Aleriel/Part 6/Chapter 3
CHAPTER III.
A NIGHT WITH UNEARTHLY FRIENDS.
"Would you like to retire?" said Aleriel. "You must be tired. I have prepared a couch for you here in this cabin, from which I have moved our instruments."
He touched a glistening crystal ornament at the side of the room, and instantly a sliding panel rose in the wall, disclosing a small cabin where some cushions were laid, covered with rich, but quaint, ornaments of fine embroidery. The cabin looked comfortable, and gorgeously, though eccentrically, fitted.
"Do let us go back," whispered my wife, "it seems dreadful to spend the night with these extraordinary beings. I would rather sleep in the meanest châlet on the slope than in this place."
"Why should you fear us?" said Aleriel. "What have we done or said to make you think that we would harm you? We would injure no one. Still our ways, even our life, is not the same as yours, or under the same conditions. So, if in any way you are distressed, say what you wish, and we will obey."
We retired to the cabin, and were soon asleep on the soft couch. I awoke, however, after the first dose, by my wife calling me. "I am so faint, I feel suffocating. What can the matter be?"
"I feel the same," I said. "The room is hermetically sealed. Ho! help!" I called, as I staggered to the door, and knocked at it.
A soft song answered. I tried the various crystals with which it was embossed. I could not open it, so I knocked more forcibly. It seemed a matter of life and death, for really, if, as it appeared, the room was without ventilation, we must shortly be suffocated. A soft song replied. I knocked again. "Do let us have some air. There is not ventilation enough."
Again a soft song. I knocked still louder. Then instantly the panel parted. I saw the two unearthly friends of Aleriel standing in the outer domed room, looking towards the cabin. He was not there. They knew, as I was aware, no earthly language. I could only make a sign to my mouth, and draw a long breath to imitate breathing. The air in the outer room was purer, but still it was warm and close. However, actual suffocation was not risked there. I tried to make them understand we needed ventilation, but they could not comprehend me. I thought it best for us mortals both to go into the open air and breathe awhile. They thought evidently, when I made for the outer entrance, I wished to leave them. However, by gestures I made signs we would return. They touched then the outer panel, and, wrapping ourselves up, we passed into the fresh, cold, mountain air. It was a glorious, clear, starry night, and the white, snow-clad mountains loomed majestically around us.
Having both recovered from faintness, we returned to the outer vaulted chamber. Arauniel, it seemed (for that, I understood, was the being with the silvery wings and great jewelled star hanging from his neck), had understood my pointing to my mouth as a symbol of need of food, so he had got ready for us a large green vase filled with what looked like some dried fruit. But, though really we were both rather hungry—seeing our supper of bread and grapes had been a very light one,—we were afraid to eat.
"It may be poison to us, if it is food to them," said Maude. "Oh, do not eat it. It is evident there is a danger of their killing us, even without meaning us any harm."
"That," I said, "perhaps was the reason that Aleriel got for us the bread and grapes from the village. Still, the perfume of that food is very grateful, but I am afraid to eat any of it."
It was a strange position to be in—on this earth, in company with beings, though so singular, seemingly good, and certainly benevolent to us; yet fearing to be killed at any time accidentally, from the simple reason that our human life was linked by a thread too feeble for them to comprehend. I thus realised how impossible it would be for a man to exist, even if he could get there, in the condition of our earth-life, on any world but this of ours.
Aleriel entering soon dispelled our anxiety. I mentioned my trouble at once to him, and he quieted us by saying that he had lived long enough on earth to realise the conditions of our earth-life, and that there would be no danger from our being left alone, as he would not depart from us while we remained in his ether-car. He opened with a burning bar a hole to ventilate our cabin. We retired to rest again, quieted by his assurance, and refreshed by some more provisions which he had procured us from a châlet not far off.