Then followed a moment of the most painful silence that I ever endured. It was broken by Ayesha, who addressed herself to Leo.
“Nay, now, my lord and guest,” she said in her softest tones, which yet had the ring of steel about them, “look not so bashful. Surely the sight was a pretty one—the leopard and the lion!”
“Oh, hang it all!” said Leo in English.
“And thou, Ustane,” she went on, “surely I should have passed thee by, had not the light fallen on the white across thy hair,” and she pointed to the bright edge of the rising moon which was now appearing above the horizon. “Well! well! the dance is done—see, the tapers have burnt down, and all things end in silence and in ashes. So thou thoughtest it a fit time for love, Ustane, my servant—and I, dreaming not that I could be disobeyed, thought thee already far away.”
“Play not with me,” moaned the wretched woman; “slay me, and let there be an end.”
“Nay, why? It is not well to go so swift from the hot lips of love down to the cold mouth of the grave,” and she made a motion to the mutes, who instantly stepped up and caught the girl by either arm. With an oath Leo sprang upon the nearest, and hurled him to the ground, and then stood over him with his face set, and his fist ready.
Again Ayesha laughed. “It was well thrown, my guest; thou hast a strong arm for one who so late was sick. But now out of thy courtesy I pray thee let that man live and do my bidding. He shall not harm the girl; the night air grows chill, and I would welcome her in mine own place. Surely she whom thou dost favour shall be favoured of me also.”
I took Leo by the arm, and pulled him from the prostrate mute, and he, half bewildered, obeyed the pressure. Then we all set out for the cave across the plateau, where a pile of white human ashes was all that remained of the fire that had lit the dancing, for the dancers had vanished.
In due course we gained Ayesha’s boudoir—all too soon, it seemed to me, having a sad presage of what was to come lying heavy on my heart.
Ayesha seated herself upon her cushions, and, having dismissed Job and Billali, by signs bade the mutes tend the lamps and retire—all save one girl, who was her favourite personal attendant. We three remained standing, the unfortunate Ustane a little to the left of the rest of us.
“Now, oh Holly,” Ayesha began, “how came it that thou who didst hear my words bidding this evil-doer”—and she pointed to Ustane—“to go hence—thou at whose prayer I did weakly spare her life—how came it, I say, that thou wast a sharer in what I saw to-night? Answer, and for thine own sake, I say, speak all the truth, for I am not minded to hear lies upon this matter!”
“It was by accident, oh Queen,” I answered. “I knew naught of it.”
“I do believe thee, oh Holly,” she answered coldly, “and well it is for thee that I do—then does the whole guilt rest upon her.”
“I do not find any guilt therein,” broke in Leo. “She is not another man’s wife, and it appears that she has married me according to the custom of this awful place, so who is the worse? Any way, madam,” he went on, “whatever she has done I have done too, so if she is to be punished let me be punished also; and I tell thee,” he went on, working himself up into a fury, “that if thou biddest one of those dead and dumb villains to touch her again I will tear him to pieces!” And he looked as though he meant it.
Ayesha listened in icy silence, and made no remark. When he had finished, however, she addressed Ustane.
“Hast thou aught to say, woman? Thou silly straw, thou feather, who didst think to float towards thy passion’s petty ends, even against the great wind of my will! Tell me, for I fain would understand. Why didst thou this thing?”
And then I think I saw the most tremendous exhibition of moral courage and intrepidity that it is possible to conceive. For the poor doomed girl, knowing what she had to expect at the hands of her terrible Queen, knowing, too, from bitter experience, how great was her adversary’s power, yet gathered herself together, and out of the very depths of her despair drew materials to defy her.
“I did it, oh She,” she answered, drawing herself up to the full of her stately height, and throwing back the panther skin from her head, “because my love is stronger than the grave. I did it because my life without this man whom my heart chose would be but a living death. Therefore did I risk my life, and, now that I know that it is forfeit to thine anger, yet am I glad that I did risk it, and pay it away in the risking, ay, because he embraced me once, and told me that he loved me yet.”
Here Ayesha half rose from her couch, and then sank down again.
“I have no magic,” went on Ustane, her rich voice ringing strong and full, “and I am not a Queen, nor do I live for ever, but a woman’s heart is heavy to sink through waters, however deep, oh Queen! and a woman’s eyes are quick to see—even through thy veil, oh Queen!
“Listen: I know it, thou dost love this man thyself, and therefore wouldst thou destroy me who stand across thy path. Ay, I die—I die, and go into the darkness, nor know I whither I go. But this I know. There is a light shining in my breast, and by that light, as by a lamp, I see the truth, and the future that I shall not share unroll itself before me like a scroll. When first I knew my lord,” and she pointed to Leo, “I knew also that death would be the bridal gift he gave me—it rushed upon me of a sudden, but I turned not back, being ready to pay the price, and, behold, death is here! And now, even as I knew that, so do I, standing on the steps of doom, know that thou shalt not reap the profit of thy crime. Mine he is, and, though thy beauty shine like a sun among the stars, mine shall he remain for thee. Never here in this life shall he look thee in the eyes and call thee spouse. Thou too art doomed, I see”—and her voice rang like the cry of an inspired prophetess; “ah, I see——”
Then came an answering cry of mingled rage and terror. I turned my head. Ayesha had risen, and was standing with her outstretched hand pointing at Ustane, who had suddenly stopped speaking. I gazed at the poor woman, and as I gazed there came upon her face that same woeful, fixed expression of terror that I had seen once before when she had broken out into her wild chant. Her eyes grew large, her nostrils dilated, and her lips blanched.
Ayesha said nothing, she made no sound, she only drew herself up, stretched out her arm, and, her tall veiled frame quivering like an aspen leaf, appeared to look fixedly at her victim. Even as she did so Ustane put her hands to her head, uttered one piercing scream, turned round twice, and then fell backwards with a thud—prone upon the floor. Both Leo and myself rushed to her—she was stone dead—blasted into death by some mysterious electric agency or overwhelming will-force whereof the dread She had command.
For a moment Leo did not quite realise what had happened. But, when he did, his face was awful to see. With a savage oath he rose from beside the corpse, and, turning, literally sprang at Ayesha. But she was watching, and, seeing him come, stretched out her hand again, and he went staggering back towards me, and would have fallen, had I not caught him. Afterwards he told me that he felt as though he had suddenly received a violent blow in the chest, and, what is more, utterly cowed, as if all the manhood had been taken out of him.
Then Ayesha spoke. “Forgive me, my guest,” she said softly, addressing him, “if I have shocked thee with my justice.”
“Forgive thee, thou fiend,” roared poor Leo, wringing his hands in his rage and grief. “Forgive thee, thou murderess! By Heaven, I will kill thee if I can!”
“Nay, nay,” she answered in the same soft voice, “thou dost not understand—the time has come for thee to learn. Thou art my love, my Kallikrates, my Beautiful, my Strong! For two thousand years, Kallikrates, have I waited for thee, and now at length thou hast come back to me; and as for this woman,” pointing to the corpse, “she stood between me and thee, and therefore have I laid her in the dust, Kallikrates.”
“It is an accursed lie!” said Leo. “My name is not Kallikrates! I am Leo Vincey; my ancestor was Kallikrates—at least, I believe he was.”
“Ah, thou sayest it—thine ancestor was Kallikrates, and thou, even thou, art Kallikrates reborn, come back—and mine own dear lord!”
“I am not Kallikrates, and, as for being thy lord, or having aught to do with thee, I had sooner be the lord of a fiend from hell, for she would be better than thou.”
“Sayest thou so—sayest thou so, Kallikrates? Nay, but thou hast not seen me for so long a time that no memory remains. Yet am I very fair, Kallikrates!”
“I hate thee, murderess, and I have no wish to see thee. What is it to me how fair thou art? I hate thee, I say.”
“Yet within a very little space shalt thou creep to my knee, and swear that thou dost love me,” answered Ayesha, with a sweet, mocking laugh. “Come, there is no time like the present time, here before this dead girl who loved thee, let us put it to the proof.
“Look now on me, Kallikrates!” and with a sudden motion she shook her gauzy covering from her, and stood forth in her low kirtle and her snaky zone, in her glorious radiant beauty and her imperial grace, rising from her wrappings, as it were, like Venus from the wave, or Galatea from her marble, or a beatified spirit from the tomb. She stood forth, and fixed her deep and glowing eyes upon Leo’s eyes, and I saw his clenched fists unclasp, and his set and quivering features relax beneath her gaze. I saw his wonder and astonishment grow into admiration, and then into fascination, and the more he struggled the more I saw the power of her dread beauty fasten on him and take possession of his senses, drugging them, and drawing the heart out of him. Did I not know the process? Had not I, who was twice his age, gone through it myself? Was I not going through it afresh even then, although her sweet and passionate gaze was not for me? Yes, alas, I was! Alas, that I should have to confess that at that very moment I was rent by mad and furious jealousy. I could have flown at him, shame upon me! The woman had confounded and almost destroyed my moral sense, as she was bound to confound all who looked upon her superhuman loveliness. But—I do not quite know how—I got the better of myself, and once more turned to see the climax of the tragedy.
“Oh, great Heaven!” gasped Leo, “art thou a woman?”
“A woman in truth—in very truth—and thine own spouse, Kallikrates!” she answered, stretching out her rounded ivory arms towards him, and smiling, ah, so sweetly!
He looked and looked, and slowly I perceived that he was drawing nearer to her. Suddenly his eye fell upon the corpse of poor Ustane, and he shuddered and stopped.
“How can I?” he said hoarsely. “Thou art a murderess; she loved me.”
Observe, he was already forgetting that he had loved her.
“It is naught,” she murmured, and her voice sounded sweet as the night-wind passing through the trees. “It is naught at all. If I have sinned, let my beauty answer for my sin. If I have sinned,............