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Title: Across the Zodiac

Author: Percy Greg

Release date: November 1, 2003 [eBook #10165]
                Most recently updated: October 28, 2024

Language: English

Credits: E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Keith M. Eckrich, Tom Allen, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE ZODIAC ***
ACROSS THE ZODIAC:
The Story of a Wrecked Record

DECIPHERED, TRANSLATED AND EDITED
BY
PERCY GREG

AUTHOR OF "THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE" ETC.


  "Thoughts he sends to each planet,
     Uranus, Venus, and Mars;
   Soars to the Centre to span it,
     Numbers the infinite Stars."

                _Courthope's Paradise of Birds_



CONTENTS

       I. SHIPWRECK.

      II. OUTWARD BOUND.

     III. THE UNTRAVELLED DEEP.

      IV. A NEW WORLD.

       V. LANGUAGE, LAWS, AND LIFE.

      VI. AN OFFICIAL VISIT.

     VII. ESCORT DUTY.

    VIII. A FAITH AND ITS FOUNDER.

      IX. MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.

       X. WOMAN AND WEDLOCK.

      XI. A COUNTRY DRIVE.

     XII. ON THE RIVER.

    XIII. THE CHILDREN OF LIGHT.

     XIV. BY SEA.

      XV. FUR-HUNTING.

     XVI. TROUBLED WATERS.

    XVII. PRESENTED AT COURT.

   XVIII. A PRINCE'S PRESENT.

     XIX. A COMPLETE ESTABLISHMENT.

      XX. LIFE, SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC.

     XXI. PRIVATE AUDIENCES.

    XXII. PECULIAR INSTITUTIONS.

   XXIII. CHARACTERISTICS.

    XXIV. WINTER.

     XXV. APOSTACY.

    XXVI. TWILIGHT.

   XXVII. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW.

  XXVIII. DARKER YET.

    XXIX. AZRAEL.

     XXX. FAREWELL.




VOL. I




CHAPTER I - SHIPWRECK.


Once only, in the occasional travelling of thirty years, did I lose
any important article of luggage; and that loss occurred, not under
the haphazard, devil-take-the-hindmost confusion of English, or the
elaborate misrule of Continental journeys, but through the absolute
perfection and democratic despotism of the American system. I had to
give up a visit to the scenery of Cooper's best Indian novels—no
slight sacrifice—and hasten at once to New York to repair the loss.
This incident brought me, on an evening near the middle of September
1874, on board a river steamboat starting from Albany, the capital of
the State, for the Empire City. The banks of the lower Hudson are as
well worth seeing as those of the Rhine itself, but even America has
not yet devised means of lighting them up at night, and consequently I
had no amusement but such as I could find in the conversation of my
fellow-travellers. With one of these, whose abstinence from personal
questions led me to take him for an Englishman, I spoke of my visit to
Niagara—the one wonder of the world that answers its warranty—and to
Montreal. As I spoke of the strong and general Canadian feeling of
loyalty to the English Crown and connection, a Yankee bystander
observed—

"Wal, stranger, I reckon we could take 'em if we wanted tu!"

"Yes," I replied, "if you think them worth the price. But if you do,
you rate them even more highly than they rate themselves; and English
colonists are not much behind the citizens of the model Republic in
honest self-esteem."

"Wal," he said, "how much du yew calc'late we shall hev to pay?"

"Not more, perhaps, than you can afford; only California, and every
Atlantic seaport from Portland to Galveston."

"Reckon yew may be about right, stranger," he said, falling back with
tolerable good-humour; and, to do them justice, the bystanders seemed
to think the retort no worse than the provocation deserved.

"I am sorry," said my friend, "you should have fallen in with so
unpleasant a specimen of the character your countrymen ascribe with
too much reason to Americans. I have been long in England, and never
met with such discourtesy from any one who recognised me as an
American."

After this our conversation became less reserved; and I found that I
was conversing with one of the most renowned officers of irregular
cavalry in the late Confederate service—a service which, in the
efficiency, brilliancy, and daring of that especial arm, has never
been surpassed since Maharbal's African Light Horse were recognised by
friends and foes as the finest corps in the small splendid army of
Hannibal.

Colonel A—— (the reader will learn why I give neither his name nor
real rank) spoke with some bitterness of the inquisitiveness which
rendered it impossible, he said, to trust an American with a secret,
and very difficult to keep one without lying. We were presently joined
by Major B——, who had been employed during the war in the conduct of
many critical communications, and had shown great ingenuity in
devising and unravelling ciphers. On this subject a somewhat
protracted discussion arose. I inclined to the doctrine of Poe, that
no cipher can be devised which cannot be detected by an experienced
hand; my friends indicated simple methods of defeating the processes
on which decipherers rely.

"Poe's theory," said the Major, "depends upon the frequent recurrence
of certain letters, syllables, and brief words in any given language;
for instance, of _e_'s and _t_'s, _tion_ and _ed_, _a_, _and_, and
_the_ in English. Now it is perfectly easy to introduce abbreviations
for each of the common short words and terminations, and equally easy
to baffle the decipherer's reliance thereon by inserting meaningless
symbols to separate the words; by employing two signs for a common
letter, or so arranging your cipher that no one shall without extreme
difficulty know which marks stand for single and which for several
combined letters, where one letter ends and another begins."

After some debate, Colonel A—— wrote down and handed me two lines in
a cipher whose character at once struck me as very remarkable.

"I grant," said I, "that these hieroglyphics might well puzzle a more
practised decipherer than myself. Still, I can point out even here a
clue which might help detection. There occur, even in these two lines,
three or four symbols which, from their size and complication, are
evidently abbreviations. Again, the distinct forms are very few, and
have obviously been made to serve for different letters by some slight
alterations devised upon a fixed rule. In a word, the cipher has been
constructed upon a general principle; and though it may take a long
time to find out what that principle is, it affords a clue which,
carefully followed out, will probably lead to detection."

"You have perceived," said Colonel A——, "a fact which it took me
very long to discover. I have not deciphered all the more difficult
passages of the manuscript from which I took this example; but I have
ascertained the meaning of all its simple characters, and your
inference is certainly correct."

Here he stopped abruptly, as if he thought he had said too much, and
the subject dropped.

We reached New York early in the morning and separated, having
arranged to visit that afternoon a celebrated "spiritual" medium who
was then giving _séances_ in the Empire City, and of whom my friend
had heard and repeated to me several more or less marvellous stories.
Our visit, however, was unsatisfactory; and as we came away Colonel
A—— said—

"Well, I suppose this experience confirms you in your disbelief?"

"No," said I. "My first visits have generally been failures, and I
have more than once been told that my own temperament is most
unfavourable to the success of a seance. Nevertheless, I have in some
cases witnessed marvels perfectly inexplicable by known natural laws;
and I have heard and read of others attested by evidence I certainly
cannot consider inferior to my own."

"Why," he said, "I thought from your conversation last night you were
a complete disbeliever."

"I believe," answered I, "in very little of what I have seen. But that
little is quite sufficient to dispose of the theory of pure imposture.
On the other hand, there is nothing spiritual and nothing very human
in the pranks played by or in the presence of the mediums. They remind
one more of the feats of traditionary goblins; mischievous, noisy,
untrustworthy; insensible to ridicule, apparently delighting to make
fools of men, and perfectly indifferent to having the tables turned
upon themselves."

"But do you believe in goblins?"

"No," I replied; "no more than in table-turning ghosts, and less than
in apparitions. I am not bound to find either sceptics or
spiritualists in plausible explanations. But when they insist on an
alternative to their respective theories, I suggest Puck as at least
equally credible with Satan, Shakespeare, or the parrot-cry of
imposture. It is the very extravagance of illogical temper to call on
me to furnish an explanation _because_ I say 'we know far too little
of the thing itself to guess at its causes;' but of the current
guesses, imposture seems inconsistent with the evidence, and
'spiritual agency' with the character of the phenomena."

"That," replied Colonel A——, "sounds common sense, and sounds even
more commonplace. And yet, no one seems really to draw a strong, clear
line between non-belief and disbelief. And you are the first and only
man I ever met who hesitates to affirm the impossibility of that which
seems to him wildly improbable, contrary at once to received opinion
and to his own experience, and contrary, moreover, to all known
natural laws, and all inferences hitherto drawn from them. Your men of
science dogmatise like divines, not only on things they have not seen,
but on things they refuse to see; and your divines are half of them
afraid of Satan, and the other half of science."

"The men of science have," I replied, "like every other class, their
especial bias, their peculiar professional temptation. The
anti-religious bigotry of Positivists is quite as bitter and
irrational as the theological bigotry of religious fanatics. At
present the two powers countervail and balance each other. But, as
three hundred years ago I should certainly have been burnt for a
heretic, so fifty or a hundred years hence, could I live so long, I
should be in equal apprehension of being burnt by some successor of
Mr. Congreve, Mr. Harrison, or Professor Huxley, for presuming to
believe in Providential government."

"The intolerance of incredulity," returned Colonel A——, "is a sore
subject with me. I once witnessed a phenomenon which was to me quite
as extraordinary as any of the 'spiritual' performances. I have at
this moment in my possession apparently irresistible evidence of the
reality of what then took place; and I am sure that there exists at a
point on the earth's surface, which unluckily I cannot define, strong
corroborative proof of my story. Nevertheless, the first persons who
heard it utterly ridiculed it, and were disposed to treat me either as
a madman, or at best as an audacious trespasser on that privilege of
lying which belonged to them as mariners. I told it afterwards to
three gentlemen of station, character, and intelligence, every one of
whom had known me as soldier, and I hope as gentleman, for years; and
in each case the result was a duel, which has silenced those who
imputed to me an unworthy and purposeless falsehood, but has left a
heavy burden on my conscience, and has prevented me ever since from
repeating what I know to be true and believe to be of greater
interest, and in some sense of greater importance, than any scientific
discovery of the last century. Since the last occasion on which I told
it seven years have elapsed, and I never have met any one but yourself
to whom I have thought it possible to disclose it."

"I have," I answered, "an intense interest in all occult phenomena;
believing in regard to alleged magic, as the scientists say of
practical science, that every one branch of such knowledge throws
light on others; and if there be nothing in your story which it is
personally painful to relate, you need not be silenced by any
apprehension of discourteous criticism on my part."

"I assure you," he said, "I have no such wish now to tell the story as
I had at first. It is now associated with the most painful incident of
my life, and I have lost altogether that natural desire for sympathy
and human interest in a matter deeply interesting to myself, which,
like every one else, I felt at first, and which is, I suppose, the
motive that prompts us all to relate often and early any occurrence
that has keenly affected us, in whatever manner. But I think that I
have no right to suppress so remarkable a fact, if by telling it I can
place it effectually on record for the benefit of men sensible enough
to believe that it may have occurred, especially since somewhere in
the world there must yet exist proof that it did occur. If you will
come to my rooms in —— Street tomorrow, Number 999, I will not
promise, but I think that I shall have made up my mind to tell you
what I have to tell, and to place in your hands that portion of the
evidence which is still at my command—evidence that has a
significance of its own, to which my experience is merely episodical."

I spent that evening with the family of a friend, one of several
former officers of the Confederacy, whose friendship is the one
permanent and valuable result of my American tour. I mentioned the
Colonel's name, and my friend, the head of the family, having served
with him through the Virginian campaigns, expressed the highest
confidence in his character, the highest opinion of his honour and
veracity; but spoke with bitter regret and pain of the duels in which
he had been engaged, especially of one which had been fatal; remarking
that the motive in each instance remained unknown even to the seconds.
"I am sure," he said "that they were not, could not have been, fought
for the one cause that would justify them and explain the secrecy of
the quarrel—some question involving female honour or reputation. I
can hardly conceive that any one of his adversaries could have called
in question in any way the personal loyalty of Colonel A——; and, as
you remarked of General M——, it is too absurd for a man who had
faced over and over again the fire of a whole brigade, who had led
charges against fourfold numbers, to prove his personal courage with
sword or pistol, or to think that any one would have doubted either
his spirit or his nerve had he refused to fight, whatever the
provocation. Moreover, in each case he was the challenger."

"Then these duels have injured him in Southern opinion, and have
probably tended to isolate him from society?"

"No," he replied. "Deeply as they were regretted and disapproved, his
services during the war were so brilliant, and his personal character
stands so high, that nothing could have induced his fellow-soldiers to
put any social stigma upon him. To me he must know that he would be
most welcome. Yet, though we have lived in the same city for five
years, I have only encountered him three or four times in the street,
and then he has passed with the fewest possible words, and has neither
given me his address nor accepted my urgent invitations to visit us
here. I think that there is something in the story of those duels that
will never be known, certainly something that has never been guessed
yet. And I think that either the circumstances in which they must have
had their origin, or the duels themselves, have so weighed upon his
spirits, perhaps upon his conscience, that he has chosen to avoid his
former friends, most of them also the friends of his antagonists.
Though the war ruined him as utterly as any of the thousands of
Southern gentlemen whom it has reduced from wealth to absolute
poverty, he has refused every employment which would bring him before
the public eye."

"Is there," I asked, "any point of honour on which you could suppose
him to be so exceptionally sensitive that he would think it necessary
to take the life of a man who touched him on that point, though
afterwards his regret, if not repentance, might be keen enough to
crush his spirit or break his heart?"

The General paused for a moment, and his son then interposed—

"I have heard it said that Colonel A—— was in general the least
quarrelsome of Confederate officers; but that on more than one
occasion, where his statement upon some point of fact had been
challenged by a comrade, who did not intend to question his veracity
but simply the accuracy of his observation, their brother officers had
much trouble in preventing a serious difficulty."

The next day I called as agreed upon my new-found friend, and with
some reluctance he commenced his story.

"During the last campaign, in February 1865, I was sent by General Lee
with despatches for Kirby Smith, then commanding beyond the
Mississippi. I was unable to return before the surrender, and, for
reasons into which I need not enter, I believed myself to be marked
out by the Federal Government for vengeance. If I had remained within
their reach, I might have shared the fate of Wirz and other victims of
calumnies which, once put in circulation during the war, their
official authors dared not retract at its close. Now I and others,
who, if captured in 1865, might probably have been hanged, are neither
molested nor even suspected of any other offence than that of
fighting, as our opponents fought, for the State to which our
allegiance was due. However, I thought it necessary to escape before
the final surrender of our forces beyond the Mississippi. I made my
way to Mexico, and, like one or two Southern officers of greater
distinction than myself, entered the service of the Emperor
Maximilian, not as mere soldiers of fortune, but because, knowing
better than any but her Southern neighbours knew it the miserable
anarchy of Mexico under the Republic, we regarded conquest as the one
chance of regeneration for that country, and the Emperor Maximilian as
a hero who had devoted himself to a task heroic at once in its danger
and difficulty—the restoration of a people with whom his house had a
certain historical connection to a place among the nations of the
civilised world. After his fall, I should certainly have been shot had
I been caught by the Juarists in pursuit of me. I gained the Pacific
coast, and got on board an English vessel, whose captain—loading for
San Francisco—generously weighed anchor and sailed with but half a
cargo to give me a chance of safety. He transferred me a few days
afterwards to a Dutch vessel bound for Brisbane, for at that time I
thought of settling in Queensland. The crew was weak-handed, and
consisted chiefly of Lascars, Malays, and two or three European
desperadoes of all languages and of no country. Her master was barely
competent to the ordinary duties of his command; and it was no
surprise to me when the first storm that we encountered drove us
completely out of our course, nor was I much astonished that the
captain was for some days, partly from fright and partly from drink,
incapable of using his sextant to ascertain the position of the ship.
One night we were awakened by a tremendous shock; and, to spare you
the details of a shipwreck, which have nothing to do with my story, we
found ourselves when day broke fast on a coral reef, about a mile from
an island of no great size, and out of sight of all other land. The
sextant having been broken to pieces, I had no means of ascertaining
the position of this island, nor do I now know anything of it except
that it lay, in the month of August, within the region of the
southeast trade winds. We pulled on shore, but, after exploring the
island, it was found to yield nothing attractive to seamen except
cocoa-nuts, with which our crew had soon supplied themselves as
largely as they wished, and fish, which were abundant and easily
caught, and of which they were soon tired. The captain, therefore,
when he had recovered his sobriety and his courage, had no great
difficulty in inducing them to return to the ship, and endeavour
either to get her off or construct from her timbers a raft which,
following the course of the winds, might, it was thought, bring them
into the track of vessels. This would take some time, and I meanwhile
was allowed to remain (my own wish) on _terra firma_; the noise, dirt,
and foul smells of the vessel being, especially in that climate,
intolerable.

"About ten o'clock in the morning of the 25th August 1867, I was lying
towards the southern end of the island, on a little hillock tolerably
clear of trees, and facing a sort of glade or avenue, covered only
with brush and young trees, which allowed me to see the sky within
perhaps twenty degrees of the horizon. Suddenly, looking up, I saw
what appeared at first like a brilliant star considerably higher than
the sun. It increased in size with amazing rapidity, till, in a very
few seconds after its first appearance, it had a very perceptible
disc. For an instant it obscured the sun. In another moment a
tremendous shock temporarily deprived me of my senses, and I think
that more than an hour had elapsed before I recovered them. Sitting
up, somewhat confused, and looking around me, I became aware that some
strange accident had occurred. In every direction I saw such traces of
havoc as I had witnessed more than once when a Confederate force
holding an impenetrable woodland had been shelled at random for some
hours with the largest guns that the enemy could bring into the field.
Trees were torn and broken, branches scattered in all directions,
fragments of stone, earth, and coral rock flung all around.
Particularly I remember that a piece of metal of considerable size had
cut off the tops of two or three trees, and fixed itself at last on
what was now the summit of one about a third of whose length had been
broken off and lay on the ground. I soon perceived that this
miraculous bombardment had proceeded from a point to the
north-eastward, the direction in which at that season and hour the sun
was visible. Proceeding thitherward, the evidences of destruction
became every minute more marked, I might say more universal. Trees had
been thrown down, torn up by the roots, hurled against one another;
rocks broken and flung to great distances, some even thrown up in the
air, and so reversed in falling that, while again half buried in the
soil, they exposed what had been their undermost surface. In a word,
before I had gone two miles I saw that the island had sustained a
shock which might have been that of an earthquake, which certainly
equalled that of the most violent Central American earthquakes in
severity, but which had none of the special peculiarities of that kind
of natural convulsion. Presently I came upon fragments of a shining
pale yellow metal, generally small, but in one or two cases of
remarkable size and shape, apparently torn from some sheet of great
thickness. In one case I found embedded between two such jagged
fragments a piece of remarkably hard impenetrable cement. At last I
came to a point from which through the destruction of the trees the
sea was visible in the direction in which the ship had lain; but the
ship, as in a few moments I satisfied myself, had utterly disappeared.
Reaching the beach, I found that the shock had driven the sea far up
upon the land; fishes lying fifty yards inland, and everything
drenched in salt water. At last, guided by the signs of
ever-increasing devastation, I reached the point whence the mischief
had proceeded. I can give no idea in words of what I there found. The
earth had been torn open, rooted up as if by a gigantic explosion. In
some places sharp-pointed fragments of the coral rock, which at a
depth of several feet formed the bed of the island, were discernible
far below the actual surface. At others, the surface itself was raised
several feet by _dèbris_ of every kind. What I may call the
crater—though it was no actual hole, but rather a cavity torn and
then filled up by falling fragments—was two or three hundred feet in
circumference; and in this space I found considerable masses of the
same metallic substance, attached generally to pieces of the cement.
After examining and puzzling myself over this strange scene for some
time, my next care was to seek traces of the ship and of her crew; and
before long I saw just outside the coral reef what had been her
bowsprit, and presently, floating on the sea, one of her masts, with
the sail attached. There could be little doubt that the shock had
extended to her, had driven her off the reef where she had been fixed
into the deep water outside, where she must have sunk immediately, and
had broken her spars. No traces of her crew were to be seen. They had
probably been stunned at the same time that they were thrown into deep
water; and before I came in sight of the point where she had perished,
whatever animal bodies were to be found must have been devoured by the
sharks, which abounded in that neighbourhood. Dismay, perplexity, and
horror prevented my doing anything to solve my doubts or relieve my
astonishment before the sun went down; and during the night my sleep
was broken by snatches of horrible dreams and intervals of waking,
during which I marvelled over what I had seen, scarcely crediting my
memory or my senses. In the morning, I went back to the crater, and
with some tools that had been left on shore contrived to dig somewhat
deeply among the _debris_ with which it was filled. I found very
little that could enlighten me except pieces of glass, of various
metals, of wood, some of which seemed apparently to have been portions
of furniture; and one damaged but still entire relic, which I
preserved and brought away with me."

Here the Colonel removed a newspaper which had covered a portion of
his table, and showed me a metallic case beaten out of all shape, but
apparently of what had been a silvery colour, very little rusted,
though much soiled. This he opened, and I saw at once that it was of
enormous thickness and solidity, to which and to favouring
circumstances it owed its preservation in the general ruin he
described. That it had undergone some severe and violent shock there
could be no question. Beside the box lay a less damaged though still
seriously injured object, in which I recognised the resemblance of a
book of considerable thickness, and bound in metal like that of the
case. This I afterwards ascertained beyond doubt to be a metalloid
alloy whereof the principal ingredient was aluminium, or some
substance so closely resembling it as not to be distinguishable from
it by simple chemical tests. A friend to whom I submitted a small
portion broken off from the rest expressed no doubt that it was a kind
of aluminium bronze, but inclined to believe that it contained no
inconsiderable proportion of a metal with which chemists are as yet
imperfectly acquainted; perhaps, he said, silicon; certainly something
which had given to the alloy a hardness and tenacity unknown to any
familiar metallurgical compound.

"This," said my friend, opening the volume, "is a manuscript which was
contained in this case when I took it from among the debris of the
crater. I should have told you that I found there what I believed to
be fragments of human flesh and bone, but so crushed and mangled that
I could form no positive conclusion. My next care was to escape from
the island, which I felt sure lay far from the ordinary course of
merchant vessels. A boat which had brought me ashore—the smaller of
the two belonging to the ship—had fortunately been left on the end of
the island furthest from that on which the vessel had been driven, and
had, owing to its remoteness, though damaged, not been fatally injured
by the shock. I repaired this, made and fixed a mast, and with no
little difficulty contrived to manufacture a sort of sail from strips
of bark woven together. Knowing that, even if I could sustain life on
the island, life under such circumstances would not be worth having, I
was perfectly willing to embark upon a voyage in which I was well
aware the chances of death were at least as five to one. I caught and
contrived to smoke a quantity of fish sufficient to last me for a
fortnight, and filled a small cask with brackish but still drinkable
water. In this vessel, thus stored, I embarked about a fortnight after
the day of the mysterious shock. On the second evening of my voyage I
was caught by a gale which compelled me to lower the sail, and before
which I was driven for three days and nights, in what direction I can
hardly guess. On the fourth morning the wind had fallen, and by noon
it was a perfect calm. I need not describe what has been described by
so many shipwrecked sailors,—the sufferings of a solitary voyager in
an open boat under a tropical sun. The storm had supplied me with
water more than enough; so that I was spared that arch-torture of
thirst which seems, in the memory of such sufferers, to absorb all
others. Towards evening a slight breeze sprang up, and by morning I
came in sight of a vessel, which I contrived to board. Her crew,
however, and even her captain, utterly discredited such part of my
strange story as I told them. On that point, however, I will say no
more than this: I will place this manuscript in your hands. I will
give you the key to such of its ciphers as I have been able to make
out. The language, I believe, for I am no scholar, is Latin of a
mediæval type; but there are words which, if I rightly decipher them,
are not Latin, and hardly seem to belong to any known language; most
of them, I fancy, quasi-scientific terms, invented to describe various
technical devices unknown to the world when the manuscript was
written. I only make it a condition that you shall not publish the
story during my life; that if you show the manuscript or mention the
tale in confidence to any one, you will strictly keep my secret; and
that if after my death, of which you shall be advised, you do publish
it, you will afford no clue by which the donor could be confidently
identified."

"I promise," said I. "But I should like to ask you one question. What
do you conceive to have been the cause of the extraordinary shock you
felt and of the havoc you witnessed? What, in short, the nature of the
occurrence and the origin of the manuscript you entrust to my care?"

"Why need you ask me?" he returned. "You are as capable as myself of
drawing a deduction from what I have told you, and I have told you
everything, I believe, that could assist you. The manuscript will tell
the rest."

"But," said I, "an actual eye-witness often receives from a number of
little facts which he cannot remember, which are perhaps too minute to
have been actually and individually noted by him, an impression which
is more likely to be correct than any that could be formed by a
stranger on the fullest cross-questioning, on the closest examination
of what remains in the witness's memory. I should like to hear, before
opening the manuscript, what you believe to have been its origin.

"I can only say," he answered, "that what must be inferred from the
manuscript is what I had inferred before I opened it. That same
explanation was the only one that ever occurred to me, even in the
first night. It then seemed to me utterly incredible, but it is still
the only conceivable explanation that my mind can suggest."

"Did you," asked I, "connect the shock and the relics, which I presume
you know were not on the island before the shock, with the meteor and
the strange obscuration of the sun?"

"I certainly did," he said. "Having done so, there could be but one
conclusion as to the quarter from which the shock was received."

The examination and transcription of the manuscript, with all the help
afforded me by my friend's previous efforts, was the work of several
years. There is, as the reader will see, more than one _hiatus valde
deflendus_, as the scholiasts have it, and there are passages in
which, whether from the illegibility of the manuscript or the
employment of technical terms unknown to me, I cannot be certain of
the correctness of my translation. Such, however, as it is, I give it
to the world, having fulfilled, I believe, every one of the conditions
imposed upon me by my late and deeply regretted friend.

The character of the manuscript is very curious, and its translation
was exceedingly difficult. The material on which it is written
resembles nothing used for such purposes on Earth. It is more like a
very fine linen or silken web, but it is far closer in texture, and
has never been woven in any kind of loom at all like those employed in
any manufacture known to history or archaeology. The letters, or more
properly symbols, are minute, but executed with extraordinary
clearness. I should fancy that something more like a pencil than a
pen, but with a finer point than that of the finest pencil, was
employed in the writing. Contractions and combinations are not merely
frequent, but almost universal. There is scarcely an instance in which
five consecutive letters are separately written, and there is no
single line in which half a dozen contractions, often including from
four to ten letters, do not occur. The pages are of the size of an
ordinary duodecimo, but contain some fifty lines per page, and perhaps
one hundred and fifty letters in each line. What were probably the
first half dozen pages have been utterly destroyed, and the next half
dozen are so mashed, tattered, and defaced, that only a few sentences
here and there are legible. I have contrived, however, to combine
these into what I believe to be a substantially correct representation
of the author's meaning. The Latin is of a monastic—sometimes almost
canine—quality, with many words which are not Latin at all. For the
rest, though here and there pages are illegible, and though some
symbols, especially those representing numbers or chemical compounds,
are absolutely undecipherable, it has been possible to effect what I
hope will be found a clear and coherent translation. I have condensed
the narrative but have not altered or suppressed a line for fear of
offending those who must be unreasonable, indeed, if they lay the
offence to my charge.

One word more. It is possible, if not likely, that some of those
friends of the narrator, for whom the account was evidently written,
may still be living, and that these pages may meet their eyes. If so,
they may be able to solve the few problems that have entirely baffled
me, and to explain, if they so choose, the secrets to which,
intentionally or through the destruction of its introductory portion,
the manuscript affords no clue.

I must add that these volumes contain only the first section of the
MS. record. The rest, relating the incidents of a second voyage and
describing another world, remains in my hands; and, should this part
of the work excite general attention, the conclusion will, by myself
or by my executors, be given to the public. Otherwise, on my death, it
will be placed in the library of some national or scientific
institution.




CHAPTER II - OUTWARD BOUND.


... For obvious reasons, those who possessed the secret of the
Apergy [1] had never dreamed of applying it in the manner I proposed.
It had seemed to them little more than a curious secret of nature,
perhaps hardly so much, since the existence of a repulsive force in
the atomic sphere had been long suspected and of late certainly
ascertained, and its preponderance is held to be the characteristic of
the gaseous as distinguished from the liquid or solid state of matter.
Till lately, no means of generating or collecting this force in large
quantity had been found. The progress of electrical science had solved
this difficulty; and when the secret was communicated to me, it
possessed a value which had never before belonged to it.

Ever since, in childhood, I learnt that the planets were worlds, a
visit to one or more of the nearest of them had been my favourite
day-dream. Treasuring every hint afforded by science or fancy that
bore upon the subject, I felt confident that such a voyage would be
one day achieved. Helped by one or two really ingenious romances on
this theme, I had dreamed out my dream, realised every difficulty,
ascertained every factor in the problem. I had satisfied myself that
only one thing needful was as yet wholly beyond the reach and even the
proximate hopes of science. Human invention could furnish as yet no
motive power that could fulfil the main requirement of the
problem—uniform or constantly increasing motion _in vacuo_—motion
through a region affording no resisting medium. This must be a
_repulsive_ energy capable of acting through an utter void. Man,
animals, birds, fishes move by repulsion applied at every moment. In
air or water, paddles, oars, sails, fins, wings act by repulsion
exerted on the fluid element in which they work. But in space there is
no such resisting element on which repulsion can operate. I needed a
repulsion which would act like gravitation through an indefinite
distance and in a void—act upon a remote fulcrum, such as might be
the Earth in a voyage to the Moon, or the Sun in a more distant
journey. As soon, then, as the character of the apergic force was made
known to me, its application to this purpose seized on my mind.
Experiment had proved it possible, by the method described at the
commencement of this record, to generate and collect it in amounts
practically unlimited. The other hindrances to a voyage through space
were trivial in comparison with that thus overcome; there were
difficulties to be surmounted, not absent or deficient powers in
nature to be discovered. The chief of these, of course, concerned the
conveyance of air sufficient for the needs of the traveller during the
period of his journey. The construction of an air-tight vessel was
easy enough; but however large the body of air conveyed, even though
its oxygen should not be exhausted, the carbonic acid given out by
breathing would very soon so contaminate the whole that life would be
impossible. To eliminate this element it would only be necessary to
carry a certain quantity of lime-water, easily calculated, and by
means of a fan or similar instrument to drive the whole of the air
periodically through the vessel containing it. The lime in solution
combining with the noxious gas would show by the turbid whiteness of
the water the absorption of the carbonic acid and formation of
carbonate of lime. But if the carbonic acid gas were merely to be
removed, it is obvious that the oxygen of the air, which forms a part
of that gas, would be constantly diminished and ultimately exhausted;
and the effect of highly oxygenated air upon the circulation is
notoriously too great to allow of any considerable increase at the
outset in the proportion of this element. I might carry a fresh supply
of oxygen, available at need, in some solid combination like chlorate
of potash; but the electricity employed for the generation of the
apergy might be also applied to the decomposition of carbonic acid and
the restoration of its oxygen to the atmosphere.

But the vessel had to be steered as well as propelled; and in order to
accomplish this it would be necessary to command the direction of the
apergy at pleasure. My means of doing this depended on two of the
best-established peculiarities of this strange force: its rectilinear
direction and its conductibility. We found that it acts through air or
in a vacuum in a single straight line, without deflection, and
seemingly without diminution. Most solids, and especially metals,
according to their electric condition, are more or less impervious to
it—antapergic. Its power of penetration diminishes under a very
obscure law, but so rapidly that no conceivable strength of current
would affect an object protected by an intervening sheet half an inch
in thickness. On the other hand, it prefers to all other lines the
axis of a conductive bar, such as may be formed of [undecipherable] in
an antapergic sheath. However such bar may be curved, bent, or
divided, the current will fill and follow it, and pursue indefinitely,
without divergence, diffusion, or loss, the direction in which it
emerges. Therefore, by collecting the current from the generator in a
vessel cased with antapergic material, and leaving no other aperture,
its entire volume might be sent into a conductor. By cutting across
this conductor, and causing the further part to rotate upon the
nearer, I could divert the current through any required angle. Thus I
could turn the repulsion upon the resistant body (sun or planet), and
so propel the vessel in any direction I pleased.

I had determined that my first attempt should be a visit to Mars. The
Moon is a far less interesting body, since, on the hemisphere turned
towards the Earth, the absence of an atmosphere and of water ensures
the absence of any such life as is known to us—probably of any life
that could be discerned by our senses—and would prevent landing;
while nearly all the soundest astronomers agree in believing, on
apparently sufficient grounds, that even the opposite hemisphere [of
which small portions are from time to time rendered visible by the
libration, though greatly foreshortened and consequently somewhat
imperfectly seen] is equally devoid of the two primary necessaries of
animal and vegetable life. That Mars has seas, clouds, and an
atmosphere was generally admitted, and I held it to be beyond
question. Of Venus, owing to her extraordinary brilliancy, to the fact
that when nearest to the Earth a very small portion of her lighted
surface is visible to us, and above all to her dense cloud-envelope,
very little was known; and though I cherished the intention to visit
her even more earnestly than my resolve to reach the probably less
attractive planet Mars, I determined to begin with that voyage of
which the conditions and the probable result were most obvious and
certain. I preferred, moreover, in the first instance, to employ the
apergy as a propelling rather than as a resisting force. Now, after
passing beyond the immediate sphere of the Earth's attraction, it is
plain that in going towards Mars I should be departing from the Sun,
relying upon the apergy to overcome his attraction; whereas in seeking
to attain Venus I should be approaching the Sun, relying for my main
motive power upon that tremendous attraction, and employing the apergy
only to moderate the rate of movement and control its direction. The
latter appeared to me the more delicate, difficult, and perhaps
dangerous task of the two; and I resolved to defer it until after I
had acquired some practical experience and dexterity in the control of
my machinery.

It was expedient, of course, to make my vessel as light as possible,
and, at the same time, as large as considerations of weight would
admit. But it was of paramount importance to have walls of great
thickness, in order to prevent the penetration of the outer cold of
space, or rather the outward passage into that intense cold of the
heat generated within the vessel itself, as well as to resist the
tremendous outward pressure of the air inside. Partly for these
reasons, and partly because its electric character makes it especially
capable of being rendered at will pervious or impervious to the
apergic current, I resolved to make the outer and inner walls of an
alloy of ..., while the space between should be filled up with a mass
of concrete or cement, in its nature less penetrable to heat than any
other substance which Nature has furnished or the wit of man
constructed from her materials. The materials of this cement and their
proportions were as follows. [2]

       *       *       *       *       *

Briefly, having determined to take advantage of the approaching
opposition of Mars in MDCCCXX ... [3], I had my vessel constructed with
walls three feet thick, of which the outer six and the inner three
inches were formed of the metalloid. In shape my Astronaut somewhat
resembled the form of an antique Dutch East-Indiaman, being widest and
longest in a plane equidistant from floor and ceiling, the sides and
ends sloping outwards from the floor and again inwards towards the
roof. The deck and keel, however, were absolutely flat, and each one
hundred feet in length and fifty in breadth, the height of the vessel
being about twenty feet. In the centre of the floor and in that of the
roof respectively I placed a large lens of crystal, intended to act as
a window in the first instance, the lower to admit the rays of the
Sun, while through the upper I should discern the star towards which I
was steering. The floor, being much heavier than the rest of the
vessel, would naturally be turned downwards; that is, during the
greater part of the voyage towards the Sun. I placed a similar lens in
the centre of each of the four sides, with two plane windows of the
same material, one in the upper, the other in the lower half of the
wall, to enable me to discern any object in whatever direction. The
crystal in question consisted of ..., which, as those who manufactured
it for me are aware, admits of being cast with a perfection and
equality of structure throughout unattainable with ordinary glass, and
wrought to a certainty and accuracy of curvature which the most
patient and laborious polishing can hardly give to the lenses even of
moderate-sized telescopes, whether made of glass or metal, and is
singularly impervious to heat. I had so calculated the curvature that
several eye-pieces of different magnifying powers which I carried with
me might be adapted equally to any of the window lenses, and throw a
perfect image, magnified by 100, 1000, or 5000, upon mirrors properly
placed.

I carpeted the floor with several alternate layers of cork and cloth.
At one end I placed my couch, table, bookshelves, and other necessary
furniture, with all the stores needed for my voyage, and with a
further weight sufficient to preserve equilibrium. At the other I made
a garden with soil three feet deep and five feet in width, divided
into two parts so as to permit access to the windows. I filled each
garden closely with shrubs and flowering plants of the greatest
possible variety, partly to absorb animal waste, partly in the hope of
naturalising them elsewhere. Covering both with wire netting extending
from the roof to the floor, I filled the cages thus formed with a
variety of birds. In the centre of the vessel was the machinery,
occupying altogether a space of about thirty feet by twenty. The
larger portion of this area was, of course, taken up by the generator,
above which was the receptacle of the apergy. From this descended
right through the floor a conducting bar in an antapergic sheath, so
divided that without separating it from the upper portion the lower
might revolve in any direction through an angle of twenty minutes
(20'). This, of course, was intended to direct the stream of the
repulsive force against the Sun. The angle might have been extended to
thirty minutes, but that I deemed it inexpedient to rely upon a force,
directed against the outer portions of the Sun's disc, believing that
these are occupied by matter of density so small that it might afford
no sufficient base, so to speak, for the repulsive action. It was
obviously necessary also to repel or counteract the attraction of any
body which might come near me during the voyage. Again, in getting
free from the Earth's influence, I must be able to steer in any
direction and at any angle to the surface. For this purpose I placed
five smaller bars, passing through the roof and four sides, connected,
like the main conductor, with the receptacle or apergion, but so that
they could revolve through a much larger angle, and could at any
moment be detached and insulated. My steering apparatus consisted of a
table in which were three large circles. The midmost and left hand of
these were occupied by accurately polished plane mirrors. The central
circle, or metacompass, was divided by three hundred and sixty fine
lines, radiating from the centre to the circumference, marking as many
different directions, each deviating by one degree of arc from the
next. This mirror was to receive through the lens in the roof the
image of the star towards which I was steering. While this remained
stationary in the centre all was well. When it moved along any one of
the lines, the vessel was obviously deviating from her course in the
opposite direction; and, to recover the right course, the repellent
force must be caused to drive her in the direction in which the image
had moved. To accomplish this, a helm was attached to the lower
division of the main conductor, by which the latter could be made to
move at will in any direction within the limit of its rotation.
Controlling this helm was, in the open or steering circle on the right
hand, a small knob to be moved exactly parallel to the deviation of
the star in the mirror of the metacompass. The left-hand circle, or
discometer, was divided by nineteen hundred and twenty concentric
circles, equidistant from each other. The outermost, about twice as
far from the centre as from the external edge of the mirror, was
exactly equal to the Sun's circumference when presenting the largest
disc he ever shows to an observer on Earth. Each inner circle
corresponded to a diameter reduced by one second. By means of a
vernier or eye-piece, the diameter of the Sun could be read off the
discometer, and from his diameter my distance could be accurately
calculated. On the further side of the machinery was a chamber for the
decomposition of the carbonic acid, through which the air was driven
by a fan. This fan itself was worked by a horizontal wheel with two
projecting squares of antapergic metal, against each of which, as it
reached a certain point, a very small stream of repulsive force was
directed from the apergion, keeping the wheel in constant and rapid
motion. I had, of course, supplied myself with an ample store of
compressed vegetables, preserved meats, milk, tea, coffee, &c., and a
supply of water sufficient to last for double the period which the
voyage was expected to occupy; also a well-furnished tool-chest (with
wires, tubes, &c.). One of the lower windows was made just large
enough to admit my person, and after entering I had to close it and
fix it in its place firmly with cement, which, when I wished to quit
the vessel, would have again to be removed.

Of course some months were occupied in the manufacture of the
different portions of the vessel and her machinery, and sometime more
in their combination; so that when, at the end of July, I was ready to
start, the opposition was rapidly approaching. In the course of some
fifty days the Earth, moving in her orbit at a rate of about eleven
hundred miles [4] per minute, would overtake Mars; that is to say,
would pass between him and the Sun. In starting from the Earth I
should share this motion; I too should go eleven hundred miles a
minute in the same direction; but as I should travel along an orbit
constantly widening, the Earth would leave me behind. The apergy had
to make up for this, as well as to carry me some forty millions of
miles in a direction at right angles to the former—right outward
towards the orbit of Mars. Again, I should share the motion of that
particular spot of the Earth's surface from which I rose around her
axis, a motion varying with the latitude, greatest at the equator,
nothing at the pole. This would whirl me round and round the Earth at
the rate of a thousand miles an hour; of this I must, of course, get
rid as soon as possible. And when I should be rid of it, I meant to
start at first right upward; that is, straight away from the Sun and
in the plane of the ecliptic, which is not very different from that in
which Mars also moves. Therefore I should begin my effective ascent
from a point of the Earth as far as possible from the Sun; that is, on
the midnight meridian.

For the same reason which led me to start so long before the date of
the opposition, I resolved, having regard to the action of the Earth's
rotation on her axis, to start some hours before midnight. Taking
leave, then, of the two friends who had thus far assisted me, I
entered the Astronaut on the 1st August, about 4.30 P.M. After sealing
up the entrance-window, and ascertaining carefully that everything was
in order—a task which occupied me about an hour—I set the generator
to work; and when I had ascertained that the apergion was full, and
that the force was supplied at the required rate, I directed the whole
at first into the main conductor. After doing this I turned towards
the lower window on the west—or, as it was then, the right-hand
side—and was in time to catch sight of the trees on the hills, some
half mile off and about two hundred feet above the level of my
starting-point. I should have said that I had considerably compressed
my atmosphere and increased the proportion of oxygen by about ten per
cent., and also carried with me the means of reproducing the whole
amount of the latter in case of need. Among my instruments was a
pressure-gauge, so minutely divided that, with a movable vernier of
the same power as the fixed ones employed to read the glass circles, I
could discover the slightest escape of air in a very few seconds. The
pressure-gauge, however, remained immovable. Going close to the window
and looking out, I saw the Earth falling from me so fast that, within
five minutes after my departure, objects like trees and even houses
had become almost indistinguishable to the naked eye. I had half
expected to hear the whistling of the air as the vessel rushed upward,
but nothing of the kind was perceptible through her dense walls. It
was strange to observe the rapid rise of the sun from the westward.
Still more remarkable, on turning to the upper window, was the rapidly
blackening aspect of the sky. Suddenly everything disappeared except a
brilliant rainbow at some little distance—or perhaps I should rather
have said a halo of more than ordinary rainbow brilliancy, since it
occupied, not like the rainbows seen from below, something less than
half, but nearly two-thirds of a circle. I was, of course, aware that
I was passing through a cloud, and one of very unusual thickness. In a
few seconds, however, I was looking down upon its upper surface,
reflecting from a thousand broken masses of vapour at different
levels, from cavities and hillocks of mist, the light of the sun;
white beams mixed with innumerable rays of all colours in a confusion,
of indescribable brilliancy. I presume that the total obscuration of
everything outside the cloud during my passage through it was due to
its extent and not to its density, since at that height it could not
have been otherwise than exceedingly light and diffuse. Looking upward
through the eastern window, I could now discern a number of brighter
stars, and at nearly every moment fresh ones came into view on a
constantly darkening background. Looking downward to the west, where
alone the entire landscape lay in daylight, I presently discerned the
outline of shore and sea extending over a semicircle whose radius much
exceeded five hundred miles, implying that I was about thirty-five
miles from the sea-level. Even at this height the extent of my survey
was so great in comparison to my elevation, that a line drawn from the
vessel to the horizon was, though very roughly, almost parallel to the
surface; and the horizon therefore seemed to be not very far from my
own level, while the point below me, of course, appeared at a vast
distance. The appearance of the surface, therefore, was as if the
horizon had been, say, some thirty miles higher than the centre of the
semicircle bounding my view, and the area included in my prospect had
the form of a saucer or shallow bowl. But since the diameter of the
visible surface increases only as the square root of the height, this
appearance became less and less perceptible as I rose higher. It had
taken me twenty minutes to attain the elevation of thirty-five miles;
but my speed was, of course, constantly increasing, very much as the
speed of an object falling to the Earth from a great height increases;
and before ten more minutes had elapsed, I found myself surrounded by
a blackness nearly absolute, except in the direction of the
Sun,—which was still well above the sea—and immediately round the
terrestrial horizon, on which rested a ring of sunlit azure sky,
broken here and there by clouds. In every other direction I seemed to
be looking not merely upon a black or almost black sky, but into close
surrounding darkness. Amid this darkness, however, were visible
innumerable points of light, more or less brilliant—the stars—which
no longer seemed to be spangled over the surface of a distant vault,
but rather scattered immediately about me, nearer or farther to the
instinctive apprehension of the eye as they were brighter or fainter.
Scintillation there was none, except in the immediate vicinity of the
eastern horizon, where I still saw them through a dense atmosphere. In
short, before thirty minutes had elapsed since the start, I was
satisfied that I had passed entirely out of the atmosphere, and had
entered into the vacancy of space—if such a thing as vacant space
there be.

At this point I had to cut off the greater part of the apergy and
check my speed, for reasons that will be presently apparent. I had
started in daylight in order that during the first hundred miles of my
ascent I might have a clear view of the Earth's surface. Not only did
I wish to enjoy the spectacle, but as I had to direct my course by
terrestrial landmarks, it was necessary that I should be able to see
these so as to determine the rate and direction of the Astronaut's
motion, and discern the first symptoms of any possible danger. But
obviously, since my course lay generally in the plane of the ecliptic,
and for the present at least nearly in the line joining the centres of
the Earth and Sun, it was desirable that my real journey into space
should commence in the plane of the midnight meridian; that is, from
above the part of the Earth's surface immediately opposite the Sun. I
had to reach this line, and having reached it, to remain for some time
above it. To do both, I must attain it, if possible, at the same
moment at which I secured a westward impulse just sufficient to
counterbalance the eastward impulse derived from the rotation of the
Earth;—that is, in the latitude from which I started, a thousand
miles an hour. I had calculated that while directing through the main
bar a current of apergy sufficient to keep the Astronaut at a fixed
elevation, I could easily spare for the eastward conductor sufficient
force to create in the space of one hour the impulse required, but
that in the course of that hour the gradually increasing apergic force
would drive me 500 miles westward. Now in six hours the Earth's
rotation would carry an object close to its surface through an angle
of 90°; that is, from the sunset to the midnight meridian. But the
greater the elevation of the object the wider its orbit round the
Earth's centre, and the longer each degree; so that moving eastward
only a thousand miles an hour, I should constantly lag behind a point
on the Earth's surface, and should not reach the midnight meridian
till somewhat later. I had, moreover, to lose 500 miles of the
eastward drift during the last hour in which I should be subject to
it, through the action of the apergic force above-mentioned. Now, an
elevation of 330 miles would give the Astronaut an orbit on which 90°
would represent 6500 miles. In seven hours I should be carried along
that orbit 7000 miles eastward by the impulse my Astronaut had
received from the Earth, and driven back 500 miles by the apergy; so
that at 1 A.M. by my chronometer I should be exactly in the plane of
the midnight meridian, or 6500 miles east of my starting-point in
space, provided that I put the eastward apergic current in action
exactly at 12 P.M. by the chronometer. At 1 A.M. also I should have
generated a westward impulse of 1000 miles an hour. This, once
created, would continue to exist though the force that created it were
cut off, and would exactly counterbalance the opposite rotation
impulse derived from the Earth; so that thenceforward I should be
entirely free from the influence of the latter, though still sharing
that motion of the Earth through space at the rate of nearly nineteen
miles per second, which would carry me towards the line joining at the
moment of opposition her centre with that of Mars.

All went as I had calculated. I contrived to arrest the Astronaut's
motion at the required elevation just about the moment of sunset on
the region of the Earth immediately underneath. At 12 P.M., or 24h by
the chronometer, I directed a current of the requisite strength into
the eastward conductor, which I had previously pointed to the Earth's
surface, but a little short of the extreme terrestrial horizon, as I
calculated it. At 1 A.M. I found myself, judging by the stars, exactly
where I wished to be, and nearly stationary as regarded the Earth. I
instantly arrested the eastward current, detaching that conductor from
the apergion; and, directing the whole force of the current into the
downward conductor, I had the pleasure of seeing that, after a very
little adjustment of the helm, the stars remained stationary in the
mirror of the metacompass, showing that I had escaped from the
influence of the Earth's rotation. It was of course impossible to
measure the distance traversed during the invisibility of the Earth,
but I reckoned that I had made above 500 miles between 1h. and 2h.
A.M., and that at 4h. I was not less than 4800 miles from the surface.
With this inference the indication of my barycrite substantially
agreed. The latter instrument consisted of a spring whose deflection
by a given weight upon the equator had been very carefully tested.
Gravity diminishing as the square of the distance from the centre, it
was obvious that at about 8000 miles—or 4000 above the Earth's
surface—this spring would be deflected only one quarter as much by a
given weight as on Earth: at 16,000 miles from the surface, or 20,000
from the centre, one-twenty-fifth as much, and so on. I had graduated
the scale accordingly, and it indicated at present a distance somewhat
less than 9000 miles from the centre. Having adjusted the helm and set
the alarum to wake me in six hours, I lay down upon my bed.

The anxiety and peril of my position had disturbed me very little
whilst I was actively engaged either in steering and manipulating my
machinery, or in looking upon the marvellous and novel spectacles
presented to my eyes; but it now oppressed me in my sleep, and caused
me frequently to wake from dreams of a hideous character. Two or three
times, on such awaking, I went to examine the metacompass, and on one
occasion found it necessary slightly to readjust the helm; the stars
by which I steered having moved some second or two to the right of
their proper position.

On rising, I completed the circuit which filled my vessel with
brilliant light emitted from an electric lamp at the upper part of the
stern, and reflected by the polished metallic walls. I then proceeded
to get my breakfast, for which, as I had tasted nothing since some
hours before the start, I had a hearty appetite. I had anticipated
some trouble from the diminished action of gravity, doubting whether
the boiling-point at this immense height above the Earth might not be
affected; but I found that this depends upon the pressure of the
atmosphere alone, and that this pressure was in nowise affected by the
absence of gravity. My atmosphere being somewhat denser than that of
the Earth, the boiling-point was not 100°, but 101° Cent. The
temperature of the interior of the vessel, taken at a point
equidistant from the stove and from the walls, was about 5° C.;
unpleasantly cool, but still, with the help of a greatcoat, not
inconveniently so. I found it absolutely impossible to measure by
means of the thermometers I had placed outside the windows the cold of
space; but that it falls far short of the extreme supposed by some
writers, I confidently believe. It is, however, cold enough to freeze
mercury, and to reduce every other substance employed as a test of
atmospheric or laboratory temperatures to a solidity which admits of
no further contraction. I had filled one outside thermometer with
spirit, but this was broken before I looked at it; and in another,
whose bulb unfortunately was blackened, and which was filled with
carbonic acid gas, an apparent vacuum had been created. Was it that
the gas had been frozen, and had sunk into the lower part of the bulb,
where it would, of course, be invisible? When I had completed my meal
and smoked the very small cigar which alone a prudent consideration
for the state of the atmosphere would allow me, the chronometer showed
10 A.M. It was not surprising that by this time weight had become
almost non-existent. My twelve stone had dwindled to the weight of a
small fowl, and hooking my little finger into the loop of a string
hung from a peg fixed near the top of the stern wall, I found myself
able thus to support my weight without any sense of fatigue for a
quarter of an hour or more; in fact, I felt during that time
absolutely no sense of muscular weariness. This state of things
entailed only one inconvenience. Nothing had any stability; so that
the slightest push or jerk would upset everything that was not fixed.
However, I had so far anticipated this that nothing of any material
consequence was unfixed, and except that a touch with my spoon upset
the egg-cup and egg on which I was about to breakfast, and that this,
falling against a breakfast cup full of coffee, overturned that, I was
not incommoded. I managed to save the greater part of the beverage,
since, the atmospheric pressure being the same though the weight was
so changed, lead, and still more china or liquid, fell in the
Astronaut as slowly as feathers in the immediate vicinity of the
Earth. Still it was a novel experience to find myself able to lean in
any direction, and rest in almost any posture, with but the slightest
support for the body's centre of gravity; and further to find on
experiment that it was possible to remain for a couple of hours with
my heels above my head, in the favourite position of a Yankee's lower
limbs, without any perceptible congestion of blood or confusion of
brain.

I was occupied all day with abstract calculations; and knowing that
for some time I could see nothing of the Earth—her dark side being
opposite me and wholly obscuring the Sun, while I was as yet far from
having entered within the sphere where any novel celestial phenomena
might be expected—I only gave an occasional glance at the discometer
and metacompass, suppressing of course the electric glare within my
vessel, till I awoke from a short siesta about 19h. (7 P.M.) The Earth
at this time occupied on the sphere of view a space—defined at first
only by the absence of stars—about thirty times greater than the disc
of the Moon as seen through a tube; but, being dark, scarcely seemed
larger to the eye than the full Moon when on the horizon. But a new
method of defining its disc was presently afforded me. I was, in fact,
when looking through the lower window, in the same position as regards
the Earth as would be an inhabitant of the lunar hemisphere turned
towards her, having no external atmosphere interposed between us, but
being at about two-thirds of the lunar distance. And as, during an
eclipse, the Lunarian would see round the Earth a halo created by the
refraction of the Sun's rays in the terrestrial atmosphere—a halo
bright enough on most occasions so to illuminate the Moon as to render
her visible to us—so to my eyes the Earth was surrounded by a halo
somewhat resembling the solar corona as seen in eclipses, if not
nearly so brilliant, but, unlike the solar corona, coloured, with a
preponderance of red so decided as fully to account for the peculiar
hue of the eclipsed Moon. To paint this, unless means of painting
light—the one great deficiency which is still the opprobrium of human
art—were discovered, would task to the uttermost the powers of the
ablest artist, and at best he could give but a very imperfect notion
of it. To describe it so that its beauty, brilliancy, and wondrous
nature shall be in the slightest degree appreciated by my readers
would require a command of words such as no poet since Homer—nay, not
Homer himself—possessed. What was strange, and can perhaps be
rendered intelligible, was the variation, or, to use a phrase more
suggestive and more natural, if not more accurate, the extreme
mobility of the hues of this earthly corona. There were none of the
efflorescences, if one may so term them, which are so generally
visible at four cardinal points of its solar prototype. The outer
portion of the band faded very rapidly into the darkness of space; but
the edge, though absolutely undefined, was perfectly even. But on the
generally rainbow-tinted ground suffused with red—which perhaps might
best be described by calling it a rainbow seen on a background of
brilliant crimson—there were here and there blotches of black or of
lighter or darker grey, caused apparently by vast expanses of cloud,
more or less dense. Round the edges of each of these were little
irregular rainbow-coloured halos of their own interrupting and
variegating the continuous bands of the corona; while throughout all
was discernible a perpetual variability, like the flashing or shooting
of colour in the opal, the mother-of-pearl, or similarly tinted
translucent substances when exposed to the irregular play of bright
light—only that in this case the tints were incomparably more
brilliant, the change more striking, if not more rapid. I could not
say that at any particular moment any point or part of the surface
presented this or that definite hue; and yet the general character of
the rainbow, suffused with or backed by crimson, was constant and
unmistakable. The light sent through the window was too dim and too
imperfectly diffused within my vessel to be serviceable, but for some
time I put out the electric lamp in order that its diffused light
should not impair my view of this exquisite spectacle. As thrown,
after several reflections, upon the mirror destined afterwards to
measure the image of the solar disc, the apparition of the halo was of
course much less bright, and its outer boundary ill defined for
accurate measurement. The inner edge, where the light was bounded by
the black disc of the Earth, shaded off much more quickly from dark
reddish purple into absolute blackness.

And now a surprise, the first I had encountered, awaited me. I
registered the gravity as shown by the barycrite; and, extinguishing
the electric lamp, measured repeatedly the semi-diameter of the Earth
and of the halo around her upon the discometer, the inner edge of the
latter affording the measurement of the black disc, which of itself,
of course, cast no reflection. I saw at once that there was a signal
difference in the two indications, and proceeded carefully to revise
the earth-measurements. On the average of thirteen measures the halo
was about 87", or nearly 1½' in breadth, the disc, allowing for the
twilight round its edge or limb, about 2° 50'. If the refracting
atmosphere were some 65 miles in depth, these proportions were correct.
Relighting the lamp, I worked out severally on paper the results
indicated by the two instruments. The discometer gave a distance,
roughly speaking, of 40 terrestrial radii, or 160,000 miles. The
barycrite should have shown a gravity, due to the Earth's attraction,
not 40 but 1600 times less than that prevailing on the Earth's surface;
or, to put it in a less accurate form, a weight of 100 lbs. should have
weighed an ounce. It did weigh two ounces, the gravity being not one
1600th but one 800th of terrestrial gravity, or just double what, I
expected. I puzzled myself over this matter longer, probably, than the
intelligent reader will do: the explanation being obvious, like that of
many puzzles that bewilder our minds intensely, only to humiliate us
proportionately when the solution is found—a solution as simple as that
of Columbus's egg-riddle. At length, finding that the lunar angle—the
apparent position of the Moon—confirmed the reading of the discometer,
giving the same apogaic distance or elevation, I supposed that the
barycrite must be out of order or subject to some unsuspected law of
which future observations might afford evidence and explanation, and
turned to other subjects of interest.

Looking through the upper window on the left, I was struck by the
rapid enlargement of a star which, when I first noticed it, might be
of the third magnitude, but which in less than a minute attained the
first, and in a minute more was as large as the planet Jupiter when
seen with a magnifying power of one hundred diameters.

Its disc, however, had no continuous outline; and as it approached I
perceived that it was an irregular mass of whose size I could form not
even a conjectural estimate, since its distance must be absolutely
uncertain. Its brilliancy grew fainter in proportion to the
enlargement as it approached, proving that its light was reflected;
and as it passed me, apparently in the direction of the earth, I had a
sufficiently distinct view of it to know that it was a mainly metallic
mass, certainly of some size, perhaps four, perhaps twenty feet in
diameter, and apparently composed chiefly of iron; showing a more or
less blistered surface, but with angles sharper and faces more
regularly defined than most of those which have been found upon the
earth's surface—as if the shape of the latter might be due in part to
the conflagration they undergo in passing at such tremendous speed
through the atmosphere, or, in an opposite sense, to the fractures
caused by the shock of their falling. Though I made no attempt to
count the innumerable stars in the midst of which I appeared to float,
I was convinced that their number was infinitely greater than that
visible to the naked eye on the brightest night. I remembered how
greatly the inexperienced eye exaggerates the number of stars visible
from the Earth, since poets, and even olden observers, liken their
number to that of the sands on the seashore; whereas the patient work
of map and catalogue makers has shown that there are but a few
thousands visible in the whole heavens to the keenest unaided sight. I
suppose that I saw a hundred times that number. In one word, the
sphere of darkness in which I floated seemed to be filled with points
of light, while the absolute blackness that surrounded them, the
absence of the slightest radiation, or illumination of space at large,
was strange beyond expression to an eye accustomed to that diffusion
of light which is produced by the atmosphere. I may mention here that
the recognition of the constellations was at first exceedingly
difficult. On Earth we see so few stars in any given portion of the
heavens, that one recognises without an effort the figure marked out
by a small number of the brightest amongst them; while in my position
the multitude was so great that only patient and repeated effort
enabled me to separate from the rest those peculiarly brilliant
luminaries by which we are accustomed to define such constellations as
Orion or the Bear, to say nothing of those minor or more arbitrarily
drawn figures which contain few stars of the second magnitude. The eye
had no instinctive sense of distance; any star might have been within
a stone's throw. I need hardly observe that, while on one hand the
motion of the vessel was absolutely imperceptible, there was, on the
other, no change of position among the stars which could enable me to
verify the fact that I was moving, much less suggest it to the senses.
The direction of every recognisable star was the same as on Earth, as
it appears the same from the two extremities of the Earth's orbit, 19
millions of miles apart. Looking from any one window, I could see no
greater space of the heavens than in looking through a similar
aperture on Earth. What was novel and interesting in my stellar
prospect was, not merely that I could see those stars north and south
which are never visible from the same point on Earth, except in the
immediate neighbourhood of the Equator; but that, save on the small
space concealed by the Earth's disc, I could, by moving from window to
window, survey the entire heavens, looking at one minute upon the
stars surrounding the vernal, and at another, by changing my position,
upon those in the neighbourhood of the autumnal equinox. By little
more than a turn of my head I could see in one direction Polaris
(_alpha_ Ursæ Minoris) with the Great Bear, and in another the
Southern Cross, the Ship, and the Centaur.

About 23h. 30m., near the close of the first day, I again inspected
the barycrite. It showed ¹⁄₁₁₀₀ of terrestrial gravity, an incredibly
small change from the ¹⁄₈₀₀ recorded at 19h., since it implied a
progress proportionate only to the square root of the difference. The
observation indicated, if the instrument could be trusted, an advance
of only 18,000 miles. It was impossible that the Astronaut had not by
this time attained a very much greater speed than 4000 miles an hour,
and a greater distance from the Earth than 33 terrestrial radii, or
132,000 miles. Moreover, the barycrite itself had given at 19h. a
distance of 28½ radii, and a speed far greater than that which upon
its showing had since been maintained. Extinguishing the lamp, I found
that the Earth's diameter on the discometer measured 2° 3′ 52″ (?).
This represented a gain of some 90,000 miles; much more approximate
to that which, judging by calculation, I ought to have accomplished
during the last four hours and a half, if my speed approached to that
I had estimated. I inspected the cratometer, which indicated a force
as great as that with which I had started,—a force which should by
this time have given me a speed of at least 22,000 miles an hour. At
last the solution of the problem flashed upon me, suggested by the
very extravagance of the contradictions. Not only did the barycrite
contradict the discometer and the reckoning but it contradicted
itself; since it was impossible that under one continuous impulsation
I should have traversed 28½ radii of the Earth in the first eighteen
hours and no more than 4½ in the next four and a half hours. In truth,
the barycrite was effected by two separate attractions,—that of the
Earth and that of the Sun, as yet operating almost exactly in the same
direction. At first the attraction of the former was so great that that
of the Sun was no more perceived than upon the Earth's surface. But
as I rose, and the Earth's attraction diminished in proportion to the
square of the distance from her centre—which was doubled at 8000 miles,
quadrupled at 16,000, and so on—the Sun's attraction, which was not
perceptibly affected by differences so small in proportion to his vast
distance of 95,000,000 miles, became a more and more important element
in the total gravity. If, as I calculated, I had by 19h. attained a
distance from the earth of 160,000 miles, the attractions of Earth and
Sun were by that time pretty nearly equal; and hence the phenomenon
which had so puzzled me, that the gravitation, as indicated by the
barycrite, was exactly double that which, bearing in mind the Earth's
attraction alone, I had calculated. From this point forward the Sun's
attraction was the factor which mainly caused such weight as still
existed; a change of position which, doubling my distance from the
Earth, reduced her influence to one-fourth, not perceptibly affecting
that of a body four hundred times more remote. A short calculation
showed that, this fact borne in mind, the indication of the barycrite
substantially agreed with that of the discometer, and that I was in
fact very nearly where I supposed, that is, a little farther than the
Moon's farthest distance from the Earth. It did not follow that I had
crossed the orbit of the Moon; and if I had, she was at that time too
far off to exercise a serious influence on my course. I adjusted the
helm and betook myself to rest, the second day of my journey having
already commenced.




CHAPTER III - THE UNTRAVELLED DEEP.


Rising at 5h., I observed a drooping in the leaves of my garden, and
especially of the larger shrubs and plants, for which I was not wholly
unprepared, but which might entail some inconvenience if, failing
altogether, they should cease to absorb the gases generated from
buried waste, to consume which they had been planted. Besides this, I
should, of course, lose the opportunity of transplanting them to Mars,
though I had more hope of acclimatising seedlings raised from the seed
I carried with me than plants which had actually begun their life on
the surface of the Earth. The failure I ascribed naturally to the
known connection between the action of gravity and the circulation of
the sap; though, as I had experienced no analogous inconvenience in my
own person, I had hoped that this would not seriously affect
vegetation. I was afraid to try the effect of more liberal watering,
the more so that already the congelation of moisture upon the glasses
from the internal air, dry as the latter had been kept, was a sensible
annoyance—an annoyance which would have become an insuperable trouble
had I not taken so much pains, by directing the thermic currents upon
the walls, to keep the internal temperature, in so far as comfort
would permit—it had now fallen to 4° C.—as near as possible to that
of the inner surface of the walls and windows. A careful use of the
thermometer indicated that the metallic surface of the former was now
nearly zero C., or 32° F. The inner surface of the windows was somewhat
colder, showing that the crystal was more pervious to heat than the
walls, with their greater thickness, their outer and inner lining of
metal, and massive interior of concrete. I directed a current from the
thermogene upon either division of the garden, hoping thus to protect
the plants from whatever injury they might receive from the cold.
Somewhat later, perceiving that the drooping still continued, I
resolved upon another experiment, and arranging an apparatus of copper
wire beneath the soil, so as to bring the extremities in immediate
contact with their roots, I directed through these wires a prolonged
feeble current of electricity; by which, as I had hoped rather than
expected, the plants were after a time materially benefited, and to
which I believe I owed it that they had not all perished long before
the termination of my voyage.

It would be mere waste of space and time were I to attempt anything
like a journal of the weeks I spent in the solitude of this artificial
planet. As matter of course, the monotony of a voyage through space is
in general greater than that of a voyage across an ocean like the
Atlantic, where no islands and few ships are to be encountered. It was
necessary to be very frequently, if not constantly, on the look-out
for possible incidents of interest in a journey so utterly novel
through regions which the telescope can but imperfectly explore. It
was difficult, therefore, to sit down to a book, or even to pursue any
necessary occupation unconnected with the actual conduct of the
vessel, with uninterrupted attention. My eyes, the only sense organs I
could employ, were constantly on the alert; but, of course, by far the
greater portion of my time passed without a single new object or
occasion of remark. That a journey so utterly without precedent or
parallel, in which so little could be anticipated or provided for,
through regions absolutely untraversed and very nearly unknown, should
be monotonous, may seem strange. But in truth the novelties of the
situation, such as they were, though intensely striking and
interesting, were each in turn speedily examined, realised, and, so to
speak, exhausted; and this once done, there was no greater occupation
to the mind in the continuance of strange than in that of familiar
scenery. The infinitude of surrounding blackness, filled as it were
with points of light more or less brilliant, when once its effects had
been scrutinised, and when nothing more remained to be noted, afforded
certainly a more agreeable, but scarcely a more interesting or
absorbing, outlook than the dead grey circle of sea, the dead grey
hemisphere of cloud, which form the prospect from the deck of a packet
in mid-Atlantic; while of change without or incident in the vessel
herself there was, of course, infinitely less than is afforded in an
ocean voyage by the variations of weather, not to mention the solace
of human society. Everything around me, except in the one direction in
which the Earth's disc still obscured the Sun, remained unchanged for
hours and days; and the management of my machinery required no more
than an occasional observation of my instruments and a change in the
position of the helm, which occupied but a few minutes some half-dozen
times in the twenty-four hours. There was not even the change of night
and day, of sun and stars, of cloud or clear sky. Were I to describe
the manner in which each day's leisure was spent, I should bore my
readers even more than—they will perhaps be surprised by the
confession—I was bored myself.

My sleep was of necessity more or less broken. I wished to have eight
hours of rest, since, though seven of continuous sleep might well have
sufficed me, even if my brain had been less quiet and unexcited during
the rest of the twenty-four, it was impossible for me to enjoy that
term of unbroken slumber. I therefore decided to divide my sleep into
two portions of rather more than four hours each, to be taken as a
rule after noon and after midnight; or rather, since noon and midnight
had no meaning for me, from 12h. to 16h. and from 24h. to 4.h. But of
course sleep and everything else, except the necessary management of
the machine, must give way to the chances of observation; it would be
better to remain awake for forty-eight hours at a stretch than to miss
any important phenomenon the period of whose occurrence could be even
remotely calculated.

At 8h., I employed for the first time the apparatus which I may call
my window telescope, to observe, from a position free from the
difficulties inflicted on terrestrial astronomers by the atmosphere,
all the celestial objects within my survey. As I had anticipated, the
absence of atmospheric disturbance and diffusion of light was of
extreme advantage. In the first place, I ascertained by the barycrite
and the discometer my distance from the Earth, which appeared to be
about 120 terrestrial radii. The light of the halo was of course very
much narrower than when I first observed it, and its scintillations or
coruscations no longer distinctly visible. The Moon presented an
exquisitely fine thread of light, but no new object of interest on the
very small portion of her daylight hemisphere turned towards me. Mars
was somewhat difficult to observe, being too near what may be called
my zenith. But the markings were far more distinct than they appear,
with greater magnifying powers than I employed, upon the Earth. In
truth, I should say that the various disadvantages due to the
atmosphere deprive the astronomer of at least one-half of the
available light-collecting power of his telescope, and consequently of
the defining power of the eye-piece; that with a 200 glass he sees
less than a power of 100 reveals to an eye situated in space; though,
from the nature of the lens through which I looked, I cannot speak
with certainty upon this point. With a magnifying power of 300 the
polar spots of Mars were distinctly visible and perfectly defined.
They were, I thought, less white than they appeared from the Earth,
but their colour was notably different from that of the planet's
general surface, differing almost as widely from the orange hue of
what I supposed to be land as from the greyish blue of the water. The
orange was, I thought, deeper than it appears through a telescope of
similar power on Earth. The seas were distinctly grey rather than
blue, especially when, by covering the greater part of the field, I
contrived for a moment to observe a sea alone, thus eliminating the
effect of contrast. The bands of Jupiter in their turn were more
notably distinct; their variety of colour as well as the contrast of
light and shade much more definite, and their irregularities more
unmistakable. A satellite was approaching the disc, and this afforded
me an opportunity of realising with especial clearness the difference
between observation through seventy or a hundred miles of terrestrial
atmosphere outside the object glass and observation in space. The two
discs were perfectly rounded and separately discernible until they
touched. Moreover, I was able to distinguish upon one of the darker
bands the disc of the satellite itself, while upon a lighter band its
round black shadow was at the same time perfectly defined. This
wonderfully clear presentation of one of the most interesting of
astronomical phenomena so absorbed my attention that I watched the
satellite and shadow during their whole course, though the former,
passing after a time on to a light band, became comparatively
indistinct. The moment, however, that the outer edge passed off the
disc of Jupiter, its outline became perfectly visible against the
black background of sky. What was still more novel was the occultation
for some little time of a star, apparently of the tenth magnitude, not
by the planet but by the satellite, almost immediately after it passed
off the disc of the former. Whether the star actually disappeared at
once, as if instantaneously extinguished, or whether, as I thought at
the moment, it remained for some tenth of a second partially visible,
as if refracted by an atmosphere belonging to the satellite, I will
not venture to say. The bands and rings of Saturn, the division
between the two latter, and the seven satellites, were also perfectly
visible, with a distinctness that a much greater magnifying power
would hardly have attained under terrestrial conditions. I was
perplexed by two peculiarities, not, so far as I know, hitherto [5]
mentioned by astronomers. The circumference did not appear to present
an even curvature.

I mean that, apart from the polar compression, the shape seemed as if
the spheroid were irregularly squeezed; so that though not broken by
projection or indentation, the limb did not present the regular
quasi-circular curvature exhibited in the focus of our telescopes.
Also, between the inner ring and the planet, with a power of 500, I
discerned what appeared to be a dark purplish ring, semi-transparent,
so that through it the bright surface of Saturn might be discerned as
through a veil. Mercury shone brightly several degrees outside the
halo surrounding the Earth's black disc; and Venus was also visible;
but in neither case did my observations allow me to ascertain anything
that has not been already noted by astronomers. The dim form of Uranus
was better defined than I had previously seen it, but no marking of
any kind was perceptible.

Rising from my second, or, so to speak, midday rest, and having
busied myself for some little time with what I may call my household
and garden duties, I observed the discometer at 1h. (or 5 P.M.). It
indicated about two hundred terrestrial radii of elevation. I had,
of course, from the first been falling slightly behind the Earth in
her orbital motion, and was no longer exactly in opposition; that is
to say, a line drawn from the Astronaut to the Earth's centre was no
longer a prolongation of that joining the centres of the Earth and
Sun. The effect of this divergence was now perceptible. The earthly
corona was unequal in width, and to the westward was very distinctly
brightened, while on the other side it was narrow and comparatively
faint. While watching this phenomenon through the lower lens, I
thought that I could perceive behind or through the widest portion
of the halo a white light, which at first I mistook for one of those
scintillations that had of late become scarcely discernible. But after
a time it extended visibly beyond the boundary of the halo itself, and
I perceived that the edge of the Sun's disc had come at last into view.
It was but a minute and narrow crescent, but was well worth watching.
The brightening and broadening of the halo at this point I perceived to
be due, not to the Sun's effect upon the atmosphere that produced it,
but chiefly to the twilight now brightening on that limb of the Earth's
disc; or rather to the fact that a small portion of that part of the
Earth's surface, where, if the Sun were not visible, he was but a very
little below the horizon, had been turned towards me. I saw through
the telescope first a tiny solar crescent of intense brightness, then
the halo proper, now exceedingly narrow, and then what looked like
a silver terrestrial crescent, but a mere thread, finer and shorter
than any that the Moon ever displays even to telescopic observers on
Earth; since, when such a minute portion of her illuminated surface
is turned towards the Earth, it is utterly extinguished to our eyes
by the immediate vicinity of the Sun, as was soon the case with the
terrestrial crescent in question. I watched long and with intense
interest the gradual change, but I was called away from it by a
consideration of no little practical moment. I must now be moving
at a rate of nearly, if not quite, 40,000 miles an hour, or about a
million miles per diem. It was not my intention, for reasons I shall
presently explain, ever greatly to exceed this rate; and if I meant
to limit myself to a fixed rate of speed, it was time to diminish the
force of the apergic current, as otherwise before its reduction could
take effect I should have attained an impulse greater than I desired,
and which could not be conveniently or easily diminished when once
reached. Quitting, therefore, though reluctantly, my observation of
the phenomena below me, I turned to the apergion, and was occupied for
some two or three hours in gradually reducing the force as measured by
the cratometer attached to the downward conductor, and measuring with
extreme care the very minute effect produced upon the barycrite and the
discometer. Even the difference between 200 and 201 radii of elevation
or apogaic distance was not easily perceptible on either. It took, of
course, much more minute observation and a much longer time to test
the effect produced by the regulation of the movement, since whether I
traveller forty, forty-five, or forty-two thousand miles in the course
of one hour made scarcely any difference in the diameter of the Earth's
disc, still less, for reasons above given, in the gravity. By midnight,
however, I was satisfied that I had not attained quite 1,000,000 miles,
or 275 terrestrial radii; also that my speed was not greater than
45,000 miles (11¼ radii) per hour, and was not, I thought, increasing.
Of this last point, however, I could better satisfy myself at the end
of my four hours' rest, to which I now betook myself.

I woke about 4h. 30m., and on a scrutiny of the instruments, felt
satisfied that I was not far out in my calculations. A later hour,
however, would afford a more absolute certainty. I was about to turn
again to the interesting work of observation through the lens in the
floor, when my attention was diverted by the sight of something like
a whitish cloud visible through the upper window on my left hand.
Examined by the telescope, its widest diameter might be at most ten
degrees. It was faintly luminous, presenting an appearance very closely
resembling that of a star cluster or nebula just beyond the power of
resolution. As in many nebulae, there was a visible concentration
in one part; but this did not occupy the centre, but a position
more resembling that of the nucleus of a small tailless comet. The
cloudlet might be a distant comet, it might be a less distant body of
meteors clustering densely in some particular part of their orbit;
and, unfortunately, I was not likely to solve the problem. Gradually
the nebula changed its position, but not its form, seeming to move
downwards and towards the stern of my vessel, as if I were passing it
without approaching nearer. By the time that I was satisfied of this,
hunger and even faintness warned me that I must not delay preparing my
breakfast. When I had finished this meal and fulfilled some necessary
tasks, practical and arithmetical, the hand of the chronometer
indicated the eighth hour of my third day. I turned again somewhat
eagerly to the discometer, which showed an apparent distance of 360
terrestrial radii, and consequently a movement which had not materially
varied from the rate of 11¼ radii per hour. By this time the diameter
of the Earth was not larger in appearance than about 19', less than
two-thirds that of the Sun; and she consequently appeared as a black
disc covering somewhat more than one-third of his entire surface,
but by no means concentrical. The halo had of course completely
disappeared; but with the vernier it was possible to discern a narrow
band or line of hazy grey around the black limb of the planet. She was
moving, as seen from the Astronaut, very slightly to the north, and
more decidedly, though very slowly, to the eastward; the one motion due
to my deliberately chosen direction in space, the other to the fact
that as my orbit enlarged I was falling, though as yet slowly, behind
her. The sun now shone through, the various windows, and, reflected
from the walls, maintained a continuous daylight within the Astronaut,
as well diffused as by the atmosphere of Earth, strangely contrasting
the star-spangled darkness outside.

At the beginning as at the end of my voyage, I steered a distinct
course, governed by considerations quite different from those which
controlled the main direction of my voyage. Thus far I had simply
risen straight from the Earth in a direction somewhat to the
southward, but on the whole "in opposition," or right away from the
Sun. So, at the conclusion of my journey, I should have to devote some
days to a gradual descent upon Mars, exactly reversing the process of
my ascent from the Earth. But between these two periods I had
comparatively little to do with either planet, my course being
governed by the Sun, and its direction and rate being uniform. I
wished to reach Mars at the moment of opposition, and during the whole
of the journey to keep the Earth between myself and the Sun, for a
reason which may not at first be obvious. The moment of opposition is
not necessarily that at which Mars is nearest to the Earth, but is
sufficiently so for practical calculation. At that moment, according
to the received measurement of planetary distances, the two would be
more than 40 millions of miles apart. In the meantime the Earth,
travelling on an interior or smaller orbit, and also at a greater
absolute speed, was gaining on Mars. The Astronaut, moving at the
Earth's rate under an impulse derived from the Earth's revolution
round the Sun (that due to her rotation on her own axis having been
got rid of, as aforesaid), traveller in an orbit constantly widening,
so that, while gaining on Mars, I gained on him less than did the
Earth, and was falling behind her. Had I used the apergy only to drive
me directly outward from the Sun, I should move under the impulse
derived from the Earth about 1,600,000 miles a day, or 72 millions of
miles in forty-five days, in the direction common to the two planets.
The effect of the constantly widening orbit would be much as if the
whole motion took place on one midway between those of the Earth and
Mars, say 120 millions of miles from the Sun. The arc described on
this orbit would be equivalent to 86 millions of miles on that of
Mars. The entire arc of his orbit between the point opposite to that
occupied by the Earth when I started and the point of opposition—the
entire distance I had to gain as measured along his path—was about
116 millions of miles; so that, trusting to the terrestrial impulse
alone, I should be some 30 millions behindhand at the critical moment.
The apergic force must make up for this loss of ground, while driving
me in a direction, so to speak, at right angles with that of the
orbit, or along its radius, straight outward from the Sun, forty odd
millions of miles in the same time. If I succeeded in this, I should
reach the orbit of Mars at the point and at the moment of opposition,
and should attain Mars himself. But in this I might fail, and I should
then find myself under the sole influence of the Sun's attraction;
able indeed to resist it, able gradually to steer in any direction
away from it, but hardly able to overtake a planet that should lie far
out of my line of advance or retreat, while moving at full speed away
from me. In order to secure a chance of retreat, it was desirable as
long as possible to keep the Earth between the Astronaut and the Sun;
while steering for that point in space where Mars would lie at the
moment when, as seen from the centre of the Earth, he would be most
nearly opposite the Sun,—would cross the meridian at midnight. It was
by these considerations that the course I henceforward steered was
determined. By a very simple calculation, based on the familiar
principle of the parallelogram of forces, I gave to the apergic
current a force and direction equivalent to a daily motion of about
750,000 miles in the orbital, and rather more than a million in the
radial line. I need hardly observe that it would not be to the apergic
current alone, but to a combination of that current with the orbital
impulse received at first from the Earth, that my progress and course
would be due. The latter was the stronger influence; the former only
was under my control, but it would suffice to determine, as I might
from time to time desire, the resultant of the combination. The only
obvious risk of failure lay in the chance that, my calculations
failing or being upset, I might reach the desired point too soon or
too late. In either case, I should be dangerously far from Mars,
beyond his orbit or within it, at the time when I should come into a
line with him and the Sun; or, again, putting the same mischance in
another form, behind him or before him when I attained his orbit. But
I trusted to daily observation of his position, and verification of my
"dead reckoning" thereby, to find out any such danger in time to avert
it.

The displacement of the Earth on the Sun's face proved it to be
necessary that the apergic current should be directed against the
latter in order to govern my course as I desired, and to recover the
ground I had lost in respect to the orbital motion. I hoped for a
moment that this change in the action of the force would settle a
problem we had never been able to determine. Our experiments proved
that apergy acts in a straight line when once collected in and directed
along a conductor, and does not radiate, like other forces, from a
centre in all directions. It is of course this radiation— diffusing
the effect of light, heat, or gravity over the surface of a sphere,
which surface is proportionate to the square of the radius—that causes
these forces to operate with an energy inversely proportionate, not
to the distance, but to its square. We had no reason to think that
apergy, exempt as it is from this law, would be at all diminished by
distance; and this view the rate of acceleration as I rose from the
Earth had confirmed, and my entire experience has satisfied me that
it is correct. None of our experiments, however, had indicated, or
could well indicate, at what rate this force can travel through space;
nor had I yet obtained any light upon this point. From the very first
the current had been continuous, the only interruption taking place
when I was not five hundred miles from the Earth's surface. Over so
small a distance as that, the force would move so instantaneously
that no trace of the interruption would be perceptible in the motion
of the Astronaut. Even now the total interruption of the action of
apergy for a considerable time would not affect the rate at which I
was already moving. It was possible, however, that if the current had
been hitherto wholly intercepted by the Earth, it might take so long a
time in reaching the Sun that the interval between the movement of the
helm and the response of the Astronaut's course thereto might afford
some indication of the time occupied by the current in traversing the
96½ millions of miles which parted me from the Sun. My hope, however,
was wholly disappointed. I could neither be sure that the action was
instantaneous, nor that it was otherwise.

At the close of the third day I had gained, as was indicated by the
instruments, something more than two millions of miles in a direct
line from the Sun; and for the future I might, and did, reckon on a
steady progress of about one and a quarter million miles daily under
the apergic force alone—a gain in a line directly outward from the
Sun of about one million. Henceforward I shall not record my
observations, except where they implied an unexpected or altered
result.

On the sixth day, I perceived another nebula, and on this occasion in
a more promising direction. It appeared, from its gradual movement, to
lie almost exactly in my course, so that if it were what I suspected,
and were not at any great distance from me, I must pass either near or
through it, and it would surely explain what had perplexed and baffled
me in the case of the former nebula. At this distance the nature of
the cloudlet was imperceptible to the naked eye. The window telescope
was not adjustable to an object which I could not bring conveniently
within the field of view of the lenses. In a few hours the nebula so
changed its form and position, that, being immediately over the
portion of the roof between the front or bow lens and that in the
centre of the roof, its central section was invisible; but the
extremities of that part which I had seen in the first instance
through the upper plane window of the bow were now clearly visible
from the upper windows of either side. What had at first been a mere
greatly elongated oval, with a species of rapidly diminishing tail at
each extremity, had now become an arc spanning no inconsiderable part
of the space above me, narrowing rapidly as it extended downwards and
sternwards. Presently it came in view through the upper lens, but did
not obscure in the least the image of the stars which were then
visible in the metacompass. I very soon ascertained that the cloudlet
consisted, as I had supposed in the former case, of a multitude of
points of light less brilliant than the stars, the distance between
which became constantly wider, but which for some time were separately
so small as to present no disc that any magnifying power at my command
could render measurable. In the meantime, the extremities visible
through the other windows were constantly widening out till lost in
the spangled darkness. By and by, it became impossible with the naked
eye to distinguish the individual points from the smaller stars; and
shortly after this the nearest began to present discs of appreciable
size but somewhat irregular shape. I had now no doubt that I was about
to pass through one of those meteoric rings which our most advanced
astronomers believe to exist in immense numbers throughout space, and
to the Earth's contact with or approach to which they ascribe the
showers of falling, stars visible in August and November. Ere long,
one after another of these bodies passed rapidly before my sight, at
distances varying probably from five yards to five thousand miles.
Where to test the distance was impossible, anything like accurate
measurement was equally out of the question; but my opinion is, that
the diameters of the nearest ranged from ten inches to two hundred
feet. One only passed so near that its absolute size could be judged
by the marks upon its face. This was a rock-like mass, presenting at
many places on the surface distinct traces of metallic veins or
blotches, rudely ovoid in form, but with a number of broken surfaces,
one or two of which reflected the light much more brilliantly than
others. The weight of this one meteoroid was too insignificant as
compared with that of the Astronaut seriously to disturb my course.
Fortunately for me, I passed so nearly through the centre of the
aggregation that its attraction as a whole was nearly inoperative. So
far as I could judge, the meteors in that part of the ring through
which I passed were pretty evenly distributed; and as from the
appearance of the first which passed my window to the disappearance of
the last four hours elapsed, I conceived that the diameter of the
congeries, measured in the direction of my path, which seemed to be
nearly in the diameter of their orbit, was about 180,000 miles, and
probably the perpendicular depth was about the same.

I may mention here, though somewhat out of place, to avoid
interrupting the narrative of my descent upon Mars, the only
interesting incident that occurred during the latter days of my
journey—the gradual passage of the Earth off the face of the Sun. For
some little time after this the Earth was entirely invisible; but
later, looking through the telescope adjusted to the lens on that
side, I discerned two very minute and bright crescents, which, from
their direction and position, were certainly those of the Earth and
Moon, indeed could hardly be anything else.

Towards the thirtieth day of my voyage I was disturbed by the
conflicting indications obtained from different instruments and
separate observations. The general result came to this, that the
discometer, where it should have indicated a distance of 333, actually
gave 347. But if my speed had increased, or I had overestimated the
loss by changes of direction, Mars should have been larger in equal
proportion. This, however, was not the case. Supposing my reckoning to
be right, and I had no reason to think it otherwise, except the
indication of the discometer, the Sun's disc ought to have diminished
in the proportion of 95 to 15, whereas the diminution was in the
proportion of 9 to 1. So far as the barycrite could be trusted, its
very minute indications confirmed those of the discometer; and the
only conclusion I could draw, after much thought and many intricate
calculations, was that the distance of 95 millions of miles between
the Earth and the Sun, accepted, though not very confidently, by all
terrestrial astronomers, is an over-estimate; and that, consequently,
all the other distances of the solar system have been equally
overrated. Mars consequently would be smaller, but also his distance
considerably less, than I had supposed. I finally concluded that the
solar distance of the Earth was less than 9 millions of miles, instead
of more than 95. This would involve, of course, a proportionate
diminution in the distance I had to traverse, while it did not imply
an equal error in the reckoning of my speed, which had at first been
calculated from the Earth's disc, and not from that of the Sun. Hence,
continuing my course unchanged, I should arrive at the orbit of Mars
some days earlier than intended, and at a point behind that occupied
by the planet, and yet farther behind the one I aimed at. Prolonged
observation and careful calculation had so fully satisfied me of the
necessity of the corrections in question, that I did not hesitate to
alter my course accordingly, and to prepare for a descent on the
thirty-ninth instead of the forty-first day. I had, of course, to
prepare for the descent very long before I should come within the
direct influence of the attraction of Mars. This would not prevail
over the Sun's attraction till I had come within a little more than
100,000 miles of the surface, and this distance would not allow for
material reduction of my speed, even were I at once to direct the
whole force of the apergic current against the planet. I estimated
that arriving within some two millions of miles of him, with a speed
of 45,000 miles per hour, and then directing the whole force of the
current in his direction, I should arrive at his surface at a speed
nearly equal to that at which I had ascended from the Earth. I knew
that I could spare force enough to make up for any miscalculation
possible, or at least probable. Of course any serious error might be
fatal. I was exposed to two dangers; perhaps to three: but to none
which I had not fully estimated before even preparing for my voyage.
If I should fail to come near enough to the goal of my journey, and
yet should go on into space, or if, on the other hand, I should stop
short, the Astronaut might become an independent planet, pursuing an
orbit nearly parallel to that of the Earth; in which case I should
perish of starvation. It was conceivable that I might, in attempting
to avert this fate, fall upon the Sun, though this seemed exceedingly
improbable, requiring a combination of accidents very unlikely to
occur. On the other hand, I might by possibility attain my point, and
yet, failing properly to calculate the rate of descent, be dashed to
pieces upon the surface of Mars. Of this, however, I had very little
fear, the tremendous power of the apergy having been so fully proved
that I believed that nothing but some disabling accident to
myself—such as was hardly to be feared in the absence of gravitation,
and with the extreme simplicity of the machinery I employed—could
prevent my being able, when I became aware of the danger, to employ in
time a sufficient force to avert it. The first of these perils, then,
was the graver one, perhaps the only grave one, and certainly to my
imagination it was much the most terrible. The idea of perishing of
want in the infinite solitude of space, and being whirled round for
ever the dead denizen of a planet one hundred feet in diameter, had in
it something even more awful than grotesque.

On the thirty-ninth morning of my voyage, so far as I could calculate
by the respective direction and size of the Sun and of Mars, I was
within about 1,900,000 miles from the latter. I proceeded without
hesitation to direct the whole force of the current permitted to
emerge from the apergion directly against the centre of the planet.
His diameter increased with great rapidity, till at the end of the
first day I found myself within one million of miles of his surface.
His diameter subtended about 15', and his disc appeared about
one-fourth the size of the Moon. Examined through the telescope, it
presented a very different appearance from that either of the Earth or
of her satellite. It resembled the former in having unmistakably air
and water. But, unlike the Earth, the greater portion of its surface
seemed to be land; and, instead of continents surrounded by water, it
presented a number of separate seas, nearly all of them land-locked.
Around the snow-cap of each pole was a belt of water; around this,
again, a broader belt of continuous land; and outside this, forming
the northern and southern boundary between the arctic and temperate
zones, was another broader band of water, connected apparently in one
or two places with the central, or, if one may so call it, equatorial
sea. South of the latter is the one great Martial ocean. The most
striking feature of this new world, as seen from this point, was the
existence of three enormous gulfs, from three to five thousand miles
in length, and apparently varying in breadth from one hundred to seven
hundred miles. In the midst of the principal ocean, but somewhat to
the southward, is an island of unique appearance. It is roughly
circular, and, as I perceived in descending, stands very high, its
table-like summit being some 4000 feet, as I subsequently ascertained,
above the sea-level. Its surface, however, was perfectly
white—scarcely less brilliant, consequently, than an equal area of
the polar icefields. The globe, of course, revolved in some 4-1/ hours
of earthly time, and, as I descended, presented successively every
part of its surface to my view. I speak of descent, but, of course, I
was as yet ascending just as truly as ever, the Sun being visible
through the lens in the floor, and reflected upon the mirror of the
discometer, while Mars was now seen through the upper lens, and his
image received in the mirror of the metacompass. A noteworthy feature
in the meteorology of the planet became apparent during the second day
of the descent. As magnified by the telescope adjusted to the upper
lens, the distinctions of sea and land disappeared from the eastern
and western limbs of the planet; indeed, within 15° or an hour of time
from either. It was plain, therefore, that those regions in which it
was late evening or early morning were hidden from view; and,
independently of the whitish light reflected from them, there could be
little doubt that the obscuration was due to clouds or mists. Had the
whitish light covered the land alone, it might have been attributed to
a snowfall, or, perhaps, even to a very severe hoar frost congealing a
dense moisture. But this last seemed highly improbable; and that mist
or cloud was the true explanation became more and more apparent as,
with a nearer approach, it became possible to discern dimly a broad
expanse of water contrasting the orange tinge of the land through this
annular veil. At 4h. on the second day of the descent, I was about
500,000 miles from Mars, the micrometer verifying, by the increased
angle subtended by the diameter, my calculated rate of approach. On
the next day I was able to sleep in security, and to devote my
attention to the observation of the planet's surface, for at its close
I should be still 15,000 miles from Mars, and consequently beyond the
distance at which his attraction would predominate over that of the
Sun. To my great surprise, in the course of this day I discerned two
small discs, one on each side of the planet, moving at a rate which
rendered measurement impossible, but evidently very much smaller than
any satellite with which astronomers are acquainted, and so small that
their non-discovery by terrestrial telescopes was not extraordinary.
They were evidently very minute, whether ten, twenty, or fifty miles
in diameter I could not say; neither of them being likely, so far as I
could calculate, to come at any part of my descent very near the
Astronaut, and the rapidity of their movement carrying them across the
field, even with the lowest power of my telescopes, too fast for
measurement. That they were Martial moons, however, there could be no
doubt.

About 10h. on the last day of the descent, the effect of Mars'
attraction, which had for some time so disturbed the position of the
Astronaut as to take his disc completely out of the field of the
meta-compass, became decidedly predominant over that of the Sun. I had
to change the direction of the apergic current first to the left-hand
conductor, and afterwards, as the greater weight of the floor turned
the Astronaut completely over, bringing the planet immediately below
it, to the downward one. I was, of course, approaching Mars on the
daylight side, and nearly in the centre. This, however, did not
exactly suit me. During the whole of this day it was impossible that I
should sleep for a minute; since if at any point I should find that I
had miscalculated my rate of descent, or if any other unforeseen
accident should occur, immediate action would be necessary to prevent
a shipwreck, which must without doubt be fatal. It was very likely
that I should be equally unable to sleep during the first twenty-four
hours of my sojourn upon Mars, more especially should he be inhabited,
and should my descent be observed. It was, therefore, my policy to
land at some point where the Sun was setting, and to enjoy rest during
such part of the twelve hours of the Martial night as should not be
employed in setting my vessel in order and preparing to evacuate it. I
should have to ascertain exactly the pressure of the Martial
atmosphere, so as not to step too suddenly from a dense into what was
probably a very light one. If possible, I intended to land upon the
summit of a mountain, so high as to be untenanted and of difficult
access. At the same time it would not do to choose the highest point
of a very lofty range, since both the cold and the thinness of the air
might in such a place be fatal. I wished, of course, to leave the
Astronaut secure, and, if not out of reach, yet not within easy reach;
otherwise it would have been a simple matter to watch my opportunity
and descend in the dark from my first landing-place by the same means
by which I had made the rest of my voyage.

At 18h. I was within 8000 miles of the surface, and could observe Mars
distinctly as a world, and no longer as a star. The colour, so
remarkable a feature in his celestial appearance, was almost equally
perceptible at this moderate elevation. The seas are not so much blue
as grey. Masses of land reflected a light between yellow and orange,
indicating, as I thought, that orange must be as much the predominant
colour of vegetation as green upon Earth. As I came still lower, and
only parts of the disc were visible at once, and these through the
side and end windows, this conviction was more and more strongly
impressed upon my mind. What, however, was beyond denial was, that if
the polar ice and snow were not so purely and distinctly white as they
appear at a distance upon Earth, they were yet to a great extent
devoid of the yellow tinge that preponderated everywhere else. The
most that could be said was, that whereas on Earth the snow is of that
white which we consider absolute, and call, as such, snow-white, but
which really has in it a very slight preponderance of blue, upon Mars
the polar caps are rather cream-white, or of that white, so common in
our flowers, which has in it an equally slight tinge of yellow. On the
shore, or about twenty miles from the shore of the principal sea to
the southward of the equator, and but a few degrees from the equator
itself, I perceived at last a point which appeared peculiarly suitable
for my descent. A very long range of mountains, apparently having an
average height of about 14,000 feet, with some peaks of probably twice
or three times that altitude, stretched for several hundred miles
along the coast, leaving, however, between it and the actual
shore-line an alluvial plain of some twenty to fifty miles across. At
the extremity of this range, and quite detached from it, stood an
isolated mountain of peculiar form, which, as I examined it through
the telescope, appeared to present a surface sufficiently broken and
sloped to permit of descent; while, at the same time, its height and
the character of its summit satisfied me that no one was likely to
inhabit it, and that though I might descend-it in a few hours, to
ascend it on foot from the plain would be a day's journey. Towards
this I directed my course, looking out from time to time carefully for
any symptoms of human habitation or animal life. I made out by degrees
the lines of rivers, mountain slopes covered by great forests,
extensive valleys and plains, seemingly carpeted by a low, dense, rich
vegetation. But my view being essentially of a bird's-eye character,
it was only in those parts that lay upon my horizon that I could
discern clearly the height of any object above the general level; and
as yet, therefore, there might well be houses and buildings,
cultivated fields and divisions, which I could not see.

Before I had satisfied myself whether the planet was or was not
inhabited, I found myself in a position from which its general surface
was veiled by the evening mist, and directly over the mountain in
question, within some twelve miles of its summit. This distance I
descended in the course of a quarter of an hour, and landed without a
shock about half an hour, so far as I could judge, after the Sun had
disappeared below the horizon. The sunset, however, by reason of the
mists, was totally invisible.




CHAPTER IV - A NEW WORLD.


I will not attempt to express the intensity of the mingled emotions
which overcame me as I realised the complete success of the most
stupendous adventure ever proposed or even dreamed by man. I don't
think that any personal vanity, unworthy of the highest lessons I had
received, had much share in my passionate exultation. The conception
was not original; the means were furnished by others; the execution
depended less on a daring and skill, in which any courageous traveller
or man of science knowing what I knew might well have excelled me,
than on the direct and manifest favour of Providence. But this
enterprise, the greatest that man had ever attempted, had in itself a
charm, a sanctity in my eyes that made its accomplishment an
unspeakable satisfaction. I would have laid down life a dozen times
not only to achieve it myself, but even to know that it had been
achieved by others. All that Columbus can have felt when he first set
foot on a new hemisphere I felt in tenfold force as I assured myself
that not, as often before, in dreams, but in very truth and fact, I
had traversed forty million miles of space, and landed in a new world.
Of the perils that might await me I could hardly care to think. They
might be greater in degree.

They could hardly be other in kind, than those which a traveller might
incur in Papua, or Central Africa, or in the North-West Passage. They
could have none of that wholly novel, strange, incalculable character
which sometimes had given to the chances of my etherial voyage a vague
horror and mystery that appalled imagination. For the first time
during my journey I could neither eat nor sleep; yet I must do both. I
might soon meet with difficulties and dangers that would demand all
the resources of perfect physical and mental condition, with heavy
calls on the utmost powers of nerve and muscle. I forced myself,
therefore, to sup and to slumber, resorting for the first time in many
years to the stimulus of brandy for the one purpose, and to the aid of
authypnotism for the other. When I woke it was 8h. by my chronometer,
and, as I inferred, about 5h. after midnight of the Martial meridian
on which I lay. Sleep had given me an appetite for breakfast, and
necessary practical employment calmed the excitement natural to my
situation. My first care, after making ready to quit the Astronaut as
soon as the light around should render it safe to venture into scenes
so much more utterly strange, unfamiliar, and unknown than the wildest
of the yet unexplored deserts of the Earth, was to ascertain the
character of the atmosphere which I was presently to breathe. Did it
contain the oxygen essential to Tellurian lungs? Was it, if capable of
respiration, dense enough to sustain life like mine? I extracted the
plug from the tubular aperture through which I had pumped in the extra
quantity of air that the Astronaut contained; and substituted the
sliding valve I had arranged for the purpose, with a small hole which,
by adjustment to the tube, would give the means of regulating the
air-passage at pleasure. The difficulty of this simple work, and the
tremendous outward pressure of the air, showed that the external
atmosphere was very thin indeed. This I had anticipated. Gravity on
the surface of Mars is less than half what it is on Earth; the total
mass of the planet is as two to fifteen. It was consequently to be
expected that the extent of the Martial atmosphere, and its density
even at the sea-level, would be far less than on the heavier planet.
Rigging the air-pump securely round the aperture, exhausting its
chamber, and permitting the Martial air to fill it, I was glad to find
a pressure equal to that which prevails at a height of 16,000 feet on
Earth. Chemical tests showed the presence of oxygen in somewhat
greater proportion than in the purest air of terrestrial mountains. It
would sustain life, therefore, and without serious injury, if the
change from a dense to a light atmosphere were not too suddenly made.
I determined then gradually to diminish the density of the internal
atmosphere to something not very much greater than that outside. For
this purpose I unrigged the air-pump apparatus, and almost, but not
quite, closed the valve, leaving an aperture about the twentieth part
of an inch in diameter. The silence was instantly broken by a whistle
the shrillest and loudest I had ever heard; the dense compressed
atmosphere of the Astronaut rushing out with a force which actually
created a draught through the whole vessel, to the great discomfiture
of the birds, which roughed their feathers and fluttered about in
dismay. The pressure gauge fell with astonishing rapidity, despite the
minuteness of the aperture; and in a few minutes indicated about 24
barometrical inches. I then checked the exit of the air for a time,
while I proceeded to loosen the cement around the window by which I
had entered, and prepared for my exit. Over a very light flannel
under-vesture I put on a mail-shirt of fine close-woven wire, which
had turned the edge of Mahratta tulwars, repelled the thrust of a
Calabrian stiletto, and showed no mark of three carbine bullets fired
point-blank. Over this I wore a suit of grey broadcloth, and a pair of
strong boots over woollen socks, prepared for cold and damp as well as
for the heat of a sun shining perpendicularly through an Alpine
atmosphere. I had nearly equalised the atmospheric pressure within and
without, at about 17 inches, before the first beams of dawn shone
upward on the ceiling of the Astronaut. A few minutes later I stepped
forth on the platform, some two hundred yards in circumference,
whereon the vessel rested. The mist immediately around me was fast
dispersing; five hundred feet below it still concealed everything. On
three sides descent was barred by sheer precipices; on the fourth a
steep slope promised a practicable path, at least as far as my eye
could reach. I placed the weaker and smaller of my birds in portable
cages, and then commenced my experiment by taking out a strong-winged
cuckoo and throwing him downwards over the precipice. He fell at first
almost like a stone; but before he was quite lost to sight in the
mist, I had the pleasure of seeing that he had spread his wings, and
was able to sustain himself. As the mist was gradually dissolving, I
now ventured to begin my descent, carrying my bird-cages, and
dismissing the larger birds, several of which, however, persistently
clung about me. I had secured on my back an air-gun, arranged to fire
sixteen balls in succession without reloading, while in my belt,
scabbarded in a leathern sheath, I had placed a well and often tried
two-edged sword. I found the way practicable, though not easy, till I
reached a point about 1000 feet below the summit, where farther
progress in the same direction was barred by an abrupt and impassable
cleft some hundred feet deep. To the right, however, the mountain side
seemed to present a safe and sufficiently direct descent. The sun was
a full hour above the horizon, and the mist was almost gone. Still I
had seen no signs of animal life, save, at some distance and in rapid
motion, two or three swarms of flying insects, not much resembling any
with which I was acquainted. The vegetation, mostly small, was of a
yellowish colour, the flowers generally red, varied by occasional
examples of dull green and white; the latter, however, presenting that
sort of creamy tinge which I had remarked in the snow. Here I released
and dismissed my birds one by one. The stronger and more courageous
flew away downwards, and soon disappeared; the weakest, trembling and
shivering, evidently suffering from the thinness of the atmosphere,
hung about me or perched upon the cages.

The scene I now contemplated was exceedingly novel and striking. The
sky, instead of the brilliant azure of a similar latitude on earth,
presented to my eye a vault of pale green, closely analogous to that
olive tint which the effect of contrast often throws over a small
portion of clear sky distinguished among the golden and rose-coloured
clouds of a sunset in our temperate zones.

The vapours which still hung around the north-eastern and
south-eastern horizon, though dispelled from the immediate vicinity of
the Sun, were tinged with crimson and gold much deeper than the tints
peculiar to an earthly twilight. The Sun himself, when seen by the
naked eye, was as distinctly golden as our harvest moon; and the whole
landscape, terrestrial, aerial, and celestial, appeared as if bathed
in a golden light, wearing generally that warm summer aspect peculiar
to Tellurian landscapes when seen through glass of a rich yellow tint.
It was a natural inference from all I saw that there takes place in
the Martial atmosphere an absorption of the blue rays which gives to
the sunlight a predominant tinge of yellow or orange. The small rocky
plateau on which I stood, like the whole of the mountainside I had
descended, faced the extremity of the range of which this mountain was
an outpost; and the valley which separated them was not from my
present position visible. I saw that I should have to turn my back
upon this part of the landscape as I descended farther, and therefore
took note at this point of the aspect it presented. The most prominent
object was a white peak in the distant sky, rising to a height above
my actual level, which I estimated conjecturally at 25,000 feet,
guessing the distance at fifty miles. The summit was decidedly more
angular and pointed, less softened in outline by atmospheric
influences, than those of mountains on Earth. Beyond this in the
farthest distance appeared two or three peaks still higher, but of
which, of course, only the summits were visible to me. On this side of
the central peak an apparently continuous double ridge extended to
within three miles of my station, exceedingly irregular in level, the
highest elevations being perhaps 20,000, the lowest visible
depressions 3000 feet above me. There appeared to be a line of
perpetual snow, though in many places above, this line patches of
yellow appeared, the nearer of which were certainly and the more
distant must be inferred to be covered with a low, close herbaceous
vegetation. The lower slopes were entirely clothed with yellow or
reddish foliage. Between the woods and snow-line lay extensive
pastures or meadows, if they might be so called, though I saw nothing
whatever that at all resembled the grass of similar regions on Earth.
Whatever foliage I saw—as yet I had not passed near anything that
could be called a tree, and very few shrubs—consisted distinctly of
leaves analogous to those of our deciduous trees, chiefly of three
shapes: a sort of square rounded at the angles, with short projecting
fingers; an oval, slightly pointed where it joined the stalk; and
lanceolate or sword-like blades of every size, from two inches to four
feet in length. Nearly all were of a dull yellow or copper-red tinge.
None were as fine as the beech-leaf, none succulent or fleshy; nothing
resembling the blades of grass or the bristles of the pine and
cedar tribes was visible.

My path now wound steadily downward at a slope of perhaps one in eight
along the hillside, obliging me to turn my back to the mountains,
while my view in front was cut off by a sharp cross-jutting ridge
immediately, before me. By the time I turned this, all my birds had
deserted me, and I was not, I think, more than 2000 feet from the
valley below. Just before reaching this point I first caught sight of
a Martial animal. A little creature, not much bigger than a rabbit,
itself of a sort of sandy-yellow colour, bounded from among some
yellow herbage by my feet, and hopped or sprang in the manner of a
kangaroo down the steep slope on my left. When I turned the ridge, a
wide and quite new landscape burst upon my sight. I was looking upon
an extensive plain, the continuation apparently of a valley of which
the mountain range formed the southern limit. To the southward this
plain was bounded by the sea, bathed in the peculiar light I have
tried to describe, and lying in what seemed from this distance a
glassy calm. To eastward and northward the plain extended to the
horizon, and doubtless far beyond it; while from the valley north of
the mountain range emerged a broad river, winding through the plain
till it was lost at the horizon. Plain I have called it, but I do not
mean to imply that it was by any means level. On the contrary, its
surface was broken by undulations, and here and there by hills, but
all so much lower than the point on which I stood that the general
effect was that of an almost flat surface. And now the question of
habitation, and of human habitation, seemed to be solved. Looking
through my field-glass, I saw, following the windings of the river,
what must surely be a road; serving also, perhaps, as an embankment,
since it was raised many feet above the level of the stream. It
seemed, too, that the plain was cultivated. Everywhere appeared
extensive patches, each of a single colour, in every tint between deep
red and yellowish green, and so distinctly rectangular in form as
irresistibly to suggest the idea of artificial, if not human,
arrangement. But there were other features of the scene that dispelled
all doubt upon this point. Immediately to the south-eastward, and
about twenty miles from where I stood, a deep arm of the sea ran up
into the land, and upon the shores of this lay what was unquestionably
a city. It had nothing that looked like fortifications, and even at
this distance I could discern that its streets were of remarkable
width, with few or no buildings so high as mosques, churches,
State-offices, or palaces in Tellurian cities. Their colours were most
various and brilliant, as if reflected from metallic surfaces; and on
the waters of the bay itself rode what I could not doubt to be ships
or rafts. More immediately beneath me, and scattered at intervals over
the entire plain, clustering more closely in the vicinity of the city,
were walled enclosures, and in the centre of each was what could
hardly be anything but a house, though not apparently more than twelve
or fourteen feet high, and covering a space sufficient for an European
or even American street or square. Upon the lower slopes of the hill
whereon I stood were moving figures, which, seen through the
binocular, proved to be animals; probably domestic animals, since they
never ranged very far, and presented none of those signs of
watchfulness and alarm which are peculiar to creatures not protected
by man from their less destructive enemies, and taught to lay aside
their dread of man himself. I had descended, then, not only into an
inhabited world—not only into a world of men, who, however they might
differ in outward form, must resemble in their wants, ideas, and
habits, in short, in mind if not in body, the lords of my own
planet—but into a civilised world and among a race living under a
settled order, cultivating the soil, and taming the brutes to their
service.

And now, as I came on lower ground, I found at each step new objects
of curiosity and interest. A tree with dark-yellowish leaves, taller
than most timber trees on Earth, bore at the end of drooping twigs
large dark-red fruits—fruits with a rind something like that of a
pomegranate, save for the colour and hardness, and about the size of a
shaddock or melon. One of these, just within reach of my hand, I
gathered, but found it impossible to break the thin, dry rind or
shell, without the aid of a knife. Having pierced this, a stream of
red juice gushed out, which had a sweet taste and a strong flavour,
not unlike the juice expressed from cherries, but darker in colour.
Dissecting the fruit completely, I found it parted by a membrane,
essentially of the same nature as the rind, but much thinner and
rather tough than hard, into sixteen segments, like those of an orange
divided across the middle, each of which enclosed a seed. These seeds
were all joined at the centre, but easily separated. They were of a
yellow colour and about as large as an almond kernel. Some fruits
that, being smaller, I concluded to be less ripe, were of a
reddish-yellow. After walking for about a mile through a grove of such
trees, always tending downwards, I came to another of more varied
character. The most prevalent tree here was of lower stature and with
leaves of great length and comparatively narrow, the fruit of which,
though protected by a somewhat similar rind, was of rich golden
colour, not so easily seen among the yellowish leaves, and contained
one solid kernel of about the size of an almond, enclosed entirely in
a sort of spongy material, very palatable to the taste, and resembling
more the inside of roasted maize than any other familiar vegetable. As
I emerged entirely from the grove, I came upon a ditch about twice as
broad as deep. On Earth I certainly could not have leaped it; but
since landing on Mars, I had forgotten the weightless life of the
Astronaut, and felt as if on Earth, but enjoying great increase of
strength and energy; and with these sensations had come instinctively
an exalted confidence in my physical powers. I took, therefore, a
vigorous run, and leaping with all my strength, landed, somewhat to my
own surprise, a full yard on the other side of the ditch.

Having done so, I found myself in what was beyond doubt a cultivated
field, producing nothing but one crimson-coloured plant, about a foot
in height. This carpeted the soil with broad leaves shaped something
like those of the laurel, and in colour exactly resembling a withered
laurel leaf, but somewhat thicker, more metallic and brighter in
appearance, and perfectly free from the bitter taste of the bay tribe.
At a little distance I saw half-a-dozen animals somewhat resembling
antelopes, but on a second glance still more resembling the fabled
unicorn. They were like the latter, at all events, in the single
particular from which it derived its name: they had one horn, about
eight inches in length, intensely sharp, smooth and firm in texture as
ivory, but marbled with vermilion and cream white. Their skins were
cream-coloured, dappled with dark red. Their ears were large and
protected by a lap which fell down so as to shelter the interior part
of the organ, but which they had not quite lost the power to erect at
the approach of a sound that startled them. They looked up at me, at
first without alarm, afterwards with some surprise, and presently
bounded away; as if my appearance, at first familiar, had, on a closer
examination, presented some unusual particulars, frightening them, as
everything unusual frightens even those domestic animals on Earth best
acquainted with man and most accustomed to his caprices. I noticed
that all were female, and their abnormally large udders suggested that
they were domestic creatures kept for their milk. Not being able to
see a path through the field, I went straight forward, endeavouring to
trample the pasture as little as I could, but being surprised to
remark how very little the plants had been injured by the feet of the
animals. The leaves had been grazed, but the stems were seldom or
never broken. In fact, the animals seemed to have gathered their food
as man would do, with an intelligent or instinctive care not to injure
the plant so as to deprive it of the power of reproducing their
sustenance.

In another minute I discerned the object of my paramount interest, of
whose vicinity I had thus far seen nearly every imaginable evidence
except himself. It was undoubtedly a man, but a man very much smaller
than myself. His eyes were fixed upon the ground as if in reverie, and
he did not perceive me till I had come within fifty yards of him, so
that I had full time to remark the peculiarities of his form and
appearance. He was about four feet eight or nine inches in height,
with legs that seemed short in proportion to the length and girth of
the body, but only because, as was apparent on more careful scrutiny,
the chest was proportionately both longer and wider than in our race;
otherwise he greatly resembled the fairer families of the Aryan breed,
the Swede or German. The yellow hair, unshaven beard, whiskers, and
moustache were all close and short. The dress consisted of a sort of
blouse and short pantaloons, of some soft woven fabric, and of a
vermilion colour. The head was protected from the rays of an
equatorial sun by a species of light turban, from which hung down a
short shade or veil sheltering the neck and forehead. His bare feet
were guarded by sandals of some flexible material just covering the
toes and bound round the ankle by a single thong. He carried no
weapon, not even a staff; and I therefore felt that there was no
immediate danger from him. On seeing me he started as with intense
surprise and not a little alarm, and turned to run. Size and length of
limb, however, gave me immense advantage in this respect, and in less
than a minute I had come up with and laid my hand upon him.

He looked up at me, scanning my face with earnest curiosity. I took
from my pocket first a jewel of very exquisite construction, a
butterfly of turquoise, pearl, and rubies, set on an emerald branch,
upon which he looked without admiration or interest, then a watch very
small and elaborately enamelled and jewelled. To the ornament he paid
no attention whatever; but when I opened the watch, its construction
and movement evidently interested him. Placing it in his hands and
endeavouring to signify to him by signs that he was to retain it, I
then held his arm and motioned to him to guide me towards the houses
visible in the distance. This he seemed willing to do, but before we
had gone many paces he repeated two or three times a phrase or word
which sounded like "r'mo-ah-el" ("whence-who-what" do you want?). I
shook my head; but, that he might not suppose me dumb, I answered him
in Latin. The sound seemed to astonish him exceedingly; and as I went
on to repeat several questions in the same tongue, for the purpose of
showing him that I could speak and was desirous of doing so, I
observed that his wonder grew deeper and deeper, and was evidently
mingled first with alarm and afterwards with anger, as if he thought I
was trying to impose upon him. I pointed to the sky, to the summit of
the mountain from which I had descended, and then along the course by
which I had come, explaining aloud at the same time the meaning of my
signs. I thought that he had caught the latter, but if so, it only
provoked an incredulous indignation, contempt of a somewhat angry
character being the principal expression visible in his countenance. I
saw that it was of little use to attempt further conversation for the
present, and, still holding his hand and allowing him to direct me,
looked round again at the scenes through which we were passing. The
lower hill slopes before us appeared to be divided into fields of
large extent, perhaps some 100 acres each, separated by ditches. We
followed a path about two yards broad, raised two or three inches
above the level of the ground, and paved with some kind of hard
concrete. Each ditch was crossed by a bridge of planks, in the middle
of which was a stake or short pole, round which we passed with ease,
but which would obviously baffle a four-footed animal of any size. The
crops were of great variety, and wonderfully free from weeds. Most of
them showed fruit of one kind or another, sometimes gourd-like globes
on the top of upright stalks, sometimes clusters of a sort of nut on
vines creeping along the soil, sometimes a number of pulpy fruits
about the size of an orange hanging at the end of pendulous stalks
springing from the top of a stiff reed-like stem. One field was bare,
its surface of an ochreish colour deeper than that of clay, broken and
smoothed as perfectly as the surface of the most carefully tended
flower-bed. Across this was ranged a row of birds, differing, though
where and how I had hardly leisure to observe, from the form of any
earthly fowl, about twice the size of a crow, and with beaks
apparently at least as powerful but very much longer. Extending
entirely across the field, they kept line with wonderful accuracy, and
as they marched across it, slowly and constantly dug their beaks into
the soil as if seeking grubs or worms beneath the surface. They went
on with their work perfectly undisturbed by our presence. In the next
field was a still odder sight; here grew gourd-like heads on erect
reed-like stems, and engaged in plucking the ripe purple fruit,
carefully distinguishing them from the scarlet unripened heads, were
half-a-score of creatures which, from their occupation and demeanour,
I took at first to be human; but which, as we approached nearer, I saw
were only about half the size of my companion, and thickly covered
with hair, with bushy tails, which they kept carefully erect so as not
to touch the ground; creatures much resembling monkeys in movement,
size, and length, and flexibility of limb, but in other respects more
like gigantic squirrels. They held the stalks of the fruit they
plucked in their mouths, filling with them large bags left at
intervals, and from the manner in which they worked I suspected that
they had no opposable thumbs—that the whole hand had to be used like
the paw of a squirrel to grasp an object. I pointed to these,
directing my companion's attention and asking, "What are they?"
"Ambau," he said, but apparently without the slightest interest in
their proceedings. Indeed, the regularity and entire freedom from
alarm or vigilance which characterised their movements, convinced me
that both these and the birds we passed were domesticated creatures,
whose natural instincts had been turned to such account by human
training.

After a few moments more, we came in sight of a regular road, in a
direction nearly at right angles to that which followed the course of
the river. Like the path, it was constructed of a hard polished
concrete. It was about forty paces broad, and in the centre was a
raised way about four inches higher than the general surface, and
occupying about one-fourth of the entire width. Along the main way on
either side passed from time to time with great rapidity light
vehicles of shining metal, each having three wheels, one small one in
front and two much larger behind, with box-like seat and steering
handle; otherwise resembling nothing so much as the velocipedes I have
seen ridden for amusement by eccentric English youths. It was clear,
however, that these vehicles were not moved by any effort on the part
of their drivers, and their speed was far greater than that of the
swiftest mail-coach:—say, from fifteen to thirty miles an hour. All
risk of collision was avoided, as those proceeding in opposite
directions took opposite sides of the road, separated by the raised
centre I have described. Crossing the road with caution, we came upon
a number of small houses, perhaps twenty feet square, each standing in
the midst of a garden marked out by a narrow ditch, some of them
having at either side wings of less height and thrown a little
backward. In the centre of each, and at the end of the wings where
these existed, was what seemed to be a door of some translucent
material about twelve feet in height. But I observed that these doors
were divided by a scarcely perceptible line up to six feet from the
ground, and presently one of these parted, and a figure, closely
resembling that of my guide, came out.

We had now reached another road which led apparently towards the
larger houses I had seen in the distance, and were proceeding along
the raised central pathway, when some half-dozen persons from the
cottages followed us. At a call from my guide, these, and presently as
many more, ran after and gathered around us. I turned, took down my
air-gun from my back, and waving it around me, signalled to them to
keep back, not choosing to incur the danger of a sudden rush, since
their bearing, if not plainly hostile, was not hospitable or friendly.
Thus escorted, but not actually assailed, I passed on for three or
four miles, by which time we were among the larger dwellings of which
I have spoken. Each of them stood in grounds enclosed by walls about
eight feet high, each of some uniform colour, contrasting agreeably
with that chosen for the exterior of the house. The enclosures varied
in size from about six to sixty acres. The houses were for the most
part some twelve feet in height, and from one to four hundred feet
square. On several flat roofs, guarded by low parapets, other persons,
all about the size of my guide, now showed themselves, all of them
interested, and, as it seemed, somewhat excited by my appearance. In a
few cases groups differently dressed, and, from their somewhat smaller
stature, slighter figures, and the long hair here and there visible,
probably consisting of women, were gathered on a remoter portion of
the roof. But these, when seen by those in front, were always waived
back with an impatient or threatening gesture, and instantly retired.
Presently two or three men more richly dressed than my escort, and in
various colours, came out upon the road. Addressing one of these, I
pointed again to the sky, and again endeavoured to describe my
journey, holding out to him at the same time, as the thing most likely
to conciliate him, a watch somewhat larger than that I had bestowed
upon my guide. He, however, did not come within arm's length; and when
I repeated my signs, he threw back his head with a sort of sneer and
uttered a few words in a sharp tone, at which my escort rushed upon
and attempted to throw me down. For this, however, I had been long
prepared, and striking right and left with my air-gun—for I was
determined not to shed blood except in the last extremity—I speedily
cleared a circle round me, still grasping my guide with the left hand,
from a providential instinct which suggested that his close contiguity
might in some way protect me. A call from the chief of my antagonists
was answered from the roof of a neighbouring house. I heard a whizzing
through the air, and presently something like a winged serpent, but
with a slender neck, and shoulders of considerable breadth, and a head
much larger than a serpent's in proportion to the body, and shaped
more like a bird's, with a sharp, short beak, sprang upon and coiled
round my left arm. That it was trying to sting with an erectile organ
placed about midway between the shoulders and the tail I became
instinctively aware, and presently felt something like a weak electric
thrill over all my body, while my left hand, which was naked,
sustained a severe shock, completely numbing it for the moment. I
caught the beast by the neck, and flung him with all my force right in
the face of my chief antagonist, who fell with a cry of terror.
Looking in the direction from which this dangerous assailant had come,
I perceived another in the air, and saw that not a moment was to be
lost. Dropping my gun with the muzzle between my feet, and holding it
so far as I could with my numbed left hand—releasing also my guide,
but throwing him to the ground as I released him—I drew my sword; and
but just in time, with the same motion with which I drew it, I cut
right through the neck of the dragon that had been launched against
me. My principal enemy had quickly recovered his feet and presence of
mind, and spoke very loudly and at some length to the person who had
launched the dragons. The latter disappeared, and at the same time the
group around me began to disperse. Whatever suited them was certain
not to suit me, and accordingly, still holding my sword, I caught one
of them with each hand. It was well I had done so, for within another
minute the owner of the dragons reappeared with a weapon not wholly
unlike a long cannon of very small bore fixed upon a sort of stand.
This he levelled at me, and I, seeing that a danger of whose magnitude
and nature I could form no exact estimate was impending, caught up
instinctively one of my prisoners, and held him as a shield between
myself and the weapon pointed at me. This checked my enemy, who for
the moment seemed almost as much at a loss as myself. Fortunately his
hostile intention evidently endangered not only my life but all near
me, and secured me from any close attack.

At this moment a somewhat remarkable personage came to the front of
the group which had gathered some few yards before me. He wore a long
frock of emerald green and trousers of the same colour, gathered in at
the waist by a belt of a red metal. On earth I should have taken him
for a hale and vigorous gentleman of some fifty years; he was two
inches short of five feet, but well proportioned as a man of middle
size. Gentleman I say emphatically; for something of dignity, gravity,
and calm good-breeding, was conspicuous in his manner, as authority
unmixed with menace was evident in his tone. He called, somewhat
peremptorily as I thought, to the man who was still aiming his weapon
at my head, then waived back those behind him, and presently advanced
towards me, looking me straight in the eyes with a steadiness and
intensity of gaze far exceeding, both in expressiveness and in effect,
the most fixed stare of the most successful mesmerists I have known. I
doubt whether I should have had the power to resist his will had I
thought it wise to do so. But I was perfectly aware that, however
successful in repelling the first tumultuous attack, prolonged
self-defence was hopeless.

I must, probably at the next move, certainly in a few minutes, succumb
to the enemies around me. I could not conciliate those whose malignity
I could not comprehend. I had done them no injury, and they could
hardly be maddened by fear, since my size and strength did not seem to
overawe them save at close quarters, and of my weapons they were
certainly less afraid than I of theirs. My only chance must lie in
finding favour with an individual protector. When, therefore, the
new-comer fearlessly laid his hand on an arm which could have killed
him at a blow, and rather by gesture than by force released my
captives, policy as well as instinct dictated submission. I allowed
him to disarm and make me in some sense his prisoner without a show of
resistance. He took me by the left hand, first placing my fingers upon
his own wrist and then grasping mine, and led me quietly through the
crowd, which gave way before him reluctantly and not without angry
murmurs, but with a certain awe as before one superior either in power
or rank.

Thus he led me for about half a mile, till we reached the crystal gate
of an enclosure of exceptional size, the walls of which, like the gate
itself, were of a pale rose-colour. Through grounds laid out in
symmetrical alternation of orchard and grove, shrubbery,
close-carpeted field, and garden beds, arranged with evident regard to
effect in form and colour, as well as to fitting distribution of shade
and sun, we followed a straight path which sloped under a canopy of
flowering creepers up to the terrace on which stood the house itself.
There were some eight or nine crystal doors (or windows) in the front,
and in the centre one somewhat larger than the others, which, as we
came immediately in front of it, opened, not turning on hinges, but,
like every other door I had seen, dividing and sliding rapidly into
the walls to the right and left. We entered, and it immediately closed
behind us in the same way. Turning my head for a moment, I was
surprised to observe that, whereas I could see nothing through the
door from the outside, the scene without was as visible from within as
through the most perfectly transparent glass. The chamber in which I
found myself had walls of bright emerald green, with all the brilliant
transparency of the jewel; their surface broken by bas-reliefs of
minutely perfect execution, and divided into panels—each of which
seemed to contain a series of distinct scenes, one above the other—by
living creepers with foliage of bright gold, and flowers sometimes
pink, sometimes cream-white of great size, both double and single; the
former mostly hemispherical and the latter commonly shaped as hollow
cones or Avide shallow champagne glasses. In these walls two or three
doors appeared, reaching, from the floor to the roof, which was
coloured like the walls, and seemingly of the same material. Through
one of these my guide led me into a passage which appeared to run
parallel with the front of the house, and turning down this, a door
again parted on the right hand, through which he led me into a similar
but smaller apartment, some twenty feet in width and twenty-five in
length. The window—if I should so call that which was simply another
door—of this apartment looked into one corner of a flower-garden of
great extent, beyond and at each end of which were other portions of
the dwelling. The walls of this chamber were pink, the surface
appearing as before of jewel-like lustre; the roof and floor of a
green lighter than that of the emerald. In two corners were piles of
innumerable cushions and pillows covered with a most delicate
satin-like fabric, embroidered with gold, silver, and feathers, all
soft as eider-down and of all shapes and sizes. There were three or
four light tables, apparently of metal, silver, or azure, or golden in
colour, in various parts of the chamber, with one or two of different
form, more like small office-tables or desks. In one of the walls was
sunk a series of shelves closed by a transparent sheet of crystal of
pale yellow tinge. There were three or four movable seats resembling
writing or easy-chairs, but also of metal, luxurious all though all
different. In the corner to the left, farthest from the inner court or
peristyle, was a screen, which, as my host showed me, concealed a bath
and some other convenient appurtenances. The bath was a cylinder some
five feet in depth and about two in diameter, with thin double walls,
the space between which was filled with an apparatus of small pipes.
By pressing a spring, as my protector pointed out, countless minute
jets of warm perfumed water were thrown from every part of the
interior wall, forming the most delicious and perfect shower-bath that
could well be devised.

My host then led me to a seat among the cushions, and placed himself
beside me, looking for some time intently and gravely into my face,
but with nothing of offensive curiosity, still less of menace in his
gaze. It appeared to me as if he wished to read the character and
perhaps the thoughts of his guest. The scrutiny seemed to satisfy him.
He stretched out his left hand, and grasping mine, placed it on his
heart, and then dropping my hand, placed his upon my breast. He then
spoke in words whose meaning I could not guess, but the tone sounded
to me as that of inquiry. The question most likely to be asked
concerned my character and the place from which I had come. I again
explained, again pointing upward. He seemed dubious or perplexed, and
it occurred to me that drawing might assist explanation; since, from
the bas-reliefs and tracery, it was evident that the art was carried
to no common excellence in Mars. I drew, therefore, in the first
place, a globe to represent the Earth, traced its orbit round the Sun,
and placed a crescent Moon at some little distance, indicating its
path round the Earth. It was evident that my host understood my
meaning, the more clearly when I marked upon the form of the Earth a
crescent, such as she would often present through a Martial telescope.
Sketches in outline roughly exhibiting different stages of my voyage,
from the first ascent to the final landing, appeared to convince my
host of my meaning, if not of my veracity. Signing to me to remain
where I was, he left the room. In a few minutes he returned,
accompanied by one of the strange squirrel-like animals I had seen in
the fields. I was right in conjecturing that the creature had no
opposable thumb; but a little ingenuity had compensated this so far as
regarded the power of carrying. A little chain hung down from each
wrist, and to these was suspended a tray, upon which were arranged a
variety of fruits and what seemed to be small loaves of various
materials. Breaking one of these and cutting open with a small knife,
apparently of silver, one of the fruits, my host tasted each and then
motioned to me to eat. The attendant had placed the tray upon a table,
disengaged the chains, and disappeared; the door opening and closing
as he trod, somewhat more heavily than had been necessary for my host,
upon particular points of the floor.

The food offered me was very delicious and various in flavour. My host
showed me how to cut the top from some of the hard-rind fruits, so as
to have a cup full of the most delicately-flavoured juice, the whole
pulp having been reduced to a liquid syrup by a process with which
some semicivilised cultivators on Earth are familiar. When I had
finished my meal, my host whistled, and the attendant, returning,
carried away the tray. His master gave him at the same time what was
evidently an order, repeating it twice, and speaking with signal
clearness of intonation. The little creature bowed its head,
apparently as a sign of intelligence, and in a few minutes returned
with what seemed like a pencil or stylus and writing materials, and
with a large silver-like box of very curious form. To one side was
affixed a sort of mouthpiece, consisting of a truncated cone expanding
into a saucer-shaped bowl. Across the wider and outer end of the cone
was stretched a membrane or diaphragm about three inches in diameter.
Into the mouth of the bowl, two or three inches from the diaphragm, my
host spoke one by one a series of articulate but single sounds,
beginning with _â, a, aa, au, o, oo, ou, u, y or ei (long), i (short),
oi, e,_ which I afterwards found to be the twelve vowels of their
language. After he had thus uttered some forty distinct sounds, he
drew from the back of the instrument a slip of something like
goldleaf, on which as many weird curves and angular figures were
traced in crimson. Pointing to these in succession, he repeated the
sounds in order. I made out that the figures in question represented
the sounds spoken into the instrument, and taking out my pencil,
marked under each the equivalent character of the Roman alphabet,
supplemented by some letters not admitted therein but borrowed from
other Aryan tongues. My host looked on with some interest whilst I did
this, and bent his head as if in approval. Here then was the alphabet
of the Martial tongue—an alphabet not arbitrary, but actually
produced by the vocal sounds it represented! The elaborate machinery
modifies the rough signs which are traced by the mere aerial
vibrations; but each character is a true physical type, a visual
image, of the spoken sound; the voice, temper, accent, sex, of a
speaker affect the phonograph, and are recognisable in the record. The
instrument wrote, so to speak, different hands under my voice and
under Esmo's; and those who knew him could identify his phonogram, as
my friends my manuscript.

After I had been employed for some time in fixing these forms and the
corresponding sounds in my memory, my host advanced to the window, and
opening it, led me into the interior garden; which, as I had supposed,
was a species of central court around which the house was built.

The construction of the house was at once apparent. It consisted of a
front portion, divided by the gallery of which I have spoken, all the
rooms on one side thereof looking, like the chamber I first entered,
into the outer enclosure; those on the other into the interior garden
or peristyle. Beyond the latter was a single row of chambers opening
upon it, appropriated to the ladies and children of the household. The
court was roofed over with the translucent material of the windows. It
was about 360 feet in length by 300 in width. At either end were
chambers entirely formed of the same material as the roof, in one of
which the various birds and animals employed either in domestic
service or in agriculture, in another the various stores of the
household, were kept. In front of these, two inclined planes of the
same material as the walls of the house led up to the several parts of
the roof. The court was divided by broad concrete paths into four
gardens. In the centre of each was a basin of water and a fountain,
above which was a square opening of some twenty feet in the roof. Each
garden was, so to speak, turfed with minute plants, smaller than daisy
roots, and even more closely covering the soil than English lawn
grass. These were of different colours—emerald, gold, and
purple—arranged in bands. This turf was broken by a number of beds of
all shapes, the crescent, circle, and six-rayed star being apparently
the chief favourites. The smaller of these were severally filled with
one or two flowers; in the larger, flowers of different colours were
set in patterns, generally rising from the outside to the centre, and
never allowing the soil to be seen through a single interval. The
contrast of colours and tints was admirably ordered; the size, form,
and structure of the flowers wonderfully various and always
exquisitely beautiful. The exact tints of silver and gold were
frequent and especially favoured, At each corner of every garden was a
hollow silvery pillar, up which creepers with flowers of marvellous
size and beauty, and foliage of hues almost as striking as those of
the flowers, were conducted to form a perfect arch overhead, parting
off the gardens from the walks. In each basin were fishes whose
brilliancy of colouring and beauty of form far surpassed anything I
have seen in earthly seas or rivers.

At the meeting of the four cross paths was a wide space covered with a
soft woven carpet, upon which were strown cushions similar to those in
my room. On these several ladies were reclining, who rose as the head
of the family approached. One who seemed by her manner to be the
mistress, and by her resemblance to some of her younger companions the
mother, of the family, wore a sort of light golden half-helmet on the
head, and over this, falling round her half-way to the waist, a
crimson veil, intended apparently to protect her head and neck from
the sun as much as to conceal them. Her face was partially uncovered.
The dress of all was, except in colour and in certain omissions and
additions, much the same. The under-garments must have been slight in
material and few in number. Nothing was to be seen of them save the
sleeves, which were of a delicate substance, resembling that of the
finest Parisian kid gloves, but far softer and finer. Over all was a
robe almost without shape, save what it took from the figure to which
it closely adapted itself, suspended by broad ribbons and jewelled
clasps from the shoulders, falling nearly to the ankles, and gathered
in by a zone at the waist. This garment left the neck, shoulders, and
the upper part of the bosom uncovered; but the veil, whether covering
the head completely, drawn round all save the face, or consisting only
of two separate muslin falls behind either ear, was always so arranged
as to render the general effect far more decorous than the "low
dresses" of European matrons and maidens. The ankles and feet were
entirely bare, save for sandals with an embroidered velvety covering
for the toes, and silver bands clasped round the ankles. The eldest
lady wore a pale green robe of a fine but very light silken-seeming
fabric. Three younger ones wore a similar material of pink, with
silver head-dresses and veils hiding everything but the eyes. All
these had sleeves reaching to the wrist, ending in gloves of the same
fabric. Two young girls were robed in white gauze, with gauze veils
attached over either ear to a very slight silver coronal; their arms
bare till the sleeve of the under-robe appeared, a couple of inches
below the shoulder; their bright soft faces and their long hair (which
fell freely down the back, kept in graceful order here and there by
almost invisible silver clasps or bands) were totally uncovered. "A
maiden," says the Martialist, "may make the most of her charms; a
wife's beauty is her lord's exclusive right." One of the girls, my
host's daughters, might almost have veiled her entire form above the
knees in the masses of rich soft brown hair inherited from her father,
but mingled with tresses of another tinge, shimmering like gold under
certain lights. Her eyes, of deepest violet, were shaded by dark thick
lashes, so long that when the lids were closed they traced a clear
black curve on either cheek. The other maiden had, like their mother,
and, I believe, like the younger matrons, the bright hair—flaxen in
early childhood, pale gold in maturer years—and the blue or grey eyes
characteristic of the race. My host spoke two or three words to the
chief of the party, indicating me by a graceful and courteous wave of
the hand, upon which the person addressed slightly bent her head,
laying her hand at the same time upon her heart. The others
acknowledged the introduction by a similar but slighter inclination,
and all resumed their places as soon as my host, seating himself
between us, signed to me to occupy some pillows which one of the young
ladies arranged on his left hand, I had observed by this time that the
left hand was used by preference, as we use the right, for all
purposes, and therefore was naturally extended in courtesy; and the
left side was, for similar reasons, the place of honour.

Three or four children were playing in another part of the court. All,
with one exception, were remarkably beautiful and healthy-looking,
certainly not less graceful in form and movement than the happiest and
prettiest in our own world. Their tones were soft and gentle, and
their bearing towards each other notably kind and considerate. One
unfortunate little creature differed from the rest in all respects. It
was slightly lame, misshapen rather than awkward, and with a face that
indicated bad health, bad temper, or both. Its manner was peevish and
fractious, its tones sharp and harsh, and its actions rough and hasty.
I took it for a mother's sickly favourite, deformed in character to
compensate for physical deformity. Watching them for a short time, I
saw the little creature repeatedly break out in all the humours of an
ill-tempered, over-indulged youngest-born in an ill-managed family;
snatching toys from the others, and now and then slapping or pinching
them. But they never returned either word or blow, even when pain or
vexation brought the tears to their eyes. When its caprices became
intolerable most of its companions withdrew; one, however, always
remaining on the watch, even if driven from the immediate
neighbourhood by its intolerably provoking temper, tones, and acts.

Before sunset we were joined by a young man, who, first approaching my
host with a respectful inclination of the head, stood before him till
apparently desired by a few quiet words to speak; when he addressed
the head of the family in some short sentences, and then, at a sign
from him, turned to two of the squirrel-like animals, "ambau," which
followed him. These then laid at my feet two large baskets, or open
bags of golden network, containing many of the smaller objects left in
the Astronaut. Emptying these, they brought several more, till they
had laid before me the whole of my wardrobe and my store of intended
presents, books, and drawings, with such of my instruments as were not
attached to the walls. It was evident that great care had been taken
not to injure or dismantle the vessel. Nothing that actually belonged
to it had been taken away, and of the articles brought not one had
been broken or damaged. It was equally evident that there was no
intention or idea of appropriating them. They were brought and handed
over to me as a host on Earth might send for the baggage of an
unexpected guest. Of the various toys and ornaments that I had brought
for the purpose, I offered several of the most precious to my host. He
accepted one of the smallest and least valuable, rather declining to
understand than refusing the offer of the rest. The bringer did the
same. Then placing in the chief's hands an open jewel-box containing a
variety of the choicest jewellery, I requested by signs his permission
to offer them to the ladies. The elder ones imitated his example, and
graciously accepted one or two tasteful feminine ornaments, of far
less beauty and value than any of the few splendid jewels that adorned
their belts and clasped their robes at the shoulder, or fastened their
veils. The white-robed maidens shrank back shyly until the box was
pressed upon them, when each, at a word from the mistress, selected
some small gold or silver locket or chain; each at once placing the
article accepted about her person, with an evident intention of adding
to the grace with which it was received and acknowledging the intended
courtesy. How valueless the most valuable of these trifles must have
been in their eyes I had begun to suspect from what I saw, and was
afterwards made fully aware. As the shades of evening fell, the
fountains ceased to play, the young man pressed electric springs which
closed the openings in the roof, and, finally, turning a small handle,
caused a bright light to diffuse itself over the whole garden, and
through the doors into the chambers opening upon it. At the same time
a warmer air gradually spread throughout the interior of the building.
A meal was then served in small low trays, which was eaten by all of
us reclining on our cushions; after which the ladies retired, and my
host conducted me back to my chamber, and left me to repose.

My books and sketches, as well as the portfolios of popular prints
which I had selected to assist me in describing the life and scenery
of our world, were, with my wardrobe and other properties, arranged on
my shelves by the _ambau_, under the direction of Kevimâ, the young
gentleman who had superintended their removal and conveyance to his
father's house. The portfolios gave me occasional means and topics of
pleasant intercourse with the family of my host, before we could
converse at ease in their language. The children, though never
troublesome or importunate, took frequent opportunities of stealing
into the room to look over the prints I produced for their amusement.
The ladies also, particularly the violet-eyed maiden, who seemed to be
the especial guardian of the little ones, would draw near to look and
listen. The latter, though she never entered the room or directly
addressed me, often assisted in explaining my broken sentences to her
charges, some of them not many years younger than herself. I took
sincere pleasure in the children's company and growing confidence, but
they were not the less welcome because they drew their sisters to
listen to my descriptions of an existence so strange and so remote in
habits and character, as well as in space. Perhaps their gentle
governess learned more than any other member of the family respecting
Earth-life, and my own adventures by land and water, in air and space.
For, though just not child enough to share the children's freedom, she
took in all they heard; she listened in silence during our evening
gatherings to the conversation in which her father and brother
encouraged me to practise the language I was laboriously studying. She
had, therefore, double opportunities of acquiring a knowledge which
seemed to interest her deeply; naturally, since it was so absolutely
novel, and communicated by one whose very presence was the most
marvellous of the marvels it attested. How much she understood I could
not judge. Except her mother, the ladies did not take a direct part in
my talk with the children, and but very seldom interposed, through my
host, a shy brief question when the evening brought us all together.
The maidens, despite their theoretical privileges, were even more
reserved than their elders, and the dark-haired Eveena the most silent
and shy of all.

I learned afterwards that the privilege of intercourse with the ladies
of the household, restricted as it was, was wholly exceptional, and
even in this family was conceded only out of consideration for one who
could not safely be allowed to leave the house.




CHAPTER V - LANGUAGE, LAWS, AND LIFE.


Though treated with the greatest kindness and courtesy, I soon found
reason to understand that I was, at least for the present, a prisoner.
My host or his son never failed to invite me each day to spend some
time in the outer enclosure, but never intentionally left me alone
there. On one occasion, when Kevimâ had been called away and I
ventured to walk down towards the gate, my host's youngest child, who
had been playing on the roof, ran after me, and reaching me just as my
foot was set on the spring that opened the gate or outer door, caught
me by the hand, and looking up into my face, expressed by glance and
gesture a negative so unmistakable that I thought it expedient at once
to comply and return to the house. There my time was occupied, for as
great a part of each day as I could give to such a task without
extreme fatigue, in mastering the language of the country. This was a
much simpler task than might have been supposed. I soon found that,
unlike any Terrestrial tongue, the language of this people had not
grown but been made—constructed deliberately on set principles, with
a view to the greatest possible simplicity and the least possible
taxation of the memory. There were no exceptions or irregularities,
and few unnecessary distinctions; while words were so connected and
related that the mastery of a few simple grammatical forms and of a
certain number of roots enabled me to guess at, and by and by to feel
tolerably sure of, the meaning of a new word. The verb has six tenses,
formed by the addition of a consonant to the root, and six persons,
plural and singular, masculine and feminine.

   _Singular._  |_Masc._| _Fem._ ||_Plural._ |_Masc._ |_Fem._
  --------------|-------|--------||----------|--------|-------
   I am         | _avâ_ | _ava_ -|| We are   | _avau_ | _avaa_
   Thou art     | _avo_ | _avoo_ || You are  | _avou_ | _avu_
   He or she is | _avy_ | _ave_  || They are | _avoi_ | _avee_
  --------------|-------|--------||----------|--------|-------

The terminations are the three pronouns, feminine and masculine,
singular and plural, each represented by one of twelve vowel
characters, and declined like nouns. When a nominative immediately
follows the verb, the pronominal suffix is generally dropped, unless
required by euphony. Thus, "a man strikes" is _dak klaftas_, but in
the past tense, _dakny klaftas_, the verb without the suffix being
unpronounceable. The past tense is formed by the insertion of _n_
(_avnâ_: "I have been"), the future by _m_: _avmâ_. The imperative,
_avsâ_; which in the first person is used to convey determination or
resolve; _avsâ_, spoken in a peremptory tone, meaning "I _will_ be,"
while _avso_, according to the intonation, means "be" or "thou shalt
be;" i.e., shalt whether or no. _R_ forms the conditional, _avrâ_, and
_ren_ the conditional past, _avrenâ_, "I should have been." The need
for a passive voice is avoided by the simple method of putting the
pronoun in the accusative; thus, _dâcâ_ signifies "I strike," _dâcal_
(me strike) "I am struck." The infinitive is _avi; avyta_, "being;"
_avnyta_, "having been;" _avmyta_, "about to be." These are declined
like nouns, of which latter there are six forms, the masculine in _â,
o, and y,_ the feminine in _a, oo, and e;_ the plurals being formed
exactly as in the pronominal suffixes of the verb. The root-word,
without inflexion, alone is used where the name is employed in no
connection with a verb, where in every terrestrial language the
nominative would be employed. Thus, my guide had named the
squirrel-monkeys _ambau_ (sing. _ambâ_); but the word is declined as
follows:—

                            _Singular._     _Plural._

  _Nominative_               ambâs        ambaus

  _Accusative_               ambâl        ambaul

  _Dative, to_ or _in_       ambân        ambaun

  _Ablative, by_ or _from_   ambâm        ambaum

The five other forms are declined in the same manner, the vowel of the
last syllable only differing. Adjectives are declined like nouns, but
have no comparative or superlative degree; the former being expressed
by prefixing the intensitive syllable _ca_, the latter, when used
(which is but seldom) by the prefix _ela_, signifying _the_ in an
emphatic sense, as his Grace of Wellington is in England called _The_
Duke _par excellence_. Prepositions and adverbs end in _t_ or _d_.

Each form of the noun has, as a rule, its special relation to the verb
of the same root: thus from dâc, "strike," are derived _dâcâ_,
"weapon" or "hammer;", _dâco_, a "stroke" or "striking" [as given]
both masculine; _dâca_, "anvil;" _dâcoo_, "blow" or "beating" [as
received]; and _dâke_, "a thing beaten," feminine. The sixth form,
_dâky_, masculine, has in this case no proper signification, and not
being wanted, is not used. Individual letters or syllables are largely
employed in combination to give new and even contradictory meanings to
a root. Thus _n_, like the Latin _in_, signifies "penetration,"
"motion towards," or simply "remaining in a place," or, again,
"permanence." _M_, like the Latin _ab_ or _ex_, indicates "motion
from." _R_ expresses "uncertainty" or "incompleteness," and is
employed to convert a statement into a question, or a relative pronoun
into one of inquiry. _G_, like the Greek _a_ or _anti_, generally
signifies "opposition" or "negation;" _ca_ is, as aforesaid,
intensitive, and is employed, for example, to convert _âfi_, "to
breathe," into _câfi_, "to speak." _Cr_ is by itself an interjection
of abhorrence or disgust; in composition it indicates detestation or
destruction: thus, _crâky_ signifies "hatred;" _crâvi_, "the
destruction of life" or "to kill." _L_ for the most part indicates
passivity, but with different effect according to its place in the
word. Thus _mepi_ signifies "to rule;" _mepil_, "to be ruled;"
_melpi_, "to control one's self;" _lempi_, "to obey." The
signification of roots themselves is modified by a modification of the
principal vowel or consonant, _i.e._, by exchanging the original for
one closely related. Thus _avi_, "exist;" _âvi_, "be," in the positive
sense of being this or that; _afi_, "live;" _âfi_, "breathe." _Z_ is a
diminutive; _zin_, "with," often abbreviated to _zn_, "combination,"
"union." Thus _znaftau_ means "those who were brought into life
together," or "brethren."

I may add, before I quit this subject, that the Martial system of
arithmetic differs from ours principally in the use of a duodecimal
instead of a decimal basis. Figures are written on a surface divided
into minute squares, and the value of a figure, whether it signify so
many units, dozens, twelve dozens, and so forth, depends upon the
square in which it is placed. The central square of a line represents
the unit's place, and is marked by a line drawn above it. Thus a
figure answering to our I, if placed in the fourth square to the left,
represents 1728. In the third place to the right, counting the unit
square in both cases, it signifies ¹⁄₁₄₄, and so forth.

In less than a fortnight I had obtained a general idea of the
language, and was able to read easily the graven representations of
spoken sound which I have described; and by the end of a month (to use
a word which had no meaning here) I could speak intelligibly if not
freely. Only in a language so simple could my own anxiety to overcome
as soon as possible a fatal obstacle to all investigation of this new
world, and the diligent and patient assistance given by my host or his
son for a great part of every day, have enabled me to make such rapid
progress. I had noted even, during the short evening gatherings when
the whole family was assembled, the extreme taciturnity of both sexes;
and by the time I could make myself understood, I was not surprised to
learn that the Martials have scarcely the idea of what we mean by
conversation, not talking for the sake of talking, or speaking unless
they have something to discuss, explain, or communicate. I found,
again, that a new and much more difficult task, though fortunately one
not so indispensable, was still in store for me. The Martials have two
forms of writing: the one I have described, which is simply a
mechanical rendering of spoken words into artificially simplified
visible signs; the other, written by hand, with a fine pencil of some
chemical material on a prepared surface, textile or metallic. The
characters of the latter are, like ours wholly arbitrary; but the
contractions and abbreviations are so numerous that the mastery of the
mere alphabet, the forty or fifty single letters employed, is but a
single step in the first stage of the hard task of learning to read.
In no country on Earth, except China, is this task half so severe as
in Mars. On the other hand, when it is once mastered, a far superior
instrument has been gained; the Martial writing being a most terse but
perfectly legible shorthand. Every Martial can write at least as
quickly as he can speak, and can read the written character more
rapidly than the quickest eye can peruse the best Terrestrial print.
Copies, whether of the phonographic or stylographic writing, are
multiplied with extreme facility and perfection. The original, once
inscribed in either manner upon the above-mentioned _tafroo_ or
gold-leaf, is placed upon a sheet of a species of linen, smoother than
paper, called _difra_. A current of electricity sent through the
former reproduces the writing exactly upon the latter, which has been
previously steeped in some chemical composition; the effect apparently
depending on the passage of the electricity through the untouched
metal, and its absolute interception by the ink, if I may so call it,
of the writing, which bites deeply into the leaf. This process can be
repeated almost _ad libitum_; and it is equally easy to take at any
time a fresh copy upon _tafroo_, which serves again for the
reproduction of any number of _difra_ copies. The book, for the
convenience of this mode of reproduction, consists of a single sheet,
generally from four to eight inches in breadth and of any length
required. The writing intended to be thus copied is always minute, and
is read for the most part through magnifying spectacles. A roller is
attached to each end of the sheet, and when not in use the latter is
wound round that attached to the conclusion. When required for
reading, both rollers are fixed in a stand, and slowly moved by
clockwork, which spreads before the eyes of the reader a length of
about four inches at once. The motion is slackened or quickened at the
reader's pleasure, and can be stopped altogether, by touching a
spring. Another means of reproducing, not merely writings or drawings,
but natural objects, consists in a simple adaptation of the _camera
obscura_. [The only essential difference from our photographs being
that the Martial art reproduces colour as well as outline, I omit this
description.]

While I was practising myself in the Martial language my host turned
our experimental conversations chiefly, if not exclusively, upon
Terrestrial subjects; endeavouring to learn all that I could convey to
him of the physical peculiarities of the Earth, of geology, geography,
vegetation, animal life in all its forms, human existence, laws,
manners, social and domestic order. Afterwards, when, at the end of
some fifty days, he found that we could converse, if not with ease yet
without fear of serious misapprehension, he took an early opportunity
of explaining to me the causes and circumstances of my unfriendly
reception among his people.

"Your size and form," he said, "startled and surprised them. I gather
from what you have told me that on Earth there are many nations very
imperfectly known to one another, with different dress, language, and
manners. This planet is now inhabited by a single race, all speaking
the same tongue, using much the same customs, and differing from one
another in form and size much less widely than (I understand) do men
upon your Earth. There you might have been taken for a visitor from
some strange and unexplored country. Here it was clear that you were
not one of our race, and yet it was inconceivable what else you could
be. We have no giants; the tallest skeleton preserved in our museums
is scarcely a hand's breadth taller than myself, and does not, of
course, approach to your stature. Then, as you have pointed out, your
limbs are longer and your chest smaller in proportion to the rest of
the body; probably because, as you seem to say, your atmosphere is
denser than ours, and we require ampler lungs to inhale the quantity
of air necessary at each breath for the oxidation of the blood. Then
you were not dumb, and yet affected not to understand our language and
to speak a different one. No such creature could have existed in this
planet without having been seen, described, and canvassed. You did
not, therefore, belong to us. The story you told by signs was quickly
apprehended, and as quickly rejected as an audacious impossibility. It
was an insult to the intelligence of your hearers, and a sufficient
ground for suspecting a being of such size and physical strength of
some evil or dangerous design. The mob who first attacked you were
probably only perplexed and irritated; those who subsequently
interfered may have been animated also by scientific curiosity. You
would have been well worth anatomisation and chemical analysis. Your
mail-shirt protected you from the shock of the dragon, which was meant
to paralyse and place you at the mercy of your assailants; the metal
distributing the current, and the silken lining resisting its passage.
Still, at the moment when I interposed, you would certainly have been
destroyed but for your manoeuvre of laying hold of two of your
immediate escort. Our destructive weapons are far superior to any you
possess or have described. That levelled at you by my neighbour would
have sent to ten times your distance a small ball, which, bursting,
would have asphyxiated every living thing for several yards around.
But our laws regarding the use of such weapons are very stringent, and
your enemy dared not imperil the lives of those you held. Those laws
would not, he evidently thought, apply to yourself, who, as he would
have affirmed, could not be regarded as a man and an object of legal
protection."

He explained the motives and conduct of his countrymen with such
perfect coolness, such absence of surprise or indignation, that I felt
slightly nettled, and answered sarcastically, "If the slaughter of
strangers whose account of themselves appears improbable be so
completely a matter of course among you, I am at a loss to understand
your own interference, and the treatment I have received from yourself
and your family, so utterly opposite in spirit as well as in form to
that I met from everybody else."

"I do not," he answered, "always act from the motives in vogue among
my fellow-creatures of this planet; but why and how I differ from them
it might not be well to explain. It is for the moment of more
consequence to tell you why you have been kept in some sense a
prisoner here. My neighbours, independently of general laws, are for
certain reasons afraid to do me serious wrong. While in my company or
in my dwelling they could hardly attempt your life without endangering
mine or those of my family. If you were seen alone outside my
premises, another attempt, whether by the asphyxiator or by a
destructive animal, would probably be made, and might this time prove
successful. Till, therefore, the question of your humanity and right
to the protection of our law is decided by those to whom it has been
submitted, I will beg you not to venture alone beyond the bounds that
afford you security; and to believe that in this request, as in
detaining you perforce heretofore, I am acting simply for your own
welfare, and not," he added, smiling, "with a view to secure the first
opportunity of putting your relation to our race to the tests of the
dissecting table and the laboratory."

"But my story explained everything that seemed inexplicable; why was
it not believed? It was assumed that I could not belong to Mars; yet I
was a living creature in the flesh, and must therefore have come from
some other planet, as I could hardly be supposed to be an inhabitant
of space."

"We don't reason on impossibilities," replied my friend. "We have a
maxim that it is more probable that any number of witnesses should
lie, that the senses of any number of persons should be deluded, than
that a miracle should be true; and by a miracle we mean an
interruption or violation of the known laws of nature."

"One eminent terrestrial sceptic," I rejoined, "has said the same
thing, and masters of the science of probabilities have supported his
assertion. But a miracle should be a violation not merely of the known
but of all the laws of nature, and until you know all those laws, how
can you tell what is a miracle? The lifting of iron by a magnet—I
suppose you have iron and loadstones here as we have on Earth—was, to
the first man who witnessed it, just as complete a violation of the
law of gravity as now appears my voyage through space, accomplished by
a force bearing some relation to that which acts through the magnet."

"Our philosophers," he answered, "are probably satisfied that they
know nearly all that is to be known of natural laws and forces; and to
delusion or illusion human sense is undeniably liable."

"If," I said, "you cannot trust your senses, you may as well
disbelieve in your own existence and in everything around you, for you
know nothing save through those senses which are liable to illusion.
But we know practically that there are limits to illusion. At any
rate, your maxim leads directly and practically to the inference that,
since I do not belong to Mars and cannot have come from any other
world, I am not here, and in fact do not exist. Surely it was somewhat
illogical to shoot an illusion and intend to dissect a spectre! Is not
a fact the complete and unanswerable refutation of its impossibility?"

"A good many facts to which I could testify," he replied, "are in this
world confessed impossibilities, and if my neighbours witnessed them
they would pronounce them to be either impostures or illusions."

"Then," said I, somewhat indignantly, "they must prefer inferences
from facts to facts themselves, and the deductions of logic to the
evidence of their senses. Yet, if that evidence be wanting in
certainty, then, since no chain can be stronger than its weakest
point, inferences are doubly uncertain; first, because they are drawn
from facts reported by sense, and, secondly, because a flaw in the
logic is always possible."

"Do not repeat that out of doors," he answered, smiling. "It is not
permitted here to doubt the infallibility of science; and any one who
ventures to affirm persistently a story which science pronounces
impossible (like your voyage through space), if he do not fall at once
a victim to popular piety, would be consigned to the worse than living
death of life-long confinement in a lunatic hospital."

"In that case I fear very much that I have little chance of being put
under the protection of your laws, since, whatever may be the
impression of those who have seen me, every one else must inevitably
pronounce me non-existent; and a nonentity can hardly be the subject
of legal wrong or have a right to legal redress."

"Nor," he replied, "can there be any need or any right to annihilate
that which does not exist. This alternative may occupy our Courts of
Justice, for aught I know, longer than you or I can hope to live. What
I have asked is that, till these have decided between two
contradictory absurdities, you shall be provisionally and without
prejudice considered as a human reality and an object of legal
protection."

"And who," I asked, "has authority _ad interim_ to decide this point?"

"It was submitted," he answered, "in the first place, to the Astyntâ
(captain, president) who governs this district; but, as I expected, he
declined to pronounce upon it, and referred it to the Mepta (governor)
of the province. Half-an-hour's argument so bewildered the latter that
he sent the question immediately to the Zamptâ (Regent) of this
dominion, and he, after hearing by telegraph the opening of the case,
at once pronounced that, as affecting the entire planet, it must be
decided by the Camptâ or Suzerain. Now this gentleman is impatient of
the dogmatism of the philosophers, who have tried recently to impose
upon him one or two new theoretical rules which would limit the amount
of what he calls free will that he practically enjoys; and as the
philosophers are all against you, and as, moreover, he has a strong
though secret hankering after curious phenomena—it would not do to
say, after impossibilities—I do not think he will allow you to be
destroyed, at least till he has seen you."

"Is it possible," I said, "that even your monarch cherishes a belief
in the incredible or logically impossible, and yet escapes the lunatic
asylum with which you threaten me?"

"I should not escape grave consequences were I to attribute to him a
heresy so detestable," said my host. "Even the Camptâ would not be
rash enough to let it be said that he doubts the infallibility of
science, or of public opinion as its exponent. But as it is the worst
of offences to suggest the existence of that which is pronounced
impossible or unscientific, the supreme authority can always, in
virtue of the enormity of the guilt, insist on undertaking himself the
executive investigation of all such cases; and generally contrives to
have the impossibility, if a tangible one, brought into the presence
either as evidence or as accomplice."

"Well," I rejoined, after a few minutes' reflection, "I don't know
that I have much right to complain of ideas which, after all, are but
the logical development of those which, are finding constantly more
and more favour among our most enlightened nations. I can quite
believe, from what I have seen of our leading scientists, that in
another century it may be dangerous in my own country for my
descendants to profess that belief in a Creator and a future life
which I am superstitious enough to prefer to all the revelations of
all the material sciences."

"As you value your life and freedom," he replied, "don't speak of such
a belief here, save to the members of my own family, and to those with
whom I may tell you you are safe. Such ideas were held here, almost as
generally as you say they now are on Earth, some twelve thousand years
ago, and twenty thousand years ago their profession was compulsory.
But for the last hundred centuries it has been settled that they are
utterly fatal to the progress of the race, to enlightenment, to
morality, and to the practical devotion of our energies to the
business of life; and they are not merely disavowed and denounced, but
hated with an earnestness proportioned to the scientific enthusiasm of
classes and individuals."

"But," said I, "if so long, so severely, and so universally
discountenanced, how can their expression by one man here or there be
considered perilous?"

"Our philosophers say," he replied, "that the attractiveness of these
ideas to certain minds is such that no reasoning, no demonstration of
their absurdity, will prevent their exercising a mischievous influence
upon weak, and especially upon feminine natures; and perhaps the
suspicion that they are still held in secret may contribute to keep
alive the bitterness with which they are repudiated and repressed. But
if they are so held, if there be any who believe that the order of the
universe was at first established, and that its active forces are
still sustained and governed, by a conscious Intelligence—if there be
those who think that they have proof positive of the continued
existence of human beings after death—their secret has been well
kept. For very many centuries have elapsed since the last victim of
such delusions, as they were solemnly pronounced by public vote in the
reign of the four-hundredth predecessor of the present Camptâ, was
sent as incurable to the dangerous ward of our strictest hospital for
the insane."

A tone of irony, and at the same time an air of guarded reserve,
seemed to pervade all my host's remarks on this subject, and I
perceived that for some reason it was so unpleasant to him that
courtesy obliged me to drop it. I put, therefore, to turn the
conversation, some questions as to the political organisation of which
his words had afforded me a glimpse; and in reply he undertook to give
me a summary of the political history of his planet during the last
few hundred generations.

"If," he said, "in giving you this sketch of the process by which our
present social order has been established, I should mention a class or
party who have stood at certain times distinctly apart from or in
opposition to the majority, I must, in the first place, beg you to ask
no questions about them, and in the next not to repeat incautiously
the little I may tell you, or to show, by asking questions of others,
what you have heard from me."

I gave my promise frankly, of course, and he then gave me the
following sketch of Martial history:—

We date events from the union of all races and nations in a single
State, a union which was formally established 13,218 years ago. At
that time the large majority of the inhabitants of this planet
possessed no other property than their houses, clothes, and tools,
their furniture, and a few other trifles. The land was owned by fewer
than 400,000 proprietors. Those who possessed movable wealth may have
numbered thrice as many. Political and social power was in the hands
of the owners of property, and of those, generally connected with them
by birth or marriage, who were at any rate not dependent on manual
labour for their bread. But among these there were divisions and
factions on various questions more or less trivial, none of them
approaching in importance or interest to the fundamental and
irreconcilable conflict sure one day to arise between those who had
accumulated wealth and those who had not. To gain their ends in one or
another of these frivolous quarrels, each party in turn admitted to
political influence section after section of what you call the
proletariat; till in the year 3278 universal suffrage was granted,
every man and woman over the age of twelve years [6] being entitled to
a single and equal vote.

About the same time the change in opinion of which I have spoken had
taken general effect, and the vast majority of the men, at any rate,
had ceased to believe in a future life wherein the inequalities and
iniquities of this might be redressed. It followed that they were
fiercely impatient of hardships and suffering, especially such as they
thought might be redressed by political and social changes. The
leaders of the multitude, for the most part men belonging to the
propertied classes who had either wasted their wealth or never
possessed any, demanded the abolition of private ownership, first of
land, then of movable wealth; a demand which fiercely excited the
passions of those who possessed neither, and as bitterly provoked the
anger and alarm of those who did. The struggle raged for some
generations and ended by an appeal to the sword; in which, since the
force of the State was by law in the hands of the majority, the
intelligent, thrifty, careful owners of property with their adherents
were signally defeated. Universal communism was established in 3412,
none being permitted to own, or even to claim, the exclusive use of
any portion of the planet's surface, or of any other property except
the share of food and clothing allotted to him. One only privilege was
allowed to certain sectaries who still clung to the habits of the
past, to the permanence and privacy of family life. They were
permitted to have houses or portions of houses to themselves, and to
live there on the share of the public produce allotted to the several
members of each household. It had been assumed as matter of course by
the majority that when every one was forced to work there would be
more than enough for all; that public spirit, and if necessary
coercion, would prove as effectual stimulants to exertion and industry
as interest and necessity had done under the system of private
ownership.

Those who relied on the refutation of this theory forgot that with
poor and suffering men who look to no future, and acknowledge no law
but such as is created by their own capricious will and pleasure, envy
is even a more powerful passion than greed. The Many preferred that
wealth and luxury should be destroyed, rather than that they should be
the exclusive possession of the Few. The first and most visible effect
of Communism was the utter disappearance of all perishable luxuries,
of all food, clothing, furniture, better than that enjoyed by the
poorest. Whatever could not be produced in quantities sufficient to
give each an appreciable share was not produced at all. Next, the
quarrels arising out of the apportionment of labour were bitter,
constant, and savage. Only a grinding despotism could compose them,
and those who wielded such despotism for a short time excited during
the period of their rule such fierce and universal hatred, that they
were invariably overturned and almost invariably murdered before their
very brief legal term of office had closed. It was not only that those
engaged in the same kind of labour quarrelled over the task assigned
to each, whether allotted in proportion to his strength, or to the
difficulty of his labour, or by lot equally to all. Those to whom the
less agreeable employments were assigned rebelled or murmured, and at
last it was necessary to substitute rotation for division of labour,
since no one would admit that he was best fitted for the lower or less
agreeable. Of course we thus wasted silver tools in doing the work of
iron, and reduced enormously the general production of wealth. Next,
it was found that since one man's industry or idleness could produce
no appreciable effect upon the general wealth, still less upon the
particular share assigned to him, every man was as idle as the envy
and jealousy of his neighbours would allow. Finally, as the produce
annually diminished and the number of mouths to be fed became a
serious consideration, the parents of many children were regarded as
public enemies. The entire independence of women, as equal citizens,
with no recognised relation to individual men, was the inevitable
outcome, logically and practically, of the Communistic principle; but
this only made matters worse. Attempts were of course made to restrain
multiplication by law, but this brought about inquisitions so utterly
intolerable that human nature revolted against them. The sectaries I
have mentioned—around whom, without adopting or even understanding
their principles, gradually gathered all the better elements of
society, every man of intellect and spirit who had not been murdered,
with a still larger proportion of women—seceded separately or in
considerable numbers at once; established themselves in those parts of
the planet whose less fertile soil or less genial climate had caused
them to be abandoned, and there organised societies on the old
principles of private ownership and the permanence of household ties.
By and by, as they visibly prospered, they attracted the envy and
greed of the Communists. They worked under whatever disadvantage could
be inflicted by climate and soil, but they had a much more than
countervailing advantage in mutual attachment, in freedom from the
bitter passions necessarily excited by the jealousy and incessant
mutual interference inseparable from the Communistic system, and in
their escape from the caprice and instability of popular
government—these societies, whether from wisdom or mere reaction,
submitting to the rule of one or a few chief magistrates selected by
the natural leaders of each community. Moreover, they had not merely
the adhesion of all the more able, ambitious, and intellectual who
seceded from a republic in which neither talent nor industry could
give comfort or advantage, but also the full benefit of inventive
genius, stimulated by the hope of wealth in addition to whatever
public spirit the habits of Communism had not extinguished. They
systematically encouraged the cultivation of science, which the
Communists had very early put down as a withdrawal of energy from the
labour due to the community at large. They had a monopoly of
machinery, of improvement, of invention both in agriculture, in
manufactures, and in self-defence. They devised weapons far more
destructive than those possessed by the old _régime_, and still more
superior to such as, after centuries of anarchy and decline, the
Communists were able to procure. Finally, when assailed by the latter,
vast superiority of numbers was annulled by immeasurable superiority
in weapons and in discipline. The secessionists were animated, too, by
a bitter resentment against their assailants, as the authors of the
general ruin and of much individual suffering; and when the victory
was gained, they not infrequently improved it to the utter destruction
of all who had taken part in the attack. Whichever side were most to
blame in the feud, no quarter was given by either. It was an
internecine war of numbers, ignorance, and anarchy against science and
order. On both sides there still remained much of the spirit generated
in times when life was less precious than the valour by which alone it
could be held, and preserved through milder ages by the belief that
death was not annihilation—enough to give to both parties courage to
sacrifice their lives for the victory of their cause and the
destruction of their enemies. But after a few crushing defeats, the
Communists were compelled to sue for peace, and to cede a large part
of their richest territory. Driven back into their own chaotic misery,
deterred by merciless punishment from further invasion of their
neighbours' dominions, they had leisure to contrast their wretched
condition with that of those who prospered under the restored system
of private ownership, family interest, strong, orderly, permanent
government, material and intellectual civilisation. Machinery did for
the new State, into which the seceding societies were consolidated by
the necessity of self-defence, much more than it had done before
Communism declared war on it. The same envy which, if war had been any
longer possible, would have urged the Communists again and again to
plunder the wealth that contrasted so forcibly their own increasing
poverty, now humbled them to admire and covet the means which had
produced it. At last, after bitter intestine struggles, they
voluntarily submitted to the rule of their rivals, and entreated the
latter to accept them as subjects and pupils. Thus in the 39th century
order and property were once more established throughout the planet.

"But, as I have said, what you call religion had altogether
disappeared—had ceased, at least as an avowed principle, to affect
the ideas and conduct of society or of individuals. The
re-establishment of peace and order concentrated men's energies on the
production of material wealth and the achievement of physical comfort
and ease. Looking forward to nothing after death, they could only make
the best of the short life permitted to them and do their utmost to
lengthen it. In the assurance of speedy separation, affection became a
source of much more anxiety and sorrow than happiness. All ties being
precarious and their endurance short, their force became less and
less; till the utmost enjoyment of the longest possible life for
himself became the sole, or almost the sole, animating motive, the one
paramount interest, of each individual. The equality which logic had
established between the sexes dissolved the family tie. It was
impossible for law to dictate the conditions on which two free and
equal individuals should live together, merely because they differed
in sex. All the State could do it did; it insisted on a provision for
the children. But when parental affection was extinguished, such
provision could only be secured by handing over the infant and its
portion to the guardianship of the State. As children were troublesome
and noisy, the practice of giving them up to public officers to be
brought up in vast nurseries regulated on the strictest scientific
principles became the general rule, and was soon regarded as a duty;
what was at first almost openly avowed selfishness soon justifying and
glorifying itself on the ground that the children were better off
under the care of those whose undivided attention was given to them,
and in establishments where everything was regulated with sole regard
to their welfare, than they could be at home. No law compels us to
send our children to these establishments. In rare cases a favourite
will persuade her lord to retain her pet son and make him heir, but
both the Courts and public opinion discountenance this practice. Some
families, like my own, systematically retain their children and
educate them at home; but it is generally thought that in doing so we
do them a wrong, and our neighbours look askance upon so signal a
deviation from custom; the more so, perhaps, that they half suspect us
of dissenting from their views on other subjects, on which our
opinions do not so directly or so obviously affect our conduct, and on
which therefore we are not so easily convicted of free choice"
[heresy]. Here I inquired whether the birth and parentage of the
children sent to the public establishments were registered, so as to
permit their being reclaimed or inheriting property.

"No," he replied. "Inheritance by mere descent is a notion no longer
favoured. I believe that young mothers sometimes, before parting with
their children, impress upon them some indelible mark by which it may
be possible hereafter to recognise them; but such recognitions seldom
occur. Maternal affection is discountenanced as a purely animal
instinct, a survival from a lower grade of organisation, and does not
generally outlast a ten years' separation; while paternal love is
utterly scouted as an absurdity to which even the higher animals are
not subject. Boys are kept in the public establishments until the age
of twelve, those from ten to twelve being separated from the younger
ones and passing through the higher education in separate colleges.
The girls are educated apart till they complete their tenth year, and
are almost invariably married in the course of the next. At first,
under the influence of the theory of sexual equality, both received
their intellectual instruction in the same classes and passed through
the same examinations. Separation was soon found necessary; but still
girls passed through the same intellectual training as their brothers.
Experience, however, showed that this would not answer. Those girls
who distinguished themselves in the examinations were, with scarcely
an exception, found unattractive as wives and unfit to be mothers. A
very much larger number, a number increasing in every generation,
suffered unmistakably from the severity of the mental discipline to
which they were subjected. The advocates of female equality made a
very hard fight for equal culture; but the physical consequences were
perfectly clear and perfectly intolerable. When a point was reached at
which one half the girls of each generation were rendered invalids for
life, and the other half protected only by a dense stupidity or
volatile idleness which no school punishments could overcome, the
Equalists were driven from one untenable point to another, and forced
at last to demand a reduction of the masculine standard of education
to the level of feminine capacities. Upon this ground they took their
last stand, and were hopelessly beaten. The reaction was so complete
that for the last two hundred and forty generations, the standard of
female education has been lowered to that which by general confession
ordinary female brains can stand without injury to the physique. The
practical consequences of sexual equality have re-established in a
more absolute form than ever the principle that the first purpose of
female life is marriage and maternity; and that, for their own sakes
as for the sake of each successive generation, women should be so
trained as to be attractive wives and mothers of healthy children, all
other considerations being subordinated to these. A certain small
number of ladies avail themselves of the legal equality they still
enjoy, and live in the world much as men. But we regard them as
third-rate men in petticoats, hardly as women at all. Marriage with
one of them is the last resource to which a man too idle or too
foolish to earn his own living will betake himself. Whatever their
education, our women have always found that such independence as they
could earn by hard work was less satisfactory than the dependence,
coupled with assured comfort and ease, which they enjoy as the
consorts, playthings, or slaves of the other sex; and they are only
too glad to barter their legal equality for the certainty of
protection, indolence, and permanent support."

"Then your marriages," I said, "are permanent?"

"Not by law," he replied. "Nothing like what our remote ancestors
called marriage is recognised at all. The maidens who come of age each
year sell themselves by a sort of auction, those who purchase them
arranging with the girls themselves the terms on which the latter will
enter their family. Custom has fixed the general conditions which
every girl expects, and which only the least attractive are forced to
forego. They are promised a permanent maintenance from their master's
estate, and promise in return a fixed term of marriage. After two or
three years they are free to rescind the contract; after ten or twelve
they may leave their husbands with a stipulated pension. They receive
an allowance for dress and so forth proportionate to their personal
attractions or to the fancy of the suitor; and of course the richest
men can offer the best terms, and generally secure the most agreeable
wives, in whatever number they please or think they can without
inconvenience support."

"Then," I said, "the women can divorce themselves at pleasure, but the
men cannot dismiss them! This hardly looks like equality."

"The practical result," he answered, "is that men don't care for a
release which would part them from complaisant slaves, and that women
dare not seek a divorce which can only hand them over to another
master on rather worse terms. When the longer term has expired, the
latter almost always prefer the servitude to which they are accustomed
to an independent life of solitude and friendlessness."

"And what becomes," I asked, "of the younger men who must enter the
world without property, without parents or protectors?"

"We are, after youth has passed, an indolent race. We hardly care, as
a rule, to cultivate our fields or direct our factories; but prefer
devoting the latter half at least of our lives to a somewhat
easy-going cultivation of that division of science which takes hold of
our fancy. These divisions are such as your conversation leads me to
think you would probably consider absurdly minute. A single class of
insects, a single family of plants, the habits of one race of fishes,
suffice for the exclusive study of half a lifetime. Minds of a more
active or more practical bent will spend an equal time over the
construction of a new machine more absolutely automatic than any that
has preceded it. Physical labour is thrown as much as possible on the
young; and even they are now so helped by machinery and by trained
animals, that the eight hours' work which forms their day's labour
hardly tires their muscles. Our tastes render us very anxious to
devolve upon others as soon as possible the preservation and
development of the property we have acquired. A man of moderate means,
long before he has reached his thirtieth [7] year, generally seeks one
assistant; men of larger fortune may want two, five, or ten. These are
chosen, as a rule, by preference from those who have passed the most
stringent and successful collegiate examination. Martial parents are
not prolific, and the mortality in our public nurseries is very large.
I impute it to moral influences, since the chief cause of death is low
vitality, marked nervous depression and want of animal spirits, such
as the total absence of personal tenderness and sympathy must produce
in children. It is popularly ascribed to the over-cultivation of the
race, as plants and animals highly civilised—that is, greatly
modified and bred to an artificial excellence by human agency—are
certainly delicate, unprolific, and especially difficult to rear.
There is little disease in the nurseries, but there is little health
and a deficiency of nervous energy. One fact is significant, however
interpreted, and bears directly on your last question. Since the wide
extension of polygamy, female births are to male about as seven to
six; but the deaths in public nurseries between the first and tenth
years are twenty-nine in twelve dozen admissions in the stronger sex,
and only about ten in the weaker. Read these facts as we may, they
ensure employment to the young men when their education is
completed—the two last years of severe study adding somewhat to the
mortality among them.

"A large number find employment in superintending the property of
others. To give them a practical interest in its preservation and
improvement, they are generally, after a shorter or longer probation,
adopted by their employers as heirs to their estate; our experience of
Communism having taught us that immediate and obvious self-interest is
the only motive that certainly and seriously affects human action. The
distance at which they are kept, and the absolute seclusion of our
family life, enables us easily to secure ourselves against any
over-anxiety on their part to anticipate their inheritance. The
minority who do not thus find a regular place in society are employed
in factories, as artisans, or on the lands belonging to the State. To
ensure their zeal, the last receive a fixed proportion of the produce,
or are permitted to rent land at fixed rates, and at the end of ten
years receive a part thereof in full property. By these means we are
free from all the dangers and difficulties of that state of society
which preceded the Communistic cataclysm. We have poor men, and men
who can live only by daily labour; but these have dissipated their
wealth, or are looking forward at no very distant period to a
sufficient competence. The entire population of our planet does not
exceed two hundred millions, and is not much increased from generation
to generation. The area of cultivable land is about ten millions of
square miles, and half a square mile in these equatorial continents,
which alone are at all generally inhabited, will, if well cultivated
and cared for, furnish the largest household with every luxury that
man's heart can desire. Eight hours' labour in the day for ten years
of life will secure to the least fortunate a reasonable competence;
and an ambitious man, with quick intelligence and reasonable industry,
may always hope to become rich, if he thinks wealth worth the labour
of invention or of exceptionally troublesome work."

"Mars ought, then," I said, "to be a material paradise. You have
attained nearly all that our most advanced political economists regard
as the perfection of economical order—a population nearly stationary,
and a soil much more than adequate to their support; a general
distribution of property, total absence of permanent poverty, and
freedom from that gnawing anxiety regarding the future of ourselves or
our children which is the great evil of life upon Earth and the
opprobrium of our social arrangements. You have carried out, moreover,
the doctrines of our most advanced philosophers; you have absolute
equality before the law, competitive examination among the young for
the best start in life, with equal chances wherever equality is
possible; and again, perfect freedom and full legal equality as
regards the relations of the sexes. Are your countrymen satisfied with
the results?"

"Yes," answered my host, "in so far, at least, that they have no wish
to change them, no idea that any great social or political reforms
could improve our condition. Our lesson in Communism has rendered all
agitation on such matters, all tendency to democratic institutions,
all appeals to popular passions, utterly odious and alarming to us.
But that we are happy I will venture neither to affirm nor to deny.
Physically, no doubt, we have great advantages over you, if I rightly
understand your description of life on Earth. We have got rid of old
age, and, to a great extent, of disease. Many of our scientists
persist in the hope to get rid of death; but, since all that has been
accomplished in this direction was accomplished some two thousand
years back, and yet we continue to die, general opinion hardly concurs
in this hope."

"How do you mean," I inquired, "that you have got rid of old age and
of disease?"

"We have," he replied, "learned pretty fully the chemistry of life. We
have found remedies for that hardening of the bones and weakening of
the muscles which used to be the physical characteristics of declining
years. Our hair no longer whitens; our teeth, if they decay, are now
removed and naturally replaced by new ones; our eyes retain to the
last the clearness of their sight. A famous physician of five thousand
years back said in controversy on this subject, that 'the clock was
not made to go for ever;' by which he meant that human bodies, like
the materials of machines, wore out by lapse of time. In his day this
was true, since it was impossible fully to repair the waste and
physical wear and tear of the human frame. This is no longer so. The
clock does not wear out, but it goes more and more slowly and
irregularly, and stops at last for some reason that the most skilful
inspection cannot discover. The body of him who dies, as we say, 'by
efflux of time' at the age of fifty is as perfect as it was at
five-and twenty. [8] Yet few men live to be fifty-five, [9] and most
have ceased to take much interest in practical life, or even in
science, by forty-five." [10]

"That seems strange," I said. "If no foreign body gets into the
machinery, and the machinery itself does not wear out, it is difficult
to understand why the clock should cease to go."

"Would not some of your race," he asked, "explain the mystery by
suggesting that the human frame is not a clock, but contains, and owes
its life to, an essence beyond the reach of the scalpel, the
microscope, and the laboratory?"

"They hold that it is so. But then it is not the soul but the body
that is worn out in seventy or eighty of the Earth's revolutions."

"Ay," he said; "but if man were such a duplex being, it might be that
the wearing out of the body was necessary, and had been adapted to
release the soul when it had completed its appropriate term of service
in the flesh."

I could not answer this question, and he did not pursue the theme.
Presently I inquired, "If you allow no appeal to popular feeling or
passion, to what was I so nearly the victim? And what is the terrorism
that makes it dangerous to avow a credulity or incredulity opposed to
received opinion?"

"Scientific controversies," he replied, "enlist our strongest and
angriest feelings. It is held that only wickedness or lunacy can
resist the evidence that has convinced a vast majority. By
arithmetical calculation the chances that twelve men are wrong and
twelve thousand [11] right, on a matter of inductive or deductive
proof, are found to amount to what must be taken for practical
certainty; and when the twelve still hold out, they are regarded as
madmen or knaves, and treated accordingly by their fellows. If it be
thought desirable to invoke a legal settlement of the issue, a council
of all the overseers of our scientific colleges is called, and its
decision is by law irrevocable and infallible, especially if ratified
by the popular voice. And if a majority vote be worth anything at all,
I think this modern theory at least as sound as the democratic theory
of politics which prevailed here before the Communistic revolution,
and which seems by your account to be gaining ground on Earth."

"And what," I inquired, "is your political constitution? What are the
powers of your rulers; and how, in the absence of public discussion
and popular suffrage, are they practically limited?"

"In theory they are unlimited," he answered; "in practice they are
limited by custom, by caution, and, above all, by the lack of motives
for misrule. The authority of each prince over those under him, from
the Sovereign to the local president or captain, is absolute. But the
Executive leaves ordinary matters of civil or criminal law to the
Courts of Justice. Cases are tried by trained judges; the old
democratic usage of employing untrained juries having been long ago
discarded, as a worse superstition than simple decision by lot. The
lot is right twelve times in two dozen; the jury not oftener than
half-a-dozen times. The judges don't heat or bias their minds by
discussion. They hear all that can be elicited from parties, accuser,
accused, and witnesses, and all that skilled advocates can say. Then
the secretary of the Court draws up a summary of the case, each judge
takes it home to consider, each writes out his judgment, which is read
by the secretary, none but the author knowing whose it is. If the
majority be five to two, judgment is given; if less, the case is tried
again before a higher tribunal of twice as many judges. If no decision
can be reached, the accused is acquitted for the time, or, in a civil
dispute, a compromise is imposed. The rulers cannot, without incurring
such general anger as would be fatal to their power, disregard our
fundamental laws. Gross tyranny to individuals is too dangerous to be
carried far. It is a capital crime for any but the officers of the
Sovereign and of the twelve Regents to possess the fearfully
destructive weapons that brought our last wars to an end. But any man,
driven to desperation, can construct and use similar weapons so easily
that no ruler will drive a man to such revengeful despair. Again, the
tyranny of subordinate officials would be checked by their chief, who
would be angry at being troubled and endangered by misconduct in which
he had no direct interest. And finally, _personal_ malice is not a
strong passion among us; and our manners render it unlikely that a
ruler should come into such collision with any of his subjects as
would engender such a feeling. Of those immediately about him, he can
and does at once get rid as soon as he begins to dislike, and before
he has cause to hate them. It is our maxim that greed of wealth or
lust of power are the chief motives of tyranny. Our rulers cannot well
hope to extend a power already autocratic, and we take care to leave
them nothing to covet in the way of wealth. We can afford to give them
all that they can desire of luxury and splendour. To enrich to the
uttermost a few dozen governors costs us nothing comparable to the
cost of democracy, with its inseparable party conflicts,
maladministration, neglect, and confusion."

"A clever writer on Earth lately remarked that it would be easy to
satiate princes with all personal enjoyments, but impossible to
satiate all their hangers-on, or even all the members of their
family."

"You must remember," he replied, "that we have here, save in such
exceptional cases as my own, nothing like what you call a family. The
ladies of a prince's house have everything they can wish for within
their bounds and cannot go outside of these. As for dependents, no man
here, at least of such as are likely to be rulers, cares for his
nearest and dearest friends enough to incur personal peril, public
displeasure, or private resentment on their account. The officials
around a ruler's person are few in number, so that we can afford to
make their places too comfortable and too valuable to be lightly
risked. Neglect, again, is pretty sure to be punished by superior
authority. Activity in the promotion of public objects is the only
interest left to princes, while tyranny is, for the reasons I have
given, too dangerous to be carried far."




CHAPTER VI - AN OFFICIAL VISIT.


At this point of our conversation an ambâ entered the room and made
certain signs which my host immediately understood.

"The Zamptâ," he said, "has called upon me, evidently on your account,
and probably with some message from his Suzerain. You need not be
afraid," he added. "At worst they would only refuse you protection,
and I could secure you from danger under my own roof, and in the last
extremity effect your retreat and return to your own planet; supposing
for a moment," he added, smiling, "that you are a real being and come
from a real world."

The Regent of that dominion, the only Martialist outside my host's
family with whom I had yet been able to converse, awaited us in the
hall or entrance chamber. I bowed low to him, and then remained
standing. My host, also saluting his visitor, at once took his seat.
The Regent, returning the salute and seating himself, proceeded to
address us; very little ceremony on either side being observed between
this autocratic deputy of an absolute Sovereign and his subjects.

"Esmo _dent Ecasfen_" said the Regent, "will you point out the person
you declare yourself to have rescued from assault and received into
your house on the 431st day of this year?"

"That is the person, Regent," said my host, pointing to me.

The visitor then asked my name, which I gave, and addressing me
thereby, he continued—

"The Camptâ has requested me to ascertain the truth regarding your
alleged size, so far exceeding anything hitherto known among us. You
will permit me, therefore, to measure your height and girth."

I bowed, and he proceeded to ascertain that I was about a foot taller
and some ten inches larger round the waist than himself. Of these
facts he took note, and then proceeded—

"The signs you made to those who first encountered you were understood
to mean that you descended from the sky, in a vessel which is now left
on the summit of yonder mountain, Asnyca."

"I did not descend from the sky," I replied, "for the sky is, as we
both know, no actual vault or boundary of the atmospheric depths. I
ascended from a world nearer to the Sun, and after travelling for
forty days through space, landed upon this planet in the vessel you
mention."

"I am directed," he answered, "to see this vessel, to inspect your
machinery and instruments, and to report thereon to the Suzerain. You
will doubtless be ready to accompany me thither to-morrow two hours
after sunrise. You may be accompanied, if you please, by your host or
any members of his family; I shall be attended by one or more of my
officers. In the meantime I am to inform you that, until my report has
been received and considered, you are under the protection of the law,
and need not apprehend any molestation of the kind you incurred at
first. You will not, however, repeat to any one but myself the
explanation you have offered of your appearance—which, I understand,
has been given in fuller detail to Esmo—until the decision of the
Camptâ shall have been communicated to you."

I simply bowed my assent; and after this brief but sufficient
fulfilment of the purpose for which he had called, the Regent took his
leave.

"What," I asked, when we re-entered my chamber, "is the meaning of the
title by which the Regent addressed you?"

"In speaking to officials," he replied, "of rank so high as his, it is
customary to address them simply by their titles, unless more than one
of the same rank be present, in which case we call them, as we do
inferior officials, by their name with the title appended. For
instance, in the Court of the Sovereign our Regent would be called
Endo Zamptâ. Men of a certain age and social position, but having no
office, are addressed by their name and that of their residence; and,
_asfe_ meaning a town or dwelling, usage gives me the name of Esmo, in
or of the town of Eca.

"I am sorry," he went on, "that neither my son nor myself can
accompany you to-morrow. All the elder members of my family are
engaged to attend at some distance hence before the hour at which you
can return. But I should not like you to be alone with strangers; and,
independently of this consideration, I should perhaps have asked of
you a somewhat unusual favour. My daughter Eveena, who, like most of
_our_ women" (he laid a special emphasis on the pronoun) "has received
a better education than is now given in the public academies, has been
from the first greatly interested in your narrative and in all you
have told us of the world from which you come. She is anxious to see
your vessel, and I had hoped to take her when I meant to visit it in
your company. But after to-morrow I cannot tell when you may be
summoned to visit the Camptâ, or whether after that visit you are
likely to return hither. I will ask you, therefore, if you do not
object to what I confess is an unusual proceeding, to take Eveena
under your charge to-morrow."

"Is it," I inquired, "permissible for a young lady to accompany a
stranger on such an excursion?"

"It is very unusual," returned my host; "but you must observe that
here family ties are, as a rule, unknown. It cannot be usual for a
maiden to be attended by father or brother, since she knows neither.
It is only by a husband that a girl can, as a rule, be attended
abroad. Our usages render such attendance exceedingly close, and, on
the other hand, forbid strangers to interrupt or take notice thereof.
In Eveena's presence the Regent will find it difficult to draw you
into conversation which might be inconvenient or dangerous; and
especially cannot attempt to gratify, by questioning you, any
curiosity as to myself or my family."

"But," I said, "from what you say, it seems that the Regent and any
one who might accompany him would draw inferences which might not be
agreeable to you or to the young lady."

"I hardly understand you," he replied. "The only conjecture they could
make, which they will certainly make, is that you are, or are about to
be, married to her; and as they will never see her again, and, if they
did, could not recognise her—as they will not to-morrow know anything
save that she belongs to my household, and certainly will not speak to
her—I do not see how their inference can affect her. When I part with
her, it will be to some one of my own customs and opinions; and to us
this close confinement of girls appears to transcend reasonable
restraint, as it contradicts the theoretical freedom and equality
granted by law to the sex, but utterly withheld by the social usages
which have grown out of that law."

"I can only thank you for giving me a companion more agreeable than
the official who is to report upon my reality," I said.

"I do not desire," he continued, "to bind you to any reserve in
replying to questions, beyond what I am sure you will do without a
pledge—namely, to avoid betraying more than you can help of that
which is not known outside my own household. But on this subject I may
be able to speak more fully after to-morrow. Now, if you will come
into the peristyle, we shall be in time for the evening meal."

Eveena's curiosity had in nowise overcome her silent shyness. She
might possibly have completed her tenth year, which epoch in the life
of Mars is about equivalent to the seventeenth birthday of a damsel
nurtured in North-Western Europe. I hardly think that I had addressed
her directly half-a-dozen times, or had received from her a dozen
words in return. I had been attracted, nevertheless, not only by her
grace and beauty, but by the peculiar sweetness of her voice and the
gentleness of her manner and bearing when engaged in pacifying dispute
or difficulty among the children, and particularly in dealing with the
half-deformed spoilt infant of which I have spoken. This evening that
little brat was more than usually exasperating, and having exhausted
the patience or repelled the company of all the rest, found itself
alone, and set up a fretful, continuous scream, disagreeable even to
me, and torturing to Martial ears, which, adapted to hear in that thin
air, are painfully alive to strident, harsh, or even loud sounds.
Instantly obeying a sign from her mother, Eveena rose in the middle of
a conversation to which she had listened with evident interest, and
devoted herself for half-an-hour to please and pacify this
uncomfortable child. The character and appearance of this infant, so
utterly unlike all its companions, had already excited my curiosity,
but I had found no opportunity of asking a question without risking an
impertinence. On this occasion, however, I ventured to make some
remark on the extreme gentleness and forbearance with which not only
Eveena but the children treated their peevish and exacting brother.

"He is no brother of theirs," said Zulve, the mistress of the house.
"You would hardly find in any family like ours a child with so
irritable a temper or a disposition so selfish, and nowhere a creature
so hardly treated by Nature in body as well as mind."

"Indeed," I said, hardly understanding her answer.

"No," said my host. "It is the rule to deprive of life, promptly and
painlessly, children to whom, from physical deformity or defect, life
is thought unlikely to be pleasant, and whose descendants might be a
burden to the public and a cause of physical deterioration to the
race. It is, however, one of the exceptional tenets to which I have
been obliged to allude, that man should not seek to be wiser than
Nature; and that life should neither be cut short, except as a
punishment for great crimes, nor prolonged artificially contrary to
the manifest intention, or, as our philosophers would say, the common
course of Nature. Those who think with me, therefore, always
endeavour, when we hear in time of their approaching fate, to preserve
children so doomed. Precautions against undue haste or readiness to
destroy lives that might, after all, grow up to health and vigour are
provided by law. No single physician or physiologist can sign a
death-warrant; and I, though no longer a physician by craft, am among
the arbiters, one or more of whom must be called in to approve or
suspend the decision. On these occasions I have rescued from
extinction several children of whose unfitness to live, according to
the standard of the State Nurseries, there was no question, and placed
them in families, mostly childless, that were willing to receive them.
Of this one it was our turn to take charge; and certainly his chance
is better for being brought up among other children, and under the
influence of their gentler dispositions and less exacting
temperaments."

"And is such ill-temper and selfishness," I asked, "generally found
among the deformed?"

"I don't think," replied Esmo, "that this child is much worse than
most of my neighbours' children, except that physical discomfort makes
him fretful. What you call selfishness in him is only the natural
inheritance derived from an ancestry who for some hundred generations
have certainly never cared for anything or any one but themselves. I
thought I had explained to you by what train of circumstances and of
reasoning family affection, such as it is reputed to have been
thousands of years ago, has become extinct in this planet; and, family
affection extinguished, all weaker sentiments of regard for others
were very quickly withered up."

"You told me something of the kind," I said; "but the idea of a life
so utterly swallowed up in self that no one even thinks it necessary
to affect regard for and interest in others, was to me so
unintelligible and inconceivable that I did not realise the full
meaning of your account. Nor even now do I understand how a society
formed of such members can be held together. On Earth we should expect
them either to tear one another to pieces, or to relapse into
isolation and barbarism lower than that of the lowest tribe which
preserves social instincts and social organisation. A society composed
of men resembling that child, but with the intelligence, force, and
consistent purpose of manhood, would, I should have thought, be little
better than a congregation of beasts of prey."

"We have such beasts," said Esmo, "in the wild lands, and they are
certainly unsociable and solitary. But men, at least civilised men,
are governed not only by instinct but by interest, and the interest of
each individual in the preservation of social co-operation and social
order is very evident and very powerful. Experience and school
discipline cure children of the habit of indulging mere temper and
spite before they come to be men, and they are taught by practice as
well as by precept the absolute necessity of co-operation. Egotism,
therefore, has no tendency to dissolve society as a mere organisation,
though it has utterly destroyed society as a source of pleasure."

"Does your law," I asked, "confine the principle of euthanasia to
infants, or do you put out of the world adults whose life is supposed,
for one reason or another, to be useless and joyless?"

"Only," he answered, "in the case of the insane. When the doctors are
satisfied that a lunatic cannot be cured, an inquest is held; and if
the medical verdict be approved, he is quietly and painlessly
dismissed from existence. Logically, of course, the same principle
should be applied to all incurable disease; and I suspect—indeed I
know—that it is applied when the household have become weary, and the
patient is utterly unable to protect himself or appeal to the law. But
the general application of the principle has been successfully
resisted, on the ground that the terror it would cause, the constant
anxiety and alarm in which men would live if the right of judging when
life had become worthless to them were left to others, would far
outweigh any benefit which might be derived from the legalised
extinction of existences which had become a prolonged misery; and such
cases, as I have told you, are very rare among us. A case of hopeless
bodily suffering, not terminating very speedily in death, does not
occur thrice a year among the whole population of the planet, except
through accident. We have means of curing at the outset almost all of
those diseases which the observance for hundreds of generations of
sound physical conditions of life has not extirpated; and in the worst
instances our anæsthetics seldom fail to extinguish the sense of pain
without impairing intellect. Of course, any one who is tired of his
life is at liberty to put an end to it, and any one else may assist
him. But, though the clinging to existence is perhaps the most
irrational of all those purely animal instincts on emancipation from
which we pride ourselves, it is the strongest and the most lasting.
The life of most of my countrymen would be to me intolerable
weariness, if only from the utter want, after wealth is attained, of
all warmer and less isolated interest than some one pet scientific
pursuit can afford; and yet more from the total absence of affection,
family duties, and the various mental occupations which interest in
others affords. But though the question whether life is worth living
has long ago been settled among us in the negative, suicide, the
logical outcome of that conviction, is the rarest of all the methods
by which life is terminated."

"Which seems to show that even in Mars logic does not always dominate
life and prevail over instinct. But what is the most usual cause of
death, where neither disease nor senility are other than rare
exceptions?"

"Efflux of time," Esmo replied with an ironical smile. "That is the
chief fatal disease recognised by our physicians."

"And what is its nature?"

"Ah, that neither I nor any other physician can tell you. Life 'goes
out,' like a lamp when the materials supplying the electric current
are exhausted; and yet here all the waste of which physic can take
cognisance is fully repaired, and the circuit is not broken."

"What are the symptoms, then?"

"They are all reducible to one—exhaustion of the will, the prime
element of personality. The patient ceases to _care_. It is too much
trouble to work; then too much trouble to read; then too much trouble
to exert even those all but mechanical powers of thought which are
necessary to any kind of social intercourse—to give an order, to
answer a question, to recognise a name or a face: then even the
passions die out, till the patient cannot be provoked to rate a stupid
ambâ or a negligent wife; finally, there is not energy to dress or
undress, to rise up or sit down. Then the patient is allowed to die:
if kept alive perforce, he would finally lack the energy to eat or
even to breathe. And yet, all this time, the man is alive, the self is
there; and I have prolonged life, or rather renewed it, for a time, by
some chance stimulus that has reached the inner sight through the
thickening veil, and shocked the essential man into willing and
thinking once more as he thought and willed when he was younger than
his grandchildren are now.... It is well that some of us who know best
how long the flesh may be kept in life, are, in right of that very
knowledge, proof against the wish to keep the life in the flesh for
ever."




CHAPTER VII - ESCORT DUTY.


Immediately after breakfast the next morning my host invited me to the
gate of his garden, where stood one of the carriages I had seen before
in the distance, but never had an opportunity of examining. It rested
on three wheels, the two hind ones by far larger than that in front,
which merely served to sustain the equilibrium of the body and to
steer. The material was the silver-like metal of which most Martial
vessels and furniture are formed, every spar, pole, and cross-piece
being a hollow cylinder; a construction which, with the extreme
lightness of the metal itself, made the carriage far lighter than any
I had seen on Earth. The body consisted of a seat with sides, back,
and footboard, wide enough to accommodate two persons with ease. It
was attached by strong elastic fastenings to a frame consisting of
four light poles rising from the framework in which the axles turned;
completely dispensing with the trouble of springs, while affording a
more complete protection from anything like jolting. The steering gear
consisted of a helm attached to the front wheel and coming up within
easy reach of the driver's hand. The electric motive power and
machinery were concealed in a box beneath the seat, which was indeed
but the top of this most important and largest portion of the
carriage. The poles sustained a light framework supporting a canopy,
which could be drawn over the top and around three sides of the
carriage, leaving only the front open. This canopy, in the present
instance, consisted of a sort of very fine silken material, thickly
embroidered within and without with feathers of various colours and
sizes, combined in patterns of exquisite beauty. My host requested me
to mount the carriage with him, and drove for some distance, teaching
me how to steer, and how, by pressing a spring, to stop or slacken the
motion of the vehicle, also how to direct it over rough ground and up
or down the steepest slope on which it was available. When we
returned, the Regent's carriage was standing by the gate, and two
others were waiting at a little distance in the rear. The Regent, with
a companion, was already seated, and as soon as we reached the gate,
Eveena appeared. She was enveloped from head to foot in a cloak of
something like swans-down covering her whole figure, loose, like the
ordinary outer garments of both sexes, and gathered in at the waist by
a narrow zone of silver, with a sort of clasp of some bright green
jewel; and a veil of white satin-looking material covered the whole
head and face, and fell half-way to the waist. Her gloved right hand
was hidden by the sleeve of her cloak; that of the left arm was turned
back, and the hand which she gave me as I handed her to the seat on my
left was bare—a usage both of convenience and courtesy. At Esmo's
request, the Regent, who led the way, started at a moderate pace, not
exceeding some ten miles an hour. I observed that on the roofs of all
the houses along the road the inhabitants had gathered to watch us;
and as my companion was so completely veiled, I did not baulk their
curiosity by drawing the canopy. I presently noticed that the girl
held something concealed in her right sleeve, and ventured to ask her
what she had there.

"Pardon me," she said; "if we had been less hurried, I meant to have
asked your permission to bring my pet _esvè_ with me." Drawing back
her sleeve, she showed a bird about the size of a carrier-pigeon, but
with an even larger and stronger beak, white body, and wings and tail,
like some of the plumage of the head and neck, tinted with gold and
green. Around its neck was a little string of silver, and suspended
from this a small tablet with a pencil or style. Since by her look and
manner she seemed to expect an answer, I said—

"I am very glad you have given me the opportunity of making
acquaintance with another of those curiously tame and manageable
animals which your people seem to train to such wonderful intelligence
and obedience. We have birds on Earth which will carry a letter from a
strange place to their home, but only homewards."

"These," she answered, "will go wherever they are directed, if they
have been there before and know the name of the place; and if this
bird had been let loose after we had left, he would have found me, if
not hidden by trees or other shelter, anywhere within a score of
miles."

"And have your people," I asked, "many more such wonderfully
intelligent and useful creatures tamed to your service, besides the
ambau, the tyree, and these letter-carriers?"

"Oh yes!" she answered. "Nearly all our domestic animals will do
anything they are told which lies within their power. You have seen
the tyree marching in a line across a field to pick up every single
worm or insect, or egg of such, within the whole space over which they
move, and I think you saw the ambau gathering fruit. It is not very
usual to employ the latter for this purpose, except in the trees. Have
you not seen a big creature—I should call it a bird, but a bird that
cannot fly, and is covered with coarse hair instead of feathers? It is
about as tall as myself, but with a neck half as long as its body, and
a very sharp powerful beak; and four of these _carvee_ would clear a
field the size of our garden (some 160 acres) of weeds in a couple of
days. We can send them, moreover, with orders to fetch a certain
number of any particular fruit or plant, and they scarcely ever forget
or blunder. Some of them, of course, are cleverer than others. The
cleverest will remember the name of every plant in the garden, and
will, perhaps, bring four or even six different kinds at a time; but
generally we show them a leaf of the plant we want, or point out to
them the bed where it is to be found, and do not trouble their memory
with more than two different orders at a time. The Unicorns, as you
call them, come regularly to be milked at sunset, and, if told
beforehand, will come an hour earlier or later to any place pointed
out to them. There were many beasts of burden before the electric
carriages were invented, so intelligent that I have heard the rider
never troubled himself to guide them except when he changed his
purpose, or came to a road they had not traversed before. He would
simply tell them where to go, and they would carry him safely. The
only creature now kept for this purpose is the largest of our birds
(the _caldecta_), about six feet long from head to tail, and with
wings measuring thrice as much from tip to tip. They will sail through
the air and carry their rider up to places otherwise inaccessible. But
they are little used except by the hunters, partly because the danger
is thought too great, partly because they cannot rise more than about
4000 feet from the sea-level with a rider, and within that height
there are few places worth reaching that cannot be reached more
safely. People used to harness them to balloons till we found means to
drive these by electricity—the last great invention in the way of
locomotion, which I think was completed within my grandfather's
memory."

"And," I asked, "have you no animals employed in actually cultivating
the soil?"

"No," she replied, "except the weeding birds of whom I have told you.
When we have a piece of ground too small for our electric ploughs, we
sometimes set them to break it up, and they certainly reduce the soil
to a powder much finer than that produced by the machine."

"I should like to see those machines at work."

"Well," answered Eveena, "I have no doubt we shall pass more than one
of them on our way."

As she said this we reached the great road I had crossed on my
arrival, and turning up this for a short distance, sufficient,
however, to let me perceive that it led to the seaport town of which I
have spoken, we came to a break in the central footpath, just wide
enough to allow us to pass. Looking back on this occasion, I observed
that we were followed by the two other carriages I have mentioned, but
at some distance. We then proceeded up the mountain by a narrow road I
had not seen in descending it. On either side of this lay fields of
the kind already described, one of which was in course of cultivation,
and here I saw the ploughs of which my companion had spoken. Evidently
constructed on the same principle as the carriages, but of much
greater size, and with heavier and broader wheels, they tore up and
broke to pieces a breadth of soil of some two yards, working to a
depth of some eighteen inches, with a dozen sharp powerful triangular
shares, and proceeding at a rate of about fifty yards per minute.
Eveena explained that these fields were generally from 200 to 600
yards square. The machine having traversed the whole field in one
direction, then recommenced its work, ploughing at right angles to the
former, and carrying behind it a sort of harrow, consisting of hooks
supported by light, hollow, metallic poles fixed at a certain angle to
the bar forming the rearward extremity of the plough, by which the
surface was levelled and the soil beaten into small fragments; broken
up, in fact, as I had seen, not less completely than ordinary garden
soil in England or Flanders. When it reached the end of its course,
the plough had to be turned; and this duty required the employment of
two men, one at each end of the field, who, however, had no other or
more difficult labour than that of turning the machine at the
completion of each set of furrows. In another field, already doubly
ploughed, a sowing machine was at work. The large seeds were placed
singly by means of an instrument resembling a magnified ovipositor,
such as that possessed by many insects, which at regulated intervals
made a hole in the ground and deposited a seed therein. Eveena
explained that where the seed and plant were small, a continuous
stream was poured into a small furrow made by a different instrument
attached to the same machine, while another arm, placed a little to
the rear, covered in the furrow and smoothed the surface. In reply to
another question of mine—"There are," she said, "some score of
different wool or hair bearing animals, which are shorn twice in the
year, immediately after the rains, and furnish the fibre which is
woven into most of the materials we use for dress and other household
purposes. These creatures adapt themselves to the shearing machines
with wonderful equanimity and willingness, so that they are seldom or
never injured."

"Not even," I asked, "by inexperienced or clumsy hands?"

"Hands," she said, "have nothing to do with the matter. They have only
to send the animal into the machine, and, indeed, each goes in of his
own accord as he sees his fellow come out."

"And have you no vegetable fibres," I said, "that are used for
weaving?"

"Oh yes," she answered, "several. The outer dress I wear indoors is
made of a fibre found inside the rind of the fruit of the algyro tree,
and the stalks of three or four different kinds of plants afford
materials almost equally soft and fine."

"And your cloak," I asked, "is not that made of the skin of some
animal?"

"Yes," she replied, "and the most curious creature I have heard of. It
is found only in the northern and southern Arctic land-belts, to which
indeed nearly all wild animals, except the few small ones that are
encouraged because they prey upon large and noxious insects, are now
confined. It is about as large as the Unicorns, and has, like them,
four limbs; but otherwise it more resembles a bird. It has a bird's
long slight neck, but a very small and not very bird-like head, with a
long horny snout, furnished with teeth, something between a beak and a
mouth. Its hind limbs are those of a bird, except that they have more
flesh upon the lowest joints and are covered with this soft down. Its
front limbs, my father says, seem as if nature had hesitated between
wings and arms. They have attached to them several long, sharp,
featherless quills starting from a shrivelled membrane, which make
them very powerful and formidable weapons, so that no animal likes to
attack it; while the foot has four fingers or claws with, which it
clasps fish or small dragons, especially those electric dragons of
which you have seen a tame and very much enlarged specimen, and so
holds them that they cannot find a chance of delivering their electric
shock. But for the _Thernee_ these dragons, winged as they are, would
make those lands hardly habitable either for man, or other beasts. All
our furs are obtained from those countries, and the creatures from
which they are derived are carefully preserved for that purpose, it
being forbidden to kill more than a certain number of each every year,
which makes these skins by far the costliest articles we use."

By this time we had reached the utmost point to which the carriages
could take us, about a furlong from the platform on which I had rested
during my descent. Seeing that the Regent and his companion had
dismounted, I stopped and sprang down from my carriage, holding out my
hand to assist Eveena's descent, an attention which I thought seemed
to surprise her. Up to the platform the path was easy enough; after
that it became steep even for me, and certainly a troublesome and
difficult ascent for a lady dressed as I have described, and hardly
stronger than a child of the same height and size on earth. Still my
companion did not seem to expect, and certainly did not invite
assistance. That she found no little difficulty in the walk was
evident from her turning back both sleeves and releasing her bird,
which hovered closely round her. Very soon her embarrassments and
stumbles threatened such actual danger as overcame my fear of
committing what, for aught I knew, might be an intrusion. Catching her
as she fell, and raising her by the left hand, I held it fast in my
own right, begging to be permitted to assist her for the rest of the
journey. Her manner and the tone of her voice made it evident that
such an attention, if unusual, was not offensive; but I observed that
those who were following us looked at us with some little surprise,
and spoke together in words which I could not catch, but the tone of
which was not exactly pleasant or complimentary. The Regent, a few
steps in advance of us, turned back from time to time to ask me some
trivial question. At last we reached the summit, and here I released
my companion's hand and stepped forward a pace or two to point out to
the Regent the external structure of the Astronaut. I was near enough,
of course, to be heard by Eveena, and endeavoured to address my
explanations as much to her as to the authority to whom I was required
to render an account. But from the moment that we had actually joined
him she withdrew from all part and all apparent interest in the
conversation. When our companions moved forward to reach the entrance,
which I had indicated, I again offered my hand, saying, "I am afraid
you will find some little difficulty in getting into the vessel by the
window by which I got out."

The Regent, however, had brought with him several light metal poles,
which I had not observed while carried by his companion, but which
being put together formed a convenient ladder of adequate length. He
desired me to ascend first and cut the riband by means of which the
window had been sealed; the law being so strict that even he would not
violate the symbol of private ownership which protected my vessel.
Having done this and opened the window, I sprang down, and he,
followed by his companion, ascended the ladder, and resting himself
upon the broad inner ledge of the window—which afforded a convenient
seat, since the crystal was but half the thickness of the wall—first
took a long look all round the interior, and then leaped down,
followed by his attendant. Eveena drew back, but was at last persuaded
to mount the ladder with my assistance, and rest on the sill till I
followed her and lifted her down inside. The Regent had by this time
reached the machinery, and was examining it very curiously, with
greater apparent appreciation of its purpose than I should have
expected. When we joined them, I found little difficulty in explaining
the purpose and working of most parts of the apparatus. The nature and
generation of the apergic power I took care not to explain. The
existence of such a repulsive force was the point on which the Regent
professed incredulity; as it was, of course, the critical fact on
which my whole narrative turned—on which its truth or falsehood
depended. I resolved ere the close of the inspection to give him clear
practical evidence on this score. In the meantime, listening without
answer to his expressions of doubt, I followed him round the interior,
explaining to him and to Eveena the use and structure of the
thermometer, barycrite, and other instruments. My fair companion
seemed to follow my explanation almost as easily as the officials. Our
followers, who had now entered the vessel, kept within hearing of my
remarks; but, evidently aware that they were there on sufferance,
asked no questions, and made their comments in a tone too low to allow
me to understand their purport. The impression made on the Regent by
the instruments, so far as I could gather from his brief remarks and
the expression of his face, was one of contemptuous surprise rather
than the interest excited by the motive machinery. Most of them were
evidently, in his opinion, clumsy contrivances for obtaining results
which the scientific knowledge and inventive genius of his countrymen
had long ago secured more completely and more easily. But he was
puzzled by the combination of such imperfect knowledge or
semi-barbaric ignorance with the possession of a secret of such
immense importance as the repulsive current, not yet known nor, as I
gathered, even conceived by the inhabitants of this planet. When he
had completed his inspection, he requested permission to remove some
of the objects I had left there; notably many of the dead plants, and
several books of drawings, mathematical, mechanical, and ornamental,
which I had left, and which had not been brought away by my host's son
when he visited the vessel. These I begged him to present to the
Camptâ, adding to them a few smaller curiosities, after which I drew
him back towards the machinery. He summoned his attendant, and bade
him take away to the carriages the articles I had given him, calling
upon the intruders to assist.

I was thus left with him and with Eveena alone in the building; and
with a partly serious, partly mischievous desire to prove to him the
substantial reality of objects so closely related to my own disputed
existence, and to demonstrate the truth of my story, I loosened one of
the conductors, connected it with the machinery, and, directing it
against him, sent through it a very slight apergic current. I was not
quite prepared for the result. His Highness was instantly knocked head
over heels to a considerable distance. Turning to interrupt the
current before going to his assistance, I was startled to perceive
that an accident of graver moment, in my estimation at least, than the
discomfiture of this exalted official, had resulted from my
experiment. I had not noticed that a conductive wire was accidentally
in contact with the apergion, while its end hung down towards the
floor Of this I suppose Eveena had carelessly taken hold, and a part
of the current passing through it had lessened the shock to the Regent
at the expense of one which, though it could not possibly have injured
her, had from its suddenness so shaken her nerves as to throw her into
a momentary swoon. She was recovering almost at soon as I reached her;
and by the time her fellow-sufferer had picked himself up in great
disgust and astonishment, was partly aware what had happened. She was,
however; much more anxious to excuse herself, in the manner of a
frightened child, for meddling with the machinery than to hear my
apologies for the accident. Noting her agitation, and seeing that she
was still trembling all over, I was more anxious to get her into the
open air, and out of reach of the apparatus she seemed to regard with
considerable alarm, than to offer any due apology to the exalted
personage to whom I had afforded much stronger evidence, if not of my
own substantiality, yet of the real existence of a repulsive energy,
than I had seriously intended. With a few hurried words to him, I
raised Eveena to the window, and lifted her to the ground outside. I
felt, however, that I could not leave the Regent to find his own way
out, the more so that I hardly saw how he could reach the window from
the inside without my assistance. I excused myself, therefore, and
seating her on a rock close to the ladder, promised to return at once.
This, however, I found impossible. By the time the injured officer had
recovered the physical shock to his nerves and the moral effect of the
disrespect to his person, his anxiety to verify what he had heard
entirely occupied his mind; and he requested further experiments, not
upon himself, which occupied some half-hour. He listened and spoke, I
must admit, with temper; but his air of displeasure was evident
enough, and I was aware that I had not entitled myself to his good
word, whether or not he would permit his resentment to colour his
account of facts. He was compelled, however, to request my help in
reaching the window, which I gave with all possible deference.

But, to my alarm, when we reached the foot of the ladder, Eveena was
nowhere to be seen. Calling her and receiving no reply, calling again
and hearing what sounded like her voice, but in a faint tone and
coming I knew not whither, I ran round the platform to seek her. I
could see nothing of her; but at one point, just where the projecting
edge of the platform overhung the precipice below, I recognised her
bird fluttering its wings and screaming as if in pain or terror. The
Regent was calling me in a somewhat imperious tone, but of course
received neither answer nor attention. Reaching the spot, I looked
over the edge and with some trouble discovered what had happened. Not
merely below but underneath the overhanging edge was a shelf about
four feet long and some ten inches in breadth, covered with a flower
equally remarkable in form and colour, the former being that of a
hollow cylindrical bell, about two inches in diameter; the latter a
bluish lilac, the nearest approach to azure I have seen in Mars—the
whole ground one sheet of flowers. On this, holding in a
half-insensible state to the outward-sloping rock above her, Eveena
clung, her veil and head-dress fallen, her face expressing utter
bewilderment as well as terror. I saw, though at the moment I hardly
understood, how she had reached this point. A very narrow path, some
hundred feet in length, sloped down from the table-rock of the summit
to the shelf on which she stood, with an outer hedge of shrubs and the
summits of small trees, which concealed, and in some sort guarded, the
precipice below, so that even a timid girl might pursue the path
without fear. But this path ended several feet from the commencement
of the shelf. Across the gap had lain a fallen tree, with boughs
affording such a screen and railing on the outward side as might at
once conceal the gulf below, and afford assistance in crossing the
chasm. But in crossing this tree Eveena's footsteps had displaced it,
and it had so given way as not only to be unavailable, but a serious
obstacle to my passage. Had I had time to go round, I might have been
able to leap the chasm; I certainly could not return that way with a
burden even so light as that of my precious charge. The only chance
was to lift her by main force directly to where I stood; and the
outward projection of the rock at this point rendered this peculiarly
difficult, as I had nothing to cling or hold by. The Regent had by
this time reached me, and discerned what had occurred.

"Hold me fast," I said, "or sit upon me if you like, to hold me with
your weight whilst I lean over." The man stood astounded, not by the
danger of another but by the demand on himself; and evidently without
the slightest intention of complying.

"You are mad!" he said. "Your chance is ten times greater to lose your
own life than to save hers."

"Lose my life!" I cried. "Could I dare return alive without her? Throw
your whole weight on me, I say, as I lean over, and waste no more
time!"

"What!" he rejoined. "You are twice as heavy as I, and if you are
pulled over I shall probably go over too. Why am I to endanger myself
to save a girl from the consequences of her folly?"

"If you do not," I swore, "I will fling you where the carcass of which
you are so careful shall be crushed out of the very form of the
manhood you disgrace."

Even this threat failed to move him. Meantime the bird, fluttering on
my shoulder, suggested a last chance; and snatching the tablet round
its neck, I wrote two words thereon, and calling to it, "Home!" the
intelligent creature flew off at fullest speed.

"Now," I said, "if you do not help me I will kill you here and now. If
you pretend to help and fail me, that bird carries to Esmo my request
to hold you answerable for our lives."

I invoked, in utter desperation, the awe with which, as his hints and
my experience implied, Esmo was regarded by his neighbours; and
slender as seemed this support, it did not fail me. The Regent's
countenance fell, and I saw that I might depend at least on his
passive compliance. Clasping his arm with my left hand, I said, "Pull
back with all your might. If I go over, you _shall_ go over too." Then
pulling him down with me, and stretching myself over the precipice so
far that but for this additional support I must have fallen, I reached
Eveena, whose closed eyes and relaxing limbs indicated that another
moment's delay might be fatal.

"Give me your hand," I cried in despair, seeing how tightly she still
grasped the tough fibrous shoots growing in the crevices of the rock,
whereof she had taken hold. "Give me your hand, and let go!"

To give me her hand was beyond the power of her will; to let go
without giving me hold would have been fatal. Beaching over to the
uttermost, I contrived to lay a firm grasp upon her wrist. But this
would not do. I could hardly drag her up by one arm, especially if she
would not relax her grasp. I must release the Regent and depend upon
his obedience, or forfeit the chance of saving her, as in a few more
moments she would certainly swoon and fall.

"Throw yourself upon me, and sit firm, if you value your life," I
cried, and I relaxed my hold on his arm, stretching both hands to
grasp Eveena. I felt the man's weight on my body, and with both arms
extended to the uttermost hanging over the edge, I caught firm bold of
the girl's shoulders. Even now, with any girl of her age on earth, and
for aught I know with many Martial damsels, the case would have been
hopeless. My whole strength was required to raise her; I had none to
spare to force her loose from her hold. Fortunately my rough and tight
clasp seemed to rouse her. Her eyes half opened, and semi-consciousness
appeared to have returned.

"Let go!" I cried in that sharp tone of imperious anger which—with
some tempers at least—is the natural expression of the outward
impulse produced by supreme and agonizing terror. Obedience is the
hereditary lesson taught to her sex by the effects of equality in
Mars. Eveena had been personally trained in a principle long discarded
by Terrestrial women; and not half aware what she did, but yielding
instinctively to the habit of compliance with imperative command
spoken in a masculine voice, she opened her hands just as I had lost
all hope. With one desperate effort I swung her fairly on to the
platform, and, seeing her safe there, fell back myself scarcely more
sensible than she was.

The whole of this terrible scene, which it has taken so long to
relate, did not occupy more than a minute in action. I know not
whether my readers can understand the full difficulty and danger of
the situation. I know that no words of mine can convey the impression
graven into my own memory, never to be effaced or weakened while
consciousness remains. The strongest man on Earth could not have done
what I did; could not, lying half over the precipice, have swung a
girl of eighteen right out from underneath him, and to his own level.
But Eveena was of slighter, smaller frame than a healthy French girl
of twelve, while I retained the full strength of a man adapted to the
work of a world where every weight is twice as heavy as on Mars. What
I had practically to do was to lift not seven or eight stone of
European girlhood, not even the six Eveena might possibly have weighed
on Earth, but half that weight. And yet the position was such that all
the strength I had acquired through ten years of constant practice in
the field and in the chase, all the power of a frame in healthful
maturity, and of muscles whose force seemed doubled by the tension of
the nerves, hardly availed. When I recovered my own senses, and had
contrived to restore Eveena's, my unwilling assistant had disappeared.

It was an hour before Eveena seemed in a condition to be removed, and
perhaps I was not very urgent to hurry her away. I had done no more
than any man, the lowest and meanest on Earth, must have done under
the circumstances. I can scarcely enter into the feelings of the
fellow-man who, in my position, could have recognised a choice but
between saving and perishing with the helpless creature entrusted to
his charge. But hereditary disbelief in any power above the physical
forces of Nature, in any law higher than that of man's own making, has
rendered human nature in Mars something utterly different from,
perhaps, hardly intelligible to, the human nature of a planet forty
million miles nearer the Sun. Though brought up in an affectionate
home, Eveena shared the ideas of the world in which she was born; and
so far accepted its standards of opinion and action as natural if not
right, that the risk I had run, the effort I had made to save her,
seemed to her scarcely less extraordinary than it had appeared to the
Zamptâ. She rated its devotion and generosity as highly as he
appreciated its extravagance and folly; and if he counted me a madman,
she was disposed to elevate me into a hero or a demi-god. The tones
and looks of a maiden in such a temper, however perfect her maidenly
reserve, would, I fancy, be very agreeable to men older than I was,
either in constitution or even in experience. I doubt whether any man
under fifty would have been more anxious than myself to cut short our
period of repose, broken as it was, when I refused to listen to her
tearful penitence and self-reproach, by occasional words and looks of
gratitude and admiration. I did, however, remember that it was
expedient to refasten the window, and re-attach the seals, before
departing. At the end of the hour's rest I allowed my charge and
myself, I had recovered more or less completely the nervous force
which had been for a while utterly exhausted, less by the effort than
by the terror that preceded it. I was neither surprised, nor perhaps
as much grieved as I should have been, to find that Eveena could
hardly walk; and felt to the full the value of those novel conditions
which enabled me to carry her the more easily in my arms, though much
oppressed even by so slight an effort in that thin air, to the place
where we had left our carriage—no inconsiderable distance by the path
we had to pursue. Before starting on our return I had, in despite of
her most earnest entreaties, managed to recover her head-dress and
veil, at a risk which, under other circumstances, I might not have
cared to encounter. But had she been seen without it on our return,
the comments of the whole neighbourhood would have been such as might
have disturbed even her father's cool indifference. We reached her
home in safety, and with little notice, having, of course, drawn the
canopy around us as completely as possible. I was pleased to find that
only her younger sister, to whose care I at once committed her, was
there at present, the elders not having yet returned. I took care to
detach from the bird's neck the tablet which had served its purpose so
well. The creature had found his way home within half-an-hour after I
dismissed him, and had frightened Zevle [Stella] not a little; though
the message, which a fatal result would have made sufficiently
intelligible to Esmo, utterly escaped her comprehension.




CHAPTER VIII - A FAITH AND ITS FOUNDER.


On the return of the family, my host was met at the door with such
accounts of what had happened as led him at once to see and question
his daughter. It was not, therefore, till he had heard her story that
I saw him. More agitated than I should have expected from one under
ordinary circumstances so calm and self-possessed, he entered my room
with a face whose paleness and compressed lips indicated intense
emotion; and, laying his hand on my shoulder, expressed his feeling
rather in look and tone than in his few broken and not very
significant words. After a few moments, however, he recovered his
coolness, and asked me to supply the deficiencies of Eveena's story. I
told him briefly but exactly what had passed from the moment when I
missed her to that of her rescue. He listened without the slightest
symptom of surprise or anger to the tale of the Regent's indifference,
and seemed hardly to understand the disgust and indignation with which
I dwelt upon it. When I had finished—

"You have made," he said, "an enemy, and a dangerous one; but you have
also secured friends against whose support even the anger of a greater
than the Zamptâ might break as harmlessly as waves upon a rock. He
behaved only as any one else would have done; and it is useless to be
angry with men for being what they habitually and universally are.
What you did for Eveena, one of ourselves, perhaps, but no other,
might have risked for a first bride on the first day of her marriage.
Indeed, though I am most thankful to you, I should, perhaps, have
withheld my consent to my daughter's request had I supposed that you
felt so strongly for her."

"I think," I replied with some displeasure, "that I may positively
affirm that I have spoken no word to your daughter which I should not
have spoken in your presence. I am too unfamiliar with your ideas to
know whether your remark has the same force and meaning it would have
borne among my own people; but to me it conveys a grave reproach. When
I accepted the charge of your daughter during this day's excursion, I
thought of her only as every man thinks of a young, pretty, and gentle
girl of whom he has seen and knows scarcely anything. To avail myself
of what has since happened to make a deeper impression on her feelings
than you might approve would have seemed to me unpardonable
treachery."

"You do utterly misunderstand me," he answered. "It may be that Eveena
has received an impression which will not be effaced from her mind. It
may be that this morning, could I have foreseen it, I should have
decidedly wished to avoid anything that would so impress her. But that
feeling, if it exist, has been caused by your acts and not by your
words. That you should do your utmost, at any risk to yourself, to
save her, is consistent with what I know of your habit of mind, and
ought not much to surprise me. But, from your own account of what you
said to the Zamptâ, you were not merely willing to risk life for life.
When you deemed it impossible to return without her, you spoke as few
among us would seriously speak of a favourite bride."

"I spoke and felt," I replied, "as any man trained in the hereditary
thought of my race and rank would have spoken of any woman committed
to his care. All that I said and did for Eveena, I should have said
and done, I hope, for the least attractive or least amiable maiden in
this planet who had been similarly entrusted to my charge. How could
any but the vilest coward return and say to a father, 'You trusted
your daughter to me, and she has perished by my fault or neglect'?"

"Not so," he answered, "Eveena alone was to blame—and much to blame.
She says herself that you had told her to remain where you left her
till your return; and if she had not disobeyed, neither her life nor
yours would have been imperilled."

"One hardly expects a young lady to comply exactly with such
requests," I said. "At any rate, Terrestrial feelings of honour and
even of manhood would have made it easier to leap the precipice than
to face you and the world if, no matter by whose fault, my charge had
died in such a manner under my eyes and within my reach."

Esmo's eyes brightened and his cheek flushed a little as I spoke, with
more of earnestness or passion than any incident, however exciting, is
wont to provoke among his impassive race.

"Of one thing," he said, "you have assured me—that the proposal I was
about to make rather invites honour than confers it. I have been
obliged, in speaking of the manners and ideas of my countrymen, to let
you perceive not only that I differ from them, but that there are
others who think and act as I do. We have for ages formed a society
bound together by our peculiar tenets. That we individually differ in
conduct, and, therefore, probably in ideas, from our countrymen, they
necessarily know; that we form a body apart with laws and tenets of
our own, is at least suspected. But our organisation, its powers, its
methods, its rules of membership, and its doctrines are, and have
always been, a secret, and no man's connection with it is avowed or
provable. Our chief distinctive and essential doctrines you hold as
strongly as we do—the All-perfect Existence, the immortal human soul.
From these necessarily follow conceptions of life and principles of
conduct alien to those that have as necessarily grown up among a race
which repudiates, ignores, and hates our two fundamental premises.
After what has happened, I can promise you immediate and eager
acceptance among those invested with the fullest privileges of our
order. They will all admire your action and applaud your motives,
though, frankly speaking, I doubt whether any of us would carry your
views so far as you have done. The best among us would have flinched,
unless under the influence of the very strongest personal affection,
from the double peril of which you seemed to think so lightly. They
might indeed have defied the Regent but it would have been in reliance
on the protection of, a power superior to his of which you knew
nothing."

"Then," I said, "I suppose your engagement of to-day was a meeting of
this society?"

"Yes," he answered, "a meeting of the Chamber to which I and the elder
members of my household, including my son and his wife, belong."

"But," I said, "if you are more powerful than the rulers of your
people, what need of such careful secrecy?"

"You will understand the reason," he answered, "when you learn the
nature of our powers. Hundreds among millions, we are no match for the
fighting force of our unbelieving countrymen. Our safety lies in the
terror inspired by a tradition, verified by repeated and invariable
experience, that no one who injures one of us but has reason to rue
it, that no mortal enemy of _the Star_ has ever escaped signal
punishment, more terrible for the mystery attending it. Were we known,
were our organisation avowed, we might be hunted down and
exterminated, and should certainly suffer frightful havoc, even if in
the end we were able to frighten or overcome our enemies. But if you
are disposed to accept my offer—and enrolment among us gives you at
once your natural place in this planet and your best security against
the enmity you have incurred and will incur here—I should prefer to
make the rest of the explanation that must precede your admission in
presence of my family. The first step, the preliminary instruction in
our creed and our simpler mysteries, which is the work of the
Novitiate, is a solemn epoch in the lives of our children. They are
not trusted with our secret till we can rely on the maturity of their
intelligence and loyalty of their nature. Eveena would in any case
have been received as a novice within some dozen days. It will now be
easy for me, considering her education and intelligence and my own
position in the Order, to obtain, for her as for you, exemption from
the usual probation on proof that you both know all that is usually
taught therein, and admission on the same occasion; and it will add
solemnity and interest to her first initiation, that this chief lesson
of her life should be shared this evening with him to whom she owes it
that she lives to enter the society, to which her ancestors have
belonged since its institution."

We passed into the peristyle, where the ladies were as usual
assembled; but the children had been dismissed, and of the maidens
Eveena only was present. Fatigue and agitation had left her very pale,
and she was resting at full length on the cushions with her head
pillowed on her mother's knee. As we approached, however, they all
rose, the other ladies greeting me eagerly and warmly, Eveena rising
with difficulty and faltering the welcome which the rest had spoken
with enthusiastic earnestness. Forgetting for the moment the prudence
which ignorance of Martial customs had hitherto dictated, I lifted to
my lips the hand that she, following the example of the rest, but
shyly and half reluctantly, laid on my shoulder—a form very different
to the distant greeting I had heretofore received, and marking that I
was no longer to be treated as a stranger to the family. My unusual
salute brought the colour back to her cheeks, but no one else took
notice of it. I observed, however, that on this occasion, instead of
interposing himself between me and the ladies as usual, her father
left vacant the place next to her; and I seated myself at her feet.
She would have exchanged her reclining posture for that of the others,
but her mother gently drew her down to her former position.

"Eveena," said my host, "I have told our friend, what you know, that
there is in this world a society, of which I am a member, whose
principles are not those of our countrymen, but resemble rather those
which supplied the impulses on which he acted to-day. This much you
know. What you would have learned a few days hence, I mean that you
and he shall now hear at the same time."

"Before you enter on that subject," interposed Zulve timidly—for it
is most unusual for a lady to interfere in her husband's conversation,
much more to offer a suggestion or correction—but yet earnestly, "let
me say, on my own part, what I am sure you must have said already on
yours. If there be now, or ever shall be, anything we can do for our
guest, anything we can give that he would value, not in requital, but
in memory of what he has done for us—whatever it should cost us,
though he should ask the most precious thing we possess, it will be
our pride and pleasure—the greatest pleasure he can afford us—to
grant it."

The time and the surroundings were not perhaps exactly suitable to the
utterance of the wish suggested by these words; but I knew so little
what might be in store for me, and understood so well the difficulty
and uncertainty of finding future opportunities of intercourse with
the ladies at least of the family, that I dared not lose the present.
I spoke at once upon the impulse of the moment, with a sense of
reckless desperation not unlike that with which an artillerist fires
the train whose explosion may win for him the obsidional wreath or
blow him into atoms. "You and my host," I said, "have one treasure
that I have learned to covet, but it is exactly the most precious
thing you possess, and one which it would be presumptuous to ask as
reward; even had I not owed to Esmo the life I perilled for Eveena,
and if I had acted from choice and freely, instead of doing only what
only the vilest of cowards could have failed to attempt. In asking it
indeed, I feel that I cancel whatever claim your extravagant estimate
of that act can possibly ascribe to me."

"We don't waste words," answered Esmo, "in saying what we don't mean,
and I confirm fully what my wife has said. There is nothing we possess
that we shall not delight to give as token of regard and in
remembrance of this day to the saviour of our child."

"If," I said, "I find a neighbour's purse containing half his fortune,
and return it to him, he may offer me what reward I ask, but would
hardly think it reasonable if I asked for the purse and its contents.
But you have only one thing I care to possess—that which I have, by
God's help, been enabled to save to-day. If I must ask a gift, give me
Eveena herself."

Utilitarianism has extinguished in Mars the use of compliment and
circumlocution; and until I concluded, their looks of mild perplexity
showed that neither Zulve nor her husband caught my purpose. I
fancied—for, not daring to look them in the face, I had turned my
downcast glance on Eveena—that she had perhaps somewhat sooner
divined the object of my thoughts. However, a silence of surprise—was
it of reluctance?—followed, and then Zulve bent over her daughter and
looked into her half-averted face, while Esmo answered—

"What you should ask I promised to give; what you have asked I give,
in so far as it is mine to give, in willing fulfilment of my pledge.
But, of course, what I can give is but my free permission to my
daughter to answer for herself. You will be, I hope, within a few days
at furthest, one of those in whose possession alone a woman of my
house could be safe or content; and, free by the law of the land to
follow her own wish, she is freed by her father's voice from the rule
which the usage of ten thousand years imposes on the daughters of our
brotherhood."

Zulve then looked up, for Eveena had hidden her face in her mother's
robe, and said—

"If my child will not speak for herself I must speak for her, and in
my own name and in hers I fulfil her father's promise. And now let my
husband tell his story, for nothing can solemnise more appropriately
the betrothal of a daughter of the Star, than her admission to the
knowledge of the Order whose privileges are her heritage."

"At the time," Esmo began, "when material science had gained a decided
ascendant, and enforced the recognition of its methods as the only
ones whereby certain knowledge and legitimate belief could be
attained, those who clung most earnestly to convictions not acquired
or favoured by scientific logic were sorely dismayed. They were
confounded, not so much by the yet informal but irrevocable
majority-vote against them, as by an instinctive misgiving that
Science was right; and by irrepressible doubts whether that which
would not bear the application of scientific method could in any sense
be true or trustworthy knowledge. At the same time, to apply a
scientific method to the cherished beliefs threatened only to dissolve
them. Fortunately for them and their successors, there was living at
that time one of the most remarkable and original thinkers whom our
race has produced. From him came the suggestions that gave impulse to
our learning and birth to our Order. 'The reasonings, the processes of
Science,' he affirmed,'are beyond challenge. Their trustworthiness
depends not on their subject-matter, but on their own character; not
on their relation to outward Nature, but on their conformity to the
laws of thought. Their upholders are right in affirming that what will
not ultimately bear the test of their application cannot be knowledge,
and probably—for the practical purposes of human life we may say
certainly—cannot be truth. They are wrong in alleging that the ideas
for which they can find no foundation in the subjects to which
scientific method has hitherto been applied, are therefore
unscientific, or sure to disappear under scientific investigation. I
hold that the existence of a Creator and Ruler of the Universe can be
logically deduced from first principles, as well as justly inferred
from cumulative evidences of overwhelming weight. The existence of
something in Man that is not merely corporeal, of powers that can act
beyond the reach of any corporeal instruments at his command, or
without the range of their application, is not proven; it may be, only
because the facts that indicate without proving it have never yet been
subject to systematic verification or scientific analysis. But of such
facts there exists a vast accumulation; unsifted, untested, and
therefore as yet ineffective for proof, but capable, I can scarcely
doubt, of reduction to methodical order and scientific treatment.
There are records and traditions of every degree of value, from utter
worthlessness to the worth of the most authentic history, preserving
the evidences of powers which may be generally described as spiritual.
Through all ages, among all races, the living have alleged themselves
from time to time to have seen the forms and even heard the voices of
the dead. Scientific men have been forced by the actual and public
exercise of the power under the most crucial tests—for instance, to
produce insensibility in surgical operations—to admit that the will
of one man can control the brain, the senses, the physical frame of
another without material contact, perhaps at a distance. There are
narratives of marvels wrought by human will, chiefly in remote, but
occasionally in recent times, transcending and even contradicting or
overruling the known laws of Nature. All these evidences point to one
conclusion; all corroborate and confirm one another. The men of
science ridicule them because in so many cases the facts are
imperfectly authenticated, and because in others the action of the
powers is uncertain, dependent on conditions imperfectly ascertained,
and not of that material kind to which material science willingly
submits. But if they be facts, if they relate to any element of human
nature, all these things can be systematically investigated, the true
separated from the false, the proven from the unproven. The powers can
be investigated, their conditions of action laid down. Probably they
may be so developed as to be exercised with comparative certainty,
whether by every one or only by those special constitutions in which
they may inhere. Such investigations will at present only enlist the
attention and care of a few qualified persons, and, that they may be
carried on in peace and safety, should be carried on in secrecy. But
upon them may, I hope, be founded a certainty as regards the higher
side of man's nature not less complete than that which science, by
similar methods, has gradually acquired in regard to its purely
physical aspects.'

"For this end he instituted a secret society, which has subsisted in
constantly increasing strength and cohesion to the present hour. It
has collected evidence, conducted experiments, investigated records,
studied methodically the abnormal phenomena you call occult or
spiritual, and reduced them to something like the certainty of
science. Discoveries from the first curious and interesting have
become more and more complete, practical, and effective. Our results
have surpassed the hopes of our Founder, and transcend in importance,
while they equal in certainty, the contemporary achievements of
physical science,—some of the chief of which belong to us. All that
profound knowledge of human nature could suggest to bring its weakness
to the support of its strength, and enlist both in the work, was done
by our Founder, and by those who have carried out his scheme. The
corporate character of the society, its rites and formularies, its
grades and ranks, are matter of deep interest to all its members, have
linked them together by an inviolable bond, and given them a strength
infinitely greater than numbers without such cohesion could possibly
have afforded. The Founder left us no moral code, imposed on us none
of his own most cherished ethical convictions, as he pledged us to
none of the conclusions which his own occult studies had led him to
anticipate, nearly all of which have been verified by later
investigation. Such rules as he imposed were directed only to the
cohesion and efficiency of the Order. Our creed still consists only of
the two fundamental doctrines; two settled principles only are laid
down by our aboriginal law. We are taught to cultivate the closest
personal affection, the most intimate and binding ties among
ourselves; to defend the Order and one another, whether by strenuous
resistance or severe reprisals, against all who injure us individually
or collectively, and especially against persecutors of the Order. But
the few laws our Founder has left are given in the form of striking
precepts, brief, and often even paradoxical. For example, the law of
defence or reprisal is concentrated in one antithetic phrase:—_Gavart
dax Zveltâ, gavart gedex Zinta_ [Never let the member strike, never
let the Order spare]. As it is a rule with us to embody none of our
symbols, forms, or laws in writing, this manner of statement served to
impress them on the memory, as well as to leave the utmost freedom in
their application, by the gathered experience of ages, and the
prudence of those who had to deal with the circumstances of each
successive period. Another maxim says, 'Who kisses a brother's hand
may kick the Camptâ,' thus enforcing at once the value of ceremonial
courtesy, and the power conferred by union. We observe more ceremony
in family life than others in the most formal public relations. Their
theory of life being utterly utilitarian, no form is observed that
serves no distinct practical purpose. We wish to make life graceful
and elegant, as well as easy. Principles originally inculcated upon us
by the necessity of self-protection have been enforced and graven on
our very nature, by the reaction of our experience against the rough
and harsh relations, the jarring and often unfriendly intercourse, of
external society. Aliens to our Order—that is, ninety-nine hundredths
of our race—take delight in the infliction of petty personal
annoyance, at least never take care not to 'jar each other's
elbow-nerves,' or set on edge the teeth that never bit them. _We_ are
careful not to wound the feelings or even the weaknesses of a brother.
Punctilious courtesy, frank apology for unintentional wrong, is with
us a point of honour. Disputes, when by any chance they arise, are
referred to the arbitration of our chiefs, who never consider their
work done till the disputants are cordially reconciled. Envy, the most
dangerous source of ill-will among men, can hardly exist among us.
Rank has been well earned by its holder, or in a few cases by his
ancestors; and authority is a trust never to be used for its holder's
benefit. Wealth never provokes covetousness, since no member is ever
allowed to be poor. Not only the Order but each member is bound to
take every opportunity of assisting every other by every method within
his power. We employ them, we promote them, we give them the
preference in every kind of patronage at our command. But these
obligations are points of honour rather than of law. Only apostasy or
treason to the Order involve compulsory penalties; and the latter, if
it ever occurred in these days, would be visited with instant
death,—inflicted, as it is inflicted upon irreconcilable enemies, in
such a manner that none could know who passed the sentence, or by whom
it was executed."

"And have you," I asked, "no apostates, as you have no traitors?"

"No," he said. "In the first place, none who has lived among us could
endure to fall into the ordinary Martial life. Secondly, the
foundations of our simple creed are so clear, so capable of being made
apparent to every one, that none once familiar with the evidences can
well cease to believe them."

Here he paused, and I asked, "How is it possible that the means you
employ to punish those who have wronged you should not, in some cases
at least, indicate the person who has employed them?"

"Because," he said, "the means of vengeance are not corporeal; the
agency does not in the least resemble any with which our countrymen,
or apparently your race on Earth, are acquainted. A traitor would be
found dead with no sign of suffering or injury, and the physician
would pronounce that he had died of apoplexy or heart disease. A
persecutor, or one who had unpardonably wronged any of the Children of
the Star, might go mad, might fling himself from a precipice, might be
visited with the most terrible series of calamities, all natural in
their character, all distinctly traceable to natural causes, but
astonishing and even apparently supernatural in their accumulation,
and often in their immediate appropriateness to the character of his
offence. Our neighbours would, of course, destroy the avenger, if they
could find him out—would attempt to exterminate our society, could
they prove its agency."

"But surely your countrymen must either disbelieve in such agency, in
which case they can hardly fear your vengeance, or they must believe
it, and then would deem it just and necessary to retaliate."

"No," he said. "They disbelieve in the possibility while they are
forced to see the fact. It is impossible, they would say, that a man
should be injured in mind or body, reputation or estate, that the
forces of Nature or the feelings of men should be directed against
him, without the intervention of any material agent, by the mere will
of those who take no traceable means to give that will effect. At the
same time, tradition and even authentic history record, what
experience confirms, that every one who has wronged us deeply has come
to some terrible, awe-striking end. Each man would ridicule heartily a
neighbour who should allege such a ground for fearing to injure one of
us; but there is none who is so true to his own unbelief as to do that
which, in every instance, has been followed by signal and awful
disaster. Moreover, we do by visible symbols suggest a relation
between the vengeance and the crime. Over the heart of criminals who
have paid with their lives, no matter by what immediate agency, for
wrong to us, is found after death the image of a small blood-red star;
the only case in which any of our sacred symbols are exposed to
profane eyes."

"Surely," I said, "in the course of generations, and with your
numbers, you must be often watched and traced; and some one spy, on
one out of a million occasions, must have found access to your
meetings and heard and seen all that passed."

"Our meetings," he said, "are held where no human eye can possibly
see, no human ear hear what passes. The Chambers meet in apartments
concealed within the dwellings of individual members. When we meet the
doors are guarded, and can be passed only by those who give a token
and a password. And if these could become known to an enemy, the
appearance of a stranger would lead to questions that would at once
expose his ignorance of our simplest secrets. He would learn nothing,
and would never tell his story to the outer world." ...

Opening the door, or rather window, of his private chamber, Esmo
directed our eyes to a portrait sunk in the wall, and usually
concealed by a screen which fitted exactly the level and the patterns
of the general surface. It displayed, in a green vesture not unlike
his own, but with a gold ribbon and emerald symbol like the cross of
an European knighthood over the right shoulder, a spare soldierly
form, with the most striking countenance I have ever seen; one which,
once seen, none could forget. The white long hair and beard, the
former reaching the shoulders, the latter falling to the belt, were
not only unlike the fashion of this generation, but gave tokens of age
never discerned in Mars for the last three or four thousand years. The
form, though erect and even stately, was that of one who had felt the
long since abolished infirmity of advancing years. The countenance
alone bore no marks of old age. It was full, unwrinkled, firm in
physical as in moral character; calm in the unresisted power of
intellect and will over the passions, serene in a dignity too absolute
and self-contained for pride, but expressing a consciousness of
command over others as evident as the unconscious, effortless command
of self to which it owed its supreme and sublime quietude. The lips
were not set as with a habit of reserve or self-restraint, but close
and even as in the repose to which restraint had never been necessary.
The features were large, clearly defined, and perfect in shape,
proportion, and outline. The brow was massive and broad, but strangely
smooth and even; the head had no single marked development or
deficiency that could have enlightened a phrenologist, as the face
told no tale that a physiognomist could read. The dark deep eyes were
unescapable; while in presence of the portrait you could not for a
moment avoid or forget their living, fixed, direct look into your own.
Even in the painted representation of that gaze, almost too calm in
its absolute mastery to be called searching or scrutinising, yet
seeming to look through the eyes into the soul, there was an almost
mesmeric influence; as if, across the abyss of ten thousand years, the
Master could still control the wills and draw forth the inner thoughts
of the living, as he had dominated the spirits of their remotest
ancestors.




CHAPTER IX - MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.


Next morning Esmo asked me to accompany him on a visit to the seaport
I have mentioned. In the course of this journey I had opportunities of
learning many things respecting the social and practical conditions of
human life and industry on Mars that had hitherto been unknown to me,
and to appreciate the enormous advance in material civilisation which
has accompanied what seems to me, as it would probably seem to any
other Earth-dweller, a terrible moral degeneration. Most of these
things I learned partly from my own observation, partly from the
explanations of my companion; some exclusively from what he told me.
We passed a house in process of building, and here I learned the
manner in which the wonders of domestic architecture, which had so
surprised me by their perfection and beauty, are accomplished. The
material employed in all buildings is originally liquid, or rather
viscous. In the first place, the foundation is excavated to a depth of
two or three feet, the ground beaten hard, and the liquid concrete
poured into the level tank thus formed. When this has hardened
sufficiently to admit of their erection, thin frames of metal are
erected, enclosing the spaces to be occupied by the several outer and
interior walls.

These spaces are filled with the concrete at a temperature of about
80° C. The tracery and the bas-reliefs impressed on the walls are
obtained by means of patterns embossed or marked upon thinner sheets
placed inside the metallic frames. The hardening is effected partly by
sudden cooling, partly by the application of electricity under great
hydraulic pressure. The flat roof is constructed in the same manner,
the whole mass, when the fluid concrete is solidified, being simply
one continuous stone, as hard and cohesive as granite. Where a flat
roof would be liable to give way or break from its own weight, the arch
or dome is employed to give the required strength, and consequently
all the largest Martial buildings are constructed in the form of
vaults or domes. As regards the form of the building, individual or
public taste is absolutely free, it being just as easy to construct
a circular or octagonal as a rectangular house or chamber; but the
latter form is almost exclusively employed for private dwellings. The
jewel-like lustre and brilliancy I have described are given to the
surfaces of the walls by the simultaneous action of cold, electricity,
and pressure, the principle of which Esmo could not so explain as to
render it intelligible to me. Almost the whole physical labour is
done by machinery, from the digging and mixing of the materials to
their conveyance and delivery into the place prepared for them by
the erection of the metallic frames, and from the erection to the
removal of the latter. The translucent material for the windows I have
described is prepared by a separate process, and in distinct factories,
and, ready hardened and cut into sheets of the required size, is
brought to the building and fixed in its place by machinery. It can
be tinted to the taste of the purchaser; but, as a rule, a tintless
crystal is preferred. The entire work of building a large house, from
the foundation to the finishing and removal of the metallic frames,
occupies from half-a-dozen to eighteen workmen from four to eight
days. This, like most other labour in Mars, goes on continuously; the
electric lamps, raised to a great height on hollow metallic poles,
affording by night a very sufficient substitute for the light of the
sun. All work is done by three relays of artisans; the first set
working from noon till evening, the next from evening till morning,
and the third from morning to noon. The Martial day, which consists
of about twenty-four hours forty minutes of our time, is divided in a
somewhat peculiar manner. The two-hour periods, of which "mean" sunrise
and sunset are severally the middle points, are respectively called
the morning and evening _zydau_. Two periods of the same length before
and after noon and midnight are distinguished as the first and second
dark, the first and second mid-day zyda. There remain four intervals
of three hours each, popularly described as the sleeping, waking,
after-sunrise, and fore-sunset zyda respectively. This is the popular
reckoning, and that marked upon the instruments which record time for
ordinary purposes, and by these the meals and other industrial and
domestic epochs are fixed. But for purposes of exact calculation, the
day, beginning an hour before mean sunrise, is distributed into twelve
periods, or antoi, of a little more than two terrestrial hours each.
These again are subdivided by twelve into periods of a little more than
10m., 50s., 2½s., and ⁵⁄₂₄s respectively; but of these the second and
last are alone employed in common speech. The uniform employment of
twelve as the divisor and multiplier in tables of weight, distance,
time, and space, as well as in arithmetical notation, has all the
conveniences of the decimal system of France, and some others besides
due to the greater convenience of twelve as a base. But as regards
the larger divisions of time, the Martials are placed at a great
disadvantage by the absence of any such intermediate divisions as the
Moon has suggested to Terrestrials. The revolutions of the satellites
are too rapid and their periods too brief to be of service in dividing
their year of 668⅔ solar days. Martial civilisation having taken its
rise within the tropics—indeed the equatorial continents, which only
here and there extend far into the temperate zone, and two minor
continents in the southern ocean, are the only well-peopled portions
of the planet—the demarcation of the seasons afforded by the solstices
have been comparatively disregarded. The year is divided into winter
and summer, each beginning with the Equinox, and distinguished as
the North and South summer respectively. But these being exceedingly
different in duration—the Northern half of the planet having a summer
exceeding by seventy-six days that of the Southern hemisphere—are of no
use as accurate divisions of time. Time is reckoned, accordingly, from
the first day of the year; the 669th day being incomplete, and the new
year beginning at the moment of the Equinox with the 0th day. In remote
ages the lapse of time was marked by festivals and holidays occurring
at fixed periods; but the principle of utility has long since abolished
all anniversaries, except those fixed by Nature, and these pass without
public observance and almost without notice.

The climate is comparatively equable in the Northern hemisphere, the
summer of the South being hotter and the winter colder, as the planet
is much nearer the Sun during the former. On an average, the solar
disc seems about half as large as to eyes on Earth; but the continents
lying in a belt around the middle of the planet, nearly the whole of
its population enjoy the advantages of tropical regularity. There are
two brief rainy seasons on the Equator and in its neighbourhood, and
one at each of the tropics. Outside these the cold of winter is
aggravated by cloud and mist. The barometer records from 20 inches to
21 inches at the sea-level. Storms are slight, brief, and infrequent;
the tides are insignificant; and sea-voyages were safe and easy even
before Martial ingenuity devised vessels which are almost independent
of weather. During the greater part of the year a clear sky from the
morning to the evening zyda may be reckoned upon with almost absolute
confidence. A heavy dew, thoroughly watering the whole surface,
rendering the rarity of rain no inconvenience to agriculture, falls
during the earlier hours of the night, which nevertheless remains
cloudy; while the periods of sunset and sunrise are, as I have already
said, marked almost invariably by dense mist, extending from one to
four thousand feet above the sea-level, according to latitude and
season. From the dissipation of the morning to the fall of the evening
mist, the tropical temperature ranges, according to the time of the
day and year, from 24° to 35° C. A very sudden change takes place at
sunset. Except within 28° of the Equator, night frosts prevail during
no small part of the year. Fine nights are at all times chilly, and
men employed out of doors from the fall of the evening to the
dispersal of the morning mists rely on an unusually warm under-dress
of soft leather, as flexible as kid, but thicker, which is said to
keep in the warmth of the body far better than any woven material.
Women who, from whatever reason, venture out at night, wear the
warmest cloaks they can procure. Those of limited means wear a loosely
woven hair or woollen over-robe in lieu of their usual outdoor
garment, resembling tufted cotton. Those who can afford them
substitute for the envelope of down, described a while back, warm skin
or fur overgarments, obtained from the sub-arctic lands and seas, and
furnished sometimes by a creature not very unlike our Polar bear, but
passing half his time in the water and living on fish; sometimes by a
mammal more resembling something intermediate between the mammoth and
the walrus, with the habits of the hippopotamus and a fur not unlike
the sealskin so much affected in Europe.

Outside the city, at a distance protecting it from any unpleasant
vapours, which besides were carried up metallic tubes of enormous
height, were several factories of great extent, some chemical, some
textile, others reducing from their ores, purifying, forging, and
producing in bulk and forms convenient for their various uses, the
numerous metals employed in Mars. The most important of
these—_zorinta_—is obtained from a tenacious soil much resembling
our own clay. [12] It is far lighter than tin, has the colour and
lustre of silver, and never tarnishes, the only rust produced by
oxidation of its surface being a white loose powder, which can be
brushed or shaken off without difficulty. Of this nearly all Martial
utensils and furniture are constructed; and its susceptibility to the
electric current renders it especially useful for mechanical purposes,
electricity supplying the chief if not the sole motive-power employed
in Martial industry. The largest factories, however, employ but a few
hands, the machinery being so perfect as to perform, with very little
interposition from human hands, the whole work, from the first
purification to the final arrangement. I saw a mass of ore as dug out
from the ground put into one end of a long series of machines, which
came out, without the slightest manual assistance, at the close of a
course of operations so directed as to bring it back to our feet, in
the form of a thin sheet of lustrous metal. In another factory a mass
of dry vegetable fibre was similarly transformed by machinery alone
into a bale of wonderfully light woven drapery resembling satin in
lustre, muslin or gauze in texture.

The streets were what, even in the finest and latest-built American
cities, would be thought magnificent in size and admirable in
construction. The roadway was formed of that concrete, harder than
granite, which is the sole material employed in Martial building, and
which, as I have shown, can take every form and texture, from that of
jewels or of the finest marble to that of plain polished slate. Along
each side ran avenues of magnificent trees, whose branches met at a
height of thirty feet over the centre. Between these and the houses
was a space reserved for the passage of light carriages exclusively.
The houses, unlike those in the country, were from two to four stories
in height.

All private dwellings, however, were built, as in the country, around
a square interior garden, and the windows, except those of the front
rooms employed for business purposes, looked out upon this. The space
occupied, however, was of course much smaller than where ground was
less precious, few dwellings having four chambers on the same floor
and front. The footway ran on the level of what we call the first
story, over a part of the roof of the ground floor; and the business
apartments were always the front chambers of the former, while the
stores of the merchants were collected in a single warehouse occupying
the whole of the ground front. No attempt was made to exhibit them as
on Earth. I entered with my host a number of what we should call
shops. In every case he named exactly the article he wanted, and it
was either produced at once or he was told that it was not to be had
there, a thing which, however, seldom happened. The traders are few in
number. One or two firms engaged in a single branch of commerce do the
whole business of an extensive province. For instance, all the textile
fabrics on sale in the province were to be seen in one or other of two
warehouses; all metals in sheets, blocks, and wires in another; in a
third all finished metal-work, except writing materials; all writing,
phonographic, and telegraphic conveniences in a fourth; all furs,
feathers, and fabrics made from these in a fifth. The tradesman sells
on commission, as we say, receiving the goods from the manufacturer,
the farmer, or the State, and paying only for what are sold at the end
of each year, reserving to himself one-twenty-fourth of the price.
Prices, however, do not vary from year to year, save when, on rare
occasions, an adverse season or a special accident affects the supply
and consequently the price of any natural product—choice fruit,
skins, silver, for instance—obtained only from some peculiarly
favoured locality.

The monetary system, like so many other Martial institutions, is
purely artificial and severely logical. It is held that the exchange
value of any article of manufacture or agricultural produce tends
steadily downwards, while any article obtained by mining labour, or
supplied by nature alone, tends to become more and more costly. The
use of any one article of either class as a measure of value tends in
the long-run to injustice either towards creditors or debtors. Labour
may be considered as the most constant in intrinsic value of all
things capable of sale or barter; but the utmost ingenuity of Martial
philosophers has failed to devise a fixed standard by which one kind
of labour can be measured against another, and their respective
productive force, and consequently their value in exchange,
ascertained. One thing alone retains in their opinion an intrinsic
value always the same, and if it increase in value, increases only in
proportion as all produce is obtained in greater quantities or with
greater facility. Land, therefore, is in their estimation
theoretically the best available measure of value—a dogma which has
more practical truth in a planet where population is evenly diffused
and increases very slowly, if at all, than it might have in the
densely but unevenly peopled countries of Europe or Asia. A _staltâ_,
or square of about fifty yards (rather more than half an acre), is the
primary standard unit of value. For purposes of currency this is
represented by a small engraved document bearing the Government stamp,
which can always at pleasure be exchanged for so much land in a
particular situation. The region whose soil is chosen as the standard
lies under the Equator, and the State possesses there some hundreds of
square miles, let out on terms thought to ensure its excellent
cultivation and the permanence of its condition. The immediate
convertibility of each such document, engraven on a small piece of
metal about two inches long by one in breadth, and the fortieth part
of an inch in thickness, is the ultimate cause and permanent guarantee
of its value. Large payments, moreover, have to be made to the State
by those who rent its lands or purchase the various articles of which
it possesses a monopoly; or, again, in return for the services it
undertakes, as lighting roads and supplying water to districts
dependent on a distant source. Great care is taken to keep the issue
of these notes within safe limits; and as a matter of fact they are
rather more valuable than the land they represent, and are in
consequence seldom presented for redemption therein. To provide
against the possibility of such an over-issue as might exhaust the
area of standard land at command of the State, it is enacted that,
failing this, the holder may select his portion of State domain
wherever he pleases, at twelve years' purchase of the rental; but in
point of fact these provisions are theoretically rather than
practically important, since not one note in a hundred is ever
redeemed or paid off. The "square measure," upon which the coinage, if
I may so call it is based, following exactly the measure of length,
each larger area in the ascending scale represents 144 times that
below it. Thus the _styly_ being a little more than a foot, the
_steely_ is about 13 feet, or one-twelfth of the _stâly_; but the
_steeltâ_ (or square steely) is ¹⁄₁₄₄th part of the _stâltâ_. The
_stoltâ_, again, is about 600 yards square, or 360,000 square yards,
144 times the _stâltâ_. The highest note, so to speak, in circulation
represents this last area; but all calculations are made in _staltau_,
or twelfths thereof. The _stâltâ_ will purchase about six ounces of
gold. Notes are issued for the third, fourth, and twelfth parts of
this: values smaller than the latter are represented by a token
coinage of square medals composed of an alloy in which gold and silver
respectively are the principal elements. The lowest coin is worth
about threepence of English money.

Stopping at the largest public building in the city, a central hexagon
with a number of smaller hexagons rising around it, we entered one of
the latter, each side of which might be some 30 feet in length and 15
in height. Here were ranged a large number of instruments on the
principle of the voice-writer, but conveying the sound to a vast
distance along electric wires into one which reverses the
voice-recording process, and repeats the vocal sound itself. Through
one of these, after exchanging a few words with one of the officials
in charge of them, Esmo carried on a conversation of some length, the
instrument being so arranged that while the mouth is applied to one
tube another may be held to the ear to receive the reply. In the
meantime I fell in with one of the officers, apparently very young,
who was strongly interested at the sight of the much-canvassed
stranger, and, perhaps on this account, far more obliging than is
common among his countrymen. From him I learnt that this, with another
method I will presently describe, is the sole means of distant
communication employed in Mars. Those who have not leisure or do not
care to visit one of the offices, never more than twelve-miles distant
from one another, in which the public instruments are kept, can have a
wire conveyed to their own house. Almost every house of any pretension
possesses such a wire. Leading me into the next apartment, my friend
pointed out an immense number of instruments of a box-like shape, with
a slit in which a leaf of about four inches by two was placed. These
were constantly ejected and on the instant mechanically replaced. The
fallen leaves were collected and sorted by the officers present, and
at once placed in one or other of another set of exactly similar
instruments. Any one possessing a private wire can write at his own
desk in the manual character a letter or message on one of these
slips. Placing it in his own instrument, it at once reproduces itself
exactly in his autograph, and with every peculiarity, blot, or
erasure, at the nearest office. Here the copy is placed in the proper
box, and at once reproduced in the office nearest the residence of the
person to whom it is addressed, and forwarded in the same manner to
him. A letter, therefore, covering one of these slips, and saying as
much as we could write in an average hand upon a large sheet of
letter-paper, is delivered within five minutes at most from the time
of despatch, no matter how great the distance.

I remarked that this method of communication made privacy impossible.

"But," replied the official, "how could we possibly have time to
indulge in curiosity? We have to sort hundreds of these papers in an
hour. We have just time to look at the address, place them in the
proper box, and touch the spring which sets the electric current at
work. If secrecy were needed a cipher would easily secure it, for you
will observe that by this telegraph whatever is inscribed on the sheet
is mechanically reproduced; and it would be as easy to send a picture
as a message."

I learnt that a post of marvellous perfection had, some thousand years
ago, delivered letters all over Mars, but it was now employed only for
the delivery of parcels. Perhaps half the commerce of Mars, except
that in metals and agricultural produce, depends on this post.
Purchasers of standard articles describe by the telegraph-letter to a
tradesman the exact amount and pattern of the goods required, and
these are despatched at once; a system of banking, very completely
organised, enabling the buyer to pay at once by a telegraphic order.

When Esmo had finished his business, we walked down, at my request, to
the port. Around three sides of the dock formed by walls, said to be
fifty feet in depth and twenty in thickness, ran a road close to the
water's edge, beyond which was again a vast continuous warehouse. The
inner side was reserved for passenger vessels, and everywhere the
largest ships could come up close, landing either passengers or cargo
without even the intervention of a plank. The appearance of the ships
is very unlike that of Terrestrial vessels. They have no masts or
rigging, are constructed of the zorinta, which in Mars serves much
more effectively all the uses of iron, and differ entirely in
construction as they are intended for cargo or for travel. Mercantile
ships are in shape much like the finest American clippers, but with
broad, flat keel and deck, and with a hold from fifteen to twenty feet
in depth. Like Malayan vessels, they have attached by strong bars an
external beam about fifty feet from the side, which renders
overturning almost impossible. Passenger ships more resemble the form
of a fish, but are alike at both ends. Six men working in pairs four
hours at a time compose the entire crew of the largest ship, and half
this number are required for the smallest that undertakes a voyage of
more than twelve hours.

I may here mention that the system of sewage is far superior to any
yet devised on Earth. No particle of waste is allowed to pollute the
waters. The whole is deodorised by an exceedingly simple process, and,
whether in town or country, carried away daily and applied to its
natural use in fertilising the soil. Our practice of throwing away,
where it is an obvious and often dangerous nuisance, material so
valuable in its proper place, seemed to my Martial friends an
inexplicable and almost incredible absurdity.

As we returned, Esmo told me that he had been in communication with
the Camptâ, who had desired that I should visit him with the least
possible delay.

"This," he said, "will hurry us in matters where I at any rate should
have preferred a little delay. The seat of Government is by a direct
route nearly six thousand miles distant, and you will have opportunity
of travelling in all the different ways practised on this planet. A
long land-journey in our electric carriages, with which you are not
familiar, is, I think, to be avoided. The Camptâ would wish to see
your vessel as well as yourself; but, on the whole, I think it is
safer to leave it where it is. Kevimâ, and I propose to accompany you
during the first part of your journey. At our first halt, we will stay
one night with a friend, that you may be admitted a brother of our
Order."

"And," said I, "what sort of a reception may I expect at the end of my
journey?"

"I think," he answered, "that you are more likely to be embarrassed by
the goodwill of the Camptâ than by the hostility of some of those
about him. His character is very peculiar, and it is difficult to
reckon upon his action in any given case. But he differs from nearly
all his subjects in having a strong taste for adventure, none the less
if it be perilous; and since his position prevents him from indulging
this taste in person, he is the more disposed to take extreme interest
in the adventures of others. He has, moreover, a great value for what
you call courage, a virtue rarely needed and still more rarely shown
among us; and I fancy that your venture through space has impressed
him with a very high estimate of your daring. Assuredly none of us,
however great his scientific curiosity, would have dreamed of
incurring such a peril, and incurring it alone. But I must give you
one warning. It is not common among us to make valuable gifts: we do
not care enough for any but ourselves to give except with the idea of
getting something valuable in return. Our princes are, however, so
wealthy that they can give without sacrifice, and it is considered a
grave affront to refuse any present from a superior. Whatever, then,
our Suzerain may offer you—and he is almost sure, unless he should
take offence, to give you whatever he thinks will induce you to settle
permanently in the neighbourhood of his Court—you must accept
graciously, and on no account, either then or afterwards, lead him to
think that you slight his present."

"I must say," I replied, "that while I wish to remain in your world
till I have learnt, if not all that is to be learnt, yet very much
more than I at present know about it, the whole purpose of my voyage
would be sacrificed if I could not effect my return to Earth."

"I suppose so," he answered, "and for that reason I wish to keep your
vessel safe and within your reach; for to get away at all you may have
to depart suddenly. But you will not do wisely to make the Prince
suspect that such is your intention. Tell him of what you wish to see
and to explore in this world; tell him freely of your own, for he will
not readily fancy that you prefer it to this; but say as little as
possible of your hopes of an ultimate return, and, if you are forced
to acknowledge them, let them seem as indefinite as possible."

By this time, returning by another road, Esmo stopped the carriage at
the gate of an enclosed garden of moderate size, about two miles from
Ecasfe. Entering alone, he presently returned with another gentleman,
wearing a dress of grey and silver, with a white ribbon over the
shoulder; a badge, I found, of official rank or duties. Mounting his
own carriage, this person accompanied us home.




CHAPTER X - WOMAN AND WEDLOCK.


We arrived at home in the course of some few minutes, and here my host
requested us to wait in the hall, where in about half-an-hour he
rejoined us, accompanied by all the members of his family, the ladies
all closely veiled. Looking among them instinctively for Eveena, I
observed that she had exchanged her usual light veil for one fuller
and denser, and wore, contrary to the wont of maidens indoors, sleeves
and gloves. She held her father's hand, and evinced no little
agitation or alarm. The visitor stood by a table on which had been
placed the usual pencils or styles, and a sort of open portfolio, on
one side of which was laid a small strip of the golden tafroo,
inscribed with crimson characters of unusual size, leaving several
blanks here and there. Most of these he filled up, and then, leading
forward his daughter, Esmo signed to me also to approach the table.
The others stood just behind us, and the official then placed the
document in Eveena's hand. She looked through it and replaced it on
the table with the gesture of assent usual among her people, inclining
her head and raising her left hand to her lips. The document was then
handed to me, but I, of course, was unable to read it. I said so, and
the official read it aloud:—

"Between Eveena, daughter of Esmo dent Ecasfen, and —— [13]
_reclamomortâ_ (the alleged arch-traveller), covenant: Eveena will
live with —— in wedlock for two years, foregoing during that period
the liberty to quit his house, or to receive any one therein save by
his permission. In consideration whereof he will maintain her,
clothing her to her satisfaction, at a cost not exceeding five stâltau
by the year. He will provide for any child or children she may bear
while living with him, or within twice twelve dozen days thereafter.
And if at any time he shall dismiss her or permit her to leave him, or
if she shall desire to leave him after the expiration of eight years,
he will ensure to her for her life an annual payment of fifteen
stâltau. Neither shall appeal to a court of law or public authority
against the other on account of anything done during the time they
shall live together, except for attempt to kill or for grave bodily
injury."

Such is the form of marriage covenant employed in Mars. The occasion
was unfit for discussion, and I simply intimated my acceptance of the
covenants, on which Eveena and myself forthwith were instructed to
write our names where they appear in the above translation. The
official then inquired whether I recognised the lady standing beside
me as Eveena, daughter of Esmo. It then struck me that, though I felt
pretty certain of her identity, marriage under such conditions might
occasionally lead to awkward mistakes. There was no such difference
between my bride and her companions as, but for her dress and her
agitation, would have enabled me positively to distinguish them,
veiled and silent as all were. I expressed no doubt, however, and the
official then proceeded to affix his own stamp to the document; and
then lifting up that on which our names had actually been written,
showed that, by some process I hardly understand, the signature had
been executed and the agreement filled up in triplicate, the officer
preserving one copy, the others being given to the bride and
bridegroom respectively. The ladies then retired, Esmo, his son, and
the official remaining, when two ambau brought in a tray of
refreshments. The official tasted each article offered to him,
evidently more as a matter of form than of pleasure. I took this
opportunity to ask some questions regarding the Martial cuisine, and
learnt that all but the very simplest cookery is performed by
professional confectioners, who supply twice a day the households in
their vicinity; unmarried men taking their meals at the shop. The
preparation of fruit, roasted grain, beverages consisting of juices
mixed with a prepared nectar, and the vegetables from the garden,
which enter into the composition of every meal, are the only culinary
cares of the ladies of the family. Everything can be warmed or
freshened on the stove which forms a part of that electric machinery
by which in every household the baths and lights are supplied and the
house warmed at night. The ladies have therefore very little household
work, and the greater part of this is performed under their
superintendence by the animals, which are almost as useful as any
human slaves on earth, with the one unquestionable advantage that they
cannot speak, and therefore cannot be impertinent, inquisitive, or
treacherous. No fermented liquors form part of the Martial diet; but
some narcotics resembling haschisch and opium are much relished. When
the official had retired, I said to my host—

"I thought it best to raise no question or objection in signing the
contract put before me with your sanction; but you must be aware, in
the first place, that I have no means here of performing the pecuniary
part of the covenant, no means of providing either maintenance or
pin-money."

The explanation of the latter phrase, which was immediately demanded,
produced not a little amusement, after which Esmo replied gravely—

"It will be very easy for you, if necessary, to realise a competence
in the course of half a year. A book relating your adventures, and
describing the world you have left, would bring you in a very
comfortable fortune; and you might more than double this by giving
addresses in each of our towns, which, if only from the curiosity our
people would entertain to see you with their own eyes, would attract
crowded audiences. You could get a considerable sum for the exclusive
right to take your likeness; and, if you chose to explain it, you
might fix your own price on the novel motive power you have
introduced. But there is another point in regard to the contract which
you have overlooked, but which I was bound to bear in mind. What you
have promised is, I believe, what Eveena would have obtained from any
suitor she was likely to accept. But since you left the matter
entirely to my discretion, I am bound to make it impossible that you
should be a loser; and this document (and he handed me a small slip
very much like that which contained the marriage covenant) imposes on
my estate the payment of an income for Eveena's life equal to that you
have promised her."

With much reluctance I found myself obliged to accept a dowry which,
however natural and proper on Earth, was, I felt, unusual in Mars. I
may say that such charges do not interfere with the free sale of land.
They are registered in the proper office, and the State trustee
collects them from the owner for the time being as quit-rents are
collected in Great Britain or land revenue in India. Turning to
another but kindred question, I said—

"Your marriage contract, like our own laws, appears to favour the
weaker sex more than strict theoretical equality would permit. This is
quite right and practically inevitable; but it hardly agrees with the
theory which supposes bride and bridegroom, husband and wife, to enter
on and maintain a coequal voluntary partnership."

"How so?" he inquired.

"The right of divorce," I said, "at the end of two years belongs to
the wife alone. The husband cannot divorce her except under a heavy
penalty."

"Observe," he answered, "that there is a grave practical inequality
which even theory can hardly ignore. The wife parts with something by
the very fact of marriage. At the end of two years, when she has borne
two, three, or four children, her value in marriage is greatly
lessened. Her capacity of maintaining herself, in the days when women
did work, was found practically to be even smaller than before
marriage. You may say that this really amounts to a recognition by
custom of the natural inequality denied by law; but at any rate, it is
an inequality which it was scarcely possible to overlook. Examine the
practical working of the covenants, and you will find that in
affecting to treat unequals as equals they merely make the weaker the
slave of the stronger."

"Surely," I said, "husband and wife are so far equal, where neither is
tied to the children, that each can make the other heartily glad to
assent to a divorce."

"Perhaps, where law interferes to enforce monogamy, and thereby to
create an artificial equality of mutual dependence. But our law cannot
dictate to equals, whose sex it ignores, the terms or numbers of
partnership. So, the terms of the contract being voluntary, men of
course insist on excluding legal interference in household quarrels;
and before the prohibitive clause was generally adopted, legal
interposition did more harm than good. As you will find, equality
before the law gives absolute effect to the real inequality, and
chiefly through its coarsest element, superior physical force. The
liberty that is a necessary logical consequence of equality takes from
the woman her one natural safeguard—the man's need of her goodwill,
if not of her affection."

"In our world," I replied, "I always held that even slaves, so they be
household slaves, are secure against gross cruelty. The owner cannot
make life a burden to them without imperilling his own. To reduce the
question to its lowest terms—malice will always be a match for
muscle, and poison an efficient antidote to the _ferula_."

"So," rejoined Esmo, "our men have perceived, and consequently they
have excepted attempts to murder, as the women have excepted serious
bodily injury, from the general rule prohibiting appeals to a court of
law."

"And," said I, "are there many such appeals?"

"Not one in two years," he replied; "and for a simple reason. Our law,
as matter of course and of common sense, puts murder, attempted or
accomplished, on the same footing, and visits both with its supreme
penalty. Consequently, a wife detected in such an attempt is at her
husband's mercy; and if he consent to spare her life, she must submit
to any infliction, however it may transgress the covenanted limit. In
fact, if he find her out in such an attempt, he may do anything but
put her to death on his own authority."

"Still," I answered, "as long as she remains in the house, she must
have frequent opportunity of repeating her attempt at revenge; and to
live in constant fear of assassination would break down the strongest
nerves."

"Our physicians," he said, "are more skilful in antidotes than our
women in poisons, even when the latter have learned chemistry. No
poisonous plants are grown near our houses; and as wives never go out
alone, they have little chance of getting hold of any fatal drug. I
believe that very few attempts to poison are successful, and that many
women have suffered very severely on mere suspicion."

"And what," I asked, "is the legal definition of 'grave bodily
injury'?"

"Injury," he said, "of which serious traces remain at the end of
twenty-four days; the destruction of a limb, or the deprivation,
partial or total, of a sense. I have often thought bitterly," he
continued, "of that boasted logic and liberality of our laws under
which my daughters might have to endure almost any maltreatment from
their husbands, so long as these have but the sense not to employ
weapons that leave almost ineffaceable marks. This is one main reason
why we so anxiously avoid giving them save to those who are bound by
the ties of our faith to treat them as kindly as children—for whom,
at the worst, they remain sisters of the Order. If women generally had
parents, our marriage law could never have carried out the fiction of
equality to its logical perfection and practical monstrosity."

"Equality, then, has given your women a harder life and a worse
position than that of those women in our world who are, not only by
law but by fact and custom, the slaves of their husbands?"

"Yes, indeed," he said; "and our proverbs, though made by men, express
this truth with a sharpness in which there is little exaggeration. Our
school textbooks tell us that action and reaction are equal and
opposite; and this familiar phrase gives meaning to the saw, _Pelmavè
dakâl dakè,_ 'She is equal, the thing struck to the hammer,' meaning
that woman's equality to man is no more effective than the reaction of
the leather on the mallet. 'Bitterer smiles of twelve than tears of
ten' (referring to the age of marriage). _Thleen delkint treen lalfe
zevleen_, ''Twixt fogs and clouds she dreams of stars.'"

"What _does_ that mean?"

"Would you not render it in the terminology of the hymn you translated
for us, 'Between Purgatory and Hell, one dream of Heaven?' Still
puzzled? 'Between the harshness of school and the misery of marriage,
the illusions of the bride.' Again, _Zefoo zevleel, zave marneel,
clafte cratheneel_, 'A child [cries] for the stars, a maiden for the
matron's dress, a woman for her shroud.'"

"Do you mean to say that that is not exaggerated?"

"I suppose it is, as women are even less given to suicide than men.
That is perhaps the ugliest proverb of its kind. I will only quote one
more, and that is two-edged—

 "'Fool he who heeds a woman's tears, to woman's tongue replies;
   Fool she who braves man's hand—but when was man or woman wise?'"

Here Zulve came to the door and made a sign to her husband. Waiting
courteously to ascertain that I had finished speaking, and until his
son had somewhat ceremoniously taken leave of me, he led me to the
door of a chamber next to that I had hitherto occupied. Pausing here
himself, he motioned me to go on, and the door parting, I found myself
in a room I had not before entered, about the same size as my own and
similarly furnished, but differently coloured, now communicating with
it by a door which I knew had not previously existed. Here were
Eveena's mother and sister, dressed as usual.

Eveena herself had exchanged her maiden white for the light pink of a
young matron, but was closely veiled in a similar material. Her mother
and sister kissed her with much emotion, though without the tears and
lamentations, real or affected, with which—alike among the nomads of
Asia and the most cultivated races of Europe—even those relatives who
have striven hardest to marry a daughter or sister think it necessary
to celebrate the fulfilment of their hopes, and the termination of
their often prolonged and wearisome labours. I was then left alone
with my bride, who remained half-seated, half-crouching on the
cushions in a corner of the room. I could not help feeling keenly how
much a marriage so unceremonious and with so little previous
acquaintance, or rather so great a reserve and distance in our former
intercourse, intensified the awkwardness many a man on Earth feels
when first left alone with the partner of his future life. But a
single glance at the small drooping figure half-hidden in the cushions
brought the reflection that a situation, embarrassing to the
bridegroom, must be in the last degree alarming and distressing to the
bride. But for her visit to the Astronaut we should have been almost
strangers; I could hardly have recognised even her voice. I must,
however, speak; and naturally my first sentence was a half-articulate
request that she would remove her veil.

"No," she whispered, rising, "_you_ must do that."

Taking off the glove of her left hand, she came up to me shyly and
slowly, and placed it in my right—a not unmeaning ceremony. Having
obeyed her instruction, my lips touched for the first time the brow of
my young wife. That she was more than shy and startled, was even
painfully agitated and frightened, became instantly apparent now that
her countenance was visible. What must be the state of Martial brides
in general, when the signature of the contract immediately places them
at the disposal of an utter stranger, it was beyond the power of my
imagination to conceive, if their feelings were at all to be measured
by Eveena's under conditions sufficiently trying, but certainly far
better than theirs. Nothing was so likely to quiet her as perfect
calmness on my side; and, though with a heart beating almost as fast
as her own, if with very different emotions, I led her gently back to
her place, and resting on a cushion just out of reach, began to talk
to her. Choosing as the easiest subject our adventure of yesterday, I
asked what could have induced her to place herself in a situation so
dangerous.

"Do not be angry with me now," she pleaded. "I am exceedingly fond of
flowers; they have been my only amusement except the training of my
pets. You can see how little women have to do, how little occupation
or interest is permitted us. The rearing of rare flowers, or the
creation of new ones, is almost the only employment in which we can
find exercise for such intelligence as we possess. I had never seen
before the flower that grew on that shelf. I believe, indeed, that it
only grows on a few of our higher mountains below the snow-line, and I
was anxious to bring it home and see what could be made of it in the
garden. I thought it might be developed into something almost as
beautiful as that bright _leenoo_ you admired so greatly in my
flower-bed."

"But," said I, "the two flowers are not of the same shape or colour;
and, though I am not learned in botany, I should say hardly belong to
the same family."

"No," she said. "But with care, and with proper management of our
electric apparatus, I accomplished this year a change almost as great.
I can show you in my flower-bed one little white flower, of no great
beauty and conical in shape, from which I have produced in two years
another, saucer-shaped, pink, and of thrice the size, almost exactly
realising an imaginary flower, drawn by my sister-in-law to represent
one of which she had dreamed. We can often produce the very shape,
size, and colour we wish from something that at first seems to have no
likeness to it whatever; and I have been told that a skilful farmer
will often obtain a fruit, or, what is more difficult, an animal, to
answer exactly the ideal he has formed."

"Some of our breeders," I said, "profess to develop a sort of ideal of
any given species; but it takes many generations, by picking and
choosing those that vary in the right direction, to accomplish
anything of the kind; and, after all, the difference between the
original and the improved form is mere development, not essential
change."

She hardly seemed to understand this, but answered—

"The seedling or rootlet would be just like the original plant, if we
did not from the first control its growth by means of our electric
frames. But if you will allow me, I will show you to-morrow what I
have done in my own flower-bed, and you will have opportunities of
seeing afterwards how very much more is done by agriculturists with
much more time and much more potent electricities."

"At any rate," I said, "if I had known your object, you certainly
should have had the flowers for which you risked so much: and if I
remain here three days longer, I promise you plenty of specimens for
your experiment."

"You do not mean to go back to the Astronaut?" she asked, with an air
of absolute consternation.

"I had not intended to do so," I replied, "for it seems to be
perfectly safe under your father's seal and your stringent laws of
property. But now, if time permit, I must get these flowers to which
you tell me I am so deeply indebted."

"You are very kind," returned Eveena earnestly, "but I entreat you not
to venture there again. I should be utterly miserable while you were
running such a risk again, and for such a trifle."

"It is no such terrible risk to me, and to please you is not quite a
trifle. Besides, I ought to deserve my prize better than I have yet
done. But you seem to have some especial spite against the unlucky
vessel that brought me here; and that," I added, smiling, "seems
hardly gracious in a bride of an hour."

"No, no!" she murmured, evidently much distressed; "but the vessel
that brought you here may take you away."

"I will not pain you yet by saying that I hope it may. At all events,
it shall not do so till you are content that it should."

She made no answer, and seemed for some time to hesitate, as if afraid
or unwilling to say something which rose irrepressibly to her lips. A
few persuasive words, however, encouraged her, and she found her
voice, though with a faltering accent, which greatly surprised me when
I learned at last the purport of her request.

"I do not understand," she said, "your ideas or customs, but I know
they are different from ours. I have found at least that they make you
much more indulgent and tender to women than our own; and I hope,
therefore, you will forgive me if I ask more than I have any right to
do."

"I could scarcely refuse my bride's first request, whatever it might
be. But your hesitation and your apologies might make me fear that you
are about to ask something which one or both of us may wish hereafter
had neither been asked nor granted."

She still hesitated and faltered, till I began to fancy that her wish
must have a much graver import than I at first supposed. Perhaps to
treat the matter lightly and sportively would be the course most
likely to encourage her to explain it.

"What is it, child," I asked, "which you think the stranger of another
world more likely to grant than one of your own race, and which is so
extravagant, nevertheless, that you tremble to ask it even from me? Is
it too much to be bound not to appeal against me to the law, which
cannot yet determine whether I am a reality or a fiction? Or have I
proved my arm a little too substantial? Must the giant promise not to
exercise the masculine prerogative of physical force safely conceded
to the dwarf? Fie, Eveena! I am almost afraid to touch you, lest I
should hurt you unawares; lest tenderness itself should transgress the
limit of legal cruelty, and do grave bodily harm to a creature so much
more like a fairy than a woman!"

"No, no!" she expostulated, not at all reciprocating the jesting tone
in which I spoke. "If you would consent to give such a promise, it is
just one of those we should wish unmade. How could I ask you to
promise that I may behave as ill as I please? I dare say I shall be
frightened to tears when you are angry; but I shall never wish you to
retain your anger rather than vent it and forgive. The proverb says,
'Who punishes pardons; who hates awaits.' No, pray do not play with
me; I am so much in earnest. I know that I don't understand where and
why your thoughts and ways are so unlike ours. But—but—I thought—I
fancied—you seemed to hold the tie between man and wife something
more—faster—more lasting—than—our contract has made it."

"Certainly! With us it lasts for life at least; and even here, where
it may be broken at pleasure, I should not have thought that, on the
very bridal eve, the coldest heart could willingly look forward to its
dissolution."

She was too innocent of such a thought—perhaps too much absorbed by
her own purpose—to catch the hint of unjust reproach.

"Well, then," she said, with a desperate effort, in a voice that
trembled between the fear of offending by presumption or exaction, and
the desire to give utterance to her wish—"I want ... will you say
that—if by that time you do not think that I have been too faulty,
too undeserving—that I shall go with you when you quit this world?"
And, her eagerness at last overpowering her shyness, she looked up
anxiously into my face.

We wholly misconceived each other. She drooped in bitter
disappointment, mistaking my blank surprise for displeasure; her words
brought over my mind a rush of that horror with which I ever recall
the scenes I witnessed but too often at Indian funerals.

"That, of course, will rest with yourself. But even should I hereafter
deserve and win such love as would prompt the wish, I trust you will
never dream of cutting short your life because—in the ordinary course
of nature—mine should end long before the term of yours."

Her face again brightened, and she looked up more shyly but not less
earnestly.

"I did not make my meaning clear," she replied. "I spoke not, as my
father sometimes speaks, of leaving this world, when he means to
remind us that death is only a departure to another; though that was,
not so long ago, the only meaning the words could bear. I was thinking
of your journey, and I want you to take me with you when you go."

"You have quite settled in your own mind that I shall go! And in truth
you have now removed, as you yesterday created, the only obstacle. If
you would not go with me, I might, rather than give you up, have given
up the whole purpose of my enterprise, and have left my friends, and
the world from which I came, ignorant whether it had ever been
accomplished. But if you accompany me, I shall certainly try to regain
my own planet."

"Then," she said hopefully, but half confidently, "when you go, if I
have not given you cause of lasting displeasure, you _will_ take me
with you? Most men do not think much of promises, especially of
promises made to women; but I have heard you speak as if to break a
plighted word were a thing impossible."

"I promise," I returned earnestly, very much moved by a proof of real
affection such as I had no right to expect, and certainly had not
anticipated. "I give you the word of one who has never lied, that if,
when the time comes, you wish to go with me, you shall. But by that
time, you will probably have a better idea what are the dangers you
are asking to share."

"What can that matter?" she answered. "I suppose in almost any case we
should escape or die together? To leave me here is to inflict
certainly, and at once, the worst that can possibly befall me; to take
me gives me the hope of living or dying with you; and even if I were
killed, I should be with you, and feel that you were kind to me, to
the last."

"I little thought," said I, hesitating long for some expression of
tenderness, which the language of Mars refuses to furnish,—"I little
thought to find in a world of which selfishness seems to be the
paramount principle, and the absence of real love even between man and
woman the most prevalent characteristic, a wife so true to the best
and deepest meaning of wedlock. Still less could I have hoped to find
such a wife in one who had scarcely spoken to me twenty-four hours
before our marriage. If my unexampled adventure had had no other
reward—if I had cared nothing for the triumph of discovering a new
world with all its wonders—Eveena, this discovery alone is reward in
full for all my studies, toils, and perils. For all I have done and
risked already, for all the risks of the future, I am tenfold repaid
in winning you."

She looked up at these words with an expression in which there was
more of bewilderment and incredulity than of satisfaction, evidently
touched by the earnestness of my tone, but scarcely understanding my
words better than if I had spoken in my own tongue. It would not be
worth while to record the next hour's conversation; I would only note
the strong and painful impression it left upon my mind. There was in
Eveena's language and demeanour a timidity—a sort of tentative
fearful venturing as on dangerous ground, feeling her way, as it were,
in almost every sentence—which could not be wholly attributed to the
shyness of a very young and very suddenly wedded bride. There was
enough and to spare of this shyness; but more of the sheer physical or
nervous fear of a child suddenly left in hands whose reputed severity
has thoroughly frightened her; not daring to give offence by silence,
but afraid at each word to give yet more fatal offence in speaking.
Longer experience of a world in which even the first passion of love
is devoid of tenderness—in which asserted equality has long since
deprived women of that claim to indulgence which can only rest on
acknowledged weakness—taught me but too well the meaning of this
fearful, trembling anxiety to please, or rather not to offend. I
suppose that even a brutal master hardly likes to see a child cower in
his presence as if constantly expecting a blow; and this cowering was
so evident in my bride's demeanour, that, after trying for a couple of
hours to coax her into confidence and unreserved feminine fluency, I
began to feel almost impatient. It was fortunate that, just as my tone
involuntarily betrayed to her quick and watchful ear some shade of
annoyance, just as I caught a furtive upward glance that seemed to ask
what error she had committed and how it might be repaired, a
scratching on the door startled her. She did not, however, venture to
disengage herself from the hand which now held her own, but only moved
half-imperceptibly aside with a slight questioning look and gesture,
as if tacitly asking to be released. As I still held her fast, she was
silent, till the unnoticed scratching had been two or three times
repeated, and then half-whispered, "Shall I tell them to come in?"
When I released her, there appeared to my surprise at her call, no
human intruder, but one of the ambau, bearing on a tray a goblet,
which, as he placed it on a table beside us, I perceived to contain a
liquid rather different from any yet offered me. The presence of these
mute servants is generally no more heeded than that of our cats and
dogs; but I now learnt that Martial ideas of delicacy forbid them,
even as human servants would be forbidden, to intrude unannounced on
conjugal privacy. When the little creature had departed, I tasted the
liquid, but its flavour was so unpleasant that I set down the vessel
immediately. Eveena, however, took it up, and drinking a part of it,
with an effort to control the grimace of dislike it provoked, held it
up to me again, so evidently expecting and inviting me to share it
that courtesy permitted no further demur. A second sign or look, when
I set it down unemptied, induced me to finish the draught. Regarding
the matter as some trivial but indispensable ceremonial, I took no
further notice of it; but, thankful for the diversion it had given to
my thoughts, continued my endeavours to soothe and encourage my fair
companion. After a few minutes it seemed as if she were somewhat
suddenly gaining courage and confidence. At the same time I myself
became aware of a mental effect which I promptly ascribed to the
draught. Nor was I wrong. It contained one of those drugs which I have
mentioned; so rarely used in this house that I had never before seen
or tasted any of them, but given, as matter of course, on any occasion
that is supposed to involve unusual agitation or make an exceptional
call on nerves or spirits. But for the influence of this cup I should
still have withheld the remark which, nevertheless, I had resolved to
make as soon as I could hope to do so without annoying or alarming
Eveena.

"Are you afraid of me?" I asked somewhat abruptly. The question may
have startled her, but I was more startled by the answer.

"Of course," she said in a tone which would have been absolutely
matter of fact, except that the doubt evidently surprised her. "Ought
I not to be so? But what made you ask? And what had I done to
displease you, just before they sent us the 'courage cup'?"

"I did not mean to show anything like displeasure," I replied. "But I
was thinking then, and I may tell you now, that you remind me not of
the women of my own Earth, but of petted children suddenly transferred
to a harsh school. You speak and look like such a child, as if you
expected each moment at least to be severely scolded, if not beaten,
without knowing your fault."

"Not yet," she murmured, with a smile which seemed to me more painful
than tears would have been. "But please don't speak as if I should
fear anything so much as being scolded by you. We have a saying that
'the hand may bruise the skin, the tongue can break the heart.'"

"True enough," I said; "only on Earth it is mostly woman's tongue that
breaks the heart, and men must not in return bruise the skin."

"Why not?" she asked. "You said to my mother the other day that Argâ
(the fretful child of Esmo's adoption) deserved to be beaten."

"Women are supposed," I answered, "to be amenable to milder
influences; and a man must be drunk or utterly brutal before he could
deal harshly with a creature so gentle and so fragile as yourself."

"Don't spoil me," she said, with a pretty half-mournful, half-playful
glance. "'A petted bride makes an unhappy wife.' Surely it is no true
kindness to tempt us to count on an indulgence that cannot last."

"There is among us," I rejoined, "a saying about 'breaking a butterfly
on the wheel'—as if one spoke of driving away the tiny birds that
nestle and feed in your flowers with a hammer. To apply your proverbs
to yourself would be to realise this proverb of ours. Can you not let
me pet and spoil my little flower-bird at least till I have tamed her,
and trust me to chastise her as soon as she shall give reason—if I
can find a tendril or flower-stem light enough for the purpose?"

"Will you promise to use a hammer when you wish to be rid of her?"
said she, glancing up for one moment through her drooping lashes with
a look exactly attuned to the mingled archness and pathos of her tone.




CHAPTER XI - A COUNTRY DRIVE.


Like all Martialists, I had been accustomed since my landing to wake
with the first light of dawn; but the draught, though its earlier
effects were anything but narcotic or stupifying, deepened and
prolonged my sleep. It was not till the rays of sunlight came clear
and full through the crystal roof of the peristyle, and the window of
our bridal chamber, that my eyes unclosed. The first object on which
they opened startled me into full waking recollection. Exactly where
the sunbeams fell, just within reach of my hand, Eveena stood; the
loveliest creature I ever beheld, a miniature type of faultless
feminine grace and beauty. By the standard of Terrestrial humanity she
was tiny rather than small: so light, so perfect in proportion, form,
and features, so absolutely beautiful, so exquisitely delicate, as to
suggest the ideal Fairy Queen realised in flesh and blood, rather than
any properly human loveliness. In the transparent delicacy of a
complexion resembling that of an infant child of the fairest and most
tenderly nurtured among the finest races of Europe, in the ideally
perfect outline of face and features—the noble but even forehead—the
smooth, straight, clearly pencilled eyebrows—the large almond-shaped
eyes and drooping lids, with their long, dark, soft fringe—the little
mouth and small, white, even regular teeth—the rosy lips, slightly
compressed, save when parted in speech, smile, or eager attention—she
exhibited in their most perfect but by no means fullest development
the characteristics of Martial physiognomy; or rather the
characteristic beauty of a family in which the finest traits of that
physiognomy are unmixed with any of its meaner or harsher
peculiarities. The hands, long, slight, and soft, the unsandalled
feet, not less perfectly shaped, could only have belonged to the child
of ancestors who for more than a hundred generations have never known
hard manual toil, rough exposure, or deforming, cramping costume; even
as every detail of her beauty bore witness to an immemorial
inheritance of health unbroken by physical infirmity, undisturbed by
violent passions, and developed by an admirable system of physical and
mental discipline and culture. The absence of veil and sleeves left
visible the soft rounded arms and shoulders, in whose complexion a
tinge of pale rose seemed to shine through a skin itself of
translucent white; the small head, and the perfection of the slender
neck, with the smooth unbroken curve from the ear to the arm. Her long
hair, fastened only by a silver band woven in and out behind the small
rounded ears, fell almost to her knee; and, as it caught the bright
rays of the morning sun, I discerned for the first time the full
beauty of that tinge of gold which varied the colour of the rich,
soft, brown tresses. As her sex are seldom exposed to the cold of the
night or the mists, their underclothing is slight and close fitting.
Eveena's thin robe, of the simplest possible form—two wide straight
pieces of a material lustrous as satin but rivalling the finest
cambric in texture (lined with the same fabric reversed), sewn
together from the hem of the skirt to the arm, and fastened again by
the shoulder clasps—fell perfectly loose save where compressed by the
zone or by the movements of the wearer; and where so compressed,
defined the outlines of the form as distinctly as the lightest wet
drapery of the studio. Her dress, in short, achieved in its pure
simplicity all at which the artistic skill of matrons, milliners, and
maidens aims in a Parisian ball costume, without a shadow of that
suggestive immodesty from which ball costumes are seldom wholly free.
Exactly reversing Terrestrial practice, a Martial wife reserves for
strictest domestic privacy that undressed full-dress, that frank
revelation of her beauty, which the matrons of London, Paris, or New
York think exclusively appropriate to the most public occasions. Till
now, while still enjoying the liberty allowed to maidens in this
respect, Eveena, by the arrangement of her veil, had always given to
her costume a reserve wholly unexceptionable, even according to the
rules enforced by the customs of Western Europe on young girls not yet
presented in the marriage market of society. A new expression, or one,
at least, which I had never before seen there, gave to her face a
strange and novel beauty; the beauty, I wish to think, of shy, but
true happiness; felt, it may be, for the first time, and softened, I
fear, by a doubt of its possible endurance which rendered it as
touching as attractive. Never was the sleep even of the poet of the
_Midsummer Night's Dream_ visited by a lovelier vision—especially
lovely as the soft rose blush suffused her cheeks under my gaze of
admiration and delight. Springing up, I caught her with both hands and
drew her on my knee. Some minutes passed before either of us cared to
speak. Probably as she rested her head on my arm and looked into my
eyes, each read the other's character more truly and clearly than
words the most frank and open could ever enable us to do. I had taught
her last night a few substitutes in the softest tongue I knew for
those words of natural tenderness in which her language is signally
deficient: taught her to understand them, certainly not to use them,
for it was long before I could even induce her to address me by name.

"My father bade me yesterday," she said at last, "ask you in future to
wear the dress of our people. Not that you will be the less an object
of attention and wonder, but that in retaining a distinction which
depends entirely on your own choice, you will seem intentionally to
prefer your own habits to ours."

"I comply of course," I observed. "Naturally the dress of every
country is best suited to its own conditions. Yet I should have
thought that a preference for my own world, even were it wholly
irrational, might seem at least natural and pardonable."

"People don't," she answered simply, "like any sign of individual
fancy or opinion. They don't like any one to show that he thinks them
wrong even on a matter of taste."

"I fear, then, _carissima_, that I must be content with unpopularity.
I may wear the costume of your people; but their thought, their
conduct, their inner and outer life, as your father reports them, and
as thus far I have seen them, are to me so unnatural, that the more I
resemble them externally the more my unlikeness in all else is likely
to attract notice. I am sorry for this, because women are by nature
prone to judge even their nearest and dearest by the standard of
fashion, and to exact from men almost as close a conformity to that
standard as they themselves display. I fear you will have to forgive
many heresies in my conduct as well as in my thoughts."

"You cannot suppose," she answered earnestly—she seemed incapable of
apprehending irony or jest,—"that I should wish you more like others
than you are. Whatever may happen hereafter, I shall always feel
myself the happiest of women in having belonged to one who cares for
something beside himself, and holds even life cheaper than love."
"I hope so, _carissima_. But in that matter there was scarcely more of
love than of choice. What I did for you I must have done no less for
Zevle [her sister]. If I had feared death as much as the Regent does,
I could not have returned alive and alone. My venture into infinite
space involved possibilities of horror more appalling than the mere
terrors of death. You asked of me as my one bridal gift leave to share
its perils. How unworthy of you should I be, if I did not hold the
possession of Eveena, even for the two years of her promise, well
worth dying for!"

The moral gulf between the two worlds is wider than the material.
Utterly unselfish and trustful, Eveena was almost pained to be
reminded that the service she so extravagantly overprized was rendered
to her sex rather than herself; while yet more deeply gratified,
though still half incredulous, by the commonplace that preferred love
to life. I had yet to learn, however, that Eveena's nature was as
utterly strange in her own world as the ideas in which she was
educated would seem in mine.

I left her for a few minutes to dress for the first time in the
costume which Esmo's care had provided. The single under-vestment of
softest hide, closely fitting from neck to knees, is of all garments
the best adapted to preserve natural warmth under the rapid and
extreme changes of the external atmosphere. The outer garb consisted
of blouse and trousers, woven of a fabric in which a fine warp of
metallic lustre was crossed by a strong silken weft, giving the effect
of a diapered scarlet and silver; both fastened by the belt, a broad
green strap of some species of leather, clasped with gold. Masculine
dress is seldom brilliant, as is that of the women, but convenient and
comfortable beyond any other, and generally handsome and elegant. The
one part of the costume which I could never approve is the sandal,
which leaves the feet exposed to dust and cold. Rejoining my bride, I
said—

"I have had no opportunity of seeing much of this country, and I fancy
from what I have seen of feminine seclusion that an excursion would be
as much a holiday treat to you as to myself. If your father will lend
us his carriage, would you like to accompany me to one or two places
Kevimâ has described not far from this, and which I am anxious to
visit?"

She bent her head, but did not answer; and fancying that the proposal
was not agreeable to her, I added—

"If you prefer to spend our little remaining time here with your
mother and sister, I will ask your brother to accompany me, though I
am selfishly unwilling to part with you to-day."

She looked up for a moment with an air of pain and perplexity, and as
she turned away I saw the tears gather in her eyes.

"What _is_ the matter?" I asked, surprised and puzzled as one on Earth
who tries to please a woman by offering her her own way, and finds
that, so offered, it is the last thing she cares to have. It did not
occur to me that, even in trifles, a Martial wife never dreams that
her taste or wish can signify, or be consulted where her lord has a
preference of his own. To invite instead of commanding her
companionship was unusual; to withdraw the expression of my own wish,
and bid her decide for herself, was in Eveena's eyes to mark formally
and deliberately that I did not care for her society.

"What have I done," she faltered, "to be so punished? I have not, save
the day before yesterday, left the house this year; and you offer me
the greatest of pleasures only to snatch it away the next moment."

"Nay, Eveena!" I answered. "If I had not told you, you must know that
I cannot but wish for your company; but by your silence I fancied you
disliked my proposal, yet did not like to decline it."

The expression of surprise and perplexity in her face, though half
pathetic, seemed so comical that I with difficulty suppressed a laugh,
because for her it was evidently no laughing matter. After giving her
time, as I thought, to recover herself, I said—

"Well, I suppose we may now join them at the morning
meal?"

Something was still wrong, the clue to which I gathered by observing
her shy glance at her head-dress and veil.

"Must you wear those?" I asked—a question which gave her some such
imperfect clue to my thoughts as I had found to hers.

"How foolish of me," she said, smiling, "to forget how little you can
know of our customs! Of course I must wear my veil and sleeves; but
to-day you must put on the veil, as you removed it last night."

The awkwardness with which I performed this duty had its effect in
amusing and cheering her; and the look of happiness and trust had come
back to her countenance before the veil concealed it.

I made my request to Esmo, who answered, with some amusement—

"Every house like ours has from six to a dozen larger or lighter
carriages. Of course they cost nothing save the original purchase.
They last for half a lifetime, and are not costly at the outset. But I
have news for you which, I venture to think, will be as little
agreeable to you as to ourselves. Your journey must begin tomorrow,
and this, therefore, is the only opportunity you will have for such an
excursion as you propose."

"Then," I said, "will Eveena still wish to share it?"

Even her mother's face seemed to ask what in the world that could
matter; but a movement of the daughter's veiled head reminded me that
I was blundering; and pressing her little hand as she lay beside me, I
took her compliance for granted.

The morning mist had given place to hot bright sunshine when we
started. At first our road lay between enclosures like that which
surrounded Esmo's dwelling.

Presently the lines were broken here and there by such fields as I had
seen in descending from Asnyca; some filled with crops of human food,
some with artificial pastures, in which Unicorns or other creatures
were feeding. I saw also more than one field wherein the _carvee_ were
weeding or gathering fruit, piling their burdens in either case as
soon as their beaks were full into bags or baskets. Pointing out to
Eveena the striking difference of colour between the cultivated fields
and gardens and the woods or natural meadows on the mountain sides, I
learned from her that this distinction is everywhere perceptible in
Mars. Natural objects, plants or animals, rocks and soil, are for the
most part of dimmer, fainter, or darker tints than on Earth; probably
owing to the much less intense light of the Sun; partly, perhaps, to
that absorption of the blue rays by the atmosphere, which diminishes,
I suppose, even that light which actually reaches the planet. But
uncultivated ground, except on the mountains above the ordinary range
of crops or pastures, scarcely exists in the belt of Equatorial
continents; the turf itself, like the herbage or fruit shrubs in the
fields, is artificial, consisting of plants developed through long
ages into forms utterly unlike the native original by the skill and
ingenuity of man. Even the great fruit trees have undergone material
change, not only in the size, flavour, and appearance of the fruits
themselves, which have been the immediate object of care, but,
probably through some natural correlation between, the different
organs, in the form and colour of the foliage, the arrangement of the
branches, and the growth of the trunk, all of which are much more
regular, and, so to speak, more perfect, than is the case either here
or on Earth with those left to the control of Nature and locality, or
the effects of the natural competition, which is in its way perhaps as
keen among plants and animals as among men. Martialists have the same
delight in bright colours as Orientals, with far greater taste in
selection and combination; and the favourite hues not only of their
flowers, tame birds, fishes, and quadrupeds, but of plants in whose
cultivation utility has been the primary object, contrast signally, as
I have said, with the dull tints of the undomesticated flora and
fauna, of which comparatively scanty remnants were visible here and
there in this rich country.

Presently we came within sight of the river, over which was a single
bridge, formed by what might be called a tube of metal built into
strong walls on either bank. In fact, however, the sides were of open
work, and only the roof and floor were solid. The river at this, its
narrowest point, was perhaps a furlong in breadth, and it was not
without instinctive uneasiness that I trusted to the security of a
single piece of metal spanning, without even the strength afforded by
the form of the arch, so great a space.

The first object we were to visit lay at some distance down the
stream. As we approached the point, we passed a place where the river
widened considerably. The main channel in the centre was kept clear
and deep to afford an uninterrupted course for navigation; but on
either side were rocks that broke the river into pools and shallows,
such as here, no less than on Earth, form the favourite haunts or
spawning places of the fish. In some of the lesser pools birds larger
than the stork, bearing under the throat an expansible bag like that
of the pelican, were seeking for prey. They were watched and directed
by a master on the shore, and carried to a square tank, fixed on a
wheeled frame not unlike that of the ordinary carriage, which
accompanied him, each fish they took. I observed that the latter were
carefully seized, with the least possible violence or injury, placed
by a jerk head-downmost in the throat-bag, which, though when empty it
was scarcely perceptible, would contain prey of very considerable size
and weight, and as carefully disgorged into the tank. In one of the
most extensive pools, too deep for these birds, a couple of men had
spread a sort of net, not unlike those used on Earth, but formed of
twisted metal threads with very narrow meshes, enclosing the whole
pool, a space of perhaps some 400 square yards. In the centre of this
an electric lamp was let down into the water, some feet below the
surface. The fish crowded towards it, and a sudden shock of
electricity transmitted through the meshes of the net, as well as from
the wires of the lamp circuit, stunned for a few minutes all life
within the enclosure. The fish then floated on the surface, the net
was drawn together, and they were collected and sorted; some which, as
I afterwards learned, were required for breeding, being carefully and
separately preserved in a smaller tank, those fit for food cast into
the larger one, those too small for the one purpose and not needed for
the other being thrown back into the water. I noted, however, that
many fish apparently valuable were among those thus rejected. I spoke
to one of the fishermen, who, regarding me with great surprise and
curiosity, at last answered briefly that a stringent law forbids the
catching of spawning fish except for breeding purposes. Those,
therefore, for which the season was close-time were invariably spared.

In sea-fishing a much larger net, sometimes enclosing more than 10,000
square yards, is employed. This fishing is conducted chiefly at night,
the electric lamp being then much more effective in attracting the
prey, and lowered only a few inches below the surface. Many large
destructive creatures, unfit for food, generally of a nature
intermediate between fish and reptiles, haunt the seas. It is held
unwise to exterminate them, since they do their part in keeping down
an immense variety of smaller creatures, noxious for one reason or
another, and also in clearing the water from carrion and masses of
seaweed which might otherwise taint the air of the sea-coasts,
especially near the mouths of large tropical rivers. But these
sea-monsters devour enormous quantities of fish, and the hunters
appointed to deal with them are instructed to limit their numbers to
the minimum required. Their average increase is to be destroyed each
year. If at any time it appear that, for whatever cause, the total
number left alive is falling off, the chief of this service suspends
it partially or wholly at his discretion.

We now came to the entrance of a vast enclosure bordering on the
river, the greatest fish-breeding establishment on this continent, or
indeed in this world. One of its managers courteously showed me over
it. It is not necessary minutely to describe its arrangements, from
the spawning ponds and the hatching tanks—the latter contained in a
huge building, whose temperature is preserved with the utmost care at
the rate found best suited to the ova—to the multitude of streams,
ponds, and lakes in which the different kinds of fish are kept during
the several stages of their existence. The task of the breeders is
much facilitated by the fact that the seas of Mars are not, like ours,
salt; and though sea and river fish are almost as distinct as on
Earth, each kind having its own habitat, whose conditions are
carefully reproduced in the breeding or feeding reservoirs, the same
kind of water suits all alike. It is necessary, however, to keep the
fishes of tropical seas and streams in water of a very different
temperature from that suited to others brought from arctic or
sub-arctic climates; and this, like every other point affecting the
natural peculiarities and habits of the fish, is attended to with
minute and accurate care. The skill and science brought to bear on the
task of breeding accomplish this and much more difficult operations
with marvellous ease and certainty.

On one of the buildings I observed one of the most remarkable,
largest, and most complete timepieces I had yet seen; and I had on
this occasion an opportunity of examining it closely. The dial was
oblong, enclosed in a case of clear transparent crystal, somewhat
resembling in form the open portion of a mercurial barometer. At the
top were three circles of different colours, divided by twelve
equidistant lines radiating from the centres and subdivided again and
again by the same number. Exactly at the uppermost point of each was a
golden indicator. One of these circles marked the temperature,
graduated from the lowest to the highest degree ever known in that
latitude. Another indicated the direction of the wind, while the depth
of colour in the circle itself, graduated in a manner carefully
explained to me, but my notes of which are lost, showed the exact
force of the atmospheric current. The third served the purpose of a
barometer. A coloured band immediately below indicated by the
variations of tint the character of the coming weather. This band
stretched right across the face; below it were figures indicating the
day of the year. The central portion of the face was occupied by a
larger circle, half-green and half-black; the former portion
representing the colour of the daylight sky, the latter emblematic of
night. On this circle the Sun and the planets were represented by
figures whose movement showed exactly the actual place of each in the
celestial sphere. The two Moons were also figured, their phases and
position at each moment being accurately presented to the eye. Around
this circle was a narrow band divided into strips of different length
of various colours, each representing one of the peculiar divisions of
the Martial day; that point which came under the golden indicator
showing the _zyda_ and the exact moment of the _zyda_, while the
movement of the inner circle fixed with equal accuracy the period of
day or night. Below were other circles from which the observer could
learn the amount of moisture in the atmosphere, the intensity of the
sunlight, and the electric tension at the moment. Each of the six
smaller circles registered on a moving ribbon the indications of every
successive moment, these ribbons when unrolled forming a perfect
record of temperature, atmospheric pressure, wind, and so forth, in
the form of a curve—a register kept for more than 8000 Martial years.

Four times during the revolution of the great circle each large clock
emits for a couple of minutes a species of chime, the nature of which
my ignorance of music renders me unable to describe:—viz., when the
line dividing the green and black semicircles is horizontal at noon
and midnight, and an hour before, at average sunrise and sunset, it
becomes perpendicular. The individual character of the several chimes,
tunes, or peals, whatever they should be called, is so distinct that
even I appreciated it. Further, as the first point of the coloured
strip distinguishing each several _zyda_ reaches the golden indicator,
a single slightly prolonged sound—I fancy what is known on Earth as a
single chord—is emitted. Of these again each is peculiar, so that no
one with an ear for music can doubt what is the period of the day
announced. The sound is never, even in the immediate vicinity of the
clock, unpleasantly loud; while it penetrates to an amazing distance.
It would be perfectly easy, if needful, to regulate all clocks by
mechanical control through the electric network extended all over the
face of the planet; but the perfect accuracy of each individual
timepiece renders any such check needless. In those latitudes where
day and night during the greater part of the year are not even
approximately equal, the black and green semicircles are so enlarged
or diminished by mechanical means, that the hour of the day or night
is represented as accurately as on the Equator itself.

The examination of this establishment occupied us for two or three
hours, and when we remounted our carriage it seemed to me only
reasonable that Eveena should be weary both in mind and body. I
proposed, therefore, to return at once, but against this she earnestly
protested.

"Well," I said, "we will finish our excursion, then. Only remember
that whenever you do feel tired you must tell me at once. I do not
know what exertion you can bear, and of course it would be most
inconsiderate to measure your endurance by my own."

She promised, and we drove on for another hour in the direction of a
range of hills to the north-eastward. The lower and nearer portion of
this range might be 400 feet above the general level of the plain;
beyond, the highest peaks rose to perhaps 1500 feet, the average
summit being about half that height. Where our road brought us to the
foot of the first slope, large groves of the _calmyra_, whose fruit
contains a sort of floury pulp like roasted potato, were planted on
ground belonging to the State, and tenanted by young men belonging to
that minority which, as Esmo had told me not being fortunate enough to
find private employment, is thus provided for. Encountering one of
these, he pointed out to us the narrow road which, winding up the
slope, afforded means of bringing down in waggons during the two
harvest seasons, each of which lasts for about fifty days, the fruit
of these groves, which furnishes a principal article of food. The
trees do not reach to a higher level than about 400 feet; and above
this we had to ascend on foot by a path winding through meadows, which
I at first supposed to be natural. Eveena, however, quickly undeceived
me, pointing out the prevalence of certain plants peculiar to the
cultivated pastures we had seen in the plain. These were so
predominant as to leave no reasonable doubt that they had been
originally sown by the hand of man, though the irregularity of their
arrangement, and the encroachment of one species upon the ground of
another, enabled my companion to prove to me with equal clearness that
since its first planting the pasture had been entirely neglected. It
was, she thought, worth planting once for all with the most nutritious
herbage, but not worth the labour of subsequent close cultivation. Any
lady belonging to a civilised people, and accustomed to a country
life, upon Earth might easily have perceived all that Eveena
discovered; but considering how seldom the latter had left her home,
how few opportunities she had to see anything of practical
agriculture, the quickness of her perception and the correctness of
her inferences not a little surprised me. The path we pursued led
directly to the object of our visit. The waters of the higher hills
were collected in a vast tank excavated in an extensive plateau at the
mid-level. At the summit of the first ascent we met and were escorted
by one of the officials entrusted with the charge of these works,
which supply water of extraordinary purity to a population of perhaps
a quarter of a million, inhabiting a district of some 10,000 square
miles in extent. The tank was about sixty feet in depth, and perhaps a
mile in length, with half that breadth. Its sides and bottom-were
lined with the usual concrete. Our guide informed me that in many
cases tanks were covered with the crystal employed for doors and
windows; but in the-pure air of these hills such a precaution was
thought unnecessary, as it would have been exceedingly costly. The
water itself was of wonderful purity, so clear that the smallest
object at the bottom was visible where the Sun, still high in the
heavens, shone directly upon the surface. But this purity would by no
means satisfy the standard of Martial sanitary science. In the first
place, it is passed into a second division of the tank, where it is
subjected to some violent electric action till every kind of organic
germ it may contain is supposed to be completely destroyed. It is then
passed through several covered channels and mechanically or chemically
cleansed from every kind of inorganic impurity, and finally oxygenated
or aerated with air which has undergone a yet more elaborate
purification. At every stage in this process, a phial of water is
taken out and examined in a dark chamber by means of a beam of light
emanating from a powerful electric lamp and concentrated by a huge
crystal lens. If this beam detect any perceptible dust or matter
capable of scattering the light, the water is pronounced impure and
passed through further processes. Only when the contents of the bottle
remain absolutely dark, in the midst of an atmosphere whose floating
dust renders the beam visible on either side, so that the phial, while
perfectly transparent to the light, nevertheless interrupts the beam
with a block of absolute darkness, is it considered fit for human
consumption. It is then distributed through pipes of concrete, into
which no air can possibly enter, to cisterns equally air-tight in
every house. The water in these is periodically examined by officers
from the waterworks, who ascertain that it has contracted no impurity
either in the course of its passage through hundreds of miles of
piping or in the cisterns themselves. The Martialists consider that to
this careful purification of their water they owe in great measure
their exemption from the epidemic diseases which were formerly not
infrequent. They maintain that all such diseases are caused by organic
self-multiplying germs, and laugh to scorn the doctrine of spontaneous
generation, either of disease, or of even such low organic life as can
propagate it. I suggested that the atmosphere itself must, if their
theory were true, convey the microscopic seeds of disease even more
freely and universally than the water.

"Doubtless," replied our guide, "it would scatter them more widely;
but it does not enable them to penetrate and germinate in the body
half so easily as when conveyed by water. You must be aware that the
lining of the upper air-passages arrests most of the impurities
contained in the inhaled air before it comes into contact with the
blood in the lungs themselves. Moreover, the extirpation of one
disease after another, the careful isolation of all infectious cases,
and the destruction of every article that could preserve or convey the
poisonous germs, has in the course of ages enabled us utterly to
destroy them."

This did not seem to me consistent with the confession that disorders
of one kind or another still not infrequently decimate their
highly-bred domestic animals, however the human race itself may have
been secured against contagion. I did not, however, feel competent to
argue the question with one who had evidently studied physiology much
more deeply than myself; and had mastered the records of an experience
infinitely longer, guided by knowledge far more accurate, than is
possessed by the most accomplished of Terrestrial physiologists.

The examination of these works of course occupied us for a long time,
and obliged us to traverse several miles of ground. More than once I
had suggested to Eveena that we should leave our work unfinished, and
on every opportunity had insisted that she should rest. I had been too
keenly interested in the latter part of the explanation given me, to
detect the fatigue she anxiously sought to conceal; but when we left
the works, I was more annoyed than surprised to find that the walk
down-hill to our carriage was too much for her. The vexation I felt
with myself gave, after the manner of men, some sharpness to the tone
of my remonstrance with her.

"I bade you, and you promised, to tell me as soon as you felt tired;
and you have let me almost tire you to death! Your obedience, however
strict in theory, reminds me in practice of that promised by women on
Earth in their marriage-vow—and never paid or remembered afterwards."

She did not answer; and finding that her strength was utterly
exhausted, I carried her down the remainder of the hill and placed her
in the carriage. During our return neither of us spoke. Ascribing her
silence to habit or fatigue, perhaps to displeasure, and busied in
recalling what I had seen and heard, I did not care to "make
conversation," as I certainly should have done had I guessed what
impression my taciturnity made on my companion's mind. I was heartily
glad for her sake when we regained the gate of her father's garden.
Committing the carriage to the charge of an ambâ, I half led, half
carried Eveena along the avenue, overhung with the grand conical
bells—gold, crimson, scarlet, green, white, or striped or variegated
with some or all these colours—of the glorious _leveloo_, the Martial
convolvulus. Its light clinging stems and foliage hid the _astyra's_
arched branches overhead, and formed a screen on either side. From its
bells flew at our approach a whole flock of the tiny and beautiful
caree, which take the chief part in rendering to the flora of Mars
such services as the flowers of Earth receive from bees and
butterflies. They feed on the nectar, farina, syrup, and other
secretions, sweet or bitter, in which the artificial flowers of Mars
are peculiarly abundant, and make their nests in the calyx or among
the petals. These lovely little birds—about the size of a hornet, but
perfect birds in miniature, with wings as large as those of the
largest Levantine _papilio_, and feathery down equally fine and
soft—are perhaps the most shy and timid of all creatures familiar
with the presence of Martial humanity. The varied colours of their
plumage, combined and intermingled in marvellously minute patterns,
are all of those subdued or dead tints agreeable to the taste of
Japanese artists, and perhaps to no other. They signally contrast the
vivid and splendid colouring of objects created or developed by human
genius and patience, from the exquisite decorations and jewel-like
masses of domestic and public architecture to the magnificent flowers
and fruit produced, by the labour of countless generations, from
originals so dissimilar that only the records of past ages can trace
or the searching comparisons of science recognise them. I am told that
the present race of flower-birds themselves are a sort of indirect
creation of art. They certainly vary in size, shape, and colour
according to the flower each exclusively frequents; and those which
haunt the cultivated bells of the _leveloo_ present an amazing
contrast to the far tinier and far less beautiful _caree_ which have
not yet abandoned the wildflowers for those of the garden. Above two
hundred varieties distinguished by ornithologists frequent only the
domesticated flowers.

The flight of this swarm of various beauty recalled the conversation
of last night; and breaking off unobserved a long fine tendril of the
leveloo, I said lightly—

"Flower-birds are not so well-trained as _esvee_, bambina."

Never forgetting a word of mine, and never failing to catch with quick
intelligence the sense of the most epigrammatic or delicate metaphor,
Eveena started and looked up, as if stung by a serious reproach.
Fancying that overpowering fatigue had so shaken her nerves, I would
not allow her to speak. But I did not understand how much she had been
distressed, till in her own chamber, cloak and veil thrown aside, she
stood beside my seat, her sleeveless arms folded behind her, drooping
like a lily beaten down by a thunderstorm. Then she murmured sadly—

"I did not think of offending. But you are quite right; disobedience
should never pass."

"Certainly not," I replied, with a smile she did not see. Taking both
the little hands in my left, I laid the tendril on her soft white
shoulders, but so gently that in her real distress she did not feel
the touch. "You see I can keep my word; but never let me tire you
again. My flower-bird cannot take wing if she anger me in earnest."

"Are you not angered now?" she asked, glancing up in utter surprise.

My eyes, or the sight of the leveloo, answered her; and a sweet bright
smile broke through her look of frightened, penitent submission, as
she snatched the tendril and snapped it in my hand.

"Cruel!" she said, with a pretty assumption of ill-usage, "to visit a
first fault with the whip."

"You are hard to please, bambina! I knew no better. Seriously, until I
can measure your strength more truly, never again let me feel that in
inviting your company I have turned my pleasure into your pain."

"No, indeed," she urged, once more in earnest. "Girls so seldom pass
the gate, and men never walk where a carriage will go, or I should not
have been so stupid. But if I had blistered my feet, and the leveloo
had been a nut-vine, the fruit was worth the scratches."

"What do you know, my child, either of blisters or stripes?"

"You will teach me——No, you know I don't mean that! But you will
take me with you sometimes till I learn better! If you are going to
leave me at home in future "——

"My child, can you not trust me to take you for my own pleasure?"

The silvery tone of her low sweet laugh was truly perfectly musical.

"Forgive me," she said, nestling in the cushions at my knee, and
seeking with upturned eyes, like a child better assured of pardon than
of full reconciliation, to read my face, "it is very naughty to laugh,
and very ungrateful, when you speak to please me; but is it real
kindness to say what I should be very silly to believe?"

"You will believe whatever I tell you, child. If you wish to anger a
man, even with you, tell him that he is lying."

"I do nothing but misbehave," she said, in earnest despondency.
"I——" But I sealed her lips effectually for the moment.

"Why did you not speak as we came home?"

"You were tired, and I was thinking over all I had seen. Besides, who
talks air?" [makes conversation].

"You always talk when you are pleased. The lip-sting (scolding) and
silence frightened me so, you nearly heard me crying."

"Crying for fear? You did well to break the leveloo!... And so you
think I must be tired of my bride, before the colours have gone round
on the dial?"

"Not tired of her. You will like a little longer to find her in the
cushions when you are vexed or idle; but you don't want her where her
ignorance wearies and her weakness hampers you."

"Are you an _esve_, to be caged at home, and played with for lack of
better employment? We shall never understand each other, child."

"What more can I be? But don't say we shall never understand each
other," she pleaded earnestly. "It took time and trouble to make my
pet understand and obey each word and sign. Zevle gave hers more slaps
and fewer sweets, and it learned sooner. But, like me, you want your
esve to be happy, not only to fly straight and play prettily. She will
try hard to learn if you will teach her, and not be so afraid of
hurting her, as if she expected sweets from both hands. It is easy for
you to see through her empty head: do not give her up till she has had
time to look a little way into your eyes."

"Eveena," I answered, almost as much pained as touched by the
unaffected humility which had so accepted and carried out my ironical
comparison, "one simple magnet-key would unlock the breast whose
secrets seem so puzzling; but it has hardly a name in your tongue, and
cannot yet be in your hands."

"Ah, yes!" she said softly, "you gave it me; do you think I have lost
it in two nights? But the esve cannot be loved as she loves her
master. I could half understand the prodigal heart that would buy a
girl's life with yours, and all that is bound up in yours. No other
_man_ would have done it—in our world," she added, answering my
gesture of dissent; "but they say that the terrible _kargynda_ will
stand by his dying mate till he is shot down. You bought my heart, my
love, all I am, when you bought my life, and never asked the cost."
She continued almost in a whisper, her rose-suffused cheeks and moist
eyes hidden from my sight as the lips murmured their loving words into
my ear,—"Though the nestling never looked from under the wing, do you
think she knows not what to expect when she is bought from the nest?
She dares not struggle in the hand that snatches her; much more did
she deserve to be rated and rapped for fluttering in that which saved
her life. Bought twice over, caged by right as by might—was her
thought midnight to your eyes, when she wondered at the look that
watched her so quietly, the hand that would not try to touch lest it
should scare her, the patience that soothed and coaxed her to perch on
the outstretched finger, like a flower-bird tamed at last? Do you
think that name, given her by lips which softened even their words of
fondness for her ear, did not go to her heart straight as the esve
flies home, or that it could ever be forgotten? There is a chant young
girls are fond of, which tells more than I can say."

Her tones fell so low that I should have lost them, had her lips not
actually touched my ear while she chanted the strange words in the
sweetest notes of her sweet voice:—

  "Never yet hath single sun
   Seen a flower-bird tamed and won;
   Sun and stars shall quit the sky
   Ere a bird so tamed shall fly.

  "Never human lips have kissed
   Flower-bird tamed 'twixt mist and mist;
   Bird so tamed from tamer's heart
   Night of death shall hardly part."




CHAPTER XII - ON THE RIVER.


The next morning saw our journey commenced. Eveena's wardrobe, with my
own and my books, portfolios, models, and specimens of Terrestrial art
and mechanism, were packed in light metallic cases adapted to the
larger form of carriage whereof I have made mention. I was fortunate
in escaping the actual parting scene between Eveena and her family,
and my own leave-taking was hurried. Esmo and his son accompanied us,
leading the way in one carriage, while Eveena and myself occupied that
which we had used on our memorable trip to the Astronaut. Half an hour
brought us to the road beside the river, and a few minutes more to the
point at which a boat awaited us. The road being some eight or ten
feet above the level of the water, a light ladder not three feet long
was ready to assist our descent to the deck. The difference of size
between the Martial race and my own was forcibly impressed upon me, in
seeing that Esmo and his son found this assistance needful, or at
least convenient, while I simply stepped rather than jumped to the
deck, and lifted Eveena straight from her carriage to her seat under
the canopy that covered the stern of the vessel. Intended only for
river navigation, propelled by a small screw like two fishtails set at
right angles, working horizontally; the vessel had but two cabins, one
on either side of the central part occupied by the machinery. The
stern apartment was appropriated to myself and my bride, the
forecastle, if I may so call it, to our companions, the boatmen having
berths in the corners of the machine-room. The vessel was
flat-bottomed, drawing about eighteen inches of water and rising about
five feet from the surface, leaving an interior height which obliged
me to be cautious in order not to strike my head against every
projection or support of the cabin roof. We spent the whole of the
day, however, on deck, and purposely slackened the speed of the boat,
which usually travels some thirty miles an hour, in order to enjoy the
effect and observe the details of the landscape. For the first few
miles our voyage lay through the open plain. Then we passed, on the
left as we ascended the stream, the mountain on whose summit I tried
with my binocular to discern the Astronaut, but unsuccessfully, the
trees on the lower slopes intercepting the view. Eveena, seeing my
eyes fixed on that point, extended her hand and gently drew the glass
out of mine.

"Not yet," she said; which elicited from me the excuse—

"That mountain has for me remembrances more interesting than those of
my voyage, or even than the hopes of return."

Presently, as we followed the course of the stream, we lost sight
altogether of the rapidly dwindling patches of colour representing the
enclosures of Ecasfe. On our left, at a distance varying from three to
five miles, but constantly increasing as the stream bent to the
northward, was the mountain range I had scanned in my descent. On our
right the plain dipped below the horizon while still but a few feet
above the level of the river; but in the distant sky we discerned some
objects like white clouds, which from their immobility and fixedness
of outline I soon discovered to be snow-crowned hills, lower, however,
than those to the northward, and perhaps some forty miles distant. The
valley is one of the richest and most fertile portions of this
continent, and was consequently thoroughly cultivated and more densely
peopled than most parts even of the Equatorial zone. An immediate
river frontage being as convenient as agreeable, the enclosures on
either bank were continuous, and narrow in proportion to their depth;
the largest occupying no more than from one hundred and fifty to two
hundred yards of the bank, the smaller from half to one quarter of
that length. Most had a tunnel pierced under the road bordering the
river, through which the water was admitted to their grounds and
carried in a minute stream around and even through the house; for
ornament rather than for use, since every house in a district so
populous has a regular artificial water supply, and irrigation, as I
have explained, is not required. The river itself was embellished with
masses of water-flowers; and water-birds, the smallest scarcely larger
than a wagtail, the largest somewhat exceeding the size of a swan, of
a different form and dark grey plumage, but hardly less graceful,
seemed to be aware of the stringent protection they enjoyed from the
law. They came up to our boat and fed out of Eveena's hand with
perfect fearlessness. I could not induce any of them to be equally
familiar with myself, my size probably surprising them as much as
their masters, and leading them to the same doubt whether I were
really and wholly human. The lower slopes of the hills were covered
with orchards of every kind, each species occupying the level best
suited to it, from the reed-supported orange-like _alva_ of the
lowlands to the tall _astyra_, above which stretched the timber
forests extending as high as trees could grow, while between these and
the permanent snow-line lay the yellowish herbage of extensive
pastures. A similar mountain range on earth would have presented a
greater variety of colouring and scenery, the total absence of
glaciers, even in the highest valleys, creating a notable difference.
The truth is that the snows of Mars are nowhere deep, and melt in the
summer to such an extent that that constant increase whose downward
tendency feeds Terrestrial glaciers cannot take place. Probably the
thin atmosphere above the snow-line can hold but little watery vapour.
Esmo was of opinion that the snow on the highest steeps, even on a
level plateau, was never more than two feet in depth; and in more than
one case a wind-swept peak or pinnacle was kept almost clear, and
presented in its grey, green, or vermilion rocks a striking contrast
to the masses of creamy white around it. This may explain the very
rapid diminution of the polar ice-caps in the summer of either, but
especially of the Southern hemisphere; and also the occasional
appearance of large dark spots in their midst, where the shallow snow
has probably been swept away by the rare storms of this planet from an
extensive land surface. It is supposed that no inconsiderable part of
the ice and snow immediately surrounding the poles covers land; but,
though balloon parties have of late occasionally reached the poles,
they have never ventured to remain there long enough to disembark and
ascertain the fact.

Towards evening the stream turned more decidedly to the north, and at
this point Esmo brought out an instrument constructed somewhat on the
principle of a sextant or quadrant, but without the mirror, by which
we were enabled to take reliable measures of the angles. By a process
which at that time I did not accurately follow, and which I had not
subsequently the means of verifying, the distance as well as the angle
subtended by the height was obtained. Kevimâ, after working out his
father's figures, informed me that the highest peak in view—the
highest in Mars—was not less than 44,000 feet. No Martial balloonist,
much less any Martial mountain-climber, has ever, save once, reached a
greater height than 16,000 feet—the air at the sea-level being
scarcely more dense than ours at 10,000 feet. Kevimâ indicated one
spot in the southern range of remarkable interest, associated with an
incident which forms an epoch in the records of Martial geography. A
sloping plateau, some 19,000 feet above the sea-level, is defined with
remarkable clearness in the direction from which we viewed it. The
forests appeared to hide, though they do not of course actually
approach, its lower edge. On one side and to the rear it is shut in by
precipices so abrupt that the snow fails to cling to them, while on
the remaining side it is separated by a deep, wide cleft from the
western portion of the range. Here for centuries were visible the
relics of an exploring party, which reached this plateau and never
returned. Attempts have, since the steering of balloons has become an
accomplished fact, been made to reach the point, but without success,
and those who have approached nearest have failed to find any of the
long-visible remains of an expedition which perished four or five
thousand years ago. Kevimâ thought it probable that the metallic poles
even then employed for tents and for climbing purposes might still be
intact; but if so, they were certainly buried in the snow, and Esmo
believed it more likely that even these had perished.

As the mists of evening fell we retreated to our cabin, which was
warmed by a current of heated air from the electric machinery. Here
our evening meal was served, at which Esmo and his son joined us,
Eveena resuming, even in their presence, the veil she had worn on deck
but had laid aside the moment we were alone. An hour or two after
sunset, the night (an unusual occurrence in Mars) was clear and fine,
and I took this opportunity of observing from a new standpoint the
familiar constellations. The scintillation so characteristic of the
fixed stars, especially in the temperate climates of the Earth, was
scarcely perceptible. Scattered once more over the surface of a
defined sky, it was much easier than in space to recognise the several
constellations; but their new and strange situations were not a little
surprising at first sight, some of those which, as seen on Earth
revolved slowly in the neighbourhood of the poles, being now not far
from the tropics, and some, which had their place within the tropics,
now lying far to north or south. Around the northern pole the Swan
swings by its tail, as in our skies the Lesser Bear; Arided being a
Pole-Star which needs no Pointers to indicate its position. Vega is
the only other brilliant star in the immediate neighbourhood; and,
save for the presence of the Milky Way directly crossing it, the
arctic circle is distinctly less bright than our own. The south pole
lies in one of the dullest regions of the heavens, near the chief star
of the Peacock. Arcturus, the Great Bear, the Twins, the Lion, the
Scorpion, and Fomalhaut are among the ornaments of the Equatorial
zone: the Cross, the Centaur, and the Ship of our antarctic
constellations, are visible far into the northern hemisphere. On the
present occasion the two Moons were both visible in the west, the
horns of both crescents pointing in the same direction, though the one
was in her last, the other in her first phase.

As we were watching them, Eveena, wrapped in a cloak of fur not a
little resembling that of the silver fox, but far softer, stole her
hand into mine and whispered a request that I would lend her the
instrument I was using. With some instruction and help she contrived
to adjust it, her sight requiring a decided alteration of the focus
and an approach of the two eye-pieces; the eyes of her race being set
somewhat nearer than in an average Aryan countenance. She expressed no
little surprise at the clearness of definition, and the marked
enlargement of the discs of the two satellites, and would have used
the instrument to scan the stars and visible planets had I not
insisted on her retirement; the light atmosphere, as is always the
case on clear nights, when no cloud-veil prevents rapid radiation from
the surface, being bitterly cold, and her life not having accustomed
her to the night air even in the most genial season.

As we could, of course, see nothing of the country through which we
passed during the night, and as Esmo informed me that little or
nothing of special interest would occur during this part of our
voyage, our vessel went at full speed, her pilot being thoroughly
acquainted with the river, and an electric light in the bow enabling
him to steer with perfect confidence and safety. When, therefore, we
came on deck after the dissipation of the morning mist, we found
ourselves in a scene very different from that which we had left. Our
course was north by west. On either bank lay a country cultivated
indeed, but chiefly pastoral, producing a rich herbage, grazed by
innumerable herds, among which I observed with interest several flocks
of large birds, kept, as Esmo informed me, partly for their plumage.
This presented remarkable combinations of colour, far surpassing in
brilliancy and in variety of pattern the tail of the peacock, and
often rivalling in length and delicacy, while exceeding in beauty of
colouring, the splendid feathers which must have embarrassed the Bird
of Paradise, even before they rendered him an object of pursuit by
those who have learnt the vices and are eager to purchase the wares of
civilised man. Immediately across our course, at a distance of some
thirty miles, stretched a range of mountains. I inquired of Esmo how
the river turned in order to avoid them, since no opening was visible
even through my glass.

"The proper course of the river," he said, "lies at the foot of those
hills. But this would take us out of our road, and, moreover, the
stream is not navigable for many stoloi above the turning-point. We
shall hold on nearly in the same direction as the present till we land
at their foot."

"And how," I said, "are we to cross them?"

"At your choice, either by carriage or by balloon," he said. "There is
at our landing-place a town in which we shall easily procure either."

"But," said I, "though our luggage is far less heavy than would be
that of a bride on Earth, and Eveena's forms the smallest portion of
it, I should fancy that it must be inconveniently heavy for a
balloon."

"Certainly," he replied; "but we could send it by carriage even over
the mountain roads. The boat, however, will go on, and will meet us
some thirty miles beyond the point where we leave it."

"And how is the boat to pass over the hills?"

"Not over, but under," he said, smiling. "There is no natural passage
entirely through the range, but there is within it a valley the bottom
of which is not much higher than this plain. Of the thirty miles to be
traversed, about one-half lies in the course of this valley, along
which an artificial canal has been made. Through the hills at either
end a tunnel has been cut, the one of six, the other of about nine
miles in length, affording a perfectly safe and easy course for the
boat; and it is through these that nearly all the heavy traffic
passing in this direction is conveyed."

"I should like," I said, "if it be possible, to pass through one at
least of these tunnels, unless there be on the mountains themselves
something especially worth seeing."

"Nothing," he replied. "They are low, none much exceeding the height
of that from which you descended."

Eveena now joined us on deck, and we amused ourselves for the next two
hours in observing the different animals, of which such numbers were
to be seen at every turn, domesticated and trained for one or other of
the many methods in which the brutes can serve the convenience, the
sustenance, or the luxury of man. Animal food is eaten on Mars; but
the flesh of birds and fish is much more largely employed than that of
quadrupeds, and eggs and milk enter into the cuisine far more
extensively than either. In fact, flesh and fish are used much as they
seem to have been in the earlier period of Greek civilisation, as
relish and supplement to fruits, vegetables, and farinaceous dishes,
rather than as the principal element of food. As their training and
their extreme tameness indicate, domestic creatures, even those
destined only to serve as food or to furnish clothing, are treated not
indeed with tenderness, but with gentleness, and without either the
neglect or the cruelty which so revolt humane men in witnessing the
treatment of Terrestrial animals by those who have personal charge of
them. To describe any considerable number of the hundred forms I saw
during this short period would be impossible. I have drawings, or
rather pictures, of most, taken by the light-painting process, which I
hope herewith to remit to Earth, and which at least serve to give a
general idea of the points in which the Martial chiefly differs from
the Terrestrial fauna. Those animals whose coats furnish a textile
fibre more resemble reindeer and goats than sheep; their wool is
softer, longer, and less curly, free also from the greasiness of the
sheep.

It seemed to me that an extreme quaintness characterised the domestic
creatures kept for special purposes. This was not the effect of mere
novelty, for animals like the _ambâ_ and birds like the _esve_,
trained to the performance of services congenial to their natural
habits, however dissimilar to Terrestrial species, had not the same
air of singularity, or rather of monstrosity. But in the creatures
bred to furnish wool, feathers, or the like, some single feature was
always exaggerated into disproportionate dimensions. Thus the
_elnerve_ is loaded with long plumes, sometimes twice the length of
the body, and curled upward at the extremity, so that it can neither
fly nor run; and though its plumage is exquisitely beautiful, the
creature itself is simply ludicrous. It bears the same popular repute
for sagacity as the goose of European farmyards. The _angasto_ has
hair or wool so long that its limbs are almost hidden, just before
shearing-time, in the tresses that hang from the body half way to the
ground. The _calperze_, a bird no larger than a Norfolk turkey, has
the hinder part developed to an enormous size, so that the graceful
peacock-like neck and shoulders appear as if lost in the huge
proportions of the body, and the little wings are totally unfit to
raise it in the air; while it lays almost daily eggs as large as those
of the ostrich and of peculiar richness and flavour. Nearly all the
domestic birds kept for the sake of eggs or feathers have wings that
look as if they had been clipped, and are incapable of flight.
Creatures valued for their flesh, such as the _quorno_ (somewhat like
the eland, but with the single horn so common among its congeners in
Mars, and with a soft white hide), and the _viste_, a bird about the
size of the peacock, with the form of the partridge and the flavour of
grouse or black game, preserve more natural proportions. The
wing-quills of the latter, however, having been systematically plucked
for hundreds of generations, are now dwarfed and useless. These
animals are not encouraged to make fat on the one hand, or to develop
powerful muscles and sinews on the other. They are fed for part of the
year on the higher and thinner pastures of the mountains. When brought
down to the meadows of the plain, they are allowed to graze only for a
few hours before sunset and after sunrise. They thus preserve much of
the flavour of game or mountain sheep and cattle, which the oxen and
poultry of Europe have lost; flavour, not quantity, being the chief
object of care with Martial graziers. Sometimes, however, some
peculiarity perfectly useless, or even inconvenient, appears to be
naturally associated with that which is artificially developed. Thus
the beak of the _elnerve_ is weak and often splits, so as to render
its rearing troublesome and entail considerable losses; while the
horns of the wool-bearing animals are long and strong enough to be
formidable, but so rough and coarsely grained that they are turned to
no account for use or ornament.

We were rapidly approaching the foot of the hills, where the river
made another and abrupt turn. At this point the produce of the whole
upper valley is generally embarked, and supplies from all other
quarters are here received and distributed. In consequence, a town
large and important for this planet, where no one who can help it
prefers the crowded street to the freedom and expanse of the country,
had grown up, with about a hundred and fifty houses, and perhaps a
thousand inhabitants. It was so much matter of course that voyagers
should disembark to cross the hills or to pursue their journey along
the upper part of the river by road, that half-a-dozen different
partnerships made it their business to assist in the transfer of
passengers and light wares. Ahead of us was a somewhat steep
hill-slope, in the lower part of which a wall absolutely perpendicular
had been cut by those who pierced the tunnel, the mouth of which was
now clearly visible immediately before us. It was about twelve feet in
height, and perhaps twenty feet in width. The stream, which, like
nearly all Martial rivers, is wide and shallow, had during the last
fifty miles of our course grown narrower, with a depth at the same
time constantly lessening, so that some care was required on the part
of the pilot to avoid running aground. A stream of twenty inches in
depth, affording room for two boats to pass abreast, is considered
navigable for vessels only carrying passengers; thirty inches are
required to afford a course which for heavy freight is preferable to
the road. Eveena had taken it for granted that we should disembark
here, and it was not till we had come within a hundred yards of the
landing-place—where the bank was perpendicular and levelled to a
height above the water, which enabled passengers to step directly from
the deck of the boat—without slackening our speed, that the
possibility of our intending to accompany the boat on its subterrene
course occurred to her. As she did not speak, but merely drew closer
to me, and held fast my hand, I had no idea of her real distress till
we were actually at the mouth of the black and very frightful-looking
passage, and the pilot had lighted the electric lamp. As the boat shot
under the arch she could not repress a cry of terror. Naturally
putting my arm round her at this sign of alarm, I felt that she was
trembling violently, and a single look, despite her veil, convinced me
that she was crying, though in silence and doing her utmost to conceal
her tears.

"Are you so frightened, child?" I asked. "I have been through many
subterranean passages, though none so long and dark as this. But you
see our lamp lights up not only the boat but the whole vault around
and before us, and there can be no danger whatever."

"I am frightened, though," she said, "I cannot help it. I never saw
anything of the kind before; and the darkness behind and before us,
and the black water on either side, do make me shiver."

"Stop!" I called to the boatman.

"Now, Eveena," I said, "I do not care to persist in this journey if it
really distresses you. I wished to see so wonderful a work of
engineering; but, after all, I have been in a much uglier and more
wonderful place, and I can see nothing here stranger than when I was
rowed for three-quarters of a mile on the river in the Mammoth Cave.
In any case I shall see little but a continuation of what I see
already; so if you cannot bear it, we will go back."

By this time Esmo, who had been in the bows, had joined us, wishing to
know why I had stopped the boat.

"This child," I said, "is not used to travelling, and the tunnel
frightens her; so that I think, after all, we had better take the
usual course across the mountains."

"Nonsense!" he answered. "There is no danger here; less probably than
in an ordinary drive, certainly less than in a balloon. Don't spoil
her, my friend. If you begin by yielding to so silly a caprice as
this, you will end by breaking her heart before the two years are
out."

"Do go on," whispered Eveena. "I was very silly; I am not so
frightened now, and if you will hold me fast, I will not misbehave
again."

Esmo had taken the matter out of my hands, desiring the boatman to
proceed; and though I sympathised with my bride's feminine terror much
more than her father appeared to do, I was selfishly anxious, in spite
of my declaration that there could be no novelty in this tunnel, to
see one thing certainly original—the means by which so narrow and so
long a passage could be efficiently ventilated. The least I could do,
however, was to appease Eveena's fear before turning my attention to
the objects of my own curiosity. The presence of physical strength,
which seemed to her superhuman, produced upon her nerves the quieting
effect which, however irrationally, great bodily force always
exercises over women; partly, perhaps, from the awe it seems to
inspire, partly from a yet more unreasonable but instinctive reliance
on its protection even in dangers against which it is obviously
unavailing.

Presently a current of air, distinctly warmer than that of the tunnel,
which had been gradually increasing in force for some minutes, became
so powerful that I could no longer suppose it accidental. Kevimâ being
near us, I asked him what it meant.

"Ventilation," he answered. "The air in these tunnels would be foul
and stagnant, perhaps unbreathable, if we did not drive a constant
current of air through them. You did not notice, a few yards from the
entrance, a wheel which drives a large fan. One of these is placed at
every half mile, and drives on the air from one end of the tunnel to
the other. They are reversed twice in a zyda, so that they may create
no constant counter-current outside."

"But is not the power exerted to drive so great a body of air
exceedingly costly?"

"No," he answered. "As you are aware, electricity is almost our only
motive power, and we calculate that the labour of two men, even
without the help of machines, could in their working zydau [eight
hours] collect and reduce a sufficient amount of the elements by which
the current is created to do the work of four hundred men during a
whole day and night."

"And how long," I inquired, "has electricity had so complete a
monopoly of mechanical work?"

"It was first brought into general use," he replied, "about eight
thousand years ago. Before that, heated air supplied our principal
locomotive force, as well as the power of stationary machines wherever
no waterfall of sufficient energy was at hand. For several centuries
the old powers were still employed under conditions favourable to
their use. But we have found electricity so much cheaper than the
cheapest of other artificial forces, so much more powerful than any
supplied by Nature, that we have long discontinued the employment of
any other. Even when we obtain electricity by means of heat, we find
that the gain in application more than compensates the loss in the
transmutation of one force into another."

In the course of little more than half an hour we emerged from the
tunnel, whose gloom, when once the attraction of novelty was gone, was
certainly unpleasant to myself, if not by any means so frightful as
Eveena still found it. There was nothing specially attractive or
noticeable in the valley through which our course now ran, except the
extreme height of its mountain walls, which, though not by any means
perpendicular, rose to a height of some 3000 feet so suddenly that to
climb their sides would have been absolutely impossible. Only during
about two hours in the middle of the day is the sun seen from the
level of the stream; and it is dark in the bottom of this valley long
before the mist has fallen on the plain outside. We had presently,
however, to ascend a slope of some twenty-five feet in the mile, and I
was much interested in the peculiar method by which the ascent was
made. A mere ascent, not greater than that of some rapids up which
American boatmen have managed to carry their barques by manual force,
presented no great difficulty; but some skill is required at
particular points to avoid being overturned by the rush of the water,
and our vessel so careened as to afford much more excuse for Eveena's
outbreak of terror than the tunnel had done. Had I not held her fast
she must certainly have been thrown overboard, the pilot, used to the
danger, having forgotten to warn us. For the rest, in the absence of
rocks, the vessel ascended more easily than a powerful steamer, if she
could find sufficient depth, could make her way up the rapids of the
St. Lawrence or similar streams. We entered the second tunnel without
any sign of alarm from Eveena perceptible to others; only her clinging
to my hand expressed the fear of which she was ashamed but could not
rid herself. Emerging from its mouth, we found ourselves within sight
of the sea and of the town and harbour of Serocasfe, where we were
next day to embark. Landing from the boat, we were met by the friend
whose hospitality Esmo had requested. At his house, half a mile
outside the town, for the first time since our marriage I had to part
for a short period with Eveena, who was led away by the veiled
mistress of the house, while we remained in the entrance chamber or
hall. The evening meal was anticipated by two hours, in order that we
might attend the meeting at which my bride and I were to receive our
formal admission into the Zinta.




CHAPTER XIII - THE CHILDREN OF LIGHT.


"Probably," said Esmo, when, apparently at a sign from him, our host
left us for some minutes alone, "much through which you are about to
pass will seem to you childish or unmeaning. Ceremonial rendered
impressive to us by immemorial antiquity, and cherished the more
because so contrary to the absence of form and ceremony in the life
around us—symbolism which is really the more useful, the more
valuable, because it contains much deeper meaning than is ever
apparent at first sight—have proved their use by experience; and, as
they are generally witnessed for the first time in early youth, make a
sharper impression than they are likely to effect upon a mind like
yours. But they may seem strangely inconsistent with a belief which is
in itself so limited, and founded so absolutely upon logical proof or
practical evidence. The best testimony to the soundness of our policy
in this respect is the fact that our vows, and the rites by which they
are sanctioned, are never broken, that our symbols are regarded with
an awe which no threats, no penalties, can attach to the highest of
civil authorities or the most solemn legal sanctions. The language of
symbol, moreover, has for us two great advantages—one dependent upon
the depth of thought and knowledge with which the symbols themselves
were selected by our Founder, owing to which each generation finds in
them some new truth of which we never dreamed before; the other
arising from the fact that we are a small select body in the midst of
a hostile and jealous race, from whom it is most important to keep the
key of communications which, without the appearance, have all the
effect of ciphers."

"I find," I replied, "in my own world that every religion and every
form of occult mysticism, nay, every science, in its own way and
within its own range, attaches great importance to symbols in
themselves apparently arbitrary. Experience shows that these symbols
often contain a clue to more than they were originally meant to
convey, and can be employed in reasonings far beyond the grasp of
those who first invented or adopted them. That a body like the _Zinta_
could be held together without ceremonial and without formalities,
which, if they had no other value, would have the attraction of
secresy and exclusiveness, seems obviously impossible."

Here our host rejoined us. We passed into the gallery, where several
persons were awaiting us; the men for the most part wearing a small
vizor dependent from the turban, which concealed their faces; the
women all, without exception, closely veiled. As soon as Esmo
appeared, the party formed themselves into a sort of procession two
and two. Motioning me to take the last place, Esmo passed himself to
its head. If the figure beside me were not at once recognised, I could
not mistake the touch of the hand that stole into my own. The lights
in the gallery were extinguished, and then I perceived a lamp held at
the end of a wand of crystal, which gleamed above Esmo's head, and
sufficed to guide us, giving light enough to direct our footsteps and
little more. Perhaps this half-darkness, the twilight which gave a
certain air of mystery to the scene and of uncertainty to the forms of
objects encountered on our route, had its own purpose. We reached very
soon the end of the gallery, and then the procession turned and passed
suddenly into another chamber, apparently narrow, but so faintly
lighted by the lamp in our leader's hands that its dimensions were
matter of mere conjecture. That we were descending a somewhat steep
incline I was soon aware; and when we came again on to level ground I
felt sure that we were passing through a gallery cut in natural rock.
The light was far too dim to enable me to distinguish any openings in
the walls; but the procession constantly lengthened, though it was
impossible to see where and when new members joined. Suddenly the
light disappeared. I stood still for a moment in surprise, and when I
again went forward I became speedily conscious that all our companions
had vanished, and that we stood alone in utter darkness. Fearing to
lead Eveena further where my own steps were absolutely uncertain, I
paused for some time, and with little difficulty decided to remain
where I was, until something should afford an indication of the
purpose of those who had brought us so far, and who must know, if they
had not actual means of observing, that in darkness and solitude I
should not venture to proceed.

Presently, as gradually as in Northern climates the night passes into
morning twilight, the darkness became less absolute. Whence the light
came it was impossible to perceive. Diffused all around and slowly
broadening, it just enabled me to discern a few paces before us the
verge of a gulf. This might have been too shallow for inconvenience,
it might have been deep enough for danger. I waited till my eyes
should be able to penetrate its interior; but before the light entered
it I perceived, apparently growing across it, really coming gradually
into view under the brightening gleam, a species of bridge which—when
the twilight ceased to increase, and remained as dim as that cast by
the crescent moon—assumed the outline of a slender trunk supported by
wings, dark for the most part but defined along the edge by a narrow
band of brightest green, visible in a gleam too faint to show any
object of a deeper shade. Somewhat impatient of the obvious symbolism,
I hurried Eveena forward. Immediately on the other side of the bridge
the path turned almost at right angles; and here a gleam of light
ahead afforded a distinct guidance to our steps. Approaching it, we
were challenged, and I gave the answer with which I had been
previously furnished; an answer which may not be, as it never has
been, written down. A door parted and admitted us into a small
vestibule, at the other end of which a full and bright light streamed
through a portal of translucent crystal. A sentinel, armed only with
the antiquated spear which may have been held by his first predecessor
in office ten thousand Martial years ago, now demanded our names. Mine
he simply repeated, but as I gave that of Eveena, daughter of Esmo, he
lowered his weapon in the salute still traditional among Martial
sentries; and bending his head, touched with his lips the long sleeve
of the cloak of _therne_-down in which she was on this occasion again
enveloped. This homage appeared to surprise her almost as much as
myself, but we had no leisure for observation or inquiry. From behind
the crystal door another challenge was uttered. To this it was the
sentry's part to reply, and as he answered the door parted; that at
the other end of the vestibule having, I observed, closed as we
entered, and so closed that its position was undiscoverable. Before us
opened a hall of considerable size, consisting of three distinct
vaults, defined by two rows of pillars, slender shafts resembling tall
branchless trees, the capital of each being formed by a branching head
like that of the palm. The trunks were covered with golden scales; the
fern-like foliage at the summit was of a bright sparkling emerald. It
was evident to my observation that the entire hall had been excavated
from solid rock, and the pillars left in their places. Each of the
side aisles, if I may so call them, was occupied by four rows of seats
similarly carved in the natural stone; but lined after Martial
fashion, with cushions embroidered in feathers and metals, and covered
by woven fabrics finer than any known to the looms of Lyons or
Cashmere. About two-thirds of the seats were occupied; those to the
right as we entered (that is, on the left of the dais at the end of
the hall) by men, those opposite by women. All, I observed, rose for a
moment as Eveena's name was announced, from the further end of the
hall, by the foremost of three or four persons vested in silver, with
belts of the crimson metal which plays the part of our best-tempered
steel, and bearing in their hands wands of a rose-coloured jewel
resembling a clouded onyx in all but the hue. Each of them wore over
his dress a band or sash of gold, fastened on the left shoulder and
descending to the belt on the right, much resembling the ribbons of
European knighthood. These supported on the left breast a silver star,
or heraldic mullet, of six points. Throughout the rest of the assembly
a similar but smaller star glimmered on every breast, supported,
however, by green or silver bands, the former worn by the body of the
assembly, the latter by a few persons gathered together for the most
part at the upper end of the chamber.... The chief who had first
addressed us bade us pass on, and we left the Hall of the Novitiate as
accepted members of the Order.... That into which we next entered was
so dark that its form and dimensions were scarcely defined to my eyes.
I supposed it, however, to be circular, surmounted by a dome
resembling in colour the olive green Martial sky and spangled by
stars, among which I discerned one or two familiar constellations, but
most distinctly, brightened far beyond its natural brilliancy, the
arch of the _Via Lactea_. Presently, not on any apparent sheet or
screen but as in the air before us, appeared a narrow band of light
crossing the entire visible space. It resembled a rope twisted of
three strands, two of a deep dull hue, the one apparently orange, the
other brown or crimson, contrasting the far more brilliant emerald
strand that formed the third portion of the threefold cord. I had
learnt by this time that metallic cords so twined serve in Mars most
of the uses for which chains are employed on Earth, and I assumed that
this symbol possessed the significance which poetry or ritual might
attach to the latter.

This cord or band retained its position throughout, crossing the dark
background of the scenes now successively presented, each of which
melted into its successor—rapidly, but so gradually that there was
never a distinct point of division, a moment at which it was possible
to say that any new feature was first introduced.

A bright mist of various colours intermixed in inextricable confusion,
an image of chaos but for the dim light reflected from all the
particles, filled a great part of the space before us, but the cord
was still discernible in the background. Presently, a bright
rose-coloured point of light, taking gradually the form of an Eye,
appeared above the cord and beyond the mist; and, emanating from it, a
ray of similar light entered the motionless vapour. Then a movement,
whose character it was not easy to discern, but which constantly
became more and more evidently rhythmical and regular, commenced in
the mist. Within a few moments the latter had dissolved, leaving in
its place the semblance of stars, star-clusters, and golden nebulae,
as dim and confused as that in the sword-belt of Orion, or as well
defined as any of those called by astronomers planetary.
"What seest thou?" said a voice whose very direction I could not
recognise.

"Cosmos evolved out of confusion by Law; Law emanating from Supreme
Wisdom and irresistible Will."

"And in the triple band?"

"The continuity of Time and Space preserved by the continuity of Law,
and controlled by the Will that gave Law."

While I spoke a single nebula grew larger, brighter, and filled the
entire space given throughout to the pictures presented to us; stars
and star-clusters gradually fading away into remoter distance. This
nebula, of spherical shape—formed of coarser particles than the
previous mist, and reflecting or radiating a more brilliant
effulgence—was in rapid whirling motion. It flattened into the form
of a disc, apparently almost circular, of considerable depth or
thickness, visibly denser in the centre and thinner towards the
rounded edge. Presently it condensed and contracted, leaving at each
of the several intervals a severed ring. Most of these rings broke up,
their fragments conglomerated and forming a sphere; one in particular
separating into a multitude of minuter spheres, others assuming a
highly elliptical form, condensing here and thinning out there; while
the central mass grew brighter and denser as it contracted; till there
lay before me a perfect miniature of the solar system, with planets,
satellites, asteroids, and meteoric rings.

"What seest thou?" again I heard.

"Intelligence directing Will, and Will by Law developing the microcosm
of which this world is one of the smallest parts."

The orb which represented Mars stood still in the centre of the space,
and this orb soon occupied the whole area. It assumed at first the
form of a vast vaporous globe; then contracted to a comparatively
small sphere, glowing as if more than red-hot, and leaving as it
contracted two tiny balls revolving round their primary. The latter
gradually faded till it gave out no light but that which from some
unseen source was cast upon it, one-half consequently contrasting in
darkness the reflected brightness of the other. Ere long it presented
the appearance of sea and land, of cloud, of snow, and ice, and became
a perfect image of the Martial sphere. Then it gave place to a globe
of water alone, within which the processes of crystallisation, as
exhibited first in its simpler then in its more complicated forms,
were beautifully represented. Then there appeared, I knew not how, but
seemingly developed by the same agency and in the same manner as the
crystals, a small transparent sphere within the watery globe,
containing itself a spherical nucleus. From this were evolved
gradually two distinct forms, one resembling very much some of the
simplest of those transparent creatures which the microscope exhibits
to us in the water drop, active, fierce, destructive in their scale of
size and life as the most powerful animals of the sea and land. The
other was a tiny fragment of tissue, gradually shaping itself into the
simplest and smallest specimens of vegetable life. The watery globe
disappeared, and these two were left alone. From each gradually
emerged, growing in size, complexity, and distinctness, one form after
another of higher organisation.

"What seest thou?"

"Life called out of lifelessness by Law."

Again, so gradually that no step of the process could be separately
distinguished, formed a panorama of vegetable and animal life; a
landscape in which appeared some dozen primal shapes of either
kingdom. Each of these gradually dissolved, passing by slow degrees
into several higher or more perfect shapes, till there stood before
our eyes a picture of life as it exists at present; and Man in its
midst, more obviously even than on Earth, dominating and subduing the
fellow-creatures of whom he is lord. From which of the innumerable
animal forms that had been presented to us in the course of these
transmutations this supreme form had arisen, I did not note or cannot
remember. But that no true ape appeared among them, I do distinctly
recollect, having been on the watch for the representation of such an
epoch in the pictured history.

What was now especially noteworthy was that, solid as they appeared,
each form was in some way transparent. From the Emblem before
mentioned a rose-coloured light pervaded the scene; scarcely
discernible in the general atmosphere, faintly but distinctly
traceable in every herb, shrub, and tree, more distinguishable and
concentrated in each animal. But in plant or animal the condensed
light was never separated and individualised, never parted from,
though obviously gathered and agglomerated out of, the generally
diffused rosy sheen that tinged the entire landscape. It was as though
the rose-coloured light formed an atmosphere which entered and passed
freely through the tissues of each animal and plant, but brightened
and deepened in those portions which at any moment pervaded any
organised shape, while it flowed freely in and out of all. The
concentration was most marked, the connection with the diffused
atmosphere least perceptible, in those most intelligent creatures,
like the _ambâ_ and _carve_, which in the service of man appear to
have acquired a portion of human intelligence. But turning to the type
of Man himself, the light within his body had assumed the shape of the
frame it filled and appeared to animate. In him the rose-coloured
image which exactly corresponded to the body that encased it was
perfectly individualised, and had no other connection with the
remainder of the light than that it appeared to emanate and to be fed
from the original source. As I looked, the outward body dissolved, the
image of rosy light stood alone, as human and far more beautiful than
before, rose upward, and passed away.

"What seest thou?" was uttered in an even more earnest and solemn tone
than heretofore.

"Life," I said, "physical and spiritual; the one sustained by the
other, the spiritual emanating from the Source of Life, pervading all
living forms, affording to each the degree of individuality and of
intelligence needful to it, but in none forming an individual entity
apart from the race, save in Man himself; and in Man forming the
individual being, whereof the flesh is but the clothing and the
instrument."

The whole scene suddenly vanished in total darkness; only again in one
direction a gleam of light appeared, and guided us to a portal through
which we entered another long and narrow passage, terminating in a
second vestibule before a door of emerald crystal, brilliantly
illuminated by a light within. Here, again, our steps were arrested.
The door was guarded by two sentries, in whom I recognised Initiates
of the Order, wearers of the silver sash and star. The password and
sign, whispered to me as we left the Hall of the Novitiate, having
been given, the door parted and exposed to our view the inmost
chamber, a scene calculated to strike the eye and impress the mind not
more by its splendour and magnificence than by the unexpected
character it displayed. It represented a garden, but the boundaries
were concealed by the branching trees, the arches of flowering
creepers, the thickets of flowers, shrubs, and tall reeds, which in
every direction imitated so perfectly the natural forms that the
closest scrutiny would have been required to detect their
artificiality. The general form, however, seemed to be that of a
square entered by a very short, narrow passage, and divided by broad
paths, forming a cross of equal arms. At the central point of this
cross was placed on a pedestal of emerald a statue in gold, which
recalled at once the features of the Founder. The space might have
accommodated two thousand persons, but on the seats—of a material
resembling ivory, each of them separately formed and gathered in
irregular clusters—there were not, I thought, more than four hundred
or five hundred men and women intermingled; the former dressed for the
most part in green, the latter in pink or white, and all wearing the
silver band and star. At the opposite end, closing the central aisle,
was a low narrow platform raised by two steps carved out of the
natural rock, but inlaid with jewellery imitating closely the
variegated turf of a real garden. On this were placed, slanting
backward towards the centre, two rows of six golden seats or thrones,
whose occupants wore the golden band over silver robes. That next the
interval, but to the left, was filled by Esmo, who to my surprise wore
a robe of white completely covering his figure, and contrasting
signally the golden sash to which his star was attached. On his left
arm, bare below the elbow, I noticed a flat thick band of plain gold,
with an emerald seal, bearing the same proportion to the bracelet as a
large signet to its finger ring. What struck me at once as most
remarkable was, that the seats on the dais and the forms of their
occupiers were signally relieved against a background of intense
darkness, whose nature, however, I could not discern. The roof was in
form a truncated pyramid; its material a rose-coloured crystal,
through which a clear soft light illuminated the whole scene. Across
the floor of the entrance, immediately within the portal, was a broad
band of the same crystal, marking the formal threshold of the Hall.
Immediately inside this stood the same Chief who had received us in
the former Hall; and as we stood at the door, stretching forth his
left hand, he spoke, or rather chanted, what, by the rhythmical
sequence of the words, by the frequent recurrence of alliteration and
irregular rhyme, was evidently a formula committed to the verse of the
Martial tongue: a formula, like all those of the Order, never written,
but handed down by memory, and therefore, perhaps, cast in a shape
which rendered accurate remembrance easier and more certain.

  "Ye who, lost in outer night,
   Reach at last the Source of Light,
   Ask ye in that light to dwell?
   None we urge and none repel;
   Opens at your touch the door,
   Bright within the lamp of lore.
   Yet beware! The threshold passed,
   Fixed the bond, the ball is cast.
   Failing heart or faltering feet
   Find nor pardon nor retreat.
   Loyal faith hath guerdon given
   Boundless as the star-sown Heaven;
   Horror fathomless and gloom
   Rayless veil the recreant's doom.
   Warned betimes, in time beware—Freely
   turn, or frankly swear."

"What am I to swear?" I asked.

A voice on my left murmured in a low tone the formula, which I
repeated, Eveena accompanying my words in an almost inaudible
whisper—

  "Whatsoe'er within the Shrine
   Eyes may see or soul divine,
   Swear we secret as the deep,
   Silent as the Urn to keep.
   By the Light we claim to share,
   By the Fount of Light, we swear."

As these words were uttered, I became aware that some change had taken
place at the further end of the Hall. Looking up, the dark background
had disappeared, and under a species of deep archway, behind the seats
of the Chiefs, was visible a wall diapered in ruby and gold, and
displaying in various interwoven patterns the several symbols of the
Zinta. Towards the roof, exactly in the centre, was a large silver
star, emitting a light resembling that which the full moon sheds on a
tropical scene, but far more brilliant. Around this was a broad golden
circle or band; and beneath, the silver image of a serpent—perfectly
reproducing a typical terrestrial snake, but coiled, as no snake ever
coils itself, in a double circle or figure of eight, with the tail
wound around the neck. On the left was a crimson shield or what seemed
to be such, small, round, and swelling in the centre into a sharp
point; on the right three crossed spears of silver with crimson blades
pointed upward. But the most remarkable object—immediately filling
the interval between the seats of the Chiefs, and carved from a huge
cubic block of emerald—was a Throne, ascended on each side by five or
six steps, the upper step or seat extending nearly across the whole
some two feet below the surface, the next forming a footstool thereto.
Above this was a canopy, seemingly self-supported, of circular form. A
chain formed by interlaced golden circles was upheld by four great
emerald wings. Within the chain, again, was the silver Serpent, coiled
as before and resting upon a surface of foliage and flowers. In the
centre of all was repeated the silver Star within the golden band; the
emblem from which the Order derives its name, and in which it embodies
its deepest symbolism. Following again the direction of my unseen
prompter, I repeated words which may be roughly translated as
follows:—

  "By the outer Night of gloom,
   By the ray that leads us home,
   By the Light we claim to share,
   By the Fount of Light, we swear.
   Prompt obedience, heart and hand,
   To the Signet's each command:
   For the Symbols, reverence mute,
   In the Sense faith absolute.
   Link by link to weld the Chain,
   Link with link to bear the strain;
   Cherish all the Star who wear,
   As the Starlight's self—we swear.
   By the Life the Light to prove,
   In the Circle's bound to move;
   Underneath the all-seeing Eye
   Act, nor speak, nor think the lie;
   Live, as warned that Life shall last,
   And the Future reap the Past:
   Clasp in faith the Serpent's rings,
   Trust through death the Emerald Wings,
   Hand and voice we plight the Oath:
   Fade the life ere fail the troth!"

Rising from his seat and standing immediately before and to the left
of the Throne, Esmo replied. But before he had spoken half-a-dozen
words, a pressure on my arm drew my eyes from him to Eveena. She stood
fixed as if turned to stone, in an attitude which for one fleeting
instant recalled that of the sculptured figures undergoing sudden
petrifaction at the sight of the Gorgon's head. This remembered
resemblance, or an instinctive sympathy, at once conveyed to me the
consciousness that the absolute stillness of her attitude expressed a
horror or an awe too deep for trembling. Looking into her eyes, which
alone were visible, their gaze fixed intently on the Throne, at once
caught and controlled my own; and raising my eyes again to the same
point, I stood almost equally petrified by consternation and
amazement. I need not say how many marvels of no common character I
have seen on Earth; how many visions that, if I told them, none who
have not shared them would believe; wonders that the few who have seen
them can never forget, nor—despite all experience and all theoretical
explanation—recall without renewing the thrill of awe-stricken dismay
with which the sight was first beheld. But no marvel of the Mystic
Schools, no spectral scene, objective or subjective, ever evoked by
the rarest of occult powers, so startled, so impressed me as what I
now saw, or thought I saw. The Throne, on which but a few moments
before my eyes had been steadily fixed, and which had then assuredly
been vacant, was now occupied; and occupied by a Presence which,
though not seen in the flesh for ages, none who had ever looked on the
portrait that represented it could forget or mistake. The form, the
dress, the long white hair and beard, the grave, dignified
countenance, above all the deep, scrutinising, piercing eyes of the
Founder—as I had seen them on a single occasion in Esmo's house—were
now as clearly, as forcibly, presented to my sight as any figure in
the flesh I ever beheld. The eyes were turned on me with a calm,
searching, steady gaze, whose effect was such as Southey ascribes to
Indra's:—

  "The look he gave was solemn, not severe;
   No hope to Kailyal it conveyed,
   And yet it struck no fear."

For a moment they rested on Eveena's veiled and drooping figure with a
widely different expression. That look, as I thought, spoke a grave
but passionless regret or pity, as of one who sees a child
unconsciously on the verge of peril or sorrow that admits neither of
warning nor rescue. That look happily she did not read; but we both
saw the same object and in the same instant; we both stood amazed and
appalled long enough to render our hesitation not only apparent, but
striking to all around, many of whom, following the direction of my
gaze, turned their eyes upon the Throne. What they saw or did not see
I know not, and did not then care to think. The following formula,
pronounced by Esmo, had fallen not unheard, but almost unheeded on my
ears, though one passage harmonised strangely with the sight before
me:—

  "Passing sign and fleeting breath
   Bind the Soul for life and death!
   Lifted hand and plighted word
   Eyes have seen and ears have heard;
   Eyes have seen—nor ours alone;
   Fell the sound on ears unknown.
   Age-long labour, strand by strand,
   Forged the immemorial band;
   Never thread hath known decay,
   Never link hath dropped away."

Here he paused and beckoned us to advance. The sign, twice repeated
before I could obey it, at last broke the spell that enthralled me.
Under the most astounding or awe-striking circumstances, instinct
moves our limbs almost in our own despite, and leads us to do with
paralysed will what has been intended or is expected of us. This
instinct, and no conscious resolve to overcome the influence that held
me spell-bound, enabled me to proceed; and I led Eveena forward by
actual if gentle force, till we reached the lower step of the
platform. Here, at a sign from her father, we knelt, while, laying his
hands on our heads, and stooping to kiss each upon the brow—Eveena
raising her veil for one moment and dropping it again—he continued—

  "So we greet you evermore,
   Brethren of the deathless Lore;
   So your vows our own renew,
   Sworn to all as each to you.
   Yours at once the secrets won
   Age by age, from sire to son;
   Yours the fruit through countless years
   Grown by thought and toil and tears.
   He who guards you guards his own,
   He who fails you fails the Throne."

The last two lines were repeated, as by a simultaneous impulse, in a
low but audible tone by the whole assembly. In the meantime Esmo had
invested each of us with the symbol of our enrolment in the Zinta, the
silver sash and Star of the Initiates. The ceremonial seemed to me to
afford that sort of religious sanction and benediction which had been
so signally wanting to the original form of our union. As we rose I
turned my eyes for a moment upon the Throne, now vacant as at first.
Another Chief, followed by the voices of the assembly, repeated, in a
low deep tone, which fell on our ears as distinctly as the loudest
trumpet-note in the midst of absolute silence, the solemn
imprecation—

  "Who denies a brother's need,
   Who in will, or word, or deed,
   Breaks the Circle's bounded line,
   Rends the Veil that guards the Shrine,
   Lifts the hand to lips that lie,
   Fronts the Star with soothless eye:—.
   Dreams of horror haunt his rest,
   Storms of madness vex his breast,
   Snares surround him, Death beset,
   Man forsake—and God forget!"

It was probably rather the tone of profound conviction and almost
tremulous awe with which these words were slowly enunciated by the
entire assemblage, than their actual sense, though the latter is
greatly weakened by my translation, that gave them an effect on my own
mind such as no oath and no rite, however solemn, no religious
ceremonial, no forms of the most secret mysteries, had ever produced.
I was not surprised that Eveena was far more deeply affected. Even the
earlier words of the imprecation had caused her to shudder; and ere it
closed she would have sunk to the ground, but for the support of my
arm. Disengaging the bracelet, Esmo held out to our lips the signet,
which, as I now perceived, reproduced in miniature the symbols that
formed the canopy above the throne. A few moments of deep and solemn
silence had elapsed, when one of the Chiefs, who, except Esmo, had now
resumed their seats, rose, and addressing himself to the latter,
said—

"The Initiate has shown in the Hall of the Vision a knowledge of the
sense embodied in our symbols, of the creed and thoughts drawn from
them, which he can hardly have learned in the few hours that have
elapsed since you first spoke to him of their existence. If there be
not in his world those who have wrought out for themselves similar
truths in not dissimilar forms, he must possess a rare and almost
instinctive power to appreciate the lessons we can teach. I will ask
your permission, therefore, to put to him but one question, and that
the deepest and most difficult of all."

Esmo merely bent his head in reply.

"Can you," said the speaker, turning to me with marked courtesy, "draw
meaning or lesson from the self-entwined coil of the Serpent?"

I need not repeat an answer which, to those familiar with the oldest
language of Terrestrial symbolism, would have occurred as readily as
to myself; and which, if they could understand it, it would not be
well to explain to others. The three principal elements of thought
represented by the doubly-coiled serpent are the same in Mars as on
Earth, confirming in so far the doctrine of the Zinta, that their
symbolic language is not arbitrary, but natural, formed on principles
inherent in the correspondence between things spiritual and physical.
Some similar but trivial query, whose purport I have now forgotten,
was addressed by the junior of the Chiefs to Eveena; and I was struck
by the patient courtesy with which he waited till, after two or three
efforts, she sufficiently recovered her self-possession to understand
and her voice to answer. We then retired, taking our place on seats
remote from the platform, and at some distance from any of our
neighbours.

On a formal invitation, one after another of the brethren rose and
read a brief account of some experiment or discovery in the science of
the Order. The principles taken for granted as fundamental and
notorious truths far transcend the extremest speculations of
Terrestrial mysticism. The powers claimed as of course so infinitely
exceed anything alleged by the most ardent believers in mesmerism,
clairvoyance, or spiritualism, that it would be useless to relate the
few among these experiments which I remember and might be permitted to
repeat. I observed that a phonographic apparatus of a peculiarly
elaborate character wrote down every word of these accounts without
obliging the speakers to approach it; and I was informed that this
automatic reporting is employed in every Martial assembly, scientific,
political, or judicial.

I listened with extreme interest, and was more than satisfied that
Esmo had even underrated the powers claimed by and for the lowest and
least intelligent of his brethren, when he said that these, and these
alone, could give efficient protection or signal vengeance against all
the tremendous physical forces at command of those State authorities,
one of the greatest of whom I had made my personal enemy. One
battalion of Martial guards or police, accompanied by a single battery
of what I may call their artillery, might, even without the aid of a
balloon-squadron, in half-an-hour annihilate or scatter to the winds
the mightiest and bravest army that Europe could send forth. Yet the
Martial State had deliberately, and, I think, with only a due
prudence, shrunk during ages from an open conflict of power with the
few thousand members of this secret but inevitably suspected
organisation.

Esmo called on me in my turn to give such account as I might choose of
my own world, and my journey thence. I frankly avowed my indisposition
to explain the generation and action of the apergic force. The power
which a concurrent knowledge of two separate kinds of science had
given to a very few Terrestrials, and which all the science of a far
more enlightened race had failed to attain, was in my conscientious
conviction a Providential trust; withheld from those in whose hands it
might be a fearful temptation and an instrument of unbounded evil. My
reserve was perfectly intelligible to the Children of the Star, and
evidently raised me in their estimation. I was much impressed by the
simple and unaffected reliance placed on my statements, as on those of
every other member of the Order. As a rule, Martialists are loth, and
not without reason, to believe any unsupported statement that might be
prompted by interest or vanity. But the _Zveltau_ can trust one
another's word more fully than the followers of Mahomet that of his
strictest disciples, or the most honest nations of the West the most
solemn oaths of their citizens; while that bigotry of scientific
unbelief, that narrowness of thought which prevails among their
countrymen, has been dispelled by their wider studies and loftier
interests. They have a saying, whose purport might be rendered in the
proverbial language of the Aryans by saying that the liar "kills the
goose that lays the golden eggs." Again, "The liar is like an
opiatised tunneller" (miner), i.e., more likely to blow himself to
pieces than to effect his purpose. Again, "The liar drives the point
into a friend's heart, and puts the hilt into a foe's hand." The maxim
that "a lie is a shield in sore need, but the spear of a scoundrel,"
affirms the right in extremity to preserve a secret from impertinent
inquisitiveness. Rarely, but on some peculiarly important occasions,
the Zveltau avouch their sincerity by an appeal to their own symbols;
and it is affirmed that an oath attested by the Circle and the Star
has never, in the lapse of ages, been broken or evaded.

Before midnight Esmo dismissed the assembly by a formula which dimly
recalled to memory one heard in my boyhood. It is not in the power of
my translation to preserve the impressive solemnity of the immemorial
ritual of the Zinta, deepened alike by the earnestness of its
delivery, and the reverence of the hearers. There was something
majestic in the mere antiquity of a liturgy whereof no word has ever
been committed to writing. Five hundred generations have, it is
alleged, gathered four times in each year in the Hall of Initiation;
and every meeting has been concluded by the utterance from the same
spot and in the same words of the solemn but simple _Zulvakalfe_ [word
of peace]:—

  "Peace be with you, near and far,
   Children of the Silver Star;
   Lore undoubting, conscience clean,
   Hope assured, and life serene.
   By the Light that knows no flaw,
   By the Circle's perfect law,
   By the Serpent's life renewed,
   By the Wings' similitude—
   Peace be yours no force can break;
   Peace not death hath power to shake;
   Peace from passion, sin, and gloom,
   Peace of spirit, heart, and home;
   Peace from peril, fear, and pain;
   Peace, until we meet again—
   Meet—before yon sculptured stone,
   Or the All-Commander's Throne."

Before we finally parted, Esmo gave me two or three articles to which
he attached especial value. The most important of these was a small
cube of translucent stone, in which a multitude of diversely coloured
fragments were combined; so set in a tiny swivel or swing of gold that
it might be conveniently attached to the watch-chain, the only
Terrestrial article that I still wore. "This," he said, "will test
nearly every poison known to our science; each poison discolouring for
a time one or another of the various substances of which it is
composed; and poison is perhaps the weapon least unlikely to be
employed against you when known to be connected with myself, and, I
will hope, to possess the favour of the Sovereign. If you are curious
to verify its powers, the contents of the tiny medicine-chest I have
given you will enable you to do so. There is scarcely one of those
medicines which is not a single or a combined poison of great power. I
need not warn you to be careful lest you give to any one the means of
reaching them. I have shown you the combination of magnets which will
open each of your cases; that demanded by the chest is the most
complicated of all, and one which can hardly be hit upon by accident.
Nor can any one force or pick open a case locked by our electric
apparatus, save by cutting to pieces the metal of the case itself, and
this only special tools will accomplish; and, unless peculiarly
skilful, the intruder would 'probably be maimed or paralysed, if not
killed by ...




VOL. II


 "Thoughts he sends to each planet,
  Uranus, Venus, and Mars;
  Soars to the Centre to span it,
  Numbers the infinite Stars."

                    _Courthope's Paradise of Birds_




CHAPTER XIV - BY SEA.


An hour after sunrise next morning. Esmo, his son, and our host
accompanied us to the vessel in which we were to make the principal
part of our journey. We were received by an officer of the royal
Court, who was to accompany us during the rest of our journey, and
from whom, Esmo assured me, I might obtain the fullest information
regarding the various objects of interest, to visit which we had
adopted an unusual and circuitous course. We embarked on a gulf
running generally from east to west, about midway between the northern
tropic and the arctic circle. As this was the summer of the northern
hemisphere, we should thus enjoy a longer day, and should not suffer
from the change of climate. After taking leave of our friends, we went
down below to take possession of the fore part of the vessel, which
was assigned as our exclusive quarters. Immediately in front of the
machine-room, which occupied the centre of the vessel, were two
cabins, about sixteen feet square, reaching from side to side. Beyond
these, opening out of a passage running along one side, were two
smaller cabins about eight feet long. All these apartments were
furnished and ornamented with the luxury and elegance of chambers in
the best houses on shore. In the foremost of the larger cabins were a
couple of desks, and three or four writing or easy chairs. In the
outer cabin nearest to the engine-room, and entered immediately by the
ladder descending from the deck, was fixed a low central table. In all
we found abundance of those soft exquisitely covered and embroidered
cushions which in Mars, as in Oriental countries, are the most
essential and most luxurious furniture. The officer had quarters in
the stern of the vessel, which was an exact copy of the fore part. But
the first of these rooms was considered as public or neutral ground.
Leaving Eveena below, I went on deck to examine, before she started,
the construction of the vessel. Her entire length was about one
hundred and eighty feet, her depth, from the flat deck to the wide
keel, about one half of her breadth; the height of the cabins not much
more than eight feet; her draught, when most completely lightened, not
more than four feet. Her electric machinery drew in and drove out with
great force currents of water which propelled her with a speed greater
than that afforded by the most powerful paddles. It also pumped in or
out, at whatever depth, the quantity of water required as ballast, not
merely to steady the vessel, but to keep her in position on the
surface or to sink her to the level at which the pilot might choose to
sail. At either end was fixed a steering screw, much resembling the
tail-fin of a fish, capable of striking sideways, upwards, or
downwards, and directing our course accordingly.

Ergimo, our escort, had not yet reached middle age, but was a man of
exceptional intellect and unusual knowledge. He had made many voyages,
and had occupied for some time an important official post on one of
those Arctic continents which are inhabited only by the hunters
employed in collecting the furs and skins furnished exclusively by
these lands. The shores of the gulf were lofty, rocky, and
uninteresting. It was difficult to see any object on shore from the
deck of the vessel, and I assented, therefore, without demur, after
the first hour of the voyage, to his proposal that the lights,
answering to our hatches, should be closed, and that the vessel should
pursue her course below the surface. This was the more desirable that,
though winds and storms are, as I have said, rare, these long and
narrow seas with their lofty shores are exposed to rough currents,
atmospheric and marine, which render a voyage on the surface no more
agreeable than a passage in average weather across the Bay of Biscay.
After descending I was occupied for some time in studying, with
Ergimo's assistance, the arrangement of the machinery, and the simple
process by which electric force is generated in quantities adequate to
any effort at a marvellously small expenditure of material. In this
form the Martialists assert that they obtain without waste all the
potential energy stored in ... [About half a score lines, or two pages
of an ordinary octavo volume like this, are here illegible.] She
(Eveena?) was somewhat pale, but rose quickly, and greeted me with a
smile of unaffected cheerfulness, and was evidently surprised as well
as pleased that I was content to remain alone with her, our
conversation turning chiefly on the lessons of last night. Our time
passed quickly till, about the middle of the day, we were startled by
a shock which, as I thought, must be due to our having run aground or
struck against a rock. But when I passed into the engine-room, Ergimo
explained that the pilot was nowise in fault. We had encountered one
of those inconveniences, hardly to be called perils, which are
peculiar to the waters of Mars. Though animals hostile or dangerous to
man have been almost extirpated upon the land, creatures of a type
long since supposed to be extinct on Earth still haunt the depths of
the Martial seas; and one of these—a real sea-serpent of above a
hundred feet in length and perhaps eight feet in circumference—had
attacked our vessel, entangling the steering screw in his folds and
trying to crush it, checking, at the same time, by his tremendous
force the motion of the vessel.

"We shall soon get rid of him, though," said Ergimo, as I followed him
to the stern, to watch with great interest the method of dealing with
the monster, whose strange form was visible through a thick crystal
pane in the stern-plate. The asphyxiator could not have been used
without great risk to ourselves. But several tubes, filled with a soft
material resembling cork, originally the pith of a Martial cane of
great size, were inserted in the floor, sides, and deck of the vessel,
and through the centre of each of these passed a strong metallic wire
of great conducting power. Two or three of those in the stern were
placed in contact with some of the electric machinery by which the
rudder was usually turned, and through them were sent rapid and
energetic currents, whose passage rendered the covering of the wires,
notwithstanding their great conductivity, too hot to be touched. We
heard immediately a smothered sound of extraordinary character, which
was, in truth, no other than a scream deadened partly by the water,
partly by the thick metal sheet interposed between us and the element.
The steering screw was set in rapid motion, and at first revolving
with some difficulty, afterwards moving faster and more regularly,
presently released us. Its rotation was stopped, and we resumed our
course. The serpent had relaxed his folds, stunned by the shock, but
had not disentangled himself from the screw, till its blades, no
longer checked by the tremendous force of his original grasp, striking
him a series of terrific blows, had broken the vertebrae and paralysed
if not killed the monstrous enemy.

At each side of the larger chambers and of the engine-room were fixed
small thick circular windows, through which we could see from time to
time the more remarkable objects in the water. We passed along one
curious submarine bank, built somewhat like our coral rocks, not by
insects, however, but by shellfish, which, fixing themselves as soon
as hatched on the shells below or around them, extended slowly upward
and sideways. As each of these creatures perished, the shell, about
half the size of an oyster, was filled with the same sort of material
as that of which its hexagonic walls were originally formed, drawn in
by the surrounding and still living neighbours; and thus, in the
course of centuries, were constructed solid reefs of enormous extent.
One of these had run right across the gulf, forming a complete bridge,
ceasing, however, within some five feet of the surface; but on this a
regular roadway had been constructed by human art and mechanical
labour, while underneath, at the usual depth of thirty feet, several
tunnels had been pierced, each large enough to admit the passage of a
single vessel of the largest size. At every fourth hour our vessel
rose to the surface to renew her atmosphere, which was thus kept purer
than that of an ordinary Atlantic packet between decks, while the
temperature was maintained at an agreeable point by the warmth
diffused from the electric machinery.

On the sixth day of our voyage, we reached a point where the Gulf of
Serocasfe divides, a sharp jutting cape or peninsula parting its
waters. We took the northern branch, about fifteen miles in width, and
here, rising to the surface and steering a zigzag course from coast to
coast, I was enabled to see something of the character of this most
extraordinary strait. Its walls at first were no less than 2000 feet
in height, so that at all times we were in sight, so to speak, of
land. A road had been cut along the sea-level, and here and there
tunnels ascending through the rock rendered this accessible from the
plateau above. The strata, as upon Earth, were of various character,
none of them very thick, seldom reproducing exactly the geology of our
own planet, but seldom very widely deviating in character from the
rocks with which we are acquainted. The lowest were evidently of the
same hard, fused, compressed character as those which our terminology
calls plutonic. Above these were masses which, like the carboniferous
strata of Earth, recalled the previous existence of a richer but less
highly organised form of vegetation than at present exists anywhere
upon the surface. Intermixed with these were beds of the peculiar
submarine shell-rock whose formation I have just described. Above
these again come strata of diluvial gravel, and about 400 feet below
the surface rocks that bore evident traces of a glacial period. As we
approached the lower end of the gulf the shores sloped constantly
downward, and where they were no more than 600 feet in height I was
able to distinguish an upper stratum of some forty yards in depth,
preserving through its whole extent traces of human life and even of
civilisation. This implied, if fairly representative of the rest of
the planet's crust, an existence of man upon its surface ten, twenty,
or even a hundred-fold longer than he is supposed to have enjoyed upon
Earth. About noon on the seventh day we entered the canal which
connects this arm of the gulf with the sea of the northern temperate
zone. It varies in height from 400 to 600 feet, in width from 100 to
300 yards, its channel never exceeds 20 feet in depth, Ergimo
explained that the length had been thought to render a tunnel
unsuitable, as the ordinary method of ventilation could hardly have
been made to work, and to ventilate such a tunnel through shafts sunk
to so great a depth would have been almost as costly as the method
actually adopted. A much smaller breadth might have been thought to
suffice, and was at first intended; but it was found that the current
in a narrow channel, the outer sea being many inches higher than the
water of the gulf, would have been too rapid and violent for safety.
The work had occupied fifteen Martial years, and had been opened only
for some eight centuries. The water was not more than twenty feet in
depth; but the channel was so perfectly scoured by the current that no
obstacle had ever arisen and no expense had been incurred to keep it a
clear. We entered the Northern sea where a bay ran up some half dozen
miles towards the end of the gulf, shortening the canal by this
distance. The bay itself was shallow, the only channel being scarcely
wider than the canal, and created or preserved by the current setting
in to the latter; a current which offered a very perceptible
resistance to our course, and satisfied me that had the canal been no
wider than the convenience of navigation would have required in the
absence of such a stream, its force would have rendered the work
altogether useless. We crossed the sea, holding on in the same
direction, and a little before sunset moored our vessel at the wharf
of a small harbour, along the sides of which was built the largest
town of this subarctic landbelt, a village of some fifty houses named
Askinta.




CHAPTER XV - FUR-HUNTING.


Ergimo landed to make arrangements for the chase, to witness which was
the principal object of this deviation from what would otherwise have
been our most convenient course. Not only would it be possible to take
part in the pursuit of the wild fauna of the continent, but I also
hoped to share in a novel sport, not unlike a whale-hunt in Baffin's
Bay. A large inland sea, occupying no inconsiderable part of the area
of this belt, lay immediately to the northward, and one wide arm
thereof extended within a few miles of Askirita, a distance which,
notwithstanding the interposition of a mountain range, might be
crossed in a couple of hours. One or two days at most would suffice
for both adventures. I had not yet mentioned my intention to Eveena.
During the voyage I had been much alone with her, and it was then only
that our real acquaintance began. Till then, however close our
attachment, we were, in knowledge of each other's character and
thought, almost as strangers. While her painful timidity had in some
degree worn off, her anxious and watchful deference was even more
marked than before. True to the strange ideas derived chiefly from her
training, partly from her own natural character, she was the more
careful to avoid giving the slightest pain or displeasure, as she
ceased to fear that either would be immediately and intentionally
visited upon herself. She evidently thought that on this account there
was the greater danger lest a series of trivial annoyances, unnoticed
at the time, might cool the affection she valued so highly. Diffident
of her own charms, she knew how little hold the women of her race
generally have on the hearts of men after the first fever of passion
has cooled. It was difficult for her to realise that her thoughts or
wishes could truly interest me, that compliance with her inclinations
could be an object, or that I could be seriously bent on teaching her
to speak frankly and openly. But as this new idea became credible and
familiar, her unaffected desire to comply with all that was expected
from her drew out her hitherto undeveloped powers of conversation, and
enabled me day by day to appreciate more thoroughly the real
intelligence and soundness of judgment concealed at first by her
shyness, and still somewhat obscured by her childlike simplicity and
absolute inexperience. In the latter respect, however, she was, of
course, at the less disadvantage with a stranger to the manners and
life of her world. A more perfectly charming companion it would have
been difficult to desire and impossible to find. If at first I had
been secretly inclined to reproach her with exaggerated timidity, it
became more and more evident that her personal fears were due simply
to that nervous susceptibility which even men of reputed courage have
often displayed in situations of sudden and wholly unfamiliar peril.
Her tendency to overrate all dangers, not merely as they affected
herself, but as they might involve others, and above all her husband,
I ascribed to the ideas and habits of thought now for so many
centuries hereditary among a people in whom the fear of
annihilation—and the absence of all the motives that impel men on
earth to face danger and death with calmness, or even to enjoy the
excitement of deadly peril—have extinguished manhood itself.

I could not, however, conceal from Eveena that I was about to leave
her for an adventure which could not but seem to her foolhardy and
motiveless. She was more than terrified when she understood that I
really intended to join the professional hunters in an enterprise
which, even on their part, is regarded by their countrymen with a
mixture of admiration and contempt, as one wherein only the hope of
large remuneration would induce any sensible man to share; and which,
from my utter ignorance of its conditions, must be obviously still
more dangerous to me. The confidence she was slowly learning from what
seemed to her extravagant indulgence, to me simply the consideration
due to a rational being, wife or comrade, slave or free, first found
expression in the freedom of her loving though provoking
expostulations.

"You must be tired of me," she said at last, "if you are so ready to
run the risk of parting out of mere curiosity."

"Sheer petulance!" I answered. "You know well that you are dearer to
me every day as I learn to understand you better; but a man cannot
afford to play the coward because marriage has given new value to
life. And you might remember that I have threefold the strength which
emboldens your hunters to incur all the dangers that seem to your
fancy so terrible."

That no shade of mere cowardice or feminine affectation influenced her
remonstrance was evident from her next words.

"Well, then, if you will go, however improper and outrageous the thing
may be, let me go with you. I cannot bear to wait alone, fancying at
every moment what may be happening to you, and fearing to see them
carry you back wounded or killed."

Touched by the unselfishness of her terror, and feeling that there was
some truth in her representation of the state of mind in which she
would spend the hours of my absence, I tried to quiet her by caresses
and soft words. But these she received as symptoms of yielding on my
part; and her persistence brought upon her at last the resolute and
somewhat sharp rebuke with which men think it natural and right to
repress the excesses of feminine fear.

"This is nonsense, Eveena. You cannot accompany me; and, if you could,
your presence would multiply tenfold the danger to me, and utterly
unnerve me if any real difficulty should call for presence of mind.
You must be content to leave me in the hands of Providence, and allow
me to judge what becomes a man, and what results are worth the risks
they may involve. I hear Ergimo's step on deck, and I must go and
learn from him what arrangements he has been able to make for
to-morrow."

My escort had found no difficulty in providing for the fulfilment of
both my wishes. We were to beat the forests which covered the southern
seabord in the neighbourhood, driving our game out upon the open
ground, where alone we should have a chance of securing it. By noon we
might hope to have seen enough of this sport, and to find ourselves at
no great distance from that part of the inland sea where a yet more
exciting chase was to employ the rest of the day. Failing to bring
both adventures within the sixteen hours of light which at this season
and in this latitude we should enjoy, we were to bivouac for the night
on the northern sea-coast and pursue our aquatic game in the morning
of the morrow, returning before dark to our vessel.

Ergimo, however, was more of Eveena's mind than of mine. "I have
complied," he said, "with your wishes, as the Camptâ ordered me to do.
But I am equally bound, by his orders and by my duty, to tell you that
in my opinion you are running risks altogether out of proportion to
any object our adventure can serve. Scarcely any of the creatures we
shall hunt are other than very formidable. Eyen the therne, with the
spikes on its fore-limbs, can inflict painful if not dangerous wounds,
and its bite is said to be not unfrequently venomous. You are not used
to our methods of hunting, to the management of the _caldecta_, or to
the use of our weapons. I can conceive no reason why you should incur
what is at any rate a considerable chance, not merely of death, but of
defeating the whole purpose of your extraordinary journey, simply to
do or to see the work on which we peril only the least valuable lives
among us."

I was about to answer him even more decidedly than I had replied to
Eveena, when a pressure on my arm drew my eyes in the other direction;
and, to my extreme mortification, I perceived that Eveena herself, in
all-absorbing eagerness to learn the opinion of an intelligent and
experienced hunter, had stolen on deck and had heard all that had
passed. I was too much vexed to make any other reply to Ergimo's
argument than the single word, "I shall go." Really angry with her for
the first and last time, but not choosing to express my displeasure in
the presence of a third person, I hurried Eveena down the ladder into
our cabin.

"Tell me," I said, "what, according to your own rules of feminine
reserve and obedience, you deserve? What would one of your people say
to a wife who followed him without leave into the company of a
stranger, to listen to that which she knew she was not meant to hear?"

She answered by throwing off her veil and head-dress, and standing up
silent before me.

"Answer me, child," I repeated, more than half appeased by the mute
appeal of her half-raised eyes and submissive attitude. "I know you
will not tell me that you have not broken all the restraints of your
own laws and customs. What would your father, for instance, say to
such an escapade?"

She was silent, till the touch of my hand, contradicting perhaps the
harshness of my words, encouraged her to lift her eyes, full of tears,
to mine.

"Nothing," was her very unexpected reply.

"Nothing?" I rejoined. "If you can tell me that you have not done
wrong, I shall be sorry to have reproved you so sharply."

"I shall tell you no such lie!" she answered almost indignantly. "You
asked what would be _said_."

I was fairly at a loss. The figure which Martial grammarians call "the
suppressed alternative" is a great favourite, and derives peculiar
force from the varied emphasis their syntax allows. But, resolved not
to understand a meaning much more distinctly conveyed in her words
than in my translation, I replied, "_I_ shall say nothing then,
except—don't do it again;" and I extricated myself promptly if
ignominiously from the dilemma, by leaving the cabin and closing the
door, so sharply and decidedly as to convey a distinct intimation that
it was not again to be opened.

We breakfasted earlier than usual. My gentle bride had been subdued
into a silence, not sullen, but so sad that when her wistful eyes
followed my every movement as I prepared to start, I could willingly,
to bring back their brightness, have renounced the promise of the day.
But this must not be; and turning to take leave on the threshold, I
said—

"Be sure I shall come to no harm; and if I did, the worst pang of
death would be the memory of the first sharp words I have spoken to
you, and which, I confess, were an ill return for the inconvenient
expression of your affectionate anxiety."

"Do not speak so," she half whispered. "I deserved any mark of your
displeasure; I only wish I could persuade you that the sharpest sting
lies in the lips we love. Do remember, since you would not let me run
the slightest risk of harm, that if you come to hurt you will have
killed me."

"Rest assured I shall come to no serious ill. I hope this evening to
laugh with you at your alarms; and so long as you do not see me either
in the flesh or in the spirit, you may know that I am safe. I _could
not_ leave you for ever without meeting you again."

This speech, which I should have ventured in no other presence, would
hardly have established my lunacy more decisively in Martial eyes than
in those of Terrestrial common sense. It conveyed, however, a real if
not sufficient consolation to Eveena; the idea it implied being not
wholly unfamiliar to a daughter of the Star. I was surprised that,
almost shrinking from my last embrace, Eveena suddenly dropped her
veil around her; till, turning, I saw that Ergimo was standing at the
top of the ladder leading to the deck, and just in sight.

"I will send word," he said, addressing himself to me, but speaking
for her ears, "of your safety at noon and at night. So far as my
utmost efforts can ensure it you will be safe; an obligation higher,
and enforced by sanctions graver, than even the Camptâ's command
forbids me to lead a _brother_ into peril, and fail to bring him out
of it."

The significant word was spoken in so low a tone that it could not
possibly reach the ears of our companions of the chase, who had
mustered on shore within a few feet of the vessel. But Eveena
evidently caught both the sound and the meaning, and I was glad that
they should convey to her a confidence which seemed to myself no
better founded than her alarms. To me its only value lay in the
friendly relation it established with one I had begun greatly to like.
I relied on my own strength and nerve for all that human exertion
could do in such peril as we might encounter; and, in a case in which
these might fail me, I doubted whether even the one tie that has
binding force on Mars would avail me much.

Immediately outside the town were waiting, saddled but not bridled,
some score of the extraordinary riding-birds Eveena had described. The
seat of the rider is on the back, between the wings; but the saddle
consists only of a sort of girth immediately in front, to which a pair
of stirrups, resembling that of a lady's side-saddle, were attached.
The creature that was to carry my unusual weight was the most powerful
of all, but I felt some doubt whether even his strength might not
break down. One of the hunters had charge of a carriage on which was
fixed a cage containing two dozen birds of a dark greenish grey, about
the size of a crow, and with the slender form, piercing eyes, and
powerful beak of the falcon. They were not intended, however, to
strike the prey, but simply to do the part of dogs in tracing out the
game, and driving it from the woods into the open ground. Our birds,
rising at once into the air, carried us some fifty feet above the tops
of the trees. Here the chief huntsman took the guidance of the party,
keeping in front of the line in which we were ranged, and watching
through a pair of what might be called spectacles, save that a very
short tube with double lenses was substituted for the single glass,
the movement of the hawks, which had been released in the wood below
us. These at first dispersed in every direction, extending at
intervals from end to end of a line some three miles in length, and
moving slowly forwards, followed by the hunters. A sharp call from one
bird on the left gathered the rest around him, and in a few moments
the rustling and rushing of an invisible flock through the glades of
the forest apprised us that we had started, though we could not see,
the prey. Ergimo, who kept close beside me, and who had often
witnessed the sport before, kept me informed of what was proceeding
underneath us, of which I could see but little. Glimpses here and
there showed that we were pursuing a numerous flock of large
white-plumed or white-haired creatures, standing at most some four
feet in height; but what they were, even whether birds or quadrupeds,
their movements left me in absolute uncertainty. Worried and
frightened by the falcons, which, however, never ventured to close
upon them, they were gradually driven in the direction intended by the
huntsman towards the open plain, which bordered the forest at a
distance of about six miles to the northward. In half-an-hour after
the "find," the leader of the flock broke out of the wood two or three
hundred yards ahead of us, and was closely followed by his companions.
I then recognised in the objects of the chase the strange _thernee_
described by Eveena, whose long soft down furnished the cloak she wore
on our visit to the Astronaut. Their general form, and especially the
length and graceful curve of the neck, led one instinctively to regard
them as birds; but the fore-limbs, drawn up as they ran, but now and
then outstretched with a sweep to strike at a falcon that ventured
imprudently near, had, in the distance, much more resemblance to the
arm of a baboon than to the limb of any other creature, and bore no
likeness whatever to the wing even of the bat. The object of the
hunters was not to strike these creatures from a distance, but to run
them down and capture them by sheer exhaustion. This the great
wing-power of the _caldectaa_ enabled us to do, though by the time we
had driven the thernee to bay my own Pegasus was fairly tired. The
hunters, separating and spreading out in the form of a semicircle,
assisted the movements of the hawks, driving the prey gradually into a
narrow defile among the hills bordering the plain to the
north-eastward, whose steep upward slope greatly hindered and fatigued
creatures whose natural habitat consists of level plains or seabord
forests. At last, under a steep half-precipitous rock which defended
them in rear, and between clumps of trees which guarded either
flank—protected by both overhead—the flock, at the call of their
leader, took up a position which displayed an instinctive strategy,
whereof an Indian or African chief might have been proud. The
_caldectaa_, however, well knew the vast superiority of their own
strength and of their formidable beaks, and did not hesitate to carry
us close to but somewhat above the thernee, as these stood ranged in
line with extended fore-limbs and snouts; the latter armed with teeth
about an inch and a half in length tapering singly to a sharp point,
the former with spikes stronger, longer, and sharper than those of the
porcupine; but, as I satisfied myself by a subsequent inspection,
formed by rudimentary, or, more properly speaking, transformed or
degenerated quills. The bite was easily avoided. It was not so easy to
keep out of reach of the powerful fore-limb while endeavouring to
strike a fatal blow at the neck with the long rapier-like cutting
weapons carried by the hunters. My own shorter and sharp sword, to
which I had trusted, preferring a familiar weapon to one, however
suitable, to which I was not accustomed, left me no choice but to
abandon the hope of active participation in the slaughter, or to
venture dangerously near. Choosing the latter alternative, I received
from the arm of the thernee I had singled out a blow which, caught
upon my sword, very nearly smote it from my hand, and certainly would
have disarmed at once any of my weaker companions. As it was, the
stroke maimed the limb that delivered it; but with its remaining arm
the creature maintained a fight so stubborn that, had both been
available, the issue could not have been in my favour. This conflict
reminded me singularly of an encounter with the mounted swordsmen of
Scindiah and the Peishwah; all my experience of sword-play being
called into use, and my brute opponent using its natural weapon with
an instinctive skill not unworthy of comparison with that of a trained
horse-soldier; at the same time that it constantly endeavoured to
seize with its formidable snout either my own arm or the wing or body
of the caldecta, which, however, was very well able to take care of
itself. In fact, the prey was secured at last not by my sword but by a
blow from the caldecta's beak, which pierced and paralysed the slender
neck of our antagonist. Some twenty thernee formed the booty of a
chase certainly novel, and possessing perhaps as many elements of
peril and excitement as that finest of Earthly sports which the
affected cynicism of Anglo-Indian speech degrades by the name of
"pig-sticking."

When the falcons had been collected and recaged, and the bodies of the
thernee consigned to a carriage brought up for the purpose by a
subordinate who had watched the hunters' course, our birds, from which
we had dismounted, were somewhat rested; and Ergimo informed me that
another and more formidable, as well as more valuable, prey was
thought to be in sight a few miles off. Mounted on a fresh bird, and
resolutely closing my ears to his urgent and reasonable dissuasion, I
joined the smaller party which was detached for this purpose. As we
were carried slowly at no great distance from the ground, managing our
birds with ease by a touch on either side of the neck—they are
spurred at need by a slight electric shock communicated from the hilt
of the sword, and are checked by a forcible pressure on the wings—I
asked Ergimo why the thernee were not rather shot than hunted, since
utility, not sport, governs the method of capturing the wild beasts of
Mars.

"We have," he replied, "two weapons adapted to strike at a distance.
The asphyxiator is too heavy to be carried far or fast, and pieces of
the shell inflict such injuries upon everything in the immediate
neighbourhood of the explosion, as to render it useless where the
value of the prey depends upon the condition of its skin. Our other
and much more convenient, if less powerful, projective weapon has also
its own disadvantage. It can be used only at short distances; and at
these it is apt to burn and tear a skin so soft and delicate as that
of the thernee. Moreover, it so terrifies the caldecta as to render it
unmanageable; and we are compelled to dismount before using it, as you
may presently see. Four or five of our party are now armed with it,
and I wish you had allowed me to furnish you with one."

"I prefer," I answered, "my own weapon, an air-gun which I can fire
sixteen times without reloading, and which will kill at a hundred
yards' distance. With a weapon unknown to me I might not only fail
altogether, but I might not improbably do serious injury, by my
clumsiness and inexperience, to my companions."

"I wish, nevertheless," he said, "that you carried the _mordyta_. You
will have need of an efficient weapon if you dismount to share the
attack we are just about to make. But I entreat you not to do so. You
can see it all in perfect safety, if only you will keep far enough
away to avoid danger from the fright of your bird."

As he spoke, we had come into proximity to our new game, a large and
very powerful animal, about four feet high at the shoulders, and about
six feet from the head to the root of the tail. The latter carries, as
that of the lion was fabled to do, a final claw, not to lash the
creature into rage, but for the more practical purpose of striking
down an enemy endeavouring to approach it in flank or rear. Its hide,
covered with a long beautifully soft fur, is striped alternately with
brown and yellow, the ground being a sort of silver-grey. The head
resembles that of the lion, but without the mane, and is prolonged
into a face and snout more like those of the wild boar. Its limbs are
less unlike those of the feline genus than any other Earthly type, but
have three claws and a hard pad in lieu of the soft cushion. The upper
jaw is armed with two formidable tusks about twelve inches in length,
and projecting directly forwards. A blow from the claw-furnished tail
would plough up the thigh or rip open the abdomen of a man. A stroke
from one of the paws would fracture his skull, while a wound from the
tusk in almost any part of the body must prove certainly fatal.
Fortunately, the _kargynda_ has not the swiftness of movement
belonging to nearly all our feline races, otherwise its skins, the
most valuable prize of the Martial hunter, would yearly be taken at a
terrible cost of life. Two of these creatures were said to be reposing
in a thick jungle of reeds bordering a narrow stream immediately in
our front. The hunters, with Ergimo, now dismounted and advanced some
two hundred yards in front of their birds, directing the latter to
turn their heads in the opposite direction. I found some difficulty in
making my wish to descend intelligible to the docile creature which
carried me, and was still in the air when one of the enormous
creatures we were hunting rushed out of its hiding-place. The nearest
hunter, raising a shining metal staff about three and a half feet in
length (having a crystal cylinder at the hinder end, about six inches
in circumference, and occupying about one-third the entire length of
the weapon), levelled it at the beast. A flash as of lightning darted
through the air, and the creature rolled over. Another flash from a
similar weapon in the hands of another hunter followed. By this time,
however, my bird was entirely unmanageable, and what happened I
learned afterwards from Ergimo. Neither of the two shots had wounded
the creature, though the near passage of the first had for a moment
stunned and overthrown him. His rush among the party dispersed them
all, but each being able to send forth from his piece a second flash
of lightning, the monster was mortally wounded before they fairly
started in pursuit of their scared birds, which—their attention being
called by the roar of the animal, by the crash accompanying each
flash, and probably above all by the restlessness of my own _caldecta_
in their midst—had flown off to some distance. My bird, floundering
forwards, flung me to the ground about two hundred yards from the
jungle, fortunately at a greater distance from the dying but not yet
utterly disabled prey. Its companion now came forth and stood over the
tortured creature, licking its sores till it expired. By this time I
had recovered the consciousness I had lost with the shock of my fall,
and had ascertained that my gun was safe. I had but time to prepare
and level it when, leaving its dead companion, the brute turned and
charged me almost as rapidly as an infuriated elephant. I fired
several times and assured, if only from my skill as a marksman, that
some of the shots had hit it, was surprised to see that at each it was
only checked for a moment and then resumed its charge. It was so near
now that I could aim with some confidence at the eye; and if, as I
suspected, the previous shots had failed to pierce the hide, no other
aim was likely to avail. I levelled, therefore, as steadily as I could
at its blazing eyeballs and fired three or four shots, still without
doing more than arrest or rather slacken its charge, each shot
provoking a fearful roar of rage and pain. I fired my last within
about twenty yards, and then, before I could draw my sword, was dashed
to the ground with a violence that utterly stunned me. When I
recovered my senses Ergimo was kneeling beside me pouring down my
throat the contents of a small phial; and as I lifted my head and
looked around, I saw the enormous carcass from under which I had been
dragged lying dead almost within reach of my hand. One eye was pierced
through the very centre, the other seriously injured. But such is the
creature's tenacity of life, that, though three balls were actually in
its brain, it had driven home its charge, though far too unconscious
to make more than convulsive and feeble use of any of its formidable
weapons. When I fell it stood for perhaps a second, and then dropped
senseless upon my lower limbs, which were not a little bruised by its
weight. That no bone was broken or dislocated by the shock, deadened
though it must have been by the repeated pauses in the kargynda's
charge and by its final exhaustion, was more than I expected or could
understand. Before I rose to my feet, Ergimo had peremptorily insisted
on the abandonment of the further excursion we had intended, declaring
that he could not answer to his Sovereign, after so severe a lesson,
for my exposure to any future peril. The Camptâ had sent him to bring
me into his presence for purposes which would not be fulfilled by
producing a lifeless carcass, or a maimed and helpless invalid; and
the discipline of the Court and central Administration allowed no
excuse for disobedience to orders or failure in duty. My protest was
very quickly silenced. On attempting to stand, I found myself so
shaken, torn, and shattered that I could not again mount a _caldecta_
or wield a weapon; and was carried back to Askinta on a sort of
inclined litter placed upon the carriage which had conveyed our booty.

I was mortified, as we approached the place where our vessel lay, to
observe a veiled female figure on the deck. Eveena's quick eye had
noted our return some minutes before, and inferred from the early
abandonment of the chase some serious accident. Happily our party were
so disposed that I had time to assume the usual position before she
caught sight of me. I could not, however, deceive her by a desperate
effort to walk steadily and unaided. She stood by quietly and calmly
while the surgeon of the hunters dressed my hurts, observing exactly
how the bandages and lotions were applied. Only when we were left
alone did she in any degree give way to an agitation by which she
feared to increase my evident pain and feverishness. It was impossible
to satisfy her that black bruises and broad gashes meant no danger,
and would be healed by a few days' rest. But when she saw that I could
talk and smile as usual, she was unsparing in her attempts to coax
from me a pledge that I would never again peril life or limb to
gratify my curiosity regarding the very few pursuits in which, for the
highest remuneration, Martialists can be induced to incur the
probability of injury and the chance of that death they so abjectly
dread. Scarcely less reluctant to repeat the scolding she felt so
acutely than to employ the methods of rebuke she deemed less severe, I
had no little difficulty in evading her entreaties. Only a very
decided request to drop the subject at once and for ever, enforced on
her conscience by reminding her that it would be enforced no
otherwise, at last obtained me peace without the sacrifice of liberty.




CHAPTER XVI - TROUBLED WATERS.


We were now in Martial N. latitude 57°, in a comparatively open part
of the narrow sea which encloses the northern land-belt, and to the
south-eastward lay the only channel by which this sea communicates
with the main ocean of the southern hemisphere. Along this we took our
course. Rather against Ergimo's advice, I insisted on remaining on the
surface, as the sea was tolerably calm. Eveena, with her usual
self-suppression, professed to prefer the free air, the light of the
long day, and such amusement as the sight of an occasional sea-monster
or shoal of fishes afforded, to the fainter light and comparative
monotony of submarine travelling. Ergimo, who had in his time
commanded the hunters of the Arctic Sea, was almost as completely
exempt as myself from sea-sickness; but I was surprised to find that
the crew disliked, and, had they ventured, would have grumbled at, the
change, being so little accustomed to any long superficial voyage as
to suffer like landsmen from rough weather. The difference between
sailing on and below the surface is so great, both in comfort and in
the kind of skill and knowledge required, that the seamen of passenger
and of mercantile vessels are classes much more distinct than those of
the mercantile and national marine of England, or any other maritime
Power on Earth. I consented readily that, except on the rare occasions
when the heavens were visible, the short night, from the fall of the
evening to the dissipation of the morning mists, should be passed
under water. I have said that gales are comparatively rare and the
tides insignificant; but the narrow and exceedingly long channels of
the Martial seas, with the influence of a Solar movement from north to
south more extensive though slower than that which takes place between
our Winter and Summer Solstices, produce currents, atmospheric and
oceanic, and sudden squalls that often give rise to that worst of all
disturbances of the surface, known as a "chopping sea." When we
crossed the tropic and came fairly into the channel separating the
western coast of the continent on which the Astronaut had landed from
the eastern seabord of that upon whose southern coast I was presently
to disembark, this disturbance was even worse than, except on
peculiarly disagreeable occasions, in the Straits of Dover. After
enduring this for two or three hours, I observed that Eveena had
stolen from her seat beside me on the deck. Since we left Askinta her
spirits had been unusually variable. She had been sometimes lively and
almost excitable; more generally quiet, depressed, and silent even
beyond her wont. Still, her manner and bearing were always so equable,
gentle, and docile that, accustomed to the caprices of the sex on
Earth, I had hardly noticed the change. I thought, however, that she
was to-day nervous and somewhat pale; and as she did not return, after
permitting the pilot to seek a calmer stratum at some five fathoms
depth, I followed Eveena into our cabin or chamber. Standing with her
back to the entrance and with a goblet to her lips, she did not hear
me till I had approached within arm's length. She then started
violently, so agitated that the colour faded at once from her
countenance, leaving it white as in a swoon, then as suddenly
returning, flushed her neck and face, from the emerald shoulder clasps
to the silver snood, with a pink deeper than that of her robe.

"I am very sorry I startled you," I said. "You are certainly ill, or
you would not be so easily upset."

I laid my hand as I spoke on her soft tresses, but she withdrew from
the touch, sinking down among the cushions. Leaving her to recover her
composure, I took up the half-empty cup she had dropped on the central
table. Thirsty myself, I had almost drained without tasting it, when a
little half-stifled cry of dismay checked me. The moment I removed the
cup from my mouth I perceived its flavour—the unmistakable taste of
the _dravadoné_ ("courage cup"), so disagreeable to us both, which we
had shared on our bridal evening. Wetting with one drop the test-stone
attached to my watch-chain, it presented the local discoloration
indicating the narcotic poison which is the chief ingredient of this
compound.

"I don't think this is wise, child," I said, turning once more to
Eveena. To my amazement, far from having recovered the effect of her
surprise, she was yet more overcome than at first; crouching among the
cushions with her head bent down over her knees, and covering her face
with her hands. Reclining in the soft pile, I held her in my arms,
overcoming perforce what seemed hysterical reluctance; but when I
would have withdrawn the little hands, she threw herself on my knee,
burying her face in the cushions.

"It is very wicked," she sobbed; "I cannot ask you to forgive me."

"Forgive what, my child? Eveena, you are certainly ill. Calm yourself,
and don't try to talk just now."

"I am not ill, I assure you," she faltered, resisting the arm that
sought to raise her; "but ..."

In my hands, however, she was powerless as an infant; and I would hear
nothing till I held her gathered within my arm and her two hands fast
in my right. Now that I could look into the face she strove to avert,
it was clear that she was neither hysterical nor simply ill; her
agitation, however unreasonable and extravagant, was real.

"What troubles you, my own? I promise you not to say one word of
reproach; I only want to understand with what you so bitterly reproach
yourself."

"But you cannot help being angry," she urged, "if you understand what
I have done. It is the _charny_, which I never tasted till that night,
and never ought to have tasted again. I know you cannot forgive me;
only take my fault for granted, and don't question me."

These incoherent words threw the first glimpse of light on the meaning
of her distress and penitence. I doubt if the best woman in
Christendom would so reproach and abase herself, if convicted of even
a worse sin than the secret use of those stimulants for which the
_charny_ is a Martial equivalent. No Martialist would dream of
poisoning his blood and besotting his brain with alcohol in any form.
But their opiates affect a race addicted to physical repose, to
sensuous enjoyment rather than to sensual excitement, and to lucid
intellectual contemplation, with a sense of serene delight as
supremely delicious to their temperament as the dreamy illusions of
haschisch to the Turk, the fierce frenzy of bhang to the Malay, or the
wild excitement of brandy or Geneva to the races of Northern Europe.
But as with the luxury of intoxication in Europe, so in Mars
indulgence in these drugs, freely permitted to the one sex, is
strictly forbidden by opinion and domestic rule to the other. A lady
discovered in the use of _charny_ is as deeply disgraced as an
European matron detected in the secret enjoyment of spirits and
cigars; and her lord and master takes care to render her sufficiently
conscious of her fault.

And there was something stranger here than a violation of the
artificial restraint of sex. Slightly and seldom as the Golden Circle
touches the lines defining personal or social morality—carefully as
the Founder has abstained from imposing an ethical code of his own, or
attaching to his precepts any rule not directly derived from the
fundamental tenets or necessary to the cohesion of the Order—he had
expressed in strong terms his dread and horror of narcotism; the use
for pleasure's sake, not to relieve pain or nervous excitement, of
drugs which act, as he said, through the brain upon the soul. His
judgment, expressed with unusual directness and severity and enforced
by experience, has become with his followers a tradition not less
imperative than the most binding of their laws. It was so held, above
all, in that household in which Eveena and I had first learnt the
"lore of the Starlight." Esmo, indeed, regarded not merely as an
unscientific superstition, but as blasphemous folly, the rejection of
any means of restoring health or relieving pain which Providence has
placed within human reach. But he abhorred the use for pleasure's sake
of poisons affirmed to reduce the activity and in the long-run to
impair the energies of the mind, and weaken the moral sense and the
will, more intensely than the strictest follower of the Arabian
Prophet abhors the draughts which deprive man of the full use of the
senses, intelligence, and conscience which Allah has bestowed, and
degrade him below the brute. Esmo's children, moreover, were not more
strictly compelled to respect the letter than carefully instructed in
the principle of every command for which he claimed their obedience.

But in such measure as Eveena's distress became intelligible, the
fault of which she accused herself became incredible. I could not
believe that she could be wilfully disloyal to me—still less that she
could have suddenly broken through the fixed ideas of her whole life,
the principles engraved on her mind by education more stringently than
the maxims of the Koran or the Levitical Law on the children of
Ishmael or of Israel; and this while the impressive rites of
Initiation, the imprecation at which I myself had shuddered, were
fresh in her memory—their impression infinitely deepened, moreover,
by the awful mystery of that Vision of which even yet we were half
afraid to speak to one another. While I hesitated to reply, gathering
up as well as I could the thread of these thoughts as they passed in a
few seconds through my mind, my left hand touched an object hidden in
my bride's zone. I drew out a tiny crystal phial three parts full,
taken, as I saw, from the medicine-chest Esmo had carefully stocked
and as carefully fastened. As, holding this, I turned again to her,
Eveena repeated: "Punish, but don't question me!"

"My own," I said, "you are far more punished already than you deserve
or I can bear to see. How did you get this?"

Releasing her hands, she drew from the folds of her robe the electric
keys, which, by a separate combination, would unlock each of my
cases;—without which it was impossible to open or force them.

"Yes, I remember; and you were surprised that I trusted them to you.
And now you expect me to believe that you have abused that trust,
deceived me, broken a rule which in your father's house and by all our
Order is held sacred as the rings of the Signet, for a drug which
twelve days ago you disliked as much as I?"

"It is true."

The words were spoken with downcast eyes, in the low faltering tone
natural to a confession of disgrace.

"It is not true, Eveena; or if true in form, false in matter. If it
were possible that you could wish to deceive me, you knew it could not
be for long."

"I meant to be found out," she interrupted, "only not yet."

She had betrayed herself, stung by words that seemed to express the
one doubt she could not nerve herself to endure—doubt of her loyalty
to me. Before I could speak, she looked up hastily, and began to
retract. I stopped her.

"I see—when you had done with it. But, Eveena, why conceal it? Do you
think I would not have given this or all the contents of the chest
into your hands, and asked no question?"

"Do you mean it? Could you have so trusted me?"

"My child! is it difficult to trust where I know there is no
temptation to wrong? Do you think that to-day I have doubted or
suspected you, even while you have accused yourself? I cannot guess at
your motive, but I am as sure as ever of your loyalty. Take these
things,"—forcing back upon her the phial and the magnets,—"yes, and
the test-stone." ... She burst into passionate tears.

"I cannot endure this. If I had dreamed your patience would have borne
with me half so far, I would never have tried it so, even for your own
sake. I meant to be found out and accept the consequences in silence.
But you trust me so, that I must tell you what I wanted to conceal.
When you kept on the surface it made me so ill"—

"But, Eveena, if the remedy be not worse than the sickness, why not
ask for it openly?"

"It was not that. Don't you understand? Of course, I would bear any
suffering rather than have done this; but then you would have found me
out at once. I wanted to conceal my suffering, not to escape it."

"My child! my child! how could you put us both to all this pain?"

"You know you would not have given me the draught; you would have left
the surface at once; and I cannot bear to be always in the way, always
hindering your pleasures, and even your discoveries. You came across a
distance that makes a bigger world than this look less than that
light, through solitude and dangers and horrors I cannot bear to think
of, to see and examine this world of ours. And then you leave things
unseen or half-seen, you spoil your work, because a girl is seasick!
You ran great risk of death and got badly hurt to see what our hunting
was like, and you will not let my head ache that you may find out what
our sea-storms and currents are! How can I bear to be such a burden
upon you? You trust me, and, I believe," (she added, colouring), "you
love me, twelvefold more than I deserve; yet you think me unwilling or
unworthy to take ever so small an interest in your work, to bear a few
hours' discomfort for it and for you. And yet," she went on
passionately, "I may sit trembling and heart-sick for a whole day
alone that you may carry out your purpose. I may receive the only real
sting your lips have given, because I could not bear that pain without
crying. And so with everything. It is not that I must not suffer pain,
but that the pain must not come from without. Your lips would punish a
fault with words that shame and sting for a day, a summer, a year;
your hand must never inflict a sting that may smart for ten minutes.
And it is not only that you do this, but you pride yourself on it.
Why? It is not that you think the pain of the body so much worse than
that of the spirit:—you that smiled at me when you were too badly
bruised and torn to stand, yet could scarcely keep back your tears
just now, when you thought that I had suffered half an hour of sorrow
I did not quite deserve. Why then? Do you think that women feel so
differently? Have the women of your Earth hearts so much harder and
skins so much softer than ours?"

She spoke with most unusual impetuosity, and with that absolute
simplicity and sincerity which marked her every look and word, which
gave them, for me at least, an unspeakable charm, and for all who
heard her a characteristic individuality unlike the speech or manner
of any other woman. As soon suspect an infant of elaborate sarcasm as
Eveena of affectation, irony, or conscious paradox. Nay, while her
voice was in my ears, I never could feel that her views _were_
paradoxical. The direct straightforwardness and simple structure of
the Martial language enhanced this peculiar effect of her speech; and
much that seems infantine in translation was all but eloquent as she
spoke it. Often, as on this occasion, I felt guilty of insincerity, of
a verbal fencing unworthy of her unalloyed good faith and earnestness,
as I endeavoured to parry thrusts that went to the very heart of all
those instinctive doctrines which I could the less defend on the
moment, because I had never before dreamed that they could be doubted.

"At any rate," I said at last, "your sex gain by my heresy, since they
are as richly gifted in stinging words as we in physical force."

"So much the worse for them, surely," she answered simply, "if it be
right that men should rule and women obey?"

"That is the received doctrine on Earth," I answered. "In practice,
men command and women disobey them; men bully and women lie. But in
truth, Eveena, having a wife only too loyal and too loving, I don't
care to canvass the deserts of ordinary women or the discipline of
other households. I own that it was wrong to scold you. Do not insist
on making me say that it would have been a little less wrong to beat
you!"

She laughed—her low, sweet, silvery laugh, the like of which I have
hardly heard among Earthly women, even of the simpler, more child-like
races of the East and South; a laugh still stranger in a world where
childhood is seldom bright and womanhood mostly sad and fretful. Of
the very few satisfactory memories I bore away from that world, the
sweetest is the recollection of that laugh, which I heard for the
first time on the morrow of our bridals, and for the last time on the
day before we parted. I cherish it as evidence that, despite many and
bitter troubles, my bride's short married life was not wholly unhappy.
By this time she had found out that we had left the surface, and began
to remonstrate.

"Nay, I have seen all I care to see, my own. I confess the justice of
your claim, as the partner of my life, to be the partner of its
paramount purpose. You are more precious to me than all the
discoveries of which I ever dreamed, and I will not for any purpose
whatsoever expose you to real peril or serious pain. But henceforth I
will ask you to bear discomfort and inconvenience when the object is
worth it, and to help me wherever your help can avail."

"I can help you?"

"Much, and in many ways, my Eveena. You will soon learn to understand
what I wish to examine and the use of the instruments I employ; and
then you will be the most useful of assistants, as you are the best
and most welcome of companions."

As I spoke a soft colour suffused her face, and her eyes brightened
with a joy and contentment such as no promise of pleasure or
indulgence could have inspired. To be the partner of adventure and
hardship, the drudge in toil and sentinel in peril, was the boon she
claimed, the best guerdon I could promise. If but the promise might
have been better fulfilled!

It was not till in latitude 9° S. we emerged into the open ocean, and
presently found ourselves free from the currents of the narrow waters,
that, in order to see the remarkable island of which I had caught
sight in my descent, I requested Ergimo to remain for some hours above
the surface. The island rises directly out of the sea, and is
absolutely unascendible. Balloons, however, render access possible,
both to its summit and to its cave-pierced sides. It is the home of
enormous flocks of white birds, which resemble in form the heron
rather than the eider duck, but which, like the latter, line with down
drawn from their own breasts the nests which, counted by millions,
occupy every nook and cranny of the crystalline walls, about ten miles
in circumference. Each of the nests is nearly as large as that of the
stork. They are made of a jelly digested from the bones of the fish
upon which the birds prey, and are almost as white in colour as the
birds themselves. Freshly formed nest dissolved in hot water makes
dishes as much to the taste of Martialists as the famous bird-nest
soup to that of the Chinese. Both down and nests, therefore, are
largely plundered; but the birds are never injured, and care is taken
in robbing them to leave enough of the outer portion of the nest to
constitute a bed for the eggs, and encourage the creatures to rebuild
and reline it.

One harvest only is permitted, the second stripping of feathers and
the rebuilt nest being left undisturbed. The caverns are lined with a
white guano, now some feet thick, since it has ceased to be sought for
manure; the Martialists having discovered means of saturating the soil
with ammonia procured from the nitrogen of the atmosphere, which with
the sewage and other similar materials enables them to dispense with
this valuable bird manure. Whether the white colour of the island,
perceptible even in a large Terrestrial telescope, is in any degree
due to the whiteness of the birds, their nests, and leavings, or
wholly to reflection from the bright spar-like surface of the rock
itself, and especially of the flat table-like summit, I will not
pretend to say.

From this point we held our course south-westward, and entered the
northernmost of two extraordinary gulfs of exactly similar shape,
separated by an isthmus and peninsula which assume on a map the form
of a gigantic hammer. The strait by which each gulf is entered is
about a hundred miles in length and ten in breadth. The gulf itself,
if it should not rather be called an inland sea, occupies a total area
of about 100,000 square miles. The isthmus, 500 miles in length by 50
in breadth, ends in a roughly square peninsula of about 10,000 square
miles in extent, nearly the whole of which is a plateau 2000 feet
above the sea-level. On the narrowest point of the isthmus, just where
it joins the mainland, and where a sheltered bay runs up from either
sea, is situated the great city of Amâkasfe, the natural centre of
Martial life and commerce. At this point we found awaiting us the
balloon which was to convey us to the Court of the Suzerain. A very
light but strong metallic framework maintained the form of the
"fish-shaped" or spindle-shaped balloon itself, which closely
resembled that of our vessel, its dimensions being of necessity
greater. Attached to this framework was the car of similar form, about
twelve feet in length and six in depth, the upper third of the sides,
however, being of open-work, so as not to interfere with the survey of
the traveller. Eveena could not help shivering at the sight of the
slight vehicle and the enormous machine of thin, bladder-like material
by which it was to be upheld. She embarked, indeed, without a word,
her alarm betraying itself by no voluntary sign, unless it were the
tight clasp of my hand, resembling that of a child frightened, but
ashamed to confess its fear. I noticed, however, that she so arranged
her veil as to cover her eyes when the signal for the start was given.
She was, therefore, wholly unconscious of the sudden spring,
unattended by the slightest jolt or shake, which raised us at once 500
feet above the coast, and under whose influence, to my eyes, the
ground appeared suddenly to fall from us. When I drew out the folds of
her veil, it was with no little amazement that she saw the sky around
her, the sea and the city far below. An aerial current to the
north-westward at our present level, which had been selected on that
account, carried us at a rate of some twelve miles an hour; a rate
much increased, however, by the sails at the stern of the car, sails
of thin metal fixed on strong frames, and striking with a screw-like
motion. Their lack of expanse was compensated by a rapidity of motion
such that they seemed to the eye not to move at all, presenting the
appearance of an uniform disc reflecting the rays of the Sun, which
was now almost immediately above us. Towards evening the Residence of
the Camptâ became visible on the north-western horizon. It was built
on a plateau about 400 feet above the sea-level, towards which the
ground from all sides sloped up almost imperceptibly. Around it was a
garden of great extent with a number of trees of every sort, some of
them masses of the darkest green, others of bright yellow, contrasting
similarly shaped masses of almost equal size clothed from base to top
in a continuous sheet of pink, emerald, white or crimson flowers. The
turf presented almost as great a variety of colours, arranged in
every conceivable pattern, above which rose innumerable flower-beds,
uniform or varied, the smallest perhaps two, the largest more than 200
feet in diameter; each circle of bloom higher than that outside it,
till in some cases the centre rose even ten feet above the general
level. The building itself was low, having nowhere more than two
stories. One wing, pointed out to me by Ergimo, was appropriated to
the household of the Prince; the centre standing out in front and
rear, divided by a court almost as wide as the wings; the further wing
accommodating the attendants and officials of the Court. We landed,
just before the evening mist began to gather, at the foot of an
inclined way of a concrete resembling jasper, leading up to the main
entrance of the Palace.




CHAPTER XVII - PRESENTED AT COURT.


Leading Eveena by the hand—for to hold my arm after the European
fashion was always an inconvenience and fatigue to her—and preceded
by Ergimo, I walked unnoticed to the closed gate of pink crystal,
contrasting the emerald green of the outer walls. Along the front of
this central portion of the residence was a species of verandah,
supported by pillars overlaid with a bright red metal, and wrought in
the form of smooth tree trunks closely clasped by creepers, the silver
flowers of the latter contrasting the dense golden foliage and
ruby-like stems. Under this, and in front of the gate itself, were two
sentries armed with a spear, the shaft of which was about six feet in
length, hollow, and almost as light as the cane or reed handle of an
African assegai. The blade more resembled the triangular bayonet.
Beside each, however, was the terrible asphyxiator, fixed on its
stand, with a bore about as great as that of a nine-pounder, but
incomparably lighter. These two weapons might at one discharge have
annihilated a huge mob of insurgents threatening to storm the palace,
were insurrections known in Mars. These men saluted us by dropping the
points of their weapons and inclining the handle towards us; gazing
upon me with surprise, and with something of soldierly admiration for
physical superiority. The doors, wide enough to admit a dozen
Martialists abreast, parted, and we entered a vaulted hall whose
arched roof was supported not by pillars but by gigantic statues, each
presenting the lustre of a different jewel, and all wrought with
singular perfection of proportion and of beauty. Here we were met by
two officers wearing the same dress as the sentries outside—a diaper
of crimson and silver. The rank of those who now received us, however,
was indicated by a silver ribbon passing over the left shoulder, and
supporting what I should have called a staff, save that it was of
metal and had a sharp point, rendering it almost as formidable a
weapon as the rapier. Exchanging a word or two with Ergimo, these
gentlemen ushered us into a small room on the right, where
refreshments were placed before us. Eveena whispered me that she must
not share our meal in presence of these strangers; an intimation which
somewhat blunted the keen appetite I always derived from a journey
through the Martial atmosphere. Checked as it was, however, that
appetite seemed a new astonishment to our attendants; the need of food
among their race being proportionate to their inferior size and
strength. When we rose, I asked Ergimo what was to become of Eveena,
as the officers were evidently waiting to conduct me into the presence
of their Sovereign, where it would not be appropriate for her to
appear. He repeated my question to the principal official, and the
latter, walking to a door in the farther corner of the room, sounded
an electric signal; a few seconds after which the door opened, showing
two veiled figures, the pink ground of whose robes indicated their
matronhood, if I may apply such a term to the relation of his hundred
temporary wives to the Camptâ. But this ground colour was almost
hidden in the embroidery of crimson, gold, and white, which, as I soon
found, were the favourite colours of the reigning Prince. To these
ladies I resigned Eveena, the officer saying, as I somewhat
reluctantly parted from her, "What you entrust to the Camptâ's
household you will find again in your own when your audience is over."
Whether this avoidance of all direct mention of women were matter of
delicacy or contempt I hardly knew, though I had observed it on former
occasions.

When the door closed, I noticed that Ergimo had left us, and the
officers indicated by gesture rather than by words that they were to
lead me immediately into the presence. I had considered with some care
how I was, on so critical an occasion, to conduct myself, and had
resolved that the most politic course would probably be an assumption
of courteous but absolute independence; to treat the Autocrat of this
planet much as an English envoy would treat an Indian Prince. It was
in accordance with this intention that I had assumed a dress somewhat
more elaborate than is usually worn here, a white suit of a substance
resembling velvet in texture, and moire in lustre, with collar and
belt of silver. On my breast I wore my order of [illegible], and in my
belt my one cherished Terrestrial possession—the sword, reputed the
best in Asia, that had twice driven its point home within a finger's
breadth of my life; and that clove the turban on my brow but a minute
before it was surrendered—just in time to save its gallant owner and
his score of surviving comrades. In its hilt I had set the emerald
with which alone the Commander of the Faithful rewarded my services.
The turban is not so unlike the masculine head-dress of Mars as to
attract any special attention. Re-entering the hall, I was conducted
along a gallery and through another crystal door into the immediate
presence of the Autocrat. The audience chamber was of no extraordinary
size, perhaps one-quarter as large as the peristyle of Esmo's
dwelling. Along the emerald walls ran a series of friezes wrought in
gold, representing various scenes of peace and war, agricultural,
judicial, and political; as well as incidents which, I afterwards
learnt, preserved the memory of the long struggles wherein the
Communists were finally overthrown. The lower half of the room was
empty, the upper was occupied by a semicircle of seats forming part of
the building itself and directly facing the entrance. These took up
about one-third of the space, the central floor being divided from the
upper portion of the room by a low wall of metal surmounted by arches
supporting the roof and hung with drapery, which might be so lowered
as to conceal the whole occupied part of the chamber. The seats rose
in five tiers, one above the other. The semicircle, however, was
broken exactly in the middle, that is, at the point farthest from the
entrance, by a broad flight of steps, at the summit of which, and
raised a very little above the seats of the highest tier, was the
throne, supported by two of the royal brutes whose attack had been so
nearly fatal to myself, wrought in silver, their erect heads forming
the arms and front. About fifty persons were present, occupying only
the seats nearest to the throne. On the upper tier were nine or ten
who wore a scarlet sash, among whom I recognised a face I had not seen
since the day of my memorable visit to the Astronaut; not precisely
the face of a friend—Endo Zamptâ. Behind the throne were ranged a
dozen guards, armed with the spear and with the lightning gun used in
hunting. That a single Martial battalion with its appropriate
artillery could annihilate the best army of the Earth I could not but
be aware; yet the first thought that occurred to me, as I looked on
these formidably armed but diminutive soldiers, was that a score of my
Arab horsemen would have cut a regiment of them to pieces. But by the
time I had reached the foot of the steps my attention was concentrated
on a single figure and face—the form and countenance of the Prince,
who rose from his throne as I approached. Those who remember that
Louis XIV., a prince reputed to have possessed the most majestic and
awe-inspiring presence of his age, was actually beneath the ordinary
height of Frenchmen, may be able to believe me when I say that the
Autocrat of Mars, though scarcely five feet tall, was in outward
appearance and bearing the most truly royal and imposing prince I have
ever seen. His stature, rising nearly two inches over the tallest of
those around him, perhaps added to the effect of a mien remarkable for
dignity, composure, and self-confidence. The predominant and most
immediately observable expression of his face was one of serene calm
and command. A closer inspection and a longer experience explained
why, notwithstanding, my first conception of his character (and it was
a true one) ascribed to him quite as much of fire and spirit as of
impassive grandeur. His voice, though its tone was gentle and almost
strikingly quiet, had in it something of the ring peculiar to those
which have sent the word of command along a line of battle. I felt as
I heard it more impressed with the personal greatness, and even with
the rank and power, of the Prince before me, than when I knelt to kiss
the hand of the Most Christian King, or stood barefooted before the
greatest modern successor of the conqueror of Stamboul.

"I am glad to receive you," he said. "It will be among the most
memorable incidents of my reign that I welcome to my Court the first
visitor from another world, or," he added, after a sudden pause, and
with an inflection of unmistakable irony in his tone, "the first who
has descended to our world from a height to which no balloon could
reach and at which no balloonist could live."

"I am honoured, Prince," I replied, "in the notice of a greater
potentate than the greatest of my own world."

These compliments exchanged, the Prince at once proceeded to more
practical matters, aptly, however, connecting his next sentence with
the formal phrases preceding it.

"Nevertheless, you have not shown excessive respect for my power in
the person of one of my greatest officers. If you treated the princes
of Earth as unceremoniously as the Regent of Elcavoo, I can understand
that you found it convenient to place yourself beyond their reach."

I thought that this speech afforded me an opportunity of repairing my
offence with the least possible loss of dignity.

"The proudest of Earthly princes," I replied, "would, I think, have
pardoned the roughness which forgot the duty of a subject in the first
obligations of humanity. No Sovereign whom I have served, but would
have forgiven me more readily for rough words spoken at such a moment,
than for any delay or slackness in saving the life of a woman in
danger under his own eyes. Permit me to take this opportunity of
apologizing to the Regent in your presence, and assuring him that I
was influenced by no disrespect to him, but only by overpowering
terror for another."

"The lives of a dozen women," said the Camptâ, still with that covert
irony or sarcasm in his tone, "would seem of less moment than threats
and actual violence offered to the ruler of our largest and wealthiest
dominion. The excuse which Endo Zamptâ must accept" (with a slight but
perceptible emphasis on the imperative) "is the utter difference
between our laws and ideas and your own."

The Regent, at this speech from his Sovereign, rose and made the usual
gesture of assent, inclining his head and lifting his left hand to his
mouth. But the look on his face as he turned it on me, thus partly
concealing it from the camptâ, boded no good should I ever fall into
his power. The Prince then desired me to give an account of the
motives which had induced my voyage and the adventures I had
encountered. In reply, I gave him, as briefly and clearly as I could,
a summary of all that is recorded in the earlier part of this
narrative, carefully forbearing to afford any explanation of the
manner in which the apergic force was generated. This omission the
Prince noticed at once with remarkable quickness.

"You do not choose," he said, "to tell us your secret, and of course
it is your property. Hereafter, however, I shall hope to purchase it
from you."

"Prince," I answered, "if one of your subjects-found himself in the
power of a race capable of conquering this world and destroying its
inhabitants, would you forgive him if he furnished them with the means
of reaching you?"

"I think," he replied, "my forgiveness would be of little consequence
in that case. But go on with your story."

I finished my narration among looks of surprise and incredulity from
no inconsiderable part of the audience, which, however, I noticed the
less because the Prince himself listened with profound interest;
putting in now and then a question which indicated his perfect
comprehension of my account, of the conditions of such a journey and
of the means I had employed to meet them.

"Before you were admitted," he said, "Endo Zamptâ had read to us his
report upon your vessel and her machinery, an account which in every
respect consists with and supports the truth of your relation. Indeed,
were your story untrue, you have run a greater risk in telling it here
than in the most daring adventure I have ever known or imagined. The
Court is dismissed. Reclamomortâ will please me by remaining with me
for the present."

When the assembly dispersed, I followed their Autocrat at his desire
into his private apartments, where, resting among a pile of cushions
and motioning me to take a place in immediate proximity to himself, he
continued the conversation in a tone and manner so exactly the same as
that he had employed in public as to show that the latter was not
assumed for purposes of monarchical stage-play, but was the natural
expression of his own character as developed under the influence of
unlimited and uncontradicted power. He only exchanged, for unaffected
interest and implied confidence, the tone of ironical doubt by which
he had rendered it out of the question for his courtiers to charge him
with a belief in that which public opinion might pronounce impossible,
while making it apparent to me that he regarded the bigotry of
scepticism with scarcely veiled contempt.

"I wish," he said, "I had half-a-dozen subjects capable of imagining
such an enterprise and hardy enough to undertake it. But though we all
profess to consider knowledge, and especially scientific knowledge,
the one object for which it is worth while to live, none of us would
risk his life in such an adventure for all the rewards that science
and fame could give."

"I think, Prince," I replied, "that I am in presence of one inhabitant
of this planet who would have dared at least as much as I have done."

"Possibly," he said. "Because, weary as most of us profess to be of
existence, the weariest life in this world is that of him who rules
it; living for ever under the silent criticism which he cannot answer,
and bound to devote his time and thoughts to the welfare of a race
whose utter extermination would be, on their own showing, the greatest
boon he could confer upon them. Certainly I would rather be the
discoverer of a world than its Sovereign."

He asked me numerous questions about the Earth, the races that inhabit
it, their several systems of government, and their relations to one
another; manifesting a keener interest, I thought, in the great wars
which ended while I was yet a youth, than in any other subject. At
last he permitted me to take leave. "You are," he said, "the most
welcome guest I ever have or could have received; a guest
distinguished above all others by a power independent of my own. But
what honour I can pay to courage and enterprise, what welcome I can
give such a guest, shall not be unworthy of him or of myself. Retire
now to the home you will find prepared for you. I will only ask you to
remember that I have chosen one near my own in order that I may see
you often, and learn in private all that you can tell me."

At the entrance of the apartment I was met by the officer who had
introduced me into the presence, and conducted at once to a door
opening on the interior court or peristyle of the central portion of
the Palace. This was itself a garden, but, unlike those of private
houses, a garden open to the sky and traversed by roads in lieu of
mere paths; not serving, as in private dwellings, the purposes of a
common living room. Here a carriage awaited us, and my escort
requested me to mount. I had some misgivings on Eveena's account, but
felt it necessary to imitate the reserve and affected indifference on
such subjects of those among whom I had been thrown, at least until I
somewhat better understood their ways, and had established my own
position. Traversing a vaulted passage underneath the rearward portion
of the Palace, we emerged into the outer garden, and through this into
a road lighted with a brilliancy almost equal to that of day. Our
journey occupied nearly half an hour, when we entered an enclosure
apparently of great size, the avenue of which was so wide that,
without dismounting, our carriage passed directly up to the door of a
larger house than I had yet seen.




CHAPTER XVIII - A PRINCE'S PRESENT.


"This," said my escort, as we dismounted, "is the residence assigned
to you by the Camptâ. Besides the grounds here enclosed, he has
awarded you, by a deed which will presently be placed in your hands,
an estate of some ten _stoltau_, which you can inspect at your
leisure, and which will afford you a revenue as large as is enjoyed by
any save by the twelve Regents. He has endeavoured to add to this
testimony of his regard by rendering your household as complete as
wealth and forethought could make it. What may be wanting to your own
tastes and habits you will find no difficulty in adding."

We now entered that first and principal chamber of the mansion wherein
it is customary to receive all visitors and transact all business. The
hall was one of unusual size and magnificence. Here, at a table not
far from the entrance, stood another official, not wearing the uniform
of the Court, with several documents in his hand. As he turned to
salute me, his face wore an expression of annoyance and discomfiture
which not a little surprised me, till, by following his sidelong,
uncomfortable glances, I perceived a veiled feminine figure, which
could be no other than Eveena's. Misreading my surprise, the official
said—

"It is no fault of mine, and I have not spoken except to remonstrate,
as far as might be allowed, against so unusual a proceeding."

He must have been astonished and annoyed indeed to take such notice of
a stranger's wife; and, above all, to take upon himself to comment on
her conduct for good or ill. I thought it best to make no reply, and
simply saluted him in form as I received the first paper handed to me,
to which, by the absence of any blank space, I perceived that my
signature was not required. This was indeed the document which
bestowed on me the house and estate presented by the Sovereign. The
next paper handed to me appeared to resemble the marriage-contract I
had already signed, save that but one blank was left therein. Unable
to decipher it, I was about to ask the official to read it aloud, when
Eveena, who had stolen up to me unperceived, caught my arm and drew me
a little way aside, indifferent to the wondering glances of the
officials; who had probably never seen a woman venture uncalled into
the public apartments of her husband's house, still less interpose in
any matter of business, and no doubt thought that she was taking
outrageous advantage of my ignorance and inexperience.

"I will scold you presently, child," I said quickly and low. "What is
it?"

"Sign at once," she whispered, "and ask no questions. Deal with me as
you will afterwards. You must take what is given you now, without
comment or objection, simply expressing your thanks."

"_Must_! Eveena?"

"It is not safe to refuse or slight gifts from such a quarter," she
answered, in the same low tone. "Trust me so far; please do what I
entreat of you now. I must bear your displeasure if I fail to satisfy
you when we are alone."

Her manner was so agitated and so anxious that it recalled to me at
once the advice of Esmo upon the same point, though the fears which
had prompted so strange an intervention were wholly incomprehensible
to me. I knew her, however, by this time too well to refuse the trust
she now for the first time claimed, and taking the documents one by
one as if I had perfectly understood them, I wrote my name in the
space left blank for it, and allowed the official to stamp the slips
without a word. I then expressed briefly but earnestly my thanks both
to the Autocrat and to the officials who had been the agents of his
kindness. They retired, and I looked round for Eveena; but as soon as
she saw that I was about to comply with her request, she had quitted
the room. Alone in my own house, knowing nothing of its geography,
having no notion how to summon the brute domestics—if, indeed, the
dwelling were furnished with those useful creatures, without whom a
Martial household would be signally incomplete—I could only look for
the spring that opened the principal door. This should lead into the
gallery which, as I judged, must divide the hall and the front
apartments from those looking into the peristyle. Having found and
pressed this spring, the door opened on a gallery longer, wider, and
more elaborately ornamented than that of the only Martial mansions
into which I had been hitherto admitted. Looking round in no little
perplexity, I observed a niche in which stood a statue of white
relieved by a scarlet background; and beside this statue, crouching
and half hidden, a slight pink object, looking at first like a bundle
of drapery, but which in a moment sprang up, and, catching my hand,
made me aware that Eveena had been waiting for me.

"I beg you," she said with an earnestness I could not understand, "I
beg you to come _this_ way," leading me to the right, for I had turned
instinctively to the left in entering the gallery, perhaps because my
room in Esmo's house had lain in that direction. Reaching the end of
the gallery, she turned into one of the inner apartments; and as the
door closed behind us, I felt that she was sinking to the ground, as
if the agitation she had manifested in the hall, controlled till her
object was accomplished, had now overpowered her. I caught and carried
her to the usual pile of cushions in the corner. The room, according
to universal custom in Martial houses after sunset, was brilliantly
lighted by the electric lamp in the peristyle, and throwing back her
veil, I saw that she was pale to ghastliness and almost fainting. In
my ignorance of my own house, I could call for no help, and employ no
other restoratives than fond words and caresses. Under this treatment,
nevertheless, she recovered perhaps as quickly as under any which the
faculty might have prescribed. She was, still, however, much more
distressed than mere consciousness of the grave solecism she had
committed could explain. But I had no other clue to her trouble, and
could only hope that in repudiating this she would explain its real
cause.

"Come, bambina!" I expostulated, "we understand one another too well
by this time for you to wrong me by all this alarm. I know that you
would not have broken through the customs of your people without good
reason; and you know that, even if your reason were not sufficient, I
should not be hard upon the error."

"I am sure you would not," she said. "But this time you have to
consider others, and you cannot let it be supposed that you do not
know a wife's duty, or will allow your authority to be set at naught
in your own household."

"What matter? Do you suppose I listen in the roads?" [care for
gossip], I rejoined. "Household rule is a matter of the veil, and no
one—not even your autocratic Prince—will venture to lift it."

"You have not lifted it yourself yet," she answered. "You will
understand me, when you have looked at the slips you were about to
make them read aloud, had I not interrupted you."

"Read them yourself," I said, handing to her the papers I still held,
and which, after her interposition, I had not attempted to decipher.
She took them, but with a visible shudder of reluctance—not stronger
than came over me before she had read three lines aloud. Had I known
their purport, I doubt whether even Eveena's persuasion and the
Autocrat's power together could have induced me to sign them. They
were in very truth contracts of marriage—if marriage it can be
called. The Sovereign had done me the unusual, but not wholly
unprecedented, favour of selecting half a dozen of the fairest maidens
of those waiting their fate in the Nurseries of his empire; had
proffered on my behoof terms which satisfied their ambition, gratified
their vanity, and would have induced them to accept any suitor so
recommended, without the insignificant formality of a personal
courtship. It had seemed to him only a gracious attention to complete
my household; and he had furnished me with a bevy of wives, as I
presently found he had selected a complete set of the most intelligent
_amlau, carvee,_ and _tyree_ which he could procure. Without either
the one or the other, the dwelling he had given me would have seemed
equally empty or incomplete.

This mark of royal favour astounded and dismayed me more than Eveena
herself. If she had entertained the wish, she would hardly have
acknowledged to herself the hope, that she might remain permanently
the sole partner of my home. But so sudden, speedy, and wholesale an
intrusion thereon she certainly had not expected. Even in Mars, a
first bride generally enjoys for some time a monopoly of her husband's
society, if she cannot be said to enchain his affection. It was hard,
indeed, before the thirtieth day after her marriage, to find herself
but one in a numerous family—the harder that our union had from the
first been close, intimate, unrestrainedly confidential, as it can
hardly be where neither expects that the tie can remain exclusive; and
because she had learned to realise and rest upon such love as belongs
to a life in which woman, never affecting the independence of coequal
partnership, has never yet sunk by reaction into a mere slave and toy.
It was hard, cruelly hard, on one who had given in the first hour of
marriage, and never failed to give, a love whose devotion had no
limit, no reserve or qualification; a submission that was less
self-sacrifice or self-suppression than the absolute surrender of
self—of will, feeling, and self-interest—to the judgment and
pleasure of him she loved: hard on her who had neither thought nor
care for herself as apart from me.

When I understood to what I had actually committed myself, I snatched
the papers from her, and might have torn them to pieces but for the
gentle restraining hand she laid upon mine.

"You cannot help it," she said, the tears falling from her eyes, but
with a self-command of which I could not have supposed her capable.
"It seems hard on me; but it is better so. It is not that you are not
content with me, not that you love me less. I can bear it better when
it comes from a stranger, and is forced upon you without, and even, I
think, against your will."

The pressure of the arm that clasped her waist, and the hand that held
her own, was a sufficient answer to any doubt that might be implied in
her last words; and, lifting her eyes to mine, she said—

"I shall always remember this. I shall always think that you were
sorry not to have at least a little while longer alone with me. It is
selfish to feel glad that you are pained; but your sympathy, your
sharing my own feeling, comforts me as I never could have been
comforted when, as must have happened sooner or later, you had found
for yourself another companion."

"Child, do you mean to say there is 'no portal to this passage;' and
that, however much against my will, I am bound to women I have never
seen, and never wish to see?"

"You have signed," replied Eveena gently. "The contracts are stamped,
and are in the official's hands; and you could not attempt to break
them without giving mortal offence to the Prince, who has intended you
a signal favour. Besides, these girls themselves have done no wrong,
and deserve no affront or unkindness from you."

I was silent for some minutes; at first simply astounded at the calm
magnanimity which was mingled with her perfect simplicity, then,
pondering the possibilities of the situation—

"Can we not escape?" I said at last, rather to myself than to her.

"Escape!" she repeated with surprise. "And from what? The favour shown
you by our Sovereign, the wealth he has bestowed, the personal
interest he has taken in perfecting every detail of one of the most
splendid homes ever given save to a prince—every incident of your
position—make you the most envied man in this world; and you would
escape from them?"

Gazing for a few moments in my face, she added—

"These maidens were chosen as the loveliest in all the Nurseries of
two continents; every one of them far more beautiful than I can be,
even in your eyes. Pray do not, for my sake, be unkind to them or try
to dislike them. What is it you would escape?"

"Being false to you," I answered, "if nothing else."

"False!" she echoed, in unaffected wonder. "What did you promise me?"

Again I was silenced by the loyal simplicity with which she followed
out ideas so strange to me that their consequences, however logical, I
could never anticipate; and could hardly admit to be sound, even when
so directly and distinctly deduced as now from the intolerable
consistency of the premises.

"But," I answered at last, "how much did _you_ promise, Eveena? and
how much more have you given?"

"Nothing," she replied, "that I did not owe. You won your right to all
the love I could give before you asked for it, and since."

"We 'drive along opposite lines,' Madonna; but we would both give and
risk much to avoid what is before us. Let me ask your father whether
it be not yet possible to return to my vessel, and leave a world so
uncongenial to both of us."

"You cannot!" she answered. "Try to escape—you insult the Prince; you
put yourself and me, for whom you fear more, in the power of a
malignant enemy. You cannot guide a balloon or a vessel, if you could
get possession of one; and within a few hours after your departure was
known, every road and every port would be closed to you."

"Can I not send to your father?" I said.

"Probably," she replied. "I think we shall find a telegraph in your
office, if you will allow me to enter there, now there is no one to
see; and it must be morning in Ecasfe."

Familiar with the construction and arrangement of a Martial house,
Eveena immediately crossed the gallery to what she called the
office—the front room on the right, where the head of the house
carries on his work or study. Here, above a desk attached to the wall,
was one of those instruments whose manipulation was simple enough for
a novice like myself.

"But," I said, "I cannot write your stylic characters; and if I used
the phonic letters, a message from me would be very likely to excite
the curiosity of officials who would care about no other."

"May I," she suggested, "write your message for you, and put your
purport in words that will be understood by my father alone?"

"Do," I rejoined, "but do it in my name, and I will sign it."

Under her direction, I took the stylus or pencil and the slip of
_tafroo_ she offered me, and wrote my name at the head. After
eliciting the exact purport of the message I desired to send, and
meditating for some moments, she wrote and read out to me words
literally translated as follows:—

"The rich aviary my flower-bird thought over full. I would breathe
home [air]. Health-speak." The sense of which, as I could already
understand, was—

"A splendid mansion has been given us, but my flower-bird has found it
too full. I wish for my native air. Prescribe."

The brevity of the message was very characteristic of the language.
Equally characteristic of the stylography was the fact that the words
occupied about an inch beyond the address. Following her pencil as she
pointed to the ciphers, I said—

"Is not _asny caré_ a false concord? And why have you used the past
tense?"

This ill-timed pedantry, applying to Martial grammar the rules of that
with which my boyhood had been painfully familiarised, provoked, amid
all our trouble, Eveena's low silver-toned laugh.

"I meant it," she answered. "My father will look at his pupil's
writing with both eyes."

"Well, you are out of reach even of the leveloo."

She laughed again.

"Asnyca-re," she said; the changed accentuation turning the former
words into the well-remembered name of my landing-place, with the
interrogative syllable annexed.

This message despatched, we could only await the reply. Nestling among
the cushions at my knee, her head resting on my breast, Eveena said—

"And now, forgive my presumption in counselling you, and my reminding
you of what is painful to both. But what to us is as the course of the
clock, is strange as the stars to you. You must see—_them_, and must
order all household arrangements; and" (glancing at a dial fixed in
the wall) "the black is driving down the green."

"So much the better," I said. "I shall have less time to speak to
them, and less chance of speaking or looking my mind. And as to
arrangements, those, of course, you must make."

"I! forgive me," she answered, "that is impossible. It is for you to
assign to each of us her part in the household, her chamber, her rank
and duties. You forget that I hold exactly the same position with the
youngest among them, and cannot presume even to suggest, much less to
direct."

I was silent, and after a pause she went on—

"It is not for me to advise you; but"—

"Speak your thought, now and always, Eveena. Even if I did not stand
in so much need of your guidance in a new world, I never yet refused
to hear counsel; and it is a wife's right to offer it."

"Is it? We are not so taught," she answered. "I am afraid you have
rougher ground to steer over than you are aware. Alone with you, I
hope I should have done nay best, remembering the lesson of the
leveloo, never to give you the pain of teaching a different one. But
we shall no longer be alone; and you cannot hope to manage seven as
you might manage one. Moreover, these girls have neither had that
first experience of your nature which made that lesson so impressive
to me, nor the kindly and gentle training, under a mother's care and a
father's mild authority, that I had enjoyed. They would not understand
the control that is not enforced. They will obey when they must; and
will feel that they must obey when they cannot deceive, and dare not
rebel. Do not think hardly of them for this. They have known no life
but that of the strict clockwork routine of a great Nursery, where no
personal affection and no rule but that of force is possible."

"I understand, Madonna. Your Prince's gift puts a man in charge of
young ladies, hitherto brought up among women only, and, of course,
petty, petulant, frivolous, as women left to themselves ever are! I
wish you could see the ridiculous side of the matter which occurs to
me, as I see the painful aspect which alone is plain to you. I can
scarcely help laughing at the chance which has assigned to me the
daily personal management of half-a-dozen school-girls; and
school-girls who must also be wives! I don't think you need fear that
I shall deal with them as with you: as a man of sense and feeling must
deal with a woman whose own instincts, affection, and judgment are
sufficient for her guidance. I never saw much of girls or children. I
remember no home but the Western school and the Oriental camp. I
never, as soldier or envoy, was acquainted with other men's homes.
While still beardless, I have ruled bearded soldiers by a discipline
whose sanctions were the death-shot and the bastinado; and when I left
the camp and court, it was for colleges where a beardless face is
never seen. I must look to you to teach me how discipline may be
softened to suit feminine softness, and what milder sanction may
replace the noose and the stick of the _ferash_" (Persian
executioner).

"I cannot believe," Eveena answered, taking me, as usual, to the
letter, "that you will ever draw the zone too tight. We say that
'anarchy is the worst tyranny.' Laxity which leaves us to quarrel and
torment each other, tenderness which encourages disorder and
disobedience till they must be put down perforce, is ultimate
unkindness. I will not tell you that such indulgence will give you
endless trouble, win you neither love nor respect, and probably teach
its objects to laugh at you under the veil. You will care more for
this—that you would find yourself forced at last to change 'velvet
hand for leathern band.' Believe me, my—our comfort and happiness
must depend on your grasping the helm at once and firmly; ruling us,
and ruling with a strong hand. Otherwise your home will resemble the
most miserable of all scenes of discomfort—an ungoverned school; and
the most severe and arbitrary household rule is better by far than
that. And—forgive me once more—but do not speak as if you would deal
one measure with the left hand and another with the right. Surely you
do not so misunderstand me as to think I counselled you to treat
myself differently from others? 'Just rule only can be gentle.' If you
show favouritism at first, you will find yourself driven step by step
to do what you will feel to be cruel; what will pain yourself perhaps
more than any one else. You may make envy and dislike bite (hold)
their tongues, but you cannot prevent their stinging under the veil.
Therefore, once more, you cannot let my interference pass as if none
but you knew of it."

"Madonna, if I _am_ to rule such a household, I will rule as
absolutely as your autocratic Prince. I will tolerate no criticism and
no questions."

"You surely forget," she urged, "that they know my offence, and do not
know—must not know—what in your judgment excuses it. Let them once
learn that it is possible so to force the springs [bolts] without a
sting, it will take a salt-fountain [of tears] to blot the lesson from
their memory."

"What would you have, Eveena? Am I to deal unjustly that I may seem
just? That course steers straight to disaster. And, had you been in
fault, could I humble you in other eyes?"

"If I feel hurt by any mark of your displeasure, or humbled that it
should be known to my equals in your own household," she replied, "it
is time I were deprived of the privileges that have rendered me so
overweening."

My answer was intercepted by the sound of an electric bell or
miniature gong, and a slip of tafroo fell upon the desk. The first
words were in that vocal character which I had mastered, and came from
Esmo.

"Hysterical folly," he had said. "Mountain air might be fatal; and
clear nights are dangerously cold for more than yourselves."

"What does he mean?" I asked, as I read out a formula more studiously
occult than those of the Pharmacopoeia.

"That I am unpardonably silly, and that you must not dream of going
back to your vessel. The last words, I suppose, warn you how carefully
in such a household you need to guard the secrets of the Starlight."

"Well, and what is this in the stylic writing?"

Eveena glanced over it and coloured painfully, the tears gathering in
her eyes.

"That," she said, pointing to the first cipher, "is my mother's
signature."

"Then," I said, "it is meant for you, not for me."

"Nay," she answered. "Do you think I could take advantage of your not
knowing the character?"—and she read words quite as incomprehensible
to me as the writing itself.

"Can a star mislead the blind? I should veil myself in crimson if I
have trained a bird to snatch sugar from full hands. Must even your
womanhood reverse the clasps of your childhood?"

"It chimes midnight twice," I said—a Martial phrase meaning, 'I am as
much in the dark as ever.' "Do not translate it, carissima. I can read
in your face that it is unjust—reproachful where you deserve no
reproach."

"Nay, when you so wrong my mother I must tell you exactly what she
means:—'Can a child of the Star take advantage of one who relies on
her to explain the customs of a world unknown to him? I blush to think
that my child can abuse the tenderness of one who is too eager to
indulge her fancies.'

"You see she is quite right. You do trust me so absolutely, you are so
strangely over-kind to me, it is shameful I should vex you by fretting
because you are forced to do what you might well have done at your own
pleasure."

"My own, I was more than vexed; chiefly perhaps for your sake, but not
by you. Where any other woman would have stung the sore by sending
fresh sparks along the wire, you thought only to spare me the pain of
seeing you pained. But what do the last words mean? No"—for I saw the
colour deepen on her half-averted face—"better leave unread what we
know to be written in error."

But the less agreeable a supposed duty, the more resolute was Eveena
to fulfil it.

"They were meant to recall a saying familiar in every school and
household," she said:—

  "'Sandal loosed and well-clasped zone—
    Childhood spares the woman grown.
    Change the clasps, and woman yet
    Pays with interest childhood's debt.'"

"This"—tightening and relaxing the clasp of her zone—"is the symbol
of stricter or more indulgent household rule." Then bending so as to
avert her face, she unclasped her embroidered sandal and gave it into
my hand;—"and this is what, I suppose, you would call its sanction."

"There is more to be said for the sandal than I supposed, bambina, if
it have helped to make you what you are. But you may tell Zulve that
its work and hers are done."

Kneeling before her, I kissed, with more studied reverence than the
sacred stone of the Caaba, the tiny foot on which I replaced its
covering.

"Baby as she thinks and I call you, Eveena, you are fast unteaching me
the lesson which, before you were born and ever since, the women of
the Earth have done their utmost to impress indelibly upon my
mind—the lesson that woman is but a less lovable, more petulant, more
deeply and incurably spoilt child. Your mother's reproach is an exact
inversion of the truth. No one could have acted with more utter
unselfishness, more devoted kindness, more exquisite delicacy than you
have shown in this miserable matter. I could not have believed that
even you could have put aside your own feelings so completely, could
have recognised so promptly that I was not in fault, have thought so
exclusively of what was best and safe for me in the first place, and
next of what was kind and just and generous to your rivals. I never
thought such reasonableness and justice possible to feminine nature;
and if I cannot love you more dearly, you have taught me how deeply to
admire and honour you. I accept the situation, since you will have it
so; be as just and considerate henceforward as you have been to-night,
and trust me that it shall bring no shadow between us—shall never
make you less to me than you are now."

"But it must," she insisted. "I cannot now be other than one wife
among many; and what place I hold among them is, remember, for you and
you alone to fix. No rule, no custom, obliges you to give any
preference in form or fact to one, merely because you chanced to marry
her first."

"Such, nevertheless, did not seem to be the practice in your father's
house. Your mother was as distinctly wife and mistress as if his sole
companion."

"My father," she replied, "did not marry a second time till within my
own memory; and it was natural and usual to give the first place to
one so much older and more experienced. I have no such claim, and when
you see my companions you may find good reason to think that I am the
least fit of all to take the first place. Nor," she added, drawing me
from the room, "do I wish it. If only you will keep in your mind one
little place for the memory of our visit to your vessel and your
promise respecting it, I shall be more than content."

Eveena's humble, unconscious self-abnegation was rendering the
conversation intolerably painful, and even the embarrassing situation
now at hand was a welcome interruption. Eveena paused before a door
opening from the gallery into one of the rooms looking on the
peristyle.

"You will find them there," she said, drawing back.

"Come with me, then," I answered; and as she shrank away, I tightened
my clasp of her waist and drew her forward. The door opened, and we
found ourselves in presence of six veiled ladies in pink and silver,
all of them, with one exception, a little taller and less slight than
my bride. Eveena, with the kindness which never failed under the most
painful trial or the most powerful impulses of natural feeling,
extricated herself gently from my hold, took the hand of the first,
and brought her up to me. The girl was evidently startled at the first
sight of her new possessor, and alarmed by a figure so much larger and
more powerful than any she had ever seen, exceeding probably the
picture drawn by her imagination.

"This," said Eveena gently and gravely, "is Eunané, the prettiest and
most accomplished scholar in her Nursery."

As I was about to acknowledge the introduction with the same cold
politeness with which I should have bowed to a strange guest on Earth,
Eveena took my left hand in her own and laid it on the maiden's veil,
recalling to me at once the proprieties of the occasion and the
justice she had claimed for her unoffending and unintentional rivals;
but at the same time bringing back in full force a remembrance she
could not have forgotten, but whose effect upon myself the ideas to
which she was habituated rendered her unable to anticipate. To accept
in her presence a second bride, by the same ceremonial act which had
so lately asserted my claim to herself, was intensely repugnant to my
feelings, and only her own self-sacrificing influence could have
overcome my reluctance. My hesitation was, I fear, perceptible to
Eunané; for, as I removed her veil and head-dress, her expression and
a colour somewhat brighter than that of mere maiden shyness indicated
disappointment or mortified pride. She was certainly very beautiful,
and perhaps, had I now seen them both for the first time, I might have
acquiesced in the truth of Eveena's self-depreciation. As it was,
nothing could associate with the bright intelligent face, the clear
grey eyes and light brown hair, the lithe active form instinct with
nervous energy, that charm which from our first acquaintance their
expression of gentle kindness, and, later, the devoted affection
visible in every look, had given to Eveena's features.

It is, I suppose, hardly natural to man to feel actual unkindness
towards a young and beautiful girl who has given no personal offence.
Having once admitted, the justice of Eveena's plea, and feeling that
she would be more pained by the omission than by the fulfilment of the
forms which courtesy and common kindness imperatively demanded, I
kissed Eunané's brow and spoke a few words to her, with as much of
tenderness as I could feel or affect for Eveena's rival, after what
had passed to endear Eveena more than ever. The latter waited a
little, to allow me spontaneously to perform the same ceremony with
the other girls; but seeing my hesitation, she came forward again and
presented severally four others—Enva ("Snow" = Blanche), Leenoo
("Rose"), Eiralé, Elfé, all more or less of the usual type of female
beauty in Mars, with long full tresses varying in tinge from flax to
deep gold or the lightest brown; each with features almost faultless,
and with all the attraction (to me unfailing) possessed for men who
have passed their youth by _la beauté du Diable_—the bloom of pure
graceful girlhood. Eivé, the sixth of the party, standing on the right
of the others, and therefore last in place according to Martial usage,
was smaller and slighter than Eveena herself, and made an individual
impression on my attention by a manifest timidity and agitation
greater than any of the rest had evinced. As I removed her veil I was
struck by the total unlikeness which her face and form presented to
those I had just saluted. Her hair was so dark as by contrast to seem
black; her complexion less fair than those of her companions, though
as fair as that of an average Greek beauty; her eyes of deepest brown;
her limbs, and especially the hands and feet, marvellously perfect in
shape and colour, but in the delicacy and minuteness of their form
suggesting, as did all the proportions of her tiny figure, the
peculiar grace of childhood; an image in miniature of faultless
physical beauty. In Eivé alone of the bevy I felt a real interest; but
the interest called forth by a singularly pretty child, in whose
expression the first glance discerns a character it will take long to
read, rather than that commanded by the charms of earliest womanhood.

When I had completed the ceremonial round, there was a somewhat
awkward silence, which Eveena at last broke by suggesting that Eunané
should show us through the house, with which she had made the earliest
acquaintance. This young girl readily took the lead thus assigned to
her, and by some delicate manoeuvre, whose authorship I could not
doubt, I found her hand in mine as we made our tour. The number of
chambers was much greater than in Esmo's dwelling, the garden of the
peristyle larger and more elaborately arranged, if not more beautiful.
The ambau were more numerous than even the domestic service of so
large a mansion appeared to require. The birds, whose duties lay
outside, were by this time asleep on their perches, and we forbore to
disturb them. The central chamber of the seraglio, if I may so call
it, the largest and midmost of those in the rear of the garden,
devoted as of course to the ladies of the household, was especially
magnificent.

When we stood in its midst, shy looks askance from all the six
betrayed their secret ambition; though Eivé's was but momentary, and
so slight that I felt I might have unfairly suspected her of
presumption. I left this room, however, in silence, and assigned to
each of my maiden brides, in order as they had been presented to me,
the rooms on the left; and then, as we stood once more in the
peristyle, having postponed all further arrangements, all distribution
of household duties, to the morrow (assigning, however, to Eunané,
whose native energy and forwardness had made early acquaintance with
the dwelling and its dumb inhabitants, the charge of providing and
preparing with their assistance our morning meal), I said, "I have let
the business of the evening zyda actually encroach on midnight, and
must detain you from your rest no longer. Eveena, you know, I still
have need of you."

She was standing at a little distance, next to Eunané; and the latter,
with a smile half malicious, half triumphant, whispered something in
her ear. There was a suppressed annoyance in Eveena's look which
provoked me to interpose. On Earth I should never have been fool
enough to meddle in a woman's quarrel. The weakest can take her own
part in the warfare of taunt and innuendo, better and more venomously
than could dervish, priest, or politician. But Eveena could no more
lower herself to the ordinary level of feminine malice than I could
have borne to hear her do so; and it was intolerable that one whose
sweet humility commanded respect from myself should submit to slight
or sneer from the lips and eyes of petulant girls. Eunané started as I
spoke, using that accent which gives its most peremptory force to the
Martial imperative. "Repeat aloud what you have chosen to say to
Eveena in my presence."

If the first to express the ill-will excited by Eveena's evident
influence, though exerted in their own behalf, it was less that Eunané
surpassed her companions in malice than that they fell short of her in
audacity. Her school-mates had found her their most daring leader in
mischief, the least reluctant scapegoat when mischief was to be
atoned. But she was cowed, partly perhaps by her first collision with
masculine authority, partly, I fear, by sheer dread of physical force
visibly greater than she had ever known by repute. Perhaps she was too
much frightened to obey. At any rate, it was from Eveena, despite her
pleading looks, that I extorted an answer. She yielded at last only to
that formal imperative which her conscience would not permit her to
disobey, and which for the first time I now employed in addressing
her.

"Eunané only repeated," Eveena said, with a reluctance so manifest
that one might have supposed her to be the offender, "a school-girl's
proverb:—

 "'Ware the wrath that stands to cool:
   Then the sandal shows the rule.'"

The smile that had accompanied the whisper—though not so much
suggestive of a woman's malignity as of a child's exultation in a
companion's disgrace—gave point and sting to the taunt. It is on
chance, I suppose, that the effect of such things depends. Had the
saying been thrown at any of Eunané's equals, I should probably have
been inclined to laugh, even if I felt it necessary to reprimand. But,
angered at a hint which placed Eveena on their own level, I forgot how
far the speaker's experience and inexperience alike palliated the
impertinence. That the insinuation shocked none of those around me was
evident. Theirs were not the looks of women, however young and
thoughtless, startled by an affront to their sex; but of children
amazed at a child's folly in provoking capricious and irresponsible
power. The angry quickness with which I turned to Eunané received a
double, though doubly unintentional, rebuke, equally illustrative of
Martial ideas and usages. The culprit cowered like a child expecting a
brutal blow. A gentle pressure on my left arm evinced the same fear in
a quarter from which its expression wounded me deeply. That pressure
arrested not, as was intended, my hand, but my voice; and when I spoke
the frightened girl looked up in surprise at its measured tones.

"Wrong, and wrong thrice over, Eunané. It is for me to teach you the
bad taste of bringing into your new home the ideas and language of
school. Meanwhile, in no case would you learn more of my rule than
concerned your own fault. Take in exchange for your proverb the
kindliest I have learned in your language:—

 "'Whispered warnings reach the heart;
   Veil the blush and spare the smart.'

"But, happily for you, your taunt had not truth enough to sting; and I
can tell the story about which you are unduly curious as frankly as
you please.—Let me speak now, Eveena, that I may spare the need to
speak again and in another tone.—That Eveena seemed to have put us
both in a false position only convinced me that she had a motive she
knew would satisfy me as fully as herself. When I learned what that
motive was, I was greatly surprised at her unselfishness and courage.
If you threw me your veil to save me from drowning, how would you feel
if my first words to you were:—'No one must think I could not swim,
therefore even the household must believe you, in unveiling, guilty of
an unpardonable fault'?... Answer me, Eunané."

"I should let you sink next time," she replied, with a pretty
half-dubious sauciness, showing that her worst fears at least were
relieved.

"Quite right; but you are less generous than Eveena. To hide how I had
acted on her advice, she would have had you suppose her guilty. That
you might not laugh at my authority, and 'find a dragon in the esve's
nest,' she would have had me treat her as guilty."

"But I deserved it. A girl has no right to break the seal in the
master's absence," interposed Eveena, much more distressed than
gratified by the vindication to which she was so well entitled.

"Let your tongue sleep, Eveena. So [with a kiss] I blot your first
miscalculation, Eunané. Earth [the Evening Star of Mars] light your
dreams."

It was with visible reluctance that Eveena followed me into the
chamber we had last left; and she expostulated as earnestly as her
obedience would permit against the fiat that assigned it to her.

"Choose what room you please, then," I said; "but understand that, so
far as my will and my trust can make you, you are the mistress here."

"Well, then," she answered, "give me the little octagon beside your
own:"—the smallest and simplest, but to my taste the prettiest, room
in the house. "I should like to be near you still, if I may; but,
believe me, I shall not be frozen (hurt) because you think another
hand better able to steer the carriage, if mine may sometimes rest in
yours."

Leading her into the room she had chosen, and having installed her
among the cushions that were to form her couch, I silenced decisively
her renewed protest.

"Let me answer you on this point, once and for ever, Eveena. To me
this seems matter of right, not of favour or fitness. But favour and
fitness here go with right. I could no more endure to place another
before or beside you than I could break the special bond between us,
and deny the hope of which the Serpent" (laying my hand on her
shoulder-clasp, which, by mere accident, was shaped into a faint
resemblance to the mystic coil) "is the emblem; the hope that alone
can make such love as ours endurable, or even possible, to creatures
that must die. She who knelt with me before the Emerald Throne, who
took with me the vows so awfully sanctioned, shall hold the first
place in my home as in my heart till the Serpent's promise be
fulfilled."

Both were silent for some time, for never could we refer to that
Vision—whether an objective fact, or an impression communicated from
one spirit to the other by the occult force of intense sympathy—save
by such allusion; and the remembrance never failed to affect us both
with a feeling too deep for words. Eveena spoke again—

"I am sorry you have so bound yourself; perhaps only because you knew
me first. And it shames me to receive fresh proof of your kindness
to-night."

"And why, my own?"

"Do not make me feel," she said, "that—though the measured sentences
you have taught me to call scolding seemed the sharpest of all
penances—there is a heavier yet in the silence which withholds
forgiveness."

"What have I yet to forgive, Madonna?"

But Eveena could read my feelings in spite of my words, and knew that
the pain she had given was too recent to allow me to misconceive her
penitence.

"I _ought_ to say, my interference. It was your right to rule as you
chose, and my meddling was a far worse offence than Eunané's malice.
But it was not _that_ you felt too deeply to reprove."

"True! Eunané hurt me a little; but I expected no such misjudgment
from you. By the touch that proved your alarm I know that I gave no
cause for it."

"How so?" she asked in surprise.

"You laid your hand instinctively on my _left_ arm, the one your
people use. Had I made the slightest angry gesture, you would have
held back my _right_. Had I deserved that Eveena should think so ill
of me—think me capable of doing such dishonour to her presence and to
my own roof, which should have protected an equal enemy from that
which you feared for a helpless girl? For what you would have checked
was such a blow as men deal to men who can strike back; and the hand
that had given it would have been unfit to clasp man's in friendship
or woman's in love. You yourself must have shrunk from its touch."

She caught and held it fast to her lips.

"Can I forget that it saved my life? I don't understand you at all,
but I see that I have frozen your heart. I did fancy for one moment
you would strike, as passionate men and women often do strike
provoking girls, perhaps forgetting your own strength; and I knew you
would be miserable if you did hurt her—in that way. The next moment I
was ashamed, more than you will believe, to have wronged you so. Like
every man, from the head of a household to the Arch-Judge or the
Camptâ, you must rule by fear. But your wrath _will_ 'stand to cool;'
and you will hate to make a girl cry as you would hate to send a
criminal to the electric-rack, the lightning-stroke, or the
vivisection-table. And, whatever you had done, do you fancy that I
could shrink from you? I said, 'If you weary of your flower-bird you
must strike with the hammer;' and if you could do so, do you think I
should not feel for your hand to hold it to the last?"

"Hush, Eveena! how can I bear such words? You might forgive me for any
outrage to you: I doubt your easily forgetting cruelty to another. I
have not a heart like yours. As I never failed a friend, so I never
yet forgave a foe. Yet even I might pardon one of those girls an
attempt to poison myself, and in some circumstances I might even learn
to like her better afterwards. But I doubt if I could ever touch again
the hand that had mixed the poison for another, though that other were
my mortal enemy."




CHAPTER XIX - A COMPLETE ESTABLISHMENT.


Before I slept Eveena had convinced me, much to my own discomfiture,
how very limited must be any authority that could be delegated to her.
In such a household there could be no second head or deputy, and an
attempt to devolve any effective charge on her would only involve her
in trouble and odium. Even at the breakfast, spread as usual in the
centre of the peristyle, she entreated that we should present
ourselves separately. Eunané appeared to have performed very
dexterously the novel duty assigned to her. The _ambau_ had obeyed her
orders with well-trained promptitude, and the _carvee_, in bringing
fruit, leaves, and roots from the outer garden, had more than verified
all that on a former occasion Eveena had told me of their cleverness
and quick comprehension of instructions. Eunané's face brightened
visibly as I acknowledged the neatness and the tempting appearance of
the meal she had set forth. She was yet more gratified by receiving
charge for the future of the same duty, and authority to send, as is
usual, by an ambâ the order for that principal part of each day's food
which is supplied by the confectioner. By reserving for Eveena the
place among the cushions immediately on my left, I made to the
assembled household the expected announcement that she was to be
regarded as mistress of the house; feminine punctiliousness on points
of domestic precedence strikingly contrasting the unceremonious
character of intercourse among men out of doors. The very ambau
recognise the mistress or the favourite, as dogs the master of their
Earthly home.

The ladies were at first shy and silent, Eunané only giving me more
than a monosyllabic answer to my remarks, and even Eunané never
speaking save in reply to me. A trivial incident, however, broke
through this reserve, and afforded me a first taste of the petty
domestic vexations in store for me. The beverage most to my liking was
always the _carcarâ_—juice flavoured with roasted kernels, something
resembling coffee in taste. On this occasion the _carcarâ_ and another
favourite dish had a taste so peculiar that I pushed both aside almost
untouched. On observing this, the rest—Enva, Leenoo, Elfé, and
Eiralé—took occasion to criticise the articles in question with such
remarks and grimaces as ill-bred children might venture for the
annoyance of an inexperienced sister. I hesitated to repress this
outbreak as it deserved, till Eunané's bitter mortification was
evident in her brightening colour and the doubtful, half-appealing
glance of tearful eyes. Then a rebuke, such as might have been
appropriately addressed yesterday to these rude school-girls by their
governess, at once silenced them. As we rose, I asked Eveena, who,
with more courtesy than the rest of us, had finished her portion—

"Is there any justice in these reproaches? I certainly don't like the
carcarâ to-day, but it does not follow that Eunané is in fault."

The rest, Eunané included, looked their annoyance at this appeal; but
Eveena's temper and kindness were proof against petulance.

"The carcarâ is in fault," she said; "but I don't think Eunané is. In
learning cookery at school she had her materials supplied to her; this
time the _carve_ has probably given her an unripe or overripe fruit
which has spoiled the whole."

"And do you not know ripe from unripe fruit?" I inquired, turning to
Eunané.

"How should she?" interposed Eveena. "I doubt if she ever saw them
growing."

"How so?" I asked of Eunané.

"It is true," she answered. "I never went beyond the walls of our
playground till I came here; and though there were a few flower-beds
in the inner gardens, there were none but shade trees among the turf
and concrete yards to which we were confined."

"I should have known no better," observed Eveena; "but being brought
up at home, I learned to know all the plants in my father's grounds,
which were more various, I believe, than usual."

"Then," I said, "Eunané has a new life and a multitude of new
pleasures before her. Has this peristyle given you your first sight of
flowers beyond those in the beds of your Nursery? And have you never
seen anything of the world about you?"

"Never," she said. "And Eveena's excuse for me is, I believe,
perfectly true. The carve must have been stupid, but I knew no
better."

"Well," I rejoined, "you must forgive the bird, as we must excuse you
for spoiling our breakfast. I will contrive that you shall know more
of fruits and flowers before long. In the meantime, you will probably
have a different if not a wider view from this roof than from that of
your Nursery."

After all, Eunané's girlhood, typical of the whole life of many
Martial women, had not, I suppose, been more dreary or confined than
that of children in London, Canton, or Calcutta. But this incident,
reminding me how dreary and limited that life was, served to excuse in
my eyes the pettiness and poverty of the characters it had produced. A
Martial woman's whole experience may well be confined within a few
acres, and from the cradle to the grave she may see no more of the
world than can be discerned from the roof of her school or her
husband's home.

Eunané, with the assistance of the ambau, busied herself in removing
the remains of the meal. The other five, putting on their veils,
scampered up the inclined plane to the roof, much like children
released from table or from tasks. Turning to Eveena, who still
remained beside me, I said—

"Get your veil, and come out with me; I have not yet an idea where we
are, and scarcely a notion what the grounds are like."

She followed me to my apartment, out of which, opened the one she had
chosen, and as the window closed behind us she spoke in a tone of
appeal—

"Do not insist on my accompanying you. As you bade me always speak my
thought, I had much rather you would take one of the others."

"You professed," I said, "to take especial pleasure in a walk with me,
and this time I will be careful that you are not overtired."

"Of course I should like it," she answered; "but it would not be just.
Please let me this time remain to take my part of the household
duties, and make myself acquainted with the house. Choose your
companion among the others, whom you have scarcely noticed yet."

Preferring not only Eveena's company, but even my own, to that of any
of the six, and feeling myself not a little dependent on her guidance
and explanations, I remonstrated. But finding that her sense of
justice and kindness would yield to nothing short of direct command, I
gave way.

"You forget _my_ pleasure," I said at last. "But if you will not go,
you must at least tell me which I am to take. I will not pretend to
have a choice in the matter."

"Well, then," she answered, "I should be glad to see you take Eunané.
She is, I think, the eldest, apparently the most intelligent and
companionable, and she has had one mortification already she hardly
deserved."

"And is much the prettiest," I added maliciously. But Eveena was
incapable of even understanding so direct an appeal to feminine
jealousy.

"I think so," she said; "much the prettiest among us. But that will
make no difference under her veil."

"And must she keep down her veil," I asked, "in our own grounds?"

Eveena laughed. "Wherever she might be seen by any man but yourself."

"Call her then," I answered.

Eveena hesitated. But having successfully carried her own way on the
main question, she would not renew her remonstrances on a minor point;
and finding her about to join the rest, she drew Eunané apart. Eunané
came up to me alone, Eveena having busied herself in some other part
of the house. She approached slowly as if reluctant, and stood silent
before me, her manner by no means expressive of satisfaction.

"Eveena thought," I said, "that you would like to accompany me; but if
not, you may tell her so; and tell her in that case that she _must_
come."

"But I shall be glad to go wherever you please," replied Eunané.
"Eveena did not tell me why you sent for me, and"——

"And you were afraid to be scolded for spoiling the breakfast? You
have heard quite enough of that."

"You dropped a word last night," she answered, "which made me think
you would keep your displeasure till you had me alone."

"Quite true," I said, "if I had any displeasure to keep. But you might
spoil a dozen meals, and not vex me half as much as the others did."

"Why?" she asked in surprise. "Girls and women always spite one
another if they have a chance, especially one who is in disfavour or
disgrace with authority."

"So much the worse," I answered. "And now—you know as much or as
little of the house as any of us; find the way into the grounds."

A narrow door, not of crystal as usual, but of metal painted to
resemble the walls, led directly from one corner of the peristyle into
the grounds outside. I had inferred on my arrival, by the distance
from the road to the house, that their extent was considerable, but I
was surprised alike by their size and arrangement. On two sides they
were bounded by a wall about four hundred yards in length—that
parting them from the road was about twice as long. They were laid out
with few of the usual orchard plots and beds of different fruits and
vegetables, but rather in the form of a small park, with trees of
various sorts, among which the fruit trees were a minority. The
surface was broken by natural rising grounds and artificial terraces;
the soil was turfed in the manner I have previously described, with
minute plants of different colours arranged in bands and patterns.
Here and there was a garden consisting of a variety of flower-beds and
flowering shrubs; broad concrete paths winding throughout, and a
beautiful silver stream meandering hither and thither, and filling
several small ponds and fountains. That the grounds immediately
appertaining to the house were not intended as usual for the purposes
of a farm or kitchen-garden was evident. The reason became equally
apparent when, looking towards the north, where no wall bounded them,
I saw—over a gate in the middle of a dense hedge of flowering shrubs,
which, with a ditch beyond it, formed the limit of the park in that
direction—an extensive farm divided by the usual ditches into some
twenty-five or thirty distinct fields, and more than a square mile in
extent. This, as Eunané's native inquisitiveness and quickness had
already learnt, formed part of the estate attached to the mansion and
bestowed upon me by the Camptâ. It was admirably cultivated,
containing orchards, fields rich with various thriving crops, and
pastures grazed by the Unicorn and other of the domestic birds and
beasts kept to supply Martial tables with milk, eggs, and meat;
producing nearly every commodity to which the climate was suited, and,
as a very short observation assured me, capable of yielding a far
greater income than would suffice to sustain in luxury and splendour a
household larger than that enforced upon me. We walked in this
direction, my companion talking fluently enough when once I had set
her at ease, and seemingly free from the shyness and timidity which
Eveena had at first displayed. She paused when we reached a bridge
that spanned the ditch dividing the grounds from the farm, aware that,
save on special invitation, she might not, even in my company, go
beyond the former. I led her on, however, till soon after we had
crossed the ditch I saw a man approaching us. On this, I desired
Eunané to remain where she was, seating her at the foot of a fruit
tree in one of the orchard plots, and proceeded to meet the stranger.
After exchanging the usual salute, he came immediately to the point.

"I thought," he said, "that you would not care yourself to undertake
the cultivation of so extensive an estate. Indeed, the mere
superintendence would occupy the whole of one man's attention, and its
proper cultivation would be the work of six or eight. I have had some
little experience in agriculture, and determined to ask for this
charge."

"And who has recommended you?" I said. "Or have you any sort of
introduction or credentials to me?"

He made a sign which I immediately recognised. Caution, however, was
imposed by the law to which that sign appealed.

"You can read," I said, "by starlight?"

"Better than by any other," he rejoined with a smile.

One or two more tokens interchanged left me no doubt that the claim
was genuine, and, of course, irresistible.

"Enough," I replied. "You may take entire charge on the usual terms,
which, doubtless, you know better than I."

"You trust me then, absolutely?" he said, in a tone of some little
surprise.

"In trusting you," I replied, "I trust the Zinta. I am tolerably sure
to be safe in hands recommended by them."

"You are right," he said, "and how right this will prove to you," and
he placed in my hand a small cake upon which was stamped an impression
of the signet that I had seen on Esmo's wrist. When he saw that I
recognised it, he took it back, and, breaking it into fragments,
chewed and swallowed it.

"This," he said, "was given me to avouch the following message:—Our
Chiefs are informed that the Order is threatened with a novel danger.
Systematic persecution by open force or by law has been attempted and
defeated ages ago, and will hardly be tried again. What seems to be
intended now is the destruction of our Chiefs, individually, by secret
means—means which it is supposed we shall not be able to trace to the
instigators, even if we should detect their instruments."

"But," I remarked, "those who have warned you of the danger must know
from whom it proceeds, and those who are employed in such an attack
must run not only the ordinary risk of assassins, but the further risk
entailed by the peculiar powers of those they assail."

"Those powers," he answered, "they do not understand or recognise. The
instruments, I presume, will be encouraged by an assurance that the
Courts are in their favour, and by a pledge in the last resort that
they shall be protected. The exceptional customs of our Order,
especially their refusal to send their children into the public
Nurseries, mark out and identify them; and though our places of
meeting are concealed and have never been invaded, the fact that we do
meet and the persons of those who attend can hardly be concealed."

"But," I asked, "if a charge of assassination is once made and proved,
how can the Courts refuse to do justice? Can the instigators protect
the culprit without committing themselves?"

"They would appeal, I do not doubt, to a law, passed many ages ago
with a special regard to ourselves, but which has not been applied for
a score of centuries, putting the members of a secret religious
society beyond the pale of legal protection. That we shall ultimately
find them out and avenge ourselves, you need not doubt. But in the
meantime every known dissentient from the customs of the majority is
in danger, and persons of note or prominence especially so. Next to
Esmo and his son, the husband of his daughter is, perhaps, in as much
peril as any one. No open attempt on your life will be adventured at
present, while you retain the favour of the Camptâ. But you have made
at least one mortal and powerful enemy, and you may possibly be the
object of well-considered and persistent schemes of assassination. On
the other hand, next to our Chief and his son, you have a paramount
claim on the protection of the Order; and those who with me will take
charge of your affairs have also charge to watch vigilantly over your
life. If you will trust me beforehand with knowledge of all your
movements, I think your chief peril will lie in the one sphere upon
which we cannot intrude—your own household; and Clavelta directs your
own special attention to this quarter. Immediate danger can scarcely
threaten you as yet, save from a woman's hand."

"Poison?"

"Probably," he returned coolly. "But of the details of the plot our
Council are, I believe, as absolutely ignorant as of the quarter from
which it proceeds."

"And how," I inquired, "can it be that the witness who has informed
you of the plot has withheld the names, without which his information
is so imperfect, and serves rather to alarm than to protect us?"

"You know," he replied, "the kind of mysterious perception to which we
can resort, and are probably aware how strangely lucid in some points,
how strangely darkened in others, is the vision that does not depend
on ordinary human senses?"

As we spoke we had passed Eunané once or twice, walking backwards and
forwards along the path near which she sat. As my companion was about
to continue, we were so certainly within her hearing that I checked
him.

"Take care," I said; "I know nothing of her except the Camptâ's
choice, and that she is not of us."

He visibly started.

"I thought," he said, "that the witness of our conversation was one at
least as reliable as yourself. I forgot how it happened that you have
diverged from the prudence which forbids our brethren to admit to
their households aliens from the Order and possible spies on its
secrets."

"Of whom do you speak as Clavelta?" I asked. "I was not even aware
that the Order had a single head."

"The Signet," replied my friend in evident surprise, "should have
distinguished the Arch-Enlightener to duller sight than yours."

We had not spoken, of course, till we were again beyond hearing; but
my companion looked round carefully before he proceeded—

"You will understand the better, then, how strong is your own claim
upon the care of your brethren, and how confidently you may rely upon
their vigilance and fidelity."

"I should regret," I answered, "that their lives should be risked for
mine. In dangers like those against which you could protect me, I have
been accustomed from boyhood to trust my own right hand. But the fear
of secret assassination has often unnerved the bravest men, and I will
not say that it may not disturb me."

"For you," he answered, "personally we should care as for one of our
brethren exposed to especial danger. For him who saved the descendant
of our Founder, and who in her right, after her father and brother,
would be the guardian, if not the head, of the only remaining family
of his lineage, one and all of us are at need bound to die."

After a few more words we parted, and I rejoined Eunané, and led her
back towards the house. I had learnt to consider taciturnity a matter
of course, except where there was actual occasion for speech; but
Eunané had chattered so fluently and frankly just before, that her
absolute silence might have suggested to me the possibility that she
had heard and was pondering things not intended for her knowledge, had
I been less preoccupied. Enured to the perils of war, of the chase, of
Eastern diplomacy, and of travel in the wildest parts of the Earth, I
do not pretend indifference to the fear of assassination, and
especially of poison. Cromwell, and other soldiers of equal nerve and
clearer conscience, have found their iron courage sorely shaken by a
peril against which no precautions were effective and from which they
could not enjoy an hour's security. The incessant continuous strain on
the nerves is, I suppose, the chief element in the peculiar dread with
which brave men have regarded this kind of peril; as the best troops
cannot endure to be under fire in their camp. Weighing, however, the
probability that girls who had been selected by the Sovereign, and had
left their Nursery only to pass directly into my house, could have
been already bribed or seduced to become the instruments of murderous
treachery, I found it but slight; and before we reached the house I
had made up my mind to discard the apprehensions or precautions
recommended to me on their account. Far better, if need be, to die by
poison than to live in hourly terror of it. Better to be murdered than
to suspect of secret treason those with whom I must maintain the most
intimate relations, and whose sex and years made it intolerable to
believe them criminal. I dismissed the thought, then; and believing
that I had probably wronged them in allowing it to dwell for a moment
in my mind, I felt perhaps more tenderly than before towards them, and
certainly indisposed to name to Eveena a suspicion of which I was
myself ashamed. Perhaps, too, youth and beauty weighed in my
conclusion more than cool reason would have allowed. A Martial proverb
says—

  "Trust a foe, and you may rue it;
   Trust a friend, and perish through it.
   Trust a woman if you will;—
   Thrice betrayed, you'll trust her still."

As to the general warning, I was wishful to consult Eveena, and
unwilling to withhold from her any secret of my thoughts; but equally
averse to disturb her with alarms that were trying even to nerves
seasoned by the varied experience of twenty years against every open
peril.




CHAPTER XX - LIFE, SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC.


As we approached the house I caught sight of Eveena's figure among the
party gathered on the roof. She had witnessed the interview, but her
habitual and conscientious deference forbade her to ask a confidence
not volunteered; and she seemed fully satisfied when, on the first
occasion on which we were alone, I told her simply that the stranger
belonged to the Zinta and had been recommended by her father himself
to the charge of my estate. Though reluctant to disturb her mind with
fears she could not shake off as I could, and which would make my
every absence at least a season of terror, the sense of insecurity
doubtless rendered me more anxious to enjoy whenever possible the only
society in which it was permissible to be frank and off my guard. No
man in his senses would voluntarily have accepted the position which
had been forced upon me. The Zveltau never introduce aliens into their
households. Their leading ideas and fundamental principles so deeply
affect the conduct of existence, the motives of action, the bases of
all moral reasoning—so completely do the inferences drawn from them
and the habits of thought to which they lead pervade and tinge the
mind, conscience, and even language—that though it may be easy to
"live in the light at home and walk with the blind abroad," yet in the
familiar intercourse of household life even a cautious and reserved
man (and I was neither) must betray to the keen instinctive
perceptions of women whether he thought and felt like those around
him, or was translating different thoughts into an alien language.
This difficulty is little felt between unbelievers and Christians. The
simple creed of the Zinta, however, like that of the Prophet, affects
the thought and life as the complicated and subtle mysteries of more
elaborate theologies, more refined philosophic systems rarely do.

One of Eveena's favourite quotations bore the unmistakable stamp of
Zveltic mysticism:—

  "Symbols that invert the sense
   Form the Seal of Providence;
   Contradiction gives the key,
   Time unlocks the mystery."

The danger in which my relation to the Zinta and its chief involved
me, and the presence of half a dozen rivals to Eveena—rivals also to
that regard for the Star which at first I felt chiefly for her
sake—likely as they seemed to impair the strength and sweetness of
the tie between us, actually worked to consolidate and endear it. To
enjoy, except on set occasions, without constant liability to
interruption, Eveena's sole society was no easy matter. To conceal our
real secret, and the fact that there was a secret, was imperative.
Avowedly exclusive confidence, conferences from which the rest of the
household were directly shut out, would have suggested to their
envious tempers that Eveena played the spy on them, or influenced and
advised the exercise of my authority. To be alone with her, therefore,
as naturally and necessarily I must often wish to be, required
manoeuvres and arrangements as delicate and difficult, though as
innocent, as those employed by engaged couples under the strict
conventions of European household usage; and the comparative rarity of
such interviews, and the manner in which they had often to be
contrived beforehand, kept alive in its earliest freshness the love
which, if not really diminished, generally loses somewhat of its first
bloom and delicacy in the unrestrained intercourse of marriage.
Absolutely and solely trusted, assured that her company was eagerly
sought, and at least as deeply valued as ever—compelled by the ideas
of her race to accept the situation as natural and right, and wholly
incapable of the pettier and meaner forms of jealousy—Eveena was
fully content and happy in her relations with me. That, on the whole,
she was not comfortable, or at least much less so than during our
suddenly abbreviated honeymoon, was apparent; but her loss of
brightness and cheerfulness was visible chiefly in her weary and
downcast looks on any occasion when, after being absent for some hours
from the house, I came upon her unawares. In my presence she was
always calm and peaceful, kind, and seemingly at ease; and if she saw
or heard me on my return, though she carefully avoided any appearance
of eagerness to greet me sooner than others, or to claim especial
attention, she ever met me with a smile of welcome as frank and bright
as a young bride on Earth could give to a husband returning to her
sole society from a long day of labour for her sake.

In so far as compliance was possible I was compelled to admit the
wisdom of Eveena's plea that no open distinction should be made in her
favour. Except in the simple fact of our affection, there was no
assignable reason for making her my companion more frequently than
Eunané or Eivé. Except that I could trust her completely, there was no
distinction of age, social rank, or domestic relation to afford a
pretext for exempting her from restraints which, if at first I thought
them senseless and severe, were soon justified by experience of the
kind of domestic control which just emancipated school-girls expected
and required. Nor would she accept the immunity tacitly allowed her.
It was not that any established custom or right bounded the arbitrary
power of domestic autocracy. The right of all but unbounded wrong, the
liberty of limitless caprice, is unquestionably vested in the head of
the household. But the very completeness of the despotism rendered its
exercise impossible. Force cannot act where there is no resistance.
The sword of the Plantagenet could cleave the helmet but not the quilt
of down. I could do as I pleased without infringing any understanding
or giving any right to complain.

"But," said Eveena, "you have a sense of justice which has nothing to
do with law or usage. Even your language is not ours. You think of
right and wrong, where we should speak only of what is or is not
punishable. You can make a favourite if you will pay the price. Could
you endure to be hated in your own home, or I to know that you
deserved it? Or, if you could, could you bear to see me hated and my
life made miserable?"

"They dare not!" I returned angrily fearing that they had dared, and
that she had already felt the spite she was so careful not to provoke.

"Do you think that feminine malice cannot contrive to envenom a dozen
stings that I could not explain if I would, and you could not deal
with if I did?"

"But," I replied, "it seems admitted that there is no such thing as
right or custom. As Enva said, I have bought and paid for them, and
may do what I please within the contract; and you agree that is just
what any other man in this world would do."

"Yes," returned Eveena, "and I watched your face while Enva spoke. How
did you like her doctrine? Of course you may do as you please—if you
can please. You may silence discontent, you may suppress spiteful
innuendos and even sulky looks, you may put down mutiny, by sheer
terror. Can you? You may command me to go with you whenever you go
out; you may take the same means to make me complain of unkindness as
to make them conceal it; you may act like one of our own people, if
you can stoop to the level of their minds. But we both know that you
can do nothing of the kind. How could you bear to be driven into
unsparing and undeserved severity, who can hardly bring yourself to
enforce the discipline necessary to peace and comfort on those who
will only be ruled by fear and would like you better if they feared
you more? Did you hear the proverb Leenoo muttered, very unjustly,
when she left your room yesterday, 'A favourite wears out many
sandals'? No! You see the very phrase wounds and disgusts you. But you
would find it a true one. Can you take vengeance for a fault you have
yourself provoked? Can you decide without inquiry, condemn without
evidence, punish without hearing? Men do these things, of course, and
women expect them. But you—I do not say you would be ashamed so to
act—you cannot do it, any more than you can breathe the air of our
snow-mountains."

"At all events, Eveena, I no more dare do it in your presence than I
dare forswear the Faith we hold in common."

But whatever Eveena might exact or I concede, the distinction between
the wife who commanded as much respect as affection, and the girls who
could at best be pets or playthings, was apparent against our will in
every detail of daily life and domestic intercourse. It was alike
impossible to treat Eveena as a child and to rule Enva or Eiralé as
other than children. It was as unnatural to use the tone of command or
rebuke to one for whom my unexpressed wishes were absolute law, as to
observe the form of request or advice in directing or reproving those
whose obedience depended on the consequences of rebellion. It only
made matters worse that the distinction corresponded but too
accurately to their several deserts. No faults could have been so
irritating to Eveena's companions as her undeniable faultlessness.

The ludicrous aspect of my relation to the rest of the household was
even more striking than I had expected. That I should find myself in
the absurd position of a man entrusted with the direct personal
government of half-a-dozen young ladies was even "more truly spoke
than meant." One at least among them might singly have made in time a
not unlovable wife, and all, perhaps, might severally and separately
have been reduced to conjugal complaisance. Collectively, they were,
as Eveena had said, a set of school-girls, and school-girls used to
stricter restraint and much sharper discipline than those of a French
or Italian convent. They would have made life a burden to a vigorous
English schoolmistress, and imperilled the soul of any Lady-Abbess
whose list of permissible penances excluded the dark cell and the
scourge. Fortunately for both parties, I had the advantage of
governess and Superior in the natural awe which girls feel for the
authority of manhood—till they have found out of what soft fibre men
are made—and in the artificial fear inspired by domestic usage and
tradition. For I was soon aware that even on its ridiculous side the
relation was not to be trifled with. The simple indifference a man
feels towards the escapades of girlhood was not applicable to women
and wives, who yet lacked womanly sense and the feeling of conjugal
duty. This serious aspect of their position soon contracted the
indulgence naturally conceded to youth's heedlessness and animal
spirits. These, displayed at first only in the energy and eagerness of
their every movement within the narrow limits of conventional usage,
broke all bounds when, after one or two half-timid, half-venturous
experiments on my patience, they felt that they had, at least for the
moment, exchanged the monotony, the mechanical routine, the stern
repression of their life in the great Nurseries, not for the harsh
household discipline to which they naturally looked forward, but for
the "loosened zone" which to them seemed to promise absolute liberty.
When not immediately in my presence or Eveena's, their keen enjoyment
of a life so new, the sudden development of the brighter side of their
nature under circumstances that gave play to the vigorous vitality of
youth, gave as much pleasure to me as to themselves. But in contact
with myself or Eveena they were women, and showed only the wrong side
of the varied texture of womanhood. To the master they were slaves,
each anxious to attract his notice, win his preference; before the
favourite, spiteful, envious of her and of each other, bitter,
malicious, and false. For Eveena's sake, it was impossible to look on
with indolent indifference on freaks of temper which, childish in the
form they assumed, were envenomed by the deliberate dislike and
unscrupulous cunning of jealous women.

But even on the childish side of their character and conduct, they
soon displayed a determination to test by actual experiment the utmost
extent of the liberty allowed, and the nature and sufficiency of its
limits. Eunané was always the most audacious trespasser and
representative rebel. Fortunately for her, the daring which had
bewildered and exasperated feminine guardians rather amused and
interested me, giving some variety and relief to the monotonous
absurdity of the situation. Nothing in her conduct was more remarkable
or more characteristic than the simplicity and good temper with which
she generally accepted as of course the less agreeable consequences of
her outbreaks; unless it were the sort of natural dignity with which,
when she so pleased, the game played out and its forfeit paid, the
naughty child subsided into the lively but rational companion, and the
woman simply ignored the scrapes of the school-girl.

As her character seemed to unfold, Eivé's individuality became as
distinctly parted from the rest as Eunané's, though in an opposite
direction. Comparatively timid and indolent, without their fulness of
life, she seemed to me little more than a child; and she fell with
apparent willingness into that position, accepting naturally its
privileges and exemptions. She alone was never in the way, never
vexatious or exacting. Content with the notice that naturally fell to
her share, she obtained the more. Never intruding between Eveena and
myself, she alone was not wholly unwelcome to share our accidental
privacy when, in the peristyle or the grounds, the others left us
temporarily alone. On such occasions she would often draw near and
crouch at my feet or by Eveena's side, curling herself like a kitten
upon the turf or among the cushions, often resting her little head
upon Eveena's knee or mine; generally silent, but never so silent as
to seem to be a spy upon our conversation, rather as a favourite child
privileged, in consideration of her quietude and her supposed
harmlessness and inattention, to remain when others are excluded, and
to hear much to which she is supposed not to listen. Having no special
duties of her own in the household, she would wait upon and assist
Eveena whenever the latter would accept her attendance. When the whole
party were assembled, it was her wont to choose her place not in the
circle, still less at my side—Eveena's title to the post of honour on
the left being uncontested, and Eunané generally occupying the
cushions on my right. But Eivé, lying at our feet, would support
herself on her arm between my knee and Eunané's, content to attract my
hand to play with her curls or stroke her head. Under such
encouragement she would creep on to my lap and rest there, but seldom
took any part in conversation, satisfied with the attention one pays
half-consciously to a child. A word that dropped from Enva, however,
on one occasion, obliged me to observe that it was in Eveena's absence
that Eivé always seemed most fully aware of her privileges and most
lavish of her childlike caresses. The kind of notice and affection she
obtained did not provoke the envy even of Leenoo or Eiralé. She no
more affected to imitate Eveena's absolute devotion than she ventured
on Eunané's reckless petulance. She kept my interest alive by the
faults of a spoiled child. Her freaks were always such as to demand
immediate repression without provoking serious displeasure, so that
the temporary disgrace cost her little, and the subsequent
reconciliation strengthened her hold on my heart. But with Eveena, or
in her presence, Eivé's waywardness was so suppressed or controlled
that Eveena's perceptible coolness towards her—it was never coldness
or unkindness—somewhat surprised me.

Few Martialists, when wealthy enough to hand over the management of
their property to others, care to interfere, or even to watch its
cultivation. This, however, to me was a subject of as much interest as
any other of the many peculiarities of Martial society, commerce, and
industry, which it concerned me to investigate and understand; and
when not otherwise employed, I spent great part of my day in watching,
and now and then directing, the work that went on during the whole of
the sunlight, and not unfrequently during the night, upon my farm.
Davilo, the superintendent, had engaged no fewer than eight
subordinates, who, with the assistance of the ambau, the carvee, and
the electric machines, kept every portion of the ground in the most
perfect state of culture. The most valuable part of the produce
consisted of those farinaceous fruits, growing on trees from twenty to
eighty feet in height, which form the principal element of Martial
food. Between the tropics these trees yield ripe fruit twice a year,
during a total period of about three of our months—perhaps for a
hundred days. Various gourds, growing chiefly on canes, hanging from
long flexile stalks that spring from the top of the stem at a height
of from three to eight feet, yield juice which is employed partly in
flavouring the various loaves and cakes into which the flour is made,
partly in the numerous beverages (never allowed to ferment, and
consequently requiring to be made fresh every day), of which the
smallest Martial household has a greater variety than the most
luxurious palace of the East. The best are made from hard-skinned
fruits, whose whole pulp is liquified by piercing the rind before the
fruit is fully ripe, and closing the orifice with a wax-like
substance, almost exactly according to a practice common in different
parts of Asia. The drinks are made, of course, at home. The
farinaceous fruits are sold to the confectioners, who take also a
portion of the milk and all the meat supplied by the pastures. Many
choice fruits grow on shrubs, ranging from the size of a large black
currant tree to that of the smallest gooseberry bush. Vines growing
along the ground bear clustering nuts, whose kernels are sometimes as
hard as that of a cocoa-nut, sometimes almost as soft as butter. The
latter with the juicy fruits, are preserved if necessary for a whole
year in storehouses dug in the ground and lined with concrete, in
which, by chemical means, a temperature a little above the
freezing-point is steadily maintained at very trivial cost. The number
of dishes producible by the mixture of these various materials, with
the occasional addition of meat, fish, and eggs, is enormous; and it
is only when some particular compound is in special favour with the
master of the house that it makes its appearance more than perhaps
once in ten days upon the same table. The invention of the
confectioners is exquisite and inexhaustible; and every table is
supplied with a variety of dainties sufficient for a feast in the most
hospitable and wealthy household of Europe. Many of the smaller
fruit-trees and shrubs yield two crops in the year. The vegetables,
crisper, and of much more varied taste than the best Terrestrial
salads, sometimes possessing a flavour as _piquant_ as that of
cinnamon or nutmeg, are gathered continuously from one end of the year
to the other.

The vines, tough and fibrous, supply the best and strongest cordage
used in Mars. For this purpose they are dried, stripped, combed, and
put through an elaborate process of manufacture, which, without
weakening the fibres, renders them smooth, and removes the knots in
which they naturally abound. The twisted cord of the nut-vine is
almost as strong as a metallic wire rope of half its measurement.
There is another purpose for which these fibres in their natural state
are employed. Simply dried and twisted, they form a scourge as
terrible as the Russian knout or African cowhide, though of a
different character—a scourge which, even in its lightest form,
reduces the wildest herd to instant order; and which, as employed on
criminals, is hardly less dreaded than that electric rack whereby
Martial science inflicts on every nerve a graduated torture such as
even ecclesiastical malignity has not invented on Earth—such as I
certainly will not place in the hands of Terrestrial rulers.

All these crops are raised with marvellously little human labour, the
whole work of ploughing and sowing being done by machinery, that of
weeding and harvesting chiefly by the carvee. The ambau climb the
trees and pick the fruit from the ends of the branches, which they are
also taught to pinch in, so that none grow so long as to break with
the weight of these creatures, as clever and agile as the smaller
monkeys, but almost as large as an ordinary baboon. It must always be
remembered that, size for size, and _cæteris paribus,_ all bodies,
animate and inanimate, on Mars weigh less than half as much as they
would on Earth. Eunané's blunder about the _carcarâ_ was not explained
by any subsequent errors of the ambau or carvee, which always selected
the ripe fruit with faultless skill, leaving the immature untouched,
and throwing aside in small heaps to manure the ground the few that
had been allowed to grow too ripe for use. The sums paid from time to
time into my hands, received from the sales of produce, were far
greater than I could possibly spend in gratifying any taste of my own;
and, as I presently found, the idea that the surplus might indulge
those of the ladies never entered their minds.

Before we had been settled in our home for three days Eveena had made
two requests which I was well pleased to grant. First, she entreated
that I would teach her one at least of the languages with which I was
familiar—a task of whose extreme difficulty she had little idea.
Compared with her native tongue, the complication and irregularities
of the simplest language spoken on Earth are far more arbitrary and
provoking than seems the most difficult of ancient or Oriental tongues
to a Frenchman or Italian. In order to fulfil my promise that she
should assist me in recording my observations and writing out my
notes, I chose Latin. Unhappily for her, I found myself as impatient
and unsuccessful as I was inexperienced in teaching; and nothing but
her exquisite gentleness and forbearance could have made the lessons
otherwise than painful to us both. Well for me that the "right to
govern wrong" was to her a simple truth—an inalienable marital
privilege, to be met with that unqualified submission which must have
shamed the worst temper into self-control. Eivé on one occasion made a
similar request; but besides that I realised the convenience of a
medium of communication understood by ourselves alone, I had no
inclination to expose either my own temper or Eivé's to the trial.
Eveena's second request came naturally from one whose favourite
amusement had been the raising and modification of flowers. She asked
to be entrusted with the charge of the seeds I had brought from Earth,
and to be permitted to form a bed in the peristyle for the purpose of
the experiment. Though this disfigured the perfect arrangement of the
garden, I was delighted to have so important and interesting a problem
worked out by hands so skilful and so careful. I should probably have
failed to rear a single plant, even had I been familiar with those
applications of electricity to the purpose which are so extensively
employed in Mars. Eveena managed to produce specimens strangely
altered, sometimes stunted, sometimes greatly improved, from about
one-fourth of the seeds entrusted to her; and among those with which
she was most brilliantly successful were some specimens of Turkish
roses, the roses of the attar, which I had obtained at Stamboul. My
admiration of her patience and pleasure in her success deeply
gratified her; and it was a full reward for all her trouble when I
suggested that she should send to her sister Zevle a small packet of
each of the seeds with which she had succeeded. It happened, however,
that the few rose seeds had all been planted; and the flowers, though
apparently perfect, produced no seed of their own, probably because
they were not suited to the taste of the flower-birds, and Eveena
somehow forgot or failed to employ the process of artificial
fertilisation.

If anything could have fully reconciled my conscience to the household
relations in which I was rather by weakness than by will inextricably
entangled, it would have been the certainty that by the sacrifice
Eveena had herself enforced on me, and which she persistently refused
to recognise as such, she alone had suffered. True that I could not
give, and could hardly affect for the wives bestowed on me by
another's choice, even such love as the head of a Moslem household may
distribute among as many inmates. But to what I could call love they
had never looked forward. But for the example daily presented before
their own eyes they would no more have missed than they comprehended
it. That they were happier than they had expected, far happier than
they would have been in an ordinary home, happier certainly than in
the schools they had quitted, I could not doubt, and they did not
affect to deny. If my patience were not proof against vexations the
more exasperating from their pettiness, and the sense of ridicule
which constantly attached to them, I could read in the manner of most
and understand from the words of Eunané, who seldom hesitated to speak
her mind, whether its utterances, were flattering or wounding, that
she and her companions found me not only far more indulgent, but
incomparably more just than they had been taught to hope a man could
be. Of justice, indeed, as consisting in restraint on one's own temper
and consideration for the temper of others, Martial manhood is
incapable, or, at any rate, Martial womanhood never suspects its
masters.

Moreover, though no longer blest with the spirits of youth, and
finding little pleasure in what youth calls pleasure, I had escaped
the kind of satiety that seems to attend lives more softly spent than
mine had been; and found a very real and unfading enjoyment in
witnessing the keen enjoyment of these youthful natures in such
liberty as could be accorded and such amusements as the life of this
dull and practical world affords.

Among these, two at least are closely similar to the two favourite
pleasures of European society. Music appears to have been carried,
like most arts and sciences, to a point of mechanical perfection
which, I should suppose, like much of the artificial accuracy and ease
which civilisation has introduced, mars rather than enhances the
natural gratification enjoyed by simpler ages and races. Almost deaf
to music as distinguished from noise, I did not attempt to comprehend
the construction of Martial instruments or the nature of the concords
they emitted. One only struck me with especial surprise by a
peculiarity which, if I could not understand, I could not mistake. A
number of variously coloured flames are made to synchronise with or
actually emit a number of corresponding notes, dancing to, or, more
properly, weaving a series of strangely combined movements in accord
with the music, whose vibrations were directly and inseparably
connected with their motion. But all music is the work of professional
musicians, never the occupation of woman's leisure, never made more
charming to the ear by its association with the movement of beloved
hands or the tones of a cherished voice. Electric wires, connected
with the vast buildings wherein instruments produce what sounds like
fine choral singing as well as musical notes, enable the householder
to turn on at pleasure music equal, I suppose, to the finest operatic
performances or the grandest oratorio, and listen to it at leisure
from the cushions of his own peristyle. This was a great though not
wholly new delight to Eunané and most of her companions. For their
sake only would Eveena ever have resorted to it, for though herself
appreciating music not less highly, and educated to understand it much
more thoroughly, than they, she could derive little gratification from
that which was clearly incomprehensible if not disagreeable to
me—could hardly enjoy a pleasure I could not share.

The theatre was a more prized and less common indulgence. It is little
frequented by the elder Martialists; and not enjoying it themselves,
they seldom sacrifice their hours to the enjoyment of their women. But
it forms so important an aid to education, and tends so much to keep
alive in the public memory impressions which policy will not permit to
fade, that both from the State and from the younger portion of the
community it receives an encouragement quite sufficient to reward the
few who bestow their time and talent upon it. Great buildings, square
or oblong in form, the stage placed at one end, the arched boxes or
galleries from which the spectators look down thereon rising tier
above and behind tier to the further extremity, are constantly filled.
There are no actors, and Martial feeling would hardly allow the
appearance of women as actresses. But an art, somewhat analogous to,
but infinitely surpassing, that displayed in the manipulation of the
most skilfully constructed and most complicated magic lanterns,
enables the conductors of the theatre to present upon the stage a
truly living and moving picture of any scene they desire to exhibit.
The figures appear perfectly real, move with perfect freedom, and
seem to speak the sounds which, in fact, are given out by a gigantic
hidden phonograph, into which the several parts have long ago been
carefully spoken by male and female voices, the best suited to each
character; and which, by the reversal of its motion, can repeat the
original words almost for ever, with the original tone, accent, and
expression. The illusion is far more perfect than that obtained by all
the resources of stage management and all the skill of the actor's art
in the best theatres of France. After the first novelty, the first
surprise and wonder were exhausted, I must confess that these
representations simply bored me, the more from their length and
character. But even Eveena enjoyed them thoroughly, and my other
companions prized an evening or afternoon thus spent above all other
indulgences. A passage running along at the back of each tier admits
the spectator to boxes so completely private as to satisfy the
strictest requirements of Martial seclusion.

The favourite scenes represent the most striking incidents of Martial
history, or realise the life, usages, and manners of ages long gone
by, before science and invention had created the perfect but
monotonous civilisation that now prevails. One of the most interesting
performances I witnessed commenced with the exhibition of a striking
scene, in which the union of all the various States that had up to
that time divided the planet's surface, and occasionally waged war on
one another, in the first Congress of the World, was realised in the
exact reproduction of every detail which historic records have
preserved. Afterwards was depicted the confusion, declining into
barbarism and rapid degradation, of the Communistic revolution, the
secession of the Zveltau and their merely political adherents, the
construction of their cities, fleets, and artillery, the terrible
battles, in which the numbers of the Communists were hurled back or
annihilated by the asphyxiator and the lightning gun; and finally, the
most remarkable scene in all Martial history, when the last
representatives of the great Anarchy, squalid, miserable, degraded,
and debased in form and features, as well as indicating by their dress
and appearance the utter ruin of art and industry under their rule,
came into the presence of the chief ruler of the rising
State—surrounded by all the splendour which the "magic of property,"
stimulating invention and fostering science, had created—to entreat
admission into the realm of restored civilisation, and a share in the
blessings they had so deliberately forfeited and so long striven to
deny to others.




CHAPTER XXI - PRIVATE AUDIENCES.


I spent my days between mist and mist, according to the Martial
saying, not infrequently in excursions more or less extensive and
adventurous, in which I could but seldom ask Eveena's company, and did
not care for any other. Comparatively courageous as she had learned to
be, and free from all affectation of pretty feminine fear, Eveena
could never realise the practical immunity from ordinary danger which
a strength virtually double that I had enjoyed on Earth, and thorough
familiarity with the dangers of travel, of mountaineering, and of the
chase, afforded me. When, therefore, I ventured among the hills alone,
followed the fishermen and watched their operations, sometimes in
terribly rough weather, from the little open surface-boat which I
could manage myself, I preferred to give her no definite idea of my
intentions. Davilo, however, protested against my exposure to a peril
of which Eveena was happily as yet unaware.

"If your intentions are never known beforehand," he said, "still your
habit of going forth alone in places to which your steps might easily
be dogged, where you might be shot from an ambush or drowned by a
sudden attack from a submarine vessel, will soon be pretty generally
understood, if, as I fear, a regular watch is set upon your life. At
least let me know what your intentions are before starting, and make
your absences as irregular and sudden as possible. The less they are
known beforehand, even in your own household, the better."

"Is it midnight still in the Council Chamber?" I asked.

"Very nearly so. She who has told so much can tell us no more. The
clue that placed her in mental relations with the danger did not
extend to its authorship. We have striven hard to find in every
conceivable direction some material key to the plot, some object
which, having been in contact with the persons of those we suspect,
probably at the time when their plans were arranged, might serve as a
link between her thoughts and theirs; but as yet unsuccessfully.
Either her vision is darkened, or the connection we have sought to
establish is wanting. But you know who is your unsparing personal
enemy; and, after the Sovereign himself, no man in this world is so
powerful; while the Sovereign himself is, owing to the restraints of
his position, less active, less familiar with others, less acquainted
with what goes on out of his own sight. Again I say we can avenge; but
against secret murder our powers only avail to deter. If we would
save, it must be by the use of natural precautions."

What he said made me desirous of some conversation with Eveena before
I started on a meditated visit to the Palace. If I could not tell her
the whole truth, she knew something; and I thought it possible on this
occasion so far to enlighten her as to consult with her how the secret
of my intended journeys should in future be kept. But I found no
chance of speaking to her until, shortly before my departure, I was
called upon to decide one of the childish disputes which constantly
disturbed my temper and comfort. Mere fleabites they were; but fleas
have often kept me awake a whole night in a Turkish caravanserai, and
half-a-dozen mosquitos inside an Indian tent have broken up the sleep
earned on a long day's march or a sharply contested battlefield. I
need only say that I extorted at last from Eveena a clear statement of
the trifle at issue, which flatly contradicted those of the four
participants in the squabble. She began to suggest a means of proving
the truth, and they broke into angry clamour. Silencing them all
peremptorily, I drew Eveena into my own chamber, and, when assured
that we were unheard, reproved her for proposing to support her own
word by evidence.

"Do you think," I said, "that any possible proof would induce me to
doubt you, or add anything to the assurance I derive from your word?"

"But," she urged, "that cannot be just to others. They must feel it
very hard that your love for me makes you take all I say for truth."

"Not my love, but my knowledge. 'Be not righteous overmuch.' Don't
forget that they _know_ the truth as well as you."

I would hear no more, and passed to the matter I had at heart....

Earnestly, and in a sense sincerely, as upon my second audience I had
thanked the Camptâ for his munificent gifts, no day passed that I
would not thankfully have renounced the wealth he had bestowed if I
could at the same time have renounced what was, in intention and
according to Martial ideas, the most gracious and most remarkable of
his favours. On the present occasion I thought for a moment that such
renunciation might have been possible.

The Prince had, after our first interview, observed with regard to
every point of my story on which I had been carefully silent a
delicacy of reserve very unusual among Martialists, and quite
unintelligible to his Court and officers. To-day the conversation in
public turned again upon my voyage. Endo and another studiously
directed it to the method of steering, and the intentional diminution
of speed in my descent, corresponding to its gradual increase at the
commencement of the journey—points at which they hoped to find some
opening to the mystery of the motive force. The Prince relieved me
from some embarrassment by requesting me as usual to attend him to his
private cabinet.

He said:—"I have not, as you must be aware, pressed you to disclose a
secret which, for some reason or other, you are evidently anxious to
preserve. Of course the exclusive possession of a motive power so
marvellous as that employed in your voyage is of almost incalculable
pecuniary value, and it is perfectly right that you should use your
own discretion with regard to the time and the terms of its
communication."

"Pardon me," I interposed, "if I interrupt you, Prince, to prevent any
misconception. It is not with a view to profit that I have carefully
avoided giving any clue whatever to my secret. Tour munificence would
render it most ungrateful and unjust in me to haggle over the price of
any service I could render you; and I should be greedy indeed if I
desired greater wealth than you have bestowed. If I may say so without
offending, I earnestly wish that you would permit me, by resigning
your gifts, to retain in my own eyes the right to keep my secret
without seeming undutiful or unthankful."

"I have said," he replied, "that on that point you misconceive our
respective positions. No one supposes that you are indebted to us for
anything more than it was the duty of the Sovereign to give, as a mark
of the universal admiration and respect, to our guest from another
world; still less could any imagine that on such a trifle could be
founded any claim to a secret so invaluable. You will offend me much
and only if you ever again speak of yourself as bound by personal
obligation to me or mine. But as we are wishful to buy, so I cannot
understand any reluctance on your part to sell your secret on your own
terms."

"I think, Prince," I replied, "that I have already asked you what you
would think of a subject of your own, who should put such a power into
the hands of enemies as formidable to you as you would be to the races
of the Earth."

"And _I_ think," he rejoined with a smile, "that I reminded you how
little my judgment would matter to one possessed of such a power. I
have gathered from your conversation how easily we might conquer a
world as far behind us in destructive powers as in general
civilisation. But why should you object? You can make your own terms
both for yourself and for any of your race for whom you feel an
especial interest."

"A traitor is none the less a despicable and loathsome wretch because
his Prince cannot punish him. I am bound by no direct tie of loyalty
to any Terrestrial sovereign. I was born the subject of one of the
greatest monarchs of the Earth; I left his country at an early age,
and my youth was passed in the service of less powerful rulers, to one
at least of whom I long owed the same military allegiance that binds
your guards and officers to yourself. But that obligation also is at
an end. Nevertheless, I cannot but recognise that I owe a certain
fealty to the race to which I belong, a duty to right and justice.
Even if I thought, which I do not think, that the Earth would be
better governed and its inhabitants happier under your rule, I should
have no right to give them up to a conquest I know they would fiercely
and righteously resist. If—pardon me for saying it—you, Prince,
would commit no common crime in assailing and slaughtering those who
neither have wronged nor can wrong you, one of themselves would be
tenfold more guilty in sharing your enterprise."

"You shall ensure," he replied, "the good government of your own world
as you will. You shall rule it with all the authority possessed by the
Regents under me, and by the laws which you think best suited to races
very different from our own. You shall be there as great and absolute
as I am here, paying only an obedience to me and my successors which,
at so immense a distance, can be little more than formal."

"Is it to acquire a merely formal power that a Prince like yourself
would risk the lives of your own people, and sacrifice those of
millions of another race?"

"To tell you the truth," he replied, "I count on commanding the
expedition myself; and perhaps I care more for the adventure than for
its fruits. You will not expect me to be more chary of the lives of
others than of my own?"

"I understand, and as a soldier could share, perhaps, a feeling
natural to a great, a capable, and an ambitious Prince. But alike as
soldier and subject it is my duty to resist, not to aid, such an
ambition. My life is at your disposal, but even to save my life I
could not betray the lives of hundreds of millions and the future of a
whole world."

"I fail to understand you fully," he said, abandoning with a sigh a
hope that had evidently been the object of long and eager day-dreams.
"But in no case would I try to force from you what you will not give
or sell; and if you speak sincerely—and I suppose you must do so,
since I can see no motive but those you assign that could induce you
to refuse my offer—I must believe in the existence of what I have
heard of now and then but deemed incredible—men who are governed by
care for other things than their own interests, who believe in right
and wrong, and would rather suffer injustice than commit it."

"You may be sure, Prince," I replied, perhaps imprudently, "that there
are such men in your own world, though they are perhaps among those
who are least known and least likely to be seen at your Court."

"If you know them," he said, "you will render me no little service in
bringing them to my knowledge."

"It is possible," I ventured to observe, "that their distinguishing
excellences are connected with other distinctions which might render
it a disservice to them to indicate their peculiar character, I will
not say to yourself, but to those around you."

"I hardly understand you," he rejoined. "Take, however, my assurance
that nothing you say here shall, without your own consent, be used
elsewhere. It is no light gratification, no trifling advantage to me,
to find one man who has neither fear nor interest that can induce him
to lie to me; to whom I can speak, not as sovereign to subject, but as
man to man, and of whose private conversation my courtiers and
officials are not yet suspicious or jealous. You shall never repent
any confidence you give to me."

My interest in and respect for the strange character so manifestly
suited for, so intensely weary of, the grandest position that man
could fill, increased with each successive interview. I never envied
that greatness which seems to most men so enviable. The servitude of a
constitutional King, so often a puppet in the hands of the worst and
meanest of men—those who prostitute their powers as rulers of a State
to their interests as chiefs of a faction—must seem pitiable to any
rational manhood. But even the autocracy of the Sultan or the Czar
seems ill to compensate the utter isolation of the throne; the lonely
grandeur of one who can hardly have a friend, since he can never have
an equal, among those around him. I do not wonder that a tinge of
melancholo-mania is so often perceptible in the chiefs of that great
House whose Oriental absolutism is only "tempered by assassination."
But an Earthly sovereign may now and then meet his fellow-sovereigns,
whether as friends or foes, on terms of frank hatred or loyal
openness. His domestic relations, though never secure and simple as
those of other men, may relieve him at times from the oppressive sense
of his sublime solitude; and to his wife, at any rate, he may for a
few minutes or hours be the husband and not the king. But the absolute
Ruler of this lesser world had neither equal friends nor open foes,
neither wife nor child. How natural then his weariness of his own
life; how inevitable his impatient scorn of those to whom that life
was devoted! A despot not even accountable to God—a Prince who, till
he conversed with me, never knew that the universe contained his equal
or his like—it spoke much, both for the natural strength and
soundness of his intellect and for the excellence of his education,
that he was so sane a man, so earnest, active, and just a ruler. His
reign was signalised by a better police, a more even administration of
justice, a greater efficiency, judgment, and energy in the execution
of great works of public utility, than his realm had known for a
thousand years; and his duty was done as diligently and
conscientiously as if he had known that conscience was the voice of a
supreme Sovereign, and duty the law of an unerring and unescapable
Lawgiver. Alone among a race of utterly egotistical cowards, he had
the courage of a soldier, and the principles, or at least the
instincts, worthy of a Child of the Star. With him alone could I have
felt a moment's security from savage attempts to extort by terror or
by torture the secret I refused to sell; and I believe that his
generous abstinence from such an attempt was as exasperating as it was
incomprehensible to his advisers, and chiefly contributed to involve
him in the vengeance which baffled greed and humbled personal pride
had leagued to wreak upon myself, as on those with whose welfare and
safety my own were inextricably intertwined. It was a fortunate, if
not a providential, combination of circumstances that compelled the
enemies of the Star, primarily on my account, to interweave with their
scheme of murderous persecution and private revenge an equally
ruthless and atrocious treason against the throne and person of their
Monarch.

My audience had detained me longer than I had expected, and the
evening mist had fairly closed in before I returned. Entering, not as
usual through the grounds and the peristyle, but by the vestibule and
my own chamber, and hidden by my half-open window, I overheard an
exceedingly characteristic discussion on the incident of the morning.

"Serve her right!" Leenoo was saying. "That she should for once get
the worst of it, and be disbelieved to sharpen the sting!"

"How do you know?" asked Enva. "I don't feel so sure we have heard the
last of it."

"Eveena did not seem to have liked her half-hour," answered Leenoo
spitefully. "Besides, if he did not disbelieve her story, he would
have let her prove it."

"Is that your reliance?" broke in Eunané. "Then you are swinging on a
rotten branch. I would not believe my ears if, for all that all of us
could invent against her, I heard him so much as ask Eveena, 'Are you
speaking the truth?'"

"It is very uneven measure," muttered Enva.

"Uneven!" cried Eunané. "Now, I think _I_ have the best right to be
jealous of her place; and it does sting me that, when he takes me for
his companion out of doors, or makes most of me at home, it is so
plain that he is taking trouble, as if he grudged a soft word or a
kiss to another as something stolen from her. But he deals evenly,
after all. If he were less tender of her we should have to draw our
zones tighter. But he won't give us the chance to say, 'Teach the
_ambâ_ with stick and the _esve_ with sugar.'"

"I do say it. She is never snubbed or silenced; and if she has had
worse than what he calls 'advice' to-day, I believe it is the first
time. She has never 'had cause to wear the veil before the household'
[to hide blushes or tears], or found that his 'lips can give sharper
sting than their kiss can heal,' like the rest of us."

"What for? If he wished to find her in fault he would have to watch
her dreams. Do you expect him to be harder to her than to us? He don't
'look for stains with a microscope.' None of us can say that he
'drinks tears for taste.' None of us ever 'smarted because the sun
scorched _him_.' Would you have him 'tie her hands for being white'?"
[punish her for perfection].

"She is never at fault because he never believes us against her,"
returned Leenoo.

"How often would he have been right? I saw nothing of to-day's
quarrel, but I know beforehand where the truth lay. I tell you this:
he hates the sandal more than the sin, but, strange as it seems, he
hates a falsehood worse still; and a falsehood against Eveena—If you
want to feel 'how the spear-grass cuts when the sheath bursts,' let
him find you out in an experiment like this! You congratulate
yourself, Leenoo, that you have got her into trouble. _Elnerve_ that
you are!—if you have, you had better have poisoned his cup before his
eyes. For every tear he sees her shed he will reckon with us at twelve
years' usury."

"_You_ have made her shed some," retorted Enva.

"Yes," said Eunané, "and if he knew it, I should like half a year's
penance in the black sash" [as the black sheep or scapegoat of her
Nursery] "better than my next half-hour alone with him. When I was
silly enough to tie the veil over her mouth" [take the lead in sending
her to Coventry] "the day after we came here, I expected to pay for
it, and thought the fruit worth the scratches. But when he came in
that evening, nodded and spoke kindly to us, but with his eyes seeking
for her; when he saw her at last sitting yonder with her head down, I
saw how his face darkened at the very idea that she was vexed, and I
thought the flash was in the cloud. When she sprang up as he called
her, and forced a smile before he looked into her face, I wished I had
been as ugly as Minn oo, that I might have belonged to the miserliest,
worst-tempered man living, rather than have so provoked the giant."

"But what did he do?"

"Well that he don't hear you!" returned Eunané. "But I can
answer;—nothing. I shivered like a _leveloo_ in the wind when he came
into my room, but I heard nothing about Eveena. I told Eivé so next
day—you remember Eivé would have no part with us? 'And you were
called the cleverest girl in your Nursery!' she said; 'you have just
tied your own hands and given your sandal into Eveena's. Whenever she
tells him, you will drink the cup she chooses to mix for you, and very
salt you will find it.'"

"Crach!" (tush or stuff), said Eiralé contemptuously. "We have 'filled
her robe with pins' for half a year since then, and she has never been
able to make him count them."

"Able!" returned Eunané sharply, "do you know no better? Well, I chose
to fancy she was holding this over me to keep me in her power. One day
she spoke—choosing her words so carefully—to warn me how I was sure
to anger Clasfempta" (the master of the household) "by pushing my
pranks so often to the verge of safety and no farther. I answered her
with a taunt, and, of course, that evening I was more perverse than
ever, till even he could stand it no longer. When he quoted—

 "'More lightly treat whom haste or heat to headlong trespass urge;
   The heaviest sandals fit the feet that ever tread the verge'—

"I was well frightened. I saw that the bough had broken short of the
end, and that for once Clasfempta could mean to hurt. But Eveena kept
him awhile, and when he came to me, she had persuaded him that I was
only mischievous, not malicious, teasing rather than trespassing. But
his last words showed that he was not so sure of that. 'I have treated
you this time as a child whose petulance is half play; but if you
would not have your teasing returned with interest, keep it clipped;
and—keep it for _me_.' I have often tormented her since then, but I
could not for shame help you to spite her."

"Crach!" said Enva. "Eveena might think it wise to make friends with
you; but would she bear to be slighted and persecuted a whole summer
if she could help herself? You know that—

  "Man's control in woman's hand
   Sorest tries the household band.
   Closer favourite's kisses cling,
   Favourite's fingers sharper sting."

"Very likely," replied Eunané. "I cannot understand any more than you
can why Eveena screens instead of punishing us; why she endures what a
word to him would put down under her sandal; but she does. Does she
cast no shadow because it never darkens his presence to us? And after
all, her mind is not a deeper darkness to me than his. He enjoys life
as no man here does; but what he enjoys most is a good chance of
losing it; while those who find it so tedious guard it like
watch-dragons. When the number of accidents made it difficult to fill
up the Southern hunt at any price, the Camptâ's refusal to let him go
so vexed him that Eveena was half afraid to show her sense of relief.
You would think he liked pain—the scars of the _kargynda_ are not his
only or his deepest ones—if he did not catch at every excuse to spare
it. And, again, why does he speak to Eveena as to the Camptâ, and to
us as to children—'child' is his softest word for us? Then, he is
patient where you expect no mercy, and severe where others would
laugh. When Enva let the electric stove overheat the water, so that he
was scalded horribly in his bath, we all counted that he would at
least have paid her back the pain twice over. But as soon as Eveena
and Eivé had arranged the bandages, he sent for her. We could scarcely
bring you to him, Enva; but he put out the only hand he could move to
stroke your hair as he does Eivé's, and spoke for once with real
tenderness, as if you were the person to be pitied! Any one else would
have laughed heartily at the figure her _esve_ made with half her tail
pulled out. But not all Eveena's pleading could obtain pardon for me."

"That was caprice, not even dealing," said Leenoo. "You were not half
so bad as Enva."

"He made me own that I was," replied Eunané. "It never occurred to him
to suppose or say that she did it on purpose. But I was cruel on
purpose to the bird, if I were not spiteful to its mistress. 'Don't
you feel,' he said, 'that intentional cruelty is what no ruler,
whether of a household or of a kingdom, has a right to pass over? If
not, you can hardly be fit for a charge that gives animals into your
power.' I never liked him half so well; and I am sure I deserved a
severer lesson. Since then, I cannot help liking them both; though it
_is_ mortifying to feel that one is nothing before her."

"It is intolerable," said Enva bitterly; "I detest her."

"Is it her fault?" asked Eunané with some warmth. "They are so like
each other and so unlike us, that I could fancy she came from his own
world. I went to her next day in her own room."

"Ay," interjected Leenoo with childish spite, "'kiss the foot and
'scape the sandal.'"

"Think so," returned Eunané quietly, "if you like. I thought I owed
her some amends. Well, she had her bird in her lap, and I think she
was crying over it. But as soon as she saw me she put it out of sight.
I began to tell her how sorry I was about it, but she would not let me
go on. She kissed me as no one ever kissed me since my school friend
Ernie died three years ago; and she cried more over the trouble I had
brought on myself than over her pet. And since then," Eunané went on
with a softened voice, "she has showed me how pretty its ways are, how
clever it is, how fond of her, and she tries to make it friends with
me.... Sometimes I don't wonder she is so much to him and he to her.
She was brought up in the home where she was born. Her father is one
of those strange people; and I fancy there is something between her
and Clasfempta more than...."

I could not let this go on; and stepping back from the window as if I
had but just returned, I called Eunané by name. She came at once, a
little surprised at the summons, but suspecting nothing. But the first
sight of my face startled her; and when, on the impulse of the moment,
I took her hands and looked straight into her eyes, her quick
intelligence perceived at once that I had heard at least part of the
conversation.

"Ah," she said, flushing and hanging her head, "I am caught now,
but"—in a tone half of relief—"I deserve it, and I won't pretend to
think that you are angry only because Eveena is your favourite. You
would not allow any of us to be spited if you could help it, and it is
much worse to have spited her."

I led her by the hand across the peristyle into her own chamber, and
when the window closed behind us, drew her to my side.

"So you would rather belong to the worst master of your own race than
to me?"

"Not now," she answered. "That was my first thought when I saw how you
felt for Eveena, and knew how angry you would be when you found how
we—I mean how I—had used her, and I remembered how terribly strong
you were. I know you better now. It is for women to strike with five
fingers" (in unmeasured passion); "only, don't tell Eveena. Besides,"
she murmured, colouring, with drooping eyelids, "I had rather be
beaten by you than caressed by another."

"Eunané, child, you might well say you don't understand me. I could
not have listened to your talk if I had meant to use it against you;
and with _you_ I have no cause to be displeased. Nay" (as she looked
up in surprise), "I know you have not used Eveena kindly, but I heard
from yourself that you had repented. That she, who could never be
coaxed or compelled to say what made her unhappy, or even to own that
I had guessed it truly, has fully forgiven you, you don't need to be
told."

"Indeed, I don't understand," the girl sobbed. "Eveena is always so
strangely soft and gentle—she would rather suffer without reason than
let us suffer who deserve it. But just because she is so kind, you
must feel the more bitterly for her. Besides," she went on, "I was so
jealous—as if you could compare me with her—even after I had felt
her kindness. No! you cannot forgive _for her_, and you ought not."

"Child," I answered, sadly enough, for my conscience was as ill at
ease as hers, with deeper cause, "I don't tell you that your jealousy
was not foolish and your petulance culpable; but I do say that neither
Eveena nor I have the heart—perhaps I have not even the right—to
blame you. It is true that I love Eveena as I can love no other in
this world or my own. How well she deserves that love none but I can
know. So loving her, I would not willingly have brought any other
woman into a relation which could make her dependent upon or desirous
of such love as I cannot give. You know how this relation to you and
the others was forced upon me. When I accepted it, I thought I could
give you as much affection as you would find elsewhere. How far and
why I wronged Eveena is between her and myself. I did not think that I
could be wronging you."

Very little of this was intelligible to Eunané. She felt a tenderness
she had never before received; but she could not understand my doubt,
and she replied only to my last words.

"Wrong us! How could you? Did we ask whether you had another wife, or
who would be your favourite? Did you promise to like us, or even to be
kind to us? You might have neglected us altogether, made one girl your
sole companion, kept all indulgences, all favours, for her; and how
would you have wronged us? If you had turned on us when she vexed you,
humbled us to gratify her caprice, ill-used us to vent your temper,
other men would have done the same. Who else would have treated us as
you have done? Who would have been careful to give each of us her
share in every pleasure, her turn in every holiday, her employment at
home, her place in your company abroad? Who would have inquired into
the truth of our complaints and the merits of our quarrels; would have
made so many excuses for our faults, given us so many patient
warnings?... Wronged us! There may be some of us who don't like you;
there is not one who could bear to be sent away, not one who would
exchange this house for the palace of the camptâ though you pronounce
him kingly in nature as in power."

She spoke as she believed, if she spoke in error. "If so, my child,
why have you all been so bitter against Eveena? Why have you yourself
been jealous of one who, as you admit, has been a favourite only in a
love you did not expect?"

"But we saw it, and we envied her so much love, so much respect," she
replied frankly. "And for myself,"—she coloured, faltered, and was
silent. "For yourself, my child?"

"I was a vain fool," she broke out impetuously. "They told me that I
was beautiful, and clever, and companionable. I fancied I should be
your favourite, and hold the first place; and when I saw her, I would
not see her grace and gentleness, or observe her soft sweet voice, and
the charms that put my figure and complexion to shame, and the quiet
sense and truth that were worth twelvefold my quickness, my memory,
and my handiness. I was disappointed and mortified that she should be
preferred. Oh, how you must hate me, Clasfempta; for I hate myself
while I tell you what I have been!"

According to European doctrine, my fealty to Eveena must then have
been in peril. And yet, warmly as I felt for Eunané, the element in
her passionate confession that touched me most was her recognition of
Eveena's superiority; and as I soothed and comforted the half-childish
penitent, I thought how much it would please Eveena that I had at last
come to an understanding with the companion she avowedly liked the
best.

"But, Eunané," I said at last, "do you remember what you were saying
when I called you—called you on purpose to stop you? You said that
there was something between Eveena and myself more than—more than
what? What did you mean? Speak frankly, child; I know that this time
you were not going to scald me on purpose."

"I don't know quite what I meant," she replied simply. "But the first
time you took me out, I heard the superintendent say some strange
things; and then he checked himself when he found your companion was
not Eveena. Then Eivé—I mean—you use expressions sometimes in
talking to Eveena that we never heard before. I think there is some
secret between you."

"And if there be, Eunané, were _you_ going to betray it—to set Enva
and Leenoo on to find it out?"

"I did not think," she said. "I never do think before I get into
trouble. I don't say, forgive me this time; but I _will_ hold my
tongue for the future."

By this time our evening meal was ready. As I led Eunané to her place,
Eveena looked up with some little surprise. It was rarely that,
especially on returning from absence, I had sought any other company
than hers. But there was no tinge of jealousy or doubt in her look. On
the contrary, as, with her entire comprehension of every expression of
my face, and her quickness to read the looks of others, she saw in
both countenances that we were on better terms than ever before, her
own brightened at the thought. As I placed myself beside her, she
stole her hand unobserved into mine, and pressed it as she whispered—

"You have found her out at last. She is half a child as yet; but she
has a heart—and perhaps the only one among them."

"The four," as I called them, looked up as we approached with eager
malice:—bitterly disappointed, when they saw that Eunané had won
something more than pardon. Whatever penance they had dreaded, their
own escape ill compensated the loss of their expected pleasure in the
pain and humiliation of a finer nature. Eunané's look, timidly
appealing to her to ratify our full reconciliation, answered by
Eveena's smile of tender, sisterly sympathy, enhanced and completed
their discomfiture.




CHAPTER XXII - PECULIAR INSTITUTIONS.


A chief luxury and expense in which, when aware what my income was, I
indulged myself freely was the purchase of Martial literature. Only
ephemeral works are as a rule printed in the phonographic character,
which alone I could read with ease. The Martialists have no
newspapers. It does not seem to them worth while to record daily the
accidents, the business incidents, the prices, the amusements, and the
follies of the day; and politics they have none. In no case would a
people so coldly wise, so thoroughly impressed by experience with a
sense of the extreme folly of political agitation, legislative change,
and democratic violence, have cursed themselves with anything like the
press of Europe or America. But as it is, all they have to record is
gathered each twelfth day at the telegraph offices, and from these
communicated on a single sheet about four inches square to all who
care to receive it. But each profession or occupation that boasts, as
do most, an organisation and a centre of discussion and council,
issues at intervals books containing collected facts, essays, reports
of experiments, and lectures. Every man who cares to communicate his
passing ideas to the public does so by means of the phonograph. When
he has a graver work, which is, in his view at least, of permanent
importance to publish, it is written in the stylographic character,
and sold at the telegraphic centres. The extreme complication and
compression employed in this character had, as I have already said,
rendered it very difficult to me; and though I had learnt to decipher
it as a child spells out the words which a few years later it will
read unconsciously by the eye, the only manner in which I could
quickly gather the sense of such books was by desiring one or other of
the ladies to read them aloud. Strangely enough, next to Eveena, Eivé
was by far the best reader. Eunané understood infinitely better what
she was perusing; but the art of reading aloud is useless, and
therefore never taught, in schools whose every pupil learns to read
with the usual facility a character which the practised eye can
interpret incomparably faster than the voice could possibly utter it.
This reading might have afforded many opportunities of private
converse with Eveena, but that Eivé, whose knowledge was by no means
proportionate to her intelligence, entreated permission to listen to
the books I selected; and Eveena, though not partial to her childish
companion and admirer, persuaded me not to refuse.

The story of my voyage and reports of my first audience at Court were,
of course, widely circulated and extensively canvassed. Though
regarded with no favour, especially by the professed philosophers and
scientists, my adventures and myself were naturally an object of great
curiosity; and I was not surprised when a civil if cold request was
preferred, on behalf of what I may call the Martial Academy, that I
would deliver in their hall a series of lectures, or rather a
connected oral account of the world from which I professed to have
come, and of the manner in which my voyage had been accomplished.
After consulting Eveena and Davilo, I accepted the invitation, and
intended to take the former with me. She objected, however, that while
she had heard much in her father's house and during our travels of
what I had to tell, her companions, scarcely less interested, were
comparatively ignorant. Indiscreetly, because somewhat provoked by
these repeated sacrifices, as much of my inclination as her own, I
mentioned my purpose at our evening meal, and bade her name those who
should accompany me. I was a little surprised when, carefully evading
the dictation to which she was invited, she suggested that Eunané and
Eivé would probably most enjoy the opportunity. That she should be
willing to get rid of the most wilful and petulant of the party seemed
natural. The other selection confirmed the impression I had formed,
but dared not express to one whom I had never blamed without finding
myself in the wrong, that Eveena regarded Eivé with a feeling more
nearly approaching to jealousy than her nature seemed capable of
entertaining. I obeyed, however, without comment; and both the
companions selected for me were delighted at the prospect.

The Academy is situated about half-way between Amacasfe and the
Residence; the facilities of Martial travelling, and above all of
telegraphic and telephonic communication, dispensing with all reason
for placing great institutions in or near important cities. We
travelled by balloon, as I was anxious to improve myself in the
management of these machines. After frightening my companions so far
as to provoke some outcry from Eivé, and from Eunané some saucy
remarks on my clumsiness, on which no one else would have ventured, I
descended safely, if not very creditably, in front of the building
which serves as a local centre of Martial philosophy. The residences
of some sixty of the most eminent professors of various
sciences—elected by their colleagues as seats fall vacant, with the
approval of the highest Court of Judicature and of the camptâ—cluster
around a huge building in the form of a hexagon made up of a multitude
of smaller hexagons, in the centre whereof is the great hall of the
same shape. In the smaller chambers which surround it are telephones
through which addresses delivered in a hundred different quarters are
mechanically repeated; so that the residents or temporary visitors can
here gather at once all the knowledge that is communicated by any man
of note to any audience throughout the planet. On this account numbers
of young men just emancipated from the colleges come here to complete
their education; and above each of the auditory chambers is another
divided into six small rooms, wherein these visitors are accommodated.
A small house belonging to one of the members who happened to be
absent was appropriated to me during my stay, and in its hall the
philosophers gathered in the morning to converse with or to question
me in detail respecting the world whose existence they would not
formally admit, but whose life, physical, social, and political, and
whose scientific and human history, they regarded with as much
curiosity as if its reality were ascertained. Courtesy forbids evening
visits unless on distinct and pressing invitation, it being supposed
that the head of a household may care to spend that part of his time,
and that alone, with his own family.

The Academists are provided by the State with incomes, of an amount
very much larger than the modest allowances which the richest nations
of the Earth almost grudge to the men whose names in future history
will probably be remembered longer than those of eminent statesmen and
warriors. Some of them have made considerable fortunes by turning to
account in practical invention this or that scientific discovery. But
as a rule, in Mars as on Earth, the gifts and the career of the
discoverer, and the inventor are distinct. It is, however, from the
purely theoretical labours of the men of science that the inventions
useful in manufactures, in communication, in every department of life
and business, are generally derived; and the prejudice or judgment of
this strange people has laid it down that those who devote their lives
to work in itself unremunerative, but indirectly most valuable to the
public, should be at least as well off as the subordinate servants of
the State. In society they are perhaps more honoured than any but the
highest public authorities; and my audience was the most
distinguished, according to the ideas of that world, that it could
furnish.

At noon each day I entered the hall, which was crowded with benches
rising on five sides from the centre to the walls, the sixth being
occupied by a platform where the lecturer and the members of the
Academy sat. After each lecture, which occupied some two hours,
questions more or less perplexing were put by the latter. Only,
however, on the first occasion, when I reserved, as before the Zinta
and the Court, all information that could enable my hearers to divine
the nature of the apergic force, was incredulity so plainly insinuated
as to amount to absolute insult.

"If," I said, "you choose to disbelieve what I tell you, you are
welcome to do so. But you are not at liberty to express your disbelief
to me. To do so is to charge me with lying; and to that charge,
whatever may be the customs of this world, there is in mine but one
answer," and I laid my hand on the hilt of the sword I wore in
deference to Davilo's warnings, but which he and others considered a
Terrestrial ornament rather than a weapon.

The President of the Academy quietly replied—"Of all the strange
things we have heard, this seems the strangest. I waive the
probability of your statements, or the reasonableness of the doubts
suggested. But I fail to understand how, here or in any other world,
if the imputation of falsehood be considered so gross an offence—and
here it is too common to be so regarded—it can be repelled by proving
yourself more skilled in the use of weapons, or stronger or more
daring than the person who has challenged your assertion."

The moral courage and self-possession of the President were as marked
as his logic was irrefragable; but my outbreak, however illogical,
served its purpose. No one was disposed to give mortal offence to one
who showed himself so ready to resent it, though probably the
apprehension related less to my swordsmanship than the favour I was
supposed to enjoy with the Suzerain.

Seriously impressed by the growing earnestness of Davilo's warnings,
and feeling that I could no longer conceal the pressure of some
anxiety on my mind, gradually, cautiously, and tenderly I broke to
Eveena what I had learned, with but two reserves. I would not render
her life miserable by the suggestion of possible treason in our own
household. That she might not infer this for herself, I led her to
believe that the existence and discovery of the conspiracy was of a
date long subsequent to my acceptance of the Sovereign's unwelcome
gift. She was deeply affected, and, as I had feared, exceedingly
disturbed. But, very characteristically, the keenest impression made
upon her mind concerned less the urgency of the peril than its origin,
the fact that it was incurred through and for her. On this she
insisted much more than seemed just or reasonable. It was for her
sake, no doubt, that I had made the Regent of Elcavoo my bitter,
irreconcilable foe. It was my marriage with her, the daughter of the
most eminent among the chiefs of the Zinta, that had marked me out as
one of the first and principal victims, and set on my head a value as
high as on that of any of the Order save the Arch-Enlightener himself,
whose personal character and social distinction would have indicated
him as especially dangerous, even had his secret rank been altogether
unsuspected. It was impossible to soothe Eveena's first outbreak of
feeling, or reason with her illogical self-reproach. Compelled at last
to admit that the peril had been unconsciously incurred when she
neither knew nor could have known it, she pleaded eagerly and
earnestly for permission to repair by the sacrifice of herself the
injury she had brought upon me. It was useless to tell her that the
acceptance of such a sacrifice would be a thousand-fold worse than
death. Even the depth and devotion of her own love could not persuade
her to realise the passionate earnestness of mine. It was still more
in vain to remind her that such a concession must entail the dishonour
that man fears above all perils; would brand me with that indelible
stain of abject personal cowardice which for ever degrades and ruins
not only the fame but the nature of manhood, as the stain of wilful
unchastity debases and ruins woman.

"Rescind our contract," she insisted, pleading, with the overpowering
vehemence of a love absolutely unselfish, against love's deepest
instincts and that egotism which is almost inseparable from it; giving
passionate utterance to an affection such as men rarely feel for
women, women perhaps never for men. "Divorce me; force the enemy to
believe that you have broken with my father and with his Order; and,
favoured as you are by the Sovereign, you will be safe. Give what
reason you will; say that I have deserved it, that I have forced you
to it. I know that contracts _are_ revoked with the full approval of
the Courts and of the public, though I hardly know why. I will agree;
and if we are agreed, you can give or withhold reasons as you please.
Nay, there can be no wrong to me in doing what I entreat you to do. I
shall not suffer long—no, no, I _will_ live, I will be happy"—her
face white to the lips, her streaming tears were not needed to belie
the words! "By your love for me, do not let me feel that you are to
die—do not keep me in dread to hear that you have died—for me and
through me."

If it had been in her power to leave me, if one-half of the promised
period had not been yet to run, she might have enforced her purpose in
despite of all that I could urge;—of reason, of entreaty, of the
pleadings of a love in this at least as earnest as her own. Nay, she
would probably have left me, in the hope of exhibiting to the world
the appearance of an open quarrel, but for a peculiarity of Martial
law. That law enforces, on the plea of either party, "specific
performance" of the marriage contract. I could reclaim her, and call
the force of the State to recover her. When even this warning at first
failed to enforce her submission, I swore by all I held sacred in my
own world and all she revered in hers—by the symbols never lightly
invoked, and never, in the course of ages that cover thrice the span
of Terrestrial history and tradition, invoked to sanction a lie;
symbols more sacred in her eyes than, in those of mediæval
Christendom, the gathered relics that appalled the heroic soul of
Harold Godwinsson—that she should only defeat her own purpose; that I
would reclaim my wife before the Order and before the law, thus
asserting more clearly than ever the strength of the tie that bound me
to her and to her house. The oath which it was impossible to break,
perhaps yet more the cold and measured tone with which I spoke, in
striving to control the white heat of a passion as much stronger as it
was more selfish than hers—a tone which sounded to myself unnatural
and alien—at last compelled her to yield; and silenced her in the
only moment in which the depths of that nature, so sweet and soft and
gentle, were stirred by the violence of a moral tempest....
A marvellously perfect example of Martial art and science is furnished
by the Observatory of the Astronomic Academy, on a mountain about
twenty miles from the Residence. The hill selected stands about 4000
feet above the sea-level, and almost half that height above any
neighbouring ground. It commands, therefore, a most perfect view of
the horizon all around, even below the technical or theoretic horizon
of its latitude. A volcano, like all Martial volcanoes very feeble,
and never bursting into eruptions seriously dangerous to the dwellers
in the neighbouring plains, existed at some miles' distance, and
caused earthquakes, or perhaps I should more properly say disturbances
of the surface, which threatened occasionally to perturb the
observations. But the Martialists grudge no cost to render their
scientific instruments, from the Observatory itself to the smallest
lens or wheel it contains, as perfect as possible. Having decided that
Eanelca was very superior to any other available site, they were not
to be baffled or diverted by such a trifle as the opposition of
Nature. Still less would they allow that the observers should be put
out by a perceptible disturbance, or their observations falsified by
one too slight to be realised by their senses. If Nature were
impertinent enough to interfere with the arrangements of science,
science must put down the mutiny of Nature. As seas had been bridged
and continents cut through, so a volcano might and must be suppressed
or extinguished. A tunnel thirty miles in length was cut from a great
lake nearly a thousand feet higher than the base of the volcano; and
through this for a quarter of a year, say some six Terrestrial months,
water was steadily poured into the subterrene cavities wherein the
eruptive forces were generated—the plutonic laboratory of the
rebellious agency. Of course previous to the adoption of this measure,
the crust in the neighbourhood had been carefully explored and tested
by various wonderfully elaborate and perfect boring instruments, and a
map or rather model of the strata for a mile below the surface, and
for a distance around the volcano which I dare not state on the faith
of my recollection alone, had been constructed on a scale, as we
should say, of twelve inches to the mile. Except for minor purposes,
for convenience of pocket carriage and the like, Martialists disdain
so poor a representation as a flat map can give of a broken surface.
On the small scale, they employ globes of spherical sections to
represent extensive portions of their world; on the large scale (from
two to twenty-four inches per mile), models of wonderfully accurate
construction. Consequently, children understand and enjoy the
geographical lesson which in European schools costs so many tears to
so little purpose. A girl of six years knows more perfectly the whole
area of the Martial globe than a German Professor that of the ancient
Peloponnesus. Eivé, the dunce of our household, won a Terrestrial
picture-book on which she had set her fancy by tracing on a forty-inch
globe, the first time she saw it, every detail of my journey from
Ecasfe as she had heard me relate it; and Eunané, who had never left
her Nursery, could describe beforehand any route I wished to take
between the northern and southern ice-belts. Under the guidance
afforded by the elaborate model abovementioned, all the hollows
wherein the materials of eruption were stored, and wherein the
chemical forces of Nature had been at work for ages, were thoroughly
flooded. Of course convulsion after convulsion of the most violent
nature followed. But in the course of about two hundred days, the
internal combustion was overmastered for lack of fuel; the chemical
combinations, which might have gone on for ages causing weak but
incessant outbreaks, were completed and their power exhausted.

This source of disturbance extinguished in the reign of the
twenty-fifth predecessor of my royal patron, the construction of the
great Observatory on Eanelca was commenced. A very elaborate road,
winding round and round the mountain at such an incline as to be
easily ascended by the electric carriages, was built. But this was
intended only as a subsidiary means of ascent. Right into the bowels
of the mountain a vast tunnel fifty feet in height was driven. At its
inner extremity was excavated a chamber whose dimensions are
imperfectly recorded in my notes, but which was certainly much larger
than the central cavern from which radiate the principal galleries of
the Mammoth Cave. Around this were pierced a dozen shafts, emerging at
different heights, but all near the summit, and all so far outside the
central plateau as to leave the solid foundation on which the
Observatory was to rest, down to the very centre of the planet, wholly
undisturbed. Through each of these, ascending and descending
alternately, pass two cars, or rather movable chambers, worked by
electricity, conveying passengers, instruments, or supplies to and
from the most convenient points in the vast structure of the
Observatory itself. The highest part of Ranelca was a rocky mass of
some 1600 feet in circumference and about 200 in height. This was
carved into a perfect octagon, in the sides of which were arranged a
number of minor chambers—among them those wherein transit and other
secondary observations were to be taken, and in which minor magnifying
instruments were placed to scan their several portions of the heavens.
Within these was excavated a circular central chamber, the dome of
which was constructed of a crystal so clear that I verily believe the
most exacting of Terrestrial astronomers would have been satisfied to
make his observations through it. But an opening was made in this
dome, as for the mounting of one of our equatorial telescopes, and
machinery was provided which caused the roof to revolve with a touch,
bringing the opening to bear on any desired part of the celestial
vault. In the centre of the solid floor, levelled to the utmost
perfection, was left a circular pillar supporting the polar axis of an
instrument widely differing from our telescopes, especially in the
fact that it had no opaque tube connecting the essential lenses which
we call the eye-piece and the object-glass, names not applicable to
their Martial substitutes. On my visit to the Observatory, however, I
had not leisure to examine minutely the means by which the images of
stars and planets were produced. I reserved this examination for a
second opportunity, which, as it happened, never occurred.

On this occasion Eveena and Eunané were with me, and the astronomic
pictures which were to be presented to us, and which they could enjoy
and understand almost as fully as myself, sufficiently occupied our
time. Warned to stand at such a distance from the central machinery
that in a whole revolution no part of it could by any possibility
touch us, we were placed near an opening looking into a dark chamber,
with our backs to the objects of observation. In this chamber, not
upon a screen but suspended in the air, presently appeared an image
several thousand times larger than that of the crescent Moon as seen
through a tube small enough to correct the exaggeration of visual
instinct. It appeared, however, not flat, as does the Moon to the
naked eye, but evidently as part of a sphere. At some distance was
shown another crescent, belonging to a sphere whose diameter was a
little more than one-fourth that of the former. The light reflected
from their surfaces was of silver radiance, rather than the golden hue
of the Moon or of Venus as seen through a small telescope. The smaller
crescent I could recognise at once as belonging to our own satellite;
the larger was, of course, the world I had quitted. So exactly is the
clockwork or its substitute adapted to counteract both the rotation
and revolution of Mars, that the two images underwent no other change
of place than that caused by their own proper motion in space; a
movement which, notwithstanding the immense magnifying power employed,
was of course scarcely perceptible. But the rotation of the larger
sphere was visible as we watched it. It so happened that the part
which was at once lighted by the rays of the Sun and exposed to our
observation was but little clouded. The atmosphere, of course,
prevented its presenting the clear, sharply-defined outlines of lunar
landscapes; but sea and land, ice and snow, were so clearly defined
and easily distinguishable that my companions exclaimed with
eagerness, as they observed features unmistakably resembling on the
grand scale those with which they were themselves familiar. The Arctic
ice was scarcely visible in the North. The vast steppes of Russia, the
boundary line of the Ural mountains, the greyish-blue of the Euxine,
Western Asia, Arabia, and the Red Sea joining the long water-line of
the Southern Ocean, were defined by the slanting rays. The Antarctic
ice-continent was almost equally clear, with its stupendous glacier
masses radiating apparently from an elevated extensive land, chiefly
consisting of a deeply scooped and scored plateau of rock, around the
Pole itself. The terminator, or boundary between light and shade, was
not, as in the Moon, pretty sharply defined, and broken only by the
mountainous masses, rings, and sea-beds, if such they are, so
characteristic of the latter. On the image of the Moon there
intervened between bright light and utter darkness but the narrow belt
to which only part of the Sun was as yet visible, and which,
therefore, received comparatively few rays. The twilight to north and
south extended on the image of the Earth deep into that part on which
as yet the Sun was below the horizon, and consequently daylight faded
into darkness all but imperceptibly, save between the tropics. We
watched long and intently as league by league new portions of Europe
and Africa, the Mediterranean, and even the Baltic, came into view;
and I was able to point out to Eveena lands in which I had travelled,
seas I had crossed, and even the isles of the Aegean, and bays in
which my vessel had lain at anchor. This personal introduction to each
part of the image, now presented to her for the first time, enabled
her to realise more forcibly than a lengthened experience of
astronomical observation might have done the likeness to her own world
of that which was passing under her eyes; and at once intensified her
wonder, heightened her pleasure, and sharpened her intellectual
apprehension of the scene. When we had satiated our eyes with this
spectacle, or rather when I remembered that we could spare no more
time to this, the most interesting exhibition of the evening, a turn
of the machinery brought Venus under view. Here, however, the cloud
envelope baffled us altogether, and her close approach to the horizon
soon obliged the director to turn his apparatus in another direction.
Two or three of the Asteroids were in view. Pallas especially
presented a very interesting spectacle. Not that the difference of
distance would have rendered the definition much more perfect than
from a Terrestrial standpoint, but that the marvellous perfection of
Martial instruments, and in some measure also the rarity of the
atmosphere at such a height, rendered possible the use of far higher
magnifying powers than our astronomers can employ. I am inclined to
agree, from what I saw on this occasion, with those who imagine the
Asteroids to be—if not fragments of a broken planet which once
existed as a whole—yet in another sense fragmentary spheres, less
perfect and with surfaces of much greater proportionate irregularity
than those of the larger planets. Next was presented to our view on a
somewhat smaller scale, because the area of the chamber employed would
not otherwise have given room for the system, the enormous disc and
the four satellites of Jupiter. The difference between 400 and 360
millions of miles' distance is, of course, wholly unimportant; but the
definition and enlargement were such that the image was perfect, and
the details minute and distinct, beyond anything that Earthly
observation had led me to conceive as possible. The satellites were no
longer mere points or tiny discs, but distinct moons, with surfaces
marked like that of our own satellite, though far less mountainous and
broken, and, as it seemed to me, possessing a distinct atmosphere. I
am not sure that there is not a visible difference of brightness among
them, not due to their size but to some difference in the reflecting
power of their surfaces, since the distance of all from the Sun is
practically equal. That Jupiter gives out some light of his own, a
portion of which they may possibly reflect in differing amount
according to their varying distance, is believed by Martial
astronomers; and I thought it not improbable. The brilliant and
various colouring of the bands which, cross the face of the giant
planet was wonderfully brought out; the bluish-grey around the poles,
the clear yellowish-white light of the light bands, probably belts of
white cloud, contrasted signally the hues—varying from deep
orange-brown to what was almost crimson or rose-pink on the one hand
and bright yellow on the other—of different zones of the so-called
dark belts. On the latter, markings and streaks of strange variety
suggested, if they failed-to prove, the existence of frequent spiral
storms, disturbing, probably at an immense height above the surface,
clouds which must be utterly unlike the clouds of Mars or the Earth in
material as well as in form and mass. These markings enabled us to
follow with clear ocular appreciation the rapid rotation of this
planet. In the course of half-an-hour several distinct spots on
different belts had moved in a direct line across a tenth of the face
presented to us—a distance, upon the scale of the gigantic image, so
great that the motion required no painstaking observation, but forced
itself upon the notice of the least attentive spectator. The belief of
Martial astronomers is that Jupiter is not by any means so much less
dense than the minor planets as his proportionately lesser weight
would imply. They hold that his visible surface is that of an
enormously deep atmosphere, within which lies, they suppose, a central
ball, not merely hot but more than white hot, and probably, from its
temperature, not yet possessing a solid crust. One writer argues that,
since all worlds must by analogy be supposed to be inhabited, and
since the satellites of Jupiter more resemble worlds than the planet
itself, which may be regarded as a kind of secondary sun, it is not
improbable that the former are the scenes of life as varied as that of
Mars itself; and that infinite ages hence, when these have become too
cold for habitation, their giant primary may have gone through those
processes which, according to the received theory, have fitted the
interior planets to be the home of plants, animals, and, in two cases
at least, of human beings.

It was near midnight before the manifest fatigue of the ladies
overcame my selfish desire to prolong as much as possible this most
interesting visit. Meteorological science in Mars has been carried to
high perfection; and the director warned me that but three or four
equally favourable opportunities might offer in the course of the next
half year.




CHAPTER XXIII - CHARACTERISTICS.


Time passed on, marked by no very important incident, while I made
acquaintance with manners and with men around me, neither one nor the
other worth further description. Nothing occurred to confirm the
alarms Davilo constantly repeated.

I called the ladies one day into the outer grounds to see a new
carriage, capable, according to its arrangement, of containing from
two to eight persons, and a balloon of great size and new construction
which Davilo had urgently counselled me to procure, as capable of
sudden use in some of those daily thickening perils, of which I could
see no other sign than occasional evidence that my steps were watched
and dogged. Both vehicles enlisted the interest and curiosity of
Eunané and her companions. Eveena, after examining with as much
attention as was due to the trouble I took to explain it, the
construction of the carriage, concentrated her interest and
observation upon the balloon, the sight of which evidently impressed
her. When we had returned to the peristyle, and the rest had
dispersed, I said—

"I see you apprehend some part of my reasons for purchasing the
balloon. The carriage will take us to-morrow to Altasfe (a town some
ten miles distant). 'Shopping' is an amusement so gratifying to all
women on Earth, from the veiled favourites of an Eastern seraglio to
the very unveiled dames of Western ballrooms, that I suppose the
instinct must be native to the sex wherever women and trade co-exist.
If you have a single feminine folly, you will enjoy this more than you
will own. If you are, as they complain, absolutely faultless, you will
enjoy with me the pleasure of the girls in plaguing one after another
all the traders of Altasfe:" and with these words I placed in her
hands a packet of the thin metallic plates constituting their
currency. Her extreme and unaffected surprise was amusing to witness.

"What am I to do with this?" she inquired, counting carefully the
uncounted pile, in a manner which at once dispelled my impression that
her surprise was due to childish ignorance of its value.

"Whatever you please, Madonna; whatever can please you and the
others."

"But," she remonstrated, "this is more than all our dowries for
another year to come; and—forgive me for repeating what you seem
purposely to forget—I cannot cast the shadow between my equals and
the master. Would you so mortify _me_ as to make me take from Eunané's
hand, for example, what should come from yours?"

"You are right, Madonna, now as always," I owned; wincing at the name
she used, invariably employed by the others, but one I never endured
from her. Her looks entreated pardon for the form of the implied
reproof, as I resumed the larger part of the money she held out to me,
forcing back the smaller into her reluctant hands. "But what has the
amount of your dowries to do with the matter? The contracts are meant,
I suppose, to secure the least to which a wife has a right, not to fix
her natural share in her husband's wealth. You need not fear, Eveena;
the Prince has made us rich enough to spend more than we shall care
for."

"I don't understand you," she replied with her usual gentle frankness
and simple logical consistency. "It pleases you to say 'we' and 'ours'
whenever you can so seem to make me part of yourself; and I love to
hear you, for it assures me each time that you still hold me tightly
as I cling to you. But you know those are only words of kindness.
Since you returned my father's gift, the dowry you then doubled is my
only share of what is yours, and it is more than enough."

"Do you mean that women expect and receive no more: that they do not
naturally share in a man's surplus wealth?"

While I spoke Enva had joined us, and, resting on the cushions at my
feet, looked curiously at the metallic notes in Eveena's hand.

"You do not," returned the latter, "pay more for what you have
purchased because you have grown richer. You do not share your wealth
even with those on whose care it chiefly depends."

"Yes, I do, Eveena. But I know what you mean. Their share is settled
and is not increased. But you will not tell me that this affords any
standard for household dealings; that a wife's share in her husband's
fortune is really bounded by the terms of the marriage contract?"

"Will you let Enva answer you?" asked Eveena. "She looks more ready
than I feel to reply."

This little incident was characteristic in more ways than one.
Eveena's feelings, growing out of the realities of our relation, were
at issue with and perplexed her convictions founded on the theory and
practice of her world. Not yet doubting the justice of the latter, she
instinctively shrank from their application to ourselves. She was
glad, therefore, to let Enva state plainly and directly a doctrine
which, from her own lips, would have pained as well as startled me. On
her side, Enva, though encouraged to bear her part in conversation,
was too thoroughly imbued with the same ideas to interpose unbidden.
As she would have said, a wife deserved the sandal for speaking
without leave; nor—experience notwithstanding—would she think it
safe to interrupt in my presence a favourite so pointedly honoured as
Eveena. 'She waited, therefore, till my eyes gave the permission which
hers had asked.

"Why should you buy anything twice over, Clasfempta, whether it be a
wife or an ambâ? A girl sells her society for the best price her
attractions will command. These attractions seldom increase. You
cannot give her less because you care less for them; but how can she
expect more?"

"I know, Enva, that the marriage contract here is an open bargain and
sale, as among my race it is generally a veiled one. But, the bargain
made, does it really govern the after relation? Do men really spend
their wealth wholly on themselves, and take no pleasure in the
pleasure of women?"

"Generally, I believe," Enva replied, "they fancy they have paid too
much for their toy before they have possessed it long, and had rather
buy a new one than make much of those they have. Wives seldom look on
the increase of a man's wealth as a gain to themselves. Of course you
like to see us prettily dressed, while you think us worth looking at
in ourselves. But as a rule our own income provides for that; and _we_
at any rate are better off than almost any women outside the Palace.
The Prince did not care, and knew it would not matter to you, what he
gave to make his gift worthy of him and agreeable to you. Perhaps,"
she added, "he wished to make it secure by offering terms too good to
be thrown away by any foolish rebellion against a heavier hand or a
worse temper than usual. You hardly understand yet half the advantages
you possess."

The latent sarcasm of the last remark did not need the look of
pretended fear that pointed it. If Enva professed to resent my
inadequate appreciation of the splendid beauty bestowed on me by the
royal favour more than any possible ill-usage for which she supposed
herself compensated in advance, it was not for me to put her sincerity
to proof.

"Once bought, then, wives are not worth pleasing? It is not worth
while to purchase happy faces, bright smiles, and willing kisses now
and then at a cost the giver can scarcely feel?"

Enva's look now was half malicious, half kindly, and wholly comical;
but she answered gravely, with a slight imitation of my own tone—

"Can you not imagine, or make Eveena tell you, Clasfempta, why women
once purchased think it best to give smiles and kisses freely to one
who can command their tears? Or do you fancy that their smiles are
more loyal and sincere when won by kindness than...."

"By fear? Sweeter, Enva, at any rate. Well, if I do not offend your
feelings, I need not hesitate to disregard another of your customs."

She received her share willingly and gratefully enough, but her smile
and kiss were so evidently given to order, that they only testified to
the thorough literality of her statement. Leenoo, Eiralé, and Elfé
followed her example with characteristic exactness. Equally
characteristic was the conduct of the others. Eunané kept aloof till
called, and then approached with an air of sullen reluctance, as if
summoned to receive a reprimand rather than a favour. Not a little
amused, I affected displeasure in my turn, till the window of her
chamber closed behind us, and her ill-humour was forgotten in
wondering alarm. Offered in private, the kiss and smile given and not
demanded, the present was accepted with frank affectionate gratitude.
Eivé took her share in pettish shyness, waiting the moment when she
might mingle unobserved with her childlike caresses the childish
reproach—

"If you can buy kisses, Clasfempta, you don't want mine. And if you
fancy I sell them, you shall have no more."

I saw Davilo in the morning before we started. After some conversation
on business, he said—

"And pardon a suggestion which I make, not as in charge of your
affairs, but as responsible to our supreme authority for your safety.
No correspondence should pass from your household unscrutinised; and
if there be such correspondence, I must ask you to place in my hand,
for the purpose of our quest, not any message, but some of the slips
on which messages have been written. This may probably furnish
precisely that tangible means of relation with some one acquainted
with the conspiracy for which we have sought in vain."

My unwillingness to meddle with feminine correspondence was the less
intelligible to him that, as the master alone commands the household
telegraph, he knew that it must have passed through my hands. I
yielded at last to his repeated urgency that a life more precious than
mine was involved in any danger to myself, so far as to promise the
slips required, to furnish a possible means of _rapport_ between the
_clairvoyante_ and the enemy.

I returned to the house in grave thought. Eunané corresponded by the
telegraph with some schoolmates; Eivé, I fancied, with three or four
of those ladies with whom, accompanying me on my visits, she had made
acquaintance. But I hated the very thought of domestic suspicion, and,
adhering to my original resolve, refused to entertain a distrust that
seemed ill-founded and far-fetched. If there had been treachery, it
would be impossible to obtain any letters that might have been
preserved without resorting to a compulsion which, since both Eunané
and Eivé had written in the knowledge that their letters passed
unread, would seem like a breach of faith. I asked, however, simply,
and giving no reason, for the production of any papers received and
preserved by either. Eivé, with her usual air of simplicity, brought
me the two or three which, she said, were all she had kept. Eunané
replied with a petulance almost amounting to refusal, which to some
might have suggested suspicion; but which to me seemed the very last
course that a culprit would have pursued. To give needless offence
while conscious of guilt would have been the very wantonness of
reckless temper.

"Bite your tongue, and keep your letters," I said sharply.

Turning to Eivé and looking at the addresses of hers, none of which
bore the name of any one who could be suspected of the remotest
connection with a political plot—

"Give me which of these you please," I said, taking from her hand that
which she selected and marking it. "Now erase the writing yourself and
give me the paper."

This incident gave Eunané leisure to recover her temper. She stood for
a few moments ashamed perhaps, but, as usual, resolute to abide by the
consequences of a fault. When she found that my last word was spoken,
her mood changed at once.

"I did not quite like to give you Velna's letters. They are foolish,
like mine; and besides——But I never supposed you would let me
refuse. What you won't make me do, I must do of my own accord."

Womanly reasoning, most unlike "woman's reasons!" She brought, with
unaffected alacrity, a collection of tafroo-slips whose addresses bore
out her account of their character. Taking the last from the bundle, I
bade her erase its contents.

"No," she said, "that is the one I least liked to show. If you will
not read it, please follow my hand as I read, and see for yourself how
far I have misused your trust."

"I never doubted your good faith, Eunané"—But she had begun to read,
pointing with her finger as she went on. At one sentence hand and
voice wavered a little without apparent reason. "I shall," wrote her
school-friend, some half year her junior, "make my appearance at the
next inspection. I wish the Camptâ had left you here till now; we
might perhaps have contrived to pass into the same household."

"A very innocent wish, and very natural," I said, in answer to the
look, half inquiring, half shy, with which Eunané watched the effect
of her words. I could not now use the precaution in her case, which it
had somehow seemed natural to adopt with Eivé, of marking the paper
returned for erasure. On her part, Eunané thrust into my hand the
whole bundle as they were, and I was forced myself to erase, by an
electro-chemical process which leaves no trace of writing, the words
of that selected. The absence of any mark on the second paper served
sufficiently to distinguish the two when, of course without stating
from whom I received them, I placed, them in Davilo's hands.

When we were ready to leave the peristyle for the carriage, I observed
that Eunané alone was still unveiled, while the others wore their
cloaks of down and the thick veils, without which no lady may present
herself to the public eye.

"'Thieving time is woman's crime,'" I said, quoting a domestic
proverb. "In another household you would be left behind."

"Of course," she replied, such summary discipline seeming to her as
appropriate as to an European child. "I don't like always to deserve
the vine and receive the nuts."

"You must take which _I_ like," I retorted, laughing. Satisfied or
silenced, she hastened to dress, and enjoyed with unalloyed delight
the unusual pleasure of inspecting dresses and jewellery, and making
more purchases in a day than she had expected to be able to do in two
years. But she and her companions acted with more consideration than
ladies permitted to visit the shops of Europe show for their masculine
escort. Eivé alone, on this as on other occasions, availed herself
thoroughly of those privileges of childhood which I had always
extended to her.

So quick are the proceedings and so excellent the arrangements of
Martial commerce, even where ladies are concerned, that a couple of
hours saw us on our way homeward, after having passed through the
apartments of half the merchants in Altasfe. Purposely for my own
pleasure, as well as for that of my companions, I took a circuitous
route homeward, and in so doing came within sight of a principal
feminine Nursery or girls' school. Recognising it, Eunané spoke with
some eagerness—

"Ah! I spent nine years there, and not always unhappily."

Eveena, who sat beside me, pressed my hand, with an intention easily
understood.

"And you would like to see it again?" I inquired in compliance with
her silent hint.

"Not to go back," said Eunané. "But I should like to pay it a visit,
if it were possible."

"Can we?" I asked Eveena.

"I think so," she answered. "I observe half a dozen people have gone
in since we came in sight, and I fancy it is inspection day there."

"Inspection?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied in a tone of some little annoyance and discomfort.
"The girls who have completed their tenth year, and who are thought to
have as good a chance now as they would have later, are dressed for
the first time in the white robe and veil of maidenhood, and presented
in the public chamber to attract the choice of those who are looking
for brides."

"Not a pleasant spectacle," I said, "to you or to myself; but it will
hardly annoy the others, and Eunané shall have her wish."

We descended from our carriage at the gate, and entered the grounds of
the Nursery. Studiously as the health, the diet, and the exercise of
the inmates are cared for, nothing is done to render the appearance of
the home where they pass so large and critical a portion of their
lives cheerful or attractive in appearance. Utility alone is studied;
how much beauty conduces to utility where the happiness and health of
children are concerned, Martial science has yet to learn. The grounds
contained no flowers and but few trees; the latter ruined in point of
form and natural grace to render them convenient supports for
gymnastic apparatus. A number of the younger girls, unveiled, but
dressed in a dark plain garment reaching from the throat to the knees,
with trousers giving free play to the limbs, were exercising on the
different swings and bars, flinging the light weights and balls, or
handling the substitutes for dumb-bells, the use of which forms an
important branch of their education. Others, relieved from this
essential part of their tasks, were engaged in various sports. One of
these I noticed especially. Perhaps a hundred young ladies on either
side formed a sort of battalion, contending for the ground they
occupied with light shields of closely woven wire and masks of the
same material, and with spears consisting of a reed or grass about
five feet in length, and exceedingly light. When perfectly ripened,
these spears are exceeding formidable, their points being sharp enough
to pierce the skin of any but a pachydermatous animal. Those employed
in these games, however, are gathered while yet covered by a sheath,
which, as they ripen, bursts and leaves the keen, hard point exposed.
Considerable care is taken in their selection, since, if nearly ripe,
or if they should ripen prematurely under the heat of the sun when
severed from the stem, the sheath bursting in the middle of a game,
very grave accidents might occur. The movements of the girls were so
ordered that the game appeared almost as much a dance as a conflict;
but though there was nothing of unseemly violence, the victory was
evidently contested with real earnestness, and with a skill superior
to that displayed in the movements of the actual soldiers who have
long since exchanged the tasks of warfare for the duties of policemen,
escorts, and sentries. I held Eveena's hand, the others followed us
closely, venturing neither to break from our party without leave nor
to ask permission, till, at Eveena's suggestion, it was spontaneously
given. They then quitted us, hastening, Eunané to seek out her
favourite companions of a former season, the others to mingle with the
younger girls and share in their play. We walked on slowly, stopping
from time to time to watch the exercises and sports of the younger
portion of a community numbering some fifteen hundred girls. When we
entered the hall we were rejoined by Eunané, with one of her friends
who still wore the ordinary school costume. Conversation with or
notice of a young lady so dressed was not only not expected but
disallowed, and the pair seated themselves behind us and studiously
out of hearing of any conversation conducted in a low tone.

The spectacle, as I had anticipated, was to me anything but pleasant.
It reminded me of a slave-market of the East, however, rather than of
the more revolting features of a slave auction in the United States.
The maidens, most of them very graceful and more than pretty, their
robes arranged and ornamented with an evident care to set off their
persons to the best advantage, and with a skill much greater than they
themselves could yet have acquired, were seated alone or by twos and
threes in different parts of the hall, grouped so as to produce the
most attractive general as well as individual effect. The picture,
therefore, was a pretty one; and since the intending purchasers
addressed the objects of their curiosity or admiration with courtesy
and fairly decorous reserve, it was the known character rather than
any visible incident of the scene that rendered it repugnant or
revolting in my eyes. I need not say that, except Eveena, there was no
one of either sex in the hall who shared my feeling. After all, the
purpose was but frankly avowed, and certainly carried out more safely
and decorously than in the ball-rooms and drawing-rooms of London or
Paris. Of the maidens, some seemed shy and backward, and most were
silent save when addressed. But the majority received their suitors
with a thoroughly business-like air, and listened to the terms offered
them, or endeavoured to exact a higher price or a briefer period of
assured slavery, with a self-possession more reasonable than agreeable
to witness. One maiden seated in our immediate vicinity was, I
perceived, the object of Eveena's especial interest, and, at first on
this account alone, attracted my observation. Dressed with somewhat
less ostentatious care and elegance than her companions, her veil and
the skirt of her robe were so arranged as to show less of her personal
attractions than they generally displayed. A first glance hardly did
justice to a countenance which, if not signally pretty, and certainly
marked by a beauty less striking than that of most of the others, was
modest and pleasing; a figure slight and graceful, with hands and feet
yet smaller than usual, even among a race the shape of whose limbs is,
with few exceptions, admirable. Very few had addressed her, or even
looked at her; and a certain resigned mortification was visible in her
countenance.

"You are sorry for that child?" I said to Eveena.

"Yes," she answered. "It must be distressing to feel herself the least
attractive, the least noticed among her companions, and on such an
occasion. I cannot conceive how I could bear to form part of such a
spectacle; but if I were in her place, I suppose I should be hurt and
humbled at finding that nobody cared to look at me in the presence of
others prettier and better dressed than myself."

"Well," I said, "of all the faces I see I like that the best. I
suppose I must not speak to her?"

"Why not?" said Eveena in surprise. "You are not bound to purchase
her, any more than we bought all we looked at to-day."

"It did not occur to me," I replied, "that I could be regarded as a
possible suitor, nor do I think I could find courage to present myself
to that young lady in a manner which must cause her to look upon me in
that light. Ask Eunané if she knows her."

Here Eivé and the others joined us and took their places on my right.
Eveena, leaving her seat for a moment, spoke apart with Eunané.

"Will you speak to her?" she said, returning. "She is Eunané's friend
and correspondent, Velna; and I think they are really fond of each
other. It is a pity that if she is to undergo the mortification of
remaining unchosen and going back to her tasks, at least till the next
inspection, she will also be separated finally from the only person
for whom she seems to have had anything like home affection."

"Well, if I am to talk to her," I replied, "you must be good enough to
accompany me. I do not feel that I could venture on such an enterprise
by myself."

Eveena's eyes, even through her veil, expressed at once amusement and
surprise; but as she rose to accompany me this expression faded and a
look of graver interest replaced it. Many turned to observe us as we
crossed the short space that separated us from the isolated and
neglected maiden. I had seen, if I had not noticed, that in no case
were the men, as they made the tour of the room or went up to any lady
who might have attracted their special notice, accompanied by the
women of their households. A few of these, however, sat watching the
scene, their mortification, curiosity, jealousy, or whatever feeling
it might excite, being of course concealed by the veils that hid every
feature but the eyes, which now and then followed very closely the
footsteps of their lords. The object of our attention showed marked
surprise as we approached her, and yet more when, seeing that I was at
a loss for words, Eveena herself spoke a kindly and gracious sentence.
The girl's voice was soft and low, and her tone and words, as we
gradually fell into a hesitating and broken conversation, confirmed
the impression made by her appearance. When, after a few minutes, I
moved to depart, there was in Eveena's reluctant steps and expressive
upturned eyes a meaning I could not understand. As soon as we were out
of hearing, moving so as partly to hide my countenance and entirely to
conceal her own gesture from the object of her compassion, she checked
my steps by a gentle pressure on my arm and looked up earnestly into
my face.

"What is it?" I asked. "You seem to have some wish that I cannot
conjecture; and you can trust by this time my anxiety to gratify every
desire of yours, reasonable or not—if indeed you ever were
unreasonable."

"She is so sad, so lonely," Eveena answered, "and she is so fond of
Eunané."

"You don't mean that you want me to make her an offer!" I exclaimed in
extreme amazement.

"Do not be angry," pleaded Eveena. "She would be glad to accept any
offer you would be likely to make; and the money you gave me yesterday
would have paid all she would cost you for many years. Besides, it
would please Eunané, and it would make Velna so happy."

"You must know far better than I can what is likely to make her
happy," I replied. "Strange to the ideas and customs of your world, I
cannot conceive that a woman can wish to take the last place in a
household like ours rather than the first or only one with the poorest
of her people."

"She will hardly have the choice," Eveena answered. "Those whom you
can call poor mostly wait till they can have their choice before they
marry; and if taken by some one who could not afford a more expensive
choice, she would only be neglected, or dismissed ill provided for, as
soon as he could purchase one more to his taste."

"If," I rejoined at last, "you think it a kindness to her, and are
sure she will so think it; if you wish it, and will avouch her
contentment with a place in the household of one who does not desire
her, I will comply with this as with any wish of yours. But it is not
to my mind to take a wife out of mere compassion, as I might readily
adopt a child."

Once more, with all our mutual affection and appreciation of each
other's character, Eveena and I were far as the Poles apart in thought
if not in feeling. It was as impossible for her to emancipate herself
utterly from the ideas and habits of her own world, as for me to
reconcile myself to them. I led her back at last to her seat, and
beckoned Eunané to my side.

"Eveena," I said, "has been urging me to offer your friend yonder a
place in our household."

Though I could not see her face, the instant change in her attitude,
the eager movement of her hands, and the elastic spring that suddenly
braced her form, expressed her feeling plainly enough.

"It must be done, I suppose," I murmured rather to myself than to
them, as Eunané timidly put out her hand and gratefully clasped
Eveena's. "Well, it is to be done for you, and you must do it."

"How can I?" exclaimed Eunané in astonishment; and Eveena added, "It
is for you; you only can name your terms, and it would be a strange
slight to her to do so through us."

"I cannot help that. I will not 'act the lie' by affecting any
personal desire to win her, and I could not tell her the truth. Offer
her the same terms that contented the rest; nay, if she enters my
household, she shall not feel herself in a secondary or inferior
position."

This condition surprised even Eveena as much as my resolve to make her
the bearer of the proposal that was in truth her own. But, however
reluctant, she would as soon have refused obedience to my request as
have withheld a kindness because it cost her an unexpected trial.
Taking Eunané with her, she approached and addressed the girl.
Whatever my own doubt as to her probable reception, however absurd in
my own estimation the thing I was induced to do, there was no
corresponding consciousness, no feeling but one of surprise and
gratification, in the face on which I turned my eyes. There was a
short and earnest debate; but, as I afterwards learned, it arose
simply from the girl's astonishment at terms which, extravagant even
for the beauties of the day, were thrice as liberal as she had
ventured to dream of. Eveena and Eunané were as well aware of this as
herself; the right of beauty to a special price seemed to them as
obvious as in Western Europe seems the right of rank to exorbitant
settlements; but they felt it as impossible to argue the point as a
solicitor would find it unsafe to expound to a _gentleman_ the
different cost of honouring Mademoiselle with his hand and being
honoured with that of Milady. Velna's remonstrances were suppressed;
she rose, and, accompanied by Eveena and Eunané, approached a desk in
one corner of the room, occupied by a lady past middle life. The
latter, like all those of her sex who have adopted masculine
independence and a professional career, wore no veil over her face,
and in lieu of the feminine head-dress a band of metal around the
head, depending from which a short fall of silken texture drawn back
behind the ears covered the neck and upper edge of the dark robe. This
lady took from a heap by her side a slip containing the usual form of
marriage contract, and filled in the blanks. At a sign from Eveena, I
had by this time approached close enough to hear the language of
half-envious, half-supercilious wonder in which the schoolmistress
congratulated her pupil on her signal conquest, and the terms she had
obtained, as well as the maiden's unaffected acknowledgment of her own
surprise and conscious unworthiness. I could _feel_, despite the
concealment of her form and face, Eveena's silent expression of pained
disgust with the one, and earnest womanly sympathy with the other. The
document was executed in the usual triplicate.

The girl retired for a few minutes, and reappeared in a cloak and veil
like those of her new companions, but of comparatively cheap
materials. As we passed the threshold, Eveena gently and tacitly but
decisively assigned to her _protégée_ her own place beside me, and put
her right hand in my left. The agitation with which it manifestly
trembled, though neither strange nor unpleasing, added to the extreme
embarrassment I felt; and I had placed her next to Eunané in the
carriage and taken my seat beside Eveena, whom I never permitted to
resign her own, before a single spoken word had passed in this
extraordinary courtship, or sanctioned the brief and practical
ceremony of marriage.

I was alone in my own room that evening when a gentle scratching on
the window-crystal entreated admission. I answered without looking up,
assuming that Eveena alone would seek me there. But hers were not the
lips that were earnestly pressed on my hand, nor hers the voice that
spoke, trembling and hesitating with stronger feeling than it could
utter in words—

"I do thank you from my heart. I little thought you would wish to make
me so happy. I shrank from showing you the letter lest you should
think I dared to hope.... It is not only Velna; it is such strange joy
and comfort to be held fast by one who cares—to feel safe in hands as
kind as they are strong. You said you could love none save Eveena;
but, Clasfempta, your way of not loving is something better, gentler,
more considerate than any love I ever hoped or heard of."

I could read only profound sincerity and passionate gratitude in the
clear bright eyes, softened by half-suppressed tears, that looked up
from where she knelt beside me. But the exaggeration was painfully
suggestive, confirming the ugly view Enva had given yesterday of the
life that seemed natural and reasonable to her race, and made ordinary
human kindness appear something strange and romantic by contrast.

"Surely, Eunané, every man wishes those around him happy, if it do not
cost too much to make them so?"

"No, indeed! Oftener the master finds pleasure in punishing and
humiliating, the favourite in witnessing her companions' tears and
terror. They like to see the household grateful for an hour's
amusement, crouching to caprice, incredulously thankful for barest
justice. One book much read in our schools says that 'cruelty is a
stronger, earlier, and more tenacious human instinct than sympathy;'
and another that 'half the pleasure of power lies in giving pain, and
half the remainder in being praised for sparing it.' ... But that was
not all: Eveena was as eager to be kind as you were."

"Much more so, Eunané."

"Perhaps. What seemed natural to her was strange to you. But it was
_your_ thought to put Velna on equal terms with us; taking her out of
mere kindness, to give her the dowry of a Prince's favourite. _That_
surprised Eveena, and it puzzled me. But I think I half understand you
now, and if I do.... When Eveena told us how you saved her and defied
the Regent, and Eivé asked you about it, you said so quietly, 'There
are some things a man cannot do.' Is buying a girl cheap, because she
is not a beauty, one of those things?"

"To take any advantage of her misfortune—to make her feel it in my
conduct—to give her a place in my household on other terms than her
equals—to show her less consideration or courtesy than one would give
to a girl as beautiful as yourself—yes, Eunané! To my eyes, your
friend is pleasant and pretty; but if not, would you have liked to
feel that she was of less account here than yourself, because she has
not such splendid beauty as yours?"

Eunané was too frank to conceal her gratification in this first
acknowledgment of her charms, as she had shown her mortification while
it was withheld—not, certainly, because undeserved. Her eyes
brightened and her colour deepened in manifest pleasure. But she was
equally frank in her answer to the implied compliment to her
generosity, of whose justice she was not so well assured.

"I am afraid I should half have liked it, a year ago. Now, after I
have lived so long with you and Eveena, I should be shamed by it! But,
Clasfempta, the things 'a man cannot do' are the things men do every
day;—and women every hour!"




CHAPTER XXIV - WINTER.


Hitherto I had experienced only the tropical climate of Mars, with the
exception of the short time spent in the northern temperate zone about
the height of its summer. I was anxious, of course, to see something
also of its winter, and an opportunity presented itself. No
institution was more obviously worth a visit than the great University
or principal place of highest education in this world, and I was
invited thither in the middle of the local winter. To this University
many of the most promising youths, especially those intended for any
of the Martial professions—architects, artists, rulers, lawyers,
physicians, and so forth—are often sent directly from the schools, or
after a short period of training in the higher colleges. It is situate
far within the north temperate zone on the shore of one of the longest
and narrowest of the great Martial gulfs, which extends from
north-eastward to south-west, and stretches from 43° N. to 10° S.
latitude. The University in question is situate nearly at the
extremity of the northern branch of this gulf, which splits into two
about 300 miles from its end, a canal of course connecting it with the
nearest sea-belt. I chose to perform this journey by land, following
the line of the great road from Amacasfe to Qualveskinta for about 800
miles, and then turning directly northward. I did not suppose that I
should find a willing companion on this journey, and was myself
wishful to be alone, since I dared not, in her present state of
health, expose Eveena to the fatigue and hardship of prolonged winter
travelling by land. To my surprise, however, all the rest, when aware
that I had declined to take her, were eager to accompany me. Chiefly
to take her out of the way, and certainly with no idea of finding
pleasure in her society, I selected Enva; next to Leenoo the most
malicious of the party, and gifted with sufficient intelligence to
render her malice more effective than Leenoo's stupidity could be.
Enva, moreover, with the vigorous youthful vitality-so often found on
Earth in women of her light Northern complexion, seemed less likely to
suffer from the severity of the weather or the fatigue of a land
journey than most of her companions. When I spoke of my intention to
Davilo, I was surprised to find that he considered even feminine
company a protection.

"Any attempt upon you," he said, "must either involve your companion,
for which there can be no legal excuse preferred, or else expose the
assailant to the risk of being identified through her evidence."

I started accordingly a few days before the winter solstice of the
North, reaching the great road a few miles from the point at which it
crosses another of the great gulfs running due north and south, at its
narrowest point in latitude 3° S. At this point the inlet is no more
than twenty miles wide, and its banks about a hundred feet in height.
At this level and across this vast space was carried a bridge,
supported by arches, and resting on pillars deeply imbedded in the
submarine rock at a depth about equal to the height of the land on
either side. The Martial seas are for the most part shallow, the
landlocked gulfs being seldom 100 fathoms, and the deepest ocean
soundings giving less than 1000. The vast and solid structure looked
as light and airy as any suspension bridge across an Alpine ravine.
This gigantic viaduct, about 500 Martial years old, is still the most
magnificent achievement of engineering in this department. The main
roads, connecting important cities or forming the principal routes of
commerce in the absence of convenient river or sea carriage, are
carried over gulfs, streams, ravines, and valleys, and through hills,
as Terrestrial engineers have recently promised to carry railways over
the minor inequalities of ground. That which we were following is an
especially magnificent road, and signalised by several grand
exhibitions of engineering daring and genius. It runs from Amacasfe
for a thousand miles in one straight line direct as that of a Roman
road, and with but half-a-dozen changes of level in the whole
distance. It crossed in the space of a few miles a valley, or rather
dell, 200 feet in depth, and with semi-perpendicular sides, and a
stream wider than the Mississippi above the junction of the Ohio. Next
it traversed the precipitous side of a hill for a distance of three or
four miles, where Nature had not afforded foothold for a rabbit or a
squirrel. The stupendous bridges and the magnificent open road cut in
the side of the rock, its roof supported on the inside by the hill
itself, on the outside by pillars left at regular intervals when the
stone was cut, formed from one point a single splendid view. Pointing
it out to Enva, I was a little surprised to find her capable, under
the guidance of a few remarks from myself, of appreciating and taking
pride in the marvellous work of her race. In another place, a tunnel
pierced directly an intervening range of hills for about eight miles,
interrupted only in two points by short deep open cuttings. This
passage, unlike those on the river previously mentioned, was
constantly and brilliantly lighted. The whole road indeed was lit up
from the fall of the evening to the dispersion of the morning mist
with a brilliancy nearly equal to that of daylight. As I dared not
travel at a greater rate than twenty-five miles per hour—my
experience, though it enabled me to manage the carriage with
sufficient skill, not giving me confidence to push it to its greatest
speed—the journey must occupy several days. We had, therefore, to
rest at the stations provided by public authority for travellers
undertaking such long land journeys. These are built like ordinary
Martial houses, save that in lieu of peristyle or interior garden is
an open square planted with shrubs and merely large enough to afford
light to the inner rooms. The chambers also are very much smaller than
those of good private houses. As these stations are nearly always
placed in towns or villages, or in well-peopled country
neighbourhoods, food is supplied by the nearest confectioner to each
traveller individually, and a single person, assisted by the ambau, is
able to manage the largest of them.

The last two or three days of our journey were bitterly cold, and not
a little trying. My own undergarment of thick soft leather kept me
warmer than the warmest greatcoat or cloak could have done, though I
wore a large cloak of the kargynda's fur in addition—the prize of the
hunt that had so nearly cost me dear, a personal and very gracious
present from the Camptâ. My companion, who had not the former
advantage, though wrapped in as many outer garments and quilts as I
had thought necessary, felt the cold severely, and felt still more the
dense chill mist which both by night and day covered the greater part
of the country. This was not infrequently so thick as to render
travelling almost perilous; and but that an electric light, required
by law, was placed at each end of the carriage, collisions would have
been inevitable. These hardships afforded another illustration of the
subjection of the sex resulting from the rule of theoretical equality.
More than a year's experience of natural kindness and consideration
had not given Enva courage to make a single complaint; and at first
she did her best to conceal the weeping which was the only, but almost
continuous, expression of her suffering. She was almost as much
surprised as gratified by my expressions of sympathy, and the trouble
I took to obtain, at the first considerable town we reached, an
apparatus by which the heat generated by motion itself was made to
supply a certain warmth through the tubular open-work of the carriage
to the persons of its occupants. The cold was as severe as that of a
Swedish winter, though we never approached within seventeen degrees of
the Arctic circle, a distance from the Pole equivalent to that of
Northern France. The Martial thermometer, in form more like a
watch-barometer, which I carried in my belt, marked a cold equivalent
to 12° below zero C. in the middle of the day; and when left in the
carriage for the night it had registered no less than 22° below zero.

One of the Professors of the University received us as his guests,
assigning to us, as is usual when a lady is of the party, rooms
looking on the peristyle, but whose windows remained closed. Enva, of
course, spent her time chiefly with the ladies of the family. When
alone with me she talked freely, though needing some encouragement to
express her own ideas, or report what she had heard; but she had no
intention of concealment, perhaps no notion that I was interested in
her accounts of the prevalent feeling respecting the heretics of whom
she heard much, except of course that Eveena's father was among them.
Through her I learned that much pains had been taken to intensify and
excite into active hostility the dislike and distrust with which they
had always been regarded by the public at large, and especially by the
scientific guilds, whose members control all educational
establishments. That some attempt against them was meditated appeared
to be generally reported. Its nature and the movers in the matter were
not known, so far as I could gather, even to men so influential as the
chief Professors of the University. It was not merely that the women
had heard nothing on this point, but that their lords had dropped
expressions of surprise at the strictness with which the secret was
kept.

As their parents pay, when first the children are admitted to the
public Nurseries, the price of an average education, this special
instruction is given in the first instance at the cost of the State to
those who, on account of their taste and talent, are selected by the
teachers of the Colleges. But before they leave the University a bond
is taken for the amount of this outlay, which has to be repaid within
three years. It is fair to say that the tax is trivial in comparison
with the ordinary gains of their professions; the more so that no such
preference as, in our world, is almost universally given to a
reputation which can only be acquired by age, excludes the youth of
Mars from full and profitable employment.

The youths were delighted to receive a lecture on the forms of
Terrestrial government, and the outlines of their history; a topic I
selected because they were already acquainted with the substance of
the addresses elsewhere delivered. This afforded me an opportunity of
making the personal acquaintance of some of the more distinguished
pupils. The clearness of their intellect, the thoroughness of their
knowledge in their several studies, and the distinctness of their
acquaintance with the outlines and principles of Martial learning
generally,—an acquaintance as free from smattering and superficiality
as necessarily unembarrassed by detail,—testified emphatically to the
excellence of the training they had received, as well as to the
hereditary development of their brains. What was, however, not less
striking was the utter absence at once of what I was accustomed to
regard as moral principle, and of the generous impulses which in youth
sometimes supply the place of principle. They avowed the most absolute
selfishness, the most abject fear of death and pain, with a frankness
that would have amazed the Cynics and disgusted the felons of almost
any Earthly nation. There were partial exceptions, but these were to
be found exclusively among those in training for what we should call
public life, for administrative or judicial duties. These, though
professing no devotion to the interest of others, and little that
could be called public spirit, did nevertheless understand that in
return for the high rank, the great power, and the liberal
remuneration they would enjoy, they were bound to consider primarily
the public interest in the performance of their functions—the right
of society to just or at least to carefully legal judgment, and
diligent efficient administration. Their feeling, however, was rather
professional than personal, the pride of students in the perfection of
their art rather than the earnestness of men conscious of grave human
responsibilities.

In conversing with the chief of this Faculty, I learned some
peculiarities of the system of government with which I was not yet
acquainted. Promotion never depends on those with whom a public
servant comes into personal contact, but on those one or two steps
above the latter. The judges, for instance, of the lower rank are
selected by the principal judge of each dominion; these and their
immediate assistants, by the Chief of the highest Court. The officers
around and under the Governor of a province are named by the Regent of
the dominion; those surrounding the Regent, as the Regent himself, by
the Sovereign. Every officer, however, can be removed by his immediate
superior; but it depends on the chief with whom his appointment rests,
whether he shall be transferred to a similar post elsewhere or simply
dismissed. Thus, while no man can be compelled to work with
instruments he dislikes, no subordinate is at the mercy of personal
caprice or antipathy.

Promotion, judicial and administrative, ends below the highest point.
The judges of the Supreme Court are named by the Sovereign—with the
advice of a Council, including the Regents, the judges of that Court,
and the heads of the Philosophic and Educational Institutes—from
among the advocates and students of law, or from among the ablest
administrators who seem to possess judicial faculties. The code is
written and simple. Every dubious point that arises in the course of
litigation is referred, by appeal or directly by the judge who decides
it, to the Chief Court, and all points of interpretation thus
referred, are finally settled by an addition to the code at its
periodical revision. The Sovereign can erase or add at pleasure to
this code. But he can do so only in full Council, and must hear,
though he need not regard, the opinions of his advisers. He can,
however, suspend immediately till the next meeting of the Council the
enforcement of any article.

The Regents are never named from among subordinate officials, nor is a
Regent ever promoted to the throne. It is held that the qualities
required in an absolute Sovereign are not such as are demanded from or
likely to be developed in the subordinate ruler of a dominion however
important, and that functions like those of a Regent, at least as
important as those of the Viceroy of India, ought not to be entrusted
to men trained in subaltern administrative duties. Among the youths of
greatest promise, in their eighth year, a certain small number are
selected by the chiefs of the University, who visit for this purpose
all the Nurseries of the kingdom. With what purpose these youths are
separated from their fellows is not explained to them. They are
carefully educated for the highest public duties. Year by year those
deemed fitter for less important offices are drafted off. There remain
at last the very few who are thought competent to the functions of
Regent or Camptâ, and from among these the Sovereign himself selects
at pleasure his own successor and the occupant of any vacant Regency.
The latter, however, holds his post at first on probation, and can, of
course, be removed at any time by the Sovereign. If the latter should
not before his death have named his own successor, the Council by a
process of elimination is reduced to three, and these cast lots which
shall name the new Autocrat from among the youths deemed worthy of the
throne, of whom six are seldom living at the same time. No Prince is
ever appointed under the age of fourteen (twenty-seven) or over that
of sixteen (thirty). No Camptâ has ever abdicated; but they seldom
live to fall into that sort of inert indolence which may be called the
dotage of their race. The nature of their functions seems to preserve
their mental activity longer than that of others; and probably they
are not permitted to live when they have become manifestly unfit or
incapable to reign.

When first invited to visit the University, I had hoped to make it
only a stage and stepping-stone to something yet more interesting—to
visit the Arctic hunters once more, and join them in the most exciting
of their pursuits; a chase by the electric light of the great Amphibia
of the frozen sea-belt immediately surrounding the permanent ice-cap
of the Northern Pole. For this, however, the royal licence was
required; and, as when I made a similar request during the fur-chase
of the Southern season, I met with a peremptory refusal. "There are
two men in this world," said the Prince, "who would entertain such a
wish. _I_ dare not avow it; and if there were a third, he would
assuredly be convicted of incurable lunacy, though on all other points
he were as cold-blooded as the President of the Academy or the
Vivisector-General." I did not tell Eveena of my request till it had
been refused; and if anything could have lessened my vexation at the
loss of this third opportunity, it would have been the expression of
her countenance at that moment. Indeed, I was then satisfied that I
could not have left her in the fever of alarm and anxiety that any
suspicion of my purpose would have caused.

I seized, however, the opportunity of a winter voyage in a small
vessel, manned by four or five ocean-hunters, less timid and
susceptible to surface disturbances than ordinary seamen. On such an
excursion, Enva, though a far less pleasant companion, was a less
anxious charge than Eveena. We made for the Northern coast, and ran
for some hundred miles, along a sea-bord not unlike that of Norway,
but on a miniature scale. Though in some former age this hemisphere,
like Europe, has been subject to glacial action much more general and
intense than at present, its ice-seas and ice-rivers must always have
been comparatively shallow and feeble. Beaching at last a break in the
long line of cliff-guarded capes and fiords, where the sea, half
covered with low islands, eats a broad and deep ingress into the
land-belt, I disembarked, and made a day's land journey to the
northward.

The ground was covered with a sheet of hard-frozen snow about eighteen
inches deep, with an upper surface of pure ice. For the ordinary
carriage, here useless, was substituted a sledge, driven from behind
by an instrument something between a paddle-wheel and a screw, worked,
of course, by the usual electric machinery. The cold was far more
intense than I had ever before known it; and the mist that fell at the
close of the very short zyda of daylight rendered it all but
intolerable. The Arctic circular thermometer fell to within a few
points from its minimum of—50° Centigrade [?]. No flesh could endure
exposure to such an atmosphere; and were not the inner mask and
clothing of soft leather pervaded by a constant feeble current of
electricity....

As we made our way back to the open sea, the temptation to disobey the
royal order was all but irresistible. No fewer than three kargyndau
were within shot at one and the same time; plunging from the shore of
an icy island to emerge with their prey—a fish somewhat resembling
the salmon in form and flavour. My companions, however, were terrified
at the thought of disobedience to the law; and as we had but one
mordyta (lightning-gun) among the party, and the uncertainty of the
air-gun had been before proven to my cost, there was some force in
their supplementary argument that, if I did not kill the kargynda, it
was probable that the kargynda might board us; in which event our case
would be summarily disposed of, without troubling the Courts or
allowing time to apply, even by telegraph, for the royal pardon. I was
suggesting, more to the alarm than amusement of the crew, that we
might close the hatches, and either carry the regal beast away
captive, or, at worst, dive and drown him—for he cannot swim very
far—when their objections were enforced in an unexpected manner. We
were drifting beyond shot of the nearest brute, when the three
suddenly plunged at once, and as if by concert, and when they rose,
were all evidently making for the vessel, and within some eighty
yards. I then learnt a new advantage of the electric machinery, as
compared with the most powerful steam-engine. A pressure upon a
button, and a few seconds sufficed to exchange a speed of four for one
of twenty miles an hour; while, instead of sinking the vessel below
the surface, the master directed the engine to pump out all the liquid
ballast she contained. The waterspout thus sent forth half-drowned the
enemy which had already come within a few yards of our starboard
quarter, and effectually-scared the others. It was just as well that
Enva, who heartily hated the bitter cold, was snugly ensconced in the
warm cushions of the cabin, and had not, therefore, the opportunity of
giving to Eveena, on our return, her version of an adventure whose
alarming aspect would have impressed them both more than its ludicrous
side. For half a minute I thought that I had, in sheer folly, exposed
half a dozen lives to a peril none the less real and none the more
satisfactory that, if five had been killed, the survivor could not
have so told the story as to avoid laughing—or being laughed at.

Sweet and serene as was Eveena's smile of welcome, it could not
conceal the traces of more than mere depression on her countenance.
Heartily willing to administer an effective lesson to her tormentors,
I seized the occasion of the sunset meal to notice the weary and
harassed look she had failed wholly to banish.

"You look worse each time I return, Madonna. This time it is not
merely my absence, if it ever were so. I will know who or what has
driven and hunted you so."

Taken thus by surprise, every face but one bore witness to the truth:
Eveena's distress, Eunané's mixed relief and dismay, shared in yet
greater degree by Velna, who knew less of me, the sheer terror and
confusion of the rest, were equally significant. The Martial judge who
said that "the best evidence was lost because colour could not be
tested or blushes analysed," would have passed sentence at once. But
if Eivé's air of innocent unconsciousness and childish indifference
were not sincere, it merited the proverbial praise of consummate
affectation, "more golden than the sun and whiter than snow." Eveena's
momentary glance at once drew mine upon this "pet child," but neither
disturbed her. Nor did she overact her part. "Eivé," said Enva one
day, "never salts her tears or paints her blushes." As soon as she
caught my look of doubt—

"Have _I_ done wrong?" she said, in a tone half of confidence, half of
reproach. "Punish me, then, Clasfempta, as you please—with Eveena's
sandal."

The repartee delighted those who had reason to desire any diversion.
The appeal to Eveena disarmed my unwilling and momentary distrust.
Eveena, however, answered by neither word nor look, and the party
presently broke up. Eivé crept close to claim some silent atonement
for unspoken suspicion, and a few minutes had elapsed before, to the
evident alarm of several conscious culprits, I sought Eveena in her
own chamber.

In spite of all deprecation, I insisted on the explanation she had
evaded in public. "I guess," I said, "as much as you can tell me about
'the four.' I have borne too long with those who have made your life
that of a hunted therne, and rendered myself anxious and restless
every day and hour that I have left you alone. Unless you will deny
that they have done so—— Well, then, I will have peace for you and
for myself. I cannot leave you to their mercy, nor can I remain at
home for the next twelve dozen days, like a chained watch-dragon. Pass
them over!" (as she strove to remonstrate); "there is something new
this time. You have been harassed and frightened as well as unhappy."

"Yes," she admitted, "but I can give nothing like a reason. I dare not
entreat you not to ask, and yet I am only like a child, that wakes
screaming by night, and cannot say of what she is afraid. Ought she
not to be whipped?"

"I can't say, bambina; but I should not advise Eivé to startle _you_
in that way! But, seriously, I suppose fear is most painful when it
has no cause that can be removed. I have seen brave soldiers
panic-stricken in the dark, without well knowing why."

I watched her face as I spoke, and noted that while the pet name I had
used in the first days of our marriage, now recalled by her image,
elicited a faint smile, the mention of Eivé clouded it again. She was
so unwilling to speak, that I caught at the clue afforded by her
silence.

"It _is_ Eivé then? The little hypocrite! She shall find your sandal
heavier than mine."

"No, no!" she pleaded eagerly. "You have seen what Eivé is in your
presence; and to me she is always the same. If she were not, could I
complain of her?"

"And why not, Eveena? Do you think I should hesitate between you?"

"No!" she answered, with unusual decision of tone. "I will tell you
exactly what you would do. You would take my word implicitly; you
would have made up your mind before you heard her; you would deal
harder measure to Eivé than to any one, _because_ she is your pet; you
would think for once not of sparing the culprit, but of satisfying me;
and afterwards"——

She paused, and I saw that she would not conclude in words a sentence
I could perhaps have finished for myself.

"I see," I replied, "that Eivé is the source of your trouble, but not
what the trouble is. For her sake, do not force me to extort the truth
from her."

"I doubt whether she has guessed my misgiving," Eveena answered. "It
may be that you are right—that it is because she was so long the only
one you were fond of, that I cannot like and trust her as you do.
But ... you leave the telegraph in my charge, understanding, of course,
that it will be used as when you are at home. So, after Davilo's
warning, I have written their messages for Eunané and the others, but
I could not refuse Eivé's request to write her own, and, like you, I
have never read them."

"Why?" I asked. "Surely it is strange to give her, of all, a special
privilege and confidence?"

Eveena was silent. She could in no case have reproached me in words,
and even the reproach of silence was so unusual that I could not but
feel it keenly. I saw at that moment that for whatever had happened or
might happen I might thank myself; might thank the doubt I would not
avow to my own mind, but could not conceal from her, that Eveena had
condescended to something like jealousy of one whose childish
simplicity, real or affected, had strangely won my heart, as children
do win hearts hardened by experience of life's roughness and evil.

"I know nothing," Eveena said at last: "yet somehow, and wholly
without any reason I can explain, I fear. Eivé, you may remember, has,
as your companion, made acquaintance with many households whose heads
you do not believe friends to you or the Zinta. She is a diligent
correspondent. She never affects to conceal anything, and yet no one
of us has lately seen the contents of a note sent or received by her."

There was nothing tangible in Eveena's suspicion. It was most
repugnant to my own feelings, and yet it implanted, whether by force
of sympathy or of instinct, a misgiving that never left me again.

"My own," I answered, "I would trust your judgment, your observation
or feminine instinct and insight into character, far sooner than my
own conclusions upon solid facts. But instincts and presentiments,
though we are not scientifically ignorant enough to disregard them,
are not evidence on which we can act or even inquire."

"No," she said. "And yet it is hard to feel, as I cannot help feeling,
that the thunder-cloud is forming, that the bolt is almost ready to
strike, and that you are risking life, and perhaps more than life, out
of a delicacy no other man would show towards a child—since child you
will have her—who, I feel sure, deserves all she might receive from
the hands of one who would have the truth at any cost."

"You feel," I answered, "for me as I should feel for you. But is death
so terrible to _us_? It means leaving you—I wish we knew that it does
not mean losing for ever, after so brief an enjoyment, all that is
perishable in love like ours—or it would not be worth fearing. I
don't think I ever did fear it till you made my life so sweet. But
life is not worth an unkindness or injustice. Better die trusting to
the last than live in the misery and shame of suspecting one I love,
or dreading treacherous malice from any hand under my own roof."

When I met Davilo the next morning, the grave and anxious expression
of his face—usually calm and serene even in deepest thought, as are
those of the experienced members of an Order confident in the
consciousness of irresistible secret power—not a little disturbed me.
As Eveena had said, the thunder-cloud was forming; and a chill went to
my heart which in facing measurable and open peril it had never felt.

"I bring you," he said; "a message that will not, I am afraid, be
welcome. He whose guest you were at Serocasfe invites you to pay him
an immediate visit; and the invitation must be accepted at once."

I drew myself up with no little indignation at the imperative tone,
but feeling at least equal awe at the stern calmness with which the
mandate was spoken.

"And what compels me to such haste, or to compliance without
consideration?"

"That power," he returned, "which none can resist, and to which you
may not demur."

Seeing that I still hesitated—in truth, the summons had turned my
vague misgiving into intense though equally vague alarm and even
terror, which as unmanly and unworthy I strove to repress, but which
asserted its domination in a manner as unwonted as unwelcome—he drew
aside a fold of his robe, and showed within the silver Star of the
Order, supported by the golden sash, that marked a rank second only to
that of the wearer of the Signet itself. I understood too well by this
time, through conversations with him and other communications of which
it has been needless to speak, the significance of this revelation. I
knew the impossibility of questioning the authority to which I had
pledged obedience. I realised with great amazement the fact that a
secondary position on my own estate, and a personal charge of my own
safety, had been accepted by a Chief of the Zinta.

"There is, of course," I replied at last, "no answer to a mandate so
enforced. But, Chief, reluctant as I am to say it, I fear—fear as I
have never done before; and yet fear I cannot say, I cannot guess
what."

"There is no cause for alarm," he said somewhat contemptuously. "In
this journey, sudden, speedy, and made under our guard as on our
summons, there is little or none of that peril which has beset you so
long."

"You forget, Chief," I rejoined, "that you speak to a soldier, whose
chosen trade was to risk life at the word of a superior; to one whose
youth thought no smile so bright as that of naked steel, and had often
'kissed the lips of the lightning' ere the down darkened his own. At
any rate, you have told me daily for more than a year that I am living
under constant peril of assassination; have I seemed to quail thereat?
If, then, I am now terrified for the first time, that which I dread,
without knowing or dreaming what it is, is assuredly a peril worse
than any I have known, the shadow of a calamity against which I have
neither weapon nor courage. It cannot be for myself that I am thus
appalled," I continued, the thought flashing into my mind as I spoke
it, "and there is but one whose life is so closely bound with mine
that danger to her should bring such terror as this. I go at your
bidding, but I will not go alone."

He paused for some time, apparently in perplexity, certainly in deep
thought, before he replied.

"As you will. One thing more. The slips of tafroo with which you
furnished me have been under the eyes of which you have heard. This"
(handing me the one that bore no mark) "has passed, so far as the
highest powers of the sense that is not of the body can perceive,
through none but innocent hands. The hand from which you received
this" (the marked slip) "is spotted with treason, and may to-morrow be
red."

I was less impressed by this declaration than probably would have been
any other member of the Order. I had seen on Earth the most marvellous
perceptions of a perfectly lucid vision succeeded, sometimes within
the space of the same day, by dreams or hallucinations the most
absolutely deceptive. I felt, therefore, more satisfaction in the
acquittal of Eunané, whom I had never doubted, than trouble at the
grave suspicion suggested against Eivé—a suspicion I still refused to
entertain.

"You should enter your balloon as soon as the sunset mist will conceal
it," said Davilo. "By mid-day you may reach the deep bay on the mid
sea-belt of the North, where a swift vessel will meet you and convey
you in two or three days by a direct course through the canal and gulf
you have traversed already, to the port from which you commenced your
first submarine voyage."

"You had better," I said, "make your instruction a little more
particular, or I shall hardly know how to direct my course."

"Do not dream," he answered, "that you will be permitted to undertake
such a journey but under the safest guidance. At the time I have named
all will be ready for your departure, and you have simply to sleep or
read or meditate as you will, till you reach your destination."

Eveena was not a little startled when I informed her of the sudden
journey before me, and my determination that she should be my
companion. It was unquestionably a trying effort for her, especially
the balloon voyage, which would expose her to the cold of the mists
and of the night, and I feared to the intenser cold of the upper air.
But I dared not leave her, and she was pleased by a peremptory
decision which made her the companion of my absence, without leaving
room for discussion or question. The time for our departure was
drawing near when, followed by Eunané, she came into my chamber.

"If we are to be long away," she said, "you must say on whom my
charges are to devolve."

"As you please," I answered, sure of her choice, and well content to
see her hand over her cares to Eunané, who, if she lacked the wisdom
and forbearance of Eveena, could certainly hold the reins with a
stronger hand.

"Eivé," she said, "has asked the charge of my flowerbed; but I had
promised it, and"——

"And you would rather give it," I answered, "to Eunané? Naturally; and
I should not care to allow Eivé the chance of spoiling your work. I
think we may now trust whatever is yours in those once troublesome
hands," looking at Eunané, "with perfect assurance that they will do
their best."

I had never before parted even from Eunané with any feeling of regret;
but on this occasion an impulse I could not account for, but have ever
since been glad to remember, made me turn at the last moment and add
to Eveena's earnest embrace a few words of affection and confidence,
which evidently cheered and encouraged her deputy. The car that
awaited us was of the light tubular construction common here, formed
of the silvery metal _zorinta_. About eighteen feet in length and half
that breadth, it was divided into two compartments; each, with the aid
of canopy and curtains, forming at will a closed tent, and securing
almost as much privacy as an Arab family enjoys, or opening to the
sky. In that with which the sails and machinery were connected were
Davilo and two of his attendants. The other had been carefully lined
and covered with furs and wrappings, indicating an attention to my
companion which indeed is rarely shown to women by their own lords,
and which none but the daughter of Esmo would have received even among
the brethren of the Order. Ere we departed I had arranged her cushions
and wrapped her closely in the warmest coverings; and flinging over
her at last the kargynda skin received from the Camptâ, I bade her
sleep if possible during our aerial voyage. There was need to provide
as carefully as possible for her comfort. The balloon shot up at once
above the evening mists to a height at which the cold was intense, but
at which our voyage could be guided by the stars, invisible from
below, and at which we escaped the more dangerously chilling damp. The
wind that blew right in our teeth, caused by no atmospheric current
but by our own rapid passage, would in a few moments have frozen my
face, perhaps fatally, had not thick skins been arranged to screen us.
Even through these it blew with intense severity, and I was glad
indeed to cover myself from head to foot and lie down beside Eveena.
Her hand as she laid it on mine was painfully cold; but the shivering
I could hardly suppress made her anxious to part in my favour with
some at least of the many coverings that could hardly screen herself
from the searching blast. Not at the greatest height I reached among
the Himalayas, nor on the Steppes of Tartary, had I experienced a cold
severer than this. The Sun had just turned westward when we reached
the port at which we were to embark. Despite the cold, Eveena had
slept during the latter part of our voyage, and was still sleeping
when I placed her on the cushions in our cabin. The sudden and most
welcome change from bitter cold to comfortable warmth awakened her, as
it at last allowed me to sleep. Our journey was continued below the
surface at a rate of more than twelve hundred miles in the day, a
speed which made observation through the thick but perfectly
transparent side windows of our cabin impossible. I was indisposed for
meditation, which could have been directed to no other subject than
the mysterious purpose of our journey, and had not provided myself
with books. But in Eveena's company it was impossible that the time
should pass slowly or wearily.

In this balloon journey I had a specially advantageous opportunity of
observing the two moons—velnaa, as they are called. _Cavelna_, or
Caulna, the nearer, in diameter about 8' or a little more than
one-fourth that of our Moon, is a tolerably brilliant object, about
5000 miles from the surface. Moving, like all planets and satellites,
from west to east, it completes its stellar revolution and its phases
in less than seven and a half hours; the contrary revolution of the
skies prolongs its circuit around the planet to a period of ten hours.
Zeelna (_Zevelna_) returns to the same celestial meridian in thirty
hours; but as in this time the starry vault has completed about a
rotation and a quarter in the opposite direction, it takes nearly five
days to reappear on the same horizon. It is about 3' in diameter, and
about 12,000 miles from the surface. The result of the combined
motions is that the two moons, to the eye, seem to move in opposite
directions. When we rose above the mists, Caulna was visible as a very
fine crescent in the west; Zeelna was rising in the east, and almost
full; but hardly a more brilliant object than Venus when seen to most
advantage from Earth. Both moved so rapidly among the stars that their
celestial change of place was apparent from minute to minute. But, as
regarded our own position, the appearance was as opposite as their
direction. Zeelna, traversing in twelve hours only one-fifth of the
visible hemisphere, while crossing in the same time 144° on the
zodiac—twelve degrees per hour, or our Moon's diameter in two minutes
and a half—was left behind by the stars; and fixing what I may call
the ocular attention on her, she seemed to stand still while they
slowly passed her; thus making their revolution perceptible to sense
as it never is on Earth, for lack of a similar standard. Caulna,
rising in the west and moving eastwards, crossed the visible sky in
five hours, and passed through the stars at the rate of 48° per hour,
so that she seemed to sail past them like a golden cloudlet or
celestial vessel driven by a slow wind. It happened this night that
she passed over the star Fomalhaut—an occultation which I watched
with great interest through an excellent field-glass, but which lasted
only for about half a minute. About an hour before midnight the two
moons passed each other in the Eastern sky; both gibbous at the
moment, like our Moon in her last quarter. The difference in size and
motion was then most striking; Caulna seeming to rush past her
companion, and the latter looking like a stationary star in the slowly
moving sky.




CHAPTER XXV - APOSTACY.


We were received on landing by our former host and conducted to his
house. On this occasion, however, I was not detained in the hall, but
permitted at once to enter the chamber allotted to us. Eveena, who had
exacted from me all that I knew, and much that I meant to conceal,
respecting the occasion of our journey, was much agitated and not a
little alarmed. My own humble rank in the Zinta rendered so sudden and
imperative a summons the more difficult to understand, and though by
this time well versed in the learning, neither of us was familiar with
the administration of the Brotherhood. I was glad therefore on her
account, even more than on my own, when, a scratch at the door having
obtained admission for an ambâ, it placed before me a message from
Esmo requesting a private conference. Her father's presence set
Eveena's mind at rest; since she had learned, strangely enough from
myself, what she had never known before, the rank he held among the
brethren.

"I have summoned you," he said as soon as I joined him, "for more than
one reason. There is but one, however, that I need now explain.
Important questions, are as a rule either settled by the Chiefs alone
in Council, or submitted to a general meeting of the Order. In this
case neither course can be adopted. It would not have occurred to
myself that, under present circumstances, you could render material
service in either of the two directions in which it may be required.
But those by whom the cause has been prepared have asked that you
should be one of the Convent, and such a request is never refused.
Indeed, its refusal would imply either such injustice as would render
the whole proceeding utterly incompatible with the first principles of
our cohesion, or such distrust of the person summoned as is never felt
for a member of the Brotherhood. I would rather say no more on the
subject now. Your nerve and judgment will be sufficiently tried
to-night; and it is a valuable maxim of our science that, in the hours
immediately preceding either an important decision or a severe trial,
the spirit should be left as far as possible calm and unvexed by vague
shadows of that which is to come."

The maxim thus expressed, if rendered into the language of material
medicine, is among those which every man of experience holds and
practically acts upon. I turned the conversation, then, by inviting
Esmo into my own apartment; and I was touched indeed by the eager
delight, even stronger than I had expected, with which Eveena welcomed
her father, and inquired into the minutest details of the home life
from which she had been, as it seemed to her, so long separated. What
was, however, specially characteristic was the delicate care with
which, even in this first meeting with one of her own family, she
contrived still to give the paramount place in her attention to her
husband, and never for a moment to let him feel excluded from a
conversation with whose topics he was imperfectly acquainted, and in
which he might have been supposed uninterested. The hours thus passed
pleasantly away; and, except when Kevimâ joined us at the evening
meal, adding a new and unexpected pleasure to Eveena's natural delight
in this sudden reunion, we remained undisturbed until a very low
electric signal, sounding apparently through several chambers at once,
recalled Esmo's mind to the duties before him.

"You will not," he said, "return till late, and I wish you would
induce Eveena to ensure, by composing herself to sleep before your
return, that you shall not be asked to converse until the morning."

He withdrew with Kevimâ, and, as instructed, I proceeded to change my
dress for one of pure white adapted to the occasion, with only a band
of crimson around the waist and throat, and to invest myself in the
badge of the Order. The turban which I wore, without attracting
attention, in the Asiatic rather than in the Martial form, was of
white mingled with red; a novelty which seemed to Eveena's eyes
painfully ominous. In Martial language, as in Zveltic symbolism,
crimson generally takes the place of black as the emblem of guilt and
peril. When Esmo re-entered our chamber for a moment to summon me, he
was invested, as in the Shrine itself, in the full attire of his
office, and I was recalled to a recollection of the reverence due to
the head of the Brotherhood by the sudden change in Eveena's manner.
To her father, though a most respectful, she was a fearlessly
affectionate child. For Clavelta she had only the reverence, deeply
intermingled with awe, with which a devout Catholic convert from the
East may approach for the first time some more than usually imposing
occupant of the Chair of St. Peter. Before the arm that bore the
Signet, and the sash of gold, we bent knee and head in the deference
prescribed by our rules—a homage which the youngest child in the
public Nurseries would not dream of offering to the Camptâ himself. At
a sign from his hand I followed Esmo, hoping rather than expecting
that Eveena would obey the counsel indirectly addressed to her.
Traversing the same passages as before, save that a slight turn
avoided the symbolic bridge, and formally challenged at each point as
usual by the sentries, who saluted with profoundest reverence the
Signet of the Order, we passed at last into the Hall of Initiation.

But on this occasion its aspect was completely changed. A space
immediately in front of what I may call the veil of the Shrine was
closed in by drapery of white bordered with crimson. The Chiefs
occupied, as before, their seats on the platform. Some fifty members
of the Order sat to right and left immediately below; but Esmo, on
this occasion, seated himself on the second leftward step of the
Throne, which, with the silver light and the other mystic emblems, was
unveiled in the same strange manner as before at his approach. Near
the lower end of the small chamber thus formed, crossing the passage
between the seats on either hand, was a barrier of the bright red
metal I have more than once mentioned, and behind it a seat of some
sable material. Behind this, to right and left, stood silent and erect
two sentries robed in green, and armed with the usual spear. A deep
intense absolute silence prevailed, from the moment when the last of
the party had taken his place, for the space of some ten minutes. In
the faces of the Chiefs and of some of the elder Initiates, who were
probably aware of the nature of the scene to follow, was an expression
of calm but deep pain and regret; crossed now and then by a shade of
anxiety, such as rarely appeared in that abode of assured peace and
profound security. On no countenance was visible the slightest shadow
of restlessness or curiosity. In the changed aspect of the place, the
changed tone of its associations and of the feelings habitual to its
frequenters, there was something which impressed and overawed the
petulance of youth, and even the indifference of an experience like my
own. At last, stretching forth the ivory-like staff of mingled white
and red, which on this occasion each of the Chiefs had substituted for
their usual crystal wand, Esmo spoke, not raising his voice a single
semitone above its usual pitch, but with even unwonted gravity—

"Come forward, Asco Zvelta!" he said.

The sight I now witnessed, no description could represent to one who
had not seen the same. Parting the drapery at the lower end, there
came forward a figure in which the most absolutely inexperienced eye
could not fail to recognise a culprit called to trial. "Came forward,"
I have said, because I can use no other words. But such was not the
term which would have occurred to any one who witnessed the movement.
"Was dragged forward," I should say, did I attempt to convey the
impression produced;—save that no compulsion, no physical force was
used, nor were there any to use it. And yet the miserable man
approached slowly, reluctantly, shrinking back as one who strives with
superior corporeal power exerted to force him onward, as if physically
dragged on step by step by invisible bonds held by hands unseen. So
with white face and shaking form he reached the barrier, and knelt as
Esmo rose from his place, honouring instinctively, though his eyes
seemed incapable of discerning them, the symbols of supreme authority.
Then, at a silent gesture, he rose and fell back into the chair placed
for him, apparently unable to stand and scarcely able to sustain
himself on his seat.

"Brother," said the junior of the Chiefs, or he who occupied the place
farthest to the right;—and now I noticed that eleven were present,
the last seat on the right of him who spoke being vacant—"you have
unveiled to strangers the secrets of the Shrine."

He paused for an answer; and, in a tone strangely unnatural and
expressionless, came from the scarcely parted lips of the culprit the
reply—"

"It is true."

"You have," said the next of the Chiefs, "accepted reward to place the
lives of your brethren at the mercy of their enemies."

"It is true."

"You have," said he who occupied the lowest seat upon the left,
"forsworn in heart and deed, if not in word, the vows by which you
willingly bound yourself, and the law whose boons you had accepted."

Again the same confession, forced evidently by some overwhelming power
from one who would, if he could, have denied or remained silent.

"And to whom," said Esmo, interposing for the first time, "have you
thus betrayed us?"

"I know not," was the reply.

"Explain," said the Chief immediately to the left of the Throne, who,
if there were a difference in the expression of the calm sad faces,
seemed to entertain more of compassion and less of disgust and
repulsion towards the offender than any other.

"Those with whom I spoke," replied the culprit, in the same strange
tone, "were not known to me, but gave token of authority next to that
of the Camptâ. They told me that the existence of the Order had long
been known, that many of its members were clearly indicated by their
household practices, that their destruction was determined; that I was
known as a member of the Order, and might choose between perishing
first of their victims and receiving reward such as I should name
myself for the information I could give."

"What have you told?" asked another of the Chiefs.

"I have not named one of the symbols. I have not betrayed the Shrine
or the passwords. I have told that the Zinta _is_. I have told the
meaning of the Serpent, the Circle, and the Star, though I have not
named them."

"And," said he on the left of the Throne, "naming the hope that is
more than all hope, recalling the power that is above all power, could
you dare to renounce the one and draw on your own head the justice of
the other? What reward could induce a child of the Light to turn back
into darkness? What authority could protect the traitor from the fate
he imprecated and accepted when he first knelt before the Throne?"
"The hope was distant and the light was dim," the offender answered.
"I was threatened and I was tempted. I knew that death, speedy and
painless, was the penalty of treason to the Order, that a death of
prolonged torture might be the vengeance of the power that menaced me.
I hoped little in the far and dim future of the Serpent's promise, and
I hoped and feared much in the life on this side of death."

"Do you know," asked the last inquirer again, "no name, and nothing
that can enable us to trace those with whom you spoke or those who
employed them?"

"Only this," was the answer, "that one of them has an especial hatred
to one Initiate present," pointing to myself; "and seeks his life, not
only as a child of the Star, not only as husband of the daughter of
Clavelta, but for a reason that is not known to me."

"And," asked another Chief, "do you know what instrument that enemy
seeks to use?"

"One who has over her intended victim such influence as few of her sex
ever have over their lords; one of whom his love will learn no
distrust, against whom his heart has no guard and his manhood no
wisdom."

A shiver of horror passed over the forms of the Chiefs and of many who
sat near them, incomprehensible to me till a sudden light was afforded
by the indignant interruption of Kevimâ, who sat not far from myself.

"It cannot be," he cried, "or you can name her whom you accuse."

"Be silent!" Esmo said, in the cold, grave tone of a president
rebuking disorder, mingled with the deeper displeasure of a priest
repressing irreverence in the midst of the most solemn religious rite.
"None may speak here till the Chiefs have ceased to speak."

None of the latter, however, seemed disposed to ask another question.
The guilt of the accused was confessed. All that he could tell to
guide their further inquiries had been told. To doubt that what was
forced from him was to the best of his knowledge true, was to them,
who understood the mysterious power that had compelled the spirit and
the lips to an unwilling confession, impossible. And if it had seemed
that further information might have been extracted relative to my own
personal danger, a stronger tie, a deeper obligation, bound them to
the supposed object of the last obscure imputation, and none was
willing to elicit further charges or clearer evidence. Probably also
they anticipated that, when the word was extended to the Initiates, I
should take up my own cause.

"Would any brother speak?" asked Esmo, when the silence of the Chiefs
had lasted for a few moments.

But his rebuke had silenced Kevimâ, and no one else cared to
interpose. The eyes of the assembly turned upon me so generally and so
pointedly, that at last I felt myself forced, though against my own
judgment, to rise.

"I have no question to ask the accused," I said.

"Then," replied Esmo calmly, "you have nothing now to say. Give to the
brother accused before us the cup of rest."

A small goblet was handed by one of the sentries to the miserable
creature, now half-insensible, who awaited our judgment. In a very few
moments he had sunk into a slumber in which his face was comparatively
calm, and his limbs had ceased to tremble. His fate was to be debated
in the presence indeed of his body, but in the absence of
consciousness and knowledge.

"Has any elder brother," inquired Esmo, "counsel to afford?"

No word was spoken.

"Has any brother counsel to afford?"

Again all were silent, till the glance which the Chief cast in order
along the ranks of the assembly fell upon myself.

"One word," I said. "I claim permission to speak, because the matter
touches closely and cruelly my own honour."

There was that inaudible, invisible, motionless "movement," as some
French reporters call it, of surprise throughout the assembly which
communicates itself instinctively to a speaker.

"My own honour," I continued, "in the honour dearer and nearer to me
even than my own. What the accused has spoken may or may not be true."

"It is true," interposed a Chief, probably pitying my ignorance.

"May be true," I continued, "though I will not believe it, to
whomsoever his words may apply. That no such treason as they have
suggested ever for one moment entered, or could enter, the heart of
her who knelt with me, in presence of many now here, before that
Throne, I will vouch by all the symbols we revere in common, and with
the life which it seems is alone threatened by the feminine domestic
treason alleged, from whomsoever that treason may proceed. I will
accuse none, as I suspect none; but I will say that the charge might
be true to the letter, and yet not touch, as I know it does not justly
touch, the daughter of our Chief."

A deep relief was visible in the faces which had so lately been
clouded by a suspicion terrible to all. Esmo's alone remained
impassive throughout my vindication, as throughout the apparent
accusation and silent condemnation of his daughter.

"Has any brother," he said, "counsel to speak respecting the question
actually before us?"

One and all were silent, till Esmo again put the formal question:—

"Has he who was our brother betrayed the brotherhood?"

From every member of the assembly came a clear unmistakable assent.

"Is he outcast?"

Silence rather than any distinct sign answered in the affirmative.

"Is it needful that his lips be sealed for ever?"

One or two of the Chiefs expressed in a single sentence an affirmative
conviction, which was evidently shared by all present except myself.
Appealing by a look to Esmo, and encouraged by his eye, I spoke—

"The outcast has confessed treason worthy of death. That I cannot
deny. But he has sinned from fear rather than from greed or malice;
and to fear, courage should be indulgent. The coward is but what Allah
has made him, and to punish cowardice is to punish the child for the
heritage his parents have inflicted. Moreover, no example of
punishment will make cowards brave. It seems to me, then, that there
is neither justice nor wisdom in taking vengeance upon the crime of
weakness."

In but two faces, those of Esmo and of his next colleague on the left,
could I see the slightest sign of approval. One of the other chiefs
answered briefly and decisively my plea for mercy.

"If," he said, "treason proceed from fear, the more cause that a
greater fear should prevent the treason of cowardice for the future.
The same motives that have led the offender to betray so much would
assuredly lead him to betray more were he released; and to attempt
lifelong confinement is to make the lives of all dependent on a chance
in order to spare one unworthy life. The excuse which our brother has
pleaded may, we hope, avail with a tribunal which can regard the
conscience apart from the consequences. It ought not to avail with
us."

But the law of the Zinta, as I now learned, will not allow sentence of
death to be passed save by an absolutely unanimous vote. It is held
that if one judge educated in the ideas of the Order, appreciating to
the full the priceless importance of its teaching and the guilt of
treason against it, is unpersuaded that there exists sufficient cause
for the supreme penalty, the doubt is such as should preclude the
infliction of that penalty. It is, however, permitted and expected
that the dissentients, if few in number, much more a single
dissentient, shall listen attentively and give the most respectful and
impartial consideration to the arguments of brethren, and especially
of seniors. If a single mind remains unmoved, its dissent is decisive.
But it would be the gravest dereliction of duty to persist from
wilfulness, obstinacy, or pride, in adhesion to a view perhaps hastily
expressed in opposition to authority and argument. The debate to which
my speech gave rise lasted for two hours. Each speaker spoke but a few
terse expressive sentences; and after each speech came a pause
allowing full time for the consideration of its reasoning. Two points
were very soon made clear to all. The offender had justly forfeited
his life; and if his death were necessary or greatly conducive to the
safety of the rest, the mercy which for his sake imperilled worthier
men and sacred truths would have been no less than a crime. The
thought, however, that weighed most with me against my natural feeling
was an experience to which none present could appeal. I had sat on
many courts-martial where cowardice was the only charge imputed; and
in every case in which that charge was proved, sentence of death had
been passed and carried out on a ground I could not refuse to consider
sufficient:—namely, that the infection of terror can best be
repressed by an example inspiring deeper terror than that to which the
prisoner has yielded. Compelled by these precedents, though with
intense reluctance, I submitted at last to the universal judgment.
Esmo having collected the will, I cannot say the voices, of the
assembly, paused for a minute in silence.

"The Present has pronounced," he said at last. "Are the voices of the
Past assentient?"

He looked around as if to see whether, under real or supposed
inspiration, any of those before him would give in another name a
judgment opposite to that in which all had concurred. Instinctively I
glanced towards the Throne, but it remained vacant as ever. Then,
fixing his eyes for a few moments upon the culprit, who started and
woke to full consciousness under his gaze—and receiving from the
Chief nearest to him on the left a chain of small golden circles
similar to that of the canopy, represented also on the Signet, while
he on the right held a small roll, on the golden surface of which a
long list of names was inscribed—our Superior pronounced, amid
deepest stillness, in a low clear tone, the form of excommunication;
breaking at the appropriate moment one link from the chain, and, at a
later point, drawing a broad crimson bar through one cipher on the
roll:—

  "Conscience-convict, tried in truth,
   Judged in justice, doomed in ruth;
   Ours no more—once ours in vain—
   Falls the Veil and snaps the Chain,
   Drops the link and lies alone:—
   Traitor to the Emerald Throne,
   Alien from the troth we plight,
   Kature native to the night;
   Trained in Light the Light to scorn,
   Soul apostate and forsworn,
   False to symbol, sense, and sign,
   To the Serpent's pledge divine,
   To the Wings that reach afar,
   To the Circle and the Star;
   Recreant to the mystic rule,
   Outlaw from the sacred school—
   Backward is the Threshold crossed;
   Lost the Light, the Life is lost.
   Go; the golden page we blot:
   Go; forgetting and forgot!
   Go—by final sentence shriven,
   Be thy crime absolved in Heaven!"

Once more the Throne and the Emblems behind and above it had been
veiled in impenetrable darkness. Instinctively, as it seemed, every
one present had risen to his feet, and stood with bent head and
downcast eyes as the Condemned, rising mechanically, turned without a
word and passed away.




CHAPTER XXVI - TWILIGHT.


I was, perhaps, the only member of the assembly to whom the doomed man
was not personally known, and to all of us the tie which had been
severed was one at least as close as that of natural brotherhood on
Earth.

How long the pause lasted—how, or why, or when we resumed our seats,
even I knew not. The Shrine was unveiled, and Esmo's next colleague
spoke again—

"A seat among the elders has been three days vacant by the departure
of one well known and dear to all. His colleagues have considered how
best it may be filled. The member they have selected is of the
youngest in experience here; but from the first moment of his
initiation it was evident to us that more than half the learning of
the Starlight had been his before. Nothing could so deeply confirm our
joy and confidence in that lore, as to find that in another world the
truths we hold dearest are held with equal faith, that many of our
deepest secrets have there been sought and discovered by societies not
unlike our own. For that reason, and because of that House, whereof
now but two members are left us, he is by wedlock and adoption the
third, the elder brethren have unanimously resolved to recommend to
Clavelta, and to the Children of the Star, that this seat," and he
pointed to the vacant place, "shall be filled by him who has but now
expressed, with a warmth seldom shown in this place, his love and
trust for the daughter of our Chief, the descendant of our Founder."

Certainly not on my own account, but from the earnest attachment and
devotion they felt for Esmo, both personally as a long-tried and
deservedly revered Chief, and as almost the last representative of a
lineage so profoundly loved and honoured, the approval of all present
was expressed with a sudden and eager warmth which deeply affected me;
the more that it expressed an hereditary regard and esteem, not for
myself but for Eveena, rarely or never, even among the Zveltau, paid
to a woman. Esmo bent his head in assent, and then, addressing me by
name, called me to the foot of the platform.

He held in his hand the golden sash and rose-coloured wand which
marked the rank about to be bestowed on me. I felt very deeply my own
incompetence and ignorance; and even had I valued more the proffered
honour, I should have been bound to decline it. But at the third word
I spoke, I was silenced with a stern though perfectly calm severity.
Flinging back the fold of his robe that covered his left arm, with a
gesture that placed the Signet full before my eyes, he said—

"You have sworn obedience."

A soldier's instinct or habit, the mesmeric command of Esmo's glance,
and the awe, due less to my own feeling than to the infectious
reverence of others, which the symbols and the oaths of the Order
extorted, left me no further will to resist. At the foot of the Throne
I received the investiture of my new rank; and as I rose and faced my
brethren, every hand was lifted to the lips, every head bent in
salutation of their new leader. Then, as I passed to the extreme place
on the right, they came forward to grasp my hand and utter a few words
of sympathy and kindness, in which a frank spirit of affectionate
comradeship, that reminded me forcibly of the mess-tent and the
bivouac fire, was mingled with the sense of a deeper and more sacred
tie.

Scarcely had we resumed our places than a startling incident gave a
new turn to the scene. Approaching the barrier, a woman, veiled, but
wearing the sash and star, knelt for a moment to the presence of the
Arch-Teacher, and then, as the barrier was thrown open by the
sentries, came up to the dais.

"She," said the new-comer, "has a message for you, Clavelta, for your
Council, and particularly for the last of its members."

"It is well," he answered.

The messenger took her seat among the Initiates, and Esmo dismissed
the assembly in the solemn form employed on the former occasion. Then,
followed by the twelve, and guided by the messenger (the gloved
fingers of whose left hand, as I observed, he very slightly touched
with his own right), he passed by another door out of the Hall, and
along one of the many passages of the subterrene Temple, into a
chamber resembling in every respect an apartment in an ordinary
residence. Here, with her veil, as is permitted only to maidenhood,
drawn back from her face, but covering almost entirely her neck and
bosom, and clad in the vestal white, reclined with eyes nearly closed
a young girl, in whose countenance a beauty almost spiritual was
enhanced rather than marred by signs of physical ill-health painfully
unmistakable. Warning us back with a slight movement of his hand, Esmo
approached her. Our presence had at first seemed to cast her into
almost convulsive agitation; but under his steady gaze and the
movement of his hands, she lapsed almost instantly into what appeared
to be profound slumber.

       *       *       *       *       *

The practical information that concerned the present peril menacing
the Order delivered, and when it was plain that no further revelation
or counsel was to be expected on this all-important topic, Esmo
beckoned to me, taking my hand in his own and placing it very gently
and carefully in that of the unconscious sybil. The effect, however,
was startling. Without unclosing her eyes, she sprang into a sitting
posture and clasped my hand almost convulsively with her own long,
thin all but transparent fingers. Turning her face to mine, and
seeming, though her eyes were closed, as if she looked intently into
it, she murmured words at first unintelligible, but which seemed by
degrees to bear clearer and clearer reference to some of the stormy
scenes of my youth in another world. Then—as one looking upon
pictures but partially intelligible to her, and commenting on them as
a girl who had never seen or known the passions and the mutual enmity
of men—she startled me by breaking into the kind of chant in which
the peculiar verse of her language is commonly delivered. My own
thought of the moment was not her guide. The Moslem battle-cry had
rung too often in my ears ever to be forgotten; but up to that moment
I had never recalled to memory the words in which on my last field I
retorted upon my Arab comrades, when flinching from a third charge
against those terrible "sons of Eblis," whose stubborn courage had
already twice hurled us back in confusion and disgrace with a hundred
empty saddles. At first her tone was one of simple amaze and horror.
It softened afterwards into wonder and perplexity, and the
oft-repeated rebuke or curse was on its last recurrence spoken with
more of pitying tenderness and regret than of severity:—

  "What! those are human bosoms whereon the brute hath trod!
   What! through the storm of slaughter rings the appeal to God!
   Through the smoke and flash of battle a single form is shown;
   O'er clang and crash and rattle peals out one trumpet-tone—
   'Strike, for Allah and the Prophet! let Eblis take his own!'

  "Strange! the soul that, fresh from carnage, quailed not alone to face
   The unfathomed depths of Darkness, the solitudes of Space!
   Strange! the smile of scorn, while nerveless dropped the sword-arm from
         the sting,
   On the death that scowled at distance, on the closing murder-ring.
   Strange! no crimson stain on conscience from the hand in gore imbrued!
   But Death haunts the death-dealer; blood taints the life of blood!

  "Strange! the arm that smote and spared not in the tempest of the strife,
   Quivers with pitying terror—clings, for a maiden's life!
   Strange! the heart steel-hard to death-shrieks by girlish tears subdued;
   The falcon's sheathless talons among the esve's brood!
   But Death haunts the death-dealer; blood taints the life of blood.

  "The breast for woman's peril that dared the despot's ire,
   Shall dauntless front, and scathless, the closing curve of fire.
   The heart, by household treason stung home, that can forgive,
   Shall brave a woman's hatred, a woman's wiles, and live.

  "A woman's well-won fealty shall give the life he gave,
   Love shall redeem the loving, and Sacrifice shall save.
   But—God heal the tortured spirit, God calm the maddened mood;
   For Death haunts the death-dealer; blood taints the life of blood!"

Relaxing but not releasing her grasp of my own hand, she felt about
with her left till Esmo gently placed his own therein. Then, in a tone
at first of deep and passionate anxiety and eagerness, passing into
one of regretful admiration, and varying with the purport of each
utterance, she broke into another chant, in which were repeated over
and again phrases familiar in the traditions and prophetic or symbolic
formularies of the Zinta:—

  "Ever on deadliest peril shines the Star with steadiest ray;
   Ever quail the fiercest hunters when Kargynda turns at bay.
   Close, Children of the Starlight! close, for the Emerald Throne!
   Close round the life that closeth your life within the zone!
   Rests the Golden Circle's glory, rests the silver gleam on her
   Who shall rein Kargynda's fury with a thread of gossamer.
   He metes not mortal measure, He pays not human price,
   Who crowns that life's devotion with the death of sacrifice!
   Woe worth the moment's panic; woe worth the victory won!
   But the Night is near the breaking when the Stranger claims his own.

  "Ever on deadliest peril shines the Star with steadiest ray;
   Ever quail the fiercest hunters when Kargynda turns at bay.
   No life is worth the living that counts each fleeting breath;
   No eyes from God averted can meet the eyes of Death.
   Vague fear and spectral terrors haunt the soul that dwells in shade,
   Nor e'er can crimson conscience confront the crimson blade.
   From a cloud of shame and sorrow breaks the Light that shines afar,
   And cold and dark the household spark that lit the Silver Star.
   The triumph is a death-march; the victor's voice a moan:—But
   the Powers of Night are broken when the Stranger wins his own!

  "Ever in blackest midnight shines the Star with brightest ray;
   Woe to them that hunt the theme if Kargynda cross the way!
   In the Home of Peace, Clavelta, can our fears thy spirit move?
   Look down! whence comes the rescue to the household of thy love?
   As the All-Commander's lightning falls the Vengeance from above!
   A shriek from thousand voices; a thunder crash; a groan;
   A thousand homes in mourning—a thousand deaths in one!
   Woe to the Sons of Darkness, for the Stranger wields his own!
   Oh, hide that scene of horror in the deepest shades of night!
   Look upward to the welkin, where the Vessel fades from sight ...
   But the Veil is rent for ever by the Hand that veiled the Shrine;
   And, on a peace of ages, the Star of Peace shall shine!"

Esmo listened with the anxious attention of one who believed that her
every word had a real and literal meaning; and his face was
overclouded with a calm but deep sadness, which testified to the
nature of the impression made on his mind by language that hardly
conveyed to my own more than a dim and general prediction of victory,
won through scenes of trial and trouble. But when she had closed, a
quiet satisfaction in what seemed to be the final promise of triumph
to the Star, at whatever cost to the noblest of its adherents, was all
that I could trace in his countenance.

The sibyl fell back as the last word passed her lips, with a sigh of
relief, into what was evidently a profound and insensible sleep. Those
around me must have witnessed such scenes at least as often as I; but
it was plain that the impression made, even on the experienced Chiefs
of the Order, was far deeper than had affected myself. I should hardly
have been able to remember the words of the prophecy, but for
subsequent conversation thereon with Eveena, when one part had been
fulfilled and the rest was on the eve of a too terribly truthful
fulfilment; but for the events that fixed their prediction in my
mind—it may be in terms a little more precise than those actually
employed, though I have endeavoured to record these with conscientious
accuracy.

Led by Esmo, we passed along another gallery into the small chamber
where met the secret Council of the Order, and long and anxious were
the debates wherein the revelations of the dreamer were treated as
conveying the most certain and unquestionable warning. The first rays
of morning were stealing through the mists into the peristyle of our
host's dwelling before I re-entered Eveena's chamber. She was
slumbering, but restlessly, and so lightly that she sprang up at once
on my entrance. For a few moments all other thought was lost in the
delight of my return after an absence whose very length had alarmed
her, despite her father's previous assurance. But as at last she drew
back sufficiently to look into my face, its expression seemed to
startle and sadden her. The questions that sprang to her lips died
there, as she probably saw in my eyes a look not only of weariness and
perplexity, but of profound reluctance to speak of what had passed.
Expressing her sympathy only by look and touch, she began to unclasp
my robe at the throat, aware that my only wish was for rest, and
content to postpone her own anxiety and natural curiosity. Then, as
the golden sash which I had not removed met her sight, she looked up
for a moment with a glance of natural pride and fondness, intensely
gratified by the highly-prized honour paid to her husband; then bent
low and kissed my hand with the gesture wherewith the presence of a
superior is acknowledged by the members of the Order. "Used as my
earlier life was, Eveena, to the Eastern prostrations of my own world,
I hate all that recals them; and if I must accept, as I fulfil, these
forms in the Halls of the Zinta, let me never be reminded of them by
you."




CHAPTER XXVII - THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW.


If I could have endured to describe to Eveena the terrible trial
scene, that which occurred before she had the chance to question me
would have certainly sealed my lips. The past night had told upon me
as no fatigue, no anxiety, no disaster of my life on Earth had ever
done. I awoke faint and exhausted as a nervous valetudinarian, and I
suppose my feeling must have been plainly visible in my face, for
Eveena would not allow me to rise from the cushions till she had
summoned an _ambâ_ and procured the material of a morning meal, though
the hour was noon. Far too considerate to question me then, she was
perhaps a little disappointed that, almost before I had dressed, a
message from her father summoned me to his presence.

"It is right," he said quietly, and with no show of feeling, though
his face was somewhat pale, "that you should be acquainted with the
fulfilment of the sentence you assisted to pass. The outcast was found
this morning dead in his own chamber. Nay, you need not start! We need
no deathsman; alike by sudden disease, by suicide, by accident, our
doom executes itself. But enough of this. I accepted the vote which
invested you with the second rank in our Order, less because I think
you will render service to it here than that I desired you to possess
that entire knowledge of its powers and secrets which might enable you
to plant a branch or offshoot where none but you could carry it ...
That you will soon leave this world seemed to me probable, before the
anticipations of practical prudence were confirmed by the voice of
prophecy. Your Astronaut shall be stored with all of which I know you
have need, and with any materials whose use I do not know that you may
point out. To remove it from Asnyea would now be too dangerous. If you
receive tidings that shall bring you again into its neighbourhood, do
not lose the opportunity of re-entering it.... And now let me take
leave of you, as of a dear friend I may not meet again."

"Do you know," I said, more touched by the tone than by the words,
"that Eveena asked and I gave a promise that when I do re-enter it she
shall be my companion?"

"I did not know it, but I took for granted that she would desire it,
and I should have been grieved to doubt that you would assent. I
cannot disturb her peace by saying to her what I have just said to
you, and must part from her as on any ordinary occasion."

That parting, happily, I did not witness. Before evening we re-entered
our vessel, and returned home without any incident worthy of mention.

To my surprise, my return plunged me at once into the kind of vexation
which Eveena had so anxiously endeavoured to spare me, and which I had
hoped Eunané's greater decision and less exaggerated tenderness would
have avoided. She seemed excited and almost fretful, and before we had
been half an hour at home had greeted me with a string of complaints
which, on her own showing, seemed frivolous, and argued as much temper
on her part as customary petulance on that of others. On one point,
however, her report confirmed the suggestions of Eveena's previous
experience. She had wrested at once from Eivé's hand the pencil that
had hitherto been used in absolute secrecy, and the consequent quarrel
had been sharp enough to suggest, if not to prove, that the privilege
was of practical as well as sentimental moment. Though aggravated by
no rebuke, my tacit depreciation of her grievances irritated Eunané to
an extreme of petulance unusual with her of late; which I bore so long
as it was directed against myself, but which, turned at last on
Eveena, wholly exhausted my patience. But no sooner had I dismissed
the offender than Eveena herself interposed, with even more than her
usual tenderness for Eunané.

"Do not blame my presumption," she said; "do not think that I am
merely soft or weak, if I entreat you to take no further notice of
Eunané's mood. I cannot but think that, if you do, you will very soon
repent it."

She could not or would not give a reason for her intercession; but
some little symptoms I might have seen without observing, some
perception of the exceptional character of Eunané's outbreak, or some
unacknowledged misgiving accordant with her own, made me more than
willing to accept Eveena's wish as a sufficient cause for forbearance.
When we assembled at the morning meal Eunané appeared to be conscious
of error; at all events, her manner and temper were changed. Watching
her closely, I thought that neither shame for an outbreak of unwonted
extravagance nor fear of my displeasure would account for her languor
and depression. But illness is so rare among a race educated for
countless generations on principles scientifically sound and sanitary,
inheriting no seeds of disease from their ancestry, and safe from the
infection of epidemics long extirpated, that no apprehension of
serious physical cause for her changes of temper and complexion
entered into my mind. To spare her when she deserved no indulgence was
the surest way to call forth Eunané's best impulses; and I was not
surprised to find her, soon after the party had dispersed, in Eveena's
chamber. That all the amends I could desire had been made and accepted
was sufficiently evident. But Eunané's agitation was so violent and
persistent, despite all Eveena's soothing, that I was at last
seriously apprehensive of its effect upon the latter. The moment we
were alone Eveena said—

"I have never seen illness, but if Eunané is not ill, and very ill,
all I have gathered in my father's household from such books as he has
allowed me, and from his own conversation, deceives me wholly; and yet
no illness of which I have ever heard in the slightest degree
resembles this."

"I take it to be," I said, "what on Earth women call hysteria and men
temper."

To this opinion, however, I could not adhere when, watching her
closely, I noticed the evident lack of spirit and strength with which
the most active and energetic member of the household went about her
usual pursuits. A terrible suspicion at first entered my mind, but was
wholly discountenanced by Eveena, who insisted that there was no
conceivable motive for an attempt to injure Eunané; while the idea
that mischief designed for others had unintentionally fallen on her
was excluded by the certainty that, whatever the nature of her
illness, if it were such, it had commenced before our return. Long
before evening I had communicated with Esmo, and received from him a
reply which, though exceedingly unsatisfactory, rather confirmed
Eveena's impression. The latter had taken upon herself the care of the
evening meal; but, before we could meet there, my own observation had
suggested an alarm I dared not communicate to her—one which a wider
experience than hers could neither verify nor dispel. Among symptoms
wholly alien, there were one or two which sent a thrill of terror to
my heart;—which reminded me of the most awful and destructive of the
scourges wherewith my Eastern life had rendered me but too familiar.
It was not unnatural that, if carried to a new world, that fearful
disease should assume a new form; but how could it have been conveyed?
how, if conveyed, could its incubation in some unknown vehicle have
been so long? and how had it reached one, and one only, of my
household—one, moreover, who had no access to such few relics of my
own world as I had retained, of which Eveena had the exclusive charge?
All Esmo's knowledge, even were he within reach, could hardly help me
here. I dared, of course, suggest my apprehension to no one, least of
all to the patient herself. As, towards evening, her languor was again
exchanged for the feverish excitement of the previous night, I seized
on some petulant word as an excuse to confine her to her room, and,
selfishly enough, resolved to invoke the help of the only member of
the family who should, and perhaps would, be willing to run personal
risk for the sake of aiding Eunané in need and protecting Eveena. I
had seen as yet very little of Velna, Eunané's school companion; but
now, calling her apart, I told her frankly that I feared some illness
of my own Earth had by some means been communicated to her friend.

"You have here," I said, "for ages had no such diseases as those which
we on Earth most dread; those which, communicated through water, air,
or solid particles, spread from one person to another, endangering
especially those who come nearest to the sufferers. Whoever approaches
Eunané risks all that I fear for her, and that 'all' means very
probably speedy death. To leave her alone is impossible; and if I
cannot report that she is fully cared for in other hands, no command,
nothing short of actual compulsion, will keep Eveena away from her."

The girl looked up with a steady frank courage and unaffected
readiness I had not expected.

"I owe you much, Clasfempta, and still more perhaps to Eveena. My life
is not so precious that I should not be ready to give it at need for
either of you; and if I should lose Eunané, I would prefer not to live
to remember my loss."

The last words reminded me that to her who spoke death meant
annihilation; a fact which has deprived the men of her race of nearly
every vestige of the calm courage now displayed by this young girl,
indebted as little as any human being could be to the insensible
influences of home affection, or the direct moral teaching which is
sometimes supposed to be a sufficient substitute. I led her at once
into her friend's chamber, and a single glance satisfied me that my
apprehensions were but too well-founded. Remaining long enough to
assure the sufferer that the displeasure I had affected had wholly
passed away, and to suggest the only measures of relief rather than of
remedy that occurred to me, I endeavoured for a few moments to collect
my thoughts and recover the control of my nerves in solitude. In my
own chamber Eveena would assuredly have sought me, and I chose
therefore one of those as yet unoccupied. It did not take long to
convince me that no ordinary resources at my command, no medical
experience of my own, no professional science existing among a race
who probably never knew the disease in question, and had not for ages
known anything like it, could avail me. My later studies in the occult
science of Eastern schools had not furnished me with any antidote in
which I believed on Earth, and if they had, it was not here available.
Despair rather than hope suggested an appeal to those which the
analogous secrets of the Starlight might afford. Anxiety, agitation,
personal interest so powerful as now disturbed me, are generally fatal
to the exercise of the powers recently placed at my command; so
recently that, but for Terrestrial experience, I should hardly have
known how to use them. But the arts which assist in and facilitate
that tremendous all-absorbing concentration of will on which the
exertion of those powers depends, are far more fully developed in the
Zveltic science than in its Earthly analogues. A desperate effort,
aided by those arts, at last controlled my thoughts, and turned them
from the sick-room to that distant chamber in which I had so lately
stood.

       *       *       *       *       *

I seemed to stand beside her, and at once to be aware that my thought
was visible to the closed eyes. From lips paler than ever, words—so
generally resembling those I had previously heard that some readers
may think them the mere recollection thereof—appeared to reach my
sense or my mind as from a great distance, spoken in a tone of mingled
pity, promise, and reproof:—

  "What is youth or sex or beauty in the All-Commander's sight?
   For the arm that smote and spared not, shall His wisdom spare to smite?
   Yet, love redeems the loving; yet in thy need avail
   The Soul whose light surrounds thee, the faith that will not fail.
   Thy lips shall soothe the terror, call to yon couch afar
   The solace of the Serpent, the shadow of the Star!
   Strength shall sustain the strengthless, nor the soft hand loose its
       grasp
   Of the hand it trusts and clings to—till another meet its clasp....
   —Steel-hard to man's last anguish, wax-soft to woman's mood!—
   Death quits not the death-dealer; blood haunts the life of blood!"

       *       *       *       *       *

Returning to the peristyle, I encountered Eveena, who had been seeking
me anxiously. Much alarmed for her, I bade her return at once to her
room. She obeyed as of course, equally of course surprised and a
little mortified; while I, marvelling by what conceivable means the
plague of Cairo or Constantinople could have been conveyed across
forty million miles of space and some two years of Earthly time, paced
the peristyle for a few minutes. As I did so, my eye fell on the roses
which grew just where chance arrested my steps. If they do not afford
an explanation which scientific medicine will admit, I can suggest no
other. But, if it were so, how fearfully true the warning!—by what a
mysterious fate did death dog my footsteps, and "blood haunt the life
of blood!"

The reader may not remember that the central chamber of the women's
apartments, next to which was Eunané's, had been left vacant. This I
determined to occupy myself, and bade the girls remove at once to
those on its right, as yet unallotted. I closed the room, threw off my
dress, and endeavoured by means of the perfumed shower-bath to drive
from my person what traces of the infection might cling to it; for
Eveena had the keys of all my cases and of the medicine-chest, and I
could not make up my mind to reclaim them by a simple unexplained
message sent by an ambâ, or, still worse, by the hands of Enva or
Eivé. I laid the clothes I had worn on one of the shelves of the wall,
closing over them the crystal doors of the sunken cupboard; and,
having obtained through the amban a dress which I had not worn since
my return, and which therefore could hardly have about it any trace of
infection, I sought Eveena in her own room.

That something had gone wrong, and gravely wrong, she could not but
know; and I found her silent and calm, indeed, but weeping bitterly,
whether for the apprehension of danger to me, or for what seemed want
of trust in her. I asked her for the keys, and she gave them; but with
a mute appeal that made the concealment I desired, however necessary,
no longer possible. Gently, cautiously as I could, but softening, not
hiding, any part of the truth, I gave her the full confidence to which
she was entitled, and which, once forced out of the silence preserved
for her sake, it was an infinite relief to give. If I could not
observe equal gentleness of word and manner in absolutely forbidding
her to approach, either Eunané's chamber or my own, it was because,
the moment she conceived what I was about to say, her almost indignant
revolt from the command was apparent. For the first and last time she
distinctly and firmly refused compliance, not merely with the kindly
though very decided request at first spoken, but with the formal and
peremptory command by which I endeavoured to enforce it.

"You command me to neglect a sister in peril and suffering," she said.
"It is not kind; it is hardly worthy of you; but my first duty is to
you, and you have the right, if you will, to insist that I shall
reserve my life for your sake. But you command me also to forsake you
in danger and in sorrow; and nothing but the absolute force you may of
course employ shall compel me to obey you in that."

"I understand you, Eveena; and you, in your turn, must think and feel
that I intend to express neither displeasure nor pain; that I mean no
harshness to you, no less respect as well as love than I have always
shown you, when I say that obey you shall; that the same sense of duty
which impels you to refuse obliges me to enforce my command. At no
time would I have allowed you to risk your life where others might be
available. But if you were the only one who could help, I should,
under other circumstances, have felt that the same paramount duty that
attaches to me attached in a lighter degree to yourself. Now, as you
well know, the case is different; and even were Eunané not quite safe
in my hands and in Velna's, you must not run a risk that can be
avoided. You will promise me to remain on this side the peristyle or
in the further half of it, or I must confine you perforce; and it is
not kind or right in this hour of trouble to impose upon me so painful
a task."

With every tone, look, and caress that could express affection and
sympathy, Eveena answered—

"Do what seems your duty, and do not think that I misunderstand your
motive or feel the shadow of humiliation or unkindness. Make me obey
if you can, punish me if I disobey; but obey you, when you tell me,
for my own life's sake or for any other, to desert you in the hour of
need, of danger, and of sorrow, I neither will nor can." I cut short
the scene, bidding her a passionate farewell in view of the
probability that we should not meet again. I closed the door behind
me, having called her whom at this moment and in this case I could
best trust, because her worse as well as her better qualities were
alike guarantees for her obedience.

"Enva," I said, "you will keep this room till I release you; and you
will answer it to me, as the worst fault you can commit, if Eveena
passes this threshold, under whatever circumstances, until I give her
permission, or until, if it be beyond my power to give it, her father
takes the responsibilities of my home upon himself."

I procured the sedatives which might relieve the suffering I could not
hope to cure. I wrote to Esmo, stating briefly but fully the position
as I conceived it; and, on a suggestion from Eivé, I despatched
another message to a female physician of some repute—one of those few
women in Mars who lead the life and do the work of men, and for whose
attendance, as I remembered, Eunané had expressed a strong theoretical
preference.

From that time I scarcely left her chamber save for a few minutes, and
Velna remained constantly at her friend's side, save when, to give her
at least a chance of escape, I sent her to her room to bathe, change
her dress, and seek the fresh air for the half hour during which alone
I could persuade her to leave the sufferer. The _daftare_ (man-woman)
physician came, but on learning the nature of the disease, expressed
intense indignation that she had been summoned to a position of so
much danger to herself.

I answered by a contemptuous inquiry regarding the price for which she
would run so much risk as to remain in the peristyle so long as I
might have need of her presence; and, for a fee which would ensure her
a life-income as large as that secured to Eveena herself, she
consented to remain within speaking distance for the few hours in
which the question must be decided. Eunané was seldom insensible or
even delirious, and her quick intelligence caught very speedily the
meaning of my close attendance, and of the distress which neither
Velna nor I could wholly conceal. She asked and extracted from me what
I knew of the origin of her illness, and answered, with a far stronger
feeling than I should have expected even from her—

"If I am to die, I am glad it should be through trying to serve and
please Eveena.... It may seem strange, Clasfempta," she went on
presently, "scarcely possible perhaps; but my love for her is not only
greater than the love I bear you, but is so bound up with it that I
always think of you together, and love you the better that I love her,
and that you love her so much better than me.... But," she resumed
later, "it is hard to die, and die so young. I had never known what
happiness meant till I came here.... I have been so happy here, and I
was happier each day in feeling that I no longer made Eveena or you
less happy. Ah! let me thank you and Eveena while I can for
everything, and above all for Velna.... But," after another long
pause, "it is terrible and horrible—never to wake, to move, to hear
your voices, to see you, to look upon the sunlight, to think, or even
to dream again! Once, to remove a tooth and straighten the rest, they
made me senseless; and that sinking into senselessness, though I knew
I should waken in a minute, was horrible; and—to sink into
senselessness from which I shall never waken!"

She was sinking fast indeed, and this terror of death, so seldom seen
in the dying, grew apparently deeper and more intense as death drew
near. I could not bear it, and at last took my resolve and dismissed
Velna, forbidding her to return till summoned.

"Ah!" said Eunané, "you send her away that she may not see the last.
Is it so near?"

"No, darling!" I replied (she, like Eveena, had learnt the meaning of
one or two expressions of human affection in my own tongue), "but I
have that to say which I would not willingly say in her presence. You
dread death not as a short terrible pain, and for you it will not be
so, not as a short sleep, but as eternal senselessness and
nothingness. Has it never seemed to you strange that, loving Eveena as
I do, _I_ do not fear to die? Though you did not know it, I have lived
almost since first you knew me under the threat of death; and death
sudden, secret, without warning, menacing me every day and every hour.
And yet, though death meant leaving her and leaving her to a fate I
could not foresee, I have been able to look on it steadily. Kneeling
here, I know that I am very probably giving my life to the same end as
yours. I do not fear. That may not seem strange to you; but Eveena
knows all I know, and I could scarcely keep Eveena away. So loving
each other, _we_ do not fear to die, because we believe, we know, that
that in us which thinks, and feels, and loves will live; that in death
we lay aside the body as we lay aside our worn-out clothing. If I
thought otherwise, Eunané, I could not bear _this_ parting."

She clasped my hands, almost as much surprised and touched, I thought,
for the moment by the expression of an affection of which till that
hour neither of us were fully aware, as by the marvellous and
incredible assurance she had heard.

"Ah!" she said, "I have heard her people are strange, and they dream
such things. No, Clasfempta, it is a fancy, or you say it to comfort
me, not because it is true."

The expression of terror that again came over her face was too painful
for endurance. To calm that terror I would have broken every oath,
have risked every penalty. But in truth I could never have paused to
ask what in such a case oath or law permitted, "Listen, Eunané," I
said, "and be calm. Not only Eveena, not only I, but hundreds,
thousands, of the best and kindliest men and women of your world hold
this faith as fast as we do. You feel what Eveena is. What she is and
what others are not, she owes to this trust:—to the assurance of a
Power unseen, that rules our lives and fortunes and watches our
conduct, that will exact an account thereof, that holds us as His
children, and will never part with us. Do you think it is a lie that
has made Eveena what she is?"

"But you _think_, you do not know."

"Yes, I know; I have seen." Here a touch, breaking suddenly upon that
intense concentration of mind and soul on a single thought, violently
startled me, gentle as it was; and to my horror I saw that Eveena was
kneeling with me by the couch.

"Remember," she said, in the lowest, saddest whisper, "'the Veil that
guards the Shrine.'"

"No matter, Eveena," I answered in the same tone, the pain at my heart
suppressing even the impulse of indignation, not with her, but with
the law that could put such a thought into her heart. "Neither penalty
nor oath should silence me now. Whether I break our law I know not;
but I would forfeit life here—I would forfeit life hereafter, rather
than fail a soul that rests on mine at such a moment."

The clasp of her hand showed how thoroughly, despite the momentary
doubt, she felt with me; and I could not now recur to that secondary
selfishness which had so imperiously repelled her from the
sick-chamber.

"I have seen," I repeated, as Eunané still looked earnestly into my
face, "and Eveena has seen at the same moment, one long ages since
departed this world—the Teacher of this belief, the Founder of that
Society which holds it, the ancestor of her own house—in bodily form
before us."

"It is true," said Eveena, in answer to Eunané's appealing look.

"And I," I added, "have seen more than once in my own world the forms
of those I have known in life recalled, according to promise, to human
eyes."

The testimony, or the contagion of the strong undoubting confidence we
felt therein, if they did not convince the intellect, changed the tone
of thought and feeling of the dying girl. Too weak now to reason, or
to resist the impression enforced upon her mind by minds always far
more powerful than her own in its brightest hours, she turned
instinctively from the thought of blackness, senselessness eternal, to
that of a Father whose hand could uphold, of the wings that can leap
the grave. Her left hand clasped in mine, her right in Eveena's,—
looking most in my face, because weakness leant on strength even more
than love appealed to love—Eunané spent the remaining hours of that
night in calm contentment and peace. Perhaps they were among the most
perfectly peaceful and happy she had known. To strong, warm,
sheltering affection she had never been used save in her new home; and
in the love she received and returned there was much too strange and
self-contradicting to be satisfactory. But no shadow of jealousy,
doubt, or contradictory emotion troubled her now: assured of Eveena's
sisterly love as of my own hardly and lately won trust and tenderness.

The light had been long subdued, and the chamber was dim as dimmest
twilight, when suddenly, with a smile, Eunané cried—

"It is morning already! and there,—why, there is Erme."

She stretched out her arms as if to greet the one creature she had
loved—perhaps more dearly than she loved those now beside her. The
hands dropped; and Eveena's closed for ever on the sights of this
world the eyes whose last vision had been of another.




CHAPTER XXVIII - DARKER YET.


Leading Eveena from the room, I hastily dictated every precaution that
could diminish the danger to her and others. Velna had run risks that
could not well be increased, and on her and on myself must devolve
what remained to be done. I sent an ambâ to summon Davilo, gathered
the garments that Eveena had thrown off, and removed them to the
death-chamber. When the first arrangements were made, and I had paid
the fee of Astona, the woman-physician, I passed out into the garden,
and Davilo met me at the door of the peristyle. A few words explained
all that was necessary. It was still almost dark; and as we stood
close by the door, speaking in the low tone partly of sadness, partly
of precaution, two figures were dimly discernible just inside, and we
caught a few broken words.

"You have heard," said a harsh voice, which seemed to be Astona's,
"there is no doubt now. You have your part to play, and can do it
quickly and safely."

I paid little attention to words whose dangerous significance would at
another moment have been plain to me. But Davilo, greatly alarmed,
laid his hand upon my arm. As he did so, another voice thrilled me
with intensest pain and amazement.

"Be quick to bear your message," Eivé said, in rapid guarded tones.
"They have means of vengeance certain and prompt, and they never
spare."

Astona departed without seeing us. Eivé closed the door, and Davilo
and I, hastily and unperceived, followed the spy to the gate of the
enclosure. Some one waited for her there. What passed we could not
hear; but, as we saw Astona and another depart, Davilo spoke
imprudently aloud—

"She has the secret, and she must die. ‘Nay’ (as I would have
expostulated), she is spy, traitress, and assassin, and merits her
doom most richly."

"Hist!" said I, "your words may have fallen into other ears;" for I
thought that beyond the wall I discerned a crouching figure. If that
of a man, however, it was too far off, and dressed in colours too
dark, to be clearly seen; and in another instant it had certainly
vanished.

"Remember," he urged, "you have heard that one quite as dangerous is
under your own roof; and, once more, it is not only your life that is
at stake. What you call courage, what seems to us sheer folly, may
cost you and others what you value far more than your life. An error
of softness now may make your future existence one long and useless
remorse."

Half-an-hour later, having warned the women to their rooms—ordering a
variety of disinfecting measures in which Martial science excelled
while they were needed there—I opened the door of the death chamber
to those who carried in a coffer hollowed out of a dark, exceedingly
dense natural stone, and half-filled with a liquid of enormous
destructive power. Then I lifted tenderly the lifeless form, laid it
on cushions arranged therein, kissed the lips, and closed the coffer.
Two of Davilo's attendants had meantime adjusted the electric
machinery. We carried the coffer into the apartment where this worked
to heat the stove, to keep the lights burning, to raise, warm, and
diffuse the water through the house, and perform many other important
household services. Two strong bars of conducting metal were attached
to the apparatus, and fitted into two hollows of the coffer. A flash,
a certain hissing sound, followed. After a few moments the coffer was
opened, and Davilo, carefully gathering a few handfuls of solid white
material, something resembling pumice stone in appearance, placed them
in a golden chest about twelve inches cube, which was then soldered
down by the heat derived from the electric power. Then all infected
clothes and the contents of the death chamber were carried out for
destruction; while, with a tool adjusted to the machinery, one of the
attendants engraved a few characters upon the chest. Whatever the
risk, I could not part with every relic of her we had lost; and, after
passing them through such chemical purification as Martial science
suggested, I took the three long chestnut locks I had preserved.
Velna's quick fingers wove them into plaits, one of which I left with
her, one bound around my own neck, and one reserved for Eveena. As
soon as the sun had risen, I had despatched a message to the Prince,
explaining the danger of infection to which I had been subjected, and
asking permission notwithstanding to wait upon him. The emergency was
so pressing that neither sorrow nor peril would allow me to neglect an
embassy on which the lives of hundreds, and perhaps the safety of his
kingdom, might depend. Passing Eivé as I turned towards Eveena's room,
and fevered with intense thirst, I bade her bring me thither a cup of
the carcarâ. I need not dwell on the terribly painful moments in which
I bound round Eveena's arm a bracelet prized above all the choicest
ornaments she possessed. To calm her agitation and my own by means of
the charny, I sought the keys. They were not at my belt, and I asked,
"Have I returned them to you?"

"Certainly not," said Eveena, startled. "Can you not find them?"

At this moment Eivé entered the room and presented me with the cup for
which I had asked. It struck me with surprise, even at that moment,
that Eveena took it from my hand and carried it first to her own lips.
Eivé had turned to leave the room; but before she had reached the
threshold Eveena had sprung up, placed her foot upon the spring that
closed the door, and snatching the test-stone from my watch chain
dipped it into the cup. Her face turned white as death, while she held
up to my eyes the discoloured disc which proved the presence of the
deadliest Martial poison.

"Be calm," she said, as a cry of horror burst from my lips. "The
keys!"

"_You_ have them," Eivé said with a gasp, her face still averted.

"I took them from Eveena myself," I answered sternly. "Stand back into
that corner, Eivé," as I opened the door and called sharply the other
members of the household. When they entered, unable to stand, I had
fallen back upon a chair, and called Eivé to my side. As I laid my
hand on her arm she threw herself on the floor, screaming and writhing
like a terrified child rather than a woman detected in a crime, the
conception and execution of which must have required an evil courage
and determination happily seldom possessed by women.

"Stand up!" I said. "Lift her, then, Enva and Eiralé. Unfasten the
shoulder-clasps and zone."

As her outer robe dropped, Eivé snatched at an object in its folds,
but too late; and the electric keys, which gave access to all my
cases, papers, and to the medicine-chest above all, lay glittering on
the ground.

"That cup Eivé brought to me. Which of you saw her?"

"I did," said Enva quietly, all feelings of malice and curiosity alike
awed into silence by the evidence of some terrible, though as yet to
them unknown, secret. "She mixed it and brought it hither herself."

"And," I said, "it contains a poison against which, had I drunk
one-half the draught, no antidote could have availed—a poison to
which these keys only could have given access."

Again the test-stone was applied, and again the discoloration
testified to the truth of the charge.

"You have seen?" I said.

"We have seen," answered Enva, in the same tone of horror, too deep to
be other than quiet.

We all left the room, closing the door upon the prisoner. Dismissing
the girls to their own chambers, with strict injunctions not to quit
them unpermitted, I was left alone with Eveena. We were silent for
some minutes, my own heart oppressed with mingled emotions, all
intensely painful, but so confused that, while conscious of acute
suffering, I scarcely realised anything that had occurred. Eveena, who
knelt beside me, though deeply horror-struck, was less surprised and
was far less agitated than I. At last, leaning forward with her arms
on my knee and looking up in my face, she was about to speak. But the
touch and look seemed to break a spell, and, shuddering from head to
foot, I burst into tears like those of an hysterical girl. When, with
the strongest effort that shame and necessity could prompt, aided by
her silent soothing, I had somewhat regained my self-command, Eveena
spoke, in the same attitude and with the same look:—

"You said once that you could pardon such an attempt. That you should
ever forgive at heart cannot be. That punishment should not follow so
terrible a crime, even I cannot desire. But for _my_ sake, do not give
her up to the doom she has deserved. Do you know" (as I was silent)
"what that doom is?"

"Death, I suppose."

"Yes!" she said, shuddering, "but death with torture—death on the
vivisection-table. Will you, whatever the danger—_can_ you, give up
to such a fate, to such hands, one whom your hand has caressed, whose
head has rested on your heart?"

"It needs not that, Eveena," I answered; "enough that she is woman. I
would face that death myself rather than, for whatever crime, send a
woman, above all a young girl, to such an end. I would rather by far
slay my worst enemy with my own hand than consign him to a death of
torture. But, more than that, my conscience would not permit me to
call on the law to punish a household treason, where household
authority is so strong and so arbitrary as here. Assassination is the
weapon of the oppressed and helpless; and it is not for me so to be
judge in my own cause as to pronounce that Eivé has had no
provocation."

"Shame upon her!" said Eveena indignantly. "No one under your roof
ever had or could have reason to raise a hand, I do not say against
your life, but to give you a moment's pain. I do not ask, I do not
wish you to spare her; only I am glad to think you will deal with her
yourself—remember she has herself removed all limit to your
power—and not by the shameless and merciless hands to which the law
would give her."

We returned to Eveena's chamber. The scene that followed I cannot bear
to recall. Enough that Eivé knew as well as Eveena the law she had
broken and the penalty she had incurred; and, petted darling as she
had been, she utterly lacked all faith in the tenderness she had known
so well, or even in the mercy to which Eveena had confidently
appealed. Understanding at last that she was safe from the law, the
expression of her gratitude was as vehement as her terror had been
intense. But the new phase of passion was not the less repugnant. Not
that there was anything strange in the violent revulsion of feeling.
Born and trained among a race who fear to forgive, Eivé was familiar
by report at least with the merciless vengeance of cowards. Whatever
they might have done later, few would have promised mercy in the very
moment of escape to an ordinary assassin; and if Eivé understood any
aspect of my character, that she could best appreciate was the
outraged tenderness which forbade me to look on hers as ordinary
guilt. Acutely sensitive to pain and fear, she had both known the
better to what terror might prompt the injured, and was the more
appalled by the prospect. Her eagerness to accept by anticipation
whatever degradation and pain domestic power could inflict, when
released by the terrible alternative of legal prosecution from its
usual limits, breathed more of doubt and terror than of shame or
penitence. But at first it keenly affected me. It was with something
akin to a bodily pang that I heard this fragile girl, so easily
subdued by such rebuke or menace as her companions would scarcely have
affected to fear, now pleading for punishment such as would have
quelled the pride and courage of the most high-spirited of her sex. I
felt the deepest pity, not so much for the fear with which she still
trembled as for the agony of terror she must have previously endured.
Eveena averted from her abject supplications a face in which I read
much pain, but more of what would have been disgust in a less
intensely sympathetic nature. And ere long I saw or felt in Eivé's
manner that which caused me suddenly to dismiss Eveena from the room,
as from a presence unfit for her spotless purity and exquisite
delicacy. Finding in me no sign of passionate anger, no readiness, but
reluctance to visit treason with physical pain, Eivé's own expression
changed. Unable to conceive the feeling that rendered the course she
had at first expected simply impossible to me, a nature I had utterly
misconceived caught at an idea few women, not experienced in the worst
of life's lessons, would have entertained. The tiny fragile form, the
slight limbs whose delicate proportions seemed to me almost those of
infancy, their irrepressible quivering plainly revealed by the absence
of robe and veil, no man worthy of the name could have beheld without
intense compassion. But such a feeling she could not realise. As her
features lost the sincerity of overwhelming fear, as the drooping lids
failed for one moment to conceal a look of almost assured exultation
in the dark eyes, my soul was suddenly and thoroughly revolted. I had
forgiven the hand aimed at a heart that never throbbed with a pulse
unkind to her. I might have forgotten the treason that requited
tenderness and trust by seeking my life; but I could never forget,
never recover, that moment's insight into thoughts that so outraged an
affection which, if my conscience belied me not, was absolutely
stainless and unselfish.

It cost a strong persistent effort of self-control to address her
again. But a confession full and complete my duty to others compelled
me to enforce. The story of the next hour I never told or can tell. To
one only did I give a confidence that would have rendered explanation
natural; and that one was the last to whom I could have spoken on this
subject. Enough that the charming infantine simplicity had disguised
an elaborate treachery of which I reluctantly learned that human
nature is capable. The caressed and caressing child had sold my life,
if not her own soul, for the promise of wealth that could purchase
nothing I denied her, and of the first place among the women of her
world. That promise I soon found had not been warranted, directly or
indirectly, by him who alone could at present fulfil it. Needless to
relate the details either of the confession or its extortion. Enough
that Eivé learnt at last perforce that though I had, as it seemed to
her, been fool enough to spare her the vengeance of the law, and to
spare her still as far as possible, her power to fool me further was
gone for ever. Needless to speak of the lies repeated and sustained,
till truth was wrung from quivering lips and sobbing voice; of the
looks that appealed long and incredulously to a love as utterly
forfeited as misunderstood. To the last Eivé could not comprehend the
nature that, having spared her so much, would not spare wholly; the
mercy felt for the weakness, not for the charms of youth and sex.
Shamed, grieved, wounded to the quick, I quitted the presence of one
who, I fear, was as little worth the anguish I then endured for her,
as the tenderness she had so long betrayed; and left the late darling
of my house a prisoner under strict guard, necessary for the safety of
others than ourselves.

Finding a message awaiting me, I sought at once the interview which
the Sovereign fearlessly granted.

"I see," said the Prince with much feeling, as he received my salute,
"that you have gone through deeper pain than such domestic losses can
well cause to us. I am sorry that you are grieved. I can say no more,
and perhaps the less I say the less pain I shall give. Only permit me
this remark. Since I have known you, it has seemed to me that the
utter distinction between our character and yours, showing as it does
at so many points, springs from some single root-difference. We, so
careful of our own life and comfort, care little for those of others.
We, so afraid of pain, are indifferent to its infliction, unless we
have to witness it, and only some of us flinch from the sight. The
softness of heart you show in this trouble seems in some strange way
associated with the strength of heart which you have proved in
dangers, the least of which none of us would have encountered
willingly, and which, forced on us, would have unnerved us all. I am
glad to prove to you that to some extent I depart from my national
character and approach, however, distantly, to yours. I can feel for a
friend's sorrow, and I can face what you seem to consider a real
danger. But you had a purpose in asking this audience. My ears are
open—your lips are unsealed."

"Prince," I replied, "what you have said opens the way to that I
wished to ask. You say truly that courage and tenderness have a common
root, as have the unmanly softness and equally unmanly hardness common
among your subjects. Those for whom death ends all utterly and for
ever will of necessity, at least as soon as the training of years and
of generations has rendered their thought consistent, dread death with
intensest fear, and love to brighten and sweeten life with every
possible enjoyment. Animal enjoyment becomes the most precious, since
it is the keenest. Higher pleasures lose half their value, when the
distinction between the two is reduced to the distinction between the
sensations of higher and lower nerve centres. Thus men care too much
for themselves to care for others; and after all, strong deep
affection, entwined with the heartstrings, can only torture and tear
the hearts for which death is a final parting. Such love as I have
felt for woman—even such love as I felt for her, your gift, whom I
have lost—would be pain intolerable if the thought were ever present
that one day we must, and any day we might, part for ever. I put the
knife against my breast, my life in your hand, when I say this, and I
ask of you no secrecy, no favour for myself; but that, as I trust you,
you will guard the life that is dearest to me if you take from me the
power to guard it.... There are those among your subjects who are not
the cowards you find around your throne, who are not brutal in their
households, not incapable of tenderness and sacrifice for others."

As I spoke I carefully watched the Prince's face, on which no shade of
displeasure was visible; rather the sentiment of one who is somewhat
gratified to hear a perplexing problem solved in a manner agreeable to
his wishes.

"And the reason is," I continued, "that these men and women believe or
know that they are answerable to an eternal Sovereign mightier than
yourself, and that they will reap, not perhaps here, but after death
as they shall have sown; that if they do not forfeit the promise by
their own deed, they shall rejoin hereafter those dearest to them
here."

"There are such?" he said. "I would they were known to me. I had not
dreamed that there were in my realm men who would screen the heart of
another with their own palm."

"Prince," I replied earnestly, "I as their ambassador as one of their
leaders, appeal to you to know and to protect them. They can defend
themselves at need, and, it may be, might prevail though matched one
against a thousand. For their weapons are those against which no
distance, no defences, no numbers afford protection. But in such a
strife many of their lives must be lost, and infinite suffering and
havoc wrought on foes they would willingly spare. They are threatened
with extermination by secret spite or open force; but open force will
be the last resort of enemies well aware that those who strike at the
Star have ever been smitten by the lightning."

A slight change in his countenance satisfied me that the Emblem was
not unknown to him.

"You say," he replied, "that there is an organised scheme to destroy
these people by force or fraud?"

"The scheme, Prince, was confessed in my own hearing by one of its
instruments; and in proof thereof, my own life, as a Chief of the
Order, was attempted this morning."

The Prince sprang to his feet in all the passion of a man who for the
first time receives a personal insult; of an Autocrat stung to the
quick by an unprecedented outrage to his authority and dignity.

"Who has dared?" he said. "Who has taken on himself to make law, or
form plans for carrying out old law, without my leave? Who has dared
to strike at the life over which I have cast the shadow of my throne?
Give me their names, my guest, and, before the evening mist closes in
to-morrow, pronounce their doom."

"I cannot obey your royal command. I have no proof against the only
man who, to my knowledge, can desire my death. Those who actually and
immediately aimed at my life are shielded by the inviolable weakness
of sex from the revenge and even the justice of manhood."

"Each man," returned the Prince, but partially conceiving my meaning,
"is master at home. I wish I were satisfied that your heart will let
you deal justly and wisely with the most hateful offspring of the most
hateful of living races—a woman who betrays the life of her lord. But
those who planned a general scheme of destruction—a purpose of public
policy—without my knowledge, must aim also at my life and throne; for
even were their purpose such as I approved, attempted without my
permission, they know I would never pardon the presumption. I do not
sit in Council with dull ears, or silent lips, or empty hands; and it
is not for the highest more than for the lowest under me to snatch my
sceptre for a moment."

"Guard then your own," I said. "Without your leave and in your
lifetime, open force will scarcely he used against us; and if against
secret murder or outrage we appeal to the law, you will see that the
law does justice?"

"I will," he replied; "and I pardon your advice to guard my own,
because you judge me by my people. But a Prince's life is the charge
of his guards; the lives of his people are his care."

He was silent for a few minutes, evidently in deep reflection.

"I thank you," he said at last, "and I give you one warning in partial
return for yours. There is a law which can be used against the members
of a secret society with terrible effect. Not only are they exposed to
death if detected, but those who strike them are legally exempt from
punishment. I will care that that law shall not menace you long.
Whilst it remains guard yourselves; I am powerless to break it."

As I quitted the Palace, Ergimo joined me and mounted my carriage.
Seizing a moment when none were within sight or hearing, he said—

"Astona was found two hours ago dead, as an enemy or a traitor dies.
She was seen to fall from the roof of her house, and none was near her
when she fell. But Davilo has already been arrested as her murderer,
on the ground that he was heard before sunrise this morning to say
that she must die."

"Who heard that must have heard more. Let this news be quickly known
to whom it concerns."

I checked the carriage instantly, and turned into a road that
conducted us in ten minutes to a public telegraph office.

"Come with me," I said, "quickly. As an officer of the Camptâ your
presence may ensure the delivery of letters which might otherwise be
stopped."

He seized the hint at once, and as we approached a vacant desk he said
to the nearest officer, "In the Camptâ's name;" a form which ensured
that the most audacious and curious spy, backed by the highest
authority save that invoked, dared neither stop nor search into a
message so warranted. Before I left the desk every Chief of the Zinta
at his several post had received, through that strange symbolic
language of which I have already given samples, from me advice of what
had occurred and from Esmo warning to meet at an appointed place and
time.

The day at whose close we should meet was that of Davilo's trial. I
mingled with the crowd around the Court doors, a crowd manifesting
bitter hostility to the prisoner and to the Order, of whose secrets a
revelation was eagerly expected. Easily forcing my way through the
mass, I felt on a sudden a touch, a sign; and turning my eyes saw a
face I had surely never looked on before. Yet the sign could only have
been given by a colleague. That which followed implied the presence of
the Signet itself.

"I told you," whispered a voice I knew well, "how completely we can
change even countenance at will."

It was so; but though acquainted with the process, I had never
believed that the change could be so absolute. By help of my strength
and height, still more perhaps by the subtle influence of his own
powerful will acting none the less imperiously on minds unconscious of
its influence, Esmo made his way with me into the Court.

Around five sides of the hexagon were seats, tier above tier,
appropriated to the public who wish to see as well as hear. The
phonograph reported every word uttered to hundreds of distant offices.
Against the sixth side were placed the seats of the seven judges; in
front, at an equal elevation, the chair of the prisoner, the seats of
the advocates on right and left, and the place from which each witness
must deliver his testimony in full view and within easy hearing both
of the bench, the bar, and the audience. Davilo sat in his chair
unguarded, but in an attitude strangely constrained and motionless.
Only his bright eyes moved freely, and his head turned a little from
side to side. He recognised us instantly, and his look expressed no
trace of fear.

"The _quârry_" whispered Esmo, observing my perplexity.

"It paralyses the nerves of motion, leaving those of sensation active;
and is administered to a prisoner on the instant of his arrest, so as
to keep him absolutely helpless till his sentence is executed, or till
on his acquittal an antidote is administered."

The counsel for the prosecution stated in the briefest possible words
the story of Astona, from the moment when she left my house to that at
which she was found dead, and the method of her death; related
Davilo's words, and then proceeded to call his witnesses. Of course
the one vital question was whether by possibility Davilo, who had
never left my premises since the words were uttered, could have
brought about a death, evidently accidental in its immediate cause, at
a distance of many miles. His words were attested by one whom I
recognised as an officer of Endo Zamptâ, and I was called to confirm
or contradict them. The presiding judge, as I took my place, read a
brief telling terrible menace, expounding the legal penalties of
perjury.

"You will speak the truth," he said, "or you know the consequences."

As he spoke, he encountered Esmo's eyes, and quailed under the gaze,
sinking back into his seat motionless as the bird under the alleged
fascination of the serpent. I admitted that the words in question had
been addressed to me; and I proved that Davilo had been busily engaged
with me from that moment until an hour later than that of the fatal
accident. There being thus no dispute as to the facts, a keen contest
of argument proceeded between the advocates on either side. The
defenders of the prisoner ridiculed with an affectation of scientific
contempt—none the less effective because the chief pleader was
himself an experienced member of our Order—the idea that the actions
or fate of a person at a distance could be affected by the mere will
of another; and related, as absurd and incredible traditions of old to
this purport, some anecdotes which had been communicated to me as
among the best attested and most striking examples of the historical
exercise of the mystic powers. The able and bigoted sceptics, who
prosecuted this day in the interests of science, insisted, with equal
inconsistency and equal skill, on the innumerable recorded and
attested instances of some diabolical power possessed by certain
supposed members of a detested and malignant sect. A year ago the
judges would probably have sided unanimously with the former. But the
feeling that animated the conspiracy, if it should be so called,
against the Zinta, had penetrated all Martial society; and in order to
destroy the votaries of religion, Science, in the persons of her most
distinguished students, was this day ready to abjure her character,
and forswear her most cherished tenets. As has often happened in Mars,
and may one day happen on Earth as the new ideas come into greater
force, proven fact was deliberately set against logical impossibility;
and for once—what probably had not happened in Mars for ten thousand
years—proven fact and common sense carried the day against science
and "universal experience;" but, unhappily, against the prisoner.
After retiring separately for about an hour, the Judges returned.
Their brief and very confused decisions were read by the Secretary.
The reasons were seldom intelligible, each contradicting himself and
all his colleagues, and not one among the judgments having even the
appearance of cohesion and consistency. But, by six to one, they
doomed the prisoner to the vivisection-table. As he was carried forth
his eyes met ours, and the perfect calm and steadiness of their glance
astounded me not a little.

My natural thought prompted, of course, an appeal to the mercy of the
Throne. In every State a power of giving effect in the law's despite
to public policy, or of commanding that, in certain strange and
unforeseen circumstances, common sense and practical justice shall
override a sentence which no court bound by the letter of the law can
withhold, must rest with the Sovereign. But in Mars the prerogative of
mercy, in the proper sense of the word—judicial rather than political
mercy—is exercised less by the Prince himself than by a small council
of judges advising him and pronouncing their decision in his name.
Even if we could have relied on the Camptâ with absolute confidence,
there were many reasons against an appeal which would, in fact, have
asked him to declare himself on our side. While such a declaration
might, in the existing state of public feeling, have caused revolt or
riot, it would have put on their guard, perhaps driven to a premature
attempt which he was not prepared to meet, the traitors whose scheme
against his life the Prince felt confident that he should speedily
detect and punish.

All these considerations were brought before our Council, whose debate
was brief but not hurried or excited. The supreme calm of Esmo's
demeanour communicated itself to all the eleven, in not one of whom
could I recognise till they spoke my colleagues of our last Council.
The order went forth that a party should attend Esmo's orders at a
point about half a mile distant from the studio in which, for the
benefit of a great medical school, my unhappy friend was to be put to
torture indescribable.

"Happily," said Esmo, "the first portion of the experiment will be
made by the Vivisector-General alone, and will commence at midnight.
Half an hour before that time our party will be assembled."

I had insisted on being one of the band, and Esmo had very reluctantly
yielded to the unanimous approval of colleagues who thought that on
this occasion physical strength might render essential service at some
unforeseen crisis. Moreover, the place lying within my geographical
province, several of those engaged looked up to me as their immediate
chief, and it was thought well to place me on such an occasion at
their head.

The night was, as had been predicted, absolutely dark, but the roads
were brilliantly lighted. Suddenly, however, as we drew towards the
point of meeting, the lights went out, an accident unprecedented in
Martial administration.

"But they will be relighted!" said one of my companions.

"Can human skill relight the lamps that the power of the Star has
extinguished?" was the reply of another.

We fell in military order, with perfect discipline and steadiness,
under the influence of Esmo's silent will and scarcely discernible
gestures. The wing of the college in which the dissection was to take
place was guarded by some forty sentinels, armed with the spear and
lightning gun. But as we came close to them, I observed that each
stood motionless as a statue, with eyes open, but utterly devoid of
sight.

"I have been here before you," murmured Esmo. "To the left."

The door gave way at once before the touch of some electric instrument
or immaterial power wielded by his hand. We passed in, guided by him,
through one or two chambers, and along a passage, at the end of which
a light shone through a crystal door. Here proof of Esmo's superior
judgment was afforded. He would fain have had the party much smaller
than it was, and composed exclusively of the very few old and
experienced members of the Zinta within reach at the moment. We were
nearly a score in number, some even more inexperienced than myself,
half the party my own immediate followers; and I remembered far better
the feelings of a friend and a soldier than the lessons of the college
or the Shrine. As the door opened, and we caught sight of our friend
stretched on the vivisection table, the younger of the company,
hurried on by my own example, lost their heads and got, so to speak,
out of hand. We rushed tumultuously forward and fell on the Vivisector
and two assistants, who stood motionless and perhaps unconscious, but
with glittering knives just ready for their fiendish work. Before Esmo
could interpose, these executioners were cut down with the "crimson
blade" (cold steel); and we bore off our friend with more of eagerness
and triumph than at all befitted our own consciousness of power, or
suited the temper of our Chief.

Never did Esmo speak so sharply or severely as in the brief reprimand
he gave us when we reassembled; the justice of which I instinctively
acknowledged, as he ceased, by the salute I had given so often at the
close of less impressive and less richly deserved reprimands on the
parade ground or the march. Uninjured, and speedily relieved from the
effects of the _quârry_, Davilo was carried off to a place of
temporary concealment, and we dispersed.

Eveena heard my story with more annoyance than interest, mortified not
a little by the reproof I had drawn upon myself and my followers; and,
despite her reluctance to seem to acknowledge a fault in me,
apparently afraid that a similar ebullition of feeling might on some
future occasion lead to serious disaster.




CHAPTER XXIX - AZRAEL.


To detain as a captive and a culprit, thus converting my own house
into a prison, my would-be murderess and former plaything, was
intolerably painful. To leave her at large was to incur danger such as
I had no right to bring on others. To dismiss her was less perilous
than the one course, less painful than the other, but combined peril
and pain in a degree which rendered both Eveena and myself most
reluctant to adopt it. From words of Esmo's, and from other sources, I
gathered that the usual course under such circumstances would have
been to keep the culprit under no other restraint than that
confinement to the house which is too common to be remarkable,
trusting to the terror which punishment inflicted and menaced by
domestic authority would inspire. But Eivé now understood the limits
which conscience or feeling imposed on the use of an otherwise
unlimited power. She knew very nearly how much she could have to fear;
and, timid as she was, would not be cowed or controlled by
apprehensions so defined and bounded. Eveena herself naturally
resented the peril, and was revolted by the treason even more
intensely than myself; and was for once hardly content that so heinous
a crime should be so lightly visited. In interposing "between the
culprit and the horrors of the law, she had taken for granted the
strenuous exertion of a domestic jurisdiction almost as absolute under
the circumstances as that of ancient Rome.

"What suggested to you," I asked one day of Eveena, "the suspicion
that so narrowly saved my life?"

"The carefully steadied hand—you have teased her so often for
spilling everything it carried—and the unsteady eyes. But," she added
reluctantly, "I never liked to watch her—no, not lest you should
notice it—but because she did not seem true in her ways with you; and
I should have missed those signs but for a strange warning." ... She
paused.

"_I_ would not be warned," I answered with a bitter sigh. "Tell me,
Madonna."

"It was when you left me in this room alone," she said, her exquisite
delicacy rendering her averse to recal, not the coercion she had
suffered, but the pain she knew I felt in so coercing her. "Dearest,"
she added with a sudden effort, "let me speak frankly, and dispel the
pain you feel while you think over it in silence."

I kissed the hand that clasped my own, and she went on, speaking with
intentional levity.

"Had a Chief forgotten?" tracing the outline of a star upon her bosom.
"Or did you think Clavelta's daughter had no share in the hereditary
gifts of her family?"

"But how did you unlock the springs?"

"Ah! those might have baffled me if you had trusted to them. You made
a double mistake when you left Enva on guard.... You don't think I
tempted her to disobey? Eager as I was for release, I could not have
been so doubly false. She did it unconsciously. It is time to put her
out of pain."

"Does she know me so little as to think I could mean to torture her by
suspense? Besides, even she must have seen that you had secured her
pardon."

"Or my own punishment," Eveena answered.

"Spare me such words, Eveena, unless you mean to make me yet more
ashamed of the compulsion I did employ. I never spoke, I never
thought"——

"Forgive me, dearest. Will it vex you to find how clearly your
flower-bird has learned to read your will through your eyes? When I
refused to obey, and you felt yourself obliged to compel, your first
momentary thought was to threaten, your next that I should not believe
you. When you laid your hand upon my shoulder, thus, it was no gesture
of anger or menace. You thought of the only promise I must believe,
and you dropped the thought as quickly as your hand. You would not
speak the word you might have to keep. Nay, dearest, what pains you
so? You gave me no pain, even when you called another to enforce your
command. Yet surely you know that _that_ must have tried my spirit far
more than anything else you could do. You did well. Do you think that
I did not appreciate your imperious anxiety for me; that I did not
respect your resolution to do what you thought right, or feel how much
it cost you? If anything in the ways of love like yours could pain me,
it would be the sort of reserved tenderness that never treats me as
frankly and simply as" ... "There was no need to name either of those
so dearly loved, so lately—and, alas! so differently—lost. Trusting
the loyalty of my love so absolutely in all else, can you not trust it
to accept willingly the enforcement of your will ... as you have
enforced it on all others you have ruled, from the soldiers of your
own world to the rest of your household? Ah! the light breaks through
the mist. Before you gave Enva her charge you said to me in her
presence, 'Forgive me what you force upon me;' as if I, above all,
were not your own to deal with as you will. Dearest, do you so wrong
her who loves you, and is honoured by your love, as to fancy that any
exertion of your authority could make her feel humbled in your eyes or
her own?"

It was impossible to answer. Nothing would have more deeply wounded
her simple humility, so free from self-consciousness, as the plain
truth; that as her character unfolded, the infinite superiority of her
nature almost awed me as something—save for the intense and
occasionally passionate tenderness of her love—less like a woman than
an angel.

"I was absorbed," she continued, "in the effort that had thrown Enva
into the slumber of obedience. I did not know or feel where I was or
what I had next to do. My thought, still concentrated, had forgotten
its accomplished purpose, and was bent on your danger. Somehow on the
cushioned pile I seemed to see a figure, strange to me, but which I
shall never forget. It was a young girl, very slight, pale, sickly,
with dark circles round the closed eyes, slumbering like Enva, but in
everything else Enva's very opposite. I suppose I was myself entranced
or dreaming, conscious only of my anxiety for you, so that it seemed
natural that everything should concern you. I remember nothing of my
dream but the words which, when I came to myself in the peristyle,
alone, were as clear in my memory as they are now:—

 "'Watch the hand and read the eyes;
   On his breast the danger lies—
   Strength is weak and childhood wise.

 "'Fail the bowl, and—'ware the knife!
   Rests on him the Sovereign's life,
   Rests the husband's on the wife.

 "'They that would his power command
   Know who holds his heart in hand:
   Silken tress is surest band.

 "'Well they judge Kargynda's mood,
   Steel to peril, pain, and blood,
   Surely through his mate subdued.

 "'Love can make the strong a slave,
   Fool the wise and quell the brave ...
   Love by sacrifice can save.'"

"She again!" I exclaimed involuntarily.

"You hear," murmured Eveena. "In kindness to me heed my warning, if
you have neglected all others. Do not break my heart in your mercy to
another. Eivé"——

"_Eivé_!—The prophetess knows me better than you do! The warning
means that they now desire my secret before my life, and scheme to
make your safety the price of my dishonour. It is the Devil's
thought—or the Regent's!"

As I could not decide to send Eivé forth without home, protection, or
control, and Eveena could suggest no other course, the days wore on
under a domestic thunder-cloud which rendered the least sensitive
among us uncomfortable and unhappy, and deprived three at least of the
party of appetite, of ease, and almost of sleep, till two alarming
incidents broke the painful stagnation.

I had just left Eivé's prison one morning when Eveena, who was
habitually entrusted with the charge of these communications, put into
my hands two slips of tafroo. The one had been given her by an ambâ,
and came from Davilo's substitute on the estate. It said simply: "You
and you alone were recognised among the rescuers of your friend.
Before two days have passed an attempt will be made to arrest you."
The other came from Esmo, and Eveena had brought it to me unread, as
was indeed her practice. I could not bear to look at her, though I
held her closely, as I read aloud the brief message which announced
the death, by the sting of two dragons (evidently launched by some
assassin's hand, but under circumstances that rendered detection by
ordinary means hopeless for the moment), of her brother and Esmo's
son, Kevimâ; and invited us to a funeral ceremony peculiar to the
Zinta. I need not speak of the painful minutes that followed, during
which Eveena strove to suppress for my sake at once her tears for her
loss and her renewed and intensified terror on my own account. It was
suddenly announced by the usual signs of the mute messenger that a
visitor awaited me in the hall. Ergimo brought a message from the
Camptâ, which ran as follows:—

"Aware that their treachery is suspected, the enemy now seek your
secret first, and then your life. Guard both for a very short time.
Your fate, your friends', and my own are staked on the issue. The same
Council that sends the traitors to the rack will see the law
repealed."

I questioned Ergimo as to his knowledge of the situation.

"The enemy," he said, "must have changed their plan. One among them,
at least, is probably aware that his treason is suspected both by his
Sovereign and by the Order. This will drive him desperate; and if he
can capture you and extort your secret, he will think he can use it to
effect his purpose, or at least to ensure his escape. He may think
open rebellion, desperate as it is, safer than waiting for the first
blow to come from the Zinta or from the Palace."

My resolve was speedily taken. At the same moment came the necessity
for escape, and the opportunity and excuse. I sought out the writer of
the first message, who entirely concurred with me in the propriety of
the step I was about to take; only recommending me to apply personally
for a passport from the Camptâ, such as would override any attempt to
detain me even by legal warrant. He undertook to care for those I left
behind; to release and provide for Eivé, and to see, in case I should
not return, that full justice was done to the interests of the others,
as well as to their claim to release from contracts which my departure
from their world ought, like death itself, to cancel. The royal
passport came ere I was ready to depart, expressed in the fullest,
clearest language, and such as none, but an officer prepared instantly
to rebel against the authority which gave it, dared defy. During the
last preparations, Velna and Eveena were closeted together in the
chamber of the former; nor did I care to interrupt a parting the most
painful, save one, of those that had this day to be undergone. I went
myself to Eivé.

"I leave you," I said, "a prisoner, not, I hope, for long. If I return
in safety, I will then consider in what manner the termination of your
confinement can be reconciled with what is due to myself and others.
If not, you will be yet more certainly and more speedily released. And
now, child whom I once loved, to whom I thought I had been especially
gentle and indulgent, was the miserable reward offered you the sole
motive that raised your hand against my life? Poison, I have always
said, is the protection of the household slave against the domestic
tyrant. If I had ever been harsh or unjust to you, if I had made your
life unhappy by caprice or by severity, I could understand. But you of
all have had least reason to complain. Not Enva's jealous temper, not
Leenoo's spite, ever suggested to them the idea which came so easily
and was so long and deliberately cherished in your breast."

She rose and faced me, and there was something of contempt in the eyes
that answered mine for this once with the old fearless frankness.

"I had no reason to hate you? Not certainly for the kind of injury
which commonly provokes women to risk the lives their masters have
made intolerable. That your discipline was the lightest ever known in
a household, I need not tell you. That it fell more lightly, if
somewhat oftener, on me than on others, you know as well as I. Put all
the correction or reproof I ever received from you into one, and
repeat it daily, and never should I have complained, much less dreamed
of revenge. You think Enva or Leenoo might less unnaturally, less
unreasonably, have turned upon you, because your measure to their
faults was somewhat harder and your heart colder to them! You did not
scruple to make a favourite of me after a fashion, as you would never
have done even of Eunané. You could pet and play with me, check and
punish me, as a child who would not 'sicken at the sweets, or be
humbled by the sandal.' You forbore longer, you dealt more sternly
with them, because, forsooth, they were women and I a baby. I, who was
not less clever than Eunané, not less capable of love, perhaps of
devotion to you, than Eveena, _I_ might rest my head on your knee when
she was by, I might listen to your talk when others were sent away; I
was too much the child, too little the woman, to excite your distrust
or her jealousy. Do you suppose I think better of you, or feel the
more kindly towards you, that you have not taken vengeance? No! still
you have dealt with me as a child; so untaught yet by that last
lesson, that even a woman's revenge cannot make you treat me as a
woman! Clasfempta! you bear, I believe, outside, the fame of a wise
and a firm man; but in these little hands you have been as weak a fool
as the veriest dotard might have been;—and may be yet."

"As you will," I answered, stung into an anger which at any rate
quelled the worst pain I had felt when I entered the room. "Fool or
sage, Eivé, I was your fellow-creature, your protector, and your
friend. When bitter trouble befals you in life, or when, alone, you
find yourself face to face with death, you may think of what has
passed to-day. Then remember, for your comfort, my last words—I
forgive you, and I wish you happy."

To Velna I could not speak. Sure that Eveena had told her all she
could wish to know or all it was safe to tell, a long embrace spoke my
farewell to her who had shared with me the first part of the long
watch of the death-chamber. Enva and her companions had gathered, not
from words, that this journey was more than an ordinary absence. Some
instinct or presentiment suggested to them that it might, possibly at
least, be a final parting; and I was touched as much as surprised by
the tears and broken words with which they assured me that, greatly as
they had vexed my home life, conscious as they were that they had
contributed to it no element but bitterness and trouble, they felt
that they had been treated with unfailing justice and almost unfailing
kindness. Then, turning to Eveena, Enva spoke for the rest—

"We should have treated you less ill if we could at all have
understood you. We understand you just as little now. Clasfempta is
man after all, bridling his own temper as a strong man rules a large
household of women or a herd of _ambau_. But you are not woman like
other women; and yet, in so far as women are or think they are softer
or gentler than men, so far, twelvefold twelve times told, are you
softer, tenderer, gentler than woman."

Eveena struggled hard so far to suppress her sobs as to give an
answer. But, abandoning the effort, she only kissed warmly the lips,
and clasped long and tenderly the hands, that had never spoken a kind
word or done a kind act for her. At the very last moment she faltered
out a few words which were not for them.

"Tell Eivé," she said, "I wish her well; and wishing her well, I
cannot wish her happy—_yet_."

We embarked in the balloon, attended as on our last journey by two of
the brethren in my employment, both, I noticed, armed with the
lightning gun. I myself trusted as usual to the sword, strong,
straight, heavy, with two edges sharp as razors, that had enabled my
hand so often to guard my head; and the air-gun that reminded me of so
many days of sport, the more enjoyed for the peril that attended it.
Screened from observation, both reclining in our own compartment of
the car, Eveena and I spent the long undisturbed hours of the first
three days and nights of our journey in silent interchange of thought
and feeling that seldom needed or was interrupted by words. Her family
affections were very strong. Her brother had deserved and won her
love; but conscious so long of a peril surrounding myself, fearfully
impressed by the incident which showed how close that peril had come,
her thought and feeling were absorbed in me. So, could they have known
the present and foreseen the future, even those who loved her best and
most prized her love for them would have wished it to be. As we
crossed, at the height of a thousand feet, the river dividing that
continent between east and west which marks the frontier of Elcavoo, a
slight marked movement of agitation, a few eager whispers of
consultation, in the other compartment called my attention.
As I parted the screen, the elder of the attendant brethren addressed
me—

"There is danger," he said in a low tone, not low enough to escape
Eveena's quick ear when my safety was in question. "Another balloon is
steering right across our path, and one in it bears, as we see through
the _pavlo_ (the spectacle-like double field-glass of Mars), the sash
of a Regent, while his attendants wear the uniform of scarlet and
grey" (that of Endo Zamptâ). "Take, I beg you, this lightning-piece.
Will you take command, or shall we act for you?"

Parting slightly the fold of the mantle I wore, for at that height,
save immediately under the rays of the sun, the atmosphere is cold, I
answered by showing the golden sash of my rank. We went on steadily,
taking no note whatever of the hostile vessel till it came within
hailing distance.

"Keep your guns steadily pointed," I said, "happen what may. If you
have to fire, fire one at any who is ready to fire at us, the other at
the balloon itself."

A little below but beside us Endo Zamptâ hailed. "I arrest you," he
said, addressing me by name, "on behalf of the Arch-Court and by their
warrant. Drop your weapons or we fire."

"And I," I said, "by virtue of the Camptâ's sign and signet attached
to this," and Eveena held forth the paper, while my weapon covered the
Regent, "forbid you to interrupt or delay my voyage for a moment."

I allowed the hostile vessel to close so nearly that Endo could read
through his glass the characters—purposely, I thought, made unusually
large—of his Sovereign's peremptory passport. To do so he had dropped
his weapon, and his men, naturally expecting a peaceable termination
to the interview, had laid down theirs. Mine had obeyed my order, and
we were masters of the situation, when, with a sudden turn of the
screw, throwing his vessel into an almost horizontal position, Endo
brought his car into collision with ours and endeavoured to seize
Eveena's person, as she leaned over with the paper in her hand. She
was too quick for him, and I called out at once, "Down, or we fire."
His men, about to grasp their pieces, saw that one of ours was
levelled at the balloon, and that before they could fire, a single
shot from us must send them earthwards, to be crushed into one
shapeless mass by the fall. Endo saw that he had no choice but to obey
or affect obedience, and, turning the tap that let out the gas by a
pipe passing through the car, sent his vessel rapidly downward, as
with a formal salute he affected to accept the command of his Prince.
Instantly grasping, not the lightning gun, which, if it struck their
balloon, must destroy their whole party in an instant, but my air-gun,
which, by making a small hole in the vast surface, would allow them to
descend alive though with unpleasant and perilous rapidity, I fired,
and by so doing prevented the use of an asphyxiator concealed in the
car, which the treacherous Regent was rapidly arranging for use.

The success of these manoeuvres delighted my attendants, and gave them
a confidence they had not yet felt in my appreciation of Martial
perils and resources. We reached Ecasfe and Esmo's house without
further molestation, and a party of the Zinta watched the balloon
while Eveena and I passed into the dwelling.

Preserved from corruption by the cold which Martial chemistry applies
at pleasure, the corpse of Kevimâ looked as the living man looked in
sleep, but calmer and with features more perfectly composed. Quietly,
gravely, with streaming tears, but with self-command which dispelled
my fear of evil consequences to her, Eveena kissed the lips that were
so soon to exist no longer. From the actual process by which the body
is destroyed, the taste and feeling of the Zinta exclude the immediate
relatives of the dead; and not till the golden chest with its
inscription was placed in Esmo's hands did we take further part in the
proceeding. Then the symbolic confession of faith, by which the
brethren attest and proclaim their confidence in the universal
all-pervading rule of the Giver of life and in the permanence of His
gift, was chanted. A Chief of the Order pronounced a brief but
touching eulogy on the deceased. Another expressed on behalf of all
their sympathy with the bereaved father and family. Consigned to their
care, the case that contained all that now remained to us of the last
male heir of the Founder's house was removed for conveyance to the
mortuary chamber of the subterrene Temple. But ere those so charged
had turned to leave the chamber in which the ceremony had passed, a
flash so bright as at noonday to light up the entire peristyle and the
chambers opening on it, startled us all; and a sentinel, entering in
haste and consternation, announced the destruction of our balloon by a
lightning flash from the weapon of some concealed enemy. Esmo, at this
alarming incident, displayed his usual calm resolve. He ordered that
carriages sufficient to convey some twenty-four of the brethren should
be instantly collected, and announced his resolve to escort us at once
to the Astronaut. Before five minutes had elapsed from the destruction
of the balloon, Zulve and the rest of the family had taken leave of
Eveena and myself. Attended by the party mustered, occupying a
carriage in the centre of the procession, we left the gate of the
enclosure. I observed, what seemed to escape even Esmo's attention,
that angry looks were bent upon us from many a roof, and that here and
there groups were gathered in the enclosures and on the road, among
whom I saw not a few weapons. I was glad to remember that a party of
the Zveltau still awaited Esmo's return at his own residence. We drove
as fast as the electric speed would carry us along the road I had
traversed once before in the company of her who was now my wife—to
be, I hoped, for the future my sole wife—and of him who had been ever
since our mortal enemy. Where the carriages could proceed no further
we dismounted, and Esmo mustered the party in order. All were armed
with the spear and lightning gun. Placing Eveena in the centre of a
solid square, Esmo directed me to take my place beside her. I
expostulated—

"Clavelta, it is impossible for me to take the place of safety, when
others who owe me nothing may be about to risk life on my behalf.
Eveena, as woman and as descendant of the Founder, may well claim
their protection. It is for me to share in her defence, not in her
safety."

He raised the arm that bore the Signet, and looked at me with the calm
commanding glance that never failed to enforce his will. "Take your
place," he said; and recalled to the instincts of the camp, I raised
my hand in the military salute so long disused, and obeyed in silence.

"Strike promptly, strike hard, and strike home," said Esmo to his
little party. "The danger that may threaten us is not from the law or
from the State, but from an attempt at murder through a perversion of
the law and in the name of the Sovereign. Those who threaten us aim
also at the Camptâ's life, and those we may meet are his foes as well
as ours. Conquered here, they can hardly assail us again. Victorious,
they will destroy us, not leave us an appeal to the law or to the
throne."

Placing himself a little in front of the troop, our Chief gave the
signal to advance, and we moved forward. It seemed to me a fatal error
that no scout preceded us, no flanking party was thrown out. This
neglect reminded me that, my comrades and commander were devoid of
military experience, and I was about to remonstrate when, suddenly
wheeling on the rocky platform on which I had first paused in my
descent from the summit, and facing towards the latter, we encountered
a force outnumbering our own as two to one and wearing the colours of
the Regent. The front ranks quailed, as men always quailed under
Esmo's steady gaze, and lost nerve and order as they fell back to
right and left; a movement intended to give play to the asphyxiator
they had brought with them. Their strategy was no less ridiculous than
our own. Devoid for ages of all experience in conflict, both leaders
might have learned better from the conduct of the theme at bay. The
enemy were drawn up so near the turn that there was no room for the
use of their most destructive engine; and, had we been better
prepared, neither this nor their lightning guns would have been quick
enough to anticipate a charge that would have brought us hand to hand.
Even had they been steady and prompt, the suffocating shell would
probably have annihilated both parties, and the discharge would
certainly have been as dangerous to them as to us. In another instant
a flash from several of our weapons, simultaneously levelled,
shattered the instrument to fragments. We advanced at a run, and the
enemy would have given way at once but that their retreat lay up so
steep an incline, and neither to right nor left could they well
disperse, being hemmed in by a rocky wall on one side and a
precipitous descent on the other. From our right rear, however, where
the ground would have concealed a numerous ambush, I apprehended an
attack which must have been fatal; but even so simple and decisive a
measure had never occurred to the Regent's military ignorance.

At this critical moment a flash from a thicket revealed the weapon of
some hidden enemy, who thus escaped facing the gaze that none could
encounter; and Esmo fell, struck dead at once by the lightning-shot.
The assassin sprang up, and I recognised the features of Endo Zamptâ.
Confounded and amazed, the Zveltau broke and fell backward, hurrying
Eveena away with them. Enabled by size and strength to extricate
myself at once, I stood at bay with my back against the rocks on our
left, a projection rising as high as my knee assisting to hinder the
enemy from entirely and closely surrounding me. I had thrown aside at
the moment of the attack the mantle that concealed my sash and star;
and I observed that another Chief had done the same. It was he who,
occupying at the trial the seat on Esmo's left, had shown the
strongest disposition to mercy, and now displayed the coolest courage
amid confusion and danger.

"Rally them," I cried to him, "and trust the crimson blade [cold
steel]. These hounds will never face that."

The enemy had rushed forward as our men fell back, and I was almost in
their midst, thus protected to a considerable extent from the
lightning projectile, against which alone I had no defence. Hand to
hand I was a match for more than one or two of my assailants, though
on this occasion I wore no defensive armour, and they were clad in
shirts of woven wire almost absolutely proof against the spear in
hands like theirs.

To die thus, to die for her under her eyes, leaving to her widowed
life a living token of our love—what more could Allah grant, what
better could a lover and a soldier desire? There was no honour, and
little to satisfy even the passion of vengeance, in the sword-strokes
that clove one enemy from the shoulder to the waist, smote half
through the neck of a second, and laid two or three more dead or dying
at my feet. If the weight of the sword were lighter here than on
Earth, the arm that wielded it had been trained in very different
warfare, and possessed a strength which made the combat so unequal
that, had no other life hung on my blows, I should have been ashamed
to strike. As I paused for a moment under this feeling, I noted that,
outside the space half cleared by slaughter and by terror, the bearers
of the lightning gun were forming a sort of semicircle, embarrassed by
the comrades driven back upon them, but drawing momentarily nearer,
and seeking to enclose before firing the object of their aim. They
would have shattered my heart and head in another instant but
that—springing on the projecting stone of which I have spoken, which
raised her to my level—Eveena had flung her arms around me, and
sheltered my person with her own. This, and the confusion,
disconcerted the aim of most of the assailants. The roar and flash
half stunned me for a moment;—then, as I caught her in my left arm, I
became aware that it was but her lifeless form that I clasped to my
breast. Giving her life for mine, she had made mine worse than
worthless. My sword fell for a moment from my hand, retained only by
the wrist-knot, as I placed her gently and tenderly on the ground,
resting against the stone which had enabled her to effect the
sacrifice I as little desired as deserved. Then, grasping my weapon
again, and shouting instinctively the war-cry of another world, I
sprang into the midst of the enemy. At the same moment, "_Ent ân
Clazinta_" (To me the Zinta), cried the Chief behind; and having
rallied the broken ranks, even before the sight of Eveena's fall had
inspired reckless fury in the place of panic confusion, he led on the
Zveltau, the spear in hand elevated over their heads, and pointed at
the unprotected faces of the enemy. Exposed to the cold steel or its
Martial equivalent, the latter, as I had predicted, broke at once. My
sword did its part in the fray. They scarcely fought, neither did they
fling down their weapons. But in that moment neither force nor
surrender would have availed them. We gave no quarter to wounded or
unwounded foe. When, for lack of objects, I dropped the point of my
streaming sword, I saw Endo Zamptâ alive and unwounded in the hands of
the victors.

"Coward, scoundrel, murderer!" I cried. "You shall die a more terrible
death than that which your own savage law prescribes for crimes like
yours. Bind him; he shall hang from my vessel in the air till I see
fit to let him fall! For the rest, see that none are left alive to
boast what they have done this day."

Struggling and screaming, the Regent was dragged to the summit, and
hung by the waist, as I had threatened, from the entrance window of
the Astronaut. Esmo's body and those of the other slain among the
Zveltau had been raised, and our comrades were about to carry them to
the carriages and remove them homeward. From the wardrobe of the
Astronaut, furnished anew for our voyage, I brought a long soft
therne-cloak, intended for Eveena's comfort; and wrapped in it all
that was left to us of the loveliest form and the noblest heart that
in two worlds ever belonged to woman. I shred one long soft tress of
mingled gold and brown from those with which my hand had played; I
kissed for the last time the lips that had so often counselled,
pleaded, soothed, and never spoken a word that had better been left
unsaid. Then, veiling face and form in the soft down, I called around
me again the brethren who had fallen back out of sight of my last
farewell, and gave the corpse into their charge. Turning with restless
eagerness from the agony, which even the sudden shock that rendered me
half insensible could not deaden into endurable pain, to the passion
of revenge, I led two or three of our party to the foot of the ladder
beneath the entrance window of my vessel, and was about in their
presence to explain his fate more fully to the struggling, howling
victim, half mad with protracted terror. But at that moment my purpose
was arrested. I had often repeated to Eveena passages from those
Terrestrial works whose purport most resembled that of the mystic
lessons she so deeply prized; and words, on which in life she had
especially dwelt, seemed now to be whispered in my ear or my heart by
the voice which with bodily sense I could never hear again:—
"Vengeance is Mine; I will repay." The absolute control of my will and
conscience, won by her perfect purity and unfailing rectitude,
outlasted Eveena's life. Turning to her murderer—

"You shall die," I said, "but you shall die not by revenge but by the
law; and not by your own law, but by that which, forbidding that
torture shall add to the sting of death, commands that 'Whoso sheddeth
man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.' Yet I cannot give you a
soldier's death," as my men levelled their weapons. Cutting the cord
that bound him, and grasping him from behind, I flung the wretch forth
from the summit far into the air; well assured that he would never
feel the blow that would dismiss his soul to its last account, before
that Tribunal to whose judgment his victim had appealed. Then I
entered the vessel, waved my hand in farewell to my comrades, and,
putting the machinery in action, rose from the surface and prepared to
quit a world which now held nothing that could detain or recal me.




CHAPTER XXX - FAREWELL!


My task was not quite done. It was well for me in the first moments of
this new solitude, of this maddening agony, that there was instant
work imperatively demanding the attention of the mind as well as the
exercise of the body. I had first, by means of the air pump, to fill
the vessel with an atmosphere as dense as that in which I had been
born and lived so long; then to close the entrance window and seal it
hermetically, and then to arrange the steering gear. To complete the
first task more easily, I arrested the motion of the vessel till she
rose only a few feet per minute. Whilst employed on the air pump, I
became suddenly aware, by that instinct by which most men have been at
one time or another warned of the unexpected proximity of friend or
foe, that I was not alone. Turning and looking in the direction of the
entrance, I saw, or thought I saw, once more the Presence beheld in
the Hall of the Zinta. But commanding, enthralling as were those eyes,
they could not now retain my attention; for beside that figure
appeared one whose presence in life or death left me no thought for
aught beside. I sprang forward, seemed to touch her hand, to clasp her
form, to reach the lips I bent my head to meet:—and then, in the
midst of the bright sunlight, a momentary darkness veiled all from my
eyes. Lifting my head, however, my glance fell, through the window to
which the Vision had drawn me, directly upon Ecasfe and upon the home
from which I had taken her whose remains were now being carried back
thither. Snatching up my field-glass, I scanned the scene of which I
had thus caught a momentary and confused glimpse. The roof was
occupied by a score of men armed with the lightning weapon, and among
them glanced the familiar badge—the band and silver star. Clambering
over the walls of the wide enclosure, and threatening to storm the
house, were a mob perhaps a thousand in number, many of them similarly
armed, the rest with staves, spears, or such rude weapons as chance
might afford. Two minutes brought me immediately over them. In
another, I was descending more rapidly than prudence would have
suggested. The strife seemed for a moment to cease, as one of the
crowd pointed, not to the impending destruction overhead, but to some
object apparently at an equal elevation to westward. A shout of
welcome from the remaining defenders of the house called right upward
the eyes of their assailants. For an instant they felt the bitterness
of death; a cry of agony and terror that pierced even the thick walls
and windows of the Astronaut reached my ears. Then a violent shock
threw me from my feet. Springing up, I knew what wholesale slaughter
had avenged Eveena and her father, preserved her family, and given a
last victory to the Symbol she so revered. In another instant I was on
the roof, and my hands clasped in Zulve's.

"We know," she said. "Our darling's _esve_ brought us a line that told
all; and what is left of those who were all to me, of her who was so
much to you, will now be returned to us almost at once."

We were interrupted. A cry drew my eyes to the right, where, springing
from a balloon to the car of which was attached a huge flag emblazoned
with the crimson and silver colours of the Suzerain, Ergimo stood
before us.

"I am too late," he said, "to save life; in time only to put an end to
rebellion and avert murder. The Prince has fulfilled his promise to
you; has repealed the law that was to be a weapon in the hands that
aimed at his life and throne, as at the Star and its children. The
traitors, save one, the worst, have met by this time their just doom.
That one I am here to arrest. But where is our Chief? And," noticing
for the first time the group of women, who in the violence of alarm
and agony of sorrow had burst for once unconsciously the restraints of
a lifetime—"where ... Are you alone?"

"Alone for ever," I said; and as I spoke the procession that with bare
and bent heads carried two veiled forms into the peristyle below told
all he sought to know. I need not dwell on the scene that followed. I
scarcely remember anything, till a chest of gold, bearing the cipher
which though seldom seen I knew so well, was placed in my hands. I
turned to Zulve, and to Ergimo, who stood beside her.

"Have you need of me?" I said. "If I can serve her house I will remain
willingly, and as long as I can help or comfort."

"No," replied Ergimo; for Zulve could not speak. "The household of
Clavelta are safe and honoured henceforth as no other in the land.
Something we must ask of him who is, at any rate for the present, the
head of this household, and the representative of the Founder's
lineage. It may be," he whispered, "that another" (and his eyes fell
on the veiled forms whose pink robes covered with dark crimson gauze
indicated the younger matrons of the family) "may yet give to the
Children of the Star that natural heir to the Signet we had hoped from
your own household. But the Order cannot remain headless."

Here Zulve, approaching, gave into my hand the Signet unclasped from
her husband's arm ere the coffer was closed upon his form. I understood
her meaning; and, as for the time the sole male representative of the
house, I clasped it on the arm of the Chief who succeeded to Esmo's
rank, and to whom I felt the care of Esmo's house might be safely
left. The due honour paid to his new office, I turned to depart. Then
for the first time my eyes fell on the unveiled countenance and
drooping form of one unlike, yet so like Eveena—her favourite and
nearest sister, Zevle. I held out my hand; but, emotion overcoming the
habits of reserve, she threw herself into my arms, and her tears fell
on my bosom, hardly faster than my own as I stooped and kissed her
brow. I had no voice to speak my farewell. But as the Astronaut rose
for the last time from the ground, the voices of my brethren chanted
in adieu the last few lines of the familiar formula—

  "Peace be yours no force can break,
   Peace not Death hath power to shake;"

       *       *       *       *       *

  "Peace from peril, fear, and pain;
   Peace—until we meet again!
   Not before the sculptured stone,
   But the All-Commander's Throne."




[1] Qy. απο, from, εργος, work—as en-ergy?]

[2] The chemical notation of the MS. is unfortunately different
    from any known to any chemist of my acquaintance, and utterly
    undecipherable.]

[3] Last figures illegible: the year is probably 183.]

[4] These distances are given in Roman measures and round numbers not
    easy of exact rendering.]

[5] In 1830 or thereabouts.—ED.]

[6] The Martial year is 687 of our days, and eight Martial years are
    nearly equivalent to fifteen Terrestrial. Roughly, and in round
    numbers, the time figures given may be multiplied by two to reduce
    them to Terrestrial periods.—ED.]

[7] Say fifty-sixth; in effect, fiftieth.—Narrator.]

[8] Equivalent in time to ninety-three and forty-seven with us; in
    effect corresponding to eighty and forty.]

[9] About ninety; in time, one hundred and six.]

[10] Seventy; in time, eighty-three.—_Narrator_.]

[11] The centuries, hundreds, thousands, etc., appear to represent
    multiples of twelve, not ten.—ED.]

[12] Aluminium?—ED.]

[13] Here, and here only, the name is written in full; but the first
    part is blurred. It may be Alius (Ali), Julius (Jules), Elias,
    or may represent any one of a dozen English surnames. The single
    cipher, employed elsewhere throws no light on it.—ED.]



[Transcriber's Notes: A page was torn in our print copy, causing
a few lines in Chapter I to be illegible. The missing words have
been indicated with [***]. Also, "authypnotism" was corrected to
"autohypnotism."]


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