CHAPTER XXXVI. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER

Lona was so disgusted with the people, and especially with the women,

that she wished to abandon the place as soon as possible; I, on the

contrary, felt very strongly that to do so would be to fail wilfully

where success was possible; and, far worse, to weaken the hearts of

the Little Ones, and so bring them into much greater danger. If we

retreated, it was certain the princess would not leave us unassailed!

if we encountered her, the hope of the prophecy went with us! Mother

and daughter must meet: it might be that Lona’s loveliness would take

Lilith’s heart by storm! if she threatened violence, I should be there

between them! If I found that I had no other power over her, I was

ready, for the sake of my Lona, to strike her pitilessly on the closed

hand! I knew she was doomed: most likely it was decreed that her doom

should now be brought to pass through us!

Still without hint of the relation in which she stood to the princess,

I stated the case to Lona as it appeared to me. At once she agreed to

accompany me to the palace.

From the top of one of its great towers, the princess had, in the early

morning, while the city yet slept, descried the approach of the army of

the Little Ones. The sight awoke in her an over-mastering terror: she

had failed in her endeavour to destroy them, and they were upon her! The

prophecy was about to be fulfilled!

When she came to herself, she descended to the black hall, and seated

herself in the north focus of the ellipse, under the opening in the

roof.

For she must think! Now what she called THINKING required a clear

consciousness of herself, not as she was, but as she chose to believe

herself; and to aid her in the realisation of this consciousness, she

had suspended, a little way from and above her, itself invisible in the

darkness of the hall, a mirror to receive the full sunlight reflected

from her person. For the resulting vision of herself in the splendour of

her beauty, she sat waiting the meridional sun.

Many a shadow moved about her in the darkness, but as often as, with a

certain inner eye which she had, she caught sight of one, she refused

to regard it. Close under the mirror stood the Shadow which attended her

walks, but, self-occupied, him she did not see.

The city was taken; the inhabitants were cowering in terror; the Little

Ones and their strange cavalry were encamped in the square; the sun

shone upon the princess, and for a few minutes she saw herself glorious.

The vision passed, but she sat on. The night was now come, and darkness

clothed and filled the glass, yet she did not move. A gloom that swarmed

with shadows, wallowed in the palace; the servants shivered and shook,

but dared not leave it because of the beasts of the Little Ones; all

night long the princess sat motionless: she must see her beauty again!

she must try again to think! But courage and will had grown weary of

her, and would dwell with her no more!

In the morning we chose twelve of the tallest and bravest of the boys

to go with us to the palace. We rode our great horses, and they small

horses and elephants.

The princess sat waiting the sun to give her the joy of her own

presence. The tide of the light was creeping up the shore of the sky,

but until the sun stood overhead, not a ray could enter the black hall.

He rose to our eyes, and swiftly ascended. As we climbed the steep way

to the palace, he climbed the dome of its great hall. He looked in at

the eye of it--and with sudden radiance the princess flashed upon her

own sight. But she sprang to her feet with a cry of despair: alas her

whiteness! the spot covered half her side, and was black as the marble

around her! She clutched her robe, and fell back in her chair. The

Shadow glided out, and she saw him go.

We found the gate open as usual, passed through the paved grove up to

the palace door, and entered the vestibule. There in her cage lay the

spotted leopardess, apparently asleep or lifeless. The Little Ones

paused a moment to look at her. She leaped up rampant against the cage.

The horses reared and plunged; the elephants retreated a step. The

next instant she fell supine, writhed in quivering spasms, and lay

motionless. We rode into the great hall.

The princess yet leaned back in her chair in the shaft of sunlight, when

from the stones of the court came to her ears the noise of the horses’

hoofs. She started, listened, and shook: never had such sound been

heard in her palace! She pressed her hand to her side, and gasped. The

trampling came nearer and nearer; it entered the hall itself; moving

figures that were not shadows approached her through the darkness!

For us, we saw a splendour, a glorious woman centring the dark. Lona

sprang from her horse, and bounded to her. I sprang from mine, and

followed Lona.

“Mother! mother!” she cried, and her clear, lovely voice echoed in the

dome.

The princess shivered; her face grew almost black with hate, her

eyebrows met on her forehead. She rose to her feet, and stood.

“Mother! mother!” cried Lona again, as she leaped on the daïs, and flung

her arms around the princess.

An instant more and I should have reached them!--in that instant I saw

Lona lifted high, and dashed on the marble floor. Oh, the horrible sound

of her fall! At my feet she fell, and lay still. The princess sat down

with the smile of a demoness.

I dropped on my knees beside Lona, raised her from the stones, and

pressed her to my bosom. With indignant hate I glanced at the princess;

she answered me with her sweetest smile. I would have sprung upon her,

taken her by the throat, and strangled her, but love of the child was

stronger than hate of the mother, and I clasped closer my precious

burden. Her arms hung helpless; her blood trickled over my hands, and

fell on the floor with soft, slow little plashes.

The horses scented it--mine first, then the small ones. Mine reared,

shivering and wild-eyed, went about, and thundered blindly down the dark

hall, with the little horses after him. Lona’s stood gazing down at his

mistress, and trembling all over. The boys flung themselves from their

horses’ backs, and they, not seeing the black wall before them, dashed

themselves, with mine, to pieces against it. The elephants came on to

the foot of the daïs, and stopped, wildly trumpeting; the Little Ones

sprang upon it, and stood horrified; the princess lay back in her seat,

her face that of a corpse, her eyes alone alive, wickedly flaming. She

was again withered and wasted to what I found in the wood, and her side

was as if a great branding hand had been laid upon it. But Lona saw

nothing, and I saw but Lona.

“Mother! mother!” she sighed, and her breathing ceased.

I carried her into the court: the sun shone upon a white face, and the

pitiful shadow of a ghostly smile. Her head hung back. She was “dead as

earth.”

I forgot the Little Ones, forgot the murdering princess, forgot the

body in my arms, and wandered away, looking for my Lona. The doors and

windows were crowded with brute-faces jeering at me, but not daring to

speak, for they saw the white leopardess behind me, hanging her head

close at my heel. I spurned her with my foot. She held back a moment,

and followed me again.

I reached the square: the little army was gone! Its emptiness roused me.

Where were the Little Ones, HER Little Ones? I had lost her children!

I stared helpless about me, staggered to the pillar, and sank upon its

base.

But as I sat gazing on the still countenance, it seemed to smile a live

momentary smile. I never doubted it an illusion, yet believed what it

said: I should yet see her alive! It was not she, it was I who was lost,

and she would find me!

I rose to go after the Little Ones, and instinctively sought the gate

by which we had entered. I looked around me, but saw nothing of the

leopardess.

The street was rapidly filling with a fierce crowd. They saw me

encumbered with my dead, but for a time dared not assail me. Ere I

reached the gate, however, they had gathered courage. The women began

to hustle me; I held on heedless. A man pushed against my sacred burden:

with a kick I sent him away howling. But the crowd pressed upon me, and

fearing for the dead that was beyond hurt, I clasped my treasure closer,

and freed my right arm. That instant, however, a commotion arose in the

street behind me; the crowd broke; and through it came the Little Ones I

had left in the palace. Ten of them were upon four of the elephants; on

the two other elephants lay the princess, bound hand and foot, and quite

still, save that her eyes rolled in their ghastly sockets. The two other

Little Ones rode behind her on Lona’s horse. Every now and then the wise

creatures that bore her threw their trunks behind and felt her cords.

I walked on in front, and out of the city. What an end to the hopes with

which I entered the evil place! We had captured the bad princess, and

lost our all-beloved queen! My life was bare! my heart was empty!