Books: Ardath

M >> Marie Corelli >> Ardath

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49

He sighed again, and rubbed his nose perplexedly. Theos glanced at
him curiously, uncertain whether to laugh at or pity him.

"Then the upshot of all your learning, sir, . ." he said, . . "is
that one can never be quite certain of anything?"

"Exactly so!"--replied the pensive sage with a grave shake of his
head,--"Judged by the very finest lines of metaphysical argument,
you cannot really be sure whether you behold in me a Person or a
Phantasm! You THINK you see me,--I THINK I see you,--but after all
it is only an IMPRESSION mutually shared,--an impression which
like many another, less distinct, may be entirely erroneous! Ah,
my dear young sir!--education is advancing at a very rapid rate,
and the art of close analysis is reaching such a pitch of
perfection that I believe we shall soon be able logically to
prove, not only that we do not actually exist, but moreover that
we never have existed! ... And herein, as I consider, will be the
final triumph of philosophy!"

"A poor triumph!"--murmured Theos wearily. "What, in such a case,
would become of all the nobler sentiments and passions of man,--
love, hope, gratitude, duty, ambition?"

"They would be precisely the same as before"--rejoined the other
complacently--"Only we should have learned to accept them merely
as the means whereby to sustain the IMPRESSION that we live,--an
impression which would always be agreeable, however delusive!"

Theos shrugged his shoulders. "You possess a peculiarly
constituted mind, sir!"--he said--"And I congratulate you on the
skill you display in following out a somewhat puzzling
investigation to almost its last hand's-breadth of a conclusion,--
but.. pardon me,--I should scarcely think the discussion of such
debatable theories conducive to happiness!"

"Happiness!".. and the scientist smiled scornfully,--"'Tis a
fool's term, and designates a state of being that can only pertain
to foolishness! Show me a perfectly happy man, and I will show you
an ignorant witling, light-headed, hardhearted, and of a most
powerfully good digestion! Many such there be now wantoning among
us, and the head and chief of them all is perhaps the most popular
numskull in Al-Kyris, . . the Poet,--bah! ... let us say the braying
Jack-ass in office,--the laurelled Sah-luma!"

Theos gave an indignant start,--the hot color flushed his brows, . .
then he restrained himself by an effort.

"Control the fashion of your speech, I pray you, sir!" he said,
with excessive haughtiness--"The noble Laureate is my friend and
host,--I suffer no man to use his name unworthily in my presence!"

The sage drew back, and spread out his hands in a pacifying
manner.

'Oh, I crave your pardon, good stranger!"--he murmured, with a
kind of apologetic satire in his acrid voice,--"I crave it most
abjectly! Yet to somewhat excuse the hastiness of my words, I
would explain that a contempt for poets and poetry is now
universal among persons of profound enlightenment and practical
knowledge..."

"I am aware of it!" interrupted Theos swiftly and with passion--"I
am aware that so-called 'wise' men, rooted in narrow prejudice,
with a smattering of even narrower logic, presume, out of their
immeasurable littleness, to decry and make mock of the truly
great, who, thanks to God's unpurchasable gift of inspiration, can
do without the study of books or the teaching of pedants,--who
flare through the world flame-winged and full of song, like angels
passing heavenward,--and whose voices, rich with music, not only
sanctify the by-gone ages, but penetrate with echoing, undying
sweetness the ages still to come! Contempt for poets!--Aye, 'tis
common!--the petty, boastful pedagogues of surface learning ever
look askance on these kings in exile, these emperors masked, these
gods disguised! ... but humiliated, condemned, or rejected, they
are still the supreme rulers of the human heart,--and a Love-Ode
chanted in the Long-Ago by one such fire-lipped minstrel outlasts
the history of many kingdoms!"

He spoke with rapid, almost unconscious fervor, and as he ended
raised one hand with an enthusiastic gesture toward the now
brilliant sapphire sky and glowing sun. The scientist looked at
him furtively and smiled,--a bland, expostulatory smile.

"Oh, you are young!--you must be very young!" he said
forbearingly.. "In a little time you will grow out of all this
ill-judged fanaticism for an Art, the pursuance of which is really
only wasted labor! Think of the absurdity of it!--what can be more
foolish than the writing of verse to express or to encourage
emotion in the human subject, when the great aim of education at
the present day is to carefully eradicate emotion by degrees, till
we succeed in completely suppressing it! An outburst of feeling is
always vulgar,--the highest culture consists in being impassively
equable of temperament, and absolutely indifferent to the attacks
of either joy or sorrow. I should be inclined to ask you to
consider this matter more seriously, and from the strictly common-
sense point of view, did I not know that for you to undertake a
course of useful meditation while you remain is Sah-luma's
companionship would be impossible, . . quite impossible!
Nevertheless our discourse has been so far interesting, that I
shall be happy to meet you again and give you an opportunity for
further converse should you desire it, . . ask for the Head
Professor of Scientific Positivism, any day in the Strangers'
Court of the Royal Institutional College, and I will at once
receive you! My name is Mira-Khabur,--Professor Mira Khabur...at
your service!"

And laying one hand on his breast he bowed profoundly.

"A Professor of Positivism who is himself never positive!"--
observed Theos with a slight smile.

"Ah pardon!" returned the other gravely--"On the contrary, I am
always positive! ... of the UNpositiveness of Positivism!"

And with this final vindication of his theories he made another
stately obeisance and went his way. Theos looked after his tall,
retreating figure half in sadness, half in scorn. This proudly
incompetent, learned-ignorant Mira-Khabur was no uncommon
character--surely there were many like him!

Somewhere in the world,--somewhere in far lands of which the
memory was now as indistinct as the outline of receding shores
blurred by a falling mist, Theos seemed painfully to call to mind
certain cold-blooded casuists he had known, who had attempted to
explain away the mysteries of life and death by rule and line
calculations, and who for no other reason than their
mathematically argued denial of God's existence had gained for
themselves a temporary, spurious celebrity. Yes! ... surely he had
met such men, . . but WHERE? Realizing, with a sort of shock, that
he was quite as much in the dark as ever with regard to any real
cognizance of his former place of abode and the manner of life he
must have led before he entered this bewildering city of Al-Kyris,
he roused himself abruptly, and resolutely banishing the heavy
thoughts that threatened to oppress his soul, he began without
further delay to direct his steps towards Sah-luma's palace.

He glanced once more at the river before leaving the embankment,--
it was still blood red, and every now and then, between the
sluggish ripples, multitudes of dead fish could be seen drifting
along in shoals, and tangled in nets of slimy weed that at a
little distance looked like the floating tresses of drowned women.

It was an uncanny sight, and though it might certainly be as the
wise Mira Khabur had stated, the purely natural effect of purely
natural causes, still those natural causes were not as yet
explained satisfactorily. An earthquake or land-slip would perhaps
account sufficiently for everything,--but then an inquiring mind
would desire to know WHERE the earthquake or land-slip occurred,--
and also WHY these supposed far-off disturbances should thus
curiously affect the river surrounding Al-Kyris? Answers to such
questions as these were not forthcoming either from Professor
Mira-Khabur or any other sagacious pundit,--and Theos was
therefore still most illogically and unscientifically puzzled as
well as superstitiously uneasy.

Turning up a side street, he quickened his pace, in order to
overtake a young vendor of wines whom he perceived sauntering
along in front of him, balancing a flat tray, loaded with thin
crystal flasks, on his head. How gloriously the sunshine quivered
through those delicately tinted glass bottles, lighting up the
glittering liquid contained within them!--why, they look more like
soap-bubbles than anything else! ... and the boy who carried them
moved with such a lazy, noiseless grace that he might have been
taken for a dream-sylph rather than a human being!

"Hola, my lad!" called Theos, running after him.. "Tell me,--is
this the way to the palace of the King's Laureate?"

The youth looked up,--what a beautiful creature he was, with his
brilliant, dark eyes and dusky, warm complexion!

"Why ask for the King's Laureate?" he demanded with a pretty
scorn,--"The PEOPLE'S Sah-luma lives yonder!"--and he pointed to a
mass of towering palms from whose close and graceful frondage a
white dome rose glistening in the clear air,--"Our Poet's fame is
not the outgrowth of a mere king's favor, 'tis the glad and
willing tribute of the Nation's love and praise! A truce to
monarchs!--they will soon be at a discount in Al-Kyris!"

And with a flashing glance of defiance, and a saucy smile, he
passed on, easily sauntering as before.

"A budding republican!" though Theos amusedly, as he pursued his
course in the direction indicated. "That is how the 'liberty,
equality, fraternity' system always begins--first among street-
boys who think they ought to be gentlemen,--then among shopkeepers
who persuade themselves that they deserve to be peers,--then comes
a time of topsey-turveydom and fierce contention and by and by
everything gets shaken together again in the form of a Republic,
wherein the street-boys and shopkeepers are not a whit better off
than they were under a monarchy--they become neither peers nor
gentlemen, but stay exactly in their original places, with the
disadvantage of finding their trade decidedly damaged by the
change that has occurred in the national economy! Strange that the
inhabitants of this world should make such a fuss about resisting
tyranny and oppression, when each particular individual man, by
custom and usage, tyrannizes over and oppresses his fellow-man to
an extent that would be simply impossible to the fiercest kings!"

Thus meditating a few steps more brought him to the entrance of
Sah-luma's princely abode,--the gates stood wide open, and a
pleasant murmur of laughter and soft singing floated toward him
across the splendid court where the great fountains were tossing
up to the bright sky their straight, glistening columns of snowy
spray. He listened,--and his heart leaped with an intense relief
and joy,--Sah-luma, the beloved Sah-luma, was evidently at home
and as yet unharmed,--these mirthful sounds betokened that all was
well. The vague trouble and depression that had weighed upon his
soul for hours now vanished completely, and hastening along, he
sprang lightly up the marble stairs, and into the rainbow-colored,
spacious hall, where the first person he saw was Zabastes the
Critic.

"Ah, good Zabastes!" he cried gayly,--"Where is thy master Sah-
luma? Has he returned in safety?"

"In safety?" croaked Zabastes with an accent of ironic surprise..
"To be sure! ... Is he a baby in swaddling-clothes that he cannot
be trusted out alone to take care of himself? In safety?--aye! I
warrant you he is safe enough, and silly enough, and lazy enough
to please any one of his idiot flatterers, . . moreover my
'master!"--and he emphasized this word with indescribable
bitterness--"hath slept as soundly as a swine, and hath duly
bathed with the punctiliousness of a conceited swan, and being
suitably combed, perfumed, attired, and throned as becomes his
dainty puppetship, is now condescending to partake of vulgar food
in the seclusion of his own apartment. Go thither and you shall
find his verse-stringing Mightiness nobly enshrined as a god among
a worshipping crowd of witless maidens,--he hath inquired for you
many times, which is somewhat of a wonder, seeing that as a rule
he concerns his mind with naught save himself! Furthermore, he is
graciously pleased to be in a manner solicitous on behalf of the
maiden Niphrata, who hath suddenly disappeared from the household,
leaving no message to explain the cause of her evanishment. Hath
seen her? ... No?"--and the old man thumped his stick petulantly
on the floor as Theos shook his head in the negative--"'Tis the
only feminine creature I ever had patience to speak with,--a
modest wench and a gentle one, and were it not for her idolatrous
adoration of Sah-luma, she would be fairly sensible withal. No
matter!--she has gone; everything goes, even good women, and
nothing lasts save folly, of which there shall surely never be an
end!"

Here apparently conscious that he had shown more feeling in
speaking of Niphrata than was usual with him, he looked up
impatiently and waved his staff toward Sah-luma's study; "In, in,
boy! In, to, the Chief of poets and prince of egotists! He waits
your service,--he is all agape and thirsty for more flattery and
delicate cajolement, ... stuff him with praise, good youth! ...
and who knows but a portion of his mantle may descend on YOU
hereafter and make of YOU as conceited and pretty a bantling bard
for the glory of proud posterity!"

And chuckling audibly, he hobbled down a side passage, while
Theos, half angry, half amused, crossed the hall quickly, and
arrived at the door of the Laureate's private sanctum, where,
gently drawing aside the silken draperies, he looked in for a
moment without being himself perceived. What a picture he beheld!
... How perfection every shade of color in every line of detail!
Sah-luma, reclining in a quaintly carved ebony chair, was toying
with the fruit and wine set out before him on an ivory and gold
stand,--his dress, simpler than it had been on the previous
evening, was of fine white linen gathered loosely about his
classic figure,--he wore neither myrtle-wreath nor jewels,--the
expression of his face was serious, even noble, and his attitude
was one of languid grace and unstudied ease that became him
infinitely well. The maidens of his household waited near him,--
some of them held flowers,--one, kneeling at a small lyre, seemed
just about to strike a few chords, when Sah-luma silenced her by a
light gesture:

"Peace, Zoralin!" he said softly.. "I cannot listen: thou hast not
my Niphrata's tenderness!"

Zoralin, a beautiful, dark girl, with hair as black as night, and
eyes that looked as though they held suppressed yet ever burning
fire, let her hands instantly drop from the instrument, and
sighing, shrank back a little in abashed silence. At that moment
Theos advanced,--and the Laureate sprang up delightedly:

"Ah, at last, my friend!" he cried, enthusiastically clasping him
by both hands,--"Where, in the name of all the gods, hast thou
been roaming? How did we part?--by my soul I forget!--but no
matter!--thou art here once more, and as I live, we will not
separate again so easily! My noble Theos!" and he threw one arm
affectionately around his neck--"I have missed thee more than I
can tell these past few hours,--thou dost seem so sympathetically
conjoined with me, that verily I think I am but half myself in
thine absence! Come,--sit thee down and break thy fast! ... I
almost feared thou hadst met with some mischance on thy way
hither, and that I should have had to sally forth and rescue thee
again even as I did yesternoon! Say, hast thou occupied thyself
with so much friendly consideration on my behalf, as I have on
thine?"

He laughed gayly as he spoke,--and Theos, looking into his bright,
beautiful face, was for a moment too deeply moved by his own
strange inward emotions, to utter a word in reply. WHY did he love
Sah-luma so ardently, he wondered? WHY was it that every smile on
that proud mouth, every glance of those flashing eyes, possessed
such singular, overwhelming fascination for him? He could not
tell,--but he readily yielded to the magic influence of his
friend's extraordinary attractiveness, and sitting down beside him
in the azure light and soft fragrance of his regal apartment, he
experienced a sudden sense of rest, satisfaction, and
completeness, such as may be felt by a man AT ONE WITH HIMSELF,
and with all the world!

CHAPTER XXII.

WASTED PASSION.

The assembled maidens had retired modestly into the background,
while the Laureate had thus joyously greeted his returned guest;
but now, at a signal from their lord, they again advanced, and
taking up the glittering dishes of fruit and the flasks of wine,
proffered them in turn to Theos with much deferential grace and
courtesy. He was by no means slow in responding to the humble
attentions of these fair ones, . . there was a sort of deliciously
dreamy enchantment in being waited upon by such exquisitely lovely
creatures! The passing touch of their little white hands that
supported the heavy golden salvers seemed to add new savor to the
luscious fare,--the timorous fire of their downcast eyes, softly
sparkling through the veil of their long lashes, gave extra warmth
to the ambrosial wine,--and he could not refrain from occasionally
whispering a tender flattery or delicate compliment in the ear of
one or other of his sylph-like servitors, though they all appeared
curiously unmoved by his choicely worded adulation. Now and then a
pale, flickering blush or sudden smile brightened their faces, but
for the most part they maintained a demure and serious demeanor,
as though possessed by the very spirit of invincible reserve. With
Sah-luma it was otherwise,--they hovered about him like
butterflies round a rose,--a thousand wistful, passionate glances
darted upon him, when he, unconscious or indifferent, apparently
saw nothing,--many a deep, involuntary sigh was stifled quickly
ere it could escape between the rosy lips whose duty it was to
wreathe themselves with smiles, and Theos noticing these things
thought:

"Heavens! how this man is loved!--and yet ... he, out of all men,
is perhaps the most ignorant of Love's true meaning!"

Scarcely had this reflection entered his mind than he became
bitterly angry with himself for having indulged in it. How
recreant, how base an idea! ... how incompatible with the adoring
homage he felt for his friend! What!--Sah-luma,--a Poet, whose
songs of Love were so perfect, so wildly sweet and soul-
entrancing--HE, to be ignorant of Love's true meaning? ... Oh,
impossible!--and a burning flush of shame rose to Theos's brow,--
shame that he could have entertained such a blasphemy against his
Idol for a moment! Then that curious, vague, soft contrition he
had before experienced stole over him once again--a sudden
moisture filled his eyes,--and turning abruptly toward his host he
held out his own just filled goblet:

"Drink we the loving-cup together, Sah-luma!" he said, and his
voice trembled a little with its own deep tenderness, . . "Pledge me
thy faith as I do pledge thee mine! And for to-day at least let me
enjoy thy boon companionship, . . who knows how soon we may be
forced to part ... forever!" And he breathed the last word softly
with a faint sigh.

Sah-luma looked at him with an expressive glance of bright
surprise.

"Part?" he exclaimed joyously--"Nay, not we, my friend! ... Not
till we find each other tiresome, . . not till we prove that our
spirits, like over-mettlesome steeds, do chafe and fret one
another too rudely in the harness of custom, . . wherefore then, and
then only, 'twill be time to break loose at a gallop, and seek
each one a wider pasture-land! Meanwhile, here's to thee!"--and
bending his handsome head he readily drank a deep draught of the
proffered wine.. "May all the gods hold fast our bond of
friendship!"

And with a graceful salute he returned the jewelled cup half-
empty. Theos at once drained off what yet remained within it, and
then, leaning more confidentially over the Laureate's chair, he
whispered:

"Hast thou in very truth forgotten thy rashness of last night,
Sah-luma? Surely thou must guess how unquiet I have been
concerning thee! Tell me, . . was thy hot pursuit in vain? ... or..
didst thou discover the King?"

"Peace!" and a quick frown darkened the smooth beauty of Sah-
luma's face as he grasped Theos's arm hard to warn him into
silence,--then forcing a smile he answered in the same low tone..
"'Twas not the King, . . it could not be! Thou wert mistaken ..."

"Nay but," persisted Theos gently--"convince me of mine error!
Didst thou overtake and steadily confront yon armed and muffled
stranger?"

"Not I!"--and Sah-luma shrugged his shoulders petulantly--"Sleep
fell upon me suddenly when I left thee,--and methinks I must have
wandered home like a shadow in a dream! Was I not drunk last
night?--Aye!--and so in all likelihood wert thou! ... little could
we be trusted to recognize either King or clown!"--He laughed,--
then added--"Nevertheless I tell thee once again 'twas not the
King, . . His Majesty hath too much at stake, to risk so dangerous a
pleasantry!"

Theos heard, but he was dissatisfied and ill at ease, . . Sah-luma's
careless contentment increased his own disquietude. Just then a
curious-looking personage entered the apartment,--a gray-haired,
dwarfish negro, who carried slung across his back a large bundle,
consisting of several neatly rolled-up pieces of linen, one of
which he presently detached from the rest and set down before the
Laureate, who in return gave him a silver coin, at the same time
asking jestingly:

"Is the news worth paying for to-day, Zibya?--or is it the same
ill-written, clumsy chronicle of trumpery, common-place events?"

Zibya, slipping the coin he had received into a wide leathern
pouch which hung from his girdle, appeared to meditate a moment,--
then he replied:

"If the truth must be told, most illustrious, there is nothing
whatever to interest the minds of the cultured. The cheap scribes
of the Daily Circular cater chiefly for the mob, and do all in
their power to foster morbid qualities of disposition and
murderous tendencies among the lower orders; hence though there is
nothing in the news-sheet pertaining to Literature or the Fine
Arts, there is much concerning the sudden death of the young
sculptor Nir-jalis, whose body was found flung on the banks of the
river this morning."

Theos started, . . Sah-luma listened with placid indifference. "'Tis
a case of self-slaughter"--pursued Zibya chattily.. "or so say the
wise writers who are supposed to know everything, . . self-slaughter
committed during a state of temporary insanity! Well, well! I
myself would have had a different opinion."

"And a sagacious one no doubt!" interrupted Sah-luma coldly, and
with a dangerous flash as of steel in his eyes.. "But.. be
advised, good Zibya! ... give thine opinion no utterance!"

The old negro shrank back nervously, making numerous apologetic
gestures, and waited in abashed silence till the Laureate's
features regained their wonted soft serenity. Then he ventured to
speak again,--though not without a little hesitation.

"Concerning the topics of the hour..." he murmured timorously..
"My lord is perhaps not aware that the river itself is a subject
of much excited discussion,--the water having changed to a
marvellous blood-color during the night, which singular
circumstance hath caused a great panic among the populace. Even
now, as I passed by the embankment, the crowd there was thick as a
hive of swarming bees!"

He paused, but Sah-luma made no remark, and he continued more
glibly, "Also, to-day's 'Circular' contains the full statement of
the King's reward for the capture of the Prophet Khosrul, and the
formal Programme of the Sacrificial Ceremonial announced to take
place this evening in the Temple of Nagaya. All is set forth in
the fine words of the petty public scribes, who needs must make as
much as possible out of little,--and there is likewise a so-called
facsimile of the King's signature, which will naturally be of
supreme interest to the vulgar. Furthermore it is proclaimed that
a grand Combat of wild beasts in the Royal Arena will follow
immediately after the Service in the Temple is concluded,--
methinks none will go to bed early, seeing there is so full a list
of amusements!"

He paused again, somewhat out of breath,--and Sah-luma meanwhile
unrolled the linen scroll he had purchased, which measured about
twenty-four inches in length and twenty in width. Carefully ruled
black and red lines divided it into nearly the same number of
columns as those on the page of an ordinary newspaper, and it was
covered with close writing, here and there embellished by bold,
profusely ornamented headings. One of these, "Death of the
Sculptor, Nir-jalis," seemed to burn into Theos's brain like
letters of fire,--how was it, he wondered, that the body of that
unfortunate victim had been found on the shore of the river, when
he himself had seen it loaded with iron weights, and cast into the
lake that formed part of Lysia's fatal garden? Presently Sah-luma
passed the scroll to him with a smile, saying lightly: