TORPEON, sitting alone in his official chamber, leaned his elbow on the table, his chin supported on his clenched fist, and bent his thoughts upon the problems before him.
His rule, despotic though it was, had never been free from difficulties. There were two parties among the Torides—one occupying the savage portion of the globe; the other the enlightened or civilized regions. Among the former were many outlaws—men who had either committed crimes against the state and had escaped from punishment; and also persons who had sacrificed such comforts as civilization afforded by reason of their dissatisfaction with the restrictions of a tyrannous government. Not a few of these were men of powerful and trained minds, resentful of interference with their freedom, and only needing an acknowledged leader and trustworthy organization to revolt. But they were jealous of one another, and the bulk of the population around them was hardly more amenable to discipline than so many wild beasts; the fugitive criminals, because of their innate and incorrigible wickedness, and the rest, because of their ignorance and semi-bestial condition. On our own planet spaces of thousands of centuries separate the cave men from the educated; but on Tor, the two lived side by side.
The physical environment on the dark side of Tor was terrific. The satellite, like our own moon, turned but one face to the sun, and though light was more diffused than with us, a twilight gloom reigned on the further side, alleviated only by outbursts of volcanic fires and by the electrical phenomena of gigantic storms. The surface was rocky, gashed with abysses and jagged with huge crags; caldrons of molten lava alternated with steaming or frozen lakes; and torrents of scalding water, hurled upward through subterranean passages in the crust of the globe, fell in headlong cascades, and fled away in boiling rivers through mountain ravines. Vegetation was scant and harsh: thorny trailers as thick as a man’s leg crawled and twisted to vast distances from the crevices of the rocks, carrying poison in their thorns; and the dark leaves and juices of other plants were hostile to life and health. The only approach to a domestic animal was a genus of goats, fierce and agile, with menacing horns and bristly hides, which were snared and tethered, but not tamed, by the human inhabitants, for the sake of their milk and skins. Their flesh was boiled or steamed for food. Serpents, lizards and amorphous reptiles unknown to our fossil deposits inhabited the caves and clambered over the cliffs and gullies, shunning such dim light as there was, but lying in wait for incautious travelers. A kind of tiger, covered with shaggy red hair, and another beast kindred to the hyena, but as large as a horse and of a ghastly white hue, were the chief representatives of the feline and protelidae families. The hunting of these creatures, with blow-pipes and slings hurling sharp-cornered lumps of poisonous stone, was the main occupation of the more savage cave-dwellers. Their fur was plaited into a sort of garment.
People of this type were indigenous to the dark regions, and were under some degree of subjection to the outlaws of the civilized side. But no systematic effort to improve them had ever been made—they were the unwilling slaves of unloving masters. The more thoughtful of the latter had, indeed, sometimes considered the possibility of forming them into some sort of army, to attack Torpeon’s domains; but the obstacles had proved insurmountable. Yet Torpeon had never felt secure.
His portion of the planet faced Saturn and the sun, and received a species of magnetic currents from the ring. Its topography was rugged and moderately fertile; five rivers from the Dark Mountains flowed down into an inland sea of bitter waters. The pastures were browsed by deerlike animals with smooth, straight horns. The most valuable domestic animals were a species of aquatic bird of the duck type, but larger than our condors; they existed in immense flocks and were very prolific. A leguminous plant was cultivated, allied to our beans, but of the size of a potato, and having the taste and some of the qualities of meat; when immature they could be ground into flour from which a rich and succulent bread was made. But to these staples science had added many viands concocted from inorganic substances, which could be rendered attractive to taste and sight by arts of the magical order.
The women of the Torides were taller and heavier than the men, but indolent and of inferior mentality; they were of domestic utility, but did not form a part of society; when mated, they would give birth to not more than two children each; there were no marriage laws, but a woman who had lived with a man might not afterward take another partner. As the sexes were about equally divided, the population remained stationary, and the relations were practically monogamic. Girls were bred to household employments; boys were drastically disciplined and educated by the state, both physically and mentally, and those who showed aptitude were initiated in science and magic.
Torpeon had assumed the chieftainship of this people by hereditary right; but he had soon manifested more than hereditary ability and force. He was profound in the lore of the masters, daring in speculation, arbitrary and resolute in will. He reduced his subjects to a uniform political level; there were no gradations between him and them. He made use, as he saw fit, of the brains and of the bodies of all, but shared his secrets with none. He had no commerce with women; but his vision extended far, and he knew of Miriam’s journey and enough of her own character and quality to make him resolve upon their union. With and through her his dreams might be realized, and she might be safely admitted to his inmost aims and counsels.
Having succeeded in transporting her to his own abode, he meant to lose no time in putting his great scheme into operation. Some details of it were still unsettled; but there were reasons why a degree of risk must be faced in order to avoid other contingencies. Moreover, his wooing of Miriam—if it could be so termed—might prosper better after his main undertaking had been launched. The astounding achievement which he contemplated, by capturing her imagination, might lead the way to the surrender of her heart. She could not but love unexampled daring and irresistible power, even were there nothing else in him to attract her.
The most learned and efficient scientists in his kingdom had all been set to work to prepare the preliminaries for his grand coup; but to none had been confided the scope of the plan in its entirety—which was thus rendered secure from treasonable checks and interference. Cooperation in carrying out the various parts of the program was indispensable; but he alone—and, should it seem at the last moment desirable, Miriam—could know the end aimed at, and the manner in which it was to be attained.
There was the possibility of failure—that he realized; it would involve consequences so appalling, not only to Tor and its inhabitants, but to the solar system as a whole, that even Torpeon could not estimate them. On the other hand, there was the probability of success: he chose to fix his mind on that, and the thought exalted him almost to the level of deityship. The hazard was worth taking!
On the panel in front of him was a pentagonal plate of metal, furnished with figures and signs, arranged in a certain mutual relation and order, by means of which he was able to communicate with each of his scientific departments, and to determine, at a glance, how the work at any point was progressing. The hands on a score or more of small dials, arranged along the outer margins of the plate, registered the approximations of the several laboratory workers toward the completion of their assignments. All seemed to be proceeding smoothly—or all but one, Number Five, which was a trifle tardy and irregular in its movements. After observing this dial for awhile Torpeon put himself in touch with the operator.
“You are behind your schedule—why?”
A voice from the annunciator replied: “A counter current from Saturn; another from a source I have not determined. I am investigating.”
“Report if interruptions continue; but make no attempt to prevent them without consulting me. If they abate, continue as before.”
“Understand!” came the reply, and Torpeon leaned back in his chair.
“Number Five!” he muttered. He took a diagram from the table and studied it closely. “If Lamara suspects she would be more apt to attack Seven, or Nineteen. As for the ‘other’ source, that may be merely an echo. Or there may be some local disturbance; if so, it would prove temporary.” He glanced again at the dial. “Ah, he has resumed! A false alarm. I will have a test made, nevertheless.”
The matter did not seem urgent, however, and he put it aside for the moment. He rose and paced up and down the room with folded arms.
“What a voyage!” he said to himself, with the secret enthusiasm of a great adventurer. “There have been other conquerors; but none before me has conceived a campaign such as this! There have been mighty war-chariots, but none like mine! There have been wise men, but none till now has dared to loosen the anchors that hold the globes to their stations! All have been slaves to the laws assumed to be immutable. I have solved the secret of these invisible tethers and woven new ones of my own. I shall show that a man may be master of the universe. Day and night, heat and cold, seed time and harvest, shall come and go as I will. The sun himself shall do my bidding; and the vapors out of which worlds are made shall congeal or disperse at my pleasure. There have been heroes and kings; but I shall be the first of men to be acknowledged as a god and to breathe the air of immortality!
“But my victory would be barren,” he continued, halting in his walk and stretching out his arms, “if it had to be enjoyed alone! For this reason have I till now only played with the great idea, instead of putting it to the proof. An Everlasting of loneliness would have been a dungeon of intolerable light! I saw it and I shrank from it. Seeking through the worlds I found none fit to share an adventure with me till now! But she is my companion of eternity; fate and circumstance, the dead drag of matter, could not keep us apart. And it was no blind chance that united us. The sources of the rivers of her being and mine were remote from each other, small and feeble; but within them was the hidden force which turned their flow to the point of meeting; they gathered strength as they proceeded; their tide was irresistible; they penetrated the mountains, they flooded the gulfs, space could not stay them; even the illusions of false persuasions fought against them in vain; and she is here! And her coming is the symbol and assurance that the circle shall be completed, and that I have not dreamed and wrought in vain!
“Miriam, my mate! Be proud and reluctant as you will; I love you but the more, and the fire of your love will burn only the clearer and more intensely when the error that confuses you has been burned away. You and I shall sit at our ease and smile at each other as we behold the phantasmagory of Creation pass in review at our feet! The great stars shall wither and crumble into dust, and we will arise in the freshness of our youth and summon others to bloom before us in the glory of their prime. The comets, as they pass, shall bring us tidings from afar, and bear our commands to regions yet unborn. Hand in hand we will pace through the avenues of infinity and determine the epochs of eternity with a kiss!”
In the midst of the room a small sphere of white light appeared and passed successively into yellow, green, rose, and purple. It disappeared slowly.
“Already, Miriam!” he exclaimed with a proud and joyful look; and catching up a scarlet mantle he opened the door and passed out.
KROTOX and Asgar had killed a goat and were eating it. They squatted at the entrance of their habitation, with the skinned carcass between them, and cut strips of flesh from it with their sharp stone knives. These they toasted over the red flames that flickered up from a crevice in the rocky platform which was their feeding place. Their cave was half-way up the side of a crag, at whose foot, several hundred feet below, ran a hot river from the lake that filled the basin further up the gorge. The path to the cave was a narrow footway formed partly by zigzag cracks in the face of the cliff, and partly of steps or holes made by hand. It was secure even from the big serpents and lizards, but not convenient for ordinary household purposes.
“You forgot the salt. It was your turn to get it,” remarked Krotox.
“I had enough to do, killing the goat,” returned Asgar. “You were down in the gorge and might have fetched up salt enough for a month from the pocket beside the basin. You’d like to doze here and let me run about and wait on you, I suppose!”
Krotox cracked a marrowbone between his jaws. “I had important business,” he said. “You remember Yolgu? Well, he came over from the other side to-day.”
“I didn’t think he had the spirit for it,” remarked Asgar. “Of course, he’s planning to raise and army and capture Torpeon!” he added with a sneer.
“I didn’t ask him. But he brought news.”
The conversation was interrupted by a deep rumbling noise which caused the solid cliff to vibrate and the flame to leap up in the aperture. It was followed by an explosion in the group of mountains over against that on which they were, and a column of smoke and fire climbed heavily into the sky, spread out fountain-wise, and subsided, sending fragments of molten stone and cinders in all directions, some of them falling close to the entrance of the cave, into which Krotox and Asgar had withdrawn. They now resumed their places and their meal, letting the incident, which was far from being a novelty, pass without comment.
“News, eh?” grunted Asgar. “Another raid on Saturn, probably?”
“I said news!” retorted the other. “He has taken a woman!”
“Who? Yolgu?”
“No; Torpeon!”
“Torpeon! I wish I could believe it! When Torpeon takes a woman honest men may hope for their rights! But Yolgu was always a liar.”
“And Asgar will never cease being a fool. Torpeon has taken a woman, and he got her from the little planet down beyond Jupiter.”
Asgar chuckled contemptuously. “Did she bring her little planet with her?”
“She was visiting Lamara,” Krotox continued composedly. “There were details, but nothing of importance. Torpeon got her away, and she is now with him at the castle. Yolgu saw her just before he came here. She’s not like our kind, or the Saturnians either.”
Asgar meditated for a while. “Even if the story were true,” he said at last, “I don’t see how it would help us.”
“I was waiting for you to say that!” observed Krotox with a sardonic glance. “In the first place, she’s a woman; next, she has new magic; thirdly, she came unwillingly. The result is certain! But not so certain as that you are going to ask me how?”
“I question only persons capable of intelligent answers,” rejoined the other. “You spoke of the details of her coming as being unimportant; to my mind they are quite as important as her arrival itself. Whether she came alone; if not, who were her companions; whether she gained access to Saturn through Lamara’s help or independently; what object had she proposed to herself: points such as these might enable us to judge whether the situation warranted our concerning ourselves about the matter. But—”
At this juncture there was another interruption. Though by no means as outrageous and cataclysmic as the other, it produced a much more startling effect on the two troglodytes. They threw themselves flat on their stomachs and peered cautiously over the edge of the rocky shelf. The sound had come from below. The custom of social visiting had never been in vogue on the dark side of Tor, and any invasion of privacy was likely to suggest a hostile intent. “Where are the poison-stones?” whispered Asgar.
“I have three here,” replied Krotox, “but I won’t waste them on you—you couldn’t hit the earth from the top of a pock tree! I see nothing; it must have been a tiger.”
“It was more like a hyena—hark!”
A peculiar call again sounded from below. “Coo-ee!”
The men exchanged an uneasy look, but remained silent. The gorge was deep, and wreaths of smoke from the volcano, yellow and sluggish, were coiling through it.”
“Hello, you dubs!” presently came a shrill voice out of the abyss. “Ain’t yer got no elevator in dis joint? Does yer haul yer patrons up wid a rope? Well, I’s a comin’, anyway; so stick de ham-an’-eggs inter de saucepan an’ a go uv lager on de side! I’s bringin’ me hunger wid me!”
“I see it now!” whispered Asgar; “give me a stone—ah, you missed it! What is it—a goblin? It climbs like a beetle!”
Krotox hurled another stone.
“You guys ain’t even in de class uv de bush-leaguers,” remarked the voice, sounding nearer than before, and in no way discouraged by this reception. “Never seen my spit-ball, did yer? Say, she curves roun’ de batter’s nut and swats him in de off eye! Ef dat’s yer best yer goes back to de bench. Git me?”
“It’s coming straight up the cliff!” exclaimed Krotox in dismay. “It must be a goblin! I never saw one before; we must pretend we’re glad to see it!”
“Get if off its guard and then leave it to me,” muttered Asgar. “It’ll go down faster than it came up!”
This hospitable purpose had no sooner been formulated than the visitor’s head appeared above the level of the ledge, and the next moment he was standing beside the remnants of the goat; a one-legged apparition, supported under his left shoulder by a black crutch. His involuntary hosts regarded him with grimaces of feigned welcome, which ill disguised their fear and amazement. They were crouching on their hams at the mouth of the cavern.
“Home-sweet-home!” called out the apparition cheerfully; he was not even winded by his extraordinary feat. “Git up an’ hustle now, you ginks; yer ain’t in de habit uv meetin’ toffs like me—I kin see dat! So dis is de roof-gard’n; eh? Don’ bodder wid de cabbyrat stuff—my time’s wort’ about ten plunks an inch, an’ dirt cheap at dat! I’s de One-Legged Avenger, an’ I’s campin’ on de trail uv ol’ Torpy! Has eeder o’ you ducks seen him—dat fuzzy-haired geezer wid de red sweater looped round him? Cough up!”
Jim’s dialect was doubtless modified to Toridian ears by planetary conditions; but it was Krotox, who was bony, aquiline, and quicker of apprehension than his lethargic and unwieldy companion, who was first able to decipher the code: for “Torpy” read “Torpeon.”
“The person you mention, worshipful stranger,” he said in his most sugary accents, “does not rule over this side of our planet, and is never seen here. To find him, you must travel east, passing those two ranges of mountains, by way of that volcano which is just now beginning an eruption. Beyond that is a lake, which—”
“Yer kin bite it off right dere, ol’ pal,” interposed Jim; “I ain’t in de g’ography class dis trip. Git me headed right an’ I’m dere—see? Me an’ Torpy has a bone to pick togedder, an’ I’m treatin’ some ginks ter a feed at Delmonniker’s at eight-t’irty, an’ me wid about a billion miles ter cover between dis and dat; so I ain’t loafin’ on me job. I’ll mebbe be back later an’ give t’ings here de once-over. Looks like dere might be a boom in real-estate in dese parts. Got a ticker inside? What’s de quotin’s on city lots in dis block? Gimme de inside an’ den some? I ain’t no piker!”
Krotox and Asgar looked at each other in manifest perplexity. Though not unfamiliar with trouble, some of our modern afflictions were still unknown to them. But they were interested in the allusions to Torpeon; if this supernatural creature had hostile designs against the common enemy the opportunity should be improved.
“Powerful being,” said Asgar, “we are poor exiles and know nothing of the things you speak of, whether they be animals or vegetables. But Torpeon is the author of our misfortunes, and if he has also wronged you, we may be of use to one another.”
“Now yer talkin’, an’ we gits down to brass tacks,” Jim replied with animation. “Dis geezer has swiped de gal uv a frien’ o’ mine; an’ me, I’s figgerin’ to counter on his jaw an’ do de reskoo stunt—see? Ef you ducks has de inside track mapped out, gimme de tip; an’ when I lan’s de goods, I take de gal, an’ what’s left yer stuffs in yer jeans an’ dey won’ be no come-back on it. Mebbe,” he added thoughtfully, “me line o’ talk is some too illegint fer de likes o’ you poor hoboes; but I’s doin’ me best!”
“If your grace condescends to extend protection over us, we are the slaves of your will,” rejoined Asgar, after he and Krotox had conferred for a few moments. “It is known to us that the sinful Torpeon has done this crowning outrage, and plans others, unless prevented. If you will graciously kill him you shall be king of all our country, and we, your ministers, will lay its spoils and its inhabitants at your feet.”
“Lil ol’ N’York is good enough for me, but I reco’nizes yer obligin’ sperrit,” said Jim agreeably. “We plays de Evans’s gambit, an’ I figgers to checkmate de black king in four moves. Dere’ll be glory enough fer all, an’ yer takes de rinsin’s a free gift. Ef dat’s a go, put it dere!”
He extended his hand, which Asgar and Krotox in succession humbly touched to their foreheads.
“Now kids,” Jim proceeded, “yer sees dis here kyar!” He exhibited his crutch, patting it caressingly as if it were a beautiful vehicle of the most luxurious and costly description. “We gets aboard, an’ we steers due east till we sights de stronghold uv de inimy. Nobody don’t see us—’cause why?—I turns de peg here in de neck an’ crack!—we vanishes like blowin’ out de gas in de hotel room-wid-bat’. I mounts de secret back stairs, an’ fust t’ing yer knows yer sees Torpy flyin’ out de top-story winder an’ lightin’ on his nut. Dat’s the signal fer startin’ ‘Hail to der Chief,’ an’ me and de lady appears on de battlemints, an’ waves our han’s gracious to der applaudin’ t’ousands. Dere’s mebbe some t’ings I’s left out o’ de yarn; but yer gits me drift! All you gotta do is yank off yer shirt an’ holler yer heads off, while me and de lady sings ‘Good-by, proud worl’, we’s goin’ home,’ de lights shets off an’ we sinks below de verge ter show music. Are yer on?”
“Mighty emperor, dispose of us as you will!” grunted Asgar and Krotox, bewildered into hypnosis by this rousing exhortation.
“Git astride de stick an’ come on!” Jim ordered; and the monstrous ravines and peaks of Tor sank beneath them.
“SURE, miss,” Jenny allowed herself to say, as she set down the tea-tray before her mistress, “’tis a sight for sore eyes ye are! You seeming so natural-like, after all the signs and wonders. And the rooms and all just the same! However did it happen I don’t know. Up till you touched the bell, I says to meself, ‘Jenny, ye’re dreaming!’”
“A great poet said, ‘The earth hath bubbles, as the water hath, and these are of them,’” replied Miriam. “Nobody really knows the difference between what seems and what is. We may be content if they seem as we would wish to have them. But I suppose you know how you got here?”
“’Deed, miss, and I don’t, then! I’d been sorrowing that ye weren’t at home these last days, and the poor master taking on so; and last evening, I think it was, I was saying me prayers, and, of a sudden, ‘What’s that?’ I says. Whether I saw it or I heard it, I couldn’t rightly tell, miss, but somebody was in the room; and what did I do but shut my eyes so as I’d see better—if ye understand how I mean, miss. And there was a lady there—fine and stately she was, but not the blessed Mary, for she had on black in place of white, and no glory round her head; but oh, ’twas the face of somebody great and good, I’ll go bail for that! And whether she spoke or not I don’t know; but seems like I knew what was in her mind—all calmness and kindness, and ‘Don’t be afeared, Jenny, ye’re in friendly hands’—it came to me like that. And it seemed like I wasn’t to open my eyes, but leave it all to her; a kind of lullaby like, miss, the way my mother—God rest her soul—would sing me asleep when I was a wee colleen, back in the ould sod.
“‘Sure,’ says I to meself, ‘it’s dying I am,’ I says; it was a sort of drawing out through the top of me head, but soft and gentle, and me not a bit frighted, but easy and pleased like never before in all me life; and the next minute what did I see but meself sitting there in the rocker, and meself standing beside her—if you understand me, miss. ‘If I’m dead,’ I says, ‘however would I be alive?’ I says; and with that I looks round and sees you your own self, miss, but oh, ever and ever so far off—standing here by the table, you were, and a thoughtful and sad look on the sweet face of ye. ‘Sure, ’tis going to her I’ll be,’ I says, forgetting the distance; but the wish in me was like wings, and me like outside meself. Howandever, going I was, not like flying, but what was before me one minute was behind me in another, with me standing still all the time and the things moving past me. ‘Sure,’ I says to meself, ‘Jenny,’ I says, ‘ye’ll never see yourself again,’ I says, thinking of meself sitting there in the rocker. But I’ll be talking too much miss,” said Jenny, interrupting herself and handing her mistress the napkin.
Jenny’s voice had the flow and modulations of bubbling waters and singing birds, and it was no hardship to listen to her even on ordinary topics.
“It’s a wonderful story, Jenny,” Miriam said. “Wishes, after all, are the greatest power in the world; they are in science and art and deeds, like the soul in the body. But time and space, like veils, keep us from recognizing the miracle of it. But sometimes the veils may be lifted, and then we see. I’m glad you are here.”
“So am I, miss,” returned Jenny. “But how will we be getting back again?”
“By wishing, perhaps,” said Miriam, with a smile. “But we’ll have to help ourselves a little, too, I think. So it was Mary Faust, after all,” she said to herself; “but she must have somehow cooperated with Torpeon. Lamara, also, perhaps. Oh, I hope Jack does nothing rash! But I must do my part! Is any one beside yourself here, Jenny?”
“’Tis that puzzles me, miss,” answered the girl. “Times I’ll be wanting something, and looks round; there it sits, like it had been there all the time, but never a body have I seen to bring it. ’Tis a queer place entirely! More like dreams than any living place I know of. Sure I’m wondering, now and again, will I wake up of a sudden and find meself asleep!”
“I have felt that in other places before this,” said Miriam. “But if you can get what you want by wanting it, perhaps I can do the same. You may take back the things; the tea tasted very good.”
“I found the tea in the caddy, miss, but I made it meself,” said Jenny, showing her milk-white teeth between her red lips; and she departed with the tray.
Miriam leaned her head on her hand and remained quiescent for a while. Presently she loosened the fastenings of her hair, and let the magnificent flood of it tumble down past her shoulders to her flanks. She took a brush and began to brush it with long, sweeping movements. As the delicate silken filaments responded to the treatment with increased softness and luster, her mind became composed, and her thoughts clear and orderly. In times past she had solved many a problem with a hair-brush.
She looped the great, black strands round her wrist, and by some feminine sleight of hand caused it to coil itself upon her head; her supple fingers pierced the mounded mass with fairy poniards and lightly patted it into symmetry. She contemplated the effect in the glass with approval; but the red mark of Torpeon caused a frown to flit over her brow.
The suggestion conveyed by Jenny’s story that Mary Faust might have had some share at least in the preparation of her present surroundings had opened the way to fresh thoughts and hopes. It somewhat modified her view of Torpeon’s chivalric initiative, though she could still concede him whatever credit was due to his accepting a happy proposal. It was out of the question, of course, that he and Mary Faust could have in view the same ultimate objects; but Mary’s was the deeper nature, and doubtless the profounder science, and she might have led him to play unawares into her hands. She rose and went into the laboratory.
Miriam selected from the instruments on the table a small machine with a four-sided crystal cup at one end and a retort at the other; these were connected by metal parts which included two balls a third of an inch in diameter, which ran up and down in grooves that were tipped rhythmically to right and left by the action of fine-toothed gear; a closely coiled gold wire connected the cup and the retort, and yielded to the stress applied and relaxed by the seesaw movement of the grooved shafts. The whole contrivance was embraced in a magnetic field created by a bar of iron alloyed with another metal isolated by Miriam herself, bent into the form of a horseshoe.
She uncorked a vial containing a transparent but very heavy liquid, colorless and sparling, and carefully counted seventeen drops of it into the crystal cup. As it fell, it had the peculiar consistency of quicksilver; but the drops immediately resolved themselves into a homogeneous mass. She next armed herself with a delicate pair of pincers, and with them picked out a grain of what looked like black powder from a box partly filled with them. She dropped this grain into the cup of liquid.
For a moment it lay of the surface, causing a slight depression to appear beneath it, a miniature dimple. Then it seemed to be attacked by the liquid, which was seen to gyrate around it from left to right, and this movement spread until the entire surface was agitated. The black particle first became red, like heated iron, and finally burned with a clear flame until it was wholly consumed; the liquid meanwhile becoming clouded, but finally assumed a brilliant blue color. At the same time, there appeared in the retort two small globes of fire, intensely bright, which revolved round each other with gradually increasing speed.
When the rapidity of their motion had caused them to take the aspect of a ring, Miriam nodded to herself with murmur of satisfaction, lifted back the magnet, and the flames vanished, the gyration of the liquid ceased, and the experiment was over.
“Everything seems right,” she said to herself. “I have only to reverse the circuit, and it is done! But Torpeon must be either very ignorant or very confident to allow me access to these things. Or he may imagine they are mere toys that I amuse myself with. He is himself planning something—I feel sure of that! Perhaps, after all,” she went on after a pause, “Mary Faust has more control over him than he suspects. She certainly knows my predicament. Why did she send no message by Jenny? Perhaps she thought her too simple to risk in these intrigues. But I need some one—some one that I can trust. Suppose Torpeon should put me where I could not get to my laboratory! If he were certain I would never yield to him, he might do anything! If I cannot find an assistant, I must devise some way of acting from a distance—and that might miscarry! Terrible, either way! But I must do my best! What if I should do it now!” she suddenly exclaimed aloud, rising to her feet, her cheeks paling and her eyes dark under the influence of a powerful emotion. Her hand crept toward the instrument and laid hold of the magnet. “This may be my last opportunity! Jack—Jack, my own darling, you will know I could never love any one but you!”
She had begun to turn the magnet back to its original position when she felt three light touches on her breast. Mary Faust’s warning once more!
She had nerved herself to a desperate act, and the reaction caused by this admonition, with its reassuring implication, shook her to the soul. She sank down in her chair, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed uncontrollably.
The paroxysm did not last long. She mastered herself with a feeling of self-contempt and sat up, wiping her eyes and pressing her cold hands against her hot cheeks.
“Yes, it was wicked and cowardly—God forgive me!” she said. “I am not brave; I must be prevented and led, like a spoiled child! Jack, I’m not worthy of you!”
She walked up and down the room, calming herself, her courage revived. She had not been abandoned; there would be some way out. The irrevocable deed she had contemplated could be at least postponed. Wiser and stronger spirits than hers were aware of her extremity, and were working for her.
“I will see Torpeon,” she decided. “He must understand that, in spite of appearances, we are on equal ground.”
She passed into the adjoining room, and was about to press the bell to summon Jenny, when that rosy-cheeked young woman knocked and opened the door.
“If you please, miss, a young man outside would like to speak with ye. He’s a funny kind of young man, miss, if ye please,” she added, breaking into a smile.
“How so, Jenny?” demanded Miriam. “Who sent him here?”
“He’s from New York, miss, and I think he come of himself.”
“From New York? Come of himself: Consider what you are saying, Jenny!” Then the thought of her lover leaped up in her. She seized the girl by the shoulders. “You don’t mean—not Mr. Jack Paladin?”
Jenny was frightened by the passion in her look and voice.
“Oh, no, miss! I’m sorry, miss. It isn’t that sort of gentlemen—just a young man, and he hasn’t only one leg!”
Miriam dropped her arms with a heavy sigh. “Oh—Jim!” The intonation was not complimentary. Yet her face lightened up a little as Jim, with his indomitable grin, hobbled briskly into the room.
LAMARA sat on a bench in the island garden, her hands folded in her lap. The bench was carved out of a piece of chalcedony, with soft orange-veins running through it, and bearing figures in high relief of little children tossing balls from one to another. The color was so adapted as to give the figures the hues of life; and if glanced at sidelong, one could fancy they had the movement and diversity of living beings. The bench was overshadowed by the level boughs of a tree, amid the dark, whispering leaves of which appeared globes of fruit that glowed and brightened as if by some innate quality; they were hidden intermittently as the breeze passed among them, and reappeared as buds, which blossomed and became fruit again. Wherever Lamara was, the fire of life seemed to be stimulated by the combined intensity and calm of her own being.
Up and down in the short pathway before her, Jack paced to and fro, restless as a high-strung horse galled by his tether. Lamara observed him with sympathy tinged with grave amusement.
He stooped before her at length, and resumed the conversation in which they had been engaged. “If it concerned only myself, it would be easy to be patient,” he expostulated. “But when a man loves a woman, and she is in danger, you might as well expect him to be dead and alive at the same moment! If I could only so much as see her—but how can I tell what may be happening to her at this moment, and me good for nothing here! There can be no possible use for me in the world except to protect her. You have the means, and you won’t give them to me! Why, even on my own earth I could use wings and weapons—and I ask nothing better! Argon is ready to help me if you give the word! But I don’t want to interfere with your laws or customs; let me go alone, as I am, and meet this robber with my bare hands. I’m not a Saturnian, and you wouldn’t be discredited by what I did. You got me out of that cave. Why should you stop there? Men where I come from have their own way of settling their quarrels, and I know no other! You’ve been kind to me, and I know how good and great you are; but it’s cruelty to keep me here! If you would speak the word, I know I could be on Tor in a moment! What right have you to refuse it?”
“My poor boy, it is you, not I, that prevents all you wish,” said Lamara gently.
“That’s hardest of all to hear!” he exclaimed. “I’d die to save her! Could I do more? And you tell me I prevent myself!”
“You can do more than die—you can live and be yourself,” she answered. “Sit beside me here for a little, Jack, and try to hear me.”
He fetched a deep breath, took his place on the bench, folded his arms, and compressed his lips. She patted his broad shoulder in a sisterly fashion and went on:
“There is a sort of rite here, come down to us from old times. We didn’t make it—it was given to us. When one of us has won the great victory, a halo appears over his head. It is the sign that he has entered into himself, and nothing can harm him afterward; and all nature is open to him and serves him.”
“The great victory? Over what? Let me try! I ask no better!”
“No evil can prevail over one who has overcome the ally of evil in himself,” said Lamara. “Dear Jack, no one, of himself, can really do anything. We see paradise before us, but we are kept from it by a wall, and we say we are shut out by some higher power. But the wall is ourselves, and we built it and placed it there. And not even the Spirit Himself, but only we ourselves, who raised it, can level it again and enter the divine garden.”
“But you said we, of ourselves, can do nothing.”
“Yes, and that is the truth! And yet it is the truth that we can do this, and when it is done we need do no more. All else is given to us freely.”
Jack gazed perplexedly at her.
“If you look at the sun, you will see darkness; but it is light,” she continued.
He shook his head despondently. “It’s too deep for me!”
“There is nothing else deeper,” she answered. “You know there is one God, and that He is life; and yet you see what you call life all round us—in these flowers and birds and the very earth, and in yourself; but if life be God, how can these things be alive, unless they are God? And you know they are not!”
“Can you tell me how?” he asked.
“I can tell you only that these things, you and I, are creatures which live and move by a life which is in them, and yet is not their own. And to be free to enter paradise, we must think life is our own, and act as if it were, and yet know that it is not. It is that knowing that is the great secret. For by that knowing, what is ourself is conquered and disappears, and the infinite self enters and fills its place. There are no more barriers or failures after that!”
“But that would mean that we are mere puppets, without freedom!”
“That is what wise men say,” said Lamara, with a friendly smile; “but children know it is otherwise. They know the difference between puppets and creatures.”
“I’m neither a child nor a wise man,” said Jack unhappily.
“Perhaps you are nearer a child than you suspect,” she rejoined. “You stand before the Third Gate, which is high and strong; but it opens at the right touch! If you were given power to overcome Torpeon, and to have Miriam for your own all your lives, but were told you must pay for it by seeing her a little less high and pure and happy than before, would you still take the power that was offered?”
After a pause: “No!” he said.
“Violence is evil, and evil in ourselves is the enemy’s hold upon us,” she rejoined.
“But Miriam has no thought of violence!”
“Have you not said that you and she were one? But come with me!” She rose, and he followed her along the winding path to the pavilion, which they entered by a side door. It was the first time he had seen the interior. Nothing, however, was changed except for the fountain, which, instead of presenting a succession of figures, as before, now fell in a wide sheet of pure water, with a smooth and even surface. A slab of black marble, behind it, gave a deep tone to the water, like that of a dark, still pool. A white effervescence of foam, creating a pleasant murmur, was formed by the impact of the fall in the basin. Lamara motioned to her companion to take his place beside her on the seat in front of the fall.
“I come here to hold communication with our people,” she remarked, “and sometimes with what lies beyond our own borders. Our planet is large, and has many inhabitants of many kinds, though all agree together; but they are divided, not into nations, as with you, but into societies, small or large, each composed of persons specially suited to one another. The societies, too, have their positions relative to one another, according to their functions and enlightenment, so that they can cooperate at need, as do the parts of our individual bodies. At such times they become mutually self-conscious; but in general, they are secluded in their proper boundaries or protected—even smaller groups or separate persons, if desired—by the veil of invisibility, which is our common heritage.”
Jack had observed the apparent scantiness of population on this vast globe, which was now explained. “I wouldn’t like to trust our people with such a faculty,” he said frankly. “Nobody would feel safe!”
“Your people are traveling another route than ours,” replied Lamara. “But they will reach and perhaps pass the degree in which we are. Among all the myriad myriads of worlds, no two are alike. You bear the burdens of many!”
“What an irresistible army you could raise!” he muttered. “You could conquer all the earths that surround the sun!”
Lamara laughed. “It would make me happier to help one man of another earth to conquer himself!” she answered. “But you may see an event which will show you, better than any words of mine, the fruit of such attempts and ambitions. But I didn’t bring you here for that!”
She was silent, and Jack was obscurely conscious of a tension in the atmosphere, more subtle than that of electricity, which strung his mental faculties to a high pitch. His attention was involuntarily drawn to the fountain.
“You have been deceived by a false mirror,” said Lamara; “now you shall be instructed by a true one. There is no magic here; the bending of the rays obeys a natural law. You will see the reflection of a reality which is taking place at this moment. But do not speak while it passes.”
As she ceased, the darkness of the mirror became light, and there was painted upon it a fleeting stream of strange sights which Jack’s eyes could not clearly interpret; the effect was as if they had leaped into space, and were passing through it with the speed of light. In a moment there had flashed across the surface the vision of an unimagined and formidable earth, ruddy and sinister; it was gone, and now appeared the interior of a room of severe but pleasing proportions, fitted with the tables and shelves of a laboratory. A woman sat at the table, with an instrument before her. She was in an attitude of deep meditation. Her face, as she sat thus, was fully revealed; but Jack had known her at the first glance. He made a sudden movement; but Lamara’s hand on his arm reminded him of the injunction, and he was mute.
Through the silent mediumship of Lamara, however, he was able to read the thoughts that were passing through Miriam’s mind as easily as he could discern her figure. He realized the potency of the machine, and followed the successive movements of her brain until her sudden resolve to reverse the magnet and precipitate the catastrophe. Her appeal to him at the supreme moment seemed to ring in his ears. He forgot everything except the overpowering impulse to arrest her hand, and he leaped to his feet with a passionate cry:
“No, no, beloved! Not that! Oh, God, protect her!”
The water mirror quivered, and was dissolved into broken strands of glittering spray. He staggered as he stood, staring wildly about him.
“The prayer was heard,” spoke Lamara’s tranquil voice. “But let her peril keep you mindful of your own! It is better for you as well as for her to trust in God than to the impious suggestion of your own heart!”
“A moment more and the whole globe on which she stood would have been shattered to atoms!” he groaned. “Oh, Miriam—Miriam!”
“Love is the greatest thing in the world,” said Lamara; “but if, for the sake of that supreme good, you work evil against another fellow creature—if you summon the demon to save the angel—the demon triumphs and the angel is withdrawn.”
“But to stand here helpless!” he groaned again, clenching his fists.
“No one is alone in the world; it may happen that a pygmy may succor a giant,” she replied. But she did not interpret the apolog.
AT a high point of the seacoast there lay a great amphitheater, the period of whose construction was known to none living; it had stood there for more than a thousand Saturnian generations; and there was a general belief that it was substantially a natural phenomenon, shaped out by unknown forces before the dawn of man, and added to or modified by human architects to adapt it more completely for its function. It possessed a mountainous grandeur and dignity, such as mortal hands might enhance, but not create.
The land sloped sharply toward the sea, and the amphitheater was delved out of the eastern face of the declivity. Its form was a complete oval; the benches, rank after rank, following the curve, only the eastward or seaward end of the vast sweep being left open. At the focus of the ellipse at this end was the raised level space used for a stage. The longer diameter of the structure may have been a thousand yards, and there was ample accommodation for a million persons. Dimensions so vast would have rendered the place useless for practical purposes on our planet, but offered no hindrance to the sight or hearing of a people endowed with the superior senses of the Saturnians.
It was the meeting-place of the people, who were summoned thither on occasions both of affairs of state and of entertainment or instruction. No one was barred from these sessions; but, as a rule, the population was present by deputies from each society. High courts of judgment were held here, but these had become rare, because social order was spontaneous and almost invariable in a community which had solved the problem of combining universal cooperation with gradations of rank.
At noon of the day following Lamara’s interview with Jack, the amphitheater stood apparently empty. Row after row of vacant benches mounted skyward, the light and shadow making them look like finely etched lines in an innumerable series, divided by radiating divisions at right angles to the curve, defining to each society its appointed section. On the stage, facing the auditorium, were placed twelve chairs or thrones, one of which stood somewhat behind and above the others, which formed a semicircle. At the sides of the stage were several seats, to be occupied by persons having some subordinate share in the proceedings. Directly opposite the thrones was a single chair assigned to the individual to be tried; for this was to be a day of judgment. Between this chair and the judges stood an altar of black marble on which rested a piece of crystal fashioned into the shape of a heart.
A few minutes before noon Argon entered the theater at the stage end, accompanied by Jack. The young Saturnian led his friend to the chairs on the right, and they sat down. Jack cast a marveling look over the enormous interior, silent and tenantless; above bent the heavens, crossed by the arch of the ring, and with the moons set like gleaming jewels in the expanse. To the left, through the wide aperture of the entrance, lay the sea. The sun was near the zenith.
“Won’t it take a long time to fill this space?” asked Jack. “We are the first here, and I saw no one in the neighborhood as we were on our way.”
Argon, who was wearing a very grave look, roused himself and smiled.
“Our people are usually punctual, especially on such an occasion as this,” he said. “You will see that we won’t be kept waiting. I never thought,” he added with a sigh, “to have come here on this errand! I’ve seen only joyful spectacles until now.”
“You haven’t told me what is to be done here,” Jack observed. “Is it a criminal case? What penalties does your law inflict?”
“No Saturnian can inflict punishment on another!” answered Argon in surprise. “Our high courts do not convene for that purpose.”
Jack was equally astonished. “What is their purpose, then?”
“To hear the charge and the answer of the accused.”
“And is nothing done to the accused if found guilty?”
“Isn’t it enough that the guilt should be fixed?”
“But what is to deter him from committing other crimes?”
“Such a thing never has been known,” said Argon. “Could anything deter him more than to have his crime proved before the assembly of the people—to sit there with all eyes upon him and to go forth burdened by that shame? Those whom I have seen arraigned—and there have been very few in my lifetime—have become afterward more diligent and devoted than others in serving the common good. They have given no thought to their own comfort and welfare, but have made every sacrifice and effort to win back the approval of the community. Yes,” he continued, “I remember learning that it is different with you. But with you there are sickness and struggle, and some, I’ve been told, are actually without means to live—though how that can be, when many of you have more than they need, I couldn’t understand—and perhaps the statement was untrue. But, at any rate, you have temptations which we know nothing of here. All of us have more than all we need; there is no envy or hatred; each is content in the degree to which he belongs; each works at what he loves best to do, and does best, and he knows that the state needs him in his place, and that in any other he would be useless. So the temptation to do evil seldom is felt. Perhaps, if we had your troubles, we should have your crimes—and your punishments!”
There was a sound of trumpets; and Jack saw, in the center of the arena, three men who raised long, slender instruments to their lips and blew. As the sound died away, an amazing sight was revealed.
As if created by the musical notes, the entire array of benches lining the auditorium was filled from floor to parapet with men and women. A million human beings had suddenly sprung to life where, a moment before, there had seemed to be stark emptiness. Each of the innumerable societies, in its place, glittered in its flame-garments, tinted according to its quality and function in the state; and these were ranged in such a manner that their several characters, and even the individual variations of the persons composing them, could be perceived at a glance. The white societies occupied the benches immediately above the stage on each side; the gold were next to them; the rose, the azure, and the violet followed in their order; and whether because of the brightness of the light everywhere diffused, or the translucency of the atmosphere, or because his eyes had acquired a power of vision hitherto unknown, Jack found himself able to discern with entire distinctness the forms and features of even the most distant members of that immeasurable assemblage. What beauty of women, what nobility of men, what grace and simplicity of demeanor, what frank and kindly looks! The true brotherhood of man was revealed in the splendor of its loveliness.
As he gazed, delighted and yet appalled, a recollection passed through his mind of the last great popular gathering that he had witnessed in his own world. How similar, and yet, in comparison, how paltry, confused, and obscure; and above all, how inferior in the spiritual influence that proceeded from it! There, there had been a heterogeneous multitude of individuals, each self-centered and scant in sympathy; here, the millionfold audience was like one incomparably gifted being—one mind, heart, and soul incarnated in innumerable male and female forms, various, inexhaustible, harmonious; mighty, powerful, beneficent. What might not such an organization, working for good, accomplish! And this audience was but a deputation from a race many thousand times as numerous and strong, and not less pledged to unity.
“You are right,” Jack said to Argon, after contemplating the gathering. “No criminal would dare to face such a court more than once. But when shall we see the judges themselves and the accused?”
He had already perceived that the apparent simultaneous filling of the amphitheater had been due to the principle of voluntary invisibility and visibility which Lamara had explained to him. The spectators had probably been assembling for hours, but had waited to unveil until the trumpet sounded.
“We shall not have to wait long,” replied his friend.
“Are you acquainted with the accused?” he asked.
“Yes—and you know her, also,” Argon replied in a burdened voice.
“It’s a woman, then?” exclaimed Jack, startled; but further words were prevented by the sounding of another signal by the trumpeters.
The silvery cadences filled the great oval cup with stately melody, and floated lingeringly away in the upper air.
“Look!” whispered Argon.
Beginning at either end of the arc of eleven thrones, the judges were, one after one, revealed in their places. Composed and serious they were as graven images of justice; but of a justice in which mercy bore an equal part. There was neither severity nor indifference in the expression of their countenances, but a meditative sadness, as if each were searching his own heart to detect there some trace of mortal frailty which should admonish him of his brotherhood with the most sinful.
The central figure, immediately below the higher throne, was Aunion. There was an expectant hush, and, like the slow dawning of a white light, the gracious form of Lamara appeared in her station above. Immediately the whole body of the audience rose in its places, and all silently lifted their right hands. She responded with a gesture of the arm, full of gentle majesty, which seemed to invoke love upon all.
The high court was open. Aunion was the first to speak.
“We are met,” he said, “to hear the cause of one of us who has been charged with betraying a trust. The accused is a woman—young, as we measure age, and therefore to be thought of with the tenderness and indulgence which the inexperience of youth and the impulsiveness of girlhood may claim, and yet removed far enough from childhood to have lost something of the divine innocence and wisdom which children bring with them from the source of good. Had she been further advanced in the practise of self-government, we may believe that she would not stand accountant for this sin. It is likewise to be urged in her behalf that there flows in her veins blood of another strain than ours, which, even after the lapse of some ages, may abate her strength when and where it were most needed.”
“On the other hand,” he went on, “you are to know that the accused has been brought up in a position of exceptional advantage; she has been loved by our highest, and been admitted to the inner degrees of illumination. Moreover, her attempt was leveled not against one of ourselves, but against one of a race unfamiliar with our customs, and perhaps supplied with means less adequate than ours to offer resistance. The attempt failed, and you are to consider whether this fact relieves the accused in any degree from the odium of her purpose.
“To make an end, I say, that if any here can find nothing in his memory of his own secret life that would prompt him to show mercy to this girl, let him withdraw from our assembly, for that person is either more or less than human, and therefore not qualified to judge.”
He ceased, and Lamara said: “Let the accused appear!” At the word the chair, hitherto the only one vacant in the amphitheater, was occupied by a slender figure, crouched forward, whose long golden hair, drawn before her face by her hands, confirmed the painful anticipation which Jack had already formed. After a moment the hands fell, and the face of Zarga was revealed. Jack was about to utter some protest, but Argon restrained him.
“Who accuses this girl?” asked Lamara.
Argon rose and stepped forward.
“I accuse her!” said he.
PROBABLY none of the myriads who leaned forward to observe the proceedings, except Jack, were surprised at these words. He had not fathomed the nature of the Saturnians. He might have looked for the brother of the culprit to appear as her defender. But as her accuser—incredible!
Indeed, the entire conduct of the court thus far had been unimaginable, in his ideas of legal procedure. The chief judge had begun by stating in outline the crime of the accused, preceding it by what amounted to a plea for mercy. No counsel had been assigned her; she had not been questioned in her own defense; the case had been prejudged before it started; and now a child of the same parents that brought her into the world announced voluntarily that he was prepared to furnish grounds for the indictment!
Her own brother! If there had been any impression on his mind made clearer than another since his arrival on the planet, it had been that the mutual love and fraternal sympathy and helpfulness of those extraordinary people. And yet now, at the first practical test, he saw the man who had been suckled at the same breast with Zarga turn against her. His instincts revolted at the spectacle. Was Argon seizing this opportunity to pay off some secret grudge upon his sister? But surely, in that case, the court would have intervened to prevent such an outrage on even justice. So far from that, the eleven judges and Lamara herself bore every appearance of accepting the situation as a matter of course. Nor did any wave of indignation ripple through the audience. Oh, New York, with all its sins and its corruptions, would not have tolerated this! The ties of blood were sacred. But here, one might think, they granted license to attack and destroy.
Amid the mental and moral chaos into which the situation had plunged Jack, one purpose stood out clear: at the first opportunity available, at whatever risk of offending the court and defying the customs of their law, he would insist upon the demand that he himself, the party supposedly injured, should be given the right to defend this forlorn and abandoned victim. It was a right, if he chose to take it, incontestable even here. And he was ready to go to the limits of strict truth, and even a step beyond if necessary, in order to alleviate her plight. Chivalry enjoined it, and he would not be found wanting!
Meanwhile, Argon was beginning his arraignment; and it occurred to Jack that when the time came for witnesses to be called, the opportunity he awaited would arrive. He must indubitably be a witness; in fact, what other witness than himself could there be? Jim, possibly, but Jim had vanished; and though Jack would always have a warm feeling in his heart for the faithful little imp, he would sooner never set eyes on him than hear him bear hostile testimony in this matter. For the time being, he bent his attention closely on what Argon was saying.
“I thank our highest and this court,” were his opening words, “for their permission to prove, before the people of Saturn, my faithful and tender love for my poor sister. Love between a brother and a sister there must always be; but the tie between Zarga and myself may perhaps be closer than common, because, as Aunion has told you, we are, though not ourselves alien among you, yet of alien linage, and thereby doubly united. You had received and trusted us as of your own community; and the joyful obligation lay upon us so to live and act among you as to justify your hospitality, and to prove that even the unruly blood of the Torides can be subdued to harmony with yours.”
“Is this hypocrisy?” muttered Jack. “Can any one be deceived by it?”
He turned to fix his eyes upon Zarga. She sat there, drooping, like a lovely flower torn from its stalk; the glow and brilliance of the beauty that had been so vivid in the hall of crystal had faded as if beaten upon by storms, but she was only the more appealing to him for that reason. She did not return his look; she seemed unconscious of his presence, though she must have known he was there; but she was gazing at Argon with an expression of affection which seemed to Jack incomprehensible in the circumstances. There must be in her nature a sweetness and nobility far greater than he had hitherto imagined if she could not only forgive the attack her brother was about to make, but appear to be grateful for it!
“It is no palliation of her offense,” Argon went on, “that he whom she sought to beguile was a stranger newly arrived among us; rather should that have been for her a precious opportunity to show a kindness and forbearance beyond the strict obligations of fellowship. Moreover, as you all know, and as she knew, he was already betrothed to another woman who had arrived here but a short while before him. But she was not restrained by these circumstances. She was only the more stimulated by them to pursue her course. And now I must reveal certain grievous facts which to many of you have been unsuspected.”
His voice became husky, and he paused to recover himself. Zarga’s face was pale and expressionless; she trembled uncontrollably, as if under a freezing wind.
“During a part of the last circuit,” the speaker resumed, “she had been a pupil with me in a study of the earth from which these two strangers came. By chance, she was attracted to a youth there”—he indicated Jack—“and, through the medium of the planetary mirror used in our school, was able to follow his career closely. At first she often spoke to me of him, but latterly had seemed indifferent, her apparent change dating from the time when Miriam, our other guest, unexpectedly reached us. In truth, she had divined, by means available to initiates, that the youth was to follow, so enabling her to meet him personally; and this discovery caused what had till then been a merely fanciful and imaginative interest to kindle to a wayward and unruly passion. In spite of her knowledge of another’s prior claim, she resolved, in the secrecy of her heart, to take him for herself!”
A low murmur passed through the assembly. Argon’s face became stern as he manned himself for the sequel.
“My sister’s relations with our highest, who loved and trusted her, gave her facilities for carrying out her project. I need not enlarge on these; but she also accepted aid from a source not only unlawful, but treasonable. She entered into a conspiracy with our hostile neighbor, the Prince of Tor, to render mutual services. He, by methods of his own, had somewhat familiarized himself with the planet of our guests, and had resolved to attempt the capture of Miriam. Zarga gave him information and aid which enabled him to succeed—after several failures—in his effort, and thus removed from her path the rival whom she feared. She was left free to practise upon the youth she pursued arts both native and magical, and by false illusions sought to persuade him that she whom he loved had betrayed him. Fortunately for all—even for her—his resistance proved invincible. Guided by intimations received from a wise friend who has long since held communication with us, we overcame the magical obstacles put in our way, and found her in the crisis of her iniquity.”
The audience had listened to this narration with an interest manifestly intense. Argon, perhaps, had more to say; but he cast an imploring look at Lamara, who replied with an acquiescing and compassionate gesture which permitted him to sink back, overwrought, in his chair. Jack restrained himself for the present, perceiving that Lamara was about to speak. Would she justify Argon’s cruel exposure?
Her eyes traveled over the audience, and at length rested with tenderness upon Zarga. Then she seemed, for a few moments to commune with herself.
“Evil is a false friend,” she said. “Man is born asleep, and dreams in his sleep that evil is good. Only when he wakes does he recognize evil as his enemy. He begins to live when he learns that he and evil are twain. Then those twain join battle, and until the last day the issue is in doubt. The power of the enemy lies in this—that he never ceases to wear the guise of the dearest and most intimate companion, to oppose whom is to destroy life itself. And in order to win the struggle, man must plunge his sword into his inmost heart. Nothing less than that can set his true self free.
“Knowing how desperate is our own battle, we sympathize with the battle of a fellow creature. We help him by reminding him of the lie that wears the mask of truth, the hate that smiles like love, the death that calls itself life. We warn him of the treachery that stabs while it kisses. To him, in the confusion of the conflict, our succor seems like cruelty, and the draft of life to which we invite him like poison. But we are in the way of our duty, and must not falter. Until he surrenders all he held dear, his enemy is not defeated. Then the spirit enters in, and he is at peace.
“Beware of calling him who does evil, criminal! Not he, but the enemy, commits the crime. Do not condemn—defend him! Strengthen the armor of his weakness; put true weapons in his feeble hands. Love all men, but him most who most needs love. Has he harmed you? It was not he! Harm not yourself by disowning brotherhood with him!
“The sinner is poor; give him of your abundance. He has lost his way; light your lamp to guide him. He is in prison; make him welcome in your house. He has robbed you of your treasure; give him the greater treasure of your forgiveness. He will find himself at last, and so reward you with the greatest treasure of all!
“Here, now, is our sister sorely beset,” she went on, extending both her hands toward Zarga, with the light of love in her eyes. “We have suffered shame through her deed; but is not our heedlessness more in fault than she? She dwelt close to our heart, yet we failed to perceive her need. She lacked strength, yet we opened the gates of danger to her. We relaxed her with ease when she should have been strung to effort. She fell into the snare that our blindness helped to spread for her. We ask her forgiveness.
“Little sister,” she continued, now addressing Zarga directly, “you are fortunate in this, that the false good you aimed at is lost to you—could never have been yours. But that is the least of your losses, and you alone, trusting to the spirit, can retrieve the rest. Take counsel with your own soul how to set about the work. All the power of our realm, which these who now look upon you represent, is yours to call upon; but a greater power stands ready to your aid, if you find humility and wisdom to accept it. Go forth with hope and courage, and be glad that all know your burden and will rejoice in your success.”
In the silence that followed, Zarga went with unsteady steps to the altar and fell upon her knees there, laying hold upon it with her hands. The sun had now touched the highest point of its course, and its light fell directly upon the crystal heart. It was a spiritual test observed among Saturnians by immemorial tradition, and accounted holy. All watched breathlessly for the outcome—Argon so shaken with emotion that he could barely support himself in his seat; Jack, awe-stricken and wondering.
After a moment the crystal slowly brightened; soon it had become so bright that the eye could hardly endure the dazzle of it. A sparkling vapor arose from it; living tongues of pure flame flickered up and increased; the stone was now a blaze of fire. At last none save Lamara could sustain the luster of it. The vast assemblage lifted up its voice in a majestic sound of recognition and acceptance of the judgment. As the flame vanished, the spectators assumed their veils, and the enormous auditorium appeared empty. The high court was dissolved. Zarga was no longer to be seen.
Lamara descended from her throne, and was joined by Aunion. She beckoned to Jack and Argon, and the four passed out of the amphitheater together.