"One always breakfasts," observed St. George. "The first day that the first men spend on Mars I wonder whether the first thing they do will be to breakfast."
"Poor old Mars has got to step down now," said Amory. "We are one farther on. I don't know how it will be, but if I felt on Mars the way I do now, I should assent1 to breakfast. Shouldn't you?"
"On my life, Toby," said St. George, "as an idealist you are disgusting. Yes, I should."
The table had been spread before an open window, and the window looked down upon the palace garden, steeped in the gold of the sunny morning, and formal with aisles2 of mighty3, flowering trees. Within, the apartment was lofty, its walls fashioned to lift the eye to light arches, light capitals, airy traceries, and spaces of the hue4 of old ivory, held in heavenly quiet. The sense of colour, colour both captive and atmospheric5, was a new and persistent6 delight, for it was colour purified, specialized7, and infinitely8 extended in either direction from the crudity9 of the seven-winged spectrum10. The room was like an alcove11 of outdoors, not divorced from the open air and set in contra-distinction, but made a continuation of its space and order and ancient repose—a kind of exquisite12 porch of light.
Across this porch of light Rollo stepped, bearing a covered dish. The little breakfast-table and the laden13 side-table were set with vessels14 of rock-crystal and drinking-cups of silver gilt15, and breakfast consisted of delicately-prepared sea-food, a pulpy16 fruit, thin wine and a paste of delicious powdered gums. These things Rollo served quite as if he were managing oatmeal and eggs and china. One would have said that he had been brought up between the covers of an ancient history, nothing in consequence being so old or so new as to amaze him. Upon their late arrival the evening before he had instantly moved about his duties in all the quiet decorum with which he officiated in three rooms and a bath, emptying the oil-skins, disposing of their contents in great cedar17 chests, and, from certain rich and alien garments laid out for the guests, pretending as unconcernedly to fleck18 lint19 as if they had been broadcloth from Fifth Avenue. He stood bending above the breakfast-table, his lean, shadowed hands perfectly20 at home, his lean, shadowed face all automatic attention.
"Rollo," said St. George, "go and look out the window and see if Sodom is smoking."
"Everything quiet, sir," he reported literally24; "a very warm day, sir. But it's easy to sleep, sir, no matter how warm the days are if only the nights are cool. Begging your pardon, sir."
St. George nodded.
"You don't see Jezebel down there in the trees," he pressed him, "or Elissa setting off to found Carthage? Chaldea and Egypt all calm?" he anxiously put it.
Rollo stirred uneasily.
"There's a couple o' blue-tailed birds scrappin' in a palm tree, sir," he submitted hopefully.
"Ah," said St. George, "yes. There would be. Now, if you like," he gave his servant permission, "you may go to the festivals or the funeral games or wherever you choose to-day. Or perhaps," he remembered with solicitude25, "you would prefer to be present at the wedding-of-the-land-water-with-the-sea-water, providing, as I suspect, Tyre is handy?"
"Thank you, sir," said Rollo doubtfully.
"Mind you put your money on the crack disc-thrower, though," warned St. George, "and you might put up a couple of darics for me."
"A person's recreation is as good for him as his food, sir," proclaimed Rollo, sententious, anxious to agree.
"Food," said Amory languidly, "this isn't food—it's molten history, that's what it is. Think—this is what they had to eat at the cafés boulevardes of Gomorrah. And to think we've been at Tony's, before now. Do you remember," he asked raptly, "those brief and savoury banquets around one o'clock, at Tony's? From where Little Cawthorne once went away wearing two omelettes instead of his overshoes? Don't tell me that Tonycana and all this belong to the same system in space. Don't tell me—"
He stopped abruptly27 and his eyes sought those of St. George. It was all so incredible, and yet it was all so real and so essentially28, distractingly natural.
"I feel as if we had stepped through something, to somewhere else. And yet, somehow, there is so little difference. Do you suppose when people die they don't notice any difference, either?"
"What I want to know," said Amory, filling his pipe, "is how it's going to look in print. Think of Crass—digging for head-lines."
St. George rose abruptly. Amory was delicious, especially his drawl; but there were times—
"Print it," he exclaimed, "you might as well try to print the absolute."
Amory nodded.
"Oh, if you're going to be Neoplatonic," he said, "I'm off to hum an Orphic hymn29. Isn't it about time for the prince? I want to get out with the camera, while the light is good."
The lateness of the hour of their arrival at the palace the evening before had prevented the prince from receiving them, but he had sent a most courteous30 message announcing that he himself would wait upon them at a time which he appointed. While they were abiding32 his coming, Rollo setting aside the dishes, Amory smoking, strolling up and down, and examining the faint symbolic33 devices upon the walls' tiling, St. George stood before one of the casements35, and looked over the aisles of flowering tree-tops to the grim, grey sides of Mount Khalak, inscrutable, inaccessible36, now not even hinting at the walls and towers upon its secret summit. He was thinking how heavenly curious it was that the most wonderful thing in his commonplace world of New York—that is, his meeting with Olivia—should, out here in this world of things wonderful beyond all dream, still hold supreme37 its place as the sovereign wonder, the sovereign delight.
"I dare say that means something," he said vaguely38 to himself, "and I dare say all the people who are—in love—know what it does mean," and at this his spirit of adventure must have nodded at him, as if it understood, too.
When, in a little time, Prince Tabnit appeared at the open door of the "porch of light," it was as if he had parted from St. George in McDougle Street but the night before. He greeted him with exquisite cordiality and his welcome to Amory was like a welcome unfeigned. He was clad in white of no remembered fashion, with the green gem39 burning on his breast, but his manner was that of one perfectly tailored and about the most cosmopolitan40 offices of modernity. One might have told him one's most subtly humourous story and rested certain of his smile.
"I wonder," he asked with engaging hesitation41 when he was seated, "whether I may have a—cigarette? That is the name? Yes, a cigarette. Tobacco is unknown in Yaque. We have invented no colonies useful for the luxury. How can it be—forgive me—that your people, who seem remote from poetry, should be the devisers and popularizers of this so poetic42 pastime? To breathe in the green of earth and the light of the dead sun! The poetry of your American smoke delights me."
St. George smiled as he offered the prince his case.
"In America," he said, "we devised it as a vice34, your Highness. We are obliged to do the same with poetry, if we popularize it."
And St. George was thinking:
"Miss Holland. He has seen Miss Holland—perhaps yesterday. Perhaps he will see her to-day. And how in this world am I ever to mention her name?"
But the prince was in the idlest and most genial43 of humours. He spoke44 at once of the matters uppermost in the minds of his guests, gave them news of the party from New York, told how they were in comfort in the palace on the summit of Mount Khalak, struck a momentary45 tragic46 note in mention of the mystery still mantling47 the absence of the king and repeated the announcement already made by Cassyrus, the premier48, that in two days' time, failing the return of the sovereign, the king's daughter would be publicly recognized, with solemn ceremonial, as Princess of Yaque. Then he turned to St. George, his eyes searching him through the haze49 of smoke.
"Your own coming to Yaque," he said abruptly, "was the result of a sudden decision?"
"Quite so, your Highness," replied St. George. "It was wholly unexpected."
"Then we must try to make it also an unexpected pleasure," suggested the prince lightly. "I am come to ask you to spend the day with me in looking about Med, the King's City."
He dropped the monogrammed stub of his cigarette in a little jar of smaragdos, brought, he mentioned in passing, from a despoiled50 temple of one of the Chthonian deities51 of Tyre, and turned toward his guests with a winning smile.
"Come," he said, "I can no longer postpone52 my own pleasure in showing you that our nation is the Lady of Kingdoms as once were Babylon and Chaldea."
It was as if the strange panorama53 of the night before had once more opened its frame, and they were to step within. As the prince left them St. George turned to Rollo for the novelty of addressing a reality.
"How do you wish to spend the day, Rollo?" he asked him.
"Could I stroll about a bit, sir?" he asked.
"Stroll!" commanded St. George cheerfully.
"Thank you, sir," said Rollo. "I always think a man can best learn by observation, sir."
"Observe!" supplemented his master pleasantly, as a detachment of the guard appeared to conduct Amory and him below.
"Don't black up the sandals," Amory warned Rollo as he left him, "and be back early. We may want you to get us ready for a mastodon hunt."
"Yes, sir," said Rollo with simplicity55, "I'll be back quite some time before tea-time, sir."
St. George was smiling as they went down the corridor. He had been vain of his love that, in Yaque as in America, remained the thing it was, supreme and vital. But had not the simplicity of Rollo taken the leap in experience, and likewise without changing? For a moment, as he went down the silent corridors, lofty as the woods, vocal56 with faint inscriptions57 on the uncovered stone, the old human doubt assailed59 him. The very age of the walls was a protest against the assumption that there is a touchstone that is ageless. Even if there is, even if love is unchanging, the very temper of unconcern of his valet might be quite as persistent as love itself. But the gallery emptying itself into a great court open to the blue among graven rafters, St. George promptly60 threw his doubt to the fresh, heaven-kissing wind that smote61 their faces, and against mystery and argument and age alike he matched only the happy clamour of his blood. Olivia Holland was on the island, and all the age was gold. In Yaque or on the continents there can be no manner of doubt that this is love, as Love itself loves to be.
They emerged in the appeasing62 air of that perfect morning, and the sweetness of the flowering trees was everywhere, and wide roads pointed31 invitingly63 to undiscovered bournes, and overhead in the curving wind floated the flags and streamers of those joyous64, wizard colours.
They went out into the rejoicing world, and it was like penetrating65 at last into the heart of that "land a great way off" which holds captive the wistful thought of the children of earth, and reveals itself as elusively66 as ecstasy67. If one can remember some journey that he has taken long ago—Long Ago and Far Away are the great touchstones—and can remember the glamourie of the hour and forget the substructure of events, if he can recall the pattern and forget the fabric68, then he will understand the spirit that informed that first morning in Yaque. It was a morning all compact of wonder and delight—wonder at that which half-revealed itself, delight in the ever-present possibility that here, there, at any moment, Olivia Holland might be met. As for the wonder, that had taken some three thousand years to accumulate, as nearly as one could compute69; and as for the delight, that had taken less than ten days to make possible; and yet there is no manner of doubt which held high place in the mind of St. George as the smooth miles fled away from hurrying wheels.
Such wheels! Motors? St. George asked himself the question as he took his place beside the prince in the exquisitely70 light vehicle, Amory following with Cassyrus, and the suites71 coming after, like the path from a lanthorn. For the vehicles were a kind of electric motor, but constructed exquisitely in a fashion which, far from affronting72 taste, delighted the eye by leading it to lines of unguessed beauty. They were motors as the ancients would have built them if they had understood the trick of science, motors in which the lines of utility were veiled and taught to be subordinate. The speed attained73 was by no means great, and the motion was gentle and sacrificed to silence. And when St. George ventured to ask how they had imported the first motors, the prince answered that as Columbus was sailing on the waters of the Atlantic at adventure, the people of Yaque were touring the island in electric motors of much the same description, though hardly the clumsiness, of those which he had noticed in New York.
This was the first astonishment74, and other astonishments were to follow. For as they went about the island it was revealed that the remainder of the world is asleep with science for a pillow and the night-lamp of philosophy casting shadows. Yet as the prince exhibited wonders, one after another, St. George, dimly conscious that these are the things that men die to discover, would have given them all for one moment's meeting with Olivia on that high-road of Med. If you come to think of it, this may be why science always has moved so slowly, creeping on from point to point.
Thus it came about that when Prince Tabnit indicated a low, pillared, temple-like building as the home of perpetual motion, which gave the power operating the manufactures and water supply of the entire island, St. George looked and understood and resolved to go over the temple before he left Yaque, and then fell a-wondering whether, when he did so, Olivia would be with him. When the prince explained that it is ridiculous to suppose that combustion75 is the chief means of obtaining light and heat, or that Heaven provided divinely-beautiful forests for the express purpose of their being burned up; and when he told him that artificial light and heat were effected in a certain reservoir (built with a classic regard for the dignity of its use as a link with unspoken forces) St. George listened, and said over with attention the name of the substance acted upon by emanations—and wondered if Olivia were not afraid of it. So it was all through the exhibition of more wonders scientific and economic than any one has dreamed since every one became a victim of the world's habit of being afraid to dream. Although it is true that when St. George chanced to observe that there were about Med few farms of tilled ground, the prince's reply did startle him into absorbed attention:
"You are referring to agriculture?" Prince Tabnit said after a moment's thought. "I know the word from old parchments brought from Phœnicia by our ancestors. But I did not know that the art is in practice anywhere in the world. Do you mean to assure me," cried the prince suddenly, "that the vegetables which I ate in America were raised by what is known as 'tilling the soil'?"
"How else, your Highness?" doubted St. George, wondering if he were responsible for the fading mentality76 of the prince.
Prince Tabnit looked away toward the splendour of some new thought.
"How beautiful," he said, "to subsist77 on the sun and the dust. Beautiful and lost, like the dreams of Mitylene. But I feel as if I were reading in Genesis," he declared. "Is it possible that in this 'age of science' of yours it has not occurred to your people that if plants grow by slowly extracting their own elements from the soil, those elements artificially extracted and applied78 to the seed will render growth and fruitage almost instantaneous?"
"At all events we've speculated about it," St. George hastened to impart with pride, "just as we do about telephones that will let people see one another when they talk. But nearly every one smiles at both."
"Don't smile," the prince warned him. "Yaque has perfected both those inventions only since she ceased to smile at their probability. Nothing can be simpler than instantaneous vegetation. Any Egyptian juggler79 can produce it by using certain acids. We have improved the process until our fruits and vegetables are produced as they are needed, from hour to hour. This was one of the so-called secrets of the ancient Phœnicians—has it never occurred to you as important that the Phœnician name for Dionysos, the god of wine-growers, was lost?"
Mentally St. George added another barrel to the cargo80 of The Aloha, and wondered if the Sentinel would start botanical gardens and a lighting81 plant and turn them to the account of advertisers.
All the time, mile upon mile, was unrolling before them the unforgetable beauty of the island. So perfectly were its features marshaled and so exact were its proportions that, as in many great experiences and as in all great poems, one might not, without familiarity, recall its detail, but must instead remain wrapped in the glory of the whole. The avenues, wide as a river, swept between white banks of majestic82 buildings combining with the magic of great mass the pure beauty of virginal line. Line, the joy of line, the glory of line, almost, St. George thought, the divinity of line, was everywhere manifest; and everywhere too the divinity of colour, no longer a quality extraneous83, laid on as insecure fancy dictates84, but, by some law long unrevealed, now actually identified with the object which it not so much decorated as purified. The most interesting of the thoroughfares led from the Eurychôrus, or public square, along the lagoon85. This fair water, extending from Med to Melita, was greenly shored and dotted with strange little pleasure crafts with exquisite sweeping86 prows88 and silken canopies89. Before a white temple, knee-deep in whose flowered ponds the ibises dozed90 and contemplated91, was anchored the imperial trireme, with delicately-embroidered sails and prow87 and poop of forgotten metals. From within, temple music sounded softly and was never permitted to be silenced, as the flame of the Vestals might never be extinguished. Here on the shores had begun the morning traffic of itinerant92 merchants of Med and Melita, compelled by law to carry on their exchange in the morning only, when the light is least lovely. Upon canopied93 wagons94 drawn95 by strange animals, with shining horns, were displayed for sale all the pleasantest excuses for commerce—ostrich feathers, gums, gems96, quicksilver, papyrus97, bales of fair cloth, pottery98, wine and oranges. The sellers of salt and fish and wool and skins were forced down under the wharfs99 of the lagoon, and there endeavoured to attract attention by displaying fanciful and lovely banners and by liberating100 faint perfumes of the native orris and algum. Street musicians, playing tunefully upon the zither and upon the crowd, wandered, wearing wreaths of fir, and clustered about stalls where were offered tenuous101 blades, and statues, and temple vessels filled with wine and flowers.
At the head of the street leading to the temple of Baaltis (My Lady—Aphrodite) the prince's motor was checked while a procession of pilgrims, white-robed and carrying votive offerings, passed before them, the votive tablet to the Lady Tanith and the Face of Baal being borne at the head of the line by a dignitary in a smart electric victoria. This was one of the frequent Festival Embassies to Melita, to combine religious rites102 with mourning games and the dedication103 of the tablet, and there was considerable delay incident to the delivery of a wireless104 message to the dignitary with the tablet of the Semitic inscription58. St. George wondered vaguely why, in a world of marvels105, progress should not already have outstripped106 the need of any communication at all. This reminded him of something at which the prince had hinted away off in another æon, in another world, when St. George had first seen him, and there followed ten minutes of talk not to be forgotten.
"Would it be possible for you to tell me, your Highness," St. George asked,—and thereafter even a lover must have forgiven the brief apostasy107 of his thought—"how it can be that you know the English? How you are able to speak it here in Yaque?"
The motor moved forward as the procession passed, and struck into a magnificent country avenue bordered by trees, tall as elms and fragrant108 as acacias.
"I can tell you, yes," said the prince, "but I warn you that you will not in the least understand me. I dare say, however, that I may illustrate109 by something of which you know. Do there chance to be, for example, any children in America who are regarded as prodigies110 of certain understanding?"
"You mean," St. George asked, "children who can play on a musical instrument without knowing how they do it, and so on?"
"Quite so," said the prince with interest.
"Many, your Highness," affirmed St. George. "I myself know a child of seven who can play most difficult piano compositions without ever having been taught, or knowing in the least how he does it."
"Do you think of any one else?" asked the prince.
"Yes," said St. George, "I know a little lad of about five, I should say, who can add enormous numbers and instantly give the accurate result. And he has no idea how he does that, and no one has ever taught him to count above twelve. Oh—every one knows those cases, I fancy."
"Has any one ever explained them, Mr. St. George?" asked the prince.
"How should they?" asked St. George simply. "They are prodigies."
"Quite so," said the prince again. "It is almost incredible that these instances seem to suggest to no one that there must be other ways to 'learn' music and mathematics—and, therefore, everything else—than those known to your civilization. Let me assure you that such cases as these, far from being miracles and prodigies, are perfectly normal when once the principle is understood, as we of Yaque understand it. It is the average intelligence among your people which is abnormal, inasmuch as it is unable to perform these functions which it was so clearly intended to exercise."
"Do you mean," asked St. George, "that we need not learn—as we understand 'learn'?"
"Precisely," said the prince simply. "You are accustomed, I was told in New York, to say that there is 'no royal road to learning.' On the contrary, I say to you that the possibilities of these children are in every one. But to my intense surprise I find that we of Yaque are the only ones in the world who understand how to use these possibilities. Our system of education consists simply in mastering this principle. After that, all knowledge—all languages, for instance—everything—belongs to us."
St. George looked away to the rugged111 sides of Mount Khalak, lying in its clouds of iris112 morning mist, unreal as a mountain of Ultima Thule. It was all right—what he had just been hearing was a part of this ultimate and fantastic place to which he had come. And yet he was real enough, and so, according to certain approved dialectic, perhaps these things were realities, too. He stole a glance at the prince's profile. Here was actually a man who was telling him that he need not have faced Latin and Greek and calculus113; that they might have been his of his own accord if only he had understood how to call them in!
"That would make a very jolly thing of college," he pensively114 conceded. "You could not show me how it is managed, your Highness?" he besought115. "That will hardly come in bulk, too—"
The prince shook his head, smiling.
"I could not 'show you,' as you say," he answered, "any more than I could, at present, send a wireless communication without the apparatus—though it will be only a matter of time until that is accomplished116, too."
St. George pulled himself up sharply. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Amory polishing his pince-nez and looking quite as if he were leaning over hansom-doors in the park, and he turned quickly to the prince, half convinced that he had been mocked.
"Suppose, your Highness," he said, "that I were to print what you have just told me on the front page of a New York morning paper, for people to glance over with their coffee? Do you think that even the most open-minded among them would believe that there is such a place as Yaque?"
The prince smiled curiously117, and his long-fringed lids drooped118 in momentary contemplation. The auto21 turned into that majestic avenue which terminates in the Eurychôrus before the Palace of the Litany. St. George's eye eagerly swept the long white way. At its far end stood Mount Khalak. She must have passed over this very ground.
"There is," the prince's smooth voice broke in upon his dream, "no such place as Yaque—as you understand 'place.'"
"I beg your pardon, your Highness?" St. George doubted blankly. Good Heavens. Maybe there had arrived in Yaque no Olivia, as he understood Olivia.
"You showed some surprise, I remember," continued the prince, "when I told you, in McDougle Street, that we of Yaque understand the Fourth Dimension."
McDougle Street. The sound smote the ear of St. George much as would the clang of the fire patrol in the midst of light opera.
"Yes, yes," he said, his attention now completely chained. Yet even then it was not that he cared so absorbingly about the Fourth Dimension. But what if this were all some trick and if, in this strange land, Olivia had simply been flashed before his eyes by the aid of mirrors?
"I find," said the prince with deliberation, "that in America you are familiar with the argument that, if your people understood only length and breadth and did not understand the Third Dimension—thickness—you could not then conceive of lifting, say, a square or a triangle and laying it down upon another square or triangle. In other words, you would not know anything of up and down."
St. George nodded. This was the familiar talk of college class-rooms.
"As it is," pursued the prince, "your people do perfectly understand lifting a square and placing it upon a square, or a triangle upon a triangle. But you do not know anything about placing a cube upon a cube, or a pyramid upon a pyramid so that both occupy the same space at the same time. We of Yaque have mastered that principle also," the prince tranquilly119 concluded, "and all that of which this is the alphabet. That is why we are able to keep our island unknown to the world—not to say 'invisible.'"
For a moment St. George looked at him speechlessly; then, in spite of himself, a slow smile overspread his face.
"But," he said, "your Highness, there is not a mathematician120 in the civilized121 world who has not considered that problem and cast it aside, with the word that if fourth-dimensional space does exist it can not possibly be inhabited."
"Quite so," said the prince, "and yet here we are."
And, if you come to think of it—as St. George did—that is the only answer to a world of impossibilities already proved possible. But the vista122 which all this opened smote him with irresistible123 humour.
"Ah well now, I suppose, your Highness," he said, "that our ocean liners sail clean through the island of Yaque, then, and never even have their smoke pushed sidewise?"
The prince laughed pleasantly.
"Have you ever," he asked, "had occasion to explain the principles of hydraulics, or chess, or philosophical124 idealism to a three-year-old child, or a charwoman? You must forgive me, but really I can think of no better comparison. I am quite as powerless now as you have been if you have ever attempted it. I can only assure you that such things are. Without Jarvo or Akko or some one who understood, you might have sailed the high seas all your life and never have come any nearer to Yaque."
St. George reflected.
"Is Yaque the only example of this kind of thing," he asked, "that the Fourth Dimension would reveal?"
"By no means," said the prince in surprise, "the world is literally teeming125 with like revelations, once the key is in your hands. The Fourth Dimension is only the beginning. We utilize126 that to isolate127 our island. But the higher dimensions are gradually being conquered, too. Nearly all of us can pass into the Fifth at will, 'disappearing,' as you have the word, from the lower dimensions. It is well-known to you that in a land whose people knew length and breadth, but no up and down, an object might be pushed, but never lifted up or put down. If it were to be lifted, such a people would believe it to have 'disappeared.' So, from you who know only three dimensions, Yaque has 'disappeared,' until one of us guides you here. Also we pass at will into the Fifth Dimension and even higher, and seem to 'disappear'; the only difference is that, there, we should not be able yet to guide one who did not himself understand how to pass there. Just as one who understands how to die and to come to life, as you have the phrase, would not be able to take with him any one who did not understand how to take himself there..."
St. George listened, grasping at straws of comprehension, remembering how he had heard all this theorized about and smiled at; but most of all he was beset128 by a practical consideration.
"Then," he said suddenly, the question leaping to his lips almost against his will, "if you hold this key to all knowledge, how is it that the king—Mr. Holland—could get away from you, and the Hereditary129 Treasure be lost?"
The prince sighed profoundly.
"We have by no means," he said, "perfected our knowledge. We are at one with the absolute in knowledge—true. But the affairs of every day most frequently elude130 us. Not even the most advanced among us are perfect intuitionists. We have by no means reached that desirable and inevitable131 day when our minds shall flow together, without need of communication, without possibility of secret. We still suffer the disadvantage of a slight barrier of personality."
"And it is into one of these lapses," thought St. George irreverently, "that the king has disappeared." Aloud he asked curiously concerning a matter which was every moment becoming more incomprehensible.
"But how, your Highness," he said simply, "did your people ever consent to have an American for your king?"
Before the prince could reply there occurred a phenomenon that sent all thought of such insubstantialities as the secrets of the Fourth Dimension far in the background.
The prince's motor, closely followed by the others of the train, had reached a little eminence132 from which the island unrolled in fair patterns. Before them the smooth road unwound in varied133 light. At their left lay a still grove134 from whose depths was glimpsed a slim needle of a tower, rising, arrow-like, from the green. In the distance lay Med, with shining domes135. The water of the lagoon gave brightness here and there among the hills. And as St. George and the prince looked over the prospect136 they saw, far down the avenue toward Med, a little, moving speck137—a speck moving with a rapidity which neither the prince's motor nor any known motor of Yaque had ever before permitted itself.
In an instant the six members of the Royal Golden Guard, who upon beautiful, spirited horses rode in advance of the train of the prince, wheeled and thundered back, lifting glittering hands of warning. "Aside! Aside!" shrieked138 the main Golden Guard, "a motor is without control!"
Immediately there was confusion. At a touch the prince's car was drawn to the road's extreme edge, and the Golden Guards rode furiously back along the train, hailing the peaceful, slow-going machines into orderly retreat. They were all sufficiently139 amenable140, for at sight of the alarming and unprecedented141 onrush of the growing speck that was bearing full down upon them, anxiety sat upon every face.
St. George watched. And as the car drew nearer the thought which, at first sight of its speed, had vaguely flashed into being, took definite shape, and his blood leaped to its music. Whose hand would be upon that lever, whose daring would be directing its flight, whose but one in all Yaque—and that Olivia's?
It was Olivia. That was plain even in the mere142 instant that it took the great, beautiful motor, at thirty miles an hour, to flash past them. St. George saw her—coat of hunting pink and fluttering veil and shining eyes; he was dimly conscious of another little figure beside her, and of the unmistakable and agonized143 Mrs. Hastings in the tonneau; but it was only Olivia's glance that he caught as it swept the prince. There was the faintest possible smile, and she was gone; and St. George, his heart pounding, sat staring stupidly after that shining cloud of dust, frantically144 wondering whether she could just possibly have seen him. For this was no trick of the imagination, his galloping145 heart told him that. And whether or not Yaque was a place, the world, the world was within his grasp, instinct with possibilities heavenly sweet. His eyes met Amory's in the minute when Cassyrus, prime minister of Yaque, had it borne in upon him that this was no runaway146 machine, but the ordinary and preferred pace of the daughter of their king; and while Cassyrus, at the enormity of the conception, breathed out expostulations in several languages—some of them known to us only by means of inscriptions on tombs—Amory spoke to St. George:
"Who was the other girl?" he asked comprehensively.
"What other girl?" St. George blankly murmured.
And at this, Amory turned away with a look that could be made to mean whatever Amory meant.
On went the imperial train faring back to Med over the road lately stirred to shining dust by the wheels of Olivia's auto. Olivia's auto. St. George was secretly saying over the words with a kind of ecstatic non-comprehension, when the prince spoke:
"That," he said, "may explain why an American has been able to govern us. Chance crowned him, but he made himself king."
Prince Tabnit hesitated and his eyes wandered—and those of St. George followed—to a far winding147 dot in that opal valley, a mere speck of silver with a prick148 of pink, fleeing in a cloud of sunny dust.
"I do not know if you will know what I mean," said the prince, "but hers is the spirit, and the spirit of her father, the king, which Yaque had never known. It is the spirit which we of Phœnicia seem to have lost since the wealth of the world accumulated at her ports and she gave her trust to the hands of mariners149 and mercenaries, and later bowed to the conqueror150. It is the spirit that not all the continental151 races, I fancy, have for endowment, but yours possesses in rich measure. For this we would exchange half that we have achieved."
St. George nodded, glowing.
"It is a great tribute, your Highness," he said simply, and in his heart he laid it at Olivia's feet.
Thereafter, in the long ride to Melita, during luncheon152 upon a high white terrace overlooking the sailless sea, and in the hours on the unforgetable roads of the islands, St. George, while incommunicable marvels revealed themselves linked with incommunicable beauty, sat in the prince's motor, his eyes searching the horizon for that fleeing speck of silver and pink. It did not appear again. And when the train of the prince rolled into the yard of the Palace of the Litany it trembled upon St. George's lips to ask whether the formalities of the court would permit him that day to scale the skies and call upon the royal household.
"For whatever he says, I've got to do," thought St. George, "but no matter what he says, I shall go. Doesn't Amory realize that we've been more than twelve hours on this island, and that nothing has been done?"
And then as they crossed the grassy153 court in the delicate hush154 of the merging155 light—the nameless radiance already penetrating the dusk—the prince spoke smoothly156, as if his words bore no import deeper than his smile:
"You are come," he said courteously157, "in time for one of the ceremonies of our régime most important—to me. You will, I hope, do honour to the occasion by your presence. This evening, in the Hall of Kings in the Palace of the Litany, will occur the ceremony of my betrothal158."
"Your betrothal, your Highness?" repeated St. George uncertainly.
"You will be attended by an escort," the prince continued, "and Balator, the commander of the guard, will receive you in the hall. May the gods permit the possible."
The betrothal of the prince.
St. George heard, and his eager hope went down in foreboding. He turned, hardly daring to read his own dread160 in the eyes of Amory.
Amory, as St. George had said, was delicious, especially his drawl; but there were times—now, for example, when all that the eyes of Amory expressed was what his lips framed, sotto-voce:
"An American heiress, betrothed161 to the prince of a cannibal island! Wouldn't Chillingworth turn in his grave at his desk?"
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1
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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atmospheric
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| adj.大气的，空气的；大气层的；大气所引起的 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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specialized
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| adj.专门的，专业化的 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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crudity
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| n.粗糙，生硬；adj.粗略的 | |
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spectrum
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| n.谱，光谱，频谱；范围，幅度，系列 | |
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alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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pulpy
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| 果肉状的，多汁的，柔软的； 烂糊； 稀烂 | |
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cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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fleck
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| n.斑点，微粒 vt.使有斑点，使成斑驳 | |
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lint
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| n.线头；绷带用麻布，皮棉 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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auto
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| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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29
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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abiding
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| adj.永久的，持久的，不变的 | |
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symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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casements
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| n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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36
inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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40
cosmopolitan
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| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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44
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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mantling
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| 覆巾 | |
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premier
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| adj.首要的；n.总理，首相 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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50
despoiled
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| v.掠夺，抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
deities
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| n.神，女神( deity的名词复数 )；神祗；神灵；神明 | |
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postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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54
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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55
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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56
vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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57
inscriptions
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| （作者）题词( inscription的名词复数 )； 献词； 碑文； 证劵持有人的登记 | |
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58
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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59
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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60
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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61
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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62
appeasing
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的现在分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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63
invitingly
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| adv. 动人地 | |
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64
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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65
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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66
elusively
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| adv.巧妙逃避地，易忘记地 | |
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67
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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68
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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69
compute
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| v./n.计算，估计 | |
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70
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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71
suites
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| n.套( suite的名词复数 )；一套房间；一套家具；一套公寓 | |
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affronting
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| v.勇敢地面对( affront的现在分词 )；相遇 | |
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73
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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75
combustion
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| n.燃烧；氧化；骚动 | |
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76
mentality
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| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
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77
subsist
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| vi.生存，存在，供养 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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juggler
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| n. 变戏法者, 行骗者 | |
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80
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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81
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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82
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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83
extraneous
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| adj.体外的；外来的；外部的 | |
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84
dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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85
lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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86
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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87
prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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prows
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| n.船首( prow的名词复数 ) | |
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89
canopies
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| （宝座或床等上面的）华盖( canopy的名词复数 )； （飞行器上的）座舱罩； 任何悬于上空的覆盖物； 森林中天棚似的树荫 | |
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dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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92
itinerant
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| adj.巡回的；流动的 | |
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canopied
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| adj. 遮有天篷的 | |
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94
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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95
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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papyrus
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| n.古以纸草制成之纸 | |
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98
pottery
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| n.陶器，陶器场 | |
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wharfs
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| 码头，停泊处 | |
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100
liberating
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| 解放，释放( liberate的现在分词 ) | |
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101
tenuous
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| adj.细薄的，稀薄的，空洞的 | |
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rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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103
dedication
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| n.奉献，献身，致力，题献，献辞 | |
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104
wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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105
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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106
outstripped
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| v.做得比…更好，（在赛跑等中）超过( outstrip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
apostasy
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| n.背教，脱党 | |
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108
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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109
illustrate
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| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
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prodigies
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| n.奇才，天才（尤指神童）( prodigy的名词复数 ) | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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112
iris
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| n.虹膜，彩虹 | |
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113
calculus
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| n.微积分；结石 | |
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114
pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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115
besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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116
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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117
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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118
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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119
tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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120
mathematician
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| n.数学家 | |
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121
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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122
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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125
teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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126
utilize
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| vt.使用，利用 | |
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isolate
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| vt.使孤立，隔离 | |
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beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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138
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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139
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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amenable
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| adj.经得起检验的；顺从的；对负有义务的 | |
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unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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mariners
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| 海员，水手（mariner的复数形式） | |
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conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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155
merging
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| 合并（分类） | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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betrothal
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| n. 婚约, 订婚 | |
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portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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betrothed
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| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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