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Title: Meleager
        A fantasy

Author: Herbert M. Vaughan

Release date: November 22, 2023 [eBook #72198]

Language: English

Original publication: London: Martin Secker, 1916

Credits: Charlene Taylor, Graeme Mackreth and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MELEAGER ***





  MELEAGER
  A FANTASY

  BY H.M. VAUGHAN
  F.S.A.


  "_Wilt thou know how farre the
  Starres work upon us?_"

  Anatomy of Melancholy
  (Part I., sect. ii., sub-sect. iv.)


  LONDON
  MARTIN SECKER
  NUMBER FIVE JOHN STREET
  ADELPHI




_First Published 1916_




CONTENTS


               PAGE

  PROLOGUE         7

  PART ONE        15

  PART TWO       199

  EPIGRAPH       308




PROLOGUE

(_By the Editor of the Original MS., the late_ Edward Cayley, F.S.A.)


In giving the following narrative to the Press, I feel, as its editor,
I am bound to write a short preface of apology or explanation to such
of the public as care to read these pages. But I shall be as brief as
possible.

The manuscript, which is here produced in printed form, came into
my personal possession through the kindness of Sir W---- Y----, the
eminent traveller and mountaineer, who chanced upon it under the
following circumstances. Whilst engaged in some work of exploration in
the Andes, at the height of 12,000 feet or thereabouts above sea-level,
he and his party had to traverse a dry stony ravine. On their passage
upward one of the attendant guides chanced to espy amongst the loose
stones and rubble a plain white metal cylinder sealed at both ends.
Except for a conspicuous dent, evidently the result of a heavy fall,
the cylinder itself appeared uninjured, and it was immediately brought
by the finder to Sir W----, as the leader of the party. Sir W----
stopped for a moment to examine this strange treasure-trove, and,
though much pressed for time, was able to loosen the cover and to
ascertain that the cylinder contained a large scroll of fine vellum
closely covered with minute writing. In the fading light, Sir W----,
who had many matters of professional importance to think of, gave
only a cursory glance at the manuscript itself, which he fancied must
be connected with some of the ancient inhabitants of Peru. Without
examining the parchment closely, he thereupon packed away the cylinder
in his baggage and made no further effort to elucidate its nature until
his return to Lima. My friend was here considerably astonished to find
that the MS. which had so strangely fallen into his hands was written,
not in some antique or unknown language and characters, but in neat
though exceedingly small English script, with the sole exception of
one short sentence in Latin--added apparently by another hand and in
a different ink--in which the Latin writer begged the finder of the
cylinder to take the enclosed scroll of vellum to the nearest English
or American consulate. But for this Latin request, which was inserted
at the beginning of the manuscript in a most prominent manner, the
whole was written in fair nervous English, which it became easy to
decipher, so soon as the reader had grown accustomed to the crabbedness
of the writing, that had evidently been produced by an exiguity of
space.

By one of those curious but happy chances which sometimes occur in
life, Sir W---- was still more astonished to discover that the name
of the author was not only familiar to him, but that he actually had
once owned a slight acquaintance with him. More than this, Sir W----,
who is one of my dearest and oldest friends, knew that I had been
intimate with the writer of this parchment, who (as he thought) had
been dead for some years. Sir W---- therefore, though greatly puzzled
by the whole inscrutable occurrence, very wisely made no further
mention of his discovery, but on his return to England brought the
manuscript direct to me at my room in the British Museum. After a long
discussion between us, Sir W---- voluntarily made over all arrangements
in the matter of publishing or suppressing the contents of the scroll
to myself, and indeed, so to speak, washed his hands of all further
responsibility in the matter, which had apparently somewhat affected
his nerves or his spirits. I have only to add, with regard to the
original owner of the MS., that Sir W----, when at Lima, showed the
metal case to various persons employed at the museum there, and that
all these experts unanimously declared that this object itself could
never have been produced by any of the aboriginal inhabitants of Peru;
whilst the metal, a species of platinum, was, so far as they were
aware, unknown on our planet. And this verdict of the officials at Lima
is, I believe, perfectly correct.

As to the authenticity of the MS., I may at once state that the account
contained therein coincides in every particular with the evidence
that was produced at the time of its alleged author's mysterious
disappearance. I have had for many years an intimate acquaintance,
amounting to a cordial friendship, with the writer, A---- B----. I
do not necessarily concur with all that he states later on as to his
exceptional mental gifts; nor do I consider his close self-analysis
as altogether a correct one. Still, I think his own views on his
attainments, his natural genius, his complete failure, and his outlook
on life are sincere. Though highly nervous and sensitive by nature,
and a prey to constant fits of depression, neither I nor any of his
friends, would ever have suspected him of a tendency to suicide. We
were indeed, all of us, fully as surprised as we were grieved to learn
through the newspapers of November ----, 19--, the details of what we
most assuredly at that date considered to have been his own deliberate
act of self-destruction. For there can be no question but that A----
B---- had made beforehand plans for his contemplated disappearance; the
letter of instruction he wrote to his brother, the careful packing of
his valuables at his lodgings, and the sudden payment on the morning
that he was last seen of certain outstanding bills clearly point to
this surmise. We are however now confronted since the strange discovery
of the manuscript with two theories as to his end; did A---- B----
really perish on the beach at Dover; or did he evanish from his own
world of men in order to start a new life under new conditions? His
clothing, we know, was found lying on the bare ground carefully held
down by stones and boulders, and in his pockets were some money and
a few personal trifles of value. Nevertheless, it is just possible
he may have changed into some other garb, and thus disguised have
made his escape whither none could trace him. This second theory is
however highly improbable, seeing that his age was over forty, his
temperament on the whole normal, and his health indifferent; so that
I merely mention it here to show that the suggestion has not escaped
my own inquiring mind. The conclusion however which both the police
and his relatives held was that A---- B---- had in some fit of frenzy
or despair plunged naked into the sea, wherein he had been speedily
drowned; for it was a cold stormy night. It is true the actual body
was never recovered, but professional and amateur alike were agreed
on the point of suicide whilst of unsound mind. That the manuscript
is a literary jest perpetrated in the name of A---- B---- is also
most unlikely, for though he was an author of some talent and repute,
his mere name certainly had not the glamour requisite to draw special
attention to any posthumous publication. At the risk therefore of being
considered credulous, or even crazy, I have come to the deliberate
decision that the whole marvellous story as set forth on the parchment
is essentially true; and that the events described therein are not
the figments of any imagination, sane or insane. If this is the case
(which I do not for one moment doubt), then we possess an inestimable
account of a planet other than our own. On the other hand, were it a
fraud of an elaborate nature, as has been suggested, we have simply a
treatise dealing with a Utopia in the stars, just one of those sterile
semi-descriptive, semi-political effusions that the speculative human
mind has produced from time to time. The record of Meleager and of its
unique Secret, of which the author claims to know the existence but
not the working details, is either a matter of surpassing interest,
or else it is but a literary trifle, a jejune compound of material
borrowed from Plato, Sir Thomas More, Rabelais, James Harington, Dean
Swift, Samuel Butler, H.G. Wells, and Heaven only knows how many other
inventors in a similar vein, both ancient and modern, English and
foreign. Once more I repeat my full belief in the writer's veracity and
in the substantial truth of all his many adventures. As I write this, I
have lying on my desk before me that same strange metal cylinder, and
that exquisitely prepared roll of vellum; and whenever I take these
objects in my hands I really feel that I am fingering a message in a
tangible form from a friend and fellow-mortal who has passed hence to
another planet.

I have only to add that in editing the MS. I have deemed it expedient
to omit here and there a few passages which might perhaps tend to
prejudice the reader against A---- B---- himself; the fact being
patent to me that the author, after some years of residence in another
and a wholly diverse moral and physical atmosphere, has somehow imbibed
notions and theories that may clash with some of the recognised
conventions and standards of this our world, which was also once his
own. These omissions do not however mar the general trend of the
narrative; and if any authorised persons may conceive a serious desire
to peruse these excerpts, I shall willingly acquaint them with what is
missing from the text.




PART ONE


I

I begin my manuscript in the palace of the Child of the Sun in a
distant world, thus relieving a mind that is apt to grow weary of mere
splendour and adulation by imagining the possibility of communicating
on some future day with those who were not so long ago my fellow-men
and fellow-mortals on the planet I have left, never to return. Though
brightness and beauty are around me in my new abode, yet a constant
longing for the drab unattainable past grips me with a feverish
eagerness, so that I find some small solace in placing on record from
time to time my impressions of a place and a people whose existence I
had never suspected until a few hours before I was hurried, a humble
subject out of the Earth, to dwell as ruler of an alien sphere. Whether
or no I shall ever gain the opportunity of committing this message
to its desired goal I know not; but at the present moment it suits
my fancy and soothes my unquiet brain to believe in the ultimate
feasibility of such an event. So I shall open by relating with the
utmost brevity the earlier and earthly, and therefore less interesting,
portion of my career.

I had already passed by some few years the age of forty, at which
landmark of life, so Count Alfieri discovered long ago, man ceases to
cherish illusions, and seeks to look back upon the irredeemable past
with feelings of self-satisfaction or of regret, as his case may be.
My own reflections after passing this Rubicon of time were anything
but agreeable, when I paused to consider the years that had slipped by
between my period of youth and that of middle age, and had to confess
that all my early ambitions had petered out in nothingness. I had
signally failed in all things; I had plainly proved myself

      "too weak to put my shoulder to the wheel
  Which Fortune offers all to push or leave."

And yet, despite my laziness, my lack of initiative, my sacrifices
to dull Convention, my timidity and my vacillation, I could not help
harbouring a dull dim fury of resentment against Fate itself. I
realised that I was the owner of high and original genius, yet this had
omitted to imprint its proper mark in the world; and further, I argued
that it was not wholly through my own fault that my latent virtues
had never developed. The finest and most useful piece of machinery
remains valueless and inert unless there be a skilled workman to set
its mechanism in motion, to oil its cogs, and generally to supervise
its action. So in my own case, the mental mechanism was all there ready
to perform and needing but the touch of a sympathetic human hand to
inspire its dormant possibilities. Some of the foremost characters
in history have owed their fame and their success to the judicious
but unappreciated help of persons of an inferior calibre, whose very
names are often unknown to posterity; then why could not I have been
permitted the service of some exterior force, some understanding
coadjutor, to awaken the gigantic strength that was slumbering in
myself?

Thus in my case a boyhood full of promise, yet a boyhood ever repressed
and misunderstood, ripened into an early manhood of diffidence and
irresolution. The golden years glided by unprofitably, until at length
they reached the grand climacteric, when I found myself straying in
a barren and deserted portion of the plain of life. A mental and
physical weariness began to enfold me; the sense of failure at times
was certainly keen and cutting as a razor, still I contrived by
various devices to blunt its edge. I had indeed obtained some slight
distinction in the sphere of literature, so that I was fain to feed my
hungry disappointed soul with such crumbs or stale food of gratulation
as fell to me from the small circle of those who admired my works,
concerning which I myself can honestly say that I neither professed nor
felt the smallest pride. A few trifles from my pen may possibly live in
the general literature of Britain, mostly in verse, for poetry is often
less perishable than prose in such instances as mine. Nevertheless, I
recognised myself as a partial failure in the domain of letters, as I
was admittedly a complete failure in the departments of politics, of
thought, of influence, of philosophy.

Naturally, with such bitter matter for reflection, my equanimity was
liable to serious disturbance what time the sharp edge of this haunting
sense of a life's bankruptcy pricked my all-too-sensitive skin. At
such periods long-drawn fits of depression would invade me. Though
at first these would dissolve and would often leave a marked flow of
gaiety and hopefulness behind them, yet such attacks grew stronger
and more frequent, whilst the subsequent recovery was less ecstatic
in its nature. It was during one of these temporary obsessions of
brooding care that I encountered the one and only adventure of my life,
the adventure indeed that, in one aspect, terminated it, as I shall
presently relate. For I have only written thus much concerning my
interior state of mind and my physical health to impress on the reader
that, apparent failure as I was and void of all worldly success, yet I
still possessed the clear inner consciousness of mental powers that far
exceeded those of all my more fortunate acquaintances, and were perhaps
equalled amongst very few contemporary persons whatsoever. My call to
action came at last; the master hand at the eleventh hour put the rusty
machinery of my unique mind in motion; and I have answered to that
call, and am now employing for a worthy purpose those superior talents
that, not altogether by reason of my own laches, had so long lain idle.

       *       *       *       *       *

One November evening in the year 19--, whilst under the shadow of one
of my recurring moods of melancholy, I made my way to the Café Royale
in Regent Street, where I sat down and ordered a glass of absinthe. And
here I may as well state that I am no drunkard, and that I have never
sought to dispel my fits of depression by the aid of the wine-cup.
Occasionally, however, I used to drink a glass of absinthe, as an
excuse for visiting this foreign tavern, this latter-day Petty France
in London, whose alien quality always tended to reduce my misery, for
I found relaxation in the gruff Continental voices of the guests, in
the sight and scent of the foreign liquors, in the garish Parisian
decorations of the long low room, and in the unceasing chink of the
dominoes on the marble-topped tables. I had already poured the ice-cold
water upon the thin tablet of sugar reposing on the silver sifter that
I had placed across the goblet, and was watching the clouded liquor
below assume the yellow and green tints of the peridot, when I noticed
a stranger enter the doorway, glance quickly round at the noisy crowd
assembled, and then seat himself deliberately in the vacant chair
opposite to me. With a languid interest I observed the new-comer,
trying to recall his face, which somehow seemed vaguely familiar to me.
As this personage is to figure presently as my liberator, my mentor, my
particular _deus ex machinâ_, I may as well describe him here to the
best of my ability. He was short, and a little inclined to stoutness;
he was apparently about my own age, and was fashionably but quietly
dressed; he was also obviously not an Englishman. His complexion was
swarthy, even hinting at some possible admixture of Oriental blood,
but his features were small, regular and far from unpleasing. His dark
hair and moustache were grizzled; he had intelligent brown eyes and
regular teeth; his voice showed an agreeable intonation as he ordered
François to bring him some coffee. Having given his order, the stranger
looked fixedly at me for a moment, the while stroking his chin with a
delicate well-kept hand. Suddenly he addressed me, only to offer me
the evening paper which he had brought with him. I thanked him, and
seeing him thus anxious to converse, I made some commonplace remark
on the badness of the weather. He replied with alacrity, and by the
time the waiter had returned with his coffee the stranger and I were
chatting affably. He spoke excellent English, but with an accent that
caused me to speculate on his possible nationality. After we had
indulged thus in small talk for ten minutes or more, my neighbour,
assuming a graceful hesitation of manner, inquired of me whether my
name were not A---- B----. Greatly surprised, I assented; whereupon the
foreigner, with a well-bred apology for what he called his liberty of
attitude towards me, stated that he was a sincere admirer of my books,
and then proceeded to allude to them in a manner which showed plainly
enough that at least he had read them. He praised my work warmly,
complimented me on the subjects I had chosen for research, on my lucid
style and on other points. Now, there are few persons who are not
susceptible to praise or flattery, and I am no exception to the general
rule, provided only that the praise (or flattery) be applied with a
delicate brush and not with a trowel. The discriminating approval
therefore of this distinguished-looking foreigner acted like a sedative
to my jarred nerves, so that the cloud of depression hanging over my
head began rapidly to disperse. We talked and argued with animation
over my books and their themes, with which my unknown companion seemed
to possess a most intimate acquaintance. Time raced rapidly during this
congenial duologue, the clock above the bar denoting the flight of a
full hour before my comrade broached the matter of his own identity,
which could scarcely in politeness be withheld much longer. Taking a
leather case from his breast-pocket, he produced a visiting card, which
he handed to me, explaining to me at the same moment that he was of
Italian parentage though born in the Argentine, where he followed the
occupation of a merchant in connection with a large English commercial
house holding concessions in Peru and Bolivia. The card bore the
name "Signor Arrigo d'Aragno," and an address in Buenos Aires. Then,
glancing hastily at the clock, he made some remark about an important
business appointment and expressed deep concern at this abrupt ending
of our agreeable conversation. With some slight hesitation however
he ventured to ask whether I would not give him the extreme pleasure
of my company at dinner that night, provided I would excuse such an
invitation from a complete stranger after so short an acquaintance. I
happened to be disengaged that day, with the uninviting prospect of a
solitary evening at my club before me; and my alacrity in accepting his
hospitality caused obvious satisfaction to Signor d'Aragno, who named
one of the large London hotels for our trysting-place. We shook hands
cordially, and separated with a warm _a rivederla_.

       *       *       *       *       *

Arrived punctually at eight o'clock at the ---- Hotel, I was shown
upstairs to my host's private apartment, and a few moments later we
two were sitting at table and resuming our interrupted discussion of
the Café Royale. By the time we had reached the stage of dessert, and
the waiters had retired, this topic had somewhat flagged, and the
conversation now took on a more personal complexion. The praise that
had hitherto been lavishly accorded to my books was now deftly and
tactfully--though of course I was unaware of the change at the actual
time--shifted to myself and my exceptional gifts of mind. Leading
skilfully from one point to another, d'Aragno finally stated his
opinion that my inherent genius, my political views, and my remarkable
culture were altogether such as marked me out as a person born to
rule, as a Homeric _anax andrõn_. The generous wine I had swallowed,
the intoxicating but judicious adulation and insinuating personality of
my host alike operated to arouse in me that keen desire for power I had
ofttimes secretly indulged in; whilst at the same time they generated
an indescribable sense of bitterness against the world at large for its
neglect or ignorance of so marvellous a genius as mine. I am certain
now (though at the time I was quite unconscious of its employment) the
will of my companion was working with every force at its command to
communicate with my brain and to instil therein the full appreciation
of the special object he had in view. We proceeded to higher and
higher planes of argument; the famous names of history fell frequently
from our lips, as we spoke of the ideal Prince of Machiavelli, of the
demi-god of Corsica, of the super-man of Nietzsche, of the mystical
powers wielded by the Pope of Rome and the Dalai Lama. The hours flew
by on rosy wings; midnight had passed, and the gong of Big Ben had just
hurled its solitary stroke of one o'clock booming through the dank
foggy air without that enveloped a London grown at last comparatively
silent. How well do I recall that precise moment! The reverberation of
the clanging knell had scarcely subsided when my host, making a brusque
movement in his chair, bluntly placed the great proposition before me,
and offered me a kingdom, though not a kingdom of this world!


II

Before attempting to give a short and, I hope, a tolerably coherent
account of my lengthy nocturnal interview with Arrigo d'Aragno, of
his amazing statements and proposals, and of my own half-hearted and
intermittent struggles against his invading powers of persuasion, I
must state first of all that the whole incident rises before me at this
moment with crystal clearness. Even now, in these exotic surroundings,
I can see with my mind's eye that commonplace hotel parlour with its
ugly luxurious furniture and its flamboyant wall-paper of scarlet
patterned with a design of raised and gilded vine-leaves. In this
room for several hours my host continued to address me with scarcely
a pause, except at one or two points when I feebly ventured to stem
the torrent of his extraordinary discourse. The open allurements, the
veiled warnings, the cynical wisdom, the biting indictments of our own
existing conditions of society, together composed a strange medley of
arguments, which were intended to convince me of the absolute necessity
of my immediate and unconditional submission to his carefully prepared
scheme. And this scheme was no less than the complete surrender of
myself, mind and body, into his keeping for the purpose of being
transported whilst in an unconscious or comatose state and by some
hidden means to another planet! I cannot of course recall the whole of
that prodigal information, nor all the astonishing things he confided
in me; but I do remember vividly throughout the whole of this mental
ordeal that I always remained fully aware of my host's sanity. He
talked the dreams of madmen, as judged by our conventional standards
of science and belief; yet I knew, instinctively knew, all his
bizarre statements to be fact and not fiction. Was some irresistible
hypnotic force, I wonder, emanating from that will and besieging my
own overwrought brain, to compel my full credence in the apparently
incredible? In any case, believe I did absolutely. I grew to realise
also, dimly at first, but with increasing clarity, that a refusal on my
part was now practically unthinkable. Of a truth my choice lay between
a swift and certain death on Earth and a new career in another planet;
and as the ties that bound me to Earth were neither very strong nor
very dear, whilst my curiosity was boundless, I was filled with tense
excitement but not with real alarm at the prospect opened before me.
With hardly an attempt at opposition, therefore, I allowed myself to
become permeated through and through with the psychical current of my
companion's will to power, ignoring my shrewd presentiment of intense
danger ahead in the event of my seeking to decline that which I most
ardently longed for despite a few passing qualms. Beyond a doubt I was
completely in the toils, but I experienced no anxiety to escape thence.

       *       *       *       *       *

Directing his eyes full upon my face with a concentrated stare that
held my attention fixed and unwavering, d'Aragno started, and his
harangue proceeded with scarcely a break for four hours, of which here
I can only inscribe a few disjointed fragments. "You progressive and
enlightened peoples of the important planet known as the Earth have in
your own estimation acquired an immense store of knowledge, not only
of things terrestrial but also of the entire scheme celestial. Your
astronomers talk glibly of the presence of various metals in the Moon,
of the luminous rings of Saturn, of artificial canals in Mars; you
reckon with accuracy on the times and seasons of the wandering comets
which you christen by the names of their discoverers--and yet, and yet
you have not learnt our secret, The Secret!...

"On your aerial charts there is marked a tiny planet belonging to
our solar system which your scientists, following an absurd method
of nomenclature from the venue of classical mythology, have dubbed
Meleager. Being small, it is held of no account by your star-gazing
wiseacres, whilst the average layman of intelligence has probably
never so much as heard its name. Is not that so? Have you yourself any
knowledge of its existence? (I shook my head.) Now let me tell you
that Meleager is an Earth in miniature; its inhabitants, its natural
features, its vegetation, its fauna have all developed under identical
conditions in the past, so that, were any traveller from Herthus to be
unexpectedly translated thither, he would almost certainly imagine he
had only found his way to some hitherto unexplored subtropical region
of his own Earth. _I_ am a native of Meleager, and I am moreover one
of its small band of citizens who possess its secret, which has been
handed down from its original inventors to their successors through
countless centuries of time. How, when and by whom The Secret came into
existence I know not; and did I know, I should not inform you; but
this much I am empowered to say; there is intercommunication of long
standing between our small planet and your larger one; or rather, to
use exact language, a limited knot of persons in Meleager own the power
of visiting your Earth from time to time for certain purposes, one of
which I shall presently disclose to you, as it concerns intimately our
meeting and conversation this night. It is now five years and more
since I have been dwelling in an alien world, making a careful scrutiny
in connection with the mission that has been entrusted me by the
innermost circle of the ruling caste which alone controls the polity of
Meleager. I am, as it were, an ambassador to the Earth, but one whose
credentials have never been presented, who has no staff of legation,
no chancellery, and whose position is one-sided, for it is unknown
to, and unacknowledged by, the countries to which he has been sent. I
have been commanded to inquire into and report upon many terrestrial
matters of concern to us, but my leading task is being brought to its
termination to-day....

"My supreme duty is to choose an earth-born King for our planet. Our
constitution, which is the logical outcome of the most deliberate and
far-seeing policy for many generations, requires the presence in our
midst of a sovereign drawn from another sphere, and that sphere is of
necessity the Earth, for we in Meleager hold no communication with
any other planet in Cosmos. At intervals, as expediency or necessity
may dictate, a new king has to be sought and found by the Meleagrian
envoy on the Earth, whose task presents, as you may suppose, extreme,
well-nigh insuperable difficulties. I am tied down by certain stringent
rules, and to those rules I must strictly adhere. We demand a man of
intelligence, a man of good birth and breeding, one of fine presence,
and last of all an individual of a fair complexion and with blue eyes.
This final condition may strike you as absurd, but then the Meleagrians
are a dark race with dark skins and dark eyes and hair, as you may
perceive in my own person; and in their fixed opinion their extraneous
ruler must be the scion of an immortal stock, a member of the family
of the Sun, who alone is worshipped in Meleager. Our priests by the
aid of cunning devices and mystical potions, as also by means of the
waters of a certain Fountain of Rejuvenation, whose exact locale is
only known to our Arch-priest and a few chosen colleagues, can improve
both mentally and bodily the individual who is translated and handed
over to their care. Nevertheless, the raw material counts for a good
deal--as you express it in one of your homely English proverbs: 'One
cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear'; and on the same analogy
even our skilful ministers of state would be unable to construct the
true substance of a Child of the Sun-god out of an inferior Herthian
mortal. The nicest caution has therefore to be observed in the work
of selection. For nearly three years now I have been busily seeking,
and can at last congratulate myself on having obtained the requisite
material, the potential dross that will later be converted into pure
gold. For some time past I have been on your track without arousing the
smallest suspicion in your mind, and now at length I have grasped the
favourable, the critical, the final moment in which I claim you for
this most exalted, and indeed most sacred office....

"You are thoroughly out of touch with your own age and with your own
country in a special degree, and for my purpose your deep-rooted
dissatisfaction causes in me on the contrary the most intense
satisfaction. You have grown disgusted with the decadence of your Royal
House; you are sick of the greed and frivolity of your aristocracy;
you abhor the mischievous methods and aims of your unscrupulous
demagogues in power; you shrink from the violence and brutishness
of your all-powerful mob; you lament the utter incapacity of the
few serious and honest politicians who yet survive. You mourn over
the industrial devastation and the uglifying of your once-beautiful
world; you turn with horror from the blatant arrogance of the ruling
gang of financiers, who with the besotted populace mean to involve
the whole world in a final sordid struggle for mastery. On all sides
you see nothing but rapid change upon change, all for the worse; the
rooting-out of all that is good, artistic and ennobling, and the
substitution of all that is vile and mercenary....

"You are obsessed with the same hatred of this evil transformation
as are we ourselves, the ruling body in Meleager, who utilise your
planet now, not as in the past for purposes of imitation and guidance,
but for serious warnings as to what to avoid in our own future
course of polity. For in Meleager we still set before us as our
main striving-point Universal Content, not so-called industrial and
educational Progress and the mere amassing of wealth. The happiness
of all is, and always has been, the sole aim of our statesmen, and
we firmly hold that the various theories of equality that are so
advertised and belauded on your Earth are in reality most deadly
poisons that are being injected into the corporate mass of humanity.
One of the leading saints of your Christian Church has wisely said
that in every house are to be found vessels alike formed to honour
and to dishonour, yet that, as they are all equally necessary, so
viewed in that reasonable light are they all equally honourable. Thus
in our government of Meleager do we recognise the clear necessity of
the various grades of society which form the total fabric of every
healthy and happy state; whilst we reject with scorn and loathing the
specious notions that, under the guise of an equality that has no
real existence, endeavour to weld all society into one drab dismal
detestable whole....

"Nowadays everything that is ordered or orderly you worldlings have
set out to destroy. Your barbarian hordes broke up the stable Roman
Empire; your fanatical reformers and greedy monarchs destroyed the
consolidating features of the Middle Ages, which though very far from
being perfect yet presented many illuminating features which we deemed
expedient to copy in Meleager. In recent years your death-dealing guns
and your proselytising emissaries have destroyed wantonly the vast
matured civilisations of China and Japan and Burmah, which are now
rapidly casting out all their antique virtues and are fast absorbing
all the vice and vulgarity of the West. Every community, howsoever
poor or insignificant, yet content to work out its own salvation and
be governed by its own ancient laws and customs, and consequently
happy and healthy according to its own lights, you have disturbed and
dismembered....

"Everywhere and every day the beautiful is retreating before the
utilitarian; smoke and noise pollute the greenest and loveliest valleys
of Europe and America; dirt and disease increase in spite of your
undoubted advances in medical science, whose services are given over
to the individual who will pay for them rather than to the community
at large. One sees the feeble and the cretinous of your world breeding
like flies, whilst those of a better condition and in sound health are
found too selfish and too tenacious of their ease to undertake the
trouble or expense connected with the rearing of a family. Epidemics
continue, and in the form of a gift of Western civilisation are
allowed to sweep away whole tribes and nations of wholesome primitive
peoples; your most loathsome and yet preventable diseases of contagion
still hold sway, either by reason of your own indifference or from
false ideals of a prudery that, I confess, wholly passes my own
comprehension. Over all your Earth the universal craving for wealth
at any cost of morals or self-respect has settled like a blight. All
pleasures of the intellect are rapidly ceasing to attract, and the
extravagance and debauchery of the ostentatious rich are announced by
your odious vassal Press as the sole objects worthy of attainment or
imitation to-day....

"You slaughter and exterminate your rare animals and your beautiful
birds in order that your women may adorn themselves with their pelts
and plumage, and even now in this cold weather I have watched your
fine ladies daily walking in your noisy, crowded streets of London,
half-naked yet wholly unashamed, with their limbs and bosoms exposed
equally to the bitter wind and the lascivious eye of the stranger,
whilst masses of costly furs, the spoils of innocent and peaceful
animals, are heaped upon their pampered bodies....

"Whither are you being driven in this mad stampede after so-called
progress and knowledge? In what morass will this mocking
will-o'-the-wisp ultimately entice and overwhelm you?... I see
chicanery and disbelief possess your churches and their priests; a
clinging to stipends and a craving for personal leadership seem to
me to have become the sole guides of such as are themselves supposed
to guide their flocks. Everywhere change, restlessness, cynicism,
vulgarity, extravagance, crime, hypocrisy, covetousness, greed,
cringing, selfishness in every form are rampant; what sensitive mind
would not instinctively recoil from contact with such a changing world?
Can a nature such as your own endure to be associated with such a mass
of passive squalor and of active evil? Are you not more than ready to
welcome some chance of escape from such an uncongenial environment?...

"As you confess in your heart the utter collapse of your early aims
here on Earth--so must you recognise your unique chance to attain to
something higher than even you dreamed of in your youthful moods of
hope and ambition. You will be reincarnated as the Child of the Sun,
after you are once translated to Meleager. That is a part, but a part
only, of The Secret, which perhaps already you are inclined to regard
as The Fraud. And yet, if fraud it be, its ultimate aim is a beneficent
and unselfish one, for it has been practised in order to keep a whole
population happy and content...."

       *       *       *       *       *

"And herewith I think I had now better give you some instructions, or
rather hints, as to your new position and as to your proper attitude
towards the governing caste of Meleager on your arrival there. As King,
the Child of the Sun is invested with a species of sovereignty that
has no exact counter-part on your Earth. Your high office in Meleager
partakes in some respects of the nature of a King of England, of a
Pope of Rome, of an old-time Sultan of Baghdad, of a modern colonial
governor; yet it is itself no one of these things. To sustain your part
you will be reincarnated after your long sleep, and you will awake to
find yourself endued with a fresh supply of youth and energy, whilst
all your acquired learning and ripe experience of a lifetime already
more than half consumed will abide in your brain. There now remains for
you the final stage of all on Earth, that of putting yourself and your
future unreservedly and confidently in my hands...."

There followed an abrupt spell of silence in which d'Aragno scrutinised
me closely. I knew not why, but I had begun to experience a sort
of repulsion against his arrogance in thus presuming obedience on
my part before ever I had signified my assent. I felt in some wise
bound to protest against this assumption of my readiness to obey, and
accordingly I made a protest rather out of personal vanity than from
any depth of rebellious feeling.

"And suppose, sir, I decide not to accept your proposal? Suppose I
refuse absolutely and doggedly to accede to your demand, whatever the
consequence to myself? What then?"

D'Aragno rose from his chair, thrust both hands into the pockets of
his dress jacket, and took up a position on the hearth-rug before the
dying embers of the fire. A curious expression, which I quite failed to
analyse, spread over his features, as he regarded me sternly for some
moments in silence. At length he spoke:

"Your objection I do not regard as sincere. It is idle, and has been
prompted, I am convinced, by a vague sense of wounded dignity on your
part. Perhaps I have been not sufficiently considerate to your proper
pride. You are anxious to 'save your face,' as you express it in your
English idiom. I therefore refuse to take your question seriously. You
have, I know, in your heart the fullest intention of complying with
my arrangements." A pause ensued, and he added with indifference: "In
any case, do you suppose for an instant that I have thus spoken to
you openly of THE SECRET with the smallest possibility of my sharing
it with any living mortal on your Earth? In reality you have no
choice left you. Whether you follow or refuse to follow my lead, your
connection with your own world is already severed. Need I make the case
any clearer to an intelligence such as yours?"

Again a spell of silence, which was ended by the harsh five strokes of
the Westminster clock resounding through the heavy air. With the final
reverberation I bowed my head, and simply said: "I am ready."

It may have been only my fancy, but I _thought_ I detected a shade of
relief pass over that now sinister face; at any rate, the pleasant
earnest look had returned when d'Aragno muttered quietly as though to
himself: "I never felt a moment's doubt!"

Again I essayed a question, this time, one that was really agitating
my mind: "As I am unalterably and inevitably destined to fill the
throne of your kingdom in Meleager, surely I may be permitted to ask
you for how long a period I am to enjoy the position that has been
thus allotted to me? How many years can I expect to rule in this realm
whence there is obviously no return? Is my reign to continue till the
end of my natural mortal life, or is it to be prolonged indefinitely by
mysterious measures, such as you have already hinted at?"

D'Aragno stroked his chin meditatively for some minutes and then
replied in a placid voice: "That at least is a reasonable and proper
question, though I have not the knowledge to answer it as you could
wish or might reasonably expect. I was an infant when our late king
came to be crowned, and he has ceased to rule since my sojourn on the
Earth--that is to say, his tenure of office must have lasted some
forty years. Thus for three years or more our realm has been without a
monarch, so that the whole community in all its classes has begun to
clamour vigorously for a successor, and hence the task of selection
wherewith I have been entrusted, and which I am now bringing to a
close. Our late king was, I fear, unfortunate in his relations with
our priestly or governing class, and by his own folly rendered his
office a source of real danger to our whole system of administration.
I have every reason to believe no such catastrophe is likely to occur
in your case. Your native endowments of head and heart, combined with
the additional advantages of youth and wisdom that you will obtain on
your arrival in Meleager, will protect you sufficiently from such an
untimely ending. Yet I warn you, you will require all your faculties,
especially those of self-restraint and discretion, if you are to
win and retain the good will and co-operation of that all-powerful
hierarchy which is actually not only your master but in a certain sense
also your creator. It used to be said in ancient Rome that two augurs
could never pass in the public streets without smiling--well, you must
first of all learn to repress that classical grimace, and be content to
abide ever with a solemn countenance in an atmosphere of make-believe.
Moreover, the desirability of such an attitude ought not to irritate
a person who like yourself is filled with a divine discontent. You
will be the glorious and adored figure-head of a community wherein the
maximum of human happiness and content has been already attained. But I
shall not pursue this dissertation further. With my warning voice ever
whispering in your ears, and with your natural tact and intelligence
to guide you, I am sure you will not fail. As to the length of your
reign, I cannot tell you what I myself do not know. But this much I
can honestly say, and that is, its duration will wholly depend on your
own action, and on your relations with the senators, who alone possess
the sources of power that are essential to your continued maintenance
in office. For aught I know to the contrary, our priests, by means of
their marvellous recipes and contrivances, may be able to prolong your
life, and even your youth, indefinitely for centuries. But I do not
speak with authority; I can only repeat that the extent of your reign
depends very largely on your own behaviour."

"On one other matter I should also like to be informed," interposed I,
"and I trust you will not condemn this question as superfluous. Tell
me, why out of all the inhabitants of the Earth have I, a bankrupt in
worldly glory and success, a person of mediocre attainments and the
owner of no special gifts of beauty or rank, thus been chosen to fill
so exalted a position? I ask from sheer curiosity, and from no subtle
desire to plead my unfitness as an excuse to decline your proffered,
and indeed accepted, honour."

My companion seemed to approve my question. A humorous look flitted
over his features as he dryly answered: "You are fully justified in
your inquiry; but you must recall that I have already mentioned that,
though your world is large, my own field of choice is very limited.
Our King, as I have already said, must be naturally a true Child of
the Sun; in other words, he must be tall, fair, blue-eyed. This is
essential, and such restrictions practically limit my search to your
northern races, and mainly to such as are of Teutonic stock. Secondly,
our King elect must be of middle age, for past experience and a ripe
intelligence are also necessary to our plans. Thirdly, he must be
either a bachelor or a widower, and preferably a misogynist at heart.
He must not quit the Earth homesick; he must not be a natural prey to
the influence of women, so far as it is possible to guard against this
danger, the mainspring of all our fears in Meleager. For the sheer
possibility of the founding of a royal race springing from the union
of the Child of the Sun with a maiden of Meleager is a constant cause
of alarm and watchfulness on the part of our hierarchy. Not to mention
the mischief resulting from any such intrigue to our body politic,
the possible birth of a Prince, a connecting link between the Divine
and the Human, might in a few days, nay, in a few hours, shatter in
pieces the whole edifice of the present system of government that it
has taken so many centuries of unremitting wisdom and state craft to
erect. Surely I need not dwell on this all-important phase? Last of
all, we must have a comely personality and gentle birth combined with
high intellectual gifts and training. This combination of qualities
is not so easy to discover as it ought to be on your Earth. Your
handsome nobles are either illiterate or debauched, and are often both
simultaneously; or else they are slaves to family ties or to female
influence in some form; whilst those who are both noble by birth and
breeding and also highly cultivated are usually undesirable for our
high purpose owing to their physical defects. In spite of all this,
there are doubtless many hundreds of persons living who would be
eligible and would answer to all our requirements as well as or even
better than yourself; nevertheless, after much reflection I have good
reason to suppose that the hierarchy of Meleager, whose envoy and
servant I am, will find no cause of quarrel with my choice."

Six o'clock struck out on the foggy morning air, as d'Aragno finished
speaking thus, and I grew aware of the renewed vitality pulsing once
more in the surrounding London streets. "One more matter, however,
I must speak of," suddenly ejaculated my host, "before we can
freely discuss the final arrangements. I do not aspire to know what
difference, if any, your impending transit to another planet will
entail in regard to your chances of existence in the Hereafter. On
your Earth, I understand, men hold the most varied and contradictory
opinions and theories on this subject; and even in your Christian
section of humanity I gather there is no real unanimity on this point.
We in Meleager have our own ideals and beliefs in the Hereafter, but
these are purely speculative, for none has ever returned to us from the
domain beyond the grave to tell us the true details, and none other
can supply them; we accordingly let the great question rest without
laying down dogmas of necessary belief. But whether in the Other Life
you will be judged or treated as a denizen of the Earth or of Meleager,
I cannot imagine. I think it my duty however to remind you of this
anomaly in case it may have escaped your notice, for I am well aware
what strong hopes of endless happiness many members of your Christian
churches build on the shadowy world yonder. From my own observations
I know you yourself are fairly punctual in your religious prayers and
duties, and I have always welcomed such an attitude as edifying on your
part; but as to what are your real views and beliefs on the question of
the Other Life I have naturally no clue. On this one matter therefore I
admit you run a certain problematical risk in your translation to our
star; but at the same time I cannot conceive that your future interest
in an unseen, unknown, undescribed and unsubstantial world could be
of sufficient import or strength to compel you to struggle against
your natural desire to rule as a king in another sphere, perhaps for
a stretch of time that would be out of all proportion to your earthly
span of life."

He ceased suddenly, and kneeling at my feet said slowly in a suave
voice that was not wholly free from irony: "And now let me tender my
most respectful homage to the King elect of the planet of Meleager!"

D'Aragno then rose, and for the next hour discussed with me the
necessary steps to be taken before the consummation of his mission on
our Earth.


III

It was long after seven o'clock when I found myself walking home in
the grey drizzle of the early morning. As was my custom when in town
during the last few years I rented a bedroom at my club in St James's,
and the apparition of myself in evening dress at the club doorway at
that unusual hour of return evoked a momentary look of surprise on
the face of the well-trained porter who was then sweeping the hall in
his shirt-sleeves. Making my way up to my bed-chamber, I proceeded to
carry out the first portion of my late instructions from d'Aragno.
This consisted in swallowing a tumblerful of cold water in which I had
previously dissolved the contents of a small packet he had given me
before leaving the hotel. After that I undressed and crept into bed.
On arising again I felt light as air, with the additional sensation of
being several inches taller than my actual stature. My mind too had
become singularly clear and active, so that I was enabled to carry
out all my intended preparations with ease. First of all I placed my
valuables in my trunk, which I locked; then I dressed myself in a
tweed suit, and made my way downstairs to the club smoking-room, where
I quietly undertook the final details I considered necessary before
my departure from this world. I had no parents living; my brothers
and sisters were all married and had their own homes; I had no debts,
and my few outstanding bills could be easily settled by my executors,
for some few years before I had signed a will that I deemed fair and
adequate. There was nobody to lose in any material sense by my sudden
demise; on the contrary, my brothers would obtain possession of my
property, for I was the owner of a small landed estate and of a meagre
income that was the source of secret but intense bitterness to me under
this present oppression of plutocracy. I had therefore no more arduous
task before me than to compose a letter to my favourite brother, so
that he could easily infer from its contents that I had decided to
make away with my life. This might have proved an unpleasant theme
for composition under different circumstances, but on this occasion I
experienced no difficulty in expressing myself to my own satisfaction.

This last matter accomplished, and one or two cheques to tradesmen
signed and posted, I put on my overcoat and hat, and sallied out of
the club towards noon. A feeling of lightness of body combined with
a sense of calm exaltation of mind assisted me, as I walked slowly
through the muddy streets towards the National Gallery, one of my most
frequent haunts in London. Here I spent about an hour in sauntering
through the huge rooms hung with the glowing works of the Old Masters,
stopping occasionally to admire some special favourite, and even
studying with interest a recent addition to the collection that hung on
a solitary screen. Quitting the gallery, I crossed Trafalgar Square,
the while sensing the gush of its fountains and gazing at Landseer's
stolid lions; thence I strolled down the length of Whitehall as far as
Westminster with its majestic group of Gothic towers, and after filling
my eyes with its bristling outlines against the murky winter's sky,
I entered the north portal of the Abbey. Here again I wandered in an
erratic but pleasurable frame of mind that I vainly tried to analyse
to myself, and after many pacings to and fro in the ancient cloisters,
that held so many memories for me, I left the Abbey to proceed very
slowly towards Charing Cross by way of the Embankment. According to
our prearranged plan, I boarded a certain train that same afternoon
for Dover. The journey seemed to me interminable, and as I lay back on
the cushions at times I fitfully hoped for some collision that might
prove fatal to me; whilst at other moments I grew morbidly nervous
lest by some unforeseen accident I might be prevented from reaching my
destination in good time.

I alighted at Dover about five o'clock on a raw, cold, windy, showery
evening. From the station I passed into the street, and thence, in
pursuance of my instructions, I followed a road leading westward. Ere
long I had left behind me the suburbs of the town and was now tramping
a dreary exposed thoroughfare that ran between market gardens. As I
walked ahead slowly and deliberately, I suddenly saw emerge from a
mean inn beside the road a short, thick-set man in seafaring dress and
bearing a bundle on his shoulder. I knew him to be d'Aragno, and I
continued to follow in his track. He proceeded for some distance along
the high road, and then striking abruptly into a by-path amongst the
dismal vegetable plots led towards the sea. The lights of Dover were
now far behind me, and I realised sharply the fact that I was saying
farewell to the kindly and accustomed world of men for ever and aye,
and was advancing towards a doom whose nature I only dimly understood.
Like Rabelais, I was stepping into the Great Perhaps; I was about to
take a plunge into the ocean of the Vast Unknown.

There was no human being in sight save the mariner, and he took no
notice of my presence. We began to descend the steep and slippery path
towards the beach in the teeth of a tearing gale from the west. The
rain was drenching me to the skin; the darkness had increased; once or
twice I stumbled heavily. Suddenly my guide turned round and, noting my
difficulties, halted to assist me but never spoke a word. With a firm
hand he led me down the slope, and shortly we were walking on level
ground beside the sea, whose angry waves I could hear close at hand,
and could even distinguish the white foam on their crests as they
broke on the shingle. After some minutes of skirting the fore-shore my
companion stopped, and, waiting for me to approach, for a second time
he seized my hand and thus helped me to climb a small crag that jutted
out into the raging surf. Together we reached its summit, where we
rested for a moment. Then d'Aragno in a sonorous whisper bade me remove
my clothes, and one by one I stripped myself of every sodden garment
in the midst of the pitiless gale laden with rain and spray. When I
was naked as ever I was born, my companion signed to me to lie down on
the flat surface of the rock. I obeyed, and he next produced a small
phial which he gave me to drink. Strangely enough in this brief space
as I lay numbed and bruised on the sharp clammy bed, buffeted by the
wind and stung by the lashing of the rain-drops, two lines from an old
Moravian hymn kept buzzing in my brain;

  "Oh, what is Death?--'Tis Life's last shore
  Where vanities are vain no more."

But it could have been only for a minute or so, for d'Aragno was
already forcing the phial to my lips, and at the same time helping me
to raise my aching head, the better to obey his command. A burning-hot
sweetish liquid now raced down my throat; an indescribable sense of
warmth and repose began to trickle through every portion of my body;
wondrous waves of violet and vermilion were floating before my eyes or
in my brain; in a shorter space than it takes me to write this single
sentence I became insensible.

       *       *       *       *       *

Hours, days, weeks, even months may have elapsed before I happened on
my next moment of consciousness. A dim sensation first of floating,
and then of being swayed or rocked, filled the vacant interval between
my lying on the spray-wetted rock at Dover and my awaking amid
unfamiliar surroundings. At the first quiver of sentient life I could
see practically nothing; I could only feel that I lay in semi-darkness
with my whole frame stretched out vigorously but without pain on a
couch which contained a system of pulleys at its head and foot. I was
faintly aware of the pressure of this innocuous species of rack, and
was trying to open my eyes wider, when an approaching figure waved a
censer before my face, and the thick narcotic smoke issuing thence
promptly forced my half-awakened mind back into slumber. My next
impression was more definite. The chamber wherein I reposed gradually
took shape, as it were in patches, such as occurs in cases of recovery
from the effects of chloroform after a severe surgical operation. I
was no longer extended by pulleys, but rested supine on the couch,
whilst three or four persons were busily engaged in kneading and
pinching every muscle in my body. My mouth too felt very sore, and
by exploring with my tongue I was astonished to find that several
new teeth, evidently drawn from strange mouths, had been recently
inserted with exquisite skill in my own gums, for what with the blight
of middle age and the inattention of youth my back teeth were by no
means numerous at the date of my recent withdrawal from Earth. Whoever
my dental surgeon might have been, there could be no two opinions as
to his skilful performance on my jaws, for he had not only removed
such molars as were decayed or broken, but had planted and made grow
freshly plucked substitutes with their bleeding roots. The whole
operation was complete, and its completeness has led me to believe
that a considerable period must have intervened since my arrival in
Meleager, where presumably I was now lying. I noticed that the figures
around me were clothed in flowing white robes, and I was beginning to
satisfy my curiosity still further when again someone approached with a
censer, which he deftly swung so close to my face that once more I was
compelled to swallow that thick stupefying incense whose fumes speedily
plunged me in oblivion for a second time.

On the third occasion of my awaking, the obscure chamber was still
occupied by white-robed figures, but the manipulation of my body had
evidently ceased. Among those present I noticed an old man with a
white beard, and some inches taller than his colleagues, who paid
him special deference. I rightly conjectured this venerable person
to be the Arch-priest, of whom d'Aragno had spoken, both from his
evident superiority of rank and his more elaborate garments. I was
still feeling very weak and languid, but after staring around me for
some minutes with an effort I managed to raise my arm. The action was
immediately noticed, whereupon the individual with the censer once
more prepared to advance, but was checked by an imperious gesture from
the Arch-priest. The latter now approached, and after peering long and
steadfastly into my face he made a sign to the others present, and all
but two left the room. He then signalled to me to rise, but though I
attempted to do so, my physical weakness forbade me, and I sank back
exhausted. The two junior priests thereupon firmly raised me in their
arms, and half-walking, half-supported I was led out of the chamber to
a further and a much larger room, in the centre of which I perceived
a wide circular hollow space with steps descending, such as one sees
in ancient Italian baptisteries. From this hollow there issued a great
sound of gurgling and roaring, as well as a most horrible stench of
chemicals, and as I was dragged none too willingly towards the edge
I saw below me a pool of dark, sinister-looking, stinking water that
was rising and falling in a constant state of ebullition. I made a
feeble attempt to struggle, but the Arch-priest laid a firm grip upon
my nerveless arm, whilst the two attendant priests hastily proceeded
to hook a couple of chains to two stout rings inserted in the farther
wall of the chamber. To these chains was attached a pair of strong
leathern slings, which were now skilfully fastened beneath my arm-pits.
Thus provided, I was pushed rather than persuaded to descend to the
lowest step of the awesome basin, and was then unceremoniously thrust
into its bubbling and hissing depths. Down, down, down I went into
the icy surge, whose suction I could feel dragging me as violently as
though a pair of giant hands beneath the water had hold of both my
ankles. Then suddenly gasping and spluttering I was pulled up to the
surface, only in spite of my protests to be once again lowered into
that awful gelid fountain, whence again after a fearful interval of
choking and shivering my body was withdrawn. On the third occasion,
however, the two priests drew me towards the steps, and their master
signed to me to quit the pool. I exerted myself only too eagerly, and
with a nimbleness that amazed me I hastened up the steps towards the
Arch-priest, who had been watching the whole gruesome rite with the
most solemn air.

No doubt it was as the result of certain rare properties in this
ice-cold liquid that I now experienced a rapid transformation from
a state of mind and body that was the limit of feebleness to one of
almost superhuman strength and capability. Even before the two priests
had armed themselves with masses of warm soft towels to dry me I felt
myself glowing with health and youth. My brain seemed to clear and
expand in some unaccountable way; I could feel every artery and muscle
in my body thrill in joyous unison; to move my limbs was sheer delight.
I realised too that my normal height had been increased by some inches,
evidently due to the recent painless racking that had caused me to
awake prematurely. "This must be the Fountain of Rejuvenation of which
d'Aragno spoke," thought I. "I wonder he has never tried a bathe
himself in these waters!"

I found an exuberant joy even as I stood thus being rubbed and dried by
the priests in the new appearance of myself; I thought of the justice
of Vergil's comparison of the glittering young Neoptolemus at the fall
of Troy with a snake that has just sloughed his scurfy skin in the
warm spring sunshine. I positively quivered with my new-found pride of
life. I had cast aside all care and terror; and as to the reflection
of having lost the world of my birth, what fresh worlds of adventure
were there not ahead of me to conquer or to enjoy in return for the
mean, squalid, ungrateful Earth that I had deserted for ever and ever!
Had I now been on the Earth itself and not on the planet of Meleager,
I felt no doubt but that in a month or so I should be competent to
lead an army to victory, or to astonish the House of Commons with a
speech whose memory would outlive a generation, or to write a poem or a
novel that would last whilst the English tongue endured, or to paint a
picture or to mould a statue that would cause Raphael and Michelangelo
to turn in their graves with envy. As Plato once held that the sum of
all human knowledge is innate in every man, so I knew at last that the
old Greek's axiom was fundamentally correct, but that I alone possessed
the hidden key to unlock that chamber of the human brain wherein this
mental wealth lies safely stored. I was the Semi-divine; I was the
Super-man; I was the new Napoleon alike of the arts of war and peace; I
was the latter-day Euphorion, child of beauty, strength and culture.

With this strange new sensation of power pulsing within me, I was
suddenly seized with a hot qualm of indignation against those
white-robed priests, who had so lately been subjecting my sacred
person to a series of manipulations and tortures, and had even more
than once dared to thrust my awakening dignity back to the dull
chambers of sleep. I quite forgot (though of a truth only for one brief
instant) that after all I in my newly acquired pride of strength and
intellect was but the creature of these flamens, a mere Frankenstein
evoked from a semi-defunct, middle-aged, useless inhabitant of the
Earth, who in his agony of failure had voluntarily committed an act
of self-effacement. Nevertheless, I turned almost fiercely on my
companions, and with an angry wave of my hand bade them turn aside
their prying eyes, whilst I completed the act of drying my skin. They
obeyed without protest, and a few minutes later one of the priests,
still keeping his face averted, handed me a curious garment which it
took me some little time to adjust to my person. It was a thin white
woollen article of undress, which completely covered my body, inclusive
of arms and legs, like the _chiton_ of the ancient Greeks. Its feet
moreover were distinguished by a contrivance for keeping the great
toes free, in the event of wearing sandals, so I presumed. When I had
at length fitted my form into this enveloping garment, whose texture
felt deliciously light and warm, the priests once more turned towards
me and helped me to don the remaining portions of my attire. These
consisted of a pair of buskins of soft dark blue leather that reached
half-way to the knee, a tunic of blue cloth with a golden belt, and
a flowing cloak of the same rich shade of blue, lined with pale blue
silk, that was fastened over the breast with a golden clasp set with
a splendid sapphire. Finally I was invited to seat myself in a low
chair, whereupon one of the priests proceeded to comb out my hair with
a large golden comb. From a burnished metal mirror that was held before
me I now realised, to my astonishment, that my hair was of such an
inordinate length that some weeks must have elapsed for its growth; it
had moreover been bleached, for it was of a pale yellow shade and had a
strange silky texture. On the other hand, I may state here that all the
hair on the lower portion of my face had been eradicated, nor have I
yet had any occasion to use a razor. As a finishing touch, a fillet of
blue and gold was bound round my luxuriant locks, much in the manner
one sees depicted on the royal heads of antiquity in coins and medals.

With this last addition my toilet was now complete, and I was bidden
to rise. The Arch-priest led the way, and I followed with the two
junior priests, one of whom upheld my flowing mantle, whilst the other
bore over my head an open state umbrella of blue silk, heavily fringed
with gold, and closely resembling the same emblem of state that is
used to shelter the Host in processions of the Roman Church. We then
traversed several broad gloomy corridors before entering a chamber of
considerable size that was lit by flambeaux as well as by lamps of
classical form. Here were assembled about a score of young men whose
dress closely resembled my own except that its dominant colour was
crimson instead of blue. On my appearance all these persons threw
themselves prostrate on the floor and remained thus motionless. At
this juncture the Arch-priest for the first time addressed me, and
his spoken words were in the ancient Latin language. Now I had always
possessed an affection and capacity for this tongue, which I have
all my life defended from the baseless charge of its being a dead
language that is constantly levelled at it by ignorant or prejudiced
critics. My proficiency in Latin both at school and at college had
been noteworthy, and now, thanks to the reviving effects of my late
immersion in those medicated waters, all my former acquaintance with
the Roman tongue was suddenly restored to me. I was thus able to grasp
the gist of the Arch-priest's remarks, and my replies through the same
medium were more than tolerable, a circumstance that evidently afforded
great satisfaction to the old man. I gathered then that this group of
youths kneeling before me was composed of the flower of the nobility
of Meleager, from whose ranks I was bidden to choose a tutor and two
equerries suited to my needs. The Arch-priest further stated that
he deemed it preferable for myself to make my own selection in this
important matter, for which reason he had devised this plan.

I was quick to perceive that such a privilege must be carefully
exercised, so I reflected for a few moments before deciding. I have
often flattered myself on being a good judge of human character from
the face, and in our world I often fell to speculate on the internal
qualities of persons in every station of life that I chanced to meet.
Bearing my past observations in mind, I gave a sign for the band before
me to arise, and on a word from the Arch-priest the whole line leaped
up and stood to attention. Beckoning to one of the priests to hand me
a torch, I carefully scrutinised the row of candidates for my favour.
Now the youth who stood seventh from the first at once challenged my
attention; his countenance showed me that he possessed, consciously
or unconsciously, the special qualities I demanded--fidelity and
discretion. Thrice with calm deliberation did I pace up and down that
comely company, and on each occasion I felt myself confirmed in my
original judgment. I nodded to the Arch-priest, who now handed me a
golden rod with which I lightly touched the shoulder of Number Seven.
The young man immediately fell at my feet, which he embraced, the while
murmuring some words of gratitude in the language of the Meleagrians
which of course I did not at that time comprehend. He then rose, and
was about to take up a position behind me, when his fellows at once
advanced and loaded him with their congratulations on the exceptional
mark of honour he had just received. Some of his more intimate friends
threw their arms around him, others shook him by the hands, and others
again spoke words of encouragement. So far as I could observe, the
spirit of jealousy seemed wholly absent. The Arch-priest, who appeared
to approve my choice, patted the young man's cheek in a friendly
manner, as he told me I had chosen well in Hiridia, for such was his
name. Nor have I ever had reason to repent of my selection, for Hiridia
has always proved a most faithful friend, and also a well-meaning guide
according to his Meleagrian lights, during the whole period of my
reign, as I shall relate in due course.

As to the two equerries, whose office would not entail such intimacy,
I did not deem it necessary to discriminate so closely amongst this
band of noble applicants, all of whom were doubtless adequate for the
purpose. So I simply touched the first and the last of the row standing
before me, and these fell out of the line and made me obeisance. This
matter concluded, the Arch-priest signified to the remainder to retire,
whilst the chosen three tarried behind.

By this time I was beginning to feel the pangs of hunger most acutely,
and recollections of my last meal partaken on Earth in the London hotel
rose greedily to my mind, as I began to guess how many weeks must have
passed since I had eaten. "Your King is hungry and faint for need of
food," I remarked in my best Ciceronian Latin to the Arch-priest, who,
so I had observed, was now treating me with a degree of deference and
even of obsequiousness that he had not shown in the chamber of the
fountain. The old man bowed low and long, gave some instructions to
Hiridia, whereupon he and I, followed by the two equerries, proceeded
to leave the room. Before departing however, the Arch-priest hung a
heavy chain of gold round Hiridia's neck, and presented similar chains,
but of silver, to his two companions. One of these latter now bore the
umbrella of state over my head and the other upheld the cloak, as with
Hiridia beside me I prepared to quit the chamber, after I had returned
with as much dignity as I could muster the sweeping obeisances of
the three priests, who did not offer to accompany us. More corridors
were traversed thus, before we finally entered a lofty pillared hall,
which I at once rightly conjectured to be the banqueting chamber of
the palace. Here were gathered many men, both young and middle-aged,
all wearing clothes similar to those of my three companions, as also
a considerable crowd of individuals dressed in short blue tunics and
obviously of an inferior social caste. The first were, of course,
the members of my Court, all eagerly expecting their new sovereign,
whilst the latter were the servants of the household. On my appearance
there were deep bows and genuflexions from the nobles assembled, and
still lower bows from the menials, the latter raising their left arms
to cover their faces, as though the sight of myself were almost too
precious or sacred for humbler eyes such as theirs to dwell upon.

I seated myself at a solitary table on a dais, slightly raised above
the pavement. The board before me was covered with a coarse linen cloth
heavily fringed with blue, whilst the viands were served in a number
of glazed white earthenware platters of elegant form, the appointments
in general reminding me of meals eaten years ago in old-fashioned
hostelries of the Romagna. Of the dinner itself I need not say more
than that the meats, though unfamiliar, were quite palatable, as was
also the rough red wine which was served abundantly throughout the
meal. To my relief I found that knives, spoons and forks were in use,
and that the drinking vessels and some of the dishes were of glass.
After a dessert of strange but delicious fruits, and many species of
nuts, a crystal goblet of the most elaborate workmanship was set before
me and filled with a rather thick sweet red wine, apparently a kind
of muscadel. I had sat down ravenous, and in due course I rose from
table satisfied, at which movement on my part every person in the room
likewise stood erect and remained so standing till I had passed through
the doorway.

From the banqueting hall, guided by Hiridia, I proceeded to my sleeping
apartment, wherein I found a low square bed of some richly carved
dark-coloured wood. A long open gallery occupied one side of this room,
and thither I hastened to obtain a glimpse of the outer world. It was a
lovely warm starry night, but without moonlight, so that I could only
discern my surroundings very dimly. I was able, however, to perceive
that this gallery was situated at a considerable height above the sea,
whose expanse I could just distinguish in the far distance, and that
below me and around me there lay a large city built on steep hillsides
descending to the shore. Falling waters made a pleasant murmur in my
ears; a faint hum of human activity arose from the city beneath; the
shrill cries and chirrups of insects and night birds were clearly
audible at intervals. There was nothing unearthly in these darkened
surroundings, and yet I knew I stood alone in a fresh world of mystery
and wonder, and how vehemently I longed, as I paced that colonnade,
for the sun to rise so as to make manifest the scene that was now
all but hidden from my impatient gaze! Hiridia stood beside me, and I
think he tried to participate in and sympathise with the thoughts that
were agitating my mind, for he often pointed into the gloom and made
remarks which were of course, as yet, unintelligible to me. Long did
I continue thus to stare and speculate, and indeed it was only out of
consideration for poor Hiridia's many yawns and signs of weariness,
vainly suppressed, that I finally turned with reluctance from the
balcony and prepared for a night's sleep.


IV

I slept soundly, and was only awakened on hearing, as one does whilst
wandering in the misty caverns of dreamland, a strange prolonged noise
of peculiar timbre, the last reverberation of which had scarcely died
away by the time I was fully conscious and had raised myself in bed.
The room was filled with the early light of dawn, and from my pillow
I could see beyond the open gallery the splendid disk of the sun's
majesty emerge from the distant watery horizon. Hiridia was on his
knees muttering prayers with arms extended and face turned towards the
sunrise, whilst a servant of the palace, wearing the short blue tunic
and blue trousers and blue scarf that constitute the royal livery, was
also lying prone on the floor with his head towards the east. Their
orisons, if praying they were, were extremely short, for in a trice
both men were on their feet and all attention to my wants. I mean to
speak later of the minutiæ of my daily life, but at this point I wish
to hasten my reader and not to weary or detain him with petty diurnal
details that I have settled to describe in another place. Let it
suffice to say that I bathed, dressed and breakfasted to my complete
satisfaction, and that having duly performed these matutinal duties I
was glad to find myself at leisure to contemplate by the brilliant
light of morning the veiled scene of the previous night.

From the vantage ground of my exterior gallery I obtained a superb
and intimate view of the great city of Tamarida and its surroundings.
Imagine a compound of Naples, Algiers and Amalfi, each of these
Mediterranean cities being built on steep slopes descending to the
sea-shore, and yet such compound resulting in something totally
dissimilar from any earthly town of my acquaintance. In size and
arrangement Tamarida somewhat resembled the older portions of Naples
that stretch from Sant' Elmo to the Monte di Dio; in setting I was
reminded of Amalfi with its craggy headlands, though here on a grander
scale; whilst in general character the cascade of dazzling white
flat-roofed square houses of the Arab native town in Algiers suggested
many points of comparison in this case. But though it was evident that
my capital was very extensive, and that much of its area was thickly
populated, nevertheless there seemed to be abundance of parks and
gardens in all directions, forming oases of vivid greenery amongst
the dense masses of small low squat dwellings. Roughly speaking, the
city was divided into three portions, that were formed by two deep
valleys, down each of which flowed a rapid clear torrent fed from the
mountainous regions above. The two outer sections of this curving
site were wholly occupied, as I have said, by houses and gardens of
the citizens, apparently both rich and poor intermingled; whilst the
central slope between the two streams was reserved for the palace and
the main temple and other official buildings. Of these the palace took
up a considerable space about half-way up the hillside, and below it,
stretching to the harbour, was a large tract of tilth and orchard,
well sprinkled with tiny white cottages and long low barns that were
presumably used by the labourers and other servants of the palace.
The royal residence itself was an immense rambling structure, built
without plan and at various periods, though it was hard to classify
its many architectural features or to guess which were the older or
more recent portions of the fabric. Above the palace and its adjacent
enclosures could be seen hanging-gardens traversed by immense flights
of broad shallow steps, beyond which was another conspicuous group of
buildings situated at different levels. This pile I rightly concluded
to be the chief--it was the only--temple of the city, both from its
more ornate style of architecture and from a circular tower which
crowned the main edifice. On this tower upreared a tall column whereon
rested a gilded copper representation of the sun in splendour, making
a brilliant mass of golden light under the fierce rays of its great
original, and offering a prominent landmark for many miles around. Of
the residential districts of Tamarida on the two flanking slopes I have
omitted to mention that two main streets or arteries for traffic could
be distinctly traced by me, running irregularly through the crowded
quarters and parks alike, and ending in the broad quays alongside the
waters of the harbour. Many ships of various shapes and sizes, but
mostly appearing to be fishing vessels, lined these quays and were
also visible in numbers on the placid surface of the circular harbour
itself, which was contained by two outlying rocky promontories crowned
on either tip by a low light-house.

[Illustration: CITY & HARBOUR OF TAMARIDA]

I was interrupted in the midst of my many interesting discoveries
and observations by the sudden entrance of one of my equerries, who
was followed by the Arch-priest demanding an audience. Left alone
together, I instinctively put myself on my guard, assuming as well as
I could an air of naive simplicity. Despite his deferential words and
attitude, I could not fail to detect the deep-set twinkle in his eye
as he proceeded to inform me of the object of his mission. At the same
time, however, I felt certain that I must have produced a favourable
impression on the previous day, and from my deportment both now and in
the future I warmly hoped to be able to hold the old man's approval,
for something in my inner consciousness, a species of sixth sense,
assured me he was ready to show himself my friend, though doubtless a
friend within certain limits that I had yet to learn. The Arch-priest
opened our talk with an apology for thus invading the privacy of my
apartments without previous warning, excusing himself for his intrusion
by the urgent necessity of the occasion. He then informed me that on
the next day the ceremony of my coronation was fixed to take place in
the temple, which he pointed out to me from the balcony. "You are in
the eyes of your subjects, as you know, the Child of the Sun, whom
alone we worship in Meleager, and who sends you as a king to rule
over his favoured people. You will therefore be presented in public
by myself and my colleagues of the Sacred College to the populace;
you will be robed and crowned; you will extend your formal blessing
to them; you will offer incense at the crystal altar of your Father
the Sun, in the great courtyard of the temple; and after that you will
mount the sacred white horse so as to ride in full majesty through the
streets of the city in the presence of your subjects. It will be a
long and tedious series of ceremonies, yet I flatter myself that each
one of these rites will not be without interest to you, seeing the
lengthy spell of authority amongst us that lies ahead of you. I myself
shall be at your side throughout, and you may rely with safety on my
tutelage in any event."

Other advice and suggestions the Arch-priest likewise imparted to me,
amongst the rest that Hiridia would in course of time teach me the
spoken language of Meleager. "Ever since your immersion in the mystical
well," so my companion proceeded, "you will experience an acceleration
of all the faculties, which in your case were already highly developed
when on Earth. Moreover, the tongue of the Meleagrians, which under
Hiridia's teaching you will soon acquire, is not a written language,
and none outside our hierarchy of the Temple of the Sun can read
or write at all. Indeed, our only archives are in Latin, since for
reasons which it is not expedient for me to mention at this point
we have always vigorously opposed the casting of the popular speech
into a literary form." This last statement the old man made in a very
solemn manner, looking me full in the face as though to catch any
motion or expression of surprise or disapproval. But I had set my
countenance unflinchingly, and received his confidences with perfect
outward composure, whereupon the Arch-priest leaned back in his chair
with a faint sigh of relief which by no means escaped my watchful
notice. Having received this minor secret of Meleagrian state craft
so calmly and suitably, I was hoping to glean yet more information on
the traditional polity of the governing cabal of my kingdom, but on
this occasion I was doomed to be disappointed. For the Arch-priest
arose abruptly, and leading me to the balustrade of the gallery began
to point out and explain to me the various buildings and salient
features that were discernible from this spot. In most cases I found
I had already guessed correctly, my intelligence and perspicacity
evidently serving to strengthen the favourable impression I had already
created. The Arch-priest then led me to the other side of the building
and introduced me to the private gardens of the palace, a delightful
pleasance, full of subtropical verdure and flowers and overshadowed by
tall palms and cypresses. Fountains with marble basins were frequent,
and their constant plashing made an agreeable sound in the intense
quiet of this retreat. I noted too that every fountain was circular
in shape, and that everywhere were to be seen endless representations
of the sun, whilst the many lackeys or slaves attached to the royal
service bore the same design woven in gold and blue on their breasts.
Returning to the gallery overlooking the town and harbour, my companion
bade me listen to the hum of voices and the din of traffic that rose
from below into the warm air, striking on my ears with the mingled
sounds of a teeming city.

"Tamarida is filled to overflowing with your loyal subjects,"
commented the Arch-priest; "who are all agog to behold to-morrow's
function; and even now the town is hourly receiving innumerable
visitors from the country districts and from your Majesty's second city
of Zapyro, which is ever jealous of the capital for its possession of
the person of the Child of the Sun." He paused for a moment to give
me another of those arch glances from his kindly, humorous old eyes;
but I only nodded and smiled amiably. "Thousands of faithful citizens
too from your Majesty's colonies on the wild rocky coasts of Barbaria
yonder to the north (and he waved his arm to indicate some distant
land beyond the enclosing hills) are hastening hither to behold the
reincarnation of the Child of the Sun, concerning whom their parents
have doubtless told them wonderful tales. See those boats with bellying
sails that are even now entering the harbour's mouth; they are all
freighted with excited pilgrims, men, women and children, drawn hither
to assist at a spectacle of outward splendour and interior sanctity
that your Earth, notwithstanding its illimitable wealth and its
superior population, cannot produce. They tell me (and here the old
man's eyes again twinkled mischievously) that one of your own many
religious cults is ruled by a priest who claims and receives divine
honours. He is said to be elected by a college of saintly and venerable
brother priests, and to be borne aloft with pomp and acclamation on
the shoulders of men of noble birth. I have, of course, never seen
the ceremonies of modern Rome (which city I hold in especial esteem
as having been in ancient times the origin of our official written
language), but in this one crucial instance this consecration of an
earthly high priest must yield to ours. For there is (so I am informed)
no unanimity of opinion, no universal acceptance of the chosen pontiff;
whilst here the King who is provided by our hierarchy is acknowledged
by all without hesitation or limit as the connecting link between the
divine and the human, whose presence is absolutely essential to the
welfare of his subjects. Our King is the peculiar guerdon of our sole
Deity the Sun to his favoured people, on whom from time to time he
deigns to bestow a member of his own family for guidance and example."

At length the Arch-priest took his departure, and I spent the remainder
of the day agreeably enough in the society of Hiridia, whom I set to
teach me the names of every object in sight. I had already requested
the Arch-priest for pen and ink and paper, and after a visible
tendency to demur he had yielded to my demand, a plentiful supply
of beautifully prepared rolls of vellum, an ink-horn and some quill
pens being brought me. I now wrote down phonetically the name of each
thing supplied me by Hiridia, placing its English equivalent opposite.
I was quite astonished at my progress in the course of a few hours'
application of this nature, and the sun was low in the western sky
when my patient tutor made respectful signs to me to rise and follow
him. I soon grasped his intention, for he led me through the gardens
to an open court where two young nobles were playing at some sort of
hand-ball. A slave now removed my mantle and tunic, to exchange them
for a short linen garment, whilst a pair of hard leather gloves were
likewise supplied me. We four now fell to play with zest a game that
was so reminiscent of the hand-fives of my school-days that I learned
the science, the rules and the method of scoring in a very short space.
I thoroughly enjoyed the healthy exercise, which in due course produced
a copious perspiration, and thus we amused ourselves till the final
sinking of the sun brought our game to a close for lack of light. At
this moment I heard the prolonged blare of a distant trumpet, and
straightway perceived my three companions sink to their knees for a
short but silent prayer. Then they rose and led me to the thermal baths
attached to the palace, where I indulged in a further bout of sweating
followed by a plunge in cool water. After resting I dressed myself
again, and with an excellent appetite made my way to the banqueting
hall, where I partook of the last meal of the day. On this occasion a
band of professional players with unfamiliar instruments provided us
with music, which I found neither better nor worse than many of the
concerts I had been obliged to attend at various times upon Earth.
Pleasantly fatigued, at last I sought my bed-chamber to ponder over my
late experiences of the first twenty-four conscious hours I had spent
on the planet of Meleager.

       *       *       *       *       *

Early on the following morning there were abundant signs to warn me
of the great impending event. All was bustle and animation within the
palace, and at an early hour the Arch-priest himself was announced
to give me some final instructions. Soon afterwards a litter was
brought, borne by a number of servants dressed in what was evidently
their gala livery, and in this equipage I was placed, behind carefully
closed curtains, and was thus conveyed up many long flights of steps
to the precincts of the temple above. Here on my arrival I found the
Arch-priest and several members of the hierarchy awaiting me, and was
informed that first of all it was necessary for me to hold a levée of
the whole of the ruling Council of the Seventy. I cannot say that this
prospect afforded me any pleasure; still, I prepared to comport myself
with the necessary amount of calm dignity I deemed fitting for the
occasion. I was next ushered into a large hall, where in a semicircle
were seated a large number of these all-powerful patriarchs clad in
their robes of flowing white. I was directed to a throne opposite
them, and at once began to hold my formal reception, each member of
the Council being presented to me in turn by the Arch-priest. In every
case, mindful of our royal Court procedure on Earth, I proffered my
right hand for a kiss of salutation, and at the same time set my face
to exhibit no sign of anxiety or self-consciousness, for I realised
that I was amongst the keenest and most critical intellects of the
kingdom, who regarded me not in the light of a true monarch, but rather
as their own creature, a thing raised by their choice and efforts from
mere nothingness to a position of extreme though false magnificence.
Nevertheless, I was not so much preoccupied with the mastery of my
feelings that I failed to note carefully the face and expression of
each individual member as the councillors filed before me in a long
moving stream that seemed to flow interminably past the throne, so
prolix and lengthy was the Arch-priest in his style of presentation.
Vainly did I look for the appearance of my Herthian friend Signor
Arrigo d'Aragno amongst their number, but either he was absent or else
was so skilfully disguised that I failed to detect his presence. One
little circumstance I observed was that whereas all the Meleagrian men
I had hitherto seen wore moustaches, these grandees of the governing
caste were all either clean-shaven or else owned beards of an imposing
length. Nearly two hours were consumed in this fatiguing occupation,
and thankful I was when the last sharp-eyed senator had returned to his
seat.

I now arose of my own motion, and expressed a desire to quit the
chamber of the councillors, whose atmosphere somehow oppressed and
irritated me. The Arch-priest accordingly led me into a closet
adjoining, where I sat down on the pretence of fatigue. Ere long
however to my relief I saw Hiridia approach, followed by my two
equerries and by some servants of the palace bearing large bundles,
which I perceived contained the regal robes of state. A priest
certainly stood beside me, but he made no attempt to interfere with
Hiridia's arrangements. First of all, I was stripped to my inner
vesture, after which gorgeous blue leather buskins with heavy gold
tassels and laces were fitted to my feet. Next a tunic far more
elaborate than my usual one was donned; then a mantle of an appalling
weight but of a surpassing splendour was hung from my yielding
shoulders. On the mantle itself was embroidered a device of the blazing
sun in heavy gold thread, whilst the rest of the surface of the cloak
was thickly patined with golden stars. The mantle was fastened by a
clasp composed of a huge cabochon sapphire of perfect water set in a
circle of flashing diamonds. At this moment the Arch-priest returned,
resplendent in festal robes of white silk fringed with gold and with a
tall golden mitre on his head. Thus habited, he appeared a striking and
venerable figure, for his superior height, his flowing white beard, his
pleasant brown eyes and his delicate complexion all combined to make
a most favourable impression on the beholder. On a cushion he carried
the regal crown, of the type known to heraldry as "palisaded," and
not unlike the diadem worn by the Medicean Grand Dukes of Tuscany, as
shown in their pictures and effigies. My crown was all of gold with the
exception of one large oval sapphire surrounded by brilliants for its
central ornament. This object the Arch-priest now carefully placed on
my head, not a little to my trepidation until I realised that, whether
by accident or as the result of forethought, the heavy circle fitted my
cranium to a nicety. The finishing touch consisted in fastening solid
gold _armillæ_, or bracelets, set with sapphires on my wrists.

Thus gloriously apparelled, I must on standing up have presented a
truly noble and imposing appearance, and I say so without shame of
conceit or vanity. I was many inches taller than the tallest of my
companions; thanks to my bath in the Fountain of Rejuvenation I had a
clear white skin, a sparkling eye, and an elegance of carriage that
have rarely been seen by mortal man; whilst the extreme fairness of
my complexion and the sheen of my long locks in contrast with so many
dusky skins and black heads of hair seemed to attract to themselves
some kind of shadowy semi-divine aureole, such as Benvenuto Cellini
describes as investing his person after his colloquy with the Blessed
Virgin and St Peter in his cell of the castle of Sant'Angelo. I was
well aware of the sensation I aroused in all present, even in the
Arch-priest; and a thrill of elation, of confidence in the future,
possessed me through and through. Whether or no these saturnine
priests of the Temple of the Sun chose to regard me as their puppet,
their slave, what was that to me? I realised that my marvellous beauty
at this moment was an asset whereof nothing they could say or do would
lessen my influence in the eyes of the mass of the people I was about
to face. All misgivings and tremors left me, as I prepared boldly to
move forward and take my part in the coming pageant.

To a terrific blast of trumpets and to the explosions of some
antiquated-looking mortars that stood on the temple parapet, our
procession filed through a narrow doorway on to a broad marble
platform. First emerged the nobles attached to the Court in their
crimson gala robes, then the priests, a long sinuous line of snowy
white; behind them walked the Arch-priest, whilst last of all appeared
myself, a tall commanding majestic figure with my equerries to uphold
my glittering mantle. My entry into sight of the vast multitude that
thronged the courtyard below the platform on which we stood was first
greeted by a spell of perfect silence, which in time changed to a
long low murmur of approval and awe, and finally to a resounding roar
of satisfied delight. Slowly did our long train of nobles, priests,
choristers and attendants unwind and fall into proper groups in their
assigned places, the whole scene reminding me of some wonderful ballet
on an immense stage, with its blending and massing and dividing of the
colours of white, red, gold and blue, like the intricate movements of
some stately dance.

At last only the Arch-priest and myself remained standing in the
central space of the platform, when the former, after an obeisance
of a cringing humility of which I had hitherto deemed him incapable,
conducted me to a throne beneath a canopy of blue and gold. From
this point, during the performance of some singing, I was enabled
surreptitiously to examine the component parts of the huge crowd
beneath. Immediately under the dais were numbers of persons who were
all characterised by wearing green in some form or other, either green
tunics or mantles or scarves. As these seemed to occupy the better
and reserved space in the courtyard I concluded (and rightly so)
that they were members of the middle or mercantile class, who were
given precedence over the general populace. The latter were farther
away, and were consequently more difficult for me to distinguish. But
it was a picturesque throng in any case, and brilliantly coloured,
for the robes were mostly in tints of yellow, orange, violet, pink,
cinnamon and other shades, though the four colours of blue, white,
red and green were conspicuously absent. Men, women and children were
visible in the crowd, all of them being small dark people of the type
already exemplified in the few persons I had hitherto seen. Part of the
court was enclosed by double colonnades that supported upper chambers
screened by lattice-work from inquisitive eyes, like the discreet
convent windows I used to observe in the highest storeys above the
streets of Naples and Palermo. Behind these screens were evidently many
spectators, and from the shrillness of the voices issuing hence and
from other indications I gathered that the occupants of these galleries
were mostly women. As a matter of fact, one side was reserved for the
ladies and children of the nobility, and the other for the female
inmates of the college of nuns or recluses attached to the Temple of
the Sun, of whose duties I mean to speak later.

After a long interval of chanting, at a sign from the Arch-priest I
rose and gave a benediction to the assembled crowd by raising my right
arm and slowly turning round so as to envisage the whole assembly. This
was made the excuse for more applause, and when this had subsided more
canticles were intoned. Again I imparted the required blessing, after
which a golden censer was brought me and I was assisted to advance
towards a small altar, formed apparently of solid crystal, whereon
the sun's rays were falling in blinding coruscations of light. Here I
offered up clouds of incense in the direction of my supposed Parent,
the whole multitude kneeling in the most profound silence and in the
most decorous attitude of rapt attention. For fully ten minutes I must
have been swaying that heavy censer, and what with the weight of my
robes, the scorching heat of the sun's beams, and the extreme tension
caused by the magnificence and novelty of my situation, I felt almost
at last ready to drop from sheer exhaustion, when the Arch-priest
again came to my rescue and relieved me of the smoking thurible. More
cheering, more intoning, more ceremonious movements, till ultimately I
found myself with the Arch-priest on one side of me and Hiridia on the
other, making my way off the platform. I was forthwith led to a chamber
furnished with long tables whereon was served a collation of which I
stood considerably in need. I then learned I was being entertained thus
by the body of the hierarchy, so that once more I felt the necessity of
exhibiting no sign of fatigue or of astonishment. The meal was of brief
duration, for the day was well advanced by this time, and there still
remained the important state entry and procession through the streets
of the capital. Quitting the temple precincts I found a cavalcade, or
guard of honour, awaiting me, whilst some pages were holding a horse
in readiness for me. My steed of state was of a remarkable aspect, for
he was pure white with a strong tint of flesh pink showing through his
coat, and with pink ears and muzzle. His flowing mane and tail had also
been dyed of a blue colour, and, most marvellous thing of all, his eyes
showed of a clear light blue. Afterwards I learned that this animal
belonged to a breed that is specially reserved for the use of the Child
of the Sun on state occasions, and that certain families possess
hereditary rights in connection with the breeding and training of these
uncanny quadrupeds. With a saddle and bridle of blue leather richly
ornamented with gold this white stallion stood ready caparisoned for
my person, and with some assistance owing to the weight of my cloak I
managed to mount without conscious loss of dignity. My long mantle with
its gorgeous devices was deftly spread over the horse's back; my feet
were fixed in the clumsy bucket-like stirrups, and the reins placed in
my hand. Thus seated, with Hiridia and other nobles walking beside me,
I was ready to start, whereupon my mounted escort in their picturesque
chain-armour led the way with a clanking sound.

Leaving the temple gates we soon crossed a bridge spanning a rushing
river whose precipitous banks were thickly clothed with rich vegetation
of palm ferns, poinsettias and other tropical plants. Pursuing our
course we turned sharply to the right, whereupon I almost immediately
found myself in the streets of the capital with the prospect of
descending a very narrow steep paved roadway that led eventually to
the beach below. The streets themselves being too narrow to permit
of the presence of spectators, every window and flat house-roof, and
indeed every possible coign of vantage, was occupied by the citizens of
Tamarida, who all evinced the liveliest enthusiasm in thus beholding
their new sovereign in his progress. Much to my relief my horse
contrived to pick his way without mishap down that fearful lane, which
now and again broke into actual steps, like the dingy mediæval streets
of old Naples. Every second I was dreading a stumble on the part of
my queer-coloured steed, and a consequent loss of majesty to myself;
each moment I feared for the fate of my weighty diadem. Mechanically I
continued to smile and to scatter benisons upon the vociferous crowds
of loyal subjects, the while I trusted to my own good luck as well as
to Hiridia's careful guidance; and it was with a sense of unspeakable
gratitude that eventually I reached the water-side that was lined with
shipping of which every yard-arm was positively bristling with eager
brown humanity. For some little distance we now pursued the curved
line of the shore, and then crossing another archway entered a gate
opening into the lower portion of the palace gardens. Here a large
number of servants, gardeners and labourers, with their families,
was drawn up to cheer and to prostrate themselves before me, and I
concluded my ride had drawn to an end. But it was not so, for I had to
cross the gardens and by means of another bridge or viaduct to enter
the southern quarter of the city and to repeat my previous experience,
with the important difference that this time I had to ascend instead
of descend the long narrow winding streets. This at any rate was an
improvement on my former trial, and I carried it through with apparent
unconcern, although it seemed an interminable time before I was finally
quit of the crowds and the streets and was once more on my feet and
in the purlieus of the palace. Thus did I accomplish successfully the
not inconsiderable task allotted me on my second day in Meleager, and
albeit hot and exhausted by my exertions, I flattered myself internally
that I had borne the long ordeal of my coronation ceremonies with
distinction.

It was almost dark when I dismounted from my peculiar but trustworthy
palfrey, to seek the peace and privacy of my bed-chamber, where I was
assisted to unrobe. A warm bath and a cool plunge soon refreshed me,
so that I felt capable of facing any further demands on my bodily or
mental strength that might be required of me that night. There was a
grand banquet with music and some display of dancing and conjuring, but
nothing more occurred of special interest, though I was glad to observe
and feel that I had won the warm approval of the nobles of the Court,
who sat feasting round me. Thus ended my coronation day, and right glad
I was to retire to my bed and to sleep off the fatigue and excitement
of its many strange incidents.

I trust I have not wearied or disgusted the reader with my lengthy
account of all these events that took place during the first two days
of my reign in Meleager. Portions of what I have thus described will,
I fear, seem somewhat disjointed and obscure, but in excuse I can
plead that so did they also seem disjointed and obscure to myself at
the time, for at this early stage I had naturally learned next to
nothing of the peculiar conditions prevailing in my new kingdom. These
I intend to treat of in my subsequent chapters, whereby I hope to throw
some light on my own anomalous position as a semi-divine monarch, on
the composition and aims of the hierarchy, on the social status of the
various classes composing the realm, and on the daily life of myself
and of my people.


V

At this very early stage I had naturally not acquired the native
language of Meleager, and my sole communication was carried on with
the Arch-priest in a classical tongue. Besides this, apart from the
restricted nature of our intercourse, it was tolerably clear to me
that the members of the hierarchy as a whole showed themselves anxious
to suppress rather than to explain to me their guiding principles of
polity. With this impression firmly fixed in my mind, I became more
than ever eager and determined to learn the native language with all
speed, so that for the next few weeks I abandoned myself with the
greatest diligence to this object. What with my sharpened wits and with
my close application I made unexpectedly rapid progress; nor should I
omit to pay my tribute of gratitude to Hiridia's pains and patience in
this matter. For many hours daily we engaged in our task, and, with the
exception of taking the exercise necessary for health, practically all
my working time was occupied in linguistic efforts. My toil was well
rewarded, for after no very great length of time I had the satisfaction
of perceiving that daily I grew more and more proficient in my subject,
so that I was able to converse with Hiridia with some degree of
fluency and mutual understanding.

This interval of vigorous study must have lasted about three months in
all, and in spite of many hints from the Arch-priest I firmly refused
to leave the precincts of the palace until I had gained the mastery
of the native tongue. As to whether this attitude of close seclusion
caused disappointment in the capital or annoyance among the members of
the council I paid no heed, but only showed my inflexible resolution
on this head. Having once succeeded completely in my design, I made
every effort to draw from Hiridia all conceivable information about the
land and people I had been called upon to rule, my questions ranging
over the whole field of possible inquiry. I certainly did in this way
contrive to amass a certain amount of valuable knowledge, although
I was by no means satisfied with all the answers and explanations I
received. For, if it was plain that the Arch-priest and his colleagues
were averse to supplying the required details, it was equally plain
that poor Hiridia with all the good intentions possible was excessively
ignorant of his own surroundings; for instance, he could tell me
next to nothing of the mode of life, the general conditions and the
interior affairs of any class of the realm save that of the nobility
to which he himself belonged. As to the hierarchy, on which subject
I plied him with the greatest tact, I had to conclude that, whilst
regarding the ruling caste with unmeasured awe and respect, he was
at the same time in nowise intimate with any of that elusive body,
though its members were drawn solely from his own class and were in
some cases his own relations. Thus was I compelled to build my edifice
of knowledge and discovery of bricks without straw, so that often I
was fain to lose my temper in my fruitless endeavours to attain the
truth; happily, however, my patience and perseverance triumphed over
my natural exasperation. Daily I made careful notes in English on my
parchment, altering or adding to these notes from time to time, as
further inquiry or observation served to throw more light on the main
subject of my study. And it always amused me to observe the look of
profound admiration, even of alarm, wherewith Hiridia used to regard
the cabalistic scrolls I daily annotated on my table, which stood in
the long gallery facing the sea. At the same time I grew to learn that
my tutor's reverence was mingled with an intense feeling of loyalty
and devotion to myself, so that I instinctively knew that his life
would be willingly risked in my service, should any evil chance arise.
Thus my reputation of semi-divinity in this instance certainly carried
some advantages with it! As to the Arch-priest, who always insisted on
speaking in Latin to me, I did not indeed look for the same unwavering
fidelity as I found in Hiridia, yet with that curious extra sixth
sense of mine, that is never at fault, I knew he was pleased with my
painstaking efforts, and that he was for the present at least very much
my sincere friend and champion.

       *       *       *       *       *

I think I had better at this point in my narrative offer a brief
description of the average day that I spend, so as to afford the reader
some notion of my duties, my pleasures and my occupations--that is, of
course, after I had succeeded in mastering the language of my kingdom.
The course of time being reckoned in Meleager after the old Italian
mode of counting the twenty-four hours from the uprising of the sun, at
the first streak of dawn watchers in the temple proclaim the new-born
day, by firing a piece of ordnance. This is succeeded by loud trumpet
calls in the barracks of the soldiery, and the whole city awakens.
Every one leaps from bed, and kneeling repeats the following short
prayer to the Sun:

"O Sun, mighty King, Father of Lights, I bless thee and thank thee for
another day! It is Thou alone that canst gladden our hearts, warm our
homes, nourish our crops, sweeten our grass, ripen our fruits. By Thy
Light alone Thy servants can live and adore Thee. Blessed be Thy Face
once more appearing!"

This simple formula is the universal morning prayer on Meleager, whose
inhabitants are true sun-worshippers, in the sense that they attribute
all good and all gifts to the sun's visible power and majesty that are
daily revealed to them. As for myself, however, being deemed the Child
of the Sun, I do not consider it incumbent on me to indulge in this
matutinal act of worship, though each dawn I wake to see my servant
lying prostrate on the floor with face turned reverently towards the
east. The act of prayer performed, he approaches my couch with a
goblet filled with some sort of mineral water of a slightly bitter
flavour, that is invariably swallowed before arising. I then have a
rather perfunctory bath in an adjoining room, submitting myself to
a rapid ablution with water slightly perfumed with verbena, a scent
that is reserved exclusively for the royal use. I dress in the manner
previously described, and am then ready for my breakfast, which is
usually set out in the open gallery that is already flooded by the warm
early sunlight. My repast consists of coffee (which is extensively
cultivated here), together with thick cream, a manchet of fine white
bread, and a platter heaped with superb fruit. I leisurely enjoy these
dainties and then (what on my first acquaintance afforded me equal
pleasure and surprise) I proceed to smoke a cigar, or large cigarette,
consisting of coarse granular tobacco rolled in maize leaf, like the
type of cigarette affected by the natives of Brazil. For tobacco is
largely grown here, and its leaves are put to many uses, including this
last-mentioned agreeable purpose.

Whilst I am enjoying my fragrant cigarette, Hiridia invariably
appears, bringing me the news of the day, and thus conversing we soon
stroll into the gardens that are still fresh and gleaming with the
dew. As I stand about six feet three inches, and perhaps a trifle
more, and my tutor is of the average Meleagrian height of five foot
five inches, I used at first to find our walks on the terrace rendered
unsatisfactory by reason of our disparity in stature. To remedy this,
I have caused a low platform of stone to be constructed the whole of
its length some ten inches above the ground, and along this erection
Hiridia now walks beside me so that we can chat at a convenient level.
I thought the Arch-priest rather inclined to boggle at this suggestion,
but I contrived to carry my point all the same.

At the third hour of the day begins my work. First of all I hold an
audience, which is attended by the Arch-priest and some other members
of the hierarchy, whereat various matters of state concerning the needs
of the community, or the colonies, or the troops are broached and
discussed. An hour or more is generally exhausted in this business, and
by the fourth hour or a little later I issue from the palace with a
military escort and shadowed by the umbrella of state to the judgment
hall of the people, which is situated in the city itself. (Or rather,
to be quite explicit, I visit thus the two courts of the northern and
southern quarters of Tamarida on alternate mornings.) Here I take my
seat on a dais, and dispense justice and advice to all and sundry in
a fashion that constantly reminds me of the multitudinous duties of a
London stipendiary magistrate, though the conditions of the two cases
are happily very diverse. My suppliants are drawn almost wholly from
the lowest estate of the realm, and sometimes the points submitted to
my judgment are of the most trivial character. But I sit and listen
with all the patience I can command, and then announce my verdict with
all the care and circumspection whereof I am capable. It is pathetic to
observe the intense faith my people have in my decisions; a suitor who
has lost his plea may perhaps feel disappointment, but he is obviously
fully resigned to my judgment, and accepts my award as absolutely just
and final. In short, the popular confidence in my wisdom and sense of
equity is unbounded, as the large and ever-increasing roll of my daily
petitioners can testify.

At noon a discharge of cannon, such as one still hears in the large
Italian cities at midday, resounds through the air, and the business of
the court is hurried to a conclusion. Everyone now retires to dine and
sleep, for at least two hours' space of rest is allotted to the whole
community. I return to the palace with my escort, quite ready for my
midday meal, which usually consists of eggs, fish, bread and fruit,
with plenty of the rough red or white Meleagrian wine, that is both
palatable and wholesome. To this repast I am in the habit of inviting
various members of the nobility, and I always find these small
informal parties far preferable to the rather dreary public supper of
the Court, which takes place each evening soon after sundown. After
eating, I sometimes play at chess (which is a very popular game here)
with one of my invited friends, whilst my other guests amuse themselves
as best they may; or at other times I listen to tales or poems recited
by such as aspire to become distinguished in this department of
Meleagrian social life. About the ninth or tenth hour I walk in the
gardens, and after that I change my clothes so as to enjoy a vigorous
game of hand-ball, which usually lasts till dusk. After my exercise
follows the bath, a lengthy but delightful daily experience, for after
the usual sweating and course of rubbing in the heated chambers, one
can plunge into a deep basin of cool water. This pool also contains
a cascade of artificial construction that one shoots, in the manner
employed by some of the islanders of the South Seas, the bather being
hurled over the falling volume of water into another deep pool below.
By swimming rapidly for a few strokes beneath the surface one emerges
farther on in the calm clear water of a large natural basin that is
fringed with ferns and verdure. A rapid stream flowing down from the
mountain-tops above through a precipitous channel has at some time or
other been cleverly utilised in the construction of this cataract and
lower pool, which have been incorporated in these bathing arrangements
for the palace. Afterwards, I rest a while before dressing, when I
proceed at my own convenience to the large banqueting hall, though
not before a salvo of trumpets has given the signal that the workaday
phase of Meleagrian daily life is ended. All toil save that of domestic
service now ceases, and the whole city of Tamarida willingly resigns
itself to rest and recreation until the morrow's dawn. At the evening
meal eaten in public I remain but a short time, and then retire to
my own apartments, whither I summon, if so disposed, such persons as
I feel inclined to honour with an interview. Often however I sit or
pace alone for hours in the darkened or moonlit solitude of my loggia,
meditating on my strange fate and concocting plans for my future course
of conduct.

Such is the outline of my average day, but this programme is often
varied. In the first place, every seventh day being a public day of
thanks-giving and rest from labour, I have to attend the necessary
ceremonies in the temple instead of holding my informal court in
the city. On these days, too, I usually ride afield with some of my
courtiers, generally to go hunting into the wild mountainous region
behind the temple, where the keen air and the wide views over sea and
land seem to freshen my body and my spirits. Occasionally I pay a visit
on horseback to the seat of some hospitable nobleman, whence we return
late at night. At other times I honour some country village with my
presence, much to the delight and surprise of its inhabitants. There
are no books, as I have already explained, so that in reality my life
is necessarily compounded of action and meditation, which on the whole
has not hitherto caused me weariness or disgust. Whether or no I shall
always rest thus contented with this monotonous routine of splendour
and duty is a disagreeable and anxious question that I try, with only
moderate success, to thrust into the background of my thoughts.


VI

Not a day passes here but that I lament my crass ignorance of even
the elementary principles of astronomy. In my school-days I was never
taught the use of the celestial globe, though my young brains were
burdened with the problems and theorems of Euclid, with Greek enclitics
and other scholastic lumber, dear to the dry-as-dust soul of the
English pedagogue. Such books dealing with the heavens as I chanced to
read in later life failed to leave an abiding impression on my adult
mind, with the result that now I can only bewail uselessly the gaps in
my early education. I mention this defect for a special reason--namely,
to crave allowance for the tentative character and amateurish account
of the features of my planet, which I want to present to the reader.

From such calculations as I have made for myself and by myself I
believe the planet of Meleager to be insignificant in comparison with
the Earth. Possibly I may be mistaken in stating that its whole surface
is barely equal to the area of Australia, yet that is my opinion. Its
climate is subtropical in the central zone, gradually tapering to
temperate and cold towards its poles. Roughly speaking, the "Regio
Solis," the spreading peninsula that forms the main portion of the
kingdom of the Child of the Sun, possesses the climate of Egypt or
Mexico. Its summers are long and warm, though never disagreeably
torrid; its winter is of brief duration and normally wet rather than
cold, snow rarely falling near the coast. The changes of spring and
autumn are little marked, so that the whole course of the year seems
to consist of an extended warm season followed by a spell of wet and
cold. Southward of the Region of the Sun there extends an apparently
trackless ocean, on whose waters, I am told, there is no land visible
save a few barren islets and rocky reefs. But then exploration for
exploration's sake is wholly alien to the Meleagrian outlook, and I
much doubt whether the light sailing vessels of the fishermen (who
alone tempt these southern seas) have penetrated very far in this
direction, especially in face of the storms that are apt to arise
without warning in this quarter and are consequently much dreaded
by mariners. The ensuing little sketch map according to Mercator's
projection, though very rough and imperfect, may perhaps afford the
reader some idea of the lands and seas of Meleager, as I conceive them
to exist.

[Illustration]

It will be observed that the capital lies, presumably of intention,
exactly on the line of the Equator and that it faces due east; whilst
Zapyro, the second city of the realm, is also situated in the same
latitude but looking towards the west. The whole coast-line of the
Regio Solis is much indented, and it forms a pendent peninsula to the
large partially unexplored region to the north, which I always speak
of as Barbaria, though it is commonly known merely as the North Land.
Of the size of the main kingdom I am uncertain; at times I conceive
it to be as large as Great Britain, at other times I think it can
be hardly more extensive than Ireland. The centre of the kingdom is
largely covered by mountain ranges and elevated plateaux. None of these
mountains however are of any great height, with the sole exception of
a tall isolated rocky peak in the promontory north of Tamarida, from
which it is clearly visible. This conspicuous cloven peak I have named
Mount Crystal on account of its shining crags, but it is known to the
Meleagrians as the Altar of the Sun, and it is obviously invested
in popular belief with many mystical attributes. Below the summit,
which at a mere guess I should say was about seven thousand of our
feet above sea-level, I can clearly distinguish a group of buildings
on a narrow ledge to eastward; and Hiridia has told me that these
belong to a temple of peculiar sanctity which none save the priests
and their trusted servants are ever permitted to enter, or even to
approach. Naturally I often speculate as to the uses of this lofty and
jealously guarded shrine, and I have come to the conclusion that here
are preserved the paraphernalia necessary to the due working of the
details of The Secret. Be that as it may, the solitary mountain and its
mysterious temple form a prominent feature in all the eastern portion
of the kingdom.

All round the coast the soil is intensely fertile, and produces food
in abundance for the whole population, which is nowhere very dense
save in the two large cities. These two are in fact the only towns
of any size in the whole peninsula, with the exception of Fúfani,
situated at the head of a broad inlet of the southern coast. These
southern shores are mostly rocky with huge beetling cliffs that recall
the iron-bound shores of Capri and Cornwall. Against this natural
barrier the raging billows in vain hurl themselves, and as I have stood
watching the storm-vexed waters from these heights, I have often been
reminded of the sounding seas and foam-flecked waves I once delighted
to gaze upon from the heads of Sydney harbour that oppose the whole
fury of the Pacific. The northern coasts of the Region of the Sun are
less romantic, and in many places the coastal zone is marked by long
stretches of sand with marshes behind them. Everywhere the vegetation
both of cultivated and of wild growth exhibits a close resemblance to
and an evident affinity with the flora of the Earth. In fact, there
appear such endless points of similarity between the natural features
of Meleager and of the Earth that I have often found it difficult to
realise I was not living in some hitherto undiscovered corner of my
native sphere. Appreciating the vast depths of my own ignorance in all
matters scientific, I declare with trepidation yet with a firm sense
of conviction that the geological history and development of the two
planets must have been practically identical.

Not far from Zapyro begins the long isthmus that connects the warm
subtropical Region of the Sun with the great half-explored territory
of the north, or Barbaria. This large tract of land is said to widen
out to northward, but very little is known of its interior, which at
no great distance from the coast-line is blocked by a long chain of
tall mountains, many of whose rugged peaks are covered with eternal
snow. Large lakes and swamps are commonly reported to lie beyond
these ranges, but in reality next to nothing is known of the country
sheltered behind this great natural barrier. As I have already stated,
the average Meleagrian has no taste for pioneering enterprise, so
he remains quite satisfied with the tales of more intrepid hunters
who have penetrated thus far and speak vaguely of a barren soil, of
dismal morasses and of uncouth aborigines whose manners are fully as
repellent as is the aspect of the lands they inhabit. Equally the
coasts of Barbaria have been little examined, except those of the
Great Northern Bay and the stretch of shore running north-west of
Zapyro. All this coast-line is however sprinkled with stray colonies
of South Meleagrians, some of these settlements being of a permanent
character, whilst others are merely occupied as temporary bases for
fishing or hunting. There are also a few colonies inland to the south
of the mountains, but though the whole of this district is inhabited,
no systematic occupation of this warmer portion of Barbaria has ever
been attempted. The colonists for the most part consist of emigrants
belonging to the people, but not a few of the nobles own estates
whereon they breed cattle and sheep, or utilise for growing large
timber. Some marble and stone quarries are likewise worked, but all
these mercantile projects are evidently carried on in a distinctly
haphazard style. All the permanent inhabitants of this region are
subjects of my kingdom, yet they are not all of pure blood, but must
in the remote past have intermingled with the original stock of this
territory, who may perhaps have belonged to the same race as the
yellow-skinned prognathous tribesmen who still dwell in the unexplored
and unannexed portions of Barbaria beyond the mountains. In any case,
these natives of South Barbaria are fine, strong-featured people,
though easily distinguishable from those of the Region of the Sun.
Many men of this district travel southward to enlist as soldiers, for
which their more hardy physique admirably suits them, or else to offer
themselves as indentured labourers and servants for a term of years.
Two members of the hierarchy are charged specially with the interests
of this class of temporary immigrant, and, so far as I could ascertain,
they are always treated with fairness and consideration, though they
are somewhat despised by the ruling populace of the south.

I have been informed that in times past these South Barbarians have
actually attempted to invade the Region of the Sun, and in proof of
this tradition I noted that the isthmus near Zapyro is fortified by
a military wall running across its whole breadth from sea to sea.
These old fortifications are solidly built, and are still kept in
admirable repair, whilst one of the regiments is always quartered here
in permanent barracks. There seems however, at the present time, to be
little fear or probability of a repetition of any such incursion in
spite of the constant guard maintained on the isthmus.

Of the capital I have already spoken, and of its picturesque situation
on the hillsides sloping to the waters of the broad deep harbour
whose circular form hints at a remote volcanic origin. Owing to the
absence of towers and lofty buildings the whole town wears an Oriental
aspect, for the Meleagrian style of architecture strongly inclines to
colonnades, low domes and flat roofs. The streets are dark and narrow,
a perfect labyrinth of paved lanes, but they are kept scrupulously
clean by means of an excellent system of scavenging, whilst the copious
use of disinfectant liquids renders them wholesome, so that Tamarida
is remarkably free from disease in all forms. The houses own little
external ornament, and being all white-washed recall the Arab quarters
of Algiers and Tunis. This similarity is increased by the nature of
their internal arrangements, which contain courtyards, or _patios_,
open to the sky, these spaces in the case of the richer citizens
being embellished with fountains and flower-beds. A happy combination
of the dwellings of the classical world as still visible at Rome or
Pompeii and the architecture of Islam may best describe the type of
home prevailing in Tamarida and elsewhere throughout the kingdom. The
houses of the poor are smaller and less elegant, but are of the same
character as those of their wealthier neighbours. There is an abundant
public supply of water for each house, with fountains in every garden
and open space. The instinct of family life in the two upper classes
is very strong, so that it is not easy for strangers to penetrate into
these compact, secluded homes, where usually only near relatives are
admitted except on the occasion of a wedding or a feast. Indeed, the
family itself in upper-class life offers a tiny _imperium in imperio_
throughout the country, and this attitude of aloofness is encouraged
by the hierarchy, who prefer to see all domestic suits and quarrels
settled within the walls of the family mansion rather than in the court
held daily in public.

Zapyro, which traditionally claims to be considered the ancient
metropolis of the realm, is only about half the size of Tamarida. Its
streets, though equally clean and well tended, are less animated; its
market is smaller; its houses and gardens are all on a less ambitious
scale; and this remark especially applies to the Temple of the Setting
Sun which crowns a large rock behind the town. This sacred building,
whose former ruinous condition I have lately sought to improve and have
thereby acquired considerable merit in the eyes of the Zapyriotes,
cannot compare in size and splendour with the magnificent fane at
Tamarida. Only four members of the hierarchy reside here, and though
the services connected with the hour of sunset are impressive, they are
not comparable with those held in the great Temple of Tamarida. My own
residence here consists of a block of buildings of moderate size, but
then I only spend one month in Zapyro itself, my arrival being greeted
with most flattering rejoicing on the part of the Zapyriotes, who also
exhibit much despondency at the time of my departure. One peculiarity
of this city is worth recording; and that is the circumstance that,
unlike Tamarida, it possesses a civil governor who may not belong to
the priestly caste: a fiercely cherished honour that is believed to
derive from very remote ages, when royalty resided here permanently.
A leading member of the nobility is always chosen from his peers for
this much-coveted distinction, which also includes the right to inhabit
a portion of the rather exiguous palace at Zapyro, and the duty of
holding the daily court of judgment in the absence of the King. The
hierarchy is said to view these privileges with disfavour, but has
hitherto hesitated to abolish the office in face of the pride and
jealousy the Zapyriotes display in their retention of what is after all
only a slight infringement of their universal powers of rule.

With regard to the third town, Fúfani, I gather it to be a place of
recent growth. It is a large rambling unattractive seaport built on the
marshy flats at the head of the Gulf of Fúfani. Its population consists
entirely of families of the mercantile class and the populace who are
engaged in the maritime trade of the southern ocean. The growth of
Fúfani was, I understand, very rapid, so that the sudden realisation
of this unauthorised collection of large numbers of citizens caused
much misgiving amongst the senators at Tamarida, who took measures to
scatter the community thus formed against their wishes. In this aim
however the hierarchy was unsuccessful, largely, it is rumoured, owing
to the sympathy of the reigning king, who found in the question of
Fúfani a convenient occasion for pitting his authority against that of
the priesthood. Failing to induce the inhabitants of this new-sprung
town to disperse themselves throughout the neighbouring districts, the
priests now came to consider it the lesser of two evils to recognise
Fúfani as a city, and accordingly erected a Temple of the Sun at
this spot and nominated three priests to reside there. This measure
has brought the people of Fúfani, who must evidently have shown some
fierce spirit of opposition, if not of flat rebellion against the
government, directly under the arm of the hierarchy, whose rule here
is strengthened by a garrison of soldiers. I cannot help thinking it
must have been my predecessor who thus encouraged the spirit of revolt,
not wholly without success, at Fúfani, with the ultimate result that
he "ceased to reign," as his fate is euphemistically described to me.
I have so often longed to discover what is the end of undesirable
or obnoxious monarchs; are they secretly murdered, I wonder, or are
they confined in that sinister temple on Mount Crystal or some other
retreat? Or are they merely deprived of the benefits of the Fountain
of Rejuvenation, and so allowed to fall to decrepitude and old age,
and finally death? What would I not give for some true guiding details
of these concealed tragedies, of these unequal struggles between
palace and temple! On the only occasion I have visited Fúfani I could
not detect any overt sign of disaffection among the populace, though
I did not fail to note the sour looks of the priests accompanying
me, as we rode through the rather squalid streets of the straggling
featureless town, so different in its natural setting from Tamarida or
Zapyro. There is no royal residence in Fúfani, and my visit hither was
undertaken from the country seat of a neighbouring nobleman, who spoke
of the town and its people with contemptuous dislike.

Before bringing this meagre and feeble sketch of Meleager to a close,
and before proceeding to enlarge on the more interesting subject of
the Meleagrians themselves, one final point of some importance occurs
to my mind. This is the matter of their coinage, or rather medium of
exchange. Although barter on an extensive scale and in a very sensible
manner is largely utilised amongst merchants, and wages are frequently
paid in kind, a system of coinage is in general use, the currency being
limited to three coins. These are the golden "bezant," rather larger
than our own half-sovereign; the silver "platera," about the size of a
two-franc piece; and the bronze "denar," a little bigger than a penny.
Each coin bears on its face the device of the sun, and on its reverse a
raised lozenge in the case of the bezant, a square of the platera, and
a circle of the denar, which marks can be distinguished in the dark. As
the golden bezant is worth ten silver plateras, and each silver platera
again is worth ten bronze denars, a simple system of decimal coinage
may be said to prevail.


VII

Having described some of the natural features of Meleager, I now
propose very shortly to speak of the various functionaries and
classes of the realm. These may be divided into (1) the King; (2)
the Hierarchy; (3) the Nobility; (4) the Mercantile class; (5) the
Populace; and (6) Indentured servants or slaves.

As the King is the first official in the state, as well as its resident
incarnated deity, I shall begin by speaking of my own powers and
their many limitations. I have already explained the extraordinary
genesis of the King of Meleager, how he is a native of the Earth, and
is consequently on his arrival here utterly ignorant of the laws,
traditions, polity and ideals of his new kingdom. At the end of five
years I may add it is astonishing to reflect how terribly ignorant of
all these matters I still remain, not through any fault of mine, but
owing to the fixed intention of my practical masters, the hierarchy, to
keep me in the dark concerning many affairs of importance in the realm
for which they have themselves deliberately chosen me as monarch. The
Arch-priest, whom I infinitely prefer to any of his colleagues, can
be a perfect Sphinx of the most provoking silence at times, although,
to do him justice, he does occasionally impart information, which is
invariably accurate and useful for my real guidance, whereas I cannot
trust any statements made me by other members of the college. What I
glean from Hiridia is of some general service certainly, but from the
political standpoint it is valueless. This is not surprising, seeing
that education, in the restricted meaning of that term, is practically
confined to the members of the hierarchy; still, from the social side
Hiridia has proved of great assistance to me in my relations with the
nobles and other estates of the realm.

The King here, even making full allowance for the peculiar bonds
wherein he is tied and bound to the hierarchy, wields considerable
powers. He is, as I have already shown, the judge of the people in
their courts, and to them his decisions are final and undisputed. The
belief and devotion of the populace are therefore wholly concentrated
in their resident King, who appears to them--and who can marvel at
it?--as the authentic Child of the Sun, whose father they daily worship
and praise for the light whereby they live, for the food they eat,
and for the warmth they enjoy. I can easily understand the strong
temptation that has driven one, and probably more, of my predecessors
to utilise the undoubted credulity and loyalty of the populace in
a struggle against the repressive influence of the ruling caste,
and I can also, for I am fair-minded, perceive the reasonableness
of the continual panic that animates the hierarchy with regard to
the relations existing between an alleged semi-divine monarch and a
blindly adoring multitude. Any prospective understanding or union
between these two forces of King and people is a constant source of
jealousy and alarm to the priesthood, who are ever on the watch to
prevent and stifle such intrigue should it arise. Yet, on the other
hand, if once the King were goaded by indiscreet espionage or by harsh
interference into revolt against official tutelage, then a personal
appeal by the outraged Child of the Sun to his faithful people might
very possibly result in the overthrow within a few hours of the whole
fabric of government that it has taken so many centuries to rear.
The open policy of the senators therefore must not tend to thwart or
irritate the King; it must merely keep the sharpest outlook without
awakening his suspicions; yet it must always be ready to guard against
any sudden plot or combination between an ambitious King and a
subservient populace. On the contrary, there must exist a mutual but
unspoken compact between the monarch and the priesthood, in which the
former should clearly and willingly realise his complete dependence
on the latter, and submit in all things with a good grace. He is to
be _particeps fraudis_, a sharer in the Great Imposture with its
contrivers, and if he is content to play this rôle, well and good; but
if he elects to kick against this tacit arrangement, the situation
thus created must prove equally dangerous both to King and hierarchy,
and in such a crisis the priesthood never mean the King to triumph, no
matter what measures they may be reduced to take in order to preserve
their ascendency. For my own part I have done my utmost to make the
priesthood realise that I comprehend and agree in and respect this
silent bargain. Some of the councillors are however too suspicious and
nervous by nature to appraise my attitude at its true value; and though
I am on fairly friendly terms with the majority of my masters, there
are certain members of the council whose evident hostility I can never
hope to disarm.

From the deliberations in the council chamber in the Temple of the
Sun I am invariably excluded, yet no measure within the realm is
essayed without my knowledge, the Arch-priest acting as intermediary
in all such cases. I am always permitted, and even encouraged, to work
with the hierarchy, but I could never work against them, even if I
would. The peculiar relations between our two sets of authority must
necessarily always be most precarious and delicate, and call for the
utmost exercise of patience, restraint and self-effacement on my part.
Fortunately, so long as it is realised on both sides that our mutual
powers are intermingled and interdependent, there is little fear of a
collision such as either party would naturally seek to avoid in its own
interests.

Except for the short ceremony observed on the morning of each weekly
feast-day, the King rarely visits the temple. Twice a year however,
at the seasons of mid-summer and mid-winter, prior to the great
public acts of worship before the crystal altar, I am subjected to a
lengthy course of manipulation, followed by a dipping in the Fountain
of Rejuvenation. In spite of the invigorating after-effects of this
treatment, I confess I detest these two occasions most cordially,
and their approach always fills my heart with intense bitterness at
the thought of the humiliation that awaits me; nor can I shake off
my feeling of chagrin for many days afterwards. Yet never a hint
is uttered in my presence as to my dependence on the will of the
hierarchy, nor has the Arch-priest ever alluded even in our most
confidential talks to the intricacies of our unique relationship.
To bear and forbear has therefore been the guiding note of my reign
so far, and I earnestly hope that by following a similar course of
conduct in the future I may contrive to continue thus on the throne
of Meleager, for despite its many limitations and objections I am
tolerably happy in my present situation. I have frankly accepted my
anomalous position from the first, and as time progresses I find my
perilous curiosity to peer behind the veil of The Secret grow less
persistent and irksome.

I hope I have now explained with some degree of clarity the exact
nature of the tie binding myself to the College of Seventy. The worst
feature of my own position--and perhaps the worst also from the point
of view of the hierarchy--is the haunting sense of uncertainty, or
rather the knowledge that I myself, my aims, my motives and my deeds
are continually under discussion by this mysterious band of priestly
potentates, with whom I am really unable to get into touch and to whom
I cannot explain satisfactorily any matters that may arouse their
distrust or suspicion. I often wish the members, at least of the outer
circle, of the council would decide to take me into their complete
confidence, so that we could all open our hearts freely to one another.
I feel sure in such an event all cause of misunderstanding on their
part would be speedily removed, whilst a greater feeling of security
would result to themselves from this open alliance. But I know only
too well that at present any such arrangement is utterly impossible,
so I have to abide in the same uncomfortable and strained position
which has already, I have every reason to believe, proved too onerous
and exasperating for more than one of my fore-runners on the throne of
Meleager.

With the nobility my part is naturally a far less difficult one to
play. In the eyes of my courtiers, and of the many leading nobles
who have access to my personal society, I am regarded not merely in
theory but in very deed as a semi-divine creature, and am treated
with the requisite degree of honour. But so natural and well bred are
the manners of the Meleagrian aristocracy that this intense deference
never sinks to fawning, nor becomes personally inconvenient, so that
I can associate on terms of easy familiarity with many of them. With
their private affairs I have no great concern, seeing how strong is
the patriarchal rule in each family; but sometimes as a last resort my
opinion is invited, especially by the younger nobles, and such advice
as I deign to supply is invariably regarded as the acme of wisdom and
is promptly acted on.

With the commercial class I am brought much less into contact, so that
I have smaller opportunity of observing its members. From time to time,
however, I take pleasure in receiving accounts of travel by land and
sea from some of the more intrepid merchant adventurers who sail the
southern ocean, or penetrate the bleak hinterland of Barbaria. I have
also acquired some merit in their eyes by making an expedition to the
Barbarian coast, and visiting some of the settlements whence timber,
furs and fish are exported to the south. The Arch-priest has never
expressed any opposition to this display of interest on my part, and
he certainly encouraged my voyage to Barbaria; but I know well some
members of the College of Seventy at the time objected to my proposed
tour of inspection of the northern colonies. Their arguments, no doubt
voiced in the council chamber, must however have been over-ruled, for
my expedition was permitted.

By the third estate, as also by the large mass of indentured slaves or
servants, I am of course adored, worshipped and regarded as a Divine
Incarnation. My appearance in the judgment hall calls forth diurnal
blessings on my head, and persons of this class seek to kiss the hem
of my robe in passing, or even manœuvre so that my shadow may fall
upon them, much as the sick and decrepit of antique Asia Minor sought
a blessing in the shadows of the early Apostles. I need not pursue
this matter, for I have already made clear elsewhere the whole-hearted
loyalty of the populace towards their King.

Apart from this deep attachment to my person of the commonalty of the
kingdom, I possess too a certain amount of real power in the household
of the palace and in the regiments of horse and foot that form my
personal guards. All these wear my royal colour of blue in their
livery or uniform, together with my badge of the sun in splendour.
I can therefore well imagine the consequent jealousy and alarm of
some members of the hierarchy being aroused by such an exhibition of
potential strength, and I feel pretty sure of the presence of a number
of spies both among my domestics and in the ranks of the military, who
are constantly on the watch lest I should show any sign of pushing my
advantage by these means. As such never has been, is not and never will
be my intention, these official eavesdroppers can have nothing but what
is reassuring to report to their employers. Nevertheless, the thought
of this particular form of distrust is not pleasant, and it looms large
among the various trials and disadvantages I have to endure in my
exalted office.


VIII

Undoubtedly the most important feature in the whole body politic of
Meleager is the ruling caste of the priests. I have at different times
described these personages as a hierarchy of priests, as a college
of senators, as a Council of Seventy, as a committee of councillors;
but in reality none of these titles exactly expresses the nature or
powers of this small executive clique selected from the nobility. The
form, moreover, under which they are universally saluted or addressed
in Meleager is simply "Arxattra," which signifies "Master." I had
therefore better open with an account of the choice and composition of
this body, whose sole check consists in the King whom they themselves
call into being and can presumably dispose of in certain events. The
priesthood (to use a convenient though inexact term) consists of never
more than seventy-seven members nor less than seventy, and these are
recruited solely from the aristocracy. The admission to this body
is by election of the whole, and the candidates for this honour are
confined to a number of probationers of the seminary that is situated
within the precincts of the Temple of the Sun. These probationers
are jealously excluded from all outside social intercourse, and are
carefully educated for at least five years with the object in view by
members of the council itself. No one under the age of thirty-five
may be admitted for election, and it is usual, though not essential,
for the candidate to be a bachelor or a widower. On his election, the
successful candidate quits his college and retires to the Temple of
the Sun, where apartments exist for every member of the council. This
severe regulation as to age and family ties is obviously intended
to preserve the conservative traditions of the hierarchy, for the
human mind naturally is inclined to hark back affectionately to the
conditions prevailing in youth and to prefer such to any later standard
of morals and administration. At the same time the many services and
duties to be performed by the junior councillors require the election
of active and able-bodied members, for though the Temple of the Sun is
the headquarters and official home of these councillors, yet many of
them are in constant peregrination throughout the kingdom. Four priests
reside at Zapyro; three at Fúfani; two are said to be in residence
within the forbidden temple on Mount Crystal. All have their proper
spheres of work assigned to them, and membership of this all-powerful
council, far from being the sinecure I once conceived it, entails an
immense amount of exertion, both mental and physical.

From the moment of his election there is an amplitude of employment
for the new-comer. Thus of the junior councillors four hold the
onerous posts of registrars of all births and deaths throughout the
realm, their business in this capacity taking them far afield, for the
whole system of Meleagrian registration is closely bound up with its
public policy and edicts. Two more are concerned with the shipping
and fishing industries; two with the control and inspection of the
colonies in Barbaria; two are entrusted with the interests of the many
indentured labourers; two or more act as commissioners of forest lands;
at least four are charged with the important and troublesome duties
as regards public sanitation and hygiene; and so on till every public
department falls under the direct supervision of the nominees of this
Council of Seventy and more. Such a shuffling and allocation of public
offices may seem arbitrary and detestable to the windy demagogues of
our twentieth-century civilisation; but I can assure my readers, as
the result of my most careful and unbiased observation, the practical
effect on the well-being of the community at large far exceeds any
vaunted results that ever I saw or heard of in any democratic community
on Earth. Nor do I marvel; for jobbery, sentimentalism, waste,
financial dabbling, denominational intrigue, family influence are all
necessarily absent from the workings of a council that is composed only
of highly trained persons of gentle birth who, having resigned all the
domestic and material interests of life, have no private or monetary
ends to consider, but act solely for the benefit of the state, which
they have chosen voluntarily to serve after a long preliminary course
of special education.

Whenever a member of the council dies, or through failure of health is
placed on an honorary footing, the vacant place is quickly filled. The
last elected member of the hierarchy summons the chosen probationer
and leads him to the council chamber where his brother members are
assembled. Here he kneels, whilst a homily on the nature of the high
honour conferred on him and the vast sum of confidence reposed in him,
is read aloud by the Arch-priest, who acts as president. Impressive
rites follow, for nothing is omitted to prove to the new member the
terrible fate that awaits any councillor who may be found guilty of any
disloyalty, or of even breathing a hint of The Secret, which he is now
empowered to learn. What is the fate reserved for any indiscreet or
treacherous councillor I cannot say; but I fancy breaches of confidence
in the council itself must have been as rare in the past annals of
Meleager as was the crime of Marino Faliero in those of the old
Venetian republic, whose constitution, by the way, has evidently been
carefully digested by the hierarchy. The oath of implicit obedience and
of absolute silence having been administered, the new member is then
led forward to have his crimson cloak and tunic removed and replaced
by the voluminous white robes of his new order. He next receives the
formal congratulations of all his colleagues, and is then made fully
acquainted with the nature of The Secret, though I myself have a pretty
shrewd notion his mind has already been cautiously prepared beforehand
for its reception, so that he in fact possesses something more than a
mere inkling of the impending revelation, which is announced with due
solemnity. Here however the new member's information ceases, so that he
possesses exactly the same limited amount of knowledge of The Secret
as do I myself. Whether the new councillor will eventually arrive at
a position of such trust and reputation as to be invited to enter the
interior ring of the council, time alone can show. And it is of this
paramount inner force within the council that I now wish to speak.

Of this small secret council within a larger secret council I can only
state with certainty that its numbers vary from fourteen (the minimum)
to twenty, which latter figure is never exceeded. The members of this
inner clique are elected from the other members of the council, but on
what principles I cannot say. The great difference between the larger
and the smaller sets within the council is this: the latter not only
know The Secret, but they are the individuals who carry out its details
and work its machinery for the purposes I have already explained.
With one exception every member of this interior circle has some time
or another performed the voyage between the Earth and Meleager; and
how strangely does it strike me in my utter solitude to reflect that
here in Meleager are nearly a score of persons whose acquaintance with
the planet of my birth is in some ways more extensive than my own!
The sole exception is the Arch-priest, who may not be transported
to Earth, because he is the one person who is in constant and close
touch with the King. The limitation is subtle, but it is sound; for
I can imagine some fine possibilities of intrigue between the King
and the Arch-priest, if the latter had not only visited the Earth but
was also familiar with the extraordinary methods whereby that end was
attained. (I need hardly add that no senator of the inner ring is ever
allowed to address or visit the King except in the presence of two
other councillors.) This picked handful of the council chooses the
Arch-priest from the general body, so that this functionary stands in
an intermediate position of knowledge concerning the working of The
Secret, for he thus knows more than the ordinary member of the council
and less than his brethren of the inner ring. He is chiefly charged
with the control of the services and staff of the temple, and he has
also to superintend the establishment on Mount Crystal, where (so I
strongly suspect) are kept in honourable confinement those aged members
of the council who have grown infirm or garrulous under stress of
years. What exact share these persons of the inner ring partake in the
working of The Secret I naturally cannot tell; and I often speculate
as to whether they themselves are mechanicians possessing a skill
far beyond that achieved by any of our engineers on Earth, or whether
they merely control certain servants who own the necessary technical
knowledge to carry out the intricacies of the aerial machinery under
their instruction. In other words, are these score of elderly men their
own mechanics, or are they only overseers of others? For there are
certainly large numbers of assistants attached to the service of the
council, and a certain proportion of these menials I know to be deaf
and dumb, the result, it is whispered, of a certain cruel operation
which is inflicted sometimes with the consent of the patient, and
sometimes (so I gather) by force following on brutal seizure. Is it
that the priests are ever on the look-out for capable young mechanics
to train for this purpose, and are such promising youths liable to
disappear? On the other hand, many of these deaf and dumb servants of
the temple have families, and apart from their unknown duties seem
free to come and go; being dumb, they cannot chatter, and being deaf
they cannot listen; and since the native language is purely phonetic
and not literary, people so afflicted cannot converse with their
fingers, as is the case with our deaf-mutes on Earth. My own theory
is that these persons, having a natural taste in things scientific,
are first carefully trained so as to acquire all the technical skill
necessary for the accomplishment of the details of The Secret, and are
then to their surprise suddenly given the option of being rendered
deaf and dumb to be thus retained in the service of the council, or
of being instantly and privately executed, for the hierarchy would
have no scruples in so acting if by their refusal to submit The Secret
were in any way endangered. All this reasoning however on my part is,
I admit, founded on pure supposition. For aught I can adduce to the
contrary, the journey to and from the Earth may be accomplished by
means of some unknown power of levitation, such as is only claimed on
Earth by the mahatmas and skooshoks of Tibet, whose wild theories are
laughed to scorn by all enlightened Europeans and Americans. There are,
I know, vast vaults beneath the Temple of the Sun, and perhaps these
may shelter aeroplanes and cars of a type and capacity undreamed of on
Earth; on the other hand, these capacious cellars may merely contain
treasure and archives, or indeed nothing at all. Possibly there may be
elaborate machines concealed in the temple on Mount Crystal, for I am
convinced that it is on this conspicuous mountain that the returning
Meleagrian envoys from the Earth alight. But I frankly confess I am
completely at a loss to explain the system of communication with the
Earth; it is a fascinating subject for speculation, but I am also fully
cognizant of its perils to any would-be investigator.

Although there can be comparatively little fear of intrigue arising
between the King and the councillors of the second grade, yet there
exists no real friendliness or confidence between us. They treat me
outwardly with marked deference, whilst I in my turn always show myself
cordial and polite, but I have no personal friend in the whole body
except the Arch-priest, for whom I have conceived a genuine liking
and respect. My intimate companions are practically confined to the
nobility, and though they are ignorant and illiterate, yet I prefer
their honest prattle to any cautious discussion or interchange of lofty
ideas with the highly educated priesthood. Nevertheless, I cannot
refrain from eulogising the unselfish devotion of these persons to
their tasks of administration, which is shown equally by every member.
The clique of the interior circle do not of course participate in the
actual business of government, for they are presumed to have reached
a higher plane of usefulness to the state, but the junior councillors
pursue their avocations with unflagging zeal. The tedious work of
registration, which entails constant vigilance and many journeys to
remote places; the settlement of trade questions; the management of
the twin departments of medicine and sanitation; the marshalling of
taxation; the control of the army;--all these and many other duties
occupy the whole existence of the councillors who know no rest or
respite from their allotted tasks.

Take the instance of hygiene alone. The accumulated wisdom of some two
thousand years of the Earth's progress in the science of healing lies
all at the disposal of the executive hierarchy of Meleager. And I feel
compelled to pay a sincere tribute to the intelligent industry of the
councillors in their untiring efforts to produce everywhere a "_corpus
sanum in civitate sanâ_." The abundant water-supplies of the cities;
the meticulous care wherewith every source of contamination is traced;
the constant experiments that are made daily in the hospitals (less
elaborately equipped than our own, but fully as clean and serviceable);
the thoughtful measures to preserve existing health and to improve the
physical condition of the mass of the citizens;--all testify to the
common-sense and thoroughness of the means adopted by the ministers of
public hygiene and eugenics. Thanks to their wise measures pure water,
pure air, wholesome food, the prompt eradication of all epidemics, and
the segregation of the physically or morally unsound are gradually
producing a race that for health and happiness has no parallel on our
progressive democratic Earth, where the boasted advance of European
civilisation only conveys in its train to healthy but nominally
uncivilised tribes and nations every species of moral, physical and
æsthetic evil that did not exist under the old conditions of isolation
and ignorance.

Although belonging to the aristocratic caste, yet these servants of
the state wield their power with magnificent impartiality, weeding out
the weaklings alike in the families of noble, merchant or plebeian.
Adult degenerates are always removed to the island of Madù off the
northern coast. Here the sexes are kept apart, but the poor creatures
are permitted to live in tolerable comfort and to receive visits from
their relatives, who however (it must be confessed) usually display no
very marked anxiety to avail themselves of this privilege. For as time
advances, it is commonly coming to be regarded as a social offence to
harbour in one's household any idiotic or misshapen being. Thus almost
all Meleagrians now heartily concur in the state regulations whereby
all infants with obvious mental or bodily defects are at once strangled
by the officials who attend in the train of the visiting councillors,
and they also make little or no objection to the deporting of grown
criminals to Madù.

This public acquiescence in a measure destined solely for the
improvement of the race as a whole is, I believe, of comparatively
recent date. For a long time the removal of malformed and idiotic
infants, as well as the enforced deportation of lunatics or seriously
diseased persons, was strongly resented by their families; but firm
persistence on the part of the hierarchy and a gradual spread of
reasonableness among the whole community have slowly gained the public
approval for severe regulations that were at first as novel as they
were distasteful. I particularly mention this case, as it tends to
show that though conciliation of the populace must always form one
of the leading tenets of the council's policy, yet it can on occasion
enforce an unpopular edict throughout the nation in its own interest,
despite the indignant protests of all classes. I have been told that
the then reigning King, a most enlightened Switzer, did splendid
service for the council by personally in his capacity of Child of the
Sun, ordering his father's own people to obey the new regulations.
How long ago this struggle arose I have no notion; and oh, how often
have I yearned to learn more concerning that predecessor of mine whose
memory is still gratefully held by the hierarchy to-day! How and under
what circumstances did he finally "cease to reign"? Did he later on
attempt to oppose the ruling body, after having saved it from possible
collapse? But no questions of mine, however artfully or artlessly
addressed, could ever secure me any but evasive answers.

I can never fix in my inconstant mind my exact feeling towards these
"potent, grave and reverend signiors" of the council, these impassive
and industrious priests (who are in reality not priests at all, for
their task is almost purely a secular one, the priestly office being
practically merged in that of the statesman). And in the performance
of these duties they are as unselfish as they are indefatigable; nor
is there any apparent taint of personal jealousy or internal intrigue
amongst the hierarchy. When during my rides abroad for pleasure or
for hunting I see a pair of these white-robed councillors, equally
servants and rulers of the state, visit some remote hamlet and observe
the scrupulous care and the genuine interest wherewith they inquire
into and carry out every necessary arrangement for the public weal;
and when I consider the implicit faith placed by the country folk in
their rulers, I am somehow reminded of the mission of the Apostles of
old as they wandered through the towns and villages of the Roman world
healing and assisting helpless humanity. At other times, however, I
am inclined to regard them with a mixture of hatred and contempt,
whenever I reflect on the unprecedented system of conscious fraud
whereon all their beneficent action rests. How strange, for example,
must it seem for a newly elected candidate to learn for the first
time that the religious teaching he has imbibed from infancy is a
deliberate fabrication, which he himself is now called on to champion
and perpetuate; that the divinity of the Sun is a hollow myth; that his
Child is a mortal from another planet; that the world of Meleager, far
from being the special creation and care of the Sun-god, is in reality
a mere speck in a vast solar system, such as has been propounded by
our own astronomers Copernicus and Galileo. What a terrible moment it
must prove for a sensitive soul, implected with the beautiful mythology
of a lifetime, when in a trice the whole of his religious environment
is stripped rudely from him like a garment! I often meditate on the
unique moral dilemma that must face every new councillor. How fearful
an awakening! How difficult for a conscientious nobleman to combine the
two phases of a public benefactor and of a promulgator of an elaborate
lie! Has any Meleagrian noble of high integrity I wonder ever had the
courage or conscience, at the supreme moment, to protest, even at the
risk of death? But I presume the preliminary training and preparation
bestowed on all probationers are carefully contrived to soften so
great a shock, and to lead the postulant gently towards the amazing
revelations made at the time of his reception into the council.

The dress of the hierarchy is simple, consisting outwardly of a white
woollen toga-like garment that is free from all ornament. I suspect
the adoption of this style of dress is borrowed from that of classical
Rome, whose laws and customs evidently form the basis of the Meleagrian
constitution. A white wand is carried in the hand, and a white fillet
is bound round the temples; only on the two great half-yearly festivals
are the ornate gold-fringed garments worn in public. The robes of the
Arch-priest are likewise of a white woollen material, which in his
case are relieved by a bordure of gold brocade, whilst the wand and
fillet are also of gold; but on state occasions he dons magnificent
vestments of cloth of gold and wears a golden mitre on his head. The
Arch-priest's office is naturally more sacerdotal in its nature than
that of his comrades, for it is he who is entrusted with the due
performance of all the services of the temple, and he too assists at
the solemn ceremony of censing the crystal altar of the Sun, as I
have already shown. He is also the custodian of the awful Fountain of
Rejuvenation, though his guardianship is shared by other members of the
inner ring. One day, finding the venerable head of the council in an
unusually expansive mood, I ventured to question him openly upon the
properties of this sacred well, this Zem-Zem of Meleagrian un-faith. He
replied that its medicated waters, though highly beneficial to a mortal
born of the Earth, would prove fatal to any Meleagrian rash enough to
attempt their use. Moreover, he added that should anyone plunge alone
and unattended into this well, the terrific suction of the current
beneath would infallibly drag the body under, never to reappear. I then
questioned him if many such accidents had ever occurred, whereupon he
answered dryly that none had happened in his own experience; which
equivocal reply I interpreted as admitting that fatal incidents in the
past were by no means unknown. I then twitted him jokingly for not
renewing his own youth, of course with all proper precautions, in the
fountain of his charge, to which he replied with considerable asperity
and horror, using the most solemn Meleagrian form of denial: "May the
God perish first and the Sun be darkened!" After this vigorous negation
he took his departure with some abruptness, nor could I ever entice
him to speak again of the fountain.

I fully realise that my account of the hierarchy or governing class of
Meleager is both incomplete and unsatisfactory, but I must plead again
the many difficulties of obtaining information which I have already
mentioned. In fact, it is from two sources only that I can derive
any details whatever, these being my own limited opportunities of
observation and discovery and the rare statements that the Arch-priest
lets fall from time to time, for I am not on confidential terms with
any other member of the council. From Hiridia and my friends of the
nobility I can gather absolutely nothing, for the simple reason that
their own ignorance of the private affairs of their ruling caste is
even greater than mine. Indeed, the marvel is that I have been able to
compile even the small amount I have inscribed here, considering the
obstacles in my way of acquiring knowledge. I must sum up therefore
by stating that I have very little communication with that body of
councillors with whom my own position and prerogative are so closely
interwoven, this state of affairs being due wholly to the persistent
refusal of the latter to take me into their confidence.


IX

Of the nobility I can speak with more confidence, for with many of them
I am on terms of intimacy and friendship. The well-bred gentleman is
not confined in our own world to any special climate or nation, for
he is to be found equally under a white, a yellow, a brown and even a
black skin; and the gentle type is also indigenous on the planet of
Meleager.

The aristocracy of Meleager is closely connected with the land, and it
is to some extent strongly impregnated with feudal principles. Every
noble is either the owner of an estate, be it large, moderate or small,
or else is connected by family ties with the actual landowner. Each
house forms a distinctive gens in itself, and all its male members are
entitled to bear a badge, which is its peculiar mark. These badges at
first suggested to my mind a relic of totem-kin, but I soon changed my
opinion on this point, and now hold the family badge to be heraldic
in its aim and use. I gather that the adoption of a conspicuous badge
or emblem for each family is of considerable antiquity, and perhaps
derives from reports made by the Meleagrian envoys on Earth at the
period of the Crusades, when coat-armour came into fashion among the
chivalry of Western Christendom.

The mass of the nobles exhibits various degrees of wealth and
influence, and I have noted the existence of some ill-feeling between
the leading magnates and the smaller landowners. The social cleavage
between the two sets is however imperceptible, and the constant
intermarriage between the families of what I may call the major and
the minor barons tends to eradicate many cases of jealousy. This
landed aristocracy has, of course, its chief residence in the country
districts, though the wealthier families possess houses in the cities
in addition. The country house of Meleager is usually of moderate
size, and consists of a low square white-washed mansion enclosing a
courtyard. The native love of colonnades is prominently exhibited in
these houses, which are frequently surrounded on all sides by loggias
that can be utilised according to the varying conditions of weather.
The arrangements within are somewhat primitive according to our own
luxurious standards of the twentieth century, but they are not without
a sufficiency of comfort. The floors are generally tiled; there are no
rugs or carpets, save some skins of beasts; the furniture, though often
elaborately carved, is not plentiful. There are no family portraits,
for the art of painting pictures is unknown, but in compensation for
this defect there is always the curious family chapel or mausoleum.
This has usually a low domed roof pierced by windows of coloured glass
that admit only a dim light within the chamber which seems very similar
to the _columbaria_ of the Romans, from whom I conclude this idea has
been borrowed by their unknown admirers. Rows of small semicircular
apertures line the walls, many of these standing empty, whilst not a
few are occupied by busts of deceased members of the family. Beneath
these effigies are placed small urns of metal or marble which contain
the ashes, for cremation has for sanitary reasons been made compulsory
in Meleager for many centuries past. Some of these busts are of no
small artistic merit, and evidently well portray the features of the
noble ancestors; others again are of inferior workmanship; whilst some
are obviously merely conventional in their treatment. Such a collection
certainly forms rather a gruesome substitute for a family portrait
gallery, but its atmosphere does not seem to depress the spirits of
the present generation, for I am always cheerfully invited to enter
and inspect these queer oratories. The surrounding gardens are often
beautiful, but are far less artificial than our own. One broad long
flagged terrace usually suffices for the family to stroll; otherwise
the paths and lawns are unkempt and neglected. These pleasances are
however full of a luxuriant growth of wild or half-wild flowers, so
that I found myself often being reminded of the exuberant gardens of
old-world Italian villas in past days, before the late irruption of
wealthy cosmopolitan tourists had succeeded in thoroughly vulgarising
Italy and modernising all its old peaceful haunts.

Country life as pursued in Meleager varies little in its essence from
that of our Earth, _mutatis mutandis_, for time is pretty evenly
divided between the attractions of sport and the claims of estate
management and domestic concerns. Everything is, of course, conducted
in a manner that would appear as primitive to our pampered sportsmen
as it would seem suggestive to the antiquary, for both field sports
and agriculture have remained here in the mediæval, or even sometimes
in the archaic, stage of development. Firearms, though not unknown,
are at least never employed, so that in hunting the spear, the net,
the trap and even the bow still constitute the chief weapons of the
chase. All ploughing is performed by oxen with wooden implements, and
the thorough cultivation of the crops is on a tiny scale. Again and
again have the conditions of Meleagrian rural life recalled to me the
old-world bucolic practices of Tuscany and Castile, that even down
to the close of the nineteenth century retained so many picturesque
features of remote classical times. The tenor of existence in the
country is quiet enough, and would prove unspeakably dull and irksome
to the majority of our modern squires; but it must be remembered that
the Meleagrian landowners have no newspapers, no novels, no Stock
Exchange, no party politics to sweeten and distract their daily round,
so that they are perfectly content to follow in the secure footsteps
of their forefathers. Should the younger men find the calm routine of
country life wearisome, there are other avenues of occupation open to
such restless souls. In the first place there is the army, which is
officered solely by members of the aristocracy, some of whom make a
permanent profession of their military duties and attain in due course
to the higher commands therein. The usual plan is, however, for the
younger sons of the noble houses to spend some three or four years in
the army, after which they marry and come to settle in homes of their
own, where they busy themselves for the rest of their lives with a
medley of sport, agriculture and domestic economy. Again, the life
at Court is open to a certain number of those who care neither for a
career in the army nor for the monotony of the countryside. Here they
participate in the constant variety of the palace, and hope to win
honorary appointments in the royal household. A few, more adventurous
still than their fellows, proceed to Barbaria either for the purpose
of better hunting, or for the sake of the harder and more exciting
life in a new sphere of energy. Some proportion of these latter obtain
grants of land in this less than half-occupied territory, where they
found new estates modelled on the old lines, much as the younger
scions of our gentle English houses emigrated and settled in Virginia.
Such experiments moreover are strongly commended and encouraged by
the special councillors who are charged with the conduct of colonial
affairs.

Yet another and a far more important means of escape from the alleged
tedium of family or rustic routine is the career of the probationer,
who aspires eventually to be elected a member of the hierarchy. This
ambition cannot, however, be gratified before the age of thirty, when
the intending candidate is admitted to the school of the neophytes.
Here for a year he receives a course of lectures on Meleagrian history
and is taught the rudiments of Latin grammar, but no instruction in
reading or writing is yet afforded him. At the end of a twelvemonth of
such preliminary training, the neophyte is either rejected as unfit
or unsuitable, or else he is admitted a probationer of the seminary
attached to the Temple of the Sun. In that case he receives a five
years' course of far more advanced tuition; he is taught to read, write
and speak the Latin language; and presumably he is also instructed in
astronomy, politics, theology and other subjects concerning which his
existing notions must be strangely vague or wholly erroneous. This long
period of instruction entails a severe strain on the pupil, who is
henceforth cut off from all private and external ties and interests,
for he is never allowed to quit the precincts of his seminary. Of his
final election and reception into the council of the hierarchy I have
spoken elsewhere. Whether or no any candidate has ever failed to obtain
his election and has been consequently compelled to remain in the
institution for years, perhaps for the term of his lifetime, I cannot
say; yet I do know for a fact that for its inmates there is but one
door leading out of the seminary of probationers and that is the door
which admits to the council chamber.

I always enjoy my occasional visits to the country seats of the
nobility, where the calm useful healthy life affords an agreeable
change to me from the atmosphere of the palace, which seems always
charged with mystery and intrigue. The genuine greeting of my host and
the members of his family, the delightful blend of divine honours and
of frank hospitality wherewith I am everywhere received, the pride
shown in their farms and agricultural schemes, the general air of
repose and safety, all tend to soothe a mind that has grown perplexed
and wearied with the endless cares of an exalted but anomalous office.
The conversation of these uneducated but well-bred persons is certainly
not exciting, and might fairly be described as trivial, but really I do
not think, from past experience, that it is more trifling or banal than
the average talk of the British aristocracy which of recent years has
elevated sport and money-making to be the prevalent topics of society
(using that term in its narrow technical application). And though all
these excellent folk in Meleager are of necessity quite illiterate in
the sense that they cannot read and write, their memory is marvellous,
so that often after the evening meal the different members of the
household recite whole poems in the Meleagrian language, or else tell
stories that are by no means devoid of wit and imagination. Often too
there is singing to the native lute of sweet melodious songs, which are
well rendered by the fresh voices of the young performers.

The land tenure of Meleager may perhaps be best described as a
modified form of primogeniture. The family estate, whether large or
small, descends in tail male, and only in the failure of masculine
issue in the whole family to the female heirs of the last possessor.
This strict entail is, however, subject to certain limitations, which
tend to allow provision for the widow and daughters of the landowner.
Moreover, all members of the family have a species of life interest in
the estate, so long as they continue unmarried. Thus on the death of
a father, the eldest-born will inherit, but the new owner's younger
brothers (and also his unmarried uncles), if still residing under the
family roof, own the right to remain in their old home. Patriarchal
life in this manner becomes highly developed, and the family council
consisting of all its male and all its unmarried female members can
exercise considerable power over all private affairs within the scope
of the family circle. Thus the expulsion of an unworthy relative can
be arranged, and this inherent family rule is admitted and upheld by
the hierarchy. A noble thus expelled forfeits his right to bear the
family badge, and also has to relinquish the crimson cloak and tunic
of his order. A member so degraded sinks automatically into the ranks
of the plebeian or third estate, and is generally lost sight of. Such
incidents are rare, but they do occur occasionally, and this private
form of prerogative to drive into social exile is undisputed.

Although a very distinct line is drawn between the Reds and the Greens,
between the noble and the mercantile classes, there seems no contempt
or envy of class on either side. Such jealousy as exists is rather
noticeable within the ranks of the aristocracy itself, wherein, though
nominally all are of equal rank, some are rich and some poor, some
influential and some of little account. And the same remark holds good
of the conditions prevailing in the mercantile class. Taxation of the
landed interest is raised in two ways: first by a direct tax on land
itself, which is apportioned at certain intervals; and second, by a
poll-tax on every noble. Occasionally a landed estate left without
any male heirs is sold for the benefit of the female inheritors; but
it is clear that in the vast majority of cases the present estates in
Meleager have descended in unbroken succession and unreduced in area
for many generations.

As to the characteristics of the Meleagrian nobles, doubtless they have
their failings, but these in my estimation are fully redeemed by their
many good qualities. There is apparent some display of haughtiness in
the higher nobility towards other less wealthy members of their own
caste, but their attitude and bearing towards their many dependents
and also towards the general populace would be worthy of imitation
even in our so-called democratic world. Of course such intimacy as I
can attain with them is necessarily limited, when one considers my own
range of knowledge and their utter inability to grasp the meaning of
any one of the many serious questions that perpetually vex my mind.
I sometimes have the sensation of living in a world of shadows, with
which I sport and even converse, for the mental gulf fixed between me
and them is fathomless and unbridgeable. Even my Hiridia, faithful
friend and delightful companion though he be, seems often a plaything
rather than a co-equal being of the same flesh and blood as myself. I
can study all these people and analyse with ease their simple empty
minds; I can sympathise with their artless pleasures and pastimes; I
can play and sing and hunt and bathe and feast with them;--but I cannot
talk with them seriously any more than can a septuagenarian professor
carry on a rational conversation with a child. Yet all the same they
are charming grown-up children; and was it not the Divine Master of our
world who more than once insisted that to share His promised kingdom
all His grown-up hearers must become as little children? Nevertheless,
despite such consoling thoughts, the fact remains that I am always
lonely.

       *       *       *       *       *

Of the mercantile class I intend to say very little. So much that I
have just written applies with equal force to the Greens, or second
estate of the realm. I am often entertained by the leading merchants
of Tamarida and Zapyro, but these occasions really produce little
more than the exchange of polite formalities, and I know far less of
these persons than I do of the nobility. A portion of this class is
connected with the land in the form of yeomen, or small freeholders,
whose properties are however confined to Barbaria or to the poorer
districts of the Regio Solis. In their case the law of primogeniture
is enforced more strictly than amongst the landed aristocracy, for as
the yeoman's estate is reckoned insufficient to provide for all the
males of the family, only the eldest son enjoys the paternal acres. The
younger sons are accordingly dispatched to make their living or fortune
in some trade, and it is usually the stalwart young men of this small
landed stock who supply the greater part of the petty officers in the
army. The great majority of the Greens, as they are commonly termed,
are traders either on a large or a small scale, though a certain number
fill some of the lesser official posts of stewards and assistants in
connection with the work of the hierarchy. In the case of members of
this order who have amassed considerable wealth and are desirous of
entering the class of the nobles, application is made to the council,
and such appeals are either granted or refused after a full hearing
of the circumstances. The royal consent is likewise necessary for
the bestowal of this coveted privilege; and I may add that such
applications constitute the sole exception to the general rule, that
the nobles are never given to intrigue with myself. Naturally they are
jealous concerning the prerogative of their order, and some at least
are certain to resent fiercely any such attempts of outsiders to be
admitted to their ranks. A good many of such appeals are rejected,
but in the event of a successful application a large contribution
has to be paid to the coffers of the temple and the palace; a landed
estate has somehow to be purchased, usually in Barbaria, and then the
fortunate postulant doffs the green robes and dons the red, which he
is now permitted to wear, and also assumes the use of a badge granted
him by the King, who selects the emblem he deems most suitable. The
position of the new-comers for a considerable time, perhaps for a
couple of generations, is not an enviable one, for they are treated
coldly and looked at askance by the majority of their fellow-nobles.
But as the older folk pass away, and memories grow shorter, the new
lord, or rather his progeny, becomes gradually absorbed by matrimonial
connection into the mass of the nobility, and intermingles with the
rest. Still, the stigma of having risen from the Greens clings, I
fancy, to this type of pseudo-aristocratic house for a long time.
On the other hand, marriage with a junior member of the nobility at
once confers the husband's rank on a bride of the second estate,
who henceforth ceases to hold open intercourse with her own family.
Contrariwise, ladies of the nobility who ally themselves with merchants
or yeomen sink to the level of their husbands' station.

       *       *       *       *       *

With the populace again I have more intimacy and sympathy than with
the Greens, and through my attendants and bodyguard at the palace I
am brought more closely into touch with the people at large. This
third estate of the realm consists of all the manual labourers, the
artisans, the fisher-folk, and in short all such persons as live by
receiving wages, whether in money or kind. I have already hinted
that their condition and well-being form the constant care of the
councillors, who see that their homes are sanitary, well built and
generally adequate, whilst the wages paid must be deemed sufficient
to support the individual or his family in decency and comfort. In
fact, the supervision of this, the largest and economically the most
important section of the community, constitutes the first care of the
hierarchy. The people seem hale and happy, nor do they exhibit any envy
of the better-fed and better-clad Greens, nor yet of the majestic and
privileged Reds. The rules of family life prevail less strongly here
owing to the wider dispersal of its members, but they are nominally
identical with those in the classes above. There are no law courts
in Meleager, and usually disputes and difficulties in this class
are settled, as I have already shown, in the judgment hall of the
capital, where I sit on most days. The women-folk of the third estate
live in less seclusion than do those of the nobility and merchants, a
result that is due (as in our Mohammedan countries) to the necessity
of the poor having to perform their marketing and daily business in
public. This same class also may be said to include the numerous
tribe of indentured labourers, mostly from Barbaria, whose status
somewhat resembles that of the Roman slaves under the Empire. Vice and
drunkenness, though by no means unfrequent, are not conspicuous in
this class; whilst the police patrols keep a pretty sharp eye on the
landlords of the lower sort of wine-shop and brothel. These resorts
of the more dissipated of the people are also visited at times by the
councillors charged with their management and reputation, so that the
streets of Tamarida at night would compare favourably with those of
most European cities, and such debauchery as does exist is assuredly
kept well concealed behind doors and is not allowed to offend the eyes
or the ears of the passer-by in the streets, which, though dark and
narrow, can be safely traversed by all after nightfall. A few cases of
quarrelling and use of the knife occur and are severely punished by
the lash whenever the culprits are brought to book; deliberate murder
is very rare; theft is not frequent; assaults on women and children
are practically unknown. So far as my observations tend, I can sum up
without hesitation by saying that the proletariat of Meleager is a
remarkably happy, healthy, well-behaved, industrious and sober body
under what I may call the benign despotism of councillors who have not
only been educated to command by years of special training, but also
possess a natural gift for such functions.


X

I should not like the reader from anything I have written hitherto to
carry away the impression that, because I am myself debarred from their
society, the women of Meleager own a status at all similar to that
prevailing in Mohammedan countries. On the contrary, setting aside the
exceptional case of their semi-divine monarch, the sex has little to
lament on the score of inferior or unfair treatment. The Council of
Seventy, it is true, contains no female element, but to balance this,
the college of the priestesses of the Sun, which I shall describe
presently, wields considerable powers in the government of the state.
Moreover, the severe restrictions concerning their relations with the
King rest, at least nominally, on religious grounds and would therefore
naturally be less likely to cause resentment. I think therefore I
had better first discuss the existing attitude of my female subjects
towards myself, for on this point I can at least offer some correct and
detailed information, both from personal knowledge and as the result of
inquiries I have from time to time cautiously ventured to make of the
older women, with whom alone I am permitted to hold social intercourse.

No unimportant part of the religious training which every girl
receives at her mother's knee in Meleager is the Sun Myth, with its
picturesque fables of the Sun-god and his incarnated Child. The divine
nature and mission of the latter are always dwelt on by the teacher
with particular insistence and with due solemnity; and his sanctity is
described as placing him outside the pale of ordinary men with ordinary
passions. And not only this. Should the Child of the Sun forget the
sacred character of his entrusted mission to his father's people and
flout his father's precepts so far as to stoop to philander with any
maiden of his kingdom, not only will the disobedient monarch incur his
divine parent's grave displeasure, but also a most terrible fate awaits
the unhappy object of his attentions. From this last portion of the
advice instilled into the growing female mind, I conclude that alarming
scandals have actually occurred in the past; and who can marvel at it?
But how recent or remote are these love intrigues in date; and how or
where or when they were detected and punished I am quite ignorant, nor
am I ever likely to receive enlightenment thereon. But it is also in
harmony with my theory of past troubles of this nature that a salutary
story (which is by no means regarded here as a legend) has long been
in circulation. The tale itself is strongly reminiscent of the old
Greek myth of Zeus and Semele, and in Meleager it takes the shape of an
intrigue between a foolish maiden of the people, Anata by name, and
the then reigning Child of the Sun, who fell a victim to her charms
or her advances. For it is gravely related that Anata actually made
her way to the private apartments of the King by stealth. Whether or
no she obtained any satisfaction from her forbidden interview will
never be known, but it is certain her body was found next morning in
the royal bed-chamber charred and almost unrecognisable as the dire
result of her clandestine embraces in the arms of the son of the God
of Fire. To become the mistress therefore of the Sun-child, should
the monarch descend so low as to forget his divine calling, is but
the certain prelude to an ignominious and horrible death; and such a
belief is firmly held by all women dwelling on Meleager. It is also
pronounced dangerous (as it is voted most decidedly immodest) for any
young woman, whether maiden or married, to allow even the casual glance
of the Sun-child to fall full on her face; so that it is usual for all
girls to fling the light veil, or mantilla, which every Meleagrian
woman wears, over her features in the event of her encountering
accidentally the person of the King. This custom, however, is not an
actual regulation, and I have often noticed girls, especially those of
the populace, indulge in a good solid stare as I have come riding or
walking down the streets of the capital, though sooner or later some
pretence of covering the eyes with the veil was carried out. Amongst
the nobility this formal hiding of the face is more strictly insisted
on, if only as a detail of good breeding. From what I have seen, the
young women of Meleager are short, dark and comely, with fine brown
merry eyes, small features, and dark hair. In extreme youth they are
often remarkably pretty and attractive, but after child-birth they
are very liable to lose their elegant symmetry, and to find what was
an agreeable plumpness exchanged for a rather prominent bulkiness of
figure.

I have never yet so much as spoken to a woman below the age of thirty
or thereabouts, and though the fundamental law forbidding my intimacy
with any woman in the pride and beauty of her youth is quite wise and
logical, according both to the letter and the spirit of Meleagrian
state craft, yet it is a rule that presses very cruelly upon myself.
For remember, _I_ do not grow old and languid; my own vitality is
mysteriously renewed at short intervals, and male youth craves the
society and companionship of female youth; whilst also in my case this
natural desire can never diminish with the passing of the years. In
this respect I stand therefore betwixt the devil and the deep sea,
between Scylla and Charybdis. On the one hand, I have to curb my
juvenile longings and tastes which tend rather to grow stronger and
more insistent; whilst on the other, any attempt to circumvent this
ordinance of the hierarchy would not only end in my own discomfiture,
and possibly removal, but would most certainly result in the miserable
fate of any poor favourite of my choice. The story of silly Anata's
disgrace was not invented by the hierarchy merely to serve as an empty
fable, one may be sure of that. I feel convinced, too, that the palace
teems with spies for this very purpose of thwarting any such intrigue,
and though hitherto I have given no cause even for suspicion, I feel
my position most acutely. It is so false, and I know it to be false,
and so do those who have manœuvred this particular piece of policy
concerning their monarch.

When women have once exceeded the age of thirty (which is considered
the child-bearing limit in Meleager), and have presumably lost all
officially suspected attraction in the eyes of the Child of the Sun,
the embargo is removed, though there is never much intercourse between
the King and the middle-aged or elderly ladies of the nobility.
Whenever I honour the country home of one of my nobles with my
presence, all the young women of the household, married or unmarried,
are removed elsewhere, but such as are above the fixed age of thirty
are suffered to remain, though even in these cases I note that I am
seldom left alone with women, no matter what their age. No doubt the
female mind, so strongly imbued in childhood with the inherent mystical
terrors of their monarch, still shrinks with awe from too close
proximity with such a force of potential danger. Possibly, however, I
may err on this point, and in reality some ancient notion of etiquette
unknown to me is being served by this noticeable self-effacement on
the part of the older women. Of course, the deference wherewith I am
treated by the male folk is intensified in the case of the ladies, who
regard me much in the same light that a bigoted Catholic would regard a
tangible apparition of St Peter or St Paul in their houses.

Politically, women possess no rights, but then no more do the men,
except the handful who compose the executive council, so they cannot
well complain of invidious treatment on this score, even were they
anxious to discover grievances of sex. As with the historic Prussian
queen, their empire admittedly lies in the nursery, for all children
are completely under the charge of their mothers according to
immemorial custom. In the nobility the tacit law seems to be that the
man is master outside the house, whilst the woman is mistress within
doors; and this maxim is generally acted upon throughout all spheres of
social life. Women are exempt from the poll-tax, which is levied on all
males, and indeed no taxes are exacted from women at all, except in the
rare and transitory instances of unmarried heiresses of landed estates.
Whether or no, vague, restless, unsatisfied aspirations and longings
occasionally assail the minds of some of the younger men I cannot
say for certain; but I do feel sure that the womanhood of Meleager
is absolutely satisfied with its present lot and cannot so much as
conceive of any betterment of existing conditions. The conversations
I have had with the wives or sisters of my hosts at different times
were usually of a rather stilted and uninteresting nature; but I never
failed to note their supreme content and buoyant cheerfulness.

Nevertheless, although women have never been admitted into the ranks
of the hierarchy, and presumably never will be, yet they possess a
species of council of their own sex in the college of the priestesses
of the Sun, who inhabit a large block of buildings contiguous to the
great temple. This institution is based on rules somewhat similar to
those which prevail in the Council of the Seventy, but it is worked and
administered on broader lines, and the age limit is not so strictly
drawn as in the case of the hierarchy. Girls who have no desire or
vocation for matrimony may enter the portals of this convent (if I may
so term it) as novices; nor is the acceptance of applicants confined
to one social class, as is the rule concerning the probationers of
the hierarchy. On the contrary, a fair proportion of the inmates of
this convent are drawn from the middle and lower classes, and thus the
atmosphere of the convent is of a distinctly democratic type. Even the
highest office of all, that of Domina, or lady abbess, is occasionally
attained by a plebeian, for the rules of election here are carefully
compiled so as to secure the choice of the most popular and capable of
the candidates. The senior ladies of the convent are kept in constant
touch with the members of the council, who frequently apply to the
priestesses of the Sun for advice in various matters of a social and
remedial nature, which may be deemed expedient. Thus all regulations
concerning the welfare of women and children have been carefully
scrutinised and approved by the Domina and her assessors before ever
they are enforced by the officials of the council. But how closely and
on what lines the temple and the convent work together is of course
beyond my knowledge, though it is evident that the two institutions are
conducted in apparent harmony with one another.


XI

It is scarcely fair to offer any comparison between the moral progress
as shown in Meleager and that prevailing on the Earth, and in any case
such a comparison would prove impossible, seeing how varied and how
complex are the many moral systems of the greater planet. With our
numerous nationalities it is only logical there should result great
diversities of opinion on ethics, and we are made to realise our
difficulty in estimating any average sum-total of earthly morals to
bring into the field of comparison. Has not one writer of note averred
that the views of sexual morality held by the phallic worshippers of
old and by the extreme Puritans of to-day rest equally on a common
religious foundation? And has not our British poet of empire somewhere
written that

  "The wildest dreams of Kew are the facts of Khatmandù,
      And the crimes of Clapham chaste in Martaban"?

In the instance of my own kingdom the many defunct and surviving
systems of the nations of the Earth have all been studied and have
doubtless been partially adapted here and there, so that in a sense the
Meleagrian outlook on morals is extremely interesting, as affording
the result of careful unprejudiced investigation over a wide space
of time. But of course the outcome of these secret researches and
deductions cannot possibly be agreeable or obvious to any one people or
set of thinkers on Earth, for it will be remembered that whereas the
Earth is a congeries of tribes and climates and faiths, so Meleager
is homogeneous, unless one takes into account the colder and almost
unexplored parts of Barbaria. And thus, as the consequence of careful
study for many, many generations by acute well-trained intellects, a
sort of eclecticism has been created here in the field of morals, as
has already arisen in the case of religious tenets.

Here there are no hard and fast rules on moral behaviour, but each
individual is supposed to be guided by his or her instincts, which
it is considered expedient to depress or encourage, according to the
benefit or damage that may accrue thereby to society at large, or to
the state, if you prefer to regard it as such. The open exhibition of
harmful instincts then is looked on by the ruling caste of Meleager as
an occasion not for punishment but for segregation; such tendencies
in themselves being disregarded so long as they are practised in
secret and kept, as it were, under personal control. And here I am
speaking only of traits and tendencies, not of actual crimes, of fraud
or violence, for the punishment of which there exists a severe code
based apparently on the Mosaic laws. A cold-blooded murder is repaid
by a death penalty, which is carried out privately in the case of a
nobleman, by beheadal in prison of a merchant, and by public hanging in
the case of a plebeian. Crimes of assault are met with strokes from the
lash coupled with a fine; outrages on children are punished by death.
But vile crimes and executions are very rare indeed, and this highly
desirable state of things I attribute to the long period wherein the
rulers of Meleager have been gradually eliminating the feeble-minded
and evil-disposed members of the community by their careful and
judicious system of segregation. Other cases of wrong-doing of a more
venial type are usually met by a scale of fines, which are intended
to compensate the injured party for any damage he may have incurred;
whilst minor instances of violence or disturbance of the peace are
frequently punished by an order to administer a certain number of
lashes there and then in open court, this penalty being not uncommonly
awarded to drunken or refractory persons belonging to the seafaring,
peddling, long-shore and such humbler sections of the populace.

Thanks again to the past measures taken to repress crime and to
ensure good behaviour, the physical health of the kingdom leaves
almost nothing to be desired. Epidemic diseases are practically
unknown, as are also contagious venereal maladies. It is the constant,
and possibly rather trying and officious, visitations made by the
sanitary inspectors into every homestead, small or great, patrician
or plebeian, which have doubtless helped to induce this highly
commendable condition of affairs. Disease and dirt are the two evils
which are attacked without rest or mercy by the councillors appointed
for their control, and by their equally energetic representatives.
Cleanliness is not reckoned as next to godliness in Meleager; it is
an inherent part of religion itself, and hygienic regulations are
perpetually being enforced upon what is now become a willing, though
no doubt in past times it was an unwilling, population. I suppose many
English Puritans would look askance at the thermal establishments
which exist both in the cities and in the rural districts, seeing
that the two sexes have here opportunities of studying one another in
a nude state; but then, as I have said before, Meleagrian morals do
not exist for morality's sake, but have evidently been framed for the
special purpose of securing a healthy vigorous race. Early marriage is
encouraged, but, paradoxical as it may appear, large families are not
considered desirable; whilst there is a curious custom which permits
of a husband no longer cohabiting with his wife after she has borne
him three children living. I have heard that this eccentric, and no
doubt to many offensive, notion also prevails in the upper ranks of
the civilised Latin races, though possibly my informant may have been
mistaken in his statement. I gather that such a tacit understanding has
its origin in the fear of over-population, and certainly the limited
land surface of Meleager possessing a desirable climate may plead as a
reasonable excuse for the holding of this whimsical tenet, which seems
to savour of the school of Malthus. Apparently the growth of population
in Meleager is somewhat analogous to that of modern France, and seeing
the high place in which French philosophy and culture are held by the
leading nations of the Earth, the Meleagrians are at least erring in
good company.

Turning to the coarser side of the question of public morals,
prostitution exists, but neither to a great extent nor openly.
Those who can recall the nocturnal conditions of the main London
thorough-fares during the latter part of Queen Victoria's reign would
be agreeably surprised to detect no outward flaunting of vice after
dusk in the streets of Tamarida; and the least tendency to riot or
disturbance is promptly quelled by the military patrols. Not that
licence and debauchery do not abound, for there are, I believe, plenty
of resorts of a certain class in the towns; but the doings of such
places do not rise to the surface, and those who frequent them dare not
offend the quiet of their neighbours.

Meanwhile the priestesses of the Sun are constantly busied with the
ultimate fate of the harlot, and their emissaries are often engaged
in reclaiming girls from a licentious career and in training them
to become useful wives, for such early lapses are held lightly by
the mass of the people. And in not a few instances these "_filles
de joie_" become wedded to their paramours, and make good mothers.
Such an outlook is of course utterly unmoral to large sections of the
civilised and Christianised nations of Europe and America; but the
Meleagrian view is shared by many other races of the Earth who have
enjoyed a longer and perhaps a better record of civilisation than
have these complacent modern nations whose ancestors were half-naked
savages in the days of the Roman Empire. Universal chastity, in
short, is a feature almost exclusively confined to northern tribes of
barbarians, for whom it has great natural advantages certainly, for it
tends to breed a hardy and prolific race. But I do not think it can be
classed as a genuine virtue in itself, and it always tends promptly
to disappear the moment the trammels of education and development are
assumed. Now the Meleagrians can lay claim to be an intensely civilised
race, whereby I mean their rulers have been engaged in the study of the
arts of peace and progress for many centuries, and have consequently
left behind them the old barbarian necessity for absolute chastity,
though they still recognise its value as a wholesome ingredient of
married family life. For with marriage chastity in their eyes takes on
another aspect, which must not be confounded with the former, and that
is faithfulness. A faithless wife is very rare indeed in Meleager, and
her treatment at the hands of her neighbours is not enviable.


XII

Religion has already entered so significantly into my narrative that I
feel I must apologise for a special dissertation on this subject. Yet I
have never so far described the exact nature or scope of the Meleagrian
faith which may be said to permeate and regulate the whole private and
public existence of the people.

The inhabitants of Meleager--and in the ensuing statements, of course,
I always except the hierarchy--are worshippers of the Sun, who is
their sole deity. He is visible to them for a large portion of almost
each day; he is tangible, in so far as they can feel the warmth of his
beams; he is alive and in constant motion, as they watch him "ride the
heavens like a horse" and disappear into the waters of the western sea
only to uprear again next morning above the eastern horizon. As in the
old Greek mythos, the Sun is popularly supposed to drive his golden
chariot with its flaming wheels and with its yoke of fretting stallions
across the dome of heaven, till finally god and car alike pass over the
containing rim of the Meleagrian world. Below the flat surface of the
land and sea the Sun-god inhabits a vast palace, whose splendours far
exceed anything known to men. Here he rests after his daily labours
amongst his numerous progeny, and refreshes himself after his late
exertions undertaken solely for the benefit of the favoured race, that
in the illimitable past he created in his own image. The firmament
is his field of action; the space below the ground is his haven of
retirement. At night the dome of heaven shorn of his effulgent presence
is lighted only by the sparkling stars; "jewels of the Sun," as they
are termed in Meleagrian parlance; or else the great vacant arc is
illumined by the sickly lustre of the Moon. For the Moon stands to
the Meleagrian mind, as it did largely to the antique and mediæval
imagination, for all that is uncanny and malign. Few Meleagrians will
walk abroad in clear moonlight, if they can reasonably avoid so doing;
and in the many tales and legends that are current the Moon in her
various phases and with her evil influence always occupies a prominent
place. The oldest legend concerning the Moon, that is a legend parallel
with such theories as the origin of the rainbow or the story of the
Ark on Mount Ararat of the Jewish Pentateuch, relates how in the days
of chaos there were two Suns, rivals, who fought one another for the
possession of the beautiful world of Meleager; and that after a titanic
combat, wherein the heavens thundered and the mountains belched forth
fire and smoke, and the waters tossed and hissed furiously, the benign
Sun conquered and slew the opposing deity, whose dead body still floats
abroad in the sky, wherein it serves as an eternal trophy to the
prowess of the victor. In the popular imagination however the corpse
of the vanquished Moon is not wholly impotent for ill. A scintilla of
mischievous vitality is still believed to lurk in its form, during
the hours of the night, what time the Sun himself is absent from the
heavens. The average Meleagrian therefore has a peculiar dread of the
night, and of a moonlit night in a special degree. The practice of
magic, both of the black and white types, is fairly common in all ranks
of Meleagrian society, and its preparations and philtres are always
popularly associated with the period of the Moon's fulness, when that
deity's surviving spark of life is deemed most active.

The cult of the Meleagrians for the Sun not only recognises his vital
warmth and fructifying properties, but also attributes to him the
gathering or dispersal of the clouds which drop the refreshing rain
upon the thirsty soil and swell the opening buds of tree and plant. The
winds are also under the Sun's control, and are apparently regarded as
his offspring, who sometimes disobey their august parent's injunctions,
and either sportively or maliciously vex the people of Meleager with
unwelcome gales that imperil the fisher-folk at sea, and injure the
springing crops on land. But speaking broadly, the Meleagrian is of
St James's opinion that "every good gift and every perfect gift is
from above, and cometh down from the Father of Lights with whom is no
variableness neither shadow of turning." And in truth the unchangeable
benignity and faithfulness of the Sun-god are so evident to his people
that one can scarcely wonder at their fixed belief in his omnipresent
power for good, and at his unsullied reputation of their sole
benefactor.

The scheme of public and private worship has evidently been modelled
on features found in Pagan, Mohammedan and Christian religious
systems. The brief prayer to the Sun's majesty, which I have quoted
elsewhere, that is uttered by all on their knees at the hours of
sunrise and sunset, savours in principle of the terse invocations to
Allah, deemed by Mahomet as most suitable to the human temperament
and understanding. On the other hand, the weekly obligatory holiday
derives probably from Jewish tradition. Again, the elaborate ceremonies
held annually in the principal temple whereat the King offers incense
in public at the crystal altar of the Sun seem to recall the mediæval
pageants of the Roman Church, though possibly they may be copied
from much older forms of worship on the Earth. But in contrast with
these strictly spiritual forms, it is noteworthy that the occasions
of births, deaths and marriages are treated in a civilian spirit,
if I may so express it. Births are merely registered or reported to
the appointed members of the council or their itinerant officials;
marriage is almost wholly a betrothal within the family circle, and
consists of an exchange of rings between the bride and bridegroom in
the presence of their respective relations. Death is accompanied with
small display of ceremony. Cremation is compulsory here, and after the
corpse has been duly prepared, a pyre is made either in the garden of
the deceased's home or else in a public enclosure utilised for the
purpose. In aristocratic or wealthy families the ashes are generally
preserved within the family chapel or mausoleum; those who are poor
or indifferent merely leave the little urn in the public columbarium.
There are regular charges by the Government for the performance of
cremation, varying with the opulence or poverty of the family applying.
Death is never attended with any demonstration of woe or wailing, or
indeed by any sort of openly expressed mourning, except in the case
of widows and orphans, who usually hold themselves in retirement for
a month or so after the event. To mourn loudly or to give vent to
excessive grief is regarded as ill-bred, at any rate in the upper
classes, as also indicating the fear lest the departed one may not
through his life have earned the full benefits of the Hereafter,
which is the due reward of every well-behaved citizen. Of course,
genuine sorrow and desolation are not scorned or mocked; such feelings
are respected by those outside, but it is the custom and aim of the
Meleagrians to conceal their feelings as assiduously as possible; and
indeed to hide a stricken heart under a smiling face is accounted no
small virtue in itself, and in the nobility a necessary proof of
gentle manners.

Death is universally regarded as the portal to another life, which may
be either material in the form of a reincarnation on the planet itself,
or of a spiritual or higher phase of existence in the mystical realm of
the Sun-god. In any case, it is held that the continuity of personal
existence is not interrupted by the accident of death, though there is
no definite opinion or belief as to the nature of the new life that
succeeds. Having no literature in print or script, naturally all such
theories of the Hereafter are very nebulous, so that numerous views as
to the nature of the future life are held, though all such views are
variable rather than contradictory or combative. Thus many aver that
the Meleagrian never really dies, but that a death in one spot merely
connotes a birth in another; and that the individual is born again
and again, each time into a different social sphere, till finally he
becomes a member of the hierarchy, whose priests when they expire are
absorbed directly into the family of the Sun-god.

And here I may state that, paradoxical though it may appear, the theory
of the Hereafter is apparently held as firmly by the hierarchy as
by the people at large. Of course the opinions of these enlightened
persons differ fundamentally from those of the ignorant mass of the
Meleagrians, whose easy-going theory of transmigration of soul, or
rather of vital personality, is naturally repugnant and absurd
to their educated minds. Their aspirations are necessarily more
lofty, though what their actual fixed belief is I cannot tell, and
I much doubt whether any member of the hierarchy could explain it
satisfactorily himself. For these councillors have full cognizance of
all the faiths and creeds, to say nothing of the numerous forms of
un-faith and philosophic doubt, that flourish on our Earth, to guide or
hinder them in their choice of a definite religion; yet I am assured,
and I believe the assurance, they all cling to the belief of the
Hereafter in spite of the knowledge of their own Great Imposture and
their close acquaintance with terrestrial ethics. Probably the simple
but precise religious education of their childhood produces a mental
soil wherein agnosticism and infidelity positively refuse to take
root and flourish; and though they must have received a most painful
rebuff in the total destruction of their early religious teaching, yet
their minds are so attuned thereby that they merely cast about with
more or less success to find some suitable theory or form of belief
that will fill the aching void created by the recent revelation of
The Secret and all that it implies. That any one of them has actually
been converted to any Herthian creed, I very gravely doubt. From
generation to generation for some two thousand years these councillors
have watched so many prophets and messiahs arise in all corners of our
Earth, and again they have noted the beginning, the rise, the zenith,
the decline and the extinction of so many cults;--how can they possibly
assert which is or was the genuine form of belief? Their conclusions,
if conclusions they can be called, remain as a sealed book to me; and
though I have taken part in many arguments on this weighty subject with
the Arch-priest and also with other members of the hierarchy, I shall
never really catch a firm grip of this elusive religious _fata morgana_
of the Meleagrian intellectuals. In one important respect however I
have learned that the councillors are pretty unanimous--namely, in
extolling the expressed opinion of St Paul that the blessing of the
Hereafter is not necessarily an inalienable gift to man. "The wages of
sin is death," and "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole
world and lose his soul?" are, I know, maxims that are admitted and
approved by these all-knowing members of the hierarchy. Sin, they hold,
is any disobedience or treachery in connection with their sacred trust
of ruling the people of Meleager for their own good; and the failure or
omission to perform plain duty brings its own punishment in the shape
of Death, not the casual death of the body but a complete blotting
out and annihilation of the soul, the termination of progressive
personality both now and for ever. This view of their responsibilities
acts as a warning voice in the ear of each councillor, who may ever
be tempted to a possible betrayal of his trust either towards his own
order or towards the Meleagrian people; and it is perhaps this sense
of an automatic obliterating Nemesis that makes the elaborate machine
of Meleagrian state craft work so smoothly in the hands of those who
are alike strictly accountable both as rulers and servants of the
community.


XIII

Although I have described the three estates of the realm as being
clearly delineated by their social boundaries, yet there is one element
of union betwixt them all that I have so far left unnoticed. This I may
call the intellectual bond that in some degree seems to weld together
these three well-defined classes. There is, of course, no literature in
the accepted term amongst the Meleagrians, for they own neither books
nor manuscripts, the power to read and write being vested solely in the
educated hierarchy. On the other hand, the brains of the people are at
least as quick and comprehensive as are those of Earth-dwellers, whilst
the tenacity of memory in the more gifted individuals is amazing.
In our English life, even in this generation of compulsory popular
education, it is no uncommon thing to meet with persons in the humbler
ranks of society who despite all these modern boasted advantages have
for one reason or another failed to acquire or to remember the arts of
reading and writing. Some proportion of such illiterates is undoubtedly
of inferior mentality, but a large fraction also consists of persons
whose minds are conspicuously acute and retentive. Again and again when
on the Earth have I been struck by the marked ability of invention and
memory displayed by certain individuals who cannot decipher a journal
nor write a letter. On the other hand, the mass of the semi-educated,
who are all voracious readers of the trashy or unwholesome printed
stuff of the present time, are appallingly, hopelessly ignorant of
all things that are worth learning or remembering. In Meleager, with
its literary limitations, intellect is shown not in a smattering of
ill-digested education, but in natural taste, in the exercise of
memory, and in exceptional powers of invention. One reads in works
belonging to the past of the _improvvisatori_ of Italy, of the bards of
mediæval Wales, of the minnesinger of Germany, of the troubadours of
Provence, and it is this obsolete type of self-culture that dominates
and guides the aspiring Meleagrian mind. There exists hardly a family
or household in each estate that does not possess at least one member
who is born with a definite taste or instinct for mental prowess,
which is shown in his capacity to learn and retain in youth the myths
or poems repeated to him by his elders. From these early and simple
efforts of the mind such an one passes to the higher plane of invention
and of composition. A stripling so endowed is almost always persuaded
to persevere; his tales or verses are listened to and discussed with
all seriousness by his friends and family; and if his efforts come
to find favour he may by degrees win a reputation that will tend to
spread. The popular class in particular produces many such orators,
whether they declaim original matter or the works of others. These
persons are in frequent demand at all gatherings in their immediate
circle, whilst a certain proportion of them are able to obtain a wider
notoriety and to gain their living from the fees they receive for
their powers of entertainment. In these successful instances the poet
or entertainer, if he be of humble origin, will often be invited to
appear and recite in the houses of his superiors; and if his good luck
or genuine talents lead him yet further, it is not unlikely he may
eventually, if he be so minded, obtain a species of social adoption
into a higher sphere than that of his birth. It is no very uncommon
thing for an _improvvisatore_ so endowed to be finally elected into the
estate of the nobility, and to be allowed the use of the crimson robe,
though such a privilege is never extended to his wife or family. Having
once attained to this eminence, in spite of his plebeian origin he is
of course eligible to be entered as a neophyte, which is the first step
towards ultimate admission to the ranks of the hierarchy.

This then is the ladder that has occasionally assisted certain
naturally gifted members of the lower social orders to ascend even to
the council of state; thus it is that the intellectual cream of the
Meleagrian populace is enabled to rise to the surface. No doubt the
proportion of plebeians in that exclusive assembly is very small; still
such a consummation is shown to be not wholly unattainable, and the
hope of so exalted an honour, however remote and improbable, acts as a
spur to such persons of the middle and lower classes as own exceptional
abilities and possess the ambition to serve their country in this wise.

Meleagrian poetry, to which I am of necessity or politeness compelled
to sit a constant listener, seems to me to be at least on a level
with that of my former country; whilst the tales, be they amorous,
didactic, gruesome or comical, are often delightful in themselves and
are moreover always related with a charm and restraint of manner that
might well be adopted by our own professional lecturers who have the
backing of innumerable libraries behind them. There is in fact an
enormous quantity of what I may call floating unwritten literature of
considerable value; for any tale or poem which happens to hit the taste
of an audience soon becomes public property, and is learned by rote
and repeated by other less successful orators, so that the author's
fame becomes widespread. I have only to add that the ear, the wit and
the memory of this illiterate race are all so delicately adjusted and
attuned that it is no easy matter for the average would-be entertainer
to acquire popularity and high recompense in his self-chosen
profession. It is only a very few who rise to general esteem and to
high honour and affluence; whilst of the others a large proportion are
content to cultivate a good method and modest style of recitation, and
only to declaim the works of such as have already attained a definite
celebrity.


XIV

Since I wrote these pages I have met with an extraordinary but most
fortunate experience, which I have been able to turn to my own profit
with regard to the safe delivery of my manuscript. I shall relate the
circumstances as briefly as I can, for I have not overmuch space left
on this scroll, and I find my message must be limited to one piece.

Yesterday, being the holiday of the week, I rode out a-hunting with
Hiridia and other members of my Court amid the hilly region of forest
that lies behind the city. We were engaged in hotly pursuing a wounded
doe, and in the course of our chase came upon a wide open plateau in
the midst of the woods. Across this we all galloped, and my mount being
far fleeter than those of my companions, I soon outstripped them all
and rushed forward into the forest beyond. I am not usually very intent
on hounding down a stricken animal, but on this occasion I continued to
charge wildly ahead, dodging the many trunks and branches in a manner
that would have done credit to a colonial Bushman. The hot lust of the
chase for once fired my blood, and I felt the true afflatus of the
eager sportsman in my brain, as I tore madly onward, recking nothing
of the surrounding danger or the possibility of getting lost. Suddenly
I was stopped in my headlong career by the bough of a tree striking
me full across the breast with considerable force. A quick struggle
to retain my saddle and stirrups, an unusually fierce plunge from my
excited horse, and a moment later I found myself clinging with both
arms to the opposing branch with my steed escaping from under me. I
watched his quarters disappear into the enveloping scrub, and for a few
seconds could distinguish the crackling sound of his tearing through
the undergrowth till all was silent. I now dropped cautiously to the
ground below, where I found myself none the worse for my misadventure,
save for a few scratches and bruises. My plight, if disagreeable and
untimely, was not in the least fraught with danger, for I was sure to
be sought and discovered by my comrades at any rate before many hours
could pass. I felt however no inclination to lie quietly where I had
fallen, so I decided to retrace my steps in the direction whither I
imagined my friends to be approaching. So I rose and began guessing
my way by means of the broken twigs and trampled grass caused by my
horse's late gallop in the forest. But I must evidently have soon
strayed from the desired direction, for after a time I lighted upon
a well-defined track or pad, such as used to be familiar to me in
the Australian bush; and thinking this track would certainly lead me
towards some habitation, I followed its meanderings beneath the tall
trees, whose leafy heads served to exclude a good deal of the waning
afternoon light. Having threaded this little path for no small distance
I suddenly found it emerge from the woodlands into a charming secluded
little valley, watered by a clear purling stream trickling through
bright green pastures that were thickly set with masses of the fragrant
yellow narcissus. Beyond the brook and facing me stood a house of some
size, recalling one of the mysterious Algerian _koubbas_ with its plain
white-washed walls and its low cupolas. I hastened forward with the
intention of demanding assistance, and had already leaped the narrow
stream and was ankle-deep amongst the perfumed yellow blossoms, when
I caught sight of a figure in long white draperies seated in a chair
that was set on the usual low gallery outside the house. As I drew near
enough to distinguish the man's countenance, I was seized with a sudden
spasm of intense astonishment, for the white-robed senator sitting
there full in the golden light of the setting sun was no other than my
old acquaintance on Earth--Arrigo d'Aragno!

But if real surprise were manifested (as I have no doubt must have
been the case) on my own visage, I am sure I never saw terror, genuine
abject terror, ever depicted so plainly on any face before. Some
hideous apparition or the sudden realisation of an impending doom could
alone have produced that look on any countenance. D'Aragno's complexion
turned ashy-grey, his thick lower lip fell, his eyes took on a
glassy stare, as they surveyed my approaching form; yet so stupefied
was the poor man from shock that he was obviously unable to arouse
himself. Naturally, I was the quicker to recover from the effects of
this unexpected meeting, and with a voice fairly well under control
I merely remarked in English: "Have you no word of greeting, Signor
d'Aragno, for your King, who stands in some slight need of your help?"
My words seem to have brought the required force to break the spell of
temporary paralysis, for the poor fellow, half-rising from his seat,
began to blurt out some incoherent sentences. I drew still nearer, and
my advance, whilst certainly increasing his horror, at least served to
render d'Aragno more active in his movements, for hurriedly bestirring
himself and casting a furtive look round the peaceful empty scene,
he motioned to me to enter the house by an open doorway just behind
his chair. When we were both inside the room, he hurriedly bolted the
door, and then sank utterly exhausted on to a couch, whereon I feared
for a moment he was about to indulge in a prolonged, or perhaps even
a fatal, fainting fit. Presently however, to my relief, he exhibited
signs of recovery, whilst I stood motionless at a little distance from
him, patiently waiting for him to speak and feeling to my intense
inward satisfaction that somehow or other I had in this unsought and
unexpected interview the advantage over my late captor on Earth.

"Why, why have you entered my house? How have you managed to find me?
Who can have told you of my whereabouts?" Such were the first questions
the prostrate d'Aragno contrived to hiss out from his swollen purple
lips. But I continued to maintain my calm not to say haughty attitude,
and thus allowed the unhappy councillor for some time longer to
imagine that I had found my way hither with the special purpose of his
discomfiture, for from his confused and disjointed ejaculations I grew
quickly to comprehend that our strange encounter was liable to prove
a fatal catastrophe for him, d'Aragno. After keeping silence thus for
several minutes, with a contemptuous smile of amusement and pity, I
told him of my accident out hunting and how I had wandered hither by
the merest chance. My statements seemed at first slightly to mollify
his alarm, but an instant later he was again in contortions of renewed
terror lest my comrades should trace me to this spot and report the
matter to the hierarchy. I began to grow impatient and rather angry
with this unedifying exhibition of selfish cowardice, so I spoke at
last sharply to the agonised senator. But I need not trouble my readers
with a detailed account of our lengthy conversation, beyond that its
salient points were these, and very interesting they were to me. It
seems that d'Aragno did accompany me in my strange aerial voyage to
Meleager, which terminated (as I had so often expected) at the temple
on Mount Crystal. From that time up till the present moment he had
been living in strict retirement in this remote sequestered valley, in
accordance with the inexorable rule of the hierarchy, which positively
forbids under pain of immediate death any meeting or communication
whatsoever between the Earth-born King of Meleager and the envoy who
has selected him for that royal office. And now in truth a deadly bolt
had fallen out of the blue into the quiet existence which d'Aragno
looked to enjoy for the remainder of his days in this pleasant place of
hiding. I could not repress some qualms of sympathy for my unwilling
host; still, such feelings were not a little tempered by the secret
sense of gratified vengeance, when I reflected on the dictatorial
advice and threatening attitude of which I had had experience some few
years ago in London. However I brushed aside my rancour, and assuming
a cheerful countenance I patted the lamenting senator familiarly on
the back, bidding him take courage, as my courtiers were not likely to
seek me in his house, and even if perchance they did come this way,
what was to prevent the concealment of my presence here? So we fell
to less dismal discourse, and likewise to food, for I was very hungry
and insisted on my host supplying me with a substantial meal, which he
fetched himself. I sat down to eat with a good appetite, the while poor
d'Aragno, too agitated to ply a knife and fork, watched me do justice
to the cold meats, rolls, fruits and excellent home-grown wine he had
placed before me.

During this time d'Aragno gave me information on several points that
had hitherto puzzled me. I learned from him that the Meleagrians
always keep two ambassadors on the Earth, who are replaced from time
to time, and need nevermore repeat their excursion thither. I also
gathered--indirectly, it is true, for d'Aragno was discreet to the
verge of obstinacy--that constant intercommunication is maintained
between their envoys on the Earth and the hierarchy in Meleager by
means of crystal-gazing globes, whose properties allow of a code of
signalling, no matter what the intervening space may be. Possibly there
are other sources of mutual information between the two planets, but
this use of crystal-gazing I conclude to be one of their principal
means employed. On the subject of my own levitation or conveyance
whilst in an unconscious state to Meleager, d'Aragno simply pursed
his lips and steadfastly refused to reply; so seeing any attempt
on this head would prove idle, I finally turned the conversation.
In the matter of his own position and safety in Meleager, my host
was more communicative. He was, he said, treated with the greatest
distinction by the whole hierarchy, with whom he was in constant touch,
by means of a subterranean passage running from his chosen place of
retirement to the Temple of the Sun in Tamarida. He assisted at all
the more important meetings of the inner ring of the council, and was
frequently visited by members of the hierarchy in his country home.
Nevertheless, this sword of Damocles, in the shape of the ancient
stern enactment, ever hung above his honoured head, should he by any
evil chance, such as the present, come into personal contact with the
monarch he had himself enticed and brought to reign in Meleager. Any
collusion or meeting, so he informed me, between these two personages,
was if discovered to be followed by the immediate death of the hapless
envoy, no matter how innocent he might be, nor how accidental and
unforeseen his encounter with the Child of the Sun. This death penalty
was a fundamental law, which could never be broken nor abrogated. I
suppose the very notion of a combination between these two persons
seemed so fraught with danger to the state as to have been the original
cause of so savage and sweeping an edict. No wonder then that poor
d'Aragno, who was obviously in no hurry to terminate his quiet but
highly agreeable evening of life, seemed overwhelmed with fear at the
unlooked-for apparition of myself. I perceived a distinct cooling
of my recent dislike towards him as he proceeded to tell me of the
pleasant years he hoped to spend in this delicious retreat, where he
was served by attendants who were deaf and dumb. He showed me with
affectionate pride the many rolls of manuscript filled by his own pen
with choice passages from our worldly authors that had lain embedded
in his marvellous and highly trained memory, which he daily continued
to transcribe. With a sly expression he also rose and slid aside a
panel of the wall, revealing within a small space, that sheltered
about a dozen tiny volumes of printed matter, which (so I conjectured)
he had brought away with him from the Earth hidden on his person to
his final destination. These consisted chiefly of English and Italian
classics, and amongst their number I can recall the Shakespearean
Plays, the Essays of Montaigne and Bacon, the _Divine Comedy_ of Dante,
the _Faust_ of Goethe and the _Travels of Gulliver_. These books were
of very small size and of such minute print that their owner confessed
they required to be studied through a magnifying glass. For a moment
I paused to wonder whether these treasures were ever produced in the
presence of any of those white-robed brethren of the council who were
in the habit of paying d'Aragno visits in his home of honourable exile.
Nor could I resist asking d'Aragno, as I fingered these mementoes of
his sojourn on our Earth, whether he had included in his library any
of my own works, seeing how extravagantly he had praised them during
our interviews in London; but my host gravely shook his head, for a
sense of humour is rather rare amongst the more exalted members of the
hierarchy.

At length I came to business, the business I stoutly intended to
transact ere ever I quitted this secluded house, the business which a
lucky chance had thrown in my way towards a possible fulfilment of my
present desire. "And now," began I, "Signor d'Aragno, for I know you
by no other title, pray what return do you propose to render me, if I
do not immediately on my arrival at Tamarida inform the Arch-priest
of this delightful but altogether informal meeting between us?" My
hearer's fat face waxed pale and puffy as he almost cringed before me
at the bare thought of the possibility of such a catastrophe. "What is
your wish?" proceeded as a hoarse whisper from between his bloodless
lips. I thereupon set to explain to him the exact nature of the boon
I demanded--namely, the safe transmission of my message to Earth;
and I also declared to him that it was the ambition to overcome what
all the wiseacres of our planet would deem insuperable that largely
prompted my intention. At first d'Aragno's face betokened blank dismay
at my request, yet when I went on to tell him that I had no wish for
my packet to be delivered to any particular individual, but that I was
fully content for it to be deposited on the Earth's surface, provided
only it were dropped on dry land, he assumed a less despondent bearing.

After a pause for meditation d'Aragno replied: "Your scheme is not
altogether incapable of accomplishment, for I who brought you hither
own at least the means of conveying an object of moderate compass to
your Earth. I am implicitly trusted here, and as to any missive I may
care to dispatch to Earth no question will be asked, and it will be
sent on the next occasion. But remember, I can only undertake to do
this once, and once for all. If therefore you will hand over to me
your manuscript, written closely as you will but confined within one
solitary sheet of our vellum, I will engage to have it conveyed whither
you ask. You, however, on your part must swear never to divulge the
incident of our chance encounter to-day, and for this mutual exchange
of oaths it is expedient for us both to have recourse to the Meleagrian
formula in its most solemn aspect. And I must notify you here that
we in Meleager are all believers in the Hereafter, which we hold is
arranged for us according to our merits in this our present life. We
all (and I am no exception) build much on the Hereafter, albeit we
may seem overmuch attached to life itself; we therefore dread the
forfeiture of our future prospects in the mysterious world to come,
however uncertain we may feel of their precise nature or degree. Now we
hold also that the breaking of a formal oath of special sanctity on the
part of a councillor of Meleager of itself brings this punishment or
disability in its train, so by binding myself by this most sacred rite
I run the risk of losing what I deem of intense value--namely, every
chance of spiritual growth in the Hereafter. You, on your side, must
also perform your share of the contract faithfully, and for that joint
purpose I now propose that we two participate in the sacred act of an
interchange of oaths. Have I your consent to this?"

I agreed, being anxious to learn the nature of this solemn binding
covenant, whose rupture is regarded as the prelude to such serious
spiritual losses and disadvantages. I therefore closely watched
d'Aragno busy himself with the necessary preliminaries. First he
fetched a vase of gold into which he stuck a few thin rods, that he
subsequently lighted to the accompaniment of a prayer, whereupon a
strong aromatic odour began to pervade the room. He then bade me stand
opposite to him and at the same time bend over the vase so that we
obtained the benefit of the pungent incense smoke full in our nostrils.
He next clasped both my hands in his, entwining our respective fingers,
and then pressed his forehead against mine. This attitude, however
sacrosanct and traditional, rather tickled my natural propensity to
mirth, as I noted the incongruity in this close semi-embrace between
my own six feet four inches and squat d'Aragno's five feet and little
over. Nothing however in this pose seemed to strike my host in a
humorous light, for he continued with the most serious expression to
clutch me with all his force till the drops of sweat were pouring
from his face. Meantime he kept muttering prayers or threats with
ceaseless energy in an undertone, until, when I myself was almost
wearied out with my stiff and stooping attitude, he suddenly with a
final burst of imprecation snatched the burning incense sticks from
the vase and trampled them vigorously underfoot till they had ceased
to smoke. The compact, or rite, or oath was now completed, so that we
were mutually bound, I to the strictest secrecy and silence, and he
to the task of dispatching my scroll of manuscript to Earth. D'Aragno
now unfolded his plan of campaign to me. "In your own private garden
at the palace," said he; "beneath a group of seven tall palms stands a
marble seat where I am told you are often in the habit of sitting in
meditation. Behind that same seat is a flagstone of the paved terrace
which has a copper ring inset. Bring your piece of parchment concealed
in your mantle to this spot when there will be none to observe your
actions, for the palace spies do not penetrate thither. Pull up the
ring, which will yield easily to your effort, and then throw down
the scroll into the hollow that exists beneath. That is all, but see
that you do this on the seventh day from to-day between the sixth and
seventh hours. I shall be waiting in the gallery below, which ramifies
from the underground passage that connects the temple with my place of
retreat. For three days in succession I shall come to this spot below
the marble bench; but if by the third day no scroll is thrown down to
me, I shall deem myself absolved of my oath, for I dare not attend
thus more than three days running. But you may rely on my punctuality
and good faith. Having duly obtained your scroll, I shall encase it
in a metal cylinder and it shall then be transmitted to Earth on the
first opportunity, which ought to occur within the next few weeks.
The case with your manuscript enclosed will be dropped in some lonely
place inland, where it may or may not be ultimately discovered, brought
to a civilised city, deciphered, studied, discussed and published.
For myself, I fail to grasp your evident sense of satisfaction in so
trivial and futile a scheme; but it is clear you are obstinately bent
on your purpose, and by my recent oath I am bound under the severest
spiritual penalties to aid you. Yet who on your Earth will ever be
found to believe in your fantastic story? And even if it were held
worthy of credence, of what value would it prove to your fellow-men? Or
again, what possible tittle of benefit would you gain by stirring up
Herthian interest in this account of your adventures in Meleager?" And
d'Aragno's face for a moment took on the quizzical yet imperious look
I had noted when he was addressing me at length in the parlour of the
great London hotel some five years ago.

By this time darkness had fallen outside, and this circumstance now
urged my host to speed my departure. Quickly leaving the house in the
obscurity of the encroaching nightfall, together we crossed the glen
with its murmuring brook, and scaled the opposite bank to enter the
depths of the enclosing forest. Following a rough path we advanced for
some time without exchanging a word, till at last we debouched into
a wide open space where we halted. The sharp dewy freshness of the
night air was now upon us, whilst the hooting of distant owls and other
nocturnal sounds filled our ears, as we stood gazing into the dark
blue vault overhead. The stars glistened with the peculiar brilliance
associated with a touch of frost, and shining above the tree-tops was
a conspicuous planet far surpassing its companion stars in size and
lustre. D'Aragno paused, and pointing towards the ascending orb quietly
informed me it was the Earth, my old domicile; and somehow this piece
of information caused in me an indefinable thrill, so that I could not
repress a slight shiver, as I fixed my eyes on my far-away abandoned
home. At the same time a curious tale of my childhood leaped, as it
were, into my memory, for I began to understand with a greater clarity
than ever before the extraordinary nature of the fate that had befallen
me.

I recalled the story, the conceit of a long-forgotten evangelical
writer whose works were popular with my parents, of how a certain
inhabitant of the Evening Star was so struck by the surpassing beauty
of the planet we call the Earth that he prayed to his Deity for
permission to visit this unknown world. His entreaty was granted,
but upon one condition--namely, that on his being translated thither
he should never return, but should share in whatever conditions
and laws of existence might prevail on the star of his choice. He
eagerly consented to this pact, so overwhelming was his desire or his
curiosity; and falling into a deep slumber he was transported (much as
I had myself been conveyed) to his elected sphere, wherein he awoke to
find himself in an ancient city of the Levant. The strange visitor was
well received by the reigning sultan and the citizens of the place,
who did all that lay in their power to make life pleasant for their
interesting guest, whose unique story they thoroughly believed. Time
sped by agreeably enough amid these novel surroundings, so that the
stranger daily grew fonder of his environment till one evening, when
he chanced to stroll by himself without the city walls and to enter an
attractive garden that was filled with curious erections of stone and
marble set amid masses of flowers and shaded by lofty trees. It seemed
a peaceful spot, but the Stranger was so puzzled by the solitude of
the garden that on his return to the city he asked the sultan whose
property was the beautiful shady enclosure with the carved monuments
and the groves of cypresses, and for what purpose was it used. The
monarch looked astonished at the question, but told his guest it must
have been a cemetery, a burial-ground, the garden and final home of the
Dead. Again the Stranger was perplexed: "And what are the Dead?" Then
the sultan tried to describe death and the common lot of all the sons
and daughters of Adam to his listener, who grew more and more amazed
as he endeavoured to grasp the prince's unfamiliar explanations.
"But will you yourself die also?" he finally asked the sultan. "Most
assuredly," answered the latter; "all of us, from the highest to the
least, king and beggar, man, woman and child, we must perforce all obey
the summons of Death when it comes." Without speaking another word, the
Stranger quitted the palace in profound silence and with head bent in
cogitation over this astounding law of nature he had just heard for the
first time. It took him many days of further inquiry and self-communing
before he could realise this sudden compulsory cessation of active
life which inevitably awaited himself, sooner or later, whether as
the result of disease, of accident, of violence or of decay. Long did
he reflect, and finally he came to the conclusion that, seeing how
soon and how suddenly Death might call him, Life itself so far as its
pleasures and its interests and its intrigues were concerned was but a
step on the road to Death, which was the final goal with its vista of
eternal joy or pain or oblivion. Naturally, the pious writer of this
ingenious allegory had sought therefrom to point a lesson of the vanity
of all worldly pleasures and success, and of the consequent need of
preparation for the after-life, which alone matters; but I had always
loved the simple conceit for its own sake without troubling myself much
about the inevitable moral. And as I continued to gaze upward at the
scintillating orb slowly rising over the topmost branches, I could not
refrain from a comparison between my own conditions in Meleager and
those of the mysterious stranger in the Oriental city of his adoption.
It seemed a notable coincidence, and I vaguely wondered whether the
author had really possessed a true inkling of the possibility of such
an exchange of planets as had been suggested in the tale.

D'Aragno's harsh whisper recalled me from my reverie, and from the
contemplation of my former sphere to that of tangible objects in my
present abode. He bade me follow him across the open starlit glade,
all gleaming with heavy dewdrops, and so led the way up-hill to a
point whence there was a wide open view bounded by the sea. Far away
below us against the misty horizon I could discern two specks of pale
yellow light, and I scarcely needed my companion's information to
make me realise that these were the twin lanterns of the lighthouses
guarding the entrance of the harbour of Tamarida. We were standing also
on a fairly wide pathway, apparently a bullock track, and I saw that
d'Aragno had led me to one of the chief inland routes of traffic, which
I had merely to follow down-hill in order to descend directly into
Tamarida. He bade me farewell with some slight show of approval, even
stooping so far as to imprint a perfunctory kiss on my hand, the while
he pointed out the guiding beacons beneath me. He now bade me farewell
and a safe arrival before turning from me with rapid steps. I watched
his dwindling white-robed figure cross the exposed glade and then
disappear, a tiny luminous speck, into the enclosing forest, and that
was my last glimpse of d'Aragno.

Left to myself I strolled leisurely along the stony but clearly
perceptible track, which from this elevation began to wind down the
mountain slope towards the coast. I had not walked much above a mile
when a sound, at first faint but ever growing in intensity, smote upon
my alert ears. I stood still to listen, and soon recognised voices
calling in unison, together with the barking and yapping of dogs. It
was evidently the search-party that was on its way to rescue me in
the forest. Calmly I proceeded, and at a turn in the pathway I could
just detect the advancing throng of men, both mounted and a-foot. So
soon as these had realised the identity of the figure approaching in
the subdued starlight, the whole band halted an instant as if struck
stupid, and then from their midst rushed forth Hiridia with a shrill
cry of delight and threw himself on the rough ground at my feet, which
he covered with kisses. The other members of the party now hurried
towards me to show their joy and relief in a manner fully as rapturous
if more restrained. I received their felicitations and answered their
questions in an indifferent tone, making light of my late misadventure
and only expressing concern for the loss of my favourite horse, which
however they assured me had been caught riderless in the woods.
Apparently the notion of the wild beasts roaming in the thickets had
chiefly aroused their anxiety for me, but this last suggestion I
repudiated with quiet scorn. "What has the Child of the Sun," I asked,
"to fear from his Father's humblest subjects, the beasts of the forest?
Would they have dared to approach his sacred person save to crouch at
his feet and lick them in token of his divinity?" At this rebuke all my
attendants stood crestfallen and ashamed. Nevertheless, they ventured
to express concern for my presumed state of hunger--the Meleagrian is
invariably a good and frequent trencherman--but I merely remarked that
in no wise was I suffering from want of food: a state of things by the
way which was by no means so remarkable as it appeared to my devoted
retainers, in view of the hearty meal I had swallowed at d'Aragno's
house, that I naturally forbore to mention. Altogether the genuine
pleasure and the awestruck feelings wherewith I had been received by
my followers afforded me no little satisfaction, as, mounted on a pony
with Hiridia proudly holding my bridle, I was escorted by this adoring
throng down the steep circling path that led towards the capital. The
night was well advanced when finally we arrived at our destination,
where I found the whole household in a condition of intense alarm,
which speedily was converted into a frantic demonstration of joy on
the news of my safe return and the subsequent sight of myself in
their midst. I thought it prudent to attend the public supper in the
great hall despite the lateness of the hour, although after my recent
refreshment at d'Aragno's I had little appetite left.

The ensuing morning I was visited by the Arch-priest, to whose ears
had been brought tidings of my mishap of the previous day. He came
ostensibly to inquire for my health, but his face betrayed not a little
anxiety. I was able to soothe him however, telling him the story of my
accident had been grossly exaggerated by the palace servants, and that
I was none the worse for a few hours' solitary wandering on foot in
the woods, and that I had already chanced upon the right path before
ever I had met with the party of searchers. By thus truthfully reciting
the half (in this case so much more valuable than the whole!) of my
late movements, I was easily enabled to set his fears or suspicions at
rest, and after some further conversation on other topics he left my
apartment wholly satisfied with his interview.


XV

I am writing these last few lines by the light of my flickering lamp,
as I sit in my favourite gallery that overlooks the city and the
harbour of Tamarida. There is a multitude of things I still dearly long
to add to what I have already written, but the swift flight of time and
this closely covered scroll forbid any such intention on my part. There
are, however, two matters, one of public and the other of personal
concern, that I should like to hint at before I finally consign my
manuscript to its appointed bourne within the next few hours.

First of all, in my bald, inadequate account of the people and polity
of Meleager, I fear I have not dwelt sufficiently on the unswerving
loyalty of the hierarchy to their own order and to their fixed devotion
to what they consider the perfect common-weal; to the general happiness
and content of the whole population, and to the universal sense of
peace and plenty that prevails here. But remember, I neither praise
nor blame, neither approve nor condemn the system that produces ends
so desirable in themselves, which form the recognised aim of every
conscientious statesman. I have merely described things in Meleager as
I have found them. I have made no comment thereon, but only suggest to
the thinkers and politicians of the Earth to discover better and more
honourable methods of attaining equal results.

The other question that vexes my mind is purely personal, or rather
egoistic. I wonder greatly whether my present plight in Meleager
will excite feelings of pity, of contempt or of envy in the minds
of my readers. As to the first, I am cut off from all domestic ties
and affections; I am unspeakably lonely with the oppressive sense of
solitude in a crowd; in certain lights I may even be regarded as a
prisoner on parole; I am perpetually spied upon, and every action on
my part, however innocent or well-intentioned, is apt to be regarded
with uneasy suspicion by those who are my real masters. Again I am in
the position of a conscious participant in that gigantic scheme of
fraud, The Secret, by means of which all the state craft of Meleager is
worked. I am also, to fit me for the continuance of my royal office,
subjected at fairly short intervals to a series of personal indignities
that may endow me with the requisite strength and youth at the moment
when my body is beginning to exhibit signs of languor and dissolution.
In compensation for these trials and disadvantages, I enjoy perfect
health; I dwell in a magnificent palace surrounded by adoring courtiers
and servants; I even experience the inestimable delight of performing
public duties which are gratefully and rapturously accepted by my
deluded subjects; I taste the sweets of divine honours, and at the
same time can gratify some of the natural tastes of a mortal man. It
amuses me to leave to others I shall never meet the solution of a
question I cannot answer for myself!

       *       *       *       *       *

As I lift my eyes from my parchment, I note a thin streak of oriflamme
above the eastern horizon, and I know that very soon the new-born day
will be heralded by clarion and cannon from the battlements of the
great temple overhead. I have but time and space left me to add the
word Farewell and the name I bore on Earth....




PART TWO

 "_I love to lose myself in a mystery: to pursue my reason to an O
 Altitudo!_"

  RELIGIO MEDICI (sect. ix.).


I

How passing wonderful it is that I should be enabled to send another
message to the Earth, and still more wonderful, wonderful out of
all whooping, that I should be writing it not as sovereign of an
unsuspected planet but as a humble member of the human hive on Earth
itself, here in this mean Welsh sea-side inn! As to my former missive
which I dispatched to my present abode through d'Aragno's kind offices
some two years ago, I have, of course, no notion as to its final fate.
That it really did reach the sphere of its destination I am convinced;
but whether it is still lying unheeded on some rolling steppe or
sterile mountain range; or whether it has been ascertained, deciphered,
discussed, nay even printed, I am wholly in the dark.[1] Not that I
seek to vex my mind in this matter. Nevertheless, it amuses me to
assume that my former letter from Meleager has been duly found, debated
and published, even though such assumption likewise includes the theory
that its veracity is discredited by all who have cared to study its
contents. Are we not assured in The Book that one arising specially
from the dead and scorched with the flames of hell will not arouse
belief in the living man? And if the mission of Dives to his careless
brethren be a predestined failure, what chance of credence can possibly
await such a message in manuscript from Meleager? Leaving these barren
speculations, I intend to resume the tale of my adventures at the point
where I halted--namely, on the eve of my entrusting my scroll to the
custody of the Meleagrian councillor.

[Footnote 1: This was obviously written before the interview described
in a later chapter.--C.W.]

       *       *       *       *       *

It is not so easy to judge of the exact passage of time in Meleager,
but I fancy about two years must have flowed past without any incident
worthy of record since I parted with my cherished manuscript. The
diurnal revolution of duty, sleep, exercise and meditation marched
so smoothly onward that it came to my unprepared mind as a crashing
shock to learn that my cycle of calm existence was liable to fierce
disturbance. My sharp awakening was on this wise. For some days I had
received no visit from my dear old friend, the Arch-priest (for by
this time, in spite of certain barriers of circumstance and polity, he
had grown very dear to me), and this omission caused me to feel some
degree of anxiety concerning his absence. More curious than alarmed I
therefore asked one of the hierarchy, Vaïlo, who was in attendance,
the cause of this suspension of the usual visits. The councillor,
discreetly casting his eyes to the ground, replied that the Arch-priest
was expecting shortly to be absorbed into the family of the Sun-god.
Albeit enigmatically thus expressed, I could not fail to realise the
gravity of the news; in plain parlance, my friend and adviser was on
the point of dissolution. A horrible chill invaded my heart, and I felt
sick with a sense of genuine sorrow and of deep misgiving. I knew him
to be old, and I ought therefore to have anticipated the propinquity of
his death, but with blind egoism I had overlooked such eventualities.
My first impulse was to ply Vaïlo with questions as to his condition
and chance of recovery, but the guarded replies afforded me no ray of
hope. I even begged to be conducted to the old man's bedside to take a
last farewell, but this request Vaïlo (I think and trust with a touch
of pity in his harsh voice) assured me was illegal. I then lapsed
into sullen silence, whereupon the councillor took the opportunity to
depart, leaving me a prey to unspeakable misery and agitation.

All that night I tossed and turned on my luxurious bed, and such short
spells of sleep as I snatched only reflected the dour images that were
passing through my brain. Mechanically I undertook my usual duties in
the morning, and later in the day I was sitting beside a solitary and
untasted meal in my balcony, moodily staring with fixed unseeing eyes
at the beautiful prospect sweltering in the noontide sunshine, when
Hiridia suddenly entered to announce that a litter was being borne up
the palace steps. A moment later appeared a messenger with the request
for an audience of the Arch-priest, who was too feeble to approach on
foot. With my black despair of a moment past converted into temporary
relief, I signed my assent, and all expectation I watched the palanquin
being carried through the ante-chamber and finally set down on the
pavement of the balcony. With my own hand I assisted its venerable
occupant to alight and to install himself with some degree of comfort
in a large chair. It was distressing to mark the changes that the past
few days had wrought in my beloved friend, whom I had always regarded
as a sublime picture of hale and hearty age, sound alike in body and
intellect. Now the skin drawn taut over the face appeared like yellow
parchment; the hands were dry and osseous; the gait was languid and
hesitating; verily, the seal of impending death was firmly set alike
on limb and lineament. So soon as we were left alone, the Arch-priest,
gazing at me steadfastly with an expression in which were blended at
once pity, affection and grave concern, held out his poor trembling
arms towards me, whereupon I sank to the floor so as to lay my head
on the thick white folds of the robe that covered his emaciated form.
Long time he continued to stroke my hair or gently trace my features
with his dry, feverish hands, much as a blind man might seek to feel
or sense some precious object, the while I wept unrestrained tears,
whose bitter flow seemed to relieve my heart of some of its accumulated
anguish. Thus we remained, age comforting and supporting youth, and
both finding mutual consolation in this belated concession and yielding
to an open affection from which we had so long been debarred. At length
a warning voice in gentle, feeble tones bade me dry my eyes and rise to
my feet.

"My son," began the old man, "my son, for in my heart I have long
adopted you as such, your image and your fate have been troubling me in
dreams upon my bed. Be strong. Be prepared for evil tidings. My life is
ebbing fast, as you may see, but there are matters I must announce to
you before my small stock of vitality is exhausted. Seat yourself in
that chair facing me, and give me your hand to clasp, whilst I tell you
what I specially desire to impart....

"I am a very old man, and though I have retained my powers of mind and
body in a degree that is unusual in Meleager, whose denizens fade as
they mature earlier than do those of the Earth, the inevitable call has
sounded at last, and in my case more swiftly and suddenly than I could
have wished. For many months past I have been deeply distressed on
your behalf, my son. I have been rent and vexed by the rival claims of
duty towards my office and of my pity and affection towards yourself.
Or rather, I have been speculating with ceaseless anxiety as to where
my real duty lay. As a councillor of the hierarchy of Meleager and a
keeper of The Secret I am impelled to abandon you to your fate, be
what it may; yet as one who is about to say farewell to all things in
this existence, I feel I cannot, I must not depart thus without lifting
from you the cloud of subtlety and intrigue wherewith your young life
is overshadowed. I have endured hideous visions upon my bed; I have
heard your voice of reproach and pictured your final struggle; I have
communed with my own soul in perfect frankness; and as the result of
this spiritual conflict, involving so many diverse arguments, I am here
to-day to warn you."

Again the old man extended his wasted arms towards me and embraced me
with a renewed burst of tenderness. Then he motioned to me to resume my
seat.

"I must hasten to divulge what is lying like a load upon my heart, for
my span of life can now but be reckoned by hours, not days. In the
first place you have been grievously, wilfully deceived by our envoy on
Earth and also by myself (though herein I have been merely following
the normal trend of our polity) in one most important matter. For
you have been permitted, even encouraged, to believe that your reign
here in Meleager can be indefinitely prolonged, provided you do not
set yourself to withstand or embarrass the ruling hierarchy of this
planet. Only theoretically is this true. It is a fact, I admit, that
our kings can be rejuvenated over and over again, and by this means be
enabled to survive generation after generation of Meleagrians--but
this never happens in reality. Not a few monarchs have these aged eyes
of mine witnessed in Meleager, and I have heard tell of others, but
not one of these has attained to so much as two lustres of regnant
power in the star to which they had been translated under circumstances
similar to your own. It is true our kings have often brought premature
and well-deserved disaster on their own heads, but of such I am not
now thinking. I am speaking of our hierarchy who are by no means
immaculate, and whose intrigues and jealousy will not permit any
monarch to escape his predetermined end, no matter how conspicuous
his merits. Not that all our members are tainted with this disease of
treachery, that is far from being the case; but in every executive
body so strong is the spirit of self-interest that no scruples will
stand in the way of preserving power, from whatsoever cause it is
once threatened. Men are mostly evil, as your great Italian thinker,
Nicholas Machiavelli, was bold enough to proclaim, and their guides or
politicians are crafty animals who suck advantage from every weakness
of humanity. Such being the inevitable state of things politic, our
poor monarchs are placed in a hopeless dilemma, whereby they are doomed
to failure, and for the following reasons. If they avoid the snare of
politics, they grow vicious or oppressive of the populace, so that
they lose the general esteem, and the watching hierarchy is swift
to annex this alienated favour and to transfer it to its own body
by ridding Meleager of an obnoxious semi-divine King. Again, it has
happened on not a few occasions that the King has set to combine with
the subservient populace against the real ruling caste. I myself have
seen these palace courts and halls slippery with the blood of slaves
and soldiers who have sought at the royal bidding to overthrow the
executive council, and have themselves been overwhelmed and massacred
in the attempt. Or else, commonest and most dreaded event of all that
we prepare to circumvent, our monarch will seek to found a dynasty.
This is a danger we are compelled to nip in the bud by eliminating
the erring sovereign rather than by destroying the victim or tool
of his designs. But you yourself belong to none of these categories
of undesirable rulers--the ambitious, the despotic, the brutal, the
licentious, the knavish; and it is for this very distinction that I now
have come hither to inform you of certain things.

"You alone of all the earth-rapt monarchs of Meleager that ever I
have known or heard of have pursued an even tenor of deportment,
holding yourself strictly aloof from the besetting snares of popular
adulation and of selfish indolence. You have never strained to encroach
on the prerogative of the hierarchy, yet you have openly and boldly
clung to such shreds of power as our constitution legally permits you
to exercise. You have never stooped to flatter the priestly caste;
although you have given proof again and again that you clearly
understand and appreciate the intertwining nature of the bonds that
unite the offices of King and council. You have shown yourself affable
and gracious to our nobility; kindly and sympathetic to the people
without any ulterior object in your behaviour. You have forborne to
break our laws with regard to dalliance with women, for in your case
no spy has as yet reported any such dereliction on your part. You
have worked well, within the limits assigned to you, to assist the
well-being of the community; and it is also evident that you are a
cordial upholder of our fundamental theory that human happiness rather
than human progress offers the truest mark for statesmanship, and that
those who enjoy the sweets of office and power must alone taste of the
bitter punishment entailed by their own failure or disloyalty. In my
eyes, therefore, you are the ideal King; and yet, and yet, you will
not survive to behold the complement of the half score of years of
sovereignty, which has only once been attained hitherto in the whole
course of Meleagrian annals. Your very virtues of self-restraint and
implicit honour have only contrived to arouse in its direst shape that
spectre of suspicion which is the guiding genius of our state craft.
In other words, even a good King of Meleager is likewise foredoomed,
whatever struggles and sacrifices he may make to gain and hold the
approval of his virtual masters.

"To divert my warning now from the general to the particular, I must
tell you that on my departure hence to the Hereafter, every signal
points clearly to the approaching cessation of your reign. Unless I am
gravely mistaken, the councillor who is marked out to succeed me as
Arch-priest leads our most truculent faction, and under his auspices no
long period will elapse before the order will go forth for a change of
monarch. Doubtless not a few voices will be raised in your behalf, for
you have grown dear to many of us; but I feel convinced such pleading
will not prevail. By this time you must, with your acquisitive mind,
have guessed at the fate which awaits yourself, the fate that has
engulfed so many of your predecessors, the Fountain of Rejuvenation.
The sustaining ropes will be cut during your plunge therein, so that
the fierce undercurrent may draw you into the bowels of the underworld.
Thus will you cease to reign, as we phrase it with euphemistic
delicacy. Should you perchance be cunning enough to elude this mode
of execution, rest assured there are other means in plenty equally
awful and drastic, once the fiat of your removal has been definitely
pronounced. My son, you must prepare to meet your fate, for though I
still hope some unexpected turn of Fortune's wheel may yet operate for
your preservation, in my opinion your doom is already imminent. But one
ray of comfort, or rather one spell of delay, I am able to promise you.
By our immutable laws the newly elected Arch-priest, who guards the
rites and mysteries of that dreadful fountain, is compelled to retain
in office the two attendant councillors who assist in carrying out the
process of the lustration. Thus on the first occasion of this ceremony
under my successor you will be absolutely safe, for I have obtained
the most solemn assurances to this effect from the two colleagues who
have lately served me in this capacity. But this arrangement will
only affect the next ceremony, for thenceforth the new Arch-priest is
empowered to select assistants of his own, and naturally he will choose
his own creatures for the required purpose. Still, such a respite will
afford you some breathing-space for preparation and self-communing, as
it will prolong your existence for the space of a further half-year.
Perhaps fresh developments may arise within that span of time--who
knows?

"One thing I implore of you, and I know I do not ask in vain. Do not
stir up strife in our planet, as other kings have done before you. Your
chance of success is almost hopeless, as no doubt you already realise,
knowing the intensity of the suspicion wherewith every movement on your
part is regarded and provided for. Because you are destined to die,
die alone, and forbear to drag a number of innocent persons along with
you to your doom. You have performed your manifest duty for the past
seven years with a steadfast beneficence that is worthy of your alleged
father, the Sun; and remember, it is the fulfilment of duty alone
that counts in the future life of the Hereafter, whose prospective
blessings will eventually be yours."

I cannot describe the tender and earnest manner of the dying man's
discourse, terrible though its disclosures were to myself. Even the
final piece of advice, platitude of every creed and clime though
it was, seemed to come as a help and a spur to me at this critical
juncture. After all, what is a platitude but the untimely expression of
some great basic truth? And here, from the venerable hierophant, who
from a strict sense of duty had left his sick-bed to come hither and
instruct me, the words seemed to possess a peculiar meaning and value;
his simple appeal to my own sense of rectitude had all the force of a
profound thought extracted from a world of thinking. I could only press
the hot, dry, bony hand, as I shrouded my head in the folds of my royal
mantle in a vain endeavour to subdue a fresh bout of weeping.

"And now," continued my companion, making an effort to rise, "I must
depart with my blessing upon you. Long may you be spared to rule in
Meleager; and if not so, then we shall meet in due sequence within that
narthex of silence and shadows which forms the vestibule to the temple
of the Hereafter."

Once more he embraced me long and lovingly, after which he bade me
strike the bell reposing on the table. At his request too I passed
to the farthest end of the balcony, so as to keep my face averted
from the little group of attendants who now assisted the dying man
to his litter. I could hear the shuffling of feet and whispering of
voices involved in the task of transporting my old friend, whilst with
swimming eyes I gazed blankly at the white cheerful city, the cool
greenery of the palace gardens and the flashing liquid mirror of the
haven of Tamarida. Nor did I budge from my stiff, comfortless pose till
at length I felt a light touch on the shoulder, the respectful touch of
a privileged dependent. On turning my eyes, still red and swollen with
my lately shed tears, they met the honest, inquiring face of Hiridia,
who was regarding me reproachfully, as though rebuking me in silence
for such an unseemly lack of control. I made the necessary attempt in
the form of a wan smile and a request for a cup of wine; for a true
public ruler must exhibit no private sorrow. Was it not the magnificent
Giovanni dei Medici, Pope Leo the Tenth, who was reprimanded by his
punctilious chamberlain for falling to tears openly on the news of the
death of his favourite brother, "seeing that the Roman pontiff was a
demi-god and not a man, and must therefore display a serene and smiling
countenance on all occasions to the people"? It was in this spirit then
that I accepted Hiridia's tacit reproof; sometimes the will of man
imposes itself on the weakness of the gods.


II

Three days later I was informed of the passing of Anzoni, Arch-priest
of Meleager, and of the election of Marzona as his successor. For the
former part of this intelligence I was, of course, fully prepared, but
the latter intimation aroused my worst apprehensions and depressed
my spirits to their lowest depth. For I understood only too well the
hard, intractable, suspicious nature of the councillor who had just
been chosen--by what means or on what system I knew not--to fill the
vacant office of my dear old friend. All I could do was to conceal with
equal adroitness both my sorrow for the first calamity and my anxiety
over the second, and to pursue my normal course of life with all the
composure at my disposal. Nevertheless, my first formal interview with
the new potentate only served to strengthen every foreboding on my
part. Marzona always treated me, I admit, with a courteous demeanour
whether in public or private; but I was only too conscious on every
occasion of our meeting that I was in the presence of a crafty,
unrelenting foe, whom it would be useless to attempt to placate. As
for Marzona's prior career, I had gathered some time ago that he was
by birth a plebeian "intellectual," who had risen by his talents
(in the manner already described by me in my former letter) to the
order of the nobility, and from the ranks of the nobles had contrived
to pass through the school of the neophytes and the college of the
probationers, and thence into the coveted oligarchy beyond. For private
reasons he had always aimed at the office of Arch-priest, sedulously
declining, with this particular objective in view, to undertake the
voyage to the Earth, with the result that now at last he had attained
to that eminence on which for years he had concentrated his hopes, his
desires and all his immense capacity of intrigue. In appearance Marzona
was not unprepossessing, and his face, which showed of a somewhat
lighter tint than is usual in Meleager, would have been accounted
handsome, were it not for the dull hazel eyes, which, however,
constantly emitted from their recesses a ruddy gleam, reminding me of
the hidden tongue of flame that lurks in the so-called black opals of
Queensland. To a nature so sensitive as mine, the very approach of this
personage caused an involuntary tremor of repulsion, and in my heart I
always quailed when those expressionless, opalescent orbs were directed
at me.

In estimating our misfortunes and brooding over them, we are
unwittingly given to exaggerate, so forcibly works within us the
irrepressible spirit of egoism. We oftentimes hold ourselves to be the
absolute sport of some malign fury, whereas, did we but know it, we
have in reality but commenced to drink of that bitter cup which we
imagine we have almost drained to the dregs. So it was in my own case
of despondency. I could not figure to myself a worse disaster than what
had just befallen me in the double blow caused by my old protector's
death and the election of his odious supplanter; and accordingly I
set to lament my grievances as though they were incapable of further
extension. My mental blindness on this point was however swiftly and
suddenly illumined by means of a recurring stroke of evil that was
dealt me within three weeks of the election of the new Arch-priest.
On awaking one morning I missed Hiridia's customary entrance into my
chamber, an omission of duty that had never occurred previously except
with my consent and knowledge. The day passed slowly without any
sign of my chamberlain, so that I grew angered, puzzled and finally
alarmed. Still, some inner shrinking urged me to restrain my natural
annoyance and curiosity as to this mysterious lapse, and it was not
till nightfall that I summoned Zulàr, my senior equerry, and questioned
him with such nonchalance as I could assume concerning the cause of
Hiridia's abstention. Zulàr, who seemed terribly nervous, at first
sought to evade my inquiries; but on my growing stern and insistent, he
admitted to me what I realised at once to be the truth, or at least a
portion of the truth; Hiridia had entered the school of neophytes the
preceding night, having lately developed a vocation for the hierarchy,
for which his age now rendered him eligible. So far, this was strictly
accurate, for I knew that the graceful stripling of some seven years
ago had quite recently attained the prescribed age, being indeed a
youth no longer; also I was convinced he really was interned within the
walls of the seminary. On the other hand, it was inconceivable that
Hiridia should have deserted his master in so abrupt and so insolent
a fashion, even supposing he had honestly wished to graduate for the
hierarchy, of which intention on his part I had never observed the
least indication. His loyalty and devotion to myself and my interests
were beyond question, and I had the anguish to realise that my poor
favourite had been treacherously kidnapped and was now a veritable
prisoner within the walls of that hierarchical castle.

Fortunately indignation rather than grief was the predominating emotion
of the moment, so that I at once dispatched the affrighted Zulàr to
bear a message from me to the Arch-priest, bidding him attend with all
speed at the palace. For hours I waited in wakeful fury the arrival
of Marzona, who on some pretext contrived to delay his coming until
the following morning was well advanced. Perhaps this slighting of my
command was not wholly without benefit to myself, for by the time of
his belated appearance my mood had grown calmer and I was disposed
to regard the situation with some degree of diplomatic restraint.
Without, therefore, directly assuming his influence in the matter,
I bade Marzona explain to me this sudden resolve on Hiridia's part,
whereby I had been unexpectedly deprived of an official whose services
I valued so highly. I also laid stress on the erratic and disrespectful
manner of his withdrawal from my Court. Coldly and steadily those
dull, jade-coloured eyes scanned my face, as I expatiated on my
wrongs, so that I could easily gather there was no help forthcoming
from this quarter whence doubtless had emanated this cunning stroke of
malevolence. When I had made an end, the Arch-priest began in suave
tones of pseudo-sympathy to express his regret for my loss, whose
extent he did not seek to minimise. At the same time, so he explained
to me, the laws of Meleager with regard to postulants for the hierarchy
were fundamental in their scope, and consequently utterly beyond the
control or interference of the Arch-priest. Hiridia had exceeded his
thirtieth year, and was therefore free to choose and inaugurate such a
career at any moment; at the same time he agreed with me in thinking
that Hiridia's conduct in so quitting my service snowed a lamentable
lack of gratitude and consideration to a most indulgent patron.
And he again offered me his condolences for my loss and resulting
inconvenience.

No Medicean Secretary of State could have exhibited greater reserve
and finesse in argument and deportment than did the new Arch-priest
of Meleager in this interview with myself. Had it not all been so
tragical and alarming, I could almost have been won to admiration of
the easy duplicity of Marzona, who parried my questions and pretended
to soothe my complaints of ill-treatment, the while wholly indifferent
to the patent fact that I was clearly reading his black hostile heart.
The moral prototype of this man must have flourished centuries ago
at the venal courts of Rome and Ferrara; had the state craft of the
petty Italian despots of the Renaissance been transplanted into the
fertile soil of Meleagrian hearts, here in the twentieth century of our
Herthian Christian era? Disgusted and wearied at last from this verbal
fencing with an invulnerable antagonist, I nodded my head in token that
the interview was at an end and the incident closed, my sole ray of
consolation being that Marzona did not perhaps truly appraise the full
extent of the injury he had dealt me by his recent seizure of Hiridia's
person. Possibly he may have relied on my being goaded thereby into
indiscreet abuse, and if such were his main object, in this design he
had at least been foiled. Verily, this reflection was a sorry crumb of
compensation for the blighting loss I had sustained; still, it offered
some moral support in itself to think that I had successfully curbed
my natural fury. At the same time I did not wholly veil my attitude
of intense displeasure, for I argued it might possibly excite fresh
suspicion in another guise were I to bear my late discomfiture too
lightly in outward appearance. With my heart therefore secretly wrung
and tortured and with my brain afire from impotent indignation, I
sought to swallow my late indignities with as good a grace as I could
muster.

If man is incapable of estimating the full degree of a visitation
of evil, so also is he equally at fault in appreciating his present
advantages, until he be suddenly deprived of them. So it fell in this
matter of Hiridia's removal, whose unhappy consequences to myself only
emerged gradually after the event. Until a few weeks ago I could never
have believed that Hiridia's companionship had been of such vital help
to me or had so sweetened my royal existence. I had been accustomed
to regard my erstwhile tutor rather as a favoured page whom it amused
me to confide in, to mystify, to scold, or to twit as might suit my
passing whim. That I should have deeply regretted his departure I was
quite ready to admit; but I never anticipated the serious nature of my
loss till that loss was effected. A veritable portion of myself seemed
to have been lopped away by this devilish scheme; whilst the haunting
thought that the poor boy--for I made scant allowance for his thirty
years now fulfilled--was almost certainly sobbing out his faithful and
affectionate heart in a hateful prison, only served to fan the flame
of my torment. Yet I was helpless and powerless, and could only await
the approach of the solstice, when the expected bath in the Fountain of
Rejuvenation might possibly brace my brain for some successful plan of
action.


III

Happily this ceremony was not many weeks distant, and its approach
afforded me some objective, however uncertain and inadequate, for
fixing my hopes in the future. The lassitude too that usually preceded
this half-yearly reinvigorating process had appeared rather earlier
than its wont, so that the physical weariness and languor were already
rendering my brain less active and thereby indirectly supplying me with
some measure of relief from my tense anxiety. I continued to perform
my daily duties in the judgment halls of the city, but otherwise I
ceased to leave the palace during this time of ineffable loneliness and
humiliation. To fill Hiridia's vacant place of chamberlain I nominated
Zulàr, and likewise selected another equerry. With my daily routine
thus proceeding outwardly much as usual, I relied on my being left
in peace throughout the intervening weeks before the coming of the
solstice. But herein I was grievously mistaken in supposing that the
machinations of my enemies had been even temporarily suspended, as the
following incident can testify.

I was in the habit, especially during the hot weather, of sitting in
the palace gardens to meditate. Now, in my case, this daily custom of
meditation supplied the place of reading, and with constant practice
it was interesting to find how excellent a substitute for books it
became in course of time. For I had gradually grown to appreciate
the luxury of solitary thought to such an extent that I should have
lamented the cessation of these opportunities as many an earth-born
mortal would regard his deprivation of all printed matter. "He is
never alone who is accompanied by noble thoughts," and inasmuch as I
felt myself in the cue for tragedy, poetry, comedy or pure fantasy, so
I had grown an adept in attaching my prevailing humour to the trend
of my musings. Thus I passed long hours of solitary communing in a
world of my own peopled with my intimate aspirations, ideals, conceits
and fancies. My favourite spot for the practice of these cerebral
gymnastics, if I may so describe them, was a certain shady corner of
the palace gardens which terminated in a semicircular marble bench
backed by a close-clipped hedge of bay and daphne. The path leading
hither was likewise lined with thick walls of aromatic verdure, so
that the air was often odorous with the clinging scent of aleagnis
and allspice. Overhead the branches of taller trees had been artfully
pleached, whilst the young leaves of the topmost boughs in opposition
to the fierce beams of the invading sunlight caused a soft golden haze
to brood in the sylvan vaulting of this green alley. As I lay on my
marble couch I used to note the penetrating shafts of sunshine discover
the knots of golden wire that bound together these over-arching
limbs, exposing the artificial origin of the bower and reminding me of
Leonardo da Vinci's _Arbour of Love_ with its gilded true-lovers' knots
that still flourishes in one of the vaulted chambers of the Sforzas'
gloomy citadel in Milan. True, I used to miss in my leafy Meleagrian
lair the mocking fauns and nymphs of Boboli and Borghese, who seemed
set on their stone pedestals to watch with sly glances as to whether
Christian mortals would behave with more decorum than themselves in
those delicious and provocative groves, where in primitive days they
were

  "Wont to clasp their loves at noontide,
    Close as lovers clasp at night,"

with none to call aloud Halt! or Fie! To make amends for the absence
of these simulacra of the jolly pagan life of Herthus, there was a
fountain hidden somewhere behind the bosky screens, which allowed its
water to flow in a series of cadences and pauses and arpeggios, so that
it sung a lullaby that was by no means monotonous to the surrounding
thickets and to any stray inhabitant thereof.

Here I used to expend many an hour in perfect solitude, seeking repose
and release from the canker of anxiety, trying more or less effectually
to emulate the advice of the poet and to annihilate my entity to a
green thought in a green shade.

It was on a hot afternoon that after the midday meal I sought as usual
my cherished retreat, wherein I seated myself according to my custom,
appreciating at once the melody of the unseen fountain, the droning of
the bees in the scented bloom without and the amber radiance caught
in the interwoven branches overhead. Lying thus, I sought to hit on
some apposite theme whereon to concentrate my powers of meditation.
But the jaded brain and the perturbed mind to-day refused to permit
me any relief from the engrossing melancholy of my present situation.
Thus I sat limp and despairing on my bench, utterly oblivious of the
passage of time and only dimly conscious of the amenities of art and
nature wherewith I was surrounded. From this drowsy mood of reflection
I was suddenly recalled by a rustling sound close beside me. With ears
alert I heard the sound increase, and a moment later descried the thick
wall of box and laurel tremble and then divide so as to allow the
figure of a young female to emerge from its depths. In sheer amazement
I continued to stare, grasping every detail of the intruder's face
and dress, as she gracefully extricated her form out of the detaining
undergrowth. She was taller and slighter in build than the average
type of her sex in Meleager; her skin was considerably fairer and of
an elegant pallor; her hair had glints of gold and chestnut to relieve
its blackness; her eyes were like beryls. Clad in her green robe
and coif she certainly appeared a natural incarnation, a veritable
hamadryad, amidst these secluded groves which had just produced her.
Instinctively I realised she was no true native of Meleager; her
figure, her eyes, her skin, her gestures were not those of my subjects;
on the contrary, there was a subtle but pervading suggestion that this
interloper was of the Earth. Was she then the daughter, or possibly the
descendant, of some predecessor of mine in this perilous throne who had
risked his crown in an amorous adventure? Who was she? Whence was she?
Why was she here? Such questions naturally chased one another across
my perplexed brain, but the third of them at least the new-comer was
evidently only too anxious to explain. I myself was the goal and aim
of her present vagary, for still crouching low she writhed towards my
feet, which she proceeded to clasp, whilst with tears in her beautiful
eyes and breakings of her rich tender voice she began to implore my
protection.

Beset thus unawares, I could do no less than listen to the rambling
tale of woe and injustice her parted rosy lips delivered; how she had
managed to escape from the hateful tutelage of the priestesses of
the Sun; how she knew she could rely on my assistance; and how many
sanctuaries of easy concealment existed in the purlieus of the palace.
All the while this torrent of entreaty, flattery and self-commiseration
was being poured forth in an unbroken stream, my suppliant contrived
to edge nearer and nearer to myself, half-rising from her knees and
lifting her shapely white arms to the level of my shoulders. There
was an influence, an aroma about her that vaguely suggested the
women of my own planet. I realised the existence of some indefinable
link between my own nature and hers, something of the Earth earthy,
and therefore inestimably precious here in Meleager. A warm current
of human sympathy and magnetic attraction seemed to be circulating
around me. One moment, one second more, and I felt we should be locked
together in one another's arms, we two hapless dwellers on Meleager
belonging of right to another world and meeting in an alien planet. One
second more, and we two waifs of different sexes would have been caught
in an embrace of commingled sorrow and devotion, caring naught for
the dangers ahead and happy only in our new-found union of congenial
souls. The bewitching face, with eyes that sparkled through the film
of tears and with radiant youth lurking in their wells of light, was
almost touching my own, when there flashed before me a vision rather
than a thought of my impending danger. I glimpsed a sensation of orbs
vigilant and sinister, multitudinous as the eyes in the peacock's
tail, usurping the places of the leaves around me; the playing water's
chant turned into a sudden note of terrified warning and entreaty; the
golden haze above grew lurid. With supreme energy I knit my remaining
strength together, as I battled with the temptation to surrender. My
bodily powers rose in obedience to my guiding brain, and extricating
myself none too gently from the already twining arms of the maiden, I
caught her with my right palm a resounding box on the ear which echoed
through that sylvan silence. At the same moment I shouted aloud, and
leaped to my feet. It was as if scales had fallen from my mental eyes,
for I could sense, even if I could not actually see the enclosing
hedges filled with spies, some of whom were hurrying stealthily hence,
whilst others were preparing to enter the alley in as natural a manner
as they could assume. These latter came forward sheepishly and stood
before me, as I pointed to the grovelling form of the girl who was now
weeping violently at my feet. Whose duty was it, I asked, to prevent
strange women from invading these gardens and disturbing the noontide
repose of the Child of the Sun? As to my late reception of the charmer,
even assuming that every motion of mine had been carefully observed by
this battalion of eavesdroppers, there could be no question as to the
final rebuff her advances had encountered. Her shriek of dismay and
the scarlet flush on her pale cheek were at least sufficient witnesses
of the fact that I had not fallen into the trap that had been so
elaborately prepared for my ensnaring. Without proof positive I had
good reason to imagine that many of the persons concealed in the bushes
were not spies at all, but admirers and supporters of my own, who had
been specially invited hither to test my fallibility. If such were the
case, the Arch-priest and his satellites must have received a distinct
shock over this conspicuous miscarriage of their scheme concocted for
the express purpose of alienating and disgusting those members of the
council who upheld my honour and integrity.

Quivering with an anger that I did not attempt to dissemble, I left the
open-mouthed group beside the girl who was still sobbing hysterically
on the ground. As for her, why should I waste a tittle of compassion on
her misfortune? Are not all creatures and tools of cunning politicians
always treated with contumely both by employers and unmaskers when
their ignoble missions fail? With indignant mien therefore I strode
from the gardens and retired to the palace, where I gave the captain
of the royal bodyguard a rating for his alleged lack of vigilance. One
result at any rate this plot secured for me, and that was a complete
freedom from further molestation during the remainder of the period
before the coming festival. A further interview with Marzona however
soon after this incident only made me perceive yet more clearly the
utter impossibility of my arriving at any compact with an implacable
and unscrupulous enemy, who was merely biding his time to strike
again and strike harder. It was in vain that I essayed overtures; all
my attempts at understanding and conciliation were met with an icy
condescension that made my task obviously hopeless; and indeed from
this time forward the Arch-priest rarely gave me the opportunity of an
interview save in the presence of other colleagues.


IV

At length the expected date of my official rejuvenating process
arrived, to which I submitted with unusual docility. Despite the
murderous intentions of Marzona, I endured the subsequent plunge
into the fountain without trepidation, although I dared not face the
baleful eyes of the personage whose malignity was rendered powerless
for this occasion by the inevitable laws of Meleager. I fancied I could
detect an air of quiet reassurance to myself in the bearing of the two
inferior councillors; but in any case I swallowed my apprehensions to
the best of my ability and entered that malodorous but invigorating
fluid with a firm bearing. I duly obtained my reward, for when I
emerged all dripping from the seething pool, I experienced a buoyancy
of mind and body beyond that of any previous occasion. Thus refreshed
and refortified, I deemed myself capable of taking the initiative, and
so cheerful and confident did I feel that I was almost tempted to snap
my fingers in that saturnine face as it grimly surveyed my drying and
dressing. Before ever I quitted the baptistery, several schemes of
policy, and even of escape, began to invade my brain, so that I longed
to be alone with my own thoughts; nor did many days elapse before I
had adumbrated a certain scheme of procedure.

This plan was, it is true, somewhat shadowy in its outline, but it
was founded on the assumption that any active effort on my part
was preferable to mere stagnation, to a passive courting of future
disaster. My idea too was of a dual nature, for it aimed both at
self-preservation and also at an unveiling of The Secret. For some
time past I had been speculating on the uses of Mount Crystal with its
temple of the Altar of the Sun, and from many items of information I
had acquired in devious or accidental ways, I had come to the certain
conclusion that on this rocky peak was to be sought the key of the
mystery. A presentiment, that was already become an article of faith
to me, told me that by penetrating hither even at a venture, I should
be pursuing the sole avenue leading to ultimate escape, to regained
liberty, to a safe return to Earth. In my fresh exuberance of mentality
I kept arguing to myself that as my translation to Meleager had been
successfully accomplished, so also there existed a chance, however
difficult, of my returning safe to my original domicile. My immediate
object therefore was to enter that distant temple on the shoulder of
the mountain, which I could descry from my palace windows; the goal
once attained, I must trust further to my sharpened wits. The spirit
of adventure flamed hot within me, so that I found some difficulty in
concealing my vigorous excitement under an air of lazy indifference.

My first piece of preparation caused me to smile inwardly, but it at
least implied belief in a successful issue of my plan. It consisted
in extracting a number of gems from various ornaments which had been
bestowed on me for the decoration of my person, had I been so minded.
From these I cautiously removed a quantity of sapphires, alexandrites
and other precious stones, which I enclosed in a small leather bag
attached to a stout gold chain round my neck. Without such a reserve
of potential capital I scarcely relished the prospect of my return
in the form of a pauper to my native Earth, where that ancient deity
Mammon draws a conspicuous following in every cult, and is likewise
the leading, if not the sole, guide of the irreligious. Without the
possession of such a talisman, I knew I should be liable to exposure to
many ills and indignities; and I congratulated myself on my forethought
in this measure of precaution, and also on my retentive memory
concerning the universal conditions of the Earth at the date of my
removal.

Having completed this minor preliminary detail, I proceeded to greater
things. Now the sacred mountain stands at a considerable distance from
Tamarida, and in no case would it have been possible for me (setting
aside the existence of watchers and spies in the palace itself) to
make my way thither within the few hours of darkness on which I was
compelled to rely for the execution of my plan. I therefore decided
to pay a visit to a nobleman named Lotta, who owned an estate that
was bounded by the ravine separating the area of Mount Crystal from
the mainland. For the mountain itself is a peninsula, washed on three
sides by the sea, whilst the fourth side consists of a long narrow arid
gully which is crossed at one spot by a viaduct. The precincts of Mount
Crystal are, as I have already said, the property of the hierarchy, and
nobody is permitted to enter this reserved domain save the councillors
and their servants, who approach by this solitary bridge. In vulgar
esteem the thick forests and rocky glens of the forbidden space are
haunted by evil spirits, so that I felt sure no Meleagrian of the
people would venture to scale its precipitous slopes, even by daylight;
whilst no noble would naturally intrude on this sacrosanct spot. From
these deductions therefore I concluded that the sole means of ingress,
the viaduct, was not likely to be guarded with any great strength or
vigilance, seeing how little fear of a trespasser there must be on the
part of the custodians of the place. Having reasoned so far, I had also
formed the opinion that, the bridge once safely traversed, there would
be little to hinder my speedy arrival at the temple itself, beyond
which my present calculations did not extend.

Not many days after the solstice therefore I set forth, accompanied
only by Zulàr, on my proposed visit to the country house of my
indicated host who received me with every sign of satisfaction and
respect. I had paid several visits here in the past, so that my
present resolution could not, and indeed did not, excite the smallest
suspicion on the part of my enemies, who were in no wise disturbed
by my departure from the palace. On the second evening of my visit I
was talking to young Bávil, my entertainer's son and heir, a special
favourite of mine, and in the course of our conversation I promised
the lad a particular spear of my own invention. The boy's eyes eagerly
glistened at the mention of this welcome gift, whereupon I summoned
Zulàr and bade him hasten to the palace after his supper, fetch
the required weapon, and return with it on the following morning.
Having thus contrived to rid myself of Zulàr's presence on so simple
an errand, I continued to sit with Lotta and his family during the
sociable interval that in Meleager extends from supper till bedtime.

Retiring to rest at an early hour I crept into my bed fully clothed,
and waited anxiously thus until the last sound of wakefulness in the
household had died away. When all was still, I rose cautiously from my
couch, crossed the room on tiptoe and slipped through the open casement
into the warm greyness of a summer's night without moonshine and
without dew. Quietly I pursued the track leading through the gardens
and farm of my host towards the lip of the ravine that separated his
estate from the forbidden mountain. From previous hunting expeditions
I was sufficiently familiar with this stony narrow pathway, and under
this luminous crepuscule I experienced small difficulty in tracing its
sinuous progress along the edge of the cliffs. An hour of slow steady
walking thus at last brought me to the desired point, a spot where the
private path merged into the road running from Tamarida to the viaduct.
With eyes now grown fully accustomed to the gloaming I paused to scan
the outline of the bridge. As I waited thus in a silence broken only
by the ululation of wolves in the distant forests, I could clearly
distinguish the soft padding of human feet at no great distance from
where I stood. Very carefully I removed my buskins, which I hid in
a neighbouring thicket, and thus relieved of my tell-tale foot-gear
advanced in the direction of the sound. Peering ahead I soon obtained
a better view of the bridge, as well as of the adjoining guard-house,
whose façade displayed two squares of pale yellow light, from which I
gathered that a guard of men-at-arms was stationed within its walls.
Stealthily creeping forward, with body bent and with eyes fixed on the
two warning patches of lanthorn light, I speedily espied the source of
the faint tramping sound. A sentry, a diminutive but sturdy soldier,
was dutifully patrolling the dusty space before the guard-house. Poor
little doomed creature, fulfilling his appointed task! Poor little
subject of the Child of the Sun, loyal to his creed and crown, and
wholly innocent of all evil intent against myself! Very gently did I
convey my sharp serviceable hunting blade from its sheath to my mouth,
at the same time divesting myself of my heavy mantle of azure silk,
which I placed in both hands ready for a dexterous throw in the manner
of the _retiarius_ of the Roman amphitheatre. Crouched low like some
panther prepared to spring, and armed with dagger and cloak, I waited
to commit rank murder, to terminate the life of a fellow-creature with
every right to enjoy health and happiness, to turn a wife into a widow,
to render her children orphans, to wreck a peaceful home in a doubtful
effort to save my own skin. Never did I hate and despise myself more
heartily in my earthly career, than I did now at this first desperate
stroke for freedom in Meleager. God knows whether after all I might
not have shrunk shamefacedly from the loathsome act, had I allowed
my thoughts thus to ramble farther in these ethical convolutions of
right and wrong. But as I still hesitated, I suddenly observed the
unsuspecting soldier deliberately stop, lay aside his spear, and with
unconcern kneel down to fasten the loosened thong of his sandal. At
such an opportunity some force--was it moral or physical?--impelled
me, and with a spring that would have done credit to a young
cat-a-mountain, I had leaped on the bending figure whose startled head
was swiftly swathed in the thick folds of my royal robe. There was some
struggling, as well as faint muffled cries, whilst I tightly clenched
the half-smothered head beneath my left arm. I then transferred the
dagger from my teeth to my right hand and skilfully inserted the keen
blade into my captive's reins. The struggles increased, then relaxed,
then faded into a series of convulsive twitchings; till I felt my hand
grow wet and warm with the blood I was shedding for my own selfish
purpose. Still I continued to hold the knife in its soft fleshy socket,
until with a final twisting of the steel in the mode of the Spanish
assassin, I slowly withdrew the weapon from the fatal gash. All things
appear mercifully of a neutral tint on a moonless night, so that I
was spared the chief horror of my ensanguined hands and tunic, for I
greatly dislike the sight of blood. I next gently unwound my cloak from
the dead man's face, and then dragged the corpse across the path to lay
it behind a large clump of agaves. A small pool of stagnant water hard
by enabled me to remove the gore from my hands and garments, whilst
a neighbouring bank of lush couch grass assisted in the cleansing of
my dagger, which I wiped and wiped again before I replaced it in its
scabbard. These necessary operations afforded me space to breathe, to
recuperate and to reflect.

The primal instinct of self-preservation being thus fulfilled, I
returned to my scheme. With my unshod feet I walked slowly up to the
guard-house, whence issued unmistakable sounds of deep slumber. I even
ventured to peep through the open window, so as to catch a glimpse of
four or five soldiers within, all sleeping on mattresses beneath the
subdued rays of a great guard lanthorn. Quitting the building I found
no obstacle in crossing the bridge, but soon after reaching its farther
end I nearly met with an unexpected calamity. Groping in the gloom of
a thicket of pines I suddenly felt my movements hampered, to discover
just in time that I had inadvertently stumbled against a stout cord.
There could be little question as to its import and object; it was a
cord of intercommunication that was stretched from the temple above to
the guard-house below. My good genius was certainly in close attendance
on me that most memorable night, for had I tripped over this rope and
set the alarm signal in motion, there could have been only one result
to my escapade. As it so happened, I was not a little assisted by my
discovery. In the first place, I neatly severed the cord itself, and
then proceeded to fasten each of the divided ends with a clove hitch
to a bough so that in the possible event of the guard at the bridge or
the watchers in the temple wishing to communicate, their efforts would
be nullified. Also I perceived that by following the direction of the
cord, I should pursue the easiest way of ascent to the temple itself.

Bestowing a delicate touch from time to time on the friendly clue,
I hurried upward, treading a well-worn path through the hanging
woods that in daylight, or possibly even in moonlight, would have
been sufficiently simple and obvious to the pedestrian. So rapid and
unimpeded were my steps that I was out of breath by the time I reached
the huge bastions that overtopped the forest trees and uplifted the
main platform of the temple. Here I rested a while, and then once more,
with the aid of the cord, lighted on a narrow winding stairway which
I ascended with infinite caution. Arrived almost at the head of the
steps, I kneeled down and very slowly raised my eyes above the level of
the low parapet. What I now descried was a long narrow space, perhaps
four hundred feet in length, which served as platform to an immense
plain building with a lofty roof. Its long lateral extent disclosed
a number of doors flush with the exterior wall and all of identical
design. Even more exciting to me however than this gigantic edifice
was the apparition of a white-robed guardian pacing slowly along the
terrace. Towards this new opponent I entertained none of those scruples
that had racked me before hurling myself on the unfortunate sentry
below; but I realised the extreme danger and delicacy of the situation.
The councillor, whose identity I could not discover owing to the
prevailing gloom, paraded the terrace from end to end, the conclusion
of his paces bringing him within a few yards of the spot where I knelt
hunched below the parapet with my fingers on the handle of my hunting
knife. But he noticed nothing, and turning again towards the east
began to retrace his steps. When he had retired some distance, I darted
from my hiding-place to examine the nearest of the doors. But there
was no sign of any means of ingress either in that door, or in its
neighbour, or in the door beyond. Having hazarded so much, I hastened
back to my niche, there to await the return of this nocturnal watcher.
In my mind, that knew time was of the essence of my final success, I
was still debating whether to spring upon the approaching senator, or
to make one more effort to enter the temple, when my good genius again
solved my perplexity. Of a sudden I grew aware of a curious rustling
sound in the tree-tops, and a second later a large drop of water
plashed on my upturned face. Soon rain was pattering heavily on all
around, and by the time the councillor had reached the tether of his
promenade he began to feel the effects of this unexpected drenching. I
saw him pause, hold out both hands to test the violence of the sudden
shower, fling his cloak over his head, and then make a precipitate
and somewhat undignified rush for the shelter of the building. With
straining eyeballs I watched him pass each doorway till he paused at
the seventh from the end, which admitted him without impediment of any
kind. Still in bent posture I hurried in his footsteps through the
hissing downfall, caught the swinging door before it had ceased to
oscillate, and noiselessly insinuated myself within the portal. I was
fully nerved for an immediate struggle, but on entering I perceived
that the senator had already walked ahead some paces towards the
eastern end of the huge building, and was evidently still unaware of
the presence of an unauthorised visitor. Shrinking behind a pillar or
buttress, I waited in patient silence for the next turn of Fortune's
wheel, which was certainly revolving fast and furious that night.

So far as I could observe in the faint and flickering light I was
standing within a vast barrel-vaulted erection with pillared alcoves on
either side, reminding me somewhat of an immense Renaissance church.
There was artificial lighting somewhere, but I failed to trace its
whereabouts; the western end of the building lay in inky shadow, but
its eastern extremity was open and exposed to the air. The central
portion was largely occupied by a long abyss which appeared to be a
species of graving dock, and resting on metal lines that ran the whole
length of this hollow space were four or more bulky vessels constructed
of some silver-glinted material not unlike aluminium.

Far from inspiring terror the sombre novelty of the place engendered
in me a thrill of exultation, even of satisfaction, in the thought
that I had indeed penetrated to the very heart of The Secret. Of my
two guiding emotions at this moment an overwhelming curiosity--the
unflinching curiosity of the Caliph Vathek and his mother Carathis in
the fatal halls of Eblis--was perhaps predominant; but almost equally
potent was the itching to revenge myself on the treacherous hierarchy
of Meleager. Meanwhile the footfalls of the unsuspecting guardian
of the place echoed faintly in the distance, and I could detect the
silhouette of his form against the background of open space to the
east. Slowly the figure returned, perhaps to repass the door, for the
storm without had abated and the sky was clearing. Nearer he drew and
nearer, so that in the superior light of the building I could at last
distinguish the individual features of the councillor. It was Marzona,
Arch-priest.

This sudden recognition caused me to start, so that possibly I may
have emitted some betraying noise to call attention to my presence,
though what ensued before the actual impact I am still puzzled to say.
For in a trice I found myself and Marzona locked together in a deadly
but silent embrace, since instinctively it would seem I had posed for
action with my cloak as on the previous encounter at the bridge. For a
second time I held my antagonist's head enveloped in those ample folds,
albeit his limbs were unembarrassed. We were knotted, I say, in a death
grip, swaying from side to side, our hatred oozing as it were from our
very pores, as we strained and wrestled with furious determination.
Naturally, I was the taller and the stronger of the two, but intensity
of hate gives an additional stimulus, and that advantage perhaps
Marzona could claim. Vainly did I struggle to utilise my dagger; try
as I would, it was all I could contrive with my superior strength to
keep Marzona's head tightly swathed and his limbs powerless to inflict
an injury. How long this embittered duel might have lasted, and with
what final result, I cannot tell, had not a false step on my enemy's
part brought him perilously near the edge of the central abyss. Another
step, and his left foot was treading in vacuity. He reeled; made one
despairing but ineffectual effort to drag me with him in his disaster;
and then I saw him, with my cloak still encompassing his head, fall
headlong into that gaping pit beside us. There followed a dull faint
thud of contact with something far below, and then I found myself
kneeling hot and exhausted on the brink of that fatal chasm. Very
warily did I lean forward to peer down and to listen, but there was
nothing but blackness and silence in those impenetrable depths.


V

After some minutes spent in useless speculation I rose from my knees
and proceeded to explore the building, for I knew I must hasten. With
feelings compact of awe and interest I approached the weird monsters
of metal that stood reposing on their sustaining rails, and growing
bolder I actually entered the vessel that was nearest to the broad
eastern exit. I experienced no difficulty in descending into what I
can best describe as a moderate-sized cabin with two smaller closets
adjoining. Standing on its hinges at right angles to the cabin was the
great lid of the airship. In this modified twilight I had no trouble
in picking my steps, but a minute survey of details demanded a much
stronger light. Nevertheless, I could distinguish directions in Latin
painted on various parts of the cabin, and it was during a strained
examination of one of these notices that I must have inadvertently
touched or trodden on the concealed spring, which again was destined
by my abiding good angel to prove my next instrument of salvation. A
gentle humming or whirring seemed to vibrate around me, beginning very
softly but gradually rising in intensity so that in alarm I prepared
to quit the ship and regain the floor. But before I could collect my
dazed thoughts into sufficient concert to act at all, I became aware
of a soft gliding motion and actually perceived the long vista of
the hall recede from my eyes, as I was slowly drifting through some
unseen mechanical force out of the edifice and was being launched
into the infinite beyond. With a joyful bound, so it seemed to me,
my craft passed out of the open arching portal and was now running
swiftly as though borne on invisible wires. I watched, as in a vision,
the temple, mountain and shores of Meleager dwindle and diminish in
my track, until they became mere outlines in the grey dimness that
precedes the dawn. Still, as one fascinated, I could only stare and
marvel, for the superfluity of adventures and wonders of this night
had caused a sort of mental congestion of my brain. Suddenly I was
once more recalled to the necessity of action, when I felt something
hard pressing on my neck, and realised it was the cover of the airship
closing gently of its own volition. Hurriedly I subsided into the well
of the cabin with my eyes fixed on the slow descending cover, which
finally settled down on the lower portion of the vessel like the lid of
some Brobdingnagian snuff-box. Meanwhile I lay below, stupefied in an
atmosphere which I soon found unpleasantly warm and also permeated with
a subtle indescribable odour that at first produced a sense of nausea
and of suffocation. However, by lying prone on a couch, for the cabin
was furnished with tolerable comfort, these disagreeable symptoms were
mitigated, though throughout my long journey I never felt any desire
to rise and move about by reason of my giddiness. I could see that the
vessel was well supplied with provisions, mostly in liquid form; and in
truth there was every arrangement for two or three persons to inhabit
this hold without any marked discomfort for a considerable space of
time. At intervals around the walls of the cabin were printed long
sentences in Latin, interspersed with many technical terms in English,
French and German wherever the classical tongue failed to express
adequately the required meaning. All these notices related to the
working of various levers and other pieces of mechanism on board, and
as I lay reclined in a state of semi-consciousness I amused myself by
deciphering these injunctions.

Time was practically non-existent during this mad whirling through
aerial space, and as my capacity for further amazement was by now
completely exhausted, I resigned myself to my present condition of a
not unpleasant drowsiness, which made me indifferent as to whither my
strange vehicle was bearing me. Day and night chased each other like
alternate streaks of black and white; sunlight, moonlight, starlight,
darkness, opacity in no wise concerned me during my voyage from the
planet of Meleager. From time to time I sought to allay my constant
thirst, or rather the irritating dryness of mouth and gullet (for I
felt no hunger), with the contents of some of the numerous bottles
near me; and thus refreshed, I gladly returned to my couch and sank
into my previous state of lethargy. As I lay thus, I often meditated on
the past, but of the present and the future I felt utterly careless and
apathetic.

How long this hurtling through the empyrean lasted I cannot say;
presumably there were instruments on board for computing the speed
of the machine and other statistics, but I never sought to discover
such appliances. Rarely too did I care to gaze out of the many
port-hole windows, for the sight of the circumambient waves of empty
space induced in me a horrible sense of dizziness. So I remained thus
prostrate in a half-sleeping, half-waking condition that for aught I
knew or cared might be prolonged for eternity, until at last I was
aroused from my somnolence by a faint icy breath falling on my face. On
looking up I perceived the lid of my prison slowly opening, for all the
world like the upper shell of some gigantic oyster, and the widening
aperture was admitting draughts of fresh bracing air into the vitiated
atmosphere of the cabin. Instinctively I knew we were entering the
air-zone of the Earth. Strange sounds and clickings were now manifest
in the unseen machinery; our motion became less rapid and regular;
and these phenomena together with the bitter cold soon dispelled my
torpor and brought me to my feet, for I could stand upright now that
the lid of the vessel was raised on its hinges. Craning forward I saw
we were in truth nearing the Earth, though evidently at a relaxed
rate of velocity; and fascinating it was to me to note the steady
aggrandisement of the great orb of Mundus, as we drew perceptibly
closer to its surface. Already the Eastern hemisphere was brilliantly
defined, with Asia and the islands of the Orient all glowing in the
flush of dawn, which was driving the lingering shadows of night to
westward. A colossal globe of gold and azure and sable was slowly
revolving under my eyes, which remained in fixed contemplation of an
expanding scene that none save a few enraptured mystics or poets have
ever aspired to describe.

With the keen draughts of air on my face and in my lungs I began to
foreshadow my ultimate goal. The vessel which had so far carried me
faithfully and smoothly was now beginning to flag and oscillate in
so alarming a manner that I felt my attention was urgently demanded
for its mechanical needs. The inscribed directions at once engaged my
feverish attention, but so excited and over-hasty was I, that I set to
working levers and pulling chains without grasping the full import of
my movements. Eagerly I essayed to steer towards the British Isles,
on which my gaze was concentrated, but my efforts to utilise this
superb masterpiece of mechanism fell below my intentions. In a series
of irregular spirals the great airship continued to descend, nor with
all my frenzied manipulation of its levers and handles and pulleys
could I persuade it to alter its course; down, down it dropped until
I realised nothing could save me now from the wilderness of ocean
beneath. How cruel my fate! To sail thus from the stars to the Earth
only to be engulfed and choked in the barren salt waters! What a mean
conclusion to a divine adventure! Not terror, but fierce disappointment
was my prevailing emotion, as mounting to the rim of the cabin I made
ready to leap at the precise moment the misguided vessel should strike
the surface of the sea.

I have only a faint reminiscence of a sharp plunge and recovery; of a
glimpse of my aerial chariot being swallowed in the surge; of a dull
roar of explosions, before I found myself swimming or floating in calm
tepid waters which were all tinged with the carnation and primrose
and pearly tints of a glorious summer sunrise, whilst above my head
hung the vast impassive dome of heaven flecked with cirrus clouds all
gold and saffron. Even so there sprouted in my brain the vain conceit
that to perish thus in mid-ocean all aglow with prismatic hues was
no ill-fitting termination to the career of a monarch of Meleager.
Thus did Icarus reason perhaps when his pinions melted in the envious
sunbeams and he fell into the classic sea that henceforth assumed his
illustrious name. It would have been in keeping with the late web of
wonders spun around me if I were to find old Neptune in person ready
to receive me with a bevy of ivory-armed nereids to bewail my comely
corpse or an escort of tritons to announce my passing on their raucous
conches. Like the hero of the Puritan poet, I still contrived to hug
my majesty even in my fall from heaven; and the sick fancy seemed to
support me as I straggled in the translucent swell. Involuntarily my
eyes closed, as I finally abandoned myself to--what? Surely but to
the next miracle, to the next freak of Fortune which had guided her
favourite hitherto?

       *       *       *       *       *

Strange noises echoed in my ears; I was rescued; I recognised my
salvage without surprise and without enthusiasm. It was my due. No
dolphin-mounted Neptune came to claim me; no nereid or triton stirred
in my behalf; but the Man who ascended to the Stars was not destined to
die by drowning. I sensed the familiar timbre of English voices close
at hand; I felt a firm but kindly grip upon my shoulder; I suffered a
painful but dexterous hoisting over a gunwale; I was lying in the stern
of a boat, whose rowers were panting from recent effort; I was safe in
the custody of my own Herthian countrymen.


VI

Perhaps I can plead insensibility for not recalling my further
experiences in the row-boat or in my transmission thence to the
steamship _Orissa_, to which the smaller craft belonged. For I
remember nothing of the happenings between the moment of my rescue in
the water and my deposition in a narrow white-painted cabin of the
British vessel. Here my sodden tunic and vest were removed, not without
expressions of astonishment on the part of the stewards, to be replaced
by some ugly flannel sleeping garments. An attempt on their part to
detach the little leather bag and gold chain from my neck was stoutly
resisted, and eventually I was permitted to retain them. Some hot
vinous potion was poured with well-intentioned effort down my reluctant
throat, and perhaps as a result of this characteristic Herthian
hospitality, I soon fell into a dreamless refreshing slumber which must
have endured some hours.

When I awoke it was still daylight, and on opening my eyes they at once
rested on the figure of a man seated by my bedside, who was evidently
watching me with the deepest concern. His countenance, which appealed
to my fastidious taste, was honest, intelligent and kindly, though
its features were rugged and suggestive of humble origin. From his
grizzled hair and heavily lined face I concluded him to be on the
border-line of old and middle age, perhaps some sixty years old. Our
two pairs of eyes met in a searching but friendly survey, after which
encounter I smiled graciously, as I should smile upon one of my nobles
in Meleager, and at the same time extended my hand for salutation.
Naturally it was not kissed--how could I expect such behaviour from a
Herthian equal?--but it was clasped with a gentle reassuring pressure
that in no wise prejudiced me against my companion, who after a pause
began to address me. His voice owned the same quality as his features,
and was by no means spoiled by a trace of north-country doric that
still lingered in his speech. His opening questions were of the usual
type that would be found in the secular rituale (did such a compilation
exist), in the section relating to the case of a ship-wrecked waif.
To these I replied in a brief and (I fear) obscurantist manner. That
my questioner was equally puzzled and interested, I could easily
see; so that I found a somewhat malicious amusement in increasing
his perplexity. Contrariwise, I soon began to examine my would-be
interrogator much in the style I might have employed towards dear
old Anzoni or Hiridia. My new friend seemed somewhat surprised, but
good-naturedly supplied all the information I sought, whereby I learned
that the ship now sheltering me was the _Orissa_, of seven thousand
tons' burden, a cargo-boat of the Pheon Line but also carrying
first-class passengers, on her way home to Liverpool from Rangoon. It
would appear that the officer on the bridge at break of day had seen
the airship strike the water and disappear at no great distance on
our port side, and had promptly given orders for a boat to be lowered
to effect a rescue. On nearing the scene of the recent disaster I had
been found floating in an apparently unconscious state but otherwise
uninjured by my late shock and immersion. He himself was Doctor Charles
Wayne, a native of Cumberland and until lately a medical practitioner
in Burmah, where he had spent most of his life in Government service.
He was now returning home on a pension in his sixty-second year. He
was a widower without children. The _Orissa_ had passed through some
exciting experiences in her voyage from Suez to Gibraltar, for on
their way they had learned of the declaration of war between Germany
and Britain. They had hurried with a sharp look-out by day and with
darkened decks at night through the Mediterranean for fear of prowling
German cruisers, so that all aboard were impatient to make the mouth of
the Mersey without any delay or mishap.

Here indeed was startling news! I had been absent barely seven years in
Meleager, and now on my return to the progressive Earth, which I had
left prattling of universal peace, I was confronted by the outbreak
of a European conflict on a vast scale. There had certainly been wars
and rumours of war in plenty during the past half-century, but such
barbaric terrors I used to be assured were the mere dying echoes of
the moribund volcano of militarism, and that before us there extended
a blessed and endless period of peace, wherein moral education,
increasing wages and salaries, dissent, teetotalism and other blessings
of equal value were to be the special marks of a glorious democratic
era that would have no termination.

"They manage these things better in Meleager," I half muttered to
myself, whilst Dr Wayne continued to expatiate to me on the bellicose
attitude of the Hohenzollerns, on the magnificent patriotism of the
French politicians, of the foresight and skill displayed by our own
ministers of state, and of the lofty altruism of the Tsar. I listened,
but without the attention that the exceptional nature of the case
seemed to demand. Somehow it merely appeared to me that the mundane
kaleidoscope had only sustained another vigorous revolution, and that
the scarlet of human riot and unrest was in reality no more predominant
now than in the previous arrangement of its component colours. And yet
I should be doing myself an injustice were I to speak of my lack of
interest concerning this stupendous piece of news; although at the same
time I found myself surveying this newest phase of the world's progress
with the cold aloofness of an external critic from some distant
planet--which attitude after all exactly fitted my case. Thus I fell
once more into a reverie on the relative values of human happiness
and human progress, that theme whereon I had so often argued with my
councillors in my deserted palace at Tamarida.

I spent a restful night lulled by the throbbing of the engines and
the swirling of the waters displaced by our keel. The good doctor
slept on the cabin sofa opposite my berth, and once or twice rose in
the night hours to attend to my wants. On the following morning I had
completely recovered, and news to this effect having been bruited
throughout the ship, various uninvited visitors came to inspect the
castaway in Dr Wayne's cabin. At my urgent entreaty I was spared a
good many of these intrusions, but my kind protector could not well
exclude the baboon-faced captain, whose empurpled visage framed in
masses of ochre hair thrust itself more than once through the doorway
and inquired in rasping accents after my welfare. The bibulous ship's
surgeon too invaded my retreat, and expressed a desire to astonish my
stomach with special concoctions of his own mixing. Good Dr Wayne did
all that was possible to save me from these well-meaning persons, and
finally he closed the cabin door on the pretence of my exhaustion. Left
thus in peace, my companion began to address me seriously in regard to
certain matters. I had so far refrained from giving the name I bore on
earth, and was firmly resolved not to betray it, nor could any attempt
draw the required information from me. Acknowledging his failure, the
Doctor with a sigh of resignation desisted to apply, at the same time
begging me to mention some name, a fictitious one if I were so minded,
for the benefit of the authorities on landing. The suggestion seemed
reasonable enough, and after some further parley I agreed to accept
temporarily the absurd name of Theodore King, concerning which Dr Wayne
made some jocose observations. In the name then of Theodore King, man
rescued at sea in latitude 38° by longitude 18° or thereabouts, was my
official report endorsed, and in this nominal disguise I was eventually
disembarked at Liverpool stage.

But for the all-pervading sensation caused by the recent declaration
of war and the many ramifying minor excitements of the moment, I much
doubt whether this ingenious attempt at self-concealment would have
succeeded so easily. But for this crucial event I might easily have
become a centre of inquisitive interest that would have caused great
inconvenience and delay; as it so fell, however, everybody on board the
_Orissa_ was far too engrossed with the supreme agitation of the moment
to pay much attention to the eccentric, not to say insane, individual
who had been picked up from a collapsed aeroplane off the coast of
Portugal.

With special insistence and appeal and with arguments whose soundness
I was forced to admit, I had even allowed Dr Wayne to clip my
super-abundant locks, and had likewise consented to clothe myself in a
tolerable suit of blue serge, which he had begged from a good-natured
passenger of unusual height. Thus clad and groomed, I managed to
leave the boat in company with my careful protector without exciting
overmuch curiosity either from my fellow-travellers of the _Orissa_ or
from the crowd on the landing-stage. After a certain amount of staring
and a good many inquiries, which Dr Wayne skilfully parried, I found
myself in a cab loaded with the Doctor's luggage jolting through the
squalid streets of Liverpool on our way to a hotel. Here we spent a few
hours in a private room, surrounded by masses of newspapers which my
companion set to study with intense eagerness.

And here I shall digress a little in order to confront a real
difficulty of understanding which must have already struck the reader.
How evolved it that a complete stranger like Dr Charles Wayne allowed
himself to be so burdened with such an incubus as myself? That is a
query, I admit, which none save Dr Wayne is competent to answer, but I
suspect even he can hardly solve the difficulty satisfactorily. When he
comes to read these pages in due course, he may conceivably be able to
say, "It was this," or "It was that, which not only aroused my interest
in this mysterious being but also impelled me to serve and obey him
henceforward." Yet even then I think he will fail to analyse truthfully
the different motives which induced him thus to surrender his own
freedom of action and to place himself without a murmur at my disposal.
It may have been my piteous condition of solitude; it may have been my
almost unearthly beauty of form and face; it may have been my uncanny
misfortune out in mid-ocean; it may have been my quiet arrogance and
originality of demeanour; it may have been his professional curiosity
in a prospective patient;--it may have been one, or some, or all, or
none of these things which contributed to his subservience. I cannot
tell, and I feel Dr Wayne may be no wiser in the matter than myself.
Sometimes I imagine that some faint exhalation of the supernatural
must cling around my person, for it does not seem impossible to me
that after adventures such as mine a delicate psychical fragrance (if
I may so dare to describe that which is in reality indescribable) may
permeate my bodily husk. Such an aroma, though but dimly comprehended,
might admittedly prove of irresistible attraction to that rare
spiritual type of humanity to which I strongly hold Dr Wayne to belong
in spite of his homely exterior. I trust he will pardon the apparent
impertinence of this statement, since it proceeds from the sole being
who has been able to discover and appreciate the inherent sweetness and
strength of his soul within. And for my own part I am often haunted by
the notion, which I have scarcely the temerity to express in writing,
that it was not the mere mundane accident of an accident that led Dr
Wayne to embark on the _Orissa_ where later on he was brought into such
close contact with myself in my hour of need.


VII

We left Liverpool in the late hours of a brilliant August afternoon on
our way to London. Throughout the journey southward I lay back dreamily
in my seat, watching each receding vista and appreciating all with the
dual interest of recollection and novelty. I preferred to recline thus
in silence, and my companion, whose frequent inquisitions of my face
in no wise disturbed me, seemed disinclined to resent my mood. Arrived
at Euston we proceeded to a certain hotel on the Embankment which
perpetuates a historic name and whose latter-day luxury is tempered by
the near presence of a mouldy but modernised chapel, that can still
claim to be a royal appanage. Dr Wayne had at first demurred to my
choice of this particular hostelry, which is decidedly not celebrated
for the moderation of its bills; but as in all else his opposition soon
relaxed before my repeated desire. Accordingly it was I who engaged
what I deemed a convenient and adequate suite of rooms, wherein we
installed ourselves without further ado. My new surroundings in many
ways attracted me, and we had not been an hour in the hotel before I
was ensconced in a corner of the exiguous balcony outside our windows,
lost in contemplation of the noble tawny flood swirling seaward
through lines of sparkling lamps. Before retiring to sleep, however,
I deemed it only fair to allay the evident apprehensions of Dr Wayne
concerning expense. Accordingly I produced and untied my small leather
wallet, emptying its shower of flashing jewels on to a table beneath
a powerful electric lamp. The Doctor, who owned some superficial
acquaintance with the science of metallurgy, was amazed at this sudden
display of concentrated wealth, and henceforward appeared fully
reconciled to our present mode of life.

[I may add here also that in the course of the next few days my friend
carried a portion of these superb gems to a diamond merchant in the
city who was personally known to him. This London dealer, so Dr Wayne
informed me, could not repress his admiration of these glittering
trifles, which, in spite of the unfavourable condition of the market
induced by the war, he was soon able to dispose of, presumably with
a handsome commission for his services. Be that as it may, a sum of
eight hundred pounds was thus realised, and this money I insisted on
Dr Wayne, to his evident reluctance, placing to his credit at his own
bank. "Point d'argent; point de Londres"; at any rate I had solved for
the nonce any question of financial difficulties.]

My impressions of London were so confused in this early stage of the
great European War that I see little gain in attempting to crystallise
my feelings into any sort of description. Indeed, I found it well-nigh
impossible to attune my own thoughts to the popular attitude of the
moment; but then I never ceased to remind myself that of necessity
I was detached from a purely patriotic outlook owing to my long
residence in Meleager with its consequent effects on a plastic mind
that had definitely grown to regard the Earth and all therein as things
left behind for evermore. The excited talk and scandal of the hotel
corridors, the sheaves of redundant telegrams affixed from time to time
on the public screens, the yells of the newsvendors, the headlines of
the popular journals announcing English, French, Russian, Belgian and
Servian victories in endless succession; the _brouhaha_ of the streets
and the gossip of the boudoir, all alike left me cold and phlegmatic.
Dr Wayne used to read aloud to me daily from half-a-dozen papers, for I
had signally failed to reacquire my long-suspended love of reading; but
I was unable to grasp more than the patent fact that the fate of Paris
was hanging in the balance:--Paris, the city of light and leadership;
Paris the capital of Saint Louis, of Henry of Navarre, of Louis le Roi
Soleil, of Napoleon Buonaparte; Paris, the erstwhile acme of my earthly
ideals. Doubtless it was my own obliquity and rustiness of mind that
caused this lamentable lack of comprehension of the situation as a
whole, and prevented me from viewing it through those same rosy glasses
of insular humour wherewith the bulk of my countrymen were regarding
the trend of passing events on the Continent. I knew myself to be at
best an amphibian, with my body on Earth and my heart in Meleager, yet
capable of a residence in either planet. I felt lost and lonely in this
city of reek and confusion, whose inhabitants probably outnumbered the
whole tale of my own forsaken people. After a week or so I ceased to
find solace in wandering amid streets and churches and galleries, and
spent more hours than ever in musing with my eyes directed towards the
river, the shipping and the steeples that clove the hot blue August
sky. Dr Wayne meanwhile was busied with many matters, such matters as
would presumably engage the attention of a time-expired Indian public
servant; and from my peculiar tincture of indifference I was equally
resigned to his absence or his presence, provided only he did not
desert me, of which contingency I had no fear whatsoever.

With the sudden salvation of Paris at a critical moment and the ensuing
German retreat from the Marne, the cloud of foreboding was partially
lifted from me, without however quickening any fresh growth of interest
within. Yet I listened to Dr Wayne's daily budget of news, and
comported myself with conventional intelligence on the rare occasions
that I found myself brought into contact with the Doctor's friends,
who apparently regarded me as an interesting case, a sort of God's
fool, in Dr Wayne's charge, in which impression I was naturally averse
to undeceive them, for such a view at present suited my comfort and
convenience.

September was now well advanced, and I much doubt if ever I should have
achieved the desire, still less the determination, to leave a place I
felt too languid to dislike but for a critical incident which I was
half-hoping, half-dreading to occur. One afternoon Dr Wayne entered
my room in an excited state and with unwonted heat began to dilate on
a curious adventure he had just experienced in the hotel itself. It
seems that on his return he noticed in the vestibule of the hall two
diminutive swarthy foreigners seated in the middle of a miscellaneous
mass of rugs, shawls, laces, cushions, ornaments of brass and other
objects, all of Oriental appearance, though the Doctor assured me
of obvious British or German manufacture. Dr Wayne, who, as I have
already hinted, was an enthusiastic patriot, became somewhat nettled
on seeing all this trumpery displayed for sale during so serious an
epoch, albeit several expensively dressed women were already hovering
round the men and their wares, like moths attracted to some sugary
compound. The vendors, who had graceful manners and spoke fluent though
broken English, called themselves vaguely "Indians," which statement on
Dr Wayne's searching questions they qualified by remarking they were
loyal subjects of the Indian Empire. The Doctor's rising suspicions
were by no means appeased by this explanation; but on finding that the
hotel servants as well as the hovering females resented his method
of cross-examination, and were inclined to champion these Eastern
peddlers, he ultimately desisted and retreated upstairs to vent his
tale into my ears. I listened to him with that polite aloofness which
has grown to be a second habit of nature with me, at first with faint
attention, but ere long as he proceeded with intense though concealed
agitation. For the detailed description of the pair of merchants in
the hall below promptly convinced me of the accuracy of my first
impression--that these Indian peddlers were no other than envoys from
Meleager who had traced their erring King hither.

I wonder if my reader has ever experienced Fear. And by Fear I do not
mean mere fright, or terror, or alarm, or other mental spasms with
which Fear is so often vulgarly confused. If he reads Mr Kipling's
poems about Mowgli, the little hunter of the jungle, he will obtain
some inkling of that mysterious emotion which is in reality man's
tribute to a relentless destiny.

  "Very softly down the glade runs a waiting watching shade,
    And the whisper spreads and widens far and near;
  And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now--
    He is Fear, O little Hunter, he is Fear!


  And thy throat is shut and dried, and thy heart against thy side
    Hammers: Fear, O little Hunter--this is Fear."

Yes, Fear in one aspect is a physical recognition of the existence
and the approach of the Unknown; and its external symptoms are first
of all an involuntary erection of the hair of the head, a sensation
of intense heat in the scalp and a subsequent exudation of chill
sweat over the body, which last offers some relief to the internal
or psychical lesion caused by Fear. I endured it then, as I suddenly
realised in the midst of Dr Wayne's half-humorous discourse that I
was a fly caught in the web of Fate; a victim rotating on the wheel
of destiny; an atom of humanity that was urgently required for the
completion of some great cosmic design....

It passed; thank God, It passed; and moreover It left me stronger and
wiser than before. Very likely those honest penetrating grey eyes of
my companion detected my fleeting wave of anguish, but he only kept
an eloquent silence; and when a few minutes later I expressed a wish
to descend and interview these alleged Indian wanderers, he offered
neither comment nor opposition.

On reaching the vestibule I found the two foreign traders conversing
amiably with a youthful frock-coated manager, for the fashionable
ladies had evacuated the hall in pursuit of the tea and the music which
were being provided in a distant chamber. At my approach the Indians
took no farther notice of me than by smiling blandly and by indicating
the various articles spread at their feet. Meanwhile the supercilious
young manager addressed me: "Your friend Dr Wayne seems to think we are
encouraging spies or bad characters here; but so far as I can judge,
these men are only Indian hucksters, and several of our ladies are very
pleased with the bargains they have bought this afternoon. What do you
make of them, sir?"

"I believe," said I slowly, envisaging the two Meleagrian nobles,
envoys to our Earth disguised in the mean garments of Oriental
mountebanks, "from their features and their dress these men hail from
the Nicobar Islands, where I once held an official post."

And in the most natural and condescending manner I could command I
straightway began to question the two smiling pseudo-merchants in
Meleagrian.

"Are you here in order to kill me?"

To which sentence with a grin of pleased recognition and a sweeping
obeisance the elder of the pair replied with downcast eyes:

"Far be such evil thoughts from us! We seek to entreat your Majesty's
return to your sorrowing subjects in Meleager!"

"Aha!" cried I triumphantly in English to the admiring clerk;
"they _are_ Nicobarians!" (I might just as safely have styled them
Baratarians so far as he was concerned!) "I thought I could not be
mistaken."

And thus the serious farce continued to be enacted for some little time
in the presence of an outsider, all blissfully ignorant of the fact
that he was over-hearing a colloquy of prime importance between two
ambassadors of another planet and their run-away king.

I need not add that I was successful in convincing the worthy manager
of the genuine character and zealous loyalty of these two dwellers in
one of the obscure outlying dependencies of our Indian Empire, so that
he was in excellent temper when a sudden summons called him away to the
telephone. His withdrawal enabled us to continue our conversation with
greater ease, my interlocutors imploring me to reconsider my decision
to remain on Earth. Not to prolong this narrative, I shall only add
here that finally I consented to meet these envoys again after an
interval of one month, by which date I hoped to arrive at a definite
decision as to my future course of action. In any event, I pleaded for
a breathing-space wherein to digest all the extraordinary adventures of
the past few months. Finally, though not over-willingly, they consented
to this respite, and then in token of our mutual pact we three
simultaneously in accordance with the Meleagrian practice touched our
breasts with all ten fingers, a gesture that implies a most solemn oath
in cases where the more elaborate ritual is undesirable or difficult to
effect.

My last question was directed to their possible difficulty in tracing
my whereabouts, for having formed no plans I could not therefore inform
them of my movements. But such an objection evidently offered no
difficulties to the Meleagrians who only smiled and straightway began
to proffer me certain of their goods with a noisy plausibility that
formed a perfect imitation of the methods of that humble class whose
functions and personality they had usurped. I at once set to chaffer
with affected eagerness, with the result that a returning queue of
bedizened leaders of fashion, the majority of them with cigarettes in
their mouths, entered the hall in time to observe a tall, fair and
distinguished-looking gentleman (obviously an Englishman) finally
decide to purchase for three guineas a long, soft chuddah shawl which
its vendor was folding and twirling before his eyes with easy grace.
Having secured my shawl with the requisite cash, the second trader now
sidled towards me holding in both his slender brown hands an ornamental
casket which he pressed upon me with many encomiums in quaint broken
English. A mere flicker of light in the tail of his eye afforded me
the necessary hint to accept the box, for which I paid a pound or
so. The Indian then wrapped my bargain with much ceremony in blue
crinkled paper and carefully deposited it in my hands, wherein it lay
heavy as lead. There followed a casual nod on my part, met by elegant
salaams to the wealthy sahib, and the next moment I was ascending the
staircase with my shawl and box, pursued by the inquiring glances of
the astonished ring of ladies.

On gaining my bedroom I cautiously unlocked the casket, which I found
was filled to overflowing with English sovereigns and bank-notes. I did
not happen to need them, but at least I was touched by the agreeable
thought that the donors did not desire their king to suffer the straits
of penury in the coming interval of waiting.


VIII

I found Dr Wayne quite ready to acquiesce in my newly formed decision
to leave London; indeed, I fancy he still owned some qualms concerning
the style and expense of our present abode. The only question that
now remained was whither should we proceed. It was the Doctor and
not myself who ultimately settled this point, for he had set to
search the advertisement columns of his numerous journals, and after
much hesitation had lighted on the notice of a Welsh hotel which on
reflection commended itself also to my choice. The place was named
Glanymôr and was situated on the southern shores of Cardigan Bay at a
convenient distance from a small county town. It doubtless possessed
the double advantage of quiet and remoteness, the two qualities of
locale I especially demanded, so that after some farther discussion
I asked Dr Wayne to make the necessary arrangements for our proposed
sojourn there. In four days' time therefore from the date of the
incident of the Indian peddlers, we were able to leave Paddington
Station on our way towards the spot selected, where I looked to obtain
the peace and solitude essential for me to refresh my jaded brain and
to provoke it to some definite conclusion. I left London without a pang
of regret, but also without any pleasurable enthusiasm for the change
of air and scene I was seeking; so languid and detached was my outlook
towards the future.

After several hours of travelling westward, after noon we reached a
large market town of South Wales where a hired motor car was awaiting
us. It was a glorious day, cool, calm and bright, with the tang of
autumn in the air but the guise of summer still masking the face of
Nature. Ere long we were speeding through a district of tall hazel
hedges and small fields in endless succession, recalling at times an
immense rural chess-board set amidst steep hills of no distinction of
outline but with their grassy flanks relieved in many places by patches
of autumnal gorse, of roseate ling and of murrey bracken. Little rills,
peeping through miniature thickets of delicate lady fern, coursed here
and there down the slopes, and at times we were skirting the bank of
a torrent with golden-brown peat-stained waters circling and curling
around mossy boulders. In many places the hedge banks were still gay
with hawkweeds, scabious and belated foxgloves. Already the charm
of the revisited Earth was beginning to arouse my sluggish spirits,
and the sight of this mountain brook with its suggestions of a happy
childhood that delighted in rambling and fishing began to stir the
clogged and mantled pool of my earthly memory. Here at any rate was
still the Earth, the beloved Earth radiant and unspoiled, the Earth
untainted by the deadly miasma of modern progress which is striving
with too evident success to convert the whole world into grey suburban
uniformity and ugliness. Next we sped through a squalid hamlet compact
of raw stuccoed chapels, of tin-roofed cottages and blatant villas of
shrieking prosperity; and the late burgeoning of my earthy affections
was rudely nipped. Nevertheless, we had soon quitted the ghastly modern
township with its ill-dressed and ill-favoured inhabitants, and started
to descend by a long gentle declivity to a broad bottom, for we were
crossing the lofty watershed between two important Welsh rivers. We
finally reached a wide valley cleft by a noble stream that was now a
deep silent volume of water overhung by woods of oak and larch, and now
a series of broad gushing shallows whose leaping waves broke merrily
over opposing snags and rocks. At intervals we passed prosperous farms,
old-fashioned country houses that seemed haunts of ancient peace,
and stretches of rich pasture that were contiguous with the river's
meanderings. Out of this delectable valley we ascended a sharp rise
and, avoiding a moderate-sized country town, at length we reached an
exposed hill-top which afforded us the prospect of the estuary of
the river we had so lately left behind. Some two miles farther ahead
our goal was attained, after traversing a tract of sand dunes whose
desiccated soil gave sustenance to clumps of glaucous sea-holly and
prickly bushes of the sand-rose that at this season bore large sorbs
of burnished purple. The hotel itself, a gaunt, rambling, recently
erected structure, was perched on the rim of a precipitous range of
cliffs. It was certainly a blot upon the landscape; but its interior
promised solid comfort, whilst the hearty welcome of the landlord,
bereft of his usual tale of summer boarders, made plenteous reparation
for the lack of such luxury as we had bidden adieu to in London.

From the balcony outside our rooms upstairs there was a spacious and
comprehensive view of the surrounding scenery. In front of us lay a
broad basin enclosed in a broken circuit of rising ground and with
the yellow sands and foaming bar of the issuing river in the middle
distance. The opposite extremity of this half-enclosed sheet of
water ended in a projecting rocky headland dotted with white-washed
farmhouses and cottages, and barring the farther view of the coast-line
to southward. Nearer at hand and adjacent to the inn there jutted forth
the northern horn of the little bay, backed by the craggy islet of
Ynys Ilar formed like a couched lion with his visage set towards the
sinking sun. The rocky shores had assumed everywhere a purple-black
tint against the pale blue of sea and sky, whilst inland the bleak
unfertile soil showed brown and bare in the walled fields now denuded
of their crops of oats and barley. I would not deny a certain inherent
charm to the quiet scenery of Glanymôr, and possibly some landscape
painter of an unambitious type might have felt tempted to portray its
sober tints and restful contours; but I myself experienced a sense of
disappointment in what I deemed its negative character. Here was no
savage majesty of nature; no sweep of limitless ocean; no thundering
breakers on a boundless strand; no gloomy groves descending to the
shore; no groups of gnarled and distorted pines that were eloquent of
furious gales. And yet the features and general aspect of the place
somehow imbued me with regretful thoughts of Tamarida, its haven and
its twin promontories. For the first time a craving for my lost palace
struck at my heart, as I gazed upon the encircling sweep of land and
sea and sky. It may have been my fancy, but I thought I perceived a
shadowy vision of that aerial city hover for a second like a mirage in
the greyness of the dull horizon.

Our daily life at Glanymôr was placid and not unpleasant. The soft
Welsh air, the perpetual sobbing of the sea beneath our windows, the
peaceful atmosphere, the wholesome food all reacted on my over-strung
nerves, which in time began to recover their wonted tone. I was
braced by bathing in the Atlantic waters, icy-cold though they were;
I appreciated my daily walks in company with Dr Wayne along the crest
of the indented shore that faces the crags of Ynys Ilar. I mightily
preferred the cries of the curlew and guillemot to the shouting of men
and the hooting of cars in London. Altogether I was tolerably happy but
for one drawback, and this was my total inability to concentrate my
thinking powers on the very subject I had travelled hither to study.
Try as I would, I could not marshal my reasonings and calculations to
meet in one point; and so I allowed the crucial question to remain
unanswered, almost unattempted, and let myself drift with the current
of my own indecision. Instead of racking my brain, I preferred to lie
in some sheltered hollow of the rocks above the water, watching the
waves collect and disperse with half-shut eyes that idly noted the dull
yellow riband of tiny shells which marked the limits of the advancing
and receding tides along the line of cliffs. Dr Wayne, in such hours
as he could spare from his multiplicity of newspapers, was evidently
studying me and my movements with silent interest, but we rarely spoke
during our long walks above the coast-line or over the brown fallows
and stony paths of the wind-swept treeless countryside.

Thus passed day after day of that precious interregnum, which ought
to have been expended in constant deliberation and with the nicest
weighing of advantages, instead of being frittered thus in yielding
to an insistent temptation to somnolence and vacuity of mind. Perhaps
there may have been some external unsuspected force, which was being
directed against my own efforts of concentration to prevent my arriving
at any conclusion. I had been the plaything of Fate for so long that
possibly I may be excused for harbouring such a notion.


IX

A quarter of a mile behind our inn of Glanymôr stood the buildings of
a fair-sized farm. I used often to walk to Pen Maelgwyn, whose name
recalled that of a doughty Welsh chieftain slain in Plantagenet days,
ascending the slope thither by means of a narrow footpath traversing
the russet stubbles wherein still lingered a few gay marigolds and
fragile poppies. The front of the house, a long low erection, was
coloured a Naples yellow, but its roof and many clustering byres and
sheds were all thickly coated with dazzling whitewash. Above the porch
and many windows set with diminutive panes had been painted ornamental
stripes of black and vermilion in a local style that has now almost
fallen out of fashion. Before the threshold lay a broad stone slab
marked in chalk with elaborate patterns in rings and lines, which Dr
Wayne, who is skilled in Celtic folk-lore, tells me is a relic of the
dim past, when such tracery was designed to entice the good fairies
indoors and at the same time to exclude any malignant elementals that
might be skulking near. The whole length of the façade of the dwelling
was distinguished by a narrow walled-in flower garden, wherein Mrs Mary
Davies, the farmer's wife, cherished a number of gaudy dahlias, Indian
pinks, purple asters and tall spikes of golden-rod, these last being
much patronised by a pair of elegant Red Admiral butterflies.

The messuage and its attendant buildings were wholly enclosed within a
low rampart of rubble and loose boulders, also profusely daubed with
the prevailing whitewash, this boundary wall surrounding an irregular
space which included a round weed-covered pond and a number of middens
for the cackling fowls of every condition--geese, chickens, ducks,
turkeys and even peacocks. The yard was dirty, stony and unkempt, yet
it possessed a certain fascination of its own, and there was a stile
surmounting its haphazard parapet whereon I often sate, sometimes to
watch the crowded life of the haggard, but more generally with my
face turned towards the open sea. By directing my eyes hence in a
sou'-westerly direction, so as to avoid the converging lines of the
Welsh and Irish coasts, I had been told that nothing but the ocean
with no intervening obstacle of land stretched between the cliffs of
Glanymôr and the far-away coast of North America. There were no trees
within a mile and more of Pen Maelgwyn, but the rough stone wall was
heavily fringed with tall aromatic herbs such as tansy, wormwood and
wild reseda to make amends for the total lack of arboreal verdure.

Hither then I often strolled during the morning hours when Dr Wayne
was absorbed in his newspapers or his correspondence, and from the
date of my first intrusion at Pen Maelgwyn I always received a
courteous welcome from Mr and Mrs Davies, the tenants of the place,
who held a couple of hundred acres of varied but indifferent land.
That Mr Hannaniah Davies belonged to the old school was evident from
his speech, his dress and his professed outlook on life itself. Having
served as bailiff for many years to a neighbouring squire he spoke
English easily and correctly, and moreover with a well-bred accent.
His wife Mary, on the other hand, could scarcely aspire to a word of
any language save her native Welsh, so that our intercourse was of
necessity confined to gesticulation and smiles, or to a few trivial
phrases of which the expressions "Dim Saesneg" on her part and of
"Dim Cymraeg" on mine, were perhaps the most lucid and useful. With
Hannaniah however I often held converse--on the war, on politics,
on travel, on religious controversy; and though he was bigoted and
benighted in his tenets yet he could argue with politeness and good
temper, which constitutes a virtue in itself, and that no common one.
Our debates were usually held in the kitchen (which I vastly preferred
to the chill musty parlour with its garish modern furniture and its
repellent portraits of pastors and demagogues) and in this low warm
cosy chamber I loitered for many a pleasant hour. The uneven stone
floor was generally strewn with lily-white sand; the settle and chairs
and dresser of pale Welsh oak shone brightly with Mary's affectionate
polishing; I loved the many quaint old jugs and plates which had
happily escaped the accursed hand of the plundering collector. In the
deep-set space of the sole window flourished Mary's winter garden, a
miscellaneous series of pots and saucers containing a fine geranium, a
fuchsia, a trailing white campanula, some musk and a bizarre vegetable
of the leek family that resembled a shining green octopus set on end.
Above our heads depended from the rafters fine hams and bunches of
odorous sage and marjoram.

In this old-time chamber I often partook of my "merenda," which
invariably consisted of a glass of buttermilk with one or two square
currant-engrained biscuits known to the polite world as Garibaldis,
but owning a less romantic if more descriptive name in the days of
my boyhood. This matutinal hospitality, I may add, was repaid not in
coin but by the loan of papers and periodicals which Hannaniah read by
the aid of a pair of antiquated spectacles, that reposed on the great
sheepskin folio Welsh Bible always ready for use. Thus alternately
reading aloud and discoursing, with Mary's clogs clattering in and
out of the fragrant kitchen, I often succeeded in making the worthy
Hannaniah waste an hour or more of his valuable agricultural time in
the course of the morning.

A calendar month had already elapsed since our arrival at Glanymôr,
and I was beginning to wonder in what guise the waiting Meleagrian
envoys would next present themselves. Yet although the month had been
fulfilled, with a few days to spare, I was still speculating as to
how, when and where they would approach me. With my mind absorbed in
anticipation and replete with intense curiosity that was not tinctured
by any alarm, I went one morning to Pen Maelgwyn on my usual errand,
and on my arrival found my friend Hannaniah much excited over a matter
of domestic concern, which he was eager to impart to me. It appeared
that both Mr Davies's farm lads, English-speaking boys from a large
industrial school of the Midlands, had been lately secured in the local
recruiting nets, so that the farm itself was suffering in consequence
of their departure. There were none to fill the vacant places, and so
pressed was the farmer that two days ago he had been only too thankful
to engage the temporary services of what he described as a "nigger
tramp," who called himself an Indian. The new-comer certainly did
not seem very proficient in the duties he declared himself willing
to perform but he seemed intelligent and anxious to please; whilst
on his side the sorely tried Hannaniah was thankful to obtain even
such inferior assistance as this. There were hopes expressed that
the strange heathen might in time develop into a fairly capable farm
hand, and in this expectation even the suspicious Mrs Davies had
agreed to lay aside her intense prejudice against the man's colour and
appearance. Thus spake Hannaniah Davies; and I need not say that at
this piece of news my heart began to hammer at my ribs, though not (I
can truthfully vouch) with fear, but rather with suppressed exaltation.
For I felt thankful to be relieved at last from my long spell of
uncertainty and indecision, than which any definite evil seemed almost
preferable. The idea of coming action served to brace and vivify me,
so that it required some restraint on myself to criticise the matter
propounded by the farmer with the proper degree of calmness. I approved
warmly his decision to employ the stranger, and then remarked with an
air of indifference: "I wonder if by any chance I can speak your black
man's language, if he is really an Indian, as he declares. I have spent
many years among the natives of Hindostan, and I should much like to
interview the man, whose name you tell me is Hamid."

I had scarcely finished speaking when Hannaniah, looking out of one of
the tiny panes of thick greenish glass of the kitchen window, spied the
subject of our conversation crossing the yard, and at my suggestion he
beckoned him to approach the homestead. Mrs Davies, too, who had paused
from her usual routine of scrubbing, was deeply interested, and in her
native vernacular expressed her admiration for the powers of the Saxon
gentleman who could speak the language of the blacks, for in her simple
philosophy all dark-skinned foreigners owned but one lingo, whilst a
multiplicity of tongues was a special privilege reserved for the Aryan
race. Hannaniah was no doubt more enlightened on such a point, but I
fancy he had no fixed or correct views concerning Indians and negroes;
it would therefore in no way be surprising to him, a good bilinguist,
that anyone who had lived in the East like myself should understand the
language of a wandering Oriental. He left the room, and I followed him
into the soft breeze and the mellow October sunshine which was reviving
Mary's rain-sodden dahlias round which the Red Admirals were hovering
with brilliant if somewhat tattered wings.

The figure of the newly hired labourer could be observed slowly
descending the long yard, for he was encumbered with a bundle of clover
under his left arm, whilst his right side was heavily weighed down by
a bucket of some provender for the calves. His garments formed a sort
of ugly compromise between the costumes of East and West--a turban of
soiled mauve muslin, a shabby threadbare brown coat and loose baggy
trousers of canvas such as Levantine sailors affect. In this cheap
and unattractive garb I quickly recognised Fajal, a leading member
of the hierarchy of Meleager, and after Anzoni the most trustworthy
and agreeable personage of all that august body to my mind. On our
appearance in the yard the new servant halted a moment, placed the
dirty bucket on the ground, and made an obeisance equally to Mr Davies
and myself. As he bent before us in his squalid disguise, with his
delicate shapely hands encrusted with barley-meal, and with his shoddy
boots all caked with filthy mud, I reflected and marvelled for a second
or two on the inexorable sense of duty or responsibility which could
compel such a man as Fajal, whose pedigree could easily vie with that
of a Habsburg or a Colonna, to stoop to such abasement and to face such
vicissitudes. Yet though he bent ragged and grimy and cringing before
us, I could still detect the noble fruit concealed within the rugged
husk, albeit such a gift of discrimination was wholly beyond the range
of the farmer's blunter powers of perception and inferior knowledge
of humanity. I addressed a few commonplace phrases in Meleagrian to
Fajal, who replied with discreet modesty, only in his last sentence
bidding me seek him in the adjacent byre as soon as it was feasible.
Mr Davies standing by was certainly impressed with the fluency of
our conversation, but after an admiring "Well! Well!" as a tribute
to my linguistic attainments, he turned away in order to visit his
head labourer, John Lewis, who was cutting bracken on the distant lea
against the sky-line. I accompanied my host so far as the farm gate,
but declined to walk with him to the upland, whither I watched him
proceed alone. With the master and man busy over the fern stacking,
with the mistress and maids employed within the dairy or kitchen, the
way was clear before me. I turned my eyes with mixed feelings towards
the indicated byre, which stood next to a row of newly thatched ricks
of oats and barley, the spoils of the lately garnered harvest. In that
humble structure I knew there tarried now for me the messenger of Fate,
the arbiter of my destiny. It was as useless, as it would have been
cowardly, to evade or postpone the inevitable interview, so without
further ado I carefully shut the yard gate and slowly picked my steps
through the stones and mire to the open doorway of the shippen.


X

The cow-house at Pen Maelgwyn was a lengthy rather dilapidated
building, and in its atmosphere of semi-darkness and bovine stuffiness
I groped my way along the narrow passage between the crazy old mud
wall and the wooden railing which secured the beasts. At the farther
end was a square pen wherein the calves were kept, and it was here
that at length I chanced on Fajal who was busily occupied in feeding
his charges. On noticing me approach, he made an end of his task,
and letting down the slip rail advanced to accost me in the gangway.
Here he sank on his knees upon the slimy cobbles, at the same time
catching hold of my coat with uplifted hands. This unexpected attitude
of worship and devotion at once struck me unpleasantly; I deemed it
insincere and inappropriate; and I repelled my suppliant in no gracious
manner, striving to disengage myself from his grasp.

"I had a better esteem of you, Fajal," I began in tones of reproachful
chagrin, "than that you should still attempt to mock me by persisting
in this threadbare pretence of a subject and his king. You know who I
am, and what I am in the eyes of the body to which you belong; so why
indulge in this sickly acting when there is no stage and no necessity
for hypocrisy? Speak to me as man to man. Tell me what you wish to say,
but tell it in the spirit of plain truth and reality."

Nevertheless, crouching yet more abjectly into the mire, Fajal still
clung obstinately to my knees and even endeavoured to kiss my feet as
he started to speak in a hollow voice that suggested intense emotion
kept with difficulty under control.

"Majesty! Your rebuke is neither harsh nor undeserved; and if it
so pleased you, I should willingly and joyfully feel the weight of
your foot upon my neck, or even on my face. Cheerfully would I in my
own person make the atonement justly due to you for the treacherous
ingratitude that has been your Majesty's sole reward for your reign
of virtue and self-sacrifice in Meleager. But there is no mockery
in my attitude of subjection to the King of Meleager who has thus
successfully defied and vanquished his fate, and now for a second time
receives the entreaty to come and reign amongst us. And this time
the loyalty I am authorised to proffer will not be confined to the
uneducated populace, but it will also emanate freely from our hierarchy
who have delegated me, seeing that I was in the past your most open
admirer and warmest upholder, to implore your pardon and to beg you to
acquire incalculable merit by returning and resuming that unselfish and
beneficent sway for which at this moment all Meleager is sighing and
praying. Do not suffer me to plead in vain, O King!"

Fajal paused, and then as I stood motionless and showed no disposition
to interrupt he continued to entreat yet more vehemently, using at
times the old arguments I had heard years ago from d'Aragno, and at
times a novel system of reasoning based on the present affection and
anxiety of the Meleagrians for my return.

"We are at the present time in a parlous state of unrest and transition
in Meleager. Our people cry aloud for their vanished King, and threaten
to over-turn our ancient constitution, for some peculiar instinct
seems to have penetrated the common mind--by what means or influence
assuredly even I cannot divine--that you have deserted our planet
in wrath and dudgeon to seek again your Father's court. Already a
revolution has taken place in the hierarchy itself, and Marzona's
satellites have shared their leader's fate, the fate which you yourself
inflicted on him, most noble, puissant and wonderful Being! All, all
pray daily for your speedy return; whilst amongst such old councillors
as have survived the late cataclysm and the newly elected members
of our caste, there is but one ardent all-pervading desire--to see
yourself installed again as our King, our King who has of his own
motion mastered The Secret, who has flown back to Earth, who alone is
fitted to rule in Meleager....

"And if you will but accept again our crown under these changed
conditions of tardy sincerity in our hierarchy and of burning loyalty
of our people in all its ranks, what results may you not achieve?
The periods of your rejuvenation will continue unchecked; you will be
living and ruling and bending life to your purpose for generations
hence, nay, centuries after my poor bones and those of my colleagues
have been converted to dust and ashes; for aught I know to the
contrary you may even, if you so will, achieve immortality thanks to
the unmatched potentialities of our marvellous fountain. The very
salutation 'O King, live for ever!' that occurs again and again in
your Book of the Christian cult will in your case cease to be the
meaningless compliment of courtier and sycophant. You will rule and
rule, always youthful, always dominant, the one thing stable in a
community of perpetual change. There are certain limits perhaps which
you may not exceed, but these you already recognise and will observe
henceforward in the same spirit that you have so nobly and unselfishly
exhibited in the past. And if the day should dawn--may it be untold
æons hence from my own day of recall!--when you will have grown weary
of well-doing, weary of your unending performance of duty even under
the lightest of moral yokes, when you sigh for release and oblivion,
and yearn to plunge into the dusky mazes of the Hereafter, are there
not means accessible to gratify such a craving? There is but one mode
of entering this world, and that involves travail and tears, but there
are a hundred exits from the house of life, and many of these are
pleasant and free of dolour. Remember what one of your own Herthian
poets has dangled before the eyes of those who are exhausted and
sighing for their euthanasia:

  "'There are poppies by the river,
  There is hemlock in the dell.'

"Nevertheless, may the time be far removed when the ideal King of
Meleager thinks fit to abdicate, preferring the unseen unsubstantial
bliss of the Other Life to the ceaseless routine of sovereignty with
its attendant pleasures and burdens....

"Majesty, ponder all this in your present quiet retreat which as yet
has been scarcely touched by the encroachments of the bloodshed and
tumult that have been released to complete the utter downfall of your
unhappy Earth. Have you not dimly apprehended the dire prospects that
even now await your fellow-mortals on this devoted distracted planet?
Is she not in the pangs of a fresh period of travail, and seeing
her thus threatened and knowing her past history, do you expect her
to bring forth a regenerating angel? I tell you, no. The horrors of
carnage and greed and ambition have only begun; the stream of blood is
trickling slowly, but it will continue to creep onward with increasing
volume till scarcely a corner of the Earth will not be saturated with
human gore....

"But enough of this awful theme, for my personal argument there is
unsound insomuch as you yourself are concerned, for you at least
will be spared the sight and taste of the evils that will assuredly
follow. Your sojourn on Earth will be very brief; already the effects
of your last immersion in our sacred pool are beginning to subside; so
that before this fateful year draws to its bloody and hideous close,
your spark of life will be extinguished. Do not therefore imagine
that you will be permitted to achieve the allotted span of mankind on
Earth; the hidden waters of the Meleagrian spring are both lethal and
vitalising. Once the proper hour of renewal is passed, a species of
decay, even of disintegration, will supervene, and you will sink into
your miserable grave, a loathsome object, a mass of disease, impotence
and decomposition.

"Reflect, O King, reflect, ere it prove too late! Make your choice
between an inevitable, speedy and revolting demise here on Earth, and
the prospect of a further reign in Meleager under such conditions as I
have already indicated to you."

With this last earnest appeal Fajal watched me narrowly for some
seconds, whilst I remained voiceless and irresolute. Seeing me thus
still obdurate in my indecision, he sighed heavily and then sought
in the folds of his vest, whence he drew forth a thin packet that he
presented to me with these significant words: "If you doubt my warning
and advice, look in this mirror steadily a while, and you will then
understand."

I had scarcely transferred the package to the breast of my coat before
I noticed an entering figure darken the patch of sunlight formed by
the open door at the other end of the byre. It was Mr Davies returned
from his fern cutting and now bent on an inspection of his stock. He
saw nothing unusual however in my seeking thus the society of his new
servant, who was now diligently cleaning the racks overhead. I delayed
for a few minutes' talk with the farmer before bidding him good-morning
and walking back to the inn.

In the verandah I found Dr Wayne smoking a pipe and enjoying the rare
sunshine of this fleeting St Luke's Summer. We smiled at one another as
I passed within, but I did not pause to converse, for I was impatient
to open my concealed parcel. So I went upstairs and seated myself on
a chair in the full light shed from the open window. Having unwound
some folds of cloth I extricated the mirror of which Fajal had spoken,
and found it to be a moderate-sized rectangular piece of thick glass
without any frame and offering no peculiarity of aspect. Taking it in
both my hands and in full glare of the sunlit window, I set to gaze
intently in the expectation of some development whose nature I already
half divined. As I prepared for this careful inspection of myself, or
rather my counterfeit, I recalled to mind a picture I had seen years
ago in the Wiertz Museum in what was then the capital of the Belgian
kingdom, representing a youthful courtesan of the Mid-Victorian
era stripped bare to the waist and contemplating herself in a
cheval-glass. But in the painter's canvas the glass itself returned no
true image of her comely complacent face and her swelling breasts, but
in their stead a leering female skeleton, a revelation that seemed in
no wise to shake the lady's composure. So in my own case I had a shrewd
premonition I was destined to receive some shock of this nature out of
the innocent-looking mirror lately presented to me. Of this shadowy
encounter before me however I experienced no dread; very possibly
the glass would reveal to me my own anatomy as a suitable _memento
mori_ to dissipate any lingering notions I might still entertain as
to the undesirability of prolonging my life by a refusal to return to
Meleager. But why, I asked myself, should I be afraid to survey my own
basic framework? Are we not all mere skeletons clothed in an exiguous
garment of skin and tissue, and animated by some mysterious internal
engine which keeps intact the fleshy envelope and supplies the motive
power of mind and muscle?

The perfectly smooth complexion that confronted my inquiring look
suggested nothing save the early stages of manhood, though there was
perceptible in the eyes a weary nervous expression, that hinted at a
youth marred or tempered by experience and disillusion. Many minutes
must have been occupied in contemplation of this beautiful and yet
spurious specimen of juvenile physiognomy before I began to note a very
slight alteration in the skin and outlines of the face before me; tiny
delicate pencillings like the ghosts of hoar-frost tracery were forming
below the lids and at the corners of the temples; the rotundity of
the cheeks seemed to shrink; queer vindictive lines started here and
there on the countenance, spoiling its fixed impression of repose and
announcing anxiety and discontent. I grew overwhelmingly interested in
this whimsical exhibition of scientific magic (if I may so describe
it); of alarm or disgust I felt no scintilla as yet, so absorbed was I
in my attitude of inquisitive observation. Having once declared itself
visibly, this metamorphosis of the face seemed to develop more rapidly;
the skin was bereft of its freshness and became sallow and somewhat
transparent; I could tell the staring bones within, and the contours
of the skull were clearly defined. The hair had lost its sheen, and
the throat its firmness and fulness. But it no more horrified me to
detect my own skeleton peeping forth through the imprisoning flesh
than it would have startled me to see my naked body on stripping to
bathe. Whatever might be my final decision, whether to remain on
Earth and perish, or to proceed to Meleager and live, Fajal's device
could exercise no sort of influence over my well-ordered mind. It was
uncanny, unwholesome, unnatural; but as a practical argument for its
acknowledged purpose it must prove utterly unavailing, and was in truth
almost childish in its conception.

I was still absorbed in watching this phenomenon of the disunion of
body and bones with complete unconcern, when my nimble imagination
suddenly darted into a diverse channel of speculation. From my present
medical or scientific abstraction I found myself sharply recalling
Benozzo Gozzoli's frescoes in the Campo Santo of Pisa, wherein are
depicted for the edification of the careless Christian the three stages
of human decay after death. It was a morbid but persistent theme, and
not only did I fail to exclude it from my unwilling brain, but other
paintings and representations equally or even more gruesome, such as
the decadent artists of the days of the later Medicean princes loved
to depict, arose to my prolific fancy. I recalled Zumbo's horrible
wax figures, exhibiting at once the loathsome corruption of the flesh
and the exquisite torments of hell-fire, wherewith a certain Tuscan
Grand Duchess was wont to stimulate to self-denying piety a mind
engrossed by the pomps of rank and riches. With these unwelcome but
spontaneous memories there now supervened a physical sensation that
was most repugnant. The room itself, despite the fresh sea breeze
and the cheerful sunshine, grew close and oppressive; there arose an
intolerable smell of putrefaction, the unmistakable bouquet of the
charnel-house; and this insidious encroaching odour filled my whole
being with a sense of disgust that I found impossible to expel.

Meanwhile in the mirror itself the process of disintegration was
advancing apace. At first I sought to ignore the changing tints of
the rotting flesh and the entry of the worms and other vermin of
the abandoned dead, and haply I might have succeeded in my mental
struggle, had it not been for the increasing and well-nigh overpowering
stench of the tomb which seemed to gather and enfold me in its dank
miasmatic embrace. The pure light of the sunlit room had yielded to
a dingy crepuscule, in which alone was plainly visible that accursed
rectangle of glass with its surface churning out horror upon horror
not only for the retina but also for the nostrils. And in the midst of
this dissolving creeping mutating picture of human corruption there
still shone out intact the feverish unfaded eyes that were stretched
wide with a blank despair. I searched and searched with questioning
dilated pupils their awful counterparts in the cruel glass, as though
I were striving to force them to surrender up their appalling secret.
At length I seemed to obtain the solution I sought yet dreaded to
receive: it was Finality. What I saw being enacted before me by proxy
was my own fate, my utter blotting out from the page of life, and not
a mere stage, painful and ugly doubtless, but nevertheless only an
intermediate stage to another phase of existence, as I had hitherto
devoutly held. At last I realised that my own appointed portion was
but this mean trilogy: the grave, corruption and nothingness; for the
Hereafter owned no longer any concern with myself, the amphibian of
two worlds, who had evaded his manifest duties alike on Earth and in
Meleager. I remembered with a shudder Fajal's solemn warning as to the
dire effects of that youth-bestowing and yet death-dealing fountain
wherein I had so often been immersed. Was it really so? Had I in my
flight from my kingdom lost that priceless yet elusive endowment, the
soul? A faint gleam of hope in the midst of my terror shot suddenly
into the mirk of my anguish, when I recalled Anzoni's farewell greeting
to myself and his expressed desire for a mutual meeting in the halls of
the Hereafter. Ah, but then Anzoni had assumed I was going to meet my
fate like a hero, and had no intention of slinking back to Earth!

Thus, despite this vague consoling thought, this clutching at a fescue
in the whirlpool of my despair, I became obsessed with a fierce longing
and determination at all costs to cheat death and to cling to every
chance that is vital and physical. Fajal's mission had triumphed. I
grew frenzied at the fearful prospect adumbrated for me on this glassy
screen; I was frantic to quit the Earth, and equally frantic to stake
anything and everything on a second translation to Meleager. I tried
to dash the mirror from my hands, only to discover that, like Medea's
poisoned coronet, the accursed thing clung to the flesh of my palms
and fingers, and refused to be shaken off. In my madness of terror I
screamed aloud, and with the glass still adhering like burning wax to
my skin I dashed myself against the wall repeatedly till I shattered
to atoms the devilish instrument of torture in my ravings.

       *       *       *       *       *

I can call to mind nothing further until I returned to sufficient
consciousness again to see Dr Wayne's anxious and expectant face
bent over me, as I lay prone on the boards surrounded by a mass of
glittering fragments and splinters. My hands were cut and bleeding,
but already the kind Doctor was tending them with some soothing
antiseptic, and the pain was endurable. I allowed myself to be enticed
to bed, where I passed the remainder of the day recovering from the
double shock of mind and body I had so lately sustained. As usual, Dr
Wayne spoke very little, and though his honest face betrayed his keen
curiosity over my latest adventure, he asked no questions, and indeed
scarcely ventured any comment, except the remark that there was a most
peculiar scent of violets in the room, which was odd, seeing it was
mid-October.

Violets!


XI

It required two or three days of repose and nursing before I could
recover from my recent shock and the injuries to my hands. When at
last I was sufficiently restored to leave the house for a walk, I felt
small inclination to proceed to Pen Maelgwyn, and after hesitating as
to my direction I eventually turned my steps towards a small beach that
nestled below the northern promontory of the bay. In this sheltered
fissure of the coast I used sometimes to sit on the shaly rocks covered
with soft tussocks of faded sea-pinks, or else used to linger by the
tide idly seeking amongst the wet shining pebbles for stray moss-agates
or the tiny cowries like roseate pearls that a westerly gale invariably
cast on these shores. Accordingly I followed a path towards this cove
and descended the cart track that finally lost itself in the dry sand
and globular boulders of the upper portion of this little haven. On
advancing thus far I perceived to my surprise and annoyance that I
should not obtain solitary possession of my accustomed haunt, for close
to the water's edge stood a horse and cart; whilst I could detect the
grating sound of shovelling sea-gravel by some person who for the
moment was hidden by the cart itself. I strolled down the long narrow
space to discover with a start of astonishment that the individual
occupied in digging the gravel was none other than Fajal. He seemed in
no wise disconcerted at my apparition, but merely continued to ply his
task till I almost touched him, when he immediately dropped his spade
and sank on his knees amidst the dripping stones and weeds. He then
proceeded to kiss my hands, my knees, and even my feet, but of this
behaviour I took no heed.

"I have examined my face in your mirror, Fajal----" I began.

"Your Majesty has no need to tell this to your servant," replied he,
with a sad, weary smile on his face, which expressed neither pleasure
nor interest in my statement.

"--And I am now wholly convinced of the necessity for my immediate
return to Meleager," continued I, rather nettled by Fajal's nonchalance.

"A few minutes' study of self in its surface is of more avail than a
month spent in book-lore or close meditation," retorted Fajal dryly.
"It is our last resource, our irresistible argument, although to the
best of my knowledge there has never arisen any occasion to resort to
it hitherto. Yet you perceive we are fore-armed in Meleager against
every emergency, even for the case of a recalcitrant monarch who will
not return to the people he has deserted."

"I should never have deserted Meleager," I cried with some heat, "had
not your caste set before me the choice of death or flight."

"Your Majesty then holds that any deviation from the course of fixed
duty can be legitimately excused?" replied Fajal, arching his eyebrows.
"But this is neither the hour nor place to raise a thorny question
of political ethics which I look forward some day to discussing at
our leisure. I have only to regret that in the course of my mission
I have been compelled to perturb your Majesty so greatly in mind and
body before I could impress on you the inevitability of your return to
Meleager. It grieves and shames me to reflect that the arguments and
entreaties of myself and my colleagues here and in London should have
proved so futile and barren of success."

Fajal then gently took my hands in his, removed their wrappings of
lint, and from a box of salve carefully anointed the still sore and
angry flesh. (They were completely cured by the following morning.)
He then began to speak to me of many matters concerning my return
to Meleager and my subsequent duties there which I do not deem it
desirable to inscribe in this place, and he ended by enumerating the
arrangements already made for my second translation to my expectant
subjects.

"This very night," said he, "I shall be dismissed with ignominy from
Pen Maelgwyn. John Lewis, the old labourer, is already jealous and
hostile, and there will shortly arise a quarrel between us, wherein
I shall unsheathe this knife. A hubbub will then ensue; Mrs Davies
will uphold her servant, and Mr Davies, who seems less unworthy than
the majority of his type, will reluctantly consent to my immediate
dismissal. I shall be given my wages; I shall collect my humble store
of clothing; and at early dawn to-morrow I shall quit Pen Maelgwyn.
This day week, which will be the twenty-seventh day of the month, you
will prepare for my secret return. Wait until midnight in your room,
and then listen for the unmistakable call for your presence without
delay at the farthest point of the headland yonder. All will be in
readiness for your easy departure from the inn; even the lurcher in the
stable-yard will be silenced that night. Have no qualms or fears; your
Majesty will only have to traverse the two furlongs of ground between
the inn and the rocky cape, whereat our craft will rest till we have
embarked.

"One other matter however I wish your Majesty to understand. Is it not
the case that you dispatched a manuscript to Earth some three years
ago?" (I nodded assent.) "That scroll was duly delivered on Earth,
was found, read, discussed and printed, with the only possible result
that could arise therefrom. The person who gave your narrative to the
world was one Edward Cayley, a learned recluse, and he was naturally
only accounted a credulous fool for his pains. The book was certainly
published, and though the absurd venture scarcely deserved their
serious attention, our envoys here have contrived to destroy nearly all
copies of the volume. Perhaps also Cayley himself might have succumbed
later to some of our peculiar methods of removal, had he not suddenly
expired of the heart disease from which he had long suffered. The whole
matter of your communication from Meleager has however been entrusted
unconditionally to myself, and as I apprehend no danger whatsoever
from anything you may publish, it is open to you to act freely in this
connection. Here is Mr Cayley's book--keep it for any purpose you may
require. I assure your Majesty I fear no ill result will accrue either
from the late Mr Cayley's romance or from the manuscript which you
yourself" (here I gave a start of genuine astonishment) "have been
inditing almost daily in your chamber at Glanymôr. I cannot conceive
either the contemporary pleasure or the ultimate object of your
Majesty's constant occupation with the pen; it may be the old literary
bacillus of Earth that is not yet eradicated from your semi-divine
system; it may be some fanciful desire to benefit the planet of your
birth by showing its leaders that human happiness is not necessarily
involved in human progress, which is the fundamental error of these
modern Herthians; it may be that a sheer sense of humorous amusement
prompts you to this action. But whatsoever your goal, it is clear that
you intend to charge your excellent friend Dr Wayne with the editing
of your manuscript." (Again I gave an involuntary start.) "Be it so.
I have not the wish or the intention to thwart your Majesty in this
innocuous pastime; nor shall I seek to disappoint Dr Wayne in his
hungry expectation of the unveiling of the complicated enigma whose
nature he dimly realises. Indeed, I am anxious to do a service to that
interesting man, for whose hospitality to our errant King on Earth I
am grateful, and whose rare spiritual qualities I admire and respect.
Let him publish what you have written here in Glanymôr; what benefit
can happen to you or what injury to us from proclaiming such a farrago
of the impossible and the improbable? Very few will read the book, and
none will give credence to its contents. Yours is not so much a mad
world, as it has been arraigned by your leading poet, as an unbelieving
world, which rejects with fury of derision all evidence of whatsoever
is not obvious to its recognised scholars and astronomers."

I acquiesced in silence. It was astounding to me to learn that so
much was known of my most private concerns, and I saw little use in
arguing or asking questions. It was evident too that Fajal regarded my
return to Meleager as a settled matter past all debate, and this mental
admission induced in me a welcome sense of peace and deliverance.

Thus we stood on this misty solemn October afternoon beside the grey
placid sea, surely the most extraordinary pair of mortals--if as
mortals we could be faithfully so described--on the surface of the
globe. No sound save the regular silvery tinkle of the tiny waves
lapping on the beach and an occasional movement from the stolid
cart-horse beside us broke the spell of oppressive stillness, so that
when finally Fajal spoke, his voice seemed to proceed from some far-off
unseen place, which had no connection with our present environment.

"Has your Majesty no other aim than to escape the terrors of the grave
in thus deciding once more to exchange your Mother Earth for Meleager?
Do the loyalty and the prayers of your subjects weigh as nothing in the
scales of your predilection? Has your abandoned palace no remembered
charms? Our temple bells, our sunlit city, our shining harbour, our
dawns and our sunsets, do these count for naught? O King, have none
of the fibres of your once generous heart struck root in our soil?
Have you already forgotten your splendour, your kingdom, your people,
your friends in these few weeks spent upon your blood-soaked insurgent
Earth?"

With a look of sorrowful reproach accompanying these words of rebuke,
Fajal bade me examine a small tablet of crystal or of some transparent
substance that he held in the hollow of his left hand. I gladly lowered
my ashamed and burning face in its direction, but could perceive no
more than a mass of variegated colours that seemed to be perpetually
shifting and changing. I strained my eyes for long, vainly seeking to
identify any of the minute objects thus depicted, till at last I ceased
from the attempt in despair of success. With a sigh of resignation,
Fajal now presented me with a pair of large horn-rimmed spectacles,
which I adjusted to my eyes, with the immediate result that the scenes
in the crystal seemed enlarged and clarified. I saw distinctly my
palace at Tamarida with the warm sunbeams flickering on marble pillars
and dancing in golden bars on the frescoed vaulting; I saw the gardens,
cool and umbrageous, with their many fountains spurting their foamy
jets upon the drenched fronds of fern and palm; I saw my aery balcony
with its table of audience and faithful Hiridia standing disconsolate
beside my favourite chair; under the external awnings of blue and
yellow I saw the deep purple line of the harbour beyond the enclosing
balustrade. A veritable wave of nostalgia seemed to engulph me, as I
watched thus every familiar scene of my Meleagrian existence pass in
procession before my gaze.

As a lost soul might gaze on Paradise I beheld the pillared court of
the great temple displayed before me, with its sunlit space filled
with the usual throng of worshippers upon a holy day. There was the
medley of colours, like some huge bed of gorgeous tulips, the white of
the hierarchy, the crimson of the nobles, the green of the merchants,
and the many varied tints of the garments of the populace; what past
memories of my reign did not such a vision evoke in me! I fretted to
be gone, so as to regain that rich and varied crowd beneath that
glowing sky, to reassume my accustomed place of honour and adoration
in their midst. And then, even as I yearned, chafing at the ties which
still bound me to Earth, my companion was able to inflame yet further
my longing to return. With his disengaged right hand he searched
the pocket of his coat and a moment later I beheld in his fingers a
strange-looking instrument bearing some resemblance to the mystical
sistrum of ancient Egypt. Bidding me continue to fix my eyes on the
crystal before me, Fajal waved aloft this curved and stringed spherule,
whereupon a soft murmuring seemed to fill the languid heavy autumnal
air, and this muttering again developed into advancing waves of harmony
that concentrated in an ultimate crashing note of triumph in my very
face. The sounds now appeared to shrink and retreat, now to advance and
expand in volume, but after some moments of vague, desultory, erratic
come-and-go the music at length seemed to collect and pour as through
some invisible funnel into the actual crystal lying in Fajal's palm.
The ambient air was now completely free of its reverberations, and the
music subsided into moderate compass, convenable with the scale and
setting of the variegated scene that still lay exposed on the crystal
tablet. Finally, the compressed sound blended with the multitude of
figures in this miniature reproduction of the temple of Tamarida, so
that I could distinguish the articulation of the many worshippers as
well as the canticles of the choristers wafted from afar to my ears.
So might the Olympian Zeus in heroic days have heard the daily orisons
of his earth-born suppliants, and have sought for the sparse note of
sincerity amidst that vast uproar of human prayer ascending from a
thousand altars to his ivory throne set amidst the unattainable clouds
of highest heaven. But here from Meleager the issuing petition rang out
unanimous, solemn and unfeigned....

I had heard and seen sufficient; there was no more room nor any need
for further colloquy with Fajal. I have but a dim impression of my
hands being saluted, and of my striding rapidly with downcast head from
the beach, leaving my fate behind me in the person of the humble Indian
labourer with the horse and cart. In the waning light of the October
evening I hastened back to the inn, and threw myself on my bed to
digest my latest experience, the ultimate phase of my unique mission.
In an hour's time I had shaken off the bewilderment of my encounter by
the beach, and was able to converse naturally with Dr Wayne. It was
now merely a matter of waiting seven days for the call, and there was
nothing to prevent my passing this brief span of time pleasantly and
profitably. I hope I have done what lay in my power to conciliate Dr
Wayne, with whom I enjoyed some interesting walks in the mild drizzling
weather along the summits of the rocky coast. Once or twice the notion
arose in me of taking the good man into my complete confidence, but
eventually I decided against this course, and confined my efforts to
preparing him for the task of publication of my second manuscript and
of Mr Cayley's book which I shall leave behind me when I am called to
quit this Earth. I have an overwhelming desire to see this purpose
fulfilled, and as Fajal has given me express permission to do so, why
should not I indulge this innocent whim of mine, however useless and
trivial it may be deemed? I think it was Dean Swift who once declared
that the man who contrived to make two blades of grass grow where but
one had bloomed before bestowed more solid advantage on the human race
than all the combined clique of the politicians. So, if I can attract
one convert into seeing through my own experienced eyes that what is
called progress is not the sole thing needful and desirable for this
sorely tried old world of my birth, I shall have accomplished my most
modest aim. I shall have sown a seed of arresting reflection amidst the
rampant tares of self-sufficiency and materialism which now clog the
Herthian soil.

       *       *       *       *       *

It is my last night, my last hour on Earth. Midnight has struck some
time ago, and already the air is resonant with that strange haunting
musical susurration that Fajal's spherule has made familiar to me. My
few preparations are all completed, and I have but to descend quietly,
loosen the bolt of a certain door, cross the haggard, and follow the
path to the headland where the royal vessel awaits the King of Meleager
who now bids farewell for ever and for ever to the World and all that
therein is.




EPIGRAPH

By Charles Wayne, M.D.


The reader who has persisted so far in the present volume will
doubtless recall the fact that the first portion is heralded by a short
foreword from one Edward Cayley, who therein expresses his full belief
in the narrative he publishes. In this preface also he makes allusion
to the traveller Sir W---- Y----, the original finder and owner of
the manuscript. For the sake of convenience and explanation therefore
I shall state here that the Editor of Part I. is the late Mr Edward
Cayley, F.S.A., an official employed in the British Museum, whose book
was issued in the early months of 1913. How this obscure work came into
my possession I shall explain in due course, but I should like to add
here that the book in question evoked no public interest whatsoever,
and that such scanty notices of it as appeared were invariably
unfavourable or contemptuous. Such a fate seems natural enough to me,
for I have long observed how in all publications concerning the occult,
nine out of ten readers are to be found scoffers and unbelievers,
whilst the tenth is over-credulous.

But a few weeks after the appearance of the volume, its editor himself
was far beyond the range of hostile jest or criticism, for one March
evening he was found dead of heart disease in the railway carriage
wherein he was returning to his home at Harrow. Of "the exquisitely
prepared roll of vellum covered with close crabbed writing," as
also of its containing cylinder of some exotic white metal, I have
been assured by Mr Cayley's executor that of neither can a trace be
found--"suddenly, as rare things will, they vanished," though I am
inclined to think that these gentlemen in common with a good many
others of Mr Cayley's friends have never credited their existence save
in the brain of their late owner. Indeed, I am told not a few persons
openly denounced the ill-fated volume as an indiscreet _jeu d'esprit_
of which Cayley himself was both author and editor. As to Sir W----
Y---- I see no reason to withhold the full name of Sir Wardour Yockney,
head of an ancient Kentish house which received its baronetcy so long
ago as the reign of Charles the Martyr. Sir Wardour was a fine shot,
an ardent mountaineer and no mean scholar--alas! that I must use the
aorist here in so speaking of him, for Sir Wardour, who started for
Flanders with a motor car soon after the outbreak of the War, was
described as "missing" so long ago as last October, nor have any
further tidings reached his household concerning his fate.

These two principal witnesses therefore being no longer available,
there remains none to whom I can apply for information, none with whom
it would prove worth my while to communicate. It lies therefore with
myself alone to deal as I may think fit with the manuscript, which
is practically a continuation or sequel of the extraordinary story
already accepted and published as solid truth by Mr Cayley. This second
manuscript was found by me under circumstances I shall presently relate
in the bedroom of a sea-side inn in South Wales. With the narrative was
also a letter addressed to me wherein the writer thanked me in warm and
sincere language for the small amount of assistance and sympathy it had
been my privilege to vouchsafe to him during our past twelve weeks of
companionship on Earth, but the contents of the letter shed no further
light on the subject-matter of the manuscript. In addition to these
there was a copy of Mr Cayley's book, which is already become so scarce
as to be almost unattainable. The contents of this little volume I have
therefore placed at the beginning of the present publication, so that
the reader can follow in due sequence all the amazing adventures of the
writer from the date of his first departure from the Earth to the stars
until the very moment when he voluntarily chose a second time to quit
this planet in order to resume a state of sovereignty whose tragical
interruption he has already described with his own pen.

       *       *       *       *       *

I have always reckoned myself with perfect contentment as a
private person of no importance; _de me igitur nefas omninò loqui_.
Nevertheless, I have been propelled willy-nilly into obtruding some
portion of my personal affairs before the public and in what I conceive
to be the public's true interest. For I myself have been requisitioned,
so to speak, for the solution of some gigantic problem which is of deep
import to our race, and my realisation of this unsought attention on my
part must serve as my excuse for the short biographical details that
follow.

I was born in the year 1853, one of a respectable family of dalesmen in
Cumberland, and after a boyhood wherein the passionate love of solitary
wandering over the wild north country fells seems the only trait I
think worth recording, I was sent to study medicine at Edinburgh. Here
I had a successful if not a distinguished career, and after taking the
required degrees I departed to the East to practise my profession and
to amass the conventional fortune. In the former object I trust I have
performed my duty satisfactorily; and as to the second, I have at any
rate acquired a sufficient pension for the needs of my evening of life.
I have also found alleviation and no small degree of pleasure in my
chosen science, especially in the study of certain tropical diseases,
though my natural inclination for privacy has hitherto prevented my
publishing some interesting notes and observations covering many years'
research in this particular section of medicine. In my domestic life
however I have been less fortunate, for having married an estimable
woman with every prospect of a joint happy existence before us, we
were both deeply wounded in the deaths at rapid intervals of our four
children, a series of blows that I myself, thanks to my profession and
other interests in life, was able to bear with tolerable courage. Not
so my poor partner; from the date of her last boy's loss at Singapore
she could support this prolonged visitation of malign fortune no
longer, and after a short but terrible attack of violent dementia she
relapsed into a permanent condition of apathetic melancholy, from which
she either could not or would not be diverted. I hope and trust I did
all that was possible by patience and calmness to soften her hard lot;
but, needless to say, it was a cheerless home wherein I moved, until
after many years my suffering wife was at last called to rejoin her
lost children.

From the date of her death I devoted myself with increased ardour to
my duties, whilst I occupied my many spare hours in studying with
care and intelligence such literature as deals with the cult of the
supernatural, which has always possessed a singular fascination for
my mind, and has, I feel sure, helped me to sustain with equanimity
hitherto so many slings and arrows of outrageous fortune on this
Earth. The years rolled by, so that in due course I became eligible
for my retiring pension, yet even then I was in no haste to turn my
back on the East, where I had passed practically the whole of my life
since adolescence, for during thirty-seven years of service I had only
twice returned home on short leave. And now, when in professional
decency and according to the custom of my caste I was expected to
resign, I felt small inclination to revisit my native land, where the
only contemporary relative I owned was a married sister living at
Aberdeen. Of my various nephews and nieces I knew nothing, and I felt
a not unnatural dread of being exploited or patronised by a coterie
of self-satisfied young persons of the present generation. At times I
thought of migrating to some sparsely peopled British colony, such as
Western Australia or Tasmania, where the advent of an elderly widower
might possibly be welcome, if only as tending to swell the meagre tale
of the approaching census. I was still hesitating and pondering, when
in July 1914 the tedious question was solved for me rather arbitrarily
in the following manner.

A friend of mine about to revisit England had already engaged and paid
for his passage from Rangoon, and was eagerly looking forward to his
intended holiday, when almost at the last moment the poor fellow met
with a shocking accident, whereby he was so unfortunate as to break
both his legs. Visiting the patient at his house in the capacity of
friend and not as physician, I found Mr ---- in a pitiable state
of lamentation over the money spent on his passage home, which he
regarded as practically lost; indeed, this particular matter seemed to
oppress the invalid even more heavily than his other far more serious
disaster. I reflected a while on the situation, and then deeming it a
special opportunity for me to break from my thraldom of indecision and
simultaneously to perform a real kindness to a brother in distress, I
offered to relieve my sick friend of his ticket and to have his cabin
transferred to myself. As a result of this suggestion I had at least
the satisfaction of the injured man's warm gratitude, though I confess
the homing instinct within me had grown so faint that I could summon
up little or no enthusiasm at this new prospect of a speedy return to
the land of my birth. One external ray of consolation however I was
able to draw from this new arrangement, which was that the _Orissa_
of the Pheon Line, the boat selected by my friend, was timed to sail
on the seventeenth day of the seventh month of the year. I have long
held a secret veneration for the figure seven, and in this case the
circumstance of the benign figures was combined with certain stellar
conjunctions in the heavens on which I need not dwell here.

Be that as it may, this tardy decision to sail on the _Orissa_ at least
put an end to my trials of irresolution, of which I could not help
feeling heartily ashamed; and as the very brief intervening time was
fully employed in packing my effects and in making other preparations
for departure, I was spared the usual cycle of farewell visits of
ceremony which I greatly dreaded. On the day appointed therefore I
found myself settled on the _Orissa_, a comfortable boat, and we
proceeded on our homeward voyage, which proved wholly uneventful
until we reached the Suez Canal. Here for the first time we received
ominous reports of a colossal upheaval amongst the Great Powers of
Europe, whilst our natural alarm was increased tenfold on learning
at Port Said of the impending declaration of war between England and
the German Empire. I shall not linger over the seething excitement on
board our ship as we hurried at full speed through the Mediterranean
in hourly fear of being sighted by the _Goeben_ or some other German
cruiser. It was therefore with an immense sense of relief that we found
ourselves under lee of the guns of Gibraltar before we emerged thence
into the waters of the Atlantic. We were about a day's sail from the
Straits, with the weather still very hot and enervating, although we
were north of the tropics, when at my usual hour for retiring I sought
my cabin. I am generally a light but restful sleeper, and have rarely
experienced even in its most transient form the curse of insomnia; but
on this particular night, which was the seventh of August, I found
myself a prey to a perfect demon of unrest. It was not the effect of
the heat, to which I am thoroughly accustomed; nor was it the strain
and stress of the late intelligence of war, for my extensive reading
in the domain of the supernatural has long divested my mind of all
sublunary foreboding; no, it was, I am convinced, the close approach
of some event of the first magnitude in which I was marked out to
play a considerable part. (But perhaps I am describing my predominant
sensations by the light of subsequent happenings; still I can at least
faithfully aver I was conscious of some imminent crisis that demanded
my fullest energies.)

For several hours I lay thus in my berth, my brain active and alert and
prepared to detect the smallest sound or motion that was suspicious
amid the ordinary routine of ship life during the night watches. But
no such occasion arose, nor was there any conceivable excuse for my
nervous tension and distressing wakefulness, which grew so unbearable
that the first luminous flush of early dawn forced me to leave my bed.
With a deep sigh of relief I vaulted to the floor, donned my overcoat
and slippers, seized my pipe and tobacco pouch, and thus lightly
equipped sought the open air.

Day was breaking with more than the usual riot of variegated colour
over a calm, glassy sea when I reached the boat deck, which I set to
pace hurriedly in order to quieten the throbbings of my unrested brain.
Scarcely had I thrice tramped the planks before I heard a sharp shrill
call from the bridge, and casting my eyes in the direction of the
sound, I observed the officer on watch staring intently at something
high in the air on the port side of the vessel. Leaning over the
taffrail I quickly espied an object in the sky at no great distance
from the _Orissa_--an object which I can best compare in shape to a
huge carp and of a silvery hue in the encroaching sunlight. Even as I
gazed intently, I perceived the thing fall swiftly in a wavering course
till it touched the sea, its actual collapse synchronising with the
blast of the officer's whistle and the tinkle of two bells, for it was
just five o'clock in the morning. All was now bustle, though without
confusion; the steamer's reversed engines echoed with resounding thuds;
the boat deck was peopled by bare-footed seamen who were disengaging
one of the boats from its davits; there were calls for this person and
that, including the ship's doctor, who I knew to be heavily sleeping
off the potations of the previous night. All the hands required were
quickly on the spot with the sole exception of the dissipated surgeon,
whom a steward had hurried below to awaken. But the captain was too
impatient to brook the least delay, and suddenly turning to myself,
begged me to enter the waiting boat instead of the laggard absentee, a
proposal I willingly accepted. Our boat was now lowered to the water;
our swift strokes brought us closer and closer to the scene of the late
mishap; we duly reached the spot. Not a sign of any wreckage, not a
ripple on the surface, only the figure of a solitary survivor swimming
or floating in the tepid crystalline sea.

We steered straight towards the supposed aeronaut and soon pulled
him aboard without difficulty. He was certainly a remarkable man;
slender but of immense height and clothed in a strange outlandish
attire such as I had never seen before; yet he appeared to be of
English or possibly of Scandinavian nationality from the extreme
whiteness of his skin and the flaxen yellow of his hair, which was of
a prodigious length. His eyes were tightly closed and the face was
pallid, but I quickly reassured myself on testing the action of the
heart and pulse that our derelict was practically uninjured by his
recent fall. During our passage back to the _Orissa_, I placed the
rescued man in as comfortable a pose as I could contrive, keeping
his head with its dripping golden mane on my knees. I tried to pour
brandy down his throat, but failed to open the clenched white teeth
that resisted stoutly, and I saw no special reason to persist in my
endeavour. Once during our transit my patient for an instant opened
a pair of great sapphire-blue eyes and smiled faintly up to my face;
and the strangeness of that fleeting glance increased the compassion
and curiosity and interest which had already, naturally enough, been
awakened in me.

Conveyed to my cabin, the strange man had to be stripped of his soaked
garments consisting of a tunic and under-vest of fine texture; a small
bag depending by a chain from his neck he fiercely defended, but
otherwise was tractable enough, and seemed grateful for our attentions
though he never uttered a word. With no small difficulty I managed
to dismiss inquisitive stewards and fellow-passengers and ministered
myself to the needs of my unexpected guest, who finally fell into a
deep refreshing sleep.

Towards evening he awoke, smiled on me graciously, and then extended
his right hand towards me with a gesture that was at once half-wistful,
half-imperious; but when I grasped it according to wont, he seemed
manifestly surprised. This puzzled me, but since that time I have
grown to learn and understand many matters, great and small, which
I failed to comprehend in these early days of our acquaintance. At
first, I confess, I harboured some doubts as to the sanity of my
mysterious stranger, but I soon perceived that though he spoke English
in somewhat halting fashion and his brain worked with some degree of
deliberation, yet of the acuteness of his reasoning powers there could
be no question. In certain appeals of mine he deferred eventually to
my arguments and acknowledged their justice, submitting amongst other
things to have his thick chevelure clipped to a more conventional
length, in order to avoid vulgar comment. After some reflection too
he ultimately agreed with me as to the desirability of his adopting
some name in consonance with the regulations for landing at Liverpool.
Nevertheless, he utterly refused to declare his identity, but merely
kept repeating with a smiling face, "Call me King!" to which pseudonym
of his choice I ventured to add the Christian name of Theodore,
promptly recalling the case of the impoverished King of Corsica on whom
"Fate bestowed a kingdom yet denied him bread," for (quite erroneously)
I then deemed him fully as destitute as that historic royal pauper.

I do not think I need dwell on our subsequent adventures in London
and in Wales, for they have all been amply and faithfully set forth
in the narrative of "Theodore King" himself. In his manuscript he
mentions my name on many occasions in kindly but perhaps not always in
highly flattering terms. Not that I rebel, for I am now well aware how
often my petty scruples and my lack of perception must have irritated
the Superior Being whom I was thus privileged to assist during his
brief sojourn on our Earth. Nor shall I attempt here to analyse the
causes that operated to attach me so closely to the service of one
who drew first my interest, then my devotion, and lastly my whole
fund of loyalty. Imagine me then at an early stage of our strange
alliance as placing myself wholly at the disposal of this stranger,
whose semi-divine attributes I was quick to perceive and acknowledge;
and merely venturing at certain times to proffer such humble aid in
mundane details and trifles as would naturally fall beneath the notice
of a King of Meleager, transported to Earth and torn with celestial
anguish as to his future duties towards his relinquished realm. And in
this blind mental servitude I refuse to see anything dishonourable;
on the contrary, my feeling is that of a man who has for a few moments
been permitted of grace so to clutch at the fringe of the robe of the
Superhuman; as a child of Earth who has succeeded in tracking the
rainbow to its hidden source and bathed his hands in its fabled shower
of golden dew.

Whither our strange alliance was tending or what would eventuate with
regard to my companion, I purposely refrained from debating even with
myself. I merely stood aside and awaited all developments with perfect
calm. I never sought to pry into the nature of the visits of the
outlandish wanderers who pursued our steps both in London and at our
quiet Welsh retreat. Yet I was fully aware of the gradual unravelling
of some wondrous skein of Fate, wherewith I had only an indirect and
subsidiary interest. For "Theodore King" was usually silent, and it was
only during his last days prior to his final disappearance that he ever
exhibited the smallest desire to take me into his confidence, and even
then his statements to me were vague, and rather hinted at services to
be rendered by me in the future than at an elucidation of the past.
At the same time I was not overtaken by surprise when the final event
supervened, and I awoke one morning to find my Superior Being flown
from this Earth whereon he felt so little inclination to linger.

In the manuscript the reader will observe the writer describes his
feelings and movements till the supreme moment of leaving his abode
in order to sail back to Meleager. Up till that point therefore I
shall not presume to interpose my own account, and there is little
further to report after that climax to my unique adventure. It was my
daily custom to enter "Theodore King's" bed-chamber at about eight
o'clock, and on fulfilling my normal visit on the morning of 27th
October I saw at once the bed had never been slept in, whilst a large
package addressed to myself lay in a prominent place on the table. It
contained the manuscript, the copy of Edward Cayley's book, a private
letter to myself and the bag of gems. At the same time I found in
another place an envelope containing a short but perfectly drafted
will signed by Theodore King and witnessed by two persons at Pen
Maelgwyn farm, bequeathing everything he possessed to "his excellent
friend and physician, Charles Wayne, late of Rangoon." Nor had I later
on the least difficulty in obtaining probate. Apparently there was
nothing of value to leave, for I did not think it necessary to mention
the existence of the Meleagrian jewels to any outsider, whilst I was
touched and flattered by the kind thought. I have my own intentions
with regard to applying the considerable sum of money represented by
those splendid gems; and if God in His mercy be pleased to bring back
our unhappy land into the old paths of peace and prosperity I hope to
carry out my plan. But this lies altogether outside the pale of my
present task.

Having mastered the contents of the letter and the concluding portion
of the manuscript I duly aroused the household, affecting an anxiety I
did not feel, for of course I thoroughly understood what had occurred.
An excited crowd, we searched hither and thither for traces of the
missing stranger, and it was not long before Deio, the old ostler,
had made a discovery which did not in the least astonish me. This was
the finding of some clothing held down with heavy stones at the edge
of the promontory only a quarter of a mile from the inn. Here the
demented man, long recognised as an eccentric by the neighbourhood,
must obviously have committed the act of self-destruction by throwing
himself over the cliff into the cold grey surge below. Although it was
wet and stormy, boatmen attempted to find further evidences of the
suicide at the base of the crags, but needless to add their search was
fruitless. There followed the usual tale of police inquiries ending in
nothing; of long columns in the local journals, and of short paragraphs
in the bigger organs of the Press, concerning the mysterious affair at
Glanymôr; but all this excitement died down with a rapidity that might
only have been expected in that period of tense anxiety which marked
the furious campaign on the Belgian frontier towards the close of
October. Interest in the strange occurrence soon flickered out before
such engrossing themes of comment and speculation, even in so remote a
spot as Glanymôr. Certainly a farm-hand at Pen Maelgwyn affirmed he
had heard the buzzing noise of an aeroplane that very night above the
Glanymôr cliffs, despite its being too dark for him to distinguish any
object; and though everybody belittled or disbelieved this statement,
its author stoutly maintained to the last that he was positive he had
not been mistaken in his surmise.

I know John Lewis, the cow-man, was right; and I also know it was the
call of the craft wherein my late companion, the King of Meleager, went
up into a world of light and left me alone and sorrowing here.


THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH

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  CASUALS OF THE SEA

  By William McFee

  THE TRUE DIMENSION

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  THE CREATED LEGEND

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  MARTIN SECKER

  MCMXVI





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