to NOT ourselves!"--so strong in them was the love of place that -their country seemed essential to their very being! Without ambition or -fear, discomfort or greed, they had no motive to desire any change; they -knew of nothing amiss; and, except their babies, they had never had a -chance of helping any one but myself:--How were they to grow? But again, -Why should they grow? In seeking to improve their conditions, might -I not do them harm, and only harm? To enlarge their minds after the -notions of my world--might it not be to distort and weaken them? Their -fear of growth as a possible start for gianthood might be instinctive! - -The part of philanthropist is indeed a dangerous one; and the man who -would do his neighbour good must first study how not to do him evil, and -must begin by pulling the beam out of his own eye. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. A STRANGE HOSTESS - -I travelled on attended by the moon. As usual she was full--I had never -seen her other--and to-night as she sank I thought I perceived something -like a smile on her countenance. - -When her under edge was a little below the horizon, there appeared in -the middle of her disc, as if it had been painted upon it, a cottage, -through the open door and window of which she shone; and with the sight -came the conviction that I was expected there. Almost immediately the -moon was gone, and the cottage had vanished; the night was rapidly -growing dark, and my way being across a close succession of small -ravines, I resolved to remain where I was and expect the morning. I -stretched myself, therefore, in a sandy hollow, made my supper off the -fruits the children had given me at parting, and was soon asleep. - -I woke suddenly, saw above me constellations unknown to my former world, -and had lain for a while gazing at them, when I became aware of a figure -seated on the ground a little way from and above me. I was startled, as -one is on discovering all at once that he is not alone. The figure was -between me and the sky, so that I saw its outline well. From where I lay -low in the hollow, it seemed larger than human. - -It moved its head, and then first I saw that its back was toward me. - -"Will you not come with me?" said a sweet, mellow voice, unmistakably a -woman's. - -Wishing to learn more of my hostess, - -"I thank you," I replied, "but I am not uncomfortable here. Where would -you have me go? I like sleeping in the open air." - -"There is no hurt in the air," she returned; "but the creatures that -roam the night in these parts are not such as a man would willingly have -about him while he sleeps." - -"I have not been disturbed," I said. - -"No; I have been sitting by you ever since you lay down." - -"That is very kind of you! How came you to know I was here? Why do you -show me such favour?" - -"I saw you," she answered, still with her back to me, "in the light of -the moon, just as she went down. I see badly in the day, but at night -perfectly. The shadow of my house would have hidden you, but both -its doors were open. I was out on the waste, and saw you go into this -hollow. You were asleep, however, before I could reach you, and I was -not willing to disturb you. People are frightened if I come on them -suddenly. They call me the Cat-woman. It is not my name." - -I remembered what the children had told me--that she was very ugly, and -scratched. But her voice was gentle, and its tone a little apologetic: -she could not be a bad giantess! - -"You shall not hear it from me," I answered, "Please tell me what I MAY -call you!" - -"When you know me, call me by the name that seems to you to fit me," she -replied: "that will tell me what sort you are. People do not often give -me the right one. It is well when they do." - -"I suppose, madam, you live in the cottage I saw in the heart of the -moon?" - -"I do. I live there alone, except when I have visitors. It is a poor -place, but I do what I can for my guests, and sometimes their sleep is -sweet to them." - -Her voice entered into me, and made me feel strangely still. - -"I will go with you, madam," I said, rising. - -She rose at once, and without a glance behind her led the way. I could -see her just well enough to follow. She was taller than myself, but not -so tall as I had thought her. That she never turned her face to me made -me curious--nowise apprehensive, her voice rang so true. But how was I -to fit her with a name who could not see her? I strove to get alongside -of her, but failed: when I quickened my pace she quickened hers, and -kept easily ahead of me. At length I did begin to grow a little afraid. -Why was she so careful not to be seen? Extraordinary ugliness would -account for it: she might fear terrifying me! Horror of an inconceivable -monstrosity began to assail me: was I following through the dark -an unheard of hideousness? Almost I repented of having accepted her -hospitality. - -Neither spoke, and the silence grew unbearable. I MUST break it! - -"I want to find my way," I said, "to a place I have heard of, but whose -name I have not yet learned. Perhaps you can tell it me!" - -"Describe it, then, and I will direct you. The stupid Bags know nothing, -and the careless little Lovers forget almost everything." - -"Where do those live?" - -"You are just come from them!" - -"I never heard those names before!" - -"You would not hear them. Neither people knows its own name!" - -"Strange!" - -"Perhaps so! but hardly any one anywhere knows his own name! It would -make many a fine gentleman stare to hear himself addressed by what is -really his name!" - -I held my peace, beginning to wonder what my name might be. - -"What now do you fancy yours?" she went on, as if aware of my thought. -"But, pardon me, it is a matter of no consequence." - -I had actually opened my mouth to answer her, when I discovered that my -name was gone from me. I could not even recall the first letter of it! -This was the second time I had been asked my name and could not tell it! - -"Never mind," she said; "it is not wanted. Your real name, indeed, is -written on your forehead, but at present it whirls about so irregularly -that nobody can read it. I will do my part to steady it. Soon it will go -slower, and, I hope, settle at last." - -This startled me, and I was silent. - -We had left the channels and walked a long time, but no sign of the -cottage yet appeared. - -"The Little Ones told me," I said at length, "of a smooth green country, -pleasant to the feet!" - -"Yes?" she returned. - -"They told me too of a girl giantess that was queen somewhere: is that -her country?" - -"There is a city in that grassy land," she replied, "where a woman is -princess. The city is called Bulika. But certainly the princess is not -a girl! She is older than this world, and came to it from yours--with -a terrible history, which is not over yet. She is an evil person, and -prevails much with the Prince of the Power of the Air. The people of -Bulika were formerly simple folk, tilling the ground and pasturing -sheep. She came among them, and they received her hospitably. She taught -them to dig for diamonds and opals and sell them to strangers, and made -them give up tillage and pasturage and build a city. One day they found -a huge snake and killed it; which so enraged her that she declared -herself their princess, and became terrible to them. The name of the -country at that time was THE LAND OF WATERS; for the dry channels, -of which you have crossed so many, were then overflowing with live -torrents; and the valley, where now the Bags and the Lovers have their -fruit-trees, was a lake that received a great part of them. But the -wicked princess gathered up in her lap what she could of the water over -the whole country, closed it in an egg, and carried it away. Her lap, -however, would not hold more than half of it; and the instant she was -gone, what she had not yet taken fled away underground, leaving the -country as dry and dusty as her own heart. Were it not for the waters -under it, every living thing would long ago have perished from it. For -where no water is, no rain falls; and where no rain falls, no springs -rise. Ever since then, the princess has lived in Bulika, holding the -inhabitants in constant terror, and doing what she can to keep them from -multiplying. Yet they boast and believe themselves a prosperous, and -certainly are a self-satisfied people--good at bargaining and buying, -good at selling and cheating; holding well together for a common -interest, and utterly treacherous where interests clash; proud of their -princess and her power, and despising every one they get the better of; -never doubting themselves the most honourable of all the nations, and -each man counting himself better than any other. The depth of their -worthlessness and height of their vainglory no one can understand who -has not been there to see, who has not learned to know the miserable -misgoverned and self-deceived creatures." - -"I thank you, madam. And now, if you please, will you tell me something -about the Little Ones--the Lovers? I long heartily to serve them. Who -and what are they? and how do they come to be there? Those children are -the greatest wonder I have found in this world of wonders." - -"In Bulika you may, perhaps, get some light on those matters. There is -an ancient poem in the library of the palace, I am told, which of course -no one there can read, but in which it is plainly written that after the -Lovers have gone through great troubles and learned their own name, they -will fill the land, and make the giants their slaves." - -"By that time they will have grown a little, will they not?" I said. - -"Yes, they will have grown; yet I think too they will not have grown. -It is possible to grow and not to grow, to grow less and to grow bigger, -both at once--yes, even to grow by means of not growing!" - -"Your words are strange, madam!" I rejoined. "But I have heard it said -that some words, because they mean more, appear to mean less!" - -"That is true, and such words HAVE to be understood. It were well for -the princess of Bulika if she heard what the very silence of the land -is shouting in her ears all day long! But she is far too clever to -understand anything." - -"Then I suppose, when the little Lovers are grown, their land will have -water again?" - -"Not exactly so: when they are thirsty enough, they will have water, -and when they have water, they will grow. To grow, they must have water. -And, beneath, it is flowing still." - -"I have heard that water twice," I said; "--once when I lay down to wait -for the moon--and when I woke the sun was shining! and once when I -fell, all but killed by the bad giant. Both times came the voices of the -water, and healed me." - -The woman never turned her head, and kept always a little before me, but -I could hear every word that left her lips, and her voice much reminded -me of the woman's in the house of death. Much of what she said, I did -not understand, and therefore cannot remember. But I forgot that I had -ever been afraid of her. - -We went on and on, and crossed yet a wide tract of sand before reaching -the cottage. Its foundation stood in deep sand, but I could see that -it was a rock. In character the cottage resembled the sexton's, but had -thicker walls. The door, which was heavy and strong, opened immediately -into a large bare room, which had two little windows opposite each -other, without glass. My hostess walked in at the open door out of which -the moon had looked, and going straight to the farthest corner, took a -long white cloth from the floor, and wound it about her head and face. -Then she closed the other door, in at which the moon had looked, trimmed -a small horn lantern that stood on the hearth, and turned to receive me. - -"You are very welcome, Mr. Vane!" she said, calling me by the name I had -forgotten. "Your entertainment will be scanty, but, as the night is not -far spent, and the day not at hand, it is better you should be indoors. -Here you will be safe, and a little lack is not a great misery." - -"I thank you heartily, madam," I replied. "But, seeing you know the name -I could not tell you, may I not now know yours?" - -"My name is Mara," she answered. - -Then I remembered the sexton and the little black cat. - -"Some people," she went on, "take me for Lot's wife, lamenting over -Sodom; and some think I am Rachel, weeping for her children; but I am -neither of those." - -"I thank you again, Mara," I said. "--May I lie here on your floor till -the morning?" - -"At the top of that stair," she answered, "you will find a bed--on which -some have slept better than they expected, and some have waked all the -night and slept all the next day. It is not a very soft one, but it is -better than the sand--and there are no hyenas sniffing about it!" - -The stair, narrow and steep, led straight up from the room to an -unceiled and unpartitioned garret, with one wide, low dormer window. -Close under the sloping roof stood a narrow bed, the sight of which with -its white coverlet made me shiver, so vividly it recalled the couches in -the chamber of death. On the table was a dry loaf, and beside it a cup -of cold water. To me, who had tasted nothing but fruit for months, they -were a feast. - -"I must leave you in the dark," my hostess called from the bottom of the -stair. "This lantern is all the light I have, and there are things to do -to-night." - -"It is of no consequence, thank you, madam," I returned. "To eat and -drink, to lie down and sleep, are things that can be done in the dark." - -"Rest in peace," she said. - -I ate up the loaf, drank the water every drop, and laid myself down. -The bed was hard, the covering thin and scanty, and the night cold: I -dreamed that I lay in the chamber of death, between the warrior and the -lady with the healing wound. - -I woke in the middle of the night, thinking I heard low noises of wild -animals. - -"Creatures of the desert scenting after me, I suppose!" I said to -myself, and, knowing I was safe, would have gone to sleep again. But -that instant a rough purring rose to a howl under my window, and I -sprang from my bed to see what sort of beast uttered it. - -Before the door of the cottage, in the full radiance of the moon, a tall -woman stood, clothed in white, with her back toward me. She was stooping -over a large white animal like a panther, patting and stroking it with -one hand, while with the other she pointed to the moon half-way up the -heaven, then drew a perpendicular line to the horizon. Instantly the -creature darted off with amazing swiftness in the direction indicated. -For a moment my eyes followed it, then sought the woman; but she was -gone, and not yet had I seen her face! Again I looked after the animal, -but whether I saw or only fancied a white speck in the distance, I could -not tell.--What did it mean? What was the monster-cat sent off to do? I -shuddered, and went back to my bed. Then I remembered that, when I lay -down in the sandy hollow outside, the moon was setting; yet here -she was, a few hours after, shining in all her glory! "Everything is -uncertain here," I said to myself, "--even the motions of the heavenly -bodies!" - -I learned afterward that there were several moons in the service of this -world, but the laws that ruled their times and different orbits I failed -to discover. - -Again I fell asleep, and slept undisturbed. - -When I went down in the morning, I found bread and water waiting me, the -loaf so large that I ate only half of it. My hostess sat muffled beside -me while I broke my fast, and except to greet me when I entered, never -opened her mouth until I asked her to instruct me how to arrive at -Bulika. She then told me to go up the bank of the river-bed until it -disappeared; then verge to the right until I came to a forest--in which -I might spend a night, but which I must leave with my face to the rising -moon. Keeping in the same direction, she said, until I reached a running -stream, I must cross that at right angles, and go straight on until I -saw the city on the horizon. - -I thanked her, and ventured the remark that, looking out of the window -in the night, I was astonished to see her messenger understand her so -well, and go so straight and so fast in the direction she had indicated. - -"If I had but that animal of yours to guide me--" I went on, hoping to -learn something of its mission, but she interrupted me, saying, - -"It was to Bulika she went--the shortest way." - -"How wonderfully intelligent she looked!" - -"Astarte knows her work well enough to be sent to do it," she answered. - -"Have you many messengers like her?" - -"As many as I require." - -"Are they hard to teach?" - -"They need no teaching. They are all of a certain breed, but not one of -the breed is like another. Their origin is so natural it would seem to -you incredible." - -"May I not know it?" - -"A new one came to me last night--from your head while you slept." - -I laughed. - -"All in this world seem to love mystery!" I said to myself. "Some chance -word of mine suggested an idea--and in this form she embodies the small -fact!" - -"Then the creature is mine!" I cried. - -"Not at all!" she answered. "That only can be ours in whose existence -our will is a factor." - -"Ha! a metaphysician too!" I remarked inside, and was silent. - -"May I take what is left of the loaf?" I asked presently. - -"You will want no more to-day," she replied. - -"To-morrow I may!" I rejoined. - -She rose and went to the door, saying as she went, - -"It has nothing to do with to-morrow--but you may take it if you will." - -She opened the door, and stood holding it. I rose, taking up the -bread--but lingered, much desiring to see her face. - -"Must I go, then?" I asked. - -"No one sleeps in my house two nights together!" she answered. - -"I thank you, then, for your hospitality, and bid you farewell!" I said, -and turned to go. - -"The time will come when you must house with me many days and many -nights," she murmured sadly through her muffling. - -"Willingly," I replied. - -"Nay, NOT willingly!" she answered. - -I said to myself that she was right--I would not willingly be her guest -a second time! but immediately my heart rebuked me, and I had scarce -crossed the threshold when I turned again. - -She stood in the middle of the room; her white garments lay like foamy -waves at her feet, and among them the swathings of her face: it was -lovely as a night of stars. Her great gray eyes looked up to heaven; -tears were flowing down her pale cheeks. She reminded me not a little -of the sexton's wife, although the one looked as if she had not wept for -thousands of years, and the other as if she wept constantly behind the -wrappings of her beautiful head. Yet something in the very eyes that -wept seemed to say, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in -the morning." - -I had bowed my head for a moment, about to kneel and beg her -forgiveness, when, looking up in the act, I found myself outside a -doorless house. I went round and round it, but could find no entrance. - -I had stopped under one of the windows, on the point of calling aloud my -repentant confession, when a sudden wailing, howling scream invaded my -ears, and my heart stood still. Something sprang from the window above -my head, and lighted beyond me. I turned, and saw a large gray cat, its -hair on end, shooting toward the river-bed. I fell with my face in the -sand, and seemed to hear within the house the gentle sobbing of one who -suffered but did not repent. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. A GRUESOME DANCE - -I rose to resume my journey, and walked many a desert mile. How I longed -for a mountain, or even a tall rock, from whose summit I might see -across the dismal plain or the dried-up channels to some bordering hope! -Yet what could such foresight have availed me? That which is within a -man, not that which lies beyond his vision, is the main factor in what -is about to befall him: the operation upon him is the event. Foreseeing -is not understanding, else surely the prophecy latent in man would come -oftener to the surface! - -The sun was half-way to the horizon when I saw before me a rugged rocky -ascent; but ere I reached it my desire to climb was over, and I longed -to lie down. By that time the sun was almost set, and the air had begun -to grow dark. At my feet lay a carpet of softest, greenest moss, couch -for a king: I threw myself upon it, and weariness at once began to ebb, -for, the moment my head was down, the third time I heard below me many -waters, playing broken airs and ethereal harmonies with the stones of -their buried channels. Loveliest chaos of music-stuff the harp aquarian -kept sending up to my ears! What might not a Händel have done with that -ever-recurring gurgle and bell-like drip, to the mingling and mutually -destructive melodies their common refrain! - -As I lay listening, my eyes went wandering up and down the rocky slope -abrupt above me, reading on its face the record that down there, ages -ago, rushed a cataract, filling the channels that had led me to its -foot. My heart swelled at the thought of the splendid tumult, where -the waves danced revelling in helpless fall, to mass their music in one -organ-roar below. But soon the hidden brooks lulled me to sleep, and -their lullabies mingled with my dreams. - -I woke before the sun, and eagerly climbed to see what lay beyond. Alas, -nothing but a desert of finest sand! Not a trace was left of the river -that had plunged adown the rocks! The powdery drift had filled its -course to the level of the dreary expanse! As I looked back I saw that -the river had divided into two branches as it fell, that whose bank I -had now followed to the foot of the rocky scaur, and that which first I -crossed to the Evil Wood. The wood I descried between the two on the -far horizon. Before me and to the left, the desert stretched beyond my -vision, but far to the right I could see a lift in the sky-line, giving -hope of the forest to which my hostess had directed me. - -I sat down, and sought in my pocket the half-loaf I had brought with -me--then first to understand what my hostess had meant concerning it. -Verily the bread was not for the morrow: it had shrunk and hardened to a -stone! I threw it away, and set out again. - -About noon I came to a few tamarisk and juniper trees, and then to a few -stunted firs. As I went on, closer thickets and larger firs met me, and -at length I was in just such a forest of pines and other trees as that -in which the Little Ones found their babies, and believed I had returned -upon a farther portion of the same. But what mattered WHERE while -EVERYWHERE was the same as NOWHERE! I had not yet, by doing something in -it, made ANYWHERE into a place! I was not yet alive; I was only dreaming -I lived! I was but a consciousness with an outlook! Truly I had been -nothing else in the world I had left, but now I knew the fact! I said -to myself that if in this forest I should catch the faint gleam of the -mirror, I would turn far aside lest it should entrap me unawares, and -give me back to my old existence: here I might learn to be something by -doing something! I could not endure the thought of going back, with so -many beginnings and not an end achieved. The Little Ones would meet what -fate was appointed them; the awful witch I should never meet; the dead -would ripen and arise without me; I should but wake to know that I had -dreamed, and that all my going was nowhither! I would rather go on and -on than come to such a close! - -I went deeper into the wood: I was weary, and would rest in it. - -The trees were now large, and stood in regular, almost geometric, -fashion, with roomy spaces between. There was little undergrowth, and -I could see a long way in every direction. The forest was like a great -church, solemn and silent and empty, for I met nothing on two feet or -four that day. Now and then, it is true, some swift thing, and again -some slow thing, would cross the space on which my eye happened that -moment to settle; but it was always at some distance, and only enhanced -the sense of wideness and vacancy. I heard a few birds, and saw plenty -of butterflies, some of marvellously gorgeous colouring and combinations -of colour, some of a pure and dazzling whiteness. - -Coming to a spot where the pines stood farther apart and gave room for -flowering shrubs, and hoping it a sign of some dwelling near, I took the -direction where yet more and more roses grew, for I was hungry after the -voice and face of my kind--after any live soul, indeed, human or not, -which I might in some measure understand. What a hell of horror, I -thought, to wander alone, a bare existence never going out of itself, -never widening its life in another life, but, bound with the cords of -its poor peculiarities, lying an eternal prisoner in the dungeon of its -own being! I began to learn that it was impossible to live for oneself -even, save in the presence of others--then, alas, fearfully possible! -evil was only through good! selfishness but a parasite on the tree -of life! In my own world I had the habit of solitary song; here not a -crooning murmur ever parted my lips! There I sang without thinking; here -I thought without singing! there I had never had a bosom-friend; here -the affection of an idiot would be divinely welcome! "If only I had a -dog to love!" I sighed--and regarded with wonder my past self, which -preferred the company of book or pen to that of man or woman; which, if -the author of a tale I was enjoying appeared, would wish him away that I -might return to his story. I had chosen the dead rather than the living, -the thing thought rather than the thing thinking! "Any man," I said -now, "is more than the greatest of books!" I had not cared for my -live brothers and sisters, and now I was left without even the dead to -comfort me! - -The wood thinned yet more, and the pines grew yet larger, sending up -huge stems, like columns eager to support the heavens. More trees of -other kinds appeared; the forest was growing richer! The roses wore now -trees, and their flowers of astonishing splendour. - -Suddenly I spied what seemed a great house or castle; but its forms were -so strangely indistinct, that I could not be certain it was more than a -chance combination of tree-shapes. As I drew nearer, its lines yet held -together, but neither they nor the body of it grew at all more definite; -and when at length I stood in front of it, I remained as doubtful of its -nature as before. House or castle habitable, it certainly was not; it -might be a ruin overgrown with ivy and roses! Yet of building hid in the -foliage, not the poorest wall-remnant could I discern. Again and again -I seemed to descry what must be building, but it always vanished before -closer inspection. Could it be, I pondered, that the ivy had embraced a -huge edifice and consumed it, and its interlaced branches retained the -shapes of the walls it had assimilated?--I could be sure of nothing -concerning the appearance. - -Before me was a rectangular vacancy--the ghost of a doorway without a -door: I stepped through it, and found myself in an open space like a -great hall, its floor covered with grass and flowers, its walls and roof -of ivy and vine, mingled with roses. - -There could be no better place in which to pass the night! I gathered -a quantity of withered leaves, laid them in a corner, and threw myself -upon them. A red sunset filled the hall, the night was warm, and my -couch restful; I lay gazing up at the live ceiling, with its tracery -of branches and twigs, its clouds of foliage, and peeping patches of -loftier roof. My eyes went wading about as if tangled in it, until the -sun was down, and the sky beginning to grow dark. Then the red roses -turned black, and soon the yellow and white alone were visible. When -they vanished, the stars came instead, hanging in the leaves like -live topazes, throbbing and sparkling and flashing many colours: I was -canopied with a tree from Aladdin's cave! - -Then I discovered that it was full of nests, whence tiny heads, -nearly indistinguishable, kept popping out with a chirp or two, and -disappearing again. For a while there were rustlings and stirrings and -little prayers; but as the darkness grew, the small heads became still, -and at last every feathered mother had her brood quiet under her wings, -the talk in the little beds was over, and God's bird-nursery at rest -beneath the waves of sleep. Once more a few flutterings made me look -up: an owl went sailing across. I had only a glimpse of him, but several -times felt the cool wafture of his silent wings. The mother birds did -not move again; they saw that he was looking for mice, not children. - -About midnight I came wide awake, roused by a revelry, whose noises -were yet not loud. Neither were they distant; they were close to me, but -attenuate. My eyes were so dazzled, however, that for a while I could -see nothing; at last they came to themselves. - -I was lying on my withered leaves in the corner of a splendid hall. -Before me was a crowd of gorgeously dressed men and gracefully robed -women, none of whom seemed to see me. In dance after dance they vaguely -embodied the story of life, its meetings, its passions, its partings. A -student of Shakspere, I had learned something of every dance alluded -to in his plays, and hence partially understood several of those I -now saw--the minuet, the pavin, the hey, the coranto, the lavolta. The -dancers were attired in fashion as ancient as their dances. - -A moon had risen while I slept, and was shining through the -countless-windowed roof; but her light was crossed by so many shadows -that at first I could distinguish almost nothing of the faces of -the multitude; I could not fail, however, to perceive that there was -something odd about them: I sat up to see them better.--Heavens! could -I call them faces? They were skull fronts!--hard, gleaming bone, bare -jaws, truncated noses, lipless teeth which could no more take part in -any smile! Of these, some flashed set and white and murderous; others -were clouded with decay, broken and gapped, coloured of the earth in -which they seemed so long to have lain! Fearfuller yet, the eye-sockets -were not empty; in each was a lidless living eye! In those wrecks of -faces, glowed or flashed or sparkled eyes of every colour, shape, and -expression. The beautiful, proud eye, dark and lustrous, condescending -to whatever it rested upon, was the more terrible; the lovely, -languishing eye, the more repulsive; while the dim, sad eyes, less at -variance with their setting, were sad exceedingly, and drew the heart in -spite of the horror out of which they gazed. - -I rose and went among the apparitions, eager to understand something -of their being and belongings. Were they souls, or were they and their -rhythmic motions but phantasms of what had been? By look nor by gesture, -not by slightest break in the measure, did they show themselves aware -of me; I was not present to them: how much were they in relation to each -other? Surely they saw their companions as I saw them! Or was each only -dreaming itself and the rest? Did they know each how they appeared to -the others--a death with living eyes? Had they used their faces, not for -communication, not to utter thought and feeling, not to share existence -with their neighbours, but to appear what they wished to appear, and -conceal what they were? and, having made their faces masks, were they -therefore deprived of those masks, and condemned to go without faces -until they repented? - -"How long must they flaunt their facelessness in faceless eyes?" I -wondered. "How long will the frightful punition endure? Have they at -length begun to love and be wise? Have they yet yielded to the shame -that has found them?" - -I heard not a word, saw not a movement of one naked mouth. Were they -because of lying bereft of speech? With their eyes they spoke as if -longing to be understood: was it truth or was it falsehood that spoke -in their eyes? They seemed to know one another: did they see one skull -beautiful, and another plain? Difference must be there, and they had had -long study of skulls! - -My body was to theirs no obstacle: was I a body, and were they but -forms? or was I but a form, and were they bodies? The moment one of the -dancers came close against me, that moment he or she was on the other -side of me, and I could tell, without seeing, which, whether man or -woman, had passed through my house. - -On many of the skulls the hair held its place, and however dressed, or -in itself however beautiful, to my eyes looked frightful on the bones -of the forehead and temples. In such case, the outer ear often remained -also, and at its tip, the jewel of the ear as Sidney calls it, -would hang, glimmering, gleaming, or sparkling, pearl or opal or -diamond--under the night of brown or of raven locks, the sunrise -of golden ripples, or the moonshine of pale, interclouded, fluffy -cirri--lichenous all on the ivory-white or damp-yellow naked bone. I -looked down and saw the daintily domed instep; I looked up and saw the -plump shoulders basing the spring of the round full neck--which withered -at half-height to the fluted shaft of a gibbose cranium. - -The music became wilder, the dance faster and faster; eyes flared and -flashed, jewels twinkled and glittered, casting colour and fire on the -pallid grins that glode through the hall, weaving a ghastly rhythmic -woof in intricate maze of multitudinous motion, when sudden came a -pause, and every eye turned to the same spot:--in the doorway stood a -woman, perfect in form, in holding, and in hue, regarding the company -as from the pedestal of a goddess, while the dancers stood "like one -forbid," frozen to a new death by the vision of a life that killed. -"Dead things, I live!" said her scornful glance. Then, at once, like -leaves in which an instant wind awakes, they turned each to another, and -broke afresh into melodious consorted motion, a new expression in -their eyes, late solitary, now filled with the interchange of a common -triumph. "Thou also," they seemed to say, "wilt soon become weak as -we! thou wilt soon become like unto us!" I turned mine again to the -woman--and saw upon her side a small dark shadow. - -She had seen the change in the dead stare; she looked down; she -understood the talking eyes; she pressed both her lovely hands on the -shadow, gave a smothered cry, and fled. The birds moved rustling in -their nests, and a flash of joy lit up the eyes of the dancers, when -suddenly a warm wind, growing in strength as it swept through the place, -blew out every light. But the low moon yet glimmered on the horizon with -"sick assay" to shine, and a turbid radiance yet gleamed from so many -eyes, that I saw well enough what followed. As if each shape had been -but a snow-image, it began to fall to pieces, ruining in the warm wind. -In papery flakes the flesh peeled from its bones, dropping like soiled -snow from under its garments; these fell fluttering in rags and strips, -and the whole white skeleton, emerging from garment and flesh together, -stood bare and lank amid the decay that littered the floor. A faint -rattling shiver went through the naked company; pair after pair -the lamping eyes went out; and the darkness grew round me with the -loneliness. For a moment the leaves were still swept fluttering all one -way; then the wind ceased, and the owl floated silent through the silent -night. - -Not for a moment had I been afraid. It is true that whoever would cross -the threshold of any world, must leave fear behind him; but, for myself, -I could claim no part in its absence. No conscious courage was operant -in me; simply, I was not afraid. I neither knew why I was not afraid, -nor wherefore I might have been afraid. I feared not even fear--which of -all dangers is the most dangerous. - -I went out into the wood, at once to resume my journey. Another moon was -rising, and I turned my face toward it. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. A GROTESQUE TRAGEDY - -I had not gone ten paces when I caught sight of a strange-looking -object, and went nearer to know what it might be. I found it a -mouldering carriage of ancient form, ruinous but still upright on its -heavy wheels. On each side of the pole, still in its place, lay the -skeleton of a horse; from their two grim white heads ascended the -shrivelled reins to the hand of the skeleton-coachman seated on his -tattered hammer-cloth; both doors had fallen away; within sat two -skeletons, each leaning back in its corner. - -Even as I looked, they started awake, and with a cracking rattle of -bones, each leaped from the door next it. One fell and lay; the other -stood a moment, its structure shaking perilously; then with difficulty, -for its joints were stiff, crept, holding by the back of the carriage, -to the opposite side, the thin leg-bones seeming hardly strong enough to -carry its weight, where, kneeling by the other, it sought to raise it, -almost falling itself again in the endeavour. - -The prostrate one rose at length, as by a sudden effort, to the sitting -posture. For a few moments it turned its yellowish skull to this side -and that; then, heedless of its neighbour, got upon its feet by grasping -the spokes of the hind wheel. Half erected thus, it stood with its back -to the other, both hands holding one of its knee-joints. With little -less difficulty and not a few contortions, the kneeling one rose next, -and addressed its companion. - -"Have you hurt yourself, my lord?" it said, in a voice that sounded -far-off, and ill-articulated as if blown aside by some spectral wind. - -"Yes, I have," answered the other, in like but rougher tone. "You would -do nothing to help me, and this cursed knee is out!" - -"I did my best, my lord." - -"No doubt, my lady, for it was bad! I thought I should never find my -feet again!--But, bless my soul, madam! are you out in your bones?" - -She cast a look at herself. - -"I have nothing else to be out in," she returned; "--and YOU at least -cannot complain! But what on earth does it mean? Am I dreaming?" - -"YOU may be dreaming, madam--I cannot tell; but this knee of mine -forbids me the grateful illusion.--Ha! I too, I perceive, have nothing -to walk in but bones!--Not so unbecoming to a man, however! I trust to -goodness they are not MY bones! every one aches worse than another, and -this loose knee worst of all! The bed must have been damp--and I too -drunk to know it!" - -"Probably, my lord of Cokayne!" - -"What! what!--You make me think I too am dreaming--aches and all! How -do YOU know the title my roistering bullies give me? I don't remember -you!--Anyhow, you have no right to take liberties! My name is--I am -lord----tut, tut! What do you call me when I'm--I mean when you are -sober? I cannot--at the moment,--Why, what IS my name?--I must have been -VERY drunk when I went to bed! I often am!" - -"You come so seldom to mine, that I do not know, my lord; but I may take -your word for THAT!" - -"I hope so!" - -"--if for nothing else!" "Hoity toity! I never told you a lie in my -life!" - -"You never told me anything but lies." - -"Upon my honour!--Why, I never saw the woman before!" - -"You knew me well enough to lie to, my lord!" - -"I do seem to begin to dream I have met you before, but, upon my oath, -there is nothing to know you by! Out of your clothes, who is to tell -who you may not be?--One thing I MAY swear--that I never saw you so much -undressed before!--By heaven, I have no recollection of you!" - -"I am glad to hear it: my recollections of you are the less -distasteful!--Good morning, my lord!" - -She turned away, hobbled, clacking, a few paces, and stood again. - -"You are just as heartless as--as--any other woman, madam!--Where in -this hell of a place shall I find my valet?--What was the cursed name I -used to call the fool?" - -He turned his bare noddle this way and that on its creaking pivot, still -holding his knee with both hands. - -"I will be your valet for once, my lord," said the lady, turning once -more to him. "--What can I do for you? It is not easy to tell!" - -"Tie my leg on, of course, you fool! Can't you see it is all but off? -Heigho, my dancing days!" - -She looked about with her eyeless sockets and found a piece of fibrous -grass, with which she proceeded to bind together the adjoining parts -that had formed the knee. When she had done, he gave one or two -carefully tentative stamps. - -"You used to stamp rather differently, my lord!" she said, as she rose -from her knees. - -"Eh? what!--Now I look at you again, it seems to me I used to hate -you!--Eh?" - -"Naturally, my lord! You hated a good many people!--your wife, of -course, among the rest!" - -"Ah, I begin, I be-gin---- But--I must have been a long time -somewhere!--I really forget!--There! your damned, miserable bit of grass -is breaking!--We used to get on PRETTY well together--eh?" - -"Not that I remember, my lord. The only happy moments I had in your -company were scattered over the first week of our marriage." - -"Was that the way of it? Ha! ha!--Well, it's over now, thank goodness!" - -"I wish I could believe it! Why were we sitting there in that carriage -together? It wakes apprehension!" - -"I think we were divorced, my lady!" - -"Hardly enough: we are still together!" - -"A sad truth, but capable of remedy: the forest seems of some extent!" - -"I doubt! I doubt!" - -"I am sorry I cannot think of a compliment to pay you--without lying, -that is. To judge by your figure and complexion you have lived hard -since I saw you last! I cannot surely be QUITE so naked as your -ladyship!--I beg your pardon, madam! I trust you will take it I am -but jesting in a dream! It is of no consequence, however; dreaming -or waking, all's one--all merest appearance! You can't be certain of -anything, and that's as good as knowing there is nothing! Life may teach -any fool that!" - -"It has taught me the fool I was to love you!" - -"You were not the only fool to do that! Women had a trick of falling in -love with me:--I had forgotten that you were one of them!" "I did love -you, my lord--a little--at one time!" - -"Ah, there was your mistake, my lady! You should have loved me much, -loved me devotedly, loved me savagely--loved me eternally! Then I should -have tired of you the sooner, and not hated you so much afterward!--But -let bygones be bygones!--WHERE are we? Locality is the question! To be -or not to be, is NOT the question!" - -"We are in the other world, I presume!" - -"Granted!--but in which or what sort of other world? This can't be -hell!" - -"It must: there's marriage in it! You and I are damned in each other." - -"Then I'm not like Othello, damned in a fair wife!--Oh, I remember my -Shakspeare, madam!" - -She picked up a broken branch that had fallen into a bush, and steadying -herself with it, walked away, tossing her little skull. - -"Give that stick to me," cried her late husband; "I want it more than -you." - -She returned him no answer. - -"You mean to make me beg for it?" - -"Not at all, my lord. I mean to keep it," she replied, continuing her -slow departure. - -"Give it me at once; I mean to have it! I require it." - -"Unfortunately, I think I require it myself!" returned the lady, walking -a little quicker, with a sharper cracking of her joints and clinking of -her bones. - -He started to follow her, but nearly fell: his knee-grass had burst, and -with an oath he stopped, grasping his leg again. - -"Come and tie it up properly!" he would have thundered, but he only -piped and whistled! - -She turned and looked at him. - -"Come and tie it up instantly!" he repeated. - -She walked a step or two farther from him. - -"I swear I will not touch you!" he cried. - -"Swear on, my lord! there is no one here to believe you. But, pray, do -not lose your temper, or you will shake yourself to pieces, and where to -find string enough to tie up all your crazy joints, is more than I can -tell." - -She came back, and knelt once more at his side--first, however, laying -the stick in dispute beyond his reach and within her own. - -The instant she had finished retying the joint, he made a grab at her, -thinking, apparently, to seize her by the hair; but his hard fingers -slipped on the smooth poll. - -"Disgusting!" he muttered, and laid hold of her upper arm-bone. - -"You will break it!" she said, looking up from her knees. - -"I will, then!" he answered, and began to strain at it. - -"I shall not tie your leg again the next time it comes loose!" she -threatened. - -He gave her arm a vicious twist, but happily her bones were in better -condition than his. She stretched her other hand toward the broken -branch. - -"That's right: reach me the stick!" he grinned. - -She brought it round with such a swing that one of the bones of the -sounder leg snapped. He fell, choking with curses. The lady laughed. - -"Now you will have to wear splints always!" she said; "such dry bones -never mend!" - -"You devil!" he cried. - -"At your service, my lord! Shall I fetch you a couple of wheel-spokes? -Neat--but heavy, I fear!" - -He turned his bone-face aside, and did not answer, but lay and groaned. -I marvelled he had not gone to pieces when he fell. The lady rose and -walked away--not all ungracefully, I thought. - -"What can come of it?" I said to myself. "These are too wretched for any -world, and this cannot be hell, for the Little Ones are in it, and -the sleepers too! What can it all mean? Can things ever come right for -skeletons?" - -"There are words too big for you and me: ALL is one of them, and EVER is -another," said a voice near me which I knew. - -I looked about, but could not see the speaker. - -"You are not in hell," it resumed. "Neither am I in hell. But those -skeletons are in hell!" - -Ere he ended I caught sight of the raven on the bough of a beech, right -over my head. The same moment he left it, and alighting on the ground, -stood there, the thin old man of the library, with long nose and long -coat. - -"The male was never a gentleman," he went on, "and in the bony stage -of retrogression, with his skeleton through his skin, and his character -outside his manners, does not look like one. The female is less vulgar, -and has a little heart. But, the restraints of society removed, you see -them now just as they are and always were!" - -"Tell me, Mr. Raven, what will become of them," I said. - -"We shall see," he replied. "In their day they were the handsomest -couple at court; and now, even in their dry bones, they seem to regard -their former repute as an inalienable possession; to see their faces, -however, may yet do something for them! They felt themselves rich too -while they had pockets, but they have already begun to feel rather -pinched! My lord used to regard my lady as a worthless encumbrance, for -he was tired of her beauty and had spent her money; now he needs her -to cobble his joints for him! These changes have roots of hope in them. -Besides, they cannot now get far away from each other, and they see none -else of their own kind: they must at last grow weary of their mutual -repugnance, and begin to love one another! for love, not hate, is -deepest in what Love 'loved into being.'" - -"I saw many more of their kind an hour ago, in the hall close by!" I -said. - -"Of their kind, but not of their sort," he answered. "For many years -these will see none such as you saw last night. Those are centuries -in advance of these. You saw that those could even dress themselves a -little! It is true they cannot yet retain their clothes so long as they -would--only, at present, for a part of the night; but they are pretty -steadily growing more capable, and will by and by develop faces; for -every grain of truthfulness adds a fibre to the show of their humanity. -Nothing but truth can appear; and whatever is must seem." - -"Are they upheld by this hope?" I asked. - -"They are upheld by hope, but they do not in the least know their hope; -to understand it, is yet immeasurably beyond them," answered Mr. Raven. - -His unexpected appearance had caused me no astonishment. I was like a -child, constantly wondering, and surprised at nothing. - -"Did you come to find me, sir?" I asked. - -"Not at all," he replied. "I have no anxiety about you. Such as you -always come back to us." - -"Tell me, please, who am I such as?" I said. - -"I cannot make my friend the subject of conversation," he answered, with -a smile. - -"But when that friend is present!" I urged. - -"I decline the more strongly," he rejoined. - -"But when that friend asks you!" I persisted. - -"Then most positively I refuse," he returned. - -"Why?" - -"Because he and I would be talking of two persons as if they were one -and the same. Your consciousness of yourself and my knowledge of you are -far apart!" - -The lapels of his coat flew out, and the lappets lifted, and I thought -the metamorphosis of HOMO to CORVUS was about to take place before my -eyes. But the coat closed again in front of him, and he added, with -seeming inconsequence, - -"In this world never trust a person who has once deceived you. Above -all, never do anything such a one may ask you to do." - -"I will try to remember," I answered; "--but I may forget!" - -"Then some evil that is good for you will follow." - -"And if I remember?" - -"Some evil that is not good for you, will not follow." - -The old man seemed to sink to the ground, and immediately I saw the -raven several yards from me, flying low and fast. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. DEAD OR ALIVE? - -I went walking on, still facing the moon, who, not yet high, was staring -straight into the forest. I did not know what ailed her, but she -was dark and dented, like a battered disc of old copper, and looked -dispirited and weary. Not a cloud was nigh to keep her company, and the -stars were too bright for her. "Is this going to last for ever?" she -seemed to say. She was going one way and I was going the other, yet -through the wood we went a long way together. We did not commune much, -for my eyes were on the ground; but her disconsolate look was fixed on -me: I felt without seeing it. A long time we were together, I and the -moon, walking side by side, she the dull shine, and I the live shadow. - -Something on the ground, under a spreading tree, caught my eye with its -whiteness, and I turned toward it. Vague as it was in the shadow of -the foliage, it suggested, as I drew nearer, a human body. "Another -skeleton!" I said to myself, kneeling and laying my hand upon it. A body -it was, however, and no skeleton, though as nearly one as body could -well be. It lay on its side, and was very cold--not cold like a stone, -but cold like that which was once alive, and is alive no more. The -closer I looked at it, the oftener I touched it, the less it seemed -possible it should be other than dead. For one bewildered moment, I -fancied it one of the wild dancers, a ghostly Cinderella, perhaps, -that had lost her way home, and perished in the strange night of an -out-of-door world! It was quite naked, and so worn that, even in the -shadow, I could, peering close, have counted without touching them, -every rib in its side. All its bones, indeed, were as visible as if -tight-covered with only a thin elastic leather. Its beautiful yet -terrible teeth, unseemly disclosed by the retracted lips, gleamed -ghastly through the dark. Its hair was longer than itself, thick and -very fine to the touch, and black as night. - -It was the body of a tall, probably graceful woman.--How had she come -there? Not of herself, and already in such wasted condition, surely! Her -strength must have failed her; she had fallen, and lain there until she -died of hunger! But how, even so, could she be thus emaciated? And how -came she to be naked? Where were the savages to strip and leave her? -or what wild beasts would have taken her garments? That her body should -have been left was not wonderful! - -I rose to my feet, stood, and considered. I must not, could not let her -lie exposed and forsaken! Natural reverence forbade it. Even the -garment of a woman claims respect; her body it were impossible to leave -uncovered! Irreverent eyes might look on it! Brutal claws might toss -it about! Years would pass ere the friendly rains washed it into the -soil!--But the ground was hard, almost solid with interlacing roots, and -I had but my bare hands! - -At first it seemed plain that she had not long been dead: there was not -a sign of decay about her! But then what had the slow wasting of life -left of her to decay? - -Could she be still alive? Might she not? What if she were! Things went -very strangely in this strange world! Even then there would be little -chance of bringing her back, but I must know she was dead before I -buried her! - -As I left the forest-hall, I had spied in the doorway a bunch of ripe -grapes, and brought it with me, eating as I came: a few were yet left on -the stalk, and their juice might possibly revive her! Anyhow it was all -I had with which to attempt her rescue! The mouth was happily a little -open; but the head was in such an awkward position that, to move the -body, I passed my arm under the shoulder on which it lay, when I found -the pine-needles beneath it warm: she could not have been any time dead, -and MIGHT still be alive, though I could discern no motion of the heart, -or any indication that she breathed! One of her hands was clenched hard, -apparently inclosing something small. I squeezed a grape into her mouth, -but no swallowing followed. - -To do for her all I could, I spread a thick layer of pine-needles and -dry leaves, laid one of my garments over it, warm from my body, lifted -her upon it, and covered her with my clothes and a great heap of leaves: -I would save the little warmth left in her, hoping an increase to it -when the sun came back. Then I tried another grape, but could perceive -no slightest movement of mouth or throat. - -"Doubt," I said to myself, "may be a poor encouragement to do anything, -but it is a bad reason for doing nothing." So tight was the skin upon -her bones that I dared not use friction. - -I crept into the heap of leaves, got as close to her as I could, and -took her in my arms. I had not much heat left in me, but what I had -I would share with her! Thus I spent what remained of the night, -sleepless, and longing for the sun. Her cold seemed to radiate into me, -but no heat to pass from me to her. - -Had I fled from the beautiful sleepers, I thought, each on her "dim, -straight" silver couch, to lie alone with such a bedfellow! I had -refused a lovely privilege: I was given over to an awful duty! Beneath -the sad, slow-setting moon, I lay with the dead, and watched for the -dawn. - -The darkness had given way, and the eastern horizon was growing dimly -clearer, when I caught sight of a motion rather than of anything -that moved--not far from me, and close to the ground. It was the low -undulating of a large snake, which passed me in an unswerving line. -Presently appeared, making as it seemed for the same point, what I took -for a roebuck-doe and her calf. Again a while, and two creatures like -bear-cubs came, with three or four smaller ones behind them. The light -was now growing so rapidly that when, a few minutes after, a troop of -horses went trotting past, I could see that, although the largest of -them were no bigger than the smallest Shetland pony, they must yet be -full-grown, so perfect were they in form, and so much had they all the -ways and action of great horses. They were of many breeds. Some seemed -models of cart-horses, others of chargers, hunters, racers. Dwarf cattle -and small elephants followed. - -"Why are the children not here!" I said to myself. "The moment I am free -of this poor woman, I must go back and fetch them!" - -Where were the creatures going? What drew them? Was this an exodus, or -a morning habit? I must wait for the sun! Till he came I must not leave -the woman! I laid my hand on the body, and could not help thinking it -felt a trifle warmer. It might have gained a little of the heat I had -lost! it could hardly have generated any! What reason for hope there was -had not grown less! - -The forehead of the day began to glow, and soon the sun came peering up, -as if to see for the first time what all this stir of a new world was -about. At sight of his great innocent splendour, I rose full of life, -strong against death. Removing the handkerchief I had put to protect the -mouth and eyes from the pine-needles, I looked anxiously to see whether -I had found a priceless jewel, or but its empty case. - -The body lay motionless as when I found it. Then first, in the morning -light, I saw how drawn and hollow was the face, how sharp were the bones -under the skin, how every tooth shaped itself through the lips. The -human garment was indeed worn to its threads, but the bird of heaven -might yet be nestling within, might yet awake to motion and song! - -But the sun was shining on her face! I re-arranged the handkerchief, -laid a few leaves lightly over it, and set out to follow the creatures. -Their main track was well beaten, and must have long been used--likewise -many of the tracks that, joining it from both sides, merged in, and -broadened it. The trees retreated as I went, and the grass grew thicker. -Presently the forest was gone, and a wide expanse of loveliest green -stretched away to the horizon. Through it, along the edge of the forest, -flowed a small river, and to this the track led. At sight of the water a -new though undefined hope sprang up in me. The stream looked everywhere -deep, and was full to the brim, but nowhere more than a few yards wide. -A bluish mist rose from it, vanishing as it rose. On the opposite side, -in the plentiful grass, many small animals were feeding. Apparently they -slept in the forest, and in the morning sought the plain, swimming the -river to reach it. I knelt and would have drunk, but the water was hot, -and had a strange metallic taste. - -I leapt to my feet: here was the warmth I sought--the first necessity of -life! I sped back to my helpless charge. - -Without well considering my solitude, no one will understand what seemed -to lie for me in the redemption of this woman from death. "Prove what -she may," I thought with myself, "I shall at least be lonely no more!" I -had found myself such poor company that now first I seemed to know what -hope was. This blessed water would expel the cold death, and drown my -desolation! - -I bore her to the stream. Tall as she was, I found her marvellously -light, her bones were so delicate, and so little covered them. I grew -yet more hopeful when I found her so far from stiff that I could carry -her on one arm, like a sleeping child, leaning against my shoulder. I -went softly, dreading even the wind of my motion, and glad there was no -other. - -The water was too hot to lay her at once in it: the shock might scare -from her the yet fluttering life! I laid her on the bank, and dipping -one of my garments, began to bathe the pitiful form. So wasted was it -that, save from the plentifulness and blackness of the hair, it was -impossible even to conjecture whether she was young or old. Her eyelids -were just not shut, which made her look dead the more: there was a crack -in the clouds of her night, at which no sun shone through! - -The longer I went on bathing the poor bones, the less grew my hope that -they would ever again be clothed with strength, that ever those eyelids -would lift, and a soul look out; still I kept bathing continuously, -allowing no part time to grow cold while I bathed another; and gradually -the body became so much warmer, that at last I ventured to submerge it: -I got into the stream and drew it in, holding the face above the water, -and letting the swift, steady current flow all about the rest. I noted, -but was able to conclude nothing from the fact, that, for all the heat, -the shut hand never relaxed its hold. - -After about ten minutes, I lifted it out and laid it again on the bank, -dried it, and covered it as well as I could, then ran to the forest for -leaves. - -The grass and soil were dry and warm; and when I returned I thought it -had scarcely lost any of the heat the water had given it. I spread the -leaves upon it, and ran for more--then for a third and a fourth freight. - -I could now leave it and go to explore, in the hope of discovering -some shelter. I ran up the stream toward some rocky hills I saw in that -direction, which were not far off. - -When I reached them, I found the river issuing full grown from a rock -at the bottom of one of them. To my fancy it seemed to have run down a -stair inside, an eager cataract, at every landing wild to get out, but -only at the foot finding a door of escape. - -It did not fill the opening whence it rushed, and I crept through into a -little cave, where I learned that, instead of hurrying tumultuously down -a stair, it rose quietly from the ground at the back like the base of -a large column, and ran along one side, nearly filling a deep, rather -narrow channel. I considered the place, and saw that, if I could find -a few fallen boughs long enough to lie across the channel, and large -enough to bear a little weight without bending much, I might, with -smaller branches and plenty of leaves, make upon them a comfortable -couch, which the stream under would keep constantly warm. Then I ran -back to see how my charge fared. - -She was lying as I had left her. The heat had not brought her to life, -but neither had it developed anything to check farther hope. I got a few -boulders out of the channel, and arranged them at her feet and on both -sides of her. - -Running again to the wood, I had not to search long ere I found some -small boughs fit for my purpose--mostly of beech, their dry yellow -leaves yet clinging to them. With these I had soon laid the floor of a -bridge-bed over the torrent. I crossed the boughs with smaller branches, -interlaced these with twigs, and buried all deep in leaves and dry moss. - -When thus at length, after not a few journeys to the forest, I had -completed a warm, dry, soft couch, I took the body once more, and set -out with it for the cave. It was so light that now and then as I went -I almost feared lest, when I laid it down, I should find it a skeleton -after all; and when at last I did lay it gently on the pathless bridge, -it was a greater relief to part with that fancy than with the weight. -Once more I covered the body with a thick layer of leaves; and trying -again to feed her with a grape, found to my joy that I could open the -mouth a little farther. The grape, indeed, lay in it unheeded, but I -hoped some of the juice might find its way down. - -After an hour or two on the couch, she was no longer cold. The warmth of -the brook had interpenetrated her frame--truly it was but a frame!--and -she was warm to the touch;--not, probably, with the warmth of life, but -with a warmth which rendered it more possible, if she were alive, that -she might live. I had read of one in a trance lying motionless for -weeks! - -In that cave, day after day, night after night, seven long days and -nights, I sat or lay, now waking now sleeping, but always watching. -Every morning I went out and bathed in the hot stream, and every morning -felt thereupon as if I had eaten and drunk--which experience gave me -courage to lay her in it also every day. Once as I did so, a shadow of -discoloration on her left side gave me a terrible shock, but the next -morning it had vanished, and I continued the treatment--every morning, -after her bath, putting a fresh grape in her mouth. - -I too ate of the grapes and other berries I found in the forest; but I -believed that, with my daily bath in that river, I could have done very -well without eating at all. - -Every time I slept, I dreamed of finding a wounded angel, who, unable to -fly, remained with me until at last she loved me and would not leave me; -and every time I woke, it was to see, instead of an angel-visage with -lustrous eyes, the white, motionless, wasted face upon the couch. But -Adam himself, when first he saw her asleep, could not have looked more -anxiously for Eve's awaking than I watched for this woman's. Adam knew -nothing of himself, perhaps nothing of his need of another self; I, an -alien from my fellows, had learned to love what I had lost! Were this -one wasted shred of womanhood to disappear, I should have nothing in me -but a consuming hunger after life! I forgot even the Little Ones: things -were not amiss with them! here lay what might wake and be a woman! might -actually open eyes, and look out of them upon me! - -Now first I knew what solitude meant--now that I gazed on one who -neither saw nor heard, neither moved nor spoke. I saw now that a man -alone is but a being that may become a man--that he is but a need, and -therefore a possibility. To be enough for himself, a being must be -an eternal, self-existent worm! So superbly constituted, so simply -complicate is man; he rises from and stands upon such a pedestal of -lower physical organisms and spiritual structures, that no atmosphere -will comfort or nourish his life, less divine than that offered by other -souls; nowhere but in other lives can he breathe. Only by the reflex of -other lives can he ripen his specialty, develop the idea of himself, -the individuality that distinguishes him from every other. Were all men -alike, each would still have an individuality, secured by his personal -consciousness, but there would be small reason why there should be more -than two or three such; while, for the development of the differences -which make a large and lofty unity possible, and which alone can -make millions into a church, an endless and measureless influence and -reaction are indispensable. A man to be perfect--complete, that is, -in having reached the spiritual condition of persistent and universal -growth, which is the mode wherein he inherits the infinitude of his -Father--must have the education of a world of fellow-men. Save for the -hope of the dawn of life in the form beside me, I should have fled for -fellowship to the beasts that grazed and did not speak. Better to go -about with them--infinitely better--than to live alone! But with the -faintest prospect of a woman to my friend, I, poorest of creatures, was -yet a possible man! - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. THE WHITE LEECH - -I woke one morning from a profound sleep, with one of my hands very -painful. The back of it was much swollen, and in the centre of the -swelling was a triangular wound, like the bite of a leech. As the day -went on, the swelling subsided, and by the evening the hurt was all but -healed. I searched the cave, turning over every stone of any size, but -discovered nothing I could imagine capable of injuring me. - -Slowly the days passed, and still the body never moved, never opened -its eyes. It could not be dead, for assuredly it manifested no sign of -decay, and the air about it was quite pure. Moreover, I could imagine -that the sharpest angles of the bones had begun to disappear, that -the form was everywhere a little rounder, and the skin had less of the -parchment-look: if such change was indeed there, life must be there! the -tide which had ebbed so far toward the infinite, must have begun again -to flow! Oh joy to me, if the rising ripples of life's ocean were indeed -burying under lovely shape the bones it had all but forsaken! Twenty -times a day I looked for evidence of progress, and twenty times a day I -doubted--sometimes even despaired; but the moment I recalled the mental -picture of her as I found her, hope revived. - -Several weeks had passed thus, when one night, after lying a long time -awake, I rose, thinking to go out and breathe the cooler air; for, -although from the running of the stream it was always fresh in the cave, -the heat was not seldom a little oppressive. The moon outside was full, -the air within shadowy clear, and naturally I cast a lingering look on -my treasure ere I went. "Bliss eternal!" I cried aloud, "do I see her -eyes?" Great orbs, dark as if cut from the sphere of a starless night, -and luminous by excess of darkness, seemed to shine amid the glimmering -whiteness of her face. I stole nearer, my heart beating so that I feared -the noise of it startling her. I bent over her. Alas, her eyelids were -close shut! Hope and Imagination had wrought mutual illusion! my heart's -desire would never be! I turned away, threw myself on the floor of the -cave, and wept. Then I bethought me that her eyes had been a little -open, and that now the awful chink out of which nothingness had peered, -was gone: it might be that she had opened them for a moment, and was -again asleep!--it might be she was awake and holding them close! In -either case, life, less or more, must have shut them! I was comforted, -and fell fast asleep. - -That night I was again bitten, and awoke with a burning thirst. - -In the morning I searched yet more thoroughly, but again in vain. The -wound was of the same character, and, as before, was nearly well by the -evening. I concluded that some large creature of the leech kind came -occasionally from the hot stream. "But, if blood be its object," I said -to myself, "so long as I am there, I need hardly fear for my treasure!" - -That same morning, when, having peeled a grape as usual and taken away -the seeds, I put it in her mouth, her lips made a slight movement of -reception, and I KNEW she lived! - -My hope was now so much stronger that I began to think of some attire -for her: she must be able to rise the moment she wished! I betook myself -therefore to the forest, to investigate what material it might afford, -and had hardly begun to look when fibrous skeletons, like those of the -leaves of the prickly pear, suggested themselves as fit for the purpose. -I gathered a stock of them, laid them to dry in the sun, pulled apart -the reticulated layers, and of these had soon begun to fashion two loose -garments, one to hang from her waist, the other from her shoulders. -With the stiletto-point of an aloe-leaf and various filaments, I sewed -together three thicknesses of the tissue. - -During the week that followed, there was no farther sign except that she -more evidently took the grapes. But indeed all the signs became surer: -plainly she was growing plumper, and her skin fairer. Still she did not -open her eyes; and the horrid fear would at times invade me, that her -growth was of some hideous fungoid nature, the few grapes being nowise -sufficient to account for it. - -Again I was bitten; and now the thing, whatever it was, began to pay me -regular visits at intervals of three days. It now generally bit me in -the neck or the arm, invariably with but one bite, always while I slept, -and never, even when I slept, in the daytime. Hour after hour would I -lie awake on the watch, but never heard it coming, or saw sign of its -approach. Neither, I believe, did I ever feel it bite me. At length -I became so hopeless of catching it, that I no longer troubled myself -either to look for it by day, or lie in wait for it at night. I knew -from my growing weakness that I was losing blood at a dangerous rate, -but I cared little for that: in sight of my eyes death was yielding to -life; a soul was gathering strength to save me from loneliness; we would -go away together, and I should speedily recover! - -The garments were at length finished, and, contemplating my handiwork -with no small satisfaction, I proceeded to mat layers of the fibre into -sandals. - -One night I woke suddenly, breathless and faint, and longing after air, -and had risen to crawl from the cave, when a slight rustle in the leaves -of the couch set me listening motionless. - -"I caught the vile thing," said a feeble voice, in my mother-tongue; "I -caught it in the very act!" - -She was alive! she spoke! I dared not yield to my transport lest I -should terrify her. - -"What creature?" I breathed, rather than said. - -"The creature," she answered, "that was biting you." - -"What was it?" - -"A great white leech." - -"How big?" I pursued, forcing myself to be calm. - -"Not far from six feet long, I should think," she answered. - -"You have saved my life, perhaps!--But how could you touch the horrid -thing! How brave of you!" I cried. - -"I did!" was all her answer, and I thought she shuddered. - -"Where is it? What could you do with such a monster?" - -"I threw it in the river." - -"Then it will come again, I fear!" - -"I do not think I could have killed it, even had I known how!--I heard -you moaning, and got up to see what disturbed you; saw the frightful -thing at your neck, and pulled it away. But I could not hold it, and was -hardly able to throw it from me. I only heard it splash in the water!" - -"We'll kill it next time!" I said; but with that I turned faint, sought -the open air, but fell. - -When I came to myself the sun was up. The lady stood a little way off, -looking, even in the clumsy attire I had fashioned for her, at once -grand and graceful. I HAD seen those glorious eyes! Through the night -they had shone! Dark as the darkness primeval, they now outshone the -day! She stood erect as a column, regarding me. Her pale cheek indicated -no emotion, only question. I rose. - -"We must be going!" I said. "The white leech----" - -I stopped: a strange smile had flickered over her beautiful face. - -"Did you find me there?" she asked, pointing to the cave. - -"No; I brought you there," I replied. - -"You brought me?" - -"Yes." - -"From where?" - -"From the forest." - -"What have you done with my clothes--and my jewels?" - -"You had none when I found you." - -"Then why did you not leave me?" - -"Because I hoped you were not dead." - -"Why should you have cared?" - -"Because I was very lonely, and wanted you to live." - -"You would have kept me enchanted for my beauty!" she said, with proud -scorn. - -Her words and her look roused my indignation. - -"There was no beauty left in you," I said. - -"Why, then, again, did you not let me alone?" - -"Because you were of my own kind." - -"Of YOUR kind?" she cried, in a tone of utter contempt. - -"I thought so, but find I was mistaken!" - -"Doubtless you pitied me!" - -"Never had woman more claim on pity, or less on any other feeling!" - -With an expression of pain, mortification, and anger unutterable, she -turned from me and stood silent. Starless night lay profound in the -gulfs of her eyes: hate of him who brought it back had slain their -splendour. The light of life was gone from them. - -"Had you failed to rouse me, what would you have done?" she asked -suddenly without moving. - -"I would have buried it." - -"It! What?--You would have buried THIS?" she exclaimed, flashing round -upon me in a white fury, her arms thrown out, and her eyes darting forks -of cold lightning. - -"Nay; that I saw not! That, weary weeks of watching and tending have -brought back to you," I answered--for with such a woman I must be plain! -"Had I seen the smallest sign of decay, I would at once have buried -you." - -"Dog of a fool!" she cried, "I was but in a trance--Samoil! what a -fate!--Go and fetch the she-savage from whom you borrowed this hideous -disguise." - -"I made it for you. It is hideous, but I did my best." - -She drew herself up to her tall height. - -"How long have I been insensible?" she demanded. "A woman could not have -made that dress in a day!" - -"Not in twenty days," I rejoined, "hardly in thirty!" - -"Ha! How long do you pretend I have lain unconscious?--Answer me at -once." - -"I cannot tell how long you had lain when I found you, but there was -nothing left of you save skin and bone: that is more than three months -ago.--Your hair was beautiful, nothing else! I have done for it what I -could." - -"My poor hair!" she said, and brought a great armful of it round from -behind her; "--it will be more than a three-months' care to bring YOU -to life again!--I suppose I must thank you, although I cannot say I am -grateful!" - -"There is no need, madam: I would have done the same for any woman--yes, -or for any man either!" - -"How is it my hair is not tangled?" she said, fondling it. - -"It always drifted in the current." - -"How?--What do you mean?" - -"I could not have brought you to life but by bathing you in the hot -river every morning." - -She gave a shudder of disgust, and stood for a while with her gaze fixed -on the hurrying water. Then she turned to me: - -"We must understand each other!" she said. "--You have done me the two -worst of wrongs--compelled me to live, and put me to shame: neither of -them can I pardon!" - -She raised her left hand, and flung it out as if repelling me. Something -ice-cold struck me on the forehead. When I came to myself, I was on the -ground, wet and shivering. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. GONE!--BUT HOW? - -I rose, and looked around me, dazed at heart. For a moment I could not -see her: she was gone, and loneliness had returned like the cloud after -the rain! She whom I brought back from the brink of the grave, had fled -from me, and left me with desolation! I dared not one moment remain thus -hideously alone. Had I indeed done her a wrong? I must devote my life to -sharing the burden I had compelled her to resume! - -I descried her walking swiftly over the grass, away from the river, took -one plunge for a farewell restorative, and set out to follow her. The -last visit of the white leech, and the blow of the woman, had enfeebled -me, but already my strength was reviving, and I kept her in sight -without difficulty. - -"Is this, then, the end?" I said as I went, and my heart brooded a -sad song. Her angry, hating eyes haunted me. I could understand her -resentment at my having forced life upon her, but how had I further -injured her? Why should she loathe me? Could modesty itself be indignant -with true service? How should the proudest woman, conscious of my every -action, cherish against me the least sense of disgracing wrong? How -reverently had I not touched her! As a father his motherless child, I -had borne and tended her! Had all my labour, all my despairing hope gone -to redeem only ingratitude? "No," I answered myself; "beauty must have -a heart! However profoundly hidden, it must be there! The deeper buried, -the stronger and truer will it wake at last in its beautiful grave! To -rouse that heart were a better gift to her than the happiest life! It -would be to give her a nobler, a higher life!" - -She was ascending a gentle slope before me, walking straight and steady -as one that knew whither, when I became aware that she was increasing -the distance between us. I summoned my strength, and it came in -full tide. My veins filled with fresh life! My body seemed to become -ethereal, and, following like an easy wind, I rapidly overtook her. - -Not once had she looked behind. Swiftly she moved, like a Greek goddess -to rescue, but without haste. I was within three yards of her, when she -turned sharply, yet with grace unbroken, and stood. Fatigue or heat she -showed none. Her paleness was not a pallor, but a pure whiteness; her -breathing was slow and deep. Her eyes seemed to fill the heavens, and -give light to the world. It was nearly noon, but the sense was upon -me as of a great night in which an invisible dew makes the stars look -large. - -"Why do you follow me?" she asked, quietly but rather sternly, as if she -had never before seen me. - -"I have lived so long," I answered, "on the mere hope of your eyes, that -I must want to see them again!" - -"You WILL not be spared!" she said coldly. "I command you to stop where -you stand." - -"Not until I see you in a place of safety will I leave you," I replied. - -"Then take the consequences," she said, and resumed her swift-gliding -walk. - -But as she turned she cast on me a glance, and I stood as if run through -with a spear. Her scorn had failed: she would kill me with her beauty! - -Despair restored my volition; the spell broke; I ran, and overtook her. - -"Have pity upon me!" I cried. - -She gave no heed. I followed her like a child whose mother pretends to -abandon him. "I will be your slave!" I said, and laid my hand on her -arm. - -She turned as if a serpent had bit her. I cowered before the blaze of -her eyes, but could not avert my own. - -"Pity me," I cried again. - -She resumed her walking. - -The whole day I followed her. The sun climbed the sky, seemed to pause -on its summit, went down the other side. Not a moment did she pause, not -a moment did I cease to follow. She never turned her head, never relaxed -her pace. - -The sun went below, and the night came up. I kept close to her: if I -lost sight of her for a moment, it would be for ever! - -All day long we had been walking over thick soft grass: abruptly she -stopped, and threw herself upon it. There was yet light enough to show -that she was utterly weary. I stood behind her, and gazed down on her -for a moment. - -Did I love her? I knew she was not good! Did I hate her? I could not -leave her! I knelt beside her. - -"Begone! Do not dare touch me," she cried. - -Her arms lay on the grass by her sides as if paralyzed. - -Suddenly they closed about my neck, rigid as those of the -torture-maiden. She drew down my face to hers, and her lips clung to my -cheek. A sting of pain shot somewhere through me, and pulsed. I could -not stir a hair's breadth. Gradually the pain ceased. A slumberous -weariness, a dreamy pleasure stole over me, and then I knew nothing. - -All at once I came to myself. The moon was a little way above the -horizon, but spread no radiance; she was but a bright thing set in -blackness. My cheek smarted; I put my hand to it, and found a wet spot. -My neck ached: there again was a wet spot! I sighed heavily, and felt -very tired. I turned my eyes listlessly around me--and saw what had -become of the light of the moon: it was gathered about the lady! she -stood in a shimmering nimbus! I rose and staggered toward her. - -"Down!" she cried imperiously, as to a rebellious dog. "Follow me a step -if you dare!" - -"I will!" I murmured, with an agonised effort. - -"Set foot within the gates of my city, and my people will stone you: -they do not love beggars!" - -I was deaf to her words. Weak as water, and half awake, I did not know -that I moved, but the distance grew less between us. She took one step -back, raised her left arm, and with the clenched hand seemed to strike -me on the forehead. I received as it were a blow from an iron hammer, -and fell. - -I sprang to my feet, cold and wet, but clear-headed and strong. Had the -blow revived me? it had left neither wound nor pain!--But how came I -wet?--I could not have lain long, for the moon was no higher! - -The lady stood some yards away, her back toward me. She was doing -something, I could not distinguish what. Then by her sudden gleam I knew -she had thrown off her garments, and stood white in the dazed moon. One -moment she stood--and fell forward. - -A streak of white shot away in a swift-drawn line. The same instant the -moon recovered herself, shining out with a full flash, and I saw that -the streak was a long-bodied thing, rushing in great, low-curved bounds -over the grass. Dark spots seemed to run like a stream adown its back, -as if it had been fleeting along under the edge of a wood, and catching -the shadows of the leaves. - -"God of mercy!" I cried, "is the terrible creature speeding to the -night-infolded city?" and I seemed to hear from afar the sudden burst -and spread of outcrying terror, as the pale savage bounded from house to -house, rending and slaying. - -While I gazed after it fear-stricken, past me from behind, like a swift, -all but noiseless arrow, shot a second large creature, pure white. Its -path was straight for the spot where the lady had fallen, and, as I -thought, lay. My tongue clave to the roof of my mouth. I sprang forward -pursuing the beast. But in a moment the spot I made for was far behind -it. - -"It was well," I thought, "that I could not cry out: if she had risen, -the monster would have been upon her!" - -But when I reached the place, no lady was there; only the garments she -had dropped lay dusk in the moonlight. - -I stood staring after the second beast. It tore over the ground with yet -greater swiftness than the former--in long, level, skimming leaps, the -very embodiment of wasteless speed. It followed the line the other had -taken, and I watched it grow smaller and smaller, until it disappeared -in the uncertain distance. - -But where was the lady? Had the first beast surprised her, creeping upon -her noiselessly? I had heard no shriek! and there had not been time to -devour her! Could it have caught her up as it ran, and borne her away to -its den? So laden it could not have run so fast! and I should have seen -that it carried something! - -Horrible doubts began to wake in me. After a thorough but fruitless -search, I set out in the track of the two animals. - - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. THE FUGITIVE MOTHER - -As I hastened along, a cloud came over the moon, and from the gray dark -suddenly emerged a white figure, clasping a child to her bosom, and -stooping as she ran. She was on a line parallel with my own, but did not -perceive me as she hurried along, terror and anxiety in every movement -of her driven speed. - -"She is chased!" I said to myself. "Some prowler of this terrible night -is after her!" - -To follow would have added to her fright: I stepped into her track to -stop her pursuer. - -As I stood for a moment looking after her through the dusk, behind me -came a swift, soft-footed rush, and ere I could turn, something sprang -over my head, struck me sharply on the forehead, and knocked me down. -I was up in an instant, but all I saw of my assailant was a vanishing -whiteness. I ran after the beast, with the blood trickling from my -forehead; but had run only a few steps, when a shriek of despair tore -the quivering night. I ran the faster, though I could not but fear it -must already be too late. - -In a minute or two I spied a low white shape approaching me through the -vapour-dusted moonlight. It must be another beast, I thought at first, -for it came slowly, almost crawling, with strange, floundering leaps, -as of a creature in agony! I drew aside from its path, and waited. As it -neared me, I saw it was going on three legs, carrying its left fore-paw -high from the ground. It had many dark, oval spots on a shining white -skin, and was attended by a low rushing sound, as of water falling upon -grass. As it went by me, I saw something streaming from the lifted paw. - -"It is blood!" I said to myself, "some readier champion than I has -wounded the beast!" But, strange to tell, such a pity seized me at sight -of the suffering creature, that, though an axe had been in my hand I -could not have struck at it. In a broken succession of hobbling leaps -it went out of sight, its blood, as it seemed, still issuing in a small -torrent, which kept flowing back softly through the grass beside me. "If -it go on bleeding like that," I thought, "it will soon be hurtless!" - -I went on, for I might yet be useful to the woman, and hoped also to see -her deliverer. - -I descried her a little way off, seated on the grass, with her child in -her lap. - -"Can I do anything for you?" I asked. - -At the sound of my voice she started violently, and would have risen. I -threw myself on the ground. - -"You need not be frightened," I said. "I was following the beast when -happily you found a nearer protector! It passed me now with its foot -bleeding so much that by this time it must be all but dead!" - -"There is little hope of that!" she answered, trembling. "Do you not -know whose beast she is?" - -Now I had certain strange suspicions, but I answered that I knew nothing -of the brute, and asked what had become of her champion. - -"What champion?" she rejoined. "I have seen no one." - -"Then how came the monster to grief?" - -"I pounded her foot with a stone--as hard as I could strike. Did you not -hear her cry?" - -"Well, you are a brave woman!" I answered. "I thought it was you gave -the cry!" - -"It was the leopardess." - -"I never heard such a sound from the throat of an animal! it was like -the scream of a woman in torture!" - -"My voice was gone; I could not have shrieked to save my baby! When I -saw the horrid mouth at my darling's little white neck, I caught up a -stone and mashed her lame foot." - -"Tell me about the creature," I said; "I am a stranger in these parts." - -"You will soon know about her if you are going to Bulika!" she answered. -"Now, I must never go back there!" - -"Yes, I am going to Bulika," I said, "--to see the princess." - -"Have a care; you had better not go!--But perhaps you are--! The -princess is a very good, kind woman!" - -I heard a little movement. Clouds had by this time gathered so thick -over the moon that I could scarcely see my companion: I feared she was -rising to run from me. - -"You are in no danger of any sort from me," I said. "What oath would you -like me to take?" - -"I know by your speech that you are not of the people of Bulika," she -replied; "I will trust you!--I am not of them, either, else I should not -be able: they never trust any one--If only I could see you! But I like -your voice!--There, my darling is asleep! The foul beast has not hurt -her!--Yes: it was my baby she was after!" she went on, caressing the -child. "And then she would have torn her mother to pieces for carrying -her off!--Some say the princess has two white leopardesses," she -continued: "I know only one--with spots. Everybody knows HER! If the -princess hear of a baby, she sends her immediately to suck its blood, -and then it either dies or grows up an idiot. I would have gone away -with my baby, but the princess was from home, and I thought I might wait -until I was a little stronger. But she must have taken the beast with -her, and been on her way home when I left, and come across my track. I -heard the SNIFF-SNUFF of the leopardess behind me, and ran;--oh, how I -ran!--But my darling will not die! There is no mark on her!" - -"Where are you taking her?" - -"Where no one ever tells!" - -"Why is the princess so cruel?" - -"There is an old prophecy that a child will be the death of her. That is -why she will listen to no offer of marriage, they say." - -"But what will become of her country if she kill all the babies?" - -"She does not care about her country. She sends witches around to teach -the women spells that keep babies away, and give them horrible things -to eat. Some say she is in league with the Shadows to put an end to the -race. At night we hear the questing beast, and lie awake and shiver. She -can tell at once the house where a baby is coming, and lies down at the -door, watching to get in. There are words that have power to shoo her -away, only they do not always work--But here I sit talking, and the -beast may by this time have got home, and her mistress be sending the -other after us!" - -As thus she ended, she rose in haste. - -"I do not think she will ever get home.--Let me carry the baby for you!" -I said, as I rose also. - -She returned me no answer, and when I would have taken it, only clasped -it the closer. - -"I cannot think," I said, walking by her side, "how the brute could be -bleeding so much!" - -"Take my advice, and don't go near the palace," she answered. "There are -sounds in it at night as if the dead were trying to shriek, but could -not open their mouths!" - -She bade me an abrupt farewell. Plainly she did not want more of my -company; so I stood still, and heard her footsteps die away on the -grass. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. BULIKA - -I had lost all notion of my position, and was walking about in pure, -helpless impatience, when suddenly I found myself in the path of the -leopardess, wading in the blood from her paw. It ran against my ankles -with the force of a small brook, and I got out of it the more quickly -because of an unshaped suspicion in my mind as to whose blood it might -be. But I kept close to the sound of it, walking up the side of the -stream, for it would guide me in the direction of Bulika. - -I soon began to reflect, however, that no leopardess, no elephant, no -hugest animal that in our world preceded man, could keep such a torrent -flowing, except every artery in its body were open, and its huge system -went on filling its vessels from fields and lakes and forests as fast as -they emptied themselves: it could not be blood! I dipped a finger in it, -and at once satisfied myself that it was not. In truth, however it might -have come there, it was a softly murmuring rivulet of water that ran, -without channel, over the grass! But sweet as was its song, I dared not -drink of it; I kept walking on, hoping after the light, and listening to -the familiar sound so long unheard--for that of the hot stream was very -different. The mere wetting of my feet in it, however, had so refreshed -me, that I went on without fatigue till the darkness began to grow -thinner, and I knew the sun was drawing nigh. A few minutes more, and -I could discern, against the pale aurora, the wall-towers of a -city--seemingly old as time itself. Then I looked down to get a sight of -the brook. - -It was gone. I had indeed for a long time noted its sound growing -fainter, but at last had ceased to attend to it. I looked back: the -grass in its course lay bent as it had flowed, and here and there -glimmered a small pool. Toward the city, there was no trace of it. Near -where I stood, the flow of its fountain must at least have paused! - -Around the city were gardens, growing many sorts of vegetables, hardly -one of which I recognised. I saw no water, no flowers, no sign of -animals. The gardens came very near the walls, but were separated from -them by huge heaps of gravel and refuse thrown from the battlements. - -I went up to the nearest gate, and found it but half-closed, nowise -secured, and without guard or sentinel. To judge by its hinges, it could -not be farther opened or shut closer. Passing through, I looked down -a long ancient street. It was utterly silent, and with scarce an -indication in it of life present. Had I come upon a dead city? I turned -and went out again, toiled a long way over the dust-heaps, and crossed -several roads, each leading up to a gate: I would not re-enter until -some of the inhabitants should be stirring. - -What was I there for? what did I expect or hope to find? what did I mean -to do? - -I must see, if but once more, the woman I had brought to life! I did -not desire her society: she had waked in me frightful suspicions; and -friendship, not to say love, was wildly impossible between us! But her -presence had had a strange influence upon me, and in her presence I -must resist, and at the same time analyse that influence! The seemingly -inscrutable in her I would fain penetrate: to understand something of -her mode of being would be to look into marvels such as imagination -could never have suggested! In this I was too daring: a man must not, -for knowledge, of his own will encounter temptation! On the other hand, -I had reinstated an evil force about to perish, and was, to the extent -of my opposing faculty, accountable for what mischief might ensue! I had -learned that she was the enemy of children: the Little Ones might be in -her danger! It was in the hope of finding out something of their history -that I had left them; on that I had received a little light: I must have -more; I must learn how to protect them! - -Hearing at length a little stir in the place, I walked through the -next gate, and thence along a narrow street of tall houses to a little -square, where I sat down on the base of a pillar with a hideous bat-like -creature atop. Ere long, several of the inhabitants came sauntering -past. I spoke to one: he gave me a rude stare and ruder word, and went -on. - -I got up and went through one narrow street after another, gradually -filling with idlers, and was not surprised to see no children. By -and by, near one of the gates, I encountered a group of young men who -reminded me not a little of the bad giants. They came about me staring, -and presently began to push and hustle me, then to throw things at me. -I bore it as well as I could, wishing not to provoke enmity where -wanted to remain for a while. Oftener than once or twice I appealed to -passers-by whom I fancied more benevolent-looking, but none would halt -a moment to listen to me. I looked poor, and that was enough: to the -citizens of Bulika, as to house-dogs, poverty was an offence! Deformity -and sickness were taxed; and no legislation of their princess was more -heartily approved of than what tended to make poverty subserve wealth. - -I took to my heels at last, and no one followed me beyond the gate. A -lumbering fellow, however, who sat by it eating a hunch of bread, picked -up a stone to throw after me, and happily, in his stupid eagerness, -threw, not the stone but the bread. I took it, and he did not dare -follow to reclaim it: beyond the walls they were cowards every one. I -went off a few hundred yards, threw myself down, ate the bread, fell -asleep, and slept soundly in the grass, where the hot sunlight renewed -my strength. - -It was night when I woke. The moon looked down on me in friendly -fashion, seeming to claim with me old acquaintance. She was very bright, -and the same moon, I thought, that saw me through the terrors of my -first night in that strange world. A cold wind blew from the gate, -bringing with it an evil odour; but it did not chill me, for the sun had -plenished me with warmth. I crept again into the city. There I found the -few that were still in the open air crouched in corners to escape the -shivering blast. - -I was walking slowly through the long narrow street, when, just before -me, a huge white thing bounded across it, with a single flash in the -moonlight, and disappeared. I turned down the next opening, eager to get -sight of it again. - -It was a narrow lane, almost too narrow to pass through, but it led -me into a wider street. The moment I entered the latter, I saw on -the opposite side, in the shadow, the creature I had followed, itself -following like a dog what I took for a man. Over his shoulder, every -other moment, he glanced at the animal behind him, but neither spoke to -it, nor attempted to drive it away. At a place where he had to cross a -patch of moonlight, I saw that he cast no shadow, and was himself but -a flat superficial shadow, of two dimensions. He was, nevertheless, an -opaque shadow, for he not merely darkened any object on the other -side of him, but rendered it, in fact, invisible. In the shadow he was -blacker than the shadow; in the moonlight he looked like one who had -drawn his shadow up about him, for not a suspicion of it moved beside -or under him; while the gleaming animal, which followed so close at his -heels as to seem the white shadow of his blackness, and which I now saw -to be a leopardess, drew her own gliding shadow black over the ground by -her side. When they passed together from the shadow into the moonlight, -the Shadow deepened in blackness, the animal flashed into radiance. I -was at the moment walking abreast of them on the opposite side, my bare -feet sounding on the flat stones: the leopardess never turned head -or twitched ear; the shadow seemed once to look at me, for I lost his -profile, and saw for a second only a sharp upright line. That instant -the wind found me and blew through me: I shuddered from head to foot, -and my heart went from wall to wall of my bosom, like a pebble in a -child's rattle. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. A WOMAN OF BULIKA - -I turned aside into an alley, and sought shelter in a small archway. In -the mouth of it I stopped, and looked out at the moonlight which filled -the alley. The same instant a woman came gliding in after me, turned, -trembling, and looked out also. A few seconds passed; then a huge -leopard, its white skin dappled with many blots, darted across the -archway. The woman pressed close to me, and my heart filled with pity. I -put my arm round her. - -"If the brute come here, I will lay hold of it," I said, "and you must -run." - -"Thank you!" she murmured. - -"Have you ever seen it before?" I asked. - -"Several times," she answered, still trembling. "She is a pet of the -princess's. You are a stranger, or you would know her!" - -"I am a stranger," I answered. "But is she, then, allowed to run loose?" - -"She is kept in a cage, her mouth muzzled, and her feet in gloves of -crocodile leather. Chained she is too; but she gets out often, and sucks -the blood of any child she can lay hold of. Happily there are not many -mothers in Bulika!" - -Here she burst into tears. - -"I wish I were at home!" she sobbed. "The princess returned only last -night, and there is the leopardess out already! How am I to get into the -house? It is me she is after, I know! She will be lying at my own door, -watching for me!--But I am a fool to talk to a stranger!" - -"All strangers are not bad!" I said. "The beast shall not touch you till -she has done with me, and by that time you will be in. You are happy to -have a house to go to! What a terrible wind it is!" - -"Take me home safe, and I will give you shelter from it," she rejoined. -"But we must wait a little!" - -I asked her many questions. She told me the people never did anything -except dig for precious stones in their cellars. They were rich, and had -everything made for them in other towns. - -"Why?" I asked. - -"Because it is a disgrace to work," she answered. "Everybody in Bulika -knows that!" - -I asked how they were rich if none of them earned money. She replied -that their ancestors had saved for them, and they never spent. When they -wanted money they sold a few of their gems. - -"But there must be some poor!" I said. - -"I suppose there must be, but we never think of such people. When one -goes poor, we forget him. That is how we keep rich. We mean to be rich -always." - -"But when you have dug up all your precious stones and sold them, you -will have to spend your money, and one day you will have none left!" - -"We have so many, and there are so many still in the ground, that that -day will never come," she replied. - -"Suppose a strange people were to fall upon you, and take everything you -have!" - -"No strange people will dare; they are all horribly afraid of our -princess. She it is who keeps us safe and free and rich!" - -Every now and then as she spoke, she would stop and look behind her. - -I asked why her people had such a hatred of strangers. She answered that -the presence of a stranger defiled the city. - -"How is that?" I said. - -"Because we are more ancient and noble than any other -nation.--Therefore," she added, "we always turn strangers out before -night." - -"How, then, can you take me into your house?" I asked. - -"I will make an exception of you," she replied. - -"Is there no place in the city for the taking in of strangers?" - -"Such a place would be pulled down, and its owner burned. How is purity -to be preserved except by keeping low people at a proper distance? -Dignity is such a delicate thing!" - -She told me that their princess had reigned for thousands of years; that -she had power over the air and the water as well as the earth--and, she -believed, over the fire too; that she could do what she pleased, and was -answerable to nobody. - -When at length she was willing to risk the attempt, we took our way -through lanes and narrow passages, and reached her door without having -met a single live creature. It was in a wider street, between two -tall houses, at the top of a narrow, steep stair, up which she climbed -slowly, and I followed. Ere we reached the top, however, she seemed to -take fright, and darted up the rest of the steps: I arrived just in time -to have the door closed in my face, and stood confounded on the landing, -where was about length enough, between the opposite doors of the two -houses, for a man to lie down. - -Weary, and not scrupling to defile Bulika with my presence, I took -advantage of the shelter, poor as it was. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. THE WHITE LEOPARDESS - -At the foot of the stair lay the moonlit street, and I could hear the -unwholesome, inhospitable wind blowing about below. But not a breath of -it entered my retreat, and I was composing myself to rest, when suddenly -my eyes opened, and there was the head of the shining creature I had -seen following the Shadow, just rising above the uppermost step! The -moment she caught sight of my eyes, she stopped and began to retire, -tail foremost. I sprang up; whereupon, having no room to turn, she threw -herself backward, head over tail, scrambled to her feet, and in a moment -was down the stair and gone. I followed her to the bottom, and looked -all up and down the street. Not seeing her, I went back to my hard -couch. - -There were, then, two evil creatures prowling about the city, one with, -and one without spots! I was not inclined to risk much for man or woman -in Bulika, but the life of a child might well be worth such a poor -one as mine, and I resolved to keep watch at that door the rest of the -night. - -Presently I heard the latch move, slow, slow: I looked up, and seeing -the door half-open, rose and slid softly in. Behind it stood, not the -woman I had befriended, but the muffled woman of the desert. Without a -word she led me a few steps to an empty stone-paved chamber, and pointed -to a rug on the floor. I wrapped myself in it, and once more lay down. -She shut the door of the room, and I heard the outer door open and close -again. There was no light save what came from the moonlit air. - -As I lay sleepless, I began to hear a stifled moaning. It went on for -a good while, and then came the cry of a child, followed by a terrible -shriek. I sprang up and darted into the passage: from another door in it -came the white leopardess with a new-born baby in her mouth, carrying -it like a cub of her own. I threw myself upon her, and compelled her to -drop the infant, which fell on the stone slabs with a piteous wail. - -At the cry appeared the muffled woman. She stepped over us, the beast -and myself, where we lay struggling in the narrow passage, took up the -child, and carried it away. Returning, she lifted me off the animal, -opened the door, and pushed me gently out. At my heels followed the -leopardess. - -"She too has failed me!" thought I; "--given me up to the beast to be -settled with at her leisure! But we shall have a tussle for it!" - -I ran down the stair, fearing she would spring on my back, but she -followed me quietly. At the foot I turned to lay hold of her, but -she sprang over my head; and when again I turned to face her, she was -crouching at my feet! I stooped and stroked her lovely white skin; -she responded by licking my bare feet with her hard dry tongue. Then I -patted and fondled her, a well of tenderness overflowing in my heart: -she might be treacherous too, but if I turned from every show of love -lest it should be feigned, how was I ever to find the real love which -must be somewhere in every world? - -I stood up; she rose, and stood beside me. - -A bulky object fell with a heavy squelch in the middle of the street, a -few yards from us. I ran to it, and found a pulpy mass, with just form -enough left to show it the body of a woman. It must have been thrown -from some neighbouring window! I looked around me: the Shadow was -walking along the other side of the way, with the white leopardess again -at his heel! - -I followed and gained upon them, urging in my heart for the leopardess -that probably she was not a free agent. When I got near them, however, -she turned and flew at me with such a hideous snarl, that instinctively -I drew back: instantly she resumed her place behind the Shadow. Again -I drew near; again she flew at me, her eyes flaming like live emeralds. -Once more I made the experiment: she snapped at me like a dog, and -bit me. My heart gave way, and I uttered a cry; whereupon the creature -looked round with a glance that plainly meant--"Why WOULD you make me do -it?" - -I turned away angry with myself: I had been losing my time ever since -I entered the place! night as it was I would go straight to the palace! -From the square I had seen it--high above the heart of the city, -compassed with many defences, more a fortress than a palace! - -But I found its fortifications, like those of the city, much neglected, -and partly ruinous. For centuries, clearly, they had been of no account! -It had great and strong gates, with something like a drawbridge to them -over a rocky chasm; but they stood open, and it was hard to believe that -water had ever occupied the hollow before them. All was so still that -sleep seemed to interpenetrate the structure, causing the very moonlight -to look discordantly awake. I must either enter like a thief, or break a -silence that rendered frightful the mere thought of a sound! - -Like an outcast dog I was walking about the walls, when I came to a -little recess with a stone bench: I took refuge in it from the wind, lay -down, and in spite of the cold fell fast asleep. - -I was wakened by something leaping upon me, and licking my face with -the rough tongue of a feline animal. "It is the white leopardess!" I -thought. "She is come to suck my blood!--and why should she not have -it?--it would cost me more to defend than to yield it!" So I lay still, -expecting a shoot of pain. But the pang did not arrive; a pleasant -warmth instead began to diffuse itself through me. Stretched at my back, -she lay as close to me as she could lie, the heat of her body slowly -penetrating mine, and her breath, which had nothing of the wild beast in -it, swathing my head and face in a genial atmosphere. A full conviction -that her intention toward me was good, gained possession of me. I -turned like a sleepy boy, threw my arm over her, and sank into profound -unconsciousness. - -When I began to come to myself, I fancied I lay warm and soft in my own -bed. "Is it possible I am at home?" I thought. The well-known scents of -the garden seemed to come crowding in. I rubbed my eyes, and looked out: -I lay on a bare stone, in the heart of a hateful city! - -I sprang from the bench. Had I indeed had a leopardess for my bedfellow, -or had I but dreamed it? She had but just left me, for the warmth of her -body was with me yet! - -I left the recess with a new hope, as strong as it was shapeless. One -thing only was clear to me: I must find the princess! Surely I had some -power with her, if not over her! Had I not saved her life, and had she -not prolonged it at the expense of my vitality? The reflection gave me -courage to encounter her, be she what she might. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. THE PRINCESS - -Making a circuit of the castle, I came again to the open gates, crossed -the ravine-like moat, and found myself in a paved court, planted at -regular intervals with towering trees like poplars. In the centre was -one taller than the rest, whose branches, near the top, spread a little -and gave it some resemblance to a palm. Between their great stems I -got glimpses of the palace, which was of a style strange to me, but -suggested Indian origin. It was long and low, with lofty towers at the -corners, and one huge dome in the middle, rising from the roof to half -the height of the towers. The main entrance was in the centre of the -front--a low arch that seemed half an ellipse. No one was visible, the -doors stood wide open, and I went unchallenged into a large hall, in -the form of a longish ellipse. Toward one side stood a cage, in which -couched, its head on its paws, a huge leopardess, chained by a steel -collar, with its mouth muzzled and its paws muffled. It was white -with dark oval spots, and lay staring out of wide-open eyes, with -canoe-shaped pupils, and great green irids. It appeared to watch me, but -not an eyeball, not a foot, not a whisker moved, and its tail stretched -out behind it rigid as an iron bar. I could not tell whether it was a -live thing or not. - -From this vestibule two low passages led; I took one of them, and -found it branch into many, all narrow and irregular. At a spot where was -scarce room for two to pass, a page ran against me. He started back in -terror, but having scanned me, gathered impudence, puffed himself out, -and asked my business. - -"To see the princess," I answered. - -"A likely thing!" he returned. "I have not seen her highness this -morning myself!" - -I caught him by the back of the neck, shook him, and said, "Take me to -her at once, or I will drag you with me till I find her. She shall know -how her servants receive her visitors." - -He gave a look at me, and began to pull like a blind man's dog, leading -me thus to a large kitchen, where were many servants, feebly busy, and -hardly awake. I expected them to fall upon me and drive me out, but they -stared instead, with wide eyes--not at me, but at something behind me, -and grew more ghastly as they stared. I turned my head, and saw the -white leopardess, regarding them in a way that might have feared stouter -hearts. - -Presently, however, one of them, seeing, I suppose, that attack was not -imminent, began to recover himself; I turned to him, and let the boy go. - -"Take me to the princess," I said. - -"She has not yet left her room, your lordship," he replied. - -"Let her know that I am here, waiting audience of her." - -"Will your lordship please to give me your name?" - -"Tell her that one who knows the white leech desires to see her." - -"She will kill me if I take such a message: I must not. I dare not." - -"You refuse?" - -He cast a glance at my attendant, and went. - -The others continued staring--too much afraid of her to take their eyes -off her. I turned to the graceful creature, where she stood, her muzzle -dropped to my heel, white as milk, a warm splendour in the gloomy place, -and stooped and patted her. She looked up at me; the mere movement of -her head was enough to scatter them in all directions. She rose on her -hind legs, and put her paws on my shoulders; I threw my arms round her. -She pricked her ears, broke from me, and was out of sight in a moment. - -The man I had sent to the princess entered. - -"Please to come this way, my lord," he said. - -My heart gave a throb, as if bracing itself to the encounter. I followed -him through many passages, and was at last shown into a room so large -and so dark that its walls were invisible. A single spot on the floor -reflected a little light, but around that spot all was black. I looked -up, and saw at a great height an oval aperture in the roof, on the -periphery of which appeared the joints between blocks of black marble. -The light on the floor showed close fitting slabs of the same material. -I found afterward that the elliptical wall as well was of black marble, -absorbing the little light that reached it. The roof was the long half -of an ellipsoid, and the opening in it was over one of the foci of the -ellipse of the floor. I fancied I caught sight of reddish lines, but -when I would have examined them, they were gone. - -All at once, a radiant form stood in the centre of the darkness, -flashing a splendour on every side. Over a robe of soft white, her hair -streamed in a cataract, black as the marble on which it fell. Her -eyes were a luminous blackness; her arms and feet like warm ivory. She -greeted me with the innocent smile of a girl--and in face, figure, and -motion seemed but now to have stepped over the threshold of womanhood. -"Alas," thought I, "ill did I reckon my danger! Can this be the woman I -rescued--she who struck me, scorned me, left me?" I stood gazing at her -out of the darkness; she stood gazing into it, as if searching for me. - -She disappeared. "She will not acknowledge me!" I thought. But the next -instant her eyes flashed out of the dark straight into mine. She had -descried me and come to me! - -"You have found me at last!" she said, laying her hand on my shoulder. -"I knew you would!" - -My frame quivered with conflicting consciousnesses, to analyse which -I had no power. I was simultaneously attracted and repelled: each -sensation seemed either. - -"You shiver!" she said. "This place is cold for you! Come." - -I stood silent: she had struck me dumb with beauty; she held me dumb -with sweetness. - -Taking me by the hand, she drew me to the spot of light, and again -flashed upon me. An instant she stood there. - -"You have grown brown since last I saw you," she said. - -"This is almost the first roof I have been under since you left me," I -replied. - -"Whose was the other?" she rejoined. - -"I do not know the woman's name." - -"I would gladly learn it! The instinct of hospitality is not strong -in my people!" She took me again by the hand, and led me through the -darkness many steps to a curtain of black. Beyond it was a white stair, -up which she conducted me to a beautiful chamber. - -"How you must miss the hot flowing river!" she said. "But there is a -bath in the corner with no white leeches in it! At the foot of your -couch you will find a garment. When you come down, I shall be in the -room to your left at the foot of the stair." - -I stood as she left me, accusing my presumption: how was I to treat -this lovely woman as a thing of evil, who behaved to me like a -sister?--Whence the marvellous change in her? She left me with a blow; -she received me almost with an embrace! She had reviled me; she said -she knew I would follow and find her! Did she know my doubts concerning -her--how much I should want explained? COULD she explain all? Could I -believe her if she did? As to her hospitality, I had surely earned -and might accept that--at least until I came to a definite judgment -concerning her! - -Could such beauty as I saw, and such wickedness as I suspected, exist -in the same person? If they could, HOW was it possible? Unable to answer -the former question, I must let the latter wait! - -Clear as crystal, the water in the great white bath sent a sparkling -flash from the corner where it lay sunk in the marble floor, and seemed -to invite me to its embrace. Except the hot stream, two draughts in the -cottage of the veiled woman, and the pools in the track of the wounded -leopardess, I had not seen water since leaving home: it looked a thing -celestial. I plunged in. - -Immediately my brain was filled with an odour strange and delicate, -which yet I did not altogether like. It made me doubt the princess -afresh: had she medicated it? had she enchanted it? was she in any way -working on me unlawfully? And how was there water in the palace, and not -a drop in the city? I remembered the crushed paw of the leopardess, and -sprang from the bath. - -What had I been bathing in? Again I saw the fleeing mother, again I -heard the howl, again I saw the limping beast. But what matter whence it -flowed? was not the water sweet? Was it not very water the pitcher-plant -secreted from its heart, and stored for the weary traveller? Water came -from heaven: what mattered the well where it gathered, or the spring -whence it burst? But I did not re-enter the bath. - -I put on the robe of white wool, embroidered on the neck and hem, that -lay ready for me, and went down the stair to the room whither my hostess -had directed me. It was round, all of alabaster, and without a single -window: the light came through everywhere, a soft, pearly shimmer rather -than shine. Vague shadowy forms went flitting about over the walls and -low dome, like loose rain-clouds over a grey-blue sky. - -The princess stood waiting me, in a robe embroidered with argentine -rings and discs, rectangles and lozenges, close together--a silver -mail. It fell unbroken from her neck and hid her feet, but its long open -sleeves left her arms bare. - -In the room was a table of ivory, bearing cakes and fruit, an ivory jug -of milk, a crystal jug of wine of a pale rose-colour, and a white loaf. - -"Here we do not kill to eat," she said; "but I think you will like what -I can give you." - -I told her I could desire nothing better than what I saw. She seated -herself on a couch by the table, and made me a sign to sit by her. - -She poured me out a bowlful of milk, and, handing me the loaf, begged -me to break from it such a piece as I liked. Then she filled from the -wine-jug two silver goblets of grotesquely graceful workmanship. - -"You have never drunk wine like this!" she said. - -I drank, and wondered: every flower of Hybla and Hymettus must have sent -its ghost to swell the soul of that wine! - -"And now that you will be able to listen," she went on, "I must do what -I can to make myself intelligible to you. Our natures, however, are so -different, that this may not be easy. Men and women live but to die; we, -that is such as I--we are but a few--live to live on. Old age is to you -a horror; to me it is a dear desire: the older we grow, the nearer we -are to our perfection. Your perfection is a poor thing, comes soon, and -lasts but a little while; ours is a ceaseless ripening. I am not yet -ripe, and have lived thousands of your years--how many, I never cared to -note. The everlasting will not be measured. - -"Many lovers have sought me; I have loved none of them: they sought but -to enslave me; they sought me but as the men of my city seek gems of -price.--When you found me, I found a man! I put you to the test; you -stood it; your love was genuine!--It was, however, far from ideal--far -from such love as I would have. You loved me truly, but not with true -love. Pity has, but is not love. What woman of any world would return -love for pity? Such love as yours was then, is hateful to me. I knew -that, if you saw me as I am, you would love me--like the rest of -them--to have and to hold: I would none of that either! I would be -otherwise loved! I would have a love that outlived hopelessness, -outmeasured indifference, hate, scorn! Therefore did I put on cruelty, -despite, ingratitude. When I left you, I had shown myself such as you -could at least no longer follow from pity: I was no longer in need -of you! But you must satisfy my desire or set me free--prove yourself -priceless or worthless! To satisfy the hunger of my love, you must -follow me, looking for nothing, not gratitude, not even pity in -return!--follow and find me, and be content with merest presence, with -scantest forbearance!--I, not you, have failed; I yield the contest." - -She looked at me tenderly, and hid her face in her hands. But I had -caught a flash and a sparkle behind the tenderness, and did not believe -her. She laid herself out to secure and enslave me; she only fascinated -me! - -"Beautiful princess," I said, "let me understand how you came to be -found in such evil plight." - -"There are things I cannot explain," she replied, "until you have become -capable of understanding them--which can only be when love is grown -perfect. There are many things so hidden from you that you cannot even -wish to know them; but any question you can put, I can in some measure -answer. - -"I had set out to visit a part of my dominions occupied by a savage -dwarf-people, strong and fierce, enemies to law and order, opposed to -every kind of progress--an evil race. I went alone, fearing nothing, -unaware of the least necessity for precaution. I did not know that upon -the hot stream beside which you found me, a certain woman, by no means -so powerful as myself, not being immortal, had cast what you call a -spell--which is merely the setting in motion of a force as natural as -any other, but operating primarily in a region beyond the ken of the -mortal who makes use of the force. - -"I set out on my journey, reached the stream, bounded across it,----" - -A shadow of embarrassment darkened her cheek: I understood it, but -showed no sign. Checked for the merest moment, she went on: - -"--you know what a step it is in parts!--But in the very act, an -indescribable cold invaded me. I recognised at once the nature of the -assault, and knew it could affect me but temporarily. By sheer force of -will I dragged myself to the wood--nor knew anything more until I saw -you asleep, and the horrible worm at your neck. I crept out, dragged the -monster from you, and laid my lips to the wound. You began to wake; I -buried myself among the leaves." - -She rose, her eyes flashing as never human eyes flashed, and threw her -arms high over her head. - -"What you have made me is yours!" she cried. "I will repay you as never -yet did woman! My power, my beauty, my love are your own: take them." - -She dropt kneeling beside me, laid her arms across my knees, and looked -up in my face. - -Then first I noted on her left hand a large clumsy glove. In my mind's -eye I saw hair and claws under it, but I knew it was a hand shut -hard--perhaps badly bruised. I glanced at the other: it was lovely as -hand could be, and I felt that, if I did less than loathe her, I should -love her. Not to dally with usurping emotions, I turned my eyes aside. - -She started to her feet. I sat motionless, looking down. - -"To me she may be true!" said my vanity. For a moment I was tempted to -love a lie. - -An odour, rather than the gentlest of airy pulses, was fanning me. -I glanced up. She stood erect before me, waving her lovely arms in -seemingly mystic fashion. - -A frightful roar made my heart rebound against the walls of its cage. -The alabaster trembled as if it would shake into shivers. The princess -shuddered visibly. - -"My wine was too strong for you!" she said, in a quavering voice; "I -ought not to have let you take a full draught! Go and sleep now, and -when you wake ask me what you please.--I will go with you: come." - -As she preceded me up the stair,-- - -"I do not wonder that roar startled you!" she said. "It startled me, I -confess: for a moment I feared she had escaped. But that is impossible." - -The roar seemed to me, however--I could not tell why--to come from the -WHITE leopardess, and to be meant for me, not the princess. - -With a smile she left me at the door of my room, but as she turned I -read anxiety on her beautiful face. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. A BATTLE ROYAL - -I threw myself on the bed, and began to turn over in my mind the tale -she had told me. She had forgotten herself, and, by a single incautious -word, removed one perplexity as to the condition in which I found her in -the forest! The leopardess BOUNDED over; the princess lay prostrate on -the bank: the running stream had dissolved her self-enchantment! Her own -account of the object of her journey revealed the danger of the Little -Ones then imminent: I had saved the life of their one fearful enemy! - -I had but reached this conclusion when I fell asleep. The lovely wine -may not have been quite innocent. - -When I opened my eyes, it was night. A lamp, suspended from the ceiling, -cast a clear, although soft light through the chamber. A delicious -languor infolded me. I seemed floating, far from land, upon the bosom of -a twilight sea. Existence was in itself pleasure. I had no pain. Surely -I was dying! - -No pain!--ah, what a shoot of mortal pain was that! what a sickening -sting! It went right through my heart! Again! That was sharpness -itself!--and so sickening! I could not move my hand to lay it on my -heart; something kept it down! - -The pain was dying away, but my whole body seemed paralysed. Some evil -thing was upon me!--something hateful! I would have struggled, but could -not reach a struggle. My will agonised, but in vain, to assert itself. -I desisted, and lay passive. Then I became aware of a soft hand on my -face, pressing my head into the pillow, and of a heavy weight lying -across me. - -I began to breathe more freely; the weight was gone from my chest; I -opened my eyes. - -The princess was standing above me on the bed, looking out into the -room, with the air of one who dreamed. Her great eyes were clear and -calm. Her mouth wore a look of satisfied passion; she wiped from it a -streak of red. - -She caught my gaze, bent down, and struck me on the eyes with the -handkerchief in her hand: it was like drawing the edge of a knife across -them, and for a moment or two I was blind. - -I heard a dull heavy sound, as of a large soft-footed animal alighting -from a little jump. I opened my eyes, and saw the great swing of a long -tail as it disappeared through the half-open doorway. I sprang after it. - -The creature had vanished quite. I shot down the stair, and into the -hall of alabaster. The moon was high, and the place like the inside of -a faint, sun-blanched moon. The princess was not there. I must find her: -in her presence I might protect myself; out of it I could not! I was -a tame animal for her to feed upon; a human fountain for a thirst -demoniac! She showed me favour the more easily to use me! My waking eyes -did not fear her, but they would close, and she would come! Not seeing -her, I felt her everywhere, for she might be anywhere--might even now -be waiting me in some secret cavern of sleep! Only with my eyes upon her -could I feel safe from her! - -Outside the alabaster hall it was pitch-dark, and I had to grope my way -along with hands and feet. At last I felt a curtain, put it aside, and -entered the black hall. There I found a great silent assembly. How it -was visible I neither saw nor could imagine, for the walls, the floor, -the roof, were shrouded in what seemed an infinite blackness, blacker -than the blackest of moonless, starless nights; yet my eyes could -separate, although vaguely, not a few of the individuals in the mass -interpenetrated and divided, as well as surrounded, by the darkness. -It seemed as if my eyes would never come quite to themselves. I pressed -their balls and looked and looked again, but what I saw would not grow -distinct. Blackness mingled with form, silence and undefined motion -possessed the wide space. All was a dim, confused dance, filled with -recurrent glimpses of shapes not unknown to me. Now appeared a woman, -with glorious eyes looking out of a skull; now an armed figure on a -skeleton horse; now one now another of the hideous burrowing phantasms. -I could trace no order and little relation in the mingling and crossing -currents and eddies. If I seemed to catch the shape and rhythm of a -dance, it was but to see it break, and confusion prevail. With the -shifting colours of the seemingly more solid shapes, mingled a multitude -of shadows, independent apparently of originals, each moving after -its own free shadow-will. I looked everywhere for the princess, but -throughout the wildly changing kaleidoscopic scene, could not see her -nor discover indication of her presence. Where was she? What might she -not be doing? No one took the least notice of me as I wandered hither -and thither seeking her. At length losing hope, I turned away to look -elsewhere. Finding the wall, and keeping to it with my hand, for even -then I could not see it, I came, groping along, to a curtained opening -into the vestibule. - -Dimly moonlighted, the cage of the leopardess was the arena of what -seemed a desperate although silent struggle. Two vastly differing forms, -human and bestial, with entangled confusion of mingling bodies and -limbs, writhed and wrestled in closest embrace. It had lasted but an -instant when I saw the leopardess out of the cage, walking quietly to -the open door. As I hastened after her I threw a glance behind me: there -was the leopardess in the cage, couching motionless as when I saw her -first. - -The moon, half-way up the sky, was shining round and clear; the bodiless -shadow I had seen the night before, was walking through the trees -toward the gate; and after him went the leopardess, swinging her tail. -I followed, a little way off, as silently as they, and neither of them -once looked round. Through the open gate we went down to the city, lying -quiet as the moonshine upon it. The face of the moon was very still, and -its stillness looked like that of expectation. - -The Shadow took his way straight to the stair at the top of which I had -lain the night before. Without a pause he went up, and the leopardess -followed. I quickened my pace, but, a moment after, heard a cry of -horror. Then came the fall of something soft and heavy between me and -the stair, and at my feet lay a body, frightfully blackened and crushed, -but still recognisable as that of the woman who had led me home and shut -me out. As I stood petrified, the spotted leopardess came bounding down -the stair with a baby in her mouth. I darted to seize her ere she -could turn at the foot; but that instant, from behind me, the white -leopardess, like a great bar of glowing silver, shot through the -moonlight, and had her by the neck. She dropped the child; I caught it -up, and stood to watch the battle between them. - -What a sight it was--now the one, now the other uppermost, both too -intent for any noise beyond a low growl, a whimpered cry, or a snarl of -hate--followed by a quicker scrambling of claws, as each, worrying -and pushing and dragging, struggled for foothold on the pavement! The -spotted leopardess was larger than the white, and I was anxious for my -friend; but I soon saw that, though neither stronger nor more active, -the white leopardess had the greater endurance. Not once did she lose -her hold on the neck of the other. From the spotted throat at length -issued a howl of agony, changing, by swift-crowded gradations, into the -long-drawn CRESCENDO of a woman's uttermost wail. The white one relaxed -her jaws; the spotted one drew herself away, and rose on her hind legs. -Erect in the moonlight stood the princess, a confused rush of shadows -careering over her whiteness--the spots of the leopard crowding, -hurrying, fleeing to the refuge of her eyes, where merging they -vanished. The last few, outsped and belated, mingled with the cloud -of her streamy hair, leaving her radiant as the moon when a legion of -little vapours has flown, wind-hunted, off her silvery disc--save that, -adown the white column of her throat, a thread of blood still trickled -from every wound of her adversary's terrible teeth. She turned away, -took a few steps with the gait of a Hecate, fell, covered afresh with -her spots, and fled at a long, stretching gallop. - -The white leopardess turned also, sprang upon me, pulled my arms -asunder, caught the baby as it fell, and flew with it along the street -toward the gate. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. THE SILENT FOUNTAIN - -I turned and followed the spotted leopardess, catching but one glimpse -of her as she tore up the brow of the hill to the gate of the palace. -When I reached the entrance-hall, the princess was just throwing the -robe around her which she had left on the floor. The blood had ceased to -flow from her wounds, and had dried in the wind of her flight. - -When she saw me, a flash of anger crossed her face, and she turned her -head aside. Then, with an attempted smile, she looked at me, and said, - -"I have met with a small accident! Happening to hear that the cat-woman -was again in the city, I went down to send her away. But she had one of -her horrid creatures with her: it sprang upon me, and had its claws in -my neck before I could strike it!" - -She gave a shiver, and I could not help pitying her, although I knew -she lied, for her wounds were real, and her face reminded me of how she -looked in the cave. My heart began to reproach me that I had let her -fight unaided, and I suppose I looked the compassion I felt. - -"Child of folly!" she said, with another attempted smile, "--not crying, -surely!--Wait for me here; I am going into the black hall for a moment. -I want you to get me something for my scratches." - -But I followed her close. Out of my sight I feared her. - -The instant the princess entered, I heard a buzzing sound as of many -low voices, and, one portion after another, the assembly began to be -shiftingly illuminated, as by a ray that went travelling from spot to -spot. Group after group would shine out for a space, then sink back into -the general vagueness, while another part of the vast company would grow -momently bright. - -Some of the actions going on when thus illuminated, were not unknown to -me; I had been in them, or had looked on them, and so had the princess: -present with every one of them I now saw her. The skull-headed dancers -footed the grass in the forest-hall: there was the princess looking in -at the door! The fight went on in the Evil Wood: there was the princess -urging it! Yet I was close behind her all the time, she standing -motionless, her head sunk on her bosom. The confused murmur continued, -the confused commotion of colours and shapes; and still the ray went -shifting and showing. It settled at last on the hollow in the heath, and -there was the princess, walking up and down, and trying in vain to wrap -the vapour around her! Then first I was startled at what I saw: the old -librarian walked up to her, and stood for a moment regarding her; she -fell; her limbs forsook her and fled; her body vanished. - -A wild shriek rang through the echoing place, and with the fall of her -eidolon, the princess herself, till then standing like a statue in front -of me, fell heavily, and lay still. I turned at once and went out: not -again would I seek to restore her! As I stood trembling beside the -cage, I knew that in the black ellipsoid I had been in the brain of the -princess!--I saw the tail of the leopardess quiver once. - -While still endeavouring to compose myself, I heard the voice of the -princess beside me. - -"Come now," she said; "I will show you what I want you to do for me." - -She led the way into the court. I followed in dazed compliance. - -The moon was near the zenith, and her present silver seemed brighter -than the gold of the absent sun. She brought me through the trees to the -tallest of them, the one in the centre. It was not quite like the rest, -for its branches, drawing their ends together at the top, made a clump -that looked from beneath like a fir-cone. The princess stood close under -it, gazing up, and said, as if talking to herself, - -"On the summit of that tree grows a tiny blossom which would at once -heal my scratches! I might be a dove for a moment and fetch it, but I -see a little snake in the leaves whose bite would be worse to a dove -than the bite of a tiger to me!--How I hate that cat-woman!" - -She turned to me quickly, saying with one of her sweetest smiles, - -"Can you climb?" - -The smile vanished with the brief question, and her face changed to a -look of sadness and suffering. I ought to have left her to suffer, but -the way she put her hand to her wounded neck went to my heart. - -I considered the tree. All the way up to the branches, were projections -on the stem like the remnants on a palm of its fallen leaves. - -"I can climb that tree," I answered. - -"Not with bare feet!" she returned. - -In my haste to follow the leopardess disappearing, I had left my sandals -in my room. - -"It is no matter," I said; "I have long gone barefoot!" - -Again I looked at the tree, and my eyes went wandering up the stem until -my sight lost itself in the branches. The moon shone like silvery -foam here and there on the rugged bole, and a little rush of wind went -through the top with a murmurous sound as of water falling softly into -water. I approached the tree to begin my ascent of it. The princess -stopped me. - -"I cannot let you attempt it with your feet bare!" she insisted. "A fall -from the top would kill you!" - -"So would a bite from the snake!" I answered--not believing, I confess, -that there was any snake. - -"It would not hurt YOU!" she replied. "--Wait a moment." - -She tore from her garment the two wide borders that met in front, and -kneeling on one knee, made me put first my left foot, then my right on -the other, and bound them about with the thick embroidered strips. - -"You have left the ends hanging, princess!" I said. - -"I have nothing to cut them off with; but they are not long enough to -get entangled," she replied. - -I turned to the tree, and began to climb. - -Now in Bulika the cold after sundown was not so great as in certain -other parts of the country--especially about the sexton's cottage; yet -when I had climbed a little way, I began to feel very cold, grew still -colder as I ascended, and became coldest of all when I got among the -branches. Then I shivered, and seemed to have lost my hands and feet. - -There was hardly any wind, and the branches did not sway in the -least, yet, as I approached the summit, I became aware of a peculiar -unsteadiness: every branch on which I placed foot or laid hold, seemed -on the point of giving way. When my head rose above the branches -near the top, and in the open moonlight I began to look about for the -blossom, that instant I found myself drenched from head to foot. The -next, as if plunged in a stormy water, I was flung about wildly, and -felt myself sinking. Tossed up and down, tossed this way and tossed that -way, rolled over and over, checked, rolled the other way and tossed up -again, I was sinking lower and lower. Gasping and gurgling and choking, -I fell at last upon a solid bottom. - -"I told you so!" croaked a voice in my ear. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. I AM SILENCED - -I rubbed the water out of my eyes, and saw the raven on the edge of a -huge stone basin. With the cold light of the dawn reflected from his -glossy plumage, he stood calmly looking down upon me. I lay on my back -in water, above which, leaning on my elbows, I just lifted my face. I -was in the basin of the large fountain constructed by my father in the -middle of the lawn. High over me glimmered the thick, steel-shiny stalk, -shooting, with a torrent uprush, a hundred feet into the air, to spread -in a blossom of foam. - -Nettled at the coolness of the raven's remark, - -"You told me nothing!" I said. - -"I told you to do nothing any one you distrusted asked you!" - -"Tut! how was mortal to remember that?" - -"You will not forget the consequences of having forgotten it!" replied -Mr. Raven, who stood leaning over the margin of the basin, and stretched -his hand across to me. - -I took it, and was immediately beside him on the lawn, dripping and -streaming. - -"You must change your clothes at once!" he said. "A wetting does not -signify where you come from--though at present such an accident is -unusual; here it has its inconveniences!" - -He was again a raven, walking, with something stately in his step, -toward the house, the door of which stood open. - -"I have not much to change!" I laughed; for I had flung aside my robe to -climb the tree. - -"It is a long time since I moulted a feather!" said the raven. - -In the house no one seemed awake. I went to my room, found a -dressing-gown, and descended to the library. - -As I entered, the librarian came from the closet. I threw myself on a -couch. Mr. Raven drew a chair to my side and sat down. For a minute or -two neither spoke. I was the first to break the silence. - -"What does it all mean?" I said. - -"A good question!" he rejoined: "nobody knows what anything is; a man -can learn only what a thing means! Whether he do, depends on the use he -is making of it." - -"I have made no use of anything yet!" - -"Not much; but you know the fact, and that is something! Most people -take more than a lifetime to learn that they have learned nothing, and -done less! At least you have not been without the desire to be of use!" - -"I did want to do something for the children--the precious Little Ones, -I mean." - -"I know you did--and started the wrong way!" - -"I did not know the right way." - -"That is true also--but you are to blame that you did not." - -"I am ready to believe whatever you tell me--as soon as I understand -what it means." - -"Had you accepted our invitation, you would have known the right way. -When a man will not act where he is, he must go far to find his work." - -"Indeed I have gone far, and got nowhere, for I have not found my work! -I left the children to learn how to serve them, and have only learned -the danger they are in." - -"When you were with them, you were where you could help them: you left -your work to look for it! It takes a wise man to know when to go away; a -fool may learn to go back at once!" - -"Do you mean, sir, I could have done something for the Little Ones by -staying with them?" - -"Could you teach them anything by leaving them?" - -"No; but how could I teach them? I did not know how to begin. Besides, -they were far ahead of me!" - -"That is true. But you were not a rod to measure them with! Certainly, -if they knew what you know, not to say what you might have known, they -would be ahead of you--out of sight ahead! but you saw they were not -growing--or growing so slowly that they had not yet developed the -idea of growing! they were even afraid of growing!--You had never seen -children remain children!" - -"But surely I had no power to make them grow!" - -"You might have removed some of the hindrances to their growing!" - -"What are they? I do not know them. I did think perhaps it was the want -of water!" - -"Of course it is! they have none to cry with!" - -"I would gladly have kept them from requiring any for that purpose!" - -"No doubt you would--the aim of all stupid philanthropists! Why, Mr. -Vane, but for the weeping in it, your world would never have become -worth saving! You confess you thought it might be water they wanted: why -did not you dig them a well or two?" - -"That never entered my mind!" - -"Not when the sounds of the waters under the earth entered your ears?" - -"I believe it did once. But I was afraid of the giants for them. That -was what made me bear so much from the brutes myself!" - -"Indeed you almost taught the noble little creatures to be afraid of the -stupid Bags! While they fed and comforted and worshipped you, all the -time you submitted to be the slave of bestial men! You gave the darlings -a seeming coward for their hero! A worse wrong you could hardly have -done them. They gave you their hearts; you owed them your soul!--You -might by this time have made the Bags hewers of wood and drawers of -water to the Little Ones!" - -"I fear what you say is true, Mr. Raven! But indeed I was afraid that -more knowledge might prove an injury to them--render them less innocent, -less lovely." - -"They had given you no reason to harbour such a fear!" - -"Is not a little knowledge a dangerous thing?" - -"That is one of the pet falsehoods of your world! Is man's greatest -knowledge more than a little? or is it therefore dangerous? The fancy -that knowledge is in itself a great thing, would make any degree of -knowledge more dangerous than any amount of ignorance. To know all -things would not be greatness." - -"At least it was for love of them, not from cowardice that I served the -giants!" - -"Granted. But you ought to have served the Little Ones, not the giants! -You ought to have given the Little Ones water; then they would soon -have taught the giants their true position. In the meantime you could -yourself have made the giants cut down two-thirds of their coarse -fruit-trees to give room to the little delicate ones! You lost your -chance with the Lovers, Mr. Vane! You speculated about them instead of -helping them!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. THE PERSIAN CAT - -I sat in silence and shame. What he said was true: I had not been a wise -neighbour to the Little Ones! - -Mr. Raven resumed: - -"You wronged at the same time the stupid creatures themselves. For them -slavery would have been progress. To them a few such lessons as you -could have given them with a stick from one of their own trees, would -have been invaluable." - -"I did not know they were cowards!" - -"What difference does that make? The man who grounds his action on -another's cowardice, is essentially a coward himself.--I fear worse will -come of it! By this time the Little Ones might have been able to protect -themselves from the princess, not to say the giants--they were always -fit enough for that; as it was they laughed at them! but now, through -your relations with her,----" - -"I hate her!" I cried. - -"Did you let her know you hated her?" - -Again I was silent. - -"Not even to her have you been faithful!--But hush! we were followed -from the fountain, I fear!" - -"No living creature did I see!--except a disreputable-looking cat that -bolted into the shrubbery." - -"It was a magnificent Persian--so wet and draggled, though, as to look -what she was--worse than disreputable!" - -"What do you mean, Mr. Raven?" I cried, a fresh horror taking me by the -throat. "--There was a beautiful blue Persian about the house, but -she fled at the very sound of water!--Could she have been after the -goldfish?" - -"We shall see!" returned the librarian. "I know a little about cats of -several sorts, and there is that in the room which will unmask this one, -or I am mistaken in her." - -He rose, went to the door of the closet, brought from it the mutilated -volume, and sat down again beside me. I stared at the book in his hand: -it was a whole book, entire and sound! - -"Where was the other half of it?" I gasped. - -"Sticking through into my library," he answered. - -I held my peace. A single question more would have been a plunge into a -bottomless sea, and there might be no time! - -"Listen," he said: "I am going to read a stanza or two. There is one -present who, I imagine, will hardly enjoy the reading!" - -He opened the vellum cover, and turned a leaf or two. The parchment was -discoloured with age, and one leaf showed a dark stain over two-thirds -of it. He slowly turned this also, and seemed looking for a certain -passage in what appeared a continuous poem. Somewhere about the middle -of the book he began to read. - -But what follows represents--not what he read, only the impression it -made upon me. The poem seemed in a language I had never before heard, -which yet I understood perfectly, although I could not write the words, -or give their meaning save in poor approximation. These fragments, then, -are the shapes which those he read have finally taken in passing again -through my brain:-- - - "But if I found a man that could believe - In what he saw not, felt not, and yet knew, - From him I should take substance, and receive - Firmness and form relate to touch and view; - Then should I clothe me in the likeness true - Of that idea where his soul did cleave!" - -He turned a leaf and read again:-- - - "In me was every woman. I had power - Over the soul of every living man, - Such as no woman ever had in dower-- - Could what no woman ever could, or can; - All women, I, the woman, still outran, - Outsoared, outsank, outreigned, in hall or bower. - - "For I, though me he neither saw nor heard, - Nor with his hand could touch finger of mine, - Although not once my breath had ever stirred - A hair of him, could trammel brain and spine - With rooted bonds which Death could not untwine-- - Or life, though hope were evermore deferred." - -Again he paused, again turned a leaf, and again began:-- - - "For by his side I lay, a bodiless thing; - I breathed not, saw not, felt not, only thought, - And made him love me--with a hungering - After he knew not what--if it was aught - Or but a nameless something that was wrought - By him out of himself; for I did sing - - "A song that had no sound into his soul; - I lay a heartless thing against his heart, - Giving him nothing where he gave his whole - Being to clothe me human, every part: - That I at last into his sense might dart, - Thus first into his living mind I stole. - - "Ah, who was ever conquering Love but I! - Who else did ever throne in heart of man! - To visible being, with a gladsome cry - Waking, life's tremor through me throbbing ran!" - -A strange, repulsive feline wail arose somewhere in the room. I started -up on my elbow and stared about me, but could see nothing. - -Mr. Raven turned several leaves, and went on:-- - - "Sudden I woke, nor knew the ghastly fear - That held me--not like serpent coiled about, - But like a vapour moist, corrupt, and drear, - Filling heart, soul, and breast and brain throughout; - My being lay motionless in sickening doubt, - Nor dared to ask how came the horror here. - - "My past entire I knew, but not my now; - I understood nor what I was, nor where; - I knew what I had been: still on my brow - I felt the touch of what no more was there! - I was a fainting, dead, yet live Despair; - A life that flouted life with mop and mow! - - "That I was a queen I knew right well, - And sometimes wore a splendour on my head - Whose flashing even dead darkness could not quell-- - The like on neck and arms and girdle-stead; - And men declared a light my closed eyes shed - That killed the diamond in its silver cell." - -Again I heard the ugly cry of feline pain. Again I looked, but saw -neither shape nor motion. Mr. Raven seemed to listen a moment, but again -turned several pages, and resumed:-- - - "Hideously wet, my hair of golden hue - Fouled my fair hands: to have it swiftly shorn - I had given my rubies, all for me dug new-- - No eyes had seen, and such no waist had worn! - For a draught of water from a drinking horn, - For one blue breath, I had given my sapphires blue! - - "Nay, I had given my opals for a smock, - A peasant-maiden's garment, coarse and clean: - My shroud was rotting! Once I heard a cock - Lustily crow upon the hillock green - Over my coffin. Dulled by space between, - Came back an answer like a ghostly mock." - -Once more arose the bestial wail. - -"I thought some foul thing was in the room!" said the librarian, casting -a glance around him; but instantly he turned a leaf or two, and again -read:-- - - "For I had bathed in milk and honey-dew, - In rain from roses shook, that ne'er touched earth, - And ointed me with nard of amber hue; - Never had spot me spotted from my birth, - Or mole, or scar of hurt, or fret of dearth; - Never one hair superfluous on me grew. - - "Fleeing cold whiteness, I would sit alone-- - Not in the sun--I feared his bronzing light, - But in his radiance back around me thrown - By fulgent mirrors tempering his might; - Thus bathing in a moon-bath not too bright, - My skin I tinted slow to ivory tone. - - "But now, all round was dark, dark all within! - My eyes not even gave out a phantom-flash; - My fingers sank in pulp through pulpy skin; - My body lay death-weltered in a mash - Of slimy horrors----" - -With a fearsome yell, her clammy fur staring in clumps, her tail thick -as a cable, her eyes flashing green as a chrysoprase, her distended -claws entangling themselves so that she floundered across the carpet, a -huge white cat rushed from somewhere, and made for the chimney. Quick as -thought the librarian threw the manuscript between her and the hearth. -She crouched instantly, her eyes fixed on the book. But his voice went -on as if still he read, and his eyes seemed also fixed on the book:-- - - "Ah, the two worlds! so strangely are they one, - And yet so measurelessly wide apart! - Oh, had I lived the bodiless alone - And from defiling sense held safe my heart, - Then had I scaped the canker and the smart, - Scaped life-in-death, scaped misery's endless moan!" - -At these words such a howling, such a prolonged yell of agony burst from -the cat, that we both stopped our ears. When it ceased, Mr. Raven walked -to the fire-place, took up the book, and, standing between the creature -and the chimney, pointed his finger at her for a moment. She lay -perfectly still. He took a half-burnt stick from the hearth, drew with -it some sign on the floor, put the manuscript back in its place, with a -look that seemed to say, "Now we have her, I think!" and, returning to -the cat, stood over her and said, in a still, solemn voice:-- - -"Lilith, when you came here on the way to your evil will, you little -thought into whose hands you were delivering yourself!--Mr. Vane, when -God created me,--not out of Nothing, as say the unwise, but out of His -own endless glory--He brought me an angelic splendour to be my wife: -there she lies! For her first thought was POWER; she counted it slavery -to be one with me, and bear children for Him who gave her being. One -child, indeed, she bore; then, puffed with the fancy that she had -created her, would have me fall down and worship her! Finding, however, -that I would but love and honour, never obey and worship her, she poured -out her blood to escape me, fled to the army of the aliens, and soon -had so ensnared the heart of the great Shadow, that he became her slave, -wrought her will, and made her queen of Hell. How it is with her now, -she best knows, but I know also. The one child of her body she fears and -hates, and would kill, asserting a right, which is a lie, over what God -sent through her into His new world. Of creating, she knows no more than -the crystal that takes its allotted shape, or the worm that makes two -worms when it is cloven asunder. Vilest of God's creatures, she lives -by the blood and lives and souls of men. She consumes and slays, but is -powerless to destroy as to create." - -The animal lay motionless, its beryl eyes fixed flaming on the man: his -eyes on hers held them fixed that they could not move from his. - -"Then God gave me another wife--not an angel but a woman--who is to this -as light is to darkness." - -The cat gave a horrible screech, and began to grow bigger. She went on -growing and growing. At last the spotted leopardess uttered a roar that -made the house tremble. I sprang to my feet. I do not think Mr. Raven -started even with his eyelids. - -"It is but her jealousy that speaks," he said, "jealousy self-kindled, -foiled and fruitless; for here I am, her master now whom she, would -not have for her husband! while my beautiful Eve yet lives, hoping -immortally! Her hated daughter lives also, but beyond her evil ken, -one day to be what she counts her destruction--for even Lilith shall -be saved by her childbearing. Meanwhile she exults that my human wife -plunged herself and me in despair, and has borne me a countless race of -miserables; but my Eve repented, and is now beautiful as never was woman -or angel, while her groaning, travailing world is the nursery of our -Father's children. I too have repented, and am blessed.--Thou, Lilith, -hast not yet repented; but thou must.--Tell me, is the great -Shadow beautiful? Knowest thou how long thou wilt thyself remain -beautiful?--Answer me, if thou knowest." - -Then at last I understood that Mr. Raven was indeed Adam, the old and -the new man; and that his wife, ministering in the house of the dead, -was Eve, the mother of us all, the lady of the New Jerusalem. - -The leopardess reared; the flickering and fleeing of her spots began; -the princess at length stood radiant in her perfect shape. - -"I AM beautiful--and immortal!" she said--and she looked the goddess she -would be. - -"As a bush that burns, and is consumed," answered he who had been her -husband. "--What is that under thy right hand?" - -For her arm lay across her bosom, and her hand was pressed to her side. - -A swift pang contorted her beautiful face, and passed. - -"It is but a leopard-spot that lingers! it will quickly follow those I -have dismissed," she answered. - -"Thou art beautiful because God created thee, but thou art the slave of -sin: take thy hand from thy side." - -Her hand sank away, and as it dropt she looked him in the eyes with a -quailing fierceness that had in it no surrender. - -He gazed a moment at the spot. - -"It is not on the leopard; it is in the woman!" he said. "Nor will it -leave thee until it hath eaten to thy heart, and thy beauty hath flowed -from thee through the open wound!" - -She gave a glance downward, and shivered. - -"Lilith," said Adam, and his tone had changed to a tender beseeching, -"hear me, and repent, and He who made thee will cleanse thee!" - -Her hand returned quivering to her side. Her face grew dark. She gave -the cry of one from whom hope is vanishing. The cry passed into a howl. -She lay writhing on the floor, a leopardess covered with spots. - -"The evil thou meditatest," Adam resumed, "thou shalt never compass, -Lilith, for Good and not Evil is the Universe. The battle between them -may last for countless ages, but it must end: how will it fare with -thee when Time hath vanished in the dawn of the eternal morn? Repent, I -beseech thee; repent, and be again an angel of God!" - -She rose, she stood upright, a woman once more, and said, - -"I will not repent. I will drink the blood of thy child." My eyes were -fastened on the princess; but when Adam spoke, I turned to him: he stood -towering above her; the form of his visage was altered, and his voice -was terrible. - -"Down!" he cried; "or by the power given me I will melt thy very bones." - -She flung herself on the floor, dwindled and dwindled, and was again a -gray cat. Adam caught her up by the skin of her neck, bore her to -the closet, and threw her in. He described a strange figure on the -threshold, and closing the door, locked it. - -Then he returned to my side the old librarian, looking sad and worn, and -furtively wiping tears from his eyes. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. ADAM EXPLAINS - -"We must be on our guard," he said, "or she will again outwit us. She -would befool the very elect!" - -"How are we to be on our guard?" I asked. - -"Every way," he answered. "She fears, therefore hates her child, and is -in this house on her way to destroy her. The birth of children is in her -eyes the death of their parents, and every new generation the enemy of -the last. Her daughter appears to her an open channel through which her -immortality--which yet she counts self-inherent--is flowing fast away: -to fill it up, almost from her birth she has pursued her with an utter -enmity. But the result of her machinations hitherto is, that in the -region she claims as her own, has appeared a colony of children, to -which that daughter is heart and head and sheltering wings. My Eve -longed after the child, and would have been to her as a mother to her -first-born, but we were then unfit to train her: she was carried into -the wilderness, and for ages we knew nothing of her fate. But she was -divinely fostered, and had young angels for her playmates; nor did she -ever know care until she found a baby in the wood, and the mother-heart -in her awoke. One by one she has found many children since, and that -heart is not yet full. Her family is her absorbing charge, and never -children were better mothered. Her authority over them is without -appeal, but it is unknown to herself, and never comes to the surface -except in watchfulness and service. She has forgotten the time when she -lived without them, and thinks she came herself from the wood, the first -of the family. - -"You have saved the life of her and their enemy; therefore your life -belongs to her and them. The princess was on her way to destroy them, -but as she crossed that stream, vengeance overtook her, and she would -have died had you not come to her aid. You did; and ere now she would -have been raging among the Little Ones, had she dared again cross the -stream. But there was yet a way to the blessed little colony through the -world of the three dimensions; only, from that, by the slaying of her -former body, she had excluded herself, and except in personal contact -with one belonging to it, could not re-enter it. You provided the -opportunity: never, in all her long years, had she had one before. Her -hand, with lightest touch, was on one or other of your muffled feet, -every step as you climbed. In that little chamber, she is now watching -to leave it as soon as ever she may." - -"She cannot know anything about the door!--she cannot at least know how -to open it!" I said; but my heart was not so confident as my words. - -"Hush, hush!" whispered the librarian, with uplifted hand; "she can hear -through anything!--You must go at once, and make your way to my wife's -cottage. I will remain to keep guard over her." - -"Let me go to the Little Ones!" I cried. - -"Beware of that, Mr. Vane. Go to my wife, and do as she tells you." - -His advice did not recommend itself: why haste to encounter measureless -delay? If not to protect the children, why go at all? Alas, even now I -believed him only enough to ask him questions, not to obey him! - -"Tell me first, Mr. Raven," I said, "why, of all places, you have shut -her up there! The night I ran from your house, it was immediately into -that closet!" - -"The closet is no nearer our cottage, and no farther from it, than any -or every other place." - -"But," I returned, hard to persuade where I could not understand, "how -is it then that, when you please, you take from that same door a whole -book where I saw and felt only a part of one? The other part, you have -just told me, stuck through into your library: when you put it again on -the shelf, will it not again stick through into that? Must not then the -two places, in which parts of the same volume can at the same moment -exist, lie close together? Or can one part of the book be in space, or -SOMEWHERE, and the other out of space, or NOWHERE?" - -"I am sorry I cannot explain the thing to you," he answered; "but there -is no provision in you for understanding it. Not merely, therefore, -is the phenomenon inexplicable to you, but the very nature of it is -inapprehensible by you. Indeed I but partially apprehend it myself. At -the same time you are constantly experiencing things which you not only -do not, but cannot understand. You think you understand them, but your -understanding of them is only your being used to them, and therefore not -surprised at them. You accept them, not because you understand them, -but because you must accept them: they are there, and have unavoidable -relations with you! The fact is, no man understands anything; when he -knows he does not understand, that is his first tottering step--not -toward understanding, but toward the capability of one day -understanding. To such things as these you are not used, therefore you -do not fancy you understand them. Neither I nor any man can here help -you to understand; but I may, perhaps, help you a little to believe!" - -He went to the door of the closet, gave a low whistle, and stood -listening. A moment after, I heard, or seemed to hear, a soft whir of -wings, and, looking up, saw a white dove perch for an instant on the top -of the shelves over the portrait, thence drop to Mr. Raven's shoulder, -and lay her head against his cheek. Only by the motions of their two -heads could I tell that they were talking together; I heard nothing. -Neither had I moved my eyes from them, when suddenly she was not there, -and Mr. Raven came back to his seat. - -"Why did you whistle?" I asked. "Surely sound here is not sound there!" - -"You are right," he answered. "I whistled that you might know I called -her. Not the whistle, but what the whistle meant reached her.--There is -not a minute to lose: you must go!" - -"I will at once!" I replied, and moved for the door. - -"You will sleep to-night at my hostelry!" he said--not as a question, -but in a tone of mild authority. - -"My heart is with the children," I replied. "But if you insist----" - -"I do insist. You can otherwise effect nothing.--I will go with you as -far as the mirror, and see you off." - -He rose. There came a sudden shock in the closet. Apparently the -leopardess had flung herself against the heavy door. I looked at my -companion. - -"Come; come!" he said. - -Ere we reached the door of the library, a howling yell came after -us, mingled with the noise of claws that scored at the hard oak. I -hesitated, and half turned. - -"To think of her lying there alone," I murmured, "--with that terrible -wound!" - -"Nothing will ever close that wound," he answered, with a sigh. "It must -eat into her heart! Annihilation itself is no death to evil. Only good -where evil was, is evil dead. An evil thing must live with its evil -until it chooses to be good. That alone is the slaying of evil." - -I held my peace until a sound I did not understand overtook us. - -"If she should break loose!" I cried. - -"Make haste!" he rejoined. "I shall hurry down the moment you are gone, -and I have disarranged the mirrors." - -We ran, and reached the wooden chamber breathless. Mr. Raven seized the -chains and adjusted the hood. Then he set the mirrors in their proper -relation, and came beside me in front of the standing one. Already I saw -the mountain range emerging from the mist. - -Between us, wedging us asunder, darted, with the yell of a demon, the -huge bulk of the spotted leopardess. She leaped through the mirror as -through an open window, and settled at once into a low, even, swift -gallop. - -I cast a look of dismay at my companion, and sprang through to follow -her. He came after me leisurely. - -"You need not run," he called; "you cannot overtake her. This is our -way." - -As he spoke he turned in the opposite direction. - -"She has more magic at her finger-tips than I care to know!" he added -quietly. - -"We must do what we can!" I said, and ran on, but sickening as I saw her -dwindle in the distance, stopped, and went back to him. - -"Doubtless we must," he answered. "But my wife has warned Mara, and she -will do her part; you must sleep first: you have given me your word!" - -"Nor do I mean to break it. But surely sleep is not the first thing! -Surely, surely, action takes precedence of repose!" - -"A man can do nothing he is not fit to do.--See! did I not tell you Mara -would do her part?" - -I looked whither he pointed, and saw a white spot moving at an acute -angle with the line taken by the leopardess. - -"There she is!" he cried. "The spotted leopardess is strong, but the -white is stronger!" - -"I have seen them fight: the combat did not appear decisive as to that." - -"How should such eyes tell which have never slept? The princess did -not confess herself beaten--that she never does--but she fled! When she -confesses her last hope gone, that it is indeed hard to kick against -the goad, then will her day begin to dawn! Come; come! He who cannot act -must make haste to sleep!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. THE SEXTON'S OLD HORSE - -I stood and watched the last gleam of the white leopardess melt away, -then turned to follow my guide--but reluctantly. What had I to do with -sleep? Surely reason was the same in every world, and what reason could -there be in going to sleep with the dead, when the hour was calling the -live man? Besides, no one would wake me, and how could I be certain of -waking early--of waking at all?--the sleepers in that house let morning -glide into noon, and noon into night, nor ever stirred! I murmured, but -followed, for I knew not what else to do. - -The librarian walked on in silence, and I walked silent as he. Time and -space glided past us. The sun set; it began to grow dark, and I felt in -the air the spreading cold of the chamber of death. My heart sank lower -and lower. I began to lose sight of the lean, long-coated figure, and at -length could no more hear his swishing stride through the heather. -But then I heard instead the slow-flapping wings of the raven; and, at -intervals, now a firefly, now a gleaming butterfly rose into the rayless -air. - -By and by the moon appeared, slow crossing the far horizon. - -"You are tired, are you not, Mr. Vane?" said the raven, alighting on a -stone. "You must make acquaintance with the horse that will carry you in -the morning!" - -He gave a strange whistle through his long black beak. A spot appeared -on the face of the half-risen moon. To my ears came presently the -drumming of swift, soft-galloping hoofs, and in a minute or two, out of -the very disc of the moon, low-thundered the terrible horse. His mane -flowed away behind him like the crest of a wind-fighting wave, torn -seaward in hoary spray, and the whisk of his tail kept blinding the eye -of the moon. Nineteen hands he seemed, huge of bone, tight of skin, hard -of muscle--a steed the holy Death himself might choose on which to ride -abroad and slay! The moon seemed to regard him with awe; in her scary -light he looked a very skeleton, loosely roped together. Terrifically -large, he moved with the lightness of a winged insect. As he drew near, -his speed slackened, and his mane and tail drifted about him settling. - -Now I was not merely a lover of horses, but I loved every horse I saw. -I had never spent money except upon horses, and had never sold a horse. -The sight of this mighty one, terrible to look at, woke in me longing to -possess him. It was pure greed, nay, rank covetousness, an evil thing -in all the worlds. I do not mean that I could have stolen him, but that, -regardless of his proper place, I would have bought him if I could. I -laid my hands on him, and stroked the protuberant bones that humped a -hide smooth and thin, and shiny as satin--so shiny that the very shape -of the moon was reflected in it; I fondled his sharp-pointed ears, -whispered words in them, and breathed into his red nostrils the breath -of a man's life. He in return breathed into mine the breath of a horse's -life, and we loved one another. What eyes he had! Blue-filmy like the -eyes of the dead, behind each was a glowing coal! The raven, with wings -half extended, looked on pleased at my love-making to his magnificent -horse. - -"That is well! be friends with him," he said: "he will carry you all the -better to-morrow!--Now we must hurry home!" - -My desire to ride the horse had grown passionate. - -"May I not mount him at once, Mr. Raven?" I cried. - -"By all means!" he answered. "Mount, and ride him home." - -The horse bent his head over my shoulder lovingly. I twisted my hands -in his mane and scrambled onto his back, not without aid from certain -protuberant bones. - -"He would outspeed any leopard in creation!" I cried. - -"Not that way at night," answered the raven; "the road is -difficult.--But come; loss now will be gain then! To wait is harder -than to run, and its meed is the fuller. Go on, my son--straight to -the cottage. I shall be there as soon as you. It will rejoice my wife's -heart to see son of hers on that horse!" - -I sat silent. The horse stood like a block of marble. - -"Why do you linger?" asked the raven. - -"I long so much to ride after the leopardess," I answered, "that I can -scarce restrain myself!" - -"You have promised!" - -"My debt to the Little Ones appears, I confess, a greater thing than my -bond to you." - -"Yield to the temptation and you will bring mischief upon them--and on -yourself also." - -"What matters it for me? I love them; and love works no evil. I will -go." - -But the truth was, I forgot the children, infatuate with the horse. - -Eyes flashed through the darkness, and I knew that Adam stood in his -own shape beside me. I knew also by his voice that he repressed an -indignation almost too strong for him. - -"Mr. Vane," he said, "do you not know why you have not yet done anything -worth doing?" - -"Because I have been a fool," I answered. - -"Wherein?" - -"In everything." - -"Which do you count your most indiscreet action?" - -"Bringing the princess to life: I ought to have left her to her just -fate." - -"Nay, now you talk foolishly! You could not have done otherwise than you -did, not knowing she was evil!--But you never brought any one to life! -How could you, yourself dead?" - -"I dead?" I cried. - -"Yes," he answered; "and you will be dead, so long as you refuse to -die." - -"Back to the old riddling!" I returned scornfully. - -"Be persuaded, and go home with me," he continued gently. "The -most--nearly the only foolish thing you ever did, was to run from our -dead." - -I pressed the horse's ribs, and he was off like a sudden wind. I gave -him a pat on the side of the neck, and he went about in a sharp-driven -curve, "close to the ground, like a cat when scratchingly she wheels -about after a mouse," leaning sideways till his mane swept the tops of -the heather. - -Through the dark I heard the wings of the raven. Five quick flaps I -heard, and he perched on the horse's head. The horse checked himself -instantly, ploughing up the ground with his feet. - -"Mr. Vane," croaked the raven, "think what you are doing! Twice already -has evil befallen you--once from fear, and once from heedlessness: -breach of word is far worse; it is a crime." - -"The Little Ones are in frightful peril, and I brought it upon them!" I -cried. "--But indeed I will not break my word to you. I will return, and -spend in your house what nights--what days--what years you please." - -"I tell you once more you will do them other than good if you go -to-night," he insisted. - -But a false sense of power, a sense which had no root and was merely -vibrated into me from the strength of the horse, had, alas, rendered me -too stupid to listen to anything he said! - -"Would you take from me my last chance of reparation?" I cried. "This -time there shall be no shirking! It is my duty, and I will go--if I -perish for it!" - -"Go, then, foolish boy!" he returned, with anger in his croak. "Take the -horse, and ride to failure! May it be to humility!" - -He spread his wings and flew. Again I pressed the lean ribs under me. - -"After the spotted leopardess!" I whispered in his ear. - -He turned his head this way and that, snuffing the air; then started, -and went a few paces in a slow, undecided walk. Suddenly he quickened -his walk; broke into a trot; began to gallop, and in a few moments his -speed was tremendous. He seemed to see in the dark; never stumbled, not -once faltered, not once hesitated. I sat as on the ridge of a wave. I -felt under me the play of each individual muscle: his joints were so -elastic, and his every movement glided so into the next, that not once -did he jar me. His growing swiftness bore him along until he flew rather -than ran. The wind met and passed us like a tornado. - -Across the evil hollow we sped like a bolt from an arblast. No monster -lifted its neck; all knew the hoofs that thundered over their heads! We -rushed up the hills, we shot down their farther slopes; from the rocky -chasms of the river-bed he did not swerve; he held on over them his -fierce, terrible gallop. The moon, half-way up the heaven, gazed with -a solemn trouble in her pale countenance. Rejoicing in the power of my -steed and in the pride of my life, I sat like a king and rode. - -We were near the middle of the many channels, my horse every other -moment clearing one, sometimes two in his stride, and now and then -gathering himself for a great bounding leap, when the moon reached the -key-stone of her arch. Then came a wonder and a terror: she began to -descend rolling like the nave of Fortune's wheel bowled by the gods, and -went faster and faster. Like our own moon, this one had a human face, -and now the broad forehead now the chin was uppermost as she rolled. I -gazed aghast. - -Across the ravines came the howling of wolves. An ugly fear began to -invade the hollow places of my heart; my confidence was on the wane! The -horse maintained his headlong swiftness, with ears pricked forward, and -thirsty nostrils exulting in the wind his career created. But there was -the moon jolting like an old chariot-wheel down the hill of heaven, with -awful boding! She rolled at last over the horizon-edge and disappeared, -carrying all her light with her. - -The mighty steed was in the act of clearing a wide shallow channel when -we were caught in the net of the darkness. His head dropped; its impetus -carried his helpless bulk across, but he fell in a heap on the margin, -and where he fell he lay. I got up, kneeled beside him, and felt him all -over. Not a bone could I find broken, but he was a horse no more. I sat -down on the body, and buried my face in my hands. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. THE LOVERS AND THE BAGS - -Bitterly cold grew the night. The body froze under me. The cry of the -wolves came nearer; I heard their feet soft-padding on the rocky ground; -their quick panting filled the air. Through the darkness I saw the many -glowing eyes; their half-circle contracted around me. My time was come! -I sprang to my feet.--Alas, I had not even a stick! - -They came in a rush, their eyes flashing with fury of greed, their black -throats agape to devour me. I stood hopelessly waiting them. One moment -they halted over the horse--then came at me. - -With a sound of swiftness all but silence, a cloud of green eyes came -down on their flank. The heads that bore them flew at the wolves with a -cry feebler yet fiercer than their howling snarl, and by the cry I knew -them: they were cats, led by a huge gray one. I could see nothing of -him but his eyes, yet I knew him--and so knew his colour and bigness. A -terrific battle followed, whose tale alone came to me through the night. -I would have fled, for surely it was but a fight which should have -me!--only where was the use? my first step would be a fall! and my foes -of either kind could both see and scent me in the dark! - -All at once I missed the howling, and the caterwauling grew wilder. Then -came the soft padding, and I knew it meant flight: the cats had defeated -the wolves! In a moment the sharpest of sharp teeth were in my legs; -a moment more and the cats were all over me in a live cataract, -biting wherever they could bite, furiously scratching me anywhere and -everywhere. A multitude clung to my body; I could not flee. Madly I fell -on the hateful swarm, every finger instinct with destruction. I tore -them off me, I throttled at them in vain: when I would have flung them -from me, they clung to my hands like limpets. I trampled them under my -feet, thrust my fingers in their eyes, caught them in jaws stronger -than theirs, but could not rid myself of one. Without cease they kept -discovering upon me space for fresh mouthfuls; they hauled at my skin -with the widespread, horribly curved pincers of clutching claws; they -hissed and spat in my face--but never touched it until, in my despair, I -threw myself on the ground, when they forsook my body, and darted at -my face. I rose, and immediately they left it, the more to occupy -themselves with my legs. In an agony I broke from them and ran, careless -whither, cleaving the solid dark. They accompanied me in a surrounding -torrent, now rubbing, now leaping up against me, but tormenting me no -more. When I fell, which was often, they gave me time to rise; when from -fear of falling I slackened my pace, they flew afresh at my legs. -All that miserable night they kept me running--but they drove me by a -comparatively smooth path, for I tumbled into no gully, and passing the -Evil Wood without seeing it, left it behind in the dark. When at length -the morning appeared, I was beyond the channels, and on the verge of the -orchard valley. In my joy I would have made friends with my persecutors, -but not a cat was to be seen. I threw myself on the moss, and fell fast -asleep. - -I was waked by a kick, to find myself bound hand and foot, once more the -thrall of the giants! - -"What fitter?" I said to myself; "to whom else should I belong?" and I -laughed in the triumph of self-disgust. A second kick stopped my false -merriment; and thus recurrently assisted by my captors, I succeeded at -length in rising to my feet. - -Six of them were about me. They undid the rope that tied my legs -together, attached a rope to each of them, and dragged me away. I walked -as well as I could, but, as they frequently pulled both ropes at once, -I fell repeatedly, whereupon they always kicked me up again. Straight to -my old labour they took me, tied my leg-ropes to a tree, undid my arms, -and put the hateful flint in my left hand. Then they lay down and pelted -me with fallen fruit and stones, but seldom hit me. If I could have -freed my legs, and got hold of a stick I spied a couple of yards from -me, I would have fallen upon all six of them! "But the Little Ones will -come at night!" I said to myself, and was comforted. - -All day I worked hard. When the darkness came, they tied my hands, and -left me fast to the tree. I slept a good deal, but woke often, and every -time from a dream of lying in the heart of a heap of children. With the -morning my enemies reappeared, bringing their kicks and their bestial -company. - -It was about noon, and I was nearly failing from fatigue and hunger, -when I heard a sudden commotion in the brushwood, followed by a burst of -the bell-like laughter so dear to my heart. I gave a loud cry of delight -and welcome. Immediately rose a trumpeting as of baby-elephants, a -neighing as of foals, and a bellowing as of calves, and through the -bushes came a crowd of Little Ones, on diminutive horses, on small -elephants, on little bears; but the noises came from the riders, not the -animals. Mingled with the mounted ones walked the bigger of the boys -and girls, among the latter a woman with a baby crowing in her arms. The -giants sprang to their lumbering feet, but were instantly saluted with a -storm of sharp stones; the horses charged their legs; the bears rose and -hugged them at the waist; the elephants threw their trunks round their -necks, pulled them down, and gave them such a trampling as they had -sometimes given, but never received before. In a moment my ropes were -undone, and I was in the arms, seemingly innumerable, of the Little -Ones. For some time I saw no more of the giants. - -They made me sit down, and my Lona came, and without a word began to -feed me with the loveliest red and yellow fruits. I sat and ate, the -whole colony mounting guard until I had done. Then they brought up two -of the largest of their elephants, and having placed them side by side, -hooked their trunks and tied their tails together. The docile creatures -could have untied their tails with a single shake, and unhooked their -trunks by forgetting them; but tails and trunks remained as their little -masters had arranged them, and it was clear the elephants understood -that they must keep their bodies parallel. I got up, and laid myself in -the hollow between their two backs; when the wise animals, counteracting -the weight that pushed them apart, leaned against each other, and made -for me a most comfortable litter. My feet, it is true, projected beyond -their tails, but my head lay pillowed on an ear of each. Then some of -the smaller children, mounting for a bodyguard, ranged themselves in -a row along the back of each of my bearers; the whole assembly formed -itself in train; and the procession began to move. - -Whither they were carrying me, I did not try to conjecture; I yielded -myself to their pleasure, almost as happy as they. Chattering and -laughing and playing glad tricks innumerable at first, the moment they -saw I was going to sleep, they became still as judges. - -I woke: a sudden musical uproar greeted the opening of my eyes. - -We were travelling through the forest in which they found the babies, -and which, as I had suspected, stretched all the way from the valley to -the hot stream. - -A tiny girl sat with her little feet close to my face, and looked down -at me coaxingly for a while, then spoke, the rest seeming to hang on her -words. - -"We make a petisson to king," she said. - -"What is it, my darling?" I asked. - -"Shut eyes one minute," she answered. - -"Certainly I will! Here goes!" I replied, and shut my eyes close. - -"No, no! not fore I tell oo!" she cried. - -I opened them again, and we talked and laughed together for quite -another hour. - -"Close eyes!" she said suddenly. - -I closed my eyes, and kept them close. The elephants stood still. I -heard a soft scurry, a little rustle, and then a silence--for in that -world SOME silences ARE heard. - -"Open eyes!" twenty voices a little way off shouted at once; but when I -obeyed, not a creature was visible except the elephants that bore me. -I knew the children marvellously quick in getting out of the way--the -giants had taught them that; but when I raised myself, and looking about -in the open shrubless forest, could descry neither hand nor heel, I -stared in "blank astonishment." - -The sun was set, and it was fast getting dark, yet presently a multitude -of birds began to sing. I lay down to listen, pretty sure that, if I -left them alone, the hiders would soon come out again. - -The singing grew to a little storm of bird-voices. "Surely the children -must have something to do with it!--And yet how could they set the -birds singing?" I said to myself as I lay and listened. Soon, however, -happening to look up into the tree under which my elephants stood, -I thought I spied a little motion among the leaves, and looked more -keenly. Sudden white spots appeared in the dark foliage, the music died -down, a gale of childish laughter rippled the air, and white spots came -out in every direction: the trees were full of children! In the wildest -merriment they began to descend, some dropping from bough to bough -so rapidly that I could scarce believe they had not fallen. I left my -litter, and was instantly surrounded--a mark for all the artillery of -their jubilant fun. With stately composure the elephants walked away to -bed. - -"But," said I, when their uproarious gladness had had scope for a while, -"how is it that I never before heard you sing like the birds? Even when -I thought it must be you, I could hardly believe it!" - -"Ah," said one of the wildest, "but we were not birds then! We were -run-creatures, not fly-creatures! We had our hide-places in the bushes -then; but when we came to no-bushes, only trees, we had to build nests! -When we built nests, we grew birds, and when we were birds, we had to do -birds! We asked them to teach us their noises, and they taught us, and -now we are real birds!--Come and see my nest. It's not big enough for -king, but it's big enough for king to see me in it!" - -I told him I could not get up a tree without the sun to show me the way; -when he came, I would try. - -"Kings seldom have wings!" I added. - -"King! king!" cried one, "oo knows none of us hasn't no wings--foolis -feddery tings! Arms and legs is better." - -"That is true. I can get up without wings--and carry straws in my mouth -too, to build my nest with!" - -"Oo knows!" he answered, and went away sucking his thumb. - -A moment after, I heard him calling out of his nest, a great way up a -walnut tree of enormous size, - -"Up adain, king! Dood night! I seepy!" - -And I heard no more of him till he woke me in the morning. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. LONA'S NARRATIVE - -I lay down by a tree, and one and one or in little groups, the children -left me and climbed to their nests. They were always so tired at night -and so rested in the morning, that they were equally glad to go to sleep -and to get up again. I, although tired also, lay awake: Lona had not bid -me good night, and I was sure she would come. - -I had been struck, the moment I saw her again, with her resemblance to -the princess, and could not doubt her the daughter of whom Adam had -told me; but in Lona the dazzling beauty of Lilith was softened by -childlikeness, and deepened by the sense of motherhood. "She is -occupied probably," I said to myself, "with the child of the woman I met -fleeing!" who, she had already told me, was not half mother enough. - -She came at length, sat down beside me, and after a few moments of -silent delight, expressed mainly by stroking my face and hands, began to -tell me everything that had befallen since I went. The moon appeared as -we talked, and now and then, through the leaves, lighted for a quivering -moment her beautiful face--full of thought, and a care whose love -redeemed and glorified it. How such a child should have been born of -such a mother--such a woman of such a princess, was hard to understand; -but then, happily, she had two parents--say rather, three! She drew my -heart by what in me was likest herself, and I loved her as one who, grow -to what perfection she might, could only become the more a child. I knew -now that I loved her when I left her, and that the hope of seeing -her again had been my main comfort. Every word she spoke seemed to go -straight to my heart, and, like the truth itself, make it purer. - -She told me that after I left the orchard valley, the giants began to -believe a little more in the actual existence of their neighbours, and -became in consequence more hostile to them. Sometimes the Little -Ones would see them trampling furiously, perceiving or imagining some -indication of their presence, while they indeed stood beside, and -laughed at their foolish rage. By and by, however, their animosity -assumed a more practical shape: they began to destroy the trees on -whose fruit the Little Ones lived. This drove the mother of them all to -meditate counteraction. Setting the sharpest of them to listen at -night, she learned that the giants thought I was hidden somewhere near, -intending, as soon as I recovered my strength, to come in the dark and -kill them sleeping. Thereupon she concluded that the only way to stop -the destruction was to give them ground for believing that they had -abandoned the place. The Little Ones must remove into the forest--beyond -the range of the giants, but within reach of their own trees, which they -must visit by night! The main objection to the plan was, that the forest -had little or no undergrowth to shelter--or conceal them if necessary. - -But she reflected that where birds, there the Little Ones could find -habitation. They had eager sympathies with all modes of life, and could -learn of the wildest creatures: why should they not take refuge from the -cold and their enemies in the tree-tops? why not, having lain in the -low brushwood, seek now the lofty foliage? why not build nests where -it would not serve to scoop hollows? All that the birds could do, the -Little Ones could learn--except, indeed, to fly! - -She spoke to them on the subject, and they heard with approval. They -could already climb the trees, and they had often watched the birds -building their nests! The trees of the forest, although large, did not -look bad! They went up much nearer the sky than those of the giants, -and spread out their arms--some even stretched them down--as if inviting -them to come and live with them! Perhaps, in the top of the tallest, -they might find that bird that laid the baby-eggs, and sat upon them -till they were ripe, then tumbled them down to let the little ones out! -Yes; they would build sleep-houses in the trees, where no giant would -see them, for never by any chance did one throw back his dull head to -look up! Then the bad giants would be sure they had left the country, -and the Little Ones would gather their own apples and pears and figs and -mesples and peaches when they were asleep! - -Thus reasoned the Lovers, and eagerly adopted Lona's suggestion--with -the result that they were soon as much at home in the tree-tops as the -birds themselves, and that the giants came ere long to the conclusion -that they had frightened them out of the country--whereupon they forgot -their trees, and again almost ceased to believe in the existence of -their small neighbours. - -Lona asked me whether I had not observed that many of the children were -grown. I answered I had not, but could readily believe it. She assured -me it was so, but said the certain evidence that their minds too had -grown since their migration upward, had gone far in mitigation of the -alarm the discovery had occasioned her. - -In the last of the short twilight, and later when the moon was shining, -they went down to the valley, and gathered fruit enough to serve them -the next day; for the giants never went out in the twilight: that to -them was darkness; and they hated the moon: had they been able, they -would have extinguished her. But soon the Little Ones found that fruit -gathered in the night was not altogether good the next day; so the -question arose whether it would not be better, instead of pretending to -have left the country, to make the bad giants themselves leave it. - -They had already, she said, in exploring the forest, made acquaintance -with the animals in it, and with most of them personally. Knowing -therefore how strong as well as wise and docile some of them were, and -how swift as well as manageable many others, they now set themselves -to secure their aid against the giants, and with loving, playful -approaches, had soon made more than friends of most of them, from -the first addressing horse or elephant as Brother or Sister Elephant, -Brother or Sister Horse, until before long they had an individual name -for each. It was some little time longer before they said Brother or -Sister Bear, but that came next, and the other day she had heard one -little fellow cry, "Ah, Sister Serpent!" to a snake that bit him as he -played with it too roughly. Most of them would have nothing to do with a -caterpillar, except watch it through its changes; but when at length it -came from its retirement with wings, all would immediately address it as -Sister Butterfly, congratulating it on its metamorphosis--for which -they used a word that meant something like REPENTANCE--and evidently -regarding it as something sacred. - -One moonlit evening, as they were going to gather their fruit, they came -upon a woman seated on the ground with a baby in her lap--the woman -I had met on my way to Bulika. They took her for a giantess that had -stolen one of their babies, for they regarded all babies as their -property. Filled with anger they fell upon her multitudinously, beating -her after a childish, yet sufficiently bewildering fashion. She would -have fled, but a boy threw himself down and held her by the feet. -Recovering her wits, she recognised in her assailants the children whose -hospitality she sought, and at once yielded the baby. Lona appeared, and -carried it away in her bosom. - -But while the woman noted that in striking her they were careful not to -hurt the child, the Little Ones noted that, as she surrendered her, -she hugged and kissed her just as they wanted to do, and came to the -conclusion that she must be a giantess of the same kind as the good -giant. The moment Lona had the baby, therefore, they brought the mother -fruit, and began to show her every sort of childish attention. - -Now the woman had been in perplexity whither to betake herself, not -daring to go back to the city, because the princess was certain to find -out who had lamed her leopardess: delighted with the friendliness of -the little people, she resolved to remain with them for the present: -she would have no trouble with her infant, and might find some way -of returning to her husband, who was rich in money and gems, and very -seldom unkind to her. - -Here I must supplement, partly from conjecture, what Lona told me about -the woman. With the rest of the inhabitants of Bulika, she was aware -of the tradition that the princess lived in terror of the birth of an -infant destined to her destruction. They were all unacquainted, however, -with the frightful means by which she preserved her youth and beauty; -and her deteriorating physical condition requiring a larger use of those -means, they took the apparent increase of her hostility to children for -a sign that she saw her doom approaching. This, although no one dreamed -of any attempt against her, nourished in them hopes of change. - -Now arose in the mind of the woman the idea of furthering the fulfilment -of the shadowy prediction, or of using the myth at least for her own -restoration to her husband. For what seemed more probable than that -the fate foretold lay with these very children? They were marvellously -brave, and the Bulikans cowards, in abject terror of animals! If she -could rouse in the Little Ones the ambition of taking the city, then -in the confusion of the attack, she would escape from the little army, -reach her house unrecognised, and there lying hidden, await the result! - -Should the children now succeed in expelling the giants, she would -begin at once, while they were yet flushed with victory, to suggest the -loftier aim! By disposition, indeed, they were unfit for warfare; they -hardly ever quarrelled, and never fought; loved every live thing, and -hated either to hurt or to suffer. Still, they were easily influenced, -and could certainly be taught any exercise within their strength!--At -once she set some of the smaller ones throwing stones at a mark; and -soon they were all engrossed with the new game, and growing skilful in -it. - -The first practical result was their use of stones in my rescue. While -gathering fruit, they found me asleep, went home, held a council, came -the next day with their elephants and horses, overwhelmed the few -giants watching me, and carried me off. Jubilant over their victory, -the smaller boys were childishly boastful, the bigger boys less -ostentatious, while the girls, although their eyes flashed more, were -not so talkative as usual. The woman of Bulika no doubt felt encouraged. - -We talked the greater part of the night, chiefly about the growth of the -children, and what it might indicate. With Lona's power of recognising -truth I had long been familiar; now I began to be astonished at her -practical wisdom. Probably, had I been more of a child myself, I should -have wondered less. - -It was yet far from morning when I became aware of a slight fluttering -and scrambling. I rose on my elbow, and looking about me, saw many -Little Ones descend from their nests. They disappeared, and in a few -moments all was again still. - -"What are they doing?" I asked. - -"They think," answered Lona, "that, stupid as they are, the giants -will search the wood, and they are gone to gather stones with which to -receive them. Stones are not plentiful in the forest, and they have to -scatter far to find enow. They will carry them to their nests, and from -the trees attack the giants as they come within reach. Knowing their -habits, they do not expect them before the morning. If they do come, it -will be the opening of a war of expulsion: one or the other people must -go. The result, however, is hardly doubtful. We do not mean to -kill them; indeed, their skulls are so thick that I do not think we -could!--not that killing would do them much harm; they are so little -alive! If one were killed, his giantess would not remember him beyond -three days!" - -"Do the children then throw so well that the thing MIGHT happen?" I -asked. - -"Wait till you see them!" she answered, with a touch of pride. "--But I -have not yet told you," she went on, "of a strange thing that happened -the night before last!--We had come home from gathering our fruit, and -were asleep in our nests, when we were roused by the horrid noises -of beasts fighting. The moon was bright, and in a moment our trees -glittered with staring little eyes, watching two huge leopardesses, one -perfectly white, the other covered with black spots, which worried and -tore each other with I do not know how many teeth and claws. To judge by -her back, the spotted creature must have been climbing a tree when the -other sprang upon her. When first I saw them, they were just under my -own tree, rolling over and over each other. I got down on the lowest -branch, and saw them perfectly. The children enjoyed the spectacle, -siding some with this one, some with that, for we had never seen such -beasts before, and thought they were only at play. But by degrees their -roaring and growling almost ceased, and I saw that they were in deadly -earnest, and heartily wished neither might be left able to climb a -tree. But when the children saw the blood pouring from their flanks and -throats, what do you think they did? They scurried down to comfort them, -and gathering in a great crowd about the terrible creatures, began to -pat and stroke them. Then I got down as well, for they were much too -absorbed to heed my calling to them; but before I could reach them, the -white one stopped fighting, and sprang among them with such a hideous -yell that they flew up into the trees like birds. Before I got back into -mine, the wicked beasts were at it again tooth and claw. Then Whitey -had the best of it; Spotty ran away as fast as she could run, and Whitey -came and lay down at the foot of my tree. But in a minute or two she was -up again, and walking about as if she thought Spotty might be lurking -somewhere. I waked often, and every time I looked out, I saw her. In the -morning she went away." - -"I know both the beasts," I said. "Spotty is a bad beast. She hates the -children, and would kill every one of them. But Whitey loves them. She -ran at them only to frighten them away, lest Spotty should get hold of -any of them. No one needs be afraid of Whitey!" - -By this time the Little Ones were coming back, and with much noise, for -they had no care to keep quiet now that they were at open war with the -giants, and laden with good stones. They mounted to their nests again, -though with difficulty because of their burdens, and in a minute were -fast asleep. Lona retired to her tree. I lay where I was, and slept -the better that I thought most likely the white leopardess was still -somewhere in the wood. - -I woke soon after the sun, and lay pondering. Two hours passed, and then -in truth the giants began to appear, in straggling companies of three -and four, until I counted over a hundred of them. The children were -still asleep, and to call them would draw the attention of the giants: I -would keep quiet so long as they did not discover me. But by and by one -came blundering upon me, stumbled, fell, and rose again. I thought he -would pass heedless, but he began to search about. I sprang to my feet, -and struck him in the middle of his huge body. The roar he gave roused -the children, and a storm as of hail instantly came on, of which not a -stone struck me, and not one missed the giant. He fell and lay. Others -drew near, and the storm extended, each purblind creature becoming, -as he entered the range of a garrisoned tree, a target for converging -stones. In a short time almost every giant was prostrate, and a jubilant -pæan of bird-song rose from the tops of fifty trees. - -Many elephants came hurrying up, and the children descending the trees -like monkeys, in a moment every elephant had three or four of them on -his back, and thus loaded, began to walk over the giants, who lay and -roared. Losing patience at length with their noise, the elephants gave -them a few blows of their trunks, and left them. - -Until night the bad giants remained where they had fallen, silent and -motionless. The next morning they had disappeared every one, and the -children saw no more of them. They removed to the other end of the -orchard valley, and never after ventured into the forest. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. PREPARATION - -Victory thus gained, the woman of Bulika began to speak about the city, -and talked much of its defenceless condition, of the wickedness of -its princess, of the cowardice of its inhabitants. In a few days the -children chattered of nothing but Bulika, although indeed they had not -the least notion of what a city was. Then first I became aware of the -design of the woman, although not yet of its motive. - -The idea of taking possession of the place, recommended itself greatly -to Lona--and to me also. The children were now so rapidly developing -faculty, that I could see no serious obstacle to the success of the -enterprise. For the terrible Lilith--woman or leopardess, I knew her one -vulnerable point, her doom through her daughter, and the influence -the ancient prophecy had upon the citizens: surely whatever in the -enterprise could be called risk, was worth taking! Successful,--and who -could doubt their success?--must not the Little Ones, from a crowd -of children, speedily become a youthful people, whose government and -influence would be all for righteousness? Ruling the wicked with a rod -of iron, would they not be the redemption of the nation? - -At the same time, I have to confess that I was not without views of -personal advantage, not without ambition in the undertaking. It was -just, it seemed to me, that Lona should take her seat on the throne -that had been her mother's, and natural that she should make of me her -consort and minister. For me, I would spend my life in her service; and -between us, what might we not do, with such a core to it as the Little -Ones, for the development of a noble state? - -I confess also to an altogether foolish dream of opening a commerce in -gems between the two worlds--happily impossible, for it could have done -nothing but harm to both. - -Calling to mind the appeal of Adam, I suggested to Lona that to find -them water might perhaps expedite the growth of the Little Ones. She -judged it prudent, however, to leave that alone for the present, as we -did not know what its first consequences might be; while, in the course -of time, it would almost certainly subject them to a new necessity. - -"They are what they are without it!" she said: "when we have the city, -we will search for water!" - -We began, therefore, and pushed forward our preparations, constantly -reviewing the merry troops and companies. Lona gave her attention -chiefly to the commissariat, while I drilled the little soldiers, -exercised them in stone-throwing, taught them the use of some other -weapons, and did all I could to make warriors of them. The main -difficulty was to get them to rally to their flag the instant the call -was sounded. Most of them were armed with slings, some of the bigger -boys with bows and arrows. The bigger girls carried aloe-spikes, -strong as steel and sharp as needles, fitted to longish shafts--rather -formidable weapons. Their sole duty was the charge of such as were too -small to fight. - -Lona had herself grown a good deal, but did not seem aware of it: -she had always been, as she still was, the tallest! Her hair was -much longer, and she was become almost a woman, but not one beauty of -childhood had she outgrown. When first we met after our long separation, -she laid down her infant, put her arms round my neck, and clung to me -silent, her face glowing with gladness: the child whimpered; she -sprang to him, and had him in her bosom instantly. To see her with -any thoughtless, obstinate, or irritable little one, was to think of -a tender grandmother. I seemed to have known her for ages--for -always--from before time began! I hardly remembered my mother, but in my -mind's eye she now looked like Lona; and if I imagined sister or child, -invariably she had the face of Lona! My every imagination flew to her; -she was my heart's wife! She hardly ever sought me, but was almost -always within sound of my voice. What I did or thought, I referred -constantly to her, and rejoiced to believe that, while doing her work in -absolute independence, she was most at home by my side. Never for me did -she neglect the smallest child, and my love only quickened my sense -of duty. To love her and to do my duty, seemed, not indeed one, but -inseparable. She might suggest something I should do; she might ask me -what she ought to do; but she never seemed to suppose that I, any more -than she, would like to do, or could care about anything except what -must be done. Her love overflowed upon me--not in caresses, but in a -closeness of recognition which I can compare to nothing but the devotion -of a divine animal. - -I never told her anything about her mother. - -The wood was full of birds, the splendour of whose plumage, while it -took nothing from their song, seemed almost to make up for the lack of -flowers--which, apparently, could not grow without water. Their glorious -feathers being everywhere about in the forest, it came into my heart to -make from them a garment for Lona. While I gathered, and bound them in -overlapping rows, she watched me with evident appreciation of my choice -and arrangement, never asking what I was fashioning, but evidently -waiting expectant the result of my work. In a week or two it was -finished--a long loose mantle, to fasten at the throat and waist, with -openings for the arms. - -I rose and put it on her. She rose, took it off, and laid it at my -feet--I imagine from a sense of propriety. I put it again on her -shoulders, and showed her where to put her arms through. She smiled, -looked at the feathers a little and stroked them--again took it off and -laid it down, this time by her side. When she left me, she carried it -with her, and I saw no more of it for some days. At length she came to -me one morning wearing it, and carrying another garment which she had -fashioned similarly, but of the dried leaves of a tough evergreen. It -had the strength almost of leather, and the appearance of scale-armour. -I put it on at once, and we always thereafter wore those garments when -on horseback. - -For, on the outskirts of the forest, had appeared one day a troop of -full-grown horses, with which, as they were nowise alarmed at creatures -of a shape so different from their own, I had soon made friends, and two -of the finest I had trained for Lona and myself. Already accustomed to -ride a small one, her delight was great when first she looked down from -the back of an animal of the giant kind; and the horse showed himself -proud of the burden he bore. We exercised them every day until they had -such confidence in us as to obey instantly and fear nothing; after which -we always rode them at parade and on the march. - -The undertaking did indeed at times appear to me a foolhardy one, -but the confidence of the woman of Bulika, real or simulated, always -overcame my hesitancy. The princess's magic, she insisted, would prove -powerless against the children; and as to any force she might muster, -our animal-allies alone would assure our superiority: she was herself, -she said, ready, with a good stick, to encounter any two men of Bulika. -She confessed to not a little fear of the leopardess, but I was myself -ready for her. I shrank, however, from carrying ALL the children with -us. - -"Would it not be better," I said, "that you remained in the forest with -your baby and the smallest of the Little Ones?" - -She answered that she greatly relied on the impression the sight of them -would make on the women, especially the mothers. - -"When they see the darlings," she said, "their hearts will be taken by -storm; and I must be there encouraging them to make a stand! If there be -a remnant of hardihood in the place, it will be found among the women!" - -"YOU must not encumber yourself," I said to Lona, "with any of the -children; you will be wanted everywhere!" - -For there were two babies besides the woman's, and even on horseback she -had almost always one in her arms. - -"I do not remember ever being without a child to take care of," she -answered; "but when we reach the city, it shall be as you wish!" - -Her confidence in one who had failed so unworthily, shamed me. But -neither had I initiated the movement, nor had I any ground for opposing -it; I had no choice, but must give it the best help I could! For myself, -I was ready to live or die with Lona. Her humility as well as her trust -humbled me, and I gave myself heartily to her purposes. - -Our way lying across a grassy plain, there was no need to take food for -the horses, or the two cows which would accompany us for the infants; -but the elephants had to be provided for. True, the grass was as good -for them as for those other animals, but it was short, and with their -one-fingered long noses, they could not pick enough for a single meal. -We had, therefore, set the whole colony to gather grass and make hay, of -which the elephants themselves could carry a quantity sufficient to last -them several days, with the supplement of what we would gather fresh -every time we halted. For the bears we stored nuts, and for ourselves -dried plenty of fruits. We had caught and tamed several more of the -big horses, and now having loaded them and the elephants with these -provisions, we were prepared to set out. - -Then Lona and I held a general review, and I made them a little speech. -I began by telling them that I had learned a good deal about them, and -knew now where they came from. "We did not come from anywhere," they -cried, interrupting me; "we are here!" - -I told them that every one of them had a mother of his own, like the -mother of the last baby; that I believed they had all been brought from -Bulika when they were so small that they could not now remember it; that -the wicked princess there was so afraid of babies, and so determined to -destroy them, that their mothers had to carry them away and leave them -where she could not find them; and that now we were going to Bulika, to -find their mothers, and deliver them from the bad giantess. - -"But I must tell you," I continued, "that there is danger before us, -for, as you know, we may have to fight hard to take the city." - -"We can fight! we are ready!" cried the boys. - -"Yes, you can," I returned, "and I know you will: mothers are worth -fighting for! Only mind, you must all keep together." - -"Yes, yes; we'll take care of each other," they answered. "Nobody shall -touch one of us but his own mother!" - -"You must mind, every one, to do immediately what your officers tell -you!" - -"We will, we will!--Now we're quite ready! Let us go!" - -"Another thing you must not forget," I went on: "when you strike, be -sure you make it a downright swinging blow; when you shoot an arrow, -draw it to the head; when you sling a stone, sling it strong and -straight." - -"That we will!" they cried with jubilant, fearless shout. - -"Perhaps you will be hurt!" - -"We don't mind that!--Do we, boys?" - -"Not a bit!" - -"Some of you may very possibly be killed!" I said. - -"I don't mind being killed!" cried one of the finest of the smaller -boys: he rode a beautiful little bull, which galloped and jumped like a -horse. - -"I don't either! I don't either!" came from all sides. - -Then Lona, queen and mother and sister of them all, spoke from her big -horse by my side: - -"I would give my life," she said, "to have my mother! She might kill me -if she liked! I should just kiss her and die!" - -"Come along, boys!" cried a girl. "We're going to our mothers!" - -A pang went through my heart.--But I could not draw back; it would be -moral ruin to the Little Ones! - - - - -Chapter XXXV. THE LITTLE ONES IN BULIKA - -It was early in the morning when we set out, making, between the blue -sky and the green grass, a gallant show on the wide plain. We would -travel all the morning, and rest the afternoon; then go on at night, -rest the next day, and start again in the short twilight. The latter -part of our journey we would endeavour so to divide as to arrive at the -city with the first of the morning, and be already inside the gates when -discovered. - -It seemed as if all the inhabitants of the forest would migrate with us. -A multitude of birds flew in front, imagining themselves, no doubt, -the leading division; great companies of butterflies and other insects -played about our heads; and a crowd of four-footed creatures followed -us. These last, when night came, left us almost all; but the birds and -the butterflies, the wasps and the dragon-flies, went with us to the -very gates of the city. - -We halted and slept soundly through the afternoon: it was our first real -march, but none were tired. In the night we went faster, because it was -cold. Many fell asleep on the backs of their beasts, and woke in the -morning quite fresh. None tumbled off. Some rode shaggy, shambling -bears, which yet made speed enough, going as fast as the elephants. -Others were mounted on different kinds of deer, and would have been -racing all the way had I not prevented it. Those atop of the hay on the -elephants, unable to see the animals below them, would keep talking to -them as long as they were awake. Once, when we had halted to feed, I -heard a little fellow, as he drew out the hay to give him, commune thus -with his "darling beast": - -"Nosy dear, I am digging you out of the mountain, and shall soon get -down to you: be patient; I'm a coming! Very soon now you'll send up your -nose to look for me, and then we'll kiss like good elephants, we will!" - -The same night there burst out such a tumult of elephant-trumpeting, -horse-neighing, and child-imitation, ringing far over the silent levels, -that, uncertain how near the city might not be, I quickly stilled the -uproar lest it should give warning of our approach. - -Suddenly, one morning, the sun and the city rose, as it seemed, -together. To the children the walls appeared only a great mass of -rock, but when I told them the inside was full of nests of stone, I saw -apprehension and dislike at once invade their hearts: for the first time -in their lives, I believe--many of them long little lives--they knew -fear. The place looked to them bad: how were they to find mothers in -such a place? But they went on bravely, for they had confidence in -Lona--and in me too, little as I deserved it. - -We rode through the sounding archway. Sure never had such a drumming of -hoofs, such a padding of paws and feet been heard on its old pavement! -The horses started and looked scared at the echo of their own steps; -some halted a moment, some plunged wildly and wheeled about; but they -were soon quieted, and went on. Some of the Little Ones shivered, and -all were still as death. The three girls held closer the infants they -carried. All except the bears and butterflies manifested fear. - -On the countenance of the woman lay a dark anxiety; nor was I myself -unaffected by the general dread, for the whole army was on my hands and -on my conscience: I had brought it up to the danger whose shadow was -now making itself felt! But I was supported by the thought of the coming -kingdom of the Little Ones, with the bad giants its slaves, and the -animals its loving, obedient friends! Alas, I who dreamed thus, had not -myself learned to obey! Untrusting, unfaithful obstinacy had set me at -the head of that army of innocents! I was myself but a slave, like any -king in the world I had left who does or would do only what pleases him! -But Lona rode beside me a child indeed, therefore a free woman--calm, -silent, watchful, not a whit afraid! - -We were nearly in the heart of the city before any of its inhabitants -became aware of our presence. But now windows began to open, and sleepy -heads to look out. Every face wore at first a dull stare of wonderless -astonishment, which, as soon as the starers perceived the animals, -changed to one of consternation. In spite of their fear, however, when -they saw that their invaders were almost all children, the women came -running into the streets, and the men followed. But for a time all of -them kept close to the houses, leaving open the middle of the way, for -they durst not approach the animals. - -At length a boy, who looked about five years old, and was full of the -idea of his mother, spying in the crowd a woman whose face attracted -him, threw himself upon her from his antelope, and clung about her neck; -nor was she slow to return his embrace and kisses. But the hand of a man -came over her shoulder, and seized him by the neck. Instantly a girl ran -her sharp spear into the fellow's arm. He sent forth a savage howl, and -immediately stabbed by two or three more, fled yelling. - -"They are just bad giants!" said Lona, her eyes flashing as she drove -her horse against one of unusual height who, having stirred up the -little manhood in him, stood barring her way with a club. He dared not -abide the shock, but slunk aside, and the next moment went down, struck -by several stones. Another huge fellow, avoiding my charger, stepped -suddenly, with a speech whose rudeness alone was intelligible, between -me and the boy who rode behind me. The boy told him to address the king; -the giant struck his little horse on the head with a hammer, and he -fell. Before the brute could strike again, however, one of the elephants -behind laid him prostrate, and trampled on him so that he did not -attempt to get up until hundreds of feet had walked over him, and the -army was gone by. - -But at sight of the women what a dismay clouded the face of Lona! Hardly -one of them was even pleasant to look upon! Were her darlings to find -mothers among such as these? - -Hardly had we halted in the central square, when two girls rode up in -anxious haste, with the tidings that two of the boys had been hurried -away by some women. We turned at once, and then first discovered that -the woman we befriended had disappeared with her baby. - -But at the same moment we descried a white leopardess come bounding -toward us down a narrow lane that led from the square to the palace. The -Little Ones had not forgotten the fight of the two leopardesses in the -forest: some of them looked terrified, and their ranks began to waver; -but they remembered the order I had just given them, and stood fast. - -We stopped to see the result; when suddenly a small boy, called Odu, -remarkable for his speed and courage, who had heard me speak of the -goodness of the white leopardess, leaped from the back of his bear, -which went shambling after him, and ran to meet her. The leopardess, -to avoid knocking him down, pulled herself up so suddenly that she went -rolling over and over: when she recovered her feet she found the child -on her back. Who could doubt the subjugation of a people which saw an -urchin of the enemy bestride an animal of which they lived in daily -terror? Confident of the effect on the whole army, we rode on. - -As we stopped at the house to which our guides led us, we heard a -scream; I sprang down, and thundered at the door. My horse came and -pushed me away with his nose, turned about, and had begun to batter the -door with his heels, when up came little Odu on the leopardess, and at -sight of her he stood still, trembling. But she too had heard the cry, -and forgetting the child on her back, threw herself at the door; the -boy was dashed against it, and fell senseless. Before I could reach him, -Lona had him in her arms, and as soon as he came to himself, set him on -the back of his bear, which had still followed him. - -When the leopardess threw herself the third time against the door, it -gave way, and she darted in. We followed, but she had already vanished. -We sprang up a stair, and went all over the house, to find no one. -Darting down again, we spied a door under the stair, and got into a -labyrinth of excavations. We had not gone far, however, when we met the -leopardess with the child we sought across her back. - -He told us that the woman he took for his mother threw him into a hole, -saying she would give him to the leopardess. But the leopardess was a -good one, and took him out. - -Following in search of the other boy, we got into the next house more -easily, but to find, alas, that we were too late: one of the savages -had just killed the little captive! It consoled Lona, however, to learn -which he was, for she had been expecting him to grow a bad giant, from -which worst of fates death had saved him. The leopardess sprang upon -his murderer, took him by the throat, dragged him into the street, and -followed Lona with him, like a cat with a great rat in her jaws. - -"Let us leave the horrible place," said Lona; "there are no mothers -here! This people is not worth delivering." - -The leopardess dropped her burden, and charged into the crowd, this -way and that, wherever it was thickest. The slaves cried out and ran, -tumbling over each other in heaps. - -When we got back to the army, we found it as we had left it, standing in -order and ready. - -But I was far from easy: the princess gave no sign, and what she might -be plotting we did not know! Watch and ward must be kept the night -through! - -The Little Ones were such hardy creatures that they could repose -anywhere: we told them to lie down with their animals where they were, -and sleep till they were called. In one moment they were down, and -in another lapt in the music of their sleep, a sound as of water over -grass, or a soft wind among leaves. Their animals slept more lightly, -ever on the edge of waking. The bigger boys and girls walked softly -hither and thither among the dreaming multitude. All was still; the -whole wicked place appeared at rest. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER - -Lona was so disgusted with the people, and especially with the women, -that she wished to abandon the place as soon as possible; I, on the -contrary, felt very strongly that to do so would be to fail wilfully -where success was possible; and, far worse, to weaken the hearts of -the Little Ones, and so bring them into much greater danger. If we -retreated, it was certain the princess would not leave us unassailed! -if we encountered her, the hope of the prophecy went with us! Mother -and daughter must meet: it might be that Lona's loveliness would take -Lilith's heart by storm! if she threatened violence, I should be there -between them! If I found that I had no other power over her, I was -ready, for the sake of my Lona, to strike her pitilessly on the closed -hand! I knew she was doomed: most likely it was decreed that her doom -should now be brought to pass through us! - -Still without hint of the relation in which she stood to the princess, -I stated the case to Lona as it appeared to me. At once she agreed to -accompany me to the palace. - -From the top of one of its great towers, the princess had, in the early -morning, while the city yet slept, descried the approach of the army of -the Little Ones. The sight awoke in her an over-mastering terror: she -had failed in her endeavour to destroy them, and they were upon her! The -prophecy was about to be fulfilled! - -When she came to herself, she descended to the black hall, and seated -herself in the north focus of the ellipse, under the opening in the -roof. - -For she must think! Now what she called THINKING required a clear -consciousness of herself, not as she was, but as she chose to believe -herself; and to aid her in the realisation of this consciousness, she -had suspended, a little way from and above her, itself invisible in the -darkness of the hall, a mirror to receive the full sunlight reflected -from her person. For the resulting vision of herself in the splendour of -her beauty, she sat waiting the meridional sun. - -Many a shadow moved about her in the darkness, but as often as, with a -certain inner eye which she had, she caught sight of one, she refused -to regard it. Close under the mirror stood the Shadow which attended her -walks, but, self-occupied, him she did not see. - -The city was taken; the inhabitants were cowering in terror; the Little -Ones and their strange cavalry were encamped in the square; the sun -shone upon the princess, and for a few minutes she saw herself glorious. -The vision passed, but she sat on. The night was now come, and darkness -clothed and filled the glass, yet she did not move. A gloom that swarmed -with shadows, wallowed in the palace; the servants shivered and shook, -but dared not leave it because of the beasts of the Little Ones; all -night long the princess sat motionless: she must see her beauty again! -she must try again to think! But courage and will had grown weary of -her, and would dwell with her no more! - -In the morning we chose twelve of the tallest and bravest of the boys -to go with us to the palace. We rode our great horses, and they small -horses and elephants. - -The princess sat waiting the sun to give her the joy of her own -presence. The tide of the light was creeping up the shore of the sky, -but until the sun stood overhead, not a ray could enter the black hall. - -He rose to our eyes, and swiftly ascended. As we climbed the steep way -to the palace, he climbed the dome of its great hall. He looked in at -the eye of it--and with sudden radiance the princess flashed upon her -own sight. But she sprang to her feet with a cry of despair: alas her -whiteness! the spot covered half her side, and was black as the marble -around her! She clutched her robe, and fell back in her chair. The -Shadow glided out, and she saw him go. - -We found the gate open as usual, passed through the paved grove up to -the palace door, and entered the vestibule. There in her cage lay the -spotted leopardess, apparently asleep or lifeless. The Little Ones -paused a moment to look at her. She leaped up rampant against the cage. -The horses reared and plunged; the elephants retreated a step. The -next instant she fell supine, writhed in quivering spasms, and lay -motionless. We rode into the great hall. - -The princess yet leaned back in her chair in the shaft of sunlight, when -from the stones of the court came to her ears the noise of the horses' -hoofs. She started, listened, and shook: never had such sound been -heard in her palace! She pressed her hand to her side, and gasped. The -trampling came nearer and nearer; it entered the hall itself; moving -figures that were not shadows approached her through the darkness! - -For us, we saw a splendour, a glorious woman centring the dark. Lona -sprang from her horse, and bounded to her. I sprang from mine, and -followed Lona. - -"Mother! mother!" she cried, and her clear, lovely voice echoed in the -dome. - -The princess shivered; her face grew almost black with hate, her -eyebrows met on her forehead. She rose to her feet, and stood. - -"Mother! mother!" cried Lona again, as she leaped on the daïs, and flung -her arms around the princess. - -An instant more and I should have reached them!--in that instant I saw -Lona lifted high, and dashed on the marble floor. Oh, the horrible sound -of her fall! At my feet she fell, and lay still. The princess sat down -with the smile of a demoness. - -I dropped on my knees beside Lona, raised her from the stones, and -pressed her to my bosom. With indignant hate I glanced at the princess; -she answered me with her sweetest smile. I would have sprung upon her, -taken her by the throat, and strangled her, but love of the child was -stronger than hate of the mother, and I clasped closer my precious -burden. Her arms hung helpless; her blood trickled over my hands, and -fell on the floor with soft, slow little plashes. - -The horses scented it--mine first, then the small ones. Mine reared, -shivering and wild-eyed, went about, and thundered blindly down the dark -hall, with the little horses after him. Lona's stood gazing down at his -mistress, and trembling all over. The boys flung themselves from their -horses' backs, and they, not seeing the black wall before them, dashed -themselves, with mine, to pieces against it. The elephants came on to -the foot of the daïs, and stopped, wildly trumpeting; the Little Ones -sprang upon it, and stood horrified; the princess lay back in her seat, -her face that of a corpse, her eyes alone alive, wickedly flaming. She -was again withered and wasted to what I found in the wood, and her side -was as if a great branding hand had been laid upon it. But Lona saw -nothing, and I saw but Lona. - -"Mother! mother!" she sighed, and her breathing ceased. - -I carried her into the court: the sun shone upon a white face, and the -pitiful shadow of a ghostly smile. Her head hung back. She was "dead as -earth." - -I forgot the Little Ones, forgot the murdering princess, forgot the -body in my arms, and wandered away, looking for my Lona. The doors and -windows were crowded with brute-faces jeering at me, but not daring to -speak, for they saw the white leopardess behind me, hanging her head -close at my heel. I spurned her with my foot. She held back a moment, -and followed me again. - -I reached the square: the little army was gone! Its emptiness roused me. -Where were the Little Ones, HER Little Ones? I had lost her children! -I stared helpless about me, staggered to the pillar, and sank upon its -base. - -But as I sat gazing on the still countenance, it seemed to smile a live -momentary smile. I never doubted it an illusion, yet believed what it -said: I should yet see her alive! It was not she, it was I who was lost, -and she would find me! - -I rose to go after the Little Ones, and instinctively sought the gate -by which we had entered. I looked around me, but saw nothing of the -leopardess. - -The street was rapidly filling with a fierce crowd. They saw me -encumbered with my dead, but for a time dared not assail me. Ere I -reached the gate, however, they had gathered courage. The women began -to hustle me; I held on heedless. A man pushed against my sacred burden: -with a kick I sent him away howling. But the crowd pressed upon me, and -fearing for the dead that was beyond hurt, I clasped my treasure closer, -and freed my right arm. That instant, however, a commotion arose in the -street behind me; the crowd broke; and through it came the Little Ones I -had left in the palace. Ten of them were upon four of the elephants; on -the two other elephants lay the princess, bound hand and foot, and quite -still, save that her eyes rolled in their ghastly sockets. The two other -Little Ones rode behind her on Lona's horse. Every now and then the wise -creatures that bore her threw their trunks behind and felt her cords. - -I walked on in front, and out of the city. What an end to the hopes with -which I entered the evil place! We had captured the bad princess, and -lost our all-beloved queen! My life was bare! my heart was empty! - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. THE SHADOW - -A murmur of pleasure from my companions roused me: they had caught sight -of their fellows in the distance! The two on Lona's horse rode on to -join them. They were greeted with a wavering shout--which immediately -died away. As we drew near, the sound of their sobs reached us like the -breaking of tiny billows. - -When I came among them, I saw that something dire had befallen them: on -their childish faces was the haggard look left by some strange terror. -No possible grief could have wrought the change. A few of them came -slowly round me, and held out their arms to take my burden. I yielded -it; the tender hopelessness of the smile with which they received it, -made my heart swell with pity in the midst of its own desolation. In -vain were their sobs over their mother-queen; in vain they sought to -entice from her some recognition of their love; in vain they kissed and -fondled her as they bore her away: she would not wake! On each side one -carried an arm, gently stroking it; as many as could get near, put their -arms under her body; those who could not, crowded around the bearers. On -a spot where the grass grew thicker and softer they laid her down, and -there all the Little Ones gathered sobbing. - -Outside the crowd stood the elephants, and I near them, gazing at my -Lona over the many little heads between. Those next me caught sight of -the princess, and stared trembling. Odu was the first to speak. - -"I have seen that woman before!" he whispered to his next neighbour. -"It was she who fought the white leopardess, the night they woke us with -their yelling!" - -"Silly!" returned his companion. "That was a wild beast, with spots!" - -"Look at her eyes!" insisted Odu. "I know she is a bad giantess, but she -is a wild beast all the same. I know she is the spotted one!" - -The other took a step nearer; Odu drew him back with a sharp pull. - -"Don't look at her!" he cried, shrinking away, yet fascinated by the -hate-filled longing in her eyes. "She would eat you up in a moment! It -was HER shadow! She is the wicked princess!" - -"That cannot be! they said she was beautiful!" - -"Indeed it is the princess!" I interposed. "Wickedness has made her -ugly!" - -She heard, and what a look was hers! - -"It was very wrong of me to run away!" said Odu thoughtfully. - -"What made you run away?" I asked. "I expected to find you where I left -you!" - -He did not reply at once. - -"I don't know what made me run," answered another. "I was frightened!" - -"It was a man that came down the hill from the palace," said a third. - -"How did he frighten you?" - -"I don't know." - -"He wasn't a man," said Odu; "he was a shadow; he had no thick to him!" - -"Tell me more about him." - -"He came down the hill very black, walking like a bad giant, but spread -flat. He was nothing but blackness. We were frightened the moment we saw -him, but we did not run away; we stood and watched him. He came on as if -he would walk over us. But before he reached us, he began to spread and -spread, and grew bigger end bigger, till at last he was so big that he -went out of our sight, and we saw him no more, and then he was upon us!" - -"What do you mean by that?" - -"He was all black through between us, and we could not see one another; -and then he was inside us." - -"How did you know he was inside you?" - -"He did me quite different. I felt like bad. I was not Odu any more--not -the Odu I knew. I wanted to tear Sozo to pieces--not really, but like!" - -He turned and hugged Sozo. - -"It wasn't me, Sozo," he sobbed. "Really, deep down, it was Odu, loving -you always! And Odu came up, and knocked Naughty away. I grew sick, and -thought I must kill myself to get out of the black. Then came a horrible -laugh that had heard my think, and it set the air trembling about me. -And then I suppose I ran away, but I did not know I had run away until -I found myself running, fast as could, and all the rest running too. -I would have stopped, but I never thought of it until I was out of the -gate among the grass. Then I knew that I had run away from a shadow that -wanted to be me and wasn't, and that I was the Odu that loved Sozo. It -was the shadow that got into me, and hated him from inside me; it was -not my own self me! And now I know that I ought not to have run away! -But indeed I did not quite know what I was doing until it was done! My -legs did it, I think: they grew frightened, and forgot me, and ran away! -Naughty legs! There! and there!" - -Thus ended Odu, with a kick to each of his naughty legs. - -"What became of the shadow?" I asked. - -"I do not know," he answered. "I suppose he went home into the night -where there is no moon." - -I fell a wondering where Lona was gone, and dropping on the grass, took -the dead thing in my lap, and whispered in its ear, "Where are you, -Lona? I love you!" But its lips gave no answer. I kissed them, not quite -cold, laid the body down again, and appointing a guard over it, rose to -provide for the safety of Lona's people during the night. - -Before the sun went down, I had set a watch over the princess outside -the camp, and sentinels round it: intending to walk about it myself -all night long, I told the rest of the army to go to sleep. They threw -themselves on the grass and were asleep in a moment. - -When the moon rose I caught a glimpse of something white; it was the -leopardess. She swept silently round the sleeping camp, and I saw her -pass three times between the princess and the Little Ones. Thereupon I -made the watch lie down with the others, and stretched myself beside the -body of Lona. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. TO THE HOUSE OF BITTERNESS - -In the morning we set out, and made for the forest as fast as we could. -I rode Lona's horse, and carried her body. I would take it to her -father: he would give it a couch in the chamber of his dead! or, if he -would not, seeing she had not come of herself, I would watch it in the -desert until it mouldered away! But I believed he would, for surely she -had died long ago! Alas, how bitterly must I not humble myself before -him! - -To Adam I must take Lilith also. I had no power to make her repent! I -had hardly a right to slay her--much less a right to let her loose in -the world! and surely I scarce merited being made for ever her gaoler! - -Again and again, on the way, I offered her food; but she answered only -with a look of hungering hate. Her fiery eyes kept rolling to and fro, -nor ever closed, I believe, until we reached the other side of the -hot stream. After that they never opened until we came to the House of -Bitterness. - -One evening, as we were camping for the night, I saw a little girl go -up to her, and ran to prevent mischief. But ere I could reach them, the -child had put something to the lips of the princess, and given a scream -of pain. - -"Please, king," she whimpered, "suck finger. Bad giantess make hole in -it!" - -I sucked the tiny finger. - -"Well now!" she cried, and a minute after was holding a second fruit -to a mouth greedy of other fare. But this time she snatched her hand -quickly away, and the fruit fell to the ground. The child's name was -Luva. - -The next day we crossed the hot stream. Again on their own ground, -the Little Ones were jubilant. But their nests were still at a great -distance, and that day we went no farther than the ivy-hall, where, -because of its grapes, I had resolved to spend the night. When they saw -the great clusters, at once they knew them good, rushed upon them, ate -eagerly, and in a few minutes were all fast asleep on the green floor -and in the forest around the hall. Hoping again to see the dance, and -expecting the Little Ones to sleep through it, I had made them leave a -wide space in the middle. I lay down among them, with Lona by my side, -but did not sleep. - -The night came, and suddenly the company was there. I was wondering with -myself whether, night after night, they would thus go on dancing to all -eternity, and whether I should not one day have to join them because of -my stiff-neckedness, when the eyes of the children came open, and they -sprang to their feet, wide awake. Immediately every one caught hold of -a dancer, and away they went, bounding and skipping. The spectres seemed -to see and welcome them: perhaps they knew all about the Little Ones, -for they had themselves long been on their way back to childhood! -Anyhow, their innocent gambols must, I thought, bring refreshment to -weary souls who, their present taken from them and their future dark, -had no life save the shadow of their vanished past. Many a merry but -never a rude prank did the children play; and if they did at times cause -a momentary jar in the rhythm of the dance, the poor spectres, who had -nothing to smile withal, at least manifested no annoyance. - -Just ere the morning began to break, I started to see the -skeleton-princess in the doorway, her eyes open and glowing, the fearful -spot black on her side. She stood for a moment, then came gliding in, -as if she would join the dance. I sprang to my feet. A cry of repugnant -fear broke from the children, and the lights vanished. But the low -moon looked in, and I saw them clinging to each other. The ghosts -were gone--at least they were no longer visible. The princess too had -disappeared. I darted to the spot where I had left her: she lay with -her eyes closed, as if she had never moved. I returned to the hall. The -Little Ones were already on the floor, composing themselves to sleep. - -The next morning, as we started, we spied, a little way from us, two -skeletons moving about in a thicket. The Little Ones broke their ranks, -and ran to them. I followed; and, although now walking at ease, without -splint or ligature, I was able to recognise the pair I had before seen -in that neighbourhood. The children at once made friends with them, -laying hold of their arms, and stroking the bones of their long fingers; -and it was plain the poor creatures took their attentions kindly. The -two seemed on excellent terms with each other. Their common deprivation -had drawn them together! the loss of everything had been the beginning -of a new life to them! - -Perceiving that they had gathered handfuls of herbs, and were looking -for more--presumably to rub their bones with, for in what other way -could nourishment reach their system so rudimentary?--the Little Ones, -having keenly examined those they held, gathered of the same sorts, and -filled the hands the skeletons held out to receive them. Then they bid -them goodbye, promising to come and see them again, and resumed their -journey, saying to each other they had not known there were such nice -people living in the same forest. - -When we came to the nest-village, I remained there a night with them, to -see them resettled; for Lona still looked like one just dead, and there -seemed no need of haste. - -The princess had eaten nothing, and her eyes remained shut: fearing she -might die ere we reached the end of our journey, I went to her in the -night, and laid my bare arm upon her lips. She bit into it so fiercely -that I cried out. How I got away from her I do not know, but I came to -myself lying beyond her reach. It was then morning, and immediately I -set about our departure. - -Choosing twelve Little Ones, not of the biggest and strongest, but of -the sweetest and merriest, I mounted them on six elephants, and took -two more of the wise CLUMSIES, as the children called them, to bear the -princess. I still rode Lona's horse, and carried her body wrapt in -her cloak before me. As nearly as I could judge I took the direct way, -across the left branch of the river-bed, to the House of Bitterness, -where I hoped to learn how best to cross the broader and rougher branch, -and how to avoid the basin of monsters: I dreaded the former for the -elephants, the latter for the children. - -I had one terrible night on the way--the third, passed in the desert -between the two branches of the dead river. - -We had stopped the elephants in a sheltered place, and there let the -princess slip down between them, to lie on the sand until the morning. -She seemed quite dead, but I did not think she was. I laid myself a -little way from her, with the body of Lona by my other side, thus -to keep watch at once over the dead and the dangerous. The moon was -half-way down the west, a pale, thoughtful moon, mottling the desert -with shadows. Of a sudden she was eclipsed, remaining visible, but -sending forth no light: a thick, diaphanous film covered her patient -beauty, and she looked troubled. The film swept a little aside, and -I saw the edge of it against her clearness--the jagged outline of -a bat-like wing, torn and hooked. Came a cold wind with a burning -sting--and Lilith was upon me. Her hands were still bound, but with her -teeth she pulled from my shoulder the cloak Lona made for me, and fixed -them in my flesh. I lay as one paralysed. - -Already the very life seemed flowing from me into her, when I -remembered, and struck her on the hand. She raised her head with a -gurgling shriek, and I felt her shiver. I flung her from me, and sprang -to my feet. - -She was on her knees, and rocked herself to and fro. A second blast of -hot-stinging cold enveloped us; the moon shone out clear, and I saw her -face--gaunt and ghastly, besmeared with red. - -"Down, devil!" I cried. - -"Where are you taking me?" she asked, with the voice of a dull echo from -a sepulchre. - -"To your first husband," I answered. - -"He will kill me!" she moaned. - -"At least he will take you off my hands!" - -"Give me my daughter," she suddenly screamed, grinding her teeth. - -"Never! Your doom is upon you at last!" - -"Loose my hands for pity's sake!" she groaned. "I am in torture. The -cords are sunk in my flesh." - -"I dare not. Lie down!" I said. - -She threw herself on the ground like a log. - -The rest of the night passed in peace, and in the morning she again -seemed dead. - -Before evening we came in sight of the House of Bitterness, and the next -moment one of the elephants came alongside of my horse. - -"Please, king, you are not going to that place?" whispered the Little -One who rode on his neck. - -"Indeed I am! We are going to stay the night there," I answered. - -"Oh, please, don't! That must be where the cat-woman lives!" - -"If you had ever seen her, you would not call her by that name!" - -"Nobody ever sees her: she has lost her face! Her head is back and side -all round." - -"She hides her face from dull, discontented people!--Who taught you to -call her the cat-woman?" - -"I heard the bad giants call her so." - -"What did they say about her?" - -"That she had claws to her toes." - -"It is not true. I know the lady. I spent a night at her house." - -"But she MAY have claws to her toes! You might see her feet, and her -claws be folded up inside their cushions!" - -"Then perhaps you think that I have claws to my toes?" - -"Oh, no; that can't be! you are good!" - -"The giants might have told you so!" I pursued. - -"We shouldn't believe them about you!" - -"Are the giants good?" - -"No; they love lying." - -"Then why do you believe them about her? I know the lady is good; she -cannot have claws." - -"Please how do you know she is good?" - -"How do you know I am good?" - -I rode on, while he waited for his companions, and told them what I had -said. - -They hastened after me, and when they came up,-- - -"I would not take you to her house if I did not believe her good," I -said. - -"We know you would not," they answered. - -"If I were to do something that frightened you--what would you say?" - -"The beasts frightened us sometimes at first, but they never hurt us!" -answered one. - -"That was before we knew them!" added another. - -"Just so!" I answered. "When you see the woman in that cottage, you will -know that she is good. You may wonder at what she does, but she will -always be good. I know her better than you know me. She will not hurt -you,--or if she does,----" - -"Ah, you are not sure about it, king dear! You think she MAY hurt us!" - -"I am sure she will never be unkind to you, even if she do hurt you!" - -They were silent for a while. - -"I'm not afraid of being hurt--a little!--a good deal!" cried Odu. "But -I should not like scratches in the dark! The giants say the cat-woman -has claw-feet all over her house!" - -"I am taking the princess to her," I said. - -"Why?" - -"Because she is her friend." - -"How can she be good then?" - -"Little Tumbledown is a friend of the princess," I answered; "so is -Luva: I saw them both, more than once, trying to feed her with grapes!" - -"Little Tumbledown is good! Luva is very good!" - -"That is why they are her friends." - -"Will the cat-woman--I mean the woman that isn't the cat-woman, and has -no claws to her toes--give her grapes?" - -"She is more likely to give her scratches!" - -"Why?--You say she is her friend!" - -"That is just why.--A friend is one who gives us what we need, and the -princess is sorely in need of a terrible scratching." - -They were silent again. - -"If any of you are afraid," I said, "you may go home; I shall not -prevent you. But I cannot take one with me who believes the giants -rather than me, or one who will call a good lady the cat-woman!" - -"Please, king," said one, "I'm so afraid of being afraid!" - -"My boy," I answered, "there is no harm in being afraid. The only harm -is in doing what Fear tells you. Fear is not your master! Laugh in his -face and he will run away." - -"There she is--in the door waiting for us!" cried one, and put his hands -over his eyes. - -"How ugly she is!" cried another, and did the same. - -"You do not see her," I said; "her face is covered!" - -"She has no face!" they answered. - -"She has a very beautiful face. I saw it once.--It is indeed as -beautiful as Lona's!" I added with a sigh. - -"Then what makes her hide it?" - -"I think I know:--anyhow, she has some good reason for it!" - -"I don't like the cat-woman! she is frightful!" - -"You cannot like, and you ought not to dislike what you have never -seen.--Once more, you must not call her the cat-woman!" - -"What are we to call her then, please?" - -"Lady Mara." - -"That is a pretty name!" said a girl; "I will call her 'lady Mara'; then -perhaps she will show me her beautiful face!" - -Mara, drest and muffled in white, was indeed standing in the doorway to -receive us. - -"At last!" she said. "Lilith's hour has been long on the way, but it -is come! Everything comes. Thousands of years have I waited--and not in -vain!" - -She came to me, took my treasure from my arms, carried it into the -house, and returning, took the princess. Lilith shuddered, but made no -resistance. The beasts lay down by the door. We followed our hostess, -the Little Ones looking very grave. She laid the princess on a rough -settle at one side of the room, unbound her, and turned to us. - -"Mr. Vane," she said, "and you, Little Ones, I thank you! This woman -would not yield to gentler measures; harder must have their turn. I must -do what I can to make her repent!" - -The pitiful-hearted Little Ones began to sob sorely. - -"Will you hurt her very much, lady Mara?" said the girl I have just -mentioned, putting her warm little hand in mine. - -"Yes; I am afraid I must; I fear she will make me!" answered Mara. "It -would be cruel to hurt her too little. It would have all to be done -again, only worse." - -"May I stop with her?" - -"No, my child. She loves no one, therefore she cannot be WITH any one. -There is One who will be with her, but she will not be with Him." - -"Will the shadow that came down the hill be with her?" - -"The great Shadow will be in her, I fear, but he cannot be WITH her, or -with any one. She will know I am beside her, but that will not comfort -her." - -"Will you scratch her very deep?" asked Odu, going near, and putting his -hand in hers. "Please, don't make the red juice come!" - -She caught him up, turned her back to the rest of us, drew the muffling -down from her face, and held him at arms' length that he might see her. - -As if his face had been a mirror, I saw in it what he saw. For one -moment he stared, his little mouth open; then a divine wonder arose in -his countenance, and swiftly changed to intense delight. For a minute he -gazed entranced, then she set him down. Yet a moment he stood looking up -at her, lost in contemplation--then ran to us with the face of a prophet -that knows a bliss he cannot tell. Mara rearranged her mufflings, and -turned to the other children. - -"You must eat and drink before you go to sleep," she said; "you have had -a long journey!" - -She set the bread of her house before them, and a jug of cold water. -They had never seen bread before, and this was hard and dry, but they -ate it without sign of distaste. They had never seen water before, -but they drank without demur, one after the other looking up from -the draught with a face of glad astonishment. Then she led away the -smallest, and the rest went trooping after her. With her own gentle -hands, they told me, she put them to bed on the floor of the garret. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. THAT NIGHT - -Their night was a troubled one, and they brought a strange report of -it into the day. Whether the fear of their sleep came out into their -waking, or their waking fear sank with them into their dreams, awake or -asleep they were never at rest from it. All night something seemed going -on in the house--something silent, something terrible, something they -were not to know. Never a sound awoke; the darkness was one with the -silence, and the silence was the terror. - -Once, a frightful wind filled the house, and shook its inside, they -said, so that it quivered and trembled like a horse shaking himself; -but it was a silent wind that made not even a moan in their chamber, and -passed away like a soundless sob. - -They fell asleep. But they woke again with a great start. They thought -the house was filling with water such as they had been drinking. It came -from below, and swelled up until the garret was full of it to the very -roof. But it made no more sound than the wind, and when it sank away, -they fell asleep dry and warm. - -The next time they woke, all the air, they said, inside and out, was -full of cats. They swarmed--up and down, along and across, everywhere -about the room. They felt their claws trying to get through the -night-gowns lady Mara had put on them, but they could not; and in the -morning not one of them had a scratch. Through the dark suddenly, came -the only sound they heard the night long--the far-off howl of the huge -great-grandmother-cat in the desert: she must have been calling her -little ones, they thought, for that instant the cats stopped, and all -was still. Once more they fell fast asleep, and did not wake till the -sun was rising. - -Such was the account the children gave of their experiences. But I was -with the veiled woman and the princess all through the night: something -of what took place I saw; much I only felt; and there was more which eye -could not see, and heart only could in a measure understand. - -As soon as Mara left the room with the children, my eyes fell on the -white leopardess: I thought we had left her behind us, but there she -was, cowering in a corner. Apparently she was in mortal terror of what -she might see. A lamp stood on the high chimney-piece, and sometimes -the room seemed full of lamp-shadows, sometimes of cloudy forms. The -princess lay on the settle by the wall, and seemed never to have moved -hand or foot. It was a fearsome waiting. - -When Mara returned, she drew the settle with Lilith upon it to the -middle of the room, then sat down opposite me, at the other side of the -hearth. Between us burned a small fire. - -Something terrible was on its way! The cloudy presences flickered and -shook. A silvery creature like a slowworm came crawling out from among -them, slowly crossed the clay floor, and crept into the fire. We sat -motionless. The something came nearer. - -But the hours passed, midnight drew nigh, and there was no change. The -night was very still. Not a sound broke the silence, not a rustle from -the fire, not a crack from board or beam. Now and again I felt a sort of -heave, but whether in the earth or in the air or in the waters under the -earth, whether in my own body or in my soul--whether it was anywhere, -I could not tell. A dread sense of judgment was upon me. But I was not -afraid, for I had ceased to care for aught save the thing that must be -done. - -Suddenly it was midnight. The muffled woman rose, turned toward the -settle, and slowly unwound the long swathes that hid her face: they -dropped on the ground, and she stepped over them. The feet of the -princess were toward the hearth; Mara went to her head, and turning, -stood behind it. Then I saw her face. It was lovely beyond speech--white -and sad, heart-and-soul sad, but not unhappy, and I knew it never could -be unhappy. Great tears were running down her cheeks: she wiped them -away with her robe; her countenance grew very still, and she wept no -more. But for the pity in every line of her expression, she would have -seemed severe. She laid her hand on the head of the princess--on the -hair that grew low on the forehead, and stooping, breathed on the sallow -brow. The body shuddered. - -"Will you turn away from the wicked things you have been doing so long?" -said Mara gently. - -The princess did not answer. Mara put the question again, in the same -soft, inviting tone. - -Still there was no sign of hearing. She spoke the words a third time. - -Then the seeming corpse opened its mouth and answered, its words -appearing to frame themselves of something else than sound.--I cannot -shape the thing further: sounds they were not, yet they were words to -me. - -"I will not," she said. "I will be myself and not another!" - -"Alas, you are another now, not yourself! Will you not be your real -self?" - -"I will be what I mean myself now." - -"If you were restored, would you not make what amends you could for the -misery you have caused?" - -"I would do after my nature." - -"You do not know it: your nature is good, and you do evil!" - -"I will do as my Self pleases--as my Self desires." - -"You will do as the Shadow, overshadowing your Self inclines you?" - -"I will do what I will to do." - -"You have killed your daughter, Lilith!" - -"I have killed thousands. She is my own!" - -"She was never yours as you are another's." - -"I am not another's; I am my own, and my daughter is mine." - -"Then, alas, your hour is come!" - -"I care not. I am what I am; no one can take from me myself!" - -"You are not the Self you imagine." - -"So long as I feel myself what it pleases me to think myself, I care -not. I am content to be to myself what I would be. What I choose to seem -to myself makes me what I am. My own thought makes me me; my own thought -of myself is me. Another shall not make me!" - -"But another has made you, and can compel you to see what you have made -yourself. You will not be able much longer to look to yourself anything -but what he sees you! You will not much longer have satisfaction in the -thought of yourself. At this moment you are aware of the coming change!" - -"No one ever made me. I defy that Power to unmake me from a free woman! -You are his slave, and I defy you! You may be able to torture me--I do -not know, but you shall not compel me to anything against my will!" - -"Such a compulsion would be without value. But there is a light that -goes deeper than the will, a light that lights up the darkness behind -it: that light can change your will, can make it truly yours and not -another's--not the Shadow's. Into the created can pour itself the -creating will, and so redeem it!" - -"That light shall not enter me: I hate it!--Begone, slave!" - -"I am no slave, for I love that light, and will with the deeper will -which created mine. There is no slave but the creature that wills -against its creator. Who is a slave but her who cries, 'I am free,' yet -cannot cease to exist!" - -"You speak foolishness from a cowering heart! You imagine me given over -to you: I defy you! I hold myself against you! What I choose to be, you -cannot change. I will not be what you think me--what you say I am!" - -"I am sorry: you must suffer!" - -"But be free!" - -"She alone is free who would make free; she loves not freedom who would -enslave: she is herself a slave. Every life, every will, every heart -that came within your ken, you have sought to subdue: you are the slave -of every slave you have made--such a slave that you do not know it!--See -your own self!" - -She took her hand from the head of the princess, and went two backward -paces from her. - -A soundless presence as of roaring flame possessed the house--the same, -I presume, that was to the children a silent wind. Involuntarily I -turned to the hearth: its fire was a still small moveless glow. But I -saw the worm-thing come creeping out, white-hot, vivid as incandescent -silver, the live heart of essential fire. Along the floor it crawled -toward the settle, going very slow. Yet more slowly it crept up on -it, and laid itself, as unwilling to go further, at the feet of the -princess. I rose and stole nearer. Mara stood motionless, as one that -waits an event foreknown. The shining thing crawled on to a bare bony -foot: it showed no suffering, neither was the settle scorched where the -worm had lain. Slowly, very slowly, it crept along her robe until it -reached her bosom, where it disappeared among the folds. - -The face of the princess lay stonily calm, the eyelids closed as over -dead eyes; and for some minutes nothing followed. At length, on the dry, -parchment-like skin, began to appear drops as of the finest dew: in a -moment they were as large as seed-pearls, ran together, and began to -pour down in streams. I darted forward to snatch the worm from the poor -withered bosom, and crush it with my foot. But Mara, Mother of Sorrow, -stepped between, and drew aside the closed edges of the robe: no serpent -was there--no searing trail; the creature had passed in by the centre -of the black spot, and was piercing through the joints and marrow to -the thoughts and intents of the heart. The princess gave one writhing, -contorted shudder, and I knew the worm was in her secret chamber. - -"She is seeing herself!" said Mara; and laying her hand on my arm, she -drew me three paces from the settle. - -Of a sudden the princess bent her body upward in an arch, then sprang to -the floor, and stood erect. The horror in her face made me tremble lest -her eyes should open, and the sight of them overwhelm me. Her bosom -heaved and sank, but no breath issued. Her hair hung and dripped; then -it stood out from her head and emitted sparks; again hung down, and -poured the sweat of her torture on the floor. - -I would have thrown my arms about her, but Mara stopped me. - -"You cannot go near her," she said. "She is far away from us, afar in -the hell of her self-consciousness. The central fire of the universe is -radiating into her the knowledge of good and evil, the knowledge of what -she is. She sees at last the good she is not, the evil she is. She knows -that she is herself the fire in which she is burning, but she does not -know that the Light of Life is the heart of that fire. Her torment is -that she is what she is. Do not fear for her; she is not forsaken. No -gentler way to help her was left. Wait and watch." - -It may have been five minutes or five years that she stood thus--I -cannot tell; but at last she flung herself on her face. - -Mara went to her, and stood looking down upon her. Large tears fell from -her eyes on the woman who had never wept, and would not weep. - -"Will you change your way?" she said at length. - -"Why did he make me such?" gasped Lilith. "I would have made myself--oh, -so different! I am glad it was he that made me and not I myself! -He alone is to blame for what I am! Never would I have made such a -worthless thing! He meant me such that I might know it and be miserable! -I will not be made any longer!" - -"Unmake yourself, then," said Mara. - -"Alas, I cannot! You know it, and mock me! How often have I not agonised -to cease, but the tyrant keeps me being! I curse him!--Now let him kill -me!" - -The words came in jets as from a dying fountain. - -"Had he not made you," said Mara, gently and slowly, "you could not even -hate him. But he did not make you such. You have made yourself what you -are.--Be of better cheer: he can remake you." - -"I will not be remade!" - -"He will not change you; he will only restore you to what you were." - -"I will not be aught of his making." - -"Are you not willing to have that set right which you have set wrong?" - -She lay silent; her suffering seemed abated. - -"If you are willing, put yourself again on the settle." - -"I will not," she answered, forcing the words through her clenched -teeth. - -A wind seemed to wake inside the house, blowing without sound or impact; -and a water began to rise that had no lap in its ripples, no sob in its -swell. It was cold, but it did not benumb. Unseen and noiseless it came. -It smote no sense in me, yet I knew it rising. I saw it lift at last and -float her. Gently it bore her, unable to resist, and left rather than -laid her on the settle. Then it sank swiftly away. - -The strife of thought, accusing and excusing, began afresh, and -gathered fierceness. The soul of Lilith lay naked to the torture of pure -interpenetrating inward light. She began to moan, and sigh deep sighs, -then murmur as holding colloquy with a dividual self: her queendom was -no longer whole; it was divided against itself. One moment she would -exult as over her worst enemy, and weep; the next she would writhe as in -the embrace of a friend whom her soul hated, and laugh like a demon. -At length she began what seemed a tale about herself, in a language -so strange, and in forms so shadowy, that I could but here and there -understand a little. Yet the language seemed the primeval shape of one -I knew well, and the forms to belong to dreams which had once been mine, -but refused to be recalled. The tale appeared now and then to touch upon -things that Adam had read from the disparted manuscript, and often to -make allusion to influences and forces--vices too, I could not help -suspecting--with which I was unacquainted. - -She ceased, and again came the horror in her hair, the sparkling and -flowing alternate. I sent a beseeching look to Mara. - -"Those, alas, are not the tears of repentance!" she said. "The true -tears gather in the eyes. Those are far more bitter, and not so good. -Self-loathing is not sorrow. Yet it is good, for it marks a step in -the way home, and in the father's arms the prodigal forgets the self he -abominates. Once with his father, he is to himself of no more account. -It will be so with her." - -She went nearer and said, - -"Will you restore that which you have wrongfully taken?" - -"I have taken nothing," answered the princess, forcing out the words -in spite of pain, "that I had not the right to take. My power to take -manifested my right." - -Mara left her. - -Gradually my soul grew aware of an invisible darkness, a something -more terrible than aught that had yet made itself felt. A horrible -Nothingness, a Negation positive infolded her; the border of its being -that was yet no being, touched me, and for one ghastly instant I seemed -alone with Death Absolute! It was not the absence of everything I felt, -but the presence of Nothing. The princess dashed herself from the settle -to the floor with an exceeding great and bitter cry. It was the recoil -of Being from Annihilation. - -"For pity's sake," she shrieked, "tear my heart out, but let me live!" - -With that there fell upon her, and upon us also who watched with her, -the perfect calm as of a summer night. Suffering had all but reached the -brim of her life's cup, and a hand had emptied it! She raised her head, -half rose, and looked around her. A moment more, and she stood erect, -with the air of a conqueror: she had won the battle! Dareful she had met -her spiritual foes; they had withdrawn defeated! She raised her withered -arm above her head, a pæan of unholy triumph in her throat--when -suddenly her eyes fixed in a ghastly stare.--What was she seeing? - -I looked, and saw: before her, cast from unseen heavenly mirror, stood -the reflection of herself, and beside it a form of splendent beauty, She -trembled, and sank again on the floor helpless. She knew the one what -God had intended her to be, the other what she had made herself. - -The rest of the night she lay motionless altogether. - -With the gray dawn growing in the room, she rose, turned to Mara, and -said, in prideful humility, "You have conquered. Let me go into the -wilderness and bewail myself." - -Mara saw that her submission was not feigned, neither was it real. She -looked at her a moment, and returned: - -"Begin, then, and set right in the place of wrong." - -"I know not how," she replied--with the look of one who foresaw and -feared the answer. - -"Open thy hand, and let that which is in it go." - -A fierce refusal seemed to struggle for passage, but she kept it -prisoned. - -"I cannot," she said. "I have no longer the power. Open it for me." - -She held out the offending hand. It was more a paw than a hand. It -seemed to me plain that she could not open it. - -Mara did not even look at it. - -"You must open it yourself," she said quietly. - -"I have told you I cannot!" - -"You can if you will--not indeed at once, but by persistent effort. What -you have done, you do not yet wish undone--do not yet intend to undo!" - -"You think so, I dare say," rejoined the princess with a flash of -insolence, "but I KNOW that I cannot open my hand!" - -"I know you better than you know yourself, and I know you can. You have -often opened it a little way. Without trouble and pain you cannot open -it quite, but you CAN open it. At worst you could beat it open! I pray -you, gather your strength, and open it wide." - -"I will not try what I know impossible. It would be the part of a fool!" - -"Which you have been playing all your life! Oh, you are hard to teach!" - -Defiance reappeared on the face of the princess. She turned her back on -Mara, saying, "I know what you have been tormenting me for! You have not -succeeded, nor shall you succeed! You shall yet find me stronger than -you think! I will yet be mistress of myself! I am still what I have -always known myself--queen of Hell, and mistress of the worlds!" - -Then came the most fearful thing of all. I did not know what it was; I -knew myself unable to imagine it; I knew only that if it came near me I -should die of terror! I now know that it was LIFE IN DEATH--life dead, -yet existent; and I knew that Lilith had had glimpses, but only glimpses -of it before: it had never been with her until now. - -She stood as she had turned. Mara went and sat down by the fire. Fearing -to stand alone with the princess, I went also and sat again by the -hearth. Something began to depart from me. A sense of cold, yet not what -we call cold, crept, not into, but out of my being, and pervaded it. The -lamp of life and the eternal fire seemed dying together, and I about -to be left with naught but the consciousness that I had been alive. -Mercifully, bereavement did not go so far, and my thought went back to -Lilith. - -Something was taking place in her which we did not know. We knew we did -not feel what she felt, but we knew we felt something of the misery -it caused her. The thing itself was in her, not in us; its reflex, her -misery, reached us, and was again reflected in us: she was in the outer -darkness, we present with her who was in it! We were not in the outer -darkness; had we been, we could not have been WITH her; we should have -been timelessly, spacelessly, absolutely apart. The darkness knows -neither the light nor itself; only the light knows itself and the -darkness also. None but God hates evil and understands it. - -Something was gone from her, which then first, by its absence, she knew -to have been with her every moment of her wicked years. The source of -life had withdrawn itself; all that was left her of conscious being was -the dregs of her dead and corrupted life. - -She stood rigid. Mara buried her head in her hands. I gazed on the face -of one who knew existence but not love--knew nor life, nor joy, nor -good; with my eyes I saw the face of a live death! She knew life only to -know that it was dead, and that, in her, death lived. It was not merely -that life had ceased in her, but that she was consciously a dead thing. -She had killed her life, and was dead--and knew it. She must DEATH IT -for ever and ever! She had tried her hardest to unmake herself, and -could not! she was a dead life! she could not cease! she must BE! In her -face I saw and read beyond its misery--saw in its dismay that the dismay -behind it was more than it could manifest. It sent out a livid gloom; -the light that was in her was darkness, and after its kind it shone. She -was what God could not have created. She had usurped beyond her share -in self-creation, and her part had undone His! She saw now what she had -made, and behold, it was not good! She was as a conscious corpse, whose -coffin would never come to pieces, never set her free! Her bodily eyes -stood wide open, as if gazing into the heart of horror essential--her -own indestructible evil. Her right hand also was now clenched--upon -existent Nothing--her inheritance! - -But with God all things are possible: He can save even the rich! - -Without change of look, without sign of purpose, Lilith walked toward -Mara. She felt her coming, and rose to meet her. - -"I yield," said the princess. "I cannot hold out. I am defeated.--Not -the less, I cannot open my hand." - -"Have you tried?" - -"I am trying now with all my might." - -"I will take you to my father. You have wronged him worst of the -created, therefore he best of the created can help you." - -"How can HE help me?" - -"He will forgive you." - -"Ah, if he would but help me to cease! Not even that am I capable of! I -have no power over myself; I am a slave! I acknowledge it. Let me die." - -"A slave thou art that shall one day be a child!" answered -Mara.--"Verily, thou shalt die, but not as thou thinkest. Thou shalt -die out of death into life. Now is the Life for, that never was against -thee!" - -Like her mother, in whom lay the motherhood of all the world, Mara put -her arms around Lilith, and kissed her on the forehead. The fiery-cold -misery went out of her eyes, and their fountains filled. She lifted, and -bore her to her own bed in a corner of the room, laid her softly upon -it, and closed her eyes with caressing hands. - -Lilith lay and wept. The Lady of Sorrow went to the door and opened it. - -Morn, with the Spring in her arms, waited outside. Softly they stole in -at the opened door, with a gentle wind in the skirts of their garments. -It flowed and flowed about Lilith, rippling the unknown, upwaking sea of -her life eternal; rippling and to ripple it, until at length she who had -been but as a weed cast on the dry sandy shore to wither, should know -herself an inlet of the everlasting ocean, henceforth to flow into her -for ever, and ebb no more. She answered the morning wind with reviving -breath, and began to listen. For in the skirts of the wind had come -the rain--the soft rain that heals the mown, the many-wounded -grass--soothing it with the sweetness of all music, the hush that lives -between music and silence. It bedewed the desert places around the -cottage, and the sands of Lilith's heart heard it, and drank it in. When -Mara returned to sit by her bed, her tears were flowing softer than the -rain, and soon she was fast asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XL. THE HOUSE OF DEATH - -The Mother of Sorrows rose, muffled her face, and went to call the -Little Ones. They slept as if all the night they had not moved, but -the moment she spoke they sprang to their feet, fresh as if new-made. -Merrily down the stair they followed her, and she brought them where the -princess lay, her tears yet flowing as she slept. Their glad faces grew -grave. They looked from the princess out on the rain, then back at the -princess. - -"The sky is falling!" said one. - -"The white juice is running out of the princess!" cried another, with an -awed look. - -"Is it rivers?" asked Odu, gazing at the little streams that flowed -adown her hollow cheeks. - -"Yes," answered Mara, "--the most wonderful of all rivers." - -"I thought rivers was bigger, and rushed, like a lot of Little Ones, -making loud noises!" he returned, looking at me, from whom alone he had -heard of rivers. - -"Look at the rivers of the sky!" said Mara. "See how they come down -to wake up the waters under the earth! Soon will the rivers be flowing -everywhere, merry and loud, like thousands and thousands of happy -children. Oh, how glad they will make you, Little Ones! You have never -seen any, and do not know how lovely is the water!" - -"That will be the glad of the ground that the princess is grown good," -said Odu. "See the glad of the sky!" - -"Are the rivers the glad of the princess?" asked Luva. "They are not her -juice, for they are not red!" - -"They are the juice inside the juice," answered Mara. - -Odu put one finger to his eye, looked at it, and shook his head. - -"Princess will not bite now!" said Luva. - -"No; she will never do that again," replied Mara. "--But now we must -take her nearer home." - -"Is that a nest?" asked Sozo. - -"Yes; a very big nest. But we must take her to another place first." - -"What is that?" - -"It is the biggest room in all this world.--But I think it is going to -be pulled down: it will soon be too full of little nests.--Go and get -your clumsies." - -"Please are there any cats in it?" - -"Not one. The nests are too full of lovely dreams for one cat to get -in." - -"We shall be ready in a minute," said Odu, and ran out, followed by all -except Luva. - -Lilith was now awake, and listening with a sad smile. - -"But her rivers are running so fast!" said Luva, who stood by her side -and seemed unable to take her eyes from her face. "Her robe is all--I -don't know what. Clumsies won't like it!" - -"They won't mind it," answered Mara. "Those rivers are so clean that -they make the whole world clean." - -I had fallen asleep by the fire, but for some time had been awake and -listening, and now rose. - -"It is time to mount, Mr. Vane," said our hostess. - -"Tell me, please," I said, "is there not a way by which to avoid the -channels and the den of monsters?" - -"There is an easy way across the river-bed, which I will show you," she -answered; "but you must pass once more through the monsters." - -"I fear for the children," I said. - -"Fear will not once come nigh them," she rejoined. - -We left the cottage. The beasts stood waiting about the door. Odu was -already on the neck of one of the two that were to carry the princess. I -mounted Lona's horse; Mara brought her body, and gave it me in my arms. -When she came out again with the princess, a cry of delight arose from -the children: she was no longer muffled! Gazing at her, and entranced -with her loveliness, the boys forgot to receive the princess from her; -but the elephants took Lilith tenderly with their trunks, one round her -body and one round her knees, and, Mara helping, laid her along between -them. - -"Why does the princess want to go?" asked a small boy. "She would keep -good if she staid here!" - -"She wants to go, and she does not want to go: we are helping her," -answered Mara. "She will not keep good here." - -"What are you helping her to do?" he went on. - -"To go where she will get more help--help to open her hand, which has -been closed for a thousand years." - -"So long? Then she has learned to do without it: why should she open it -now?" - -"Because it is shut upon something that is not hers." - -"Please, lady Mara, may we have some of your very dry bread before we -go?" said Luva. - -Mara smiled, and brought them four loaves and a great jug of water. - -"We will eat as we go," they said. But they drank the water with -delight. - -"I think," remarked one of them, "it must be elephant-juice! It makes me -so strong!" - -We set out, the Lady of Sorrow walking with us, more beautiful than the -sun, and the white leopardess following her. I thought she meant but to -put us in the path across the channels, but I soon found she was going -with us all the way. Then I would have dismounted that she might ride, -but she would not let me. - -"I have no burden to carry," she said. "The children and I will walk -together." - -It was the loveliest of mornings; the sun shone his brightest, and the -wind blew his sweetest, but they did not comfort the desert, for it had -no water. - -We crossed the channels without difficulty, the children gamboling about -Mara all the way, but did not reach the top of the ridge over the bad -burrow until the sun was already in the act of disappearing. Then I made -the Little Ones mount their elephants, for the moon might be late, and I -could not help some anxiety about them. - -The Lady of Sorrow now led the way by my side; the elephants -followed--the two that bore the princess in the centre; the leopardess -brought up the rear; and just as we reached the frightful margin, the -moon looked up and showed the shallow basin lying before us untroubled. -Mara stepped into it; not a movement answered her tread or the feet -of my horse. But the moment that the elephants carrying the princess -touched it, the seemingly solid earth began to heave and boil, and the -whole dread brood of the hellish nest was commoved. Monsters uprose on -all sides, every neck at full length, every beak and claw outstretched, -every mouth agape. Long-billed heads, horribly jawed faces, knotty -tentacles innumerable, went out after Lilith. She lay in an agony of -fear, nor dared stir a finger. Whether the hideous things even saw the -children, I doubt; certainly not one of them touched a child; not one -loathly member passed the live rampart of her body-guard, to lay hold of -her. - -"Little Ones," I cried, "keep your elephants close about the princess. -Be brave; they will not touch you." - -"What will not touch us? We don't know what to be brave at!" they -answered; and I perceived they were unaware of one of the deformities -around them. - -"Never mind then," I returned; "only keep close." - -They were panoplied in their blindness! Incapacity to see was their -safety. What they could nowise be aware of, could not hurt them. - -But the hideous forms I saw that night! Mara was a few paces in front -of me when a solitary, bodiless head bounced on the path between us. The -leopardess came rushing under the elephants from behind, and would have -seized it, but, with frightful contortions of visage and a loathsome -howl, it gave itself a rapid rotatory twist, sprang from her, and buried -itself in the ground. The death in my arms assoiling me from fear, I -regarded them all unmoved, although never, sure, was elsewhere beheld -such a crew accursed! - -Mara still went in front of me, and the leopardess now walked close -behind her, shivering often, for it was very cold, when suddenly the -ground before me to my left began to heave, and a low wave of earth came -slinking toward us. It rose higher as it drew hear; out of it slouched -a dreadful head with fleshy tubes for hair, and opening a great oval -mouth, snapped at me. The leopardess sprang, but fell baffled beyond it. - -Almost under our feet, shot up the head of an enormous snake, with a -lamping wallowing glare in its eyes. Again the leopardess rushed to the -attack, but found nothing. At a third monster she darted with like fury, -and like failure--then sullenly ceased to heed the phantom-horde. But I -understood the peril and hastened the crossing--the rather that the moon -was carrying herself strangely. Even as she rose she seemed ready to -drop and give up the attempt as hopeless; and since, I saw her sink back -once fully her own breadth. The arc she made was very low, and now she -had begun to descend rapidly. - -We were almost over, when, between us and the border of the basin, arose -a long neck, on the top of which, like the blossom of some Stygian lily, -sat what seemed the head of a corpse, its mouth half open, and full of -canine teeth. I went on; it retreated, then drew aside. The lady stepped -on the firm land, but the leopardess between us, roused once more, -turned, and flew at the throat of the terror. I remained where I was to -see the elephants, with the princess and the children, safe on the bank. -Then I turned to look after the leopardess. That moment the moon -went down, For an instant I saw the leopardess and the snake-monster -convolved in a cloud of dust; then darkness hid them. Trembling with -fright, my horse wheeled, and in three bounds overtook the elephants. - -As we came up with them, a shapeless jelly dropped on the princess. A -white dove dropped immediately on the jelly, stabbing it with its beak. -It made a squelching, sucking sound, and fell off. Then I heard the -voice of a woman talking with Mara, and I knew the voice. - -"I fear she is dead!" said Mara. - -"I will send and find her," answered the mother. "But why, Mara, -shouldst thou at all fear for her or for any one? Death cannot hurt her -who dies doing the work given her to do." - -"I shall miss her sorely; she is good and wise. Yet I would not have her -live beyond her hour!" - -"She has gone down with the wicked; she will rise with the righteous. We -shall see her again ere very long." - -"Mother," I said, although I did not see her, "we come to you many, but -most of us are Little Ones. Will you be able to receive us all?" - -"You are welcome every one," she answered. "Sooner or later all will be -little ones, for all must sleep in my house! It is well with those that -go to sleep young and willing!--My husband is even now preparing her -couch for Lilith. She is neither young nor quite willing, but it is well -indeed that she is come." - -I heard no more. Mother and daughter had gone away together through -the dark. But we saw a light in the distance, and toward it we went -stumbling over the moor. - -Adam stood in the door, holding the candle to guide us, and talking with -his wife, who, behind him, laid bread and wine on the table within. - -"Happy children," I heard her say, "to have looked already on the face -of my daughter! Surely it is the loveliest in the great world!" - -When we reached the door, Adam welcomed us almost merrily. He set the -candle on the threshold, and going to the elephants, would have taken -the princess to carry her in; but she repulsed him, and pushing her -elephants asunder, stood erect between them. They walked from beside -her, and left her with him who had been her husband--ashamed indeed of -her gaunt uncomeliness, but unsubmissive. He stood with a welcome in his -eyes that shone through their severity. - -"We have long waited for thee, Lilith!" he said. - -She returned him no answer. - -Eve and her daughter came to the door. - -"The mortal foe of my children!" murmured Eve, standing radiant in her -beauty. - -"Your children are no longer in her danger," said Mara; "she has turned -from evil." - -"Trust her not hastily, Mara," answered her mother; "she has deceived a -multitude!" - -"But you will open to her the mirror of the Law of Liberty, mother, that -she may go into it, and abide in it! She consents to open her hand and -restore: will not the great Father restore her to inheritance with His -other children?" - -"I do not know Him!" murmured Lilith, in a voice of fear and doubt. - -"Therefore it is that thou art miserable," said Adam. - -"I will go back whence I came!" she cried, and turned, wringing her -hands, to depart. - -"That is indeed what I would have thee do, where I would have thee -go--to Him from whom thou camest! In thy agony didst thou not cry out -for Him?" - -"I cried out for Death--to escape Him and thee!" - -"Death is even now on his way to lead thee to Him. Thou knowest neither -Death nor the Life that dwells in Death! Both befriend thee. I am dead, -and would see thee dead, for I live and love thee. Thou art weary and -heavy-laden: art thou not ashamed? Is not the being thou hast corrupted -become to thee at length an evil thing? Wouldst thou yet live on in -disgrace eternal? Cease thou canst not: wilt thou not be restored and -BE?" - -She stood silent with bowed head. - -"Father," said Mara, "take her in thine arms, and carry her to her -couch. There she will open her hand, and die into life." - -"I will walk," said the princess. - -Adam turned and led the way. The princess walked feebly after him into -the cottage. - -Then Eve came out to me where I sat with Lona in my bosom. She reached -up her arms, took her from me, and carried her in. I dismounted, and the -children also. The horse and the elephants stood shivering; Mara patted -and stroked them every one; they lay down and fell asleep. She led us -into the cottage, and gave the Little Ones of the bread and wine on the -table. Adam and Lilith were standing there together, but silent both. - -Eve came from the chamber of death, where she had laid Lona down, and -offered of the bread and wine to the princess. - -"Thy beauty slays me! It is death I would have, not food!" said Lilith, -and turned from her. - -"This food will help thee to die," answered Eve. - -But Lilith would not taste of it. - -"If thou wilt nor eat nor drink, Lilith," said Adam, "come and see the -place where thou shalt lie in peace." - -He led the way through the door of death, and she followed submissive. -But when her foot crossed the threshold she drew it back, and pressed -her hand to her bosom, struck through with the cold immortal. - -A wild blast fell roaring on the roof, and died away in a moan. She -stood ghastly with terror. - -"It is he!" said her voiceless lips: I read their motion. - -"Who, princess!" I whispered. - -"The great Shadow," she murmured. - -"Here he cannot enter," said Adam. "Here he can hurt no one. Over him -also is power given me." - -"Are the children in the house?" asked Lilith, and at the word the heart -of Eve began to love her. - -"He never dared touch a child," she said. "Nor have you either ever hurt -a child. Your own daughter you have but sent into the loveliest sleep, -for she was already a long time dead when you slew her. And now Death -shall be the atonemaker; you shall sleep together." - -"Wife," said Adam, "let us first put the children to bed, that she may -see them safe!" - -He came back to fetch them. As soon as he was gone, the princess knelt -to Eve, clasped her knees, and said, - -"Beautiful Eve, persuade your husband to kill me: to you he will listen! -Indeed I would but cannot open my hand." - -"You cannot die without opening it. To kill you would not serve you," -answered Eve. "But indeed he cannot! no one can kill you but the Shadow; -and whom he kills never knows she is dead, but lives to do his will, and -thinks she is doing her own." - -"Show me then to my grave; I am so weary I can live no longer. I must go -to the Shadow--yet I would not!" - -She did not, could not understand! - -She struggled to rise, but fell at the feet of Eve. The Mother lifted, -and carried her inward. - -I followed Adam and Mara and the children into the chamber of death. We -passed Eve with Lilith in her arms, and went farther in. - -"You shall not go to the Shadow," I heard Eve say, as we passed them. -"Even now is his head under my heel!" - -The dim light in Adam's hand glimmered on the sleeping faces, and as he -went on, the darkness closed over them. The very air seemed dead: was it -because none of the sleepers breathed it? Profoundest sleep filled the -wide place. It was as if not one had waked since last I was there, for -the forms I had then noted lay there still. My father was just as I had -left him, save that he seemed yet nearer to a perfect peace. The woman -beside him looked younger. - -The darkness, the cold, the silence, the still air, the faces of the -lovely dead, made the hearts of the children beat softly, but their -little tongues would talk--with low, hushed voices. - -"What a curious place to sleep in!" said one, "I would rather be in my -nest!" "It is SO cold!" said another. - -"Yes, it is cold," answered our host; "but you will not be cold in your -sleep." - -"Where are our nests?" asked more than one, looking round and seeing no -couch unoccupied. - -"Find places, and sleep where you choose," replied Adam. - -Instantly they scattered, advancing fearlessly beyond the light, but we -still heard their gentle voices, and it was plain they saw where I could -not. - -"Oh," cried one, "here is such a beautiful lady!--may I sleep beside -her? I will creep in quietly, and not wake her." - -"Yes, you may," answered the voice of Eve behind us; and we came to the -couch while the little fellow was yet creeping slowly and softly under -the sheet. He laid his head beside the lady's, looked up at us, and was -still. His eyelids fell; he was asleep. - -We went a little farther, and there was another who had climbed up on -the couch of a woman. - -"Mother! mother!" he cried, kneeling over her, his face close to hers. -"--She's so cold she can't speak," he said, looking up to us; "but I -will soon make her warm!" - -He lay down, and pressing close to her, put his little arm over her. In -an instant he too was asleep, smiling an absolute content. - -We came to a third Little One; it was Luva. She stood on tiptoe, leaning -over the edge of a couch. - -"My own mother wouldn't have me," she said softly: "will you?" - -Receiving no reply, she looked up at Eve. The great mother lifted her to -the couch, and she got at once under the snowy covering. - -Each of the Little Ones had by this time, except three of the boys, -found at least an unobjecting bedfellow, and lay still and white beside -a still, white woman. The little orphans had adopted mothers! One tiny -girl had chosen a father to sleep with, and that was mine. A boy lay -by the side of the beautiful matron with the slow-healing hand. On the -middle one of the three couches hitherto unoccupied, lay Lona. - -Eve set Lilith down beside it. Adam pointed to the vacant couch on -Lona's right hand, and said, - -"There, Lilith, is the bed I have prepared for you!" - -She glanced at her daughter lying before her like a statue carved in -semi-transparent alabaster, and shuddered from head to foot. "How cold -it is!" she murmured. - -"You will soon begin to find comfort in the cold," answered Adam. - -"Promises to the dying are easy!" she said. - -"But I know it: I too have slept. I am dead!" - -"I believed you dead long ago; but I see you alive!" - -"More alive than you know, or are able to understand. I was scarce alive -when first you knew me. Now I have slept, and am awake; I am dead, and -live indeed!" - -"I fear that child," she said, pointing to Lona: "she will rise and -terrify me!" - -"She is dreaming love to you." - -"But the Shadow!" she moaned; "I fear the Shadow! he will be wroth with -me!" - -"He at sight of whom the horses of heaven start and rear, dares not -disturb one dream in this quiet chamber!" - -"I shall dream then?" - -"You will dream." - -"What dreams?" - -"That I cannot tell, but none HE can enter into. When the Shadow comes -here, it will be to lie down and sleep also.--His hour will come, and he -knows it will." - -"How long shall I sleep?" - -"You and he will be the last to wake in the morning of the universe." - -The princess lay down, drew the sheet over her, stretched herself out -straight, and lay still with open eyes. - -Adam turned to his daughter. She drew near. - -"Lilith," said Mara, "you will not sleep, if you lie there a thousand -years, until you have opened your hand, and yielded that which is not -yours to give or to withhold." - -"I cannot," she answered. "I would if I could, and gladly, for I am -weary, and the shadows of death are gathering about me." - -"They will gather and gather, but they cannot infold you while yet your -hand remains unopened. You may think you are dead, but it will be only -a dream; you may think you have come awake, but it will still be only a -dream. Open your hand, and you will sleep indeed--then wake indeed." - -"I am trying hard, but the fingers have grown together and into the -palm." - -"I pray you put forth the strength of your will. For the love of life, -draw together your forces and break its bonds!" - -"I have struggled in vain; I can do no more. I am very weary, and sleep -lies heavy upon my lids." - -"The moment you open your hand, you will sleep. Open it, and make an -end." - -A tinge of colour arose in the parchment-like face; the contorted hand -trembled with agonised effort. Mara took it, and sought to aid her. - -"Hold, Mara!" cried her father. "There is danger!" - -The princess turned her eyes upon Eve, beseechingly. - -"There was a sword I once saw in your husband's hands," she murmured. "I -fled when I saw it. I heard him who bore it say it would divide whatever -was not one and indivisible!" - -"I have the sword," said Adam. "The angel gave it me when he left the -gate." - -"Bring it, Adam," pleaded Lilith, "and cut me off this hand that I may -sleep." - -"I will," he answered. - -He gave the candle to Eve, and went. The princess closed her eyes. - -In a few minutes Adam returned with an ancient weapon in his hand. The -scabbard looked like vellum grown dark with years, but the hilt shone -like gold that nothing could tarnish. He drew out the blade. It flashed -like a pale blue northern streamer, and the light of it made the -princess open her eyes. She saw the sword, shuddered, and held out her -hand. Adam took it. The sword gleamed once, there was one little gush of -blood, and he laid the severed hand in Mara's lap. Lilith had given one -moan, and was already fast asleep. Mara covered the arm with the sheet, -and the three turned away. - -"Will you not dress the wound?" I said. - -"A wound from that sword," answered Adam, "needs no dressing. It is -healing and not hurt." - -"Poor lady!" I said, "she will wake with but one hand!" - -"Where the dead deformity clung," replied Mara, "the true, lovely hand -is already growing." - -We heard a childish voice behind us, and turned again. The candle in -Eve's hand shone on the sleeping face of Lilith, and the waking faces -of the three Little Ones, grouped on the other side of her couch. "How -beautiful she is grown!" said one of them. - -"Poor princess!" said another; "I will sleep with her. She will not bite -any more!" - -As he spoke he climbed into her bed, and was immediately fast asleep. -Eve covered him with the sheet. - -"I will go on her other side," said the third. "She shall have two to -kiss her when she wakes!" - -"And I am left alone!" said the first mournfully. - -"I will put you to bed," said Eve. - -She gave the candle to her husband, and led the child away. - -We turned once more to go back to the cottage. I was very sad, for no -one had offered me a place in the house of the dead. Eve joined us as we -went, and walked on before with her husband. Mara by my side carried the -hand of Lilith in the lap of her robe. - -"Ah, you have found her!" we heard Eve say as we stepped into the -cottage. - -The door stood open; two elephant-trunks came through it out of the -night beyond. - -"I sent them with the lantern," she went on to her husband, "to look for -Mara's leopardess: they have brought her." - -I followed Adam to the door, and between us we took the white creature -from the elephants, and carried her to the chamber we had just left, -the women preceding us, Eve with the light, and Mara still carrying -the hand. There we laid the beauty across the feet of the princess, her -fore-paws outstretched, and her head couching between them. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. I AM SENT - -Then I turned and said to Eve, - -"Mother, one couch next to Lona is empty: I know I am unworthy, but may -I not sleep this night in your chamber with my dead? Will you not pardon -both my cowardice and my self-confidence, and take me in? I give me up. -I am sick of myself, and would fain sleep the sleep!" - -"The couch next to Lona is the one already prepared for you," she -answered; "but something waits to be done ere you sleep." - -"I am ready," I replied. - -"How do you know you can do it?" she asked with a smile. - -"Because you require it," I answered. "What is it?" - -She turned to Adam: - -"Is he forgiven, husband?" - -"From my heart." - -"Then tell him what he has to do." - -Adam turned to his daughter. - -"Give me that hand, Mara, my child." - -She held it out to him in her lap. He took it tenderly. - -"Let us go to the cottage," he said to me; "there I will instruct you." - -As we went, again arose a sudden stormful blast, mingled with a great -flapping on the roof, but it died away as before in a deep moan. - -When the door of the death-chamber was closed behind us, Adam seated -himself, and I stood before him. - -"You will remember," he said, "how, after leaving my daughter's house, -you came to a dry rock, bearing the marks of an ancient cataract; you -climbed that rock, and found a sandy desert: go to that rock now, and -from its summit walk deep into the desert. But go not many steps ere you -lie down, and listen with your head on the sand. If you hear the murmur -of water beneath, go a little farther, and listen again. If you still -hear the sound, you are in the right direction. Every few yards you must -stop, lie down, and hearken. If, listening thus, at any time you hear -no sound of water, you are out of the way, and must hearken in every -direction until you hear it again. Keeping with the sound, and careful -not to retrace your steps, you will soon hear it louder, and the growing -sound will lead you to where it is loudest: that is the spot you seek. -There dig with the spade I will give you, and dig until you come to -moisture: in it lay the hand, cover it to the level of the desert, and -come home.--But give good heed, and carry the hand with care. Never lay -it down, in what place of seeming safety soever; let nothing touch it; -stop nor turn aside for any attempt to bar your way; never look behind -you; speak to no one, answer no one, walk straight on.--It is yet dark, -and the morning is far distant, but you must set out at once." - -He gave me the hand, and brought me a spade. - -"This is my gardening spade," he said; "with it I have brought many a -lovely thing to the sun." - -I took it, and went out into the night. - -It was very cold, and pitch-dark. To fall would be a dread thing, and -the way I had to go was a difficult one even in the broad sunlight! But -I had not set myself the task, and the minute I started I learned that I -was left to no chance: a pale light broke from the ground at every step, -and showed me where next to set my foot. Through the heather and the low -rocks I walked without once even stumbling. I found the bad burrow quite -still; not a wave arose, not a head appeared as I crossed it. - -A moon came, and herself showed me the easy way: toward morning I was -almost over the dry channels of the first branch of the river-bed, and -not far, I judged, from Mara's cottage. - -The moon was very low, and the sun not yet up, when I saw before me in -the path, here narrowed by rocks, a figure covered from head to foot as -with a veil of moonlit mist. I kept on my way as if I saw nothing. The -figure threw aside its veil. - -"Have you forgotten me already?" said the princess--or what seemed she. - -I neither hesitated nor answered; I walked straight on. - -"You meant then to leave me in that horrible sepulchre! Do you not yet -understand that where I please to be, there I am? Take my hand: I am -alive as you!" - -I was on the point of saying, "Give me your left hand," but bethought -myself, held my peace, and steadily advanced. - -"Give me my hand," she suddenly shrieked, "or I will tear you in pieces: -you are mine!" - -She flung herself upon me. I shuddered, but did not falter. Nothing -touched me, and I saw her no more. - -With measured tread along the path, filling it for some distance, came a -body of armed men. I walked through them--nor know whether they gave way -to me, or were bodiless things. But they turned and followed me; I heard -and felt their march at my very heels; but I cast no look behind, and -the sound of their steps and the clash of their armour died away. - -A little farther on, the moon being now close to the horizon and the way -in deep shadow, I descried, seated where the path was so narrow that I -could not pass her, a woman with muffled face. - -"Ah," she said, "you are come at last! I have waited here for you an -hour or more! You have done well! Your trial is over. My father sent me -to meet you that you might have a little rest on the way. Give me your -charge, and lay your head in my lap; I will take good care of both until -the sun is well risen. I am not bitterness always, neither to all men!" - -Her words were terrible with temptation, for I was very weary. And what -more likely to be true! If I were, through slavish obedience to the -letter of the command and lack of pure insight, to trample under my -feet the very person of the Lady of Sorrow! My heart grew faint at the -thought, then beat as if it would burst my bosom. - -Nevertheless my will hardened itself against my heart, and my step did -not falter. I took my tongue between my teeth lest I should unawares -answer, and kept on my way. If Adam had sent her, he could not complain -that I would not heed her! Nor would the Lady of Sorrow love me the less -that even she had not been able to turn me aside! - -Just ere I reached the phantom, she pulled the covering from her face: -great indeed was her loveliness, but those were not Mara's eyes! no lie -could truly or for long imitate them! I advanced as if the thing were -not there, and my foot found empty room. - -I had almost reached the other side when a Shadow--I think it was The -Shadow, barred my way. He seemed to have a helmet upon his head, but as -I drew closer I perceived it was the head itself I saw--so distorted as -to bear but a doubtful resemblance to the human. A cold wind smote me, -dank and sickening--repulsive as the air of a charnel-house; firmness -forsook my joints, and my limbs trembled as if they would drop in a -helpless heap. I seemed to pass through him, but I think now that he -passed through me: for a moment I was as one of the damned. Then a soft -wind like the first breath of a new-born spring greeted me, and before -me arose the dawn. - -My way now led me past the door of Mara's cottage. It stood wide open, -and upon the table I saw a loaf of bread and a pitcher of water. In or -around the cottage was neither howl nor wail. - -I came to the precipice that testified to the vanished river. I climbed -its worn face, and went on into the desert. There at last, after much -listening to and fro, I determined the spot where the hidden water was -loudest, hung Lilith's hand about my neck, and began to dig. It was a -long labour, for I had to make a large hole because of the looseness -of the sand; but at length I threw up a damp spadeful. I flung the -sexton-tool on the verge, and laid down the hand. A little water was -already oozing from under its fingers. I sprang out, and made haste to -fill the grave. Then, utterly fatigued, I dropped beside it, and fell -asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. I SLEEP THE SLEEP - -When I woke, the ground was moist about me, and my track to the grave -was growing a quicksand. In its ancient course the river was swelling, -and had begun to shove at its burden. Soon it would be roaring down -the precipice, and, divided in its fall, rushing with one branch to -resubmerge the orchard valley, with the other to drown perhaps the -monster horde, and between them to isle the Evil Wood. I set out at once -on my return to those who sent me. - -When I came to the precipice, I took my way betwixt the branches, for I -would pass again by the cottage of Mara, lest she should have returned: -I longed to see her once more ere I went to sleep; and now I knew where -to cross the channels, even if the river should have overtaken me and -filled them. But when I reached it, the door stood open still; the bread -and the water were still on the table; and deep silence was within and -around it. I stopped and called aloud at the door, but no voice replied, -and I went my way. - -A little farther, I came where sat a grayheaded man on the sand, -weeping. - -"What ails you, sir?" I asked. "Are you forsaken?" - -"I weep," he answered, "because they will not let me die. I have been to -the house of death, and its mistress, notwithstanding my years, refuses -me. Intercede for me, sir, if you know her, I pray you." - -"Nay, sir," I replied, "that I cannot; for she refuses none whom it is -lawful for her to receive." - -"How know you this of her? You have never sought death! you are much too -young to desire it!" - -"I fear your words may indicate that, were you young again, neither -would you desire it." - -"Indeed, young sir, I would not! and certain I am that you cannot." - -"I may not be old enough to desire to die, but I am young enough to -desire to live indeed! Therefore I go now to learn if she will at length -take me in. You wish to die because you do not care to live: she will -not open her door to you, for no one can die who does not long to live." - -"It ill becomes your youth to mock a friendless old man. Pray, cease -your riddles!" - -"Did not then the Mother tell you something of the same sort?" - -"In truth I believe she did; but I gave little heed to her excuses." - -"Ah, then, sir," I rejoined, "it is but too plain you have not yet -learned to die, and I am heartily grieved for you. Such had I too been -but for the Lady of Sorrow. I am indeed young, but I have wept many -tears; pardon me, therefore, if I presume to offer counsel:--Go to the -Lady of Sorrow, and 'take with both hands'* what she will give you. -Yonder lies her cottage. She is not in it now, but her door stands open, -and there is bread and water on her table. Go in; sit down; eat of the -bread; drink of the water; and wait there until she appear. Then ask -counsel of her, for she is true, and her wisdom is great." - -He fell to weeping afresh, and I left him weeping. What I said, I fear -he did not heed. But Mara would find him! - -The sun was down, and the moon unrisen, when I reached the abode of the -monsters, but it was still as a stone till I passed over. Then I heard -a noise of many waters, and a great cry behind me, but I did not turn my -head. - -Ere I reached the house of death, the cold was bitter and the darkness -dense; and the cold and the darkness were one, and entered into my bones -together. But the candle of Eve, shining from the window, guided me, and -kept both frost and murk from my heart. - -The door stood open, and the cottage lay empty. I sat down disconsolate. - -And as I sat, there grew in me such a sense of loneliness as never yet -in my wanderings had I felt. Thousands were near me, not one was with -me! True, it was I who was dead, not they; but, whether by their life or -by my death, we were divided! They were alive, but I was not dead enough -even to know them alive: doubt WOULD come. They were, at best, far from -me, and helpers I had none to lay me beside them! - -Never before had I known, or truly imagined desolation! In vain I took -myself to task, saying the solitude was but a seeming: I was awake, and -they slept--that was all! it was only that they lay so still and did not -speak! they were with me now, and soon, soon I should be with them! - -I dropped Adam's old spade, and the dull sound of its fall on the clay -floor seemed reverberated from the chamber beyond: a childish terror -seized me; I sat and stared at the coffin-door.--But father Adam, mother -Eve, sister Mara would soon come to me, and then--welcome the cold world -and the white neighbours! I forgot my fears, lived a little, and loved -my dead. - -Something did move in the chamber of the dead! There came from it what -was LIKE a dim, far-off sound, yet was not what I knew as sound. My soul -sprang into my ears. Was it a mere thrill of the dead air, too slight -to be heard, but quivering in every spiritual sense? I KNEW without -hearing, without feeling it! - -The something was coming! it drew nearer! In the bosom of my -desertion awoke an infant hope. The noiseless thrill reached the -coffin-door--became sound, and smote on my ear. - -The door began to move--with a low, soft creaking of its hinges. It was -opening! I ceased to listen, and stared expectant. - -It opened a little way, and a face came into the opening. It was Lona's. -Its eyes were closed, but the face itself was upon me, and seemed to see -me. It was white as Eve's, white as Mara's, but did not shine like their -faces. She spoke, and her voice was like a sleepy night-wind in the -grass. - -"Are you coming, king?" it said. "I cannot rest until you are with me, -gliding down the river to the great sea, and the beautiful dream-land. -The sleepiness is full of lovely things: come and see them." - -"Ah, my darling!" I cried. "Had I but known!--I thought you were dead!" - -She lay on my bosom--cold as ice frozen to marble. She threw her arms, -so white, feebly about me, and sighed-- - -"Carry me back to my bed, king. I want to sleep." - -I bore her to the death-chamber, holding her tight lest she should -dissolve out of my arms. Unaware that I saw, I carried her straight to -her couch. - -"Lay me down," she said, "and cover me from the warm air; it hurts--a -little. Your bed is there, next to mine. I shall see you when I wake." - -She was already asleep. I threw myself on my couch--blessed as never was -man on the eve of his wedding. - -"Come, sweet cold," I said, "and still my heart speedily." - -But there came instead a glimmer of light in the chamber, and I saw the -face of Adam approaching. He had not the candle, yet I saw him. At the -side of Lona's couch, he looked down on her with a questioning smile, -and then greeted me across it. - -"We have been to the top of the hill to hear the waters on their way," -he said. "They will be in the den of the monsters to-night.--But why did -you not await our return?" - -"My child could not sleep," I answered. - -"She is fast asleep!" he rejoined. - -"Yes, now!" I said; "but she was awake when I laid her down." - -"She was asleep all the time!" he insisted. "She was perhaps dreaming -about you--and came to you?" - -"She did." - -"And did you not see that her eyes were closed?" - -"Now I think of it, I did." - -"If you had looked ere you laid her down, you would have seen her asleep -on the couch." - -"That would have been terrible!" - -"You would only have found that she was no longer in your arms." - -"That would have been worse!" - -"It is, perhaps, to think of; but to see it would not have troubled -you." - -"Dear father," I said, "how is it that I am not sleepy? I thought I -should go to sleep like the Little Ones the moment I laid my head down!" - -"Your hour is not quite come. You must have food ere you sleep." - -"Ah, I ought not to have lain down without your leave, for I cannot -sleep without your help! I will get up at once!" - -But I found my own weight more than I could move. - -"There is no need: we will serve you here," he answered. "--You do not -feel cold, do you?" - -"Not too cold to lie still, but perhaps too cold to eat!" - -He came to the side of my couch, bent over me, and breathed on my heart. -At once I was warm. - -As he left me, I heard a voice, and knew it was the Mother's. She was -singing, and her song was sweet and soft and low, and I thought she sat -by my bed in the dark; but ere it ceased, her song soared aloft, and -seemed to come from the throat of a woman-angel, high above all the -region of larks, higher than man had ever yet lifted up his heart. I -heard every word she sang, but could keep only this:-- - - "Many a wrong, and its curing song; - Many a road, and many an inn; - Room to roam, but only one home - For all the world to win!" - -and I thought I had heard the song before. - -Then the three came to my couch together, bringing me bread and wine, -and I sat up to partake of it. Adam stood on one side of me, Eve and -Mara on the other. - -"You are good indeed, father Adam, mother Eve, sister Mara," I said, "to -receive me! In my soul I am ashamed and sorry!" - -"We knew you would come again!" answered Eve. - -"How could you know it?" I returned. - -"Because here was I, born to look after my brothers and sisters!" -answered Mara with a smile. - -"Every creature must one night yield himself and lie down," answered -Adam: "he was made for liberty, and must not be left a slave!" - -"It will be late, I fear, ere all have lain down!" I said. - -"There is no early or late here," he rejoined. "For him the true time -then first begins who lays himself down. Men are not coming home fast; -women are coming faster. A desert, wide and dreary, parts him who lies -down to die from him who lies down to live. The former may well make -haste, but here is no haste." - -"To our eyes," said Eve, "you were coming all the time: we knew Mara -would find you, and you must come!" - -"How long is it since my father lay down?" I asked. - -"I have told you that years are of no consequence in this house," -answered Adam; "we do not heed them. Your father will wake when his -morning comes. Your mother, next to whom you are lying,----" - -"Ah, then, it IS my mother!" I exclaimed. - -"Yes--she with the wounded hand," he assented; "--she will be up and -away long ere your morning is ripe." - -"I am sorry." - -"Rather be glad." - -"It must be a sight for God Himself to see such a woman come awake!" - -"It is indeed a sight for God, a sight that makes her Maker glad! He -sees of the travail of His soul, and is satisfied!--Look at her once -more, and sleep." - -He let the rays of his candle fall on her beautiful face. - -"She looks much younger!" I said. - -"She IS much younger," he replied. "Even Lilith already begins to look -younger!" - -I lay down, blissfully drowsy. - -"But when you see your mother again," he continued, "you will not -at first know her. She will go on steadily growing younger until she -reaches the perfection of her womanhood--a splendour beyond foresight. -Then she will open her eyes, behold on one side her husband, on the -other her son--and rise and leave them to go to a father and a brother -more to her than they." - -I heard as one in a dream. I was very cold, but already the cold caused -me no suffering. I felt them put on me the white garment of the dead. -Then I forgot everything. The night about me was pale with sleeping -faces, but I was asleep also, nor knew that I slept. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. THE DREAMS THAT CAME - -I grew aware of existence, aware also of the profound, the infinite -cold. I was intensely blessed--more blessed, I know, than my heart, -imagining, can now recall. I could not think of warmth with the least -suggestion of pleasure. I knew that I had enjoyed it, but could not -remember how. The cold had soothed every care, dissolved every pain, -comforted every sorrow. COMFORTED? Nay; sorrow was swallowed up in the -life drawing nigh to restore every good and lovely thing a hundredfold! -I lay at peace, full of the quietest expectation, breathing the damp -odours of Earth's bountiful bosom, aware of the souls of primroses, -daisies and snowdrops, patiently waiting in it for the Spring. - -How convey the delight of that frozen, yet conscious sleep! I had no -more to stand up! had only to lie stretched out and still! How cold I -was, words cannot tell; yet I grew colder and colder--and welcomed the -cold yet more and more. I grew continuously less conscious of myself, -continuously more conscious of bliss, unimaginable yet felt. I had -neither made it nor prayed for it: it was mine in virtue of existence! -and existence was mine in virtue of a Will that dwelt in mine. - -Then the dreams began to arrive--and came crowding.--I lay naked on a -snowy peak. The white mist heaved below me like a billowy sea. The cold -moon was in the air with me, and above the moon and me the colder sky, -in which the moon and I dwelt. I was Adam, waiting for God to breathe -into my nostrils the breath of life.--I was not Adam, but a child in -the bosom of a mother white with a radiant whiteness. I was a youth on -a white horse, leaping from cloud to cloud of a blue heaven, hasting -calmly to some blessed goal. For centuries I dreamed--or was it -chiliads? or only one long night?--But why ask? for time had nothing to -do with me; I was in the land of thought--farther in, higher up than the -seven dimensions, the ten senses: I think I was where I am--in the heart -of God.--I dreamed away dim cycles in the centre of a melting glacier, -the spectral moon drawing nearer and nearer, the wind and the welter -of a torrent growing in my ears. I lay and heard them: the wind and -the water and the moon sang a peaceful waiting for a redemption drawing -nigh. I dreamed cycles, I say, but, for aught I knew or can tell, they -were the solemn, æonian march of a second, pregnant with eternity. - -Then, of a sudden, but not once troubling my conscious bliss, all the -wrongs I had ever done, from far beyond my earthly memory down to the -present moment, were with me. Fully in every wrong lived the conscious -I, confessing, abjuring, lamenting the dead, making atonement with each -person I had injured, hurt, or offended. Every human soul to which I had -caused a troubled thought, was now grown unspeakably dear to me, and I -humbled myself before it, agonising to cast from between us the clinging -offence. I wept at the feet of the mother whose commands I had slighted; -with bitter shame I confessed to my father that I had told him two lies, -and long forgotten them: now for long had remembered them, and kept them -in memory to crush at last at his feet. I was the eager slave of all -whom I had thus or anyhow wronged. Countless services I devised to -render them! For this one I would build such a house as had never grown -from the ground! for that one I would train such horses as had never yet -been seen in any world! For a third I would make such a garden as had -never bloomed, haunted with still pools, and alive with running waters! -I would write songs to make their hearts swell, and tales to make -them glow! I would turn the forces of the world into such channels of -invention as to make them laugh with the joy of wonder! Love possessed -me! Love was my life! Love was to me, as to him that made me, all in -all! - -Suddenly I found myself in a solid blackness, upon which the ghost of -light that dwells in the caverns of the eyes could not cast one fancied -glimmer. But my heart, which feared nothing and hoped infinitely, was -full of peace. I lay imagining what the light would be when it came, -and what new creation it would bring with it--when, suddenly, without -conscious volition, I sat up and stared about me. - -The moon was looking in at the lowest, horizontal, crypt-like windows -of the death-chamber, her long light slanting, I thought, across -the fallen, but still ripening sheaves of the harvest of the great -husbandman.--But no; that harvest was gone! Gathered in, or swept away -by chaotic storm, not a sacred sheaf was there! My dead were gone! I was -alone!--In desolation dread lay depths yet deeper than I had hitherto -known!--Had there never been any ripening dead? Had I but dreamed them -and their loveliness? Why then these walls? why the empty couches? No; -they were all up! they were all abroad in the new eternal day, and had -forgotten me! They had left me behind, and alone! Tenfold more terrible -was the tomb its inhabitants away! The quiet ones had made me quiet with -their presence--had pervaded my mind with their blissful peace; now I -had no friend, and my lovers were far from me! A moment I sat and stared -horror-stricken. I had been alone with the moon on a mountain top in the -sky; now I was alone with her in a huge cenotaph: she too was staring -about, seeking her dead with ghastly gaze! I sprang to my feet, and -staggered from the fearful place. - -The cottage was empty. I ran out into the night. - -No moon was there! Even as I left the chamber, a cloudy rampart had -risen and covered her. But a broad shimmer came from far over the heath, -mingled with a ghostly murmuring music, as if the moon were raining -a light that plashed as it fell. I ran stumbling across the moor, and -found a lovely lake, margined with reeds and rushes: the moon behind -the cloud was gazing upon the monsters' den, full of clearest, brightest -water, and very still.--But the musical murmur went on, filling the -quiet air, and drawing me after it. - -I walked round the border of the little mere, and climbed the range of -hills. What a sight rose to my eyes! The whole expanse where, with hot, -aching feet, I had crossed and recrossed the deep-scored channels and -ravines of the dry river-bed, was alive with streams, with torrents, -with still pools--"a river deep and wide"! How the moon flashed on the -water! how the water answered the moon with flashes of its own--white -flashes breaking everywhere from its rock-encountered flow! And a great -jubilant song arose from its bosom, the song of new-born liberty. I -stood a moment gazing, and my heart also began to exult: my life was not -all a failure! I had helped to set this river free!--My dead were not -lost! I had but to go after and find them! I would follow and follow -until I came whither they had gone! Our meeting might be thousands of -years away, but at last--AT LAST I should hold them! Wherefore else did -the floods clap their hands? - -I hurried down the hill: my pilgrimage was begun! In what direction to -turn my steps I knew not, but I must go and go till I found my living -dead! A torrent ran swift and wide at the foot of the range: I rushed -in, it laid no hold upon me; I waded through it. The next I sprang -across; the third I swam; the next I waded again. - -I stopped to gaze on the wondrous loveliness of the ceaseless flash and -flow, and to hearken to the multitudinous broken music. Every now and -then some incipient air would seem about to draw itself clear of the -dulcet confusion, only to merge again in the consorted roar. At moments -the world of waters would invade as if to overwhelm me--not with the -force of its seaward rush, or the shouting of its liberated throng, but -with the greatness of the silence wandering into sound. - -As I stood lost in delight, a hand was laid on my shoulder. I turned, -and saw a man in the prime of strength, beautiful as if fresh from the -heart of the glad creator, young like him who cannot grow old. I looked: -it was Adam. He stood large and grand, clothed in a white robe, with the -moon in his hair. - -"Father," I cried, "where is she? Where are the dead? Is the great -resurrection come and gone? The terror of my loneliness was upon me; -I could not sleep without my dead; I ran from the desolate -chamber.--Whither shall I go to find them?" - -"You mistake, my son," he answered, in a voice whose very breath was -consolation. "You are still in the chamber of death, still upon your -couch, asleep and dreaming, with the dead around you." - -"Alas! when I but dream how am I to know it? The dream best dreamed is -the likest to the waking truth!" - -"When you are quite dead, you will dream no false dream. The soul that -is true can generate nothing that is not true, neither can the false -enter it." - -"But, sir," I faltered, "how am I to distinguish betwixt the true and -the false where both alike seem real?" - -"Do you not understand?" he returned, with a smile that might have slain -all the sorrows of all his children. "You CANNOT perfectly distinguish -between the true and the false while you are not yet quite dead; neither -indeed will you when you are quite dead--that is, quite alive, for then -the false will never present itself. At this moment, believe me, you are -on your bed in the house of death." - -"I am trying hard to believe you, father. I do indeed believe you, -although I can neither see nor feel the truth of what you say." - -"You are not to blame that you cannot. And because even in a dream you -believe me, I will help you.--Put forth your left hand open, and close -it gently: it will clasp the hand of your Lona, who lies asleep where -you lie dreaming you are awake." - -I put forth my hand: it closed on the hand of Lona, firm and soft and -deathless. - -"But, father," I cried, "she is warm!" - -"Your hand is as warm to hers. Cold is a thing unknown in our country. -Neither she nor you are yet in the fields of home, but each to each is -alive and warm and healthful." - -Then my heart was glad. But immediately supervened a sharp-stinging -doubt. - -"Father," I said, "forgive me, but how am I to know surely that this -also is not a part of the lovely dream in which I am now walking with -thyself?" - -"Thou doubtest because thou lovest the truth. Some would willingly -believe life but a phantasm, if only it might for ever afford them a -world of pleasant dreams: thou art not of such! Be content for a while -not to know surely. The hour will come, and that ere long, when, being -true, thou shalt behold the very truth, and doubt will be for ever dead. -Scarce, then, wilt thou be able to recall the features of the phantom. -Thou wilt then know that which thou canst not now dream. Thou hast -not yet looked the Truth in the face, hast as yet at best but seen him -through a cloud. That which thou seest not, and never didst see save -in a glass darkly--that which, indeed, never can be known save by its -innate splendour shining straight into pure eyes--that thou canst not -but doubt, and art blameless in doubting until thou seest it face to -face, when thou wilt no longer be able to doubt it. But to him who has -once seen even a shadow only of the truth, and, even but hoping he has -seen it when it is present no longer, tries to obey it--to him the real -vision, the Truth himself, will come, and depart no more, but abide with -him for ever." - -"I think I see, father," I said; "I think I understand." - -"Then remember, and recall. Trials yet await thee, heavy, of a nature -thou knowest not now. Remember the things thou hast seen. Truly thou -knowest not those things, but thou knowest what they have seemed, what -they have meant to thee! Remember also the things thou shalt yet see. -Truth is all in all; and the truth of things lies, at once hid and -revealed, in their seeming." - -"How can that be, father?" I said, and raised my eyes with the question; -for I had been listening with downbent head, aware of nothing but the -voice of Adam. - -He was gone; in my ears was nought but the sounding silence of the -swift-flowing waters. I stretched forth my hands to find him, but no -answering touch met their seeking. I was alone--alone in the land of -dreams! To myself I seemed wide awake, but I believed I was in a dream, -because he had told me so. - -Even in a dream, however, the dreamer must do something! he cannot sit -down and refuse to stir until the dream grow weary of him and depart: I -took up my wandering, and went on. - -Many channels I crossed, and came to a wider space of rock; there, -dreaming I was weary, I laid myself down, and longed to be awake. - -I was about to rise and resume my journey, when I discovered that I lay -beside a pit in the rock, whose mouth was like that of a grave. It was -deep and dark; I could see no bottom. - -Now in the dreams of my childhood I had found that a fall invariably -woke me, and would, therefore, when desiring to discontinue a dream, -seek some eminence whence to cast myself down that I might wake: with -one glance at the peaceful heavens, and one at the rushing waters, I -rolled myself over the edge of the pit. - -For a moment consciousness left me. When it returned, I stood in the -garret of my own house, in the little wooden chamber of the cowl and the -mirror. - -Unspeakable despair, hopelessness blank and dreary, invaded me with the -knowledge: between me and my Lona lay an abyss impassable! stretched a -distance no chain could measure! Space and Time and Mode of Being, as -with walls of adamant unscalable, impenetrable, shut me in from that -gulf! True, it might yet be in my power to pass again through the door -of light, and journey back to the chamber of the dead; and if so, I was -parted from that chamber only by a wide heath, and by the pale, -starry night betwixt me and the sun, which alone could open for me the -mirror-door, and was now far away on the other side of the world! but an -immeasurably wider gulf sank between us in this--that she was asleep and -I was awake! that I was no longer worthy to share with her that sleep, -and could no longer hope to awake from it with her! For truly I was much -to blame: I had fled from my dream! The dream was not of my making, -any more than was my life: I ought to have seen it to the end! and in -fleeing from it, I had left the holy sleep itself behind me!--I would go -back to Adam, tell him the truth, and bow to his decree! - -I crept to my chamber, threw myself on my bed, and passed a dreamless -night. - -I rose, and listlessly sought the library. On the way I met no one; the -house seemed dead. I sat down with a book to await the noontide: not -a sentence could I understand! The mutilated manuscript offered itself -from the masked door: the sight of it sickened me; what to me was the -princess with her devilry! - -I rose and looked out of a window. It was a brilliant morning. With a -great rush the fountain shot high, and fell roaring back. The sun sat in -its feathery top. Not a bird sang, not a creature was to be seen. Raven -nor librarian came near me. The world was dead about me. I took another -book, sat down again, and went on waiting. - -Noon was near. I went up the stairs to the dumb, shadowy roof. I closed -behind me the door into the wooden chamber, and turned to open the door -out of a dreary world. - -I left the chamber with a heart of stone. Do what I might, all was -fruitless. I pulled the chains; adjusted and re-adjusted the hood; -arranged and re-arranged the mirrors; no result followed. I waited and -waited to give the vision time; it would not come; the mirror stood -blank; nothing lay in its dim old depth but the mirror opposite and my -haggard face. - -I went back to the library. There the books were hateful to me--for I -had once loved them. - -That night I lay awake from down-lying to uprising, and the next day -renewed my endeavours with the mystic door. But all was yet in vain. How -the hours went I cannot think. No one came nigh me; not a sound from the -house below entered my ears. Not once did I feel weary--only desolate, -drearily desolate. - -I passed a second sleepless night. In the morning I went for the last -time to the chamber in the roof, and for the last time sought an open -door: there was none. My heart died within me. I had lost my Lona! - -Was she anywhere? had she ever been, save in the mouldering cells of -my brain? "I must die one day," I thought, "and then, straight from my -death-bed, I will set out to find her! If she is not, I will go to -the Father and say--'Even thou canst not help me: let me cease, I pray -thee!'" - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. THE WAKING - -The fourth night I seemed to fall asleep, and that night woke indeed. I -opened my eyes and knew, although all was dark around me, that I lay in -the house of death, and that every moment since there I fell asleep -I had been dreaming, and now first was awake. "At last!" I said to my -heart, and it leaped for joy. I turned my eyes; Lona stood by my couch, -waiting for me! I had never lost her!--only for a little time lost the -sight of her! Truly I needed not have lamented her so sorely! - -It was dark, as I say, but I saw her: SHE was not dark! Her eyes shone -with the radiance of the Mother's, and the same light issued from her -face--nor from her face only, for her death-dress, filled with the light -of her body now tenfold awake in the power of its resurrection, was -white as snow and glistering. She fell asleep a girl; she awoke a woman, -ripe with the loveliness of the life essential. I folded her in my arms, -and knew that I lived indeed. - -"I woke first!" she said, with a wondering smile. - -"You did, my love, and woke me!" - -"I only looked at you and waited," she answered. - -The candle came floating toward us through the dark, and in a few -moments Adam and Eve and Mara were with us. They greeted us with a quiet -good-morning and a smile: they were used to such wakings! - -"I hope you have had a pleasant darkness!" said the Mother. - -"Not very," I answered, "but the waking from it is heavenly." - -"It is but begun," she rejoined; "you are hardly yet awake!" - -"He is at least clothed-upon with Death, which is the radiant garment of -Life," said Adam. - -He embraced Lona his child, put an arm around me, looked a moment or two -inquiringly at the princess, and patted the head of the leopardess. - -"I think we shall meet you two again before long," he said, looking -first at Lona, then at me. - -"Have we to die again?" I asked. - -"No," he answered, with a smile like the Mother's; "you have died into -life, and will die no more; you have only to keep dead. Once dying as we -die here, all the dying is over. Now you have only to live, and that you -must, with all your blessed might. The more you live, the stronger you -become to live." - -"But shall I not grow weary with living so strong?" I said. "What if I -cease to live with all my might?" - -"It needs but the will, and the strength is there!" said the Mother. -"Pure life has no weakness to grow weary withal. THE Life keeps -generating ours.--Those who will not die, die many times, die -constantly, keep dying deeper, never have done dying; here all is -upwardness and love and gladness." - -She ceased with a smile and a look that seemed to say, "We are mother -and son; we understand each other! Between us no farewell is possible." - -Mara kissed me on the forehead, and said, gayly, - -"I told you, brother, all would be well!--When next you would comfort, -say, 'What will be well, is even now well.'" - -She gave a little sigh, and I thought it meant, "But they will not -believe you!" - -"--You know me now!" she ended, with a smile like her mother's. - -"I know you!" I answered: "you are the voice that cried in the -wilderness before ever the Baptist came! you are the shepherd whose -wolves hunt the wandering sheep home ere the shadow rise and the night -grow dark!" - -"My work will one day be over," she said, "and then I shall be glad with -the gladness of the great shepherd who sent me." - -"All the night long the morning is at hand," said Adam. - -"What is that flapping of wings I hear?" I asked. - -"The Shadow is hovering," replied Adam: "there is one here whom he -counts his own! But ours once, never more can she be his!" - -I turned to look on the faces of my father and mother, and kiss them ere -we went: their couches were empty save of the Little Ones who had with -love's boldness appropriated their hospitality! For an instant that -awful dream of desolation overshadowed me, and I turned aside. - -"What is it, my heart?" said Lona. - -"Their empty places frightened me," I answered. - -"They are up and away long ago," said Adam. "They kissed you ere they -went, and whispered, 'Come soon.'" - -"And I neither to feel nor hear them!" I murmured. - -"How could you--far away in your dreary old house! You thought the -dreadful place had you once more! Now go and find them.--Your parents, -my child," he added, turning to Lona, "must come and find you!" - -The hour of our departure was at hand. Lona went to the couch of the -mother who had slain her, and kissed her tenderly--then laid herself in -her father's arms. - -"That kiss will draw her homeward, my Lona!" said Adam. - -"Who were her parents?" asked Lona. - -"My father," answered Adam, "is her father also." - -She turned and laid her hand in mine. - -I kneeled and humbly thanked the three for helping me to die. Lona knelt -beside me, and they all breathed upon us. - -"Hark! I hear the sun," said Adam. - -I listened: he was coming with the rush as of a thousand times ten -thousand far-off wings, with the roar of a molten and flaming world -millions upon millions of miles away. His approach was a crescendo chord -of a hundred harmonies. - -The three looked at each other and smiled, and that smile went floating -heavenward a three-petaled flower, the family's morning thanksgiving. -From their mouths and their faces it spread over their bodies and shone -through their garments. Ere I could say, "Lo, they change!" Adam and -Eve stood before me the angels of the resurrection, and Mara was the -Magdalene with them at the sepulchre. The countenance of Adam was like -lightning, and Eve held a napkin that flung flakes of splendour about -the place. - -A wind began to moan in pulsing gusts. - -"You hear his wings now!" said Adam; and I knew he did not mean the -wings of the morning. - -"It is the great Shadow stirring to depart," he went on. "Wretched -creature, he has himself within him, and cannot rest!" - -"But is there not in him something deeper yet?" I asked. - -"Without a substance," he answered, "a shadow cannot be--yea, or without -a light behind the substance!" - -He listened for a moment, then called out, with a glad smile, "Hark -to the golden cock! Silent and motionless for millions of years has -he stood on the clock of the universe; now at last he is flapping his -wings! now will he begin to crow! and at intervals will men hear him -until the dawn of the day eternal." - -I listened. Far away--as in the heart of an æonian silence, I heard the -clear jubilant outcry of the golden throat. It hurled defiance at -death and the dark; sang infinite hope, and coming calm. It was the -"expectation of the creature" finding at last a voice; the cry of a -chaos that would be a kingdom! - -Then I heard a great flapping. - -"The black bat is flown!" said Mara. - -"Amen, golden cock, bird of God!" cried Adam, and the words rang through -the house of silence, and went up into the airy regions. - -At his AMEN--like doves arising on wings of silver from among the -potsherds, up sprang the Little Ones to their knees on their beds, -calling aloud, - -"Crow! crow again, golden cock!"--as if they had both seen and heard him -in their dreams. - -Then each turned and looked at the sleeping bedfellow, gazed a moment -with loving eyes, kissed the silent companion of the night, and sprang -from the couch. The Little Ones who had lain down beside my father and -mother gazed blank and sad for a moment at their empty places, then slid -slowly to the floor. There they fell each into the other's arms, as if -then first, each by the other's eyes, assured they were alive and awake. -Suddenly spying Lona, they came running, radiant with bliss, to embrace -her. Odu, catching sight of the leopardess on the feet of the princess, -bounded to her next, and throwing an arm over the great sleeping head, -fondled and kissed it. - -"Wake up, wake up, darling!" he cried; "it is time to wake!" - -The leopardess did not move. - -"She has slept herself cold!" he said to Mara, with an upcast look of -appealing consternation. - -"She is waiting for the princess to wake, my child," said Mara. - -Odu looked at the princess, and saw beside her, still asleep, two of his -companions. He flew at them. - -"Wake up! wake up!" he cried, and pushed and pulled, now this one, now -that. - -But soon he began to look troubled, and turned to me with misty eyes. - -"They will not wake!" he said. "And why are they so cold?" - -"They too are waiting for the princess," I answered. - -He stretched across, and laid his hand on her face. - -"She is cold too! What is it?" he cried--and looked round in wondering -dismay. - -Adam went to him. - -"Her wake is not ripe yet," he said: "she is busy forgetting. When she -has forgotten enough to remember enough, then she will soon be ripe, and -wake." - -"And remember?" - -"Yes--but not too much at once though." - -"But the golden cock has crown!" argued the child, and fell again upon -his companions. - -"Peter! Peter! Crispy!" he cried. "Wake up, Peter! wake up, Crispy! We -are all awake but you two! The gold cock has crown SO loud! The sun is -awake and coming! Oh, why WON'T you wake?" - -But Peter would not wake, neither would Crispy, and Odu wept outright at -last. - -"Let them sleep, darling!" said Adam. "You would not like the princess -to wake and find nobody? They are quite happy. So is the leopardess." - -He was comforted, and wiped his eyes as if he had been all his life -used to weeping and wiping, though now first he had tears wherewith to -weep--soon to be wiped altogether away. - -We followed Eve to the cottage. There she offered us neither bread nor -wine, but stood radiantly desiring our departure. So, with never a word -of farewell, we went out. The horse and the elephants were at the door, -waiting for us. We were too happy to mount them, and they followed us. - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. THE JOURNEY HOME - -It had ceased to be dark; we walked in a dim twilight, breathing through -the dimness the breath of the spring. A wondrous change had passed upon -the world--or was it not rather that a change more marvellous had -taken place in us? Without light enough in the sky or the air to reveal -anything, every heather-bush, every small shrub, every blade of grass -was perfectly visible--either by light that went out from it, as fire -from the bush Moses saw in the desert, or by light that went out of our -eyes. Nothing cast a shadow; all things interchanged a little light. -Every growing thing showed me, by its shape and colour, its indwelling -idea--the informing thought, that is, which was its being, and sent it -out. My bare feet seemed to love every plant they trod upon. The world -and my being, its life and mine, were one. The microcosm and macrocosm -were at length atoned, at length in harmony! I lived in everything; -everything entered and lived in me. To be aware of a thing, was to know -its life at once and mine, to know whence we came, and where we were at -home--was to know that we are all what we are, because Another is what -he is! Sense after sense, hitherto asleep, awoke in me--sense after -sense indescribable, because no correspondent words, no likenesses or -imaginations exist, wherewithal to describe them. Full indeed--yet ever -expanding, ever making room to receive--was the conscious being where -things kept entering by so many open doors! When a little breeze -brushing a bush of heather set its purple bells a ringing, I was myself -in the joy of the bells, myself in the joy of the breeze to which -responded their sweet TIN-TINNING**, myself in the joy of the sense, and -of the soul that received all the joys together. To everything glad I -lent the hall of my being wherein to revel. I was a peaceful ocean -upon which the ground-swell of a living joy was continually lifting new -waves; yet was the joy ever the same joy, the eternal joy, with tens of -thousands of changing forms. Life was a cosmic holiday. - -Now I knew that life and truth were one; that life mere and pure is -in itself bliss; that where being is not bliss, it is not life, but -life-in-death. Every inspiration of the dark wind that blew where it -listed, went out a sigh of thanksgiving. At last I was! I lived, and -nothing could touch my life! My darling walked beside me, and we were on -our way home to the Father! - -So much was ours ere ever the first sun rose upon our freedom: what must -not the eternal day bring with it! - -We came to the fearful hollow where once had wallowed the monsters of -the earth: it was indeed, as I had beheld it in my dream, a lovely lake. -I gazed into its pellucid depths. A whirlpool had swept out the soil in -which the abortions burrowed, and at the bottom lay visible the whole -horrid brood: a dim greenish light pervaded the crystalline water, and -revealed every hideous form beneath it. Coiled in spires, folded in -layers, knotted on themselves, or "extended long and large," they -weltered in motionless heaps--shapes more fantastic in ghoulish, -blasting dismay, than ever wine-sodden brain of exhausted poet fevered -into misbeing. He who dived in the swirling Maelstrom saw none to -compare with them in horror: tentacular convolutions, tumid bulges, -glaring orbs of sepian deformity, would have looked to him innocence -beside such incarnations of hatefulness--every head the wicked -flower that, bursting from an abominable stalk, perfected its evil -significance. - -Not one of them moved as we passed. But they were not dead. So long as -exist men and women of unwholesome mind, that lake will still be peopled -with loathsomenesses. - -But hark the herald of the sun, the auroral wind, softly trumpeting -his approach! The master-minister of the human tabernacle is at hand! -Heaping before his prow a huge ripple-fretted wave of crimson and gold, -he rushes aloft, as if new launched from the urging hand of his maker -into the upper sea--pauses, and looks down on the world. White-raving -storm of molten metals, he is but a coal from the altar of the Father's -never-ending sacrifice to his children. See every little flower -straighten its stalk, lift up its neck, and with outstretched head -stand expectant: something more than the sun, greater than the light, is -coming, is coming--none the less surely coming that it is long upon the -road! What matters to-day, or to-morrow, or ten thousand years to Life -himself, to Love himself! He is coming, is coming, and the necks of all -humanity are stretched out to see him come! Every morning will they thus -outstretch themselves, every evening will they droop and wait--until he -comes.--Is this but an air-drawn vision? When he comes, will he indeed -find them watching thus? - -It was a glorious resurrection-morning. The night had been spent in -preparing it! - -The children went gamboling before, and the beasts came after us. -Fluttering butterflies, darting dragon-flies hovered or shot hither and -thither about our heads, a cloud of colours and flashes, now descending -upon us like a snow-storm of rainbow flakes, now rising into the humid -air like a rolling vapour of embodied odours. It was a summer-day more -like itself, that is, more ideal, than ever man that had not died -found summer-day in any world. I walked on the new earth, under the new -heaven, and found them the same as the old, save that now they opened -their minds to me, and I saw into them. Now, the soul of everything I -met came out to greet me and make friends with me, telling me we came -from the same, and meant the same. I was going to him, they said, with -whom they always were, and whom they always meant; they were, they said, -lightnings that took shape as they flashed from him to his. The dark -rocks drank like sponges the rays that showered upon them; the great -world soaked up the light, and sent out the living. Two joy-fires were -Lona and I. Earth breathed heavenward her sweet-savoured smoke; we -breathed homeward our longing desires. For thanksgiving, our very -consciousness was that. - -We came to the channels, once so dry and wearyful: they ran and flashed -and foamed with living water that shouted in its gladness! Far as the -eye could see, all was a rushing, roaring, dashing river of water made -vocal by its rocks. - -We did not cross it, but "walked in glory and in joy" up its right bank, -until we reached the great cataract at the foot of the sandy desert, -where, roaring and swirling and dropping sheer, the river divided into -its two branches. There we climbed the height--and found no desert: -through grassy plains, between grassy banks, flowed the deep, wide, -silent river full to the brim. Then first to the Little Ones was -revealed the glory of God in the limpid flow of water. Instinctively -they plunged and swam, and the beasts followed them. - -The desert rejoiced and blossomed as the rose. Wide forests had sprung -up, their whole undergrowth flowering shrubs peopled with song-birds. -Every thicket gave birth to a rivulet, and every rivulet to its -water-song. - -The place of the buried hand gave no sign. Beyond and still beyond, the -river came in full volume from afar. Up and up we went, now along grassy -margin, and now through forest of gracious trees. The grass grew sweeter -and its flowers more lovely and various as we went; the trees grew -larger, and the wind fuller of messages. - -We came at length to a forest whose trees were greater, grander, and -more beautiful than any we had yet seen. Their live pillars upheaved a -thick embowed roof, betwixt whose leaves and blossoms hardly a sunbeam -filtered. Into the rafters of this aerial vault the children climbed, -and through them went scrambling and leaping in a land of bloom, -shouting to the unseen elephants below, and hearing them trumpet their -replies. The conversations between them Lona understood while I but -guessed at them blunderingly. The Little Ones chased the squirrels, -and the squirrels, frolicking, drew them on--always at length allowing -themselves to be caught and petted. Often would some bird, lovely -in plumage and form, light upon one of them, sing a song of what was -coming, and fly away. Not one monkey of any sort could they see. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. THE CITY - -Lona and I, who walked below, heard at last a great shout overhead, and -in a moment or two the Little Ones began to come dropping down from the -foliage with the news that, climbing to the top of a tree yet taller -than the rest, they had descried, far across the plain, a curious -something on the side of a solitary mountain--which mountain, they said, -rose and rose, until the sky gathered thick to keep it down, and knocked -its top off. - -"It may be a city," they said, "but it is not at all like Bulika." - -I went up to look, and saw a great city, ascending into blue clouds, -where I could not distinguish mountain from sky and cloud, or rocks from -dwellings. Cloud and mountain and sky, palace and precipice mingled in a -seeming chaos of broken shadow and shine. - -I descended, the Little Ones came with me, and together we sped on -faster. They grew yet merrier as they went, leading the way, and never -looking behind them. The river grew lovelier and lovelier, until I knew -that never before had I seen real water. Nothing in this world is more -than LIKE it. - -By and by we could from the plain see the city among the blue clouds. -But other clouds were gathering around a lofty tower--or was it a -rock?--that stood above the city, nearer the crest of the mountain. -Gray, and dark gray, and purple, they writhed in confused, contrariant -motions, and tossed up a vaporous foam, while spots in them gyrated like -whirlpools. At length issued a dazzling flash, which seemed for a -moment to play about the Little Ones in front of us. Blinding darkness -followed, but through it we heard their voices, low with delight. - -"Did you see?" - -"I saw." - -"What did you see?" - -"The beautifullest man." - -"I heard him speak!" - -"I didn't: what did he say?" - -Here answered the smallest and most childish of the voices--that of -Luva:-- - -"He said, ''Ou's all mine's, 'ickle ones: come along!'" - -I had seen the lightning, but heard no words; Lona saw and heard with -the children. A second flash came, and my eyes, though not my ears, -were opened. The great quivering light was compact of angel-faces. They -lamped themselves visible, and vanished. - -A third flash came; its substance and radiance were human. - -"I see my mother!" I cried. - -"I see lots o' mothers!" said Luva. - -Once more the cloud flashed--all kinds of creatures--horses and -elephants, lions and dogs--oh, such beasts! And such birds!--great birds -whose wings gleamed singly every colour gathered in sunset or rainbow! -little birds whose feathers sparkled as with all the precious stones -of the hoarding earth!--silvery cranes; red flamingoes; opal pigeons; -peacocks gorgeous in gold and green and blue; jewelly humming -birds!--great-winged butterflies; lithe-volumed creeping things--all in -one heavenly flash! - -"I see that serpents grow birds here, as caterpillars used to grow -butterflies!" remarked Lona. - -"I saw my white pony, that died when I was a child.--I needn't have been -so sorry; I should just have waited!" I said. - -Thunder, clap or roll, there had been none. And now came a sweet rain, -filling the atmosphere with a caressing coolness. We breathed deep, and -stepped out with stronger strides. The falling drops flashed the colours -of all the waked up gems of the earth, and a mighty rainbow spanned the -city. - -The blue clouds gathered thicker; the rain fell in torrents; the -children exulted and ran; it was all we could do to keep them in sight. - -With silent, radiant roll, the river swept onward, filling to the margin -its smooth, soft, yielding channel. For, instead of rock or shingle or -sand, it flowed over grass in which grew primroses and daisies, crocuses -and narcissi, pimpernels and anemones, a starry multitude, large and -bright through the brilliant water. The river had gathered no turbid -cloudiness from the rain, not even a tinge of yellow or brown; the -delicate mass shone with the pale berylline gleam that ascended from its -deep, dainty bed. - -Drawing nearer to the mountain, we saw that the river came from its very -peak, and rushed in full volume through the main street of the city. -It descended to the gate by a stair of deep and wide steps, mingled of -porphyry and serpentine, which continued to the foot of the mountain. -There arriving we found shallower steps on both banks, leading up to -the gate, and along the ascending street. Without the briefest halt, the -Little Ones ran straight up the stair to the gate, which stood open. - -Outside, on the landing, sat the portress, a woman-angel of dark visage, -leaning her shadowed brow on her idle hand. The children rushed upon -her, covering her with caresses, and ere she understood, they had taken -heaven by surprise, and were already in the city, still mounting the -stair by the side of the descending torrent. A great angel, attended -by a company of shining ones, came down to meet and receive them, but -merrily evading them all, up still they ran. In merry dance, however, -a group of woman-angels descended upon them, and in a moment they were -fettered in heavenly arms. The radiants carried them away, and I saw -them no more. - -"Ah!" said the mighty angel, continuing his descent to meet us who were -now almost at the gate and within hearing of his words, "this is well! -these are soldiers to take heaven itself by storm!--I hear of a horde of -black bats on the frontiers: these will make short work with such!" - -Seeing the horse and the elephants clambering up behind us-- - -"Take those animals to the royal stables," he added; "there tend them; -then turn them into the king's forest." - -"Welcome home!" he said to us, bending low with the sweetest smile. - -Immediately he turned and led the way higher. The scales of his armour -flashed like flakes of lightning. - -Thought cannot form itself to tell what I felt, thus received by the -officers of heaven***. All I wanted and knew not, must be on its way to -me! - -We stood for a moment at the gate whence issued roaring the radiant -river. I know not whence came the stones that fashioned it, but among -them I saw the prototypes of all the gems I had loved on earth--far more -beautiful than they, for these were living stones--such in which I saw, -not the intent alone, but the intender too; not the idea alone, but the -imbodier present, the operant outsender: nothing in this kingdom was -dead; nothing was mere; nothing only a thing. - -We went up through the city and passed out. There was no wall on the -upper side, but a huge pile of broken rocks, upsloping like the moraine -of an eternal glacier; and through the openings between the rocks, the -river came billowing out. On their top I could dimly discern what seemed -three or four great steps of a stair, disappearing in a cloud white as -snow; and above the steps I saw, but with my mind's eye only, as it were -a grand old chair, the throne of the Ancient of Days. Over and under and -between those steps issued, plenteously, unceasingly new-born, the river -of the water of life. - -The great angel could guide us no farther: those rocks we must ascend -alone! - -My heart beating with hope and desire, I held faster the hand of my -Lona, and we began to climb; but soon we let each other go, to use hands -as well as feet in the toilsome ascent of the huge stones. At length -we drew near the cloud, which hung down the steps like the borders of a -garment, passed through the fringe, and entered the deep folds. A hand, -warm and strong, laid hold of mine, and drew me to a little door with a -golden lock. The door opened; the hand let mine go, and pushed me gently -through. I turned quickly, and saw the board of a large book in the act -of closing behind me. I stood alone in my library. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. THE "ENDLESS ENDING" - -As yet I have not found Lona, but Mara is much with me. She has taught -me many things, and is teaching me more. - -Can it be that that last waking also was in the dream? that I am still -in the chamber of death, asleep and dreaming, not yet ripe enough to -wake? Or can it be that I did not go to sleep outright and heartily, -and so have come awake too soon? If that waking was itself but a dream, -surely it was a dream of a better waking yet to come, and I have not -been the sport of a false vision! Such a dream must have yet lovelier -truth at the heart of its dreaming! - -In moments of doubt I cry, - -"Could God Himself create such lovely things as I dreamed?" - -"Whence then came thy dream?" answers Hope. - -"Out of my dark self, into the light of my consciousness." - -"But whence first into thy dark self?" rejoins Hope. - -"My brain was its mother, and the fever in my blood its father." - -"Say rather," suggests Hope, "thy brain was the violin whence it issued, -and the fever in thy blood the bow that drew it forth.--But who made -the violin? and who guided the bow across its strings? Say rather, -again--who set the song birds each on its bough in the tree of life, and -startled each in its order from its perch? Whence came the fantasia? and -whence the life that danced thereto? Didst THOU say, in the dark of thy -own unconscious self, 'Let beauty be; let truth seem!' and straightway -beauty was, and truth but seemed?" - -Man dreams and desires; God broods and wills and quickens. - -When a man dreams his own dream, he is the sport of his dream; when -Another gives it him, that Other is able to fulfil it. - -I have never again sought the mirror. The hand sent me back: I will not -go out again by that door! "All the days of my appointed time will I -wait till my change come." - -Now and then, when I look round on my books, they seem to waver as if -a wind rippled their solid mass, and another world were about to break -through. Sometimes when I am abroad, a like thing takes place; the -heavens and the earth, the trees and the grass appear for a moment to -shake as if about to pass away; then, lo, they have settled again into -the old familiar face! At times I seem to hear whisperings around me, as -if some that loved me were talking of me; but when I would distinguish -the words, they cease, and all is very still. I know not whether these -things rise in my brain, or enter it from without. I do not seek them; -they come, and I let them go. - -Strange dim memories, which will not abide identification, often, -through misty windows of the past, look out upon me in the broad -daylight, but I never dream now. It may be, notwithstanding, that, when -most awake, I am only dreaming the more! But when I wake at last into -that life which, as a mother her child, carries this life in its bosom, -I shall know that I wake, and shall doubt no more. - -I wait; asleep or awake, I wait. - -Novalis says, "Our life is no dream, but it should and will perhaps -become one." - - - - - *Chapter 42: William Law. - - **Chapter 45: Tin tin sonando con sì dolce nota - Che 'l ben disposto spirito d' amor turge. - DEL PARADISO, x. 142. - - ***Chapter 46: Oma' vedrai di sì fatti uficiali. - Del Purgatorio, ii. 30. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lilith, by George MacDonald - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LILITH *** - -***** This file should be named 1640-8.txt or 1640-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/4/1640/ - -Produced by John Bechard - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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