XIV
A SOUL IN HELL
It was nearly ten o'clock at night when I cast myself down upon my bed,and began to gather my scattered wits, and reflect upon what I had seenand heard. But the more I reflected the less I could make of it. Was Imad, or drunk, or dreaming, or was I merely the victim of a giganticand most elaborate hoax? How was it possible that I, a rational man,not unacquainted with the leading scientific facts of our history, andhitherto an absolute and utter disbeliever in all the hocus-pocus whichin Europe goes by the name of the supernatural, could believe that I hadwithin the last few minutes been engaged in conversation with a womantwo thousand and odd years old? The thing was contrary to the experienceof human nature, and absolutely and utterly impossible. It must be ahoax, and yet, if it were a hoax, what was I to make of it? What, too,was to be said of the figures on the water, of the woman's extraordinaryacquaintance with the remote past, and her ignorance, or apparentignorance, of any subsequent history? What, too, of her wonderful andawful loveliness? This, at any rate, was a patent fact, and beyond theexperience of the world. No merely mortal woman could shine with sucha supernatural radiance. About that she had, at any rate, been in theright--it was not safe for any man to look upon such beauty. I wasa hardened vessel in such matters, having, with the exception of onepainful experience of my green and tender youth, put the softer sex(I sometimes think that this is a misnomer) almost entirely out of mythoughts. But now, to my intense horror, I _knew_ that I could never putaway the vision of those glorious eyes; and alas! the very _diablerie_of the woman, whilst it horrified and repelled, attracted in even agreater degree. A person with the experience of two thousand years ather back, with the command of such tremendous powers, and the knowledgeof a mystery that could hold off death, was certainly worth fallingin love with, if ever woman was. But, alas! it was not a question ofwhether or no she was worth it, for so far as I could judge, not beingversed in such matters, I, a fellow of my college, noted for what myacquaintances are pleased to call my misogyny, and a respectable mannow well on in middle life, had fallen absolutely and hopelessly in lovewith this white sorceress. Nonsense; it must be nonsense! She had warnedme fairly, and I had refused to take the warning. Curses on the fatalcuriosity that is ever prompting man to draw the veil from woman,and curses on the natural impulse that begets it! It is the cause ofhalf--ay, and more than half--of our misfortunes. Why cannot man becontent to live alone and be happy, and let the women live alone and behappy too? But perhaps they would not be happy, and I am not sure thatwe should either. Here is a nice state of affairs. I, at my age, to falla victim to this modern Circe! But then she was not modern, at least shesaid not. She was almost as ancient as the original Circe.
I tore my hair, and jumped up from my couch, feeling that if I didnot do something I should go off my head. What did she mean about thescarabæus too? It was Leo's scarabæus, and had come out of the oldcoffer that Vincey had left in my rooms nearly one-and-twenty yearsbefore. Could it be, after all, that the whole story was true, andthe writing on the sherd was _not_ a forgery, or the invention of somecrack-brained, long-forgotten individual? And if so, could it be that_Leo_ was the man that _She_ was waiting for--the dead man who was to beborn again! Impossible! The whole thing was gibberish! Who ever heard ofa man being born again?
But if it were possible that a woman could exist for two thousand years,this might be possible also--anything might be possible. I myself might,for aught I knew, be a reincarnation of some other forgotten self, orperhaps the last of a long line of ancestral selves. Well, _vive laguerre!_ why not? Only, unfortunately, I had no recollection of theseprevious conditions. The idea was so absurd to me that I burst outlaughing, and, addressing the sculptured picture of a grim-lookingwarrior on the cave wall, called out to him aloud, "Who knows, oldfellow?--perhaps I was your contemporary. By Jove! perhaps I was you andyou are I," and then I laughed again at my own folly, and the sound ofmy laughter rang dismally along the vaulted roof, as though the ghost ofthe warrior had echoed the ghost of a laugh.
Next I bethought me that I had not been to see how Leo was, so, takingup one of the lamps which was burning at my bedside, I slipped off myshoes and crept down the passage to the entrance of his sleeping cave.The draught of the night air was lifting his curtain to and fro gently,as though spirit hands were drawing and redrawing it. I slid into thevault-like apartment, and looked round. There was a light by which Icould see that Leo was lying on the couch, tossing restlessly in hisfever, but asleep. At his side, half-lying on the floor, half-leaningagainst the stone couch, was Ustane. She held his hand in one of hers,but she too was dozing, and the two made a pretty, or rather a pathetic,picture. Poor Leo! his cheek was burning red, there were dark shadowsbeneath his eyes, and his breath came heavily. He was very, very ill;and again the horrible fear seized me that he might die, and I be leftalone in the world. And yet if he lived he would perhaps be my rivalwith Ayesha; even if he were not the man, what chance should I,middle-aged and hideous, have against his bright youth and beauty? Well,thank Heaven! my sense of right was not dead. _She_ had not killed thatyet; and, as I stood there, I prayed to Heaven in my heart that my boy,my more than son, might live--ay, even if he proved to be the man.
Then I went back as softly as I had come, but still I could not sleep;the sight and thought of dear Leo lying there so ill had but added fuelto the fire of my unrest. My wearied body and overstrained mind awakenedall my imagination into preternatural activity. Ideas, visions, almostinspirations, floated before it with startling vividness. Most of themwere grotesque enough, some were ghastly, some recalled thoughts andsensations that had for years been buried in the _débris_ of my pastlife. But, behind and above them all, hovered the shape of that awfulwoman, and through them gleamed the memory of her entrancing loveliness.Up and down the cave I strode--up and down.
Suddenly I observed, what I had not noticed before, that there was anarrow aperture in the rocky wall. I took up the lamp and examined it;the aperture led to a passage. Now, I was still sufficiently sensibleto remember that it is not pleasant, in such a situation as ours was, tohave passages running into one's bed-chamber from no one knows where. Ifthere are passages, people can come up them; they can come up when oneis asleep. Partly to see where it went to, and partly from a restlessdesire to be doing something, I followed the passage. It led to a stonestair, which I descended; the stair ended in another passage, or rathertunnel, also hewn out of the bed-rock, and running, so far as I couldjudge, exactly beneath the gallery that led to the entrance of ourrooms, and across the great central cave. I went on down it: it was assilent as the grave, but still, drawn by some sensation or attractionthat I cannot define, I followed on, my stockinged feet falling withoutnoise on the smooth and rocky floor. When I had traversed some fiftyyards of space, I came to another passage running at right angles, andhere an awful thing happened to me: the sharp draught caught my lampand extinguished it, leaving me in utter darkness in the bowels of thatmysterious place. I took a couple of strides forward so as to clear thebisecting tunnel, being terribly afraid lest I should turn up it inthe dark if once I got confused as to the direction, and then paused tothink. What was I to do? I had no match; it seemed awful to attempt thatlong journey back through the utter gloom, and yet I could not standthere all night, and, if I did, probably it would not help me much, forin the bowels of the rock it would be as dark at midday as at midnight.I looked back over my shoulder--not a sight or a sound. I peered forwardinto the darkness: surely, far away, I saw something like the faint glowof fire. Perhaps it was a cave where I could get a light--at any rate,it was worth investigating. Slowly and painfully I crept along thetunnel, keeping my hand against its wall, and feeling at every step withmy foot before I put it down, fearing lest I should fall into somepit. Thirty paces--there was a light, a broad light that came and went,shining through curtains! Fifty paces--it was close at hand! Sixty--oh,great heaven!
I was at the curtains, and they did not hang close, so I could seeclearly into
the little cavern beyond them. It had all the appearance ofbeing a tomb, and was lit up by a fire that burnt in its centre with awhitish flame and without smoke. Indeed, there, to the left, was a stoneshelf with a little ledge to it three inches or so high, and on theshelf lay what I took to be a corpse; at any rate, it looked like one,with something white thrown over it. To the right was a similar shelf,on which lay some broidered coverings. Over the fire bent the figure ofa woman; she was sideways to me and facing the corpse, wrapped in a darkmantle that hid her like a nun's cloak. She seemed to be staring at theflickering flame. Suddenly, as I was trying to make up my mind whatto do, with a convulsive movement that somehow gave an impression ofdespairing energy, the woman rose to her feet and cast the dark cloakfrom her.
It was _She_ herself!
She was clothed, as I had seen her when she unveiled, in the kirtle ofclinging white, cut low upon her bosom, and bound in at the waist withthe barbaric double-headed snake, and, as before, her rippling blackhair fell in heavy masses down her back. But her face was what caught myeye, and held me as in a vice, not this time by the force of its beauty,but by the power of fascinated terror. The beauty was still there,indeed, but the agony, the blind passion, and the awful vindictivenessdisplayed upon those quivering features, and in the tortured look of theupturned eyes, were such as surpass my powers of description.
For a moment she stood still, her hands raised high above her head, andas she did so the white robe slipped from her down to her golden girdle,baring the blinding loveliness of her form. She stood there, her fingersclenched, and the awful look of malevolence gathered and deepened on herface.
Suddenly I thought of what would happen if she discovered me, and thereflection made me turn sick and faint. But, even if I had known that Imust die if I stopped, I do not believe that I could have moved, forI was absolutely fascinated. But still I knew my danger. Supposing sheshould hear me, or see me through the curtain, supposing I even sneezed,or that her magic told her that she was being watched--swift indeedwould be my doom.
Down came the clenched hands to her sides, then up again above her head,and, as I am a living and honourable man, the white flame of the fireleapt up after them, almost to the roof, throwing a fierce and ghastlyglare upon _She_ herself, upon the white figure beneath the covering,and every scroll and detail of the rockwork.
Down came the ivory arms again, and as they did so she spoke, or ratherhissed, in Arabic, in a note that curdled my blood, and for a secondstopped my heart.
"Curse her, may she be everlastingly accursed."
The arms fell and the flame sank. Up they went again, and the broadtongue of fire shot up after them; and then again they fell.
"Curse her memory--accursed be the memory of the Egyptian."
Up again, and again down.
"Curse her, the daughter of the Nile, because of her beauty.
"Curse her, because her magic hath prevailed against me.
"Curse her, because she held my beloved from me."
And again the flame dwindled and shrank.
She put her hands before her eyes, and abandoning the hissing tone,cried aloud:--
"What is the use of cursing?--she prevailed, and she is gone."
Then she recommenced with an even more frightful energy:--
"Curse her where she is. Let my curses reach her where she is anddisturb her rest.
"Curse her through the starry spaces. Let her shadow be accursed.
"Let my power find her even there.
"Let her hear me even there. Let her hide herself in the blackness.
"Let her go down into the pit of despair, because I shall one day findher."
Again the flame fell, and again she covered her eyes with her hands.
"It is of no use--no use," she wailed; "who can reach those who sleep?Not even I can reach them."
Then once more she began her unholy rites.
"Curse her when she shall be born again. Let her be born accursed.
"Let her be utterly accursed from the hour of her birth until sleep findsher.
"Yea, then, let her be accursed; for then shall I overtake her with myvengeance, and utterly destroy her."
And so on. The flame rose and fell, reflecting itself in her agonisedeyes; the hissing sound of her terrible maledictions, and no words ofmine can convey how terrible they were, ran round the walls and diedaway in little echoes, and the fierce light and deep gloom alternatedthemselves on the white and dreadful form stretched upon that bier ofstone.
But at length she seemed to wear herself out and cease. She sat herselfdown upon the rocky floor, shook the dense cloud of her beautiful hairover her face and breast, and began to sob terribly in the torture of aheartrending despair.
"Two thousand years," she moaned--"two thousand years have I wanted andendured; but though century doth still creep on to century, and timegive place to time, the sting of memory hath not lessened, the light ofhope doth not shine more bright. Oh! to have lived two thousand years,with all my passion eating out my heart, and with my sin ever before me.Oh, that for me life cannot bring forgetfulness! Oh, for the weary yearsthat have been and are yet to come, and evermore to come, endless andwithout end!
"My love! my love! my love! Why did that stranger bring thee back to meafter this sort? For five hundred years I have not suffered thus. Oh,if I sinned against thee, have I not wiped away the sin? When wilt thoucome back to me who have all, and yet without thee have naught? What isthere that I can do? What? What? What? And perchance she--perchance thatEgyptian doth abide with thee where thou art, and mock my memory. Oh,why could I not die with thee, I who slew thee? Alas, that I cannot die!Alas! Alas!" and she flung herself prone upon the ground, and sobbed andwept till I thought her heart must burst.
Suddenly she ceased, raised herself to her feet, rearranged her robe,and, tossing back her long locks impatiently, swept across to where thefigure lay upon the stone.
"Oh Kallikrates," she cried, and I trembled at the name, "I must lookupon thy face again, though it be agony. It is a generation sinceI looked upon thee whom I slew--slew with mine own hand," and withtrembling fingers she seized the corner of the sheet-like wrapping thatcovered the form upon the stone bier, and then paused. When she spokeagain, it was in a kind of awed whisper, as though her idea wereterrible even to herself.
"Shall I raise thee," she said, apparently addressing the corpse, "sothat thou standest there before me, as of old? I _can_ do it," and sheheld out her hands over the sheeted dead, while her whole frame becamerigid and terrible to see, and her eyes grew fixed and dull. I shrank inhorror behind the curtain, my hair stood up upon my head, and, whetherit was my imagination or a fact I am unable to say, but I thought thatthe quiet form beneath the covering began to quiver, and the windingsheet to lift as though it lay on the breast of one who slept. Suddenlyshe withdrew her hands, and the motion of the corpse seemed to me tocease.
"To what purpose?" she said gloomily. "Of what good is it to recall thesemblance of life when I cannot recall the spirit? Even if thou stoodestbefore me thou wouldst not know me, and couldst but do what I bid thee.The life in thee would be _my_ life, and not _thy_ life, Kallikrates."
For a moment she stood there brooding, and then cast herself down on herknees beside the form, and began to press her lips against the sheet,and weep. There was something so horrible about the sight of thisawe-inspiring woman letting loose her passion on the dead--so much morehorrible even than anything that had gone before--that I could no longerbear to look at it, and, turning, began to creep, shaking as I was inevery limb, slowly along the pitch-dark passage, feeling in my tremblingheart that I had seen a vision of a Soul in Hell.
On I stumbled, I scarcely know how. Twice I fell, once I turned up thebisecting passage, but fortunately found out my mistake in time. Fortwenty minutes or more I crept along, till at last it occurred to methat I must have passed the little stair by which I had descended. So,utterly exhausted, and nearly frightened to death, I sank down at lengththere on the stone
flooring, and sank into oblivion.
When I came to I noticed a faint ray of light in the passage just behindme. I crept to it, and found it was the little stair down which the weakdawn was stealing. Passing up it, I gained my chamber in safety, and,flinging myself on the couch, was soon lost in slumber or rather stupor.
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