Part 26 (1/2)
She ceased abruptly, for he, convinced now of the certainty of Immortality, was suddenly moved to a strange access of courage and resolution. Something sweet and subtle stirred in him,--a sense of power,--a hint of joy, which completely overcame all dread of death.
Old love revived, grew stronger in his soul, and his gaze rested on the shadowy form beside him, no longer with horror but with tenderness. She was Ziska-Charmazel,--she had been his love--the dearest portion of his life--once in the far-off time; she had been the fairest of women--and more than fair, she had been faithful! Yes, he remembered that, as he remembered Her! Every curve in her beautiful body had been a joy for him alone; and for him alone her lips, sweet and fresh as rosebuds, had kept their kisses. She had loved him as few women have either heart or strength to love, and he had rewarded her fidelity by death and eternal torment! A struggling cry escaped him, and he stretched out his arms:
”Ziska! Forgive--forgive!”
As he uttered the words, he saw her wan face suddenly change,--all the terror and torture pa.s.sed from it like a pa.s.sing cloud,--beautiful as an angel's, it smiled upon him,--the eyes softened and flashed with love, the lips trembled, the spectral form glowed with a living luminance, and a mystic Glory glittered above the dusky hair! Filled with ecstasy at the sight of her wondrous loveliness, he felt nothing of the coldness of death at his heart,--a divine pa.s.sion inspired him, and with the last effort of his failing strength he strove to gather all the spirit-like beauty of her being into his embrace.
”Love--Love!” he cried. ”Not Hate, but Love! Come back out of the darkness, soul of the woman I wronged! Forgive me! Come back to me!
h.e.l.l or Heaven, what matters it if we are together! Come to me,--come!
Love is stronger than Hate!”
Speech failed him; the cold agony of death gripped at his heart and struck him mute, but still he saw the beautiful pa.s.sionate eyes of a forgiving Love turned gloriously upon him like stars in the black chaos whither he now seemed rus.h.i.+ng. Then came a solemn surging sound as of great wings beating on a tempestuous air, and all the light in the tomb was suddenly extinguished. One instant more he stood upright in the thick darkness; then a burning knife seemed plunged into his breast, and he reeled forward and fell, his last hold on life being the consciousness that soft arms were clasping him and drawing him away--away--he knew not whither--and that warm lips, sweet and tender, were closely pressed on his. And presently, out of the heavy gloom came a Voice which said:
”Peace! The old G.o.ds are best, and the law is made perfect. A life demands a life. Love's debt must be paid by Love! The woman's soul forgives; the man's repents,--wherefore they are both released from bondage and the memory of sin. Let them go hence, the curse is lifted!”
Once more the wavering ghostly light gave luminance to the splendor of the tomb, and showed where, fallen sideways among the golden treasures and mementoes of the past, lay the dead body of Armand Gervase. Above him gleamed the great jewelled sarcophagus; and within touch of his pa.s.sive hand was the ivory s.h.i.+eld and gold-hilted sword of Araxes. The spectral radiance gleamed, wandered and flitted over all things,--now feebly, now brilliantly,--till finally flas.h.i.+ng with a pale glare on the dark dead face, with the proud closed lips and black level brows, it flickered out; and one of the many countless mysteries of the Great Pyramid was again hidden in impenetrable darkness.
Vainly Denzil Marray waited next morning for his rival to appear. He paced up and down impatiently, watching the rosy hues of sunrise spreading over the wide desert and lighting up the ma.s.sive features of the Sphinx, till as hour after hour pa.s.sed and still Gervase did not come, he hurried back to the Mena House Hotel, and meeting Dr. Maxwell Dean on the way, to him poured out his rage and perplexity.
”I never thought Gervase was a coward!” he said hotly.
”Nor should you think so now,” returned the Doctor, with a grave and preoccupied air. ”Whatever his faults, cowardice was not one of them.
You see, I speak of him in the past tense. I told you your intended duel would not come off, and I was right. Denzil, I don't think you will ever see either Armand Gervase or the Princess Ziska again.”
Denzil started violently.
”What do you mean? The Princess is here,--here in this very house.”
”Is she?” and Dr. Dean sighed somewhat impatiently. ”Well, let us see!”
Then, turning to a pa.s.sing waiter, he inquired: ”Is the Princess Ziska here still?”
”No, sir. She left quite suddenly late last night; going on to Thebes, I believe, sir.”
The Doctor looked meaningly at Denzil.
”You hear?”
But Denzil in his turn was interrogating the waiter.
”Is Mr. Gervase in his room?”
”No, sir. He went out about ten o'clock yesterday evening, and I don't think he is coming back. One of the Princess Ziska's servants--the tall Nubian whom you may have noticed, sir--brought a message from him to say that his luggage was to be sent to Paris, and that the money for his bill would be found on his dressing-table. It was all right, of course, but we thought it rather curious.”
And glancing deferentially from one to the other of his questioners with a smile, the waiter went on his way.
”They have fled together!” said Denzil then, in choked accents of fury.
”By Heaven, if I had guessed the plan already formed in his treacherous mind, I would never have shaken hands with Gervase last night!”
”Oh, you did shake hands?” queried Dr. Dean, meditatively. ”Well, there was no harm in that. You were right. You and Gervase will meet no more in this life, believe me! He and the Princess Ziska have undoubtedly, as you say, fled together--but not to Thebes!”