A Voyage to Arcturus by David Lindsay (reading strategies book TXT) 📗

arm, filled the cup. Tasting the liquor, he discovered it to be raw spirit. He tossed off the draught, and then felt much better.

The second cupful he proffered to Corpang. The latter took a single sip, swallowed it, and then passed the cup back without a word. He refused to drink again, as long as they were in the cave. Maskull finished the cup, and began to throw off care.

Going to the meat line, he took down a large double handful, and sat down on a pile of skins to eat at his ease. The flesh was tough and coarse, but he had never tasted anything sweeter. He could not understand the flavour, which was not surprising in a world of strange animals. The meal proceeded in silence. Corpang ate sparingly, standing up, and afterward lay down on a bundle of furs. His bold eyes watched all the movements of the other two. Haunte had not drunk as yet.

At last Maskull concluded his meal. He emptied another cup, sighed pleasantly, and prepared to talk.

“Now explain further about your women, Haunte.”

Haunte fetched another skin of liquor and a second cup. He tore off the string with his teeth, and poured out and drank cup after cup in quick succession. Then he sat down, crossed his legs, and turned to Maskull.

“Well?”

“So they are objectionable?”

“They are deadly.”

“Deadly? In what way can they possibly be deadly?”

“You will learn. I was watching you in the boat, Maskull. You had some bad feelings, eh?”

“I don’t conceal it. There were times when I felt as if I were struggling with a nightmare. What caused it?”

“The female atmosphere of Lichstorm. Sexual passion.”

“I had no passion.”

“That was passion—the first stage. Nature tickles your people into marriage, but it tortures us. Wait till you get outside. You’ll have a return of those sensations—only ten times worse. The drink you’ve had will see to that.... How do you suppose it will all end?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you questions.”

Haunte laughed loudly. “Sullenbode.”

“You mean it will end in my seeking Sullenbode?”

“But what will come of it, Maskull? What will she give you? Sweet, fainting, white-armed, feminine voluptuousness?”

Maskull coolly drank another cup. “And why should she give all that to a passerby?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, she hasn’t it to give. No, what she will give you, and what you’ll accept from her, because you can’t help it, is—anguish, insanity, possibly death.”

“You may be talking sense, but it sounds like raving to me. Why should I accept insanity and death?”

“Because your passion will force you to.”

“What about yourself?” Maskull asked, biting his nails.

“Oh, I have my male stones. I am immune.”

“Is that all that prevents you from being like other men?”

“Yes, but don’t attempt any tricks, Maskull.”

Maskull went on drinking steadily, and said nothing for a time. “So men and women here are hostile to each other, and love is unknown?” he proceeded at last.

“That magic word.... Shall I tell you what love is, Maskull? Love between male and female is impossible. When Maskull loves a woman, it is Maskull’s female ancestors who are loving her. But here in this land the men are pure males. They have drawn nothing from the female side.”

“Where do the male stones come from?”

“Oh, they are not freaks. There must be whole beds of the stuff somewhere. It is all that prevents the world from being a pure female world. It would be one big mass of heavy sweetness, without individual shapes.”

“Yet this same sweetness is torturing to men?”

“The life of an absolute male is fierce. An excess of life is dangerous to the body. How can it be anything else than torturing?”

Corpang now sat up suddenly, and addressed Haunte. “I remind you of your promise to tell about Muspel.”

Haunte regarded him with a malevolent smile. “Ha! The underground man has come to life.”

“Yes, tell us,” put in Maskull carelessly.

Haunte drank, and laughed a little. “Well, the tale’s short, and hardly worth telling, but since you’re interested.... A stranger came here five years ago, inquiring after Muspel-light. His name was Lodd. He came from the east. He came up to me one bright morning in summer, outside this very cave. If you ask me to describe him—I can’t imagine a second man like him. He looked so proud, noble, superior, that I felt my own blood to be dirty by comparison. You can guess I don’t have this feeling for everyone. Now that I am recalling him, he was not so much superior as different. I was so impressed that I rose and talked to him standing. He inquired the direction of the mountain Adage. He went on to say, ‘They say Muspel-light is sometimes seen there. What do you know of such a thing?’ I told him the truth—that I knew nothing about it, and then he went on, ‘Well, I am going to Adage. And tell those who come after me on the same errand that they had better do the same thing.’ That was the whole conversation. He started on his way, and I’ve never seen him or heard of him since.”

“So you didn’t have the curiosity to follow him?”

“No, because the moment he had turned his back all my interest in the man somehow seemed to vanish.”

“Probably because he was useless to you.”

Corpang glanced at Maskull. “Our road is marked out for us.”

“So it would appear,” said Maskull indifferently.

The talk flagged for a time. Maskull felt the silence oppressive, and grew restless.

“What do you call the colour of your skin, Haunte, as I saw it in daylight? It struck me as strange.”

“Dolm,” said Haunte.

“A compound of ulfire and blue,” explained Corpang.

“Now I know. These colours are puzzling for a stranger.”

“What colours have you in your world?” asked Corpang.

“Only three primary ones, but here you seem to have five, though how it comes about I can’t imagine.”

“There are two sets of three primary colours here,” said Corpang, “but as one of the colours—blue—is identical in both sets, altogether there are five primary colours.”

“Why two sets?”

“Produced by the