Nothing more striking or more singular could Theos imagine than the scene now before him, . . the beautiful woman, still as sculptured marble, and the palpitating Snake coiled on that mast-like rod and uplifted above her, — while round the twain knelt the Priests, their faces covered in their robes, and from all parts of the Temple the loud shout arose:
“ALL HAIL, NAGAYA!”
“Praise, Honor, and Glory be unto thee forever and ever!”
Then it was that the proud King flung himself to earth and kissed the dust in abject submission, — then Sah-luma, carelessly complaisant, bent the knee and smiled to himself mockingly as he performed the act of veneration, … then the enormous multitude with clasped hands and beseeching looks fell down and worshipped the glittering beast of the field, whose shining, emerald-like, curiously sad eyes roved hither and thither with a darting yet melancholy eagerness over all the people who called it Lord!
To Theos’s imagination it looked a creature more sorrowful than fierce, — a poor charmed brute, that while netted in the drowsy woofs of its mistress Lysia’s magnetic spell, seemed as though it dimly wondered why it should thus be raised aloft for the adoration of infatuated humankind. Its brilliant crest quivered and emitted little arrowy scintillations of lustre — the “god” was ill at ease in the midst of all his splendor, and two or three times bent back his gleaming neck as though desirous of descending to the level ground.
But when these hints of rebellion declared themselves in the tremors running through the scaly twists of his body, Lysia looked up, and at once, compelled as it were by involuntary attraction, “Nagaya the Divine” looked down. The strange, subtle, mesmeric, sleepy eyes of the woman met the glittering green, mournful eyes of the snake, — and thus the two beautiful creatures regarded each other steadfastly and with an apparent vague sympathy, till the “deity,” evidently overcome by a stronger will than his own, and resigning himself to the inevitable, twisted his radiant head back again to the top of the ebony staff, and again surveyed the kneeling crowds of worshippers.
Presently his glistening jaws opened, — his tongue darted forth vibratingly, — and he gave vent to a low hissing sound, erecting and depressing his crest with extraordinary rapidity, so that it flashed like an aigrette of rare gems. Then, with slow and solemn step, the Priest Zel advanced to the front of the Shrine, and spreading out his hands in the manner of one pronouncing a benediction, said loudly and with emphasis:
“Nagaya the Divine doth hear the prayers of his people!
“Nagaya the Supreme doth accept the offered Sacrifice!
“BRING FORTH THE VICTIM!”
The last words were spoken with stern authoritativeness, and scarcely had they been uttered when the great entrance doors of the Temple flew open, and a procession of children appeared, strewing flowers and singing:
“O happy Bride, we bring thee unto joy and peace!
“To thee are opened the Palaces of the Air,
“The beautiful silent Palaces where the bright stars dwell
“O happy Bride of Nagaya! how fair a fate is thine!”
Pausing, they flung wreaths and garlands among the people, and continued:
“O happy Bride! for thee are past all Sorrows and Sin,
“Thou shalt never know shame, or pain or grief or the
weariness of tears;
“For thee no husband shall prove false, no children prove
ungrateful;
“O happy Bride of Nagaya! how glad a fate is thine.
“O happy Bride! when thou art wedded to the beautiful god, the
god of Rest, —
“Thou shalt forget all trouble and dwell among sweet dreams for
ever!
“Thou art the blessed one, chosen for the love-embraces of
Nagaya!
“O happy Bride! … how glorious a fate is thine!”
Thus they sang in the soft, strange vowel-language of Al-Kyris, and tripped along with that innocent, unthinking gayety usual to such young creatures, up to the centre aisle toward the Sanctuary. They were followed by four priests in scarlet robes and closely masked, . . and walking steadfastly between these, came a slim girl clad in white, veiled from head to foot and crowned with a wreath of lotus lilies. All the congregation, as though moved by an impulse, turned to look at her as she passed, — but her features were not as yet discernible through the mist-like draperies that enfolded her.
The singing children, always preceding her and scattering flowers, having arrived at the steps of the Shrine, grouped themselves on either side, — and the red garmented Priests, after having made several genuflections to the glittering Python that now, with reared neck and quivering fangs, seemed to watch everything that was going on with absorbed and crafty vigilance, proceeded to unveil the maiden martyr, and also to tie her slight hands behind her back by means of a knotted silver cord. Then in a firm voice the Priest Zel proclaimed:
“Behold the elected Bride of the Sun and the Divine Nagaya!
“She bears away from the city the burden of your sins, O ye people, and by her death the gods are satisfied!
“Rejoice greatly, for ye are absolved, — and by the Silver Veil and the Eye of Raphon we pronounce upon all here present the blessing of pardon and peace!”
As he spoke the girl turned round as though in obedience to some mechanical impulse, and fully confronted the multitude, . . her pale, pure face, framed in a shining aureole of rippling fair hair, floated before Theos’s bewildered eyes like a vision seen indistinctly in a magic crystal, and he was for a moment uncertain of her identity; but quick as a flash Sah-luma’s glance lighted upon her, and, with a cry of horror that sent desolate echoes through and through the arches of the Temple, he started from his seat, his arms outstretched, his whole frame convulsed and quivering.
“Niphrata! … Niphrata! …” and his rich voice shook with a passion of appeal, “O ye gods! … what mad, blind, murderous cruelty! Zephoranim!” … and he turned impetuously on the astonished monarch: “As thou livest crowned King I say this maid is MINE! … and in the very presence of Nagaya, I swear she shall NOT die!”
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE SACRIFICE.
A solemn silence ensued. Consternation and wrath were depicted on every countenance. The Sacred Service was interrupted! … a defiance had been hurled as it were in the very teeth of the god Nagaya! … and this horrible outrage to Religion and Law had been actually committed by the Laureate of the realm! It was preposterous, … incredible! … and the gaping crowds reached over each other’s shoulders to stare at the offender, pressing forward eager, wondering, startled faces, which to Theos looked far more spectral than real, seen in the shimmering green radiance that was thrown flickering upon them from the luminous Arch above the Altar. The priests stood still in speechless indignation, . . Lysia moved not at all, nor raised her eyes; only her lips parted in a very slight cold smile.
Seized with mortal dread, Theos gazed helplessly at his reckless, beautiful poet friend, who with head erect and visage white as a waning moon, haughtily confronted his Sovereign and audaciously asserted his right to be heard, even in the Holy place of worship! The King was the first to break the breathless stillness: his words came harshly from his throat, . . and the great muscles in his neck seemed to swell visibly with his hardly controlled anger.
“Peace! … Thou art suddenly distraught, Sah-luma! …” he said, in half-smothered, fierce accents— “How darest thou uplift thy clamorous tongue thus wantonly before Nagaya, and interrupt the progress of his Sacred Ritual? … check thy mad speech! … if ever yonder maid were thine, ’tis certain she is thine no longer; … she hath offered herself, a voluntary sacrifice, and the gods are pleased to claim what thou perchance hast failed to value!”
For all answer, Sah-luma flung himself desperately at the monarch’s feet. “Zephoranim!” he cried again … “I tell thee she is mine! … mine, as truly mine as Love can make her! Oh, she is chaster than lily-buds in her sweet bod
y! … but in her spirit she is wedded — wedded to me, Sah-luma, whom thou, O King, hast ever delighted to honor! And now must I kneel to thee in vain? — thou whose victories I have sung, whose praises I have chanted in burning words that shall carry thy name forever with triumph, down to unborn generations? … Wilt thou become inglorious? … a warrior stricken strengthless by the mummeries of priestcraft, — the juggleries of a perishing creed? Thou art the ruler of Al-Kyris, — thou and thou only! Restore to me this innocent virgin-life that has scarcely yet begun to bloom! … speak but the word and she is saved! … and her timely rescue shall add lustre to the record of thy noblest deeds!”
His matchless voice, full of passionate pulsations, exercised for a moment a resistless influence and magnetic charm. The King’s lowering brows relaxed, — and a gleam of pity passed like light across his countenance. Instinctively he extended his hand to raise Sah-luma from his humble attitude, as though, even in his wrath, he were conscious of the immense intellectual superiority of a great Poet to ever so great a King; and a thrill of involuntary compassion seemed at the same time to run sympathetically through the vast congregation. Theos drew a quick breath of relief, and glanced at Niphrata, … how cold and unconcerned was her demeanor! … Did she not hear Sah-luma’s pleading in her behalf? … No matter! — she would be saved, he thought, and all would yet be well!
And truly it now appeared as if mercy, and not cruelty, were to be the order of the hour, . . for just then the Priest Zel, after having exchanged a few inaudible words with Lysia, advanced again to the front of the Shrine and spoke in distinct tones of forced gentleness and bland forbearance:
“Hear me, O King, Princes and People! … Whereas it has unhappily occurred, to the wonder and sorrow of many, that the holy Spouse of the divine Nagaya is delayed in her desired departure, by the unforeseen opposition and unedifying contumacy of Sah-luma, Poet Laureate of this realm; and lest it may be perchance imagined by the uninitiated, that the maiden is in any way unwilling to fulfil her glorious destiny, the High and Immaculate Priestess of the Shrine doth bid me here pronounce a respite; a brief interval wherein, if the King and the People be willing, he who is named Sah-luma shall, by virtue of his high renown, be permitted to address the Virgin-victim and ascertain her own wishes from her own lips. Injustice cannot dwell within this Sacred Temple, — and if, on trial, the maiden chooses the transitory joys of Earth in preference to the everlasting joys of the Palaces of the Sun, then in Nagaya’s name shall she go free! — inasmuch as the god loves not a reluctant bride, and better no Sacrifice at all, than one that is grudgingly consummated!”
He ceased, — and Sah-luma sprang erect, his eyes sparkling, his whole demeanor that of a man unexpectedly disburdened from some crushing grief.
“Thanks be unto the benevolent destinies!” he exclaimed, flashing a quick glance of gratitude toward Lysia, . . the statuesque Lysia, on whose delicately curved lips the faintly derisive smile still lingered … “And in return for the life of my Niphrata I will give a thousand jewels rare beyond all price to deck Nagaya’s tabernacle! — and I will pour libations to the Sun for twenty days and nights, in token of my heart’s requital for mercy well bestowed!”
Stooping he kissed the King’s hand, — whereupon at a sign from Zel, one of the priests attired in scarlet unfastened Niphrata’s bound hands, and led her, as one leads a blind child, straight up to where Sah-luma and Theos stood, close beside the King, who, together with many others, stared curiously upon her. How fixed and feverishly brilliant were her large dark-blue eyes! … how set were the sensitive lines of her mouth! — how indifferent she seemed, how totally unaware of the Laureate’s presence! The priest who brought her retired into the background, and she remained where he left her, quite mute and motionless. Oh, how every nerve in Theos’s body throbbed with inexpressible agony as he beheld her thus! The wildest remorse possessed him, . . it was as though he looked on the dim picture of a ruin which he himself had recklessly wrought, . . and he could have groaned aloud in the horrible vagueness of his incomprehensible despair! Sah-luma caught the girl’s hand, and peered into her white, still face.
“Niphrata! .. .Niphrata!” he said in a tremulous half-whisper, “I am here, — Sah-luma! … Dost thou not know me!”
She sighed, . . a long, shivering sigh, — and smiled, . . what a strange, wistful, dying smile it was! … but she made no answer.
“Niphrata!” — continued the Laureate, passionately pressing the little, cold fingers that lay so passively in his grasp.. “Look at me! … I have come to save thee! … to take thee home again, . . home to thy flowers, thy birds, thy harp, . . thy pretty chamber with its curtained nook, where thy friend Zoralin waits and weeps all day for thee! … O ye gods! — how weak am I!”.. and he fiercely dashed away the drops that glistened on his black silky lashes, . . “Come with me, sweet one! …” he resumed tenderly— “Come! — Why art thou thus silent? … thou whose voice hath many a time outrivalled the music of the nightingales! Hast thou no word for me, thy lord? — Come!”.. and Theos, struggling to repress his own rising tears, heard his friend’s accents sink into a still lower, more caressing cadence … “Thou shalt never again have cause for grief, my Niphrata, never! … We will never part! … Listen! … am I not he whom thou lovest?”
The poor child’s set mouth trembled, — her beautiful sad eyes gazed at him uncomprehendingly.
“He whom I love is not here!”.. she said in tired, soft tones; “I left him, but he followed me; and now, he waits for me…yonder!”.. And she turned resolutely toward the Sanctuary, as though compelled to do so by some powerful mesmeric attraction, . . “See you not how fair he is!”…and she pointed with her disengaged hand to the formidable python, through whose huge coils ran the tremors of impatient and eager breathing, . . “How tenderly his eyes behold me! … those eyes that I have worshipped so patiently, so faithfully, and yet that never lightened into love for me till now! O thou more than beloved! — How beautiful thou art, my adored one, my heart’s idol!” and a look of pale exaltation lightened her features, as she fixed her wistful gaze, like a fascinated bird, on the shadowy recess whence the Serpent had emerged— “There, — there thou dost rest on a couch of fadeless roses! — how softly the moonlight enfolds thee with a radiance as of outspread wings! — I hear thy voice charming the silence! … thou dost call me by my name, . . O once poor name made rich by thy sweet utterance! Yes, my beloved, I am ready! … I come! I shall die in thy embraces, . . nay, I shall not die but sleep! … and dream a dream of love that shall last forever and ever! No more sorrow … no more tears, . . no more heartsick longings …”
Here she stopped in her incoherent speech, and strove to release her hand from Sah-luma’s, her blue eyes filling with infinite anxiety and distress.
“I pray thee, good stranger,” she entreated with touching mildness,— “whosoever thou art, delay me not, but let me go! … I am but a poor love-sorrowful maid on whom Love hath at last taken pity! — be gentle therefore, and hinder me not on my way to Sah-luma. I have waited for happiness so long! … so long!”
Her young, plaintive voice quavered into a half sob, — and again she endeavored to break away from the Laureate’s hold. But he, overcome by the excess of his own grief and agitation, seized her other hand, and drew her close up to him.
“Niphrata, Niphrata!” he cried despairingly. “What evil hath befallen thee? Where is thy sight.. thy memory? … LOOK! … Look straight in these eyes of mine, and read there my truth and tenderness! … I am Sah-luma, thine own Sah-luma! … thy poet, thy lover, thy master, thy slave, . . all that thou wouldst have me be, I am! Whither wouldst thou wander in search of me? Thou hast no further to go, dear heart, than these arms, . . thou art safe with me, my singing bird, . . come! ..Let me lead thee hence, and home!”
She watched him while he spoke, with a strange expression of distrust and uneasiness. Then, by a violent effort, she wrenched her hands from his clasp, and stood aloof, waving him back with an eloq
uent gesture of amazed reproach.
“Away!” she said, in firm accents of sweet severity,— “Thou art a demon that dost seek to tempt my soul to ruin! THOU Sah-luma!”.. and she lifted her lily-crowned head with a movement of proud rejection.. “Nay! … thou mayst wear his look, his smile, . . thou mayst even borrow the clear heaven-lustre of his eyes, — but I tell thee thou art fiend, not angel, and I will not follow thee into the tangled ways of sin! Oh, thou knowest not the meaning of true love, thou! … There is treachery on thy lips, and thy tongue is trained to utter honeyed falsehood! Methinks thou hast wantonly broken many a faithful heart! — and made light jest of many a betrayed virgin’s sorrow! And thou darest to call thyself MY Poet, . . MY Sah-luma, in whom there is no guile, and who would die a thousand deaths rather than wound the frailest soul that trusted him! … Depart from me, thou hypocrite in Poet’s guise! … thou cruel phantom of my love! … Back to that darkness where thou dost belong, and trouble not my peace!”
Sah-luma recoiled from her, amazed and stupefied. Theos clenched his hands together in a sort of physical effort to keep down the storm of emotions working within him, — for Niphrata’s words burnt into his brain like fire, ..too well, too well he understood their full intensity of meaning! She loved the IDEAL Sah-luma, . . the Sah-luma of her own pure fancies and desires, . . NOT the REAL man as he was, with all his haughty egotism, vainglory, and vice, — vice in which he took more pride than shame. Perhaps she had never known him in his actual character, — she, like other women of her lofty and ardent type, had no doubt set up the hero of her life as a god in the shrine of her own holy and enthusiastic imagination, and had there endowed him with resplendent virtues, which he had never once deemed it worth his while to practise. Oh the loving hearts of women! — How much men have to answer for, when they voluntarily break these clear mirrors of affection, wherein they, all unworthy, have been for a time reflected angel-wise, with all the warmth and color of an innocently adoring passion shining about them like the prismatic rays in a vase of polished crystal! To Niphrata, Sah-luma remained as a sort of splendid divinity, for whom no devotion was too vast, too high, or too complete, . . better, oh surely far better that she should die in her beautiful self-deception, than live to see her elected idol descend to his true level, and openly display all the weaknesses of his volatile, flippant, godless, sensual, yet, alas! most fascinating and genius-gifted nature, . . a nature, which, overflowing as it was with potentialities of noble deeds, yet lacked sufficient intrinsic faith and force to accomplish them! This thought stung Theos like a sharp arrow-prick, and filled him with a strange, indescribable penitence; and he stood in dumb misery, remorsefully eyeing his friend’s consternation, disappointment, and pained bewilderment, without being able to offer him the slightest consolation.
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Eight Book 22) Page 180
