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diff --git a/old/1640-h.htm.2021-01-27 b/old/1640-h.htm.2021-01-27 deleted file mode 100644 index 580101e..0000000 --- a/old/1640-h.htm.2021-01-27 +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13656 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <title> - Lilith, by George Macdonald - </title> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; - margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; - text-align: right;} - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - -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 - -Release Date: October 15, 2008 [EBook #1640] -Last Updated: October 10, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LILITH *** - - - - -Produced by John Bechard, and David Widger - - - - - -</pre> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <h1> - LILITH - </h1> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <h2> - By George MacDonald - </h2> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <blockquote> - <p class="toc"> - <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE LIBRARY - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE - MIRROR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE - RAVEN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> SOMEWHERE - OR NOWHERE? <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE - OLD CHURCH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> THE - SEXTON’S COTTAGE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> THE - CEMETERY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> MY - FATHER’S MANUSCRIPT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> I - REPENT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE - BAD BURROW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> THE - EVIL WOOD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> FRIENDS - AND FOES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> THE - LITTLE ONES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> A - CRISIS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> A - STRANGE HOSTESS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> A - GRUESOME DANCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> A - GROTESQUE TRAGEDY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. - </a> DEAD OR ALIVE? <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> - CHAPTER XIX. </a> THE WHITE LEECH <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> GONE!—BUT HOW? - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE - FUGITIVE MOTHER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> BULIKA - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> A - WOMAN OF BULIKA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> THE - WHITE LEOPARDESS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> THE - PRINCESS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> A - BATTLE ROYAL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> THE - SILENT FOUNTAIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> I - AM SILENCED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> THE - PERSIAN CAT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> ADAM - EXPLAINS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> THE - SEXTON’S OLD HORSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. - </a> THE LOVERS AND THE BAGS <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> LONA’S NARRATIVE - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> PREPARATION - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0035"> Chapter XXXV. </a> THE - LITTLE ONES IN BULIKA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. - </a> MOTHER AND DAUGHTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0037"> - CHAPTER XXXVII. </a> THE SHADOW <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. </a> TO - THE HOUSE OF BITTERNESS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER - XXXIX. </a> THAT NIGHT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0040"> - CHAPTER XL. </a> THE HOUSE OF DEATH <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. </a> I AM SENT <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. </a> I SLEEP THE SLEEP - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII. </a> THE - DREAMS THAT CAME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV. </a> THE - WAKING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV. </a> THE - JOURNEY HOME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVI. </a> THE - CITY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVII. </a> THE - “ENDLESS ENDING” <br /><br /> - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Thoreau: “WALKING.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I. THE LIBRARY - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Three days after, another and yet odder thing took place. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “The place was haunted by an old gentleman, was it?” I said. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I questioned him as to what he had seen of the old gentleman. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I hope it was but a friendly call on the part of the old gentleman!” he - concluded, with a troubled smile. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II. THE MIRROR - </h2> - <p> - Nothing more happened for some days. I think it was about a week after, - when what I have now to tell took place. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III. THE RAVEN - </h2> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “How DID I get here?” I said—apparently aloud, for the question was - immediately answered. - </p> - <p> - “You came through the door,” replied an odd, rather harsh voice. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I did not come through any door,” I rejoined. - </p> - <p> - “I saw you come through it!—saw you with my own ancient eyes!” - asserted the raven, positively but not disrespectfully. - </p> - <p> - “I never saw any door!” I persisted. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Oblige me by telling me where I am.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “How am I to begin that where everything is so strange?” - </p> - <p> - “By doing something.” - </p> - <p> - “What?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I have, unfortunately, found it too easy to get in; once out I shall not - try again!” - </p> - <p> - “You have stumbled in, and may, possibly, stumble out again. Whether you - have got in UNFORTUNATELY remains to be seen.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you never go out, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Am I wrong, then, in presuming that a man is superior to a bird?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “You have the best of rights,” I replied, “in the fact that you CAN do - so!” - </p> - <p> - “Well answered!” he rejoined. “Tell me, then, who you are—if you - happen to know.” - </p> - <p> - “How should I help knowing? I am myself, and must know!” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - “Look at me,” he said, “and tell me who I am.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I have seen you before, sir,” I said, feeling foolish rather than - surprised. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I humbly beg your pardon,” I answered: “I believe you were once the - librarian of our house, but more WHO I do not know.” - </p> - <p> - “Why do you beg my pardon?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I took you for a raven,” I said—seeing him before me as - plainly a raven as bird or man could look. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I gazed after him until I saw him no more; but whether distance hid him, - or he disappeared among the heather, I cannot tell. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - In the morning all that horror of the empty garret spaces had left me. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV. SOMEWHERE OR NOWHERE? - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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, - </p> - <p> - “Fine weather for the worms, Mr. Raven!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Why should that make it a grand time?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Because the animals there are all burrowers,” he answered, “—like - the field-mice and the moles here.—They will be, for ages to come.” - </p> - <p> - “How do you know that, if I may be so bold?” I rejoined. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - A flash came with the words, and in about half a minute the thunder. Then - the rain ceased. - </p> - <p> - “Now we should be going!” said the raven, and stepped to the front of the - porch. - </p> - <p> - “Going where?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “I do not want to go,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “That does not make any difference—at least not much,” he answered. - “This is the way!” - </p> - <p> - “I am quite content where I am.” - </p> - <p> - “You think so, but you are not. Come along.” - </p> - <p> - He hopped from the porch onto the grass, and turned, waiting. - </p> - <p> - “I will not leave the house to-day,” I said with obstinacy. - </p> - <p> - “You will come into the garden!” rejoined the raven. - </p> - <p> - “I give in so far,” I replied, and stepped from the porch. - </p> - <p> - The sun broke through the clouds, and the raindrops flashed and sparkled - on the grass. The raven was walking over it. - </p> - <p> - “You will wet your feet!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “Tut! tut!” I exclaimed; “you mistake, Mr. Raven: worms are not the larvæ - of butterflies!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Why?” said the raven. - </p> - <p> - “Because it will grow proud, and cease to recognise its superiors.” - </p> - <p> - No man knows it when he is making an idiot of himself. - </p> - <p> - “Where DO the worms come from?” said the raven, as if suddenly grown - curious to know. - </p> - <p> - “Why, from the earth, as you have just seen!” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Surely the sun is not going down!” I exclaimed, struck with amazement. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no!” returned the raven. “That red belongs to the worm.” - </p> - <p> - “You see what comes of making creatures forget their origin!” I cried with - some warmth. - </p> - <p> - “It is well, surely, if it be to rise higher and grow larger!” he - returned. “But indeed I only teach them to find it!” - </p> - <p> - “Would you have the air full of worms?” - </p> - <p> - “That is the business of a sexton. If only the rest of the clergy - understood it as well!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “What right have you to treat me so, Mr. Raven?” I said with deep offence. - “Am I, or am I not, a free agent?” - </p> - <p> - “A man is as free as he chooses to make himself, never an atom freer,” - answered the raven. - </p> - <p> - “You have no right to make me do things against my will!” - </p> - <p> - “When you have a will, you will find that no one can.” - </p> - <p> - “You wrong me in the very essence of my individuality!” I persisted. - </p> - <p> - “If you were an individual I could not, therefore now I do not. You are - but beginning to become an individual.” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - I suppose I looked discomfited. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “I do not understand you,” I replied. “Where am I?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “There is nobody to hurt but yourself, Mr. Raven! I confess I should - rather like to hurt you!” - </p> - <p> - “That you see nobody is where the danger lies. But you see that large tree - to your left, about thirty yards away?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course I do: why should I not?” I answered testily. - </p> - <p> - “Ten minutes ago you did not see it, and now you do not know where it - stands!” - </p> - <p> - “I do.” - </p> - <p> - “Where do you think it stands?” - </p> - <p> - “Why THERE, where you know it is!” - </p> - <p> - “Where is THERE?” - </p> - <p> - “You bother me with your silly questions!” I cried. “I am growing tired of - you!” - </p> - <p> - “That tree stands on the hearth of your kitchen, and grows nearly straight - up its chimney,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Now I KNOW you are making game of me!” I answered, with a laugh of scorn. - </p> - <p> - “Was I making game of you when you discovered me looking out of your - star-sapphire yesterday?” - </p> - <p> - “That was this morning—not an hour ago!” - </p> - <p> - “I have been widening your horizon longer than that, Mr. Vane; but never - mind!” - </p> - <p> - “You mean you have been making a fool of me!” I said, turning from him. - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me: no one can do that but yourself!” - </p> - <p> - “And I decline to do it.” - </p> - <p> - “You mistake.” - </p> - <p> - “How?” - </p> - <p> - “In declining to acknowledge yourself one already. You make yourself such - by refusing what is true, and for that you will sorely punish yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “How, again?” - </p> - <p> - “By believing what is not true.” - </p> - <p> - “Then, if I walk to the other side of that tree, I shall walk through the - kitchen fire?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “There is no lady in the house!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “She cannot use the piano, anyhow!” - </p> - <p> - “Her niece can: she is there—a well-educated girl and a capital - musician.” - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me; I cannot help it: you seem to me to be talking sheer - nonsense!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Two objects,” I said, “cannot exist in the same place at the same time!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “You a librarian, and talk such rubbish!” I cried. “Plainly, you did not - read many of the books in your charge!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - When I looked up, there was the bird by my side. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “You cannot break what was broken days ago!” he answered. - </p> - <p> - “Do show me the way,” I pleaded. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot,” he returned. “To go back, you must go through yourself, and - that way no man can show another.” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you. Let us go!” I answered, and immediately he led the way. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V. THE OLD CHURCH - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You see that hawthorn?” said my guide at length, pointing with his beak. - </p> - <p> - I looked where the wood melted away on the edge of an open heath. - </p> - <p> - “I see a gnarled old man, with a great white head,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “Look again,” he rejoined: “it is a hawthorn.” - </p> - <p> - “It seems indeed an ancient hawthorn; but this is not the season for the - hawthorn to blossom!” I objected. - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Listen!” said the raven, seeming to hold his breath. - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - “They go there still,” said the raven. - </p> - <p> - “Who goes there? and where do they go?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “What makes them go now?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Do they pray as well as sing?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I see a pigeon!” I said. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “It MUST puzzle you! It cannot fail to do so!” - </p> - <p> - “A prayer is a thought, a thing spiritual!” I pursued. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “That is a prayer-flower,” said the raven. - </p> - <p> - “I never saw such a flower before!” I rejoined. - </p> - <p> - “There is no other such. Not one prayer-flower is ever quite like - another,” he returned. - </p> - <p> - “How do you know it a prayer-flower?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Could you not teach me to know a prayer-flower when I see it?” I said. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI. THE SEXTON’S COTTAGE - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Winter!” I cried; “it seems but half a day since we left home!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “But where is your churchyard—your cemetery—where you make - your graves, I mean?” said I, seeing nothing but the flat heath. - </p> - <p> - The raven stretched his neck, held out his beak horizontally, turned it - slowly round to all the points of the compass, and said nothing. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Here is Mr. Vane, wife!” said the raven. - </p> - <p> - “He is welcome,” she answered, in a low, rich, gentle voice. Treasures of - immortal sound seemed to be buried in it. - </p> - <p> - I gazed, and could not speak. - </p> - <p> - “I knew you would be glad to see him!” added the raven. - </p> - <p> - She stood in front of the door by which she had entered, and did not come - nearer. - </p> - <p> - “Will he sleep?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “I fear not,” he replied; “he is neither weary nor heavy laden.” - </p> - <p> - “Why then have you brought him?” - </p> - <p> - “I have my fears it may prove precipitate.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - I gazed into the white face of the woman, and my heart fluttered. She - returned my gaze in silence. - </p> - <p> - “Let me first go home,” I resumed, “and come again after I have found or - made, invented, or at least discovered something!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - The words drew my eyes from the woman to the raven. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You knew I was not a raven!” he said with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “I knew you were Mr. Raven,” I replied; “but somehow I thought you a bird - too!” - </p> - <p> - “What made you think me a bird?” - </p> - <p> - “You looked a raven, and I saw you dig worms out of the earth with your - beak.” - </p> - <p> - “And then?” - </p> - <p> - “Toss them in the air.” “And then?” - </p> - <p> - “They grew butterflies, and flew away.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever see a raven do that? I told you I was a sexton!” - </p> - <p> - “Does a sexton toss worms in the air, and turn them into butterflies?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “I never saw one do it!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “But you have just told me you were sexton here!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “You bewilder me!” - </p> - <p> - “That’s all right!” - </p> - <p> - A few moments he stood silent. The woman, moveless as a statue, stood - silent also by the coffin-door. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “We are in want of something to eat and drink, wife,” he said; “we have - come a long way!” - </p> - <p> - “You know, husband,” she answered, “we can give only to him that asks.” - </p> - <p> - She turned her unchanging face and radiant eyes upon mine. - </p> - <p> - “Please give me something to eat, Mrs. Raven,” I said, “and something—what - you will—to quench my thirst.” - </p> - <p> - “Your thirst must be greater before you can have what will quench it,” she - replied; “but what I can give you, I will gladly.” - </p> - <p> - She went to a cupboard in the wall, brought from it bread and wine, and - set them on the table. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I grew very sleepy, and now first felt weary. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - The woman took it from him gently, gave it a little piece of bread, and - went out with it, closing the door behind her. - </p> - <p> - “How then am I to make use of your hospitality?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “By accepting it to the full,” he answered. - </p> - <p> - “I do not understand.” - </p> - <p> - “In this house no one wakes of himself.” - </p> - <p> - “Why?” - </p> - <p> - “Because no one anywhere ever wakes of himself. You can wake yourself no - more than you can make yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “Then perhaps you or Mrs. Raven would kindly call me!” I said, still - nowise understanding, but feeling afresh that vague foreboding. - </p> - <p> - “We cannot.” - </p> - <p> - “How dare I then go to sleep?” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - The sexton sat looking me in the face. His eyes seemed to say, “Will you - not trust me?” I returned his gaze, and answered, - </p> - <p> - “I will.” - </p> - <p> - “Then come,” he said; “I will show you your couch.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII. THE CEMETERY - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Will you hold the candle nearer, wife?” whispered the sexton, bending - down to examine the woman’s hand. - </p> - <p> - “It heals well,” he murmured to himself: “the nail found in her nothing to - hurt!” - </p> - <p> - At last I ventured to speak. - </p> - <p> - “Are they not dead?” I asked softly. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “But why leave them in the corrupting moonlight?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “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!’” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You seem in your dead to see differences beyond my perception!” I - ventured to remark. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “Why just this?” I said, beginning to tremble, and anxious by parley to - delay. - </p> - <p> - “For reasons which one day you will be glad to know,” he answered. - </p> - <p> - “Why not know them now?” - </p> - <p> - “That also you will know when you wake.” - </p> - <p> - “But these are all dead, and I am alive!” I objected, shuddering. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “The place is too cold to let one sleep!” I said. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “I have just told you that the dead are there also, - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - ‘Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks - In Vallombrosa,’” - </pre> - <p> - said the librarian. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “Be of good comfort; we watch the flock of the great shepherd,” said the - sexton to his wife. - </p> - <p> - Then he turned to me. - </p> - <p> - “Didst thou not find the air of the place pure and sweet when thou - enteredst it?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; but oh, so cold!” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - They went farther into the great chamber, and I was left alone in the - moonlight with the dead. - </p> - <p> - I turned to escape. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - I threw myself on a couch, and fell asleep. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “What idiot,” I cried, “has put that book in the shelf the wrong way?” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “More meddling!” I cried, and went to close the drawer. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII. MY FATHER’S MANUSCRIPT - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - It did not strike me at the time how old the man must be. - </p> - <p> - “May I ask where you live now, Mr. Crow?” I said. - </p> - <p> - He smiled an amused smile. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Where was that?” - </p> - <p> - “In this very room. You were quite a child, however!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - I had heard the name, for marvellous tales had brought it me. - </p> - <p> - “It is very kind of you to come and see me,” I said. “Will you not sit - down?” - </p> - <p> - He seated himself at once. - </p> - <p> - “You knew my father, then, I presume?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Would you mind telling me all about that?” I said. - </p> - <p> - “By no means—as much at least as I am able: there are not such - things as wilful secrets,” he answered—and went on. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “You would have me then understand, Mr. Raven,” I said, “that you go - through my house into another world, heedless of disparting space?” - </p> - <p> - “That I go through it is an incontrovertible acknowledgement of space,” - returned the old librarian. - </p> - <p> - “Please do not quibble, Mr. Raven,” I rejoined. “Please to take my - question as you know I mean it.” - </p> - <p> - “There is in your house a door, one step through which carries me into a - world very much another than this.” - </p> - <p> - “A better?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “You try my power of belief!” I said. - </p> - <p> - “You take me for a madman, probably?” - </p> - <p> - “You do not look like one.” - </p> - <p> - “A liar then?” - </p> - <p> - “You give me no ground to think you such.” - </p> - <p> - “Only you do not believe me?” - </p> - <p> - “I will go out of that door with you if you like: I believe in you enough - to risk the attempt.” - </p> - <p> - “The blunder all my children make!” he murmured. “The only door out is the - door in!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “The world of your heart!” I replied; “—that is, the idea of him is - there.” - </p> - <p> - “There is one world then at least on which your hall-door does not open?” - </p> - <p> - “I grant you so much; but the things in that world are not things to have - and to hold.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “As a mirror,” said the librarian, “it has grown dingy with age; but that - is no matter: its clearness depends on the light.” - </p> - <p> - “Light!” I rejoined; “there is no light here!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “We arrive almost to the moment!” he said; “it is on the very stroke of - noon!” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “Where are the sunrays gone?” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX. I REPENT - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - I hastened to meet him. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Take me to her that I may tell her how sorry I am,” I begged humbly. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me one thing, I beg of you, Mr. Raven: is my father with you? Have - you seen him since he left the world?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; he is with us, fast asleep. That was he you saw with his arm on the - coverlet, his hand half closed.” - </p> - <p> - “Why did you not tell me? That I should have been so near him, and not - know!” - </p> - <p> - “And turn your back on him!” corrected the raven. - </p> - <p> - “I would have lain down at once had I known!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Why OF COURSE?” - </p> - <p> - “Because he is so much nearer waking than you. No one who will not sleep - can ever wake.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not at all understand you!” - </p> - <p> - “You turned away, and would not understand!” I held my peace.—But if - I did not say something, he would go! - </p> - <p> - “And my grandfather—is he also with you?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “No; he is still in the Evil Wood, fighting the dead.” - </p> - <p> - “Where is the Evil Wood, that I may find him?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot understand you!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “There are indeed many ways.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me, please, how to recognise the nearest.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Enigma treading on enigma!” I exclaimed. “I did not come here to be asked - riddles.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Worse and worse!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Will you not in pity tell me what I am to do—where I must go?” - </p> - <p> - “How should I tell YOUR to-do, or the way to it?” - </p> - <p> - “If I am not to go home, at least direct me to some of my kind.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not know of any. The beings most like you are in that direction.” - </p> - <p> - He pointed with his beak. I could see nothing but the setting sun, which - blinded me. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X. THE BAD BURROW - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - I know now it was that the moon paralysed them. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - The moon went below, and the world again was dark. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI. THE EVIL WOOD - </h2> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I descended, and set out for the imaginable forest: something alive might - be there; on this side of it could not well be anything! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Such was the battle of the dead, which I saw and heard as I lay under the - tree. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII. FRIENDS AND FOES - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “He likes our apples! He likes our apples! He’s a good giant! He’s a good - giant!” cried many little voices. - </p> - <p> - “He’s a giant!” objected one. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Eat, good giant,” he said. - </p> - <p> - I sat up, took the apple, smiled thanks, and would have eaten; but the - moment I bit into it, I flung it far away. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Good, good giant!” they cried. “We knew you would come! Oh you dear, - good, strong giant!” - </p> - <p> - The babble of their talk sprang up afresh, and ever the jubilant shout - would rise anew from hundreds of clear little throats. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Get up, good giant!” said a little girl. “Make haste! much haste! He saw - you throw his apple away!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - He answered with a howl of rage that seemed to say, “Do you dare tell me - my apple was not fit to eat?” - </p> - <p> - “One bad apple may grow on the best tree,” I said. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII. THE LITTLE ONES - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “They are too blind to see us,” they said, and laughed like a multitude of - sheep-bells. - </p> - <p> - “Do you like that rope about your ankles?” asked one. - </p> - <p> - “I want them to think I cannot take it off,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “They can scarcely see their own feet!” he rejoined. “Walk with short - steps and they will think the rope is all right.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke, he danced with merriment. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Can they not perceive you at all then?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - She whistled like a bird. The next instant not one of them was to be seen - or heard, and the girl herself had disappeared. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “He loves you already!” said the girl. - </p> - <p> - “Where did you find him?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “How do you know when there is one to find?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Do more boy or girl babies come to the wood?” - </p> - <p> - “They don’t come to the wood; we go to the wood and find them.” - </p> - <p> - “Are there more boys or girls of you now?” - </p> - <p> - I had found that to ask precisely the same question twice, made them knit - their brows. - </p> - <p> - “I do not know,” she answered. - </p> - <p> - “You can count them, surely!” - </p> - <p> - “We never do that. We shouldn’t like to be counted.” - </p> - <p> - “Why?” - </p> - <p> - “It wouldn’t be smooth. We would rather not know.” - </p> - <p> - “Where do the babies come from first?” - </p> - <p> - “From the wood—always. There is no other place they can come from.” - </p> - <p> - She knew where they came from last, and thought nothing else was to be - known about their advent. - </p> - <p> - “How often do you find one?” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, indeed, I am!” I answered. “But how do you feed him?” - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “He would open his mouth if he were awake,” she said, and took him in her - arms. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “But what if you let the stone into the baby’s mouth when you were feeding - him?” I said. - </p> - <p> - “No mother would do that,” she replied. “I shouldn’t be fit to have a - baby!” - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - “Will you tell me where you lived before?” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Here,” she replied. - </p> - <p> - “Have you NEVER lived anywhere else?” I ventured. - </p> - <p> - “Never. We all came from the wood. Some think we dropped out of the - trees.” - </p> - <p> - “How is it there are so many of you quite little?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t understand. Some are less and some are bigger. I am very big.” - </p> - <p> - “Baby will grow bigger, won’t he?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course he will!” - </p> - <p> - “And will you grow bigger?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think so. I hope not. I am the biggest. It frightens me - sometimes.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should it frighten you?” - </p> - <p> - She gave me no answer. - </p> - <p> - “How old are you?” I resumed. - </p> - <p> - “I do not know what you mean. We are all just that.” - </p> - <p> - “How big will the baby grow?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “What makes it frightful?” - </p> - <p> - She was silent for a moment, then answered, - </p> - <p> - “We fear they may be beginning to grow giants.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should you fear that?” - </p> - <p> - “Because it is so terrible.—I don’t want to talk about it!” - </p> - <p> - She pressed the baby to her bosom with such an anxious look that I dared - not further question her. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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!” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - She stared a little, as if looking in vain for some sense in the question, - then replied, - </p> - <p> - “They are giants; there are no little ones.” - </p> - <p> - “Have they never any children?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “No; there are never any in the wood for them. They do not love them. If - they saw ours, they would stamp them.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - She burst into the merriest laughter, and said, - </p> - <p> - “No, good giant; WE are THEIR firsters.” - </p> - <p> - But as she said it, the merriment died out of her, and she looked scared. - </p> - <p> - I stopped working, and gazed at her, bewildered. - </p> - <p> - “How CAN that be?” I exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “How long have you been here?” I asked, more and more puzzled—in the - hope of some side-light on the matter. - </p> - <p> - “Always, I think,” she replied. “I think somebody made us always.” - </p> - <p> - I turned to my scraping. - </p> - <p> - She saw I did not understand. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I will take the horrid thing from him!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Could not some of the boys watch him, and not let him touch the poisonous - things?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “He is as like that hideous green lump in his hand as boy could look!” - </p> - <p> - “It suits what he is making himself.” - </p> - <p> - “His head and it might change places!” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps they do!” - </p> - <p> - “Does he want to be a giant?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “He will be very miserable when he finds himself a giant!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no; he will like it well enough! That is the worst of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Will he hate the Little Ones?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Do tell me how it will come about. I understand your world so little! I - come from a world where everything is different.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not know about WORLD. What is it? What more but a word in your - beautiful big mouth?—That makes it something!” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind about the word; tell me what next will happen to Blunty.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “I wish I knew no more about it than you!” I returned. “But I try to be - good, and mean to keep on trying.” - </p> - <p> - “So do I—and that is how I know you are good.” - </p> - <p> - A long pause followed. - </p> - <p> - “Then you do not know where the babies come from into the wood?” I said, - making one attempt more. - </p> - <p> - “There is nothing to know there,” she answered. “They are in the wood; - they grow there.” - </p> - <p> - “Then how is it you never find one before it is quite grown?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - She knitted her brows and was silent a moment: - </p> - <p> - “They’re not there till they’re finished,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “It is a pity the little sillies can’t speak till they’ve forgotten - everything they had to tell!” I remarked. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “So they are in my world,” I said; “only they do not say FAT there, they - say RICH.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - The next morning Lona came to me and whispered, - </p> - <p> - “Look! look there—by that quince-tree: that is the giant that was - Blunty!—Would you have known him?” - </p> - <p> - “Never,” I answered. “—But now you tell me, I could fancy it might - be Blunty staring through a fog! He DOES look stupid!” - </p> - <p> - “He is for ever eating those apples now!” she said. “That is what comes of - Little Ones that WON’T be little!” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV. A CRISIS - </h2> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - My design, however, would not so soon have passed into action, but for - what now occurred. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Then I was aware of sounds I had never heard there before; the air was - full of little sobs. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You must go away, good giant,” they said. “When the bad giants see you - hurt, they will all trample on you.” - </p> - <p> - “I think I must,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “Go and grow strong, and come again,” they said. - </p> - <p> - “I will,” I replied—and sat down. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed you must go at once!” whispered Lona, who had been supporting me, - and now knelt beside me. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You are broken,” they said, “and much red juice has run out of you: put - some in.” - </p> - <p> - When we reached the edge of the valley, there was the moon just lifting - her forehead over the rim of the horizon. - </p> - <p> - “She has come to take care of you, and show you the way,” said Lona. - </p> - <p> - 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, - </p> - <p> - “No, no! she will kill you, good giant; she will kill you! She is an awful - bad-giant witch!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “The moon will tell you, we think,” they said. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “No,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “Then take care not to go near her. She is called the Cat-woman. She is - awfully ugly—AND SCRATCHES.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Pondering as I went, I recalled many traits of my little friends. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV. A STRANGE HOSTESS - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - It moved its head, and then first I saw that its back was toward me. - </p> - <p> - “Will you not come with me?” said a sweet, mellow voice, unmistakably a - woman’s. - </p> - <p> - Wishing to learn more of my hostess, - </p> - <p> - “I thank you,” I replied, “but I am not uncomfortable here. Where would - you have me go? I like sleeping in the open air.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I have not been disturbed,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “No; I have been sitting by you ever since you lay down.” - </p> - <p> - “That is very kind of you! How came you to know I was here? Why do you - show me such favour?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “You shall not hear it from me,” I answered, “Please tell me what I MAY - call you!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose, madam, you live in the cottage I saw in the heart of the - moon?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - Her voice entered into me, and made me feel strangely still. - </p> - <p> - “I will go with you, madam,” I said, rising. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Neither spoke, and the silence grew unbearable. I MUST break it! - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Describe it, then, and I will direct you. The stupid Bags know nothing, - and the careless little Lovers forget almost everything.” - </p> - <p> - “Where do those live?” - </p> - <p> - “You are just come from them!” - </p> - <p> - “I never heard those names before!” - </p> - <p> - “You would not hear them. Neither people knows its own name!” - </p> - <p> - “Strange!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - I held my peace, beginning to wonder what my name might be. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - This startled me, and I was silent. - </p> - <p> - We had left the channels and walked a long time, but no sign of the - cottage yet appeared. - </p> - <p> - “The Little Ones told me,” I said at length, “of a smooth green country, - pleasant to the feet!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes?” she returned. - </p> - <p> - “They told me too of a girl giantess that was queen somewhere: is that her - country?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “By that time they will have grown a little, will they not?” I said. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Your words are strange, madam!” I rejoined. “But I have heard it said - that some words, because they mean more, appear to mean less!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I suppose, when the little Lovers are grown, their land will have - water again?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I thank you heartily, madam,” I replied. “But, seeing you know the name I - could not tell you, may I not now know yours?” - </p> - <p> - “My name is Mara,” she answered. - </p> - <p> - Then I remembered the sexton and the little black cat. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I thank you again, Mara,” I said. “—May I lie here on your floor - till the morning?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Rest in peace,” she said. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I woke in the middle of the night, thinking I heard low noises of wild - animals. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - 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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Again I fell asleep, and slept undisturbed. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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, - </p> - <p> - “It was to Bulika she went—the shortest way.” - </p> - <p> - “How wonderfully intelligent she looked!” - </p> - <p> - “Astarte knows her work well enough to be sent to do it,” she answered. - </p> - <p> - “Have you many messengers like her?” - </p> - <p> - “As many as I require.” - </p> - <p> - “Are they hard to teach?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “May I not know it?” - </p> - <p> - “A new one came to me last night—from your head while you slept.” - </p> - <p> - I laughed. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Then the creature is mine!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Not at all!” she answered. “That only can be ours in whose existence our - will is a factor.” - </p> - <p> - “Ha! a metaphysician too!” I remarked inside, and was silent. - </p> - <p> - “May I take what is left of the loaf?” I asked presently. - </p> - <p> - “You will want no more to-day,” she replied. - </p> - <p> - “To-morrow I may!” I rejoined. - </p> - <p> - She rose and went to the door, saying as she went, - </p> - <p> - “It has nothing to do with to-morrow—but you may take it if you - will.” - </p> - <p> - She opened the door, and stood holding it. I rose, taking up the bread—but - lingered, much desiring to see her face. - </p> - <p> - “Must I go, then?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “No one sleeps in my house two nights together!” she answered. - </p> - <p> - “I thank you, then, for your hospitality, and bid you farewell!” I said, - and turned to go. - </p> - <p> - “The time will come when you must house with me many days and many - nights,” she murmured sadly through her muffling. - </p> - <p> - “Willingly,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, NOT willingly!” she answered. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI. A GRUESOME DANCE - </h2> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - I went deeper into the wood: I was weary, and would rest in it. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I went out into the wood, at once to resume my journey. Another moon was - rising, and I turned my face toward it. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII. A GROTESQUE TRAGEDY - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I have,” answered the other, in like but rougher tone. “You would do - nothing to help me, and this cursed knee is out!” - </p> - <p> - “I did my best, my lord.” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - She cast a look at herself. - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Probably, my lord of Cokayne!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “You come so seldom to mine, that I do not know, my lord; but I may take - your word for THAT!” - </p> - <p> - “I hope so!” - </p> - <p> - “—if for nothing else!” “Hoity toity! I never told you a lie in my - life!” - </p> - <p> - “You never told me anything but lies.” - </p> - <p> - “Upon my honour!—Why, I never saw the woman before!” - </p> - <p> - “You knew me well enough to lie to, my lord!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “I am glad to hear it: my recollections of you are the less distasteful!—Good - morning, my lord!” - </p> - <p> - She turned away, hobbled, clacking, a few paces, and stood again. - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - He turned his bare noddle this way and that on its creaking pivot, still - holding his knee with both hands. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Tie my leg on, of course, you fool! Can’t you see it is all but off? - Heigho, my dancing days!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You used to stamp rather differently, my lord!” she said, as she rose - from her knees. - </p> - <p> - “Eh? what!—Now I look at you again, it seems to me I used to hate - you!—Eh?” - </p> - <p> - “Naturally, my lord! You hated a good many people!—your wife, of - course, among the rest!” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “Not that I remember, my lord. The only happy moments I had in your - company were scattered over the first week of our marriage.” - </p> - <p> - “Was that the way of it? Ha! ha!—Well, it’s over now, thank - goodness!” - </p> - <p> - “I wish I could believe it! Why were we sitting there in that carriage - together? It wakes apprehension!” - </p> - <p> - “I think we were divorced, my lady!” - </p> - <p> - “Hardly enough: we are still together!” - </p> - <p> - “A sad truth, but capable of remedy: the forest seems of some extent!” - </p> - <p> - “I doubt! I doubt!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “It has taught me the fool I was to love you!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “We are in the other world, I presume!” - </p> - <p> - “Granted!—but in which or what sort of other world? This can’t be - hell!” - </p> - <p> - “It must: there’s marriage in it! You and I are damned in each other.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I’m not like Othello, damned in a fair wife!—Oh, I remember my - Shakspeare, madam!” - </p> - <p> - She picked up a broken branch that had fallen into a bush, and steadying - herself with it, walked away, tossing her little skull. - </p> - <p> - “Give that stick to me,” cried her late husband; “I want it more than - you.” - </p> - <p> - She returned him no answer. - </p> - <p> - “You mean to make me beg for it?” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all, my lord. I mean to keep it,” she replied, continuing her slow - departure. - </p> - <p> - “Give it me at once; I mean to have it! I require it.” - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - He started to follow her, but nearly fell: his knee-grass had burst, and - with an oath he stopped, grasping his leg again. - </p> - <p> - “Come and tie it up properly!” he would have thundered, but he only piped - and whistled! - </p> - <p> - She turned and looked at him. - </p> - <p> - “Come and tie it up instantly!” he repeated. - </p> - <p> - She walked a step or two farther from him. - </p> - <p> - “I swear I will not touch you!” he cried. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - She came back, and knelt once more at his side—first, however, - laying the stick in dispute beyond his reach and within her own. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Disgusting!” he muttered, and laid hold of her upper arm-bone. - </p> - <p> - “You will break it!” she said, looking up from her knees. - </p> - <p> - “I will, then!” he answered, and began to strain at it. - </p> - <p> - “I shall not tie your leg again the next time it comes loose!” she - threatened. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “That’s right: reach me the stick!” he grinned. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Now you will have to wear splints always!” she said; “such dry bones - never mend!” - </p> - <p> - “You devil!” he cried. - </p> - <p> - “At your service, my lord! Shall I fetch you a couple of wheel-spokes? - Neat—but heavy, I fear!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - I looked about, but could not see the speaker. - </p> - <p> - “You are not in hell,” it resumed. “Neither am I in hell. But those - skeletons are in hell!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me, Mr. Raven, what will become of them,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “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.’” - </p> - <p> - “I saw many more of their kind an hour ago, in the hall close by!” I said. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Are they upheld by this hope?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - His unexpected appearance had caused me no astonishment. I was like a - child, constantly wondering, and surprised at nothing. - </p> - <p> - “Did you come to find me, sir?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Not at all,” he replied. “I have no anxiety about you. Such as you always - come back to us.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me, please, who am I such as?” I said. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot make my friend the subject of conversation,” he answered, with a - smile. - </p> - <p> - “But when that friend is present!” I urged. - </p> - <p> - “I decline the more strongly,” he rejoined. - </p> - <p> - “But when that friend asks you!” I persisted. - </p> - <p> - “Then most positively I refuse,” he returned. - </p> - <p> - “Why?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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, - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I will try to remember,” I answered; “—but I may forget!” - </p> - <p> - “Then some evil that is good for you will follow.” - </p> - <p> - “And if I remember?” - </p> - <p> - “Some evil that is not good for you, will not follow.” - </p> - <p> - The old man seemed to sink to the ground, and immediately I saw the raven - several yards from me, flying low and fast. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII. DEAD OR ALIVE? - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I leapt to my feet: here was the warmth I sought—the first necessity - of life! I sped back to my helpless charge. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX. THE WHITE LEECH - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - That night I was again bitten, and awoke with a burning thirst. - </p> - <p> - 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!” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - The garments were at length finished, and, contemplating my handiwork with - no small satisfaction, I proceeded to mat layers of the fibre into - sandals. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I caught the vile thing,” said a feeble voice, in my mother-tongue; “I - caught it in the very act!” - </p> - <p> - She was alive! she spoke! I dared not yield to my transport lest I should - terrify her. - </p> - <p> - “What creature?” I breathed, rather than said. - </p> - <p> - “The creature,” she answered, “that was biting you.” - </p> - <p> - “What was it?” - </p> - <p> - “A great white leech.” - </p> - <p> - “How big?” I pursued, forcing myself to be calm. - </p> - <p> - “Not far from six feet long, I should think,” she answered. - </p> - <p> - “You have saved my life, perhaps!—But how could you touch the horrid - thing! How brave of you!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “I did!” was all her answer, and I thought she shuddered. - </p> - <p> - “Where is it? What could you do with such a monster?” - </p> - <p> - “I threw it in the river.” - </p> - <p> - “Then it will come again, I fear!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “We’ll kill it next time!” I said; but with that I turned faint, sought - the open air, but fell. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “We must be going!” I said. “The white leech——” - </p> - <p> - I stopped: a strange smile had flickered over her beautiful face. - </p> - <p> - “Did you find me there?” she asked, pointing to the cave. - </p> - <p> - “No; I brought you there,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “You brought me?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “From where?” - </p> - <p> - “From the forest.” - </p> - <p> - “What have you done with my clothes—and my jewels?” - </p> - <p> - “You had none when I found you.” - </p> - <p> - “Then why did you not leave me?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I hoped you were not dead.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should you have cared?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I was very lonely, and wanted you to live.” - </p> - <p> - “You would have kept me enchanted for my beauty!” she said, with proud - scorn. - </p> - <p> - Her words and her look roused my indignation. - </p> - <p> - “There was no beauty left in you,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Why, then, again, did you not let me alone?” - </p> - <p> - “Because you were of my own kind.” - </p> - <p> - “Of YOUR kind?” she cried, in a tone of utter contempt. - </p> - <p> - “I thought so, but find I was mistaken!” - </p> - <p> - “Doubtless you pitied me!” - </p> - <p> - “Never had woman more claim on pity, or less on any other feeling!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Had you failed to rouse me, what would you have done?” she asked suddenly - without moving. - </p> - <p> - “I would have buried it.” - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I made it for you. It is hideous, but I did my best.” - </p> - <p> - She drew herself up to her tall height. - </p> - <p> - “How long have I been insensible?” she demanded. “A woman could not have - made that dress in a day!” - </p> - <p> - “Not in twenty days,” I rejoined, “hardly in thirty!” - </p> - <p> - “Ha! How long do you pretend I have lain unconscious?—Answer me at - once.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “There is no need, madam: I would have done the same for any woman—yes, - or for any man either!” - </p> - <p> - “How is it my hair is not tangled?” she said, fondling it. - </p> - <p> - “It always drifted in the current.” - </p> - <p> - “How?—What do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “I could not have brought you to life but by bathing you in the hot river - every morning.” - </p> - <p> - She gave a shudder of disgust, and stood for a while with her gaze fixed - on the hurrying water. Then she turned to me: - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX. GONE!—BUT HOW? - </h2> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Why do you follow me?” she asked, quietly but rather sternly, as if she - had never before seen me. - </p> - <p> - “I have lived so long,” I answered, “on the mere hope of your eyes, that I - must want to see them again!” - </p> - <p> - “You WILL not be spared!” she said coldly. “I command you to stop where - you stand.” - </p> - <p> - “Not until I see you in a place of safety will I leave you,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “Then take the consequences,” she said, and resumed her swift-gliding - walk. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - Despair restored my volition; the spell broke; I ran, and overtook her. - </p> - <p> - “Have pity upon me!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - She turned as if a serpent had bit her. I cowered before the blaze of her - eyes, but could not avert my own. - </p> - <p> - “Pity me,” I cried again. - </p> - <p> - She resumed her walking. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Did I love her? I knew she was not good! Did I hate her? I could not leave - her! I knelt beside her. - </p> - <p> - “Begone! Do not dare touch me,” she cried. - </p> - <p> - Her arms lay on the grass by her sides as if paralyzed. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Down!” she cried imperiously, as to a rebellious dog. “Follow me a step - if you dare!” - </p> - <p> - “I will!” I murmured, with an agonised effort. - </p> - <p> - “Set foot within the gates of my city, and my people will stone you: they - do not love beggars!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “It was well,” I thought, “that I could not cry out: if she had risen, the - monster would have been upon her!” - </p> - <p> - But when I reached the place, no lady was there; only the garments she had - dropped lay dusk in the moonlight. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - Horrible doubts began to wake in me. After a thorough but fruitless - search, I set out in the track of the two animals. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI. THE FUGITIVE MOTHER - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “She is chased!” I said to myself. “Some prowler of this terrible night is - after her!” - </p> - <p> - To follow would have added to her fright: I stepped into her track to stop - her pursuer. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - I went on, for I might yet be useful to the woman, and hoped also to see - her deliverer. - </p> - <p> - I descried her a little way off, seated on the grass, with her child in - her lap. - </p> - <p> - “Can I do anything for you?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - At the sound of my voice she started violently, and would have risen. I - threw myself on the ground. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “There is little hope of that!” she answered, trembling. “Do you not know - whose beast she is?” - </p> - <p> - Now I had certain strange suspicions, but I answered that I knew nothing - of the brute, and asked what had become of her champion. - </p> - <p> - “What champion?” she rejoined. “I have seen no one.” - </p> - <p> - “Then how came the monster to grief?” - </p> - <p> - “I pounded her foot with a stone—as hard as I could strike. Did you - not hear her cry?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you are a brave woman!” I answered. “I thought it was you gave the - cry!” - </p> - <p> - “It was the leopardess.” - </p> - <p> - “I never heard such a sound from the throat of an animal! it was like the - scream of a woman in torture!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me about the creature,” I said; “I am a stranger in these parts.” - </p> - <p> - “You will soon know about her if you are going to Bulika!” she answered. - “Now, I must never go back there!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I am going to Bulika,” I said, “—to see the princess.” - </p> - <p> - “Have a care; you had better not go!—But perhaps you are—! The - princess is a very good, kind woman!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You are in no danger of any sort from me,” I said. “What oath would you - like me to take?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Where are you taking her?” - </p> - <p> - “Where no one ever tells!” - </p> - <p> - “Why is the princess so cruel?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “But what will become of her country if she kill all the babies?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - As thus she ended, she rose in haste. - </p> - <p> - “I do not think she will ever get home.—Let me carry the baby for - you!” I said, as I rose also. - </p> - <p> - She returned me no answer, and when I would have taken it, only clasped it - the closer. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot think,” I said, walking by her side, “how the brute could be - bleeding so much!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXII. BULIKA - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - What was I there for? what did I expect or hope to find? what did I mean - to do? - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIII. A WOMAN OF BULIKA - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “If the brute come here, I will lay hold of it,” I said, “and you must - run.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you!” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - “Have you ever seen it before?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Several times,” she answered, still trembling. “She is a pet of the - princess’s. You are a stranger, or you would know her!” - </p> - <p> - “I am a stranger,” I answered. “But is she, then, allowed to run loose?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - Here she burst into tears. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Take me home safe, and I will give you shelter from it,” she rejoined. - “But we must wait a little!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Why?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Because it is a disgrace to work,” she answered. “Everybody in Bulika - knows that!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “But there must be some poor!” I said. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “We have so many, and there are so many still in the ground, that that day - will never come,” she replied. - </p> - <p> - “Suppose a strange people were to fall upon you, and take everything you - have!” - </p> - <p> - “No strange people will dare; they are all horribly afraid of our - princess. She it is who keeps us safe and free and rich!” - </p> - <p> - Every now and then as she spoke, she would stop and look behind her. - </p> - <p> - I asked why her people had such a hatred of strangers. She answered that - the presence of a stranger defiled the city. - </p> - <p> - “How is that?” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Because we are more ancient and noble than any other nation.—Therefore,” - she added, “we always turn strangers out before night.” - </p> - <p> - “How, then, can you take me into your house?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “I will make an exception of you,” she replied. - </p> - <p> - “Is there no place in the city for the taking in of strangers?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Weary, and not scrupling to defile Bulika with my presence, I took - advantage of the shelter, poor as it was. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIV. THE WHITE LEOPARDESS - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - I stood up; she rose, and stood beside me. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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?” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXV. THE PRINCESS - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “To see the princess,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “A likely thing!” he returned. “I have not seen her highness this morning - myself!” - </p> - <p> - 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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Take me to the princess,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “She has not yet left her room, your lordship,” he replied. - </p> - <p> - “Let her know that I am here, waiting audience of her.” - </p> - <p> - “Will your lordship please to give me your name?” - </p> - <p> - “Tell her that one who knows the white leech desires to see her.” - </p> - <p> - “She will kill me if I take such a message: I must not. I dare not.” - </p> - <p> - “You refuse?” - </p> - <p> - He cast a glance at my attendant, and went. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - The man I had sent to the princess entered. - </p> - <p> - “Please to come this way, my lord,” he said. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “You have found me at last!” she said, laying her hand on my shoulder. “I - knew you would!” - </p> - <p> - My frame quivered with conflicting consciousnesses, to analyse which I had - no power. I was simultaneously attracted and repelled: each sensation - seemed either. - </p> - <p> - “You shiver!” she said. “This place is cold for you! Come.” - </p> - <p> - I stood silent: she had struck me dumb with beauty; she held me dumb with - sweetness. - </p> - <p> - Taking me by the hand, she drew me to the spot of light, and again flashed - upon me. An instant she stood there. - </p> - <p> - “You have grown brown since last I saw you,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “This is almost the first roof I have been under since you left me,” I - replied. - </p> - <p> - “Whose was the other?” she rejoined. - </p> - <p> - “I do not know the woman’s name.” - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Here we do not kill to eat,” she said; “but I think you will like what I - can give you.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You have never drunk wine like this!” she said. - </p> - <p> - I drank, and wondered: every flower of Hybla and Hymettus must have sent - its ghost to swell the soul of that wine! - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “Beautiful princess,” I said, “let me understand how you came to be found - in such evil plight.” - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “I set out on my journey, reached the stream, bounded across it,——” - </p> - <p> - A shadow of embarrassment darkened her cheek: I understood it, but showed - no sign. Checked for the merest moment, she went on: - </p> - <p> - “—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.” - </p> - <p> - She rose, her eyes flashing as never human eyes flashed, and threw her - arms high over her head. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - She dropt kneeling beside me, laid her arms across my knees, and looked up - in my face. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - She started to her feet. I sat motionless, looking down. - </p> - <p> - “To me she may be true!” said my vanity. For a moment I was tempted to - love a lie. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - As she preceded me up the stair,— - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - With a smile she left me at the door of my room, but as she turned I read - anxiety on her beautiful face. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVI. A BATTLE ROYAL - </h2> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - I had but reached this conclusion when I fell asleep. The lovely wine may - not have been quite innocent. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I began to breathe more freely; the weight was gone from my chest; I - opened my eyes. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVII. THE SILENT FOUNTAIN - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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, - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - But I followed her close. Out of my sight I feared her. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - While still endeavouring to compose myself, I heard the voice of the - princess beside me. - </p> - <p> - “Come now,” she said; “I will show you what I want you to do for me.” - </p> - <p> - She led the way into the court. I followed in dazed compliance. - </p> - <p> - 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, - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - She turned to me quickly, saying with one of her sweetest smiles, - </p> - <p> - “Can you climb?” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I can climb that tree,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “Not with bare feet!” she returned. - </p> - <p> - In my haste to follow the leopardess disappearing, I had left my sandals - in my room. - </p> - <p> - “It is no matter,” I said; “I have long gone barefoot!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot let you attempt it with your feet bare!” she insisted. “A fall - from the top would kill you!” - </p> - <p> - “So would a bite from the snake!” I answered—not believing, I - confess, that there was any snake. - </p> - <p> - “It would not hurt YOU!” she replied. “—Wait a moment.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You have left the ends hanging, princess!” I said. - </p> - <p> - “I have nothing to cut them off with; but they are not long enough to get - entangled,” she replied. - </p> - <p> - I turned to the tree, and began to climb. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I told you so!” croaked a voice in my ear. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVIII. I AM SILENCED - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Nettled at the coolness of the raven’s remark, - </p> - <p> - “You told me nothing!” I said. - </p> - <p> - “I told you to do nothing any one you distrusted asked you!” - </p> - <p> - “Tut! how was mortal to remember that?” - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - I took it, and was immediately beside him on the lawn, dripping and - streaming. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - He was again a raven, walking, with something stately in his step, toward - the house, the door of which stood open. - </p> - <p> - “I have not much to change!” I laughed; for I had flung aside my robe to - climb the tree. - </p> - <p> - “It is a long time since I moulted a feather!” said the raven. - </p> - <p> - In the house no one seemed awake. I went to my room, found a - dressing-gown, and descended to the library. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “What does it all mean?” I said. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I have made no use of anything yet!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “I did want to do something for the children—the precious Little - Ones, I mean.” - </p> - <p> - “I know you did—and started the wrong way!” - </p> - <p> - “I did not know the right way.” - </p> - <p> - “That is true also—but you are to blame that you did not.” - </p> - <p> - “I am ready to believe whatever you tell me—as soon as I understand - what it means.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean, sir, I could have done something for the Little Ones by - staying with them?” - </p> - <p> - “Could you teach them anything by leaving them?” - </p> - <p> - “No; but how could I teach them? I did not know how to begin. Besides, - they were far ahead of me!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “But surely I had no power to make them grow!” - </p> - <p> - “You might have removed some of the hindrances to their growing!” - </p> - <p> - “What are they? I do not know them. I did think perhaps it was the want of - water!” - </p> - <p> - “Of course it is! they have none to cry with!” - </p> - <p> - “I would gladly have kept them from requiring any for that purpose!” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “That never entered my mind!” - </p> - <p> - “Not when the sounds of the waters under the earth entered your ears?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “They had given you no reason to harbour such a fear!” - </p> - <p> - “Is not a little knowledge a dangerous thing?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “At least it was for love of them, not from cowardice that I served the - giants!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIX. THE PERSIAN CAT - </h2> - <p> - I sat in silence and shame. What he said was true: I had not been a wise - neighbour to the Little Ones! - </p> - <p> - Mr. Raven resumed: - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I did not know they were cowards!” - </p> - <p> - “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,——” - </p> - <p> - “I hate her!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Did you let her know you hated her?” - </p> - <p> - Again I was silent. - </p> - <p> - “Not even to her have you been faithful!—But hush! we were followed - from the fountain, I fear!” - </p> - <p> - “No living creature did I see!—except a disreputable-looking cat - that bolted into the shrubbery.” - </p> - <p> - “It was a magnificent Persian—so wet and draggled, though, as to - look what she was—worse than disreputable!” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “Where was the other half of it?” I gasped. - </p> - <p> - “Sticking through into my library,” he answered. - </p> - <p> - I held my peace. A single question more would have been a plunge into a - bottomless sea, and there might be no time! - </p> - <p> - “Listen,” he said: “I am going to read a stanza or two. There is one - present who, I imagine, will hardly enjoy the reading!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “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!” - </pre> - <p> - He turned a leaf and read again:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “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.” - </pre> - <p> - Again he paused, again turned a leaf, and again began:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “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!” - </pre> - <p> - A strange, repulsive feline wail arose somewhere in the room. I started up - on my elbow and stared about me, but could see nothing. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Raven turned several leaves, and went on:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “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.” - </pre> - <p> - 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:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “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.” - </pre> - <p> - Once more arose the bestial wail. - </p> - <p> - “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:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “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——” - </pre> - <p> - 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:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “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!” - </pre> - <p> - 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:— - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Then God gave me another wife—not an angel but a woman—who is - to this as light is to darkness.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - The leopardess reared; the flickering and fleeing of her spots began; the - princess at length stood radiant in her perfect shape. - </p> - <p> - “I AM beautiful—and immortal!” she said—and she looked the - goddess she would be. - </p> - <p> - “As a bush that burns, and is consumed,” answered he who had been her - husband. “—What is that under thy right hand?” - </p> - <p> - For her arm lay across her bosom, and her hand was pressed to her side. - </p> - <p> - A swift pang contorted her beautiful face, and passed. - </p> - <p> - “It is but a leopard-spot that lingers! it will quickly follow those I - have dismissed,” she answered. - </p> - <p> - “Thou art beautiful because God created thee, but thou art the slave of - sin: take thy hand from thy side.” - </p> - <p> - Her hand sank away, and as it dropt she looked him in the eyes with a - quailing fierceness that had in it no surrender. - </p> - <p> - He gazed a moment at the spot. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - She gave a glance downward, and shivered. - </p> - <p> - “Lilith,” said Adam, and his tone had changed to a tender beseeching, - “hear me, and repent, and He who made thee will cleanse thee!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - She rose, she stood upright, a woman once more, and said, - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “Down!” he cried; “or by the power given me I will melt thy very bones.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Then he returned to my side the old librarian, looking sad and worn, and - furtively wiping tears from his eyes. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXX. ADAM EXPLAINS - </h2> - <p> - “We must be on our guard,” he said, “or she will again outwit us. She - would befool the very elect!” - </p> - <p> - “How are we to be on our guard?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Let me go to the Little Ones!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Beware of that, Mr. Vane. Go to my wife, and do as she tells you.” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “The closet is no nearer our cottage, and no farther from it, than any or - every other place.” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Why did you whistle?” I asked. “Surely sound here is not sound there!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “I will at once!” I replied, and moved for the door. - </p> - <p> - “You will sleep to-night at my hostelry!” he said—not as a question, - but in a tone of mild authority. - </p> - <p> - “My heart is with the children,” I replied. “But if you insist——” - </p> - <p> - “I do insist. You can otherwise effect nothing.—I will go with you - as far as the mirror, and see you off.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Come; come!” he said. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “To think of her lying there alone,” I murmured, “—with that - terrible wound!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - I held my peace until a sound I did not understand overtook us. - </p> - <p> - “If she should break loose!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Make haste!” he rejoined. “I shall hurry down the moment you are gone, - and I have disarranged the mirrors.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I cast a look of dismay at my companion, and sprang through to follow her. - He came after me leisurely. - </p> - <p> - “You need not run,” he called; “you cannot overtake her. This is our way.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke he turned in the opposite direction. - </p> - <p> - “She has more magic at her finger-tips than I care to know!” he added - quietly. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Nor do I mean to break it. But surely sleep is not the first thing! - Surely, surely, action takes precedence of repose!” - </p> - <p> - “A man can do nothing he is not fit to do.—See! did I not tell you - Mara would do her part?” - </p> - <p> - I looked whither he pointed, and saw a white spot moving at an acute angle - with the line taken by the leopardess. - </p> - <p> - “There she is!” he cried. “The spotted leopardess is strong, but the white - is stronger!” - </p> - <p> - “I have seen them fight: the combat did not appear decisive as to that.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXI. THE SEXTON’S OLD HORSE - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - By and by the moon appeared, slow crossing the far horizon. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “That is well! be friends with him,” he said: “he will carry you all the - better to-morrow!—Now we must hurry home!” - </p> - <p> - My desire to ride the horse had grown passionate. - </p> - <p> - “May I not mount him at once, Mr. Raven?” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “By all means!” he answered. “Mount, and ride him home.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “He would outspeed any leopard in creation!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - I sat silent. The horse stood like a block of marble. - </p> - <p> - “Why do you linger?” asked the raven. - </p> - <p> - “I long so much to ride after the leopardess,” I answered, “that I can - scarce restrain myself!” - </p> - <p> - “You have promised!” - </p> - <p> - “My debt to the Little Ones appears, I confess, a greater thing than my - bond to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Yield to the temptation and you will bring mischief upon them—and - on yourself also.” - </p> - <p> - “What matters it for me? I love them; and love works no evil. I will go.” - </p> - <p> - But the truth was, I forgot the children, infatuate with the horse. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Vane,” he said, “do you not know why you have not yet done anything - worth doing?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I have been a fool,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “Wherein?” - </p> - <p> - “In everything.” - </p> - <p> - “Which do you count your most indiscreet action?” - </p> - <p> - “Bringing the princess to life: I ought to have left her to her just - fate.” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “I dead?” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he answered; “and you will be dead, so long as you refuse to die.” - </p> - <p> - “Back to the old riddling!” I returned scornfully. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I tell you once more you will do them other than good if you go - to-night,” he insisted. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Go, then, foolish boy!” he returned, with anger in his croak. “Take the - horse, and ride to failure! May it be to humility!” - </p> - <p> - He spread his wings and flew. Again I pressed the lean ribs under me. - </p> - <p> - “After the spotted leopardess!” I whispered in his ear. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXII. THE LOVERS AND THE BAGS - </h2> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I was waked by a kick, to find myself bound hand and foot, once more the - thrall of the giants! - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I woke: a sudden musical uproar greeted the opening of my eyes. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “We make a petisson to king,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “What is it, my darling?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Shut eyes one minute,” she answered. - </p> - <p> - “Certainly I will! Here goes!” I replied, and shut my eyes close. - </p> - <p> - “No, no! not fore I tell oo!” she cried. - </p> - <p> - I opened them again, and we talked and laughed together for quite another - hour. - </p> - <p> - “Close eyes!” she said suddenly. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - I told him I could not get up a tree without the sun to show me the way; - when he came, I would try. - </p> - <p> - “Kings seldom have wings!” I added. - </p> - <p> - “King! king!” cried one, “oo knows none of us hasn’t no wings—foolis - feddery tings! Arms and legs is better.” - </p> - <p> - “That is true. I can get up without wings—and carry straws in my - mouth too, to build my nest with!” - </p> - <p> - “Oo knows!” he answered, and went away sucking his thumb. - </p> - <p> - A moment after, I heard him calling out of his nest, a great way up a - walnut tree of enormous size, - </p> - <p> - “Up adain, king! Dood night! I seepy!” - </p> - <p> - And I heard no more of him till he woke me in the morning. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIII. LONA’S NARRATIVE - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “What are they doing?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Do the children then throw so well that the thing MIGHT happen?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIV. PREPARATION - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “They are what they are without it!” she said: “when we have the city, we - will search for water!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I never told her anything about her mother. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Would it not be better,” I said, “that you remained in the forest with - your baby and the smallest of the Little Ones?” - </p> - <p> - She answered that she greatly relied on the impression the sight of them - would make on the women, especially the mothers. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “YOU must not encumber yourself,” I said to Lona, “with any of the - children; you will be wanted everywhere!” - </p> - <p> - For there were two babies besides the woman’s, and even on horseback she - had almost always one in her arms. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “We can fight! we are ready!” cried the boys. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you can,” I returned, “and I know you will: mothers are worth - fighting for! Only mind, you must all keep together.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes; we’ll take care of each other,” they answered. “Nobody shall - touch one of us but his own mother!” - </p> - <p> - “You must mind, every one, to do immediately what your officers tell you!” - </p> - <p> - “We will, we will!—Now we’re quite ready! Let us go!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “That we will!” they cried with jubilant, fearless shout. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps you will be hurt!” - </p> - <p> - “We don’t mind that!—Do we, boys?” - </p> - <p> - “Not a bit!” - </p> - <p> - “Some of you may very possibly be killed!” I said. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t either! I don’t either!” came from all sides. - </p> - <p> - Then Lona, queen and mother and sister of them all, spoke from her big - horse by my side: - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Come along, boys!” cried a girl. “We’re going to our mothers!” - </p> - <p> - A pang went through my heart.—But I could not draw back; it would be - moral ruin to the Little Ones! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Chapter XXXV. THE LITTLE ONES IN BULIKA - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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”: - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Let us leave the horrible place,” said Lona; “there are no mothers here! - This people is not worth delivering.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - When we got back to the army, we found it as we had left it, standing in - order and ready. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVI. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER - </h2> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Mother! mother!” she cried, and her clear, lovely voice echoed in the - dome. - </p> - <p> - The princess shivered; her face grew almost black with hate, her eyebrows - met on her forehead. She rose to her feet, and stood. - </p> - <p> - “Mother! mother!” cried Lona again, as she leaped on the daïs, and flung - her arms around the princess. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Mother! mother!” she sighed, and her breathing ceased. - </p> - <p> - 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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVII. THE SHADOW - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Silly!” returned his companion. “That was a wild beast, with spots!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - The other took a step nearer; Odu drew him back with a sharp pull. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “That cannot be! they said she was beautiful!” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed it is the princess!” I interposed. “Wickedness has made her ugly!” - </p> - <p> - She heard, and what a look was hers! - </p> - <p> - “It was very wrong of me to run away!” said Odu thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - “What made you run away?” I asked. “I expected to find you where I left - you!” - </p> - <p> - He did not reply at once. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know what made me run,” answered another. “I was frightened!” - </p> - <p> - “It was a man that came down the hill from the palace,” said a third. - </p> - <p> - “How did he frighten you?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know.” - </p> - <p> - “He wasn’t a man,” said Odu; “he was a shadow; he had no thick to him!” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me more about him.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean by that?” - </p> - <p> - “He was all black through between us, and we could not see one another; - and then he was inside us.” - </p> - <p> - “How did you know he was inside you?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - He turned and hugged Sozo. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - Thus ended Odu, with a kick to each of his naughty legs. - </p> - <p> - “What became of the shadow?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “I do not know,” he answered. “I suppose he went home into the night where - there is no moon.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVIII. TO THE HOUSE OF BITTERNESS - </h2> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Please, king,” she whimpered, “suck finger. Bad giantess make hole in - it!” - </p> - <p> - I sucked the tiny finger. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I had one terrible night on the way—the third, passed in the desert - between the two branches of the dead river. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Down, devil!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Where are you taking me?” she asked, with the voice of a dull echo from a - sepulchre. - </p> - <p> - “To your first husband,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “He will kill me!” she moaned. - </p> - <p> - “At least he will take you off my hands!” - </p> - <p> - “Give me my daughter,” she suddenly screamed, grinding her teeth. - </p> - <p> - “Never! Your doom is upon you at last!” - </p> - <p> - “Loose my hands for pity’s sake!” she groaned. “I am in torture. The cords - are sunk in my flesh.” - </p> - <p> - “I dare not. Lie down!” I said. - </p> - <p> - She threw herself on the ground like a log. - </p> - <p> - The rest of the night passed in peace, and in the morning she again seemed - dead. - </p> - <p> - Before evening we came in sight of the House of Bitterness, and the next - moment one of the elephants came alongside of my horse. - </p> - <p> - “Please, king, you are not going to that place?” whispered the Little One - who rode on his neck. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed I am! We are going to stay the night there,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, please, don’t! That must be where the cat-woman lives!” - </p> - <p> - “If you had ever seen her, you would not call her by that name!” - </p> - <p> - “Nobody ever sees her: she has lost her face! Her head is back and side - all round.” - </p> - <p> - “She hides her face from dull, discontented people!—Who taught you - to call her the cat-woman?” - </p> - <p> - “I heard the bad giants call her so.” - </p> - <p> - “What did they say about her?” - </p> - <p> - “That she had claws to her toes.” - </p> - <p> - “It is not true. I know the lady. I spent a night at her house.” - </p> - <p> - “But she MAY have claws to her toes! You might see her feet, and her claws - be folded up inside their cushions!” - </p> - <p> - “Then perhaps you think that I have claws to my toes?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no; that can’t be! you are good!” - </p> - <p> - “The giants might have told you so!” I pursued. - </p> - <p> - “We shouldn’t believe them about you!” - </p> - <p> - “Are the giants good?” - </p> - <p> - “No; they love lying.” - </p> - <p> - “Then why do you believe them about her? I know the lady is good; she - cannot have claws.” - </p> - <p> - “Please how do you know she is good?” - </p> - <p> - “How do you know I am good?” - </p> - <p> - I rode on, while he waited for his companions, and told them what I had - said. - </p> - <p> - They hastened after me, and when they came up,— - </p> - <p> - “I would not take you to her house if I did not believe her good,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “We know you would not,” they answered. - </p> - <p> - “If I were to do something that frightened you—what would you say?” - </p> - <p> - “The beasts frightened us sometimes at first, but they never hurt us!” - answered one. - </p> - <p> - “That was before we knew them!” added another. - </p> - <p> - “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,——” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, you are not sure about it, king dear! You think she MAY hurt us!” - </p> - <p> - “I am sure she will never be unkind to you, even if she do hurt you!” - </p> - <p> - They were silent for a while. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “I am taking the princess to her,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Why?” - </p> - <p> - “Because she is her friend.” - </p> - <p> - “How can she be good then?” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Little Tumbledown is good! Luva is very good!” - </p> - <p> - “That is why they are her friends.” - </p> - <p> - “Will the cat-woman—I mean the woman that isn’t the cat-woman, and - has no claws to her toes—give her grapes?” - </p> - <p> - “She is more likely to give her scratches!” - </p> - <p> - “Why?—You say she is her friend!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - They were silent again. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Please, king,” said one, “I’m so afraid of being afraid!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “There she is—in the door waiting for us!” cried one, and put his - hands over his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “How ugly she is!” cried another, and did the same. - </p> - <p> - “You do not see her,” I said; “her face is covered!” - </p> - <p> - “She has no face!” they answered. - </p> - <p> - “She has a very beautiful face. I saw it once.—It is indeed as - beautiful as Lona’s!” I added with a sigh. - </p> - <p> - “Then what makes her hide it?” - </p> - <p> - “I think I know:—anyhow, she has some good reason for it!” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t like the cat-woman! she is frightful!” - </p> - <p> - “You cannot like, and you ought not to dislike what you have never seen.—Once - more, you must not call her the cat-woman!” - </p> - <p> - “What are we to call her then, please?” - </p> - <p> - “Lady Mara.” - </p> - <p> - “That is a pretty name!” said a girl; “I will call her ‘lady Mara’; then - perhaps she will show me her beautiful face!” - </p> - <p> - Mara, drest and muffled in white, was indeed standing in the doorway to - receive us. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - The pitiful-hearted Little Ones began to sob sorely. - </p> - <p> - “Will you hurt her very much, lady Mara?” said the girl I have just - mentioned, putting her warm little hand in mine. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “May I stop with her?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Will the shadow that came down the hill be with her?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Will you scratch her very deep?” asked Odu, going near, and putting his - hand in hers. “Please, don’t make the red juice come!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You must eat and drink before you go to sleep,” she said; “you have had a - long journey!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIX. THAT NIGHT - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Will you turn away from the wicked things you have been doing so long?” - said Mara gently. - </p> - <p> - The princess did not answer. Mara put the question again, in the same - soft, inviting tone. - </p> - <p> - Still there was no sign of hearing. She spoke the words a third time. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I will not,” she said. “I will be myself and not another!” - </p> - <p> - “Alas, you are another now, not yourself! Will you not be your real self?” - </p> - <p> - “I will be what I mean myself now.” - </p> - <p> - “If you were restored, would you not make what amends you could for the - misery you have caused?” - </p> - <p> - “I would do after my nature.” - </p> - <p> - “You do not know it: your nature is good, and you do evil!” - </p> - <p> - “I will do as my Self pleases—as my Self desires.” - </p> - <p> - “You will do as the Shadow, overshadowing your Self inclines you?” - </p> - <p> - “I will do what I will to do.” - </p> - <p> - “You have killed your daughter, Lilith!” - </p> - <p> - “I have killed thousands. She is my own!” - </p> - <p> - “She was never yours as you are another’s.” - </p> - <p> - “I am not another’s; I am my own, and my daughter is mine.” - </p> - <p> - “Then, alas, your hour is come!” - </p> - <p> - “I care not. I am what I am; no one can take from me myself!” - </p> - <p> - “You are not the Self you imagine.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “That light shall not enter me: I hate it!—Begone, slave!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “I am sorry: you must suffer!” - </p> - <p> - “But be free!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - She took her hand from the head of the princess, and went two backward - paces from her. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “She is seeing herself!” said Mara; and laying her hand on my arm, she - drew me three paces from the settle. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I would have thrown my arms about her, but Mara stopped me. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Will you change your way?” she said at length. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Unmake yourself, then,” said Mara. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - The words came in jets as from a dying fountain. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I will not be remade!” - </p> - <p> - “He will not change you; he will only restore you to what you were.” - </p> - <p> - “I will not be aught of his making.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you not willing to have that set right which you have set wrong?” - </p> - <p> - She lay silent; her suffering seemed abated. - </p> - <p> - “If you are willing, put yourself again on the settle.” - </p> - <p> - “I will not,” she answered, forcing the words through her clenched teeth. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - She ceased, and again came the horror in her hair, the sparkling and - flowing alternate. I sent a beseeching look to Mara. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - She went nearer and said, - </p> - <p> - “Will you restore that which you have wrongfully taken?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - Mara left her. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “For pity’s sake,” she shrieked, “tear my heart out, but let me live!” - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - The rest of the night she lay motionless altogether. - </p> - <p> - 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.” - </p> - <p> - Mara saw that her submission was not feigned, neither was it real. She - looked at her a moment, and returned: - </p> - <p> - “Begin, then, and set right in the place of wrong.” - </p> - <p> - “I know not how,” she replied—with the look of one who foresaw and - feared the answer. - </p> - <p> - “Open thy hand, and let that which is in it go.” - </p> - <p> - A fierce refusal seemed to struggle for passage, but she kept it prisoned. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot,” she said. “I have no longer the power. Open it for me.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Mara did not even look at it. - </p> - <p> - “You must open it yourself,” she said quietly. - </p> - <p> - “I have told you I cannot!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “You think so, I dare say,” rejoined the princess with a flash of - insolence, “but I KNOW that I cannot open my hand!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I will not try what I know impossible. It would be the part of a fool!” - </p> - <p> - “Which you have been playing all your life! Oh, you are hard to teach!” - </p> - <p> - 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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - But with God all things are possible: He can save even the rich! - </p> - <p> - Without change of look, without sign of purpose, Lilith walked toward - Mara. She felt her coming, and rose to meet her. - </p> - <p> - “I yield,” said the princess. “I cannot hold out. I am defeated.—Not - the less, I cannot open my hand.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you tried?” - </p> - <p> - “I am trying now with all my might.” - </p> - <p> - “I will take you to my father. You have wronged him worst of the created, - therefore he best of the created can help you.” - </p> - <p> - “How can HE help me?” - </p> - <p> - “He will forgive you.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Lilith lay and wept. The Lady of Sorrow went to the door and opened it. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XL. THE HOUSE OF DEATH - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “The sky is falling!” said one. - </p> - <p> - “The white juice is running out of the princess!” cried another, with an - awed look. - </p> - <p> - “Is it rivers?” asked Odu, gazing at the little streams that flowed adown - her hollow cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” answered Mara, “—the most wonderful of all rivers.” - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “That will be the glad of the ground that the princess is grown good,” - said Odu. “See the glad of the sky!” - </p> - <p> - “Are the rivers the glad of the princess?” asked Luva. “They are not her - juice, for they are not red!” - </p> - <p> - “They are the juice inside the juice,” answered Mara. - </p> - <p> - Odu put one finger to his eye, looked at it, and shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “Princess will not bite now!” said Luva. - </p> - <p> - “No; she will never do that again,” replied Mara. “—But now we must - take her nearer home.” - </p> - <p> - “Is that a nest?” asked Sozo. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; a very big nest. But we must take her to another place first.” - </p> - <p> - “What is that?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Please are there any cats in it?” - </p> - <p> - “Not one. The nests are too full of lovely dreams for one cat to get in.” - </p> - <p> - “We shall be ready in a minute,” said Odu, and ran out, followed by all - except Luva. - </p> - <p> - Lilith was now awake, and listening with a sad smile. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “They won’t mind it,” answered Mara. “Those rivers are so clean that they - make the whole world clean.” - </p> - <p> - I had fallen asleep by the fire, but for some time had been awake and - listening, and now rose. - </p> - <p> - “It is time to mount, Mr. Vane,” said our hostess. - </p> - <p> - “Tell me, please,” I said, “is there not a way by which to avoid the - channels and the den of monsters?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I fear for the children,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Fear will not once come nigh them,” she rejoined. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Why does the princess want to go?” asked a small boy. “She would keep - good if she staid here!” - </p> - <p> - “She wants to go, and she does not want to go: we are helping her,” - answered Mara. “She will not keep good here.” - </p> - <p> - “What are you helping her to do?” he went on. - </p> - <p> - “To go where she will get more help—help to open her hand, which has - been closed for a thousand years.” - </p> - <p> - “So long? Then she has learned to do without it: why should she open it - now?” - </p> - <p> - “Because it is shut upon something that is not hers.” - </p> - <p> - “Please, lady Mara, may we have some of your very dry bread before we go?” - said Luva. - </p> - <p> - Mara smiled, and brought them four loaves and a great jug of water. - </p> - <p> - “We will eat as we go,” they said. But they drank the water with delight. - </p> - <p> - “I think,” remarked one of them, “it must be elephant-juice! It makes me - so strong!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I have no burden to carry,” she said. “The children and I will walk - together.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Little Ones,” I cried, “keep your elephants close about the princess. Be - brave; they will not touch you.” - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - “Never mind then,” I returned; “only keep close.” - </p> - <p> - They were panoplied in their blindness! Incapacity to see was their - safety. What they could nowise be aware of, could not hurt them. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I fear she is dead!” said Mara. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall miss her sorely; she is good and wise. Yet I would not have her - live beyond her hour!” - </p> - <p> - “She has gone down with the wicked; she will rise with the righteous. We - shall see her again ere very long.” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “We have long waited for thee, Lilith!” he said. - </p> - <p> - She returned him no answer. - </p> - <p> - Eve and her daughter came to the door. - </p> - <p> - “The mortal foe of my children!” murmured Eve, standing radiant in her - beauty. - </p> - <p> - “Your children are no longer in her danger,” said Mara; “she has turned - from evil.” - </p> - <p> - “Trust her not hastily, Mara,” answered her mother; “she has deceived a - multitude!” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “I do not know Him!” murmured Lilith, in a voice of fear and doubt. - </p> - <p> - “Therefore it is that thou art miserable,” said Adam. - </p> - <p> - “I will go back whence I came!” she cried, and turned, wringing her hands, - to depart. - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “I cried out for Death—to escape Him and thee!” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - She stood silent with bowed head. - </p> - <p> - “Father,” said Mara, “take her in thine arms, and carry her to her couch. - There she will open her hand, and die into life.” - </p> - <p> - “I will walk,” said the princess. - </p> - <p> - Adam turned and led the way. The princess walked feebly after him into the - cottage. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Eve came from the chamber of death, where she had laid Lona down, and - offered of the bread and wine to the princess. - </p> - <p> - “Thy beauty slays me! It is death I would have, not food!” said Lilith, - and turned from her. - </p> - <p> - “This food will help thee to die,” answered Eve. - </p> - <p> - But Lilith would not taste of it. - </p> - <p> - “If thou wilt nor eat nor drink, Lilith,” said Adam, “come and see the - place where thou shalt lie in peace.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - A wild blast fell roaring on the roof, and died away in a moan. She stood - ghastly with terror. - </p> - <p> - “It is he!” said her voiceless lips: I read their motion. - </p> - <p> - “Who, princess!” I whispered. - </p> - <p> - “The great Shadow,” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - “Here he cannot enter,” said Adam. “Here he can hurt no one. Over him also - is power given me.” - </p> - <p> - “Are the children in the house?” asked Lilith, and at the word the heart - of Eve began to love her. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Wife,” said Adam, “let us first put the children to bed, that she may see - them safe!” - </p> - <p> - He came back to fetch them. As soon as he was gone, the princess knelt to - Eve, clasped her knees, and said, - </p> - <p> - “Beautiful Eve, persuade your husband to kill me: to you he will listen! - Indeed I would but cannot open my hand.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - She did not, could not understand! - </p> - <p> - She struggled to rise, but fell at the feet of Eve. The Mother lifted, and - carried her inward. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You shall not go to the Shadow,” I heard Eve say, as we passed them. - “Even now is his head under my heel!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “What a curious place to sleep in!” said one, “I would rather be in my - nest!” “It is SO cold!” said another. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it is cold,” answered our host; “but you will not be cold in your - sleep.” - </p> - <p> - “Where are our nests?” asked more than one, looking round and seeing no - couch unoccupied. - </p> - <p> - “Find places, and sleep where you choose,” replied Adam. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” cried one, “here is such a beautiful lady!—may I sleep beside - her? I will creep in quietly, and not wake her.” - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - We went a little farther, and there was another who had climbed up on the - couch of a woman. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - We came to a third Little One; it was Luva. She stood on tiptoe, leaning - over the edge of a couch. - </p> - <p> - “My own mother wouldn’t have me,” she said softly: “will you?” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - Eve set Lilith down beside it. Adam pointed to the vacant couch on Lona’s - right hand, and said, - </p> - <p> - “There, Lilith, is the bed I have prepared for you!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You will soon begin to find comfort in the cold,” answered Adam. - </p> - <p> - “Promises to the dying are easy!” she said. - </p> - <p> - “But I know it: I too have slept. I am dead!” - </p> - <p> - “I believed you dead long ago; but I see you alive!” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “I fear that child,” she said, pointing to Lona: “she will rise and - terrify me!” - </p> - <p> - “She is dreaming love to you.” - </p> - <p> - “But the Shadow!” she moaned; “I fear the Shadow! he will be wroth with - me!” - </p> - <p> - “He at sight of whom the horses of heaven start and rear, dares not - disturb one dream in this quiet chamber!” - </p> - <p> - “I shall dream then?” - </p> - <p> - “You will dream.” - </p> - <p> - “What dreams?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “How long shall I sleep?” - </p> - <p> - “You and he will be the last to wake in the morning of the universe.” - </p> - <p> - The princess lay down, drew the sheet over her, stretched herself out - straight, and lay still with open eyes. - </p> - <p> - Adam turned to his daughter. She drew near. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot,” she answered. “I would if I could, and gladly, for I am weary, - and the shadows of death are gathering about me.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I am trying hard, but the fingers have grown together and into the palm.” - </p> - <p> - “I pray you put forth the strength of your will. For the love of life, - draw together your forces and break its bonds!” - </p> - <p> - “I have struggled in vain; I can do no more. I am very weary, and sleep - lies heavy upon my lids.” - </p> - <p> - “The moment you open your hand, you will sleep. Open it, and make an end.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Hold, Mara!” cried her father. “There is danger!” - </p> - <p> - The princess turned her eyes upon Eve, beseechingly. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “I have the sword,” said Adam. “The angel gave it me when he left the - gate.” - </p> - <p> - “Bring it, Adam,” pleaded Lilith, “and cut me off this hand that I may - sleep.” - </p> - <p> - “I will,” he answered. - </p> - <p> - He gave the candle to Eve, and went. The princess closed her eyes. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Will you not dress the wound?” I said. - </p> - <p> - “A wound from that sword,” answered Adam, “needs no dressing. It is - healing and not hurt.” - </p> - <p> - “Poor lady!” I said, “she will wake with but one hand!” - </p> - <p> - “Where the dead deformity clung,” replied Mara, “the true, lovely hand is - already growing.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Poor princess!” said another; “I will sleep with her. She will not bite - any more!” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke he climbed into her bed, and was immediately fast asleep. Eve - covered him with the sheet. - </p> - <p> - “I will go on her other side,” said the third. “She shall have two to kiss - her when she wakes!” - </p> - <p> - “And I am left alone!” said the first mournfully. - </p> - <p> - “I will put you to bed,” said Eve. - </p> - <p> - She gave the candle to her husband, and led the child away. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, you have found her!” we heard Eve say as we stepped into the cottage. - </p> - <p> - The door stood open; two elephant-trunks came through it out of the night - beyond. - </p> - <p> - “I sent them with the lantern,” she went on to her husband, “to look for - Mara’s leopardess: they have brought her.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLI. I AM SENT - </h2> - <h3> - Then I turned and said to Eve, - </h3> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “The couch next to Lona is the one already prepared for you,” she - answered; “but something waits to be done ere you sleep.” - </p> - <p> - “I am ready,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “How do you know you can do it?” she asked with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Because you require it,” I answered. “What is it?” - </p> - <p> - She turned to Adam: - </p> - <p> - “Is he forgiven, husband?” - </p> - <p> - “From my heart.” - </p> - <p> - “Then tell him what he has to do.” - </p> - <p> - Adam turned to his daughter. - </p> - <p> - “Give me that hand, Mara, my child.” - </p> - <p> - She held it out to him in her lap. He took it tenderly. - </p> - <p> - “Let us go to the cottage,” he said to me; “there I will instruct you.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - When the door of the death-chamber was closed behind us, Adam seated - himself, and I stood before him. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - He gave me the hand, and brought me a spade. - </p> - <p> - “This is my gardening spade,” he said; “with it I have brought many a - lovely thing to the sun.” - </p> - <p> - I took it, and went out into the night. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Have you forgotten me already?” said the princess—or what seemed - she. - </p> - <p> - I neither hesitated nor answered; I walked straight on. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - I was on the point of saying, “Give me your left hand,” but bethought - myself, held my peace, and steadily advanced. - </p> - <p> - “Give me my hand,” she suddenly shrieked, “or I will tear you in pieces: - you are mine!” - </p> - <p> - She flung herself upon me. I shuddered, but did not falter. Nothing - touched me, and I saw her no more. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLII. I SLEEP THE SLEEP - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - A little farther, I came where sat a grayheaded man on the sand, weeping. - </p> - <p> - “What ails you, sir?” I asked. “Are you forsaken?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir,” I replied, “that I cannot; for she refuses none whom it is - lawful for her to receive.” - </p> - <p> - “How know you this of her? You have never sought death! you are much too - young to desire it!” - </p> - <p> - “I fear your words may indicate that, were you young again, neither would - you desire it.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, young sir, I would not! and certain I am that you cannot.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “It ill becomes your youth to mock a friendless old man. Pray, cease your - riddles!” - </p> - <p> - “Did not then the Mother tell you something of the same sort?” - </p> - <p> - “In truth I believe she did; but I gave little heed to her excuses.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - He fell to weeping afresh, and I left him weeping. What I said, I fear he - did not heed. But Mara would find him! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - The door stood open, and the cottage lay empty. I sat down disconsolate. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - The door began to move—with a low, soft creaking of its hinges. It - was opening! I ceased to listen, and stared expectant. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, my darling!” I cried. “Had I but known!—I thought you were - dead!” - </p> - <p> - She lay on my bosom—cold as ice frozen to marble. She threw her - arms, so white, feebly about me, and sighed— - </p> - <p> - “Carry me back to my bed, king. I want to sleep.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - She was already asleep. I threw myself on my couch—blessed as never - was man on the eve of his wedding. - </p> - <p> - “Come, sweet cold,” I said, “and still my heart speedily.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “My child could not sleep,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “She is fast asleep!” he rejoined. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, now!” I said; “but she was awake when I laid her down.” - </p> - <p> - “She was asleep all the time!” he insisted. “She was perhaps dreaming - about you—and came to you?” - </p> - <p> - “She did.” - </p> - <p> - “And did you not see that her eyes were closed?” - </p> - <p> - “Now I think of it, I did.” - </p> - <p> - “If you had looked ere you laid her down, you would have seen her asleep - on the couch.” - </p> - <p> - “That would have been terrible!” - </p> - <p> - “You would only have found that she was no longer in your arms.” - </p> - <p> - “That would have been worse!” - </p> - <p> - “It is, perhaps, to think of; but to see it would not have troubled you.” - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “Your hour is not quite come. You must have food ere you sleep.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I ought not to have lain down without your leave, for I cannot sleep - without your help! I will get up at once!” - </p> - <p> - But I found my own weight more than I could move. - </p> - <p> - “There is no need: we will serve you here,” he answered. “—You do - not feel cold, do you?” - </p> - <p> - “Not too cold to lie still, but perhaps too cold to eat!” - </p> - <p> - He came to the side of my couch, bent over me, and breathed on my heart. - At once I was warm. - </p> - <p> - 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:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “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!” - </pre> - <p> - and I thought I had heard the song before. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “You are good indeed, father Adam, mother Eve, sister Mara,” I said, “to - receive me! In my soul I am ashamed and sorry!” - </p> - <p> - “We knew you would come again!” answered Eve. - </p> - <p> - “How could you know it?” I returned. - </p> - <p> - “Because here was I, born to look after my brothers and sisters!” answered - Mara with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Every creature must one night yield himself and lie down,” answered Adam: - “he was made for liberty, and must not be left a slave!” - </p> - <p> - “It will be late, I fear, ere all have lain down!” I said. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “To our eyes,” said Eve, “you were coming all the time: we knew Mara would - find you, and you must come!” - </p> - <p> - “How long is it since my father lay down?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “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,——” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, then, it IS my mother!” I exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “Yes—she with the wounded hand,” he assented; “—she will be up - and away long ere your morning is ripe.” - </p> - <p> - “I am sorry.” - </p> - <p> - “Rather be glad.” - </p> - <p> - “It must be a sight for God Himself to see such a woman come awake!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - He let the rays of his candle fall on her beautiful face. - </p> - <p> - “She looks much younger!” I said. - </p> - <p> - “She IS much younger,” he replied. “Even Lilith already begins to look - younger!” - </p> - <p> - I lay down, blissfully drowsy. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLIII. THE DREAMS THAT CAME - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - The cottage was empty. I ran out into the night. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “Alas! when I but dream how am I to know it? The dream best dreamed is the - likest to the waking truth!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “But, sir,” I faltered, “how am I to distinguish betwixt the true and the - false where both alike seem real?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - I put forth my hand: it closed on the hand of Lona, firm and soft and - deathless. - </p> - <p> - “But, father,” I cried, “she is warm!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - Then my heart was glad. But immediately supervened a sharp-stinging doubt. - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “I think I see, father,” I said; “I think I understand.” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - I crept to my chamber, threw myself on my bed, and passed a dreamless - night. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I went back to the library. There the books were hateful to me—for I - had once loved them. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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!’” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLIV. THE WAKING - </h2> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I woke first!” she said, with a wondering smile. - </p> - <p> - “You did, my love, and woke me!” - </p> - <p> - “I only looked at you and waited,” she answered. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “I hope you have had a pleasant darkness!” said the Mother. - </p> - <p> - “Not very,” I answered, “but the waking from it is heavenly.” - </p> - <p> - “It is but begun,” she rejoined; “you are hardly yet awake!” - </p> - <p> - “He is at least clothed-upon with Death, which is the radiant garment of - Life,” said Adam. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “I think we shall meet you two again before long,” he said, looking first - at Lona, then at me. - </p> - <p> - “Have we to die again?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “But shall I not grow weary with living so strong?” I said. “What if I - cease to live with all my might?” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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.” - </p> - <p> - Mara kissed me on the forehead, and said, gayly, - </p> - <p> - “I told you, brother, all would be well!—When next you would - comfort, say, ‘What will be well, is even now well.’” - </p> - <p> - She gave a little sigh, and I thought it meant, “But they will not believe - you!” - </p> - <p> - “—You know me now!” she ended, with a smile like her mother’s. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “All the night long the morning is at hand,” said Adam. - </p> - <p> - “What is that flapping of wings I hear?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “The Shadow is hovering,” replied Adam: “there is one here whom he counts - his own! But ours once, never more can she be his!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “What is it, my heart?” said Lona. - </p> - <p> - “Their empty places frightened me,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “They are up and away long ago,” said Adam. “They kissed you ere they - went, and whispered, ‘Come soon.’” - </p> - <p> - “And I neither to feel nor hear them!” I murmured. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “That kiss will draw her homeward, my Lona!” said Adam. - </p> - <p> - “Who were her parents?” asked Lona. - </p> - <p> - “My father,” answered Adam, “is her father also.” - </p> - <p> - She turned and laid her hand in mine. - </p> - <p> - I kneeled and humbly thanked the three for helping me to die. Lona knelt - beside me, and they all breathed upon us. - </p> - <p> - “Hark! I hear the sun,” said Adam. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - A wind began to moan in pulsing gusts. - </p> - <p> - “You hear his wings now!” said Adam; and I knew he did not mean the wings - of the morning. - </p> - <p> - “It is the great Shadow stirring to depart,” he went on. “Wretched - creature, he has himself within him, and cannot rest!” - </p> - <p> - “But is there not in him something deeper yet?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Without a substance,” he answered, “a shadow cannot be—yea, or - without a light behind the substance!” - </p> - <p> - 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.” - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - Then I heard a great flapping. - </p> - <p> - “The black bat is flown!” said Mara. - </p> - <p> - “Amen, golden cock, bird of God!” cried Adam, and the words rang through - the house of silence, and went up into the airy regions. - </p> - <p> - 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, - </p> - <p> - “Crow! crow again, golden cock!”—as if they had both seen and heard - him in their dreams. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Wake up, wake up, darling!” he cried; “it is time to wake!” - </p> - <p> - The leopardess did not move. - </p> - <p> - “She has slept herself cold!” he said to Mara, with an upcast look of - appealing consternation. - </p> - <p> - “She is waiting for the princess to wake, my child,” said Mara. - </p> - <p> - Odu looked at the princess, and saw beside her, still asleep, two of his - companions. He flew at them. - </p> - <p> - “Wake up! wake up!” he cried, and pushed and pulled, now this one, now - that. - </p> - <p> - But soon he began to look troubled, and turned to me with misty eyes. - </p> - <p> - “They will not wake!” he said. “And why are they so cold?” - </p> - <p> - “They too are waiting for the princess,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - He stretched across, and laid his hand on her face. - </p> - <p> - “She is cold too! What is it?” he cried—and looked round in - wondering dismay. - </p> - <p> - Adam went to him. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - “And remember?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—but not too much at once though.” - </p> - <p> - “But the golden cock has crown!” argued the child, and fell again upon his - companions. - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - But Peter would not wake, neither would Crispy, and Odu wept outright at - last. - </p> - <p> - “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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLV. THE JOURNEY HOME - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - So much was ours ere ever the first sun rose upon our freedom: what must - not the eternal day bring with it! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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? - </p> - <p> - It was a glorious resurrection-morning. The night had been spent in - preparing it! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLVI. THE CITY - </h2> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “It may be a city,” they said, “but it is not at all like Bulika.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “Did you see?” - </p> - <p> - “I saw.” - </p> - <p> - “What did you see?” - </p> - <p> - “The beautifullest man.” - </p> - <p> - “I heard him speak!” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t: what did he say?” - </p> - <p> - Here answered the smallest and most childish of the voices—that of - Luva:— - </p> - <p> - “He said, ‘’Ou’s all mine’s, ‘ickle ones: come along!’” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - A third flash came; its substance and radiance were human. - </p> - <p> - “I see my mother!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “I see lots o’ mothers!” said Luva. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - “I see that serpents grow birds here, as caterpillars used to grow - butterflies!” remarked Lona. - </p> - <p> - “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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - “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!” - </p> - <p> - Seeing the horse and the elephants clambering up behind us— - </p> - <p> - “Take those animals to the royal stables,” he added; “there tend them; - then turn them into the king’s forest.” - </p> - <p> - “Welcome home!” he said to us, bending low with the sweetest smile. - </p> - <p> - Immediately he turned and led the way higher. The scales of his armour - flashed like flakes of lightning. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - The great angel could guide us no farther: those rocks we must ascend - alone! - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLVII. THE “ENDLESS ENDING” - </h2> - <p> - As yet I have not found Lona, but Mara is much with me. She has taught me - many things, and is teaching me more. - </p> - <p> - 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! - </p> - <p> - In moments of doubt I cry, - </p> - <p> - “Could God Himself create such lovely things as I dreamed?” - </p> - <p> - “Whence then came thy dream?” answers Hope. - </p> - <p> - “Out of my dark self, into the light of my consciousness.” - </p> - <p> - “But whence first into thy dark self?” rejoins Hope. - </p> - <p> - “My brain was its mother, and the fever in my blood its father.” - </p> - <p> - “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?” - </p> - <p> - Man dreams and desires; God broods and wills and quickens. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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.” - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - 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. - </p> - <p> - I wait; asleep or awake, I wait. - </p> - <p> - Novalis says, “Our life is no dream, but it should and will perhaps become - one.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - *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. -</pre> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lilith, by George MacDonald - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LILITH *** - -***** This file should be named 1640-h.htm or 1640-h.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, and David Widger - -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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If you - don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are - payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon - University" within the 60 days following each - date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) - your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. - -WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? -The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, -scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty -free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution -you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg -Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". - -*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* - - - - - -Lilith was first published in 1895 -This etext was compiled and prepared by John Bechard, an American -living in London, England (JaBBechard@aol.com) - - - - - -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 be 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 he 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; be 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 doorness 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. - -"Sut 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 Etext of Lilith, George MacDonald - diff --git a/old/lilth10.zip b/old/lilth10.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c6eb139..0000000 --- a/old/lilth10.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/lilth11.txt b/old/lilth11.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 08a4ef5..0000000 --- a/old/lilth11.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11539 +0,0 @@ -***The Project Gutenberg Etext of Lilith, by George MacDonald*** -#5 in our series by George MacDonald - - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check -the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! - -Please take a look at the important information in this header. -We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an -electronic path open for the next readers. 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If you - don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are - payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon - University" within the 60 days following each - date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) - your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. - -WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? -The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, -scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty -free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution -you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg -Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". - -*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* - - - - - -Lilith was first published in 1895 -This etext was compiled and prepared by John Bechard, an American -living in London, England (JaBBechard@aol.com) - - - - - -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 he 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; be 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 doorness 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. - -"Sut 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 Etext of Lilith, George MacDonald - diff --git a/old/lilth11.zip b/old/lilth11.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 63f4ad6..0000000 --- a/old/lilth11.zip +++ /dev/null |