CHAPTER IV
THE GOLDEN AGE
Stern's plans of hard work for the immediate present had to bedeferred a little, for in spite of his perfect health, thespear-thrust in his arm--lacking the proper treatment, and irritatedby his labor in catching the big fish--developed swelling andsoreness. A little fever even set in the second day. And though he waseager to go out fishing again, Beatrice appointed herself his nurseand guardian, and withheld permission.
They lived for some days on the excellent flesh of the maskalonge, onclams from the beach--enormous clams of delicious flavor--on a newfruit with a pinkish meat, which grew abundantly in the thickets andsomewhat resembled breadfruit; on wild asparagus-sprouts, and on thefew squirrels that Stern was able to "pot" with his revolver from theshelter of the leafy little camping-place they had arranged near theriver.
Though Beatrice worked many hours all alone in the bungalow, sweepingit with a broom made of twigs lashed to a pole, and trying to bringthe place into order, it was still no fit habitation.
She would not even let the man try to help her, but insisted on hiskeeping quiet in their camp. This lay under the shelter of athick-foliaged oak at the southern end of the beach. The perfectweather and the presence of a three-quarters moon at night invitedthem to sleep out under the sky.
"There'll be plenty of time for the bungalow," she said, "when itrains. As long as we have fair June weather like this no roof shallcover me!"
Singularly enough, there were no mosquitoes. In the thousand yearsthat had elapsed, they might either have shifted their habitat fromeastern America, or else some obscure evolutionary process might havewiped them out entirely. At any rate, none existed, for which the twoadventurers gave thanks.
Wild beasts they feared not. Though now and then they heard the yellof a wildcat far back in the woods, or the tramping of an occasionalbulk through the forest, and though once a cinnamon bear poked hismuzzle out into the clearing, sniffed and departed with a grunt ofdisapproval, they could not bring themselves to any realization ofanimals as a real peril. Their camp-fire burned high all night, heapedwith driftwood and windfalls; and beyond this protection, Stern hadhis automatic and a belt nearly full of cartridges. They discussed thequestion of a possible attack by some remnants of the Horde; butcommon sense assured them that these creatures would--such assurvived--give them a wide berth.
"And in any event," Stern summed it up, "if anything happens, we havethe bungalow to retreat into. Though in its present state, without anydoors or shutters, I think we're safer out among the trees, where, ona pinch, we could go aloft."
Thus his convalescence progressed in the open air, under the cloudsand sun and stars and lustrous moon of that deserted world.
Beatrice showed both skill and ingenuity in her treatment. With aclam-shell she scraped and saved the rich fat from under the skins ofthe squirrels, and this she "tried out" in a golden dish, over thefire. The oil thus got she used to anoint his healing wound. She useda dressing of clay and leaves; and when the fever flushed him she madehim comfortable on his bed of spruce-tips, bathed his forehead andcheeks, and gave him cold water from a spring that trickled down overthe moss some fifty feet to westward of the camp.
Many a long talk they had, too--he prone on the spruce, she sittingbeside him, tending the fire, holding his hand or letting his head liein her lap, the while she stroked his hair. Ferns, flowers inprofusion--lilacs and clover and climbing roses and some new, strangescarlet blossoms--bowered their nest. And through the pain and fever,the delay and disappointment, they both were glad and cheerful. Noword of impatience or haste or repining escaped them. For they hadlife; they had each other; they had love. And those days, as laterthey looked back upon them, were among the happiest, the most purelybeautiful, the sweetest of their whole wondrous, strange experience.
He and she, perfect friends, comrades and lovers, were inseparable.Each was always conscious of the other's presence. The continuity oflove, care and sympathy was never broken. Even when, at daybreak, shewent away around the wooded point for her bath in the river, he couldhear her splashing and singing and laughing happily in the cold water.
It was the Golden Age come back to earth again--the age of natural andpure simplicity, truth, trust, honor, faith and joy, unspoiled bymalice or deceit, by lies, conventions, sordid ambitions, or the lustof wealth or power. Arcady, at last--in truth!
Their conversation was of many things. They talked of their awakeningin the tower and their adventures there; of the possible cause of theworld-catastrophe that had wiped out the human race, save for theirown survival; the Horde and the great battle; their escape, theirpresent condition, and their probable future; the possibility of theirever finding any other isolated human beings, and of reconstitutingthe fragments of the world or of renewing the human race.
And as they spoke of this, sometimes the girl would grow strangelysilent, and a look almost of inspiration--the universal mother--lookof the race--would fill her wondrous eye's. Her hand would tremble inhis; but he would hold it tight, for he, too, understood.
"Afraid, little girl?" he asked her once.
"No, not afraid," she answered; and their eyes met. "Only--so muchdepends on us--on you, on me! What strength we two must have, whatcourage, what endurance! The future of the human race lies in ourhands!"
He made no answer; he, too, grew silent. And for a long while they satand watched the embers of the fire; and the day waned. Slowly the sunset in its glory over the virgin hills; the far eastern spaces of thesky grew bathed in tender lavenders and purples. Haze drew its veilsacross the world, and the air grew brown with evenfall.
Presently the girl arose, to throw more wood on the fire. Clad only inher loose tiger-skin, clasped with gold, she moved like a primevalgoddess. Stern marked the supple play of her muscles, the unspoiledgrace and strength of that young body, the swelling warmth of herbosom. And as he looked he loved; he pressed a hand to his eyes; for awhile he thought--it was as though he prayed.
Evening came on--the warm, dark, mysterious night. Off there in theshallows gradually arose the million-voiced chorus of frogs, shrilland monotonous, plaintive, appealing--the cry of new life to theoverarching, implacable mystery of the universe. The first faintsilvery powder of the stars came spangling out along the horizon.Unsteady bats began to reel across the sky. The solemn beauty of thescene awed the woman and the man to silence. But Stern, leaning hisback against the bole of the great oak, encircled Beatrice with hisarm.
Her beautiful dear head rested in the hollow of his throat; her warm,fragrant hair caressed his cheek; he felt the wholesome strength andsweetness of this woman whom he loved; and in his eyes--unseen byher--tears welled and gleamed in the firelight.
Beatrice watched, like a contented child, the dancing showers ofsparks that rose, wavering and whirling in complex sarabands--sparksred as passion, golden as the unknown future of their dreams. From theriver they heard the gentle lap-lap-lapping of the waves along theshore. All was rest and peace and beauty; this was Eden onceagain--and there was no serpent to enter in.
Presently Stern spoke.
"Dear," said he, "do you know, I'm a bit puzzled in some ways,about--well, about night and day, and temperature, and gravitation,and a number of little things like that. Puzzled. We're facingproblems here that we don't realize fully as yet."
"Problems? What problems, except to make our home, and--and live?"
"No, there's more to be considered than just that. In the first place,although I have no timepiece, I'm moderately certain the day and nightare shorter now than they used to be before the smash-up. There mustbe a difference of at least half an hour. Just as soon as I can getaround to it, I'll build a clock, and see. Though if the force ofgravity has changed, too, that, of course, will change the time ofvibration of any pendulum, and so of course will invalidate myresults. It's a hard problem, right enough."
"You think gravitation has changed?"
"Don't you notice, yourself, that things seem a trifle lighter
--thingsthat used to be heavy to lift are now comparatively easy?"
"M-m-m-m-m--I don't know. I thought maybe it was because I wasfeeling so much stronger, with this new kind of outdoor life."
"Of course, that's worth considering," answered Stern, "but there'smore in it than that. The world is certainly smaller than it was,though how, or why, I can't say. Things are lighter, and the time ofrotation is shorter. Another thing, the pole-star is certainly fivedegrees out of place. The axis of the earth has been given anastonishing twist, some way or other.
"And don't you notice a distinct change in the climate? In the olddays there were none of these huge, palm-like ferns growing in thispart of the world. We had no such gorgeous butterflies. And look atthe new varieties of flowers--and the breadfruit, or whatever it is,growing on the banks of the Hudson in the early part of June!
"Something, I tell you, has happened to the earth, in all thesecenturies; something big! Maybe the cause of it all was the originalcatastrophe; who knows? It's up to us to find out. We've got more todo than make our home, and live, and hunt for other people--if any arestill alive. We've got to solve these world--problems; we've got workto do, little girl. Work--big work!"
"Well, you've got to rest _now_, anyhow," she dictated. "Now, stopthinking and planning, and just rest! Till your wound is healed,you're going to keep good and quiet."
Silence fell again between them. Then, as the east brightened with theapproach of the moon, she sang the song he loved best--"Ave Maria,Gratia Plena"--in her soft, sweet voice, untrained, unspoiled by falseconventions. And Stern, listening, forgot his problems and his plans;peace came to his soul, and rest and joy.
The song ended. And now the moon, with a silent majesty that shamedhuman speech, slid her bright silver plate up behind the fret of treeson the far hills. Across the river a shimmering path of light grew,broadening; and the world beamed in holy beauty, as on the primalnight.
And their souls drank that beauty. They were glad, as never yet. Atlast Stern spoke.
"It's more like a dream than a reality, isn't it?" said he. "Toowonderful to be true. Makes me think of Alfred de Musset's 'Lucie.'You remember the poem?
"'Un soir, nous etions seuls, J'etais assis pres d'elle . ..'"
Beatrice nodded.
"Yes, I know!" she whispered. "How could I forget it? And to thinkthat for a thousand years the moon's been shining just the same, andnobody--"
"Yes, but _is_ it the same?" interrupted Stern suddenly, his practicalturn of mind always reasserting itself. "Don't you see a difference?You remember the old-time face in the moon, of course. Where is itnow? The moon always presented only one side, the same side, to us inthe old days. How about it now? If I'm not mistaken, things haveshifted up there. We're looking now at some other face of it. And ifthat's so it means a far bigger disarrangement of the solar system andthe earth's orbit and lots of things than you or I suspect!
"Wait till we get back to New York for half a day, and visit the towerand gather up our things. Wait till I get hold of my binoculars again!Perhaps some of these questions may be resolved. We can't go on thisway, surrounded by perpetual puzzles, problems, mysteries! We must--"
"Do nothing but rest now!" she dictated with mock severity.
Stern laughed.
"Well, you're the boss," he answered, and leaned back against the oak."Only, may I propound one more question?"
"Well, what is it?"
"Do you see that dark patch in the sky? Sort of a roughly circularhole in the blue, as it were--right there?" He pointed. "Where therearen't any stars?"
"Why--yes. What about it?"
"It's moving, that's all. Every night that black patch moves among thestars, and cuts their light off; and one night it grazed themoon--passed before the eastern limb of it, you understand. Made apartial eclipse. You were asleep; I didn't bother you about it. But ifthere's a new body in the sky, it's up to us to know why, and whatabout it, and all. So the quicker--"
"The quicker you get well, the better all around!"
She drew his head down and kissed him tenderly on the forehead withthat strange, innate maternal instinct which makes women love to"mother" men even ten years older than themselves.
"Don't you worry your brains about all these problems and vexationsto-night, Allan. Your getting well is the main thing. The wholeworld's future hangs on just that! Do you realize what it means? Doyou?"
"Yes, as far as the human brain _can_ realize so big a concept.Languages, arts, science, all must be handed down to the race by us.The world can't begin again on any higher plane than just the level ofour collective intelligence. All that the world knows to-day is storedin your brain-cells and mine! And our speech, our methods, our ideals,will shape the whole destiny of the earth. Our ideals! We must keepthem very pure!"
"Pure and unspotted," she answered simply. Then with an adorable andfeminine anticlimax:
"Dear, does your shoulder pain you now? I'm awfully heavy to beleaning on you like this!"
"You're not hurting me a bit. On the contrary, your touch, yourpresence, are life to me!"
"Quite sure you're comfy, boy?"
"Positive."
"And happy?"
"To the limit."
"I'm so glad. Because I am, too. I'm awfully sleepy, Allan. Do youmind if I take just a little, tiny nap?"
For all answer he patted her, and smoothed her hair, her cheek, herfull, warm throat.
Presently by her slow, gentle breathing he knew she was asleep.
For a long time he half-lay there against the oak, softly swathed inhis bear-skin, on the odorous bed of fir, holding her in his arms,looking into the dancing firelight.
And night wore on, calm, perfumed, gentle; and the thoughts of the manwere long, long thoughts--thoughts "that do often lie too deep fortears."