II
THE TOUCH OF PAN
1
An idiot, Heber understood, was a person in whom intelligence had beenarrested--instinct acted, but not reason. A lunatic, on the other hand,was some one whose reason had gone awry--the mechanism of the brainwas injured. The lunatic was out of relation with his environment; theidiot had merely been delayed _en route_.
Be that as it might, he knew at any rate that a lunatic was not tobe listened to, whereas an idiot--well, the one he fell in love withcertainly had the secret of some instinctual knowledge that was notonly joy, but a kind of sheer natural joy. Probably it was that sheernatural joy of living that reason argues to be untaught, degraded.In any case--at thirty--he married her instead of the daughter ofa duchess he was engaged to. They lead to-day that happy, natural,vagabond life called idiotic, unmindful of that world the majority ofreasonable people live only to remember.
Though born into an artificial social clique that made it difficult,Heber had always loved the simple things. Nature, especially, meantmuch to him. He would rather see a woodland misty with bluebells thanall the chateaux on the Loire; the thought of a mountain valley in thedawn made his feet lonely in the grandest houses. Yet in these veryhouses was his home established. Not that he under-estimated worldlythings--their value was too obvious--but that it was another thing hewanted. Only he did not know precisely _what_ he wanted until thisparticular idiot made it plain.
Her case was a mild one, possibly; the title bestowed by implicationrather than by specific mention. Her family did not say that she wasimbecile or half-witted, but that she "was not all there" they probablydid say. Perhaps she saw men as trees walking, perhaps she saw througha glass darkly. Heber, who had met her once or twice, though neveryet to speak to, did not analyse her degree of sight, for in him,personally, she woke a secret joy and wonder that almost involved atouch of awe. The part of her that was not "all there" dwelt in an"elsewhere" that he longed to know about. He wanted to share it withher. She seemed aware of certain happy and desirable things that reasonand too much thinking hide.
He just felt this instinctively without analysis. The values they setupon the prizes of life were similar. Money to her was just stampedmetal, fame a loud noise of sorts, position nothing. Of people she wasaware as a dog or bird might be aware--they were kind or unkind. Herparents, having collected much metal and achieved position, proceededto make a loud noise of sorts with some success; and since she didnot contribute, either by her appearance or her tastes, to theirambitions, they neglected her and made excuses. They were ashamed ofher existence. Her father in particular justified Nietzsche's shrewdremark that no one with a loud voice can listen to subtle thoughts.
She was, perhaps, sixteen--for, though she looked it, eighteen ornineteen was probably more in accord with her birth certificate. Hermother was content, however, that she should dress the lesser age,preferring to tell strangers that she was childish, rather than admitthat she was backward.
"You'll never marry at all, child, much less marry as you might," shesaid, "if you go about with that rabbit expression on your face. That'snot the way to catch a nice young man of the sort we get down to staywith us now. Many a chorus-girl with less than you've got has caughtthem easily enough. Your sister's done well. Why not do the same?There's nothing to be shy or frightened about."
"But I'm not shy or frightened, mother. I'm bored. I mean _they_ boreme."
It made no difference to the girl; she was herself. The boredexpression in the eyes--the rabbit, not-all-there expression--gaveplace sometimes to another look. Yet not often, nor with anybody. Itwas this other look that stirred the strange joy in the man who fell inlove with her. It is not to be easily described. It was very wonderful.Whether sixteen or nineteen, she then looked--a thousand.
* * * * *
The house-party was of that up-to-date kind prevalent in Heber'sworld. Husbands and wives were not asked together. There was a cynicaldisregard of the decent (not the stupid) conventions that savouredof abandon, perhaps of decadence. He only went himself in the hopeof seeing the backward daughter once again. Her millionaire parentsafflicted him, the smart folk tired him. Their peculiar affectation ofa special language, their strange belief that they were of importance,their treatment of the servants, their calculated self-indulgence, alljarred upon him more than usual. At bottom he heartily despised thewhole vapid set. He felt uncomfortable and out of place. Though not aprig, he abhorred the way these folk believed themselves the climax offine living. Their open immorality disgusted him, their indiscriminatelove-making was merely rather nasty; he watched the very girl he was atlast to settle down with behaving as the tone of the clique expectedover her final fling--and, bored by the strain of so much "modernity,"he tried to get away. Tea was long over, the sunset interval invited,he felt hungry for trees and fields that were not self-conscious--andhe escaped. The flaming June day was turning chill. Dusk hovered overthe ancient house, veiling the pretentious new wing that had beenadded. And he came across the idiot girl at the bend of the drive,where the birch trees shivered in the evening wind. His heart gave aleap.
She was leaning against one of the dreadful statues--it was asatyr--that sprinkled the lawn. Her back was to him; she gazed at agroup of broken pine trees in the park beyond. He paused an instant,then went on quickly, while his mind scurried to recall her name. Theywere within easy speaking range.
"Miss Elizabeth!" he cried, yet not too loudly lest she might vanishas suddenly as she had appeared. She turned at once. Her eyes and lipswere smiling welcome at him without pretence. She showed no surprise.
"You're the first one of the lot who's said it properly," sheexclaimed, as he came up. "Everybody calls me Elizabeth instead ofElspeth. It's idiotic. They don't even take the trouble to get a nameright."
"It is," he agreed. "Quite idiotic." He did not correct her. Possiblyhe had said Elspeth after all--the names were similar. Her perfectlynatural voice was grateful to his ear, and soothing. He looked ather all over with an open admiration that she noticed and, withoutconcealment, liked. She was very untidy, the grey stockings on hervigorous legs were torn, her short skirt was spattered with mud.Her nut-brown hair, glossy and plentiful, flew loose about neckand shoulders. In place of the usual belt she had tied a colouredhandkerchief round her waist. She wore no hat. What she had been doingto get in such a state, while her parents entertained a "distinguished"party, he did not know, but it was not difficult to guess. Climbingtrees or riding bareback and astride was probably the truth. Yether dishevelled state became her well, and the welcome in her facedelighted him. She remembered him, she was glad. He, too, was glad,and a sense both happy and reckless stirred in his heart. "Like a wildanimal," he said, "you come out in the dusk----"
"To play with my kind," she answered in a flash, throwing him a glanceof invitation that made his blood go dancing.
He leaned against the statue a moment, asking himself why this youngCinderella of a parvenu family delighted him when all the Londonbeauties left him cold. There was a lift through his whole being ashe watched her, slim and supple, grace shining through the untidymodern garb--almost as though she wore no clothes. He thought of apanther standing upright. Her poise was so alert--one arm upon themarble ledge, one leg bent across the other, the hip-line showing likea bird's curved wing. Wild animal or bird, flashed across his mind:something untamed and natural. Another second, and she might leapaway--or spring into his arms.
It was a deep, stirring sensation in him that produced the mentalpicture. "Pure and natural," a voice whispered with it in his heart,"as surely as _they_ are just the other thing!" And the thrill struckwith unerring aim at the very root of that unrest he had always knownin the state of life to which he was called. She made it natural,clean, and pure. This girl and himself were somehow kin. The primitivething broke loose in him.
In two seconds, while he stood with her beside the vulgar statue,these thoughts passed through his mind. But he did not at first giv
eutterance to any of them. He spoke more formally, although laughter,due to his happiness, lay behind:
"They haven't asked you to the party, then? Or you don't care about it?Which is it?"
"Both," she said, looking fearlessly into his face. "But I've been hereten minutes already. Why were you so long?"
This outspoken honesty was hardly what he expected, yet in anothersense he was not surprised. Her eyes were very penetrating, veryinnocent, very frank. He felt her as clean and sweet as some youngfawn that asks plainly to be stroked and fondled. He told the truth:"I couldn't get away before. I had to play about and----" when sheinterrupted with impatience:
"_They_ don't really want you," she exclaimed scornfully. "I do."
And, before he could choose one out of the several answers that rushedinto his mind, she nudged him with her foot, holding it out a little sothat he saw the shoelace was unfastened. She nodded her head towardsit, and pulled her skirt up half an inch as he at once stooped down.
"And, anyhow," she went on as he fumbled with the lace, touching herankle with his hand, "you're going to marry one of them. I read it inthe paper. It's idiotic. You'll be miserable."
The blood rushed to his head, but whether owing to his stooping or tosomething else, he could not say.
"I only came--I only accepted," he said quickly, "because I wanted tosee _you_ again."
"Of course. I made mother ask you."
He did an impulsive thing. Kneeling as he was, he bent his head alittle lower and suddenly kissed the soft grey stocking--then stoodup and looked her in the face. She was laughing happily, no sign ofembarrassment in her anywhere, no trace of outraged modesty. She justlooked very pleased.
"I've tied a knot that won't come undone in a hurry----" he began,then stopped dead. For as he said it, gazing into her smiling face,another expression looked forth at him from the two big eyes ofhazel. Something rushed from his heart to meet it. It may have beenthat playful kiss, it may have been the way she took it; but, at anyrate, there was a strength in the new emotion that made him unsure ofwho he was and of whom he looked at. He forgot the place, the time,his own identity and hers. The lawn swept from beneath his feet, theEnglish sunset with it. He forgot his host and hostess, his fellowguests, even his father's name and his own into the bargain. He wascarried away upon a great tide, the girl always beside him. He left theshore-line in the distance, already half forgotten, the shore-line ofhis education, learning, manners, social point of view--everything towhich his father had most carefully brought him up as the scion of anold-established English family. This girl had torn up the anchor. Onlythe anchor had previously been loosened a little by his own unconsciousand restless efforts....
Where was she taking him to? Upon what island would they land?
"I'm younger than you--a good deal," she broke in upon his rushingmood. "But that doesn't matter a bit, does it? We're about the same agereally."
With the happy sound of her voice the extraordinary sensationpassed--or, rather, it became normal. But that it had lasted anappreciable time was proved by the fact that they had left the statueon the lawn, the house was no longer visible behind them, and they werewalking side by side between the massive rhododendron clumps. Theybrought up against a five-barred gate into the park. They leaned uponthe topmost bar, and he felt her shoulder touching his--edging intoit--as they looked across to the grove of pines.
"I feel absurdly young," he said without a sign of affectation, "andyet I've been looking for you a thousand years and more."
The afterglow lit up her face; it fell on her loose hair and tumbledblouse, turning them amber red. She looked not only soft and comely,but extraordinarily beautiful. The strange expression haunted the deepeyes again, the lips were a little parted, the young breast heavingslightly, joy and excitement in her whole presentment. And as hewatched her he knew that all he had just felt was due to her closepresence, to her atmosphere, her perfume, her physical warmth andvigour. It had emanated directly from her being.
"Of course," she said, and laughed so that he felt her breath upon hisface. He bent lower to bring his own on a level, gazing straight intoher eyes that were fixed upon the field beyond. They were clear andluminous as pools of water, and in their centre, sharp as a photograph,he saw the reflection of the pine grove, perhaps a hundred yardsaway. With detailed accuracy he saw it, empty and motionless in theglimmering June dusk.
Then something caught his eye. He examined the picture more closely.He drew slightly nearer. He almost touched her face with his own,forgetting for a moment whose were the eyes that served him for amirror. For, looking intently thus, it seemed to him that there wasa movement, a passing to and fro, a stirring as of figures among thetrees.... Then suddenly the entire picture was obliterated. She haddropped her lids. He heard her speaking--the warm breath was again uponhis face:
"In the heart of that wood dwell I."
His heart gave another leap--more violent than the first--for thewonder and beauty of the sentence caught him like a spell. There wasa lilt and rhythm in the words that made it poetry. She laid emphasisupon the pronoun and the nouns. It seemed the last line of somedelicious runic verse:
"In the _heart_ of the _wood_--dwell _I_...."
And it flashed across him: That living, moving, inhabited pine woodwas her thought. It was thus she saw it. Her nature flung back to alife she understood, a life that needed, claimed her. The ostentatiousand artificial values that surrounded her, she denied, even as thedistinguished house-party of her ambitious, masquerading familyneglected her. Of course she was unnoticed by them, just as a swallowor a wild-rose were unnoticed.
He knew her secret then, for she had told it to him. It was his ownsecret too. They were akin, as the birds and animals were akin. Theybelonged together in some free and open life, natural, wild, untamed.That unhampered life was flowing about them now, rising, beating withdelicious tumult in her veins and his, yet innocent as the sunlight andthe wind--because it was as freely recognised.
"Elspeth!" he cried, "come, take me with you! We'll go at once.Come--hurry--before we forget to be happy, or remember to be wiseagain----!"
His words stopped half-way towards completion, for a perfume floatedpast him, born of the summer dusk, perhaps, yet sweet with apenetrating magic that made his senses reel with some remembered joy.No flower, no scented garden bush delivered it. It was the perfume ofyoung, spendthrift life, sweet with the purity that reason had not yetstained. The girl moved closer. Gathering her loose hair between herfingers, she brushed his cheeks and eyes with it, her slim, warm bodypressing against him as she leaned over laughingly.
"In the darkness," she whispered in his ear; "when the moon puts thehouse upon the statue!"
And he understood. Her world lay behind the vulgar, staring day. Heturned. He heard the flutter of skirts--just caught the grey stockings,swift and light, as they flew behind the rhododendron masses. And shewas gone.
He stood a long time, leaning upon that five-barred gate.... Itwas the dressing-gong that recalled him at length to what seemed thepresent. By the conservatory door, as he went slowly in, he met hisdistinguished cousin--who was helping the girl he himself was to marryto enjoy her "final fling." He looked at his cousin. He realisedsuddenly that he was merely vicious. There was no sun and wind, noflowers--there was depravity only, lust instead of laughter, excitementin place of happiness. It was calculated, not spontaneous. His mind wasin it. Without joy it was. He was not natural.
"Not a girl in the whole lot fit to look at," he exclaimed with peevishboredom, excusing himself stupidly for his illicit conduct. "I'moff in the morning." He shrugged his blue-blooded shoulders. "Thesemillionaires! Their shooting's all right, but their mixum-gatherumweek-ends--bah!" His gesture completed all he had to say about this onein particular. He glanced sharply, nastily, at his companion. "_You_look as if you'd found something!" he added, with a suggestive grin."Or have you seen the ghost that was paid for with the house?" And heguffawed and let his eyeglass drop. "Lady Hermione wil
l be asking foran explanation--eh?"
"Idiot!" replied Heber, and ran upstairs to dress for dinner.
But the word was wrong, he remembered, as he closed his door. It waslunatic he had meant to say, yet something more as well. He saw thesmart, modern philanderer somehow as a beast.
2
It was nearly midnight when he went up to bed, after an evening ofintolerable amusement. The abandoned moral attitude, the commonrudeness, the contempt of all others but themselves, the ugly jests,the horseplay of tasteless minds that passed for gaiety, above all theshamelessness of the women that behind the cover of fine breeding apedemancipation, afflicted him to a boredom that touched desperation.
He understood now with a clarity unknown before. As with his cousin,so with these. They took life, he saw, with a brazen effrontery theythought was freedom, while yet it was life that they denied. He feltvampired and degraded; spontaneity went out of him. The fact thatthe geography of bedrooms was studied openly seemed an affirmationof vice that sickened him. Their ways were nauseous merely. Heescaped--unnoticed.
He locked his door, went to the open window, and looked out into thenight--then started. For silver dressed the lawn and park, the shadowof the building lay dark across the elaborate garden, and the moon, henoticed, was just high enough to put the house upon the statue. Thechimney-stacks edged the pedestal precisely.
"Odd!" he exclaimed. "Odd that I should come at the very moment----!"then smiled as he realised how his proposed adventure would bemisinterpreted, its natural innocence and spirit ruined--if he wereseen. "And some one would be sure to see me on a night like this. Thereare couples still hanging about in the garden." And he glanced at theshrubberies and secret paths that seemed to float upon the warm Juneair like islands.
He stood for a moment framed in the glare of the electric light, thenturned back into the room; and at that instant a low sound like abird-call rose from the lawn below. It was soft and flutey, as thoughsome one played two notes upon a reed, a piping sound. He had beenseen, and she was waiting for him. Before he knew it, he had made ananswering call, of oddly similar kind, then switched the light out.Three minutes later, dressed in simpler clothes, with a cap pulled overhis eyes, he reached the back lawn by means of the conservatory and thebilliard-room. He paused a moment to look about him. There was no one,although the lights were still ablaze. "I am an idiot," he chuckled tohimself. "I'm acting on instinct!" He ran.
The sweet night air bathed him from head to foot; there was strengthand cleansing in it. The lawn shone wet with dew. He could almost smellthe perfume of the stars. The fumes of wine, cigars and artificialscent were left behind, the atmosphere exhaled by civilisation, byheavy thoughts, by bodies overdressed, unwisely stimulated--all, allforgotten. He passed into a world of magical enchantment. The hush ofthe open sky came down. In black and white the garden lay, brimmed fullwith beauty, shot by the ancient silver of the moon, spangled with thestars' old-gold. And the night wind rustled in the rhododendron massesas he flew between them.
In a moment he was beside the statue, engulfed now by the shadow ofthe building, and the girl detached herself silently from the blur ofdarkness. Two arms were flung about his neck, a shower of soft hairfell on his cheek with a heady scent of earth and leaves and grass, andthe same instant they were away together at full speed--towards thepine wood. Their feet were soundless on the soaking grass. They wentso swiftly that they made a whir of following wind that blew her hairacross his eyes.
And the sudden contrast caused a shock that put a blank, perhaps,upon his mind, so that he lost the standard of remembered things. Forit was no longer merely a particular adventure; it seemed a habitand a natural joy resumed. It was not new. He knew the momentum ofan accustomed happiness, mislaid, it may be, but certainly familiar.They sped across the gravel paths that intersected the well-groomedlawn, they leaped the flower-beds, so laboriously shaped in mockery,they clambered over the ornamental iron railings, scorning the easierfive-barred gate into the park. The longer grass then shook the dewin soaking showers against his knees. He stooped, as though in somefoolish effort to turn up something, then realised that his legs, ofcourse, were bare. _Her_ garment was already high and free, for she,too, was barelegged like himself. He saw her little ankles, wet andshining in the moonlight, and flinging himself down, he kissed themhappily, plunging his face into the dripping, perfumed grass. Herringing laughter mingled with his own, as she stooped beside him thesame instant; her hair hung in a silver cloud; her eyes gleamed throughits curtain into his; then, suddenly, she soaked her hands in the heavydew and passed them over his face with a softness that was like thetouch of some scented southern wind.
"Now you are anointed with the Night," she cried. "No one will knowyou. You are forgotten of the world. Kiss me!"
"We'll play for ever and ever," he cried, "the eternal game that wasold when the world was yet young," and lifting her in his arms hekissed her eyes and lips. There was some natural bliss of song anddance and laughter in his heart, an elemental bliss that caught themtogether as wind and sunlight catch the branches of a tree. She leapedfrom the ground to meet his swinging arms. He ran with her, then tossedher off and caught her neatly as she fell. Evading a second capture,she danced ahead, holding out one shining arm that he might follow.Hand in hand they raced on together through the clean summer moonlight.Yet there remained a smooth softness as of fur against his neck andshoulders, and he saw then that she wore skins of tawny colour thatclung to her body closely, that he wore them too, and that her skin,like his own, was of a sweet dusky brown.
Then, pulling her towards him, he stared into her face. She sufferedthe close gaze a second, but no longer, for with a burst of sparklinglaughter again she leaped into his arms, and before he shook her freeshe had pulled and tweaked the two small horns that hid in the thickcurly hair behind, and just above, the ears.
And that wilful tweaking turned him wild and reckless. That touch randown him deep into the mothering earth. He leaped and ran and sang witha great laughing sound. The wine of eternal youth flushed all his veinswith joy, and the old, old world was young again with every impulse ofnatural happiness intensified with the Earth's own foaming tide of life.
From head to foot he tingled with the delight of Spring, prodigal withcreative power. Of course he could fly the bushes and fling wild acrossthe open! Of course the wind and moonlight fitted close and soft abouthim like a skin! Of course he had youth and beauty for playmates, withdancing, laughter, singing, and a thousand kisses! For he and she werenatural once again. They were free together of those long-forgottendays when "Pan leaped through the roses in the month of June...!"
With the girl swaying this way and that upon his shoulders, tweakinghis horns with mischief and desire, hanging her flying hair beforehis eyes, then bending swiftly over again to lift it, he danced tojoin the rest of their companions in the little moonlit grove of pinesbeyond....
3
They rose somewhat pointed, perhaps, against the moonlight, thoseEnglish pines--more with the shape of cypresses, some might havethought. A stream gushed down between their roots, there were mossyferns, and rough grey boulders with lichen on them. But there wasno dimness, for the silver of the moon sprinkled freely through thebranches like the faint sunlight that it really was, and the air ranout to meet them with a heady fragrance that was wiser far than wine.
The girl, in an instant, was whirled from her perch on his shouldersand caught by a dozen arms that bore her into the heart of the jolly,careless throng. Whisht! Whew! Whir! She was gone, but another, fairerstill, was in her place, with skins as soft and knees that clung astightly. Her eyes were liquid amber, grapes hung between her littlebreasts, her arms entwined about him, smoother than marble, and ascool. She had a crystal laugh.
But he flung her off, so that she fell plump among a group of biggerfigures lolling against a twisted root and roaring with a jollity thatboomed like wind through the chorus of a song. They seized her, kissedher, then sent her flying. They were happier
with their glad singing.They held stone goblets, red and foaming, in their broad-palmed hands.
"The mountains lie behind us!" cried a figure dancing past. "We arecome at last into our valley of delight. Grapes, breasts, and rich redlips! Ho! Ho! It is time to press them that the juice of life may run!"He waved a cluster of ferns across the air and vanished amid a cloud ofsong and laughter.
"It is ours. Use it!" answered a deep, ringing voice. "The valleys areour own. No climbing now!" And a wind of echoing cries gave answer fromall sides. "Life! Life! Life! Abundant, flowing over--use it, use it!"
A troop of nymphs rushed forth, escaped from clustering arms and lipsthey yet openly desired. He chased them in and out among the wavingbranches, while she who had brought him ever followed, and sped pasthim and away again. He caught three gleaming soft brown bodies, thenfell beneath them, smothered, bubbling with joyous laughter--next freedhimself and, while they sought to drag him captive again, escaped andraced with a leap upon a slimmer, sweeter outline that swung up--onlyjust in time--upon a lower bough, whence she leaned down above him withhanging net of hair and merry eyes. A few feet beyond his reach, shelaughed and teased him--the one who had brought him in, the one he eversought, and who for ever sought him too....
It became a riotous glory of wild children who romped and played withan impassioned glee beneath the moon. For the world was young and they,her happy offspring, glowed with the life she poured so freely intothem. All intermingled, the laughing voices rose into a foam of songthat broke against the stars. The difficult mountains had been climbedand were forgotten. Good! Then, enjoy the luxuriant, fruitful valleyand be glad! And glad they were, brimful with spontaneous energy,natural as birds and animals that obeyed the big, deep rhythm of asimpler age--natural as wind and innocent as sunshine.
Yet, for all the untamed riot, there was a lift of beauty pulsingunderneath. Even when the wildest abandon approached the heat of orgy,when the recklessness appeared excess--there hid that marvellous touchof loveliness which makes the natural sacred. There was coherence,purpose, the fulfilling of an exquisite law: there was worship. Theform it took, haply, was strange as well as riotous, yet in itsstrangeness dreamed innocence and purity, and in its very riot flamedthat spirit which is divine.
For he found himself at length beside her once again; breathless andpanting, her sweet brown limbs aglow from the excitement of escapedenied; eyes shining like a blaze of stars, and pulses beating withtumultuous life--helpless and yielding against the strength that pinnedher down between the roots. His eyes put mastery on her own. She lookedup into his face, obedient, happy, soft with love, surrendered with thesame delicious abandon that had swept her for a moment into other arms."You caught me in the end," she sighed. "I only played awhile."
"I hold you for ever," he replied, half wondering at the rough power inhis voice.
It was here the hush of worship stole upon her little face, into herobedient eyes, about her parted lips. She ceased her wilful struggling.
"Listen!" she whispered. "I hear a step upon the glades beyond. Theiris and the lily open; the earth is ready, waiting; we must be readytoo! _He_ is coming!"
He released her and sprang up; the entire company rose too. All stood,all bowed the head. There was an instant's subtle panic, but it wasthe panic of reverent awe that preludes a descent of deity. For a windpassed through the branches with a sound that is the oldest in theworld and so the youngest. Above it there rose the shrill, faint pipingof a little reed. Only the first, true sounds were audible--wind andwater--the tinkling of the dewdrops as they fell, the murmur of thetrees against the air. This was the piping that they heard. And in thehush the stars bent down to hear, the riot paused, the orgy passed anddied. The figures waited, kneeling then with one accord. They listenedwith--the Earth.
"He comes.... He comes ..." the valley breathed about them.
There was a footfall from far away, treading across a world unruinedand unstained. It fell with the wind and water, sweetening the valleyinto life as it approached. Across the rivers and forests it camegently, tenderly, but swiftly and with a power that knew majesty.
"He comes.... He comes...!" rose with the murmur of the wind andwater from the host of lowered heads.
The footfall came nearer, treading a world grown soft with worship.It reached the grove. It entered. There was a sense of intolerableloveliness, of brimming life, of rapture. The thousand faces liftedlike a cloud. They heard the piping close. And so He came.
But He came with blessing. With the stupendous Presence there was joy,the joy of abundant, natural life, pure as the sunlight and the wind.He passed among them. There was great movement--as of a forest shaking,as of deep water falling, as of a cornfield swaying to the wind, yetgentle as of a harebell shedding its burden of dew that it has heldtoo long because of love. He passed among them, touching every head.The great hand swept with tenderness each face, lingered a moment oneach beating heart. There was sweetness, peace, and loveliness; butabove all, there was--life. He sanctioned every natural joy in them andblessed each passion with his power of creation.... Yet each one sawhim differently: some as a wife or maiden desired with fire, some asa youth or stalwart husband, others as a figure veiled with stars orcloaked in luminous mist, hardly attainable; others, again--the fewestthese, not more than two or three--as that mysterious wonder whichtempts the heart away from known familiar sweetness into a wildernessof undecipherable magic without flesh and blood....
To two, in particular, He came so near that they could feel his breathof hills and fields upon their eyes. He touched them with both mightyhands. He stroked the marble breasts, He felt the little hidden horns... and, as they bent lower so that their lips met together for aninstant, He took her arms and twined them about the curved, brown neckthat she might hold him closer still....
Again a footfall sounded far away upon an unruined world ... and He wasgone--back into the wind and water whence He came. The thousand faceslifted; all stood up; the hush of worship still among them. There was aquiet as of the dawn. The piping floated over woods and fields, fadinginto silence. All looked at one another.... And then once more thelaughter and the play broke loose.
4
"We'll go," she cried, "and peep upon that other world where lifehangs like a prison on their eyes!" And, in a moment, they were acrossthe soaking grass, the lawn and flower-beds, and close to the wallsof the heavy mansion. He peered in through a window, lifting her upto peer in with him. He recognised the world to which outwardly hebelonged; he understood; a little gasp escaped him; and a slight shiverran down the girl's body into his own. She turned her eyes away. "See,"she murmured in his ear, "it's ugly, it's not natural. They feel guiltyand ashamed. There is no innocence!" She saw the men; it was the womenthat he saw chiefly.
Lolling ungracefully, with a kind of boldness that assertedindependence, the women smoked their cigarettes with an air ofinvitation they sought to conceal and yet showed plainly. He sawhis familiar world in nakedness. Their backs were bare, for all theelaborate clothes they wore; they hung their breasts uncleanly; intheir eyes shone light that had never known the open sun. Hoping theywere alluring and desirable, they feigned a guilty ignorance of thathope. They all pretended. Instead of wind and dew upon their hair, hesaw flowers grown artificially to ape wild beauty, tresses withoutlustre borrowed from the slums of city factories. He watched themmanoeuvring with the men; heard dark sentences; caught gestures halfdelivered whose meaning should just convey that glimpse of guilt theydeemed to increase pleasure. The women were calculating, but nowhereglad; the men experienced, but nowhere joyous. Pretended innocence laycloaked with a veil of something that whispered secretly, clandestine,ashamed, yet with a brazen air that laid mockery instead of sunshine intheir smiles. Vice masqueraded in the ugly shape of pleasure; beautywas degraded into calculated tricks. They were not natural. They knewnot joy.
"The forward ones, the civilised!" she laughed in his ear, tweaking hishorns with energy. "_We_ are the backward!"
"Unclean," he muttered, recalling a catchword of the world he gazedupon.
They were the civilised! They were refined and educated--advanced.Generations of careful breeding, mate cautiously selecting mate,laid the polish of caste upon their hands and faces where gleamedridiculous, untaught jewels--rings, bracelets, necklaces hangingabsurdly from every possible angle.
"But--they are dressed up--for fun," he exclaimed, more to himself thanto the girl in skins who clung to his shoulders with her naked arms.
"_Un_dressed!" she answered, putting her brown hand in play across hiseyes. "Only they have forgotten even that!" And another shiver passedthrough her into him. He turned and hid his face against the soft skinsthat touched his cheek. He kissed her body. Seizing his horns, shepressed him to her, laughing happily.
"Look!" she whispered, raising her head again; "they're coming out."And he saw that two of them, a man and a girl, with an interchangeof secret glances, had stolen from the room and were already by thedoor of the conservatory that led into the garden. It was his wife tobe--and his distinguished cousin.
"Oh, Pan!" she cried in mischief. The girl sprang from his arms andpointed. "We will follow them. We will put natural life into theirlittle veins!"
"Or panic terror," he answered, catching the yellow panther skin andfollowing her swiftly round the building. He kept in the shadow, thoughshe ran full into the blaze of moonlight. "But they can't see us,"she called, looking over her shoulder a moment. "They can only feelour presence, perhaps." And, as she danced across the lawn, it seemeda moonbeam slipped from a sapling birch tree that the wind curvedearthwards, then tossed back against the sky.
Keeping just ahead, they led the pair, by methods known instinctivelyto elemental blood yet not translatable--led them towards the littlegrove of waiting pines. The night wind murmured in the branches; a birdwoke into a sudden burst of song. These sounds were plainly audible.But four little pointed ears caught other, wilder notes behind the windand music of the bird--the cries and ringing laughter, the leapingfootsteps and the happy singing of their merry kin within the wood.
And the throng paused then amid the revels to watch the "civilised"draw near. They presently reached the trees, halted, looked about them,hesitated a moment--then, with a hurried movement as of shame and fearlest they be caught, entered the zone of shadow.
"Let's go in here," said the man, without music in his voice. "It's dryon the pine needles, and we can't be seen." He led the way; she pickedup her skirts and followed over the strip of long wet grass. "Here's alog all ready for us," he added, sat down, and drew her into his armswith a sigh of satisfaction. "Sit on my knee; it's warmer for yourpretty figure." He chuckled; evidently they were on familiar terms,for though she hesitated, pretending to be coy, there was no realresistance in her, and she allowed the ungraceful roughness. "But arewe _quite_ safe? Are you sure?" she asked between his kisses.
"What does it matter, even if we're not?" he replied, establishing hermore securely on his knees. "But, as a matter of fact, we're safer herethan in my own house." He kissed her hungrily. "By Jove, Hermione, butyou're divine," he cried passionately, "divinely beautiful. I love youwith every atom of my being--with my soul."
"Yes, dear, I know--I mean, I know you do, but----"
"But what?" he asked impatiently.
"Those detectives----"
He laughed. Yet it seemed to annoy him. "My wife is a beast, isn'tshe?--to have me watched like that," he said quickly.
"They're everywhere," she replied, a sudden hush in her tone. Shelooked at the encircling trees a moment, then added bitterly: "I hateher, simply _hate_ her."
"I love you," he cried, crushing her to him, "that's all that mattersnow. Don't let's waste time talking about the rest." She contrived toshudder, and hid her face against his coat, while he showered kisses onher neck and hair.
And the solemn pine trees watched them, the silvery moonlight fell ontheir faces, the scent of new-mown hay went floating past.
"I love you with my very soul," he repeated with intense conviction."I'd do anything, give up anything, bear anything--just to give you amoment's happiness. I swear it--before God!"
There was a faint sound among the trees behind them, and the girl satup, alert. She would have scrambled to her feet, but that he held hertight.
"What the devil's the matter with you to-night?" he asked in adifferent tone, his vexation plainly audible. "You're as nervy as if_you_ were being watched, instead of me."
She paused before she answered, her finger on her lip. Then she saidslowly, hushing her voice a little:
"Watched! That's exactly what I did feel. I've felt it ever since wecame into the wood."
"Nonsense, Hermione. It's too many cigarettes." He drew her back intohis arms, forcing her head up so that he could kiss her better.
"I suppose it is nonsense," she said, smiling. "It's gone now, anyhow."
He began admiring her hair, her dress, her shoes, her pretty ankles,while she resisted in a way that proved her practice. "It's not _me_you love," she pouted, yet drinking in his praise. She listened to hisrepeated assurances that he loved her with his "soul" and was preparedfor any sacrifice.
"I feel so safe with you," she murmured, knowing the moves in the gameas well as he did. She looked up guiltily into his face, and he lookeddown with a passion that he thought perhaps was joy.
"You'll be married before the summer's out," he said, "and all thethrill and excitement will be over. Poor Hermione!" She lay back in hisarms, drawing his face down with both hands, and kissing him on thelips. "You'll have more of him than you can do with--eh? As much as youcare about, anyhow."
"I shall be much more free," she whispered. "Things will be easier. AndI've got to marry some one----"
She broke off with another start. There was a sound again behind them.The man heard nothing. The blood in his temples pulsed too loudly,doubtless.
"Well, what is it this time?" he asked sharply.
She was peering into the wood, where the patches of dark shadow andmoonlit spaces made odd, irregular patterns in the air. A low branchwaved slightly in the wind.
"Did you hear that?" she asked nervously.
"Wind," he replied, annoyed that her change of mood disturbed hispleasure.
"But something moved----"
"Only a branch. We're quite alone, quite safe, I tell you," andthere was a rasping sound in his voice as he said it. "Don't be soimaginative. I can take care of you."
She sprang up. The moonlight caught her figure, revealing its exquisiteyoung curves beneath the smother of the costly clothing. Her hair haddropped a little in the struggle. The man eyed her eagerly, making aquick, impatient gesture towards her, then stopped abruptly. He saw theterror in her eyes.
"Oh, hark! What's that?" she whispered in a startled voice. She put herfinger up. "Oh, let's go back. I don't like this wood. I'm frightened."
"Rubbish," he said, and tried to catch her by the waist.
"It's safer in the house--my room--or yours----" She broke off again."There it is--don't you hear? It's a footstep!" Her face was whiterthan the moon.
"I tell you it's the wind in the branches," he repeated gruffly. "Oh,come on, _do_. We were just getting jolly together. There's nothing tobe afraid of. Can't you believe me?" He tried to pull her down upon hisknee again with force. His face wore an unpleasant expression that washalf leer, half grin.
But the girl stood away from him. She continued to peer nervously abouther. She listened.
"You give me the creeps," he exclaimed crossly, clawing at her waistagain with passionate eagerness that now betrayed exasperation. Hisdisappointment turned him coarse.
The girl made a quick movement of escape, turning so as to look inevery direction. She gave a little scream.
"That _was_ a step. Oh, oh, it's close beside us. I heard it. We'rebeing watched!" she cried in terror. She darted towards him, thenshrank back. He did not try to touch her this time.
"Moonshine!" he growled. "You've spoilt my--sp
oilt our chance with yoursilly nerves."
But she did not hear him apparently. She stood there shivering as withsudden cold.
"There! I saw it again. I'm sure of it. Something went past me throughthe air."
And the man, still thinking only of his own pleasure frustrated, gotup heavily, something like anger in his eyes. "All right," he saidtestily; "if you're going to make a fuss, we'd better go. The house_is_ safer, possibly, as you say. You know my room. Come along!" Eventhat risk he would not take. He loved her with his "soul."
They crept stealthily out of the wood, the girl slightly in front ofhim, casting frightened backward glances. Afraid, guilty, ashamed, withan air as though they had been detected, they stole back towards thegarden and the house, and disappeared from view.
And a wind rose suddenly with a rushing sound, poured through the woodas though to cleanse it, swept out the artificial scent and trace ofshame, and brought back again the song, the laughter, and the happyrevels. It roared across the park, it shook the windows of the house,then sank away as quickly as it came. The trees stood motionless again,guarding their secret in the clean, sweet moonlight that held the worldin dream until the dawn stole up and sunshine took the earth with joy.