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Page 52
There she stood,--enchanted princess, witch, goddess,--woman at all
events, palpable and undeniable. She must be accepted for what she
was, civilized or uncivilized, heathen or Christian. She was a
perfected achievement,--vain to argue how she might have been made
better. Who says that an evening cloud, gorgeous in purple and
heavenly gold, were more usefully employed fertilizing a garden-patch?
Balder Helwyse, moreover, was not a simple utilitarian; he was almost
ready to make a religion of beauty. If he blamed his uncle for
shutting up this superb creature within herself, he failed not to
admire the result of the imprisonment. He knew he was beholding as
rare a spectacle as ever man's eyes were blessed withal; nor was he
slow to perceive the psychological interest of the situation. To a
student of mankind, if to no one else, Gnulemah was beyond estimation
precious. But had Balder forgotten what fruit his tree of philosophy
had already yielded him?
At all events, he forbore to press his question as to the whereabouts
of Uncle Hiero, who would turn up sooner or later. It was enough for
the present to know that he still existed. Meanwhile he would sound
the depths of this fresh nature, undisturbed.
The hoopoe (who had played an important part in promoting the
acquaintance thus far) forsook his perch above Balder's head, and
after hovering for a moment in mid-air, as if to select the best spot,
he alighted on the mossy cushion at the foot of the twin palm-trees.
Such a couch might Adam and Eve have rejoiced to find in Paradise.
Balder took the hint, and without more ado threw himself down there,
while Gnulemah half knelt, half sat beside him, propped on her arm,
her warm fingers buried in the cool moss. The little master-of-ceremonies
remained, with a fine sense of propriety, between the two, preening
and fluttering his brilliant feathers and casting diamond glances
sidelong.
"You remember nothing before coming to this place, Gnulemah?"
"Only dream-memories, that grow dimmer. Before this, I was a spirit in
the great picture, and when my lamp goes out I shall return thither."
"Your lamp, Gnulemah?--what lamp?"
"How can you understand me and yet not know what I know? My lamp is
the light of my life; it burns always in the temple yonder; when it
goes out my life will become a darkness, for I am Gnulemah, the
daughter of fire!"
"I knew not that my uncle was a poet," muttered Balder to himself. "A
daughter of fire,--yes, there is lightning in her eyes!" Aloud he
said, secretly alluding to the manner of his descent into the
garden,--
"I dropped from the sky into your world, Gnulemah. Though we can talk
together, whatever we tell each other will be new."
She caught the idea of a lifetime spent instructing this delightful
being, and receiving in return instruction from him. She entered at
once the charming vista.
"Tell me," she began, bending towards him in her earnestness, "are
there others like you?--are they bright and beautiful as you are?--or
do they look like Hiero?"
Balder laughed, and flushed, and his heart warmed pleasurably. Here
was a compliment from the very soul of nature. And albeit the lovely
flatterer's experience of men was avowedly most limited, yet her taste
was unvitiated as her sincerity, and her judgment may therefore have
been more valuable than that of the most practised belle of fashion.
But he answered modestly,--
"Hiero and I are both men, and there are as many men as stars in
heaven, and as many women as men, myriads of men and women, Gnulemah!"
She lifted her face and hand in eloquent astonishment.
"O, what a world!" she exclaimed in her low-toned way. "But are the
women all like me?"
"There is not one like you," answered Balder, with the quiet emphasis
of conviction. How refreshing was it thus to set aside conventionalism!
Her ingenuousness brought forth the like from him.
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