in English, and you do not know English, how can you interpret
what is passing in my mind?"
"Perhaps you have been teaching me English all this while
without
knowing it, Bickley. In any case, it matters little,
seeing that what I read is the thought, not the language with
which it is clothed. The thought comes from your mind to mine--
that is, if I wish it, which is not often--and I interpret it in
my own or other tongues."
"I am glad to hear it is not often, Lady Yva, since thoughts
are generally considered private."
"Yes, and
therefore I will read yours no more. Why should I,
when they are so full of disbelief of all I tell you, and
sometimes of other things about myself which I do not seek to
know?"
"No wonder that, according to the story in the pictures, those
Nations, whom you named Barbarians, made an end of your people,
Lady Yva."
"You are
mistaken, Bickley; the Lord Oro made an end of the
Nations, though against my prayer," she added with a sigh
Then Bickley
departed in a rage, and did not appear again for
an hour.
"He is angry," she said, looking after him; "nor do I wonder.
It is hard for the very clever like Bickley, who think that they
have mastered all things, to find that after all they are quite
ignorant. I am sorry for him, and I like him very much."
"Then you would be sorry for me also, Lady Yva?"
"Why?" she asked with a dazzling smile, "when your heart is
athirst for knowledge, gaping for it like a fledgling's mouth for
food, and, as it chances, though I am not very wise, I can
satisfy something of your soul-hunger."
"Not very wise!" I
repeated.
"No, Humphrey. I think that Bastin, who in many ways is so
stupid, has more true
wisdom than I have, because he can believe
and accept without question. After all, the
wisdom of my people
is all of the
universe and its wonders. What you think magic is
not magic; it is only gathered knowledge and the
finding out of
secrets. Bickley will tell you the same, although as yet he does
not believe that the mind of man can stretch so far."
"You mean that your
wisdom has in it nothing of the spirit?"
"Yes, Humphrey, that is what I mean. I do not even know if
there is such a thing as spirit. Our god was Fate; Bastin's god
is a spirit, and I think yours also."
"Yes."
"Therefore, I wish you and Bastin to teach me of your god, as
does Oro, my father. I want--oh! so much, Humphrey, to learn
whether we live after death."
"You!" I exclaimed. "You who, according to the story, have
slept for two hundred and fifty thousand years! You, who have,
unless I mistake, hinted that during that sleep you may have
lived in other shapes! Do you doubt whether we can live after
death?"
"Yes. Sleep induced by secret arts is not death, and during
that sleep the I within might
wander and
inhabit other shapes,
because it is
forbidden to be idle. Moreover, what seems to be
death may not be death, only another form of sleep from which the
I awakes again upon the world. But at last comes the real death,
when the I is extinguished to the world. That much I know,
because my people
learned it."
"You mean, you know that men and women may live again and again
upon the world?"
"Yes, Humphrey, I do. For in the world there is only a certain
store of life which in many forms travels on and on, till the lot
of each I is fulfilled. Then comes the real death, and after
that--what, oh!--what?"
"You must ask Bastin," I said
humbly. "I cannot dare to teach
of such matters."
"No, but you can and do believe, and that helps me, Humphrey,
who am in tune with you. Yes, it helps me much more than do
Bastin and his new religion, because such is woman's way. Now, I
think Bickley will soon return, so let us talk of other matters.
Tell me of the history of your people, Humphrey, that my father
says are now at war."
Chapter XVIII
The Accident
Bickley did return, having recovered his
temper, since after
all it was impossible for anyone to remain angry with the Lady
Yva for long, and we spent a very happy time together. We
instructed and she was the
humble pupil.
How swift and
nimble was her intelligence! In that one morning
she
learned all our
alphabet and how to write our letters. It
appeared that among her people, at any rate in their later
periods, the only form of
writing that was used was a highly
concentrated shorthand which saved labour. They had no journals,
since news which arrived telepathically or by some form of
wireless was proclaimed to those who cared to listen, and on it
all formed their own judgments. In the same way poems and even
romances were
repeated, as in Homer's day or in the time of the
Norse sagas, by word of mouth. None of their secret knowledge was
written down. Like the
ritual of Freemasonry it was considered
too sacred.
Moreover, when men lived for hundreds of years this was not so
necessary, especially as their great fear was lest it should fall
into the hands of the outside nations, whom they called
Barbarians. For, be it remembered, these Sons of Wisdom were
always a very small people who ruled by the weight of their
intelligence and the strength of their accumulated lore. Indeed,
they could scarcely be called a people; rather were they a few
families, all of them more or less connected with the original
ruling Dynasty which considered itself half
divine. These
families were waited upon by a
multitude of servants or slaves
drawn from the subject nations, for the most part
skilled in one
art or another, or perhaps,
remarkable for their personal beauty.
Still they remained outside the pale.
The Sons of Wisdom did not intermarry with them or teach them
their
learning, or even allow them to drink of their Life-water.
They ruled them as men rule dogs, treating them with kindness,
but no more, and as many dogs run their course and die in the
lifetime of one master, so did many of these slaves in that of
one of the Sons of Wisdom. Therefore, the slaves came to regard
their lords not as men, but gods. They lived but three score
years and ten like the rest of us, and went their way, they,
whose great-great-grandfathers had served the same master and
whose great-great-great-grandchildren would still serve him. What
should we think of a lord who we knew was already adult in the
time of William the Conqueror, and who remained still vigorous
and all-powerful in that of George V? One,
moreover, who
commanded almost
infinite knowledge to which we were denied the
key? We might tremble before him and look upon him as half-
divine, but should we not long to kill him and possess his
knowledge and
therebyprolong our own
existence to his wondrous
measure?
Such, said Yva, was the case with their slaves and the peoples
from
whence these
sprang. They grew mad with
jealous hate, till
at length came the end we knew.
Thus we talked on for hours till the time came for us to eat.
As before Yva partook of fruit and we of such meats as we had at
hand. These, we noticed, disgusted her, because, as she
explained, the Children of Wisdom, unless
driventhereto by
necessity, touched no flesh, but lived on the fruits of the earth
and wine alone. Only the slaves and the Barbarians ate flesh. In
these views Bickley for once agreed with her, that is, except as
regards the wine, for in theory, if not in practice--he was a
vegetarian.
"I will bring you more of the Life-water," she said, "and then
you will grow to hate these dead things, as I do. And now
farewell. My father calls me. I hear him though you do not. To-
morrow I cannot come, but the day after I will come and bring you
the Life-water. Nay, accompany me not, but as I see he wishes it,
let Tommy go with me. I will care for him, and he is a friend in
all that
lonely place."
So she went, and with her Tommy, rejoicing.
"Ungrateful little devil!" said Bickley. "Here we've fed and
petted him from puppyhood, or at least you have, and yet he skips
off with the first stranger. I never saw him
behave like that to
any woman, except your poor wife."
"I know," I answered. "I cannot understand it. Hullo! here
comes Bastin."
Bastin it was, dishevelled and looking much the worse for wear,
also minus his Bible in the native tongue.
"Well, how have you been getting on?" said Bickley.
"I should like some tea, also anything there is to eat."
We supplied him with these necessaries, and after a while he
said slowly and solemnly:
"I cannot help thinking of a
childish story which Bickley told
or invented one night at your house at home. I remember he had an
argument with my wife, which he said put him in mind of it, I am
sure I don't know why. It was about a
monkey and a
parrot that
were left together under a sofa for a long while, where they were
so quiet that everybody forgot them. Then the
parrot came out
with only one
feather left in its tail and none at all on its
body,
saying, 'I've had no end of a time!' after which it dropped
down and died. Do you know, I feel just like that
parrot, only I
don't mean to die, and I think I gave the
monkey quite as good as
he gave me!"
"What happened?" I asked,
intensely interested.
"Oh! the Glittering Lady took me into that palace hall where
Oro was sitting like a
spider in a web, and left me there. I got
to work at once. He was much interested in the Old Testament
stories and said there were points of truth about them, although
they had
evidently come down to the modern writer--he called him
a modern writer--in a legendary form. I thought his remarks
impertinent and with difficulty refrained from
saying so. Leaving
the story of the Deluge and all that, I spoke of other matters,
telling him of
eternal life and Heaven and Hell, of which the
poor benighted man had never heard. I
pointed out especially that
unless he
repented, his life, by all accounts, had been so
wicked, that he was certainly destined to the latter place."
"What did he say to that?" I asked.
"Do you know, I think it frightened him, if one could imagine
Oro being frightened. At any rate he remarked that the truth or
falsity of what I said was an
urgent matter for him, as he could
not expect to live more than a few hundred years longer, though
perhaps he might
prolong the period by another spell of sleep.
Then he asked me why I thought him so
wicked. I replied because
he himself said that he had drowned millions of people, which
showed an evil heart and
intention even if it were not a fact. He
thought a long while and asked what could be done in the
circumstances. I replied that
repentance" target="_blank" title="n.悔悟,悔改;忏悔">
repentance and
reparation were the
only courses open to him."
"Reparation!" I exclaimed.
"Yes,
reparation was what I said, though I think I made a
mistake there, as you will see. As nearly as I can remember, he
answered that he was
beginning to
repent, as from all he had
learned from us, he gathered that the races which had
arisen as a
consequence of his action, were worse than those which he had
destroyed. As regards
reparation, what he had done once he could
do again. He would think the matter over
seriously, and see if it
were possible and
advisable to raise those parts of the world
which had been sunk, and sink those which had been raised. If so,
he thought that would make very handsome
amends to the
departednations and set him quite right with any superior Power, if such