<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CHAPTER XXII </h2>
<h3> AYESHA'S FAREWELL </h3>
<p>Thus I spoke whose nerves were on edge after all that I had seen or, as
even then I suspected, seemed to see. For how could I believe that these
visions of mine had any higher origin than Ayesha's rather malicious
imagination? Already I had formed my theory.</p>
<p>It was that she must be a hypnotist of power, who, after she had put a
spell upon her subject, could project into his mind such fancies as she
chose together with a selection of her own theories. Only two points
remained obscure. The first was—how did she get the necessary
information about the private affairs of a humble individual like myself,
for these were not known even to Zikali with whom she seemed to be in some
kind of correspondence, or to Hans, at any rate in such completeness?</p>
<p>I could but presume that in some mysterious way she drew them from, or
rather excited them in my own mind and memory, so that I seemed to see
those with whom once I had been intimate, with modifications and in
surroundings that her intelligence had carefully prepared. It would not be
difficult for a mind like hers familiar, as I gathered it was, with the
ancient lore of the Greeks and the Egyptians, to create a kind of Hades
and, by way of difference, to change it from one of shadow to one of
intense illumination, and into it to plunge the consciousness of him upon
whom she had laid her charm of sleep. I had seen nothing and heard nothing
that she might not thus have moulded, always given that she had access to
the needful clay of facts which I alone could furnish.</p>
<p>Granting this hypothesis, the second point was—what might be the
object of her elaborate and most bitter jest? Well, I thought that I could
guess. First, she wished to show her power, or rather to make me believe
that she had power of a very unusual sort. Secondly, she owed Umslopogaas
and myself a debt for our services in the war with Rezu which we had been
told would be repaid in this way. Thirdly, I had offended her in some
fashion and she took her opportunity of settling the score. Also there was
a fourth possibility—that really she considered herself a moral
instructress and desired, as she said, to teach me a lesson by showing how
futile were human hopes and vanities in respect to the departed and their
affections.</p>
<p>Now I do not pretend that all this analysis of Ayesha's motives occurred
to me at the moment of my interview with her; indeed, I only completed it
later after much careful thought, when I found it sound and good. At that
time, although I had inklings, I was too bewildered to form a just
judgment.</p>
<p>Further, I was too angry and it was from this bow of my anger that I
loosed a shaft at a venture as to some lesson which awaited <i>her</i>.
Perhaps certain words spoken by the dying Rezu had shaped that shaft. Or
perhaps some shadow of her advancing fate fell upon me.</p>
<p>The success of the shot, however, was remarkable. Evidently it pierced the
joints of her harness, and indeed went home to Ayesha's heart. She turned
pale; all the peach-bloom hues faded from her lovely face, her great eyes
seemed to lessen and grow dull and her cheeks to fall in. Indeed, for a
moment she looked old, very old, quite an aged woman. Moreover she wept,
for I saw two big tears drop upon her white raiment and I was horrified.</p>
<p>"What has happened to you?" I said, or rather gasped.</p>
<p>"Naught," she answered, "save that thou hast hurt me sore. Dost thou not
know, Allan, that it is cruel to prophesy ill to any, since such words
feathered from Fate's own wing and barbed with venom, fester in the breast
and mayhap bring about their own accomplishment. Most cruel of all is it
when with them are repaid friendship and gentleness."</p>
<p>I reflected to myself—yes, friendship of the order that is called
candid, and gentleness such as is hid in a cat's velvet paw, but contented
myself with asking how it was that she who said she was so powerful, came
to fear anything at all.</p>
<p>"Because as I have told thee, Allan, there is no armour that can turn the
spear of Destiny which, when I heard those words of thine, it seemed to
me, I know not why, was directed by thy hand. Look now on Rezu who thought
himself unconquerable and yet was slain by the black Axe-bearer and whose
bones to-night stay the famine of the jackals. Moreover I am accursed who
sought to steal its servant from Heaven to be my love, and how know I when
and where vengeance will fall at last? Indeed, it has fallen already on
me, who through the long ages amid savages must mourn widowed and alone,
but not all of it—oh! I think, not all."</p>
<p>Then she began to weep in good earnest, and watching her, for the first
time I understood that this glorious creature who seemed to be so
powerful, was after all one of the most miserable of women and as much a
prey to loneliness, every sort of passion and apprehensive fear, as can be
any common mortal. If, as she said, she had found the secret of life,
which of course I did not believe, at least it was obvious that she had
lost that of happiness.</p>
<p>She sobbed softly and wept and while she did so the loveliness, which had
left her for a little while, returned to her like light to a grey and
darkened sky. Oh, how beautiful she seemed with the abundant locks in
disorder over her tear-stained face, how beautiful beyond imagining! My
heart melted as I studied her; I could think of nothing else except her
surpassing charm and glory.</p>
<p>"I pray you, do not weep," I said; "it hurts me and indeed I am sorry if I
said anything to give you pain."</p>
<p>But she only shook that glorious hair further about her face and behind
its veil wept on.</p>
<p>"You know, Ayesha," I continued, "you have said many hard things to me,
making me the target of your bitter wit, therefore it is not strange that
at last I answered you."</p>
<p>"And hast thou not deserved them, Allan?" she murmured in soft and broken
tones from behind that veil of scented locks.</p>
<p>"Why?" I asked.</p>
<p>"Because from the beginning thou didst defy me, showing in thine every
accent that thou heldest me a liar and one of no account in body or in
spirit, one not worthy of thy kind look, or of those gentle words which
once were my portion among men. Oh! thou hast dealt hardly with me and
therefore perchance—I know not—I paid thee back with such poor
weapons as a woman holds, though all the while I liked thee well."</p>
<p>Then again she fell to sobbing, swaying herself gently to and fro in her
sweet sorrow.</p>
<p>It was too much. Not knowing what else to do to comfort her, I patted her
ivory hand which lay upon the couch beside me, and as this appeared to
have no effect, I kissed it, which she did not seem to resent. Then
suddenly I remembered and let it fall.</p>
<p>She tossed back her hair from her face and fixing her big eyes on me, said
gently enough, looking down at her hand,</p>
<p>"What ails thee, Allan?"</p>
<p>"Oh, nothing," I answered; "only I remembered the story you told me about
some man called Kallikrates."</p>
<p>She frowned.</p>
<p>"And what of Kallikrates, Allan? Is it not enough that for my sins, with
tears, empty longings and repentance, I must wait for him through all the
weary centuries? Must I also wear the chains of this Kallikrates, to whom
I owe many a debt, when he is far away? Say, didst thou see him in that
Heaven of thine, Allan, for there perchance he dwells?"</p>
<p>I shook my head and tried to think the thing out while all the time those
wonderful eyes of hers seemed to draw the soul from me. It seemed to me
that she bent forward and held up her face to me. Then I lost my reason
and also bent forward. Yes, she made me mad, and, save her, I forgot all.</p>
<p>Swiftly she placed her hand upon my heart, saying,</p>
<p>"Stay! What meanest thou? Dost love me, Allan?"</p>
<p>"I think so—that is—yes," I answered.</p>
<p>She sank back upon the couch away from me and began to laugh very softly.</p>
<p>"What words are these," she said, "that they pass thy lips so easily and
so unmeant, perchance from long practice? Oh! Allan, I am astonished. Art
thou the same man who some few days ago told me, and this unasked, that as
soon wouldst thou think of courting the moon as of courting me? Art thou
he who not a minute gone swore proudly that never had his heart and his
lips wandered from certain angels whither they should not? And now, and
now——?"</p>
<p>I coloured to my eyes and rose, muttering,</p>
<p>"Let me be gone!"</p>
<p>"Nay, Allan, why? I see no mark here," and she held up her hand, scanning
it carefully. "Thou art too much what thou wert before, except perhaps in
thy soul, which is invisible," she added with a touch of malice. "Nor am I
angry with thee; indeed, hadst thou not tried to charm away my woe, I
should have thought but poorly of thee as a man. There let it rest and be
forgotten—or remembered as thou wilt. Still, in answer to thy words
concerning my Kallikrates, what of those adored ones that, according to
thy tale, but now thou didst find again in a place of light? Because they
seemed faithless, shouldst thou be faithless also? Shame on thee, thou
fickle Allan!"</p>
<p>She paused, waiting for me to speak.</p>
<p>Well, I could not. I had nothing to say who was utterly disgraced and
overwhelmed.</p>
<p>"Thou thinkest, Allan," she went on, "that I have cast my net about thee,
and this is true. Learn wisdom from it, Allan, and never again defy a
woman—that is, if she be fair, for then she is stronger than thou
art, since Nature for its own purpose made her so. Whatever I have done by
tears, that ancient artifice of my sex, as in other ways, is for thy
instruction, Allan, that thou mayest benefit thereby."</p>
<p>Again I sprang up, uttering an English exclamation which I trust Ayesha
did not understand, and again she motioned to me to be seated, saying,</p>
<p>"Nay, leave me not yet since, even if the light fancy of a man that comes
and goes like the evening wind and for a breath made me dear to thee, has
passed away, there remains certain work which we must do together.
Although, thinking of thyself alone, thou hast forgotten it, having been
paid thine own fee, one is yet due to that old wizard in a far land who
sent thee to visit K�r and me, as indeed he has reminded me and within an
hour."</p>
<p>This amazing statement aroused me from my personal and painful
pre-occupation and caused me to stare at her blankly.</p>
<p>"Again thou disbelievest me," she said, with a little stamp. "Do so once
more, Allan, and I swear I'll bring thee to grovel on the ground and kiss
my foot and babble nonsense to a woman sworn to another man, such as never
for all thy days thou shalt think of without a blush of shame."</p>
<p>"Oh! no," I broke in hurriedly, "I assure you that you are mistaken. I
believe every word you have said, or say or will say; I do in truth."</p>
<p>"Now thou liest. Well, what is one more falsehood among so many? Let it
pass."</p>
<p>"What, indeed?" I echoed in eager affirmation, "and as for Zikali's
message——" and I paused.</p>
<p>"It was to recall to my mind that he desired to learn whether a certain
great enterprise of his will succeed, the details of which he says thou
canst tell me. Repeat them to me."</p>
<p>So, glad enough to get away from more dangerous topics, I narrated to her
as briefly and clearly as I could, the history of the old witch-doctor's
feud with the Royal House of Zululand. She listened, taking in every word,
and said,</p>
<p>"So now he yearns to know whether he will conquer or be conquered; and
that is why he sent, or thinks that he sent thee on this journey, not for
thy sake, Allan, but for his own. I cannot tell thee, for what have I do
to with the finish of this petty business, which to him seems so large?
Still, as I owe him a debt for luring the Axe-Bearer here to rid me of
mine enemy, and thee to lighten my solitude for an hour by the burnishing
of thy mind, I will try. Set that bowl before me, Allan," and she pointed
to a marble tripod on which stood a basin half full of water, "and come,
sit close by me and look into it, telling me what thou seest."</p>
<p>I obeyed her instructions and presently found myself with my head over the
basin, staring into the water in the exact attitude of a person who is
about to be shampooed.</p>
<p>"This seems rather foolish," I said abjectly, for at that moment I
resembled the Queen of Sheba in one particular, if in no other, namely,
that there was no more spirit in me. "What am I supposed to do? I see
nothing at all."</p>
<p>"Look again," she said, and as she spoke the water grew clouded. Then on
it appeared a picture. I saw the interior of a Kaffir hut dimly lighted by
a single candle set in the neck of a bottle. To the left of the door of
the hut was a bedstead and on it lay stretched a wasted and dying man, in
whom, to my astonishment, I recognised Cetywayo, King of the Zulus. At the
foot of the bed stood another man—myself grown older by many years,
and leaning over the bed, apparently whispering into the dying man's ear,
was a grotesque and malevolent figure which I knew to be that of Zikali,
Opener-of-Roads, whose glowing eyes were fixed upon the terrified and
tortured face of Cetywayo. All was as it happened afterwards, as I have
written down in the book called "Finished."</p>
<p>I described what I saw to Ayesha, and while I was doing so the picture
vanished away, so that nothing remained save the clear water in the marble
bowl. The story did not seem to interest her; indeed, she leaned back and
yawned a little.</p>
<p>"Thy vision is good, Allan," she said indifferently, "and wide also, since
thou canst see what passes in the sun or distant stars, and pictures of
things to be in the water, to say nothing of other pictures in a woman's
eyes, all within an hour. Well, this savage business concerns me not and
of it I want to know no more. Yet it would appear that here the old wizard
who is thy friend, has the answer that he desires. For there in the
picture the king he hates lies dying while he hisses in his ear and thou
dost watch the end. What more can he seek? Tell him it when ye meet, and
tell him also it is my will that in future he should trouble me less,
since I love not to be wakened from my sleep to listen to his
half-instructed talk and savage vapourings. Indeed, he presumes too much.
And now enough of him and his dark plots. Ye have your desires, all of
you, and are paid in full."</p>
<p>"Over-paid, perhaps," I said with a sigh.</p>
<p>"Ah, Allan, I think that Lesson thou hast learned pleases thee but little.
Well, be comforted for the thing is common. Hast never heard that there is
but one morsel more bitter to the taste than desire denied, namely, desire
fulfilled? Believe me that there can be no happiness for man until he
attains a land where all desire is dead."</p>
<p>"That is what the Buddha preaches, Ayesha."</p>
<p>"Aye, I remember the doctrines of that wise man well, who without doubt
had found a key to the gate of Truth, one key only, for, mark thou, Allan,
there are many. Yet, man being man must know desires, since without them,
robbed of ambitions, strivings, hopes, fears, aye and of life itself, the
race must die, which is not the will of the Lord of Life who needs a
nursery for his servant's souls, wherein his swords of Good and Ill shall
shape them to his pattern. So it comes about, Allan, that what we think
the worst is oft the best for us, and with that knowledge, if we are wise,
let us assuage our bitterness and wipe away our tears."</p>
<p>"I have often thought that," I said.</p>
<p>"I doubt it not, Allan, since though it has pleased me to make a jest of
thee, I know that thou hast thy share of wisdom, such little share as thou
canst gather in thy few short years. I know, too, that thy heart is good
and aspires high, and Friend—well, I find in thee a friend indeed,
as I think not for the first time, nor certainly for the last. Mark,
Allan, what I say, not a lover, but a <i>friend</i>, which is higher far.
For when passion dies with the passing of the flesh, if there be no
friendship what will remain save certain memories that, mayhap, are well
forgot? Aye, how would those lovers meet elsewhere who were never more
than lovers? With weariness, I hold, as they stared into each other's
empty soul, or even with disgust.</p>
<p>"Therefore the wise will seek to turn those with whom Fate mates them into
friends, since otherwise soon they will be lost for aye. More, if they are
wiser still, having made them friends, they will suffer them to find
lovers where they will. Good maxims, are they not? Yet hard to follow, or
so, perchance, thou thinkest them—as I do."</p>
<p>She grew silent and brooded a while, resting her chin upon her hand and
staring down the hall. Thus the aspect of her face was different from any
that I had seen it wear. No longer had it the allure of Aphrodite or the
majesty of Hera; rather might it have been that of Athene herself. So wise
it seemed, so calm, so full of experience and of foresight, that almost it
frightened me.</p>
<p>What was this woman's true story, I wondered, what her real self, and what
the sum of her gathered knowledge? Perhaps it was accident, or perhaps,
again, she guessed my mind. At any rate her next words seemed in some
sense an answer to these speculations. Lifting her eyes she contemplated
me a while, then said,</p>
<p>"My friend, we part to meet no more in thy life's day. Often thou wilt
wonder concerning me, as to what in truth I am, and mayhap in the end thy
judgment will be to write me down some false and beauteous wanderer who,
rejected of the world or driven from it by her crimes, made choice to rule
among savages, playing the part of Oracle to that little audience and
telling strange tales to such few travellers as come her way. Perhaps,
indeed, I do play this part among many others, and if so, thou wilt not
judge me wrongly.</p>
<p>"Allan, in the old days, mariners who had sailed the northern seas, told
me that therein amidst mist and storm float mountains of ice, shed from
dizzy cliffs which are hid in darkness where no sun shines. They told me
also that whereas above the ocean's breast appears but a blue and dazzling
point, sunk beneath it is oft a whole frozen isle, invisible to man.</p>
<p>"Such am I, Allan. Of my being thou seest but one little peak glittering
in light or crowned with storm, as heaven's moods sweep over it. But in
the depths beneath are hid its white and broad foundations, hollowed by
the seas of time to caverns and to palaces which my spirit doth inhabit.
So picture me, therefore, as wise and fair, but with a soul unknown, and
pray that in time to come thou mayest see it in its splendour.</p>
<p>"Hadst thou been other than thou art, I might have shown thee secrets,
making clear to thee the parable of much that I have told thee in metaphor
and varying fable, aye, and given thee great gifts of power and enduring
days of which thou knowest nothing. But of those who visit shrines, O
Allan, two things are required, worship and faith, since without these the
oracles are dumb and the healing waters will not flow.</p>
<p>"Now I, Ayesha, am a shrine; yet to me thou broughtest no worship until I
won it by a woman's trick, and in me thou hast no faith. Therefore for
thee the oracle will not speak and the waters of deliverance will not
flow. Yet I blame thee not, who art as thou wast made and the hard world
has shaped thee.</p>
<p>"And so we part: Think not I am far from thee because thou seest me not in
the days to come, since like that Isis whose majesty alone I still
exercise on earth, I, whom men name Ayesha, am in all things. I tell thee
that I am not One but Many and, being many, am both Here and Everywhere.
When thou standest beneath the sky at night and lookest on the stars,
remember that in them mine eyes behold thee; when the soft winds of
evening blow, that my breath is on thy brow and when the thunder rolls,
that there am I riding on the lightnings and rushing with the gale."</p>
<p>"Do you mean that you are the goddess Isis?" I asked, bewildered. "Because
if so why did you tell me that you were but her priestess?"</p>
<p>"Have it as thou wilt, Allan. All sounds do not reach thine ears; all
sights are not open to thy eyes and therefore thou art both half deaf and
blind. Perchance now that her shrines are dust and her worship is forgot,
some spark of the spirit of that immortal Lady whose chariot was the moon,
lingers on the earth in this woman's shape of mine, though her essence
dwells afar, and perchance her other name is Nature, my mother and thine,
O Allan. At the least hath not the World a soul—and of that soul am
I not mayhap a part, aye, and thou also? For the rest are not the priest
and the Divine he bows to, oft the same?"</p>
<p>It was on my lips to answer, Yes, if the priest is a knave or a
self-deceiver, but I did not.</p>
<p>"Farewell, Allan, and let Ayesha's benison go with thee. Safe shalt thou
reach thy home, for all is prepared to take thee hence, and thy companions
with thee. Safe shalt thou live for many a year, till thy time comes, and
then, perchance, thou wilt find those whom thou hast lost more kind than
they seemed to be to-night."</p>
<p>She paused awhile, then added,</p>
<p>"Hearken unto my last word! As I have said, much that I have told thee may
bear a double meaning, as is the way of parables, to be interpreted as
thou wilt. Yet one thing is true. I love a certain man, in the old days
named Kallikrates, to whom alone I am appointed by a divine decree, and I
await him here. Oh, shouldest thou find him in the world without, tell him
that Ayesha awaits him and grows weary in the waiting. Nay, thou wilt
never find him, since even if he be born again, by what token would he be
known to thee? Therefore I charge thee, keep my secrets well, lest
Ayesha's curse should fall on thee. While thou livest tell naught of me to
the world thou knowest. Dost thou swear to keep my secrets, Allan?"</p>
<p>"I swear, Ayesha."</p>
<p>"I thank thee, Allan," she answered, and grew silent for a while.</p>
<p>At length Ayesha rose and drawing herself up to the full of her height,
stood there majestic. Next she beckoned to me to come near, for I too had
risen and left the dais.</p>
<p>I obeyed, and bending down she held her hands over me as though in
blessing, then pointed towards the curtains which at this moment were
drawn asunder, by whom I do not know.</p>
<p>I went and when I reached them, turned to look my last on her.</p>
<p>There she stood as I had left her, but now her eyes were fixed upon the
ground and her face once more was brooding absently as though no such a
man as I had ever been. It came into my mind that already she had
forgotten me, the plaything of an hour, who had served her turn and been
cast aside.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />