Генри Хаггард - When the World Shook

"And what has it brought to you, Yva, beyond a fair body and a soul of strength?"

"It has brought a spirit, Humphrey. Between them the body and the soul have bred a spirit, and in the fires of tribulation from that spirit has been distilled the essence of eternal love. That is Time's gift to me, and therefore, although still he rules me here, I mock at Fate," and she waved her hand with a gesture of defiance at the stern–faced, sexless effigy which sat above us, the sword across its knees.

"Look! Look!" she went on in a swelling voice of music, pointing to the statues of the dotard and the beauteous woman. "They implore Fate, they worship Fate. I do not implore, I do not worship or ask a sign as even Oro does and as did his forefathers. I rise above and triumph. As Fate, the god of my people, sets his foot upon the sun, so I set my foot upon Fate, and thence, like a swimmer from a rock, leap into the waters of Immortality."

I looked at her whose presence, as happened from time to time, had grown majestic beyond that of woman; I studied her deep eyes which were full of lights, not of this world, and I grew afraid.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Yva, you talk like one who has finished with life."

"It passes," she answered quickly. "Life passes like breath fading from a mirror. So should all talk who breathe beneath the sun."

"Yes, Yva, but if you went and left me still breathing on that mocking glass—"

"If so, what of it? Will not your breath fade also and join mine where all vapours go? Or if it were yours that faded and mine that remained for some few hours, is it not the same? I think, Humphrey, that already you have seen a beloved breath melt from the glass of life," she added, looking at me earnestly.

I bowed my head and answered:

"Yes, and therefore I am ashamed."

"Oh! why should you be ashamed, Humphrey, who are not sure but that two breaths may yet be one breath? How do you know that there is a difference between them?"

"You drive me mad, Yva. I cannot understand."

"Nor can I altogether, Humphrey. Why should I, seeing that I am no more than woman, as you are no more than man? I would always have you remember, Humphrey, that I am no spirit or sorceress, but just a woman—like her you lost."

I looked at her doubtfully and answered:

"Women do not sleep for two hundred thousand years. Women do not take dream journeys to the stars. Women do not make the dead past live again before the watcher's eyes. Their hair does not glimmer in the dusk nor do their bodies gleam, nor have they such strength of soul or eyes so wonderful, or loveliness so great."

These words appeared to distress her who, as it seemed to me, was above all things anxious to prove herself woman and no more.

"All these qualities are nothing, Humphrey," she cried. "As for the beauty, such as it is, it comes to me with my blood, and with it the glitter of my hair which is the heritage of those who for generations have drunk of the Life–water. My mother was lovelier than I, as was her mother, or so I have heard, since only the fairest were the wives of the Kings of the Children of Wisdom. For the rest, such arts as I have spring not from magic, but from knowledge which your people will acquire in days to come, that is, if Oro spares them. Surely you above all should know that I am only woman," she added very slowly and searching my face with her eyes.

"Why, Yva? During the little while that we have been together I have seen much which makes me doubt. Even Bickley the sceptic doubts also."

"I will tell you, though I am not sure that you will believe me." She glanced about her as though she were frightened lest someone should overhear her words or read her thoughts. Then she stretched out her hands and drawing my head towards her, put her lips to my ear and whispered:

"Because once you saw me die, as women often die—giving life for life."

"I saw you die?" I gasped.

She nodded, then continued to whisper in my ear, not in her own voice, but another's:

"Go where you seem called to go, far away. Oh! the wonderful place in which you will find me, not knowing that you have found me. Good–bye for a little while; only for a little while, my own, my own!"

I knew the voice as I knew the words, and knowing, I think that I should have fallen to the ground, had she not supported me with her strong arms.

"Who told you?" I stammered. "Was it Bickley or Bastin? They knew, though neither of them heard those holy words."

"Not Bickley nor Bastin," she answered, shaking her head, "no, nor you yourself, awake or sleeping, though once, by the lake yonder, you said to me that when a certain one lay dying, she bade you seek her elsewhere, for certainly you would find her. Humphrey, I cannot say who told me those words because I do not know. I think they are a memory, Humphrey!"

"That would mean that you, Yva, are the same as one who was—not called Yva."

"The same as one who was called Natalie, Humphrey," she replied in solemn accents. "One whom you loved and whom you lost."

"Then you think that we live again upon this earth?"

"Again and yet again, until the time comes for us to leave the earth for ever. Of this, indeed, I am sure, for that knowledge was part of the secret wisdom of my people."

"But you were not dead. You only slept."

"The sleep was a death–sleep which went by like a flash, yes, in an instant, or so it seemed. Only the shell of the body remained preserved by mortal arts, and when the returning spirit and the light of life were poured into it again, it awoke. But during this long death–sleep, that spirit may have spoken through other lips and that light may have shone through other eyes, though of these I remember nothing."

"Then that dream of our visit to a certain star may be no dream?"

"I think no dream, and you, too, have thought as much."

"In a way, yes, Yva. But I could not believe and turned from what I held to be a phantasy."

"It was natural, Humphrey, that you should not believe. Hearken! In this temple a while ago I showed you a picture of myself and of a man who loved me and whom I loved, and of his death at Oro's hands. Did you note anything about that man?"

"Bickley did," I answered. "Was he right?"

"I think that he was right, since otherwise I should not have loved you, Humphrey."

"I remember nothing of that man, Yva."

"It is probable that you would not, since you and he are very far apart, while between you and him flow wide seas of death, wherein are set islands of life; perhaps many of them. But I remember much who seem to have left him but a very little while ago."

"When you awoke in your coffin and threw your arms about me, what did you think, Yva?"

"I thought you were that man, Humphrey."

There was silence between us and in that silence the truth came home to me. Then there before the effigy of Fate and in the desolate, glowing temple we plighted anew our troth made holy by a past that thus so wonderfully lived again.

Of this consecrated hour I say no more. Let each picture it as he will. A glory as of heaven fell upon us and in it we dwelt a space.

"Beloved," she whispered at length in a voice that was choked as though with tears, "if it chances that we should be separated again for a little while, you will not grieve over much?"

"Knowing all I should try not to grieve, Yva, seeing that in truth we never can be parted. But do you mean that I shall die?"

"Being mortal either of us might seem to die, Humphrey," and she bent her head as though to hide her face. "You know we go into dangers this day."

"Does Oro really purpose to destroy much of the world and has he in truth the power, Yva?"

"He does so purpose and most certainly he has the power, unless—unless some other Power should stay his hand."