dwell in it. But what else see you, mortal?”
“The dim gleaming of thy gorget.”
“But that is not me. What else dost thou see?”
“Nothing.”
“Then thou hast found me out, and seen all! Descend.”
And with that, the passage-way opened, and groping through the twilight, Yoomy obeyed the mandate, and retreated; full of vexation at his enigmatical reception.
On his alighting, Mohi inquired whether the hermit was not a wonderful personage.
But thinking some sage waggery lurked in the question; and at present too indignant to enter into details, the minstrel made some impatient reply; and winding through a defile, the party resumed its journey.
Straggling behind, to survey the strange plants and flowers in his path, Yoomy became so absorbed, as almost to forget the scene in the pagoda; yet every moment expected to be nearing the stately abode of the Pontiff.
But suddenly, the scene around grew familiar; the path seemed that which had been followed just after leaving the canoes; and at length, the place of debarkation was in sight.
Surprised that the object of our visit should have been thus abandoned, the minstrel ran forward, and sought an explanation.
Whereupon, Mohi lifted his hands in amazement; exclaiming at the blindness of the eyes, which had beheld the supreme Pontiff of Maramma, without knowing it.
The old hermit was no other than the dread Hivohitee; the pagoda, the inmost oracle of the isle.
CHAPTER 13
BABBALANJA ENDEAVORS TO EXPLAIN THE MYSTERY
This Great Mogul of a personage, then; this woundy Aliasuerus; this man of men; this same Hivohitee, whose name rumbled among the mountains like a peal of thunder, had been seen face to face, and taken for naught, but a bearded old hermit, or at best, some equivocal conjuror.
So great was his wonderment at the time, that Yoomy could not avoid expressing it in words.
Whereupon thus discoursed Babbalanja:
“Gentle Yoomy, be not astounded, that Hivohitee is so far behind your previous conceptions. The shadows of things are greater than themselves; and the more exaggerated the shadow, the more unlike to the substance.”
“But knowing now, what manner of person Hivohitee is,” said Yoomy, “much do I long to behold him again.”
But Mohi assured him it was out of the question; that the Pontiff always acted toward strangers as toward him (Yoomy); and that but one dim blink at the eremite was all that mortal could obtain.
Debarred thus from a second and more satisfactory interview with one, concerning whom his curiosity had been violently aroused, the minstrel again turned to Mohi for enlightenment; especially touching that magnate’s Egyptian reception of him in his aerial den.
Whereto, the chronicler made answer, that the Pontiff affected darkness because he liked it: that he was a ruler of few words, but many deeds; and that, had Yoomy been permitted to tarry longer with him in the pagoda, he would have been privy to many strange attestations of the divinity imputed to him. Voices would have been heard in the air, gossiping with Hivohitee; noises inexplicable proceeding from him; in brief, light would have flashed out of his darkness.
“But who has seen these things, Mohi?” said Babbalanja, “have you?”
“Nay.”
“Who then? — Media? — Any one you know?”
“Nay: but the whole Archipelago has.”
“Thus,” exclaimed Babbalanja, “does Mardi, blind though it be in many things, collectively behold the marvels, which one pair of eyes sees not.”
CHAPTER 14
TAJI RECEIVES TIDINGS AND OMENS
Slowly sailing on, we were overtaken by a shallop; whose inmates grappling to the side of Media’s, said they came from Borabolla.
Dismal tidings! — My faithful follower’s death.
Absent over night, that morning early, he had been discovered lifeless in the woods, three arrows in his heart. And the three pale strangers were nowhere to be found. But a fleet canoe was missing from the beach.
Slain for me! my soul sobbed out. Nor yet appeased Aleema’s manes; nor yet seemed sated the avengers’ malice; who, doubtless, were on my track.
But I turned; and instantly the three canoes had been reversed; and full soon, Jarl’s dead hand in mine, had not Media interposed.
“To death, your presence will not bring life back.”
“And we must on,” said Babbalanja. “We seek the living, not the dead.”
Thus they overruled me; and Borabolla’s messengers departed.
Soon evening came, and in its shades, three shadows — Hautia’s heralds.
Their shallop glided near.
A leaf tri-foiled was first presented; then another, arrow-shaped.
Said Yoomy, “Still I swiftly follow, behind revenge.”
Then were showered faded, pallid daffodils.
Said Yoomy, “Thy hopes are blighted all.”
“Not dead, but living with the life of life. Sirens! I heed ye not.”
They would have showered more flowers; but crowding sail we left them.
Much converse followed. Then, beneath the canopy all sought repose. And ere long slouched sleep drew nigh, tending dreams innumerable; silent dotting all the downs a shepherd with his flock.
CHAPTER 15
DREAMS
Dreams! dreams! golden dreams: endless, and golden, as the flowery prairies, that stretch away from the Rio Sacramento, in whose waters Danae’s shower was woven; — prairies like rounded eternities: jonquil leaves beaten out; and my dreams herd like buffaloes, browsing on to the horizon, and browsing on round the world; and among them, I dash with my lance, to spear one, ere they all flee.
Dreams! dreams! passing and repassing, like Oriental empires in history; and scepters wave thick, as Bruce’s pikes at Bannockburn; and crowns are plenty as marigolds in June. And far in the background, hazy and blue, their
