________________________________________________
_ Then came a few moments' pause, during which Ayesha seemed to be
gathering up her strength for the fiery trial, while we clung to each
other, and waited in utter silence.
At last, from far far away, came the first murmur of sound, that grew
and grew till it began to crash and bellow in the distance. As she
heard it, Ayesha swiftly threw off her gauzy wrapping, loosened the
golden snake from her kirtle, and then, shaking her lovely hair about
her like a garment, beneath its cover slipped the kirtle off and
replaced the snaky belt around her and outside the masses of her
falling hair. There she stood before us as Eve might have stood before
Adam, clad in nothing but her abundant locks, held round her by the
golden band; and no words of mine can tell how sweet she looked--and
yet how divine. Nearer and nearer came the thunder-wheels of fire, and
as they came she pushed one ivory arm through the dark masses of her
hair and flung it round Leo's neck.
"Oh, my love, my love!" she murmured, "wilt thou ever know how I have
loved thee?" and she kissed him on the forehead, and then went and
stood in the pathway of the flame of Life.
There was, I remember, to my mind something very touching about her
words and that embrace upon the forehead. It was like a mother's kiss,
and seemed to convey a benediction with it.
On came the crashing, rolling noise, and the sound of it was as the
sound of a forest being swept flat by a mighty wind, and then tossed
up like so much grass, and thundered down a mountain-side. Nearer and
nearer it came; now flashes of light, forerunners of the revolving
pillar of flame, were passing like arrows through the rosy air; and
now the edge of the pillar itself appeared. Ayesha turned towards it,
and stretched out her arms to greet it. On it came very slowly, and
lapped her round with flame. I saw the fire run up her form. I saw her
lift it with both hands as though it were water, and pour it over her
head. I even saw her open her mouth and draw it down into her lungs,
and a dread and wonderful sight it was.
Then she paused, and stretched out her arms, and stood there quite
still, with a heavenly smile upon her face, as though she were the
very Spirit of the Flame.
The mysterious fire played up and down her dark and rolling locks,
twining and twisting itself through and around them like threads of
golden lace; it gleamed upon her ivory breast and shoulder, from which
the hair had slipped aside; it slid along her pillared throat and
delicate features, and seemed to find a home in the glorious eyes that
shone and shone, more brightly even than the spiritual essence.
Oh, how beautiful she looked there in the flame! No angel out of
heaven could have worn a greater loveliness. Even now my heart faints
before the recollection of it, as she stood and smiled at our awed
faces, and I would give half my remaining time upon this earth to see
her once like that again.
But suddenly--more suddenly than I can describe--a kind of change came
over her face, a change which I could not define or explain, but none
the less a change. The smile vanished, and in its place there came a
dry, hard look; the rounded face seemed to grow pinched, as though
some great anxiety were leaving its impress upon it. The glorious
eyes, too, lost their light, and, as I thought, the form its perfect
shape and erectness.
I rubbed my eyes, thinking that I was the victim of some
hallucination, or that the refraction from the intense light produced
an optical delusion; and, as I did so, the flaming pillar slowly
twisted and thundered off whithersoever it passes to in the bowels of
the great earth, leaving Ayesha standing where it had been.
As soon as it was gone, she stepped forward to Leo's side--it seemed
to me that there was no spring in her step--and stretched out her hand
to lay it on his shoulder. I gazed at her arm. Where was its wonderful
roundness and beauty? It was getting thin and angular. And her face--
by Heaven!--/her face was growing old before my eyes!/ I suppose that
Leo saw it also; certainly he recoiled a step or two.
"What is it, my Kallikrates?" she said, and her voice--what was the
matter with those deep and thrilling notes? They were quite high and
cracked.
"Why, what is it--what is it?" she said confusedly. "I feel dazed.
Surely the quality of the fire hath not altered. Can the principle of
Life alter? Tell me, Kallikrates, is there aught wrong with my eyes? I
see not clear," and she put her hand to her head and touched her hair
--and oh, /horror of horrors!/--it all fell upon the floor.
"Oh, /look!--look!--look!/" shrieked Job, in a shrill falsetto of
terror, his eyes nearly dropping out of his head, and foam upon his
lips. "/Look!--look!--look!/ she's shrivelling up! she's turning into
a monkey!" and down he fell upon the ground, foaming and gnashing in a
fit.
True enough--I faint even as I write it in the living presence of that
terrible recollection--she /was/ shrivelling up; the golden snake that
had encircled her gracious form slipped over her hips and to the
ground; smaller and smaller she grew; her skin changed colour, and in
place of the perfect whiteness of its lustre it turned dirty brown and
yellow, like an piece of withered parchment. She felt at her head: the
delicate hand was nothing but a claw now, a human talon like that of a
badly-preserved Egyptian mummy, and then she seemed to realise what
kind of change was passing over her, and she shrieked--ah, she
shrieked!--she rolled upon the floor and shrieked!
Smaller she grew, and smaller yet, till she was no larger than a
monkey. Now the skin was puckered into a million wrinkles, and on the
shapeless face was the stamp of unutterable age. I never saw anything
like it; nobody ever saw anything like the frightful age that was
graven on that fearful countenance, no bigger now than that of a two-
months' child, though the skull remained the same size, or nearly so,
and let all men pray they never may, if they wish to keep their
reason.
At last she lay still, or only feebly moving. She, who but two minutes
before had gazed upon us the loveliest, noblest, most splendid woman
the world has ever seen, she lay still before us, near the masses of
her own dark hair, no larger than a big monkey, and hideous--ah, too
hideous for words. And yet, think of this--at that very moment I
thought of it--it was the /same/ woman!
She was dying: we saw it, and thanked God--for while she lived she
could feel, and what must she have felt? She raised herself upon her
bony hands, and blindly gazed around her, swaying her head slowly from
side to side as a tortoise does. She could not see, for her whitish
eyes were covered with a horny film. Oh, the horrible pathos of the
sight! But she could still speak.
"Kallikrates," she said in husky, trembling notes. "Forget me not,
Kallikrates. Have pity on my shame; I shall come again, and shall once
more be beautiful, I swear it--it is true! /Oh--h--h--/" and she fell
upon her face, and was still.
On the very spot where more than twenty centuries before she had slain
Kallikrates the priest, she herself fell down and died.
* * * * *
I know not how long we remained thus. Many hours, I suppose. When at
last I opened my eyes, the other two were still outstretched upon the
floor. The rosy light yet beamed like a celestial dawn, and the
thunder-wheels of the Spirit of Life yet rolled upon their accustomed
track, for as I awoke the great pillar was passing away. There, too,
lay the hideous little monkey frame, covered with crinkled yellow
parchment, that once had been the glorious /She/. Alas! it was no
hideous dream--it was an awful and unparalleled fact!
What had happened to bring this shocking change about? Had the nature
of the life-giving Fire changed? Did it, perhaps, from time to time
send forth an essence of Death instead of an essence of Life? Or was
it that the frame once charged with its marvellous virtue could bear
no more, so that were the process repeated--it mattered not at what
lapse of time--the two impregnations neutralised each other, and left
the body on which they acted as it was before it ever came into
contact with the very essence of Life? This, and this alone, would
account for the sudden and terrible ageing of Ayesha, as the whole
length of her two thousand years took effect upon her. I have not the
slightest doubt myself but that the frame now lying before me was just
what the frame of a woman would be if by any extraordinary means life
could be preserved in her till she at length died at the age of two-
and-twenty centuries.
But who can tell what had happened? There was the fact. Often since
that awful hour I have reflected that it requires no great imagination
to see the finger of Providence in the matter. Ayesha locked up in her
living tomb waiting from age to age for the coming of her lover worked
but a small change in the order of the World. But Ayesha strong and
happy in her love, clothed in immortal youth and goddess beauty, and
the wisdom of the centuries, would have revolutionised society, and
even perchance have changed the destiny of Mankind. Thus she opposed
herself against the eternal law, and, strong though she was, by it was
swept back to nothingness--swept back with shame and hideous mockery!
For some minutes I lay faintly turning these terrors over in my mind,
while my physical strength came back to me, which it quickly did in
that buoyant atmosphere. Then I bethought me of the others, and
staggered to my feet, to see if I could arouse them. But first I took
up Ayesha's kirtle and the gauzy scarf with which she had been wont to
hide her dazzling loveliness from the eyes of men, and, averting my
head so that I might not look upon it, covered up that dreadful relic
of the glorious dead, that shocking epitome of human beauty and human
life. I did this hurriedly, fearing lest Leo should recover, and see
it again.
Then, stepping over the perfumed masses of dark hair that lay upon the
sand, I stooped down by Job, who was lying upon his face, and turned
him over. As I did so his arm fell back in a way that I did not like,
and which sent a chill through me, and I glanced sharply at him. One
look was enough. Our old and faithful servant was dead. His nerves,
already shattered by all he had seen and undergone, had utterly broken
down beneath this last dire sight, and he had died of terror, or in a
fit brought on by terror. I had only to look at his face to see it.
It was another blow; but perhaps it may help people to understand how
overwhelmingly awful was the experience through which we had passed--
we did not feel it much at the time. It seemed quite natural that the
poor fellow should be dead. When Leo came to himself, which he did
with a groan and trembling of the limbs about ten minutes afterwards,
and I told him that Job was dead, he merely said, "/Oh!/" And, mind
you, this was from no heartlessness, for he and Job were much attached
to each other; and he often talks of him now with the deepest regret
and affection. It was only that his nerves would bear no more. A harp
can give out but a certain quantity of sound, however heavily it is
smitten.
Well, I set myself to recovering Leo, who, to my infinite relief, I
found was not dead, but only fainting, and in the end I succeeded, as
I have said, and he sat up; and then I saw another dreadful thing.
When we entered that awful place his curling hair had been of the
ruddiest gold, now it was turning grey, and by the time we reached the
outer air it was snow white. Besides, he looked twenty years older.
"What is to be done, old fellow?" he said in a hollow, dead sort of
voice, when his mind had cleared a little, and a recollection of what
had happened forced itself upon it.
"Try and get out, I suppose," I answered; "that is, unless you would
like to go in there," and I pointed to the column of fire that was
once more rolling by.
"I would go in if I were sure that it would kill me," he said with a
little laugh. "It was my cursed hesitation that did this. If I had not
been doubtful she might never have tried to show me the road. But I am
not sure. The fire might have the opposite effect upon me. It might
make me immortal; and, old fellow, I have not the patience to wait a
couple of thousand years for her to come back again as she did for me.
I had rather die when my hour comes--and I should fancy that it isn't
far off either--and go my ways to look for her. Do you go in if you
like."
But I merely shook my head, my excitement was as dead as ditch-water,
and my distaste for the prolongation of my mortal span had come back
upon me more strongly than ever. Besides, we neither of us knew what
the effects of the fire might be. The result upon /She/ had not been
of an encouraging nature, and of the exact causes that produced that
result we were, of course, ignorant.
"Well, my boy," I said, "we cannot stop here till we go the way of
those two," and I pointed to the little heap under the white garment
and to the stiffing corpse of poor Job. "If we are going we had better
go. But, by the way, I expect that the lamps have burnt out," and I
took one up and looked at it, and sure enough it had.
"There is some more oil in the vase," said Leo indifferently--"if it
is not broken, at least."
I examined the vessel in question--it was intact. With a trembling
hand I filled the lamps--luckily there was still some of the linen
wick unburnt. Then I lit them with one of our wax matches. While I did
so we heard the pillar of fire approaching once more as it went on its
never-ending journey, if, indeed, it was the same pillar that passed
and repassed in a circle.
"Let's see it come once more," said Leo; "we shall never look upon its
like again in this world."
It seemed a bit of idle curiosity, but somehow I shared it, and so we
waited till, turning slowly round upon its own axis, it had flamed and
thundered by; and I remember wondering for how many thousands of years
this same phenomenon had been taking place in the bowels of the earth,
and for how many more thousands it would continue to take place. I
wondered also if any mortal eyes would ever again mark its passage, or
any mortal ears be thrilled and fascinated by the swelling volume of
its majestic sound. I do not think that they will. I believe that we
are the last human beings who will ever see that unearthly sight.
Presently it had gone, and we too turned to go.
But before we did so we each took Job's cold hand in ours and shook
it. It was a rather ghastly ceremony, but it was the only means in our
power of showing our respect to the faithful dead and of celebrating
his obsequies. The heap beneath the white garment we did not uncover.
We had no wish to look upon that terrible sight again. But we went to
the pile of rippling hair that had fallen from her in the agony of
that hideous change which was worse than a thousand natural deaths,
and each of us drew from it a shining lock, and these locks we still
have, the sole memento that is left to us of Ayesha as we knew her in
the fulness of her grace and glory. Leo pressed the perfumed hair to
his lips.
"She called to me not to forget her," he said hoarsely; "and swore
that we should meet again. By Heaven! I never will forget her. Here I
swear that if we live to get out of this, I will not for all my days
have anything to say to another living woman, and that wherever I go I
will wait for her as faithfully as she waited for me."
"Yes," I thought to myself, "if she comes back as beautiful as we knew
her. But supposing she came back /like that!/"[*]
[*] What a terrifying reflection it is, by the way, that nearly all
our deep love for women who are not our kindred depends--at any
rate, in the first instance--upon their personal appearance. If we
lost them, and found them again dreadful to look on, though
otherwise they were the very same, should we still love them?
--L. H. H.
Well, and then we went. We went, and left those two in the presence of
the very well and spring of Life, but gathered to the cold company of
Death. How lonely they looked as they lay there, and how ill assorted!
That little heap had been for two thousand years the wisest,
loveliest, proudest creature--I can hardly call her woman--in the
whole universe. She had been wicked, too, in her way; but, alas! such
is the frailty of the human heart, her wickedness had not detracted
from her charm. Indeed, I am by no means certain that it did not add
to it. It was after all of a grand order, there was nothing mean or
small about Ayesha.
And poor Job too! His presentiment had come true, and there was an end
of him. Well, he has a strange burial-place--no Norfolk hind ever had
a stranger, or ever will; and it is something to lie in the same
sepulchre as the poor remains of the imperial /She/.
We looked our last upon them and the indescribable rosy glow in which
they lay, and then with hearts far too heavy for words we left them,
and crept thence broken-down men--so broken down that we even
renounced the chance of practically immortal life, because all that
made life valuable had gone from us, and we knew even then that to
prolong our days indefinitely would only be to prolong our sufferings.
For we felt--yes, both of us--that having once looked Ayesha in the
eyes, we could not forget her for ever and ever while memory and
identity remained. We both loved her now and for all time, she was
stamped and carven on our hearts, and no other woman or interest could
ever raze that splendid die. And I--there lies the sting--I had and
have no right to think thus of her. As she told me, I was naught to
her, and never shall be through the unfathomed depths of Time, unless,
indeed, conditions alter, and a day comes at last when two men may
love one woman, and all three be happy in the fact. It is the only
hope of my broken-heartedness, and a rather faint one. Beyond it I
have nothing. I have paid down this heavy price, all that I am worth
here and hereafter, and that is my sole reward. With Leo it is
different, and often and often I bitterly envy him his happy lot, for
if /She/ was right, and her wisdom and knowledge did not fail her at
the last, which, arguing from the precedent of her own case, I think
most unlikely, he has some future to look forward to. But I have none,
and yet--mark the folly and the weakness of the human heart, and let
him who is wise learn wisdom from it--yet I would not have it
otherwise. I mean that I am content to give what I have given and must
always give, and take in payment those crumbs that fall from my
mistress's table, the memory of a few kind words, the hope one day in
the far undreamed future of a sweet smile or two of recognition, a
little gentle friendship, and a little show of thanks for my devotion
to her--and Leo.
If that does not constitute true love, I do not know what does, and
all I have to say is that it is a very bad state of affairs for a man
on the wrong side of middle age to fall into. _
Read next: CHAPTER XXVII - WE LEAP
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