Part 9

“We were swept by the fury of the waves upon a high white beach, where a group of natives who had seen the wreck were waiting for the storm to subside, with the intention of plundering the ship. I found that we had merely exchanged one form of death for another and a crueler one. We were seized, bound hand and foot, and thrown upon the ground to await the tribe’s decision of our fate upon the morrow. That night, while I lay awake wondering what the outcome would be, a young native woman, whose sinewy strength had caught my eye during the day, slipped up to where I lay alone at a distance from the others, and with incredible swiftness cut the thongs that bound me. Putting her finger to her lips significantly, she motioned me to follow. One fate was as bad as another, if they all meant death, and I did not hesitate.

“She went across the island, walking so swiftly that it was all that I could do to keep up. Not once did she look back, or seem to think of me. She went straight on, as if impelled by fear. I have no idea how far we walked. When at length she paused with a gesture that made me know that the journey was at an end, the day was not far off. We had crossed the island, and again the sea lay before us.

“The shore was different here. It was repellent and stern, like the coast of La Bas Bretagne which I had known in my gloomy childhood. Rocks sloped in sharp declivity to the water, which looked threatening and black.

“Going up to one of the rocky walls, she pointed to an opening beneath, and went in a little way, motioning me to follow. There I saw a stairway hewn from the living rock, and descending into the bowels of the earth. Although it seemed at first glance to be perpendicular, it sloped slightly toward the water, at whose edge we had entered, so I knew that whatever pathway lay beyond must lead beneath the sea.

“She crouched down upon the stair beside me and, stretching out one long bare arm, pointed down, down, down--once, twice, thrice--meaning that there I must go. Then she took from her back a bag-shaped basket and handed it to me. In it were food and drink.

“Like a whirr of yellow swords, the first sun-rays pierced the sky. As if frightened to see the day so soon, she bounded up the stairs and was gone. To go back meant death; to go on meant I knew not what. But the chance of a life hung in the balance, so I went on.

“The stairs led downward between smooth walls of rock. How far I do not know. I counted the steps until I could count no longer. My brain grew dizzy and refused to work. I sat down and buried my face in my hands to recover poise. I got up and went on, and again my brain refused to count the infinite steps. Again I had to give it up.

“The opening above, which for a time shed light plentifully upon me, became a distant pin-point, then vanished, and inky blackness surrounded me. I should have felt like one buried alive, had it not been for the fresh air that swept between the perpendicular walls of this canal-way.

“But what awaited me at the bottom? Was it water, black and silent and of fathomless depth--impassable, mysterious water that had never reflected the stars or the sun? Was I to find myself upon the edge of an abyss whose depth I could sense but could not estimate?

“What torturing fear and suspense did I not suffer, as I descended that frightful stairway! Suppose my foot slipped and I should fall! What then! But she, my guide of the night, had motioned that I was to follow the stairway. She had not crossed the island merely to bring about my death. It was her intention to save me. I must have faith in her. There was no other way. I summoned fresh courage and crept down the blackness.

“I lost all account of time as hours go. But judging by my weariness and hunger when I reached the level, I think I must have put in a good part of a day in descending that frightful stairway. At the bottom I found myself in a smooth and level road enclosed between walls of granite.

“But the silence and the darkness--how can I tell you what they were? Such silence drives men mad. The darkness was like velvet in its black impenetrableness. It seemed to fall upon my face and stifle me. Nothing disturbed the silence. Even the wind slipped noiselessly through this grave of granite. And it had come so far that it had freed its wings of the scents of the world of light, of the sea and of the earth. No message from the world above came here. Not a sound broke the silence. From the walls of barren rock no dust clods fell to tell of the ceaseless, weaving life of the earth. Adown their sides no water tinkled. Along the road there was not even the friendly whirr of a dried leaf blown by the wind. Nothing! Nothing!

“After I had traveled for a time and the silence had heaped its leaden weight upon me, I shrieked. I could restrain myself no longer. I cried out with all the strength of lung that I possessed, and the granite walls sent back a million, broken-voiced echoes to beat about my ears.

“For days I traveled on like this, pausing only to eat and sleep. I had lost reckoning of time, of night, of day. I heard only the measured sound of my own steps. I do not know how many days and nights had passed like this, when I found that the road was leading upward. It became narrower and steeper. I brushed the rock walls as I walked; I could scarcely squeeze between them. I did not fear. The sound of my steps had dulled my brain. Darkness had paralyzed the power to think.

“Above my head the roof lowered till I could no longer stand erect. I fell upon my knees and crept forward. The wind changed; it freshened. I thought it brought a scent of the sea. Suddenly thick leaves barred the way. I brushed through them, and the star-splendid circle of a tropic night swept into view.

“I was in the garden of a spacious residence that crowned an elevation. Below me a white city lay, and around and beyond the sea. How I drank in the air! How I rejoiced in the sleepy rustle of leaves and grass, and in the regained face of the earth!

“The city which presented itself to my eyes was arranged in the form of a wheel, whose hub was the dwelling in the garden where I stood. From the dwelling the streets radiated like spokes, and at the end of each, terminating at the island’s edge, shone the sea. Around the eminence spread a circular park of considerable breadth, adorned with flowers and statues. Around this lay a smooth wide road, bordered at regular intervals with slender palms, whose leaves in the windless night were motionless. Opposite, the city streets began, and each was headed by a building of great beauty, so that beyond the park and the roadway rose a circular sweep of noble buildings. At regular distances from the central starting-point, each street was interrupted by a small circular space of greensward, and these, uniting, made a driveway around the city.

“I chose at random one of the paths that intersected the garden and followed it. Since I was the toy of chance, I determined to resign myself bravely. After a detour the path led toward the dwelling, blended with one of its marble walks, and ended at the foot of a staircase. I climbed the stairs and entered an uncovered corridor of white marble. After walking to the end, I found it closed by a smooth and rounded stone. I touched it. It swung open, enfolding and sweeping me within its circle, and then closed silently behind me. Impenetrable draperies of silk hung in front of me, brushing my face. I parted them and entered the strangest room I ever saw.

“It was long and of unusual height. The top was uncovered and let in the tropic night. Around the edge of the top of the walls a rim of opal glass projected, upon which a glass ceiling was folded back, to be used in case of need. There were no pictures in the room, nor were there decorations or adornment of any kind. The four walls were hung uniformly in curtains of heavy white silk, which fell in straight folds to the floor.

“There was no air moving. Indeed, I remembered the night outside to have been singularly windless. Yet these white curtains shivered and swayed with a sibilant and silken murmur. Across their surface gold lines and figures swept. An endless chain of golden phantoms girdled the spacious chamber. From the walls bright forms leaped with a burst of light, and then faded back to whiteness. Round and round swept a glittering, changing pageant, impalpable and soundless. Sometimes the gold within the witch-wrought silk blazed forth until the air gleamed with yellow light that dimmed the stars. Anon it paled to such a vague misty radiance as engirdles a winter moon. But always there was change and light and motion and the rustle of swayed silk. If I examined the curtains closely, if I took them up in my hands, I found that they were colorless and uniformly white. But if I let them fall again, and stepped a foot away to look at them, gold light and flashing form leaped out to startle me.

“There were times when the gold wall-light faded and a dim brilliancy took its place. Occasionally, too, a silver light inspirited the restless curtains, pallid frost-shine filled the room, and horizontal lines of silver swept round the walls. When the silver lines grouped themselves into form and being, it was as if lustrous spirits danced airily a ghost dance of joy, now flashing for an instant into vivid life, now paling and fading into silver mist that still retained their gracious contours.

“There was no furniture save a long, narrow, bed-like pedestal or support of ivory, which stood in the center of the room. Upon this rested a mammoth sickle likewise of ivory, formed like the new moon, and within its hollow curve there lay--how shall I tell you!--was it a woman wrapped in lustrous gauze, or was it a mammoth opal that bore a woman’s form? Standing beside the figure and looking down, I could not tell. Beneath the pallid surface colors glowed like tint of flesh with jewels upon it. Again, they seemed to be only the fiery flash of an opal’s heart, and the surface became icily cold.

“I discovered plainly once or twice the long, noble lines of a figure relaxed as if in sleep. Within the white stone floated the gracious semblance of a woman, yet far away and insubstantial, like colors seen in a dream. Sometimes I thought the figure breathed, but by the light of those moving curtains I could not tell. They kept up such a tremor of shifting brightness that my own body became unreal and no longer seemed to belong to me. They dazzled my senses and broke my chain of reasoned thinking. I was adrift with nothing to guide me. When at length I turned from contemplation of the mysterious figure to find again, if possible, the place of exit, in the wall-labyrinth of weaving light, some power which I could not but obey compelled me to pause on a sudden and look back.

“There, standing upright by the moon’s ivory horn, was the opal woman. The tangling gauze which covered her--which I had not dared to touch to find if it were gauze or the smooth cold surface of a stone--had slipped to her feet, where it billowed white like foam. She was taller than the average woman and more slender, yet withal muscularly built and round. Hers was the body of Pallas.

“An apron-like corselet of flexible gold, woven in open-work squares, fitted her smoothly, falling evenly to her feet, but opened to the waist on either side. Beneath this from the waist downward fell something silken and white, softening the sharp outline of the gold. In each little open-work square of the corselet hung a pink gem, and between her breasts was set a ruby.

“Her hair, which was thick and of a bronze color, was arranged in great coils on either side of her head, completely covering her ears. In the center of each coil shone a ruby that matched in size and color the one between her breasts. From these rubies, and attached to them, extended a net of tiny pearls, covering her hair and holding it securely in place.

“So absorbed was I in contemplation of her person, that I forgot that word was due from me. When at length I lifted my eyes to hers, it was as if along with the conquest of my senses the conquest of my mind had been completed. They seemed to enfold and sweep me within a sea of light where all things were foreign to my will.

“Notwithstanding her strange and fantastic costuming, which at once revealed and enhanced the beauty of her body, I knew that this was no vain coquette. This was not a woman to find pleasure in vulgar admiration. Her costume I felt to be the result of some ideal of life, of beauty, which was the ruling passion of her mind. Calmly and in silence we looked at each other. In my face surprise and admiration struggled. She, however, was undisturbed and looked back at me serenely.

“Even then, before a word had been exchanged between us, I felt that her life and her ideal of life were altogether dissimilar to my own, that mentally we were the opposite each of the other. Within her I sensed unsoundable depths of peace and calm, which had their origin in some mental possession to which I was an alien. I measured then the abyss that lay between us.

“She was as richly colored and as gorgeous as a canvas, yet in her bearing there was nothing that hinted of pride or self-consciousness. I shall never forget that first glimpse of her. The picture is printed indelibly upon my brain, despite the years that have intervened--so vividly, indeed, that nothing has been able to dim it. For me it has dulled all other visions. Judge of it by the fact that I had known more or less well the beauties of Paris, and that I was accustomed to the luxurious gowning of the French city. It was only a few seconds that we stood there, and yet--so vivifying is the power of beauty--it was time enough for a world of fancies to sweep my brain.

“Her eyes were two flowers set within the petaled pallor of her face. Wide, straight-fronting eyes of chastest blue they were, whose vivid vitality was softened by an inner and a spiritual flame. Her face symbolized the dream-white city which I had seen outside in the night. And the changing light-splendor of that wondrous room was caught up and concentrated there. As I stood looking at her, a thousand vague and vanishing glimpses of remembered loveliness came back to haunt me. There was something about her that shut off thought connection with the active world of fact, and set one adrift among the pages of the painters. Despite her slenderness and her purely womanly beauty she was strong and masterful. She suggested the “virile note of great art.”

“In silence I stood and waited for her to speak. In a voice whose calmness was like the azure flame within her eyes, she said:

“‘You were not going away, were you? Stay and be my guest. Besides, you know, you cannot go. There is no way.’

“‘Nothing could give me greater pleasure than to be your guest--for a time,’ I added.

“‘For a time?’

“‘Yes; then I must go back to Europe, to my home--to France.’

“‘Home? Yes, yes; of course--but how can you! You are in the Opal Isles.’

“‘And where are they?’

“A strange look crossed her face, but so swiftly that I could not tell whether it was perplexity or grief.

“‘The Opal Isles--they--they--are in the center of the shoreless sea where the white wave circles. And I am Asra.’

“‘But there are steamers, of course; I can--’

“‘Never mind to-night. That can wait, can it not?’ She touched a hidden spring that summoned a servant. ‘The blue room.’ Then, turning to me, she said: ‘He will give you clothing suitable to our life and climate. Good night.’

“‘Good night,’ I repeated in a daze.

“After nearing the curtain behind which the servant had disappeared and stood waiting, I looked back. Asra lay silent and white, as I had first seen her, between the pale crescent’s ivory horns. Again she seemed to be not a woman, but a gigantic opal, beneath whose surface a rainbow slept. The curtains had begun their sibilant whispering again, and from them leaped gold phantoms in a dance of joy. Nearer and nearer to the ivory moon they circled. They formed a glittering cordon about it, weaving of bright motion a visible song of sleep. When the long curtains fell behind me, I thought: ‘Perhaps it has all been a dream,’ I did not know. I could not tell.

“‘This is the guest-room,’ the servant said, breaking in upon my reverie. ‘It tells of the supremacy of the sea. Here are your clothes. Good night.’

“The room was similar to the one I had left. Like it, it was roofless. Like it, too, it was walled in white silk. Within the silk slumbered not gold and silver, but the mysteries of the sea. I saw depth on depth of translucent water of every varying shade, running the entire gamut of blues and greens, within which gem-winged fish, slim silvery serpents, and strange iridescent sea-life swam. It was as if I looked through leagues of water, as one looks across a level prairie. Sometimes the water was blue and warm and pierced by sunlight. Again it was black-green and angry. Sometimes a cold light shivered this soundless ocean, a great wave came rolling in, crested with pale foam the color of fear. At the moment when it seemed ready to break and shed its tumbling waters over me, it vanished and the white silk trembled crisply. I remembered what Asra had said of the white wave that circles the shoreless sea. The servant, too, had spoken of the supremacy of the sea. I felt that in both expressions there was concealed a threat, or at least a deeper meaning. Unbidden came the thought that perhaps the Opal Isles and the people who dwelled within them were somehow at the mercy of the sea.

“When I stretched myself out upon the narrow ivory bed in the center of the room, I still continued to watch the curtains, in the dim wonder of approaching sleep. I was conscious of their beauty and their magic, but I no longer felt any desire to solve a mystery where all was mystery. As I fell asleep I wondered if I, too, would be transformed into an opal. Why not? Are we not all opals by day and night, white flesh opals beneath whose surface flashes the flame of imagination?

“When I went downstairs the next day dressed in a white tunic worn after the manner of the Greek costume, I found that I had slept the greater part of the day. On the way a servant met me and led me to a room where Asra awaited me. She wore the wonderful costume of the evening before. The sight of her brought back the golden phantoms of which she seemed to be an embodied one. I wondered if, when I approached her, she would vanish and the pallor of space confront me. I had ceased to trust the testimony of my senses. But she stood there calmly smiling, the swinging pink corselet gems swaying with the movement of her breath.

“When I went up to her, she held out her hand frankly and wished me good morning. I was more surprised to find that she was real, that she did not vanish at my approach, than if, upon the instant, a dozen phantoms had leaped to take her place. The little hand within my own was warm and white. Here was the first reality. In gratitude I bent over it. As I lifted my head, bright sunlight swept in from the open side of the room and swathed her about like a robe. Color became sound. I saw then their relationship to fearlessness and joy.

“With the new clothes I put on a new life--a lighter, freer, happier life. The black-robed world which I had known seemed far away. Suddenly it seemed to have been a sort of slavery. I saw it fettered with restraints and prejudices. I saw it bowed of back and weary. I drew a deep breath as of one pleasantly released, as if prison doors had opened and shown me light.

“Laughing, Asra came to where I stood and clasped upon my upper arm a bracelet of opals.

“‘Now you are a subject of the Opal Isles! Now there is no retreat.’

“I looked down upon the glittering gems. Each stone was emitting sparklets of cold green light, as if in anger at me, an interloper. While I was watching almost in fear its malevolent shine, a servant entered and asked Asra if she wished to drive as usual at that hour. She looked toward me questioningly.

“‘Nothing could give me greater pleasure,’ I replied, to the unuttered question in her eyes. ‘I should like to see the city by day.’

“As we drove along, I saw that there were other cities and other islands, a dozen or more perhaps. They had been hidden from me the evening before by the luminousness of the night, which had made them a part of the distance. Between the islands little red-sailed boats fluttered, but nowhere was the long, black smoke-ribbon of a steamer to be seen.

“‘Where are the Opal Isles?’ I questioned, turning to Asra. ‘I never heard the name before. I’m sure I never dreamed of cities of white marble on the other side of the earth.’

“I told you last night,’ she replied evasively, ‘that they are in the center of the shoreless sea, where the white wave circles.’

“I fancied then, as I looked out across the shining water, that something white and ominous like foam bounded the far horizon. She followed my glance. When again she looked toward me, I thought that within her eyes I read fear, but the look vanished as quickly as it came, and the old serenity took its place.

“‘That does not tell me where I am--“in the center of the shoreless sea”--that only helps to lose me the more.’

“‘What difference does it make where one is, if one is happy? How could happiness be situated upon a map!’

“‘But are there no steamers, no seafaring vessels?’ I insisted, looking out beyond the islands where the smooth water stretched to the horizon, unfurrowed of prow or oar.