Books: Ardath

M >> Marie Corelli >> Ardath

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Another deep and death like pause ensued, ... and then Lysia's
silvery cold tones smote the profound silence with calm, clear
resonance.

"Friend Nir-jalis," she said, . . how tuneful were her accents, . .
how chilly sweet her smile! ... "Methinks thou art grown
altogether too wise for this world! ... 'tis pity thou shouldest
continue to linger in so narrow and incomplete a sphere! ...
Depart hence therefore! ... I shall frely excuse thine absence,
since THY HOUR HAS COME! ..."

And, taking from the table at her side a tall crystal chalice
fashioned in the form of a lily set on a golden stem, she held it
up toward him. Starting wildly from his couch he looked at her, as
though doubting whether he had heard her words aright, . . a strong
shudder shook him from head to foot, . . his hands clenched
themselves convulsively together,--and then slowly, slowly, he
staggered to his feet and stood upright. He was suddenly but
effectually sobered--the flush of intoxication died off his
cheeks--and his eyes grew strained and piteous. Theos, watching
him in wonder and fear, saw his broad chest heave with the rapid-
drawn gasping of his breath, ..he advanced a step or two--then all
at once stretched out his hands in imploring agony.

"Lysia!" he murmured huskily. "Lysia! ... pardon! ... spare me!
... For the sake of past love have pity!"

At this Sah-luma sprang up from his lounging posture on the dais,
his hand on the hilt of his dagger, his whole face flaming with
wrath.

"By my soul!" he cried, "what doth this fellow prate of? ... Past
love? ... Thou profane boaster! ... how darest thou speak of love
to the Priestess of the Faith?"

Nir-jalis heeded him not. His eyes were fixed on Lysia, like the
eyes of a tortured animal who vainly seeks for mercy at the hand
of its destroyer. Step by step he came hesitatingly to the foot of
her throne, . . and it was then that Theos perceived rear at hand a
personage he immediately recognized,--the black scarlet-clad slave
Gazia, who had brought Lysia's message to Sah-luma that same
afternoon. He had made his appearance now so swiftly and silently,
that it was impossible to tell where he had come from,--and he
stood close to Nir-jalis, his muscular firms folded tightly across
his chest, and his hideous mouth contorted into a grin of cruel
amusement and expectancy. Absolute quiet reigned within the
magnificent banquet hall, . . the music had ceased,--and not a sound
could be heard, save the delicate murmur of the wind outside
swaying the water-lilies on the moonlit lake. Every one's
attention was centred on the unhappy young man, who with lifted
head and rigidly clasped hands, faced Lysia as a criminal faces a
judge, . . Lysia, whose dazzling smile beamed upon him with the
brightness of summer sunbeams,--Lysia, whose exquisite voice lost
none of its richness as she spoke his doom.

"By the vow which thou hast vowed to me, Nir-jalis--" she said
slowly.. "and by thine oath sworn on the Symbolic Eye of Raphon"..
here she touched the dreadful Jewel on her breast--"which bound
thy life to my keeping, and thy death to my day of choice, I
herewith bestow on thee the Chalice of Oblivion--the Silver Nectar
of Peace! Sleep, and wake no more!--drink and die! The gateways of
the Kingdom of Silence stand open to receive thee! ... thy
service is finished! ... ... fare-thee-well!"

With the utterance of the last word, she gave him the glittering
cup she held. He took it mechanically,--and for one instant glared
about him on all sides, scanning the faces of the attentive guests
as though in the faint hope of some pity, some attempt at rescue.
But not a single look of compassion was bestowed upon him save by
Theos, who, full of struggling amazement and horror, would have
broken out into indignant remonstrance, had not an imperative
glance from Sah-luma warned him that any interference on his part
would only make matters worse. He therefore, sorely against his
will, and only for Sah-luma's sake, kept silence, watching Nir-
jalis meanwhile in a sort of horrible fascination.

There was something truly awful in the radiant unquenchable
laughter that lurked in Lysia's lovely eyes, . . something
positively devilish in the grace of her manner, as with a
negligent movement, she reseated herself in her crystal throne,
and taking a knot of magnolia-flowers that lay beside her, idly
toyed with their creamy buds, all the while keeping her basilisk
gaze fixed immovably and relentlessly on her sentenced victim. He,
grasping the lily-shaped chalice convulsively in his right hand,
looked up despairingly to the polished dome of malachite, with its
revolving globe of fire that shed a solemn blood-red glow upon his
agonized young face, . . a smile was on his lips,--the dreadful
smile of desperate, maddened misery.

"Oh, ye malignant gods!" he cried fiercely--"ye immortal Furies
that made Woman for Man's torture, ... Bear witness to my death!
... bear witness to my parting spirit's malediction! Cursed be
they who love unwisely and too well! ... cursed be all the wiles
of desire and the haunts of dear passion!--cursed he all fair
faces whose fairness lures men to destruction! ... cursed be the
warmth of caresses, the beating of heart against heart, the kisses
that color midnight with fire! Cursed be Love from birth unto
death!--may its sweetness be brief, and its bitterness endless!--
its delight a snare, and its promise treachery! O ye mad lovers!--
fools all!" ... and he turned his splendid wild eyes round on the
hushed assemblage,--"Despise me and my words as ye will,
throughout ages to come, the curse of the dead Nir-jalis shall
cling!"

He lifted the goblet to his lips, and just then his delirious
glanced lighted on Sah-luma.

"I drink to thee, Sir Laureate!" he said hoarsely, and with a
ghastly attempt at levity--"Sing as sweetly as thou wilt, thou
must drain the same cup ere long!"

And without another second's hesitation he drank off the entire
contents of the chalice at a draught. Scarcely had he done so,
when with a savage scream he fell prone on the ground, his limbs
twisted in acute agony,--his features hideously contorted,--his
hands beating the air wildly, as though in contention with some
invisible foe, ..while in strange and terrible dissonance with his
tortured cries, Lysia's laughter, musically mellow, broke out in
little quick peals, like the laughter of a very young child.

"Ah, ah, Nir-jalis!" she exclaimed. "Thou dost suffer! That is
well! ... I do rejoice to see thee fighting for life in the very
jaws of death! Fain would I have all men thus tortured out of
their proud and tyrannous existence! ... their strength made
strengthless, their arrogance brought to naught, their egotism and
vain-glory beaten to the dust! Ah, ah! thou that wert the
complacent braggart of love,--the self-sufficient proclaimer of
thine own prowess, where is thy boasted vigor now? ... Writhe on,
good fool! ... thy little day is done! ... All honor to the Silver
Nectar whose venom never fails!"

Leaning forward eagerly, she clapped her hands in a sort of fierce
ecstasy--and apparently startled by the sound, the tigress rose up
from its couchant posture, and shaking itself with a snarling
yawn, glared watchfully at the convulsed human wretch whose
struggles became with each moment more and more frightful to
witness. The impassive, cold-blooded calmness with which all the
men present, even Sah-luma, looked on at the revolting spectacle
of their late comrade's torture, filled Theos with shuddering
abhorrence, ... sick at heart, he strove to turn away his eyes
from the straining throat and upturned face of the miserable Nir-
jalis,--a face that had a moment or two before been beautiful, but
was now so disfigured as to be almost beyond recognition.
Presently as the anguish of the poisoned victim increased, shriek
after shriek broke from his pallid lips, . . rolling himself on the
ground like a wild beast, he bit his hands and arms in his frenzy
till he was covered with blood, ... and again and yet again the
dulcet laughter of the High Priestess echoed through the length
and breadth of the splendid hall,--and even Sah-luma, the poet
Sah-luma, condescended to smile! That smile, so cold, so cruel, so
unpitying, made Theos for a moment hate him, . . of what use, he
thought, was it, to be a writer of soft and delicate verse, if the
inner nature of the man was merciless, selfish, and utterly
regardless of the woes of others? ... The rest of the guests were
profoundly indifferent,--they kept silence, it is true, ... but
they went on drinking their wine with perfectly unabated
enjoyment.. they were evidently accustomed to such scenes. The
attendant slaves stood all mute and motionless, with the exception
of Gazra, who surveyed the torments of Nir-jalis with an air of
professional interest, and appeared to be waiting till they should
have reached that pitch of excruciating agony when Nature,
exhausted, gives up the conflict and welcomes death as a release
from pain.

But this desirable end was not yet. Suddenly springing to his
feet, Nir-jalis tore open his richly jewelled vest, and pressed
his two hands hard upon his heart, ... the veins in his flesh were
swollen and blue,--his labored breath seemed as though it must
break his ribs in its terrible, panting struggle,--his face, livid
and lined with purple marks like heavy bruises, bore not a single
trace of its former fairness, ... and his eyes, rolled up and
fixed glassily in their quivering sockets, seemed to be dreadfully
filled with the speechless memory of his lately spoken curse. He
staggered toward Theos, and dropped heavily on his knees, . .

"Kill me!" he moaned piteously, feebly pointing to the sheathed
dagger in the other's belt. "In mercy! ... Kill me! ... One
thrust! ... release me! ... this agony is more than I can bear,
... Kill ... Kill. ... !"

His voice died away in an inarticulate, gasping cry,--and Theos
stared down upon him in dizzy fear and horror! For...HE HAD SEEN
THIS SAME NIR-JALIS DYING THUS CRUELLY BEFORE! Oh God! ... where,
--where had this tragedy been previously enacted? Bewildered and
overcome with unspeakable dread, he drew his dagger--he would at
least, he thought, put the tortured sufferer out of his misery,
... but scarcely had his weapon left the sheath, when Lysia's
clear, cold voice exclaimed:

"Disarm him!" and with the silent rapidity of a lightning-flash,
Gazra glided to his side, and the steel was snatched from his
hand. Full of outraged pride and wrath, he sprang up, a torrent of
words rushing to his lips, but before he could utter one, two
slaves pounced upon him, and holding his arms, dexterously wound a
silk scarf tight about his mouth.

"Be silent!" whispered some one in his ear,--"As you value your
life and the life of Sah-luma,--be silent!"

But he cared nothing for this warning, . . reckless of consequences,
he tore the scarf away and breaking loose from the hands that held
him, made a bound toward Lysia ... here he paused. Her eyes met
his languidly, shedding a sombre, mysterious light upon him
through the black shower of her abundant hair, ... the evil
glitter of the great Symbolic Gem she wore fixed him with its
stony yet mesmeric luster ... a delicious smile parted her roseate
lips,--and breaking off a magnolia-bud from the cluster she held,
she kissed and gave it to him...

"Be at peace, good Theos!" she said in a low, tender tone, . .
"Beware of taking up arms in the defence of the unworthy, . . rather
reserve thy courage for those who know how best to reward thy
service!"

As one in a trance he took the flower she offered,--its fragrance,
subtle and sweet, seemed to steal into his veins. and rob his
manhood of all strength, ... sinking submissively at her feet he
gazed up at her in wondering wistfulness and ardent admiration, . .
never was there a woman so bewilderingly beautiful as she! What
were the sufferings of Nir-jalis now? ... what was anything
compared to the strangely enervating ecstasy he felt in letting
his eyes dwell fondly on the fairness of her face, the whiteness
of her half-veiled bosom, the delicate, sheeny dazzle of her
polished skin, the soft and supple curves of her whole exquisite
form, . . and spell-bound by the witchery of her loveliness, he
almost forgot the very presence of her dying victim. Occasionally
indeed, he glanced at the agonized creature where he lay huddled
on the ground in the convulsive throes of his dreadful death-
struggle,--but it was now with precisely the same quiet and
disdainful smile as that for which he had momentarily hated Sah-
luma! There was a sound of singing somewhere,--singing that had a
mirthful under-throbbing in it, as though a thousand light-footed
fairies were dancing to its sweet refrain! And Nir-jalis heard it!
... dying inch by inch as he was, he heard it, and with a
last superhuman effort forced himself up once more to his feet,
... his arms stiffly outstretched, . . his anguished eyes full of a
softened, strangely piteous glory.

"To die!" he whispered in awed accents that penetrated the air
with singular clearness--"To die! ... nay...not so! ... There is
no death! ... I see it all! ... I know! ... .To die is to live!
... to live again.. and to remember...to remember,--and repent, . .
the past!"

And with the last word he fell heavily, face forward, a corpse. At
the same moment a terrific roar resounded through the dome, and
the tigress Aizif sprang stealthily down from the dais, and
pounced upon the warm, lifeless body, mounting guard over it in an
ominously significant attitude, with glistening eyes, lashing tail
and nervously quivering claws. A slight thrill of horror ran
through the company, but not a man moved.

"Aizif!--Aizif!" called Lysia imperiously.

The animal looked round with an angry snarl, and seemed for once
disposed to disobey the summons of its mistress. She therefore
rose from her throne, and stepping forward with a swift, agile
grace, caught the savage beast by the neck, and dragged it from
its desired prey. Then, with the point of her little, silver-
sandaled foot, she turned the fallen face of the dead man slightly
round, so that she might observe it more attentively, and noting
its livid disfigurement, smiled.

"So much for the beauty and dignity of manhood!" she said with a
contemptuous shrug of her snowy shoulders,--"All perished in the
space of a few brief moments! Look you, ye fair sirs that take
pride in your strength and muscular attainments! ... Ye shall not
find in all Al-Kyris a fairer face or more nobly knit frame than
was possessed by this dead fool, Nir-jalis, and yet, lo!--how the
Silver Nectar doth make havoc on the sinews of adamant, the nerves
of steel, the stalwart limbs! Tried by the touchstone of Death, ye
are, with all your vaunted intelligence, your domineering audacity
and self-love, no better than the slain dogs that serve vultures
for carrion! ...--moreover, ye are less than dogs in honesty, and
vastly shamed by them in fidelity!"

She laughed scornfully as she spoke, still grasping the tigress by
the neck in one slight hand,--and her glorious eyes flashed a
mocking defiance on all the men assembled. Their countenances
exhibited various expressions of uneasiness amounting to fear, . .
some few smiled forcedly, others feigned a careless
indifference, . . Sah-luma flushed an angry red, and Theos, though
he knew not why, felt a sudden pricking sense of shame. She marked
all these signs of disquietude with apparently increasing
amusement, for her lovely face grew warm and radiant with
suppressed, malicious mirth. She made a slight imperative gesture
of command to Gazra, who at once approached, and, bending over the
dead Nir-jalis, proceeded to strip off all the gold clasps and
valuable jewels that had so lavishly adorned the ill-fated young
man's attire,--then beckoning another slave nearly as tall and
muscular as himself, they attached to the neck and feet of the
corpse round, leaden, bullet-shaped weights, fastened by means of
heavy iron chains. This done, they raised the body from the floor
and carried it between them to the central and largest casement of
all that stood open to the midnight air, and with a dexterous
movement flung it out into the waters of the lake beneath. It fell
with a sullen splash, the pale lilies on the surface rocking
stormily to and fro as though blown by a gust of wind, while great
circling ripples shone softly in the yellow gleam of the
moonlight, as the dead man sank down, down, down like a stone into
his crystal-quiet grave.

Lysia returned to her throne with a serene step and unruffled
brow, followed by the sulky and disappointed Aizif, . . smiling
gently on Theos and Sah-luma she reseated herself, and touched a
small bell at her side. It gave a sharp kling-klang like a
suddenly struck cymbal--and lo! ... the marble floor yawned
asunder, and the banquet-table with all its costly fruits and
flowers vanished underground with the swiftness of lightning! The
floor closed again, . . the broad, circular centre-space of the hall
was now clear from all obstruction,--and the company of revellers
roused themselves a little from their drowsy postures of half-
inebriated languor. The singing voices that had stirred Nir-jalis
to sudden animation even in his dying agony, sounded nearer and
nearer, and the globe of fire overhead changed its hue from that
of crimson to a delicate pink. At the extreme end of the
glittering vista of pale-green, transparent columns, a door
suddenly opened, and a flock of doves came speeding forth, their
white, spread wings colored softly in the clear rose-radiance,--
they circled round and round the dome three times, then fluttered
in a palpitating arch over Lysia's head, and finally sped straight
across the hall to the other end, where they streamed snowily
through another aperture and disappeared. Still nearer rippled the
sound of singing, . . and all at once a troop of girls came dancing
noiselessly as fire-flies into the full, quivering pinkness of the
jewel-like light that floated about them, . . girls as lovely, as
delicate, as dainty as cyclamens that wave in the woods in the
early days of an Italian spring. Their garments were so white, so
transparent, so filmy and clinging, that they looked like elves
robed in mountain-vapor rather than human creatures, . . there were
fifty of them in all, and as they tripped forward, they, like the
doves that had heralded their approach, surrounded Lysia
flutteringly, saluting her with gestures of exquisite grace and
devout humility, while she, enthroned in supreme fairness, with
her tigress crouched beside her, looked down on them like a
goddess calmly surveying a crowd of vestal worshippers. Their
salutations done, they rushed pell-mell, like a shower of white
rose-leaves drifting before a gale, into the exact centre of the
hall, and there poising bird-like, with their snowy arms upraised
as though about to fly, they waited, . . their lovely faces radiant
with laughter, their eyes flashing dangerous allurement, their
limbs glistening like polished alabaster through the gauzy attire
that betrayed rather than concealed their exquisite forms. Then
came the soft pizzicato of pulled strings, ... and a tinkling
jangle of silver bells beating out a measured, languorous rhythm,
--and with one accord, they all merged together in the voluptuous
grace of a dance more ravishing, more wild and wondrous than ever
poet pictured in his word-fantasies of fairy-land! Theos drank in
the intoxicating delight of the scene with eager, dazzled eyes and
heavily beating heart, ..the mysterious passion of mingled love
and hatred he felt for Lysia stole over him more strongly than
ever in the sultry air of this strange night, . . this night of
sweet delirium, in which all that was most dangerous and erring in
his nature woke into life and mastered his better will! A curious,
instinctive knowledge swept across his mind,--namely THAT SAH-
LUMA'S EMOTIONS WERE THE FAITHFUL REFLEX OF HIS OWN,--but as he
had felt no anger against his rival in fame, so now he had no
jealousy of his possible rival in love. Their sympathies were too
closely united for distrust to mar the friendship so ardently
begun, ... nevertheless, as he fell resistlessly deeper and deeper
into the glittering snares that were spread for his destruction,
he was CONSCIOUS OF EVIL THOUGH HE LACKED FORCE TO OVERCOME IT. At
any rate, he would save Sah-luma from harm, he resolved, if he
could not save himself! Meantime he watched the bewildering
evolutions and witching entanglements of the gliding maze of fair
faces, snowy bosoms and twining limbs, that palpitated to and fro
under the soft rose-light of the dome like white flowers colored
by the sunset, and, glancing ever and again at Lysia's imperial
sorceress-beauty, he thought dreamily ... "Better the love that
kills than no love at all!" And he thereupon gave himself up a
voluntary captive to the sway of his own passions, determining to
enjoy the immediate present, no matter what the future might have
in store. Outside, the water-lilies nodded themselves to sleep in
their shrouding, dark leaves, . . and the unbroken smoothness of the
lake spread itself out in the moon like a sheet of molten gold
over the spot where Nir-jalis had found his chilly rest. "THE
CURSE OF THE DEAD NIR-JALIS SHALL CLING!" Yes,--possibly!--in the
hereafter! ... but now his parting malison seemed but a foolish
clamor against destiny, ... he was gone! ... none of his late
companions missed him, ... none regretted him--like all dead men,
once dead he was soon forgotten!

CHAPTER XIX.

A STRANGE TEMPTATION.

On went the dance, ... faster, faster, and ever faster! Only the
pen of some mirth-loving, rose-crowned Greek bard could adequately
describe the dazzling, wild beauty and fantastic grace of those
whirling fairy forms, that now inspired to a bacchante-like ardor,
urged one another to fresh speed with brief soft cries of musical
rapture! Now advancing,--now retreating ... now intermingling all
together in an undulating garland of living loveliness, ... now
parting asunder with an air of sweet coquettishness and caprice,
...--anon meeting again, and winding arm within arm,--till
bending forward in attitudes of the tenderest entreaty, they
seemed, with their languid, praying eyes and clasped hands, to be
waiting for Love to soothe the breathless sweetness of their
parted lips with kisses! The light in the dome again changed its
hue,--from pale rose-pink it flickered to delicate amber-green,
flooding the floor with a radiance as of watery moonbeams, and
softening the daintily draped outlines of that exquisite group of
human blossoms, till they looked like the dimly imagined shapes of
Nereids floating on the glistening width of the sea.

And now the extreme end of the vast hall began to waver to and fro
as though shaken at its foundation by subterranean forces,--a
flaring shaft of flame struck through it like the sweeping blade
of a Titan's sword,--and presently with a thunderous noise the
whole wall split asunder, and recoiling backwards on either side,
disclosed a garden, golden with the sleepy glory of the late moon,
and peacefully fair in all the dreamy attractiveness of drooping
foliage, soft turf, and star-sprinkled, violet sky. In full view,
and lit up by the reflected radiance flung out from the dome, a
rushing waterfall made sonorous surgy music of its own as it
tumbled headlong into a rocky recess overgrown with lotus-lilies
and plumy fern,--here and there, small, white and gold tents or
pavilions glimmered invitingly through the shadows cast by the
great magnolia trees, from whose lovely half-shut buds balmy odors
crept deliciously through the warm air. The sound of sweet pipes
and faintly tinkling cymbals echoed from distant shady nooks, as
though elfin shepherds were guarding their fairy flocks in some
hidden corner of this ambrosial pasturage, and ever by degrees the
light grew warmer and more mellow in tint, till it resembled the
deep hue of an autumn, yellow sunset, flecked through with emerald
haze.

Another clash of cymbals! ... this time stormily persistent and
convincing! ... another! ... yet another! ... and then, a chime of
bells,--a steady ringing, persuasive chime, such as brings tears
to the eyes of many a wanderer, who, hearing a similar sound when
far away from home, straightway thinks of the village church of
his earlier years, . . those years of the best happiness we ever
know on earth, because we enjoy in them the bliss of ignorance,
the glory of youth! A curious stifling sensation began to oppress
Theos's heart as he listened to those bells, . . they reminded him
of such strange things, ... things to which he could not give a
name,--things foolish, yet sweet, . . odd suggestions of fair women
who were wont to pray for those they loved, and who believed, . .
alas, the pity of it!--that their prayers would be heard ... and
granted! What was it that these dear, loving, credulous ones said,
when in the silence of the night they offered up their patient
supplications to an irresponsive Heaven? "LEAD US NOT INTO
TEMPTATION, BUT DELIVER US FROM EVIL!" Yes! ... he remembered,--
those were the words,--the simple-wise words that for positive-
practical minds had neither meaning nor reason,--and that yet were
so infinitely pathetic in their perfect humility and absolute
trust!