Books: Ardath

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"The divine Hyspiros!" he exclaimed pointing to it in a sort of
ecstasy--"The Master from whom it may be I have caught the perfect
entrancement of my own verse-melody! His fame, as thou knowest, is
unrivalled and universal--yet--canst thou believe it! ... there
has been of late an ass found in Al-Kyris who hath chosen him as a
subject for his braying--and other asses join in the uneuphonius
chorus. The marvellous Plays of Hyspiros! ... the grandest
tragedies, the airiest comedies, the tenderest fantasies, ever
created by human brain, have been called in question by these
thistle-eating animals!--and one most untractable mule-head hath
made pretence to discover therein a passage of secret writing
which shall, so the fool thinks, prove that Hyspiros was not the
author of his own works, but only a literary cheat, and forger of
another and lesser man's inspiration! By the gods!--one's sides
would split with laughter at the silly brute, were he not
altogether too contemptible to provoke even derision! Hyspiros a
traitor to the art he served and glorified? ... Hyspiros a
literary juggler and trickster? ... By the Serpent's Head! they
may as well seek to prove the fiery Sun in Heaven a common oil-
lamp, as strive to lessen by one iota the transcendent glory of
the noblest poet the centuries have ever seen!"

Warmed by enthusiasm, with his eyes flashing and the impetuous
words coursing from his lips, his head thrown back, his hand
uplifted, Sah-luma looked magnificent,--and Theos, to whose misty
brain the names of Oruzel and Hyspiros carried no positively
distinct meaning, was nevertheless struck by a certain
suggestiveness in his remarks that seemed to bear on some
discussion in the literary world that had taken place quite
recently. He was puzzled and tried to fix the precise point round
which his thoughts strayed so hesitatingly, but he could arrive at
no definite conclusion. The brilliant, meteor-like Sah-luma
meantime flashed hither and thither about the room, selecting
certain volumes from his loaded book-stands, and bringing them in
a pile, he set them on a small table by his visitor's side.

"These are some of the earliest editions of the plays of
Hyspiros"--he went on, talking in that rapid, fluent way of his
that was as musical as a bird's song--"They are rare and curious.
See you!--the names of the scribes and the dates of issue are all
distinct. Ah!--the treasures of poetry enshrined within these
pages! ... was ever papyrus so gemmed with pearls of thought and
wisdom?--If there were a next world, my friend,"--and here he
placed his hand familiarly on his guest's shoulder, while the
bright, steel-gray under-gleam sparkled in his splendid eyes--
"'twould be worth dwelling in for the sake of Hyspiros,--as grand
a god as any of the Thunderers in the empyrean!"

"Surely there is a next world"--murmured Theos, scarcely knowing
what he said--"A world where thou and I, Sah-luma, and all the
masters and servants of song shall meet and hold high festival!"

Sah-luma laughed again, a little sadly this time, and shrugged his
shoulders.

"Believe it not!" he said, and there was a touch of melancholy in
his rich voice--"We are midges in a sunbeam,--emmets on a sand-
hill...no more! Is there a next world, thinkest thou, for the bees
who die of surfeit in the nilica-cups?--for the whirling drift of
brilliant butterflies that sleepily float with the wind unknowing
whither, till met by the icy blast of the north, they fall like
broken and colorless leaves in the dust of the high-road? Is there
a next world for this?"--and he took from a tall vase near at hand
a delicate flower, lily-shaped and deliciously odorous, . . "The
expression of its soul or mind is in its fragrance,--even as the
expression of ours finds vent in thought and aspiration,--have we
more right to live again than this most innocently fair blossom,
unsmirched by deeds of evil? Nay!--I would more easily believe in
a heaven for birds and flowers, than for women and men!"

A shadow of pain darkened his handsome face as he spoke, . . and
Theos, gazing full at him, became suddenly filled with pity and
anxiety,--he passionately longed to assure him that there was in
very truth a future higher and happier existence,--he, Theos,
would vouch for the fact! But how? ... and why? ... What could he
say? ... what could he prove? ...

His throat ached,--his eyeballs burned, he was, as it were,
forbidden to speak, notwithstanding the yearning desire he felt to
impart to the soul of his new-found friend something of that
indescribable sense of EVERLASTINGNESS which he himself was now
conscious of, even as one set free of prison is conscious of
liberty. Mute, and with a feeling as of hot, unshed tears welling
up from his very heart, he turned over the volumes of Hyspiros
almost mechanically,--they were formed of sheets of papyrus
artistically bound in loose leather coverings and tied together
with gold-colored ribbon.

The Kyrisian language was, as has been before stated, perfectly
familiar to him, though he could not tell how he had acquired the
knowledge of it,--and he was able to see at a glance that Sah-luma
had good cause to be enthusiastic in his praise of the author
whose genius he so fervently admired. There was a ringing richness
in the rush of the verse,--a wealth of simile combined with a
simplicity and directness of utterance that charmed the ear while
influencing the mind, and he was beginning to read in sotto-voce
the opening lines of a spirited battle-challenge running thus:

"I tell thee, O thou pride enthroned King
That from these peaceful fields, these harvest lands,
Strange crops shall spring, not sown by thee or thine!
Arm'd millions, bristling weapons, helmed men
Dreadfully plum'd and eager for the fray,
Steel crested myrmidons, toss'd spears, wild steeds,
Uplifted flags and pennons, horrid swords,
Death gleaming eyes, stern hands to grasp and tear
Life from beseeching life, till all the heavens
Strike havoc to the terror-trembling stars"...

when the two small, black pages lately dispatched in such haste by
Sah-luma returned, each one bearing a huge gilded bowl filled with
rose water, together with fine cloths, lace-fringed, and soft as
satin.

Kneeling humbly down, one before Theos, the other before Sah-luma,
they lifted these great, shining bowls on their heads, and
remained motionless. Sah-luma dipped his face and hands in the
cool, fragrant fluid,--Theos followed his example,--and when these
light ablutions were completed, the pages disappeared, coming back
almost immediately with baskets of loose rose-leaves, white and
red, which they scattered profusely about the room. A delightful
odor subtly sweet, and yet not faint, began to freshen the already
perfumed air,--and Sah-luma, flinging himself again on his couch,
motioned Theos to take a similar resting-place opposite.

He at once obeyed, yielding anew to the sense of indolent luxury
and voluptuous ease his surroundings engendered,--and presently
the aroma of rising incense mingled itself with the scent of the
strewn rose-petals,--the pages had replenished the incense-burner,
and now, these duties done so far, they brought each a broad, long
stalked palm-leaf, and placing themselves in proper position,
began to fan the two young men slowly and with measured
gentleness, standing as mute as little black statues, the only
movement about them being the occasional rolling of their white
eyeballs and the swaying to and fro of their shiny arms as they
wielded the graceful, bending leaves.

"This is the way a poet should ever live!" murmured Theos,
glancing up from the soft cushions among which he reclined, to
Sah-luma, who lay with his eyes half-closed and a musing smile on
his beautiful mouth--"Self centered in a circle of beauty,--with
naught but fair suggestions and sweet thoughts to break the charm
of solitude. A kingdom of happy fancies should be his, with gates
shut last against unwelcome intruders,--gates that should never
open save to the conquering touch of woman's kiss! ... for the
master-key of love must unlock all doors, even the doors of a
minstrel's dreaming!"

"Thinkest thou so?" said Sah-luma lazily, turning his dark,
delicate head slightly round on his glistening, pale-rose satin
pillow--"Nay, of a truth there are times when I could bar out
women from my thoughts as mere disturbers of the translucent
element of poesy in which my spirit bathes. There is fatigue in
love, . . whose pretty human butterflies too oft weary the flower
whose honey they seek to drain. Nevertheless the passion of love
hath a certain tingling pleasure in it, . . I yield to it when it
touches me, even as I yield to all other pleasant things,--but
there are some who unwisely carry desire too far, and make of love
a misery instead of a pastime. Many will die for love,--fools are
they all! To die for fame, . . for glory, . . that I can understand, . .
but for love! ..." he laughed, and taking up a crushed rose-petal
he flipped it into the air with his finger and thumb--"I would as
soon die for sake of that perished leaf as for sake of a woman's
transient beauty!"

As he uttered these words Niphrata entered, carrying a golden
salver on which were placed a tall flagon, two goblets, and a
basket of fruit. She approached Theos first, and he, raising
himself on his elbow, surveyed her with fresh admiration and
interest while he poured out the wine from the flagon into one of
those glistening cups, which he noticed were rough with the
quantity of small gems used in their outer ornamentation.

He was struck by her fair and melancholy style of loveliness, and
as she stood before him with lowered eyes, the color alternately
flushing and paling on her cheeks, and her bosom heaving
restlessly beneath the loosely drawn folds of her prim rose-hued
gown, an inexplicable emotion of pity smote him, as if he had
suddenly been made aware of some inward sorrow of hers which he
was utterly powerless to console. He would have spoken, but just
then could find nothing appropriate to say, . . and when he had
selected a fine peach from the heaped-up dainties offered for his
choice, he still watched her as she turned to Sah-luma, who
smiled, and bade her set down her salver on a low, bronze stand at
his side. She did so, and then with the warm blood burning in her
cheeks, stood waiting and silent. Sah-luma, with a lithe movement
of his supple form, lifted himself into a half-sitting posture,
and throwing one arm round her waist, drew her close to his breast
and kissed her.

"My fairest moonbeam!" he said gayly--"Thou art as noiseless and
placid as thy yet unembodied sisters that stream through heaven
and dance on the river when the world is sleeping! Myrtle! ..."
and he detached a spray from the bosom of her dress--"What hast
thou to do with the poet's garland? By my faith, thou art like
Theos yonder, and hast chosen to wear a sprig of my faded crown
for thine adornment--is't not so?" A hot and painful blush
crimsoned Niphrata's face,--a softness as of suppressed tears
glistened in her eyes,--she made no answer, but looked
beseechingly at the little twig Sah-luma held. "Silly child!" he
went on laughingly, replacing it himself against her bosom, where
the breath seemed to struggle with such panting haste and fear--
"Thou art welcome to the dead leaves sanctified by song, if thou
thinkest them of value, but I would rather see the rosebud of love
nestled in that pretty white breast of thine, than the cast-off
ornaments of fame!"

And filling himself a cup of wine he raised it aloft, looking at
Theos smilingly as he did so.

"To your health, my noble friend!" he cried, "and to the joys of
the passing hour!"

"A wise toast!" answered Theos, placing his lips to his own
goblet's rim,--"For the past is past,--'twill never return,--the
future we know not,--and only the present can be called our own!
To the health of the divine Sah-luma, whose fame is my glory!--
whose friendship is dear to me as life!"

And with this, he drained off the wine to the last drop. Scarcely
had he done so, when the most curious sensation overcame him--a
sensation of bewildering ecstasy as though he had drunk of some
ambrosian nectar or magic drug which had suddenly wound up his
nerves to an acute tension of indescribable delight. The blood
coursed more swiftly through his veins,--he felt his face flush
with the impulsive heat and ardor of the moment,--he laughed as he
set the cup down empty, and throwing himself back on his luxurious
couch, his eyes flashed on Sah-luma's with a bright, comprehensive
glance of complete confidence and affection. It was strange to
note how quickly Sah-luma returned that glance,--how thoroughly,
in so short a space of time, their friendship had cemented itself
into a more than fraternal bond of union! Niphrata, meanwhile,
stood a little aside, her wistful looks wandering from one to the
other as though in something of doubt or wonder. Presently she
spoke, inclining her fair head toward Sah-luma.

"My lord goes to the Palace to-night to make his valued voice
heard in the presence of the King?" she inquired timidly.

"Even so, Niphrata!" responded the Laureate, passing his hand
carelessly through his clustering curls--"I have been summoned
thither by the Royal command. But what of that, little one? Thou
knowest 'tis a common occurrence,--and that the Court is bereft of
all pleasure and sweetness when Sah-luma is silent."

"My lord's guest goes with him?" pursued Niphrata gently.

"Aye, most assuredly?" and Sah-luma smiled at Theos as he spoke--
"Thou wilt accompany me to the King, my friend?" he went on--"He
will give thee a welcome for my sake, and though of a truth His
Majesty is most potently ignorant of all things save the arts of
love and warfare, nevertheless he is man as well as monarch, and
thou wilt find him noble in his greeting and generous of
hospitality."

"I will go with thee, Sah-luma, anywhere!" replied Theos quickly--
"For in following such a guide, I follow my own most perfect
pleasure."

Niphrata looked at him meditatively, with a melancholy expression
in her lovely eyes.

"My lord Sah-luma's presence indeed brings joy!" she said softly
and tremulously--"But the joy is too sweet and brief--for when he
departs, none can fill the place he leaves vacant!"

She paused,--Sah-luma's gaze rested on her intently, a half-
amused, half-tender light leaping from under the drooping shade of
his long, silky black lashes,--she caught the look, and a little
shiver ran through her delicate frame,--she pressed one hand on
her heart, and resumed in steadier and more even tones,--"My lord
has perhaps not heard of the disturbances of the early morning in
the city?"--she asked--"The riotous crowd in the marketplace--the
ravings of the Prophet Khosrul? ... the sudden arrest and
imprisonment of many,--and the consequent wrath of the King?"

"No, by my faith!" returned Sah-luma, yawning slightly and
settling his head more comfortably on his pillows--"Nor do I care
to heed the turbulence of a mob that cannot guide itself and yet
resists all guidance. Arrests? ... imprisonments? ... they are
common,--but why in the name of the Sacred Veil do they not arrest
and imprison the actual disturbers of the peace,--the Mystics and
Philosophers whose street orations filter through the mind of the
disaffected, rousing them to foolish frenzy and disordered
action?--Why, above all men, do they not seize Khosrul?--a
veritable madman, for all his many years and seeming wisdom! Hath
he not denounced the faith of Nagaya and foretold the destruction
of the city times out of number? ... and are we not all weary to
death of his bombastic mouthing? If the King deemed a poet's
counsel worth the taking, he would long ago have shut this bearded
ranter within the four walls of a dungeon, where only rats and
spiders would attend his lectures on approaching Doom!"

"Nay, but my lord--" Niphrata ventured to say timidly--"The King
dare not lay hands on Khosrul ..."

"Dare not!" laughed Sah-luma lazily stretching out his hand and
helping himself to a luscious nectarine from the basket at his
side--"Sweet Niphrata! ... settest thou a limit to the power of
the King? As well draw a boundary-line for the imagination of the
poet! Khosrul may be loved and feared by a certain number of
superstitious malcontents who look upon a madman as a sort of
sacred wild animal,--but the actual population of Al-Kyris,--the
people who are the blood, bone, and sinew of the city,--these are
not in favor of change either in religion, laws, manners, or
customs. But Khosrul is old,--and that the King humors his
vagaries is simply out of pity for his age and infirmity,
Niphrata,--not because of fear! Our Monarch knows no fear."

"Khosrul prophesies terrible things!" ... murmured the girl
hesitatingly--"I have often thought ... if they should come true.
..."

"Thou timid dove!" and Sah-luma, rising from his couch, kissed her
neck lightly, thus causing a delicate flush of crimson to ripple
through the whiteness of her skin--"Think no more of such folly--
thou wilt anger me. That a doting graybeard like Khosrul should
trouble the peace of Al-Kyris the Magnificent, ... by the gods--
the whole thing is absurd! Let me hear no more of mobs or riots,
or road-rhetoric,--my soul abhors even the suggestion of discord.
Tranquillity! ... Divinest calm, disturbed only by the flutterings
of winged thoughts hovering over the cloudless heaven of fancy!
... this, this alone is the sum and centre of my desires.--and to-
day I find that even thou, Niphrata--" here his voice took upon
itself an injured tone,--"thou, who art usually so gentle, hast
somewhat troubled the placidity of my mind by thy foolish talk
concerning common and unpleasant circumstances, ... "He stopped
short and a line of vexation and annoyance made its appearance
between his broad, beautiful brows, while Niphrata seeing this
expression of almost baby-petulance in the face she adored threw
herself suddenly at his feet, and raising her lovely eyes swimming
in tears, she exclaimed:

"My lord! Sah-luma! Singing-angel of Niphrata's soul!--Forgive me!
It is true, ... thou shouldst never hear of strife or contention
among the coarser tribe of men,--and I, ... I, poor Niphrata,
would give my life to shield thee from the faintest shadow of
annoy! I would have thy path all woven sunbeams,--thou shouldst
live like a fairy monarch embowered 'mid roses, sheltered from
rough winds, and folded in loving arms, fairer maybe, hut not more
fond than mine!" ... Her voice broke,--stooping, she kissed the
silver fastening of his sandal, and springing up, rushed from the
room before a word could be uttered to bid her stay.

Sah-luma looked after her with a pretty, half-pleased perplexity.

"She is often thus!" he said in a tone of playful resignation,--
"As I told thee, Theos,--women are butterflies, hovering hither
and thither on uneasy pinions, uncertain of their own desires.
Niphrata is a woman-riddle,--sometimes she angers me,--sometimes
she soothes, ... now she prattles of things that concern me not,--
and anon converses with such high and lofty earnestness of speech,
that I listen amazed, and wonder where she hath gathered up her
store of seeming wisdom."

"Love teaches her all she knows!" interrupted Theos quickly and
with a meaning glance.

Sah-luma laughed languidly, a faint color warming the clear olive
pallor of his complexion.

"Aye,--poor tender little soul, she loves me,".. he said
carelessly--"That is no secret! But then all women love me,--I am
more like to die of a surfeit of love than of anything else" He
moved towards the open window "Come!--" he added--"It is the hour
of sunset,--there is a green hillock in my garden yonder from
whence we can behold the pomp and panoply of the golden god's
departure. 'Tis a sight I never miss,--I would have thee share its
glory with me."

"But art thou then indifferent to woman's tenderness?" asked Theos
half banteringly, as he took his arm--"Dost thou love no one?"

"My friend"--replied Sah-luma seriously--"I love Myself! I see
naught that contents me more than my own Personality,--and with
all my heart I admire the miracle and beauty of my own existence!
There is nothing even in the completest fairness of womanhood that
satisfies me so much as the contemplation of my own genius,--
realizing as I do its wondrous power and perfect charm! The life
of a poet such as I am is a perpetual marvel!--the whole Universe
ministers to my needs,--Humanity becomes the merest bound slave to
the caprice of my imperial imagination,--with a thought I scale
the stars,--with a wish I float in highest ether among spheres
undiscovered yet familiar to my fancy--I converse with the spirits
of flowers and fountains,--and the love of women is a mere drop in
the deep ocean of my unfathomed delight! Yes,--I adore my own
Identity! ... and of a truth Self-worship is the only Creed the
world has ever followed faithfully to the end!"

He glanced up with a bright, assured smile,--Theos met his gaze
wonderingly, doubtfully,--but made no reply,--and together they
paced slowly across the marble terrace, and out into the glorious
garden, rich with the riotous roses that clambered and clustered
everywhere, their hues deepening to flame-like vividness in the
burning radiance of the sinking sun.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE SUMMONS OF THE SIGNET.

They walked side by side for some little time without speaking,
through winding paths of alternate light and shade, sheltered by
the latticework of crossed and twisted green boughs where only the
amorous chant of charming birds now and then broke the silence
with fitful and tender sweetness. All the air about them was
fragrant and delicate,--tiny rainbow-winged midges whirled round
and danced in the warm sunset-glow like flecks of gold in amber
wine,--while here and there the distant glimmer of tossing
fountains, or the soft emerald sheen of a prattling brook that
wound in and out the grounds, amongst banks of moss and drooping
fern, gave a pleasant touch of coolness and refreshment to the
brilliant verdure of the luxuriant landscape.

"Speaking of creeds, Sah-luma"--said Theos at last, looking down
with a curious sense of compassion and protection at his
companion's slight, graceful form--"What religion is it that
dominates this city and people? To-day, through want of knowledge,
it seems I committed a nearly unpardonable offence by gazing at
the beauty of the Virgin Priestess when I should have knelt face-
hidden to her benediction,--thou must tell me something of the
common laws of worship, that I err not thus blindly again."

Sah-luma smiled.

"The common laws of worship are the common laws of custom,"--he
replied--"No more,--no less. And in this we are much like other
nations. We believe in no actual Creed,--who does? We accept a
certain given definition of a supposititious Divinity, together
with the suitable maxims and code of morals accompanying that
definition, ... we call this Religion, . . and we wear it as we wear
our clothing for the sake of necessity and decency, though truly
we are not half so concerned about it as about the far more
interesting details of taste in attire. Still, we have grown used
to our doctrine, and some of us will fight with each other for the
difference of a word respecting it,--and as it contains within
itself many seeds of discord and contradiction, such dissensions
are frequent, especially among the priests, who, were they but
true to their professed vocation, should be able to find ways of
smoothing over all apparent inconsistencies and maintaining peace
and order. Of course we, in union with all civilized communities,
worship the Sun, even as thou must do,--in this one leading
principle at least, our faith is universal!"

Theos bent his head in assent. He was scarcely conscious of the
action, but at that moment he felt, with Sah-luma, that there was
no other form of Divinity acknowledged in the world than the
refulgent Orb that gladdens and illumines earth, and visibly
controls the seasons.

"And yet--" went on Sah-luma thoughtfully,--"the well-instructed
know through our scientists and astronomers (many of whom are now
languishing in prison for the boldness of their researches and
discoveries) that the Sun is no divinity at all, hut simply a huge
planet,--a dense body surrounded by a luminous, flame-darting
atmosphere,--neither self-acting nor omnipotent, but only one of
many similar orbs moving in strict obedience to fixed mathematical
laws. Nevertheless this knowledge is wisely kept back as much as
possible from the multitude,--for, were science to unveil her
marvels too openly to semi-educated and vulgarly constituted
minds, the result would be, first Atheism, next Republicanism, and
finally Anarchy and Ruin. If these evils,--which like birds of
prey continually hover about all great kingdoms,--are to be
averted, we must, for the welfare of the country and people, hold
fast to some stated form and outward observance of religious
belief."