Mirrikh, or, A Woman from Mars/Chapter 24
CHAPTER XXIV.
HOPE.
“Gone! Do you mean to tell me that they are all gone?” cried the Doctor, when I broke the news.
“Gone to a man, and Ah Schow with them. The bridge lies upon the other side of the cañon. We have been abandoned to our fate!”
The Doctor gave an exclamation of despair.
“My God! My God! This is terrible!” he breathed. “I would never have dreamed that mild old man could use us so! It is all my fault, George! All mine, every bit of it. From the first moment I met you on the stairs of the old tower of the Nagkon Wat, I have been nothing but a dead weight upon you, a perpetual handicap, a Jonah, a curse.”
“Do not upbraid yourself,” I answered, for his distress was most painful. “It was perfectly natural for you to speak. Let us waste no time in idle regrets. We must decide upon some definite course of action, and follow it without delay.”
“Oh there’s time enough! God knows there’s time enough! Is the rice all gone too?”
“I didn’t look into the corner where the provisions were stored.”
“Then I will go and do that much! Hark! What voice was that? Some of those devils back to mock us in our misery? Merciful powers! Is the mountain falling down?”
The sound first heard was a sharp cracking, followed immediately by an awful crash. The ground beneath us shook with great violence. Maurice raised up and began muttering unintelligible words.
“An earthquake!” gasped the Doctor. “This is to be our end!”
At the moment I could but agree with him; we stood breathlessly listening, the noise dying away into an ill-defined rumble and then all was still.
“Surely that was an earthquake shock,” said the Doctor.
“I cannot imagine what else it could have been,” I answered, and yet Thibet is not an earthquake country.”
“Who knows whether it is or not? Who knows anything about it? Who can tell where we are?”
In my opinion it is much more likely to have been a landslide, caused by the rain.”
“By Jove! You’ve hit it, George! No doubt you are right, and we’ve heard the last of it. Here, let me have the lamp and I'll go and have a look around for myself. See what Maurice is talking about, if you can make out.”
“Has he spoken before?”
“No.”
“And Walla?”
“I have seen nothing of the girl. It wouldn’t surprise me if she had wandered off into the depths of the cavern and lost herself; or like as not she has committed suicide. Her’s is one of those dreamy, over-morbid natures. For weeks she has lived in the anticipation of Maurice’s return, and now that he is back again and has rejected her, Lord knows what the effect may be.”
He caught up the lamp which I had brought with me from the outer cavern and hurried away. I turned to Maurice who had now risen to a sitting position; his face was toward me, the eyes were filled with tears, the hands extended pleadingly as though beseeching help—help which I could not give.
“What is the trouble?” I asked, seating myself beside him. “That noise was nothing. If you heard my startling disclosure let me beseech you to try and be something like your old self once more. I need your help, Maurice—I do indeed.”
Not to my surprise, but to my infinite sorrow, he began rattling on in that same strange way. I listened attentively. It was certainly a definite language he was speaking. Its sounds were soft and extremely melodious, far more so even than Spanish. As my ear grew accustomed to them I could detect the frequent repetition of certain particular words. “This,” I thought, “must be one of the languages of Mars.”
“I cannot understand you old fellow,” I said, sadly. “It is no use. Awhile ago you had no difficulty in speaking English. Why not do it now?”
Again he broke into weeping and laying his head against my breast sobbed like a child. I put my arm around him, stroked his hair and spoke soothing words. Did he understand me? Perhaps not, but the calmness or my sphere seemed to sooth him and gradually he grew quiet, even smiled.
Now suddenly he pulled himself away and pointed to his face, indicating each feature separately. I felt that he wanted me to fully appreciated the change which had come upon him, but there was no need to call my attention to it, for I appreciated it already. Certainly it was not Maurice’s face upon which I gazed; just as surely was it the face of a woman. I was puzzled beyond all telling, but I strove to retain my calmness, feeling that thus my power to help him must be greater.
Suddenly he began rubbing his face with both hands in the most violent fashion and I saw his whole frame tremble. Once he groaned; again a sharp cry of pain escaped him, then the hands fell and the strange expression had gone.
Now it was a man’s face—it was the face of Maurice De Veber, my friend!
What was this? What was it? What wondrous change had come over Maurice since we parted in the lamasery of Psam-dagong?
“George!”
He called my name—something he had not done since he dropped the pipe.
“Oh Maurice! My poor friend!”
“Pity me, George. I’m in an awful fix!”
“Pity you! Maurice I am ready to lay down my life for you. But while you are able to talk intelligently, let me ask you if you know that the lamas have deserted us—that all hope of escape from this cave has been cut off?”
“Yes, yes, I know all.”
“Then you could understand me even though I was not able to understand you.”
“I did not hear you, George, but she did—she told me.”
“Maurice, you will drive me mad. In God’s name who is this mysterious She to whom you keep alluding?”
He looked about warily.
“Where is the Doctor?” he whispered. “He must not know.”
“He has gone to look into our situation.”
“He is out of hearing?”
“Oh yes. What is it Maurice? Explain your condition. I doubt if you can realize how desperate it appears to us.”
“Indeed I do, and to me.”
“But will you explain?”
“To you, yes; but not to him, ever. Pity me, George. I am a lost man. I have committed a fatal error. May God send death quickly to my relief.”
“Tell me—tell me all! This suspense drives me mad! Maurice, tell me! I can bear this no longer, my friend.”
“Nor shall you,” he said, speaking very rapidly. “George, prepare your mind for a mystery; a mystery greater by far than any of the many mysteries with which you have been brought in contact since you first met Mr. Mirrikh in the streets of Panompin. George, I have brought a woman back with me from Mars!"
I sprang to my feet, and extended my hands towards him.
“Don't, Maurice! Don’t give way to it! Hold your reason! Don’t allow yourself to think of it again.”
“George, it’s a solemn fact. We are here together. I love her, George! I love her with an intensity bred of the conditions of the planet to which Mirrikh took me, and of which you can form no conception. She is my wife, George. I married her on Mars!”
It was maddening to listening to him, yet I restrained myself. I saw that he must be indulged.
“Well, well, old fellow, if you say so, of course it must be so; but—you will excuse me for asking the question—where have you left her? You will have to admit she is not here?”
Suddenly a sound reached my ears. It was a groan—it seemed to come from behind Maurice. If he heard he showed it by no sign.
“But she is here, George. More than that you have seen her, you have talked with her. George, you cannot comprehend it—it is incomprehensible. My wife is within me. We are two souls in one body. Heavens! Only think of it! If we ever do get home they will clap me into a lunatic asylum as sure as fate. Oh George, George! Would to gracious I had listened to the advice of Mirrikh and been content to wait until death released us both, and we could meet in the spirit world.”
“So Mirrikh advised you against it?”
“He did—most earnestly. You see the time had come when I was to return. They told me it was either that or death, for my body would be destroyed if I delayed longer. They spoke of peril threatening you, George, and that helped to influence me. We talked of parting, but it was no use, we couldn’t do it. She’s the dearest creature, George, but oh her weight is something awful! Tell me—tell me, what am I to do?”
I shook my head helplessly.
“Do you mean to say that”
“I mean to tell you just that; Merzilla, my wife, is inside of me at the present moment, George, as truly as I am in my body myself. You grasp the situation; besides that you must remember her for Mirrikh said you saw her when you were on Mars.”
“Do you refer to the girl who stood beside you when Mirrikh delivered his lecture before that great assemblage?”
“Yes, yes!” he cried joyfully. “Then you actually were there? If I had only known it! He said so afterward—but of course I couldn’t see you. Yes, George, that’s the girl. Tell me, what do you think of her? Isn’t she the most superb creature? Heavens! It is frightful to think of the situation we are in? Why, that bit of a smoke almost killed her, and as for the rice—well, just fancy offering her rice to eat. Oh, if you had only staid longer on Mars!”
“Maurice,” I said firmly; “this thing must stop right here. We must come to an immediate understanding, for the Doctor may be back at any moment. Evidently you believe these strange assertions and you have done well to tell me, for I am beginning to believe you have some foundation for them. At first they were so startling as to banish even memory; but memory has now returned, Maurice. My dear boy, I fear that I, of all men on this earth, alone can comprehend you. In a situation somewhat resembling yours I have been myself.”
“You, George!”
“Yes; even I. Listen.”
I told him then of Hope; described even to the minutest details my own strange experiences after inhaling the gas. I concealed nothing and yet a moment before I would have perished rather than disclose that which I had come to cherish as the most holy of memories.”
His sense of relief was so manifest as he listened that I was forced, in spite of myself, to in some measure credit his astounding claim.
“You have described it to a hair, George; and there’s no use saying another word. You met your soul’s mate and parted with her again. I have mine within me. We could not part. We were warned, but we resolved to take our chances. If we could only manage to walk it wouldn't be so bad.”
“Let me try and understand you,” I said, earnestly. “Do you actually feel her bodily weight? It cannot be, even allowing”
“Even allowing I’m sane! Out with it. No, it is not exactly that! It is a sort of brain pressure. I feel like a man whose hat is too tight for him; as though a lump of iron was on my head. When I try to move I cannot control my limbs. With my poor girl it is even worse, for when she takes control, the very air seems to stifle her and your voices sound hideous. She is furiously jealous about Walla too. Oh dear, I’m sure I don’t see what we are going to do.”
I stared at him helplessly. In spite of my own confession any one might have seen that I was not fully converted even yet.
Just then I thought I heard a groan again, but as before Maurice paid no heed.
“You see we can’t both make my physical brain act at once George,” he continued. “When I take control my individuality is in the ascendant and that gives me my natural expression and lets me talk to you as I am talking now, but when she takes hold I am obliterated, pushed out of existence for the time being, as it were. Then my face becomes transfigured until it looks almost like hers, she tells me, and she can only talk to you in her own language; but we neither of us seem able to fully control the body; perhaps we may learn in time.”
“It is a desperate situation, Maurice. I am trying to comprehend it, but it comes very hard.”
“And if you find it hard what on earth will others do? Mirrikh told me that it was madness, but I listened to the advice of another, an over-enthusiastic fellow who claimed to have lived double on Jupiter. You see it’s very common for man and wife to occupy one body on Jupiter, and”
“Stop!” I interrupted. “I beg you will stop! Whatever you may know about these matters you will do well to keep to yourself. Later, perhaps, you and I may talk them over, but what we want now is to devise some plan to get you out of your desperate fix?”
“Exactly, but what can be done? Merzilla must either have a body or remain inside of me.”
“Her name is Merzilla?”
“Yes. Do you not think it pretty? It means”
“No matter! No matter! Let me think!”
“There's one thing I may as well tell you, George; you will believe it or not, as you like. I was informed before I left Mars that if we could catch upon a woman in the very act of dying, Merzilla could, under certain conditions, seize her body, enter into it and reanimate it. Of course I don’t understand how, but on Mars”
“Of course you will never mention it again if you want to avoid the asylum you feared just now.”
“Oh I suppose it’s no use. Of course we can find no such chance, though it’s almost enough to tempt a fellow into murder. Then there is the question of eating. They don’t eat such food as we do on Mars. I know just how to provide for Merzilla if I could only get about, and in time she would learn to eat our dishes, but so long as I can’t control my legs, what am I to do?”
“You are to stop talking now,” I whispered hurriedly, “for here comes the Doctor, and—bless me! It is Walla back again! Has she been listening! Has the poor girl heard?”
Out of the darkness behind us Walla was seen gliding. There was a peculiar calmness about her face; she tottered toward us and sank down upon the sand at Maurice’s feet.
“I will help you, my friend, my love!” she murmured. “If I cannot have your heart, at least I can relieve your suffering. Take my life! Take it! Let the woman who has your love have my body also. Then when my spirit is free I shall be able to remain ever at your side! Do it, Maurice! Oh, my love do it! I will be your wife in spirit! Let her have my body, and all will be well.”
“I listened, awe-stricken by her very earnestness.”
Where I accepted most dubiously, she seemed to grasp the situation and give full credence to Maurice’s amazing claim. She meant it all—she meant every word she uttered. To Walla there was no moral chord strained in the thought of sharing Maurice’s heart with another. To her ideas, being with Maurice in spirit was as real as being with him in the body. On the principle “better half the loaf than no bread,” she was not only willing but anxious to make the sacrifice and ease the strain all around.
But I doubt if Maurice quite understood her at first.
“No, no! You talk nonsense—ridiculous nonsense!” he muttered pettishly, but he had not the heart to push her away.
It was most painful to watch her. She fairly grovelled at his feet, kissing his knees and trying to seize his hand.
“No, no! Get up! Get up girl!” he cried. “Take her away George! For God’s sake, take her away!”
Really I wonder I had not attempted to interfere before, but something seemed to restrain me. Was it the same influence which kept one word forever ringing in my ears? Possibly. Need I write the word? Need I say that it was:
“Hope!”
Suddenly Walla’s wild ejaculations ceased and a convulsive shudder swept through her whole frame; she sank back upon the sand, trembling and twitching. I thought I knew what was coming, but I did not speak, for the change which now came over Maurice took all my thought.
He leaped up with a wild shout and began running about over the sand.
“She is gone, George! She is gone! Oh God! send her back again. Don’t let her go!”
There was something in it. I felt then that there must be something in it; but still I was restrained from speaking, and in an instant Walla staggered to her feet. Her eyes were closed and the lids kept twitching. The expression of her face had altered somewhat. It was softer—more refined. She made one rush toward Maurice, speaking rapidly, unintelligible words.
“Merzilla! My Merzilla!” he murmured brokenly; opening his arms he folded her to his breast.
Still I remained dumb! Still the same strange spell was upon me. As one looks at distant objects through a mist I saw them; the sound of their voices—they were both speaking that strange language—fell upon my ears as the confused murmuring of some distant stream.
How long was it? Seconds, minutes or even more than minutes; I cannot tell. I seemed to be far from them. I could not have interfered had I tried, and the next I knew Maurice was sitting down again with Walla crouching upon the sand.
“George! George!” he called. “Arouse yourself old fellow. Merzilla says that God has ordained the sacrifice—that it will come in the natural order of events and by no act of mine.”
“Who—what is the matter?” I gasped. “I feel so very odd. I”
“Hark! Look! Look there!”
He was pointing down at Walla.
I looked and instantly realized what was coming. I had seen it too often to be deceived! About the girl’s body a white cloud was gathering; the unseen beings around us were at their work again.
I was powerless to speak—I could only look. Slowly the cloud grew denser, until in an ill-defined way it had assumed the human shape. Suddenly vanishing then, I next saw it upon the sand—there was a form in white between Walla and Maurice. It was a woman upon her hands and knees. For a few seconds she remained thus, and then shot upward and stood before me at her full height. I was gazing at a face beautiful beyond description—a face which æons of time would not have sufficed to make me forget. Our eyes met, and she glided toward me with outstretched arms. How tall and graceful she was! How queenly every motion she made!
“George! My love! My soul’s companion! It is I! I have fulfilled my promise! For the last time until you have penetrated the veil you behold me. Hope!
I sprang forward to grasp her, but it was too late! Before my extended hands could touch her form she sank down, seemingly dissolving into an undefined mass of whitish vapor, and I found myself clutching at the empty air.