Part 9

“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.

“‘Of course not! Why should there be? When one reaches the Land of the Ideal, where everything is exactly as one would have it, is it reasonable to suppose that any one would wish to go away?’

“‘Very true. But how do they get here?’

“‘How did you?’

“‘But I mean others. How do _they_ get here?’

“‘There is only one road that can lead to a land like this. They who are fit find it.’

“‘But do not all roads lead two ways?’

“‘All but this one.’

“‘I yield. There is no use in questioning the Sphinx.’

“We were driving through streets lined with marble buildings and bordered on either side by smooth parkways. At frequent intervals along the greensward were statues, decorative urns, shrubs, and flowers. Each building, whatsoever its size, extent, or purpose, was a little work of art and formed a helpful part of the general grouping. Nowhere was there anything ugly or unsightly. Nowhere was there a false color or an immature line. It was as if the people had worked together with the single aim of making their city faultless. They seemed to know that ugly things are immoral.

“On the larger buildings I noticed that the decorations were frequently suggestive of the sea, as if in some remote age the city had risen from its depth. Carved upon the marble were shells, fish, trailing vines and weeds whose graceful sinuosities told of the swinging of tides. When we crossed one of the long spoke-like streets which swept from the center to the edge of the island, I saw that at its end, upon the turf that met it at right angles, there was a group of statuary. Asra told me that similar groups stood at the end of each street where it touched the sea. This group represented dancing nymphs pausing suddenly in the last wild round of some ecstatic dance, uplifted to toe-tips by motion-mad draperies, with muscles tense, up-strained to slimmest height, heads flung back, holding to their lips, trumpet-wise, fluted shells, through which they were flinging defiance at the deep. This picture stuck in my memory. It was like a pin prick of fear. In the smiling water it made me see a menace and a danger.

“There were buildings in the city which had a look of great age. They were yellow and mottled and streaked faintly with fine lines of gray. Their architecture was strange. It was simple and dignified, but as alien as the flora of an unknown land. The light fell upon these ancient buildings tenderly, with none of the harsh obtrusiveness of unshaded white. It was like a retrospective thought where unpleasant things seen in the flattering mirror of the past have lost their harshness. High above the city rose the grace of palms, and in all directions shone blue water.

“Then began a life which lasted too brief a time and which I have never ceased to regret; a life where all the standards of living were reversed. How shall I tell you?

“Beauty, not gold, was king!--the intelligent appreciation, the creation of beauty. They called it the spirit of life made visible. There was no religion, no church; in their stead they had placed fearlessness and joy and kindness. If you can imagine what the result would be to take away wealth as the objective goal of a nation’s endeavor, you will gain an idea of what I mean.

“Gradually in our walks and drives, or in our sails upon the water, Asra instructed me in the new life, until I was beginning to forget the old. At least I had reached the point where there was no desire of return. I will not enter into tiresome details of the island people and their ways, because the most important part is what came later and its effect upon my life.

“Perhaps two weeks had elapsed since my arrival in the Opal Isles when Asra asked me to visit with her a little rocky islet, the farthest and most outlying of the Opal group, whence a fine view was to be had of the island cities, and the great sea to westward. At her suggestion, we took along a hamper of food, that we might spend the day if we wished. I managed the red-sailed boat, and we went alone.

“Rocky and grim the island rose from the water, like the summit of a mountain whose base had been submerged by the tides. Near the shore on one side, opposite the landing, stood a graceful little pavilion, a place of rest and shelter from the too direct rays of the sun. Within were seats and a table.

“At one end of the pavilion the rock walls were near and rose high above its roof. In the wind-sheltered crevices an airy blue flower grew that resembled the anemone. There were occasional ferns, too. Other vegetation there was none. The shore was strewn with dull, copper-colored seaweeds of sharply indented edges. They resembled hairy tentacles, long eager sea-arms reaching from the deep to drag us down.

“Asra wore the dress in which I had first seen her, the gold open-work corselet, with the swinging pink stones and giant rubies. As I looked at her, the light struck a flame from the ruby above her heart, and I noticed that its color was that of the crimson sail. I remembered how I had watched it upon the misty water, and how I had thought that it was the color of life, when life is lived bravely.

“‘I am glad of your mood to-day,’ she said, divining my thoughts. ‘Why can you not always be like this? Why can you not always be dominant and fearless? That is the way to live. I do not understand you when you are sad.’

“‘Nor I myself.’

“‘Why is it then?’

“‘The mystery of things, perhaps. I do not know exactly. Perhaps it is because I wonder where I am.’

“‘What possible difference can place make if we are happy?’

“‘Perhaps it is because I fear the day will come when I must go away.’

“A deep light shone in her eyes. The thought flashed through my brain that here was such a face as dwells forever in the depth of our ideals.

“‘But why need you go? What is there in the old world that you want? Stay here with me.’

“‘Do you mean it, Asra?’ I cried, all but smothered with the joy that burst upon my senses.

“‘Yes, why not?’

“‘Then this life is mine forever!’ I exclaimed, hastening toward her, while she waved me gently away.

“‘To the fearless all things belong.’

“‘Asra!’ I cried, the wild joy still beating in my brain.

“Again she waved me away. ‘See!’ She spread a paper before me which she had taken from a slender chatelaine swinging from her waist. ‘This is the permission for me to choose whom I wish--you if I wish.’

“‘And you do wish, Asra?’

“‘Otherwise would I have told you? It depends upon you. There are conditions. You must banish fear, doubt, sadness, forever. Do you understand? If you were unable, it would mean ruin--such ruin as you do not know. You must be sure of yourself.’

“‘Anything that lies within my power I will do. But is this within my power? Can I be sure? Can I know?’

“I looked out over the sea. The broad light fell full upon it, and a myriad merry eyes looked back at me. Its voice reached me. I listened. The meaning was unmistakable. It was the undying laughter of the pagan gods. At night, too, I remembered, its voice had reached me; and I shivered to think that it was a dirge then, that it sang an eternal dirge. And between these two voices of nature--the two voices that call forever, the laughter and the dirge--what was there? The ideal! Yes, the ideal, desirable and unattainable, forever, between the laughter and the dirge.

“‘Now you have reached it!’ she exclaimed, breaking in upon my thinking. ‘You were sure to. Now you will conquer. Put the other world behind you. Annihilate it with your fearlessness. Be mine!’

“Her face inspirited me. Courage, like wine, strengthened my veins. I felt that I had been lifted into a high and rarefied element. The moments became lyric and sped onward with the lilt of song.

“‘I will not fail you. I will live with you upon your height of joy. I will prove that I am worthy.’

“I clasped her in my arms, and the face which was like the realization of a dream was near to mine.

“‘I knew it!’ she exclaimed, disengaging herself gently from my embrace.

“For the moment I moved in an element of lightness and joy, freed from fear, superstition, and corroding care. I began to realize that joy is the most important thing in the world, the most pregnant of possibility and power. I saw a new world, a new sky, and a new earth. Beneath her mighty touch, I saw as if for the first time the face of the morning upon the level water. I looked across it. My fancy peopled with triumphant phantoms the immeasurable distances that lay beyond. Worlds on worlds sprung up in space over which joy floated like a victorious banner and whose roadways were threaded by the gleaming feet of love. I saw victorious and triumphant things; white arms up-flung, red lips that shrilled in song; bright helmet plumes blown back like flame; and between them the white, glorious face of the woman I loved. Joy had strung my mind to a finer pitch. It had given it temporarily the strength and the suppleness of steel. Like a thin and glittering sword of unbreakable metal, joy stood, unsheathed of grief and formidable forever, between me and the destructive forces of life. Nothing now could diminish my power. I had found that for which we are created.

“Wherever the mysterious roads of life might lead, it was joy that waited for me at the end. All the beautiful, unalterable things in whose creation joy had been dominant came thronging to enrich my senses.

“‘You are right. Joy is the greatest thing in the world. It is the alkahest, the universal solvent, in which beauty becomes fluid, and, like a returning tide of ocean, flows in and makes fecund the barren coves and inlets of the soul.’

“‘Put away all that you have known in the past,’ she answered quickly. ‘Forget that there was ever another way of living, another land. Be mine wholly. If you are worthy, the reward will not be slight.’

“‘The past is as if it had not been. It is a tide that has slipped back again into the deep.’

“‘And it has washed away the writing on the sand. Look!’ She pointed to the sea. ‘Like its deep the soul is. Nothing can sully it.’

“As a lark rises in space, its only connection with the dim earth being ribbons of fluted sound, so did my ecstatic vision rise and hold me high above, where petty griefs could not pull me down and where in my focusing point of light I could draw what I wished up unto myself.

“‘I promise, Asra.’

“‘Then I choose you,’ she answered solemnly, a strange new note of warning ringing in her voice.

“I felt as if the horses of the sun had whirled me to the heights of light. Swift air lashed my ears. Glory inundated my senses. I felt the vertigo of happiness. I saw poise beneficently above me then the vision of love--the glittering, gold-cloud vision of love as it is painted by tone in the overture to _Lohengrin_. When it passed, the elastic swing of my vision, which had attained height sufficient to embrace all things, brought before me, by power of contrast, the black, autumn coast of La Bas Bretagne, as I had seen it in my gloomy childhood. The shore was strewn with rocks, like this one, and, perched upon them, much as was this gay pavilion, stood a church, somber and dark with age. Upon the tower a huge dark crucifix stood, whose black shadow fell far below. I saw again that cold autumnal sea; the slow-swinging ridges of dim water, where the black cross wavered, and between which poised black boats, over whose edges from time to time passed sadly the cold, silent creatures of the sea. The bright vision faded. I fell from my height of joy. It was as if I spun down infinitudes of space, light, like sound, ringing as I went.

“‘Asra, you swept me with you to a dizzy height, where, for a few moments, I saw the splendor of the worlds unfurl. But I cannot keep it. My eyes grow dim; my senses are blurred. A thousand fears assail me. I am afraid of the heights. I cannot live there calmly. I am not equal to it.’

“‘What do you mean?’ Again there was that solemn note of warning that shook my soul.

“‘Do not fail me now. You do not realize what it would mean. You do not dream what would come.’

“Again I saw the cold gray sky of France. The dim water ridges again swung toward me, and upon them lay blackly the shadow of sorrow. Doubts and fears like a demon army fell upon me. They overcame me; they crushed me.

“‘Asra, what of that dark ocean whose name is death?’

“‘What of that!’ she replied in scorn. ‘I do not fear it. Put all such thoughts behind you. Be brave! Let us intoxicate ourselves with living, with fancies, dreams, exquisite sensations. The present cannot last. Therefore make it perfect. Since Life is a guest whom we may not ignore if we would, does it not behoove us to be royal entertainers?’

“No more could that impassioned voice arouse me, nor the eyes, that filled my soul with light. The earth had claimed me. Supinely I fell back upon its breast. Never again could she lift me to the heights.

“‘I am not worthy of you, Asra. Can you forgive me?’ I said, folding her in my arms and pressing my lips to hers.

“When my lips touched hers, a change passed over her. She was standing close beside me, and yet she seemed to be distant, to have moved away.

“‘Oh, the folly! Why did you not listen to me! Why did you not bury yourself in your dream and forget! Why did you not content yourself with looking! There are things made only to dream of--that vanish at the touch. Good is not good until it is useless,’ she added enigmatically.

“‘The ideal must never be reached. _Look!_’ Wildly her voice rang out.

“I followed the direction of her eyes and her pointing hand.

“‘The white wave!’

“The sky-line was blurred beneath on-rushing water, white and thunderous and fearful.

“‘What does it mean, the white wave?’

“‘Did I not warn you? Come, save yourself while there is time!’

“She unclasped the bracelet from my arm and flung it down. She led me toward the rock that towered at the end of the pavilion. After walking some distance around its projection upon the sand, we came to a dark and narrow opening. There, handing me the food hamper, she said: ‘Go straight ahead! Go! Go!’

“‘But you--will you not go too? What of you?’

“‘No, no! No matter. There is not time to tell you. Do as I wish. Go quickly.’

“I looked across the sea. I saw the towering water. Its icy breath fanned my face. Its pale crest reached the zenith. Sprayed foam beads fell from it like marbles and dotted the blue ahead. The red sail of our boat fluttered in fear. Without pausing to think or to reason, I picked Asra up in my arms and darted with her into the black opening. It was the work of an instant. There was not time for word or argument.