And this man—this powerful man, whose face, manner and appearance evoked the majesty of a lion—let his forehead fall into the open hands of the young woman, and he began to weep…
She looked at him. She thought about Saint-Clair. She compared the two, and the ironic smile that immortalized La Gioconda—that enigmatic but simultaneously seductive and cruel smile—strayed over her closed lips; but her large, profound eyes misted over with an emotion more enigmatic still.
For a long time, she let him weep before her, this man whom she had previously feared and hated without being able to help admiring him. Now, she no longer feared him, but she admired him less…
Can you understand the sentiments that were agitating her? Her will alone dictated the following words to him—but what determined the fact that the tone in which the words were spoken was one of infinite softness?
“Koynos, look at me.”
He raised his head and he saw that she was smiling—but the smile was no longer ironic. Then, he was inundated with such happiness that he thought he would faint.
“Koynos,” she repeated, “I don’t know whether I love you…”
He straightened up, quivering.
Without lowering her eyes, which were only dewy with instinctive modesty, she added: “But I shall know when you have told me about Monsieur Saint-Clair…”
He stood up then, and a cry of horror sprang from the depths of his being. A tide of blood invaded his face and made it swell up. She had risen to her feet too; she had put her two white hands on the shoulders of the colossus. Calm now, having become pale again, her flashing eyes fixed themselves on the man’s vacillating pupils.
“Yes, Koynos, I shall know whether I love you or hate you when you have told me about Saint-Clair. Where is he? What is he doing? Have you seen him?”
On the brink of fainting, Koynos closed his eyes. He was just about to stammer something when a sonorous bell rang three times…
He straightened again, his eyes widening.
“Oxus! It’s Oxus who’s summoning me…”
“Who is Oxus?” asked Xavière.
“The Master!”
Imperiously, the bell rang again.
Koynos moved backwards, tearing Xavière’s hands away with unnecessary violence, and after murmuring: “I’ll come back… I’ll tell you about him!” he left the room as if in flight.
The distressed Commander found the Master waiting for him, standing by the Terrestrial globe, leaning his elbow on the equator.
“You called me, Master?” he murmured.
“Yes, Koynos. Do you know where Alkeus is?”
“No.”
“Listen!” And Oxus told Koynos about Alkeus’ heroic departure. Livid with shame and humiliation, the Commander listened, his head bowed. In a serious and severe tone, Oxus continued: “That’s what Alkeus has done. Now, his sacrifice must not be in vain. It might happen that Alkeus reaches Earth before Saint-Clair has left. In that case, Alkeus will obviously be lost, fruitlessly—but a second brother, departing with the same aim as Alkeus, but with more composure, would succeed where the first gamble failed. That second brother, Koynos, will be you…”
“I know that, Master!” said the Commander, in a strangely firm voice. And Koynos stood up straight, as if restored to himself.
“You will, therefore, depart,” Oxus went on. “You will moderate the speed of your radioplane so as not to move any faster than 25,000 kilometers an hour—and if the Nyctalope leaves Earth too late for Alkeus to meet him in the sky, he will, at least, meet you. You will crash into him and annihilate both of you in space. Thus, you will repair the error that you have made. Go to your death, my son, as Alkeus has gone to his!”
Herodotus reports that while Xerxes, defeated and fugitive, was re-crossing the Black Sea, a sudden tempest blew up and the pilot declared that the vessel was overloaded and that it would certainly sink if its load were not lightened. The Emperor’s principal generals then came to bow before him, and hurled themselves into the sea without saying a word. The great King found this perfectly natural, and was not at all astonished by such devotion. The attitude of Oxus was similar to what Xerxes’ must have been when Koynos bowed before him and simply replied: “I shall go to my death, Master.”
And, having kissed Oxus’ cold hand, Koynos went out. Scarcely was he outside, though, when he shrugged his shoulders furiously and cried from the depths of his inner being: “Madman! Triple madman, who still believes that we shall have no other passions but his! The Oath of the Fifteen, I renounce—I renounce it forever!”
And, hurrying to Xavière’s room, Koynos took the young woman in his hands—she had risen to her feet with a start as he came in—and said, trembling with an enormous joy: “Xavière, you have asked me to tell you about your fiancé. Well, listen to me: Saint-Clair is very probably in possession of the radiomotive station in the Congo, having discovered the radioplanes left there and being ready to use them—which will not pose more than a trivial difficulty for him. He will set off for Mars, after us… Oxus knows that. Alkeus has left, with the intention of meeting Saint-Clair in interplanetary space and crashing into him, of annihilating both of them…”
Xavière let out a cry of anguish.
“Ah! You love him! You love him!” croaked Koynos. He took his head in both hands and squeezed it, as if to prevent it from exploding. Then, his face ravaged by passion and pain, he said: “Listen, Xavière! I, too, am about to leave. Oxus has ordered me to go to my death, like Alkeus, and to succeed in meeting Saint-Clair if Alkeus does not. Do you understand?” He seized her by the shoulders, and said breathlessly: “Well, I shall go!”
“Koynos!” cried Xavière.
“What? Speak! Speak! I can annihilate Saint-Clair, but I can also save him, if Alkeus fails. Speak! What do you want?”
“Save him!”
“Ah!” he cried, with heart-rending desperation. “You love him! But what about me? Me! I love you, Xavière. If I save your fiancé, if…” He fell to his knees, panting, his speech cut short by a sob, maddened by the formidable intensity of his passion.
The strength that had abandoned the man, however, came back in its entirety to the woman. Xavière felt a great tremor, and the tumult of her thoughts, her sensations and her emotions suddenly calmed. With a touch of her hand, she brought the galvanized Koynos to his feet. Then, standing upright in front of him, looking into the depths of his eyes, she said, in a colorless voice: “Go! Save him… And on the day that Saint-Clair, conqueror of Oxus, comes in here… On that day, Koynos, I will be yours…”
“That day…”
“That day alone, Koynos, or never!”
He trembled. “And afterwards?” he said.
“Afterwards, I shall belong to my fiancé, for life.”
He emitted a roar. “And me? What about me?”
But it was in a glacial tone that she said: “Do you only love me for yourself, then, Koynos?”
He saw her standing there, eyes aflame, lips a-tremble, so beautiful that he was, in the end, utterly vanquished. “If I save him,” he cried, “I shall kill myself at your feet and you shall only render me the kiss that I give you!”
He seized the young woman’s head in his hands, drew her to him, burned her with a kiss, and launched himself outside, leaving the bedroom door open…
Almost immediately, a blonde child appeared on that threshold, pale and almost immaterial in her long white robe, which had no girdle. It was Yvonne de Ciserat. She came towards her sister and let herself fall into her arms, saying: “Xavière, I heard everything. Oh, if I had known that it was against Leo that Alkeus was going…!”
“You knew that Alkeus had gone?”
“Yes—look, here’s the note that he left to be given to me…”
And Yvonne handed Xavière a pieced of paper on which the following words were written in crayon:
I love you. I’m leaving for Earth, and for death. Adieu!
“I could have kept Alkeus here!�
�� Yvonne murmured, blushing. “With one word I would have been able to do it…!”
But Xavière let herself collapse into an armchair, drew her sister to her knees, pressed her tenderly to her heart, and said, with her eyes now full of tears. “No regrets, Yvonne! It’s not your duty, my poor dear, to sacrifice yourself. Koynos will save my Leo!”
“Only if Alkeus doesn’t kill him!” sighed Yvonne, weeping. “And it’s me who was the cause of Alkeus’ departure. Will you ever forgive me, Xavière? I could have saved your Leo… And it was me who let the man who might kill him go forth. Oh, Xavière, forgive me!”
The poor child, sobbing uncontrollably, was in despair—but Xavière, cradling her gently, repeated in a broken voice: “No, no, Yvonne, don’t distress yourself. You couldn’t know. Koynos will save him. Oh, if I didn’t have that hope, you know, I’d let myself die as well, for I’m at the end of my resources.”
The two sisters, huddled in the vast armchair, had their backs to the door, which was still open—and a tall silhouette had been standing, framed in that doorway, for a minute. It was Oxus, immobile and mute. He had wanted to see the young woman for whom Alkeus was dying. As he was about to go into his disciple’s house, he had caught sight of Yvonne going out, and had followed her. And there, standing at first in the next room, then on the very threshold of the bedroom, he had just heard everything. He had learned of the definitive treason of Koynos—a treason whose effects it was now impossible to avoid. To cut off the radiomotive current would, to be sure, bring about the fatal fall of Koynos somewhere on the Martian surface, but Alkeus would suffer the same fate; he too would lose propulsion and fall from a frightful height of thousands of kilometers. It was therefore necessary to let them both go to meet their destiny!
But these conjectures, in which Woman featured as the principal active agent, astonished Oxus even more than they annoyed him. He listened to the words of the two young women—who, hidden as they were by the broad high back of the armchair, were invisible to him—and his astonishment was gradually transformed into dread.
Oxus the genius had pre-armed himself against all the strength of the men of Earth and the aliens of Mars, but he had forgotten to pre-arm his XV against the weakness of Woman…and Oxus glimpsed, with a fearful astonishment, the possibility that the XV might be defeated by these frail young women, whom they had desired to make, with the Master’s nonchalant permission, companions of their pleasures, slaves of their caprices, and of whom they were also to make use in perpetuating the race of the first conquerors of Mars.
Oxus now reproached himself then for having permitted the abduction of these 15 young women by his followers. They alone were the cause of the month-long pause in their victorious hostilities against the Martians. Because of them, Alkeus had gone to his death, Koynos to his treason—and if Saint-Clair was on his way to Mars, as he probably was, that too was because of them! And Oxus asked himself somberly whether, to save the Society of XV, he ought not to sacrifice both Alkeus and Koynos definitively, kill the 15 young women—thus regenerating the Society—and then wage war against Saint-Clair directly, if the Nyctalope were to emerge one day into the Martian atmosphere. Above all, he must protect his 13 remaining disciples from the perils of love! But was it already too late? Had the other Brothers already fallen victim, like Alkeus and Koynos, to the seductions of their prisoners?
At this thought, Oxus made a gesture of anger—and, without Xavière and Yvonne ever having suspected his presence for a moment, he withdrew to call a council meeting of the XV…
Meanwhile, Alkeus and Koynos were both hurtling through interplanetary space like bolides, at a speed of 3000 kilometers an hour. The former was going in order to kill the Nyctalope, and to die himself, in the frightful collision of two radioplanes. The latter hoped to arrive on Earth before Saint-Clair had left, or at least to encounter him safe and sound in the ether, to come back to Mars with him and to save him, by whatever means circumstances might suggest, from whatever perils the planet Mars had in reserve for him, whatever Oxus or the Martians might do.
The two radioplanes were traveling at their maximum speed of 3000 kilometers per hour, and the former had left 22 minutes ahead of the latter. Alkeus maintained a constant distance ahead of Koynos of 110,000 kilometers. Now, Alkeus had left Mars, headed towards Earth, on the morning of October 18. He would arrive on Earth seven days and seven hours later, on the afternoon of the October 25. If, therefore, the Nyctalope left Earth in a radioplane before that date, he would be irremediably lost. Given that delay of 22 minutes and 110,000 kilometers, Koynos could do nothing against Fate.
III. On Earth
If one has a little knowledge of psychology, it is easy to guess what the consequences must have been of the attitude of the technician Normand in the face of Saint-Clair’s questioning.
The situation was horribly tragic. At 4 a.m., Saint-Clair had asked the question: “What is supposed to happen here today?”
Breton had stated: “We won’t answer.”
But Normand, darting a desolate glance towards Maximilien Jolivet, who reminded him of a cherished son, had murmured, not without hesitation: “That’s obvious! We mustn’t answer.”
What was even more obvious to the brave technician was that, at 8 a.m., a carefully-prepared sort-circuit would be fatally produced at a certain location in the radiomotive station, that that short-circuit would set light to an explosive mixture of unimaginable power, and that a cataclysm would then be produced, as a result of which the jungle would be ravaged within a radius of ten kilometers, the station would by hurled into the Heavens in flaming ruins, and the four men who were there, including young Maximilien, would no longer exist, except as tiny and bloody shreds scattered to the four corners of the sky.
Now, the Nyctalope was a very perspicacious psychologist. He saw the gaze with which Normand caressed Maximilien, and understood the profound meaning of that “we mustn’t answer.” Very calmly, therefore, very amiably, almost smiling, he took a packet of tobacco from his pouch and set about rolling a cigarette, saying: “My dear friends, it’s obvious that what is to happen here today will put our four lives in danger. You have each, I see, decided to sacrifice your own. Why should Max and I not sacrifice ours?” He turned towards the young man, and continued, negligently: “Max, my opinion is that if we don’t get out of here and don’t put some distance between ourselves and this place quickly, we’ll die. As for me, I’m quite content to smoke a dozen cigarettes peacefully, and I can’t be bothered to change location. What about you?”
“I’ll stay with you,” Max said, simply, a trifle pale.
What happened was not what should have happened, according to the foresight of Oxus, the orders of Koynos or the special dispositions made by Breton and Normand, but what had to happen according to the laws of nature, which has put sensitive hearts into the breasts of the majority of men.
At 5:30 a.m., when Breton was pretending to be asleep on the bed on which he was lying, Normand leaned over to Max and whispered: “Go, my lad—and go quickly! It’s already getting late…”
Max shook his head and smiled, under the encouraging gaze of the Nyctalope.
Normand had a sudden fit of despair then, and he collapsed on his bed, sobbing. What memories of filial tenderness, childish caresses and sweet familial joys were wringing the heart of that man?
At 6:45 a.m., Normand stood up, opened his mouth…
“Traitor!” breathed Breton, who was not asleep and who understood.
Normand fell back on to the bolster. His forehead was streaming with sweat and his eyes were wild. With a keen interest, the Nyctalope followed the tragic struggle fought out in the man’s heart and mind, but he remained impassive, smoking cigarette after cigarette.
Suddenly a bell rang; the sonorous ring was repeated seven times.
“No, no!” cried Normand, sitting up with a start. “No! I don’t want to let the little lad die!”
Despite the bonds that secured his ankles, he le
apt out of the bed and coldly, almost brutally, said to Saint-Clair, who had risen to his feet: “Untie me!”
“Traitor!” growled Breton.
“So be it!” Normand riposted. “As much a traitor as you wish! But I’d commit 100 similar treasons rather than kill that boy!”
Already, he was free; Saint-Clair had cut the ropes that bound his wrists and ankles with three swift sweeps of his knife. Immediately, with a roar, the technician hurled himself into the machine hall.
In the room with the four beds there was silence. Max, who understood, had eyes brimming with tears, and to hide his disturbance he pretended to examine the stock of his carbine attentively. Breton, lying horizontally, did not move a muscle. As for Saint-Clair, he lit his 22nd cigarette and smoked it nervously.
Five minutes went by.
Normand reappeared, now quite calm. “It’s done,” he said, in a tone of infinite satisfaction. He looked at Max. Jolivet, feeling his gaze upon him, raised his head—and, on an irresistible impulse, they threw themselves into one another’s arms. The embrace was brief. Normand detached himself first, and turned to Saint-Clair.
“Monsieur,” he said, “at 8 a.m. the station was to have exploded—and us with it, naturally. But nothing will explode, now that I…”
“Normand!” Breton interrupted. “Have you cut off the radiomotive current?”
“No.”
“Oh, well! Since these gentlemen have given you the use of your limbs, you must cut off the current at 7:30 a.m. That way, half of our Master’s orders will be obeyed…”
“La la la!” said Saint-Clair, with a placid gesture. “Normand will not be cutting anything off. The station won’t explode—that’s good—but as the Master, as you call him, has ordered this radiomotive current of which you speak to be cut off at 7:30 a.m., my interest demands that the current continue to flow.”
The Nyctalope on Mars 1: The Mystery of the Fifteen Page 18
