CHAPTER XIX
THE CITY OF ARITE
The city of Arite, as it looked to them now, was strange beyond anythingthey had ever seen, but still by no means as extraordinary as they hadexpected it would be. The streets through which they walked were broadand straight, and were crossed by others at regular intervals of two orthree hundred feet. These streets paralleled each other withmathematical regularity. The city thus was laid out most orderly, butwith one peculiarity; the streets did not run in two directions crossingeach other at right angles, but in three, each inclined to an equaldegree with the others. The blocks of houses between them, therefore,were cut into diamond-shaped sections and into triangles, never intosquares or oblongs.
Most of the streets seemed paved with large, flat gray blocks of asubstance resembling highly polished stone, or a form of opaque glass.There were no sidewalks, but close up before the more pretentious of thehouses, were small trees growing.
The houses themselves were generally triangular or diamond-shaped,following the slope of the streets. They were, most of them, but twostories in height, with flat roofs on some of which flowers andtrellised vines were growing. They were built principally of the samesmooth, gray blocks with which the streets were paved. Their windowswere large and numerous, without window-panes, but closed now, nearlyall of them by shining, silvery curtains that looked as though theymight have been woven from the metal itself. The doors were of heavymetal, suggesting brass or gold. On some of the houses tiny low-railedbalconies hung from the upper windows out over the street.
The party proceeded quietly through this now deserted city, crossing alarge tree-lined square, or park, that by the confluence of many streetsseemed to mark its center, and turned finally into another diagonalstreet that dropped swiftly down towards the lake front. At the edge ofa promontory this street abruptly terminated in a broad flight of stepsleading down to a little beach on the lake shore perhaps a hundred feetbelow.
The Chemist turned sharp to the right at the head of these steps, and,passing through the opened gateway of an arch in a low gray wall, ledhis friends into a garden in which were growing a profusion of flowers.These flowers, they noticed, were most of them blue or gray, or of apale silvery whiteness, lending to the scene a peculiarly wan, wistfulappearance, yet one of extraordinary, quite unearthly beauty.
Through the garden a little gray-pebbled path wound back to where ahouse stood, nearly hidden in a grove of trees, upon a bluff directlyoverlooking the lake.
"My home, gentlemen," said the Chemist, with a wave of his hand.
As they approached the house they heard, coming from within, the mellowvoice of a woman singing--an odd little minor theme, with a quaint,lilting rhythm, and words they could not distinguish. Accompanying thevoice were the delicate tones of some stringed instrument suggesting aharp.
"We are expected," remarked the Chemist with a smile. "Lylda is stillup, waiting for us." The Very Young Man's heart gave a leap at themention of the name.
From the outside, the Chemist's house resembled many of the larger onesthey had seen as they came through the city. It was considerably morepretentious than any they had yet noticed, diamond-shaped--that is tosay, a flattened oblong--two stories in height and built of large blocksof the gray polished stone.
Unlike the other houses, its sides were not bare, but were partlycovered by a luxuriant growth of vines and trellised flowers. There wereno balconies under its windows, except on the lake side. There, at theheight of the second story, a covered balcony broad enough almost to becalled a veranda, stretched the full width of the house.
A broad door of brass, fronting the garden, stood partly open, and theChemist pushed it wide and ushered in his friends. They found themselvesnow in a triangular hallway, or lobby, with an open arch in both itsother sides giving passage into rooms beyond. Through one of thesearchways the Chemist led them, into what evidently was the mainliving-room of the dwelling.
It was a high-ceilinged room nearly triangular in shape, thirty feetpossibly at its greatest width. In one wall were set severalsilvery-curtained windows, opening out on to the lake. On the other sidewas a broad fireplace and hearth with another archway beside it leadingfarther into the house. The walls of the room were lined with small graytiles; the floor also was tiled with gray and white, set in design.
On the floor were spread several large rugs, apparently made of grass orfibre. The walls were bare, except between the windows, where two long,narrow, heavily embroidered strips of golden cloth were hanging.
In the center of the room stood a circular stone table, its top a highlypolished black slab of stone. This table was set now for a meal, withgolden metal dishes, huge metal goblets of a like color, and beautifullywrought table utensils, also of gold. Around the table were severalsmall chairs, made of wicker. In the seat of each lay a padded fibercushion, and over the back was hung a small piece of embroidered cloth.
With the exception of these chairs and table, the room was practicallydevoid of furniture. Against one wall was a smaller table of stone, witha few miscellaneous objects on its top, and under each window stood asmall white stone bench.
A fire glowed in the fireplace grate--a fire that burned without flame.On the hearth before it, reclining on large silvery cushions, was awoman holding in her hands a small stringed instrument like a tiny harpor lyre. When the men entered the room she laid her instrument aside androse to her feet.
As she stood there for an instant, expectant, with the light of welcomein her eyes, the three strangers beheld what to them seemed the mostperfect vision of feminine loveliness they had ever seen.
The woman's age was at first glance indeterminate. By her face, herlong, slender, yet well-rounded neck, and the slim curves of her girlishfigure, she might have been hardly more than twenty. Yet in her bearingthere was that indefinable poise and dignity that bespoke the moremature, older woman.
She was about five feet tall, with a slender, almost fragile, yetperfectly rounded body. Her dress consisted of a single flowing garmentof light-blue silk, reaching from the shoulders to just above her knees.It was girdled at the waist by a thick golden cord that hung with goldentasseled pendants at her side.
A narrower golden cord crossed her breast and shoulders. Her arms, legs,and shoulders were bare. Her skin was smooth as satin, milky white, andsuffused with the delicate tints of many colors. Her hair was thick andvery black; it was twisted into two tresses that fell forward over eachshoulder nearly to her waist and ended with a little silver ribbon andtassel tied near the bottom.
Her face was a delicate oval. Her lips were full and of a color forwhich in English there is no name. It would have been red doubtless bysunlight in the world above, but here in this silver light ofphosphorescence, the color red, as we see it, was impossible.
Her nose was small, of Grecian type. Her slate-gray eyes were ratherlarge, very slightly upturned at the corners, giving just a touch of thelook of our women of the Orient. Her lashes were long and very black. Inconversation she lowered them at times with a charming combination offeminine humility and a touch of coquetry. Her gaze from under them hadoften a peculiar look of melting softness, yet always it was direct andhonest.
Such was the woman who quietly stood beside her hearth, waiting towelcome these strange guests from another world.
As the men entered through the archway, the boy Loto pushed quickly pastthem in his eagerness to get ahead, and, rushing across the room, threwhimself into the woman's arms crying happily, "_Mita, mita._"
The woman kissed him affectionately. Then, before she had time to speak,the boy pulled her forward, holding her tightly by one hand.
"This is my mother," he said with a pretty little gesture. "Her name isLylda."
The woman loosened herself from his grasp with a smile of amusement,and, native fashion, bowed low with her hands to her forehead.
"My husband's friends are welcome," she said simply. Her voice was softand musical. She spoke English perfectly, with an intonation
of whichthe most cultured woman might be proud, but with a foreign accent muchmore noticeable than that of her son.
"A very long time we have been waiting for you," she added; and then, asan afterthought, she impulsively offered them her hand in their ownmanner.
The Chemist kissed his wife quietly. In spite of the presence ofstrangers, for a moment she dropped her reserve, her arms went up aroundhis neck, and she clung to him an instant. Gently putting her down, theChemist turned to his friends.
"I think Lylda has supper waiting," he said. Then as he looked at theirtorn, woolen suits that once were white, and the ragged shoes upon theirfeet, he added with a smile, "But I think I can make you much morecomfortable first."
He led them up a broad, curving flight of stone steps to a room above,where they found a shallow pool of water, sunk below the level of thefloor. Here he left them to bathe, getting them meanwhile robes similarto his own, with which to replace their own soiled garments. In a littlewhile, much refreshed, they descended to the room below, where Lylda hadsupper ready upon the table waiting for them.
"Only a little while ago my father and Aura left," said Lylda, as theysat down to eat.
"Lylda's younger sister," the Chemist explained. "She lives with herfather here in Arite."
The Very Young Man parted his lips to speak. Then, with heightened colorin his cheeks, he closed them again.
They were deftly served at supper by a little native girl who wasdressed in a short tunic reaching from waist to knees, with circulardiscs of gold covering her breasts. There was cooked meat for the meal,a white starchy form of vegetable somewhat resembling a potato, a numberof delicious fruits of unfamiliar variety, and for drink the juice of afruit that tasted more like cider than anything they could name.
At the table Loto perched himself beside the Very Young Man, for whom heseemed to have taken a sudden fancy.
"I like you," he said suddenly, during a lull in the talk.
"I like you, too," answered the Very Young Man.
"Aura is very beautiful; you'll like her."
"I'm sure I will," the Very Young Man agreed soberly.
"What's your name?" persisted the boy.
"My name's Jack. And I'm glad you like me. I think we're friends, don'tyou?"
And so they became firm friends, and, as far as circumstances wouldpermit, inseparable companions.
Lylda presided over the supper with the charming grace of a competenthostess. She spoke seldom, yet when the conversation turned to the greatworld above in which her husband was born, she questioned intelligentlyand with eager interest. Evidently she had a considerable knowledge ofthe subject, but with an almost childish insatiable curiosity she soughtfrom her guests more intimate details of the world they lived in.
When in lighter vein their talk ran into comments upon the social lifeof their own world, Lylda's ready wit, combined with her ingenuoussimplicity, put to them many questions which made the giving of anunderstandable answer sometimes amusingly difficult.
When the meal was over the three travelers found themselves very sleepy,and all of them were glad when the Chemist suggested that they retirealmost immediately. He led them again to the upper story into thebedroom they were to occupy. There, on the low bedsteads, soft with manyquilted coverings, they passed the remainder of the time of sleep indreamless slumber, utterly worn out by their journey, nor guessing whatthe morning would bring forth.