Part 15 (1/2)

Out of her cave came the ancient Lilith; Lilith the wise; Lilith the enchantress. There ran a little path outside her dwelling; it wound away among the mountains and glittering peaks, and before the door, one of the Wise Ones walked to and fro. Out of her cave came Lilith, scornful of his solitude, exultant in her wisdom, flaunting her s.h.i.+ning and magical beauty.

”Still alone, star gazer! Is thy wisdom of no avail? Thou hast yet to learn that I am more powerful knowing the ways of error than you who know the ways of truth.”

The Wise One heeded her not, but walked to and fro. His eyes were turned to the distant peaks, the abode of his brothers. The starlight fell about him; a sweet air came down the mountain path, fluttering his white robe; he did not cease from his steady musing.

Like a mist rising between rocks wavered Lilith in her cave.

Violet, with silvery gleams her raiment; her face was dim; over her head rayed a shadowy diadem, the something a man imagines over the head of his beloved---looking closer at her face he would have seen that this was the crown he reached out to, that the eyes burnt with his own longing, that the lips were parted to yield to the secret wishes of his heart.

”Tell me, for I would know, why do you wait so long? I, here in my cave between the valley and the height blind the eyes of all who would pa.s.s. Those who by chance go forth to you come back to me again, and but one in ten thousand pa.s.ses on. My delusions are sweeter to them than truth. I offer every soul its own shadow; I pay them their own price. I have grown rich, though the simple shepards of old gave me birth. Men have made me; the mortals have made me immortal. I rose up like a vapour from their first dreams, and every sigh since then and every laugh remains with me. I am made up of hopes and fears. The subtle princes lay out their plans of conquest in my cave, and there the hero dreams, and there the lovers of all time write in flame their history. I am wise, holding all experience, to tempt, to blind, to terrify. None shall pa.s.s by.

Why, therefore, dost thou wait?”

The Wise One looked at her and she shrank back a little, and a little her silver and violet faded, but out of her cave her voice still sounded:

”The stars and the starry crown are not yours alone to offer, and every promise you make, I make also. I offer the good and the bad indifferently. The lover, the poet, the mystic, and all who would drink of the first Fountain, I delude with my mirage. I was the Beatrice who led Dante upward: the gloom was in me, and the glory was mine also, and he went not out of my cave. The stars and the s.h.i.+ning of heaven were delusions of the infinite I wove about him.

I captured his soul with the shadow of s.p.a.ce; a nutsh.e.l.l would have contained the film. I smote on the dim heart-chords the manifold music of being. G.o.d is sweeter in the human than the human in G.o.d: therefore he rested in me.”

She paused a little, and then went on.

”There is that fantastic fellow who slipped by me--could your wisdom not keep him? He returned to me full of anguish, and I wound my arms round him like a fair melancholy, and now his sadness is as sweet to him as hope was before his fall. Listen to his song.”

She paused again. A voice came up from the depths chanting a sad knowledge--

”What of all the will to do?

It has vanished long ago, For a dream shaft pierced it through From the unknown Archer's bow.

What of all the soul to think?

Some one offered it a cup Filled with a diviner drink, And the flame has burned it up.

What of all the hope to climb?

Only in the self we grope To the misty end of time; Truth has put an end to hope.

What of all the heart to love?

Sadder than for will or soul, No light lured it on above; Love has found itself the whole.”

”Is it not pitiful? I pity only those who pity themselves. Yet he is mine more surely than ever. This is the end of human wisdom.

How shall he now escape? What shall draw him up?”

”His will shall awaken,” said the Wise One. ”I do not sorrow over him, for long is the darkness before the spirit is born. He learns in your caves not to see, not to hear, not to think, for very anguish flying your delusions.”

”Sorrow is a great bond,” Lilith said.

”It is a bond to the object of sorrow. He weeps what thou can never give him, a life never breathed in thee. He shall come forth, and thou shalt not see him at the time of pa.s.sing. When desire dies, will awakens, the swift, the invisible. He shall go forth, and one by one the dwellers in your caves will awaken and pa.s.s onwards; this small old path will be trodden by generation after generation.

You, too, oh, s.h.i.+ning Lilith, will follow, not as mistress, but as hand-maiden.”

”I shall weave spells,” Lilith cried. ”They shall never pa.s.s me.