Books: Ardath

M >> Marie Corelli >> Ardath

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Compared with the turbulence and terror just left behind at the
King's palace, this weird hush was uncomfortably impressive, and
gave a sense of fantastic unreality to the scene. The sleepy,
mesmeric radiance of the full moon, shining on the delicate
traceries of the quaintly sculptured houses on either hand, made
them look brittle and evanescent; the great heavy, hanging orange-
boughs and the feathery frondage of the tall palms seemed outlined
in mere mist against the sky; and the glimpses caught from time to
time of the broad and quietly flowing river were like so many
flashes of light seen through a veil of cloud. Theos, standing
beside his friend with one hand resting familiarly on his
shoulder, dreamily admired the phantom-like beauty of the city
thus transfigured in the moonbeams, and though he vaguely wondered
a little at the deep, mysterious stillness that everywhere
prevailed, he scarcely admitted to himself that there was or could
be anything unusual in it. He took his position as he found it--
indeed he could not well do otherwise, since he felt his fate was
ruled by some resolute, unseen force, against which all resistance
would be unavailing. Moreover, his mind was now entirely possessed
by the haunting vision of Lysia--a vision half-human, half-divine
--a beautiful, magical, irresistible Sweetness that allured his
soul, and roused within him a wordless passion of infinite desire.

He exchanged not a syllable with Sah-luma--an indefinable yet
tacit understanding existed between them,--an intuitive
foreknowledge and subtle perception of each other's character,
intentions, and aims, that for the moment rendered speech
unnecessary. And there was something, after all, in the profound
silence of the night that, while strange, was also eloquent--
eloquent of meanings, unutterable, such as lie hidden in the
scented cups of flowers when lovers gather them on idle summer
afternoons and weave them into posies for one another's wearing.
How fleetly the gilded, shell-shaped car sped on its way!--trees,
houses, bridges, domes, and cupolas, seemed to fly past in a
varied whirl of glistening color! Now and again a cluster of fire-
flies broke from some thicket of shade and danced drowsily by in
sparkling tangles of gold and green; here and there from great
open squares and branch-shadowed gardens gleamed the stone face of
an obelisk, or the white column of a fountain; while over all
things streamed the long prismatic rays flung forth from the
revolving lights in the Twelve Towers of the Sacred Temple, like
flaming spears ranged lengthwise against the limitless depth of
the midnight horizon. With straining necks, tossed manes, and foam
flying from their nostrils, Sah-luma's fiery coursers dashed
onward at almost lightning speed, and the journey became a wild,
headstrong rush through the dividing air--a rush toward some
voluptuous end, dimly discerned, yet indefinite!

At last they stopped. Before them rose a lofty building, crested
with fantastic pinnacles such as are formed by ice on the roof in
times of intense cold; a great gate stood open, and pacing slowly
up and down in front of it was a tall slave in white tunic and
turban, who, turning his gleaming eyeballs on Sah-luma, nodded by
way of salutation, and then uttered a sharp, peculiar whistle.
This summons brought out two curious, dwarfish figures of men,
whose awkward misshapen limbs resembled the contorted branches of
wind-blown trees, and whose coarse and repulsive countenances
betokened that malignant delight in evil-doing which only demons
are supposed to know. These ungainly servitors possessed
themselves of the Laureate's chafing steeds, and led them and the
chariot away into some unseen courtyard; while the Laureate
himself, still saying no word, kept fast hold of his companion's
arm, and hurried him along a dark avenue overshadowed with thick
boughs that drooped heavily downward to the ground--a solitary
place where the intense quiet was disturbed only by the occasional
drip, drip of dewy moisture trickling tearfully from the leaves,
or the sweet, faint, gurgling sound of fountains playing somewhere
in the distance.

On they went for several paces, till at a sharp bend in the moss-
grown path, an amethystine light broke full between the arched
green branches; directly in front of them glimmered a broad piece
of water, and out of the purple-tinted depths rose the white,
nude, lovely form of a woman, whose rounded, outstretched arms
appeared to beckon them, . . whose mouth smiled in mingled malice
and sweetness, . . and round whose looped-up tresses sparkled a
diadem of sapphire flame. With a cry of astonishment and ecstacy
Theos sprang forward: Sah-luma held him back in laughing
remonstrance.

"Wilt drown for a statue's sake?" he inquired mirthfully. "By my
soul, good Theos, if thy wits thus wander at sight of a witching,
marble nymph illumed by electric glamours, what will become of
thee when thou art face to face with living, breathing loveliness!
Come, thou hotheaded neophyte! thou shalt not waste thy passion on
images of stone, I warrant thee! Come!"

But Theos stood still. His eyes roved from Sah-luma to the
glittering statue and from the statue back again to Sah-luma in
mingled doubt and dread. A vague foreboding filled his mind, he
fancied that a bevy of mocking devils peered at him from out the
wooded labyrinth, ... and that Sin was the name of the white siren
yonder, whose delicate body seemed to palpitate with every slow
ripple of the surrounding waters. He hesitated,--with that often
saving hesitation a noble spirit may feel ere willfully yielding
to what it instinctively knows to be wrong,--and for the briefest
possible space an imperceptible line was drawn between his own
self-consciousness and the fascinating personality of his lately
found friend--a line that parted them asunder as though by a gulf
of centuries.

"Sah-luma," he said, in a tremulous, low tone, "tell me truly,--is
it good for us to be here?"

Sah-luma regarded him in wide-eyed amazement.

"Good? good?" he repeated with a sort of impatient disdain. "What
dost thou mean by 'good'? What is good? What is evil? Canst thou
tell? If so, thou art wiser than I! Good to be here? If it is good
to drown remembrance of the world in draughts of pleasure; if it
is good to love and be beloved; if it is good to ENJOY, aye! enjoy
with burning zest every pulsation of the blood and every beat of
the heart, and to feel that life is a fiery delight, an exquisite
dream of drained-off rapture, then it is good to be here! If," and
he caught Theos's hand in his own warm palm and pressed it, while
his voice sank to a soft and infinitely caressing sweetness, "if
it is good to climb the dizzy heights of joy and drowse in the
deep sunshine of amorous eyes, . . to slip away on elfin wings into
the limitless freedom of Love's summerland, ... to rifle rich
kisses from warm lips even as rosebuds are rifled from the parent
rose, and to forget! ...--to forget all bitter things that are
best forgotten--"

"Enough, enough!" cried Theos, fired with a reckless impulse of
passionate ardor. "On, on, Sah-luma! I follow thee! On! let us
delay no more!"

At that moment a far-off strain of music saluted his ears--music
evidently played on stringed instruments. It was accompanied by a
ringing clash of cymbals; he listened, and listening, saw a smile
lighten Sah-luma's features--a smile sweet, yet full of delicate
mockery. Their eyes met; a wanton impetuosity flashed like
reflected flame from one face to the other, and then, without
another instant's pause, they hurried on.

Across a broad, rose-marbled terrace garlanded with a golden
wealth of orange-trees and odorous oleanders.. ... under a
trellis-work covered with magnolias whose half-shut, ivory-tinted
buds glistened in the moonlight like large suspended pearls, . .
then through a low-roofed stone-corridor, close and dim, lit only
by a few flickering oil-lamps placed at far intervals, . . then on
they went, till at last, ascending three red granite steps on
which were carved some curious hieroglyphs, they plunged into what
seemed to be a vast jungle enclosed in some dense tropical forest.
What a strange, unsightly thicket of rank verdure was here,
thought Theos! ... it was as though Nature, grown tired of floral
beauty, had, in a sudden malevolent mood, purposely torn and
blurred the fair green frondage and twisted every bud awry! Great,
jagged leaves covered with prickles and stained all over with
blotches as of spilt poison, . . thick brown stems glistening with
slimy moisture and coiled up like the sleeping bodies of snakes, . .
masses of purple and blue fungi, . . and blossoms seemingly of the
orchid species, some like fleshy tongues, others like the waxen
yellow fingers of a dead hand, protruded spectrally through the
matted foliage,--while all manner of strange, overpowering odors
increased the swooning oppressiveness of the sultry, languorous
air.

This uncouth botanical garden was apparently roofed in by a lofty
glass dome, decorated with hangings of watery-green silk, but the
grotesque trees and plants grew to so enormous a height that it
was impossible to tell which were the falling draperies and which
the straggling leaves. Curious birds flew hither and thither,
voiceless creatures, scarlet and amber winged; a huge gilded
brazier stood in one corner from whence ascended the constant
smoke of burning incense, and there were rose-shaded lamps all
about, that shed a subdued mysterious lustre on the scene, and
bestowed a pale glitter on a few fantastic clumps of arums and
nodding lotus-flowers that lazily lifted themselves out of a
greenish pool of stagnant water sunk deeply in on one side of the
marble flooring. Theos, holding Sah-luma's arm, stepped eagerly
across the threshold; he was brimful of expectation: . . and what
mattered it to him whether the weed-like things that grew in this
strange pavilion were pure or poisonous, provided he might look
once more upon the witching face that long ago had so sweetly
enticed him to his ruin! ... Stay! what was he thinking of? Long
ago? Nay, that was impossible,--since he had only seen the
Priestess Lysia for the first time that very morning! How
piteously perplexing it was to be thus tormented with these
indistinct ideas!--these half-formed notions of previous intimate
acquaintance with persons and places he never could have known
before!

All at once he drew back with a startled exclamation; an enormous
tigress, sleek and jewel-eyed, bounded up from beneath a tangled
mass of red and yellow creepers and advanced toward him with a low
savage snarl.

"Peace, Aizif, peace;" said Sah-luma, carelessly patting the
animal's head. "Thou art wont to be wiser in distinguishing 'twixt
thy friends and foes." Then turning to Theos he added--"She is
harmless as a kitten, this poor Aizif! Call her, good Theos, she
will come to thy hand--see!" and he smiled, as Theos, not to be
outdone by his companion in physical courage, bent forward and
stroked the cruel-looking beast, who, while submitting to his
caress, never for a moment ceased her smothered snarling.
Presently, however, she was seized with a sudden fit of savage
playfulness,--and throwing herself on the ground before him, she
rolled her lithe body to and fro with brief thirsty roars of
satisfaction, . . roars that echoed through the whole pavilion with
terrific resonance: then rising, she shook herself vigorously and
commenced a stealthy, velvet-footed pacing up and down, lashing
her tail from side to side, and keeping those sly, emerald-like
eyes of hers watchfully fixed on Sah-luma, who merely laughed at
her fierce antics. Leaning against one of the dark, gnarled trees,
he tapped his sandaled foot with some impatience on the marble
pavement, while Theos, standing close beside him, wondered whether
the mysterious Lysia knew of their arrival.

Sah-luma appeared to guess his thoughts, for he answered them as
though they had been spoken aloud.

"Yes," he said, "she knows we are here--she knew the instant we
entered her gates. Nothing is or can be hidden from her! He who
would have secrets must depart out of Al-Kyris and find some other
city to dwell in, . . for here he shall be unable to keep even his
own counsel. To Lysia all things are made manifest; she reads
human nature as one reads an open scroll, and with merciless
analysis she judges men as being very poor creatures, limited in
their capabilities, disappointing and monotonous in their
passions, unproductive and circumscribed in their destinies. To
her ironical humor and icy wit the wisest sages seem fools; she
probes them to the core, and discovers all their weaknesses; . . she
has no trust in virtue, no belief in honesty. And she is right!
Who but a madman would be honest in these days of competition and
greed of gain? And as for virtue, 'tis a pretty icicle that melts
at the first touch of a hot temptation! Aye! the Virgin Priestess
of Nagaya hath a most profound comprehension of mankind's
immeasurable brute stupidity; and, strong in this knowledge, she
governs the multitude with iron will, intellectual force, and
dictative firmness: . . when she dies I know not what will happen."

Here he interrupted himself, and a dark shadow crossed his brows.
"By my soul!" he muttered, "how this thought of death haunts me
like the unburied corpse of a slain foe! I would there were no
such thing as Death; 'tis a cruel and wanton sport of the gods to
give us life at all if life must end so utterly and so soon!"

He sighed deeply. Theos echoed the sigh, but answered nothing. At
that moment the restless Aizif gave another appalling roar, and
pounced swiftly toward the eastern side of the pavilion, where a
large painted panel could be dimly discerned, the subject of the
painting being a hideous idol, whose long, half-shut, inscrutable
eyes leered through the surrounding foliage with an expression of
hateful cunning and malevolence. In front of this panel the
tigress lay down, licking the pavement thirstily from time to time
and giving vent to short purring sounds of impatience: . . then all
suddenly she rose with ears pricked, in an attitude of attention.
The panel slowly moved, it glided back,--and the great brute
leaped forward, flinging her two soft paws on the shoulders of the
figure that appeared--the figure of a woman, who, clad in
glistening gold from head to foot, shone in the dark aperture like
a gilded image in a shrine of ebony. Theos beheld the brilliant
apparition in some doubt and wonder. Was this Lysia? He could not
see her face, as she wore a thick white veil through which only
the faintest sparkle of dark eyes glimmered like flickering
sunbeams; nor was he able to discern the actual outline of her
form, as it was completely enveloped and lost in the wide,
shapeless folds of her stiff, golden gown. Yet every nerve in his
body thrilled at her presence! ... every drop of blood seemed to
rush from his heart to his brain in a swift, scorching torrent
that for a second blinded his eyes with a red glare and made him
faint and giddy.

Woman and tigress! They looked strangely alike, he thought, as
they stood mutually caressing each other under the great drooping
masses of fantastic leaves. Yet where was the resemblance? What
possible similarity could there he between a tawny, treacherous
brute of the forests, full of sly malice and voracious cruelty,
and that dazzling, gold-garmented creature, whose small white
hand, flashing with jewels, now tenderly smoothed the black,
silken stripes on the sleek coat of her savage favorite?

"Down, sweet Aizif, down!" she said, in a grave, dulcet voice as
softly languorous as the last note of a love-song. "Down, my
gentle one! thou art too fond, down! so!" this as the tigress
instantly removed its embracing paws from her neck, and, trembling
in every limb, crouched on the ground in abjectly submissive
obedience. Another moment, and she advanced leisurely into the
pavilion, Aizif slinking stealthily along beside her and seeming
to imitate her graceful gliding movements, till she stood within a
few paces of Theos and Sah-luma, just near the spot where the
lotus-flowers swayed over the grass-green, stagnant pool. There
she paused, and apparently scrutinized her visitors intently
through the folds of her snowy veil. Sah-luma bent his head before
her in a half haughty, half humble salutation.

"The tardy Sah-luma!" she said, with an undercurrent of laughter
in her musical tones, "the poet who loves the flattery of a
foolish king, and the applause of a still more foolish court! And
so Khosrul disturbed the flood of thine inspiration to-night, good
minstrel? Nay, for that he should die, if for no other crime! And
this," here she turned her veiled features toward Theos, whose
heart beat furiously as he caught a luminous flash from those
half-hidden, brilliant eyes, "this is the unwitting stranger who
honored me by so daring a scrutiny this morning! Verily, thou hast
a singularly venturesome spirit of thine own, fair sir! Still, we
must honor courage, even though it border on rashness, and I
rejoice to see that the wrathful mob of Al-Kyris hath yet left
thee man enough to deserve my welcome! Nevertheless thou were
guilty of most heinous presumption!" Here she extended her
jewelled hand. "Art thou repentant? and wilt thou sue for pardon?"

Scarcely conscious of what he did, Theos approached her, and
kneeling on one knee took that fair, soft hand in his own and
kissed it with passionate fervor.

"Criminal as I am," he murmured tremulously, "I glory in my crime,
nor will I seek forgiveness? Nay, rather will I plead, with thee
that I may sin so sweet a sin again, and blind myself with beauty
unreproved!"

Slowly she withdrew her fingers from his clasp.

"Thou art bold!" she said, with a touch of indolent amusement in
her accents. "But in thy boldness there is something of the hero.
Knowest thou not that I, Lysia, High Priestess of Nagaya, could
have thee straightway slain for that unwise speech of thine?--
unwise because over-hasty and somewhat over-familiar. Yes, I could
have thee slain!" and she laughed,--a rippling little laugh like
that of a pleased child. "Howbeit thou shalt not die this time for
thy foolhardiness--thy looks are too much in thy favor! Thou art
like Sah-luma in his noblest moods, when tired of verse-stringing
and sonnet-chanting he condescends to remember that he is not
quite divine! See how he chafes at that!" and plucking a lotus-bud
she threw it playfully at the Laureate, whose handsome face
flushed vexedly at her words. "And thou art prudent, Sir Theos--do
I not pronounce thy name aptly?--thou wilt be less petulant than
he, and less absorbed in self-adoration, for here men--even poets
--are deemed no more than men, and their constant querulous claim
to be considered as demi-gods meets with no acceptance! Wilt
'blind thyself with beauty' as thou say'st? Well then, lose thine
eyes, but guard thy heart!"

And with a careless movement she loosened her veil; it fell from
her like a soft cloud, and Theos, springing to his feet, gazed
upon her with a sense of enraptured bewilderment and passionate
pain. It was as though he saw the wraith of some fair, dead woman
he had loved of old, risen anew to redemand from him his former
allegiance. O, unfamiliar yet well-known face! ... O, slumbrous,
starry eyes that seemed to hold the memory of a thousand love-
thoughts! ... O, sweet curved lips whereon a delicious smile
rested as softly as sunlight on young rose-petals! Where, . . where,
in God's name, had he seen all this marvelous, witching, maddening
loveliness BEFORE? His heart beat with heavy, laboring thuds, . .
his brain reeled, . . a dim, golden, suffused radiance seemed to
hover like an aureole above that dazzling white brow, adorned with
a clustering wealth of raven-black tresses, whose massive coils
were crowned with the strangest sort of diadem--a wreath of small
serpents' heads cunningly fashioned in rubies and rose brilliants,
and set in such a manner that they appeared to lift themselves
erect from out the dusky hair as though in darting readiness to
sting. Full of a vague, wild longing, he instinctively stretched
out his arms, . . then on a sudden impulse turned swiftly away, in a
dizzy effort to escape from the basilisk fire-gleam of those
sombre, haunting eyes that plunged into his inmost soul, and there
aroused such dark desires, such retrospective evil, such wild
weakness as shamed the betterness of his nature! Sah-luma's clear,
mocking laugh just then rang sharply through the perfumed
stillness.

"Thou mad Theos! Whither art thou bound?" cried the Laureate
mirthfully. "Wilt leave our noble hostess ere the entertainment
has begun? Ungallant barbarian! What frenzy possesses thee?"

These words recalled him to himself. He came back slowly step by
step, and with bowed head, to where Lysia stood--Lysia, whose
penetrating gaze still rested upon him with strangely fixed
intensity.

"Forgive me," he said, in a low, unsteady voice that to his own
ears sounded full of suppressed yet passionate appeal. "Forgive
me, lady, that for one moment I have seemed discourteous. I am not
so, in very truth. Sad fancies fret my brain at times, and--and
there is that within thine unveiled beauty which sword-like wounds
my soul! I am not joyous natured: ...unlike Sah-luma, chosen
favorite of fortune, I have lost all, all that made my life once
seem fair. I am dead to those that loved me, ... forgotten by
those that honored me, . . a wanderer in strange lands, a solitary
wayfarer perplexed with many griefs to which I cannot give a name!
Nevertheless," and he drew a quick, hard breath, "if I may serve
thee, fairest Lysia,--as Sah-luma serves thee,--subject to thy
sovereign favor,--thou shalt not find me lacking in obedience!
Command me as thou wilt; let me efface myself to worship thee! Let
me, if it be possible, drown thought,--slay memory,--murder
conscience,--so that I may once more, as in the old time, be glad
with the gladness that only love can give and only death can take
away!"

As he finished this unpremeditated, uncontrollable outburst his
eyes wistfully sought hers. She met his look with a languid
indifference and a half-disdainful smile.

"Enough! restrain thine ardor!" she said coldly, her dark dilating
orbs shining like steel beneath the velvet softness of her long
lashes. "Thou dost speak ignorantly, unknowing what thy words
involve--words to which I well might bind thee, were I less
forbearing to thine inconsiderate rashness. How like all men thou
art! How keen to plunge into unfathomed deeps, merely to snatch
the pearl of present pleasure! How martyr-seeming in thy fancied
sufferings, as though THY little wave of personal sorrow swamped
the world! O wondrous human Egotism! that sees but one great
absolute 'I' scrawled on the face of Nature! 'I' am afflicted, let
none dare to rejoice! 'I' would be glad, let none presume to
grieve!" ... She laughed, a little low laugh of icy satire, and
then resumed: "I thank thee for thy proffered service, sir
stranger, albeit I need it not,--nor do I care to claim it at thy
hands. Thou art my guest--no more! Whether thou wilt hereafter
deserve to be enrolled my bondsman depends upon thy prowess and--
my humor!"

Her beautiful eyes flashed scornfully, and there was something
cruel in her glance. Theos felt it sting him like a sharp blow.
His nerves quivered,--his spirit rose in arms against the cynical
hauteur of this woman whom he loved; yes,--LOVED, with a curious
sense of revived passion--passion that seemed to have slept in a
tomb for ages, and that now suddenly sprang into life and being,
like a fire kindled anew on dead ashes!

Acting on a sudden proud impulse he raised his head and looked at
her with a bold steadfastness,--a critical scrutiny,--a calmly
discriminating valuation of her physical charms that for the
moment certainly appeared to startle her self-possession, for a
deep flush colored the fairness of her face and then faded,
leaving her pale as marble. Her emotion, whatever it was, lasted
but a second,--yet in that second he had measured his mental
strength against hers, and had become aware of his own supremacy!
This consciousness filled him with peculiar satisfaction. He drew
a long breath like one narrowly escaped from close peril. He had
now no fear of her--only a great, all-absorbing, all-evil love,
and to that he was recklessly content to yield. Her eyes dwelt
glitteringly first upon him and then on Sah-luma, as the eyes of a
falcon dwell on its prey, and her smile was touched with a little
malice, as she said, addressing them both:

"Come, fair sirs! we will not linger in this wilderness of wild
flowers. A feast awaits us yonder--a feast prepared for those who,
like yourselves obey the creed of sweet self indulgence, ... the
world-wide creed wherein men find no fault, no shadow of
inconsistency! The truest wisdom is to enjoy,--the only philosophy
that which teaches us how best to gratify our own desires! Delight
cannot satiate the soul, nor mirth engender weariness! Follow me!--"
and with a lithe movement she swept toward the door, her pet
tigress creeping closely after her; then suddenly looking back she
darted a lustiously caressing glance over her shoulder at Sah-luma
and stretched out her hand. He at once caught it in his own and
kissed it with an almost brusque eagerness.