Ardath - Marie Corelli (love story novels in english .txt) 📗

place in the before sullen humor of the populace. For seeing him thus alive and well in direct opposition to Khosrul’s ominous prediction,—even as Sahluma also stood unharmed in spite of his having been apostrophized as a “dying” Poet,—the mob, always fickle and always dazzled by outward show, suddenly set up a deafening roar of cheering. The pallid hue of terror vanished from faces that had but lately looked spectrally thin with speechless dread, and crowds of servile petitioners and place-hunters began to press eagerly round their monarch’s chariot, … when all at once a woman in the throng gave a wild scream and rushed away shrieking “THE OBELISK!

… THE OBELISK!”

 

Every eye was instantly turned toward the stately pillar of white granite that sparkled in the sunlight like an immense carven jewel, … great Heaven! … It was tottering to and fro like the unsteadied mast of a ship at sea! … One look sufficed,—and a frightful panic ensued—a horrible, brutish stampede of creatures without faith in anything human or divine save their own wretched personalities,—the King, infected by the general scare, urged his horses into furious gallop, and dashed through the cursing, swearing, howling throng like an embodied whirlwind,—and for a few seconds nothing seemed distinctly visible But a surging mass of infuriated humanity, fighting with itself for life.

 

Theos alone remained singularly calm,—his sole consideration was for his friend Sahluma, whom he entwined with one arm as he sprang down from the position they had hitherto occupied on the brink of the fountain, and made straight for the nearest of the six broad avenues that opened directly into the Square. Sahluma looked pale, but was apparently unafraid,—he said nothing, and passively allowed himself to be piloted by Theos through the madly raging multitude, which, oddly enough, parted before them like mist before the wind, so that in a magically short interval they successfully reached a place of safety.

 

And they reached it not a moment too soon. For the Obelisk was now plainly to be seen lurching forward at an angle of several degrees, . . strange muffled, roaring sounds were heard at its base, as though demons were digging up its foundations, . . then, seemingly shaken by underground tremors, it began to oscillate violently,—a terrific explosion was heard as of the bursting of a giant bomb,—and immediately afterward the majestic monolith toppled over and fell!—with the crash of a colossal cannonade that sent its thunderous reverberations through and through the length and breadth of the city! Hundreds of persons were killed and wounded,—many of the mounted guards and spearmen, who were striving to force a way of escape through the crowd, were struck down and crushed pell-mell with their horses as they rode,—the desperate people trampled each other to death in their frenzied efforts to reach the nearest outlet to the river embankment, . . but when once the Obelisk had actually fallen, all this turmoil was for an instant checked, and the gasping, torn, and bleeding survivors of the struggle stopped, as it were to take breath, and stared in blank dismay upon the strange ruin before them.

 

Theos, still holding Sahluma by the arm, with the protecting fondness of an elder brother guarding a younger, gazed also at the scene with quiet, sorrowfully wondering eyes. For it meant something to him he was sure, because it was so familiar,—yet he found it impossible to grasp the comprehension of that meaning! It was a singular spectacle enough; the lofty four-sided white pillar, that had so lately been a monumental glory of Al-Kyris, had split itself with the violence of its fall into two huge desolate-looking fragments, which now lay one on each side of the square, as though flung thither by a Titan’s hand,—the great lion had been hurled from its position and overturned like a toy, while the shield it had supported between its paws had entirely disappeared in minutely scattered atoms, . . the fountains had altogether ceased playing. Now and then a thin, vaporous stream of smoke appeared to issue between the crannies of the pavement,—

otherwise there was no visible sign of the mysterious force that had wrought so swift and sudden a work of destruction,—the sun shone brilliantly, and over all the havoc beamed the placid brightness of a cloudless summer sky!

 

The most prominent object of all amid the general devastation, and the one that fascinated Theos more than the view of the destroyed monolith and the debased Lion, was the uninjured head of the Prophet Khosrul. There it lay, exactly between the sundered halves of the Obelisk, . . pale rays of light glimmered on its bloodstained silvery hair and open glazed eyes,—a solemn smile seemed graven on its waxen-pallid features. And at a little distance off, on the breast of the black-robed headless corpse that remained totally uncrushed in an open space by itself, among the surrounding heaps of slain and wounded, glistened the CROSS like a fiery gem, . . an all-significant talisman that, as he beheld it, filled Theos’s heart with a feverish craving,—an inexplicable desire mingled with remorse far greater than any fear!

 

Instinctively he drew Sahluma away. … away! … still keeping his wistful gaze fixed on that uncomprehended, yet soul-recognized Symbol, till gradually the drooping branches of trees interrupted and shadowed the vista, and, as he moved further and further backward, closed their soft network of green foliage like the closing curtain on the strange but awfully remembered scene, shutting it out from his bewildered sight.. forever!

 

CHAPTER XXV.

 

A GOLDEN TRESS.

 

Once clear of the Square the two friends apparently became mutually conscious of the peril they had just escaped, . . and coming to a sudden standstill they looked at each other in blank, stupefied silence. Crowds of people streamed past them, wandering hither and thither in confused, cloudy masses,—some with groans and dire lamentations bearing away their dead and wounded,—others rushing frantically about, beating their breasts, tearing their hair, calling on the gods and lamenting Khosrul, while not a few muttered curses on the King. And ever and anon the name of “Lysia,” coupled with heavy execrations, was hissed from mouth to mouth, which Theos, overhearing, began to foresee might serve as a likely cause for Sahluma’s taking offence and possibly resenting in his own person this public disparagement of the woman he loved,—therefore, without more ado he roused himself from his momentarily dazed condition, and urged his comrade on at a quick pace toward the safe shelter of his own palace, where at any rate he could be kept out of the reach of immediate harm.

 

The twain walked side by side, exchanging scarcely a word,—Sahluma seemed in a manner stunned by the violence of the late catastrophe, and Theos was too busy with his own thoughts to speak. On their way they were overtaken by the King’s chariot,—it flew by with a glittering whirl and clatter, amid sweeping clouds of dust, through which the dark face of Zephoranim loomed out upon them like an almost palpable shadow. As it vanished Sahluma stopped short, and stared at his companion in utter amazement.

 

“By my soul!” he exclaimed indignantly.. “The whole world must he going mad! ‘Tis the first time in all my days of Laureateship that Zephoranim hath failed to reverently salute me as he passed!”

 

And he looked far more perturbed than when the falling Obelisk had threatened him with imminent destruction.

 

Theos caught his arm with a quick movement of vexed impatience.

 

“Tush, man, no matter!” he said hastily—“What are Kings to thee?

… thou who art an Emperor of Song? These little potentates that wield earth’s sceptres are as fickle in their moods as the very mob they are supposed to govern, . . moreover, thou knowest Zephoranim hath had enough to-day to startle him out of all accustomed rules of courtesy. Be assured of it, his mind is like a ship at sea, storm-tossed and at the mercy of the winds,—thou canst not surely blame him, that for once after so strange a turbulence, and unwonted a disaster, he hath no eyes for thee whose sole sweet mission, is to minister to pleasure.”

 

“To minister to pleasure!”.. echoed Sahluma petulantly.. “Nay, have I done nothing more than this? Art thou already grown so disloyal a friend that thou wilt half repeat the jargon of yon dead fanatic Khosrul who dared to tell me I had served my Art unfittingly? Have I not ministered to grief as well as joy? To hours of pain and bitterness, as well as to long days of ease and amorous dreaming? … Have I not…” here he paused and a warm flush crept through the olive pallor of his skin,—his eyes grew plaintive and wistful and he threw one arm round Theos’s neck as he continued: “No I.. after all ‘tis vain to deny it…I have hated grief,—I have loathed the very suggestion of care,—I have thrust sorrow out of my sight as a thing vile and unwelcome,—and I have chosen to sing to the world of rapture more than pain,—

inasmuch as methinks Humanity suffers enough, without having its cureless anguish set to the music of a poet’s rhythm to incessantly haunt and torture its already breaking heart.”

 

“Say rather to soothe and tranquillize”—murmured Theos, more to himself than to his friend—“For suppressed sorrow is hardest to endure, and when grief once finds apt utterance ‘tis already half consoled! So should the world’s great singers tenderly proclaim the world’s most speechless miseries, and who knows but vexed Creation being thus relieved of pent-up woe may not take new heart of grace and comfort?”

 

The words were spoken in a soft SOTTO-VOCE, and Sahluma seemed not to hear. He leaned, however, very confidingly and affectionately against Theos’s shoulder as he walked along, and appeared to have speedily forgotten his annoyance at the recent slighting conduct of the King.

 

“I marvel at the downfall of the Obelisk!” he said presently …

“‘Twas rooted full ten feet deep in solid earth, . . maybe the foundations were ill-fitted,—nevertheless, if history speaks truly, it hath stood unshaken for two thousand years! Strange that it should be now hurled forth thus desperately! … I would I knew the hidden cause! Many, alas! have met their death to-day, . .

pushed out of life in haste, . . all unprepared.. One wonders where such souls have fled! Something there is that troubles me, . .

methinks I am more than half disposed to leave Al-Kyris for a time, and wander forth into a world of unknown things—”

 

“With me!” cried Theos impetuously—“Come with me, Sahluma! …

Come now, this very day! I too have been warned of evil.. evil undeclared, yet close at hand, ..let us escape from danger while time remains! … Let us depart!”

 

“Whither should we go?”…and Sahluma, pausing in his walk, fixed his large, soft eyes full on his companion as he put the question.

 

Theos was mute. Covered with confusion, he asked himself the same thing. “Whither should we go?” He had no knowledge of the country that lay outside Al-Kyris, . . he had no distinct remembrance of any other place than this in which he was. All his past existence was as blotted and blurred as a child’s spoiled and discarded copybook, . . true, he retained two names in his thoughts,—namely “ARDATH” and “THE PASS OF DARIEL” but he was hopelessly ignorant as to what these meant or how he had become connected with them!

He was roused from his distressful cogitation by Sahluma’s voice speaking again half gayly, half sadly:

 

“Nay, nay, my friend! … we cannot leave the City, we two alone and unguided, for beyond the gates is the desert wide and bare, with scarce a spring of cool