Kuolematon kuningatar – H. Rider Haggard 🎧👑🔥🗺️

Sukella H. Rider Haggardin klassiseen seikkailuun, jossa tiedemies Horace Holly ja hänen suojattinsa Leo Vincey seuraavat salaperäistä pergamenttia Afrikan sydämeen. Heidän tiensä vie kadonneeseen luolavaltakuntaan, jossa hallitsee Ayesha – Kuolematon Kuningatar, jonka kauneus ja voima ovat yhtä aikaa lumous ja kirous. Tässä suomenkielisessä ääniversiossa kohtaat ikuisuuden houkutuksen, mustasukkaisuuden vaarat ja ihmismielen rajat. 🎙️👣✨

• Mitä luvassa? 🧭
– Muinaisen sivilisaation arvoitus ja vaarallinen matka tulivuorten, luolien ja ikivanhojen rituaalien halki.
– Ayeshan kohtalokas rakkaustarina, joka kietoo sankarit valtaansa.
– Teemoja: kuolemattomuus, vallan moraali, kolonialismin katse, ystävyyden ja uskollisuuden koetus.

• Miksi kuunnella? 🎧
– Klassinen “lost world” -seikkailu, joka inspiroi myöhempiä fantasia- ja seikkailutarinoita.
– Intensiteetti kasvaa luku luvulta: jännitys, romantiikka ja filosofia kohtaavat.
– Selkeä suomenkielinen kerronta pitää kiinni koko matkan ajan.

• Kenelle tämä sopii? 👑
– Klassikkoromaanien, seikkailun ja mystiikan ystäville.
– Kuuntelijoille, jotka nauttivat vahvoista, ristiriitaisista hahmoista ja moraalisista valinnoista.
– Kaikille, jotka haluavat aikamatkan viktoriaaniseen mielikuvitukseen ja eksotiikan kuvastoon.

• Hyödyt 📚
– Laadukas, maksuton julkaisuoikeus (public domain) mahdollistaa aidon klassikkokokemuksen.
– Kuuntele osissa: jokainen luku tarjoaa oman käänteensä ja pohdinnan aiheen.

👉 Piditkö kuulemastasi? Tilaa kanava, niin et missaa uusia klassikoita: [https://bit.ly/AanikirjatSuomeksi](https://bit.ly/AanikirjatSuomeksi) 💛

Hashtagit:
#KuolematonKuningatar #HRiderHaggard #Ayesha #She #Seikkailu #Klassikot #ÄänikirjaSuomeksi #SuomenkielinenÄänikirja #Afrikka #MuinaisetSivilisaatiot #IkuinenNuoruus #Romantiikka #Mystiikka #Jännitys #PublicDomain #KlassinenSeikkailu #Tarina #Audiobook #FinnishAudiobook #AanikirjatSuomeksi

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00:00:38 Chapter 1.
00:12:34 Chapter 2.
00:31:42 Chapter 3.
00:44:56 Chapter 4.
01:17:52 Chapter 5.
01:37:27 Chapter 6.
02:00:09 Chapter 7.
02:24:20 Chapter 8.
02:46:44 Chapter 9.
03:06:40 Chapter 10.
03:22:11 Chapter 11.
03:42:09 Chapter 12.
04:00:45 Chapter 13.
04:20:31 Chapter 14.
04:45:28 Chapter 15.
05:02:46 Chapter 16.
05:19:55 Chapter 17.
05:40:28 Chapter 18.
06:05:09 Chapter 19.
06:28:59 Chapter 20.
06:44:54 Chapter 21.
07:05:14 Chapter 22.
07:18:59 Chapter 23.
07:42:20 Chapter 24.
07:56:59 Chapter 25.
08:16:20 Chapter 26.
08:39:34 Chapter 27.
08:57:50 Chapter 28.
09:13:05 Chapter 29.

Welcome to the channel Audiobooks in Finnish. Today we open the door to H. Rider Haggard’s adventure classic The Immortal Queen, a story where ancient Africa, lost peoples and the lure of immortality are intertwined. Cambridge scholar Horace Holly and his student Leo Vincey follow an enigmatic legacy through deserts and caves until they arrive at a hidden kingdom ruled by the sparkling and terrifying Ayesha. There, love becomes an ordeal, science meets magic and the price of power is revealed. Sit back, let the echoes of the stone walls approach, and let the story lead you to the border of shadows and eternity. Chapter 1. Over the Mountains. PART ONE. INTRODUCTION . In thus bringing to the public the following incidents which seem only to be adventures , but which, in my opinion, are the most wonderful and mysterious that mortals have ever experienced, I feel it my duty to explain from whence I have derived my detailed information on these matters. But before I begin my explanation, I must at once state that I am only the publisher of this remarkable story, and have by no means been a party to its mysterious incidents. Some years ago I was visiting a friend of mine in a university town, which we may call Cambridge, as it suits my story. As I was walking one day in the street, my attention was particularly attracted by two persons who were passing before me. The one had his arm under the arm of the other, and was, without exaggeration, the most handsome young man I ever saw. He was very tall and broad-shouldered, and the strength and grace of his bearing seemed as natural to him as the wild deer of the wilderness has its gallant form and graceful movements. His face was very handsome, and reflected a good and noble character, and as he raised his hat to salute a lady as he passed, I saw that his hair was golden and curled in thick curls. God forbid! I exclaimed to my friend who was with me, that young man is like a living statue of Apollo. How beautiful he is! Yes, replied my companion, he is the most handsome and also the most exemplary student in our university. He is generally called a Greek god, but look at that other one. He is the name of Vincey’s god , Vincey’s guardian, who is considered a very learned man. He is called Charon. I followed the suggestion, and found the older man to be in a way quite as striking as the young man who walked beside him, who was indeed the epitome of the perfection of masculine beauty. His companion appeared to be about forty years of age, and was as ugly as his companion was beautiful. He was, in the first place, very short and club-legged, his chest was sunken, and his arms were unusually long. His hair was black, and grew almost halfway up his forehead, merging with a bushy beard that reached his temples, so that not much of his face was visible. He resembled a gorilla in every way, but his eyes showed the sharpness of a scientist’s mind, and there was something pleasant and trusting about his whole appearance. I remember saying to my friend that I would like to make his acquaintance. Nothing is easier than that, he replied. I already know Vincey , and I will introduce you to him first. A few minutes later we were engaged in an interesting conversation — about the Zulu people, for I had just returned from my trip to the Cape. But our conversation was soon interrupted, for along the same street-walk where we were standing, approached us an elderly woman and a pretty fair-haired girl, whom Vincey seemed to know well, for he immediately joined them, leaving us. I remember that as the women approached the expression on the face of the elderly man, whose name I heard was Holly, greatly amused me. He suddenly fell silent, looked reproachfully at his companion, and, growling to himself, walked away alone across the street. Afterwards I heard, that he was generally known to be as much afraid of women as other people are of a mad dog, and thus his sudden flight was accounted for. I cannot say, however, that young Vincey at that moment expressed any aversion to the female sex. Indeed, I remember remarking to my friend, laughing, that the young man was a man whom it was not well to present to his bride. The acquaintance would almost certainly end in the girl’s love for her fiancé cooling off, and her becoming head over heels in love with her new friend. He was far too handsome, and what was more remarkable was that he did not seem to care at all, nor behave in the least pretentious manner, as handsome men usually do; which is why, thankfully, they are not liked among their companions. That same evening I travelled, and after this meeting I did not see or hear a whisper of Charon and the Greek god for a long time. I have not seen either of them since , and probably never shall. But a month ago I received a letter and two parcels, one of which contained manuscripts, and on opening the letter I found that it was written by one Horace Holly, whose name I did not at that moment remember having heard before. The letter read: Cambridge, May 1st, 18–. KH Considering our very short acquaintance, you will be surprised to receive a letter from me. It will therefore be well to remind you that some years ago we met in a Cambridge street, when my guardian Leo Vincey and I were introduced to you. I will now come to my point briefly . I have just read with great interest a book you have published, in which you tell of adventures in Central Africa. I suppose that the events described in the book are partly true and partly imaginary. But let the matter be whatever it may be. The book has, at any rate, led me to an idea. As you will see from the enclosed manuscript, with which I am also sending you an Egyptian seal, the symbols of which represent the ‘Son of the Sun King’, and a fragment of a pot, I and my ward, or rather my adopted son Leo Vincey, have just recently been involved in events in Africa that are even more remarkable than what you have described in your book. We have experienced such incredible things that, to tell the truth , I fear you will find it difficult to believe the truth of my story. It is evident from the manuscript that I or we had resolved not to bring these things to the attention of any one in our lifetime, and that we would not have done so had not one circumstance caused us to change our minds. We are going to travel again, as you will understand after reading the manuscript, and this time our destination is Central Asia, for there, if anywhere in the world, are the true sources of wisdom hidden, and I suppose our stay there will be a very long one. Perhaps we will not return again. These changed circumstances have made us think whether we are justified in concealing events and wonders that we think are of unprecedented interest, simply because we are afraid of being ridiculed, because our private lives are directly connected with those matters, and the truthfulness of my story would be doubted. At first Leo and I were completely at odds about the matter, but after much consultation we have finally made such an agreement that we will send you the manuscript and give you free rein to publish the story if you think it is worth it. Our only condition is that you conceal our real names and otherwise try as much as possible to avoid our becoming known without compromising the truthfulness of the story. That is almost all I wanted to tell you. I just want to point out once again that everything that is said in the manuscript is true, word for word. About the main character of the story, the immortal queen, I know no more than what has been told here. Every day we have more reason to regret that we did not make better use of the opportunity and learn more of the profound wisdom of that wonderful and mysterious being. Who was he? How did he come to live in the caves of Kôr and what was his true religion? We never learned that, and it is now understandably quite impossible—at least not yet. These and many other questions are constantly in my mind, but I cannot find an answer to them. Who could explain these things? That is why it is quite useless to ask these questions. Will you consider my proposal? We give you free rein to do as you see fit, but if you agree with my suggestion, the reward for your trouble will be the knowledge that you have brought to light a most wonderful story. It has the added advantage that it is true. Read the manuscript which I have carefully copied for you, and let me know your decision. Believe me! Yours sincerely, L. Horace Holly. PS If you publish the story and the sale of the book should bring you a profit, you may of course use it as you see fit, but if the publication should cause you a loss, you may apply to my solicitors, Messrs. Geoffrey and Jordan. I order them to make good your loss. I entrust the shard of the pot, the seal, and the parchment to your care until I demand them back. LHH This letter, as you might have guessed, astonished me considerably, but as I had another urgent work to prepare at the time , I was not until a fortnight later to read the manuscript, at which time I was still more astonished, as the reader would have been, and I hastened to begin the work at once . I wrote to Mr. Holly to that effect, but a week later I received a letter from his solicitors, who, while returning my letter, informed me that their principal and Mr. Leo Vincey had already travelled to Tibet and had not yet given them their exact address. That is all I had to say in explanation. Let the reader form his own opinion of the story. I now hand it over to him exactly as it came into my possession, with the exception of a few small exceptions which I have made to conceal the officials from the general public. For my part, I do not wish to make any remarks or conclusions with regard to the story. At first I was inclined to believe that this description of a woman whose majestic being was shrouded in the mystery of countless centuries, and over whom the shadow of eternity fluttered like the black wing of night, was some infinitely broad metaphor whose significance I could not fathom. Then I thought that perhaps here lay some bold attempt to present the possible results of experiments on immortality, to depict before us a human being who still renews his vitality from the great, inexhaustible sources of nature, from which all life once originated. Life beats in his bosom and the battles of passions rage as long as life beats in the imperishable world around him, the waters flow, the ebb and flow change, the winds become stormy and calm again. But after reading further, even this idea did not satisfy me. In my opinion, the story seems too true to be a product of imagination. However, I will leave the explanation to others and after this short preface, which was necessary for various reasons, I ask readers to get acquainted with Ayesha and the caves of Kôr. Publisher. P.S. — After rereading the story and considering it carefully, a fact occurred to me to which I cannot help but draw the reader’s attention. He will notice that there does not seem to be any special quality in Leo Vincey’s character from this story that would explain Ayesha’s great affection for him, and in my opinion he is not in any way very interesting. person. It is indeed more probable that Mr. Holly would have easily superseded him under ordinary circumstances. Was it perhaps the case that Ayesha, in all her inexplicable wisdom and brilliant genius, admired only a beautiful appearance? Was that Callicrates of ancient times only an ordinary, untalented mortal, loved only for his Grecian beauty? Or is the real state of things as I believe it to be—namely, that Ayesha, who saw further into the future than we do, had perceived in the soul of the man she loved a seedling of future greatness, which she knew, by the influence of the immortality she had bestowed upon him, would, nurtured by his youthful wisdom and animated by his presence , burst into a beautiful flower, and appear like a brilliant star, filling the world with its dazzling splendor and its delightful fragrance? I cannot answer the question, but will leave the reader, after reading Mr. Holly’s account, to form his own opinion of the events therein narrated. Chapter 2. My Guest. There are incidents in our lives which strike us so firmly that we can never forget them, and the scene which I am about to relate is one of these. I remember it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. It was just this month, thirty years ago, that I, Louis Horace Holly, sat one evening in my room at Cambridge, pondering over a mathematical work, the name of which I no longer remember. I was to take my examination in a week, which both my teacher and my companions expected me to pass with flying colours. At last, tired, I pushed the book aside and filled my pipe. A candle was burning on the edge of the stove, behind which was a long, narrow mirror, and just as I was about to light my pipe, my gaze fell upon my face reflected in the mirror. I was lost in thought, and I let the match burn until it finally began to burn my fingers so that I had to let it go. Nevertheless, I stood there for a long time, gazing, lost in thought, at my reflection in the mirror. Well, I said aloud at last, I hope I can get by in the world with what my head contains, for the outside is certainly not capable of helping me in the least. This remark will astonish every reader with its obscurity. I meant by it my physical deficiencies. Nature has bestowed at least some measure of the pleasantness of youth on many young men of twenty-two , but I had been left entirely without it. I was very short and thick-set. My chest was almost unnaturally sunken, and my arms were remarkably long and sinewy. My features were coarse, and my gray eyes, shaded by a low forehead, were deep-set. My black, coarse hair grew almost halfway up my forehead, which resembled a deserted place of desolation reclaimed by the forest. Such was my appearance some twenty-five years ago, and such it is, with a few slight changes, even today. I was as ugly as Cain, but as if I had been given unusually strong physical strength and an excellent intellect as compensation. My ugliness was so conspicuous that my companions, who were young lads, avoided walking with me in the street, although they were proud of the endurance and great strength I had shown. Was it any wonder that I was gloomy and timid? Was it any wonder that I worked and toiled alone, without a single friend—except one? Nature had set me apart from others, to seek satisfaction and solace only in her immeasurable treasures. Women could not endure me. About a week ago I heard a woman, who thought I was too far away to hear her , call me a monster, the sight of which had made her believe in the truth of evolution. And once it happened that a woman really pretended to care for me, and I became attached to her with all the ardor of my nature, but when I could not I begged and pleaded with him so earnestly and touchingly that I had never before or since spoken thus to any living creature, for his sweet face had charmed me and I loved him. Instead of answering, he took me to a mirror and, standing beside me, looked into it. Look now, he said. If I were called beauty, what name could be given to you? I had just turned twenty at that time. So I stood for a long time staring into the mirror and reminiscing about things past. I felt a kind of cruel satisfaction in my heart as I thought of my own loneliness, for I had neither father nor mother, neither brothers nor sisters. At that moment there was a knock at the door. I listened for a moment before opening the door, for it was almost twelve o’clock and my state of mind was such that I did not want a stranger to come to me. Among my comrades, and probably in the whole world, I had only one friend—could it be he who was the intruder? At the same moment a person outside my door jolted, and I hastened to open it at once, for I had recognized the voice. A tall man of about thirty, with traces of rare beauty in his features, staggered in hastily, dragging with him a heavy, sturdy-looking iron casket, with a strong handle. He lifted the casket onto the table, and at once a severe fit of coughing overtook him. He coughed until his face turned quite purple and he began to spit blood. I poured some whisky into a goblet and handed it to him. After drinking it he seemed to feel better, but his condition seemed so hopelessly bad that the fit might be renewed at any moment . Why did you make me stand there in that cold hall? he asked grumpily. You know that the draft is for my death. I did not know who was at the door, I answered. You are a late visitor. I am, and I really think this visit will be my last, he replied, smiling ghostly. This is what I have been waiting for, Holly. My life is drawing to a close. I think I shall not see tomorrow again! What nonsense! I said. I will go and get a doctor now. He gestured imperiously, demanding that I stop. I am speaking quite seriously, he said. I do not need a doctor. I have read and studied medicine myself, so I know my condition. Doctors can no longer help me. My time has come! It is a great miracle that I have survived this year. Now listen carefully to what I say, for you will not have the opportunity to hear my words again. We have been good friends for two years. Now tell me, what do you know about me? I know that you are rich and that you came to university at an age when most people have long since left it. You have been married and your wife is dead, and you have been my best and almost only friend. Did you know I have a son? No. Yes, I have a son. He is now five years old. His mother died at his birth, and that is why I have not been able to bear a child. Holly, I ask you to be his sole guardian. Do you accept the trust I have placed in you? Do I? I exclaimed, almost jumping out of my chair. Yes, you are. I have not been studying your character for two years in vain. I have been aware for some time that my days are numbered, and having become certain of it, I have sought a person whom I find I can trust with my son and this, he added, patting the iron casket. Holly, he continued, you are the man I seek, for beneath your rough shell beats a fresh and healthy heart. Listen, that boy will soon be the sole representative of one of the oldest families in the world. You will probably laugh at me when I tell you that my sixty-fifth or sixty-sixth ancestor was an Egyptian priest of the goddess Isis, Greek by birth, and called Kallikrates the beautiful or strong, or rather ‘beautiful in strength’. The time will come when all your doubts will vanish into nothingness. His father was a Greek mercenary who served in the army of the Mendesian pharaoh Hak Hor, and his paternal grandfather was, I think, the very Callicrates mentioned by Herodotus. The Callicrates mentioned by my friend here was a Spartan, whom Herodotus says was famous for his beauty Herod. IX. 72.. He fell in the famous battle of Plataea on Sept. 22 p. 479 B.C., where the Lacedaemonians and Athenians under Pausanias defeated the overwhelmingly superior Persians . About 300,000 of the enemy were left on the battlefield. Herodotus describes the incident thus: ‘Callicrates, who fell in the battle , was the most handsome man in the whole army, not only of the Lacedaemonians, but of the whole Greek people. The arrow had pierced his side , and when Pausanias, who was also wounded, lamented his death, he turned to his friend, Arimnestus, a Plataean, saying that he was glad to die for the freedom of Greece, but that he was sorry that he had not been able to take a greater part in the sword-fight. He would have liked to die by the sword, which he considered the most honorable death for a soldier.’ This Callicrates, who seems to have been as brave as he was beautiful, was buried, according to Herodotus , with the ‘young chiefs’ and apart from the other Spartans and the helots who accompanied them. — LHH Around the year 339 B.C. and about the same time that the power of the pharaohs was finally overthrown, this priest Callicrates broke his vow of celibacy and fled from Egypt with a woman of royal lineage who had fallen in love with him. Their ship was wrecked on the coast of Africa, I think near the present Delagoa Bay or a little further north. He and his wife were saved, but all the rest of his companions perished in one way or another. They had to endure many dangers and many hard trials, until they were finally rescued by the great queen of a savage people. This woman of the white race, who was of unheard-of beauty and sweetness, finally murdered my ancestor Callicrates , under circumstances which I cannot now touch upon, but which you will learn, if you live, after examining the contents of this casket. His wife and little son, however, somehow managed to escape, I do not know how, and finally reached Athens. The boy was named Tisisthenes, or the Mighty Avenger. Five hundred years later the family moved to Rome for reasons unknown. There they seem almost at once to have taken the name Vindex, the avenger, probably to preserve in the family the memory of vengeance, to which the name Tisisthenes also refers. They lived in Rome for about five hundred years afterwards, until 770 A.D., when Charlemagne conquered Lombardy, where the family was then residing. The head of the family seems then to have joined Charlemagne, followed him across the Alps, and finally settled in Brittany. Eight generations later the head of the family migrated to England during the reign of Edward the Confessor , and rose to great honour and power under William the Conqueror. From that time to the present day I can list all my ancestors in order. Not that the Vinceys — this is the final form of the name, after the family had taken root in England — were particularly notable. They lived their own lives apart from the public eye. Some were soldiers, others were quiet merchants, and at all times the family has generally been held in high esteem, and still more generally indifferently mediocre. From the time of Charles II. to the beginning of this century the members of our family were merchants. About the year 1790 my grandfather amassed a large fortune in his breweries. He died in 1821, and my father, who succeeded him, squandered almost everything, leaving me at his death an income of about two thousand pounds a year. I then set out on a voyage of discovery, which was occasioned by the contents of this chest , and my enterprise ended very unhappily. On my return journey I travelled through the South of Europe, and at length came to Athens. There I made the affectionate acquaintance of my beloved wife, for whom I would also be well suited . a name ‘divine in beauty’, as in the old days of my Greek ancestor. We were married, and a year later she died when my son was born. Her head hung down and she covered her face with her hands. After a moment’s silence she continued: My marriage prevented me from carrying out my plan then, and I am no longer able to do it now. I have no time, Holly – I have no time! If you will grant my request, I will tell you all. After my wife’s death I began to think about it again. But I realized that before I could undertake anything, it was absolutely necessary to learn the Oriental languages, especially Arabic. And that is why I came here, that I might study those subjects more easily. But very soon after that my condition began to deteriorate suspiciously, and now my end is near. And as if to confirm these words, he was overcome by a terrible fit of coughing. I gave him another shot of whisky , and after a moment’s rest he continued: “I have not seen my son since he was a little child, for I have not been able to overcome my dislike of him, but I am told that he is a handsome and intelligent boy. In this letter,” and he took the letter addressed to me from his pocket, ” it is precisely prescribed how the boy’s education is to be arranged. My instructions are somewhat peculiar, but I could not, under any circumstances, entrust this important task to a stranger. I ask you once more, will you not be willing to become my son’s guardian and educator? Before I can answer, I must have a somewhat more detailed account of your plans for your son,” I remarked. ” My request is that you will keep my son, Leon, with you until he is twenty-five years old, and from then on—he is not to be sent to any school.” On his twenty-fifth birthday your guardianship will end and then you with these keys he laid the keys on the table will open this iron chest and let him see and read its contents carefully. Then he will say whether or not he wants to investigate these events. There is no compulsion. I now have an income of two thousand two hundred pounds a year. Half of this income I have assigned to you by testament if you will undertake the task of guardianship. In return for your taking this work absolutely as your life’s work, I have intended to give you a thousand pounds a year. That hundred pounds a year is the payment for the full care of the boy. The remaining part of my property will grow with interest until Leo is twenty-five years old, so that he will have money to use if he wants to undertake the task I have spoken to you about. And what should be done if I die? I asked. In that case the guardianship board will take care of the boy. Just arrange things carefully so that he gets this iron box . Holly, do not refuse my request, which is only to your advantage. Social life and the bustle of the world do not please you – it only embitters your mind! In a few weeks you will become a docent at the university and the salary that comes with that position, added to the sum of money I have put at your disposal, will make your financial position such that you can completely immerse yourself in your scientific research and, in the intervals, indulge in the sports and hunting that you are so fond of. I should think that such a life would be absolutely ideal for you. He fell silent and looked at me intensely, but I still hesitated. The task seemed so very strange to me. For my sake, Holly. We have been the best of friends and I have no time to arrange things any other way. Well, said I. I will agree to your request, unless there is something in that letter that will make me change my mind. At the same time I pointed to the letter he had placed on the table next to the keys. Thank you, Holly, thank you. There is nothing of the sort in it. Now promise and swear in the name of God that you will be a father to my son and follow my instructions in the letter. I swear, I replied solemnly. Very well, but remember that perhaps one day I will call you to account, how you have kept your oath, for though I am dead and forgotten, yet I live. Holly, there is no such thing as death, but only a change of state, which I believe, under various circumstances, may be postponed indefinitely into the future, as you will find yourself in due time. He was seized with another fit of nervous coughing. Well, then, said he, when it had passed, I must go now. I leave the box in your charge, and in my will, which is among my other papers, I have directed that my son be placed in your care. You will be amply compensated for your trouble, Holly, and I know you to be an honest, good man, but if you betray my confidence, I swear by Heaven that I will appear to avenge you. I said nothing, for I was too shocked to speak. He raised the candle and examined his face in the mirror, which had once been of rare beauty, but was now ravaged by disease. Food for worms, he said. It is strange to think that in a few hours I shall lie cold and stiff— then my earthly journey will be over and my little part in this life will be played out. Ah, Holly! Life is hardly worth the trouble that living itself causes. Only then is it worth living when love, with its magic power, makes our moments here happy. My life has not been worth anything at all, but perhaps my son, Leo, will have another, if he has courage and confidence. Good-bye, my friend! and with sudden tenderness he embraced me and pressed a kiss on my forehead. Then he turned to go. Listen, Vincey, I said. If you are really as ill as you think, I had better get a doctor. No, no, he said seriously. Promise me you will not do it. My death is approaching and like a poisoned rat I want to die in solitude. But I believe you need not think of such things yet, I answered. He opened the door and looked at me with a smile. Then he said: remember, and disappeared into the darkness. I sat down in my chair and rubbed my eyes, wondering if I had dreamed. But as this supposition did not seem true , I abandoned it and began to think that Vincey might have been drunk. I knew that he was and had been very ill for a long time , but still it seemed impossible to me that he could have been as bad as he said. He had been quite sure that he would not live until morning. But if his death was once so near, he would hardly have been able to walk to me and drag that heavy iron casket with him. On closer examination, the whole thing seemed very incredible to me, for I did not yet know that things happen in this world which the common sense of an ordinary person can never comprehend, but which I consider highly doubtful or downright impossible. I have only just recently overcome my own prejudices in this regard, so I know that I am right. Was it plausible that the man had a five-year-old son whom he had not seen since he was a small child in his arms? No. Was it likely that he really knew with certainty the time of his death? No. Was it true that he could know that the ancestor of his family had lived in the fourth century before the birth of Christ? Certainly not. And how was it to be explained that he quite unexpectedly wanted to entrust his child to the upbringing of a fellow student of his and to give him half of his fortune? Vincey had either been drunk or he was a madman. But if that was the case, what did all this really mean and what was in that sealed iron chest? The incident finally left me so bewildered that I could no longer think of anything, but decided to go to bed. So I got up from my chair and, having put the keys and letter Vincey had left in my briefcase and hidden them in an iron box in my large travel trunk, I went to rest and soon fell into a deep sleep. I think I had only been asleep a few minutes when I was awakened by someone calling me. I sat up and rubbed my eyes—it was broad daylight and already eight o’clock. Well, how are you, John? I asked the boy who was Vincey’s and my common servant. You are as pale as if you had seen a ghost! I am, sir, he replied. I have seen the body, at least, which is worse, I think. I went first, as is my custom, to Mr. Vincey’s room, and there he lies quite dead! Chapter 3. The Years Rolled By. The sudden death of poor Vincey naturally caused a great stir in the university, but as it was generally known that he had been very ill, and the doctor gave a satisfactory death certificate, no inquest was held on the death. In those days there was not so much zeal for holding such inquests as there is now. It was indeed considered a disgrace to the memory of the deceased. As I was thus not questioned, I did not volunteer to tell anyone about the conversation between Vincey and me on the night of his death. I only told him that he had visited me in the evening, as was his wont. On the day of the funeral a lawyer arrived from London, who escorted my poor friend ‘s mortal remains to the churchyard, and then took with him all his papers and belongings, except the iron casket, which had been left in my care. Then I heard no more of these matters for a week, and at that time I was so absorbed in my work for my degree that I did not attend my friend’s funeral, nor did I meet his lawyer, who was supervising his affairs. At last my degree was over, and when I got home and sat down in my armchair, I was happy to know that I had done everything commendably . My thoughts, which for the last five days had been confined to a narrow sphere, soon, when freed from that pressure, turned to the events of the night when poor Vincey died, and again the question came to my mind as to what it all meant. I wondered if I should hear more of it, and what I should do with that strange iron casket. I thought, even when I had got out of my thoughts, of that mysterious visit to me at midnight, of Vincey’s prediction of his speedy death, which was so soon fulfilled , and of the solemn oath I had sworn, for which Vincey had said he would call me to account in the other world, until these things had at last completely shaken my peace of mind. Had the man committed suicide? At least it seemed so. The whole thing began to seem terrible, and though I am not in the least nervous or prone to losing my temper, I was now beginning to feel frightened, and I wished I had not been involved at all. How much more fervently do I hope for the same thing now, thirty years later! As I sat there lost in thought, there was a knock at the door, and a letter was brought to me, enclosed in a large blue envelope. I saw at first glance that the letter came from a lawyer’s hand, and instinctively I felt that it referred to the trust I had received. The letter, which I still possess, read: Dear Sir. — Our principal, ML Vincey, deceased, who died at Cambridge on the 9th of this month, has left a will, a copy of which is enclosed, and of which we are the executors. You will find that you are to be paid an annual annuity of about half of the deceased’s estate, now deposited in the bank, on the following condition. You are to become guardian of his only son, Leo Vincey, aged five years. If we ourselves had not drawn up the document in question in accordance with the precise and clear instructions, both written and oral, of Mr. Vincey, and if he himself had not assured us that he had valid reasons for this course of action, we would be obliged to inform you that his instructions were, in our opinion, of such a peculiar nature that we would have considered ourselves compelled to refer the matter to the Guardianship Board. to the knowledge of the will. Then either the will would have been revoked or other measures would have been taken to safeguard the interests of the minor child. But as we knew the testator to be a man of great genius and ability, and had no relatives or relatives living to whom he could entrust the education and guardianship of his child, we did not consider ourselves justified in opposing the deceased’s last will. Awaiting your instructions as to the child’s coming to you, and your orders as to the execution of your share of the inheritance, we respectfully submit, Geoffrey Jordan. I laid the letter on the table and read the will, which, despite its immense absurdity, was in every detail legal. As far as I could see, it contained exactly the same things that Vincey had spoken to me about on the night he died. So it was all true after all. I had to take the boy into my care. At that moment the letter he had given me with the box came to my mind. I sought it and opened it. It contained only the same instructions which he had given me before, such as instructions for the opening of the box on Leo’s twenty-fifth birthday, and general instructions for the boy’s studies, which were to include, chiefly, higher mathematics and Greek and Arabic. Last of all, there was a postscript, containing instructions in case the boy should die before he was twenty-five, which he did not believe would happen. In that case I was to open the box and do as I saw fit. If I was not willing to undertake the investigation of the matters mentioned in the box, I was to destroy everything it contained. Under no circumstances was I to give it to any stranger. As there was nothing new in this letter to me that would have made me change my mind and refuse the task which I had promised my late friend to undertake, there was no other way but to write to Messrs. Geoffrey Jordan and state that I was prepared to take up my duties as Leo’s guardian. After ten days I was able to receive the boy. Then I went to the university authorities and told them as much as I thought necessary about the matter, which was very little and after much resistance I managed to persuade them to my side, especially as I had recently completed my degree with very good grades, and so I was allowed to keep the boy with me on condition that I gave up my rooms at the university and got myself a flat elsewhere. I did so and after a short time of looking for rooms I managed to get a very comfortable flat near the university. Then came the question of where I could get a nurse. At this point I had made a firm decision. I did not intend to take into my home a female nurse who would soon dominate both of us, me and the boy, and eventually wean the child from me. The boy was already old enough to manage without female help and so I immediately began to inquire about a suitable male servant. After patiently searching, I finally settled on a very neat-looking, round-faced young man, who had only been a stable boy before, but who said he could look after children very well, being the eldest of seventeen siblings. He gladly offered to be the caretaker of young Mr. Leo when he arrived. Then, having taken the iron box to the bank, where I put it in a safe with my own hands, I bought some books on the upbringing, health, and treatment of children , which I read first to myself and then aloud to Job —the young man’s name was Job—and waited. At last the child arrived, accompanied by an elderly woman, who wept bitterly at parting with the beautiful boy. The boy was truly beautiful. I never remember seeing such a sweet and well-developed child before or since. He had gray eyes and a broad forehead, and his features, even at that early age, were as if carved from marble. But perhaps his most beautiful was his hair, which was like pure gold and curled in dense curls. around his beautifully shaped head. He cried a little when the nurse finally left him in our care, leaving him in tears. I can never forget that moment. There he stood with the sun’s rays sparkling on his golden curls, covering one eye with his fist and looking at us with the other. I sat in my chair and stretched out my hand to attract him to me, while Job imitated the clucking of chickens in his corner, which, according to his past experiences , must have had a very comforting effect. He thus tried to make the boy understand that he could trust us. Then he pulled the terribly ugly wooden horse back and forth in a terrible way to arouse the boy’s interest. We looked at each other for a few minutes, and then suddenly the child stretched out both his little hands to me and ran into my arms. I like you, he said. You are ugly, but you are so good. Ten minutes later he was eating very happily large slices of bread, thickly buttered. Job would have liked to spread some fruit jam on them, but I forbade him, sternly reminding him to think more carefully from now on about what was said in those excellent books on the care of children which we had read. In a very short time the boy became the pet of the whole university; I had become a docent, as I had expected, and there he moved about as if at home, in spite of all instructions and rules. He was everyone’s privileged favourite, in comparison with whom prohibitions and regulations were quite meaningless. The attention shown to the child did not seem to me to have any dangerous effect, and I had several heated arguments on the subject with an old gentleman who lived at the university, now long since dead, who was considered by his comrades to be the most grumpy man in the university and who could not stand children at all. To our surprise, we noticed one time when the boy had a stomachache and Job closely followed his activities because that unprincipled old man, I won’t say it better, often lured the child into his room and fed him unlimited amounts of sweets there. He even swore to the boy not to tell anyone about it. Job thought he should be ashamed of himself, since he was already so old that he could have been a grandfather if he had known how to behave like a human being. But I can no longer delay my story, remembering those happy years, which always linger in my mind so wonderfully. They rolled by one after another and Leo and I became more and more attached to each other. Few boys have been loved as tenderly as I loved Leo and few fathers have felt such deep and unwavering affection and loyalty from their children as Leo showed me. The child grew into a boy and the boy into a young man, and as those unforgettable years passed, his physical and mental beauty also increased. When he was about fifteen years old, they called him the god of beauty and I was given the mocking name of beast. There goes the god of beauty and the beast, they said, when Leo and I were walking together, which was our daily habit. Once Leo pounced on a burly butcher’s boy, almost twice his height, who shouted those words after us, and gave him a real spanking. I walked on and pretended not to see anything, but when the fight became very exciting, I couldn’t help but cheer Leo on, to excite him even more so that he would come out the glorious victor of the jupaka. This was against all the rules of the university, but I couldn’t help it. A couple of years later the students gave us new names. I was called Charon and Leo a Greek god. In view of my new title , I will only humbly point out that I have never been beautiful and the older I get, the uglier I become. But Leo was fully worthy of his name. At twenty-one he could have been the model for a statue of the young Apollo. I have never I had never seen another young man so handsome, nor anyone who cared so little about his beauty as he did. He was also very intelligent and sharp-witted, but he was not in the least enthusiastic about reading and study. He had not enough patience. As regards his upbringing and studies, I followed his father’s instructions closely, and I could generally be quite satisfied with our achievements. His progress in Greek and Arabic was commendable. I had learned the latter language in order to help him read it, but after five years he knew it as well as I did – almost as well as the professor of Arabic at our university, who had taught us both. I had been a keen sportsman all my life, which is my only passion, and every autumn we would travel somewhere to hunt and fish; sometimes we would head for Scotland, sometimes to Norway, and once we were even in Finland. I am a skilled marksman myself, but even in this noble art Leo soon attained excellence. When Leo was eighteen years old I left my home schooling and sent him to continue his studies in my own department at the university, and at twenty-one he graduated with very good grades. It was then that I first told him a little about his own lineage and the mysterious story that ran in his family, which he would one day learn. He was naturally very curious and wanted to know the secret, but I explained to him that it had not yet come to pass. Then I suggested to him that he should take up law to pass the time, which he did. He studied at Cambridge and only went to London for dinner. I had one concern about him, however, namely, that every young lady, or at least almost every one, on meeting my foster son would also fall in love with him. This often caused annoyances, which I do not wish to touch upon here, but which at that time got me into many bad troubles. But they were nevertheless very insignificant matters and could not disturb our life, which was harmonious and happy throughout . I cannot say more. Thus the years passed until Leo’s twenty-fifth birthday finally arrived. It is from that anniversary that this wonderful and sometimes very horrible story really begins. Chapter 4. Amenartas. The day before Leo’s twenty-third birthday, we both went to London and picked up the iron box from the bank where I had deposited it twenty years ago. I remembered that the same bank clerk who had received the box then was now looking for it. He remembered that this was the case, and if he had not been with us when it was taken to the vault, he would hardly have found it now, for it was completely covered with cobwebs, he said. That evening we brought our precious burden to Cambridge, and were so excited that we could not sleep at all the next night. I thought it would have been quite useless to go to bed. At daybreak Leo came to my room in his morning dress and suggested that we should get down to work at once. I thought the suggestion showed an unbecoming curiosity in a man, and therefore I did not agree to it. When the chest has not been opened for twenty years, it can quite wait until we have had breakfast, I said. We usually had breakfast at nine, and that morning we were exceptionally punctual. I was so lost in thought throughout the meal that I put a piece of pork in Leo’s teacup instead of sugar. Naturally our excitement had infected Job, so that in his excitement he managed to knock the ear off my china teacup, which is Sevres porcelain. According to reliable information , that cup was the very same one from which Marat had drunk tea just before the fatal blow struck him in the bathtub. At last breakfast was eaten and I ordered Job to place the box on the table, which he did very carefully as if it were suspected of that mysterious object. Then he was about to leave the room. Wait a minute, Job, I said. If Leo has no objections, I would like to have some impartial witness present at this service who can keep his mouth shut, and not say a word about these matters to anyone unless he is asked to speak. That’s right, Uncle Holly, Leo replied. I had accustomed him from the beginning to call me uncle, although he changed the title as he pleased. Sometimes he called me a good old boy, quite comradely, and sometimes his own dear cousin. Job fumbled with his hair as if to lift his hat, not remembering that he was wearing a hat. So lock the door, Job, I said, and bring my briefcase here . From the briefcase I took the keys that poor Vincey, Leo’s father, had given me the night he died. There were three of them. The largest was comparatively modern, the second undoubtedly came from very ancient times, and we had never seen the kind of key to which the third belonged before. It was made of a strip of pure silver, with a few notches cut into each side. A shorter strip had been soldered across the other end for a handle. It really resembled a very old-fashioned railway carriage key. Well, are you both ready now? I asked, like a detonator of an explosive charge. Since neither of them had anything to remind me of, I took the largest key and inserted it into the hole, after first lubricating it with a little cooking oil. My hands were shaking so much that I had to try twice before the key turned and the lock snapped open. Leo grabbed the sturdy lid of the box with both hands, which was still firmly closed, for the hinges were completely rusted, and wrenched it open. At the same time we saw that inside the box was another box, completely covered with a layer of dust. We lifted it onto the table and wiped off the dust that had accumulated over the decades. It was, or at least appeared to be, ebony or some similar black wood, and was decorated with numerous intricate bindings. The box was probably extremely old, for the hard wood of which it was made had begun to crumble in places. Now let us see what this contains, said I, and took out another key. Job and Leo bent to look, holding their breath. The key turned around, and when I opened the lid I gave a cry of astonishment, as did the others; and no wonder, for inside the ebony box was a silver casket of unprecedented beauty and craftsmanship, about twelve inches long and eight inches high. It was evidently of Egyptian origin, for it was supported by four sphinxes, one at each of the four corners of the base, and its convex lid was also adorned with an artistically sculpted sphinx. The casket had naturally become dull and tarnished with the passage of time, and had several bumps, but otherwise it appeared to be in perfect condition. I lifted it onto the table, and in solemn silence I inserted the strange-looking silver key into the lock, which opened quite silently after I had turned the key a few times this way and that. The casket was open before us, filled to the brim with some sort of brownish strips, which looked more like a thin cloth made of vegetable fibers than paper, but I never quite made out what the substance really was. It was about three inches thick in the casket, and I carefully and carefully picked it out. Under it was a letter enclosed in a very modern envelope, addressed in the handwriting of my long-dead friend Vincey. To my son Leo, if he lives long enough to open this box. I handed the letter to Leo, who, after reading the dedication, laid it on the table and motioned for me to continue my work. Then I took from the box a carefully rolled-up piece of parchment, which I opened. It was also written by Vincey and had the inscription at the top: Translation from a Greek inscription on a fragment of a pot. I put it next to the letter and took out another even older parchment scroll, which had become badly creased and yellowed with the passing of years. I also opened that and it was a Latin translation of the same Greek original. Judging by the shape of the letters and the style of writing, I saw at first glance that this translation must be from the early sixteenth century. Right under this parchment scroll was some hard and heavy object wrapped in yellowish linen , under which was another layer of those brownish, fibrous leaves. We very slowly and carefully opened the linen scroll, from which emerged — a rather large and undoubtedly very old fragment of a pot, of a dirty yellow color! The vessel or earthenware pot to which the fragment belonged was, as far as I understand these things, once an ordinary medium-sized ornamental vase. The piece was ten and a half inches long, seven inches wide, and about a quarter of an inch thick, and its convex side, which had been against the bottom of the box, was written all over with Greek letters. It was plain to see that the letters had been made with the greatest care and precision, and with the use of a red crayon, which was very common in ancient Greece. The writing was still perfectly legible, although it was very faded in places. It should also not be forgotten to mention that the fragment of the earthenware pot had at some distant time broken into two pieces, which had been joined together with some kind of putty. There were also many writings on the inside of the piece , but they were not at all the same, but were clearly written by several different persons and at different times. But I will speak of these and the writings on the parchments later. Is that all? whispered Leo, eagerly. I felt the bottom of the box, and a small roll of linen fell into my hand. I opened it at once, and there was a miniature portrait of a very beautiful, wonderfully lovely woman painted on ivory, and a small chocolate-colored beetle, or seal carved in stone, with several strange signs and animal figures, which symbols meant: The royal son of the sun god, Ra, as we later learned. The miniature portrait represented Leo’s mother, who was of Greek origin, and who had been, judging from the picture, very amiable and beautiful. On the other side of the picture, poor Vincey had written the words: My beloved wife. That’s all for now, I said. Very well, replied Leo, placing on the table the portrait of his mother, which he had been looking at with emotion; let us now read the letter, and without further ado he tore open the envelope. He read the letter aloud, and it read thus: My son Leo! — If you live long enough to open this letter, you will have grown from a boy to a man. By then I, your father, will have long since lain in my grave and been almost forgotten by all my former acquaintances. But as you read this, remember that I once existed and still exist, and through this paper I extend my hand to you across the abyss of death. From the indescribable silence of the grave you now hear my voice. Although I am dead and not the faintest image of me has survived in your memory, I am still with you at the moment you read these lines. I have scarcely seen you since your birth. Forgive me for this . Your mother, who was so inexpressibly dear to me and whom I loved above all things, died after giving birth to you. Nothing has yet been able to ease my bitter grief. If I had been allowed to live a little longer, I would have gradually overcome this sense of irrational disgust, but I was not allowed to live. My sufferings, both physical and mental, are so great that I can no longer bear them, and I intend to end them as soon as I have made my little arrangements. for your future. May God forgive me for what I have done, if it is wrong. At best, however , I should not live another year. So he committed suicide, I exclaimed. That is what I thought even then . And now, Leo continued his reading, paying no attention to my words, I have said enough about myself. What remains to be said concerns only you, who live, and not me, who am dead and completely forgotten as if I had never been. My friend Holly, in whose care I intend to leave you, if only she will grant my request, may have told you how unheard of an age your family is. There is ample evidence of that in this box. That strange story, which your mother, who lived centuries ago, wrote on a piece of pottery in the box, was told to me by my father shortly before he died, and it has become deeply ingrained in my memory. I was only nineteen years old when I decided to go and investigate the truth of the story, as one of my ancestors, who lived in the time of Queen Elizabeth, had done, perishing on the journey. What all happened to me I cannot now relate here, but I saw with my own eyes facts which justify me in believing that the mysterious story which has been handed down in our family is true. At a certain point on the coast of Africa, and in a region hitherto unexplored, there is a high promontory, at the extreme tip of which is an immense block of rock resembling the head of a negro. This strange formation is also spoken of in the inscription on the pot. There I went ashore and heard from a wandering native, who had been banished from his tribe for some crime he had committed, that far inland there were high mountains and caves surrounded by endless swamps. At the same time I also learned that the people living there, whom the native claimed spoke Arabic, were ruled by a beautiful white woman, whom his subjects rarely saw, and before whom it was said that all, both living and dead , must humble themselves. A couple of days later the man died of a fever, which he had contracted while trying to cross the swamps. I also began to feel the symptoms of the disease, and when my food supply began to decrease suspiciously, I was forced to set out on an empty return journey. Of the adventures that I then had to go through, it is not worth talking about here. My ship was wrecked on the coast of Madagascar, from which a few months later an English ship rescued me and took me to Aden. From there I traveled to England and my intention was to set out on a new journey as soon as I had got the necessary equipment in order. But on my way home I stopped in Greece, where I met my beloved wife and married her. ‘Omnia vincit amor!’ There you were born, and your mother died at your birth. Out of grief I contracted this debilitating disease and returned here to die. But I still hoped to recover and began to study Arabic diligently, with the intention that if I should recover, I would immediately set out on a new journey to the coast of Africa and investigate thoroughly the centuries- old secret of our family. But my illness has only worsened and I must abandon my plan. You, my son, may continue, and to you I now leave these results of my work, together with the original proofs of the truth of the story that has been handed down in our family . I intend to order that they not come into your possession until you are of an age when you can consider for yourself whether you wish to undertake the investigation of a matter which, if true, is certainly the greatest and most wonderful secret in the world, or whether you consider the story to be merely the product of a woman’s excited imagination . For my part, I believe that the story is true. My conviction is that there is a place, if only it could be found, where the forces that animate the entire living nature of the world appear in visible phenomena. Life exists; why then should there not also be some means of continuing that existence indefinitely? But I do not wish to influence your opinion now. Read and judge for yourself. If you are willing to continue my work, I have arranged matters so that you will not lack funds. But if you think the story is only a figment of your imagination, not worth taking seriously, then I ask you to destroy the fragment of the pot and the writings, so that those who have caused so much trouble may be forever removed from our family. Perhaps that is the wisest thing to do. The general belief is that unknown or supernatural things are evil. This belief does not arise from the innate superstition of people, but from the fact that these things are usually so. A man who interferes with the machinations of the great and mysterious forces that govern life , most often falls victim to them and is destroyed. And if you should attain your ultimate goal, endure the test of eternal youth and beauty, defy the eternally consuming power of time, and be independent of the natural decay of body and mind, who can guarantee that this fearful change will be a happy one? Choose, my son, and let the power that rules the worlds, which says, ‘This is the limit; no more shall you know,’ guide your choice to your own happiness and the happiness of the whole world. If your research is successful and you discover the secret, then for once you will be the ruler only by the power of your many wonderful experiences. — Goodbye! The letter, which was neither dated nor signed, ended so suddenly. What do you think of this, Uncle Holly? asked Leo, taking a deep breath and putting the letter on the table. We expected that the box contained some secret, and it certainly does. What do I think of this? Of course, your father’s condition was not quite as it should have been, I replied firmly. I thought the same thing twenty years ago when he came to me. You can see clearly for yourself that he hastened his end, poor man. The whole letter is an empty rhyme from beginning to end. That is so, sir, said Job solemnly. Job was a man of such cold reason that he was an example to others. He believed nothing that he could not understand. Very well, said Leo, but let us now see what the fragment of the pot has to say, and taking up the translation written by his father, he began to read: I, Amenartas, born of the royal family of the pharaohs of Egypt, whose spouse is Callicrates, priest of the goddess Isis, beautiful in great power, whom the gods love and the spirits obey, I write this on my deathbed to my little son Thisisthenes, or the Mighty Avenger. I fled from Egypt with my father, who had broken his oath to me , in the time of Pharaoh Nectanebes. We fled southward, over the waters, and wandered twice twelve months on the coast of Libya, Africa, which faces the rising sun , and where at the mouth of a river there is an immense rock, hewn in the shape of an Ethiopian head. Four days’ journey across the water from the mouth of a great river we were shipwrecked, and some were drowned and others died of disease. But we were led by men of cruel appearance through deserts and marshes, where flocks of waterfowl darkened the sky, and after ten days’ journey we came to a hollow mountain, where once there had been a mighty city. Now it was in ruins, and there were caves there whose depths no one has ever measured. There lived a people who killed all strangers by placing a red-hot pot on their heads, and we were taken to the queen who ruled over that people, who by her sorcery knew all the secrets between heaven and earth. She is immortal, and her beauty never fades. She fell in love with your father Callicrates, and would have killed me by taking her as her husband, but my husband loved me and feared her and would not. Then she led us along terrible paths and by means of great sorcery to a great cave, at the mouth of which the old philosopher lay dead, and showed us the fiery statue of the source of life, which is indestructible and whose The sound she made was like the roar of thunder. She stood in the midst of the flames and emerged unharmed and more beautiful than ever. Then she swore that she would make your father as immortal as she was, if he would kill me and surrender to her power. She could not kill me herself, for I knew the great sorcery of my own people, by which I could resist him. My husband covered his eyes with his hand so that he might not see her beauty, and would not consent. And in his rage the woman struck him with her sorcery, and he died. Then the queen, weeping and repenting of her deed, carried him out of the cave, lamenting bitterly, and fearing me, sent me to the mouth of that great river, where the ships came. I got on board the ship, and there the hour of my birth came. After traveling long distances and wandering for a long time, I finally arrived here in Athens. I tell you now, my son Theseus, seek out that woman and learn the secret of the fire of life, and if you can, kill that woman for the sake of your father Callicrates; but if you are afraid or your attempt fails, I will say the same to all your descendants, until at last there appears from among them a valiant man who will bathe in the fire of life and sit on the throne of the pharaohs. I tell you things that seem incredible, but I know and I do not lie. May God forgive him for all this, sighed Job, who had listened with his mouth open to this wonderful fabrication. I said nothing, for my first thought was that my poor friend had been a little deranged and had invented the whole thing. On the other hand, it was hardly likely that such a thing could have arisen in anyone’s imagination, for it was far too strange. To dispel my doubts, I took up a piece of pottery and began to read the dense Greek writing on it . It was the beautiful language of the ancient Hellenes, and a very good language to come from the pen of a native Egyptian. I saw at once, without further comparison, that the English translation was good and carefully done. Besides the writing on the convex side of the piece, there was at the end, which was part of the rim of the pot, a faintly reddish, slightly elevated spot, on which were seen the same figures as on the seal before mentioned. But here those hieroglyphs or symbols were in the opposite position, as if the seal had been impressed on wax, which had hardened in the course of time as hard as the piece of pot. I cannot say for sure whether that mark referred to Leo’s ancestor, Callicrates, or whether it was that of some prince or pharaoh from whom his wife, Amenartas, was descended. Nor can I say whether the mark was impressed on the piece of pot at the same time as the Greek inscription was written, or whether some member of the family had done it later. But that was not all. Below the inscription was the head and shoulders of a sphinx, drawn in the same reddish material. The sphinx is, as is well known, a symbol of power and authority, but this one also had wings, which were very common in the images of sacred bulls representing gods, but which I had never seen before in the images of sphinxes. On the right side of the fragment, on the same side as the inscription, was a blank space, also reddish in color, and on it was written diagonally in blue the following strange sentence: In the Earth and in the Sky and in the Sea There Are Wonderful Riddles. Hoc Fecit Dorothea Vincey. Quite bewildered, I looked at the other side of the fragment. It was covered from top to bottom with inscriptions and autographs in Greek, Latin, and English . The first was in Greek and had been made by Thisisthenes, the boy to whom the inscription was originally addressed. It read: I could not go. Thisisthenes to his son Callicrates. This Kallikrates, who was probably named in the Greek manner after his grandfather, had clearly tried to investigate the matter, for his inscription, which was very faded and almost lost, It read: I gave up my attempt, for the gods were against me. Callicrates to his son. This was written crosswise from top to bottom, and was so worn and faded that I could not have made it out had I not had Vincey’s translation; besides, it was written on the edge of a piece which had been badly damaged by the centuries. Between these two oldest inscriptions was the proud autograph of one Lionel Vincey, and the inscription: at the age of seventeen. This Vincey was, I believe, Leo’s grandfather. Then followed a series of Greek inscriptions, all ending in the word: to my son; they showed that the object had been faithfully passed from father to son. The next legible inscription, after the inscriptions in all languages, was the word Romae, a. uc, which showed that the family had now moved to Rome. Of the year, which would have indicated the time of the migration, unfortunately nothing remained but the last digit, for at that very spot a small chip had broken off the piece, so that the date of the inscription remains unknown for all time. This was followed by twelve Latin inscriptions, which had been fitted to the fragment of the pot, wherever there was room. All these inscriptions, except three, ended in the name: Vindex, or Avenger, which the family seems to have taken as their name after moving to Rome, and which corresponds exactly to the Greek name: Thisisthenes, which also means avenger. Finally, this Latin name Vindex changed, as might be expected, to the name De Vincey, the last variation of which is Vincey. It was strange to observe how the claim to revenge of that Egyptian woman who lived before the birth of Christ has been passed down through the centuries as an inheritance from generation to generation to her descendants, and has, as it were, become immortalized in the surname of this English family. In the history of the Roman Empire, too, there are mentions of several persons named Vindex , who were, if I remember correctly, Mussius Vindex, Varius Marcellus Vindex, Fufidius Vindex, and Laberia Pompeiana Vindex. After these Latin names, there was evidently a period of several centuries during which the fragment was not even marked. It was impossible to ascertain its course through the storms of the Middle Ages, and how it was preserved in the care of the family for subsequent generations. The reader may remember that my friend Vincey the better told me that his Roman ancestors finally settled in Lombardy, and when Charlemagne conquered the region, the head of the family joined him and followed him to France, choosing Brittany as his place of residence, from which the family moved to England during the reign of Edward the Confessor. I cannot understand how the late Vincey could have known this, for the inscriptions on the fragment do not mention Lombardy or Charlemagne. Brittany is indeed spoken of, as we shall presently see. After the Latin inscriptions, a red drawing was visible on the fragment, which is either dried blood or some red paint. Under it were two Crusader crosses and the letters DV painted in red and blue. The inscription was probably made by the same Dorothea Vincey who had also written the sentence on the other side of the fragment. To the left of these letters was the name AV and the year 1800. The next inscription was very strange and perhaps the most remarkable of all the notes on that strange pot fragment. It was written over those two crosses in thick Latin letters and dated 1445. And what was even more remarkable was that we found the English translation, which was written in thick and black medieval letters on a parchment found in the chest, which seemed to be even older than the parchment on which that medieval Latin translation of the Egyptian Amenartas’s inscription was written. In it, a certain John de Vincey relates that a piece of pottery was considered a magical amulet in the family, which a monk, filled with holy zeal, broke in two, saying, power to believe it to be the fruit of Satan’s plot, but which he, John de Vincey, again put together, praying to the holy virgin to forgive him if the deed was wrong. The next and penultimate entry was made in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, in 1564, and read: What a most wonderful story, in which, while investigating the events described , my father lost his life. In seeking that place mentioned in the inscription on the east coast of Africa, he met the Portuguese pirate, Lorenzo Marquez, and fell in battle. — John Vincey. The last entry was evidently made, judging from the form of the letters, about the middle of the eighteenth century. A couple of Hamlet’s most famous lines had been incorrectly copied on the fragment of the pot: There are more troubles in heaven and earth than your philosophy ever dreamed of, Horatio. And now we had only one document left to examine — namely, the Latin translation, written in the middle ages, of the Greek inscription on the fragment of the pot. We have seen that this translation was made and signed in 1495 by a very learned man, Edmundus de Prato Edmund Pratt, a doctor of canon law and a teacher at Oxford University. His tutor had been that excellent Grocyn, who was the first teacher of Greek in England. When the news that Greek was taught at Oxford University spread more widely, the head of the Vincey family living at that time, perhaps the same John de Vincey who years before had saved the vase fragment from loss and made a note of it in 1445, doubtless hastened to Oxford to inquire whether he might learn what the mysterious writing in his possession really meant. And he was not disappointed in his hopes, for Edmundus was indeed able to explain the mystery. His translation is indeed one of the best specimens of the Latin of the learned of the middle ages, and shows that the author also had a perfect command of the beautiful language of ancient Greece. Well, I smiled after reading and carefully examining all the writings and inscriptions, at least those that were still clear enough to be read, that’s all you’ve heard, Leo, and you can form your own opinion. Mine is ready. So what do you think of this? he asked in his quick manner. I believe that the fragment of the pot is absolutely genuine and that, as amazing as it may seem, it has been passed down in your family as an heirloom since the fourth century before the birth of Christ. The notes written on it prove this to be an unshakable truth, which is indeed hard to believe, but which leads nowhere . But that’s all. I have no doubt that your mother, that Egyptian princess, wrote or had someone write the inscription that we see on the fragment of the pot. But I am sure that the great suffering and her bitter grief over the death of her husband had confused her mind. I can almost swear that he was not in his right mind when he wrote this. But how do you explain my father’s account of his experiences on his journey? asked Leo. I consider what he saw and heard to be nothing more than strange coincidences. There may be, no doubt, high cliffs resembling human heads on the coasts of Africa, and many peoples who speak some dialect related to the Arabic language, and I believe there are also immense swamps there, but I must tell you, my Leo, to my great regret, that I cannot believe that your poor father was in his right mind when he wrote that letter. He had been in great grief, and, besides, he had an unusually lively imagination, this mysterious story had completely enchanted him. For my part, I am sure that the whole thing is an empty rhyme from beginning to end. I know that there are wonderful and mysterious forces of nature with which we rarely have to deal and which we can in no way comprehend. But no one can make me believe that a person could, even for a shorter period of time I dare not dare to die, unless the irrefutable testimony of my eyes and ears should change my mind, which I do not think will ever happen. Nor can I believe that in some unknown region, shut up by the swamps of Africa, there lives, or has ever lived , a witch-woman like the person described in the story. It is all, my boy, mere empty talk—mere empty talk! Or what does Job think? I say, sir, that the whole thing is a lie, and if it happens to be true, I hope Mr. Leo will not interfere or interfere in the matter, for it will only bring misfortune. Perhaps you are both right, said Leo very calmly. I do not wish to say this or that, but I only wish to state that I intend to get this matter settled once and for all, and if you will not come with me, I will go alone. I looked at the young man and saw that he was quite serious, for when Leo means the whole truth in his speech, a strangely sharp line always appears around his mouth. I have noticed it ever since he was a little child. Now, however, the case was such that I did not intend to let him go anywhere alone. Even if he had not been without my help, I intended to follow him for my own sake, for I was too attached to him to be able to part with him. I have always been alone in the world. Affairs and circumstances have been against me. Men and women are afraid of me, at least I think they are , which I think is almost the same, and they think my character is as repulsive and frightening as my appearance is ugly. To escape all this, I live almost entirely apart from the world and the opportunities to make acquaintances through which most men eventually acquire several close, more or less dear relatives. That’s why Leo was my everything and my dearest thing in the world – my brother, my child, my friend – and if he didn’t get tired of me, I was going to follow him wherever he went. But naturally I couldn’t bring myself to tell him how great his influence was over me, and so I thought of some way to explain the matter with all due respect and at the same time let him know that I was going to come along. Yes, uncle; I’m certainly going to investigate those things, and if I don’t find that ‘pillar of fire revolving around eternal life,’ I can at least hunt and perhaps shoot some very rare creatures. Then my trip will turn out to be a first-class hunting trip. Now was a good opportunity for an honorable retreat and I didn’t miss it. A hunting trip? I said, looking surprised. Exactly ! I hadn’t even thought of that. Of course there are vast wildernesses and primeval forests there, where there is plenty of big game. I have always passionately hoped to shoot a buffalo before I die. The story of the piece of pottery is certainly a fabrication, but the case with the rare creatures you mention is different. If you are going on a trip, my boy, I really think that after considering the matter from the hunting and sporting point of view, I will come with you. I was almost sure that you would not let such an excellent opportunity slip away, said Leo. But where will the money come from? We are not short of money. You need not trouble yourself with that question, I answered. Your whole fortune has been growing at interest all these years, untouched, and besides, I have saved two-thirds of the sum your father assigned me for you, so that there is no lack of money. Very well then. Let us put the things in the box and go to London to choose some guns. And Job, will you come with us? It is time for you to see a little of the world. “Ah, sir,” replied Job calmly, “I don’t really care about traveling, but if you both go, you will certainly need some helper, and I have no intention of abandoning your company after serving you for twenty years.” Well said, Job, I said. You will not experience anything more wonderful, but perhaps you will shoot some beautiful creature. And now both of you listen carefully to what I say. Not a word of this affair must be whispered to anyone, and I pointed to the piece of pottery. Remember, not even a breath! If it were known and anything happened to me on the way, my nearest relative would immediately demand that my will be revoked on the ground that I had lost my mind, and I would be the laughingstock of all Cambridge. Three months later, to the very day, we were rocking on the waves of the ocean on our way to Zanzibar. Chapter 5. Wind. How different is the situation I am now going to describe from that which I have just spoken of. Far away are the silent shelters of the university, the thick elms growing in front of my window, their branches gently swaying in the evening breeze, and I have almost forgotten my familiar bookshelves in the study I have dedicated to science, from which I have already been away for three months. I am just looking at the calm, boundless expanse of the ocean, whose mains sparkle silvery when the full African moon is brightly reversed. A gentle breeze fills the immense sails of our ship and flies us forward as the waves flap melodiously against the sides of the mast. Most of the crew are already asleep in the bow, for midnight is near, and the helm is handled by a large, dark-skinned Arab named Mohammed, who calmly surveys the starry sky curving above him. Three peni-kulans to the windward, a faint, dark line can be seen on the horizon. That line is the eastern coast of Central Africa. We sailed southward , with a north-easterly night wind blowing, between the mainland and the rocky reef that for hundreds of miles skirts this dangerous coast. The night is calm and quiet, so quiet that a whisper can be heard from the stern to the bow, and from the distant shore a long, deep roar can be heard. The Arab holding the helm raises one hand and says a single word: “Simba the lion!” We all sit up and listen. Again comes the long, proud roar, which makes us tremble to the very marrow and bones. Tomorrow at ten o’clock, said I, we will reach that mysterious rock that resembles a man’s head and we can begin our hunt, unless our captain has made a mistake in his calculations, which is very likely. And we will go in search of the ruined city and the fire of life,” said Leo, laughing and taking his pipe from his mouth. Lorua, I answered. You tried your Arabic with the man at the helm last night . What did he tell you? He has spent half his criminal life as a merchant, probably a slave trader, on this coast, and has once been ashore at that rock. Has he ever heard of that coastal town and those caves? No, answered Leo. He says that the endless swamps begin right at the coast, and claims that no one can live there, for the swamps are teeming with snakes, especially pythons, and all kinds of cruel predators. But the whole coast of East Africa is swamp, so that fact doesn’t mean much. Yes, I said. It does mean a lot. Malaria lives there. You see what our men think of the coast. Not one of them will go with us. They think we are crazy, and on my honor I believe they are quite right. I should be very surprised if I could see old England again. Anyway , I am old enough not to care much for myself, but for you, Leo, and for Job I am sad. Only real fools would undertake such ventures, my boy. Well, Uncle Horace, said Leo. I will at least try to get as far as I can and suffer the consequences. But look! What cloud is that? He pointed to the dark cloud in the starry sky. ” I’ll go and ask the sternman,” I said. He got up, stretched his arms a little, and went away. He returned a moment later. He says that cloud of that kind brings a severe gale, but this time it passes us by from afar. At that moment Job came up to us. He looked very English in his brown hunting dress, and his honest, round face had the look of surprise that had been on it ever since we came to these strange waters. ” With your permission, sir,” he said, touching his sun helmet that had slipped to the back of his head. “Now that all the guns and other things, not to mention the trunks, are stowed away in the whaling boat at the stern, I think it would be best if I climbed in there to sleep. I don’t like those blacks here,” his voice dropped to an ominous whisper. “They are so strangely thief-like.” Suppose one of them should sneak into the boat, cut the rope , and go away. That might happen very easily. What would be the advice then? The whaling boat had been specially made for us at the Dundee shipyard in Scotland. We had taken it with us, knowing that there were innumerable bays and rivers on this coast which we might have to explore more closely. The boat was forty feet long, and exceedingly well made. It had a movable keel in case we should wish to sail, and the bottom was covered all over with copper sheeting. There were also plenty of watertight compartments. Our captain had told us that when we reached a rock which he knew, and which seemed to be the same as that mentioned in the story of the piece of pottery and in Leo’s father’s letter , he would probably not be able to get to land, on account of the tidal wave and the most violent storms on the shore. Therefore, the same morning, when the wind had completely died down, at sunrise, we had moved the greater part of our goods into the whaling boat. Having placed our guns, firearms, and provisions in watertight chests specially made for them, we had only to get into the boat and land on the shore when we came in sight of that strange rock. Another reason why we had taken this precaution was that Arab sailors easily overlook the destination to which they are to steer. Perhaps this is due to indifference, or because they are not sufficiently familiar with these coasts. And as sailors know, it is quite impossible for a ship built to sail only with the wind to turn back against it. Therefore, we had our boat ready to row ashore as soon as we came in sight of the rock. I think it would be best to do so, Job, said I. There are blankets enough in the boat, but beware of sleeping in the moonlight, for it may make you either a scoundrel or blind. God forbid, sir! I should not much care for it, for the sight of these filthy rascals and their slyly creeping manner has made my head spin enough. A dunghill would have them, for they stink so charmingly. As you may have noticed, Job was no admirer of our dark-skinned brethren. So we pulled the boat right under the stern, and Job jumped into it with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. Then we sat down on deck again, and whiled away the time, smoking and talking. The night was so charmingly beautiful, and our minds were so inexplicably excited, that we felt not the least desire to go to rest. We sat like that for about an hour, until I think we both fell asleep. I vaguely remember Leo explaining sleepily that it was best to shoot a buffalo in the head if you were sure you could hit it right between the horns, or to fire the shot straight into its throat. I remember Leo talking some nonsense like that. Then I think we both fell into a stupor, until suddenly the terrible roar of the storm, the screams of terror from the crew waking up from their sleep and the sound of the heavy rain woke me. Some of the young men rushed to ease the sail, but the rough wood caught on something and the attempt was unsuccessful. I jumped up and grabbed a rope with both hands. Behind us the sky was pitch black, but in front of us the moon was still shining brightly. In its light I saw an immense white-crested wave, at least twenty feet high, rushing towards us. Driven by that terrible wind, it appeared from the pitch black darkness behind us, and its foaming crest, ready to break, glittered in the moonlight. In the same moment I saw our whaleboat thrown high into the air like a black shadow, and a whole mountain of water and foam washed over me as I tried for my life to hold on to the oar, from which I was torn like a flag from its pole. In the meantime the wave had gone its way. The seconds I had been under water seemed like minutes to me. I looked at the bow. The wind had torn off a large sail, which disappeared into the darkness like an enormous wounded bird. For a moment there was relative calm, and I heard Job shouting wildly: Come here to the boat! As dizzy as I was and almost choked by the water, I knew how to rush after it. I felt the ship sinking—it was full of water. Below the stern I saw the whaling boat tossing to and fro, and at the same moment I saw Mohammed, who had been steering the ship, jump into it. I pulled with all my might on the towline to bring the boat closer, and I jumped overboard. Job got a firm hold of my arm, and I rolled to the bottom of the boat. Just as the ship sank, Mohammed seized his curved knife and cut the rope that held the boat to the ship. At the same moment, driven by the storm, we were flying over the place where our ship had just been rocked by the waves. Great God! I cried out. Where is Leo? Leo! Leo! He is gone, sir; God have mercy on his soul, Job cried in my ear, and the roar of the storm was so great that his cry sounded like a whisper. I wrung my hands in agony. Leo was drowned, and I had survived to mourn him. Be on your guard, Job cried. Here comes another. I turned and saw another terrible wave rushing towards us. I almost hoped it would drown me, and I watched its fury as if spellbound. The moon was almost completely hidden in the sky by the rushing storm clouds, but a faint ray of light still illuminated the crest of the wave. In the white, churning foam I discerned a dark object—some detached piece of our sunken ship. The wave reached our boat, which was already in a water-logged state, but when several watertight compartments had been made for it—God bless the brain in which the idea first occurred—it rose to the surface like a swan. In the roar of the foam and the rushing water over us, I saw the dark object coming straight towards me. I stretched out my right hand to push it away, and at the same moment my hand struck an arm, around which my fingers were clasped tightly like a vice. I am a very strong man, but the weight of that floating body nearly twisted my arm. If the surge of the wave had lasted two seconds longer, I should have either relaxed my grip or followed it. But that too passed at last, leaving us standing knee-deep in water. Draw, draw! roared Job, immediately setting to work. But I could not then follow the advice, for at that moment the last ray of the moon , disappearing behind the clouds, fell on the face of the man whom I had caught when the wave crashed over us and who was now floating in the water at the bottom of our boat. The man I had saved was Leo. The second tidal wave had brought him back to me straight from the jaws of death. Draw, draw! cried Job, or we shall drown. I caught hold of a large tin dish with a handle that had been caught under the wreckage of the boat, and now the three of us were pumping water out of the boat as fast as our lives could carry. from the front. A terrible storm raged around us, tossing our boat this way and that, and the waves washing over us and the foam rushing with the wind drove us right over our heads, but nevertheless we raged like wild beasts, spurred on by despair, for despair can also incite us to extreme exertion. A minute passed, three minutes, six minutes! The boat began to lighten and the waves could no longer fill it. Another five minutes and the boat was completely empty. Then suddenly we heard, above the howling of the storm, a deafening roar . Great God! We were approaching the furious squalls breaking on the rocks of the shore. At the same time the moon appeared again, as the storm clouds rushed forward, and illuminated the crests of the waves, which rolled in huge masses from the stormy sea. About half an angle ahead we saw a white streak of foam. Behind it was a dark zone, bordering on another streak of foam. There were the salakari and the roar of their jets grew louder as we sped towards them with the speed of a swallow. There they were and the foam around them flashed in the moonlight, hungry for prey like the glowing teeth of the jaws of perdition. Steer, Mohammed! I shouted in Arabic. We must try to get through. At once I seized the oar and signalled to Job to do the same. Mohammed rushed after and after a moment’s effort Job got his oar out too. In the next blink of an eye our bow was straight towards the ever-approaching streak of foam, which our ship was approaching with frightening speed. Directly ahead the jets seemed a little more even than elsewhere. There must be an opening there through which we might perhaps escape. I turned and pointed towards it. Steer that way, Mohammed, if you value your life, I shouted to him. He was a skilled sailor, and knew all the dangers of this disastrous coast. I saw him hold the helm firmly and bend his strong body forward, and in that position he stared unblinkingly ahead into the foaming waves until his eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets. The cross-wave was trying to push our boat to starboard, and if we could not get to the opening, our doom was certain. Ahead of us it was boiling and seething as in some witch’s cauldron. Mohammed thrust his feet against the wreckage before him, and as I looked at him I saw his brown toes spread out like fingers, striking the edge of the seat as he turned the helm with all his might. The boat turned a little, but not enough. I shouted at the top of my voice to Job to make him feel, and at the same time I worked on my own oar as if for my life. At the same time we were in the midst of the churning. I cannot describe the nerve- racking excitement of those few minutes. I only remember that the furious, deafening roar of the storms roared around us, and our boat rocked like a nut-shell with the foaming waves that rushed from all sides from their white graves to avenge our impudence. Once our boat was almost thrown overboard, but either by chance or by Mohammed’s skillful steering, it immediately turned back on its right course before the swell could fill it. And, wonder of wonders , in the next blink of an eye we had passed through the storms, and with a wild shout of joy from the Arab we were racing into that comparatively calm zone between those two rows of sharp teeth. But our boat was once again half in the water, and the other storms were only half an angle away. We began again, with a desperate frenzy, to empty our boat. Fortunately the storm had completely died down, and in the bright moonlight we saw a rocky headland about half a mile long , of which the other secret reef was evidently a continuation. At the tip of the headland was a strange rocky peak, which seemed to be only a mile away from us. Just as we had emptied our boat for the second time, Leo, to my inexpressible joy, opened his eyes and remarked that the blanket had probably slipped to the floor and that he thought it was time to get up and go to church. I I bade him lie down quietly and go to sleep again, which he did, without seeming to understand where he was. But his talk of the church had wounded my sensitive spot , and with a pang of longing I remembered my comfortable rooms at Cambridge. Why had I been so mad as to set out on this journey? Since that night I have often pondered the question, and it comes more and more frequently to my mind. But our boat was drifting again towards the sloughs, though more slowly, for the wind had abated. Either a rising tide or some current was now carrying us towards the shore; it was later discovered that the current which was pressing us ashore was a rising tide. Crying to Allah for our help, Mohammed at once steered into the midst of the waves. I instinctively tried to utter some prayer, while a solemn incantation burst from Job’s lips. Then the recent excitement and struggle among the sloughs were repeated, though this time we got by a little more easily. The skill of Modammed and the watertight compartments of our boat saved our lives. In five minutes we passed the reef and were racing with the current—we were so exhausted that we could do nothing but manage to steer our boat with difficulty— with astonishing speed around the point of the cape I have just mentioned. The current carried us to a lull behind a rock, and there our speed gradually slackened, until at last our craft came to a complete standstill and swayed quietly in a calm sea. The storm had abated and the sky was once more smilingly clear. We were well protected behind a rocky promontory, against which the terrible waves, rolling from the sea, raised by the gale, were still crashing and crashing. The river, which had just plunged into the river with terrible force – we were at the mouth of a river – had calmed down to rest before the ebb tide, so our boat drifted slowly forward and we managed to carefully empty it and organize our belongings a little before the moon set. Leo was sleeping soundly and I thought it wisest not to disturb his sleep. He slept in his clothes completely soaked through , but I thought that a strong man and athlete like Leo would not care a bit, because the night was very warm. Job completely agreed with me and besides, we did not have a single dry item of clothing available. In the meantime, the moon had descended lower and lower and soon disappeared completely into the sea. The slowly rising tide rocked our boat, allowing us to peacefully remember our miraculous rescue and all that we had experienced. Job had settled himself in the bow, Mohammed was still at the helm, and I sat near Leo, who was sleeping in the middle of the ship. The moon sank slowly behind the horizon, creating a silver bridge over the stern, and finally disappeared from our sight like a sweet bride, whose radiant veil still glittered in the sky for a long time. The stars twinkled brightly, but their light soon began to fade alongside the torch that had been lit in the eastern sky. The day began to dawn and drove the stars from the blue sky. The sea calmed down from its calm until it was as still as the soft misty mantle caressing its surface . Just as the sweet spirit of sleep brings comfort and forgetfulness to the tormented mind, so that layer of mist seemed to soothe the restlessness of the sea with its caresses. The rays of the rising sun reddened the whole sky from east to west, they flew from mountain to mountain, and set the dawns ablaze on every peak. At last the sun’s brilliant rim appeared above the mountains looming in the east, illuminating the calm sea, the surface of which rose with the gentle breeze , and the low shore and its endless marshes visible before us, which, however, seemed to be limited by the high mountains visible in the east as a bluish line. The rising sun saw some people sleeping peacefully and others watching, haunted by great sorrows . It shone on both the good and the bad, on both the living and the dead, and the whole wide world and everything that lives or has lived in it, it illuminated with its light this wonderful morning as well. The sight was wonderfully beautiful, but perhaps it was precisely in its extraordinary beauty that it caused a melancholy atmosphere. The rising and setting sun! That was the metaphor for all life. The beginning and the end. Especially this morning did that thought come to my mind with a special force. The rising sun of this morning had set for the last time yesterday evening for eighteen of my companions! They had perished with the ship and the waves of the sea were now beating their bodies against the rocks. There, on the dangerous coast of East Africa, they met their doom. Only the four of us were saved. But that morning dawns too, when we in turn have ended our earthly journey forever and when others admire the shining rays of the rising sun, sinking into melancholy thoughts as they gaze at that wonderful sight, and dream of death when the reviver of all life is just refreshing them. But such is human life. Chapter 6. The Head of the Ethiopian. The sun had at last driven all the shadows of the night into their hiding places , and its rays began to warm me sweetly. I sat lost in thought, listening to the murmur of the waves, until the faint current carried our boat so that the strange peak or immense block of rock at the head of the promontory came between us and the sun. I stared in my thoughts at that strange-looking rock until its outlines were illuminated on all sides by the sun behind . Then I was startled, for I perceived at once that the block of rock, at least eighty feet high , at the head of the promontory, was exactly like the head of a negro, with the most monstrous and cruel expression on his face. And so it was. The negro’s thick lips, broad cheeks, and short, hooked nose stood out with astonishing clarity against the bright sun. That rock had perhaps stood at the tip of the headland for thousands of years, and during that time the winds and storms had perhaps also polished its top and back into the shape of a negro’s head and occiput. The resemblance was further completed by the fact that grass and shaggy low bushes grew on the top of the rock, which, when viewed against the sun, looked like the woolly hair of a gigantic negro. All this seemed very strange; so strange that I can no longer believe the picture to be merely some wondrous whim of nature. My unshakable conviction is that the rock in the shape of a negro’s head was some kind of gigantic monument, which, like that world-famous Egyptian sphinx, some long-extinct and completely forgotten people had carved out of a suitable block of rock at the mouth of their harbor, perhaps to warn and threaten the enemy from approaching. At that time, to my great regret, we could not investigate more closely how it could have been, for the rock seemed almost impossible to approach either by sea or land, and besides, we had other more important tasks at that time. When I think of it in the context of our later experiences, I am sure that this immense statue is the work of human hands. But be that as it may, the image still stands, staring grimly across the ever-changing ocean—there it was more than two thousand years ago, when Amenartas, princess of Egypt and wife of the beautiful Callicrates, ancestor of Leo, looked upon its devilish face—and there it will be, I am sure, two thousand years from now, after we have been completely forgotten, staring into the distance with the same cruel and terrible look. What do you think of that, Job? I asked our servant, who was sitting in the bow, trying to get as much sun as possible , and who was usually extremely grumpy, and pointed to that horrible -looking head. God save us! Job lamented, who had just noticed the picture. I think the devil himself sat as a model for the sculptor who sculpted that. I burst out laughing, and my laughter woke Leon. Hello! he exclaimed. What is it that troubles me today, when I am quite stiff—I’ll take a real aimo to warm myself. But— but where is our ship? You may be glad, my boy, that you are not even stiffer, I answered. The ship sank and all the others perished except the four of us. Your salvation was a most wonderful coincidence. While Job was fetching brandy from a chest, I told Leo in detail all our nightly adventures. Great God! he said quietly, it is strange to think that we were the ones who were saved from almost certain death. At the same time a store of brandy was found, and we all took a sip of aimo, which made our blood circulate sweetly in our bewildered limbs. After rising a little higher, the sun began to warm us noticeably, for which we were very grateful, for we had been soaked through for at least five hours, if not longer. Well, but, said Leo eagerly, and set the bottle of brandy on the bottom of the boat, there is the head that the scripture speaks of. There is a rock in front of us now, carved in the shape of an Ethiopian head ! Yes, I said, that is what it looks like. So the whole story is true, he replied. At least I don’t see anything to prove it, I replied. We knew that the head was here, because your father saw it. It has been said that it is the very same head that the inscription speaks of, and even if that were the case, I don’t think that proves anything . Leo smiled pitifully: “Now you are a real Doubting Thomas, Uncle Horace,” he said. “He who lives, sees.” That’s right, I replied. Perhaps you will notice that we are in the vicinity of a river and are drifting over a sandy shoal at the mouth of the river. Take your oar, Job, and we will row into the river to see if we can find a suitable landing place there. The mouth of the river into which we were now steering did not appear to be very wide, although we could not see very clearly, as both banks were covered with a dense fog. The mouths of almost all the rivers of East Africa are closed by extensive sandbanks, and this one was also so; but as it was just the time of high tide, we happily got over the shoal. With the land wind blowing and the ebb tide gone, it would have been quite impossible to get into the river in a boat that could only swim an inch deep. But with such favourable conditions we got out of that dangerous place in twenty minutes, and as the wind was suitably favourable, we hoisted sail and made good headway. The sun, whose rays were beginning to feel quite scorching, gradually dissipated the fog from the shores, and we then saw that the little bay formed by the mouth of the river was about half an inch wide. The shores were very marshy, and on the mudflats rising from the water there lay hordes of crocodiles like fallen tree trunks. About a quarter of an hour straight ahead, however, there seemed to be a smaller strip of firmer land, and we steered our sails towards it. In a quarter of an hour we arrived and tied our boat to a beautiful tree with broad, glossy leaves, which, judging by its lovely flowers that shaded the water, belonged to the magnolia family. When we got ashore , we undressed, washed, and spread out our clothes and all our belongings in the boat to dry in the sunshine. Then we prepared our breakfast under some trees from the preserves, of which we had brought quite a lot, and loudly expressed our great satisfaction at having moved all our belongings into the boat the day before the storm. By mealtime our clothes had dried, and we dressed with great pleasure. Apart from fatigue and minor injuries, none of us had been seriously injured in that terrible adventure, which had been so disastrous to all our companions. Leo had, it is true, been almost drowned, but a rugged young man of twenty-five does not much care about such things . After breakfast we set out on our exploration. We were on a dry strip of land about two hundred cubits wide and five hundred cubits long. On one side was the river, and on three sides it was bounded by an endless, desolate swamp that stretched as far as the eye could see. This dry strip of land was also about twenty-five feet above the surface of the river and the surrounding swamp , and seemed, strange as it may sound, to be made by human hands. There was once a great shipping yard here, said Leo instructively. What nonsense, said I. Who would have been foolish enough to build this shipping yard in the middle of these terrible swamps and in a country inhabited only by savages? And is it even certain that this region is inhabited at all? Perhaps the land has not always been a swamp, and perhaps its inhabitants have once been of a higher degree of civilization, he said dryly , glancing at the steep edge of the bank leading down to the river. Look over there, he continued, pointing to the spot where last night’s storm had uprooted a magnolia tree that had grown right at the water’s edge, and its roots had torn up a large block of land. Don’t you see the masonry there? If not, at least that looks very much like it. What nonsense, I said as we climbed down to inspect the spot that had been exposed when the tree fell. What do you say about this? he asked. This time I said nothing, I just whistled, for under the uprooted earth I could see large, regular stones, cemented together with a brown mortar that resembled cement, so hard that the file of my hunting knife could not do it at all. But that was not all. At the bottom of the pit I saw something looming under the mud, and after digging the soft earth a little to the side with my hands I saw a large stone ring, one foot in diameter and about three inches thick. This discovery left me completely speechless. “Doesn’t it look like a wharf where large ships have been moored in ancient times, Uncle Horace?” asked Leo, smiling gleefully. I tried to say something else, but the words stuck in my throat, for the ring spoke for itself. In ancient times ships had been moored to this wharf, and this whole stretch of stone-walled shore was doubtless the only remnant of a great loading-place. Perhaps the town that had owned it had been buried under the swamp behind. It does indeed seem as if there was some truth to the story after all, Uncle Horace,” said Leo, with joy; and as I thought of the mysterious head of the negro at the mouth of the river, and of the mysterious masonry I had seen, I answered somewhat evasively. A country like Africa, I said, must be full of monuments of the civilization and habitation of long-dead and forgotten peoples . No one knows the age of the ancient Egyptian civilization, or how far it may have spread, or to what regions. The same is true of the civilization of the Assyrians, Phoenicians, Persians , and all the other peoples of that kind who lived in antiquity, of a lower or higher standard of civilization , not to mention the Jews, for we do know a little about them. It is possible that one of those peoples had colonies and a large trading post here. That is right, said Leo, but you have never spoken like this before. What are we going to do now? I asked, not seeming to have heard his reminder. When there was no answer, we walked slowly to the edge of the swamp and looked at the gloomy landscape that spread out before us, which seemed to stretch on forever. Waterfowl of all kinds emerged from their hiding places in such dense flocks that at times they even obscured the sky. The sun had risen high and poisonous gases were beginning to rise from the swamp and its slimy green pools of water. Two things are quite clear to me, I said to my three companions, who were looking at the landscape with sad faces. First of all, it is quite impossible to cross that, I continued, pointing “We are going to the swamp, and if we stay here we shall surely die of fever. Nothing is clearer, sir,” said Job. “Very well; then we have two courses of action to choose from to get out of here. Either we try to make our boat for some port on this coast, which is a very dangerous undertaking, or we sail or row up the river to unknown destinies. I do not know what you intend to do,” said Leo, a determined expression appearing around his mouth, “but I for my part intend to travel up the river. ” Job’s eyes widened with terror, so that the whites were visible, and he burst into a pitiful lament. The Arab chanted, “Allah, Allah,” and also began to lament his hard fate. I for my part humbly remarked that since we were already between the ditch and the well, it did not matter which way we went. But to tell the truth, I was just as anxious to continue the journey as Leo was. The immense head of the negro and the stone wharf had excited my curiosity to such an extreme that I was ashamed, but nevertheless I was determined to satisfy it, whatever the cost. Having carefully fastened the mast, loaded our goods again into the boat, and taken out our firearms, we began our journey. The weather was very favorable, for a strong wind blew from the sea, so that we were able to hoist the sail and make good speed. — Thus we sailed for about four hours without interruption. Once we encountered a large herd of hippopotamuses, which raised their heads and roared menacingly about ten fathoms from our boat, to the great terror of Job. I confess that my heart also trembled a little with fear. We had never seen hippopotamuses before , and judging from their immense curiosity, it was their first time seeing white men. I had been quite sure a couple of times that they would climb into our boat to satisfy their curiosity. Leo wanted to try if lead would penetrate their skin, but fearing unnecessary trouble, I warned him against it. We also saw hundreds of crocodiles basking in the sun on the muddy banks of the river, and thousands of waterfowl, which were very tame. We shot a few birds, including a wild goose, which, in addition to the sharp and curved spurs on both wings , had a sharp spur about an inch long on its head, just between the eyes . As we had never met another of its kind, I thought the strange bird we shot was some strange exception. Job called it the unicorn goose. At noon the heat became oppressive and the stench rising from the swamp so unbearable that we had to swallow several doses of quinine at once, to prevent the fever. The wind died down a little later , and as there was no question of rowing our heavy boat upstream, we stopped in the shade of some trees growing right on the water’s edge,–I think they were sycamores, and lay there panting until our misery finally ended in the evening, a little before sunset. As there seemed to be a wider spot in the river ahead, we decided to row there before we began to think about how we should arrange our night’s rest. I was just about to untie the boat when a beautiful, striped, and large-horned antelope appeared on the bank to drink, not noticing us, who were about fifty yards away under the cover of the sycamores. Leo was the first to see the creature, and being a passionate hunter, thirsty for the blood of big game , and who had been dreaming of such scenes for many months , he froze in place like a setter standing on a partridge. Noticing this, I handed him his magazine rifle and grabbed mine at the same time. “Let me shoot,” I whispered, “but remember not to miss.
” “Miss!” he repeated contemptuously; “I couldn’t miss that if I tried.” He raised his gun, and the reddish-gray, beautifully shaped animal, which had quenched its thirst, immediately raised its head and looked at me. on the other bank of the river. It stood directly against the setting sun, on a little ridge or isthmus that seemed to extend across the swamp quite out of sight, and which was probably the most popular path for all the animals that came to drink at the river. The sight before us was very beautiful. I think that even if I lived to be a hundred years old I should never forget that charming and enchanting apparition of the desolate wilderness. The scene is forever etched in my mind. To the right and to the left our eyes saw only an infinite, death-breathing, monotonous, and desolate swamp, with here and there black and slimy pools of water, the reddish rays of the setting sun flashing on their surface as in a mirror. Behind and in front of us we saw the river flowing calmly, which at a little distance seemed to end in a reddish backwater, in the film of which the faint breath of the wind that had risen at the mouth of the evening was roughening. The evening sun’s red rim was already touching the western horizon and soon disappeared behind the mists rising from the swamp, casting a golden glow on the sky, in whose dizzying height the cranes, changing their nests, calmly made their smooth way, which sparkled blood-red in the shadows of the clouds. I felt that we three modern Englishmen in our modern English boat were impudent intruders into the peace of this untouched nature, the solemn atmosphere of which was only heightened by the noble-shaped animal standing motionless against the glowing red evening brown before us . Bang! Our deer is rushing away with the speed of the wind. Leo shot past. Another bang! The bullet hit the ground right behind the animal. Be that as it may, I must also try, although the creature is flying like an arrow and is already at least a hundred yards away, if not further. Through Jupiter! The snarl rolled and remained there. I think I might have knocked you off the board, Leo my boy, I said, trying with all my might to suppress my joy, which on such occasions would force itself upon a true hunter. What a pity you had to come and shoot at it, Leo growled, but at the same time a sweet smile lit up his handsome face like a sudden ray of light, and he held out his hand to me. Forgive me for my foolish words, old fellow, and allow me to congratulate you. You really shot a master shot. We jumped ashore and rushed to our prey, which was quite lifeless. My bullet had crushed the spine. It was twenty minutes before we had skinned the creature and cut off as many good pieces as we could carry. When at last we were ready to set off, it was so dark that we could hardly see the rowing on the wide expanse ahead. Just as the last ray of dawn was disappearing, we dropped anchor about thirty fathoms from the shore. We did not dare to go ashore, not knowing whether we would find a dry spot for a camp, and also because we were afraid of the poisonous gases rising from the swamp, which we thought we would avoid by staying in our boat further from the shore. We lit a lantern and prepared the best we could of canned food. Having eaten with excellent appetites, we intended to go to bed, but that was quite impossible, for we were furiously attacked by tens of thousands of the most bloodthirsty, stubborn, and large-sized mosquitoes that I have ever seen or heard of before. I do not know whether it was the light of our lantern or the strange smell of the white man, which they had perhaps longed for for the last two thousand years, that had attracted the evil spirits to us . They were like a black cloud around our boat, and they snarled, sang, and bited, until we were at last quite driven mad. The cigarette smoke seemed to only incite them to more and more activity, until at last we were obliged to wrap ourselves up in our sleeping blankets and sit with our hoods on. The blankets were so warm that in a moment the sweat was streaming from every pore, and the fervent cursing and clawing went on endlessly. As we sat there and fought our bloodthirsty pursuers in the claws the lion’s roar echoed in the silence like thunder, to which the other lion immediately replied by creeping up the reeds , about sixty yards away from us. It was lucky, said Leo, peering from under the blanket, that we were not staying on the beach, wasn’t it, my thunder? Leo spoke to me in such an inappropriate way from time to time. Look at that possessed mosquito, when he had already managed to pinch my nose, he exclaimed at once and pulled the blanket over his eyes. A little later the moon began to appear above the horizon and, not caring about the roar of the lion on the beach, we all began to doze, for we thought we were completely safe from any surprises. I don’t know for sure what made me sweep the protective blanket from my face; perhaps I had noticed that the mosquitoes bit through it just as well. At the same time I heard Job whisper in a frightened voice: God forbid, look over there! We all looked in the direction he pointed and in the moonlight we saw two rings on the surface of the water near the shore, which were rapidly expanding, and a dark spot in the middle of each ring. What can they be? I asked. Lions, sir, Job answered, and his voice expressed indignation and respect, as well as justified fear. Those damned ones are swimming here now and will p– us in the cheeks, he added, slightly trembling in his excitement. I looked more closely at the newcomers and saw that Job was indeed right. The beasts were already so close that I could clearly see their cruelly glowing eyes. Excited by the fresh meat we had just gotten from the goat we had just killed, or by our own smell, those hungry animals were about to rush at us at once. Leo had already snatched up his rifle, but I asked him to wait until the beasts had gotten a little closer and I had my gun in my hand. About fifteen feet from us was a mudbank with only about fifteen inches of water, and the animal nearest us—a large female lion—waded into it and, shaking her fur, roared fearfully. At the same moment Leo’s gun went off and the bullet hit its open mouth, coming out through its neck; the animal fell lifeless into the water. The other lion— a full-grown male—was about two paces away, and just as the animal was about to mount the bank, something very strange happened. The water churned and swirled violently, and at the same moment the lion uttered a terrible roar, leaping onto the bank and dragging something black with it. Allah! cried Mohammed, the crocodile has struck its leg! That was what had happened. We saw a long snout, with rows of terrible teeth gleaming in the moonlight, and the body of the reptile stretching behind it. Now a rare and ghastly spectacle ensued. The lion managed to get to the bottom of it, with the crocodile hanging on by its hind leg and almost swimming after it. The lion roared in fury so that the air trembled, and finally turned around and slammed his claws into the crocodile’s head. The reptile then relaxed its grip and turned a little on its side, for the lion’s claws had, as we later discovered, pierced one of its eyes. At the same time the lion sank his teeth into its throat, and both animals rolled in the mud , writhing and struggling savagely. It was impossible to follow all their movements, but the next time we saw more clearly, we saw that the parts had changed, for the crocodile, whose head seemed to be in tatters, had caught the lion in the middle of the body with its terrible jaws and was now swinging and shaking its opponent furiously. The lion’s roar sounded more and more painful, and it clawed and bit with a desperate fury at the rock-hard head of its enemy, which, despite its protective shields, was already badly torn. Finally, the lion struck the crocodile’s comparatively soft throat with the large and sharp claws of its hind legs and immediately cut it open as easily as a glove. Then the fight suddenly ended. The lion’s head fell down and, uttering a pitiful roar, the animal fell breathless on the crocodile’s back. on. The reptile was motionless for a moment, but then it too slowly rolled to the lion’s side, not loosening even in death its iron grip on the body of its adversary, which, as we later saw, it had bitten almost in two. I suppose few men have ever seen such a wonderful and shocking struggle for life and death as we witnessed that moonlit night in East Africa. When the duel was over, Mohammed kept watch for the rest of the night , watching for our safety, and the rest of us tried to sleep as well as we could. Except for the snarling of the mosquitoes, the night passed peacefully. Chapter 7. An Ancient Christian Way. The next morning we rose as soon as the first day’s dawn appeared in the eastern sky. We washed as well as circumstances permitted and prepared to continue our journey. I must say that I burst into uncontrollable laughter when I saw the swollen faces of my companions at dawn . Job’s fat, round face had been shaved almost twice as wide by mosquito bites, and Leo’s condition was not much better. Of the three of us, I had escaped the least, probably because my dark skin was more tenacious than usual; besides, my face was almost entirely covered with a thick beard, which I had let grow in peace since we left England. The others had not a single chin, so it was naturally much easier for the enemy to carry out their work of destruction when the field was a little more open. The mosquitoes made an exception with regard to Mohammed . They must have smelled the true and unadulterated orthodox Moslem from afar, and did not bother him at all. I wonder how often in the weeks that followed we could wish we had the Arabian’s miraculous scent! By the time we had laughed as much as our swollen lips would allow, day had broken and a fresh morning breeze was blowing from the sea, cutting long lanes through the dense fog of the marshes and driving it before us in immense cotton balls, resembling white, fluffy balls of cotton. After first looking at the two dead lions and the crocodile, which we would have gladly skinned if we had had the necessary equipment, we hoisted our sails and started our journey up the river again. At noon, the wind having completely died down, as it usually does, we managed to find a small dry stretch of shore, where we camped and made a fire. We cooked two ducks and a little venison for dinner as well as we could, and the rest of the venison we cut into thin slices, which we dried in the sun, as I believe is the custom in South Africa . We lingered at our campfire until evening, and spent the night in the boat, fighting with angry mosquitoes, but otherwise peacefully. The next couple of days passed in the same way, and nothing more noteworthy happened. On the second day Leo shot a particularly beautiful hornless antelope. All the way we admired the large water lilies of several species that lined the riverbanks. One species was blue and unheard of in beauty, but few of the flowers were completely intact, for in the river lived a white caterpillar with a green head, which seemed to be gradually destroying all the blue water lily flowers. On the fifth day, when we had traveled westward from the coast about a hundred and fifty miles, something more important indeed happened . In the morning the wind died down as before about eleven o’clock, and after rowing for a while, we were more or less tired and had to stop to rest for the worst of the heat. Near our halting place a tributary stream, about fifty feet wide, seemed to flow into our river . We had taken shelter in the shade of some trees growing on the bank, and as the ground was dry and hard, we set out on a little exploration. along the bank to shoot some waterfowl for dinner. We at once observed that the gloomy scenery around us had not changed in the least, but had perhaps become even more desolate and monotonous. After we had gone about fifty yards we found it hopeless to continue our whaling-boat , for about two hundred yards above our stopping-place the river was blocked by a whole series of rocks and mudflats, which it was impossible to pass over in our comparatively deep-going boat. We were really in a mess. On our return we walked some distance along the bank of the tributary, and from our observations we concluded that it was not a river at all, but an old canal, very similar to that found above Mombasa near Zanzibar, which connects the Tana and Ozy rivers. Ships sailing down the Tana River can reach the Ozy River, which is navigable to the sea, thus avoiding the dangerous shallows at the mouth of the Tana River. The canal before us was evidently built by a civilized people living in prehistoric times. The high banks, which were of stiff and tenacious clay, had evidently served as a drawbridge, and were equally spaced everywhere. The depth of the water also proved to be the same at every point in the canal. There was hardly any current, and as a result the canal was completely filled with dense reeds, through which narrow channels, probably made by countless waterfowl, were seen to meander. As it was clear that we could not continue our journey up the river, we had to either try to continue along the old canal we had invented, or return to the coast. We could not remain where we were, exposed to the sun and the mosquitoes, until the dangerous heat of these terrible swamps finally overcame us. There is hardly any other advice than to just keep pushing forward, I said at last, and the others expressed their approval, each in his own way. Leo thought my proposal was the best in the world; Job regarded it with respectful concern, and Mohammed appealed to Allah and the Prophet, cursing all infidels and their whole way of thinking and their madness for travel to the hottest corner. So we set off immediately after sunset, unable to make any use of the weak wind that had hitherto been so favorable to us. For about an hour we could row, though with great difficulty, but then the reeds became so thick that rowing was no longer possible, and we had to begin to pull our boat forward from the shore with a long rope, which is much heavier and more tiring. Job, Mohammed and I worked for two hours straight, while Leo sat in the bow, clearing a way for the boat with Mohammed’s sword. When it was dark we stopped and rested for a few hours to avoid the worst of the mosquitoes, but as soon as midnight passed we continued our journey , enjoying the coolness of the night. At daybreak we rested for three hours and then set off again, but we had to stop about ten, for a severe thunderstorm arose, followed by a heavy rain that lasted about six hours, so that the rest of the day we spent almost as if under a waterfall. I don’t know if it’s worth telling how we spent the next four days, because they were so monotonous. I will only say that they were the most miserable days of my life, and when I think of them all I can think of is the hard work, the stifling heat, the mosquitoes, and the misery. The scenery around us had not changed at all, and wherever we looked, the same desolate, desolate swamp lay before us, with no end in sight. We took daily large doses of quinine and stomach-softening medicines, and this procedure, as well as the hard work that had to be done every day, saved us from fever and death. After we had pushed forward along the canal for three days, we saw in the distance a round hill looming through the mouths of the estuary on the horizon, which on the evening of the fourth day seemed to be about thirty leagues from us. When we stopped we were so exhausted beyond words that we could no longer think of anything. We only felt that we could not drag our boat forward an inch with our swollen and bruised hands. We were already so dulled by despair and misery, and certain of our death in the midst of these terrible swamps, that we hoped death would soon put an end to our suffering. Our situation was so terrible that I do not believe any white man would wish to be in it. As I threw myself down on my back in the bottom of the boat, overcome with mortal exhaustion , I bitterly cursed my folly for having undertaken this mad undertaking at all, which, I was certain , would end in our all death in this terrible wilderness. Before I fell into a stupor, I remember thinking what this unfortunate boat would look like three months from this night. Here our boat would gradually sink into the mud, the smelly water leaking from the joints that had opened in half , washing our rotten bones. How sad must the end of our beautiful boat be, and how unhappily must the men who had set out to study fables and to be born in the deep be! I could already hear how the water swayed our whitening bones, rattling them together and grinding my skull against the hard skull of Mohammed, until he turned on me in anger and said with his grimacing gums, staring at me with his empty eye sockets, how I, a Christian dog, dared to disturb the last sleep of an orthodox believer. I opened my eyes and that terrible dream of mine made me tremble with fear, but at the same time I saw something that was not a dream and I trembled to the core of my heart, for two large glowing eyes stared at me in the darkness. I sprang up and roared with terror and fear, so that the others woke up and jumped to their feet, startled and sleepy. At the same time I saw a flash of bright steel and a broad-pointed spear pressed against my throat. Others were seen flashing behind it and when my eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, I saw a dark, ghostly crowd on the shore. Hush, said a voice in Arabic, who are you who come here in a ship floating on the water? Answer or die, and the point of the spear pressed harder and harder against my throat, sending a cold shiver through my whole body. We are peaceful travelers, and by chance we have strayed here, I answered in the clearest Arabic I could, which my persecutor seemed to understand, for he turned his head and said to a large creature standing at a distance: Father, shall I kill? What is the color of their skin? asked a manly voice. White. Do not lay a hand on them, answered the voice. The sun has risen four times and set four times since this word was brought to me by ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’: ‘The white men will soon come; when they come, do not kill them.’ They must be taken to the land ruled by ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’. Bring the men here, as well as all that they have with them. Come, said the man, leading me almost by dragging me from the boat, and I saw the same friendly treatment also befall my companions. A group of about fifty men had gathered on the shore, each armed with a long spear; as far as I could see in the darkness, the men were tall and strong-built, and comparatively fair. The leopard skin that protected their waists was their only covering. Leo and Job were snatched from the boat with equal haste and thrust towards me. Which one is it now? Leo wondered, rubbing his eyes. Oh, good father, sighing Job, now we must have been in trouble, sir. At the same moment Mohammed rushed into our midst, followed by a dark creature with a raised spear. Allah! Allah! Mohammed cried in agony, for he had no seemed to be waiting for mercy. Protect me! Protect me! Father, he is black, said a voice. What did ‘He who must be obeyed’ say about the black man? Nothing, but do not kill him. Come here a little, my son. The man approached and the tall, commanding-looking creature bent down and whispered something. Yes, yes, said another, laughing hideously. Are the three white men ready? asked the previous speaker, who was evidently the leader of the crowd. They are.
So bring here what is reserved for them, and take with you everything that is in it that moves on the water. He had hardly finished when men hurried forward carrying palanquins on their shoulders. Four men carried one chair, and two spare pallbearers for each chair. We were immediately ordered to get up in our chairs. “It is a blessed thing that we can travel so comfortably once more ,” said Leo. Our journey in Africa has been a terrible drudgery up to now. Leo always finds some amusing side to all difficulties. As help was nowhere to be found and the others had already climbed into their places, I thought it best to obey the order and found my chair to be very comfortable. As I later saw, it was made of a kind of woven fabric of vegetable fibres, so elastic that it yielded to the slightest sway of my body, and there were comfortable armrests for the head and neck. I had hardly managed to sit down when the bearers set off, singing some monotonous tune. For about half an hour I lay in complete silence, contemplating this wonderful incident. I wonder if my friends at Cambridge, petrified and moldering in the shelters of the university, would believe me if I could suddenly fly myself among them and tell them my adventures. I said petrified and moldy, my friends. Let no one think that there is any insult in those words, for I used them only because I think that all who choose the service of science as their life’s work gradually become petrified and moldy. The nature of the work is such in itself, for it demands from its maker complete and absolute devotion and the suppression of other hobbies. I myself was already well on my way, but of late my horizons have greatly broadened. Well, I lay there wondering, even after I had stopped wondering, how this could all end so strangely, until at last my thoughts became dim and I fell asleep. When I woke up the sun was high in the sky. I had probably slept for seven or eight hours straight, for I was exhausted to death. The last time I had had a proper rest was the night before the shipwreck. We were still on the way, and judging by the speed we were going about four miles an hour. I peeped through the gap in the curtains that covered the palanquin, and saw to my great joy that we had at last escaped from those endless, spectacular marshes. We were now travelling across beautiful, lush grassy plains towards a round hill in the distance. I do not know whether this hill was the same one we had seen from the mouth of the canal, nor have I since been able to ascertain it, for these men were not disposed to answer such questions, as I afterwards found. Then I looked at the men who carried me. They were all of excellent physique, and as far as I could see, not one was under six feet tall. Their complexion was yellowish, and their appearance generally resembled very much the Somalis of East Africa, although their hair was not curly, but fell smoothly to their shoulders. Their features were generally very sharp, and in many of them unusually handsome. The nose was hooked and very beautifully shaped, and the teeth were all regular and white. But in spite of its beauty I do not think I have ever seen a more cruel and diabolical face. I was quite astonished by the pitiless and gloomy cruelty reflected in it, which in its ruthlessness was utterly unheard of. Secondly, I was astonished that I never saw them smile. Sometimes they sang that monotonous tune of which I have spoken, but when they did not sing they were quite silent, and neither laughter nor smiles ever brightened their gloomy and devilish features. What race could these people be? They spoke a dialect of Arabic, but they were not Arabs; of that I was certain. They were too dark. For some inexplicable reason, as I looked at them, a strange dread came over me, which I was almost ashamed of. While I was still musing, another palanquin appeared beside me. Its curtains had been drawn aside, and in it sat an old man, dressed in a loose, whitish cloak . I was at once sure that he was the same tall, commanding-looking creature who had stood on the shore, and whom the others called father. The tall old man was indeed a venerable fellow. A bushy, snow-white beard waved to his chest and was so long that it swung over the edge of the litter; his nose was a snub, above which flashed a pair of sharp, snake-like eyes, and the ingenious mockery of his face is impossible to describe. Are you awake, stranger? he asked in a deep and low voice. I am, my father, I answered politely, for I was sure that I would benefit greatly from gaining the old man’s sympathy . He stroked his lush, beautiful beard and smiled. In the country from which you come, whatever it may be, and where our language seems to be well known, it is at least understood to teach children to be polite, my son. What brought you to this country, which has scarcely been defiled by the foot of a stranger in the entire existence of mankind ? Are you and your companion tired of your life? We came to see new and wonderful things, for we are tired of the old, I answered boldly. We came from the sea to the coast and from there to explore hitherto unknown regions. We are a brave race that does not fear death, and we are inspired by the hope of really knowing something new before we die, venerable father. Hm! Oh, yes! smiled the old man, that may be true. I will not argue against it, for then I would declare you a liar, my son. Be that as it may, I will promise that ‘He Whom All Must Obey’ will fulfill your wish. Who is ‘He Whom All Must Obey’? I asked. The old man looked at the bearers and smiled in a way that made all my blood rush to my heart. My stranger son, he said then, if he will at all consent to see you in the flesh, you will surely very soon know more than enough. In the flesh? I exclaimed. What can my father mean by that? But the old man only laughed horribly and did not answer. What is the name of my father’s people? I asked. My people are called the Amahagger Rock People. Does your stranger son dare to ask what my father’s name is? I am Billali. And where are we going now, my father? You will find out in due time, he said, and motioned to his bearers, who hurried forward, running until they reached the palanquin where Job rested carelessly, one leg dangling over the side. But he evidently did not get to the beginning of the conversation with Job , for I saw his bearers hurry almost immediately to Leo. Left alone, I let the gentle swaying of the palanquin lull me back to sleep, for nothing unusual had happened, and I was terribly tired. When I woke up, I found that we were passing through a narrow gorge between strange, steep lava formations, in the cracks of which grew beautiful trees and flowering bushes. Suddenly we came to a sharp turn, and a wonderful view opened before me. I saw a circular plain about six miles in circumference, and exactly like a Roman amphitheatre. The edges were high cliffs covered with bushes, and the flat center, like an arena, was the best and most fertile land, where here and there grew mighty trees and through which numerous, clear streams crisscrossed. Great herds of goats and cattle grazed on this plain, but I saw no sheep. I pondered and wondered for a long time how this strange plain could have come into being, and suddenly it flashed into my mind that this was the vent of some immense volcano, long since extinct, in which a lake had first formed, which had then in some inexplicable way dried up and rotted away. I have not the slightest reason now to doubt this assumption, for I have since seen another, similar, old volcanic vent, of which I will speak some other time. One thing, however, astonished me very much. On the plain I saw many people herding cattle, but I saw no human habitation anywhere. Where could they have lived? The matter soon became clear, however. After we had gone about half a mile along the road at the edge of the plain, we stopped. Having seen Father Billal rise from his palanquin, I followed his example, as did Job and Leo. My first glance fell upon our Arab companion, poor Mohammed, who lay stretched out on the ground, almost exhausted from exhaustion. It was evident that he had not been allowed to travel comfortably in a palanquin, but had been forced to run the whole way. He was now, as I have said, quite exhausted, for he had been exhausted even when we left the boat. Looking round us, we found that we had stopped on a sort of platform at the mouth of the passage leading to a large cave, and to which had been brought all our goods from our whaleboat, including oars and sails. The men who had been accompanying us stood in a group on the wall of the cave, and with them I saw other men. They were all tall and handsome. Some were almost as dark in complexion as Mohammed, and others as yellow as the Chinese. Their only covering was a leopard skin wrapped around their waists, and each of them had a long spear. There were also a few women in the cave who, instead of a leopard skin, wore a short skirt made of the tanned skin of a small red deer . They were all unusually beautiful. Their facial features were regular, their eyes large and dark, and their hair thick and curly. A few wore a yellowish cloth mantle, similar to Billal’s, but it was, as we later learned, more a sign of rank than a veil of nudity. Besides, they were not so gloomy-looking as the men, and sometimes smiled, though rarely. As soon as we got on the ground, they gathered around us and examined us with calm curiosity. Leo’s plump figure and beautiful Greek features evidently attracted their attention, and when he politely raised his hat to them and revealed his curly golden hair, there was a general murmur of admiration from the crowd. But that was not all, for after a moment’s critical examination of him, the most beautiful girl of the group, wearing a yellowish cloak and with dark brown hair, hurriedly stepped forward in front of Leo, threw her arms around his neck and kissed his lips. I took a deep breath, for I expected to see Leo pierced by a spear at any moment, and Job exclaimed in indignation, “Look at that scoundrel!” Leo was at first a little surprised, but when he noticed that we had come to a country where the customs of the first Christians were still evidently followed, he calmly returned the embrace. I took a deep breath again, thinking that something must be happening, but to my great astonishment the older women and a few men only smiled while some of the younger women moved away , looking annoyed. As we learned to understand the customs of this strange people, this riddle too became clear. The fact of the matter was that among the Amahagger people, a woman is completely equal to a man, on whom she is in no way dependent. Family and descent are traced through the mother’s side and no one is even if they knew their father, however well-known he might be. In every tribe, or household, as they say, there is only one man whom they care a little for; he is the nearest chief chosen by them, and he is honored by the title of father. The chief of this household, which numbered about seven thousand people, was Billali, and no one else was addressed as father. If a woman wished to express her liking for a man, she would embrace and kiss him publicly in the sight of all, as that beautiful young girl named Ustane had done to Leo. If the man responded with a kiss, it meant that he accepted the offer, and from that time on they were man and wife, until one of them got tired of it and went to another market. I must say, however, that the exchange of husbands was less frequent than one might have expected. And when it happened that a wife took a fancy to another and abandoned her husband, there was never any quarrel or argument, but the men treated it quite calmly, as if it were a matter of course, which belonged to no one else and which was nevertheless considered to be in the best interests of society. This view was naturally very repugnant to us, and it explained the peculiar social order of this strange people . It is strange to note, however, how the concepts of morality of different countries and peoples change quite according to latitude. In one place what is considered good and right in another is considered quite absurd and wrong. But when we consider that in all civilized countries a public and solemn oath of fidelity to each other is considered the foundation and basis of all married life, we must admit that these Amahagger women and men behave just as correctly. Their exchange of embraces and kisses corresponds to our wedding, which is often no more binding. Chapter 8. Ustanen’s Song. After the kissing ceremony was over — those young maidens of mine let us be in peace, but at Job’s feet a certain sweet-smelling woman was seen making a noise while our proper servant looked around in alarm — old Billali ordered us with a dignified gesture to enter the cave, which we did, Ustanen following us , heedless of my hints that we wanted to be alone. Before we had gone five steps, I discovered to my astonishment that the cave was not the work of nature, but of man. As far as we could tell, it was about a hundred feet long and fifty feet wide, and very airy and high, much like a church aisle. Narrow passages led out of this cave at intervals of about fifteen feet , which I think led to smaller rooms hewn around it. About fifteen feet from the entrance to the cave, which the daylight could no longer properly illuminate, a great fire was burning. Billali stopped by it and ordered us to sit down, at the same time ordering his men to bring us food. We sat down on the soft skins reserved for us, and after waiting a moment, young girls appeared and brought us boiled goat meat, fresh milk in earthen pots, and roasted corn. We were almost starving, and I do not remember ever eating with greater pleasure. We did not stop eating until not a crumb remained of the food that was offered to us. When the remains of the meal had been cleared away, Billali, our somewhat hospitable host, who had silently watched our immense appetite, rose and said something very strange had happened. It had never been heard of, and no one could remember, that white strangers had ever entered the country where the Amahagger, or Rock People, lived. Occasionally, though very rarely, black men had strayed into their country and they had told him that there were people in the world who were much whiter than he was and who sailed on great ships, but he had never heard of them visiting his country. We had, however, been seen towing our boat along the canal, and he said openly that he had given orders that we should be killed immediately, for the intrusion of strangers into the country was against all laws and regulations. But then he had received orders from ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ that our lives were to be spared and we were to be brought here. Forgive me, my father, for interrupting, said I, but I understand that ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ lives even further away. How could he have known that we were coming? Billali turned and, seeing that we were alone—for Ustane, the young maiden, had moved further away when he began to speak— said with a strange laugh: Is there no one in your country who can see without eyes and hear without ears? Do not ask. He knew. I shrugged my shoulders at this, and he began to explain that he had not received any further instructions as to how we were to be treated, but that he intended to go at once to speak to the One Who Must Be Obeyed for specific instructions concerning us. Judging from Billal’s speech, the One Who Must Be Obeyed, or Hiya, as she was generally called for brevity, was the Queen of the Amahaggers. I asked him how long he thought he would be on his journey, and he estimated that he would at best be back in the fifth day. The journey was arduous, for to reach the Queen he had to cross shoreless and bottomless swamps. He said he would arrange everything so that we would be best cared for in his absence, and as he had taken a liking to us, he would try everything in his power to make the Queen’s mind as favorable as possible towards us. At the same time, he did not want to hide from us that he might as well have failed, for every stranger who had come to the country during his grandmother’s, his mother’s, and his lifetime had been mercilessly killed, and in a way that he did not want to explain in order to spare our nerves. According to his understanding, everything had happened at the command of the One Who Must Be Obeyed. At least to his knowledge, Hiya had never crossed the line to save the lives of strangers. Now I do not quite understand what you are saying, my father, I said. You are already an old man, and the time during which those events took place extends back at least three generations. How could the ‘One Who Must Be Obeyed’ have given the order to kill a stranger when your grandmother was still a child? The ‘One Who Must Be Obeyed’ had not even been born then. Billali smiled his strange, mysterious smile again and went away, bowing deeply, without answering my questions. Then we did not see him for five days. After he had gone we discussed our situation, and I must confess that I was very uneasy as I contemplated our future. Although I had firmly resolved not to believe any fairy tales, Billal’s stories of that mysterious queen, the One Who Must Be Obeyed, who apparently killed all strangers in some horrible way, had shaken my peace of mind. Leo was also dejected, but tried to console himself by proving with joy that the One Who Must Be Obeyed was undoubtedly the very person spoken of in the inscription on the pot fragment and in his father’s letter, and to whose age, wisdom, and great power Billal had also alluded. The many strange incidents of late had given me so much to think about that I could no longer bear it, nor did I wish at that moment to prove Leo’s absurd assertion to be quite wrong and impossible. I simply suggested that we should go and bathe, which we all needed. Having announced our intention to a middle-aged, unusually gloomy-looking man, who seemed to have been assigned to keep an eye on us in our father’s absence, we went out — but first we lit our pipes. A large crowd had gathered in front of the cave . to catch a glimpse of the white strangers, but when we appeared, puffing out thick clouds of smoke from our nostrils, the crowd dispersed in the blink of an eye. Men and women ran away, shouting and screaming that we were terrible witches. Apart from the effect of our firearms, nothing aroused greater wonder and astonishment than our smoking. Thus we managed to reach a small stream, in whose crystal-clear water we bathed without disturbing anyone. Ustane and a few of his companions seemed to have decided to follow us everywhere, including to the bath. I have rarely swam and washed with such great pleasure and when we were finally ready, the sun had almost reached the ridge and when we got back to the large cave it had already set behind the mountains. A gloomy twilight covered the area. Several fires were burning in the cave, around which a meal was being eaten in solemn silence. The fires burned brightly , and on the walls were hung numerous very illuminating lamps, molded of clay, some of which were also of extraordinary beauty. The largest lamps were made of large clay pots, filled with melted fat and closed with a sturdy lid, through which a reddish wick had been threaded. These lamps had to be constantly watched to prevent them from going out, as they had no means of lifting the wick. The hearts of the smaller hand lamps, also molded of clay, were made of palm kernels and sometimes the trunks of some very beautiful fern. In such lamps the wick was threaded through a narrow hole in the lamp, into which a sharp wooden stick was fitted, with which the wick could be pulled further when it began to burn more dimly. We sat for a while, watching these cruel-looking people dine in gloomy silence, until at last I informed our guide that we wished to go to rest. The many experiences of the day were tiring, and after contemplating the immense shadows that flashed in my mind on the jagged walls of the cave , I felt very sleepy. The man rose at once, and without a word took me politely by the hand , and, lighting our way with a lamp, led me down one of the narrow passages which I had noticed leading from the great central cavern. After we had gone about five paces, the passage widened into a small room, about eight feet long and wide. On one wall of this room, hewn in the rock, was a stone platform about three feet high, which, according to my guide, was my bed. Otherwise the room was quite empty, and I could not find the slightest hole or window; Upon closer inspection, I came to the surprising conclusion that the room had been a burial chamber for a dead person and not a sleeping place for any living creature. The bed on which I was supposed to sleep had been the body of the deceased. I later learned that my conclusion was absolutely correct. This observation made me tremble, but since I had to sleep somewhere, I tempered my nature and went to get my blanket from the large cave, which had been brought from the boat with other things. There I met Job, from whom I heard that a similar chamber had been assigned to him as a bedroom, but in which he flatly refused to stay, because he thought the place was horrible. He had felt as if he had gone to sleep in his grandfather’s stone tomb, and he asked to spend the night with me, if only it would happen. I happily agreed to his request. The night passed peacefully for the most part. I had only a terrible dream that I was being buried alive, but my strange surroundings must have suggested that idea to me when I fell asleep. A resounding trumpet blast woke us at daybreak, and on going outside I found a slender Amahagger youth blowing a horn made for the purpose from an elephant’s tusk. We obeyed the command and went to the stream to wash, after which breakfast was brought to us. As we were eating, a woman of some beauty approached us and kissed Job in front of everyone. The Situation was the most insane thing I ever saw. I can never forget the terror and fright of our venerable Job. He was a bit of a misogynist, like me—which I think was due to his being the eldest of seventeen siblings—and the confused and painful emotions on his face are beyond words. He was absolutely terrified to be embraced and kissed in public, despite all his protests , but when this happened in the presence of his master and mistress, he was completely out of his mind. He jumped up and pushed the intruder, a somewhat pleasant woman of about thirty, away from him. I have never seen such a thing before, he gasped, but the woman, who evidently thought it was only shyness that troubled her, kissed him again. Go away! Don’t you hear, you slut, or I—” roared Job, waving his wooden spoon menacingly in her face. I beg your pardon, gentlemen, but I swear I never gave her the slightest reason to behave so shamelessly. Oh, good father, here she comes again. Don’t let her go, Mr. Holly, I pray you, don’t let her go! I can’t bear this, you hear, I can’t! I’ve never had anything like this happen to me, gentlemen, never. This is absolutely unheard of, gentlemen, and I—” At that she fell silent and sprang away as fast as she could, and to my great surprise I saw the Amahaggers laugh for once. But the woman did not laugh. On the contrary, she seemed to be on the point of bursting with rage, which the taunts and jeers of the other women only excited. She stood there, seething and trembling with anger, and as I looked at her I wished Job had been a little more polite, for I suspected that her admirable fortitude had put our lives in danger. And it was not long before we saw that I was right. When the woman had gone her way, Job returned to us in a very nervous state of mind, and looked suspiciously at every woman who came near him. I took advantage of the opportunity to explain to our host that Job was a married man, but that his marriage had been very unhappy, and that he had come with us on this daring expedition to forget his sorrows. The mere presence of the women filled his heart with terror. My explanation was listened to in a threatening silence, and it was evident that our servant’s conduct was considered an insult to the honor of the whole family. In the war of words that followed among the wives, Job’s admirer held her own, just like her more civilized sisters . After breakfast we went to see the cattle-raising and farming of the Amahaggers. There were two kinds of cattle. The large, hornless cows, which were thin and angular, gave a good deal of milk, but another breed, which was very small and fat, was excellent for slaughter. Although their horns curved forward so sharply that some had to have them cut off to prevent them from sticking into their eyes, these little cows closely resembled the reddish Norfolk breed. The goats were long-haired, and were kept only for food. I never saw them milked, at least. The farming of the Amahaggers is extremely primitive, for all the work involved was done with some kind of iron shovel; the Amahaggers seemed to know iron and could forge implements from it. Their shovel is exactly like the point of a large spear , and its top is round, so that it cannot be pressed down with the foot. Working with it is therefore very laborious. The men do all the work in which the women have no part, and, as I have before remarked, the Amahagger women have in every respect fully supervised their interests. Among most savage nations, the case is the reverse. It was very difficult to obtain the slightest information about the origin and customs of this strange people, for I was unable to obtain any information on these matters. to get the slightest conversation going. But as time went on— the first four days passed without anything noteworthy happening —Leo’s friend Ustane, who, as she said, followed the young man everywhere like a shadow, told us one thing and another. Near the place where He Who Must Be Obeyed dwelt were great ruins and colonnades. According to learned men, there had once been a mighty city called Kôr, from whose inhabitants the Amahaggers were said to have descended. But no one dared to go near those ruins, for they were the dwellings of evil spirits; they were only looked at from afar. He had heard that similar ruins existed wherever there were mountains in the midst of those boundless swamps. The same people who had built those great cities in ancient times had perhaps also dug these caves in which his people now dwelt. They had no written laws themselves, but only customs, which, however, had to be followed as strictly as laws at all. If anyone broke them, the father of the family condemned the criminal to death immediately. I asked how the sentence was carried out, but Ustane only smiled and said that perhaps I would soon see that ceremony. They also had a queen. She who had to be obeyed was their queen, but she appeared only very rarely, perhaps once or twice in three years when she sentenced criminals, and then she was covered with a thick veil, so that no one could see her face. Her servants were deaf and mute, so that they could not tell anything, but it was generally said that the queen was indescribably beautiful and more lovely than all women. Rumor had it that she was immortal and ruled the whole world by her power, but Ustane did not know how the matter really was. He, for his part, believed that the queen took husband after husband until she had a daughter, at which time the father, whom no one had ever seen again, was probably killed immediately. When the mother died and was buried in the bottomless caves of Kor, the girl, who had grown up by then, immediately took her mother’s place. But no one could say for sure how it was. One thing was certain, however. The queen’s orders were obeyed absolutely, and anyone who did otherwise was immediately put to death. The queen had a bodyguard, but no army, and disobedience was punished by death. I asked how extensive the land of the Amahaggers was and how many there were approximately. Ustane replied that, to his knowledge, there were ten similar clans, in whose care we were now, not counting the queen’s great clan, and each clan lived separately, each in its own mountains, which were here and there in the middle of the swamps. The swamps could only be crossed by a few secret paths, known only to a few members of the clan. Clans often fought each other until He Who Must Be Obeyed sent word that the war must end, and it did. The wars and the fever they caught while traveling through the swamps prevented the people from multiplying too much. Once it had happened that a large enemy army had invaded the country from the direction of a great stream, probably the Zambesi River, but had been destroyed in the swamps to the last man. One night the enemy had seen great fires ahead and, thinking that they were seeing lights from the enemy’s camp, had started to advance towards them, whereupon half of the army drowned and the other half died of fever and hunger. No attack was made, but none of the enemy could return to their homeland to tell how unfortunate they had been. It was quite impossible to cross the swamps, he said, unless they knew the roads. We would never have gotten this far if we hadn’t been brought, he added, and I believe he was quite right. These and much more Ustane told us during those four days, after which our adventure only really began. began. As you might have guessed, what we heard gave us a lot to think about, and it was very remarkable that everything fitted in strangely well with the strange story of the piece of screen. It turned out that the country was ruled by a mysterious queen, about whom rumor knew how to tell terrible stories and who was usually referred to by that strange and mysterious name of She Who Must Be Obeyed. I could not come up with any reasonable explanation, nor could Leo, although of course he mocked me when I stubbornly laughed at the whole thing and called it a joke. Job did not try to explain anything anymore; he involuntarily followed the sequence of events. Mohammed, the Arab, who was treated very well, but with freezing contempt, was, as I noticed, in a state of perpetual fear, and I could not quite understand what caused his blind fear . For days, swallowing, he sat crouched in some hole in the cave and prayed to Allah and the Prophet to protect him. When I asked the reason for his fear, he said that he was afraid because these cave dwellers were not human beings, but evil spirits, and that the whole country was bewitched. I must confess that I have been inclined to believe the same thing a couple of times. Four days had passed since Billal’s departure without any notable incident, until on the evening of the fourth day something happened. The three of us and Ustane were sitting around the fire in the cave shortly before retiring, when the young woman, who had been staring into the fire, lost in thought, suddenly rose and placed her hand on Leo’s golden locks. Even now, when I close my eyes, I see her beautiful and noble form, illuminated by the ruddy, flickering flame of the fire , as she, awakening from her thoughts, addressed Leo in something like this: ‘You are mine, my chosen one—I have always waited for you! You are very beautiful. Your hair is like the purest gold and your complexion is the white of milk. The sky is reflected in your eyes, and their brilliance is like the bright light of the stars. Who is your equal in strength and who is braver than you? When my gaze fell on you, longing filled my heart — And I took you for my own, O my beloved. To keep you near me, so that nothing bad would happen to you. O my love, I cover your head with my hair, so that the sun could not harm you. And I was yours and you were mine. And so a moment passed, until time gave birth to an evil day. And what happened then? Oh! my beloved, I do not know! But I, I saw you no more — I, I disappeared into the dark darkness. And he who is stronger than me took you; oh, he who is more beautiful than Ustane. Once again you turned and called my name and let your gaze wander longingly in the darkness. But she, who is stronger than I, charmed you with her beauty and led you along terrible paths to the bowels of the earth. And then, my dear, oh, then—’ Here the young woman interrupted her speech, or song, and cast her glowing gaze into the dark darkness at the end of the cave. At once her eyes widened with terror, and she stared fixedly before her as if gazing at some terrible sight. Then she let her hand fall from Leo’s head and pointed into the darkness before her. We all stared at the end of the cave, but saw nothing. But Ustane saw, or at least thought she saw, something that evidently shook her iron nerves too, for suddenly she fell to the ground without uttering a sound, unconscious. Leon, who was really beginning to become attached to this pleasant young woman, was overcome with anxiety and pain, and to be perfectly honest I must confess that I too was overcome with superstitious fear. The whole scene was so unusual. However, Ustane soon recovered and sat up trembling. What did you mean, Ustane? asked Leo, who spoke Arabic very well after studying it diligently for several years. Nothing, my chosen one, replied Ustane, with a forced laugh. I was only singing to you in the old way of my people. I certainly did not meant nothing, for how could I speak of future events. But what did you see, Ustane? I asked, looking the girl firmly in the eyes. Nothing, she answered again; absolutely nothing. Don’t ask. It is better that I don’t frighten you. Why should I? Then she turned to Leo and, taking the young man’s head between her hands, she kissed him on the forehead, and on her face was reflected such infinite tenderness and unspeakable love that I have never seen such an expression on the face of any other woman, although I have moved everywhere among both civilized and savage peoples. Looking at Leo with touching tenderness, Ustane said: When I am no longer with you, my dear, when you stretch out your hands at night and do not find me, then remember me, for I loved you, although I am not worthy even to wash your feet. Let us love each other now, let us take what has been given to us as our own, and be happy as long as we may be together, for in the grave love no longer warms, nor kisses burn the lips there. Then perhaps we will think of nothing more, or only the bitter memories of the life we ​​have lived and the reproaches that we did not understand better and more wisely to use our time. This evening is ours, oh dear, but who knows whose tomorrow is? Chapter 9. The Celebration and Its Consequences. The next day we were informed that a great celebration was to be held in our honor that evening. The strange incident of yesterday, which had been of a profound effect on every witness, had, in my opinion, somewhat indicated the shocking fates that awaited us, and I tried in every way to influence the direction in which the celebration would cease. I explained that we were all extremely modest people, in whose honor it was not worth holding any celebration, but when my objections were listened to with awkward silence and indignant looks, I thought it wisest to keep my mouth shut. Just as the sun was setting I was informed that everything was in order, and so I went with Job to the large cave, where I met Leo and Ustane, who was, as usual, accompanied by a young man. The two had been walking outside until now and knew nothing of the celebration to be held that evening. I saw Ustane’s beautiful face turn pale with horror when she learned the news. She grabbed a passing man by the arm and asked him something very imperiously. The answer seemed to calm her, for she breathed a deep sigh of relief, but she did not seem to be completely calm. Then he turned to our guard, who seemed to be in charge of everything, and began to argue with him fiercely, but at last the man became angry and pushed the girl away from him, growling angrily. At the same time, however, the man changed his mind and, taking Ustane’s hand, led the girl to the fire and seated her next to him in the circle of the crowd gathered around the campfire. I noticed that Ustane for some reason thought it best to comply without resistance. The campfire burning in the cave was this time unusually large and about thirty-five men and two women were sitting in a wide circle around it. Ustane and the other one, whom Job dreaded from the bottom of his heart. The men sat silently as usual and each had placed his long spear in the holders set into the walls of the cave. Two or three were wearing the yellowish cloth cloak I mentioned, but the others had only a leopard skin around their waists. What can be going on now, sir? asked Job uneasily. God bless and protect me, there’s that damned woman again. Now she doesn’t dare to approach me, because she ‘s probably noticed that I don’t care about her. The whole group hates me. But look, they’ve invited Mohammed along too. That woman is talking to him as kindly and cordially as possible. Look how she’s beating our good Mohammed. I’m glad as hell that I can now be left alone with her . in thoughtfulness, I am! We looked over and saw that the woman in question had indeed gone to Mohammed and asked our terrified servant to come out of his trap, where he sat completely paralyzed with fear, crying out to Allah for help. He complied with the request with great reluctance, for it already aroused his suspicions that he was now being given the honor of dining in the company of others, when up to that time he had always eaten separately from the others. I saw that he was almost mad with terror, for his trembling legs could hardly support his gigantic body, and I think he only agreed to leave his corner with the woman because a big amahagger with a big spear came up to him and led him by the hand to the fire. I don’t really like this, boys, I said to the others, but I think we must be on our own. Has everyone got their revolvers with them? “It is best to check now whether they are loaded and ready for use? I have them, sir,” said Job, patting his sturdy Colt, ” but Mr. Leo has only his hunting knife, which is indeed a formidable one.” As there seemed no time to wait until the missing weapon was retrieved, we boldly stepped forward and sat down in a row by the fire, with our backs to the cave wall. As soon as we had taken our seats, an earthenware vase filled with some alcoholic liquid was passed from hand to hand. The drink was not at all unpleasant to the taste, although it was strangely very unpleasant to the taste. It was made from small brown grains, which very much resembled the kind of grain known in South Africa as Kaffir barley. The vase from which the drink was served was very strange and rare, and since there were several hundred, perhaps thousands of such vases among the Amahaggers, it would be appropriate to describe it a little more closely. The vases are from very old times and come in all sizes. They have certainly not been made in the land of the Amahaggers for hundreds or even thousands of years, but they come from the great burial vaults of the rock caves, which I will describe in more detail in due course, and I believe that the ancient, pre-historic inhabitants of the country , like the Egyptians, who may have been well known here , placed vessels in the tombs for the deceased. Leo compared the Amahagger vases to those found in Etruscan tombs. They were usually double-edged and of all sizes, from about three feet high to a couple of inches high. The shape varied, but all were nevertheless very beautiful and pleasing to the eye. The vases were made of unpolished but extremely fine black clay, the surface of which had been slightly roughened during casting. The vases were decorated with pictures the likes of which I have not seen in any of the world’s greatest collections of ancient objects. Some depicted love scenes with childlike freedom, others of dancing girls, and in a few vases we saw drawings depicting exciting hunting adventures . The vase, which was just being passed from man to man, was decorated with a most artistic painting, which depicted a group of men harassing an enormously large, enraged elephant. On the other side was a picture in which a white man was seen shooting his arrow into the side of a beautifully shaped and gracefully moving javelin antelope. Because of this presentation, I have, of course, interrupted my account of the celebration at a very exciting moment, but if my account of the vases has seemed long, the beginning of the celebration was even longer. The vase was passed from hand to hand in solemn silence; now and then some one added wood to the blazing fire, but no other movement or activity was to be observed for a whole hour. We all sat, gloomy and solemn, staring at the glowing embers before us, while the flickering flames of the small lamps fixed on the walls created a flickering, ever-changing giant shadows on the rugged walls of the cave. I should point out in passing that those lamps were made by the Amahaggers and not found in caves. Between us and the campfire was a large wooden trough with four handles and next to it large iron tongs. On the other side of the campfire I noticed similar tongs. I did not like those objects, they aroused an inexplicable horror in my mind. As I looked at them and at the gloomy and sullen faces of the men sitting silently around the fire, the situation began to seem horrible to me. We were helplessly in the power of those terrible people, whom I feared at least because none of us had any idea of ​​their true nature. They might be better than I thought, but they might just as well be worse. This last assumption of mine was correct, they were, frankly, evil spirits. In my opinion, this feast held in our honor was also very strange, for I was accustomed to the fact that on such occasions the main thing is to taste various and tasty dishes, but now, to my great surprise, I saw nothing to eat. I was just about to fall into a stupor when a sudden movement on the other side of the fire woke me up. A man had jumped to his feet and shouted in an echoing voice: Where is the meat that we are supposed to eat? Then all those sitting around the fire stretched out their right hands towards the fire and answered in a low voice: The meat is about to appear. Is it a goat? asked the same man. A hornless goat and better than a goat, and we will kill it, they all answered in unison and almost turned around, touching their spears with their right hands. Is it a bull? asked the man again. A hornless bull and better than a bull, and we will kill it, they answered and the spears were shaken again. Then everyone was silent and my hair stood on end in horror as I noticed that the woman sitting next to Mohammed had begun to fondle and hug him tenderly, watching Mohammed, who was trembling with fear with burning eyes, from heel to toe. I don’t know why the sight made us tremble with horror. Leo was completely out of his mind. The woman wriggled like a snake and it was clear that her entire behavior was according to some pre-determined program. We were later told that the purpose was to dispel the poor victim’s fear and pain and make her believe that she was admired and loved, so that she would happily fall to her death. Mohammed’s face was ashen and his pain pierced my heart. Is the meat ready to be cooked? asked the voice a little more fervently. It is ready; it is ready. Is the pot in which we are cooking the meat glowing ? the voice roared, so that the echo creaked horribly in the dark vaults of the cave. Glowing, glowing. Heavens! cried Leo, do you remember that the writing spoke of a people who kill strangers by placing a red-hot pot on their heads? At the same moment two big rascals sprang up, seizing tongs, which they would thrust into the fire, and the woman who had been caressing Mohammed drew from her knee a thin noose of vegetable fibers, and with lightning speed she threaded it around Mohammed’s shoulders and chest, pulling it taut at the same time. A couple of men had thrown themselves at Mohammed’s feet. The men holding the tongs broke up the fire and pulled from the coals a large clay pot, which was so hot that it glowed white, and in almost the blink of an eye the men with the pot were beside Mohammed, who was fighting for his life . He raged like a devil, roaring in rage and despair, and although the noose of death bound his hands and the men held his feet, the terrible purpose of those villains was not accomplished. Incredible as it may sound, those evil spirits intended to put that red-hot pot on Mohammed’s head. I jumped up, screaming in terror, and snatched the trigger of my revolver. instinctively straight towards that devilish woman who had been caressing Mohammed and who now tightened her noose around his hands. The bullet pierced his back, killing him on the spot, and to this day I am glad of it, for he had, as I later heard, stirred up the Amahaggers to this pot-fest in order to avenge the contempt shown him by Job. He collapsed without uttering a sound , and at the same time Mohammed, with quite supernatural efforts, wrenched himself from the hands of his persecutors, and springing high into the air, he fell dead on the woman’s body. My bullet had pierced both, struck the furious woman to the ground, and at the same time saved her victim from a death a hundred times more horrible. What a terrible and at the same time merciful act of forbearance! For a moment everyone was as if in a state of astonishment. The Amahaggers had never heard the sound of a gun fired, and the impact of the shot terrified them. But the man nearest us suddenly recovered himself, and, seizing his spear, he sprang up and prepared to strike Leo, who was nearest him. Run for your lives! I screamed, and pressed as hard as I could against the back of the cave as I could. I would have preferred to make our escape into the open air, but our way was blocked from that side, and besides, I saw against the clear sky a large crowd of men grouped at the mouth of the cave. So I ran to the back of the cave, the others following close behind me, and behind us rushed the cannibals, who were furious at the death of the woman, screaming and shouting. I jumped over Mohammed, who was lying on the ground, and I could clearly feel the terrible heat of the pot, which was still glowing red as I ran past. At the same time I also saw Mohammed moving his hands silently, for he was not quite dead yet. At the back of the cave was a platform about three feet high and eight feet wide, on which two large lamps were burning. I do not know whether the platform had been left in the cave as a seat, or whether the workmen who had hollowed out the cave had used it as a base from which to work higher up. But be that as it may, we all rushed towards it, and when we got there we were ready to sell our lives for the highest price. Job was on the left, I on the right, and Leo between us. Our pursuers, who were right behind us, stopped for a moment when they saw us turn suddenly. The lamps burning above us threw a little light around us, and Leo leaned forward to see better what was happening in the dark cave before us. Our pursuers now moved quite silently, like bloodhounds skulking around their sure prey, and here and there a spearhead flashed in the dim light of the lamps. Farther away in the pitch darkness of the cave the horrible pot glowed like a red dot. There was a strange light in Leo’s eyes, and his face was as if carved in marble. In his right hand he held his fearsome hunting knife. Loosening his grip a little, he put his arm around my neck and said cheerfully: Goodbye now, old fellow, you my dearest friend, who have been dearer to me than my own father. We don’t seem to have the slightest chance of escape from the clutches of those scoundrels; in a few minutes they will overpower us and probably eat us up. Goodbye then. I lured you here, but I hope all is forgiven. Goodbye, Job. May God’s will be done, I said, and awaited the attack of the amahaggers with gritted teeth. At the same time Job cried out and fired, bringing down one of the enemies. Incidentally, the one who fell was not the one whom Job had aimed for, for it was generally the case that the one whom Job aimed for could be quite sure of his safety. At the same moment they rushed wildly upon us, and I discharged my revolver into the densest crowd as quickly as possible — Job and I killed and mortally wounded at least five of the enemy. But we had no time to reload, and our pursuers charged bravely and with contempt for death, not caring at all for the destructive effect of our firearms. Their courage was almost magnificent. A giant man rushed upon the platform, but at the same moment Leo’s knife flashed like lightning and the man fell like a struck bull. I did the same trick, but Job missed the mark and I saw a dark-skinned amahagger rush at him and throw him onto the cliff. The hunting knife, which was not fastened to Job’s wrist by a leather strap, fell from his hand at that moment and happened so fortunately that the knife wedged itself in a crevice in the rock, the blade upwards, piercing the amahagger, who, from Job’s courageous throw, was thrown with all his weight onto the cliff. I am not sure what happened to Job after this, but I remember seeing him lying motionless on top of his fallen enemy. I myself was soon engaged in a furious fight with two amahagger scoundrels, who, fortunately, had forgotten their spears, and for the first time in my life, my immense physical strength, which nature had bestowed upon me, was put to good use. I had driven my hunting knife, which was almost as big and heavy as a short sword, into the skull of one of the persecuted, splitting it almost to the level of the eyes like an eggshell, but my knife wedged so hard that it twisted out of my hand as the man fell. Then they both rushed at me at the same time. I saw them coming and when they were quite close to me I seized them in my arms and we fell together in a heap on the floor of the cave, rolling hither and thither, struggling wildly. The men were strong, but I was so furious that only red spots danced in my eyes and I had been seized by the terrible charm of battle, which would intoxicate even the most civilized man, when blows are flying, blood is flowing and life is only a hair’s breadth away. I had wrapped my arms around those dark devils in an iron grip and I felt their bones crunch and break. They struggled and writhed like snakes, and beat me with their fists, but I did not relax my grip. Lying on my back, so that their bodies shielded me from the blows of the spear, I slowly and surely crushed them to death, and as I lay there I wondered what the amiable Chancellor of Cambridge University, who is also a member of the Peace League , and my other comrades, might say if by some miraculous means they should see me in this carnage. The efforts of my opponents soon weakened, and they almost ceased their tumult, but I did not dare to let them go yet, for they died comparatively slowly. The other villains probably believed that we were all dead—at least they did not interfere in our little dispute—and besides, in the struggle we had rolled into the gloomy shadow of the platform. My enemies lay lifeless above me, and panting, I turned my head a little to see what had become of Leon. He was no longer on the platform, but was fighting for his life in the midst of a large crowd of enemies, who were pressing him on all sides like wolves besieging a deer. He was still standing, and his head, crowned with golden curls, was visible above the whole crowd. Leo was unusually tall and stout; I saw him fighting with a frenzy of despair that was terrible to behold. He raged with his knives like a madman, spreading death and terror around him. The Amahaggers gradually packed so close to him that they could not use their long spears, and they had no other edged weapons. Leon’s knife struck again, up to the hilt, into the chest of one of the most intrusive enemies, but as the man fell, the knife also twisted from his hand, and now he stood unarmed in the midst of his cruel enemies. I thought the end was come. But no; with a desperate effort he shook off the murderers once more , and seizing the body of the man he had just killed, he lifted it high into the air and hurled it into the densest swarm of assailants, knocking five or six of them to the ground. But the villains were quickly on their feet again, except one whose head had been crushed, and they again pursued the brave man with unquenchable fury. at the young man. Slowly and after a terrible struggle the wolves finally overcame the noble lion. Once more he rose and felled one of his enemies with his fists, but it was impossible for him to hold his ground against such a large crowd and finally he fell like a broken oak to the floor of the cave, dragging with him all who had attacked him. The enemies had finally clung to his feet with all their might and thus they finally brought my hero to the ground. Here is the spear! they shouted – bring the spear with which we will open his throat, and the vessel into which we will drain the blood. I closed my eyes, for I saw a man hurrying to the place with a spear raised. My opponents were not yet quite dead and I began to tire, so I could not rush to Leo’s aid. The distress and pain completely paralyzed me. At the same time I heard a commotion and involuntarily I opened my eyes and looked at the scene of the murder. Ustane had wrapped her arms around Leo’s neck and thrown herself on him, shielding him with her body. They tried to pull him away, but the girl clung to Leo with her hands and feet and they could not separate her from the young man. Then they tried to strike Leo’s side with a spear without harming the girl, but Ustane was alert and somehow dodged the blow, so that Leo was only wounded. At last the murderers lost their temper. We will pierce both with one blow, said the same voice that had asked the questions at the terrible feast just now. Then they will know that they belong to each other. The man holding the spear rose and prepared to strike. I saw the bright steel flash high up and closed my eyes again. At the same time I heard someone roar in a thunderous voice that echoed like thunder in the vast vault of the cave: Stop! Then I lost consciousness, and the thought flashed through my dim mind that we were now sinking into the abyss of death, into eternal darkness. Chapter 10. Little Foot. When I woke up, I found myself lying on skins near the same fire around which we had gathered to celebrate that terrible feast. Leo lay beside me, and he was evidently still in a trance. Ustane was washing the deep spear wound in the youth’s side, which he was preparing to bind with strips of cloth. Behind him stood Job, leaning against the wall, trembling and shocked, but otherwise appearing unharmed. On the other side of the fire lay the enemies we had slain in the recent terrible battle, lying on the ground in shock. I counted twelve of them, not counting the woman and poor Mohammed , who had fallen from my bullet before the battle and who had been placed beside him in a horrible death pot at the other end of that irregular line. On the left, a group of men were in the process of fettering the remaining cannibals, who were being tied together in pairs. The thugs resigned themselves to their fate with a grim indifference on their faces , but their dark eyes were glowing with suppressed fury. In front of the group of men stood an old man presiding over the proceedings, who, on closer inspection, was none other than our friend Billali. He looked tired but very dignified, with a long beard, and he gave his orders and instructions as coolly and calmly as if it were merely a matter of slaughtering an ox. At that moment he turned and, noticing that I had sat up, he came to me and asked me most politely if I felt better. I replied that I could not really say how I felt; my body was straining and tingling from the rush to the heels. Then he bent down to look at Leo’s wound. It was a hard blow, he said, but the internal organs were not damaged. The young man will surely recover. Thank you for coming, my father, I said. If you had stayed a minute, we would all have been doomed, for those devils of yours would have killed us as they killed our servants first, and I pointed towards Mohammed. The old man gritted his teeth and his eyes flashed cruelly. “Don’t worry, my son,” he replied. “Their punishment will be such that those who hear of it will be paralyzed with terror. They will be taken to ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed,’ and our queen’s vengeance will be equal to her greatness. That man’s death,” he pointed to Mohammed, “was painless compared to the death of these scoundrels. Please tell me how it all happened.” I briefly recounted the events of the evening. ” Or so,” he smiled at that. “You see, my son, it is the custom here that when a stranger strays into our country, he is killed with a pot and eaten with reverence. Then your hospitality is truly perverse,” I said quietly. “In our country, a guest is entertained in every way and offered the best delicacies of the house, but here you entertain by pricking your guest on the cheek. That is the custom,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. I for one think that the custom might be abandoned, for I do not like the roasting of strangers. The flesh of strangers who have wandered across the swamps and lived on wild birds is especially disgusting to the taste, he added thoughtfully. When ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ sent word that your lives were to be spared, he did not mention the black man, and therefore these hyena people began to covet his flesh. That woman whom you killed, which was quite right, put the idea into their devilish hearts to organize this pot-fest supposedly in your honor. Well, they will each receive their reward according to their merits. It would have been better for them not to have been born, for it is a terrible thing to be the object of ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’s’ wrath. Happy are those who lie there lifeless. Ah, he continued, how bravely and gallantly you white strangers know how to fight. Do you know, you old and long-armed papian, that you have crushed the lives of those two who lie there? Their chests are crushed like eggshells. And what about the young man, that young noble lion, how heroically he held his ground against that crowd. The three fell as if struck by thunder and that one, he pointed to a body that was still moving silently, is also dying, for its head is almost crushed. There are also many wounded among those linked together. You fought like men and I will be your loyal friend from now on, for it really warmed my old heart to see for once men who have steel in their arms and courage in their chests and who know how to fight better than anyone here. But tell me, my boy, who are hairy and ugly like my papian, how did you kill those with holes in their bodies? You made a deafening noise, the men say, and then they fell dead to the ground. How can this be explained? I explained to him the properties of firearms very briefly, for I was extremely exhausted, but I did not dare to offend such a great person as him by refusing. Billali immediately suggested that I should illustrate my presentation by shooting a couple of prisoners who had not yet been counted. He said that he was very willing to see a bolt of lightning from my hand, and at the same time I could take revenge on a couple of my enemies. He was very surprised when I explained that it was not the custom among my people to take revenge on criminals and wrongdoers, whose conviction and punishment were a matter for law and authority. He had never heard of such a procedure . However, after saying goodbye, I promised to take him with us on a hunting trip, when he would be able to shoot some animal with his own hands. He was delighted with my promise like a child who knows he has received a new toy. That was the end of our conversation, for Job had poured some of the brandy we still had left into Leo’s mouth, and revived by that strong liquid, Leo opened his eyes. With the help of Job and that brave Ustane, we then carried the dying and almost unconscious Leo to his bedroom, and I would have gladly kissed that brave girl in gratitude for her courage in saving my dear son from almost certain death at the risk of her own life. But as Ustane might have misunderstood my conduct, I dismissed the thought. I had spent many days in a state of fear and hope, and the feeling of security which now filled my heart as I went to rest in my own tomb seemed quite strange. Before I lay down to rest, I thanked my heavenly Father with all my heart, who had so mercifully directed everything that this chamber had not really become my tomb, for few men have been so near death as we were on that dreadful day. I am usually a bad sleeper, and when I finally dozed off into a gentle sleep, I had dreams that were not the sweetest. The terrible death of Mohammed, his desperate struggle to escape the clutches of his persecutors, and that horribly glowing pot haunted my mind all night. In the distance I saw a mysterious veiled creature swaying in the darkening darkness of the cave, and as the veil moved to one side, a wonderfully beautiful woman and a grimacing skeleton appeared from its shelter alternately. As the veil wavered, the strange creature uttered the following mysterious and apparently completely meaningless words:
What lives has once been dead, but what is called dead never dies, for the cycle of life is eternal and there is no death. Yes, all that live live forever, although they sometimes sleep forgotten for long periods. At last I heard the sound of a horn, announcing the coming of day, but I was so sore and stiff that I could not rise. On the seventh visit, Job, whose face resembled a rotten apple, came into my chamber and announced that Leo had slept well, but was very weak. A couple of hours later Billali appeared, whom Job called Billgoat, probably because of his long white beard, which perhaps somewhat resembled a goat’s beard with a lighted lamp in his hand , and he was so tall that his head almost reached the ceiling of that small chamber. I pretended to be asleep, but at the same time I studied the old man’s patriarchal and handsome face. He looked at me with his hawkish eyes and stroked his lush beard, which, by the way, would have been an excellent and eye-catching recommendation to any London barber. Ah! I heard him mutter to himself Billali often talked to himself, he is ugly – as ugly as that young man is beautiful – a real papian, but I like him. It is strange that now, in my old age, I can become attached to someone. The proverb says, suspect all men and kill the one you suspect most; beware of women, for in them dwells evil and in the end they will bring you ruin. The proverb is indeed a good one, especially the one about women, and I think it is very old. But nevertheless I like this papian and I think he will never fall into the trap of women. It is unlikely that even ‘He who must be obeyed’ will be able to charm this boy of mine. My poor papian! He must still be quite exhausted after yesterday’s fight. I will go away so as not to wake him. He turned and crept on tiptoe into the passage, but then I mentioned his name. My father, I said. Are you there? That’s right, my boy, I’m creeping here as quietly as a mouse so as not to disturb your sleep. I only came to see how things are here and to tell you that those scoundrels who were going to murder you yesterday are on their way to ‘He who must be obeyed’. He also ordered that you should be brought to him at once, but you probably won’t be able to leave yet. “Of course not,” I replied, “until we have recovered a little. But, my father, please have your servant carry me into the open air; I do not like this place very much. Yes, yes,” he nodded, “there is sadness and grief in the air of this chamber . When I was a young boy, I came here once.” and I saw the body of a young, beautiful woman lying on that very stone platform where you now lie. She was so sweet and charming that I often crept here to look at her. If her hands had not been so cold, one might have thought she was only sleeping and would wake up one day, for she rested so peacefully in that white garment. Her skin was as white as the purest marble, and her hair, which reached almost to her feet, was of a golden yellow color. There are many more like her in the caves where ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ dwells, for the people who lived in our land of old knew a way to make their dead remain forever unchanged. Yes, every day I crept here, and do not laugh at me, stranger, when I tell you that I finally fell in love with that sleeping girl, that lifeless creature in whose breast life had once throbbed. I wondered who had loved and cherished him, and how countless others had lived and died in this land after him. And listen, my friend, you my papian, I think that the deceased taught me to think about the shortness of our lives, the endless sleep of death, and the transience of everything. Everything under the sun is lost and forgotten forever. Here I sat for many long moments lost in my thoughts, and it seemed to me that every day I received new and deeper thoughts from my sleeping pet. A little time passed in this way until my mother noticed a strange and incomprehensible change in her son. One day she crept up behind me and, seeing the white beauty on that platform, she was terrified, thinking that I had fallen under a spell. With a blinding smile, she rushed the deceased from the bench , placed him against the wall, and lit a fire in his hair. My beauty is burning down to her feet, for these bodies found in caves are terribly flammable. Look, my boy, the ceiling is still blackened with smoke. I looked up doubtfully, and there was indeed a greasy, shiny sooty patch about three feet across on the ceiling. The smoke had naturally worn away and gradually disappeared from the walls of the cramped burial chamber over the years, but it was still quite clearly visible on the ceiling. She was burning, as I said, Billali continued thoughtfully, right down to her feet, which I later recovered. I wrapped them in a piece of linen that had not burned, and hid the bundle under the platform, where it probably still is to this day, unless someone has found it and taken it elsewhere. I have not been in this chamber since. I will look, and getting down on my knees, the old man felt with his long hand the base of the platform. A bright light appeared in his eyes as he, exclaiming, pulled the object, covered with a thick layer of dust, from under the darkened platform. After shaking the dust off the floor, the old man gently opened the scroll, the cloth of which had already rotted into tatters, and to my great astonishment I saw emerging from the scroll the graceful and almost white foot of a woman, which looked so lifelike that I was completely at a loss. Yes, yes, my son, sighed Billali heavily, now you see that I have spoken the truth, for here is another foot left. Take it in your hand and look at it, my son. I followed his advice and examined the foot in the light of the lamp , amazed, frightened, and as if under a spell. It is impossible to describe my feelings at the moment when I held in my hand that wonderful remains of the body of a person who had lived thousands of years ago . It was very light, much lighter than it had been when alive, and there seemed to be no change in its muscles, except for a faint, pleasant smell that reached my nose. Moreover, it was not at all desiccated or wrinkled, like Egyptian mummies, which are usually almost black in color, but quite plump, beautiful, and white. The leg was still exactly as it had been when I had the blood flowing briskly animated its muscles. It was truly the pinnacle of embalming. Poor little foot! I laid it on the stone platform where it had rested for thousands of years, and wondered who that beauty of ancient times had been, whom it had borne first as a child, then as a timid blushing girl, and finally as a fully developed, charming woman. Had her life been happy, and had she bravely stepped down the dark gate of death? Beautiful little foot! Countless slaves must have knelt on the marble floors as you lightly strummed through the great halls of your palace, and the greatest of the earth humbled themselves before you, charmed by the feminine beauty of your owner . Kings and princes must have kissed your white hip. I wrapped the strange object in scraps of clothing, probably the remains of the deceased’s purchases, for they were charred , and put the bundle in my rucksack, which I had bought at a London sports shop. Then, with Billal’s help, I staggered to Leo’s. My poor boy was frightfully pale and very weak from the bleeding from the wound in his side, but he was lively and asked for breakfast. Job and Ustane lifted him onto a stretcher made of canvas, and with Billal’s help they carried him to a shady spot at the mouth of the cave, where we had breakfast and spent most of that day and the next. The traces of yesterday’s battle had been completely removed from the cave. On the morning of the third day, Job and I were quite as we were, and Leo had also recovered so much that I considered agreeing to Billal’s oft-repeated request to go on a journey to Kori, where the mysterious ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ was said to dwell. I was afraid that the journey might be very taxing on Leo, and that his wound, which had just closed, might open again. If Billal had not so earnestly entreated us to yield to his request, which made us fear that it was dangerous to delay any longer, I would not have agreed to set out on the journey so soon. Chapter 11. Reflections. An hour after we had decided to leave, five palanquins, carried by four men, appeared at the mouth of the cave. Each palanquin was followed by two deputies, and about fifty armed amahaggers went with us as our bodyguards and carriers of our goods. There were naturally three palanquins for us, the fourth I heard was for Billali, who to my great delight was going to come with us, and the fifth I assumed was reserved for Ustane. Will Ustane come with us? I asked Billali, who was supervising the preparations for the journey. Shrugging his shoulders, he replied: Yes, if she wants to. In this country women do just what they want. We respect them and let them live in freedom, for without them our people would perish. After all, the strength and permanence of nations depend on them. Oh, I grumbled, for I had never thought of it in that light. We respect them, as I said, continued Billali, but even that has its limits. After about two generations they usually become so devilish that no one can stand them anymore. Well, what happens then? I asked curiously. Then, he replied with a significant smile, we men will kill all the old women as a warning to the young and at the same time show that we are masters after all. My poor wife also died that way a couple of years ago. It was a pity, but to tell the truth, I have been much happier since then, my son, for I am already so old that the younger women who are alive no longer care about me. In short, I replied, you have noticed that your position has become freer and less responsible in every way. Exactly so, my son, exactly so, he said, stroking his white beard. Those old troublemakers, who had to be held accountable for everything, were almost all killed like grasshoppers. Only a few were spared, and that is why you have seen so few old women among us. But what about them? I really cannot say, he continued seriously and frowning, how it would be best to deal with that girl, that Ustane. She is a brave girl and loves a young lion, whose life she saved, as you yourself saw. Besides, according to our customs, she is the wife of a young man, and has the right to follow her husband everywhere, unless, Billali lowered his voice to a whisper, ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ forbids her, for the queen’s command nullifies the obligations imposed by even our oldest customs and the rights granted by them. If ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ ordered the girl to give up her beloved and she did not obey, what would happen then? I asked. How does it happen when a storm tells a tree to bend and it refuses to obey the order? replied Billali, shrugging his shoulders. At the same time he went to his palanquin, and in ten minutes we were all on our way. After another hour’s journey we had crossed the plain and climbed to the crest of the ridge which bounded it , from which there was a most beautiful view. Before us was a broad, gently sloping, grassy plain, with here and there small thorn bushes. About nine or ten leagues away this delightful plain seemed to end in a watery swamp, above which a heavy mist hung like smoke over a great city. The bearers found it easy to descend the gentle slope , and about noon they reached the edge of the gloomy swamp which bounded the plain. There they stopped to eat dinner , and then set out along a winding and treacherous path to cross the swamp. Sometimes the path disappeared altogether, or looked so much like the paths of aquatic animals and birds that it was impossible for me to distinguish it from them. I still cannot understand how those men got across those immense swamps. Two men walked ahead of the group with long sticks in their hands, with which they occasionally tested the road for stability, for these swampy patches were said to be such that the path, which a week ago had been perfectly safe, could now be very dangerous to life. Changes were constantly taking place in the surface of the ground, the cause of which I could not discover. I have never seen a more sad and depressing landscape. A swamp stretching out in long, narrow strips, where here and there one could see green strips, where the ground was relatively firm, and black ponds surrounded by tall reeds, on the edges of which storks screamed and frogs croaked incessantly. Such was the landscape as far as the eye could see, without the slightest variation, unless those fever-spreading fogs might be called variations in the monotony of the landscape. Waterfowl and the animals that live on them were the only living creatures that enlivened these desolate marshes, and they were in abundance. Geese, cranes, ducks, terns, and all kinds of wading birds, many of which were quite strange to me, swarmed all around us. The birds were so tame that we could have killed them in droves with a club. The ponds were inhabited by small alligators and by large black water snakes, whose bite was said to be very dangerous, but probably not as deadly as the Indian spectacled snake. The bullfrogs were absolutely gigantic and their voices were corresponding, and the mosquitoes, or musketeers, as Job said, were even more terrible than when we were traveling on the river. Worst of all, however, was the disgusting smell of the rotting vegetation , the carrier of fevers, which was sometimes so suffocating that we almost fainted, and which we could not avoid breathing. Thus we went on without stopping until sunset, when we reached a small town, which was like a swamp in this in a terrible swampy wilderness, and where Billali told us to camp for the night. We got up from our palanquins and sat down on the ground around a feebly burning fire, which had been made of dry reeds and the pieces of wood we had carried with us. However, we each tried to settle down as comfortably as possible and to eat and smoke as willingly as we could, given the poisonous smell of the swamp. The air was unusually warm and sweaty, although it could sometimes be very cold at night in those lowlands. But although the air was oppressively warm, we nevertheless packed as close to the fire as possible, because that way we would be better off from the mosquitoes, who did not seem to like our campfire, which was smoking and giving off a bitter smoke. We soon wrapped ourselves in our blankets and tried to sleep, but I could not get anywhere, for the intoxicating croaking of frogs , the chirping of birds, and countless other sounds kept me awake, to say nothing of other inconveniences. I turned to look at Leo, who was sleeping next to me, whose face seemed to have a strange blush on it that I didn’t really like, and in the flickering light of the fire I saw Ustane, who was lying on Leo’s other side, occasionally raising himself on his elbows and looking at the young man restlessly. However, I could do nothing for the poor boy, for everyone had already received a hearty dose of quinine, which was our only precaution against fever. So I lay quietly where I was and watched the stars, which gradually appeared in thousands in the night sky. The infinite space that curved above me was sprinkled with shining points, each of which was a different world! How insignificant our earth with all its wonders seems compared to this infinity! However, I soon began to think about other things, for our mental activity easily tires when we are caught up in the universe of worlds, the endlessness of space , and when we try to follow the actions of the Almighty and understand their meaning. It is not our business to study them, for we are too weak for that. Too much wisdom would perhaps completely cloud our imperfect views, and too much power would helplessly upset our equilibrium, so that our own vanity would finally destroy us completely. Will natural scientists, by their persistent research, ever arrive at any real conclusion in explaining the manifold and wonderful mysteries of nature and life ? Must they not too often pause to reflect on how wonderful and inexplicable are the works of the Creator, and must they not at least admit that the Being who designed all things is incomparable in wisdom? Truth is veiled from us, for we can no more bear its dazzling brightness than our eyes can look upon the sun. Its greatness and power would destroy us, for the circle of our thoughts is narrow. The vessel is already so full that a thousandth part of that unspeakable and secret wisdom and power which has determined the paths of the worlds in space and which has made them revolve in their paths forever would be a drop which would break the vessel into fragments. Man is born into the world only to toil and suffering, during which he throws himself into the beautifully glittering soap balls of pleasures, happy when they sparkle charmingly for a moment in his hand before they break . When the tragedy of his life ends, when the moment has come when he must part from this life, then he must humbly step over the threshold of death into the great unknown. I lay on my back and looked at the thousands of brightly twinkling stars in the sky and at the flickering fire on the surface of the swamp, which, shrouded in mist and bound to the ground, flew low here and there. I felt as if I had seen a clear metaphor of what we human children are now and what we might one day become if the ruler of the worlds, who has made the stars twinkle in the sky and chained the flickering stream of fire to the earth’s mantle, were to watch over our progress. Oh, if only Man could more often rise above earthly sorrows, release the wings of his soul from its chains and soar far and high, from where we can look far into eternity with the sharp eyes of lofty and noble thoughts! How wonderful it would be to be able to be freed forever from this deceptive veil of earthly thoughts and desires! Then forces that we are unable to control could no longer sway us this way and that. Perhaps we think that such forces do not exist, but even then our own nature forces us to obey them. Yes, if only our spirit could shake off all earthly thoughts and petty desires and completely free itself from the chains of this filthy and evil world and soar to the heights like those brightly twinkling stars , supported by the eternal glory of our own better self, which even now faintly shines from our innermost being. Wouldn’t it be worth learning to know that invisible but all-encompassing source of goodness, from which truth and beauty come? Many such thoughts came to my mind that night. They sometimes torment everyone. I say torment, because the contemplation of such riddles is precisely what shows us the narrowness of our thinking. Can our slow reasoning explain the secrets of the night sky? Will we find out anything? Will our questions be answered? What more; our ears are only mistaken and our eyes see illusions. We do believe that we have received some kind of answer and we believe that a bright day will dawn after our long and dark night. Therefore, we believe that the brightness of the new day is already reflected in our hearts beyond the grave. This brightness, which comes from above, a gift from heaven to the children of men, is hope. Without hope we suffer moral shipwreck, but by it we make our way to heaven, and even if this hope should prove to be only an illusion bestowed upon us to keep us from despairing, by it we could still sink quietly and easily into the bottomless depths of eternal sleep. Then I began to reflect on this truly wild idea of ​​ours which we had undertaken to carry out. How wonderfully our experiences up to that time fitted the story of the fragment of a pot, written thousands of years ago. Who was this mysterious woman, this queen, who, on the ruins of an old and quite forgotten but mighty civilization, ruled over a people so mysterious and strange? And what was the meaning of that phrase about fire being able to make a man immortal? Could it be possible that there was some liquid or substance which could make the organism so strong and durable that it could never wither and decay? It might be possible, but it was not probable. The endless continuance of life was not, as poor Vincey said, so wonderful a thing as the beginning of life and its brief appearance in the world. What would happen if this were true? A person who was immortal would undoubtedly rule the whole world. He would have all power and might, for his wisdom would be immeasurable compared with mortal short-lived men, and knowledge is power and might, as they say. He could devote any number of human ages to the study of every science. If this woman, this ‘She Who Must Be Obeyed,’ was really immortal, which I did not believe for a moment, how could she live here among cannibals? That was the answer to the question. The whole thing was impossible and characteristic of the time when it was written. I certainly did not intend to try to attain immortality. I had had so much sorrow and grief during my forty years of somewhat monotonous life that I did not want this state of affairs to continue indefinitely. Compared to many others, my life had indeed been happy. It was much more likely that this earthly journey of ours would be would end very briefly, instead of continuing endlessly, and with that thought I finally fell asleep, which may seem very strange to the reader. But it is not said that this story will fall into anyone’s hands. I woke up at dawn and our bodyguards and bearers were moving silently like ghosts in the thick morning mist, preparing to continue the journey. The fire had gone out and the cold and damp air penetrating through the night made me shiver from haste to the heels. I got up and flexed my stiff limbs. Then I looked at Leo. He sat with his head in his hands and I noticed that his face was glowing and his eyes were feverishly bright. I also saw that there was a strong yellow around the pupil of his eye. Leo, my boy, I said, how are you? I feel as if I were dying, he whispered hoarsely. My head is on fire, my body aches and I tremble like an aspen leaf. I must be terribly ill. I whistled, or rather I did not whistle, for I perceived that Leo had caught a severe fever. I asked Job for quinine, which fortunately we still had plenty of, and at the same time I saw that his condition was almost as bad. He complained of a stiff back and a dizzy head, and could hardly stand on his feet. I could do nothing but give each of them about ten grams of quinine, of which I took a small dose myself, just in case. At the same moment Billali came to us, and after explaining the situation to him, I asked him to tell me what was best to do. Billali examined my companions inquisitively, and then stepped a little further away, beckoning me to come closer. They have caught a fever, he said, when we were so far away that the sick could not hear us. That was what I feared. The lion is very ill, but he is young and can overcome the fever. The piglet is all right, for he has only what is called a little fever, which always begins with a strain on his back and dizziness. It is gradually disappearing into his fat layers. Can they continue their journey, my father? I asked. They must, my son, they must. If we stay here, they will surely die, and besides, it is much more comfortable for them to rest in their litters. If all goes well, by evening we will have reached the fresh air across the marshes. So let us put them in the litters and set off at once, for it is not good to be completely quiet in this morning mist. We can eat breakfast on the way. We did as he had said, and with a heavy heart I once again set off on our strange journey. We had been travelling about three hours quite happily, when suddenly we were about to lose forever our venerable friend Billal, whose litter was at the forefront of the journey. We were now trying to cross a particularly dangerous spot, where our bearers were knee-deep in a floating swamp—I really do not know how they got on, for the palanquins were rather heavy—when a scream was heard from ahead, followed by ear-piercing cries of distress, and a terrible splash. At that moment our journey came to a halt. I sprang from my palanquin and hurried to see what had happened. About twenty fathoms away was a muddy pond, along the edge of which our path wound itself with an unusually steep slope. I looked into the pond and saw to my horror Billal’s palanquin floating on the surface of the water, but the old man was neither heard nor seen. The bearers briefly explained how the accident had happened. One of Billal’s bearers had stepped on a snake that was basking in the sun, which had bitten him on the leg, whereupon he had jumped aside and loosened his grip on the pole. But the edge of the pond collapsed at the same time and to save himself the man grabbed the edge of the litter with both hands. And that was all that was needed. The litter tilted badly, causing the other porters to let go of the poles in panic, with the result that the litter, Billali and the man who had been bitten by the snake rolled into that slimy and disgusting pond as one . I looked at the surface of the water, but neither of them were seen, and the bearer disappeared forever. He had either hurt his head on something, or had caught hold of the bottom mud, or had been paralyzed by a snakebite. Whatever the case, we never saw him again. Billali was not to be seen either, but from the swaying of the palanquin we could tell where he was. If he could be seen from the shore, he was caught in the cloth and curtains of the palanquin. There he is! Our father is over there! said one of the bearers, but no one seemed to intend to rush to help the old man. They only stared dully into the water. Out of the way, you rascals! I roared, and throwing my hat on the ground, I picked up speed and jumped into that disgusting, slimy black water. In a couple of strokes I was at the place where Billali was fighting for his life under the palanquin. I somehow managed to free him from the shackles, and his venerable head, which appeared at once above the water, was completely covered with green slime. He was like an old Bacchus with vine leaves in his hair. There was no need now, for Billali was a very sensible and practical person. He did not try to cling to me, as drowning men usually do, but calmly held out his hand to me, and I towed him to the shore, which was no easy task, for the heavy mud that had stuck to our clothes made the passage very difficult. When we finally got to dry land, we were so dirty and filthy that I have never seen anything like it before or since. Billali was almost suffocated and covered with slime, thrashing and spitting until he died, and his lush beard had shrunk to a strait like a Chinese man’s greased braid from which water ran in torrents. You may get some idea of ​​his almost superhuman dignity when I say that even now, in his degraded state, he appeared with princely dignity. You dogs, he would roar at his bearers as soon as he had recovered himself to speak, why did you not rush to my aid? If this stranger, this papian of mine, had not happened to be with me, I should certainly have been drowned. Remember, you scoundrels, that you will remember this, and he gave the men a lightning glance, which they did not seem to like very much, although they tried to look grimly indifferent. And you, my boy, said the old man, turning to me and taking my hand, you may be sure that I am your friend in good times and in bad. You have saved my life; perhaps I in turn can one day save you from death. Having put on dry clothes and cleaned ourselves as best we could, we continued our journey as soon as the palanquin had been fished out of the pond. The men who now had to do the work of the porter who had been so suddenly taken from us to the mana huts were the only ones who perhaps remembered him, for I did not hear anyone utter a word of longing for their drowned comrade. I do not know whether this was due to the general gloom and sullenness of their nature, or to their innate indifference and dullness. Chapter 12. The Kôr’in Plateau. I felt boundless gratitude when, an hour before sunset, we reached the edge of the plateau rising like terraces. We had left the swamps far behind us when we finally camped on a high ridge. My first task was to go to Leo, whose condition had only worsened since morning. The fever had been rising and falling all night, and I stayed up until daybreak, helping Ustane, who was a most excellent and tireless nurse, to tend both Leo and Job. Up here the air was warm and pleasant without being hot, and here the mosquitoes did not bother us much. At the same time we were also above a layer of fog rising from the marshes, which billowed below us like a thick cloud of smoke over a great city. Here and there, where the fog was thinner, I saw flickering wildfires leaping on the swaying mounds of the marsh. As morning dawned Leo began to feel dizzy and thought he had been I was very sad and scared and I began to think about how the episode might end. I had been told and had read many times in scientific works how such episodes usually ended. I sat down next to Leo, overcome with grief and pain. At that moment Billali came to me and after examining Leo for a moment ordered us to prepare to continue our journey at once. He said that Leo’s condition was so precarious that if the young man did not get to a place today where he could be in peace and where he could be carefully cared for, he would certainly take his life in a couple of days. I immediately agreed to his wishes and after lifting Leo into his litter we set off on our journey. Ustane walked beside him, shooing away the flies that were swarming in clouds and at the same time making sure that Leo did not fall from his litter while he was tossing and turning in his feverish rage. After about half an hour of riding after sunrise, we reached the highest ridge of the plateau, and before us opened the most beautiful view imaginable. We saw a fertile, lush grassy plain, with beautiful flowers, trees, and bushes here and there . In the distance, I guessed, about eighteen leagues from where we were now, was in the middle of the plain an immense, strange-looking mountain, with a grassy base, about five hundred feet high. As I later saw, the monstrous, abrupt wall of the mountain rose from this base to a height of at least twelve hundred feet. This mountain, with its regularly rounded summit, was doubtless the product of some earthquake or volcanic eruption, and its base was, as I later discovered, about fifty square miles in area. The grandeur of this immense fortress, which outlined the clouds, and was shaped by nature, made a magnificent impression in the solitude of that desolate plain. I gazed dumbly with amazement at that wondrous mountain, whose rounded peak disappeared between the clouds sailing in the sky, and Billali must have seen my wondering gaze, for at that moment his palanquin appeared beside me. Behold the palace where ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ dwells, said the old man solemnly. Has any queen ever had such a throne? Your queen’s dwelling is certainly unique and equal in grandeur and grandeur to her sovereign, I replied respectfully. But how shall we get in, my father? It is impossible to climb up those steep walls. Then you will see, my friend. But look at the plain before us, and since you are a wise man, tell me now what you think you see there? I surveyed the landscape before me, and to my astonishment I saw a broad, paved road leading straight to the foot of the mountain. It was in places completely covered with peat, and was bordered on both sides by a high, in some places collapsed, continuous embankment, the purpose of which I could not understand. What was the purpose of such a steep and high embankment built on both sides of the roads? That is probably the road by which we reach the mountain, I answered. It looks as if it were some old riverbed or canal. Billali, who, by the way, was quite healthy and brisk despite yesterday’s adventure, nodded his head thoughtfully. You are right, my son. It is a canal built by the ancient inhabitants of this country. Inside that mountain where our queen lives, there was once – I am sure of it – a great lake, which the ancient inhabitants of this country dried up by cutting an immense passage in the mountain by wonderful and incomprehensible means, through which the water was let down. But this canal was of course built first, and the water that fell from the mountain flowed along it to the lowlands behind us. That is how I think those swamps were created, which we had to cross to get here. When the lake had dried up, the people I mentioned built a large and the great city of Kor, of which now only ruins remain, and generation after generation dug countless caves and passages into the mountain, as you will see when we get there. It may be as you say, my father, I answered, but how is it to be explained that the rainwater and underground springs do not replenish the lake? You would think so, my son, answered Billali, but there is no need to fear it. The people who lived here were wise people. Do you see that river? he asked, pointing to the right, where about four miles away a beautiful river flowed across the plain. There is a drain through which the water escapes, and the opening where this channel enters the mountain is so wide that the river can easily flow through it. Probably the water first ran along the channel, but later the people diverted it elsewhere and began to use the channel as a highway. Is there no other way into that great mountain? I asked. “Yes,” he answered. “Once a year the cattle that graze at the foot of the mountain and on this plain are driven through a secret passage into the mountain. The passage is so narrow that the animals can barely pass through it, and it is so well hidden that you could search for it for a year without finding anything. Does ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ never leave his dwelling?” I asked. While we were talking like this we had reached the plain, and I gazed with admiration at its almost tropical vegetation, beautiful flowers, and stately oak-like trees, which always grew three or four in the same place. There were also many palm trees, some of which were about a hundred feet high, and large, most beautiful ferns, the like of which I have never seen, grew around them. The flowers, from which golden bees and large, brilliant-winged butterflies drank their nectar, smelled charmingly.” All sorts of game, from rhinoceros to buffalo, were running under the trees or lying in the long grass. There were rhinoceros, buffalo, deer, wild horses, and eland, the most beautiful of the deer, not to mention smaller animals. Three ostriches fled at the speed of the wind out of sight as we approached. The temptation was so great that I could not restrain my desire to hunt. I had a single-barrelled Martini rifle with me in my litter , and, noticing a large, plump deer rubbing its side against a tree, I jumped from my litter and started to creep towards the creature. The animal let me go within about twenty yards, when it turned to look at me and prepared to run away. At the same time I raised my gun and fired, aiming below the platform. I never fired a better shot in my life, for the deer sprang high into the air and fell lifeless to the ground. The bearers, who had stopped to see what was to come, exclaimed with astonishment, a most unexpected tribute among this silent and gloomy people, and some of the bodyguards immediately ran to cut the creature into pieces. Although I was very anxious to go and see the beautiful prey, I nevertheless controlled my curiosity and walked to my litter as calmly as if shooting deer had been my real profession. At the same time I felt that my rank had risen many degrees in the eyes of the Amahaggers, for they considered the whole affair a most magnificent act of witchcraft. Old Billal was also quite mad with admiration. Wonderful, my boy! he exclaimed, wonderful! You are a great man, though you are ugly. If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I certainly would not have believed it. Will you really teach me to kill in this way? “Certainly, my father,” I answered cheerfully, “this is not so strange. But at the same time I firmly resolved that when my father Billali began his shooting practice, I would throw myself to the ground or hide behind a tree. About an hour and a half before sunset we arrived without further adventures in the shadow of that mighty mountain. We were already so close enough that I could clearly see its steep, jagged rock walls rising to a dizzying height and its round peak caressed by the clouds. The wildness of the place was indescribable and a strange anxiety seized my mind. We first climbed up the grassy slope at the foot of the mountain, where the evening sun still cast its rays, but soon we found ourselves in the gloomy shadow of the mountain wall and after a while we were walking in a wide corridor cut into the rock, which deepened as it deepened. Thousands of people must have labored for years before that gigantic work was completed. Even today it is a mystery to me how such a work could have been accomplished without explosives, but it is and will forever remain the secret of that desolate land. I suppose that the people who had inhabited Kôr in the most obscure antiquity had had this work done—the splitting of the rocks and the quarrying of the great caves—by tens of thousands of slaves, supervised by innumerable foremen, just as the ancient pharaohs of Egypt built their gigantic monuments as a monument for the afterlife. But where were the people of the mountain hidden? At last we reached the very foot of the precipice, and before us lay a vast opening in the mountain wall, like the mouth of a railway tunnel built by the engineers of the nineteenth century. A mighty stream rushed out of the cave with a roar. We had already followed this stream, when we came to the rock-cut, which finally joined the right-turning river of which I have spoken before. One half of the bottom of the cut had been deepened into a channel, into which the water flowing from the mountain had been conducted, and the other half, which was about ten feet higher, was used as a road. At the end of the cut , where the plain began, the water had been diverted and the river had carved its own channel across the plain. Our party halted at the mouth of a cave , and as the men were lighting the lamps they had brought, Billali came up to us and announced politely but firmly that He Who Must Be Obeyed had ordered our eyes to be bound, to prevent us from discovering the secret way into the interior of the mountain. I naturally submitted to this measure without resistance, but Job, who was already much better, growled bitterly. He must have feared some trap— hot pots or something of the sort. He calmed down a little when I assured him that I had not seen a pot anywhere, nor even a fire in which they could have been heated. Leo, to my great joy, after suffering severe pains, had fallen into a sleep or stupor, so that his eyes did not need to be bound. The same yellow cloth, which those Amahaggers who condescended to wear some kind of clothing, used to cover their bodies, was now tied tightly over our eyes. I later discovered that the Amahaggers took this cloth from the burial chambers of the caves, so that it was not their own making, as I had at first thought. The eyes of the ustane were also covered, probably because they feared that he would reveal to us the secret way. When all was ready, we set off again, and from the clatter of the bearers’ footsteps and the increasing roar of the water I concluded that we were penetrating deeper and deeper into the mountain. As I thought of this strange journey of ours into the depths of that wondrous mountain towards unknown destinies , a strange terror seized me, but as I was already accustomed to many surprises, I soon calmed down and was ready to face anything. I lay in my palanquin, listening to the footsteps of the bearers and the monotonous roar of the stream, and tried to convince myself that the journey was very pleasant. After we had been travelling for a while, the men began to sing the same monotonous song that I had heard on our journey inland after we had been taken prisoner. The air had gradually become heavier and heavier, and at last I thought I was suffocating when my palanquin suddenly turned sharply around a corner. The first turn was soon followed by a second and then a third, when the air became fresher and breathing became easier. We travelled briskly forward and the sharp turns continued endlessly, until at last I was completely lost in my thoughts. At first I tried to commit those turns to memory in case we should ever have to try to return by the same route on our own, but it is needless to say that my attempt was a complete failure. After about an hour I suddenly felt that we had come into the open air again. A light could be heard through the bandage tied over my eyes and I felt a breeze of fresh air on my face. After a couple of minutes we stopped and I heard Billal tell Ustane to loosen the bandage from his eyes and do us the same favor, but without waiting for his help I tore off the bandage and looked around. As I had supposed, we had passed straight through the mountain and were now on the other side, at the foot of a dizzying precipice. My first observation was that the mountain wall was now lower, so that the bottom of the lake, or old volcanic vent, where we stood, was much higher than the surrounding plain. We were like the bottom of an infinitely large bowl with rocky edges, and the circular plain before us was almost the same as that on the edge of which we had first lived after our capture. But this was about ten times as extensive, for the opposite ridge of the mountain was only a bluish streak on the horizon. The greater part of the plain was cultivated, and cattle, of which I saw large herds, were grazing in areas enclosed by stone fences to prevent the animals from destroying the gardens. Here and there I saw grassy hills, and a few miles towards the centre of the plain I thought I perceived immense ruins. At that moment I had no time to make any other observations, for at the same moment we were surrounded by a group of Amahaggers, who in appearance and habitation were exactly the same as those we had known before. They said almost nothing, but pressed as close as they could, as if they had never seen a palanquin, which was, however, a very common means of transport in their country. We looked at each other for a moment, until suddenly armed men began to emerge from the mountain like ants, and, having formed themselves into a regular line, the crowd of men rushed rapidly towards us. All had the usual leopard skin around their waists, but in addition , each, both officers and soldiers, had a cloth loincloth as a veil. The ivory staff which the officers brandished in their hands was a sign of their rank. These men belonged to the Queen’s Bodyguard, as I later learned. Their leader came up to Billal and saluted, raising his ivory staff to the level of his eyes. Then he asked a few questions which I could not hear. When Billali had made a brief reply, the regiment turned and marched down the cliff, with us hurrying after. After we had gone about half a mile we stopped in front of an immense cave, the entrance to which was at least sixty feet high and eighty feet wide. Billali now rose from his litter and ordered Job and me to do the same. Leo was too ill to stand, so he was naturally allowed to lie down. We then entered the great cave, the mouth of which was still faintly illuminated by the evening sun. In the distance I saw burning lamps hung on the wall, the rows of which finally faded almost into invisibility, like the lights in the empty streets of London at night. I noticed at once that the walls were full of bas-reliefs, which represented exactly the same subjects as the vase paintings I have mentioned before, namely, love scenes, exciting hunting adventures, and scenes of the torture and killing of criminals, in which a red-hot pot was placed on the unfortunate’s head. From these pictures, therefore, our hosts had learned their pleasant manner of treating criminals and strangers. There were very few battle scenes among them, from which I concluded that the people who lived here had only rarely been harassed by an external enemy. The ancient people of Kôr had perhaps been so great and powerful that they could not had to fear enemies, or else this strange country with its endless swamps and inaccessible mountains had made all escapes impossible. Between the reliefs and paintings were carved in the stone letters the like of which I had never seen before . I know Egyptian hieroglyphics, Assyrian cuneiform, and Greek and Hebrew letters, but these characters were completely unknown to me. They seemed to me more like Chinese than any other writing I had ever seen before. Nearer the mouth of the cave the sculptures and inscriptions were badly damaged and almost destroyed, but farther on they were still as intact and beautiful as when the master had finished his work after finishing it. The regiment of bodyguards halted at the entrance, forming an alley through which we were to pass into the cave, where we were met by a man dressed in a white robe. He bowed humbly to us, but said not a word, which was not surprising, for the man was deaf and dumb, as we afterwards learned. About twenty feet from the entrance, a wide passage opened out of a large cave to the right and left. At the mouth of the passage on the left were two guards, from which I concluded that the queen lived there. The opposite passage was unguarded, and our mute guide went there, beckoning us to follow him. After walking a few yards in that lamp-lit passage, we stopped before a passage covered with a carpet woven of some vegetable matter. The guide, bowing humbly, drew aside the curtain, and with a polite gesture of his hand invited us to enter. We came into a large room, which was naturally hewn out of the rock, but which, to my great joy, was brightly lit. A sufficiently large window had been cut into the rock wall. The room had a stone bedstead, pots full of water for bathing, and beautiful leopard skins for bedding. We left Leo, who was still sleeping soundly, in this room, and Ustane remained with her. I noticed that our mute guide looked at the girl intently, as if he wanted to ask who you were and by whose orders you had come here? Then he led us into another similar room, which Job took possession of, and Billal and I were each assigned a similar room.
Chapter 13. Him. Having seen to it that Leo had everything he needed, Job and I washed ourselves thoroughly and changed into clean clothes. Our clothes, which we had kept all the time since the shipwreck, were indeed quite tattered and dirty. I have probably mentioned that fortunately we had placed all our necessary luggage in our boat, which was thus saved, and the porters had brought it all here with us. Nearly all our clothes were of strong grey flannel, for in my experience they are the best for travelling in hot countries. I can never forget the pleasure I derived from washing and dressing in clean clothes. The only thing I missed was soap, but that had all been wasted. I discovered afterwards that the Amahaggers, who are lovers of cleanliness , in spite of all their other repulsive qualities, washed themselves with a kind of burnt clay, which, when accustomed to it, was a very good substitute for soap. When I had dressed and shaved my black beard, which in its wild state had fully justified Billal in calling me a papian, I felt myself to be very hungry. At the same moment, without the slightest warning or knock, the curtain of the door was drawn aside, and another mute personage appeared in my chamber—this time a young girl—who, in clearly intelligible signs, informed me that food had been brought to us. I followed the girl’s suggestion and went into the next room, which we had not yet visited, where I met Job. That beautiful, mute girl had not given him any peace until he in his amazement and fear had gone with the girl. Job could not forget how impudent the Amahagger women could be, and fearing them all, he watched this girl’s actions with the greatest suspicion. I do not like the girl’s looks, sir, he said defensively. Her behavior is not respectful enough either. The room we were in was about ten times larger than the sleeping chambers, and I saw at once that it had originally been used as a dining room and probably also as an embalming room, for all these caves were only burial chambers in which the mighty people who lived here in ancient times had buried their deceased. The people whose monuments surround us here everywhere had also known how to embalm their dead with a skill the like of which has never been seen. On each wall of this strange room were long stone tables, which had been hewn out of the rock at the same time as the cave had been excavated, for their legs were of the same rock as the floor of the cave. Behind the tables a platform about two feet high had been hewn all around the cave, and a recess had been hollowed out in the sides of the tables for the knees of those sitting on the platform. I examined the table more closely and noticed that the table to the left of the doorway was not a dining table, but had clearly been used for embalming the dead. The table clearly showed five different-sized recesses in the shape of human bodies, into which the deceased were placed during the embalming process—children in the smaller ones and adults in the larger ones. Many holes had been drilled along the length of the table for the removal of fluids. But if this evidence were not yet sufficient, one only had to look at the wall above the table to be fully convinced. It contained a series of reliefs, perfectly preserved and still looking brand new, depicting the death, embalming, and burial of an old man with a long beard, probably an ancient king. The first picture depicted his death. The old man lay on his bed and seemed to have just taken his last breath, while women and children wept and wailed around him, their hair scattered on their shoulders. The second picture depicted the embalming of the deceased. The body lay naked on a table with similar recesses to the table I have just mentioned, and three men bustled around it. One seemed to be supervising the work, another held a long funnel in his hand, the tip of which had been inserted into the deceased’s chest, probably into the main artery leading from the heart, and a third, standing on the table, was pouring some steaming liquid from a large pot into the funnel. Both the pourer and the funnel holder were holding their noses. Perhaps the smell of the body was so repulsive, or perhaps they were trying to avoid breathing the steam that rose from the hot liquid being poured into the deceased’s veins. The faces of all three were covered with a white cloth, with openings only for the eyes. The third picture showed the burial of the deceased. There he lay cold and stiff, wrapped in white cloths on the stone bench of his tomb. Several lamps were burning around him, and beside him were placed some of the beautiful vases I have described, which probably contained provisions. The cramped chamber was full of mourners. Others had a musical instrument like a lyre in their hands, and at the feet of the deceased stood an old man who was preparing to cover the deceased with the white shroud he was holding. These elaborately carved and painted reliefs were, to my mind, particularly remarkable because they probably represented in great detail how that people, extinct and forgotten thousands of years ago, treated their dead. I can well imagine how jealous some of my old friends in Cambridge would be if I were ever to tell them what I had seen and heard. They would probably say I was lying, although my story is so strange and bizarre throughout that it would have been impossible for me to have invented it on my own. But let us get back to business. After I had hurriedly looked at the series of pictures in all my haste, we sat down to eat. There was boiled goat, fresh milk and bread on offer. The food was placed on clean wooden trays. After we had eaten, we went straight to see how poor Leo was doing, whereupon Billali left us, saying that he had to prepare to go to the Queen, whose order might come at any moment. My poor boy had become worse and worse. He had woken up from his slumber and was furiously trying to get up from some boat trip he had taken back home in England. If Ustane had not held him down with all her might, he would certainly have run away from the room. Hearing my voice, he calmed down and meekly swallowed the dose of quinine that I handed him. I had been sitting with Leo for about an hour—at least it was getting so dark that I could hardly make out the young man’s fair head, which rested on the pillow I had pulled out of the covers and seemed to glow like molten gold—when Billali rushed into the chamber, busy and brooding. He announced that the Queen, She Who Must Be Obeyed, wished to speak to me herself, an honor bestowed only on very few, he added. Billali was terrified when I listened to his business with such indifference and showed no interest in the Queen’s attentions, but the truth was that I felt no emotion at all at hearing that I should meet some wild and dark-skinned Queen, while my dear Leo son was struggling in the grip of that terrible fever, on the very verge of death. I rose, however, to follow him, and at once saw a shiny object on the floor, which I took in my hand. The reader may remember that in the box containing the pot fragment, there was also found an ancient Egyptian seal or scarab, engraved with a round o, a picture of a goose, and a very rare hieroglyph, all of which together signified the Wolf-se Ra, or Son of the Sun King. This seal, which was very small in size, Leo had stubbornly placed in a thick gold ring, and it was this ring that I now found on the floor of the chamber, where I believe it had flown from Leo’s finger while he was raging in his feverish rage. I thought that the ring might be lost altogether if it were now left in Leo’s possession, and therefore I slipped it on my little finger as I followed Billal. Job and Ustane remained with Leo. We crossed a large cave resembling a church and entered a passage at the entrance of which two guards stood motionless as statues. As we passed them, they saluted us militarily with their long spears, raising their spears before their faces in the same manner as the chiefs had saluted us with their ivory staffs. The passage we now entered was exactly like that which led to our rooms, but was more brilliantly lighted than before. After we had taken a few steps, four mute servants—two women and two men—rushed to meet us, and, bowing deeply, arranged themselves so that the women stood in front of us and the men behind us, and then we moved on. After passing several rooms, the entrances of which were hung with curtains similar to those on our side, and in which I heard the queen’s servants lived, we reached the end of the passage and stopped before a doorway covered with thick curtains, guarded by two warriors in white. They greeted us with a deep bow and drew aside the curtains, letting us enter a large anteroom, at least forty feet long and as wide, where about ten fair-haired women—most of them young and beautiful— sat on cushions on the floor, sewing embroidery with ivory needles. These women, too, were all mute. On the other side of this large, brightly lit room, opposite the entrance, was a similar opening covered with heavy Oriental curtains, quite different from ours. curtains hung in front of our rooms. In front of this mysterious-looking doorway stood two wonderfully beautiful mute girls with their arms folded on their breasts and their heads bowed down—a posture that expressed the most humble and absolute submission. As we approached, each of them put out one hand and drew the curtains aside, at which Billali behaved very strangely. The venerable and amiable old man—Billali was indeed a very pleasant person—threw himself down to the ground at full length, and in this position, his long white beard sloping to the ground, began to crawl into the room behind the curtains. I followed him, walking upright as usual, which the old man noticed when he looked back. Down, my boy, down and still! he panted. We are now approaching ‘Him’ and unless you show yourself humble, he will certainly kill you on this spot. I stopped in fear. My knees were already beginning to tremble and give way, but at the same time I also began to think about my position and situation. I was an Englishman, and why should I, I asked myself, crawl on my container in front of some wild woman, as if I were really the monkey that Billali calls me? I could not and would not do it unless I knew for sure that my life and soul depended on my behavior. If I crawled on my knees now, I could always do the same, and besides, my falling to the ground would be an obvious admission of submission. So I steeled my nature and boldly stepped upright after Billali into the next room, which was quite a bit smaller than the front room. The walls were covered with precious curtains, which were woven by those mute girls, as I heard afterwards. Here and there were beautiful sofas and seats, made of some black wood like ebony, with elaborate ivory decorations. The floor was entirely covered with precious and rare carpets . At the end of the room there seemed to be a chamber covered with a curtain, from which a light could be seen. Otherwise the room was quite empty. Old Billal crawled clumsily and slowly across the room, and I followed him with as dignified a step as possible. But I felt that my attempt was not entirely successful, for it is almost impossible to maintain one’s dignity when one has to walk behind an old man who is crawling slowly on his belly like a snake. Besides, I had to walk extremely slowly, so as not to miss Billal, who was crawling on the ground , so that at every step I had to linger with one foot in the air for a moment or stop completely, like Mary Queen of Scots when she went to the scaffold. Being old and stiff, Billal found crawling very laborious, so that our passage across the room took a very long time. I came right behind him and I felt like helping him move forward a little more smoothly with a good kick. In my own opinion I was like an Irishman driving a pig into a ditch , and it was not long before I burst out laughing at the thought of my unfortunate comparison. It was madness to appear before the ruler of the country like that. I drove away the dangerous thought by blowing my nose, which act seemed to fill Billal’s heart with terror, for the old man cast a terrified glance at me, and I heard him murmur: My poor papian, think of it. At last we reached the curtain, before which Billal lay with his face to the floor, motionless as if dead. As I had nothing else to do, I began to look more closely around that magnificent room. But at the same time I felt that someone was staring at me from behind the curtain. I saw no one, but I felt a gaze that had a strange effect on my nerves. Despite its expensive furnishings and soft lighting, the place we were in seemed eerily lonely and strange. There was a deathly silence around us , and old Billali lay motionless as if dead on the carpet before the curtain, from which a charming fragrance rose towards the dim vaulted ceiling of the room. Minute after minute passed, and not a rustle was heard. I still felt that invisible The sight of the creature looking at me, and her piercing gaze, which I could not see but only felt, finally filled my mind with unspeakable horror. The sweat of anguish beaded on my forehead. At last the curtain moved. What kind of creature could it be that it hid? Was she a naked wild woman, or some slender oriental beauty? Perhaps a modern young lady drinking her evening tea would appear before us? I had not the faintest idea what kind of mysterious queen of the Amahaggers might be, and I would not have been at all surprised if any of the three had stepped before me. The curtain swayed softly, and from its folds appeared a wonderfully beautiful snow-white hand. The fingers holding the curtain were long and delicate, and their nails were well-groomed and rosy. A hand parted the curtain a little, and the sweetest and most silvery voice I have ever heard said in pure and classical Arabic: Stranger, why are you afraid? I had just boasted in my mind that I had apparently stood quite calmly where I was, and therefore I was very surprised to hear the question. Before I could say anything, the curtain was completely drawn aside and a tall, slender being stood before us. I say being, because not only the body, but also the face was covered with a white, hazy veil, and at first I thought that some deceased had risen from his grave to stand before us. I still cannot understand how the thought came into my head, for the veil was so thin that the fine reddish skin could be seen through it. The thought had probably been caused by the very veil, which, by chance or by design, had been wrapped in the same manner as the shroud of the deceased. Be that as it may, at the sight of that ghostly apparition I was seized with unspeakable terror. My hair stood on end and my knees began to tremble, for I felt that the being before me was not a natural human being, like us. Yet I could see quite clearly that this veiled and mysterious, mummy-like being was a slender and in every respect unheard-of woman, whose whole being had something enchanting, some serpentine grace, the like of which I had never seen before. Why are you so afraid, stranger? asked that sweet voice again, making my heart tremble like the most beautiful melody. Is there anything in me that makes a man afraid? Then men must be different from before. She touched her hand coquettishly to her shiny black hair, which under the snow-white veil waved softly almost to her graceful feet in sandals, and at the same time she turned as if to show us all her intoxicating grace. Your wondrous beauty frightens me, O Queen, I answered humbly, not knowing quite what I should have said. I fancied I heard old Billal, lying on the ground, muttering to himself: Goodbye, my son, goodbye. I see that men still know how to deceive us women with deceitful words, answered the Queen, laughing a silvery laugh. Oh, stranger, you were afraid because you felt that I was looking at and examining your character and heart. That is why you were afraid, but since I am only a woman, I will forgive you your lie, for it was politely and beautifully said. But tell me, stranger, why have you come here—to this land of death’s terrors, whose cave-folk, dwelling in the midst of endless swamps , know nothing of goodness? What have you come to seek? Have you no care at all for your lives, when you abandon yourselves to the mercy of Hiya, ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’? Tell me also where you learned the language I speak. This language, which is the sweet descendant of the ancient Syriac, is very old. Is it still spoken? As I live here alone among the tombs, cut off from the rest of the world, which I care nothing for. Memories of old times have been my companions, O stranger—and they are in the tomb which I myself have made for them. I dug. It is true when they say that a man spoils his own life. Her sweet voice trembled and a suppressed sob rose from her breast. At the same time her gaze fell on Billal, who was lying on the ground, and she suddenly straightened up. There you are, old man, she exclaimed. How is the order in your household? I have been told that these guests of mine have been attacked. Your children, those cursed rascals, had held a ‘pot feast’ to kill and eat one of them, and if the others had not fought like lions, they would have been killed too, and I would not have been able to bring them back to life. What does this mean, old man? What do you say if I hand you over to those who will carry out revenge? In her anger the queen had spoken louder and louder, and her voice echoed coldly and clearly from the stone walls of the room. I could see his eyes flash, and I saw Billal, whom I had thought somewhat fearless, trembling with fear and terror like an aspen leaf. O Hiya! O He! he answered, without raising his white head from the floor. O Queen, be as merciful as you are great, for I am now and ever your humble servant. I did not plan the feast, nor did I even know of it; those rascals who are called my children acted entirely on their own. I am innocent. At the instigation of a woman who had been offended by your guest Piglet, they would have followed the old custom of the country and eaten the fat black stranger whom your guests Papian and the Lion, who is sick, had brought with them. They thought they could do so without any trouble, since you had not mentioned a word about him, O Queen. But when Papian and the Lion saw what was happening, they killed the woman and also their servant, who was thus saved from the terrible death of the glowing pot. Then those cursed ones, those children of the evil spirit, went completely mad at the smell of blood and ran at the Lion, Papian and Piglet. But these fought bravely. O Hiya! they struck like men, killing many and held their ground until I arrived and saved them. I have sent the criminals here to Kor to be judged by you, O He, and they are already here. Very well, old man, I know it and tomorrow I will examine and judge them in the great hall. They will get what they deserve , be sure of that. I will spare you this time, although reluctantly, but remember that you will keep better discipline in your household from now on. Go away! Billali rose to his knees and bowed humbly and with a look of astonishment. Then, his white beard brushing the ground, he crept away the same way he had come, and finally disappeared behind the curtains. I was very uneasy to be left alone with that terrible, yet at the same time so incomparably charming woman . Chapter 14. Ayesha. Well, now he is gone, that Old White-bearded Wretch! said He. How small is the amount of knowledge and wisdom that a man can acquire in a lifetime. He can draw it from inexhaustible sources with both hands, but it runs like water through his fingers. And yet, if his hands get even a little wet, a whole generation of fools will marvel at his wisdom. Isn’t that so? But what is your name? The old man calls you ‘Papiane,’ he added, laughing, for these savages, who have no imagination, are wont to give each other the name of the animal that each person resembles. What is your name in your own country, stranger? Holly is my name, O Queen, I answered. Holly, she repeated, pronouncing the word with some difficulty, but with the sweetest emphasis, and what does ‘Holly’ mean? ‘Holly’ is a thorny tree, I said. Yes. You do indeed resemble a thorny tree. You are strong and ugly, but your heart is honest, if I mistake not, and you are a staff to lean on safely. You can think too. But, Oh Holly, don’t stand there, but come and sit here beside me. I don’t want to see you crawling before me like those slaves. I’m tired of their creeping and their fear; sometimes when I’m angry I feel like destroying them all and seeing those left behind turn pale with terror to the very core of their hearts. With her snow-white hand she held the curtain aside to let me in. I followed the trembling suggestion. The woman was a terrible creature. Inside the curtain was a small chamber about twelve feet wide and ten feet long, with a small couch and a table. On the table were fruits and a jar of crystal-clear water. In the distance was a vessel carved out of stone, resembling a baptismal font, also filled to the brim with clear water. The light of the lamps burning in the room was pleasantly comforting and soothing, and the air was filled with a sweet fragrance that seemed to emanate from His lovely hair and gleam from His white garments. I stood hesitatingly at the table. Sit down, He said, pointing to the sofa. Do not be afraid of me. If you had reason to be, your fear would last a long time, for I would kill you at once. So be quite carefree. I sat down at the head of the sofa beside a water vessel like a baptismal font, and He quietly placed Himself at the other end of the sofa. Well, Holly, He said, how is it that you speak Arabic? It is my own mother tongue, for I am an Arab by birth. My father was of the lineage of Yarab, son of Kahtan, and I was born in the old city of Ozal in the province of Yaman, which is called happy. But your language is a little different from what we spoke in ancient times. It does not sound as beautifully as the ringing language of the Hamyar tribes that I was accustomed to hear. Some words seem to have changed and resemble the speech of these Amahaggers, who have their own dialect. When I speak to them, I feel as if I were speaking a foreign language. I have been learning it for many years, I answered. It is also spoken in Egypt and elsewhere. So it is still spoken and Egypt still exists? And what is the name of the current pharaoh? Perhaps always just some descendant of the Persian Ochus? Or have the Achaemenids already fallen, for it has been a long time since Ochus ruled? The Persians disappeared from Egypt almost two thousand years ago and since then the Ptolemies, the Romans and many others have ruled the Nile and disappeared when their time has come, I answered in amazement. How is it possible that you can know anything about the Persian Artaxerxes? He laughed, but did not answer anything. A cold shiver ran through my body again. And what about Greece? he said then. Does Greece still exist? Ah, I loved the Greeks. They were beautiful as gods and brilliant, but quick-tempered and arrogant. Yes, I said. Greece does exist, but the modern Greeks are not like the ancient Hellenes and the modern Greece is only a pale memory of ancient Hellas. Oh yes! And the Hebrews, are they still in Jerusalem? Does the temple that that wise king built still exist and if so, what God do they worship there? Has their Messiah come, of whom they so much foretold and spoke? Does he now rule the world? The kingdom of the Jews has fallen and the remnants of their people are scattered to all the ends of the earth. Jerusalem is no more and Herod’s temple— Herod’s! he repeated. I do not know him, but go on. The Romans burned the temple and the Roman eagles flew over its ruins. The Judea of ​​that time is now a desolate wilderness. Or so it happened to Jerusalem! Those Romans were a mighty people, and they always aimed straight and swiftly at their main goal, like their eagles at their prey. But their world power also collapsed. Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant, I exclaimed, they destroy everything into nothingness and call it peace. Ah, you can speak Latin too! he exclaimed in amazement. It sounds so strange to my ears again, long ago, and to me It seems as if your accent is different from that of the Romans. Who wrote that sentence? I do not know the proverb, but it must have originated among that great people. It seems as if I had met a learned man—a man who has drawn from the well of wisdom and known how to hold water in his hands. Do you know Greek? Yes, O Queen, and a little Hebrew, but I do not speak them well. They are all dead languages ​​these days. He clapped his hands with childish delight. It is true, O Holly, said he, that you are an ugly tree, but you bear the lovely fruits of wisdom. Those Jews I hated, for they called me a heathen when I wanted to teach them my wisdom. Has their Messiah come and is he now ruling the world? Their Messiah has come, I answered with devotion, but he came poor and lowly and they did not know him. They scourged him and crucified him, but his doctrines and works live on, for he was the son of God, and now he truly rules half the world, though not with an earthly scepter. Ah, those ravening wolves! he cried, those slanderers and idolaters—those slaves of mammon and quarrelsome scoundrels! I can still see their slanderous faces. Or did they crucify their Messiah? I can believe it. It meant nothing to them that he was the son of God or of the Giver of all life—we will discuss later whether he really was. A God who did not come to them in glory and honor was not good enough for them. How could it be possible for them, the chosen people, the servants of Jehovah, who at the same time worshipped Baal, Astareth, and all the gods of Egypt! What a proud and extremely selfish people! Or did they crucify their Messiah because he came to them in the form of a slave—and now they are scattered all over the world. If I remember correctly, one of their prophets predicted that this would happen. But it was right for those Jews who broke my heart too and forced me to hide in this wilderness where a people older than them lived. I could no longer live among other people, for those Jews taught me to think evil of everyone and to hate the world. When I had taught them my wisdom in Jerusalem, they stoned me, yes, right at the temple gates those hypocritical and white-bearded rabbis incited the people against me. Look, the scars are still visible to this day! and with a sudden movement he exposed his round arm, on whose milk-white skin a red scar was clearly visible. I flinched away in horror. Forgive me, O queen, I muttered, but now I do not quite understand what you mean. Almost two thousand years have passed since the Messiah of the Jews hung on his cross on Golgotha. How could you have taught your wisdom to the Jews before his birth? You are a woman, a human being, not a spirit. No one can live two thousand years. Why do you take me for a fool, O queen? He leaned back, and I felt again his piercing gaze searching the most secret recesses of my heart. O man! he said at last, delaying and deliberating, there seem to be many things in the world of which you know nothing. Do you believe, like those Jews, that all living things die and disappear forever? I tell you that nothing dies forever. There is no death, but a change of state. Look here, he added, pointing to some carvings on the rock wall. It is now three times two thousand years since that great people, whose artists have sculpted these reliefs, died of the plague so thoroughly that not one survived. But they still live; perhaps their spirits are around us right now. Sometimes I feel as if I see them, he finished, glancing around. Yes, yes, but to this world they are dead. They are—for a time; but after a time they are born again into this world. I, yes, I, Ayesha— that is my name, the stranger—tell you that I am waiting for one whom I loved but who is dead to return to me again. Here I will wait for him until he finds me, for I know for sure that he will come here, and here, only here, he will meet me. I have power and authority, in beauty and grace I surpass even Helen of the Greeks, in whose honor they composed songs, and I am wiser than Solomon by many degrees. I know all the secrets of the world, I can command all the forces of nature to my service, and I am free for a time from the change of condition which you call death. Why, O stranger, do you think that I, who could rule the whole world, live here among these savages, who are more cruel than wild beasts? I do not know, O Queen, I answered humbly. Because I am waiting for him whom I love. My life may have been bad, I do not know—for who can say what is bad and what is good. Therefore I do not want to die, even if I could—which cannot happen until my time comes—to go to him where he is, for I fear that a wall might rise between us, which I would not be able to cross in the end. In the spaces where the worlds revolve in their eternal orbits, one might also very easily lose one’s way. But the day will come when he, my beloved, will be born again into this world, and, following a law which no human plan can nullify, he will come here and find me in the same place where he once met me. Seeing me again will surely melt his heart , even though I have transgressed against him. It may be that he no longer knows me, but nevertheless he will love me for my beauty alone. Five thousand years may vanish into the immeasurable grave of time, as a little cotton-wool vanishes into the darkness of night before my beloved arrives, but he may come even tomorrow. I sat for a moment speechless with astonishment. This was already beyond my comprehension. If it is so, O Queen, I said at last, that we men are born again and again, then your case is not the same, if you speak the truth. She looked at me sharply, and her eyes flashed behind the veil. You, I added hastily, because you have never died? Quite so, she answered. You are right. With the help of my knowledge and partly by chance I have succeeded in solving the greatest riddle of nature. — Life exists — tell me, stranger, why could that life not be prolonged for some time? Do ten, twenty, or even fifty thousand years mean anything in the eternity of life? Can rains and storms in ten thousand years grind the mountain peaks to a bare level? In two thousand years these caves have not changed at all, everything is the same, except for the wild animals and people, who are like wild beasts. If you knew and understood the great secrets of nature, you would not think this a miracle at all. The existence of life is a miracle, but not its prolongation. Nature is animated by the same spirit as man, who is a child of nature. He who finds this eternal spirit and lets it flow into his system does not die, but lives as long as nature, which is animated by the same spirit. His life is not endless, for nature, the source of life, is not eternal, but dies once, just as the nature of the moon has died. As has been said, the life of nature must sometimes die out, or rather change and sleep until it comes to life again. But when will this death occur? At least not yet , and he who knows the secrets of nature will live as long as life beats in nature. I know them in part , not all, but perhaps more than anyone else. I don’t I suspect that this is a great secret to you, and therefore I will not speak of it any more now. Perhaps we will discuss these matters some other time, if I have the desire, but it may be that I shall never speak of it again. Don’t you wonder how I knew you were coming here and saving you from becoming victims of the glowing pot? Yes, O Queen, I answered quietly. Look here, then, and he pointed to that baptismal-like vessel of water, over which he bent, shading the surface of the water with his hand. I stood up to look, and suddenly the water became dark. Then it cleared up, and I saw as clearly as I have ever seen in my life—our boat in that terrible canal. Leo was sleeping in the bottom of the boat , and had drawn a blanket over him to keep out the mosquitoes, so that no one could see his face, and Job, and Mohammed, were walking along the shore, pulling the boat. I jumped up in horror and cried out that this was witchcraft, for I remembered that moment very clearly. No, no, O Holly, said she, there is no witchcraft— it is only a delusion born of ignorance. Witchcraft is only knowing the secrets of nature. That water is my mirror, from which I can see everything that happens if I choose. I can show you in it anything of the past that concerns this country and that is known to me, or some event that you, the viewer, know. Think of anyone and that person’s face will be reflected in my mirror from your thoughts. I do not yet know the secret completely —I cannot see things to come. But this secret is old and not of my invention. The wise men of Arabia and Egypt knew it thousands of years ago. One day that old canal chanced to come into my mind—about two thousand years ago I once sailed along it—and I wanted to look at it again. Then I saw a boat, in the bottom of which a handsome youth was sleeping with a blanket over his face, and three men were walking along the shore pulling the boat, and I sent my people to save you from certain death. And now farewell, stranger. But wait a little. Tell me something about that youth—the lion, as the old man calls him. I would like to see him, but he is ill—you say he has a severe fever—he was wounded in battle. He is very bad, I answered sadly; can you not do something for him, O queen, who are so wise? I can. I can cure him at once, but why do you speak so sadly? Do you love the youth? Is he perhaps your son? He is my adopted son, O queen! Shall I let him be brought here? No. How long has he had the fever? Today is the third day. Good; let him lie in peace one more day. Perhaps he will overcome the fever himself without my help, which is better, for my medicine is shockingly strong. But if by tomorrow evening , at the same time as the first attack of fever, there is no change for the better, I will come and cure him. Wait, who will take care of him? Our white servant, whom Billali calls the pig, and —here I hesitated a little—a beautiful young woman named Ustane, a native of this country, who embraced and kissed him as soon as she saw him, and has ever since remained with him , according to the old custom of your people, if I understand, O queen. My people! he exclaimed vehemently. Do not call this people my people! Those slaves are only dogs who will obey and serve me until the time of my liberation comes. I have nothing to do with their customs. And don’t call me Queen — I’m tired of flattery and titles — just call me Ayesha. That name rings so sweetly in my ears like an echo of times gone by. I don’t know what to think of this Ustane. Could she be the person I’ve been warned about and whom I’ve warned in turn? Could she be –but let us see, and bending forward he stretched out his hand over the water-basin and looked fixedly into it. Look, he whispered then quietly, is it he? I looked into the basin and saw in the clear reflection of the water the beautiful features of Ustane. He was slightly bent over and looking down with an expression of inexpressible tenderness on his face. A lock of dark hair had fallen over his right shoulder. It is he, I said in a low voice, for this strange way of making observations had once again completely puzzled me. He is looking at the sleeping Leo. Leo, repeated Ayesha, lost in thought; it is ‘lion’ in Latin. The old man has succeeded for once in choosing names. This is very strange, he continued, talking to himself, very strange — but it cannot be possible. He stretched out his hand impatiently over the water-basin and the image faded into the water, on the surface of which now only the flame of the lamp was reflected. Would you like to ask me something before you leave me, O Holly? he said, after a moment’s thought. Among these savages , who know nothing of civilized conditions, there are none of the comforts to which you are accustomed. I can manage quite well. There is my food, and he pointed to a small vase of fruit. I eat only fruit and wheat cakes, and drink a little water now and then. I put nothing else into my mouth. I have ordered my girls to serve you. They are deaf and dumb, as you have observed, and therefore the best servants. I have tried for hundreds of years to develop such a race of servants, and after many disappointments I have finally succeeded. I succeeded once before, but the race was so horribly ugly that I allowed it to become extinct. As you see, these are quite different. I once tried to create a race of giants, but the project seemed unnatural and my attempt failed. Tell me, would you ask me for something? Yes, O Ayesha; I would make a request, I said boldly, though I was very afraid inwardly. I would like to see your face. She laughed silvery. Think carefully, O Holly, what you are asking for now. You know the old Greek myths. Do they not tell of a youth named Actaeon, who became unhappy and finally perished entirely because he was blinded by too much beauty? If I show you my face, perhaps hopelessness will destroy you too, for I am not for you—I am for her who once was, but who has not yet returned. As you wish, Ayesha, I said. I am not afraid of your beauty. Such vanity as the beauty of a woman, which is as fleeting as a flower of the field, does not disturb my mind. You are mistaken, he said, it will not fade or fade. My beauty will remain as long as I live. Let your will be done, thoughtless man, but do not blame me if passions take hold of you. No one who has once seen my face can forget my beauty, and therefore I walk among these savages veiled, lest by their conduct they should anger me and bring about their death. Tell me, do you wish me to grant your request? I will, I answered, overcome with curiosity. He raised his white and round arms—I have never seen their like—and slowly, very slowly pulled a few needles from his hair. At once the long veil, reaching down to the feet, fell away and fell to the ground, and Ayesha stood before me , dressed in a shining white dress that only enhanced her exquisite, royal bearing. Her little feet were adorned with sandals with gold buckles, and her ankles were so perfectly proportioned that no sculptor had ever dreamed of them. Around her waist was a belt of pure gold, in the shape of a two-headed serpent. I admired those lovely hands, which were crossed over her breast, and then I looked up, and—I am not exaggerating—I recoiled in astonishment and astonishment. I have heard the talk of heavenly beings of indescribable beauty, now I saw it. And yet there was something terrible and diabolical in this beauty, in this indescribable grace and purity—at least it made such an impression on me. What words could I use to describe her beauty? I cannot—I cannot! There is no person in the world whose pen could give even the faintest idea of ​​what I saw. I could tell of the large and deep, but at the same time softly dark eyes, the rosy red of the cheeks, the lofty forehead shaded by black hair, and the indescribable purity of the features; but however lovely her whole being was, her charm did not lie in her external beauty. A divine, irresistible charm flowed from her whole being, which radiated on her face like a living halo. I could never have imagined what a truly sublime, sublime beauty could be, and yet there was something incomprehensibly dark and oppressive about this beauty—the halo was not of heavenly origin —but it was equally brilliant and dazzling. That beautiful face reflected deep experience, and sorrows and passions had left their mark on it. Not even the sweet smile that crept over her rosy lips could dispel the shadow of sorrow and sin . Even in the sparkling gaze of her brilliant eyes, that shadow was visible, it dimmed her sublime form and seemed to say: Look at me. Although I am almost divine, immortal, and far more beautiful than all other women, yet the memory of the past haunts me from century to century, and the storms of passion rage in my heart—I have sinned, and the cup of sorrow has been bottomless —my life is still evil, and my sorrow will end only when the hour of my deliverance comes. By some irresistible magnetic force, I gazed into his brilliant eyes, and felt a power flow from them that confused my thoughts and almost blinded me. He laughed—oh, how sweetly it echoed in my ears—and nodded to me with a noble coquettishness. Foolish man! said he. Like Actaeon, you have achieved your will , but beware lest your own passions bring you to ruin, as he did. I am also a goddess, O Holly, whom no man may touch but one, and you are not he. Tell me, have you looked at me enough? I have seen a beauty that has dazzled my eyes, I said hoarsely, and covered my face with my hand. Oh, yes! What did I tell you! Beauty is like lightning; it is a joy to behold, but it is dangerous, and it shatters trees, O Holly! Again he nodded his head and laughed. At that moment he fell silent, and through my fingers I saw his face suddenly change into a terrible change. A rigid expression appeared in his large eyes, in which terror seemed to be struggling with some strange hope that was awakening in his black soul. His sweet features hardened, and his lithe body straightened out even more. Man! he hissed between his teeth, throwing back his head like a snake about to strike—man, from where did you get the sealstone that is in your hand. Speak, or in the name of the Spirit of Life I will slay you at once! and he took a step towards me. His eyes blazed so terribly—they seemed to be smoking fire—that I fell to the ground before him, muttering incomprehensible words in my terror. Hush, he said in his old sweet voice, and at the same time became as lovable as before. I frightened you! Forgive me! But sometimes, oh Holly, the most patient nature is tempted by the infinitely slow progress of events, and by the sweet indignation between me and myself, I want to test my strength— you were very near death—but I remembered—. Yes, where did you get that sealstone? I found it, I whispered, stumbling to my feet. I was so dizzy that I could not say anything else. I remembered only that I had found it on the floor of Leo’s chamber. It is very strange, she said, trying in vain to control her emotion, but I have once seen a seal-stone just like it . It–it hung–around the neck of the man I loved. A suppressed sob rose from her breast, and her eyes were full of tears. I saw that she too was only a woman, whose heart was stricken with grief and sorrow. Yes, she continued, that is of course another like it, though I should not have believed that another existed. The seal which I have seen before, and which was exactly like it, had a strange story attached to it, which she who had the seal held in great esteem and as her secret. But the stone I saw was not set in a ring, as that one was. Go now, Holly, go, and try to forget, if you can, that you have seen Ayesha’s beauty and looked into her face, and turning away she threw herself upon the sofa and buried her head in the pillows. I staggered out of the room, and I do not remember how I got to my own chamber. Chapter 15. A Soul in Hell. It was about ten o’clock at night when I finally threw myself on my bed and began to collect my thoughts and think about what I had heard and seen. But the more I racked my brain, the more confused everything became. Was I mad or drunk? Had I dreamed, or had I become the object of some immense and well-planned prank? How could it be possible that I, a man of cold reason in every respect, who was familiar with the most important achievements of all branches of science, and who had hitherto absolutely refused to believe in such nonsense as in Europe is called the supernatural, could now believe that a few minutes ago I had spoken to a woman who was at least two thousand years old? It was impossible. But if all that I had heard and seen was only a prank, how was this prank to be explained? How were the events reflected on the surface of the water so truly, how was it possible to understand that woman’s wonderfully accurate and vivid recollections of the most remote antiquity, her ignorance of the events of later times and her apparent indifference to them ? What then was to be said of her wondrous and frightening beauty? At least it was real and quite unheard of. No mortal woman could be so supernaturally, so dazzlingly beautiful. She had been quite right when she said that it was not good for a man to see such beauty. I have always been a hardened hater of women. With the exception of the brief and unhappy love story of my youth, I have faithfully avoided the weaker sex all my life – the term is not justified in my opinion and I have completely banished it from my thoughts. But now I knew, and to my unspeakable horror I realized, that I would never be able to get those wonderful eyes out of my thoughts, that creature whose demonic beauty had an irresistible charm. She had two thousand years of experience in life, the secret forces of nature served her, and she was immortal. So wasn’t it worth falling in love with her, if one had to fall in love with a woman? But unfortunately it was too late to ask and ponder whether or not it was worth letting the fire of love ignite in my heart, for as far as I understood these things, I was already blindly and hopelessly in love with that white sorceress. I, a middle-aged man, universally respected, and known in my university and among my friends as a general hater of women! What fools! She had warned me seriously, but I had not paid any attention to it. Now that was beautiful – to fall under the spell of that modern Circe while I was still old! But she was not modern, as she herself claimed. He was almost as old as the original Circe. Ruffling my hair, I leapt from my bed. I had to do something to banish these thoughts or I felt myself coming. mad. What could he mean by the seal on my finger? It was Leon’s, and it had been found in an old box that Leon’s father, the late Vincey, had left in my care nearly twenty-one years ago. Could the story be true after all, so that the writing on the pot shard was not the product of some madman’s imagination? Was Leo then the man whom ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ was waiting for—a dead man who had to be reborn ? Impossible! Ridiculous! Was it ever heard of anyone being reborn into the world? But if it was possible for a woman to live two thousand years—then anything was possible. So I had lived in this world before. I had perhaps been hundreds or thousands of years in the realm of the dead, but I had come back to earth again. I could imagine a long line of ancestors who looked just like me, and I was the last in the line. Well, why not! Vive la guerre! I thought it was most unfortunate that I did not remember my previous state at all. The thought was so absurd that I burst into resounding laughter, and when I noticed the picture of a cruel-looking warrior on the wall of the cave, I said to it: Who knows, old fellow, even if we were childhood comrades. Perhaps you were me and I am you? and I laughed uncontrollably again at my own antics. My laughter echoed horribly in the high vaulted ceiling of my chamber, as if that cruel warrior picture had in turn let out a ghostly laugh at my words. At the same time I remembered that I had not been to inquire about Leo’s well-being, and after taking off my shoes I took the lighted lamp by my bed and crept into the corridor. The draft of air swayed the curtain covering the entrance to his chamber to one side and to the other as if invisible spirits had touched it. I went in, and by the dim light of my lamp I saw Leo sleeping on his bed, tossing and turning restlessly in his sleep. Ustane sat on the floor beside his bed, her cheek resting on the edge of the bed. She slept too, holding Leo’s hand in hers. I looked at them in silence , as if at some beautiful and deeply moving picture. Poor Leo! His cheeks were glowing red, there were dark shadows under his eyes, and his breathing was labored. He was very, very ill, and I was again seized by that paralyzing fear that he would die, leaving me an orphan. But if he lived, he would then become my suitor, and what chance would I, who was old and ugly, have with that handsome young man? Surely he would win the race, even if he did not happen to be the man Ayesha was waiting for. But my sense of justice was not yet completely corrupted, and as I stood there I fervently prayed to the Almighty to spare my son, who was my dearest treasure—even if he happened to be Ayesha’s longed-for and sorrowfully longed-for beloved. I returned as quietly as I had come, but still could not sleep; the knowledge that my dear Leoni was so ill had only increased my restlessness. Physical fatigue and mental overstrain excited my imagination to a most supernatural activity. My thoughts conjured up visions and images before me that were surprisingly vivid. Some were quite unnaturally strange, others monstrous, and a few brought back to mind the thoughts and moods of my former states of being. But behind all these images hovered the figure of that monstrous woman, her beauty and charming being ever present in my thoughts. As I paced my chamber, lost in thought, I saw something I had not noticed before. There was a narrow opening in the wall, which, on closer inspection, I saw led to a passage. I was still sensible enough to remember and think that it was no fun or safe to sleep in a room that could be reached by a completely unknown passage. Our situation was therefore precarious and dangerous. To see where the passage would end and to do something I took the lamp in my hand and stepped into the opening. At the end of the passage there were stone steps leading to another passage; it was evidently exactly parallel to the passage leading to our sleeping chambers across the great cavern, under which this was probably situated. Not a rustle was heard. There was a deathly silence about me, and, seized by a strange curiosity, I continued my silent steps. I had taken off my shoes before I went to Leo’s, so that now I was only in my stocking. After walking about fifty paces I came to a third passage, which ran perpendicularly in both directions. As I stood at the junction of the passages something terrible happened. A sudden, strong draught blew out my lamp, and I was left in the dark of the labyrinthine, subterranean passages of that mysterious place. I took a few steps back to the passage I had come from, for I was terribly afraid of being in that third passage in the dark, and then I stopped to consider the situation. What was to be done? I had no matches; I had come a long way, so it was dreadful to try to return in this pitch darkness, and I could not stay in this place all night, and if I had, what good would it do. It was as dark here underground at noon as it was at midnight. I looked behind me —not a glimmer of light. I stared ahead, and after standing for a moment, motionless as a stone statue, I thought I saw a faint glow of fire in the distance. Perhaps there was a cave there from which I could get light for my lamp—it was worth going to see, anyway. Slowly and laboriously I crept forward, leaning my hand against the wall , and with every step I felt the ground, fearing that I might at any moment slip into some abyss. After thirty paces I saw distinctly the reflection of the fire, which at times disappeared altogether, but then reappeared. After fifty paces I saw a light penetrating through a crack in a curtain. I went nearer, and—oh, great God! I could distinctly see through the curtains into a small cave behind them , which was like a tomb. In the middle of the floor a white fire flickered, which did not smoke at all. On the left wall was a stone platform, with a step about three inches high beside it , and on the platform lay, as I understood it, a body covered with a white garment. On the right wall was a similar platform, covered with embroidered covers. A woman wrapped in a dark cloak bent over the fire. She stood facing me, her face towards the deceased lying on the platform, and her head was covered with a shawl resembling a nun’s headdress, so that I could not see her face. She seemed to be staring at the fire, which was flickering restlessly. Just as I was pondering what was best to do, the woman suddenly straightened up, with what seemed to me a desperate determination, and dropped her dark cloak from her shoulders. It was She herself! She was in the same gleaming white dress in which I had already seen her, with a golden belt around her waist in the shape of a two-headed serpent, and her black, thick hair flowing in waves all the way to the ground . I looked into her face and stared at it, frozen with unspeakable horror . She was as beautiful as ever, but the anguish of her soul, the riot of passions and the unbridled desire for revenge, and the infinitely painful look in her upward-turned eyes, were reflected in her face. She stood for a moment quite motionless, her hands stretched high above her head, when her white dress flowed down to the golden belt, revealing her lovely body. His fingers curled, and the hideous expression on his face grew more and more hideous. Suddenly it occurred to me what might happen if he noticed my presence, and the thought made my knees tremble. But even if I had known that I must die if I remained where I was, I could not have taken a step, for I I was as if under a spell. But I was constantly conscious of the danger. Suppose he had heard my breathing, or seen me through the curtains; had I happened to sneeze, or had he by his witchcraft discovered that someone was spying on him —then my sentence would certainly have been very short. The clenched hands slowly sank down and rose again above his head, and as true as I live and am an honest man, the white flame rose with them almost to the ceiling, illuminating him, the deceased lying on the platform under the white garment, and the smallest recesses in the rock walls with a bright, ghostly glow. The ivory hands sank down again, and at the same time I heard him say, or rather flash, in Arabic, and with a tone that froze my blood and made my heart stop for a moment, the following words: Cursed be he, cursed be he forever. The hands sank again and the flame with them. Then they rose again to sink again and the fire grew and diminished with them. Her memory be damned — the memory of the Egyptian woman be damned forever. The hands and the fire rose and fell again. Damned be she, that daughter of the Nile, for her beauty. Damned be she for her witchcraft, by which she was able to resist me. Damned be she because she did not give up my beloved. The flame rose and fell again. As if tortured by infinite pain, she pressed her hands to her face and cried out in despair: What use is this cry of vengeance any longer? He has overcome me and is gone, and my vengeance will not reach him again. Then she began her incantation again, and more fervently: Damned be he, wherever he may be. May my curse reach him everywhere and disturb his peace. Damned be he everywhere in the spaces of the stars. Let his shadow be cursed. Let the power of my curse reach him there too. Let him hear my voice there too. Let him hide in the darkest darkness. I will meet him once more and then he will sink into the bottomless abyss of despair. The flame subsided again and he covered his face with his hands again. This is of no use—nothing, he lamented; who can speak to the sleeping? They will not hear my voice either. He began once more his wicked course. Let him be cursed when he is born again into this world. Let his birth be cursed forever. Let his life be burdened with all curses from the moment he is born until the moment he falls into his last sleep. My vengeance will overtake you once and I will destroy you, you eternally cursed. And thus he swore, having escaped from swearing. The flame rose and fell, and its flash was reflected in his eyes, flashing with rage. His hissing, indescribably terrible incantations echoed off the rock walls of the cave, and a faint echo echoed from the passage. The mysterious creature resting on the stone platform was occasionally seen with dazzling clarity and then disappeared again into the darkness. At last, however, he seemed to grow weary and fell silent. Sinking down to sit on the stone floor, he shook his thick hair over his face and began to sob heartbreakingly. Two thousand years, he lamented—two thousand years I have waited and suffered, and though centuries join centuries and millennia fade into oblivion, the bitterness of memory does not diminish and the star of hope does not brighten. Oh, how terrible it is to live two thousand years with passion still chilling my heart and my sins always before my eyes. Oh, why can’t life grant me comfort and oblivion! Oh, those hard years that have passed and that are still ahead of me, endlessly—how inconsolably long they are! My beloved, my beloved! Why did that stranger have to come and awaken my memory again? For five hundred years I have not suffered like this. Oh, if I have offended you, have I not already atoned for my sins? When will you return to me, O my love? I have strength and power, but without you I am always poor. What do you want me to do? What? What? What? And perhaps she—perhaps that daughter of Egypt is always with you where you are now, and mocks my memory. Oh, why could I not die with you, I who killed you? Oh, how wonderful it would be to die! How wonderful, how wonderful! She would throw herself on the floor and weep and lament so much that I thought her heart would burst. Suddenly she fell silent and stood up, arranging her clothes and, impatiently shaking her bushy hair back to her neck, she went to the deceased lying on the platform. Oh Callicrates, she exclaimed, and I began to tremble at the sound of the name, I must look upon your face again, though it causes me pains more terrible than the pains of death. It is a hundred years since I last looked upon him whom I killed—killed with my own hand, and with trembling fingers he seized the corners of the blanket and was silent for a moment. Then he said, whispering and lingering, as if the thought that had come into his mind had terrified him even himself: Shall I bring you back to life, so that you may stand before me as of old? I can do it, and he stretched out his hand over the body. His whole being seemed to stiffen and become monstrous, and his eyes became staring and dim. I trembled with terror behind the curtains, and my hair stood on end, for I fancied that the motionless body lying under the white blanket trembled, and the blanket began to rise as if it were over a sleeping breast. I cannot say whether the vision was only imagined or real. Suddenly he withdrew his hand, and at the same moment the movement of the body seemed to cease. What good would it do, he said sadly. What good would it do to bring to life a being like you, but without your spirit? Even if you stood before me, you would not know me and could only do as I said. The spirit in you would be mine and not yours, O Callicrates. He stood for a moment in silence, lost in thought, and then he threw himself on his knees by the side of the platform and began to kiss the edge of the blanket, weeping. It was terrible to see that fearful woman giving vent to her grief, and I turned away, trembling with terror , and began to strive with unsteady limbs in the dark darkness away from that terrible place. In my trembling heart there was the constant feeling that I had seen a soul in hell. I staggered forward, I know not how. I fell a couple of times and once I went down the wrong corridor, but I realized my mistake in time. I walked thus for twenty minutes, and suddenly it occurred to me that I had passed the little steps by which I had descended into this passage. Frightened to death, and otherwise extremely exhausted, I finally sank down on the stone floor and lost consciousness. On waking, I saw daylight breaking into the passage behind me . I crawled there and found the steps, which were dimly illuminated by the reflection of the rising sun. I ascended the steps, and having reached my own chamber in safety, I threw myself on my bed, and soon fell into a deep sleep, or rather into a state of unconsciousness. PART TWO. Chapter 16. Ayesha as Judge. The first person I remember seeing on waking in the morning was Job, who was almost completely recovered from his fever. He stood by the window-sill, shaking out my clothes, trying to make up for the brushing we had lost on the way. Having carefully folded the suit, he placed it at the foot of my bed. Then he took my traveling suit from my backpack and, having checked that it was in perfect condition, he placed it on my bed as well, but fearing that I would kick it to the ground, he lifted it onto the leopard-skin floor and, taking a step back, looked around him critically. He was evidently not satisfied with his arrangement, for he took my suit from the floor and placed it on my backpack, which was next to my bed. Then he looked to see if there was enough water for washing, and I heard him mutter to himself that there was probably not a drop of hot water in this accursed place, or that these cannibals only used it to boil each other. These words were followed by a deep sigh. How are you, Job? said I. I beg your pardon, sir, he answered, stroking his hair. I thought you were asleep, and you certainly look like you need it. Judging by your faces, you might think you haven’t had a wink of sleep all night. I only sighed in reply, for I had certainly spent a night the like of which I never wished to have another. How is Mr. Leo, Job? Almost the same as before, sir. If he doesn’t get better soon, he’ll surely die, sir, and that’s it. I must say that this heathen, this Ustane, is trying his best to look after him; almost as well as a baptized Christian. He is always with the sick, and if I dare to interfere , it is a terrible sight to see him in a rage. His hair seems to stand on end, and he curses and execrates in a heathen tongue—at least he looks like one—that is quite horrible to hear. What do you do then? I usually bow politely and say, ‘Now, young lady, your conduct is very improper. Allow me to point out that I have duties to my sick master, which I intend to fulfill as long as I can!’ But he does not seem to listen, but curses and curses more than ever. Last night, when in a rage he snatched a curved knife from under his nightgown-like garment, I would draw my revolver from my belt, and then we would creep around each other like bloodthirsty tigers, until suddenly he burst out laughing and put the knife away. Is it so that a heathen girl, however beautiful, should thus treat a Christian man who has walked honestly all his life? But this is to be expected, when people are so mad—Job laid special stress on the word “mad”—that they go into such a country to investigate things that are meant to be kept secret. We are being punished for our curiosity—that is my opinion, sir— and I think we have not yet suffered the half of our punishment. You will see that we shall never get out of here again into the air of men, but shall perish in the end in these caves of wild beasts, these dwellings of ghosts and the dead. Now I must go and see if Mr. Leo has eaten his broth, if that wild cat will permit; and perhaps you will want to get up, sir, for it is ten o’clock. Job’s remarks were not very comforting to a man who had spent so terrible a night as I had, and what was worse was that they were true. Considering all the circumstances, it seemed to me quite impossible that we could escape from this place. Even if Leo were to greet us, and not kill us, but let us go, which was very doubtful, and even if we were spared the experience of the glowing pot of the Amahaggers, it would still be quite impossible for us to cross those boundless swamps, whose cordon of siege formed by the Amahaggers around the dwellings of the various families was stronger and more impenetrable than any fortifications made or designed by men. There was now no other advice than to take the matter very coolly , and to await the development of events. I asked for nothing more, though my nerves were extremely strained, for the strange events of the last few days had made me think of that mysterious story from a completely different angle than before, and I was determined to investigate the matter thoroughly, even if my curiosity cost me my life. Is there anyone who, given the opportunity, would not want to study with full interest the character and soul of such a wonderful person as Ayesha ? The task the danger added to its charm, and besides, I must admit, however coldly I consider the situation, that Ayesha had completely bewitched me. Not even the terrible vision of the night had cured my madness. But it was all my own fault. Why had I been so miserably curious! After dressing, I went to the dining room, or rather the embalming room, and tasted the dishes that the mute girls rushed before me. Then I went to Leo, who was completely delirious and did not even recognize me. I asked Ustane what she thought of Leo’s condition, but she only shook her head and began to cry. She apparently had no more hope, and I decided to try to talk to Ayesha and try, if possible, to get her to come to Leo. She could certainly cure my dear son if she only wanted to – at least she had said so. At the same moment Billalik also came into the room and, after looking at Leo for a moment, she also shook her head. He will die tonight, he said. God forbid, my father! I cried, and turned away with a heavy heart. ‘He who must be obeyed’ wishes to speak to you, my papa, said the old man when we had reached the passage, but be more careful, O my dear son. Yesterday I was almost certain that He would kill you, when you did not approach Him crawling on your belly. Today He will sit in judgment in the great cave, and judge the villains who wanted to kill you and the Lion. Come, my son, come quickly. I followed him into the great cave, where a group of amahaggers had already gathered , some of whom wore light clothing and others only with leopard skins around their waists. We pressed deeper with the group into the cave, the walls of which were covered with pictures and sculptures everywhere . Every twenty paces from the cave there were perpendicular passages leading, as Billali said, to the tombs hewn out by the people who lived here in ancient times. Those chambers were no longer used by anyone, he said, and I confess that I was delighted to think what excellent opportunities I had for studying the antiquity of this country. At last we reached the cave, where I noticed a platform similar to the one to which we had fled when the Amahaggers attacked us. I concluded that these platforms were altars, used for religious ceremonies, and especially funeral ceremonies . On either side of the platform were passages which Billali said led to other caves full of bodies. The whole mountain is indeed full of the dead, he added, and almost all of them are in perfect condition. A large crowd of both sexes had gathered before the platform , and they were staring so gloomily before them that any one would have been driven to despair in five minutes. On the platform was a sturdy chair made of black wood and decorated with ivory, with a seat woven from plant fibers and a step decorated with elaborate carvings. Suddenly there was a cry of Hiya! Hiya! Him! Him! and everyone threw themselves on the ground and lay motionless as if they were dead. I just stood there like the only survivor after a great massacre. At the same time, a line of bodyguards appeared from a corridor to the left, lining up on both sides of the platform. They were followed by about twenty mute male servants and as many women, each holding lighted lamps in their hands. A moment later, a slender, white-veiled being appeared from the corridor , whom I recognized. It was He Himself. Having climbed onto the platform, he sat down on the chair and addressed me in Greek , probably because he did not want others to understand our conversation. Come hither, O Holly, said he, and sit here at my feet, and see and hear how I judge the villains who would have killed you. Forgive me if my Greek limps like a poor man; it is so long since I last heard the beautiful language of the Hellenes that my tongue is stiff and cannot bend to pronounce all the words correctly. I bowed and did as he bade. How did you sleep, my Holly? he asked. Badly, O Ayesha! I answered honestly, and a little afraid that she might somehow have learned of my nocturnal adventure. Yes, he said, laughing. I slept very badly too. I had dreams and was troubled by old memories that you revived yesterday, O Holly. What did you dream, O Ayesha? I asked indifferently. I dreamed, he answered quickly, of one whom I hate and another whom I love, and as if to divert the conversation he said to the captain of the bodyguard in Arabic: Let the men be brought before me. The captain bowed deeply, for the bodyguards and mute servants had not thrown themselves on the ground, and went with his men into a passage on the right. There was a profound silence in the cave. He leaned his veiled head on his hand and seemed lost in thought while the crowd lay still before us. Here and there someone cautiously turned his head to peer at us with one eye. The Queen’s public appearances seemed so rare that some could not restrain their curiosity, but wanted at all costs to look at her , or rather at her clothes, for no one but me had ever seen her face. At last lights were seen moving in the corridor, and we heard a crowd of men approaching. The bodyguards soon appeared, and with them about twenty of our surviving persecutors, whose naturally gloomy faces now reflected the terror that seemed to have seized their savage hearts. They were lined up in front of the platform, and would have thrown themselves on the ground like the spectators, had He not forbidden them. No, said he in his sweetest voice, stand, I beg you. Perhaps you will soon be able to lie down, so that you will be tired, he finished with a sonorous laugh. I saw the line of criminals trembling with terror, and though they were callous scoundrels, I felt pity for them. A few minutes, perhaps two or three, passed in gloomy silence, during which He appeared, judging by the movement of His head— we could not, of course, see His eyes—to be examining each accused separately. At last He asked me, quietly and thoughtfully: Do you know, O my guest, who in your country is called the Oak Tree, these men? Yes, O Queen, almost every one of them, I answered, and I saw them staring at me as they heard my words. Tell me, then, and all this great company, the incident of which I have heard. Thus called to speak, I briefly related the feast of the cannibals and the attempt to torture our poor servant. I was not once interrupted. All present, both accused and others, listened in silence to my story. When I had finished, Ayesha mentioned Billal’s name, and without raising her head from the ground the old man confirmed the truth of the story. No other witnesses were heard. You have heard, He said at last in a cold, clear voice, quite different from his usual voice— one of the most remarkable qualities of this mysterious being was that he could, with a wondrous skill, adapt his voice to the circumstances. Have you anything to say to this, you stubborn children; can you in any way justify your conduct? There was a moment’s silence, until at last a middle-aged man, broad-chested and finely-featured, with eyes as sharp as a hawk, began to explain that the order they had received had spoken only of the protection of the lives of the white men, and not a word about their black servant. At the instigation of a woman who was no longer alive, they had intended to kill him with a red-hot pot, according to the old and venerable custom of the country, and then to eat him. In their blind rage they had attacked us too and now sincerely repented of their deed. He ended his speech humbly begging for mercy. Perhaps He who must be obeyed in his great wisdom he would have considered it a sufficient punishment to condemn them to be banished to the marshes, either to death or to life, according to the circumstances and possibilities. But I saw from his face that he did not expect mercy. The man’s speech was followed by the deepest silence. The flickering flames of the lamps cast giant shadows on the rock walls of the cave, and the whole occasion was so strange and fairy-like that I have never seen the like before, not even in that enchanted land. In front of the platform the spectators lay motionless on the ground like the dead, and their dense ranks faded away into the gloomy darkness that prevailed further on. Before this recumbent audience stood the accused, trying to appear indifferent and thus to conceal their natural terror. On the right and left stood the bodyguards in white, armed with great spears and knives, and the mute male and female servants, who watched the spectacle with curious eyes. Above them all sat on her seat that veiled white woman, whose whole being seemed to radiate a sweet and terrible power. She seemed to be surrounded by a brilliant halo of some invisible light. I have never seen her more terrifying than when she sat on that tribunal, plotting revenge. At last she pronounced the sentence. You dogs and snakes, he began in a low voice that gradually grew louder until the walls of the cave echoed, you eaters of human flesh, you have committed a double offense. First, you have run away to these strangers, who are white, and whose servant you would have tortured to death. For this crime you have already deserved death. But that is not all. You have dared to disobey me. Did I not send you word with Billal, my servant, who is the father of your family? Did I not command you to treat these strangers with kindness and hospitality , whom you would have killed anyway, if they had not been so incredibly strong and brave? Have you not been taught from childhood that the law of Hiya is always in force? The slightest disobedience is punishable by death. Has not your father taught you when you were still small children that my word must be obeyed without fail? You can just as easily command this cave to collapse on you or the sun to stand still as you can hope that I will change my ways or revoke my words according to your wishes. You know that very well, you fools. But your hearts are full of evil that bubbles to the surface like springs in a spring. If I had not been there, you would have died out hundreds of years ago – in your evil you would have destroyed one another. By trying to kill these strangers who are my guests, and especially by stubbornly opposing me, you have earned your punishment. Let you be led to the torture cave, where you will be handed over to the torturers, and those of you who are still alive at sunset tomorrow will be killed in the same way you intended to kill this servant of mine. He fell silent, and the crowd trembled with terror at the verdict. The apparent indifference of the accused disappeared as soon as they realized how terrible the punishment they had been sentenced to really was. They
threw themselves on the ground, and their agony, as they cried and pleaded for mercy, was so terrible to see that I also turned to Ayesha and begged her to spare their lives, or at least to mitigate her cruel sentence a little. My dear, he said again in Greek, which I had some difficulty in understanding, although I know ancient Greek better than many others, for Ayesha’s way of pronouncing it was very different from our modern way of pronouncing it, based on theories and old traditions —My dear, it is not right. If I were merciful to those ravenous wolves, you could not be sure of your lives for a moment. How do you think I would rule? this people? I have only one bodyguard regiment, from which there is no security. They are only my servants. The people fear me and therein lies my strength. They are as bloodthirsty as tigers and would at any moment rush upon you and drink your blood if they dared. But they dare not, for they know and feel my power. About once in a hundred years I must sit in judgment like this and sentence twenty or so scoundrels to torture and death. Do not think that I want to be cruel and enjoy the sufferings of these poor people. What good would it do me? Those who live long have no passions, my Hollys, except when their whole interest is focused on some particular matter. Although I seem to kill in my anger or when my mind is broken, it is not so. You have seen how the invisible force of the wind drives the clouds to the dizzy heights of the sky. So it is with me, O Holly. My moods and my apparent whims are like clouds that seem to be constantly changing their course without any reason, but even these little clouds are guided by a well-determined force. I do nothing without some purpose. No, men must die, and die as I have commanded. At the same time he turned to the chief of the bodyguard and said solemnly: Let the sentence be carried out at once! Chapter 17. The Burial Chambers of Kor. When the prisoners had been led away, Ayesha motioned with her hand, and the audience turned and began to scramble hastily away. The crowd resembled a flock of frightened sheep. Some distance from the platform, however, they rose to their feet and hurried away, leaving the queen and me alone with the mute servants and a few bodyguards. The greater part of the bodyguard had gone to escort the condemned. Thinking the time was right, I asked Ayesha to come to Leo and tell him how suspiciously ill Leo was. But she would not consent to my request, but said that the patient would not die before evening. Persons who were taken with this kind of fever never died except late in the evening and at daybreak. She also explained that it was much better to let the disease develop to its peak before she broke its power. So I rose and was about to leave, but she asked me to stay, as she wanted to talk to me and show me the wonders of the caves. As I was completely captivated by her charms, I could not refuse even if I had wanted to. She rose from her chair and descended from the platform, making a few signs to her mute servants. Two girls placed themselves in front of us and two behind us, but the other servants and the remaining bodyguards, bowing low, departed. Now will you see some of the wonders of this place, O Holly? he asked then. Let me see this cave. Have you ever seen anything like it? And yet it is made by men. That extinct race, who in the darkest antiquity dwelt in a city whose ruins are still visible on the plain, have hewn this cave and many others like it. Great and wonderful must have been these people of Kor, but like the ancient Egyptians they thought more of their dead than of their living. How many workmen do you suppose were working this cave, and how many years do you suppose it took to complete the work? Tens of thousands, I answered. Yes, O Holly. This people were very old before anything was known of the Egyptians. I can read a little of their writings—I have gradually become familiar with the language—and this cave is of their last days. Look here, and pointing to the rock wall behind him he signaled the girls to raise their lamps high. On the wall above the platform was a bas-relief of an old man sitting on a chair. He had a short ivory staff in his hand and to my mind he looked very much like an old man, whose death, embalming, and burial were depicted on the wall of our dining room. The chair on which he sat was exactly like the chair on the dais on which Ayesha had sat when judging her disobedient subjects. Beneath the picture was a short inscription written in those strange characters I mentioned before. To my recollection, I have not described these characters in more detail, the likes of which I have never seen anywhere else. I can say that I know the writing of almost all the languages ​​of the world, and the writing on the wall seemed to me to be very Chinese. Ayesha read the inscription with some difficulty and translated it for me. The inscription read: In the year four thousand two hundred and fifty-nine, after the founding of the capital of the Kor Empire, this cave , or burial place, was completed during the reign of the great Kor Emperor, Tisno . The people, with their slaves, worked here for three generations , and this cave was designated as the final resting place of the noble citizens who would come after . Heaven bless their work, and let Tisno, our noble emperor, sleep in peace until the day of his awakening. And may his servants and his descendants, who are brought here to sleep their last sleep, rest in peace. You see, O Holly, said he, when he had finished his tale, that about four thousand years before this cave was completed , a city was founded, the ruins of which are still visible on the plain. When I first looked upon the cave, two thousand years ago, it was just as it is now. Think, then, how old that city must have been! Follow me now, and I will show you how that mighty people perished when the time of their destruction had come, and he went into the center of the cave and showed me a smooth-hewn block of rock, which was carefully fitted into a round opening in the floor of the cave. Look, stranger, said he. Can you guess what that stone and the opening could tell? No, O Queen, I answered. Ayesha turned to the left, looking from the end of the cave, and stopped by the wall, beckoning her servants to come there with their lamps. On the wall was an inscription drawn with some red dye, the letters of which were exactly the same as those in the inscription below the image of the Emperor Tisno of Kor . The dye was still so bright that all the letters were clearly visible, and Ayesha began to read and translate for me the inscription, which read: — I Junis, high priest of the great temple of Kor, write on the rock of this burial place in the year four thousand eight hundred and three after the founding of Kor. Kor has fallen! Its palaces are deserted, and no more song and music are heard from its halls. It no longer rules the world, and its countless ships no longer sail on trade voyages to distant lands. Kor has fallen! Its mighty cities are gradually falling into ruins, inhabited only by wolves and hyenas. All the harbors and canals that the people of Kôr built will eventually fall into the hands of the savage and wild swans that will come after them. Twenty-five months ago, a cloud appeared over Kôr and its hundred cities, pouring out a devastating plague upon our land. The disease killed the people, the plague struck the old and the young, and spared no one. One after another fell sick, turned black, and died—whether old or young, rich or poor, man or woman, prince or slave. The plague raged day and night, and those who escaped the clutches of the plague died of hunger. The bodies of the children of Kôr could no longer be hardened against the ravages of time, according to the old custom of the land, when there were so many dead, but they were dropped through an opening in the floor into the immense pit beneath this cave. Of this great and mighty people, who were the light of the whole world, only a small group remained at last , who fled to the seashore and sailed northward . Now I, Junis, the last high priest of the great temple, the author of this writing, the only living being in this whole in a great city. I do not know whether there may still be some inhabitants in the other cities. I write this with sorrow and a heavy heart, because the Empire of Kor no longer exists and its temples no longer serve the gods. The palaces are deserted and all our princes and dukes, merchants, sailors and lovely women have disappeared from the face of the earth forever. I sighed in amazement – the infinite despair that breathed from those words was so moving. It was horrible to think of that sole survivor who, before going to the mana huts, wanted to tell of the terrible misfortune that had befallen his people. How must that old man have felt when, in terrible solitude and by the dim light of a small lamp, he drew on the rock wall of the cave a short story of the destruction of his people? What a subject for a painter or a preacher of morality or in general for any thinking person! “Doesn’t it seem true to you, O Holly,” said Ayesha , resting her hand on my shoulder, “that the ancient Egyptians descended from that group that fled northward? ” “I don’t know,” I replied; “the world seems very old. Old?” “Yes, old indeed.” Great and mighty nations, with a high civilization, have lived in the world one after another and have disappeared so completely that there is not the slightest trace of their existence. The ancient people of Kor have left behind them monuments that will endure for millennia, but all human work must eventually disappear. An earthquake may cause these caves to collapse, or they may be filled with water. Can anyone know what has been or what will be in the world? There is nothing new under the sun, as the Hebrew sages wrote long ago. However, I don’t think the people of Kor have completely died out. Some of the inhabitants of the other cities survived, and the savages who lived in the south, or my own countrymen, the Arabs, came and took their women as wives. These Amahaggers are therefore some kind of descendants of the mighty people of Kôr, and behold, they live in the tombs of their ancestors. But this is only a supposition, for who could know for sure. I myself cannot see so far into the night of time. Yes, the ancient people of Kôr were a mighty people, who conquered lands as long as there was something to conquer and then settled peacefully in the safety of their mountains. Life was lovely and carefree. Male and female servants took care of the comfort of their masters. Poets composed hymns in honor of the mighty, and sculptors adorned the cities and tombs with their works of art. They traded, quarreled, ate, hunted, and amused themselves until the hour of destruction came. But let us go and see the chasm beneath this cave, which the writing speaks of. Your eyes have never seen such a sight. We entered a smaller side passage leading from the cave , and descending a steep flight of steps, we came to a large passage, at least sixty feet below the floor of the great cavern. In the ceiling I noticed at regular intervals large holes which I thought were ventilation ducts. Suddenly Ayesha stopped and ordered the servants to raise the lamps higher, and as she had predicted I saw a sight the like of which I do not think I shall ever see again. We stood on the edge of a deep pit, at least as large as the vault under St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. By the light of the lamps I saw that the place was nothing but an immense bone-chamber, for the pit was filled to the brim with skeletons, forming a tall, pale pyramid, horribly visible in the light of the lamps . The bodies had fallen one on top of the other from the opening above, and thus this ghastly heap had been created. I cannot imagine a more horrible sight than this last giant grave of a people long since dead. The sight was all the more horrible, as many of the bodies had simply dried up in the exceptionally dry air of the cave. With their empty eye sockets they stared at us every from. I let out a cry of astonishment, and the echo of my voice threw off a skull that had been swinging for thousands of years at the top of the pyramid. The skull began to roll right towards us, and as it fell it naturally set other bones in motion, so that at last the whole heap seemed to be moving as if the skeletons were about to rise to greet us. Let us go, I said. I have seen enough. This must be the tomb of those who died of the plague, isn’t it? I added, turning away. That is so. The people of Kor always embalmed their dead, like the ancient Egyptians, but they were more skilled at it than the Egyptians. The skilled masters of Kor filled the veins of the deceased with a strong liquid, thus preserving all the parts of the body unchanged, while the Egyptians removed the brain and entrails. But come here, and you shall see for yourself, and he stopped at the mouth of a side passage, beckoning his servants to come nearer with their lamps. We entered a small room with two stone platforms. Otherwise the chamber was exactly like my bedroom at our first halting place. On each stone platform lay a body , wrapped in a yellowish cloth, covered with an almost imperceptible layer of dust . Compared with the immense length of time the dead had lain in the chamber, the layer of dust that had settled on them was unexpectedly thin, but there was nothing in those caves that could have turned to dust. On the platform beside the bodies and on the floor were several vases decorated with paintings, but I generally saw few weapons of war in the tombs. Take away that curtain, O Holly, said Ayesha, but when I stretched out my hand to do as she commanded, I could not carry out my intention. It seemed to me an insult to the sacred, and to tell the truth, it frightened me a little. The terrible solemnity of the place and the presence of the dead made me timid. Laughing at my fear, Ayesha herself pulled away the coverlet, under which was seen another, even finer coverlet, the shroud of the deceased lying on the stone platform. Ayesha pulled that aside too, and for the first time in thousands of years the eyes of the living looked upon this last sleeping deceased. On the platform lay a woman of about thirty-five years of age, who must have been very beautiful. Even now her calm regular features, her beautifully arched eyebrows , and her long eyelashes, which cast delicate shadows on that ivory-white face in the light of our lamps, were touchingly beautiful. In her white clothes, with her thick, bluish-black hair flowing around her, she slept her last long sleep, and on her arm rested a small, sweet child, its face against her breast. The sight was so moving that my eyes —I am not ashamed to admit it—filled with tears. Silently I looked at them, and my thoughts flew through the ages to some happy home in the great capital of Kôr, where this charming woman had lived her life and, in the fullness of time, had entered the gates of Hades, taking her youngest child with her. There they lay before us, mother and child, telling us of a human life lived in antiquity, forgotten thousands of years ago, more vividly than any written memoir. With reverence I put the linen curtains in place and turned with a sigh to look at the deceased resting on the other platform. I carefully pulled aside the cover that covered a middle-aged man dressed in white with a long graying beard. He was evidently the husband of the woman lying on the other platform, who, after many years of separation, had finally come to be with her loved ones forever. After leaving this chamber, we visited several others, but it would take too long to tell all that we saw. Each chamber had its inhabitants, for the six hundred years that elapsed between the completion of this burial place and the destruction of the Kori people seem to have been sufficient for all these countless tombs were filled. It also became apparent that the peace of those deceased had not been disturbed by anyone since they had been laid to rest. I could write a whole book about those tombs, but that would be very monotonous. The embalming had been carried out so masterfully that almost all the bodies we saw were the same as they were on the day of their death thousands of years ago. Nothing could harm them in the deep silence of the mountain. The alternation of cold and heat was not felt there, and no dust could penetrate, and that fragrant liquid with which they had been impregnated seemed to have an eternal effect. We met with a few exceptions. Such bodies indeed looked quite different, but when you touched them, the flesh immediately disintegrated into dust at the point of contact, so it was obvious that such bodies were nothing but heaps of dust. Ayesha explained that this was because the blood vessels of these bodies had not been filled with that preserving fluid, but had merely been immersed in it for a time. For some reason the burial had been so hurried that the embalming had not been completed. But I cannot pass over the last chamber in silence, for the sight I saw there was even more moving than the first we had visited. There were only two dead bodies there, resting on the same platform. I pulled back the covering, and a beautiful and moving group was revealed . On the stone platform lay a flourishing youth, who was gently embracing a charming girl who was sleeping on his arm, and his lips were touching her forehead. I lifted the youth’s white mantle a little and saw a wound at his heart , caused by a dagger blow, and on the girl’s white marble breast there was a similar blow from which her young spirit had escaped. Above it were two words drawn on the wall. Ayesha translated the inscription, which read: The Initiates of Death. What had the life story of those two been like? Young and beautiful they had certainly been, and in life they had already loved each other and had not been separated in death. I closed my eyes and in my imagination I went back thousands of years. I seemed to see their shocking deaths, and the picture that my imagination conjured up was so vivid and so detailed that I thought I had almost achieved the supernatural ability to see clearly things that had happened long ago and had been hidden from others. On the brightly lit platform of the large cave, from which Ayesha had just pronounced her sentence, stood a dignified old man dressed in white and, by all accounts, in the garb of a high priest. The cave was full of young and old warriors, whom the chiefs were currently marching to their pre-determined places. This young girl stood before the altar, motionless as a statue. Her golden, thick hair fell in shining curls over her shoulders, and slightly overshadowed her marble-pale face , which was whiter than her clothes. There she stood, a beautiful pale girl, the most beautiful of the beautiful— purer than a lily and colder than ice. A youth dressed in purple entered the cave, preceded and followed by poets and beautiful girls singing wedding songs. But as the procession approached the beautiful girl standing before the altar, she trembled with terror, and at the same moment this dark-haired youth rushed from the crowd and clasped the girl in his arms. He pressed a passionate kiss to the lips of his beloved , whose pale cheeks began to glow rosy red like the reddish glow of dawn in the eastern sky. A terrible tumult arose in the cave , and with the flashing of swords the youth was torn from his beloved and killed before his eyes with a blow of the sword. But when the youth fell, the girl, with a cry, snatched the dagger from his belt and plunged it into her chest, right through the heart, and fell dead on her beloved, covering him with her body. With mournful cries of lamentation the splendid wedding party dispersed. from the scene of my vision. The past had closed its book again, and I awoke to reality. The reader may forgive me for relating this vision of my imagination in the midst of describing facts, but my vision was so vivid and so real that I could not help telling it. — Besides, can anyone say what kind of relationship there is between imagination and past, present, and future events . What is imagination? Is it the projection of unknown facts into our inmost being, or the thought-activity of our souls? My vision lasted but the twinkling of an eye, and referring to the dead, Ayesha said in a solemn, moving voice that perfectly suited my dream: Behold the fate of man. To the grave and oblivion we all eventually fall! Nifri, I too, whose life span is so long. For me too , O Holly, thousands of years hence, and thousands of years since you have passed through the gates of Hades and disappeared into the mists, the day will come when I shall die and become like you and those dead. What profit is it to me then that by the secret of nature which I have discovered I have been able to live longer than other mortals and to defy both old age and death for a time, when I must die in the end? What are ten thousand or ten times ten thousand years compared with eternity? Nothing. That time is like a single breath of the Spirit of the East, and passes as quickly as the mist of the night vanishes at the rising of the sun. Behold the fate of men! Our turn will come. Into that sleep we too will fall asleep once, but we will wake up just as surely. Then we will fall asleep again, and this alternation will continue until the worlds are dead and there is no other life than that which is immediately connected with the Spirit of Life. What then will become of us both and of those dead? Shall we live when the end of all things comes, or must we die? Death is but the night of life, but after the night comes a new day, which in turn darkens into night again. What then is our fate, when day and night, life and death, have vanished where they once appeared? Who could see so far? Not even I! Have you seen enough, my strange guest? he added after a moment in a completely different voice, and his demeanor had changed. If you wish, I will show you more of my court halls, the many wonders of these tombs. I can show you the place where Tisno, the greatest and most ingenious emperor of Kor, during whose time these caves were hewn, sleeps his last sleep in a fairy-tale splendor that seems to forever defy the all-destroying tooth of time. It is as if he were demanding these dead, these empty shadows of the past, to pay homage to his glorious vanity. I have seen enough, O Queen, I answered. These testimonies of our final destiny have shaken my mind. Man is weak and impressionable. Take me hence, O Ayesha! Chapter 18. Kallikrates. With mute servants lighting our way, we came in a few minutes to the staircase that led to the Queen’s reception room, the same one through which Billali had trudged yesterday . I was about to bid the Queen farewell, but she bade me stay. No, said she, stay with me, O Holly, for I must confess that our conversation amuses me greatly. Consider, O Holly, that in two thousand years I have had no one with whom I could converse but my slaves and my own thoughts. Although I have attained great wisdom through my meditation and discovered many secrets, I am nevertheless weary of my own thoughts and weary of socializing only with myself, for the food of memories is truly bitter in taste and we can only chew it with the teeth of hope. Your thoughts are indeed childish and undeveloped, as befits one so young, but they come from a thinking brain. You truly resemble those old thinkers with whom I used to argue in Athens and in the Arabian Becca. Your form is rough and gloomy, as if you had spent your whole life studying old badly written Greek manuscripts, the dirt of which has darkened even your skin. So draw aside the curtain and sit here beside me; let us eat fruit and pass the time in pleasant conversation. As you see, I am removing my veil again. It is your own fault, O Holly—I warned you. You are also praising me as beautiful, as those old thinkers did, completely forgetting their great wisdom. They should really be ashamed! She rose and, shaking off her white veil, she stood before me, radiantly beautiful, like some snake that has just shed its shiny skin, and looked at me with her wonderful eyes, whose charm was almost paralyzing, and at the same time she gave a sweet laugh that rang through the room like the tinkling of silver bells. She was quite different from before, and her whole being seemed to have changed. She was no longer racked with pain and bitterness, as I had seen her when she cursed her dead rival, nor so icy cold as she had just been when she had sentenced the criminals. Nor was she so solemn and solemn as when we had walked in those gloomy chambers of death. No; now she resembled the exultant Aphrodite, and seemed to radiate a wonderful and captivating joy of life. Her eyes sparkled, her laughter fluttered, and shaking her thick hair, the sweet fragrance of which filled the whole room, she began to hum some old Greek hymn, tapping the floor with the toes of her pretty sandals. Her majesty had completely disappeared under the cover of laughing eyes, from which it now and then flashed faintly like lightning in the bright sunshine. Like her white veil she had shaken off her nocturnal bitterness, the cold of the courtroom, and the solemn melancholy of the sepulchre, and now stood before me as the embodiment of the sweetest and most enchanting femininity, but more perfect and, in a way, more spiritual than any mortal woman. Now, my Holly, sit down where you can see me well. Do not forget that you yourself have willed it, and do not blame me if your heart becomes so sick that you wish you were dead before your curious eyes saw me. Now tell me frankly, while you sit there, am I not charmingly beautiful? Do not be hasty, but consider carefully before you answer and tell the truth. Examine me feature by feature , not forgetting my body, look at my hands and feet, and admire the delicacy of my snow-white hips, my eyes, my little ears, and then tell me, have you ever seen a woman who in any respect surpassed my beauty? Perhaps you think I am not thin enough about my waist, but that is because this golden serpent-shaped belt is too loose and does not bind my clothes as tightly as it should. But in that, this wise serpent is right. It knows that it is wrong to tighten the waist. Give me your hand. There you go! Squeeze a little, just very lightly—you see—your fingers touch each other, oh Holly! My measure was full. I could not stand it any longer. I am only an ordinary man, but he was more than a woman. Heaven knows who he was—I do not know! Then I fell on my knees at his feet and swore to him, miserably mixing all possible languages—in such situations a man is bound to be confused—that I adored her more than any woman ever was, and was ready to give even my immortal soul to marry her, which I would certainly have done at that moment. There is no man who would not have done as I have done. For a moment he looked a little astonished, but then he burst out laughing and clapped his hands in delight. So soon, oh Holly! he laughed. I was already wondering how many minutes it would be before you knelt before me. It has been It is a long time since I have seen a man fall to the ground, enchanted by my beauty, and believe me: the sight melts a woman’s heart. Ah, that desire which is the sole right of our sex, wisdom and the experience of thousands of years can never quell. What do you want?—what do you really mean? You do not know what you are doing. Have I not told you that I am not for you? I love only one and you are not he. Ah, Holly, in all your wisdom—you are very wise in a way—you behave foolishly and seek the impossible. You want to look into my eyes—perhaps you want to kiss me! Well, if you like, look, and bending towards me he stared at me with his dark, penetrating eyes; and if you like, you may kiss me, for the mark of kisses is not visible except perhaps in the heart. You may kiss me, but I tell you beforehand that when you do, your heart will burst with love for me and you will die of despair, and he leaned closer and closer until his soft curls touched my forehead and his fragrant breath was felt on my face, making me shiver and my blood rush in my ears. As I reached out to draw him into my arms he suddenly straightened up and his expression became serious. He raised his hand above my head and I felt as if something had flowed from his hand that cooled my feelings and made me remember what propriety and proper conduct required. Enough of this nonsense, he said, with a hint of severity in his voice. Listen, Holly. You are a decent and honest man and I would gladly spare your peace of mind, but it is so difficult for a woman to be merciful. I have told you I am not for you, so let your thoughts pass me by like a breeze, and follow their old paths—even despair, if you will. You do not know me, Holly. If you had seen me ten hours ago, when the storm of passions was raging in my heart, you would have been afraid and would have shuddered away from me. My moods are many, and like the water in that cup my soul reflects many storms, but they pass, O Holly, and are soon forgotten. Water is water, and I am I, and I cannot change. Therefore do not care what I look like, when you do not know what I really am. If you lose your temper again, I will cover myself with my veil, and you shall never see my face again. I rose and sank down on the cushions beside her. Although my feelings had subsided for a moment, I trembled like a leaf that still moves after a gust of wind has passed. I dared not tell him that I had seen the tumult of his passions, his anguish and despair, as he cursed his rival by the flickering flame of the tomb. Well, then, he continued, let us now taste these wonderful fruits, which are—believe me—the only true food for man. Tell me about the doctrine of that Hebrew Messiah, who appeared in the world after me, and whom you say now rules over Rome, Greece, Egypt, and the barbarian nations beyond them, unknown to me in my time . His doctrine must be very strange, for in my time people would not even listen to our doctrine. Feasting, pleasures, drinking, bloodshed, and fighting—that is their whole creed! Recovering myself a little, and ashamed of the weakness which had surprised me, I tried to explain to him as best I could the doctrines of Christianity, which did not seem to excite his special interest, except the doctrine of heaven and hell. His whole attention seemed to be fixed on the man who had founded the doctrine. I also told him that among his own people, the Arabs, another prophet had arisen, one Mohammed, whose doctrine was still professed by many millions . I understand, said he—two new religions! I am I have known so many, and doubtless there were more before I came to the caves of Kor. Mankind always wants to know what is really beyond the clouds. Fear of the end—that is, some finer form of selfishness—causes the birth of religions. Note, Holly, all religions want to assure the future life of their adherents, or at least try to advise how to proceed to make it as good as possible. Evil is only for those who are swamped, who do not want to join the adherents of any religion, and who see the light shining on true believers as through a dense fog. Religions change, nations vary, and nothing remains the same except the world and human nature. Ah, if a man could understand that his salvation depends entirely on himself! It is there within him, where the breath of life dwells and he is aware of good and evil. Let him build on it, standing firm, and not throw himself down before the image of some unknown god, fashioned after his miserable self, but with larger brains to hatch evil and longer arms to practice it. I thought these thoughts of his were exactly like the opinions expressed in the nineteenth century, about which I had heard lectures in a very different place than the caves of Kôr, and which I did not—by the way—accept at all. I did not want to argue the question, however, because my mind had still not regained its equilibrium after all that I had experienced during the last hours, and I felt that I was in any case going to the bottom. It is tiring enough to argue with a well-established materialist who heaps upon you mountains of dry facts and depresses your mind with the unshakable language of numbers, while you can only very feebly strike back with your ingenious conclusions and the snowballs of confidence that melt so easily in the struggle of life. How then could I have hoped to take my side against a cave creature whose brain was preternaturally sharp and who had behind him two thousand years of experience, not to mention the knowledge of all the secrets of nature. Feeling that he would convert me before I would convert him, I thought it wisest to remain silent. I have since bitterly regretted this course of action, for I thereby lost the only opportunity of knowing what Ayesha really believed and what her doctrines really were. “Oh, my Hollys,” he continued, “my countrymen have also found a prophet, and according to you a false prophet, which I do not doubt. You think he is false because he has not proclaimed the doctrine which you profess. In my time it was otherwise, for we Arabs had many gods. We worshipped Allah, Saba, the Lord of Heaven, Al Uzza, Wadd, Sawa, Yaghuth, the lion of Yama, Murad’s Yauk horse, Hamyar’s Nasr eagle, the stone image of Manah, in whose honor the blood of victims flowed, and many others. Such madness! Such shameful ignorance! When I arose to proclaim my wisdom, they wanted to kill me in the name of their enraged gods. It has always been so — but, my Hollys, are you tired of sitting so silent? Or are you afraid that I will teach you my doctrine? — for I have mine.” What kind of teacher would there be without his own doctrine? Be careful not to anger me, for I would have you as my pupil, to whom I would teach all my wisdom, and we two would found a religion into which all other religions would be completely absorbed. You ostentatious man! Half an hour ago you were on your knees before me—a posture that does not suit you, Holly—and you swore to love me. Tell me, what shall we do now? I know. I came to see that young man, that lion, as Billali says, who came with you, and who is sick. The fever must have broken by now, and if he is dying, I will cure him. Don’t be afraid, Holly, I use no witchcraft. Haven’t I told you twice that there is no witchcraft? For it is understood only as knowing and using the forces of nature. Go now, and I will come as soon as I have prepared the medicine. So I went away and met Job and Ustane, broken by grief. They said that Leon was dying, and had been looking for me everywhere. I threw myself on the bed, and one glance was enough: his last struggle had begun. He was unconscious and breathing heavily, but his lips trembled, and now and then his whole body trembled faintly. I knew medicine enough to know that he would soon be beyond the reach of all earthly help—in five minutes it might all be over . How bitterly I cursed my selfishness and my folly, which had chained me to Ayesha when my son lay dying! How easily the charm of a woman’s eyes can seduce the best of us to evil! What a cursed scoundrel was I? For the last half hour I had scarcely remembered Leo, the man who had been my dearest companion and friend and the center of my life’s pursuits for twenty years. And now I might lose him forever! Wringing my hands, I looked around me. Ustane sat by the bed, with a look of dark despair in her eyes. Job was weeping bitterly, crouched in a corner. Noticing me looking at her, she left the room to give vent to her grief more audibly in the corridor outside. Ayesha was now my only hope. She, only she could save my son—unless he had lied to me—which I could not believe. I resolved at once to hasten to her and beg her to come. But at that moment Job burst in, his hair standing on end with terror. Oh, God have mercy on us, sir! he whispered in fright, I saw a dead person in that corridor, who is coming this way! I was a little taken aback by that too, but at the same time I noticed that the ghost Job had seen was naturally Ayesha, whose shroud-like veil and incomprehensibly silent gait had made Job think that some ghost was gliding towards him in the dark corridor. The matter became clear at once, for Ayesha appeared in the same chamber. Job turned and, seeing that veiled creature , he groaned painfully that now it was coming and, jumping into a corner , hid his face against the wall. Ustane, who had apparently guessed who the frightening visitor was, threw himself on the floor with his mouth open. You come at the last moment, Ayesha, I said, because my son is about to die. Then there is no need to worry yet, he answered soothingly. If he has not yet fallen into his last, long sleep, then I can certainly bring him back to life. Is that man your servant, and is that how servants greet guests in your country? He is afraid of you because of your head-to-toe veil—which gives a somewhat ghostly impression, I replied. Ayesha laughed. And the girl? There she is, and apparently the very one you told me about. Order them both to leave, and then I will see how this lion of yours fares. I find it repugnant to show my skill in the presence of servants. So I told Ustane in Arabic and Job in English to leave the room, which order the latter obeyed most hastily and with great joy, for he could not calm down in the least. Ustane was different. What does ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ want? he whispered, overcome with fear and pain, unwilling to leave Leo. A wife must be allowed to be with her master and her husband, who is dying. No, I will not go, sir. “Why won’t that woman leave, my Holly?” Ayesha asked from across the room, where she was casually examining some of the carved reliefs on the wall. “She doesn’t want to leave Leo,” I replied, not quite sure what she meant. should have been said. Ayesha turned and, pointing to the door, said only one word, but with an emphasis that could not be denied. Go! Then Ustane crawled past her and disappeared silently into the passage. As you see, my Holly, said Ayesha, laughing, it was only right to teach those people a little obedience. This girl was going to defy me, but she probably did not hear how I punished the disobedient this morning. Let us now look at the young man, and he glided silently like a shadow to the edge of the bed where Leo lay, facing the wall. Your son is very beautiful, she said, bending down to look at Leo’s face. But at the same time he started back as if he had received a stunning blow and staggered backwards across the room to the opposite wall , screaming so horribly that my blood ran cold. What is the matter with you, Ayesha? I cried. Is he dead? He turned and rushed at me like a furious tiger. You dog! she hissed like a snake, why did you hide this from me? and she stretched out her hand towards me. I thought my last moment had come. What? I exclaimed, paralyzed with terror; what? Ah! she sighed then, perhaps you knew nothing. Listen then, oh Holly, listen to what I am going to tell you now. There—there lies my beloved, my longed-for Callicrates, whom I once lost, but who has now at last returned to me, as I knew he would do when the moment of my release came. Yes—now he is here! and she cried and laughed and generally behaved exactly as any woman would have behaved in her position. Between her tears she whispered: Callicrates, oh, Callicrates. What nonsense, I thought to myself, though I did not want to say it, and in my utmost distress I concentrated all my attention on my dear Leo son. I feared he might die while Ayesha endured her shocking emotion. If you cannot help now, Ayesha, I ventured to remind you, your Kallikrates will soon be beyond your hearing. He is just drawing his last breaths. You are right, she said with a start. Oh, why didn’t I come sooner. I am so nervous—my hands are shaking—and yet the delivery is so easy. Oh, Holly, you take this bottle,’ and she fumbled for a small clay bottle from the folds of her dress, and pour the contents down his throat. He will get better, if he is not dead. Quickly now, quickly! He is dying! I looked at the bed and saw that Ayesha was right. The death struggle had begun. Leo’s face was gray and his throat was rumbling. There was a small wooden plug in the bottle, which I pulled out with my teeth, getting a drop on my tongue. The liquid had a sweet taste, and I felt my head spinning with a reddish mist flashing before my eyes, but fortunately the intoxication vanished as quickly as it had come. As I bent over Leo, I saw that his life-strings were about to snap—his golden-curled head was turning slowly from side to side, and his lips were slightly parted. I asked Ayesha to support his head, which she was able to do, though he was trembling from the rush to his heels like a willow leaf. I opened Leo’s mouth and poured the contents of the bottle down his throat. A faint mist immediately rose from the liquid, as is known to happen when certain substances come together, but the sight could not increase my hope, which I had almost lost. The death throes, however, immediately ceased, and I thought he had already crossed the stream of death. His face turned marble white, and his heart, whose activity had been scarcely noticeable, seemed to have stopped altogether—only his eyelids quivered slightly. In despair I looked at Ayesha, whose veil had fallen from her shoulders in the moment of her recent emotion. Pale as death, she still held Leo’s head and stared into his face with an expression of unspeakable pain. It was clear that she too did not know whether Leo would live or die. So About five minutes passed slowly and I saw that he was about to lose hope. His sweet face seemed to gradually wither and wither, and his indescribable anguish cast dark shadows around his wonderful eyes. Even the purple of his lips paled until they were as white as Leo’s face and trembled painfully. The sight was heartbreaking, and even broken by my own grief I felt a deep pity for him. Too late? I whispered. Ayesha buried her face in her hands and did not answer, and I turned away too. But at the same time I heard a deep sigh and, looking at the bed, I saw a faint blush rise on Leo’s cheeks. The first breath was followed by another, and strangest of all! The man we had thought dead, turned over on his side. Do you see? I whispered. I see, Ayesha answered quietly. He is saved. I thought I was too late—if I had stayed a second longer—he—he would have been gone! she added, bursting into tears and sobbing as if her heart were about to burst, more charming than ever before. At last she gradually calmed down and her sobbing ceased. Forgive me for my weakness, Holly my friend, she said. As you see, I am only an ordinary person, a weak woman like my sisters. But think. You told me today about that place of torture and pain—I don’t remember now whether it was called Hell or Hades—which your religion teaches. Once there, human souls cannot be freed from their past, but the pangs of conscience produced by faults, errors, crimes, and all the sins they have committed in their earthly lives torment them from eternity to eternity. All the desires they can no longer satisfy keep them in perpetual despair. Thus have I lived for two thousand years. Sixty-six generations , by your reckoning, have I spent in that place which you call hell. The memory of a crime I have committed has not given me a moment’s rest. Nights and days an indescribable longing has gnawed at my mind. No one has been to comfort me— I have suffered alone—I have not been able to die, and the dreary path of my life has been lit only by the flickering and sometimes fading light of hope, which I knew would one day lead me to my deliverer. Oh, Holly, listen carefully to what I say, for you shall never hear another story like this, not even if I were to extend your life by ten thousand years, which I will do to reward you, if you will. Think: at last my deliverer has arrived—he whom I had waited for and longed for for centuries. I knew that he must come one day, when the time was fulfilled, but not how or when. I cannot lift the curtain of the future, and even present things may remain a secret from me. Here he has lain for many hours near me, dying, and I knew nothing—I, who have waited for him for two thousand years! And when I finally meet him, it is only by a hair’s breadth that I shall not lose him again. There he is fighting on the very edge of death, beyond which even my strength does not extend, and if he dies now, I must suffer the pains of hell anew. Century after century is fading into the night of time, and I only wait—I wait until time is fulfilled again and my beloved, longed for with tears and suffering, returns to me. You gave him the medicine and five minutes passed before we knew whether he would live or die, and I tell you, O Holly, those five minutes were longer than my sixty-generation wait. But they passed gradually and he showed no sign of life and as far as I know the medicine will do no good unless it has taken effect in five minutes. I thought he was dead and all the suffering and pain of the centuries past burned in my heart. as if a poisoned spear had pierced me, for I had lost my Callicrates again. And when my last spark of hope had died, she sighed deeply—she lived! Then I knew she would live, for she does not die, whom my medicine affects. Think, my Holly—how wonderful! Now she sleeps twelve hours and wakes refreshed and fully conscious. She fell silent, and caressing Leo’s golden curls, she pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, which sight—though beautiful and touching —would yet sting my heart, for I was jealous! Chapter 19. Depart, Woman! Ayesha stood silent for a moment, and judging from the angelic brightness of her face, she had sunk into the ecstasy of happiness caused by the happy turn of events, completely forgetting her surroundings. However, something seemed to be coming to her mind at the same time, and her face darkened. I had almost forgotten that woman, that Ustane, he said. What is she, exactly—a servant of Kallikrates, or what? If I understand her, she is Leo’s wife, according to the Amahaggers’ customs, I answered, shrugging my shoulders, but I cannot say for sure. Ayesha’s form darkened like a threatening thundercloud, for though she was old, she was jealous. This state of affairs must not continue, he snapped. The girl must die, and there. For what crime? I exclaimed in horror. In falling in love with Leo she has committed no more crime than you, O Ayesha. She loves a young man whom her tender feelings have not offended, but quite the contrary. What wrong has the girl done, then? You are indeed ridiculous, O Holly, he answered almost irritably. What wrong has the girl done? She has intruded between me and my beloved. I know I can win a man from her—for is there a man in the world, O Holly, who can resist me when I put all my strength into action? Men are faithful only so long as they are not tempted. If the temptation is severe enough, a man will yield, for all men have their breaking point, and the gratification of passion is to a man what wealth and power are to a woman—that is his weakness. Believe me, mortal women fare badly in heaven, as you tell me. If spirits are more beautiful than them, their husbands cannot resist temptation, but become unfaithful, and heaven becomes their hell. If a woman is beautiful enough, a man can be bought with her beauty, and a woman’s beauty can be bought with gold, if there is enough gold. So it was in my days, and so it will be to the end of the world. The world is but a great market-place, my Holly, where everything is offered to the highest bidder. These coldly mocking remarks, which were in keeping with Ayesha’s incomprehensible age and experience, did not please me, and I replied firmly that there was no marriage or any such nonsense in our heaven. Wouldn’t heaven be heaven then, you mean? she laughed. Shame on you, Holly, to think so impishly of us poor women? So marriage is the boundary between heaven and hell? But let us stop this useless argument now. We have no time to argue or invent witticisms now . What a strange man, always picking and choosing! Are you one of the thinkers of these times, that you have such a strange and passionate desire to argue about everything? That girl must die in any case. I can certainly take her lover from her, but if she lives, Callicrates may think of her now and then, and I cannot bear that. My lord must not have any other woman in his thoughts—she is mine; only mine. The girl has tasted the sweet cup of love and can be content, for even a moment’s charm of love is better than centuries of loneliness. Her moment has struck. No, no! I cried, this would be a heinous crime, and crime always follows punishment. For your own sake, I pray, do not take to that. Is it a crime, you foolish man, to remove from your path a person who stands between you and the main goal you long for? Then our whole life would be nothing but a continuous series of crimes, for every day we destroy something in order to live. In the end, only the strongest remain in the world. The weak must perish and be destroyed in the struggle for life, for the world and its fruits are only for the strong. Every tree that has grown large has suppressed at least twenty smaller ones in order to be able to flourish in peace. In pursuit of power and glory, we rush over the bodies of those who have collapsed and been destroyed in competition; we even snatch our food from the mouths of starving children. Such is our life when we look at it without embellishment. You say that evil only begets evil and crime only brings punishment, but you are wrong. Crimes can bring about much good, and goodness in turn brings much evil. The cruel rule of a despot may be a blessing to thousands of people who live later , but the gentleness of a saintly ruler may bring a whole people into slavery. From the goodness or wickedness of his heart, a man seems to do good or evil, strikes here and strikes there, but he cannot say what the consequences of his moral feelings will be in the course of time, and he does not know where his blows have finally fallen. He cannot count the invisible threads of the web of cause and effect. Good and evil, love and hate, night and day, joy and sorrow, man and woman, heaven and earth—all these are necessary to each other, but does anyone know what the end of each will be? There is a destiny in whose hands the threads of that web are, and which sees that every thread has its purpose. Therefore we are unable to decide what is good and what is evil, for others may have quite the opposite views on these matters. Do you hear what I say, O Holly? I felt it hopeless to take sides in this wisdom, which in its consistency would absolutely have completely overthrown the moral doctrine we held to be correct. Hearing his words, I was again seized with fear, for could anything be impossible for a being who was not bound by any human laws and who had not the slightest idea of ​​right and wrong? Our moral sense, however imperfect and conventional, is based, according to the testimony of our conscience, on personal responsibility. But nevertheless I was eager to save Ustane, whom I respected, from the dark fate intended for her by her powerful rival . For this purpose I turned once more to Ayesha. Ayesha, I said, you are too sharp to argue with you, but you yourself have told me that every man has a law in his heart, the commandments of which must be obeyed. Do you not feel the least pity for him whose place you are about to usurp? Think: you say that he whom you have mourned and longed for for two thousand years has now returned to you, and you have just saved him from death, according to your own words. Do you then wish to celebrate his return by killing the person who loves him and whom he perhaps loves in return ? Do you wish to stain your hands with the blood of the one who with his own body protected your dearest from the spears of your slaves? You have also said yourself that you once sinned grievously against this man. You killed him with your own hand because he loved the Egyptian Amenartas. How do you know this, O stranger? Where did you hear that name? I have not spoken to you of him, he cried, seizing my arm. I must have been dreaming, I answered. I have had such strange dreams here in the caves of Kôr, and this dream seems indeed to approach the truth. What good did you get from your crime? Two thousand years of painful waiting, right? And now you are ready to behave just as foolishly. Say what you will, but I repeat again that your deed will have bad consequences. Evil “There is a reward for evil,” they say, “even if evil may later turn to good.” “Woe to those through whom they come,” says Jesus of Nazareth, of whom I have told you. “If you kill this innocent girl, I tell you that a curse will come upon you, and your old tree of love will not bear any fruit. What are you going to do then? Do you really think that this young man would want to take the bloody hand of the murderer of the woman he loves?” “I have already answered you,” he said. “If I had killed you both, you and that girl, he would love me already, Holly, for he could no more escape it than you could escape death if I happened to strike you dead, O Holly. There may be some truth in your words, for I feel them penetrating my heart. Thy will be done; I will spare the girl, for I have already told you that I do not wish to be cruel for the sake of cruelty.” I will not cause nor see suffering. Send the girl here—soon now, before I change my mind, and she quickly covered her face with her misty veil. Pleased that I had succeeded so well, I went into the passage and called to Ustane, who, judging by her white clothes, was crouching under the lamps that stood at regular intervals in the passage. She rose and hurried to me. Is my master dead? Oh, do not say he is dead, she moaned, her tear-stained face so touchingly sad that my heart would have stung. No, he lives, I answered. ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ has saved him. Come in. With a deep sigh she entered and threw herself on the ground, in the manner of the Amahaggers, in the presence of the dreaded He Who Must Be Obeyed. Rise, said Ayesha in her coldest voice, and come here. Ustane obeyed and stood before her with her head bowed. Who is that man? asked Ayesha after a moment’s silence, pointing to the sleeping Leo. My husband, answered Ustane quietly. Who gave him to you? I took him according to the old custom of our land, O He. You have done wrong, woman, in taking a strange man as your husband. He is not of your race, and the old custom of the land cannot be applied in that case. Perhaps you did this in your ignorance, and therefore I spare your life, for otherwise you should have died, woman. Listen again. Return at once to your own dwellings and never dare to speak or look at this man. He is not for you. Remember that the punishment for disobeying my orders is death. Go away! But Ustane did not move. Go away, woman! Then he looked up and I saw a desperate determination on his face. No, O He, I will not go, he answered in a choked voice. He is my husband and I love him—I adore him and will not part with him. By what right do you command me to leave my husband? I saw Ayesha trembling from haste to her heels, and I trembled, fearing the worst. Be merciful, I said in Latin; her conduct is quite natural. I am merciful, she replied coldly in the same language; if I had not been, she would already be in the kingdom of the dead. Woman, he then said to Ustane, I tell you, go, before I kill you where you stand! I will not go! He is mine—mine, cried the girl in her agony. I took him and I saved his life. Kill me if you can, but I will never give up my beloved to you— never. Ayesha made a lightning-quick movement, which I scarcely had time to see, but it seemed to me as if she had lightly stroked the poor girl’s hair with her hand. I glanced at Ustane and recoiled in horror , for in her hair, across her dark curls, were three snow-white fingerprints. The girl held her head in both hands and looked around with confused eyes. Great God! I exclaimed in fright at the sight of that beyond human strength the terrifying expression, but Ayesha only laughed. Do you still think, you foolish woman, that I cannot kill you with my power? he said mockingly to the astonished girl. Look, there is a mirror. He pointed to Leo’s shaving mirror, which Job had placed among other things on Leo’s suitcase. Give it to him, O Holly, and let him see what is in his hair and whether I have not the power to kill if I will. I took the mirror in my hand and held it before Ustane. He looked at it and, feeling his hair, he looked at it once more, then fell to his knees, sobbing. Well, will you go now, or must I strike you a second time? asked Ayesha mockingly. You see, I have marked you with my seal, so that I will know you until all your hairs are equally white. If I see you here yet, be sure that your bones will soon be whiter than my mark in your hair. Terrified and utterly broken, the poor girl rose a white mark in her hair and crept out of the room, weeping bitterly. Do not look so frightened, my Holly, said Ayesha, when she had gone. I use no witchcraft— there is no witchcraft. There are only powers in nature that you do not know. I marked him to strike fear into his heart, or I should have killed him. Now I will go and send my servant to carry my dear Callicrates to the room near my chamber, that I may cherish him and be there to greet him when he wakes. I will that you and your white servant should move there also. But remember this, if your life is dear to you. Not a breath for Callicrates, for which reason the woman had left him, and of me too you may speak to him as little as possible. Remember my words, O Holly, and she left the room with silent steps, as quiet as a ghost, while I was left staring dumbfounded after her. I was indeed so bewildered and completely surprised by all the inexplicable incidents of the last few days that I thought I was going completely mad. Fortunately I had no time for long reflections, for at that moment the mute servants arrived to fetch the sleeping Leo and our belongings. Our new apartments were just behind the curtained room where I had first seen Ayesha and which we afterwards called her common room. We did not know where she slept, but it was somewhere very near. I spent the night with Leo, and he slept as soundly as the dead, without moving a finger all night. I slept fairly well too , which was necessary, although the terrible events of the last few days haunted my dreams all night. Most of all I was troubled by the sorcery with which Ayesha had struck a mark on her rival’s hair. There was something so terrible in that serpentine, lightning-fast stroke, and the instantaneous change in the color of the hair , that I doubt if any other incident far more disastrous to Ustane could have affected me so shockingly. Even now I dream of that terrible scene, and see that sobbing girl, the white mark in her hair, casting a last glance at her sleeping lover and creeping away from her fearful queen. I saw, too, in my dreams, that immense pyramid of skeletons. The skeletons rose and swarmed past me in tens of thousands, whole armies, the sun shining between their ribs. The crowd rushed across the plain to their home in the great city of Kôr ; I saw the drawbridges lowering and heard the brazen gates clanging with the blows of bony fists. The gates opened and the crowd streamed down the magnificent streets, past elaborate fountains, past palaces and temples the likes of which have never been seen. But no one was there to greet them—the markets and bazaars were completely deserted, and no one was to be seen in the empty staring windows. There was a mournful hum of voices in the air, and I I separated the words: Fallen is Kôr, our home and the residence of the emperors—fallen—fallen, reduced to rubble! Those white phalanxes marched straight through the city, and the clatter of bones echoed far and wide in the still air. When they reached the perimeter wall, they climbed the wall and shuffled along the path laid on its crest back to the drawbridge. When evening came, they set out on their return journey towards the caves, and the reddish rays of the setting sun glowed horribly in their hollow eye sockets. Their bones cast giant shadows that crept silently with the skeletal army across the plain like immense spiders. When they reached the cave, one after the other, in an endless line, through the opening in the floor into their deep grave, and with a crash and a bang, the pyramid was soon rebuilt. I woke up at once, trembling with terror , and I had time to see Ayesha, who had evidently been standing between me and Leo, looking at the sleeping youth, creeping out of our room like a shadow. I fell asleep again and woke up in the morning refreshed and refreshed. Gradually the moment approached when Leon was to wake up, according to Ayesha’s words, and a little before that Ayesha arrived at our place, wrapped from head to toe in her long veil. You will see, O Holly, she said, that your adopted son will soon wake up fully conscious and his fever will have completely disappeared. She had hardly uttered these words when Leo turned, stretched out his arms, yawned, and opened his eyes. Seeing the female creature bending towards him, Leo threw his arms around her neck and kissed her, probably thinking she was Ustan. At least she said in Arabic: Hello, Ustan, why have you wrapped that wrap around your head? Are you forcing your teeth? Then he added in English: I am terribly hungry. Listen, Job, you old jubilee, what a haunted place we have come to now—eh? I wish I could answer you, Mr. Leo, said Job, bowing suspiciously to Ayesha, whom he still looked at with a shudder of terror, for he believed unshakably and helplessly that we had come into contact with some living body. Now, don’t talk any more, Mr. Leo, you have been very ill and given us much trouble. If that young lady,” and he glanced at Ayesha, “would be so good as to move a little, I would give you a plate of meat broth. ” Leo’s attention was now entirely fixed on the young lady, who stood quite silent by the bed. That is not Ustane—where is she? Then Ayesha spoke to him for the first time, and lied in her very first words. She went somewhere to visit, but I am here in her place to serve you. Ayesha’s silvery, resonant voice and her deathly attire seemed to amaze even Leo, who was still almost in a stupor. But he said nothing at that time, but quickly ate his portion of broth and then slept until evening. When he woke up a second time, he saw me and began to ask me eagerly what had happened during his illness, but I tried to calm him down as best I could until the next day, when he woke up miraculously better. I told him a little about his illness and my own affairs, but when Ayesha was with us I could not talk much; I only mentioned that she was the queen of the country, who was very kind to us and who liked to keep her face covered. Although we talked in English, I was afraid that she would understand our speech from the expressions on our faces, and besides, I remembered the warning. The next morning Leo got up from his sickbed almost completely recovered. The wound in his side had healed, and his naturally strong frame, with the help of Ayesha’s miraculous medicine, had shaken off the exhaustion caused by that terrible fever with astonishing speed. The illness had also been so short-lived that it had not had time to drain all his strength. Along with his recovery, his memory had also returned, and he gradually remembered all our adventures until he lost consciousness while we were trying to cross the marshes. He missed Ustane, to whom he seemed very attached. He asked me about the poor girl in a thick voice, but I dared not say anything, for when Leo first woke up, Ayesha had summoned me and solemnly warned me not to say a word about the real state of affairs, while at the same time subtly hinting at what awaited me if I did not obey her. She also reminded me that I was not to tell Leo anything about her except the most necessary, for she wanted to reveal herself to Leo when the time came. Ayesha’s whole demeanor had changed. Judging from what I had seen before, I thought that she would try to charm Leo at the first suitable opportunity , whom she thought was in love with her from ancient times, but for some incomprehensible reason she did not do so. She watched silently and patiently that nothing was wanting in the hospital, and her demeanor was unspeakably calm, almost humble, which was the very opposite of her former royally proud bearing. She always spoke to Leo with deep respect and kept him with her as much as possible. Leo was naturally as curious as I had been to see the face of that mysterious woman, which I had praised in passing as being as beautiful as her body and voice. That was enough to excite the young man’s impatience to the very peak, and if he had not been still weak after his illness and longingly remembering Ustane, of whose love and bravery he spoke in moving words, I am sure that Ayesha would soon have entangled him in her web without even having to show herself to him in all her dazzling beauty. Now he was just terribly curious and at the same time afraid. Although no one had mentioned Ayesha’s fabulous age, Leo had, for understandable reasons, begun to suspect that Ayesha was indeed the mysterious woman mentioned in the story of the fragment of the pot. When on the morning of the third day, while dressing, she had completely stumped me with her questions about Ustane, I asked her to turn to Ayesha, and I said , as was true, that I did not know where Ustane had gone. After Leo had eaten a hearty breakfast, we went to see him, for the mute servants had been ordered to let us in at any time. Ayesha was, as usual, in the room which, for want of a better word, we called her living room, and when the curtains were drawn aside, she rose from her divan to greet us, or rather only Leo, to whom she extended both her hands, for I had, as you might imagine, been completely sidelined. It was indeed a beautiful sight when that lovely veiled creature and my erect Leoni met . Although Leo’s mother was Greek, except for her hair, she is, to my mind, the most typical Englishwoman. She has neither the roundness of the modern Greek nor the slippery manner of her, though I think she inherited her extraordinary beauty from her late mother, whose portrait she resembles very much. She is tall, broad-chested, and perfectly proportioned in body, and holds her head proudly high, as is evident from the name the Amahaggers have given her, the Lion. I greet you, my young stranger, said Ayesha in her sweetest voice. Glad to see you on your feet. Believe me, if I had not saved you at the very last moment, you would not be standing here before me now. But the danger is over, and I am careful–the words were pronounced with special emphasis–that it shall never be repeated. Leo bowed and, in his most beautiful Arabic, thanked him for all the kindness and tender care shown to him, an unknown stranger . No, Ayesha replied quietly, the world cannot lose a man like you. Beauty is so rare. So don’t thank me. me, who am happy at your coming. Why, old fellow, said Leo to me in English, he is very polite. It seems as if we have come into very fine company at last. I hope you have not neglected your opportunities. Great Jupiter, what lovely arms! I would tug at his coat to silence him, for I saw Ayesha’s eyes twinkling behind her veil as she looked at me intently. I hope, continued Ayesha, that my servants have taken good care of you. If there is any comfort in this miserable place, you may be sure that it is all for your own sake. Can I do nothing more for you, O stranger? Yes, O queen, answered Leo quickly. I should very much like to know where that young woman who nursed me has gone? Do you mean the girl I saw with you? asked Ayesha. I do not know where she is now; she only said she was going, without saying where. Perhaps she will come back, perhaps not. Nursing a sick person is tiring, and these savage women are very cunning. Leo grew very gloomy at these words. That was strange, he said to me in English. Then he turned to Ayesha. I cannot understand, he said; this young woman and I—we—well, we were a little in a state of confusion. Ayesha laughed melodiously, and cleverly changed the subject. Chapter 20. Give Me the Black Goat! Then we talked about this and that, and generally the conversation was so scattered that I remember almost nothing of it. For some reason, perhaps to conceal her identity and character, Ayesha did not talk as cheerfully and freely as usual. She informed Leo that she had arranged a dance that evening for our amusement. The news astonished me, for I thought the Amahaggers were too gloomy and serious to indulge in a frivolous game like dancing, but as it turned out in time, the dance of the Amahaggers bore very little resemblance to similar amusements of other peoples, both civilized and savage. As we were about to leave for our own side, Ayesha asked if Leo would like to see some of the wonders of the caves, and Leo, with great pleasure, agreed to the proposal, and we all set off, Billali and Job with us, to view the tombs. To describe our tour would be too much to repeat. We visited the pyramid of bones that had haunted my dreams the night before, and from there we went along a long corridor to a large cave where the poorer inhabitants of Kôr were buried . Their bodies were not nearly so well preserved as those we had seen in the tombs of the wealthier ones. Many were completely naked, and in one cave a thousand bodies were buried, piled in great heaps. Leo naturally watched with the greatest interest these surprising and strange sights, which were certainly capable of exciting the most lively activity of any imagination. Job, however, did not seem to have the least enthusiasm for these things. Our many strange experiences in this land of horrors had already strained his nerves to the utmost, and the sight of this people who had long since moved to the tents of the manna shocked him even more. These people, apparently only sleeping, but silent for ever, terrified him, and he did not calm down, although old Billali, in order to dispel his obvious fear, tried to calm him by saying that he should not be afraid of these dead people, because he himself would soon be like them. “That was nicely said, sir,” exclaimed Job, when I translated Billal’s little remark for him, “but you can’t expect anything else from an old, hardened cannibal. I won’t say, however, that he wasn’t quite right,” and he sighed painfully. After looking at the caves, we ate our dinner, for it was already five o’clock and we were all—especially Leo—very tired and hungry. At six we went to Ayesha, who frightened poor Job out of his wits by showing him the events in that baptismal-like vessel of water. I told Ayesha that Job was the youngest of seventeen siblings, and on hearing this Ayesha asked him to think of his brothers and sisters, or as many as he could remember having been together in his father’s tent, and at the same time to look into the water. I can never forget Job’s cry of terror when he saw the faces of his siblings in the calm surface of the water. He had been thinking back to the days of his childhood when the family had still been together. Some faces were very clear, but others were dim, always according to how clearly the image had been preserved in the memory of the seer. Ayesha’s skill in this seemed to be very limited and with a few exceptions she could only make the water reflect an event remembered by someone present, if he agreed to it. But if she wanted to look at a place she knew, she saw at the same time what was happening there at that very moment , as had happened when she had seen our arduous journey on the old canal. This was not the case, however, when it came to the thoughts of others. She showed me our university church as I remembered it on an occasion before we set out, but I could not see what was being done there now, when I looked at its reflection on the water. If Ayesha did not know the places and events, she made her mirror show only what others thought, and exactly as the image had been preserved in their minds. When we tried to show her some of the world’s famous buildings, such as St. Paul’s and the Houses of Parliament in London, for her amusement, we succeeded very badly. The whole picture was naturally in our minds, but we could not remember the details with sufficient precision, and therefore the image in the mirror remained very dim. Job watched our activities with horrified eyes, for he could not understand in the least how the images appeared in that clear water. It was all black magic in his opinion. Leo did not like these supernatural experiments of Ayesha either, which I think in all their inexplicability were only the achievements of a highly developed and extremely sensitive foresight. He said, scratching his hair, his spine shivering. After we had been amused by this for about an hour, the mute servants announced that Billal requested to speak. He was ordered to crawl in at once, which he did with as much difficulty as before, and announced that the dance performance would begin if He Who Must Be Obeyed and the white strangers would allow themselves to arrive at the party. We rose at once, and after Ayesha had thrown on a dark robe , saying in passing the same thing she had worn in the tomb when she cursed her fate, we left. The show had been arranged in the open air on a flat platform in front of the entrance to the cave, and thither we now made our way. About fifteen paces from the mouth of the cave three armchairs had been placed, on which we sat down to wait, for no one was yet to be seen. The evening was very dark, for the moon had not yet risen, and we began to wonder how the performance of the show could go on in the dark. You shall soon see, replied Ayesha, laughing, when Leo asked about it , and so we did. Ayesha had scarcely said these words, when from all the darkness rushed forth dark beings, each carrying immense torches, as we at first thought. The torches were quite blazing, and the flames shot a couple of cubits behind each bearer. There were about fifty of them, and as they rushed forward with their blazing burdens they looked like evil spirits from the underworld . Leo was the first to notice what those burdens really were. Great God! he exclaimed. Are bodies burning like that? I stared and stared. He was absolutely right—the torches with which the spectacle organized in our honor was supposed to be illuminated were like the mummies of the caves! The bearers of the blazing bodies rushed forward, and meeting each other about twenty paces from us, they stretched out their hideous burdens, thus forming a huge firework. What a deafening roar of fire and a burst of flame! Not even a tar barrel would have burned so fiercely as those mummies. And that was not all. A tall man suddenly snatched up a burning arm that had fallen to the ground, plunged into the darkness, and at the same time a narrow tongue of fire flashed high into the air, brightly illuminating the lamp from which it came. The lamp was a female mummy tied to a sturdy pole fixed to the rock , which the man with the hair had lit. He advanced a few paces and lit a second, a third, and a fourth similar torch, until we were at last in the middle of the great circle of hissing burning bodies . The embalming agent had rendered the bodies so inflammable that fire shot from the mouth and ears in tongues two feet long. Nero lit his gardens with tarred Christians, and we were now witnessing a similar spectacle, probably the first of its kind since his day. But fortunately our lamps were not living people. The spectacle was, however, so horrible and ghastly that it is almost impossible to describe it. There was something unspeakably horrible and something very enchanting in this use of unknown dead people to light the entertainment of the living. While it was terrifying, it also gave much food for thought. It was really a mockery of both life and death . People who had lived in ancient times and long since died, who had perhaps been the greatest in the world, were now here lighting the wild dance of a savage people! These ancient citizens of Kôr burned as quickly as they had lived, judging from the sculptures and inscriptions. As soon as one mummy had burned to the ankles, which took about twenty minutes, the legs were kicked aside and another was put in its place. The fireworks continued all the while with the same magnificent splendor, and the flames rose , hissing and crackling, to a height of about thirty feet , lighting up the far darkness, where the dark shadows of the amahaggers flickered like devils fanning the fires of hell. We stared in terror, yet at the same time enchanted, at the strange sight, and almost expected the spirits whose dwellings these bodies had once been to appear from the darkness to avenge their detractors. I promised to show you a rare sight, my Holly, laughed Ayesha, whose nerves seemed unaffected, and, behold, I have kept my word. This too has its lesson. Trust not in the future, for who can tell what the future will bring. Live, then, only one day at a time, and do not try to avoid the transience of all things. How would you think those long-forgotten noble men and women would have felt if they had known that they would one day burn as torches at the dances of savages, or boil their cauldrons of flesh? But look, here come the dancers, a beautiful company—or what? The stage is lighted, and the performance can begin. While he was still speaking, we noticed a dark crowd, about a hundred men and women, with nothing for their bodies but the usual leopard skins around their waists, approaching the fire in two ranks . In a hideous silence they formed themselves before us, and the dance—a sort of exorcism of evil spirits —began. It seemed to us to be some kind of pantomime, the subject of which was truly ghastly. The gloom of the caves seems to have left its mark on the character of this fearful people, and their games and amusements are derived from the tombs in which they dwell. If I understood correctly, the play was first about catching a murderer, then turning into burying him alive, with the supposed victim fighting back furiously. The play ended with wild jumping around the murderer writhing in pain on the ground. Not a word was spoken, but the play was performed from start to finish only with gestures. The corpse torches hissed horribly around us and shivers of terror began to run down my spine. However, the performance was interrupted quite unexpectedly. First I noticed some unrest among the dancers and suddenly a tall woman, whom I had seen to be one of the most enthusiastic jumpers, rushed from their circle, staggering and jumping towards us. She was in a trance caused by that frenzied dance and shouted as she came: Black goat, bring me a black goat, I must have a black goat! With a terrible scream she fell to the ground and screamed, twisting herself this way and that: Give me a black goat! Most of the dancers had immediately gathered around her while others continued their wild antics even further away. The devil has gone into her! someone exclaimed. Go get the black goat. Now, devil, be quiet now, be very kind! You will have the goat at once. We already went to get it for you. I want a black goat, give me a black goat! cried the unfortunate one who was rolling on the ground again. Yes, yes, devil; the goat will be here right away. Be very good now, devil.
The woman fussed until a black goat was found in the nearest thicket, which was dragged by the horns to the woman. The animal squirmed miserably and tried with all its might to free itself from the claws of its pursuer. Is it black, is it black? screamed the one possessed by the devil. Yes, yes, devil; black as night, and to the side: Keep it a little more in the shade, so that the devil will not notice the white markings on the thigh and side. Immediately, immediately, devil. Where is the cup? I have a knife to my throat now ! Goat! goat! goat! Give me the blood of my black goat! I must have it, can’t you see that I must? Oh, oh! blood! blood! soon! Do you hear? The spear flashed, and a moment later a woman jumped up , holding a goblet full of steaming blood. This the demon possessed, now raging more wildly than ever, drank in one gulp and immediately recovered. There was no trace of the recent nervous attack that had been so shocking in her. Straightening her arms, she left smiling behind the other dancers , who immediately formed themselves into two lines and disappeared into the darkness as silently as they had come. The circle illuminated by the body torches was now completely empty, and I thought the show was over. I was already bored and was just about to ask Ayesha if it wasn’t time to leave, when at the same moment a strange creature, which I at first thought was a giant ape, jumped up and approached the circle of torches, from the opposite side of which a lion, or rather a person dressed in a lion’s skin, appeared from the darkness. Then came a goat, and then a man wrapped in the skin of a bull, his horns swinging wildly above his head. Soon the stage was full of all kinds of animals. There were snakes among the crowd, and one girl had slipped into the shiny skin of an enormous python, whose long tail wriggled far behind her. When everyone had settled into their places, they began to dance awkwardly — with unnatural movements, while imitating the sounds of the animals they were representing. The squealing, the bleating of the goats, and the hissing of the snakes finally became an ear-splitting din. The going seemed to go on forever, so that finally, tired of the noise, I asked Ayesha if she would go and take a closer look at those corpse torches, and since she had no objection, I went on a tour with Leo, first turning to the left. After looking at a couple of flaming corpses, we were just about to turn back when our attention was drawn to a very lively leopard, which had separated from its companions and was hopping around us, gradually retreating into the dark shadow behind the couple of burning mummies. Curious, we followed, and at the same moment the dancer stood up, whispering: Come! We immediately recognized his voice as Ustan, and without saying a word to me, Leo followed him, disappearing into the dark darkness. I followed them, painful forebodings taking possession of my heart, and after walking about fifty paces I heard Ustan whisper: At last I have found you, my dear! Listen, my life is in danger. Hasn’t Papian told you how ‘he who must be obeyed’ drove me away from you? I love you and you are according to the custom of my country. I saved your life! Oh, my lion, are you abandoning me now? Of course not, cried Leo. I have been wondering all along what you have come to. Let us go and explain to the queen how things really are. No, no, she would kill us at once. You do not know her power. — Papian knows, for she saw. There is only one way of salvation: if you will not leave me, we must flee across the marshes at once . That way perhaps we may escape. For heaven’s sake, Leo, I began, but Ustane interrupted me: No, don’t listen to him, but go at once — at once, for the very air here breathes death. Perhaps ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ hears this too , and at the same moment she threw her arms around Leo’s neck as if to banish all delay. The leopard skin slipped over his shoulders, and in the starlight I saw the faint marks of three white fingers in his hair. Fully realizing the danger of the situation and feeling Leo’s weakness for women , I was about to intervene when I heard a silvery laugh behind me. I turned to look, and horror paralyzed my limbs — Ayesha and Billali and two mute servants stood beside me. I almost sank to the ground in a terrible fear, for I knew that the situation must turn into a shocking tragedy, of which I myself would probably be the first victim. Ustane let go of her lover, covering her face with her hands, but Leo only blushed with embarrassment, not realizing the terrible seriousness of the situation. Chapter 21. Victory. There followed a painful silence, which lasted for a moment, and which I shall never forget. At last Ayesha ended it by saying to Leo in her sweetest voice, which nevertheless cracked like steel: “Do not look so embarrassed, O young stranger, my guest.” The sight was indeed beautiful—a leopard and a lion! I think so!” Leo growled in English. “There you are, Ustane,” continued Ayesha. “I should have passed you by without noticing it, had not the moonbeam illuminated the mark in your hair, and she pointed to the crescent moon, whose bright tip was visible on the horizon. “Yes, yes, the dance is over—look, the fires are dying down and all is quiet. You thought the moment was right for a love-play, Ustane, did you not? I thought you were far away already, and I could not dream that you would not obey my command.” “Don’t torture me any longer,” Ustane cried in despair, ” kill me now. No, why should that be? It would be cruel to be thrust into the darkness of the grave with kisses while my lips are still burning,” said Ayesha, mockingly , referring to her servants, who immediately positioned themselves on either side of Ustane and seized her arms. Cursing, Leo rushed at the nearest and threw the man overboard, so that the tanner shuddered, turning at the same time with his fist raised towards the other. “A beautiful throw,” laughed Ayesha. “Your hand is very strong, O my guest, although you were very ill a moment ago. But I beg you, let my servant go and let him live; he meant no harm to the girl. The night is growing cold, and I want to welcome the girl to my palace, for your friends are my friends too.” I grabbed Leo’s shoulder and pushed him away from the man on the ground, which he allowed to happen without protest, and then we set off towards the cave, across the platform where the remains of the recent fireworks still glowed. The dancers had disappeared and here and there a pale ash had fallen from their torches . In a oppressive silence we reached Ayesha’s sitting room and a foreboding of impending disaster darkened my mind. Ayesha sat down on her chaise longue and, having ordered Jobin Billal to leave, she motioned to her servants to light the lamps. This having done so, the girls departed with deep bows, except one, who was her most favoured chambermaid. The three of us, Ustane, Leo and I, stood by the drawn curtains, Ustane the better a little to our left. Now Holly, said Ayesha at last, you heard me when I ordered that rascal—she pointed to Ustane—to go away for ever, and it was at your request that I spared his miserable life. How then do you explain your part in the affair which I have just witnessed outside in the moonlight? Answer at once, and for your own sake I advise you to tell the truth, for I will not tolerate lies in this matter. I came here quite by chance, answered I. I know nothing more, O Queen. I believe you, O Holly, answered Ayesha coldly, and it is well for you to do so—then the girl will be the only one to blame. I cannot understand her doing anything wrong, interrupted Leo. She is not another man’s wife, and she has taken me as her husband according to the old binding custom of this terrible land. Who has suffered, then? Who has she really wronged? If she has done wrong once, I have done wrong, and if she is to be punished, let me be punished too. Remember, good lady, Leo continued, growing more and more furious, that if you order those dumb rascals of yours to touch the girl with even a finger, I will grind them into snuff on the spot! and judging by his blazing gaze, he would certainly have kept his word. Ayesha listened to his words with icy coldness, and then said sternly to Ustane: What have you to say in your defense, woman? You thoughtless blade of grass, you feeble person, who intended to satisfy your passion against my almighty will. Tell me why you disobeyed my command, but stayed here, and I will try to understand you. Then I saw the most magnificent expression of moral courage and fearlessness. That poor doomed girl, who knew for sure what she could expect from her terrible queen, whose terrible power she had already bitterly experienced, now gathered all her strength so that in her great despair she could answer the queen’s question with dignity and without fear. Oh, queen, she answered, straightening up to her full height and smoothing the leopard skin from her shoulders, I stayed here because my love defies death. Without this chosen one my life would be joyless and dreary and I would die before I give him up. I understand that my last hour has come, but at the same time I am glad that I risked my life for my love, for my courage was rewarded many times over when my beloved embraced me and told me that she still loved me. Ayesha stirred nervously, but calmed down again. I cannot cast spells, continued Ustane, her melodious voice echoing richly in the high vault of the cave, and I am not immortal, but a woman’s heart is heavy enough to sink to the bottom of the deepest waters, and a woman’s eyes can see clearly through your veil , O queen! Listen: I know that you love this man, and to get me out of your way you have decided to destroy me. Yes, I will die and disappear into darkness, not knowing where I will go. But this I know. There is a light within me, in the glow of which I see the truth. I knew even when I first saw my master, he pointed to Leo, that death would be his wedding gift to me, but I did not turn back, but was ready to pay the price , and behold, I stand already on the threshold of death. I also know that you will gain nothing by your crime. She is mine, and though your beauty be as dazzling as the sun compared to the stars, you will never possess her, but she is mine forever. She will never look you in the eye, nor will she ever call you her spouse. You are already doomed, the girl said solemnly, like some ecstatic soothsayer. I see your— A shrill cry, expressing both rage and terror, interrupted the girl. I turned towards her and saw Ayesha standing with her hand outstretched towards Ustane, who had suddenly fallen silent. As I looked at the poor girl I noticed her features stiffening with unutterable terror and her eyes becoming fixed. When we were still at Billal’s I had seen the same terrified expression on the girl’s face when she interrupted her love hymn to Leo. Her lips quivering painfully, her face turned as white as snow. Ayesha said not a word, but trembled like a leaf of an aspen. With her hand still outstretched she seemed to stare unblinkingly at her victim, and pressing her head with her hands Ustane suddenly gave a piercing cry and, spinning twice, fell to the floor as if struck by lightning. Leo and I rushed to her at once – the girl was dead. That fearful He had killed her by his shocking willpower or by some mysterious electrical phenomenon. Leo did not immediately understand what had happened, but when it became clear to him, his face was terrible to see. He rose, gritting his teeth, and with a hoarse roar, he threw himself at Ayesha in one leap. But Ayesha was alert and stretched out her hand towards Leo, who staggered back and would have fallen if I had not reached out to him. He later said that he felt as if he had received a strong blow in the chest, which sent him staggered back and completely gutted him. If you were afraid of my judgment, O stranger, then forgive me , said Ayesha kindly to Leo. Will I forgive you, you devil! roared poor Leo, wringing his hands in agony. Will I forgive you, eater! I will kill you if I can! No, no, replied Ayesha just as gently, you will not understand me until you hear my explanation. You are my beloved, my graceful and strong Callicrates, for whom I have waited two thousand years, and when you finally came, this woman, she pointed to a body, stood between us and that is why I swept her out of my way, oh Callicrates. Now that is a damned lie, Leo snapped, that I am Callicrates. My name is Leo Vincey and my ancestor was a Callicrates – at least I believe it was. You said it – Callicrates was your ancestor and so you are, just you, Callicrates reborn into the world – and my bitterly longed-for beloved. I am not Callicrates and I have nothing to do with you. I would rather love some devil of hell than you, for he would surely be better than you. Is that what you say – is that what you say, Callicrates? It has been a long time since you last saw me, perhaps you no longer remember me. I am still very beautiful, Callicrates! I hate you, murderer, and I will not see you. I do not care for you in the least, no matter how beautiful you are, and I will kill you at the first opportunity. Remember this, you evil spirit! In a very short time you will be kneeling before me and swearing to love me, said Ayesha, with a sweet and somewhat mocking laugh. We will put you to a little test by this dead girl who loved you. Look at me now, Callicrates! and at that moment Ayesha let her veil fall, standing before us dazzlingly beautiful and divinely graceful in her snow-white clothes with a golden belt around her waist. She was as lovely as Venus rising from the foam of the Mediterranean, or Galatea rising from marble. It was as if some glorified spirit of these tombs had appeared before us. With her deep and wonderful eyes she looked at Leo, whose fists gradually opened and the tension in his face was released by the effect of that paralyzing gaze. I saw his amazement turn to admiration and then to passionate longing. The more he tried to fight the spell , the more I saw Ayesha’s supernatural beauty blind him and completely take possession of his heart. This is I did. It was not long since I, who am twice Leo’s age, had experienced the same thing. The same struggle raged in my heart even now, though Ayesha did not look at me, and I must confess to my great shame that I was furiously jealous at that moment. I was on the point of running away from Leo . That woman had confused and almost destroyed all my concepts of chastity, and I swear that the same would have happened to anyone who had seen her beyond her human beauty. But I managed to control myself – I do not know how – and focused all my attention on the main character of the scene. Oh, great God! gasped Leo, are you a woman? Yes, I am – only an ordinary person – and your own dear spouse, Callicrates! replied Ayesha, stretching out her ivory-white, beautiful hands towards him and smiling so sweetly that my heart would have fluttered. Leo could not take his eyes off her, and I saw Leo slowly begin to move towards her. But suddenly Leo stopped, trembling with terror. He had accidentally touched the body of poor Ustane with his foot. How can I approach you? he whispered, barely audibly. You are a murderer, and he loved me. It should be noted that he had already forgotten that he had loved the girl. What about that, Ayesha answered quietly, and her voice resembled the soothing hum of a gentle night breeze in the treetops. If I have sinned against you, then may my beauty atone for my sin, for my crime was due to my love for you. So forget forever what has just happened, and come to me, O my Callicrates. He stretched out his hand once more and whispered captivatingly: Come! I saw the struggle raging in Leo’s heart – I saw him try to turn and flee, but Ayesha’s wonderful eyes bound him more tightly than iron chains. The enchanting beauty, the iron will, and the burning passion of that woman crushed his resistance to the very core—yes, he no longer remembered the murdered beloved, over whose body he still stood. But the tempter was more than human, and her beauty could not be resisted by any mortal. When I looked up again, I saw Ayesha resting in his arms, and their lips had joined in a long, passionate kiss. With the body of his beloved as an altar, Leo Vincey swore an oath of allegiance to his murderer—forgetting all the demands of honor, he gave himself up completely to his power. People who thus forget their honor and allow the fire of passion to stifle all sense of morality have no hope of salvation in this life or in the next. What a man sows, that he will also reap, and he who sows the wind, shall reap the storm! The blazing red poppy of passions withers once, and the harvest is only the prickly thistles of boredom and disgust. Ayesha suddenly freed herself, as supple as a snake, from Leo’s embrace, and laughed again with a joyful mockery: ” Did I not tell you, O Callicrates, that in a very short time you would kneel before me? Was I right?” Leo groaned, broken by shame and grief. His resistance was forever crushed, but he had not yet sunk so low that he was not aware of his degradation. On the contrary, his better instincts began a fierce struggle against this fall and corruption, as I later clearly saw. Ayesha laughed again and quickly wrapped herself in her veil, indicating her mute chambermaid, who had been watching the spectacle with wide eyes . The girl left, but immediately returned, accompanied by two mute male servants, to whom the queen made a few signs with her hands. All three grabbed poor Ustane by both hands and dragged her body into the doorway, finally disappearing behind the curtains. Leo watched the action for a moment and then covered his face with his hands. My imagination was so excited that I thought Ustane was staring at us the whole time she was being dragged out, and horror made my body tremble. Thus the dead past disappears, said Ayesha solemnly, as the ghastly procession disappeared from our sight behind the curtains. Lost in her thoughts, she stared for a moment at the door curtains, which were still moving silently, and as if she had not noticed, she let her veil fall slowly to the ground. In accordance with the old Arabian custom, she immediately began to dictate a melodrama-like hymn of joy, which is very difficult to translate into other languages. It was divided into two parts – figurative and personal – and, as I remember, went something like this: Love is like a flower of the desert, like the Arabian aloe, which blooms only once and then withers. It smoothes the bumps and breaks the rocks in our path, by the side of the path of life its lovely flower grows and beckons to the passerby. Enchanted, she picks that scarlet flower, its cup full of honey, and carries it with her through the desert, cherishing it as her most precious. In the desert of life only one wonderful flower grows. Love! Our bleak path is lit only by one star. Love! In our night of despair, only one can revive us. Love. All else is vain and fleeting, only mists floating on the water. Can anyone measure the infinity of love? It is born in the flesh, but it dwells in the soul, and both are necessary for its success. It conquers even death. Its forms are many, but all beautiful, and no one knows whence its shining star rises or whither it sets. Then she continued, turning to Leo and laying her hand on his shoulder in a fuller and more joyful voice: Long have I loved you, O my love, and my love has not yet cooled. Long have I waited for you, longing for you, and behold, I have received my reward—you are with me. Long ago I saw you once, but then I drove you away from me. On your grave I sowed the seeds of patience, whose tender sprout I warmed with the rays of hope, watered with tears of repentance, and fanned with the life-giving breaths of my deep wisdom. And behold, here is the fruit of my sowing! From the soil of the grave it has risen, from dust and ashes I have grown it. My patience has been rewarded. I conquered death, and death returned to me him who was dead. Therefore my heart rejoices, for the future looms wonderful . Along smooth roads we wander through the eternally green meadows. The night has fled to the valleys and the hour has come. The rays of day already kiss the mountain peaks. It is wonderful to live, oh beloved, and it is light to walk beside you. We are crowned with the glory of kings and our greatness is praised for millennia. All the nations of the world worship us, and blinded by our beauty and might, they fall to the ground before us. Rejoicing, we rush from victory to victory, as the red of the dawn rushes from peak to peak. Onward to unheard-of glory. Onward to unheard-of power . Onward, never weary, surrounded by dazzling splendor. Until our time is fulfilled and our day darkens into night. He fell silent, and looked at Leo with a wondrous radiance in his eyes. I had listened almost breathlessly to his song, of which my above description is but a faint hint. Perhaps you do not believe my words, O Callicrates, said Ayesha after a moment in her softest voice, when I tell you that I have indeed waited for you for two thousand years—perhaps you think I want to make you believe nonsense when I tell you that you have been reborn into this world. No, do not look so doubtful, for I cannot be mistaken. Before the suns should stray from their paths and the swallow from its nest, before I should lie to you and lead you astray, O Callicrates. Even if you were to pierce my eyes and shut me up in the darkest darkness, I would still recognize you among a thousand. Incline my ear and I will always hear. the melody of your unforgettable voice, which would echo in my heart louder than the blast of a war horn. Even if you made me blind and deaf and numbed my nerves so that I could feel nothing, still my spirit would whisper in my heart: ‘Look, there is Callicrates! Look, your night of despair is ending! Look, the morning star is rising for you, you who walk in darkness!’ He was silent for a moment, but then continued: You would probably want me to present some visible evidence of the truth of my incomprehensible speech to you, and if your heart is strong enough to bear the whole truth, then I will testify that I have spoken the truth. I will show you something, O Callicrates, and you too, O Holly. Take your lamp and follow me. Without thinking about anything—I had found all thought useless in this land of incomprehensible wonders—we did the work as ordered. Ayesha went to the back of her living room and lifted the curtain, which revealed a narrow staircase leading down. I noticed at once that the steps were very worn. I had supposed they had originally been about seven inches high, but now they were no more than four inches high in the middle. All the other steps I had seen in these caves were perfectly smooth and level, which was natural, considering that they were only used when the dead were carried to their final resting places. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I turned to look at the worn steps and could not understand what had caused those deep grooves. Do you wonder whose feet have worn away the hard rock, my Holly? asked Ayesha, noticing my searching gaze. You see my—my light steps there ! I remember very well when these steps were smooth and level, but for two thousand years and more I have walked them every day, and behold, the hard rock has been worn away by the light touch of my sandals! I said nothing, but nothing seemed to me to indicate more clearly the fabulous age of that mysterious being, and to prove more palpably that he spoke the truth than those stone steps worn by his soft and white feet. How many millions of times must he have gone up and down them before those deep grooves had been made? The steps led into a passage, and after a few steps we stopped before a curtained doorway. I saw at once that I was in the very place where I had seen that monstrous vision by the white flame. I recognized the figures in the curtain, and the whole scene came back to me so vividly that I shuddered with horror. Ayesha led the way into the tomb—the room was a tomb—and we followed her. I was glad that the secret of the place would now be revealed, but I was afraid of the solution. Chapter 22. The Secret of the Tomb. This has been my bedroom for these two thousand years, said Ayesha, and taking the lamp from Leo’s hand, she raised it high above her head. The light fell on a small recess in the floor, above which I had seen the flame flicker, and on a creature covered in white cloth resting on a stone platform. In the light of the lamp we also saw another stone platform, which was on the opposite wall of the chamber. Here, Ayesha continued, leaning her hand on the edge of the platform, I have rested every night with only a thin shroud on me. I have not been able to rest more comfortably than my husband, she pointed to the deceased resting on the other platform, lying there in the cold, sleeping the sleep of death. Every night I have slept here with him, and as you see, this solid slab of rock, like those steps, has worn thin from the touch of my body — so faithful have I been to you even during my long sleep, O Callicrates. And now, my dear, you will see a wonderful vision — you will see yourself dead — well have I cared for you all these years. Are you ready, O Callicrates? We made no answer, but looked at each other in terror. eyes, the scene was altogether so fearful and solemn. Ayesha stepped forward and caught the hem of the white veil with her hand. Do not be afraid, added Ayesha, though this may seem very strange to you—each of us has lived in the world before; nothing is new under the sun. We only know nothing of it, because our former states cannot be preserved in our memory, and our bodies have become the earth from which they were created, when none has been able to save us from the destruction of the grave. But by the art I learned from these dead of Kor I have preserved you from turning to dust, that your beauty may always be before my eyes , O Callicrates. You were but a mask, animated by the memories of past times, and as I gazed upon your stiffened features you have appeared countless times before the eyes of my soul, beautiful and powerful, like some god of Olympus. Look, Callicrates, at your dead self, which has been reborn in you after two thousand years. Time cannot change us at all, you are exactly the same as you were two thousand years ago, but the merciful sleep of death has made us completely forget our past, all its sorrows and sorrows, which would otherwise haunt us from life to life, until at last we would go mad with unspeakable despair. So do not be afraid, Callicrates, when you, who are now young and strong, see your own self, who lived and died so long ago. I will only turn back a leaf in your book of life and show you what is written on the other side. Look! He would suddenly pull back the cover and shine a light on the deceased lying on the platform . At the same time I recoiled in horror, for on the stone slab before me lay, if my eyes were not mistaken, Leo Vincey, cold and stiff, wearing a dazzling white linen mantle. Our narrow-minded minds could not comprehend Ayesha’s explanations, and though she tried to make them as easy to understand as possible, I was immediately bewildered by this surprising and frightening sight. I stared at the living Leo and I stared fixedly at the dead one, but I could not see any difference between them; the body lying on the floor looked perhaps a little older. Down to the smallest details they were alike; the dead one had Leo’s golden curly hair, which played a major part in Leo’s exceptional beauty. I also thought I saw on the dead one the very same expression that I had occasionally noticed on Leo’s face when he was sleeping soundly. I must say that I have never seen twins so alike as those two, living and dead. I turned to see how the sight had affected Leo. He stood still as if struck by thunder, staring without blinking at the deceased on the platform. Then he suddenly cried out: “Cover him again and take me away from here.” No, wait a moment, Callicrates, said Ayesha, who stood at the head of the platform, holding the lamp high above her head. She was as beautiful as a goddess, and standing there beside the white corpse she resembled the omniscient Sibyl, whose words, uttered with conviction , I am unfortunately unable to convey, with the captivating solemnity and profound meaning. Wait; I want to show you something, that nothing of my crime may be hidden from you. I beg you, O Holly, uncover the breast of the dead Callicrates, for my master may fear to touch him. With trembling hands I complied with his request, for it seemed to me an offense to touch the sleeping double of the living man standing beside me. The linen shroud was soon opened, and on the broad chest of the deceased, right at the heart, was visible a wound, evidently caused by a spear blow. “You see the wound, Callicrates,” said Ayesha. “Know then that I killed you in the place where the eternal fire of life burns, because you loved the Egyptian Amenarta and did not abandon her.” I could not kill her as I killed that girl, for she was my equal in knowledge and skill, and I feared her. In my haste I killed you then, and all these years I have wept over your death and awaited your return. Now you have come, and there is no one between us who could part us again, and now I grant you life in place of death—not immortality, for that no one can give, but a thousand years of life and youth, followed by unheard-of splendor, honor, power, and all that is good and beautiful. One more thing, and then you may rest and prepare for the moment of your new birth. You shall see this body that was once yours. All these centuries it has been my only companion and comfort, but now I need it no more, for you are now alive with me; it would only awaken memories that I would so gladly forget. Let it turn to dust, then. Look! I have prepared myself for this moment of happiness! and going to another platform, which, according to him, had been his bed, he took from under it a large two-eared glazed vase, the mouth of which was closed with a blister. He opened it and, having lightly kissed the white forehead of the deceased, he sprinkled the contents of the vase over the body and poured the rest on his head and chest , taking great care that not a drop fell on us or on himself. The deceased was immediately covered with a dense cloud of steam, which prevented us from seeing how the perishable liquid did its work. We heard a sharp hissing and crackling, which, however, soon ceased, and in a couple of minutes even the cloud of steam had evaporated into nothingness. It may sound miraculous when I say that on the platform, on which the earthly remains of the ancient Kallikrates had rested for millennia, there were now only a couple of handfuls of white ashes. Such was the case, however. Even the stone had been deeply gouged by the strong liquid. Ayesha stooped and, gathering a handful of ashes in her hand, threw them into the air, uttering at the same time with calm solemnity: Dust to dust! Callicrates is dead and reborn! The ashes floated slowly to the stone floor, and we watched them fall in silence, unable to say anything. Leave me now, said she, and sleep if you can, my friends. I must watch and think, for to-morrow night we set out on our journey, and it is long since I last trod the path we must follow. We bowed and went out, and when we had reached our own passage I peeped into Job’s bedchamber to see how he was faring, for he had left us just a short time before we met poor unfortunate Ustane. The feast of the Amahaggers had completely shaken his mind . He slept peacefully, like a man with a good conscience, and I was glad that he had not had to witness the last events of this terrible day. We then went to our own room, and there Leo’s grief and despair finally gave way. After looking at his own death-stricken image, he had been in a state of some kind of boredom, but now that he was no longer in the vicinity of that frightening Ayesha, the mental tension caused by the shocking events of the day was released . His grief and despair over the terrible death of Ustane were especially shaking. He cursed himself—he cursed the moment when he had first seen the inscription on the fragment of the pot, the authenticity of which had been so strangely proven, and he cursed bitterly his own weakness. He dared not curse Ayesha , for who would have dared to speak ill of a woman who could at any time, without our knowledge, follow our activities. What shall I do now, old fellow? she complained, hiding her face against my shoulder. Ustane was murdered before my eyes—not that I could have prevented it, but five minutes later I was kissing her murderer over her body. I am a wretched scoundrel and I cannot resist this thing of his. her voice dropped to a whisper, that terrible sorceress. I know I shall kiss her again to-morrow; I know I shall be in her power for ever, and even if I never saw her again I could not think of any other for the rest of my life. I must follow her like a needle’s magnet, and it would be impossible for me to leave here now, even if I could. I cannot leave her—my legs would fail me, but my senses are still so clear that I know in my heart that I hate and detest her—at least I think so. It is all so terrible! And that—that dead man! It was I! Can anyone understand this? I am a sold man, an old rascal, and ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ takes my soul as the price of his favor! Then I told her for the first time that my case was just as bad, and in spite of her despair she said she felt a deep pity for me. He perhaps realized that he need not fear competition and jealousy as long as he was in the Queen’s favor. I suggested that we should try to escape, but we both saw at once that it was impossible. And to be perfectly honest, I must say that I did not think either of us would consent to leave Ayesha, even if by some supernatural means we could have passed in the twinkling of an eye from these gloomy caves to our pleasant home in Cambridge. We were like butterflies that, despite their strength, strive for a destructive fire, or like opium users who, when sober, know very well the danger of their course, yet would not consent to give up their pernicious habit on any account. No man who had seen Ayesha without her veil, heard her melodious voice, and had known the profound wisdom of her words, would have willingly given up the pleasure of being in her company, even at the price of all the amusements in the world . I can understand Leo’s situation all the more when that mysterious being explained that she was his long-awaited beloved, whom he had confessed to having loved for a couple of thousand years. He was undoubtedly of a criminal nature and had murdered Ustane only because she was in his way, but he was also very faithful, and according to the laws of nature a man soon forgets a woman’s crimes – especially when she is beautiful and has committed his crimes out of love for her. Besides, has anyone ever had such an opportunity as Leo now? It is true that by joining that fearsome woman Leo would come under the bad influence of this mysterious being , but he could just as easily go to any marriage shop. Immortality and eternal youth were offered to her, unheard-of beauty, glory, power, incomparable wisdom, and knowledge of all the secrets of nature, so I do not wonder at all that she did not consent to flee from the reach of her wonderful fortune. Although she was in the greatest despair and bitterly regretted her conduct, as any good man would have done, she could not accept my proposal. In my opinion , she would have been mad if she had done so. I ask that this opinion of mine be judged according to the circumstances. Even to this day I remember Ayesha with longing and would have preferred to be her lover for one short week rather than any other woman, however lovely, for the rest of my life. I would add that if any weak-minded person, who doubts my words or thinks me crazy, had seen even a glimpse of Ayesha’s lovely face, he would certainly agree with me now . I have spoken only of men. We were not permitted to hear any woman’s opinion of Ayesha, but I am almost certain that she would have treated our queen very coldly, expressed her dislike more or less offensively, and brought about her own destruction. For three hours we sat with Leo, talking, frightened and thoroughly shaken, about the wonderful events which had taken place. We were now in a whirlwind. It was all like a strange dream and yet true. Who could have believed that the writing on the pot was true after all, and that we would have to prove its authenticity by meeting the one we were looking for, patiently waiting for us to come to the tombs of Kôr? Who could have thought that this mysterious woman would recognize in Leo, as she believed, the man she had been waiting for from century to century and whose former earthly home she had kept with her until this evening ? But it was so. From all that we had seen, it was difficult for us, as men of clear thinking, to doubt the truth of the story any longer, and, deeply aware of the narrow limits of human knowledge, and the arrogant certainty with which it denies the existence of anything not known by experience, we finally went to rest, abandoning ourselves to the fate which had thus allowed us to expose human ignorance, and to give us, for our own good or ill, a glimpse of the unknown and wonderful possibilities of life. Chapter 23. Job’s Premonition. At nine o’clock the next morning, Job, still looking frightened and terrified, came to wake me, and at the same time expressed great pleasure at finding us alive, which he had certainly not dared to hope for. When I told him of Ustane’s terrible death he said he was even more grateful to see us alive, and the girl’s sad fate also shocked him greatly, although they were not the best of friends. The girl had called him a pig in her dialectal Arabic, which Job had made up for by calling her a slut in his good English, but all these animosity were forgotten when Job heard how poor Ustane had been to the Queen. I would not like to say anything inappropriate, sir, said Job, after listening with his mouth to my wonderful story, which he had accompanied with countless exclamations of astonishment, but my opinion is that this ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ is none other than the old wretch himself, or his old woman , as he must be, or else he could not be so cruel. The Witch of Endor was nothing compared to this, sir. She can no more conjure a single Bible prophet from her grave than I can make people out of straw and old flannel. We have fallen into the land of the devils, and this queen is the master of it. We shall certainly never get home again, for do you think, sir, that witch is so mad as to let a beautiful young man like Mr. Leo fall from her clutches? She saved Leo’s life, I remarked. Yes, but Mr. Leo will pay for that good deed with his soul. The queen will make him a witch like herself, we shall see. It is so very dangerous to have to do with such people, there is always something to be liked about them. Last night I lay awake, sir, and read in the little Bible that my old grandmother gave me, with cold shivers running through my body, what happens to witches and all their kind in the end . Old mother’s eyes would widen if she knew where her son had gone. “Yes, this is a strange country indeed,” I replied with a sigh, for the supernatural events of the last few days had shaken my nerves, although I was not at all superstitious. ” You are right, sir,” replied Job, “and if you will excuse me, I would like to say something to you in Mr. Leo’s absence–Leo had risen early and gone for a morning walk. I know for a fact that I shall never see our beloved home again. My old father appeared to me last night in my dreams, and he was wearing a kind of white garment resembling a nightgown, almost like that worn by some of the inhabitants of this country who wish to be somewhat dressed as men. In his hand he had a bunch of beautiful flowers that grew at the mouth of the cave, which he had probably picked as he passed. ‘Job,’ he said solemnly, looking as pleased as a Methodist minister who has succeeded in defrauding his neighbor in a horse-dealing, ‘your days are numbered. I never thought that in my old age I should have to look for you in such places and go through such terrible trouble before I found you, boy! It was very ugly to run your old father around like that , and I probably wouldn’t have found you if I hadn’t happened to hear a terrible commotion here in Kôr, which is nothing but a den of bad people!’ So you got a firm reprimand, in a word, I snarled. That’s right, sir—a reprimand, of course, but also a warning. He said that ‘these rascals must be burnt, if any,’ and I quite agree, thinking of their pot parties and other antics, said Job, dejectedly. In any case, he said he was sure that my earthly journey would end very shortly. I would have liked to have a little more detailed information on the matter, but he was in a hurry to other markets. He only added that you will see in time, for we will soon be together more than it would matter. I think my father remembered the old days when we could get tired of each other in three days, and I dare almost stake my head on the fact that it will be the same now, when we have to eat together again. You must think now, said I, that you are going to die because you dreamed of your old father. Now if dreaming of your deceased father really meant death, what would happen to a man who happened to see his mother in his dream? You laugh at me, sir, said Job, but you see, you never knew my late father. If the person who appeared to me had been any other person—my Aunt Mary, who never made much of herself—I should not have cared much for my dream; but as the person who came was as lazy as my father, though he was the father of seventeen children, he would never have bothered to come here unless it was true. No, sir, I know the old man and I know he meant the truth. What can he do now? Everyone has to leave this place at some point, but it seems so cruel to die in this awful place where you can’t get a Christian burial at any price or in any way. I have tried to live decently, sir, and to do my duty conscientiously , and if my old man hadn’t come to see me last night and let me know that he didn’t have very good thoughts about my recommendations, I would be in a very light mood now, all the same . But my conscience is clear, and I have served you and Mr. Leo faithfully, God bless him. Sometimes I feel as if he were still a little boy whom I used to lead through the streets of my native town, and if you ever manage to get away from here, sir, which may very well be possible, for my father never spoke of you, then remember my whitened bones with love and never again touch the Greek inscriptions scrawled on the flower pots. Forgive my bold words, sir. But, Job, I said seriously, you are talking nonsense now . You are a fool to torment yourself with such whims. It is true that we have experienced one thing and another in this strange country, but I hope that we will finally get out of all our difficulties happily. I am not talking nonsense, sir, said Job, with a conviction that made me uncomfortable. I feel like a dead man , and that feeling is very strange, sir, for I cannot help thinking what my end might be. You too would shiver if you began to fear that your food was poisoned while you were eating, or if, as you walked through these dark corridors , you expected a knife to suddenly flash. I am sorry, that I often spoke ill of that poor girl who was to die so suddenly, though I could not approve of her marriage, which I thought had become far too hasty to be permanent. My most fervent hope is, sir, and poor Job turned pale as he said this, that I should by no means fall a victim to that glowing pot. How idle, I interrupted angrily. Quite right, sir, said Job, I should not at all argue with you, but if by chance you were going anywhere, I should be very grateful if I could come with you. For , looking at a kind face, I should not be at all afraid when my last hour came; it would, as it were, help me over the threshold of death. Now I will go and fetch your breakfast, sir; and good Job left the room, while I remained with a heavy heart to think about our future. I was deeply attached to old Job, who was one of the best and most honest men I ever met. He was really more my friend than my servant, and the thought that something might happen to him raised a bitter lump in my throat. From his words it was clear that he believed that some misfortune must befall him, and although his fear seemed quite groundless—the gloomy and strange surroundings, and the terrible events of the last few days, were probably the only real reasons for it—my heart still stung when I thought of him. It is well known that a person can sometimes be overcome by inexplicable fears and dark forebodings, which, when coldly considered, seem quite groundless. At the same moment breakfast arrived, and with it Leo, who had been walking outside the cave—clearing his head, as he said. I was very glad of his arrival, for my gloomy thoughts vanished for a moment at least. After breakfast we went for a walk and saw an amahagger sowing a small patch of field, which happened exactly as described in the Bible stories. The man had a goatskin bag on his belt, from which he threw the grains into the field as he walked leisurely back and forth. It was very soothing to see one of the cruel inhabitants of this country busy with the domestic chores of the village, and we watched the sower for a long time. On our way back we met Billal, who announced that He Who Must Be Obeyed had deigned to speak to us, and we immediately followed his call with a little trepidation. Ayesha was so mysterious and wonderful. Her familiarity could and did kindle the fire of passion, but it certainly did not drive away the fear and reverence for her. The mute servants took us in as always, and when they had gone, Ayesha took off her veil. Despite her agony of soul last night, Leo embraced her much more passionately and fervently than she really needed to. “Do you wonder, my Callicrates,” said Ayesha, caressing his golden locks and looking tenderly into his eyes, “when you know that I am entirely yours?” But first you must become like me, not immortal, for I am not, but so hardy and hardened against the terrible forces of time that its arrows will deflect you like the rays of the sun from the membrane of a stream. You are still quite different from me and could not long endure my glory, which could even destroy you. Just look at me a little longer and your eyes will begin to strain and your head will spin, and therefore I will immediately cover my face – which, however, he did not do, in passing -. You will not be put to a harder test than you can bear, my dear, for this very evening an hour before sunset we will set out on our journey, and tomorrow evening, if all goes well and I have not forgotten the way – which would be terrible – we will be there. There you must bathe in the flames of the fire of life, from whose embrace you will become more glorified and more beautiful than anyone before you, and then, Callicrates, you may call me your wife and I will be your humble servant! Leo muttered something, I know not what, in answer to this at the astonishing announcement and laughing at his confusion, Ayesha continued: And you too, O Holly; to you too I will give this gift and make you truly an ever-greening tree, for I am pleased with you, Holly. You are not as foolish as most human children, and though your knowledge and skills are but old-fashioned nonsense, yet you have not forgotten the art of making pretty compliments and of behaving in every way pleasantly. Look at you, old fellow, whispered Leo, with a smile that recalled his former gaiety, have you really made compliments? I never would have believed that of you! I thank you, O Ayesha! I uttered it with all the dignity I could; but I do not care about your gift. Even if there were a place in the world of which you speak, and even if in that strange place there were a fire burning that could drive away death when it comes to us, I would not wish to test its power. This world has not been so sweet to me, O Ayesha, that I would wish to remain here forever. No; the world is a hard-hearted mother who has only stones to give her children as daily food. Stones to eat, bitter water to drink, and blows instead of tenderness. Who could endure it forever? Who would want to carry for ages the heavy burden of memories of past sorrows and misfortunes, to watch the sufferings of his neighbor without being able to alleviate them, and to learn all the wisdom in the world, which nevertheless offers no comfort? It is also hard to die when no one can tell us what is beyond the curtain of death. We spoiled creatures fear everything unknown. But it would be even harder, I think, to live here forever, with some painful memory gnawing at the heart like an invisible serpent. I should be like a tree whose leaves are ever green, but whose insides are rotten and worm-eaten. But think, Holly, said he, long life, strength, and beauty mean power and honor, and all that is precious to men. What then, O queen, are all those things that are precious to men? I answered. Only bubbles of foam, are they not ? Is not ambition like an endless staircase, the top of which is impossible to reach? The higher one rises, the higher one strives, and then one has no more rest. Even the abundance of wealth finally becomes weary and disgusted, unable to acquire even an hour of real happiness. Is there any limit to wisdom that we can hope to reach? Isn’t there! The more we learn, the more clearly we see our own ignorance. Were we to live ten thousand years, could we hope to discover the secrets of the suns and the universe, and to understand who has set the stars in their orbits in the sky ? Would not our wisdom be like a gnawing hunger, keeping us ever conscious of the insatiable thirst of our souls for knowledge? Would it not be like that lamp burning brightly, which yet cannot drive away the darkness from this room? What then would we gain by the infinite length of our lives? Oh, my Holly, there is love—love that beautifies everything and makes divine the very dust that we tread under our feet. Love brightens our lives, which then pass away from year to year as swiftly as the most beautiful dream; it is like a wondrous melody that lifts the heart of the listener, like an eagle on its wings, high above the corruption and filth of the world. That may be so, I answered; but what if our love were unhappy—what then? No, O Ayesha, I wish to live only my appointed time, to grow old with my generation, to die and be forgotten, for the immortality which I hope to inherit and which I know for sure I shall receive is eternal compared with the little which you can perhaps give. Having attained that immortality which my faith guarantees me, I shall be free, moreover, from all the fetters which here my spirit is bound. For as long as we walk in the flesh, we are harassed by the scorpions of sorrow and grief, but when we are freed from it, our spirit shall shine pure in the glory of eternal good . Your gaze soars high, laughed Ayesha, and you speak clearly and precisely. Yet you have just spoken of that unknown which lies beyond the veil of death. But with the eyes of faith and the colored spectacles of your imagination you may think you see that future glory. The descriptions of the afterlife that men have composed by their faith and imagination are indeed strange, and the strangest thing is that there are so many sharply differing conceptions of this matter . I could tell you—but what would it do—why should I deprive a madman of his playthings? I do not wish to influence your opinions, O Holly, and I hope that in your old age you will not be overcome by bitter regret for having once rejected my royal gift. But it has always been so; a man is never satisfied with that which he can pick up with his own hands. Even if a lamp were sufficient to light his way in the darkness, he would strike it to pieces because it is not a star. Fortune hovers a step before him like a night-time fire on the surface of a swamp, and he must reach for that fire, to catch the star of fortune! Beauty is nothing to him, because there might be still more beautiful in the world; power is nothing, because others might perhaps surpass him; and honor and fame are nothing either, because there are more famous people in the world than he. I only repeat what you yourself have just said. You dreamt that you could pick up a star, which I do not believe, and I think you are mad, my Holly, to throw away the lamp. To this I made no reply, for I could not—especially in Leo’s presence—tell him that from the moment I first saw his lovely face, it had always been before my eyes, and that I did not wish to prolong a life which would be helplessly embittered by his indelible memory and my unhappy love . It was so then, and it is so now . But tell me, Callicrates,” continued Ayesha, changing her voice and the subject, “what caused you to come here to seek me? Last night you said that this Callicrates—whom you saw—was your ancestor. Is that true? Now tell me everything—and do not exaggerate at all?” Thus, compelled, Leo told him the whole of that wonderful story of the silver casket and the inscription on the fragment of a pot, which had been written by his great-grandmother, the Egyptian princess Amenartas, and which had occasioned this journey. Ayesha listened with interest, and when Leo had finished, she said to me: Did I not tell you one day, oh Holly, when we were discussing good and evil—when my dear Callicrates was so ill—that good may turn to evil and evil to good? The sower does not know what kind of harvest he will reap, and the slayer does not know where his blow will finally fall. Now you see: this Amenartas, this royal daughter of the Nile, who hated me and whom I still hate because she, in a way, defeated me, has now led my beloved straight into my arms. She meant me evil and sowed the seed from which I should have reaped thistles, but look, she has given me more than the whole world could have given. This is hard for you to reconcile with your circle of good and evil, is it not, my Holly? So she ordered her son to kill me, Ayesha continued after a moment’s silence, because I killed her father. And now you, my Callicrates, are that father and at the same time his son; do you wish to avenge me for my crime against you and your mother, O Callicrates? Look, and she slipped to her knees, exposing her ivory-white breast—look, here beats my heart and in your belt is a knife, long and sharp, just fit to strike the heart of an erring woman. Let it flash and take revenge! Strike, but strike so that you may be satisfied with your deed and be happy, having avenged the wrong and fulfilled the task given to you of old. Leo looked at her and, extending his hand, raised her to her feet. Rise, Ayesha, he said sadly. You know that I cannot kill you, not even to avenge the death of him whom you murdered last night. I am your slave and entirely in your power. How could I do you any harm—I would kill myself first. You almost love me, Callicrates, said Ayesha, smiling. Now tell me something about your own country— a great people, isn’t it? An empire like Rome, perhaps? You will surely want to return there, which is good, for it is not my intention at all that you should remain here in the caves of Kor. No, we will leave here as soon as you have become like me—don’t be afraid I will find the way—and we will settle in your England and live as we ought. For two thousand years I have waited for the day when I shall see these accursed caves and this gloomy-looking people for the last time. That moment is soon at hand, and I am as happy as a child who, with a beating heart, awaits a festival. Then you, Callicrates, will rule this England and— But we have a king, Leo interrupted quickly. That means nothing, said Ayesha; he can be overthrown. Here a cry of indignation came from both of us, and we explained that we might as well think of overthrowing ourselves. This is strange, said Ayesha, astonished; a king who is loved by his people. The world must have changed greatly while I have been living in the caves of Kor. We explained then that the change had come in the rulers. The king, whose subjects we were, was loved and respected by all the right-thinking inhabitants of his vast empire. We also told him at the same time that the real power in our country was in the hands of the people, and that the uneducated and lower- educated population of our country actually ruled the whole country through a parliament elected by vote. That is democracy, said Ayesha—then you must have a tyrant, for I have noticed that in democratic states, where even the people themselves do not know what they are really aiming at, a person is usually put in charge, whom everyone then bows down to with respect. Yes, said I, we have our tyrant. We can destroy those tyrants anyway, he said calmly, and Callicrates is the ruler of the country. I immediately explained to Ayesha that destruction would not work at all in England, but that any such attempt would be a violation of the law and would probably end in the gallows. A violation of the law, he repeated, with a mocking laugh— a violation of the law! Do you not understand, O Holly, that I am above all such laws, and so is my Callicrates ? We are as independent of human laws as mountains are of the north wind. Does the wind make the mountain bend, or the mountain the wind? Leave me now, O Holly, I beg you, and you too, my own Callicrates, for I must prepare everything for our journey. Do the same with your servants, but do not take much with you, for I think we shall be on our journey but three days. When we return here I will make a plan how we may bid farewell forever to these tombs of Kor. — Yes, my Holly, with my permission you may kiss my hand. So we departed, and I immediately fell into deep thought about the future, which now appeared to us in a very different light. That fearsome and mysterious Ayesha had clearly decided to come with us to England and I began to shudder to think of what she might accomplish there. I felt her power and was sure she would not hesitate to use it to carry out her plans. Perhaps we could keep her for a short time. in chains, but her proud and ambitious spirit would break her bonds before long, and by some means make up for her centuries of solitude. If she did not achieve her ultimate goal by her beauty and wisdom, she would destroy all obstacles in her path by her power, and since she could not die, and as far as I know she could not be killed, how could it be possible to thwart her plans? At last England with all her glory would be in her power—perhaps the whole world—and I am sure that our country would soon be the most glorious and powerful empire that the world has ever known, but this would not be without countless sacrifices. All that I had heard and seen here seemed to me like a wonderful dream, or like the fairy-tale visions conjured up by the excited imagination of some meditator, and yet it was all true, as the whole world would soon know. What could all this mean? I finally concluded that this wonderful being, who had lived for millennia in this unknown place, bound by his passions, would now appear, chosen by fate, to change the entire order of the world. With his power he would suppress all rebellions and wars, thus forcing peoples to live in peace and harmony, which would indeed be a great change for the better. Chapter 24. The Temple of Truth. We were soon ready. I had a change of clothes and a pair of shoes for each man in my knapsack, and just in case, each of us had a revolver and a light magazine rifle, and plenty of ammunition in his bag, a precaution for which we were later to thank many times for our survival of the adventure. A couple of minutes before the appointed time we went to Ayesha’s and found her ready in every way, waiting for us in a dark robe. Are you ready to go and see great and wonderful things? she asked. We are, I answered, though for my part I still doubt, O Ayesha. My Holly, said he, you are truly like those old Jews—I am still saddened to think of them—who doubted all that they did not know. But then you shall see; unless my mirror is mistaken, he pointed to a stone vase in which the water gleamed crystal clear, the road is in the same condition as it was in ancient times. Let us then set out on a journey to begin a new life, the end of which is unknown to all. To all, I repeated, my voice echoing gloomily in the high ceiling of the chamber, and passing through the great central cave we entered the open air. At the mouth of the cave was a palanquin and six mute bearers, among whom I was glad to see my old friend, Billal, whom I had grown to like more and more. For reasons which I will not go into here , Ayesha thought it best for us to go on foot, which was very agreeable to us, after so long a stay in those gloomy caves, which were indeed fit for the dwellings of the dead, and preserved their inhabitants well, but had a somewhat depressing effect on living people like us. The platform in front of the entrance, from which we had watched that ghastly dance spectacle, was now, either by chance or by Ayesha’s order, quite deserted. No one was to be seen, and I think that our journey was known only to those mute servants, who knew how to keep what they saw as their own. In about five minutes we were already on our way perpendicularly across the fertile plain or the bottom of an ancient lake, which opened before us like a mountain range reaching for green emerald clouds . We had another excellent opportunity to marvel at this remarkable place where the ancient people of Kor had built their capital, the amount of work they had done, the ingenuity of the founders of the city, and the great engineering skill that had been required to drain that immense lake . This great work is, in my opinion, unparalleled. in the world. Neither the Suez Canal nor the Montdenis Tunnel can compete with it in the vastness of the idea and the magnificent execution. The gentle coolness of the evening, which seemed to replace the wind, which was never felt on the broad plain of Kôr , on account of the cloud-high mountain range surrounding it, refreshed us beyond words, and after about half an hour’s travel we clearly saw the low rampart within which Billali said the ruins of that great city lay. Compared with Babylon, Thebes, and other famous cities of ancient times, ancient Kôr was not very large, its area being perhaps about twelve square miles or a little more, and the surrounding wall itself had only been about forty feet high, before it gradually fell into ruins. The lowness of the wall was probably due to the fact that the inhabitants of Kôr had no need to fear enemy attacks, for they were protected by a fortress that had no equal, and therefore the wall was probably built only in case of civil wars. It was as wide as it was high, and was made entirely of regular blocks of stone, which had probably been quarried from those innumerable caves. A moat about sixty feet wide surrounded the whole city, and in some places it was still full of water. About ten minutes before the sun disappeared behind the mountains we reached the moat, over which we scrambled over large blocks of stone, which looked like the remains of a broad bridge . In a moment we were on the crest of the wall. I should be glad if the reader could get from my descriptions even the slightest idea of ​​the immense spectacle that spread before our eyes. The reddish rays of the setting sun illuminated the ruined city, which stretched for miles and miles—porticoes, temples, altars, and palaces of the emperors, and the lovely parks scattered between them. The roofs of the buildings had, of course, long since fallen, but the solid walls and mighty columns were still standing. The street, which began just ahead of us, was evidently a high street, for it ran through the whole city, and was very wide, wider than the banks of the Thames, and regularly straight. It was paved, as we later saw, with square stones cut smooth, so that even now there was hardly any grass growing on it. A few bushes were visible here and there, but even their life seemed very frail. The ancient parks and gardens had become dense jungles. Looking down upon the city from the crest of the wall, we could easily see the vast, pale green network of ancient streets, and on both sides of the main avenue were heaps of ruins, between which grew impenetrable jungles, presumably ancient gardens. All the buildings were made of the same colored stone, and if we managed to see the day as it quickly turned to night, most of the houses were surrounded by magnificent colonnades. Our footsteps echoed horribly in the streets of that deserted, ruined city, which had certainly not been touched by human foot for thousands of years. After walking for a while, we arrived at a huge group of buildings, which had evidently been a temple dedicated to some supreme god. It consisted of several sections separated from each other by mighty colonnades , with a small square courtyard in the middle. The columns were different from any I had seen before, being thinner in the middle than at the ends. At first I thought the intention was to imitate the body of a woman, which was very common among ancient civilized pagan peoples in the design of temples, etc., but after a couple of days the truth of the matter became clear to me. For we had arrived at the foot of a mountain ridge, where I saw an abundance of lovely palm trees, the trunks of which were exactly in the shape of those columns. I am sure that the ancient architect who had built the colonnades had used these solemn palm trees as a model, or rather their ancestors, which were some ten thousand years ago adorned the mountainside, the ancient shore of that volcanic lake. Our little party stopped before the temple facade and Ayesha rose from her palanquin. We gazed for a moment at the giant columns of the colonnade, at least as large as the statues of the temple of Karnak at Thebes. They were about twenty feet in circumference from the ground level and about seventy-five feet high. There was once a chamber here, Callicrates, said Ayesha to Leo, who had hurried to help her from the palanquin, where we can rest and sleep. Two thousand years ago you and the Egyptian woman rested there, but no one has been here since , so the room may have collapsed. She led the way up the dilapidated steps and when we reached the first antechamber of the temple, she paused for a moment to look around. Then he turned to the left and after a few steps he stopped in the shadow of the wall and stared inquiringly into the darkness. ” Here it is,” he said, motioning to the two servants who were carrying our things to come closer. One of them searched his bag for a lamp and lit it immediately from his fire-pot. The amahaggers always carried fire with them even on short journeys, where the fire glowed in flour pounded from mummies. Such flour could keep the fire burning for a whole week if the flour was suitably moistened. We entered the chamber at the entrance of which Ayesha had stopped. Looking around me in the dim light of the lamp, I saw at once that the chamber was built into the outer wall and had been, judging from the stone table in the doorway , the study of some gatekeeper of this great temple. Having tidied the chamber a little, we arranged it as comfortably as possible under the circumstances of our stay, and began to taste our food, except Ayesha, who, as I remember having said once, never ate anything but thin flour cakes, fruit , and water.
While we were eating, the full moon rose from behind the mountain ridge and illuminated the ruins with its silver light. Do you know, O Holly, why I brought you here tonight? asked Ayesha, leaning her head on her hand and looking at the great full moon, which, like the queen of heaven, rose solemnly and slowly above the mighty pillars of the temple. I brought you—no, but Callicrates, you lie in the very same place where I had laid your dead body when I rested here two thousand years ago, when I carried you back to my dwelling in the caves of Kôr. How strange! I remember so clearly now those terrible moments, and with a shudder she pressed her hand to her eyes. Leo at once jumped up hastily and changed his place. He did not seem at all pleased by Ayesha’s old memories. I have brought you, continued Ayesha, to see the most wonderful sight that human eyes have ever seen—the ruins of Kôr in the fairy-tale light of the full moon. When you have eaten—after bathing in the fire, no other food than fruit is suitable for you, Callicrates—we will go out and I will show you this great temple and the god who was anciently worshipped there. We rose, of course, at once and set off. My pen is again incapable of describing what we saw, for everything was so magnificent. The courtyards and pillars, some of which, especially, those in the gateways, were decorated from end to end with sculptures, the great antechambers and the countless deserted rooms spoke their own language directly to the heart of the devoted observer. Everywhere there was a deathly silence and a feeling of indescribable desolation. Beautiful, but at the same time so horrible! We spoke only in whispers, and our whispers echoed loudly from pillar to pillar , finally fading into the still air. The sight of these ancient ruins seemed to have an effect even on Ayesha, who was only a fraction of their age. The moon shone brightly on the pillars and walls, illuminating the gates and courtyards with its white light, hiding all the flaws and imperfections with the silvery veil of its rays. covering the grey walls with the splendour of the moonlit night. It was wonderful to behold that ruined city in the moonlight, and wonderful also to think how many thousands of years that dead orb and this deserted city had looked at each other, and in their infinite solitude had told each other the story of their lost splendour and fallen glory. The moon rose higher and higher, and the dark shadows crept silently across the deserted courts, as if the spirits of the ancient priests of the temple had risen to look upon their former sanctuary. Lost in our thoughts, we gazed long in silence at this grand and immense sight. Come, said Ayesha at last; I will show you something of fabulous beauty, if it still remains, defying the ravages of time and awakening in the mind of the beholder a longing to see what the veil conceals, and without waiting for an answer he led us across a couple of colonnaded courts to the holiest of the old temple. When we reached the inner court, which was about fifty square feet in extent, we stood speechless to admire the most wonderful and magnificent work of art that the world has ever seen. In the middle of the court, on a huge square stone pedestal, stood an immense ball carved of dark stone, perhaps forty feet in diameter, and on the ball stood a gigantic winged creature, so charmingly, so divinely beautiful in the white light of the moon, that my heart quite stopped when I first looked at it. The statue, at least twenty feet high, was carved from such pure and snow-white marble that the rays of the moon would still sparkle on its surface thousands of years later. The sculpture was so perfectly formed and so delicately outlined that its great size only seemed to enhance its supernatural beauty and grace. The winged creature was a woman, her arms outstretched as if to embrace a pet, and her whole attitude was one of tender prayer. Her lovely body was quite naked, but her face was covered by a thin veil, through which her features were faintly visible. A misty veil was lightly draped around her head, one end of which draped her left arm, the other, folded, hanging behind her in the air. Who is she? I asked as soon as I had recovered a little from my astonishment. Can’t you guess, O Holly? replied Ayesha. Where is your imagination now ? You see Truth standing before you on the world, begging the children of men to lift the veil from her face. See what is written on the pedestal. The sentences are undoubtedly taken from the sacred writings of the people of Kor, and she drew us closer and pointed to the inscription on the pedestal of the statue. The writing, which resembled Chinese, had once been carved so deeply that it was still very legible. Ayesha translated the sentences, which read: Is there no one in the world who would look upon my face, for it is very lovely? Peace I give to him who removes my veil. And a voice echoed: ‘Behold! You are a virgin, and you will remain a virgin until the time is fulfilled, although all who seek you desire you. No man has been born, nor will be born, who could live after seeing your face. Only in death will your veil fall, O Truth!’ And Truth stretched out her hand and wept, because no one could possess her or look upon her face. Truth was, as you see, said Ayesha, when she had finished her chapter, the god of the ancient inhabitants of Kôr. They sought her and consecrated their temples to her, and though they knew they would never find her, they sought her nevertheless. And likewise, I added sadly, men seek her still, but they do not find her, for only in death is her veil taken off, as this sacred writing says. Having admired once more the veiled and spiritualized sweetness of that wonderful work of art, that dream of beauty petrified in stone by the ancient master , which I can never forget, though I find myself unable to describe it, we departed in silence. on the return journey. I looked back once more, and it seemed to me as if through that marble prison there had sparkled the radiance of a living spirit, which lifts the human mind to the sacred contemplation of eternal things. I have not seen the sculpture since, which I regret all the more, since on that great stone globe representing the world, on which stood the being representing truth, I had noticed drawings which we could not examine closely enough in the moonlight, but which probably formed a map representing the adult world of the people of Kôr . It was strange to note that those servants of Truth, who had long since moved to the mana huts, had come to an understanding of the sphericity of the earth. Chapter 25. On the Deep. The next morning, before sunrise , we were awakened by the mute servants , and after shaking off sleep and washing ourselves in the spring that still gushed from the collapsed marble basin in the ruins of the outer court, we found Ayesha at her palanquin ready to set out, while Billal and a couple of bearers were gathering our belongings. As was her custom, Ayesha had covered her face— could that habit have originated, as she said in passing, with the Statue of Truth we had seen yesterday?—but nevertheless I noticed that she was very gloomy, and that her lofty and lithe bearing, which would have distinguished her from a thousand women of the same size, even if they had all been veiled, had completely disappeared. She stood below, lost in thought, but when she heard us approaching she looked up and saluted. Leo asked if she had slept well. Badly, my Callicrates, badly, she answered with a sigh. Terrible and strange dreams have tormented me this night, and I do not understand what they can mean. It seems as if some danger threatens me—me whom no misfortune can befall. If it were to happen, O Callicrates, his voice sounded with inexpressible tenderness, that I should fall into a long sleep, leaving you to watch, would you remember me kindly? Could you, my Callicrates, await my return as long and as faithfully as I await you? Without waiting for an answer, he continued: “Come, let us set out on our journey, for the journey is long and we must arrive before dawn to-morrow. ” Soon we were on our way again through the deserted city, the ruins of which loomed in the twilight before the dawn of morning. Just as the first rays of the rising sun shot like golden arrows from behind the mountain ridge, illuminating the devastation around us, we reached the other main gate of the enclosure wall, and after glancing once more, except for Job, who paid no attention at all to the ruins behind us, at the grey and immense colonnade through which we had passed, we leaped over the moat with a sigh and were soon on the plain again. We were very sorry that we did not have time to examine the ruins more closely. With the sun came Ayeshan’s gaiety again, and by breakfast she was quite at her former self, and explained with a laugh that the place where she had slept the night before had probably caused her melancholy. These savages say that Kor is the abode of ghosts, and I believe them to be right, for only once before have I spent such a night, and that was when you, my Callicrates, lay lifeless at my feet in the very place where we spent our night. I will never go there again, for that temple is a place of ill omen. After a hasty breakfast we continued our journey so briskly that about two in the afternoon we were at the foot of the mountain range which surrounds the plain. There we halted, which I thought was absolutely necessary, for the mountain wall rose before us abruptly to a height of at least two thousand feet, so that it seemed quite impossible to advance. Now our work is only beginning, said Ayesha, rising from her litter, for here we must part from our servants and come from this I went my own way, and turning to Billal he added: You and the slaves will stay here to wait for us. Tomorrow at noon we will return, but if we are not heard from then, you will wait until we come. Billal bowed humbly and said that the queen would find them in the same place, even if they had to wait until they died. It is also best, O Holly, said Ayesha, referring to Job, that the man should stay here. It may be ill with him if his courage fails him, and besides, the place we are going to is not intended for all to see. I turned this over to Job, who immediately began to pray almost with tears that we would not leave him. He said he was sure he could not see worse than what he had already seen, and he was terrified to death to be left alone with those fools, who would certainly take advantage of the opportunity and let him make the acquaintance of the glowing pot. I translated his words to Ayesha, who replied with a shrug: ” Then let him come along, but let him also answer for the consequences. He can carry the lamp and this.” Ayesha pointed to a narrow board, about sixteen feet long, which was tied to the handle of the palanquin, and which I had thought was there to keep the curtains of the palanquin in place. I found that my conclusion was wrong, for the board seemed to be needed for some unknown purpose on our strange journey now beginning . So Job was given the lamp and the board to carry, which was very light. I took another lamp and a jar of oil on my back, and Leo had some food and water in a goatskin pouch in his bag. When we were ready, Ayesha ordered Billal and her mute servants to hide behind the magnolia bushes that grew about a hundred yards away and forbade them, on pain of death, to leave their hiding place until we had disappeared from their sight. They bowed humbly and as they left, Billal squeezed my hand warmly, whispering in my ear that he would rather stay here than go on some strange journey with that fearsome One Who Must Be Obeyed, and I must admit that in my heart I agreed with the old man. Soon the men had disappeared into the shelter of the bushes and after briefly asking us if we were ready, Ayesha turned to look at the mountain wall that rose suddenly and dizzyingly before us. Good time, Leo, I whispered, we won’t have to climb up that cliff! Leo shrugged his shoulders without answering anything and at the same time Ayesha began to climb the rock nimbly and we of course followed suit. It was quite amazing to see how boldly and nimbly he jumped from one boulder to another, and how flexibly he managed to get through the most dangerous places. The cliff was not so difficult to climb as it had seemed, for the mountain wall was still a little steep, but there were places where you could not look back. Thus we climbed with great difficulty to a height of about fifty feet, all the time dragging Job with us, who seemed to find the work the hardest of all. To facilitate his progress we were obliged to direct our course a little obliquely, so that when we stopped we were about forty paces from where we had started. After a short rest we set off again, and at last reached a narrow terrace, which at a short distance began to slope into the mountain, and finally formed a narrow mountain pass. After going about fifty paces we came to a large cave, which had evidently been formed in connection with some terrible natural cataclysm. In any case, it was certain that it was not made by humans, for the caves of Kôr were in every way regular and well-proportioned, while this one was completely irregular and full of all sorts of chambers and labyrinths. Ayesha stopped at the mouth of the cave and asked me to light the lamps, which I did, taking one myself and handing her the other. Then we set off. Ayesha went ahead, feeling the ground before her with every step, which was necessary, for the bottom of the cave was full of round stones of various sizes, like the bed of a river, and deep pits, in which one could easily break one’s foot if one stumbled. The cave was about a quarter of a mile long, and , owing to the innumerable labyrinths and sudden turns, it was very difficult to advance, but after twenty minutes we were at last at the other end, where I felt the coolness of the fresh air on my face. The darkness was still most pitch-black around us, and as I tried to make out what lay before us, a fierce gust of wind blew out both our lamps. Ayesha, who was a little ahead of us, shouted something to us, and we immediately hurried to her side, speechless to behold a sight that was downright terrifying in its gloom and grandeur. Before us lay a vast chasm, which, judging from the cracks in the rock, had been caused by some great earthquake or other terrible natural disaster. The fire of heaven had probably split the mountain to its core. The chasm, both walls of which were probably equally steep, was probably not very wide. However, we could not see the other wall , and therefore could not judge the real length of the journey, for the place where we were was so deep in the heart of the mountain that it was almost dark around us. I estimate that we were at least three thousand feet below the summit of the mountain, and in the gloomy darkness we could not get any idea of ​​the nature or depth of the chasm. At the mouth of the cave was a narrow ledge of rock about sixty cubits long, which extended perpendicularly from the rock wall into the abyss like a gigantic cock’s spur. The ledge was indeed exactly in the shape of a cock’s-crow, and was only at its base, which was of course enormous, attached to the sheer cliff, and had, as far as I could ascertain, no other support. Follow me, said Ayesha, but beware lest your heads begin to spin, or a gust of wind should drive you into a chasm that is truly bottomless; and without giving us time to consider the matter further, she stepped boldly upon the ledge, leaving us to follow as best we could. I followed her, my nature hardened, and Job came after me, dragging his plank, and Leo came last. Ayesha glided forward as silently as a shadow, and I had to marvel at her great courage and sureness. After a couple of yards I had to crawl on my knees to keep my balance, for the fierce gusts of wind and the fear of falling had discouraged my courage. Job and Leo immediately followed my example. But Ayesha did not stoop to this. With his head held high, he made his way forward over the dizzying depth, skillfully dodging the gusts of wind. His head did not seem to be dizzy, nor did his feet ever waver. When we had got twenty yards or so along that ghastly bridge, which was narrowing ever narrower, I heard the roar of a furious gust of wind from the chasm. Ayesha leaned towards the sound to withstand the impact, but the fierce wind would carry her dark sloop away, and it disappeared into the darkness, fluttering in the wind like a wounded bird. I threw myself forward and held on with all my strength to the edge of the spur, which the fierce gust had caused to tremble and from which now issued a strange ringing sound, as from a wire stretched in the wind. I looked around me, and the sight was truly terrible. The twilight thickened lower down into a dark darkness, so that we could have no idea of ​​the depth of the chasm that gaped below us, which was probably immeasurable. Above us, the sheer cliffs rose to a dizzying height, from which a small patch of blue sky was visible. A harsh and gusty wind blew relentlessly through that immense cleft, howling furiously in the countless nooks and crannies of the rock walls, and wrapping us in damp and into a dense fog, so that for a long time we could not see a hand’s breadth around us. The situation was so terrible and so strange that I think we forgot our fear because of it. Later I have often recalled those moments with feelings of horror, and even now I often wake up with a cold sweat on my forehead when I happen to dream of that terrible journey. Forward! cried Ayesha, strutting ahead of us in her white clothes like some spirit being, forward, or else you will fall and be crushed to death. Fix your eyes firmly on the ground in front of you and hold on to the rock with both hands. Following his instructions, we crawled along the narrow ledge, against which the howling storm wind roared, and after a long time of crouching and looking around, I found myself at last at the very top of that giant ledge, which was scarcely the width of an ordinary table and swayed fearfully when a gust of wind shook it. Lying on our bellies, we pressed ourselves as firmly as possible to the rock, while Ayesha stood before us, leaning against the wind, which furiously tossed her long, untamed hair. Standing on the very edge, and not caring in the least about the terrible abyss that yawned below us, she pointed ahead. At the same time, it became clear to me why we had taken the plank with us, which Job was dragging with difficulty. Something dark loomed in the gloomy darkness before us, probably caused by the opposite wall of the abyss. We must wait a moment, said Ayesha, it will soon be light. I could not at that moment comprehend her purpose. How could it ever be light in this awful place? While I was still pondering her words, a bright ray of light suddenly split the subterranean darkness of the abyss like a flashing sword and illuminated the place where we lay, surrounding Ayesha’s charming being with an almost supernatural brightness. The bright ray of the setting sun had strayed to us in the depths, and the dazzling glow of that fire was so wonderfully beautiful as it flashed through the darkness and mist that I wish I could describe it. Even to this day I do not know whence that ray of sunlight came, but I suppose there was some crack in the opposite wall, through which at the appointed moment it was able to penetrate into the abyss and meet the tip of the spur where we now stood. A more wonderful sight I have never seen. Through the pitch darkness the fiery sword flashed, and illuminated with dazzling brightness the places where it struck, but within a few inches of its sharp blade there was the darkest darkness. Ayesha had so arranged our journey that we reached the brink of the chasm just before the bright ray of sunlight appeared, by the light of which we now saw clearly what lay before us. About forty feet from the tip of the spur rose a round rock, shaped like a cone, probably from the very bottom of the chasm, the summit of which, resembling a miniature volcanic crater, was right in front of us. The summit, however, would have been of no help to us, had not there been on its edge an immense flat and roundish stone, the edge of which was about twelve feet from us . As far as I could see, the rock had no support, but was like a huge seesaw on the edge of that little crater , or like a coin balanced on the rim of a goblet, and in the bright light of the sunbeam we could see it swinging in the wind. Board! cried Ayesha, as the beam of light shot into the chasm, quick, quick, oh Holly, for we must get across before the light is gone. Heavens-maker! cried Job, does he mean we must go over that way, sir? and obeying my command he held out the board to me. So of course, good Job, I cried with terrible joy, though I did not at all like to be carried on that light board . I handed the board to Ayesha, who pushed it deftly over the chasm, so that one end rested on the swaying rock, while the other was on the very edge of our trembling ledge. Supporting the board with her foot, lest a gust of wind should throw it into the abyss, she turned to me. ” Last time I was here, O Holly,” she said, “that swaying rock was a little off balance, so I am not sure whether it will bear our weight, or whether it will totter and plunge into the abyss. I will therefore go over first, because no misfortune can befall me,” and without further ado she hurried lightly and surely over the swaying bridge, and in the next moment was standing safely on the swaying rock. “Hold the board, O Holly!” she cried. The stone of my weight seems to hold up well, but I will stand on the other side just in case when you come, so that nothing happens. I rose trembling to my knees, and if I ever felt weak, it was at that moment. I am not ashamed to say that I hesitantly backed away a little. Are you not afraid, my Holly? exclaimed that mysterious creature, standing leaning forward like a white bird on the extreme edge of that great rocking stone. Then get out of the way of Callicrates . Then my heart rose. It was better to fall into the abyss and die with honor than to be the laughingstock of women here, and gritting my teeth, I rose and stood in the next blink of an eye on the bottomless abyss, between heaven and earth, on that narrow plank that creaked beneath me. I have always been very reluctant to climb to the heights of watchtowers or stand on the edge of sheer cliffs, but now I really understood how terrible such a situation could be. How my heart would beat when I felt the board sliding and swaying under my feet. I tried to hurry forward as best I could, when at the same time my head began to spin and I staggered. The thought flashed through my brain like a flash that I was about to fall, but at the same time I felt an indescribable joy in lying on the ice, which was rocking like a boat on the waves. I thanked heaven that had helped me survive this far. Then came Leo’s turn. He was pale, but he walked along the board as seriously as a tightrope walker. Ayesha held out her hand to him, and I heard her say: My brave Callicrates. The spirit of your fathers, the ancient Greeks, still lives in you . Poor Job was all that remained. He crawled onto the plank and cried out: I can’t, sir, I can’t. I’ll fall into that abyss of perdition right there! You must! I remember saying sternly. This is as easy as catching flies, I added, with inappropriate playfulness and probably just to calm my own nerves. Impossible, sir, absolutely impossible. Let him be, Holly, said Ayesha. If he doesn’t want to come, let him stay away. The light is already fading and soon we’ll be in pitch darkness. I looked up and saw that Ayesha was right. The sun was about to pass the crack through which its beam had penetrated to us. If you stay there, Job, there will be no one with you when you die, I cried. Look! The light is getting dark. Temper your nature, Job, roared Leo, this isn’t so difficult. Thus forced, poor Job lay down on his stomach on the board, groaning —he dared not even attempt to stand up, which was no disgrace—and began to move forward with little jerks, his feet dangling helplessly on either side of the board over the bottomless abyss. His jerks on that smooth board caused the rock on which we stood to sway precariously, and as if to make matters worse, the sun’s ray suddenly disappeared when Job was only halfway there. We were left in pitch darkness, with the wind howling furiously around us. Hurry, Job! I cried out in anguish, for the rock was already swaying so violently that it was difficult to keep still. The situation was truly terrible. “Lord have mercy on my soul,” groaned poor Job from the darkness. ” Good God, the board is slipping!” he cried at once, and judging from the violent sway that followed those words, I thought he had already fallen into the depths. But at once I caught hold of his hand, which he had stretched out towards us in his agony, and, exerting all my strength, which permission has so abundantly bestowed upon me, I pulled—pulled and gritted my teeth, until, to my great joy, Job lay at last panting beside me. But the board! I heard it slip and scrape as it fell into some nook of the rock walls. Great God! I cried, how shall we get back now? I know not,” answered Leo from the darkness. “Each day has its sorrows. I am thankful enough to have come safely this far. ” Ayesha said nothing to this, but held out her hand to me and bade us follow her. Chapter 26. The Fire of Life. I did as I was told, and to my horror I felt Ayesha pulling me off the rock. I scrambled to find out what was ahead of me, but my feet were touching nothing. I’m falling! I gasped. What more; just trust me, Ayesha replied calmly. But I hesitated and was afraid to surrender myself completely to her guidance, for I could not trust her. Go and find out, even if at that very moment she had decided to send me away from the world forever. Just come now! she exclaimed impatiently, and when there was no choice , I closed my eyes and relaxed my grip. After slipping a couple of cubits along the sloping side of the rock, my feet swung into empty air and I thought I was a dead man. But no! In the next blink of an eye I felt myself standing on solid rock that did not sway, and sheltered from the wind that I heard humming above. As I stood there, grateful that God had again spared me, a wretch, I heard a slight movement above me, and then a long scrape on the side of the rock, and at the same moment Leo rolled up beside me with a thud. Hello, old fellow! he cried, are you there? This is getting amusing, isn’t it? Leo had just managed to say these words when Job fell, crying out in pain, straight on our necks, knocking us both over. As we stood there, staggering, Ayesha came up to us and asked me to light the lamps, which fortunately were still intact. The oil-pot had not broken either. I took a stick of wax from my pocket, which lit up in that awful place as well as in some fine London club-room, and in a few minutes both lamps were lit. We found ourselves in a cramped chamber, about ten feet square, and looked at each other in alarm. Ayesha stood before us, her arms folded at her sides, and waited calmly for the lamps to be lit. As the flames burned brightly, I began to look more closely around me, and saw at once that the cave we had found ourselves in was partly natural and partly hewn into the side of the crater. That swaying rock covered one side of it, and the other side, leading downward, had been hewn out of solid rock. The cave was warm and dry—a veritable chamber of peace compared with the swaying peak above us, towards which that strange spur of rock stretched out over the abyss. There you are! said Ayesha, everything went well at least, although I was already afraid that that stone, she pointed to the ceiling, would swing from its place and plunge with you into the bottomless depths of the abyss. The edge on which the stone swings is—as you can see for yourself —suspiciously broken, and when he, nodding towards Job , who sat on the ground, wiping the sweat of pain from his forehead with trembling hands with his red cotton handkerchief, to whom the name ‘pig’ given by these savages is quite appropriate, in his stupidity dropped the board, the return over the chasm is by no means the easiest, but perhaps I will have found some way by then. Rest now a moment and look around you. What do you think of this? “What strange place? Do you know what it is? No, O Ayesha,” I replied. ” Do you believe, O Holly, that a man once took up his abode in this airy chamber and remained here for many years? Every twelfth day he went out from here to fetch food, water, and oil, which the inhabitants of the land brought as offerings to the mouth of the tunnel through which we came here!” We looked at him in wonder, and he continued: “That is the way it is. The man who lived here—Noot was his name—had learned the profound knowledge of the wise men of Kor, though he lived later. He was a hermit and a sage who knew all the secrets of nature, and it was he who first discovered the place where the eternal fire of life burns. The power that animates all nature appears there in the form of a huge pillar of fire, which I will show you. He who bathes in its flames and breathes its powerful vapors lives as long as nature itself.” This Noot resembled you very much , O Holly, and like you he did not wish to test the wondrous power of that fire. ‘It is not fitting for a man,’ he said, ‘to live longer than he is allowed, for man is born only to die.’ Therefore he revealed his secret to no one, but here he faithfully guarded the way that leads to the pillar of fire of life, and the Amahaggers revered him as a holy hermit. When I came to this land—do you know, Callicrates, how I came to be here? When we return from here I will tell you some day the wondrous and strange events of my life. Yes, when I came to this land I heard talk of that holy man and went to the mouth of the tunnel to wait for him when he came to collect the offerings of the people, and I followed him here, although I was unspeakably afraid to step over the chasm. Then I charmed him with my beauty so that he took me down and showed me the pillar of fire, the great secret of which he also told me. However, he did not allow me to enter the flames, and fearing that he would kill me if I did not obey, I obeyed his will, knowing that he was already a frail old man who would soon die. Having learned from him all that he knew about the wonderful spirit of the world, I left him. He was a wise man who, by the purity of his life, his renunciation, and the wonderful power of his thoughts, had discovered many secrets and truths unknown to mortals, the silent rustling of whose invisible wings we hear from time to time in the space of the world. A few days later I met you, O Callicrates, who had come here with your Egyptian spouse, the lovely Amenartas, and then I fell in love for the first and last time and decided to bring you here to give us both the gift of life. So we came here, the Egyptian Amenartas with us, for he would not give you up, and behold, we met Noot the old man dead. There he rested, and his long, bushy beard covered him like a white garment, and Ayesha pointed to the ground beside me. He must have long since turned to dust, scattered by the wind in all directions. Stretching out my hand, I felt around me, and at the same moment my fingers touched something. I held in my hand a human tooth, very yellow, but perfectly sound and whole. Ayesha laughed when she saw it. Yes, she said, the tooth is undoubtedly his. See what remains of Noot and his great wisdom—only one single tooth. He might still be alive, but she would not hear of it for the sake of her conscience. She had just died when I arrived here with you and Amenartas, and we landed where I intend to take you now, and gathering all my courage and fearing the death that might crown a life in that fire, I stepped into the flames and behold — a life the like of which you will never know until you do the same, filled my being and I emerged from the fire immortal and dazzlingly beautiful. I stretched out my arms to you and asked you to embrace your immortal bride, but, blinded by my beauty, you turned away and wrapped your arms around me. Amenartas’ neck. Then I was enraged to the point of madness , and snatching the spear from your hand, I struck it straight into your heart, so that you lay lifeless at my feet— near the fiery pillar of life. I did not know then that I could kill only with my gaze and the power of my will, and therefore in the fury of my anger I killed you with the blow of my spear. And I wept for your death, and my pain was overwhelming, because you were dead and I immortal. My grief was so heavy that if I had been a mortal woman, my heart would surely have been crushed. And he—that dark Egyptian—cursed me in the name of all his gods. He swore by Osiris, Isis, Nephthys, Hekti, the lion of Sekhet, and Seth that he would take terrible revenge on me. All evil was to befall me, and in eternal solitude I was to perish at last. Ah, I can still see her dark face, distorted with rage, as she bent over me, but she could do me no harm, and I do not know whether I could have done her any harm. Later I sent her across the marshes to the seashore, and she seems to have come alive to the world of men to bear a son and to write the story that led you, her husband, to me, her rival and your murderer. Such is my story, my dear, and it is true; I have concealed nothing from you, O Callicrates. It is written in blood, and it is woven of evil and good, as is everything in this world— perhaps more of evil. And one more thing before your last trial. We are going down now to the very edge of death, for life and death are always very close together, and who knows— something may happen to part us again. I am only a man, a woman, and I cannot know things to come. But this I know, for I heard it from that old and wise Noot, that my life has only been prolonged and brightened. I cannot live forever. One day it will be my turn to sleep my last sleep and fade into the darkness of the unknown. So say, Callicrates, before we go that you have truly forgiven me everything and love me with all your heart and soul. I have done much wrong, you see, Callicrates, and perhaps I offended you the other night when I killed the girl who loved you to death, but she was disobedient and irritated me with her talk of impending misfortunes. Be careful, too, when you become strong, lest you strike too hard at jealousy, perhaps inciting you to rage or anger, for irresistible power is a terrible weapon in the hands of a fallible man. Yes, I have sinned— I have sinned in the bitterness of great love, but I still distinguish good from evil, and my heart is not yet completely hardened. Your love, Callicrates, must free me from the sorrow into which my love once brought me. Deep and hopeless love is the hell of noble hearts and the portion of the damned, but love, brightly reflected back from the soul of a deified being, lifts us as if on wings above all everyday things and makes us as noble and good as possible. So take me by the hand and lift my veil calmly, as if I were some peasant girl and not the most beautiful and wise woman in the world, and look me in the eyes and say that you forgive me everything and love me with all your heart. She fell silent, but the unspeakable tenderness of her voice still seemed to vibrate around us and moved me more than her words—it was so human and so feminine. Leo was also very moved. Hitherto he had been terrified, feeling himself under Ayesha’s spell against his better judgment , and had tried to free himself from her influence like a bird from the proximity of a striking snake, but now I believed all hesitation had vanished and he had truly realized that he loved that mysterious and dazzlingly beautiful creature, whom I too had I loved the poor man with all my heart. I saw his eyes fill with tears and, stepping quickly to Ayesha, he removed the misty veil from her face and, taking Ayesha’s hand, he looked into her eyes and said solemnly: Ayesha, I love you with all my heart and I forgive you for the death of Ustane. You may arrange the rest with your creator, I know nothing about them. I only know that I have never loved as much as I love you now and I want to stay with you forever. Since my master, answered Ayesha humbly, speaks with such royal nobility and grants me complete forgiveness, it is not right for me to lag behind in the tenderness of my words and the generosity of my expressions of love. Look! and taking Leo’s hand, he placed it on his beautiful head and humbly bowed for a moment on one knee, as a sign of submission I bend my knee before my master. Look! and he pressed a kiss upon Leo’s lips, my love I confirm with this kiss. Look! and he pressed his hand upon Leo’s heart, by the crime I have committed, by my centuries-long expectation, by my great love, and by the eternal spirit of life, which animates all living things and into which all things are again merged, I swear, in this first sacred hour of my long life, to abandon evil and love good. Your voice must keep me on the straight path of duty. I will avoid ambition, and during the incalculably long life of mine, only the bright star of wisdom shall lead me to truth and teach me to love all that is good and right. You, Callicrates, whom the wave of time so wonderfully restored to me, I swear to honor and love you to the very end, sooner or later. I swear—no, I swear no more, for words are only words. You will find that Ayesha keeps her word and loves the truth. Now I have sworn, and you, Holly, are my witness, and thus we have confirmed our vows with light. Darkness is our bridal tent and our wedding herald, the storm wind that will carry our promise to the heavens and proclaim it around the entire spinning earth. As a wedding gift, I crown you with the glittering crown of my beauty, I give you unlimited power and wisdom. Look! the mighty of the world crawl at your feet, and their lovely women cover their eyes in the glare of the glory of your face, and you humble their wise men. The thoughts of men are to you like an open book , and you lead them wherever you please. Like the famous Sphinx of Egypt, you remain unchanged from century to century, and people ask and pray to you to reveal the riddle of your unfading greatness, but their wishes are never fulfilled. Look! I kiss you once more and with this kiss I give you dominion over the lands and the seas. Emperors in their palaces and peasants in their huts and all the cities of the world with their countless inhabitants will once humble themselves before you. Your power is known from east to west, from the rising of the sun to its setting, and where the image of the moon at night shimmers on the surface of the desolate ocean. In the roar of storms your voice echoes and the glowing rosy of the evening twilight reflects your imperishable beauty. From the snowy north across the equator to the lovely south, where the myrtles smell sweet, your name and your great glory are praised. Sorrows and sorrows never oppress you and illness and fear cannot pale your face. Like a God you rule the whole world and good and evil are in your power and I too humble myself before you. So great is the power of love and such is my wedding gift to you, my Callicrates, my ruler and the ruler of the whole world, whom the gods also love. Yes, now I am ready, and whatever happens, this cannot be undone. Come winds and storms, come life or death, let our days darken into eternal night, this can never be changed. I have spoken and my word stands — let us leave here and continue our journey, that all may be found, and Taking another lamp, she went across the room under the swaying stone roof and stopped at the edge of the cone, pointing downwards. We went to her and saw by the light of the lamps some kind of steps formed of protruding rock angles on the side of the mountain, along which Ayesha began to descend, hopping nimbly like a mountain goat from step to step, while we followed her rather more clumsily. After we had gone about sixty steps down, those steps made by nature ended and we stood on a sloping bank on the edge of a black chasm, which Ayesha illuminated with her lamp. The fall was not abrupt, but rather steep, and with Ayesha walking bravely ahead we began to strive downwards again , not knowing at all where we were being taken in the bowels of that extinct volcano . In a few places the slope dropped quite abruptly, but despite this the descent was comparatively easy and, just in case, I tried to remember as accurately as possible the path we had taken. There were plenty of signs, for the slope was full of all sorts of boulders, some of which, in the dim light of our lamps, resembled the monstrous goblins of fairy tales, and we even thought we saw the monstrous faces glimmering out of the darkness, when the light was refracted on the side of some strange rock. I cannot say how many hundred feet we thus descended, but after about half an hour I thought I was approaching the bottom of the abyss. I was right, for in a couple of minutes we stood safely at the bottom of that gigantic funnel, from which the passage, about fifty cubits long, was so narrow that we had to crawl through it. Having got through it, we came into an immense, spacious cavern, so high that we could not even make out the ceiling. Judging by the oppressive air and the dull echo of our footsteps, we were in a large cave, in whose deathly silence we wandered like the souls of the lost in the gloomy halls of Hades. After walking for several minutes we came to a passage that led to another smaller cave. The walls and ceiling very much resembled that long tunnel-like cave that ended in that strange rock spur that trembled in the wind, and to all appearances this subterranean cavity had also been created by the tremendous force of some elastic gas bursting through solid rock. After a moment we reached a third passage, from which a faint reflection of light could be seen. Ayesha stopped at the mouth of the passage and said with a sigh of relief: All is well; be ready to enter the heart of the world, a place where the life that is manifested everywhere in nature, in people, animals, and in every tree and flower, pulses mightily. He hurried on, and we followed as best we could, frightened and curious. What could we see? The light grew brighter and brighter, and flashed down the passage like the glow of a distant lighthouse, when a dull, thunderous rumble reached our ears. We quickened our steps, and at once—oh heaven! The passage suddenly widened into a large cavern, about fifty feet long, and perhaps as high, and about thirty feet wide. The ground was covered with fine, white sand, and the walls were gleamingly smooth. This cavern was not dark like the others, but a soft, rosy light, unparalleled in its kind, illuminated it from bottom to top, but the markings that had been reflected in the passage had now disappeared, and we heard no more of that dull rumble. As we stood there, amazed, gazing at this wondrous sight, and wondering what could have caused that wonderful light , something fearful and beautiful happened. From the other end of the cave began to be heard a distant rumbling, which gradually grew louder and louder into a roar so terrible and deafening that we all trembled and Job fell to his knees, and at the same time there flashed into view a huge, lightning-bright cloud of fire or statue, sparkling with all the colors of the rainbow. For about forty seconds the statue thus blazed and rumbled, slowly turning around, and the rumble gradually as it died away the flame also vanished—I know not whither—leaving behind it the rosy glow which we had first seen. Nearer, nearer! cried Ayesha, in a voice trembling with joy . Behold the fountain and heart of life as it beats in the bosom of our great world. Behold the power that animates all, the dazzling spirit of this celestial body, without which it cannot live, but would become cold and desolate like the dead moon. Go nearer and bathe in those flames, and let their wondrous power renew your spirit and harden the earthly tabernacle in which it dwells. Your life, which glows faintly in you, consumed by many, countless previous lives, is here renewed directly from its source. We followed her to the place where the great artery of life pulsed and that immense pillar of fire appeared. We were overcome by such a wonderful joy of life and a feeling of happiness that the former moments of the greatest joy now seemed insignificant. The vivifying power radiating from the fire had already affected us, and we felt ourselves strong as giants and swift as eagles. We looked at each other with sparkling eyes in the bright glow left by the flame and laughed aloud in the unspeakable joy of our hearts and the wonderful ecstasy of our feelings. Job, who had scarcely smiled for many weeks, now laughed like a happy child. My brain was so clear and the activity of my thoughts so infinitely lively that I could only have spoken in verses that would have surpassed Shakespeare in beauty and content . Wonderful ideas flashed through my mind and I felt as if my spirit, liberated, had soared high above all earthly things. It is impossible to describe in words what I felt. I was like some glorified supernatural being, to whom nothing in this world can be incomprehensible. As I stood there in the ecstasy of happiness and rejoicing at my renewal, a distant rumbling began again, which rapidly grew nearer , and finally grew louder and louder, and at the same moment there flashed before us that dazzlingly bright and brilliantly colored pillar of fire, which for a moment slowly whirled in place and then disappeared from our sight as the rumble gradually died away completely. That wondrous sight dazzled us so much that we all fell on our faces except Ayesha, who stood with her head held high and stretched out her hand towards the flame with a triumphant smile on her lips. Now, Callicrates, he said, when the pillar of fire had disappeared, your great hour has come. You must go into the flame when it first appears. Take off your clothes, for the fire will spoil them, though it will not harm you. Let the fire touch all your limbs and breathe its wondrous power into the very depths of your heart, so that nothing of its great influence may be wasted on you. Do you hear me, O Callicrates? I hear, O Ayesha, answered Leo, but I am terrified to step into that terrible flame, although I am no coward. How do I know that the fire will not destroy me completely? Then I shall be a lost man and I shall lose you too, Ayesha. In any case, I will try. Ayesha thought for a moment and then said: It is not surprising that you are afraid, Callicrates. But tell me, my dear: if you see me standing in the fire and coming to you unharmed, will you then dare to go? Yes, he answered. I will go even if I die. I have already said that I will go right now. Me too! I exclaimed. What do you say, my Holly! Ayesha laughed brightly. I thought you did not want to prolong your life. How can this be explained? I do not know, I answered. My heart bids me try the power of fire. I want to live. Very well, said Ayesha. At least you have a little sense. I am going to bathe a second time in the fire of life, for I would gladly increase my beauty and prolong my life, if that is possible. At least it cannot do me any harm. I have another and more valid reason, she continued after a moment, why I want to stand once more in the fire of life. in the statue. Last time, the fire of passion raged in my heart and I was furious with that Egyptian Amenartas and therefore, despite all my efforts, passions and that anger have haunted me from that day of sorrow to this very moment. But now it is different. Now I am happy and pure in mind and I will always be so. Therefore, drive out all evil from your heart, Callicrates, as you let the fire caress your limbs. Spread the wings of your soul and soar high above all low. Dream of your mother’s kiss and remember the noblest and most beautiful thing you have ever dreamed of in your dreams. If you are good and noble in the fearful moment of your rebirth, then you will remain so forever. Prepare, then, as for your last moment; think that you must soon enter the land of shadows, and not through the gate of glory into the beautiful kingdom of life, O Callicrates. Prepare, I say! Chapter 27. What We Saw. There was a moment of silence, during which Ayesha seemed to gather all her strength and energy for the ordeal. A distant rumbling began again, and as it quickly passed, Ayesha dropped her misty veil, untied the golden serpent from her bosom, and shaking out her thick hair, which covered her almost to her feet, she slipped off her white dress and fastened the belt around her waist again, thus tying her magnificent, wavy hair more tightly around her. She was so sweet and so divinely beautiful as she stood there before us , draped only in her wavy hair, tied with a golden belt, that words cannot describe it. Eve must have been equally beautiful as she stood before Adam waking from his sleep. Threading her ivory-white hand through her dark hair, she wrapped it around Leo’s neck. Oh, my treasure, she whispered, can you ever fully understand how tenderly I have always loved you? and after kissing Leo’s forehead she stepped to the spot from which the statue of the fire of life was blazing. There was something exceedingly moving in her words and in her kiss . It was as if a mother had blessed her dearest with a tender kiss . The rumble approached like the roar of a hurricane in the primeval forest, soon turning into a terrible crash, and the dazzling flashes, which shot like fiery arrows into the rosy glow of the cave, announced the approach of the statue of fire. At once it appeared and, stretching out both hands towards it, Ayesha seemed to greet it, a heavenly smile brightening her face. The statue approached slowly and, whirling, enveloped her in its flames. I saw her completely surrounded by fire and I saw how she seemed to pour fire over herself with both hands like water in a bath. She breathed it deep into her lungs, which was a fearful and wondrous sight. Then she stood still, as if she were the spirit of the fire of life itself. The flame caressed her from head to toe, and sparkled in her charming curls, which began to sparkle like a golden braid. It caressed her snow-white bosom, and kissed her lovely shoulders, from which her hair had flowed to one side. It touched her white neck in passing, crept quietly over her face, and seemed to penetrate her eyes, which became brighter and brighter, and at last shone brighter than the fire of life itself. Oh, how indescribably beautiful she was as she stood in the flame! Not even an angel in heaven would have been more lovely than she, and pain and sorrow still sting my heart when I remember how charmingly she smiled when she saw our frightened faces. I would give half my remaining life if I could see her like that once more. But as he stood there, smiling at us, his face began to change rapidly—much more rapidly than I can tell. The smile died on his lips, which seemed to shrink, his perfectly beautiful face became angular, the sparkling brightness of his eyes disappeared, and his whole being seemed to collapsed. I rubbed my eyes, thinking that some delusion was troubling me, or that the dazzling light had blinded my vision. The whirling pillar of fire vanished into nothingness as the thunder gradually died down. As soon as the flame had thundered away, Ayesha stepped up to Leo—her step was a dragging one—and stretched out her hand to rest on Leo’s shoulder. I looked at his hand. Where had its wondrous beauty gone? The hand I saw was thin and angular. And the face—good God! —his face grew old before my eyes! I think Leo made the same observation; at least he recoiled a couple of steps back. What now, my Callicrates? said Ayesha, and her voice, which had been indescribably bright and resonant, was now hoarse and broken. What—what now? My head is so confused. Yet the properties of fire have not changed. Can the source of life change? Tell me, Callicrates, is there something wrong with my eyes? I see so badly, and in her agony she pressed her hands to her head. But at the same time—horrible —her hair came off and fell to the ground. Look, look! cried Job in a shrill voice of terror. His eyes were about to fall out of their sockets and foam gushed from his mouth. Look! He is shrinking! God have mercy, he is turning into an ape! and Job fell on his face to the ground, his whole body twitching like a spasm. Job was right—when I remember that terrible sight my hands still tremble so that I can hardly write—Ayesha shrank . The golden snake that was on her tongue slithered to the ground and her dazzling white skin gradually darkened to a dirty brown, finally resembling old blackened parchment. She felt her head and her once beautiful hands were now dried up and curled up like those of badly preserved Egyptian mummies. At once he seemed to understand what was happening, and throwing himself on the ground in his unspeakable distress he began to scream heart-rendingly. Oh, how he screamed! I can still hear that terrible scream when I recall the incident. He shrank smaller and smaller until at last he was no bigger than a monkey. His skin was wrinkled into millions of wrinkles, and his shapeless face showed infinite old age. No man has ever seen a sight to compare with that horrible face, which was no bigger than that of a two-month -old child, although the skull was otherwise almost as big as it once was, and let all pray to God that no one ever has to see such terrible things as can drive any man mad. At last he lay still, moving only feebly. That divine Ayesha, who a few minutes ago had been the sweetest and most charming woman in the world, now lay before us a monstrous dwarf the size of an ape—I say, indescribably monstrous. I already suspected that she was the same creature! We saw her dying and thanked God, for as long as she lived she felt, and what could she possibly feel! She raised herself on her bony hands, looking blindly around her, and swayed her head silently from side to side like a turtle. She was completely blind, for her watery eyes were covered with a thick pale membrane. What a shocking sight. She could still speak, however. Callicrates, she said in a hoarse and trembling voice. Do not forget me, O Callicrates. Pity me, the unfortunate one, and await my return. I will come when the time is fulfilled, and you will meet me more lovely than ever . I swear it—believe me, Kal–. His voice had gradually dropped to a whisper, and before he could finish his sentence, he fell silently on his face. He died in the same place where three thousand years ago he had killed the priest Kallikrates. Our nerves could not hold out any longer. Everything began to spin in our eyes at a dizzying speed, the rosy light suddenly darkened, and we fell unconscious to the ground. I do not know how long our fainting lasted. Probably many hours. When I awoke, the rosy glow in the cave was as before, and the statue of the fire of life was just disappearing, slowly spinning around me with thunder and lightning. I looked around. Near me lay Leo and Job, motionless as the dead, and a few steps away I saw that dark brown parchment- colored mummy, shrunken to the size of a monkey, who had just been that divine Ayesha, the most beautiful and sweetest woman I have ever seen. So it was all true—the terrible sight we had seen was not just a bad, horrible dream, as I had already begun to hope. What had caused this shocking change? Had the effect of the fire of life changed? Did it give death instead of life? Or was it perhaps that the body, once hardened by the fire, could not endure any longer? When the life which the fire had renewed and extended, in a word, to an endless length, came a second time into contact with the quickening power of fire, the fire probably destroyed all its former effect, and the body which it had made immortal and unchangeable was now transformed into what it would have been had it never been subjected to the fire of life. Only thus could Ayesha’s terrible transformation be explained. The age of two thousand years had left its mark upon her in a few minutes, and I am sure that any man who by any remarkable means could live two thousand years would eventually shrink to such a dwarf as an ape. Can anyone ever fully explain what had happened? I have often pondered the question, and I have finally come to the conviction that Ayesha’s death was a permission of fate. Of Ayesha, buried alive, who had waited for centuries for the return of her dead lover, the world knew nothing, but Ayesha , happy in love, eternally young and divinely beautiful , and incomparably wise and learned, would have shaken the whole order of the world. Thus she violated eternally immutable laws—and was destroyed. As my strength gradually returned, which happened very quickly in the reviving air of the cave, I pondered for a moment all the horrors I had seen. At once I remembered my companions, and staggering to my feet I staggered to them to see if I could in any way help them. First, however, I picked up Ayesha’s white dress and her misty veil, with which she had hidden her dazzling beauty from the eyes of mortals, and turning my head away, I hastily covered the hideous earthly remains of our lovely Ayesha. For I feared that Leo would wake up in the midst of it all and see that terrible vision again. I then went to Job, who was lying on his face, and turned him over on his back. He was so strangely listless that a sad foreboding came over me. I bent down to look into his face and saw at once that our old and faithful servant was dead. This last horror had finally completely broken his already shaken nerves, and fear and terror had now made an end of him. I saw it at once in his face. This was another blow, which probably best explains the crushing horror of our experiences. I myself was already so hardened that I no longer cared about anything. It seemed quite natural to me that the good old man was dead. Leo, who had by this time recovered, leaned on one elbow, moaning and trembling, and he too only said briefly, “Oh, or so,” when I told him of Job’s death. This indifference was not due to heartlessness, I can vouch for it, for Leo and Job were fondly attached to each other, and Leo often remembers him with love and respect, but our nerves could not bear any more. The power of the harpoon is limited, no matter how hard its strings are plucked. I began to soothe Leo as best I could, and my efforts finally succeeded, for he had been only in a daze, as I was. After a moment he sat up, and at the same moment I saw something terrible and shocking again. As we came I remember Leo’s curly hair shining like molten gold in the rosy glow of the cave, but now his hair was gray and gradually turning completely white. Besides, he looked twenty years older now. What are we going to do now, old fellow? he asked hollowly, when his head had cleared a little and he remembered all that had happened. What else but try to get out of here, I answered, unless you intend to test its power, and I pointed to the flame that had reappeared. I would try if I knew for sure it would kill me, he answered with a smile. My damned hesitation caused all this. If I had not expressed my fear, Ayesha would not have thought to show me how to proceed. However, the flame could affect me differently. It could make me immortal and, old fellow, I would not have the patience to wait perhaps a couple of thousand years for Ayesha to return as she faithfully awaited me. I would rather die in my own time—I hope it will be very soon—and then go and look for him where he has gone. You go and stand in the fire when it first appears, if you like. But I shook my head. My recent enthusiasm had vanished, and my former aversion to prolonging my life had returned stronger than ever. Besides, neither of us knew what the fire would really do. Ayesha’s example was not encouraging, and the real causes that had really brought about that terrible result were naturally unknown and unknowable. My son, I said at last, we cannot stay here or we will be like them both, and I pointed to the little lump covered with a white dress and Job’s stiffening body. It is better that we go at once. What must be the state of the lamps? I wonder if the oil has run out! and with trembling fingers I opened the second lamp—it was quite empty. There is more in the pot, unless it is broken, said Leo indifferently. The said vessel was, however, whole, and I filled the lamps to the brim. There was still a little of the heart left, and having got everything in order I lit the lamps with a wax stick. We heard the pillar of fire approaching again, as it circled its thousand-year orbit without a break, if that regularly appearing flame was really always the same. Let us watch once more when it thunders forth, said Leo, we shall never see such a sight again in this world. I had nothing against it, and so we waited for the pillar of fire to return. As before it came thundering terribly and sparkling in all its beautiful colours, and after revolving slowly in place for a moment it gradually faded from our sight, as the dreadful crack died down to a dull rumble, which also at last fell completely silent. I have often wondered how many thousands of years this phenomenon has been repeated in the heart of the earth, and how infinitely long it will be repeated. Can any mortal ever find the way to the pillar of the fire of life, behold its dazzling glory, and hear its fearful and mighty voice? I do not think so. I believe we were the last human beings to be blessed with that supernatural sight. The flame was soon extinguished, and we were ready to go; but before we left that wondrous place, we went to Job and shook his cold hand. Thus we honored our faithful servant and friend, and at the same time said our eternal farewell. We did not move the white garment, for we did not wish to see that terrible sight again, but from the dark locks of hair that had fallen to the ground we each took a soft curl, which is still in our possession as the only memory of the lovely and charming Ayesha. Leo pressed that fragrant curl to his lips. Ayesha asked me not to forget her, he said hoarsely, and swore that we would meet again. I cannot help her, forget. Here by the statue of the fire of life I swear that I will not care for any other woman as long as I live, if we manage to get out of here again into the world of men. Whatever my age may be, I will wait for you, O Ayesha, as faithfully as you waited for me. Yes, I thought, if he returns as he was, but suppose he comes to you as he is now? What would happen then, my Leo? Then we went away and left those two dead men themselves on the edge of the fountain of life to sleep their last long sleep. How lonely they looked as they lay there! That little lump covered with a white dress had been for two thousand years the wisest, sweetest, and most wonderful creature in the world—I can hardly call her a woman . She had been evil in a way, but who here is completely perfect, and her evil—it is difficult for me to pronounce that word—had in no way spoiled her beauty and charm. Perhaps rather the contrary! At any rate he was one of the greatest characters I have ever met, and meanness and pettiness were unknown to Ayesha. And poor Job! His prophecy had come true, and there his earthly journey ended. The tomb in which he rested was more peculiar than that of any other Norfolk man, and it also contained the earthly remains of that divine Ayesha. What an honour to be buried in the same tomb, beside our immortal queen! We looked back once more at the rosy glow of the cave where those two deceased rested, and with unspeakable heaviness of heart we set out on our return journey. We were so broken that we rejected even the heavenly gift of immortality, because our lives were no longer worth anything. To prolong our lives would have meant only the continuation of our sufferings! We both felt now that having once looked into Ayesha’s eyes we could never forget her. We mourned her as long as our memory lasts. We both loved her, and her image was forever imprinted on our hearts, from which no one else can ever drive it away. Yet my conscience is always troubled when I think of her—I had no right to love her, and have no right to do so. She told me that I meant nothing to her, and could never have her in this life or the next. Only then can a woman love two men, so that all three are happy together, can I have a little hope. In my grief it is my only consolation. But weak as it is, without it I should sink into despair and finally perish. Leo is different, and I have often bitterly envied his happiness, for if Ayesha was right in dying, which I do not doubt, Leo could think with joy of her return, and dream hopefully of his lovely darling who had only been gone for a while. Yet I would not have it otherwise—how foolish and weak the human heart is—but was content with the crumbs that fell from my mistress’s table. I rejoiced in remembering a few of her kind words to me , and hoped that sometime in life, when we should meet her again, she would smile at me sweetly, knowing me. Perhaps I might be her friend again, and my admiration for her and—Leo might perhaps be rewarded with a warm handshake now and then. Oh, how happy I should be then! If such adoration is not based on true love, then nothing. I will say one unshakable truth. It is not good for a man whose life is already turning towards evening to fall under the spell of love. Then our joys are most often turned into sorrow. Chapter 28. The Terrible Leap. We got through the caves easily, but when we reached the top of that immense funnel, the difficulties began. First of all, it was extremely difficult to get up the cliffs and secondly, the path was almost impossible to find. If I hadn’t been so careful As we descended, I tried as accurately as possible to impress upon my mind the strange outlines of the largest boulders I had seen, and we would never have got out of the mazes of the volcano, but would have finally, after wandering for a long time, died there from exhaustion and despair. We got lost several times, and once we had slipped into a gaping chasm or a crevice. In the dim light of our lamps I felt every boulder to see if I had seen it before, and that climb from rock to rock in the dark gloom and deathly silence was unspeakably hard. We hardly spoke at all, for our hearts were so heavy with grief that we could not talk. We only trudged onward, falling and bleeding from time to time . But we were so paralyzed and broken by grief that we cared nothing. We felt only duty bound to try to save our lives as best we could, and our healthy natural instincts naturally urged us to do all we could. For about four hours we wandered about without knowing where we were, and at last I began to fear that we had lost our way in some other funnel. I thought we were already lost when suddenly I felt a large, strangely shaped boulder which we had passed by in our descent near the edge of the funnel. It was quite by chance that I noticed the rock, for we had already passed it by in our search for the way. But as I stopped to catch my breath, its strange shape came to my mind, and as there was nothing else to do, I turned to look at it more closely, and at once remembered where I had seen it before . We were saved from that strait. With little difficulty we then found the stone steps, and were soon standing in the chamber where the old Noot the soothsayer had lived and died. But now we were faced with the most terrible dilemma of all, and I did not know how to overcome it. I remember that Job, in his blind fear, had dropped the plank by which we had climbed from the ledge of rock to that swaying rock. How were we to get across the chasm without a plank? There was only one way—we had to try to jump over, if we were not to starve. The distance from the rock to the ledge was not so great, I think only about twelve feet, and I have seen Leo jump over twenty without difficulty when I was at the university, but now the situation was different. Two exhausted men, one of whom was already past forty, with a swaying rock as a springboard, from which we had to jump over the bottomless abyss in a hurricane-like wind onto a two-foot-wide, trembling ledge of rock! That was enough, God forbid. I mentioned the matter to Leo, but he only said that there was no need to worry. When our fate was once so ruthless that we had to choose one evil or the other, either to starve to death in Noot’s chamber or to dare to jump, he thought it better to try to jump. If it didn’t work out, we would die quickly anyway without any further trouble. There was naturally no need to remind us of this, but one thing was self-evident. We could not even think of carrying out our enterprise as long as it was dark, but we had to wait for the ray of light that would split the darkness of the abyss like a flashing sword at sunset. We had not the faintest idea of ​​the time of day; we only knew that we had only a couple of minutes to use after the sun’s rays appeared, so we had to be ready at any moment for our terrible ordeal. Our lamps were starting to run out of oil. One had already gone out, and in the fading light of the other we hurriedly climbed up onto the rock to await that decisive moment. At the same time the lamp went out. Our situation was now considerably different. Down below, in Noot’s little chamber, we had heard the wind howling above us, but now, lying on the rock with our mouths open, we were fully aware of the terrible fury of the gusts of wind. From every direction they attacked furiously at us, and howled in the walls and labyrinths of the abyss like a thousand lost souls. Hour after hour passed as we lay on the rock, so dejected and shocked that I cannot even begin to describe it. We listened to the howling of the storm in this inferno, to the lower undertones of the spur that stretched out towards us across the abyss , as the gusts of wind bent upon it, and I swear that no dream in the world, nor adventure described in the wildest novel, could compare with our situation in that awful place. In the dark darkness we clung to that rocking rock like shipwrecked men in a tottering boat , with all the spirits of the Horn howling around us. Fortunately the air was not cold, or else we would have perished. The wind was almost too warm. As we lay there on the rock, listening to the howling of the wind, something so wonderful and strange happened that it was, if anything, enough to shock our already extremely excited nerves. And the incident was, of course, a mere coincidence . It will be remembered that while Ayesha was standing on the spur, a gust of wind would tear a dark cloak from her shoulders and fly it into the abyss. Now, as we lay on the rock—the incident is so incredible that I find it difficult to relate it—that same cloak flew from the depths of the abyss like a memory of our beloved deceased and floated silently over Leo, almost completely covering him. At first we could not at all conceive what that object was that floated towards us out of the darkness, but as soon as it had landed on Leo we felt it, and then his mind broke for the first time on our entire dreadful journey. I heard him sobbing heart-rendingly. The mantle was doubtless wrapped around some ledge of rock, from which a gust of wind had now detached it and thrown it by chance upon the rock where we lay; but a most strange and moving coincidence, at any rate. Soon after this, that dazzling ray of sunlight flashed suddenly and without the least preceding warning, touching the side of the swaying rock, and illuminating brightly the spur that stretched towards us. Now, said Leo, now or never. Straightening our numb limbs, we looked before us into the gaping, dizzying abyss, where a reddish mist floated, and gritted our teeth to prepare for death. We were certain that the jump would fail. Which one first? I asked. You try, old fellow, answered Leo calmly. I will go and stand on the other side of the rock to support it as you jump. Make as much speed as you can, jump high, and God will take care of the rest. I nodded my head and did something I hadn’t done since Leo was a little boy. I turned and hugged him tenderly. I had loved him more than any father has ever loved his child, and now I said my last goodbye to him. Goodbye, my son, I said, kissing his forehead, I hope we meet again, whatever we end up with. I was sure that in a few minutes I would no longer be among the living. In the next blink of an eye I had backed up to the edge of the rock and, trusting in the grace of God, I waited for the right moment when a strong gust of wind from behind would increase my speed. A furious roar whirred in my ears, and, flying like lightning across the rock, which was about thirty-four feet wide, I jumped as high as I could into the dizzying depth. My heart was filled with unspeakable terror as I flung myself towards the tip of the spur over that bottomless chasm, but no one can imagine the infinite pain that almost stiffened my limbs when I found that my leap had been too short! My feet did not even touch the ledge, and screaming with terror I struck at its tip with both hands, but one of my hands slipped, and I spun around almost on the other, so that my face was towards the stone from which I had jumped. With the greatest effort I managed to get with the other hand I held the tip of the spur and there I was swinging in the bright light of the sunbeam between heaven and earth. I had got a firm grip on both sides of the spur, but its tip was above my head, so I could not, even if I had tried, pull myself up. I could do nothing but hang there for a while and then fall into the bottomless abyss below me. Can you imagine a more terrible situation? That torturous nervous tension, which lasted perhaps half a minute, was driving me crazy. I heard Leo exclaim and at the same time he flashed above me like a mountain goat through the air. The jump was, in a word, brilliant. Seeing my terrible situation, he was overcome by terrible pain and despair, and, steeled by them, he flew over the abyss as if it were nothing and, having fallen happily on the spur , he threw himself down in the blink of an eye so that the furious gusts of wind would not push him into the depths. The spur shook violently as he fell on it , and looking back over my shoulder I saw that immense rock swinging violently back and, losing its balance for the first time in thousands of years, slide with a tremendous crash into the hermitage of the sorcerer Noot. The way to the statue of the fire of life was closed forever. All this happened in a couple of seconds and although my situation was so desperate, I still had time to notice the rock collapse and I still remember thinking that no human being could ever find that frightening and wonderful place again. In the next blink of an eye I felt Leo grab my right wrist with both hands. Throw away your other hand and turn yourself this way, he said coldly calmly, and I will try to pull you up. If I fail, we will die together. Are you ready? In response I let go of my left hand and hung completely on Leo’s hands. The moment was terrible. I knew that Leo was an unusually strong young man, but could he, in his awkward position , lift me high enough for me to grab the top edge of the ledge and save me? For a couple of seconds I swayed helplessly as Leo prepared for the test of strength, and suddenly I felt myself rising as lightly as a small child to the top of the spur. I heard the tendons snap in his arms as he pulled me onto the spur next to him, where we lay panting for breath , both of us shaking like aspen leaves. Cold sweat flowed from every pore of our bodies. The sun’s rays disappeared and we were once again in pitch darkness. We lay like that for at least half an hour and then began to crawl carefully along the spur. Closer to the base of the spur, the gusts of wind could not reach us from all sides, so progress was easier and soon we were in a cave, through which we still had to penetrate to reach the plain. I could not understand how we could get through that immense long cave or tunnel, for we had no more lamps and were dying of thirst. We had shared the last bit of water in the chamber of Noot in a brotherly way. We had to try to get through, relying only on our sense and instinct , and we decided that it would be wisest to set off at once and try to go forward as long as we could. If we stayed where we were and exhaustion overtook us, it would be hopeless to even think of rescue. What a terrible journey! We stumbled over boulders every now and then, fell into holes, and finally were completely torn and covered with bloody wounds. The wall of the cave was our only guide, from which we hardly ever took our hands off, and after about an hour we began to get so tired that we had to stop and rest in the thick of the ash. Once we fell asleep, and probably slept for many hours, for when we awoke our exhausted limbs were quite stiff and numb, and the blood that had flowed from our wounds had dried into a hard scab. Then we began our desperate journey again, and at last, when we had already lost all hope, we saw the light of day. from afar. Soon we were in that narrow pass which, as you may remember, led to the mouth of the cave. High above us was a blue sky which we had never hoped to see again, and the air was fresh and refreshing. It was early morning, to be sure. If we knew, we had left the spur about an hour after sunset, so that our groping in the tunnel had lasted all night. One more effort, Leo, I whispered, and we will reach the slope where Billali awaits us, unless he has gone on his journeys. Get up, my boy; don’t let your spirit be discouraged, but let’s try once more. He got up, and leaning on each other we somehow managed to get up that mountainside about fifty feet high. I do not know how it all happened, but after a while we found ourselves lying almost on top of each other at the foot of the mountain, and after recovering a little we began to crawl on all fours—we could no longer walk—towards the thicket where Ayesha had told Billal to wait for our return. We had not gone fifty yards when a mute servant, who was probably on his morning walk, suddenly appeared from the left. He must have come to see what strange animals we might be. He stared at us for a moment, and then raised his hands in terror to the sky and almost fell to the ground. In the next moment he was running at a furious pace towards the thicket towards which we were also heading. It was not at all surprising that he was startled when he saw us, for we were indeed monstrous-looking. Leo’s golden curls had turned snow-white, his clothes were in tatters, and his exhausted face and hands were covered with bruises, scratches, and wounds from which the blood had dried into dark scabs. I was probably in an equally pitiful condition. When a couple of days later I saw my face in the shimmering surface of a spring, I did not recognize myself. I have never been famous for my beauty, and I have sometimes been called the ugliest man in the world, but now a strange expression had come over my face that I had never noticed before and from which I have not yet freed myself. My gaze was extremely restless and frightened, like that of a person who is suddenly awakened from a dream by fright. But there was a reason for it. I only wonder that we did not lose our minds on that journey. To my great joy I suddenly saw old Billal hurrying towards us, and I could hardly help smiling at the immense astonishment reflected on his dignified face. “Oh, my son, my son!” he groaned, “is it really you, you and the Lion? Why is his golden hair now completely white? Where do you poor things come from, and where is Piglet? What strange thing has happened to you? Where is ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’? ” Dead, both are dead, I answered; but ask no more now, but bring us water, or else we too shall die right here before your eyes. How can we speak when our tongues are swollen almost to the roof of our mouths? Dead!” he repeated, almost stammering. Impossible. ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ never dies. How can it be explained that he should be dead? The mute servants watched his facial expressions closely, and probably because of this Billali fell silent at once and calmly gave them the order to carry us to the campsite, which they did at once. Fortunately, the meat was just about to boil, and when we were too weak to eat ourselves, Billali fed us, thus saving us from almost certain death, for the excruciating nervous tension and infinite exhaustion had already brought us to the border of life and death. Then he ordered the mute servants to wash us with towels dipped in water, after which we were laid down to rest on sweetly scented grass. We immediately fell into a deep sleep, approaching unconsciousness. Chapter 29. Over the Mountains. In my dreams I imagined that I had been transformed into a carpet, which was mercilessly was whipped. That feeling was understandably due to the fact that my body, which was already extremely tender and sore, had become completely stiff and numb during my sleep. The first person I remember seeing when I woke up was my old friend Billali, who was sitting next to me and thoughtfully stroking his long beard, glancing at me now and then . At the same time I remembered everything that had happened to us, and when I saw Leo’s almost unrecognizable wounded face and his snow-white hair, I closed my eyes with a groan. You have slept a long time, my son, said old Billali. How long, my father? I asked. Since yesterday morning, that is, a day and a night, and Leo is still sleeping. Sleep is a blessed thing, I said, it makes us forget our sorrows for a moment. Tell me, he said, what exactly has happened to you and what you meant by that strange speech that ‘He who must be obeyed’ is dead. If you spoke the truth and did not deceive, then you and the Lion are in great danger. Your lives are worth nothing now—yes, I can almost say that you will have a pot on your head and will have to fill the bellies of those who still remember you in the water. Don’t you know that my whole family hates you? You are hated because you are strangers, and because of you ‘He Who Must Be Obeyed’ sentenced a group of my men to torture and death. The Amahaggers are furious with you, and if they only know that they no longer have to fear that terrible Hiya’a, you will surely be eaten at some pot feast. But tell me your story, my poor papian. I told him that He Who Must Be Obeyed had stumbled into a terrible subterranean furnace that glowed deep in the bowels of the mountain, and had been burned to a cinder. Billali would not have understood any other explanation. He listened with a shocked heart to my description of our terrible journey and all its horrors, but I could see clearly that he did not believe that Ayesha was dead after all. He was sure that we thought the queen was destroyed, but for his part he explained that the queen would soon return. In his father’s time, Billali told me, She Who Must Be Obeyed had been missing for a full twelve years, and according to old tradition, hundreds of years ago she had been unknown for another hundred years. A woman had already usurped his throne when she suddenly reappeared and took terrible revenge. I said nothing to that; I only shook my head sadly. I knew for sure that Ayesha would never return – at least old Billali would not see her. What are you going to do now, my son, my papian? Billali asked at last. I don’t know, I answered. Couldn’t we escape from this land of terrors? Billali shook his head. I don’t know if that would happen, he said in passing. You can’t get past the kôr without being seen by anyone, and when those bloodthirsty hyenas notice you’re alone, it wouldn’t be long before — Billali, smiling significantly, made a gesture as if he were putting a hat on his head. There is a secret path that goes over the mountains, which I remember I once mentioned to you. The Amahaggers who live here drive their cattle along it once a year to the pastures beyond the mountains and back. From the pasture area it is three days’ journey across the swamps to a place that is said to be seven days’ journey to the mighty river that flows into black waters. If you could get there, perhaps you would be saved, but how would you get there? Billali, I said, you know that I once saved your life. Pay your debt now, my father, and save me and my friend the Lion. You will remember this good deed of yours with joy when your time finally comes. When you have to give an account of your deeds, it is good to set this noble deed as a counterweight to all your deeds, if perhaps you have done something bad in your life. If, on the other hand, your claim that ‘He who must be obeyed’ will soon return to you, you must ” If you are in his place, he will surely reward your generosity many times over. My son, my father,” replied the old man solemnly, “do not think that my heart is ungrateful. I will never forget how you hastened to your death, scorning my help, when my husbands, those dogs, would have let me drown. Life for life is the old law , and if your salvation is possible, I will do my best to bring you to safety. Listen, be ready to set out tomorrow at daybreak, for then the litters and bearers will be here to carry you over the mountain and across the swamps on the other side. I say this is the command of ‘He who must be obeyed,’ and he who does not obey will be food for the hyenas. After you have got across the swamps, you must manage on your own, and if luck is favorable, you may perhaps reach the shore of the great water of which you have spoken to me. Look, the Lion also seems to be waking up. Now you must eat to strengthen yourself.” Leo was not as ill as he had thought, and we ate a very good meal, which we needed. Then we hobbled to a nearby spring to wash, after which we slept until evening, when we had eaten for at least five men. Billali was away all day, probably preparing for our journey. We woke at midnight, when a considerable party of men arrived at our camp, carrying palanquins. Billali arrived at daybreak, and said that he had had some difficulty in getting the men and the necessary guides on the move, but that the men had finally left for fear of punishment. He urged us to leave at once, and said that he intended to come with us, so that there could be no question of any treachery. I was deeply moved by the kindness of that old brute towards us two poor strangers . The six-day journey through those terrible swamps was certainly no small matter for an old man of his age, but he wanted to see to it that nothing bad happened to us. So even among those fearsome amahaggers there were by all accounts some kind and generous characters. Billal’s behavior may have been due to the fact that he believed that Ayesha would certainly return and demand an accounting of our fate from him, but even if that were the case, I will always remember old Billal, my venerable father, with the greatest respect and love . We had already recovered miraculously and after eating a little breakfast we set off. The climb up the mountain began almost immediately and it is needless to say that the use of palanquins was out of the question at that time, so we travelled on foot. The slope was very steep in some places and in the worst places a narrow winding path had been dug into the mountain , which had undoubtedly been made by the ancient inhabitants of Kôr. If there was any truth in the Amahaggers’ story that they drove their cattle to pasture on the other side of the mountain along this road a couple of times a year, then it must be said that their cattle were unusually agile. At noon we reached the flat top of this remarkable ridge , from which there was a magnificent view of the Kôri plain. Behind us loomed the mighty colonnades of the Temple of Truth, and in front of us stretched the misty swamp as far as the eye could see. The ridge was at this point about a mile and a half thick, and on its flat top, which was still covered with lava, nothing grew. All the depressions were full of water, which showed that it had recently rained. The descent was comparatively easy, and as the sun set we camped on the slope at the edge of the swamp. The next morning, about eleven o’clock, our fearful trek across the swamps began . After three days on the road, we finally arrived happily in a fertile but completely uninhabited region, teeming with all kinds of wild game, and after resting with his men for a day or so, old Billali said goodbye to us. Farewell, my son, my papian, said he, and you too, my friend the lion. I can do no more for you, but if you reach your homeland, be wiser, and do not go on any more adventures in unknown lands. Follow my advice, children, for otherwise it may happen that no one can tell where your bones will turn white to show the extent of your journey. May luck be with you wherever you go. I will often remember you, my son, my papian, and I am sure that you will not forget me either, for you are honest, though you are ugly. A moment later he was far away in the swamp with his gloomy companions and soon disappeared from our sight. We were all alone in the desolate wilderness. Three weeks ago four men had set out across the swamps towards Kôr, and now two of them were dead, and the others had seen and experienced such terrible things that even the horrors of death could not be more terrible. Only three weeks! It seemed to me as if we had left our boat thirty years ago . I suppose we must try for the Zambezi, Leo, I said, but God knows whether we shall ever get there. Leo, who had been very taciturn of late, only nodded his head, and so we set off with our compass, our revolver, our magazine rifle, and about four hundred rounds of ammunition. The rags we were wearing were our only clothing. I will not recount the many and exciting adventures of our journey here. You will get a clear idea of ​​them by reading travelogues about Africa , the experiences of whose writers are always almost the same, as those of all explorers of Africa. My intention has only been to record briefly and clearly events which, to my knowledge, are quite unheard of. I am sure that these notes of mine would arouse the greatest interest if I were to publish them, but I do not intend to do so. Perhaps I will have them published after we are dead. With incredible effort we finally reached the Zambesi River, about one hundred and seventy leagues south of where Billali had left us. The natives we met there considered us supernatural beings, probably because of Leo, whose young face and snow-white hair excited the greatest astonishment and wonder everywhere. We were finally captured, and it was not until about six months later that we succeeded in escaping across the Zambesi. We pushed eastward as vigorously as possible , and were almost starving when we met a Portuguese elephant hunter, who treated us with the utmost hospitality, and finally guided us to the coast. After leaving the Kori swamps, after eighteen months of suffering and countless adventures, we had finally reached the settlements of Delagoa Bay. The next day we met a steamer that took us round the Cape and home to England, and so ended our fateful journey to the great ruins of ancient Kôr. Two years had passed since we set out on our adventurous and apparently ridiculous expedition when we landed at Southampton. I write these last lines as Leo leans back in my chair in my former cozy study in Cambridge, the same one where my poor friend, the late Vincey, came to see me shortly before his death on that memorable night some twenty-two years ago, dragging an iron casket with him. Now my story ends here, but Leo and I are sure that it is not yet finally over for us. A story that always begins in the most obscure antiquity may continue far into the unknown future. Is Leo really the reincarnated Kallikrates of whom the inscription speaks? Or had the amazing hereditary resemblance deceived Ayesha? The reader will form his own opinion on this, as on many other matters. For my part, I am certain that Ayesha was not mistaken. As I sat in the evenings by the fireside, I often pondered the question, How will this great tragedy finally end and where is the stage for the next act? When the curtain rises on the last act, which undoubtedly will happen one day, what part will that lovely Amenartas, the daughter of the pharaohs, have, for whose sake the priest Kallikrates broke his oath to the goddess Isis and fled with his beloved along the Libyan coast southwards , finally ending up in Kôr, where the vengeance of the gods befalls him? We have walked alongside Holly and Leo through caves, fire and time, seen the splendor of Ayesha and the fragility of her power. The Immortal Queen shows that even the greatest enchantment breaks when a person tries to capture eternity in his own hands. Haggard’s story leaves us wondering what the true measure of love, power and knowledge is, and what we are willing to sacrifice for them. Thank you for listening on the Audiobooks in Finnish channel. If you enjoyed the journey to the ruins of the Korin people and the secrets of the past, continue the adventure with the following classics.