CHAPTER XVII
WATHO'S WOLF.
From that dreadful morning Nycteris had never got to be herself again.The sudden light had been almost death to her; and now she lay in thedark with the memory of a terrific sharpness--a something she daredscarcely recall, lest the very thought of it should sting her beyondendurance. But this was as nothing to the pain which the recollectionof the rudeness of the shining creature whom she had nursed throughhis fear caused her; for, the moment his suffering passed over to her,and he was free, the first use he made of his returning strength hadbeen to scorn her! She wondered and wondered; it was all beyond hercomprehension.
Before long, Watho was plotting evil against her. The witch was like asick child weary of his toy: she would pull her to pieces, and see howshe liked it. She would set her in the sun, and see her die, like ajelly from the salt ocean cast out on a hot rock. It would be a sightto soothe her wolf-pain. One day, therefore, a little before noon,while Nycteris was in her deepest sleep, she had a darkened litterbrought to the door, and in that she made two of her men carry her tothe plain above. There they took her out, laid her on the grass, andleft her.
Watho watched it all from the top of her high tower, through hertelescope; and scarcely was Nycteris left, when she saw her sit up,and the same moment cast herself down again with her face to theground.
"She'll have a sunstroke," said Watho, "and that'll be the end ofher."
Presently, tormented by a fly, a huge-humped buffalo, with greatshaggy mane, came galloping along, straight for where she lay. Atsight of the thing on the grass, he started, swerved yards aside,stopped dead, and then came slowly up, looking malicious. Nycteris layquite still, and never even saw the animal.
"Now she'll be trodden to death!" said Watho. "That's the way thosecreatures do."
When the buffalo reached her, he sniffed at her all over, and wentaway; then came back, and sniffed again; then all at once went off asif a demon had him by the tail.
Next came a gnu, a more dangerous animal still, and did much the same;then a gaunt wild boar. But no creature hurt her, and Watho was angrywith the whole creation.
At length, in the shade of her hair, the blue eyes of Nycteris beganto come to themselves a little, and the first thing they saw was acomfort. I have told already how she knew the night-daisies, each asharp-pointed little cone with a red tip; and once she had parted therays of one of them, with trembling fingers, for she was afraid shewas dreadfully rude, and perhaps was hurting it; but she did want, shesaid to herself, to see what secret it carried so carefully hidden;and she found its golden heart. But now, right under her eyes, insidethe veil of her hair, in the sweet twilight of whose blackness shecould see it perfectly, stood a daisy with its red tip opened wideinto a carmine ring, displaying its heart of gold on a platter ofsilver. She did not at first recognize it as one of those cones comeawake, but a moment's notice revealed what it was. Who then could havebeen so cruel to the lovely little creature, as to force it open likethat, and spread it heart-bare to the terrible death-lamp? Whoever itwas, it must be the same that had thrown her out there to be burned todeath in its fire! But she had her hair, and could hang her head, andmake a small sweet night of her own about her! She tried to bend thedaisy down and away from the sun, and to make its petals hang about itlike her hair, but she could not. Alas! it was burned and deadalready! She did not know that it could not yield to her gentle forcebecause it was drinking life, with all the eagerness of life, fromwhat she called the death-lamp. Oh, how the lamp burned her!
But she went on thinking--she did not know how; and by and by began toreflect that, as there was no roof to the room except that in whichthe great fire went rolling about, the little Red-tip must have seenthe lamp a thousand times, and must know it quite well! and it had notkilled it! Nay, thinking about farther, she began to ask the questionwhether this, in which she now saw it, might not be its more perfectcondition. For not only now did the whole seem perfect, as indeed itdid before, but every part showed its own individual perfection aswell, which perfection made it capable of combining with the rest intothe higher perfection of a whole. The flower was a lamp itself! Thegolden heart was the light, and the silver border was the alabasterglobe, skilfully broken, and spread wide to let out the glory. Yes;the radiant shape was plainly its perfection! If, then, it was thelamp which had opened it into that shape, the lamp could not beunfriendly to it, but must be of its own kind, seeing it made itperfect! And again, when she thought of it, there was clearly nolittle resemblance between them. What if the flower then was thelittle great-grandchild of the lamp, and he was loving it all thetime? And what if the lamp did not mean to hurt her, only could nothelp it? The red lips looked as if the flower had some time or otherbeen hurt: what if the lamp was making the best it could ofher--opening her out somehow like the flower? She would bear itpatiently, and see. But how coarse the colour of the grass was!Perhaps, however, her eyes not being made for the bright lamp, she didnot see them us they were! Then she remembered how different were theeyes of the creature that was not a girl and was afraid of thedarkness! Ah, if the darkness would only come again, all arms,friendly and soft everywhere about her! She would wait and wait, andbear, and be patient.
She lay so still that Watho did not doubt she had fainted. She waspretty sure she would be dead before the night came to revive her.