A Voyage to Arcturus [110]
quietly, like one who has been visited by an angel.
"Your colour changed to white," said Corpang. "What happened?"
"I passed through torture to love," replied Maskull simply.
He stood up. Haunte gazed at him sombrely. "Will you not describe that passage?"
Maskull answered slowly and thoughtfully. "When I was in Matterplay, I saw heavy clouds discharge themselves and change to coloured, living animals. In the same way, my black, chaotic pangs just now seemed to consolidate themselves and spring together as a new sort of joy. The joy would not have been possible without the preliminary nightmare. It is not accidental; Nature intends it so. The truth has just flashed through my brain.... You men of Lichstorm don't go far enough. You stop at the pangs, Without realising that they are birth pangs."
"If this is true, you are a great pioneer," muttered Haunte.
"How does this sensation differ from common love?" interrogated Corpang.
"This was all that love is, multiplied by wildness."
Corpang fingered his chin awhile. "The Lichstorm men, however, will never reach this stage, for they are too masculine."
Haunte turned pale. "Why should we alone suffer?"
"Nature is freakish and cruel, and doesn't act according to justice.... Follow us, Haunte, and escape from it all."
"I'll see," muttered Haunte. "Perhaps I will."
"Have we far to go, to Sullenbode?" inquired Maskull.
"No, her home's under the hanging cap of Sarclash."
"What is to happen tonight?" Maskull spoke to himself, but Haunte answered him.
"Don't expect anything pleasant, in spite of what has just occurred. She is not a woman, but a mass of pure sex. Your passion will draw her out into human shape, but only for a moment. If the change were permanent, you would have endowed her with a soul."
"Perhaps the change might be made permanent."
"To do that, it is not enough to desire her; she must desire you as well. But why should she desire you?"
"Nothing turns out as one expects," said Maskull, shaking his head. "We had better get on again."
They resumed the journey. The ledge still rose, but, on turning a corner of the cliff, Haunte quitted it and began to climb a steep gully, which mounted directly to the upper heights. Here they were compelled to use both hands and feet. Maskull thought all the while of nothing but the overwhelming sweetness he had just experienced.
The flat ground on top was dry and springy. There was no more snow, and bright plants appeared. Haunte turned sharply to the left.
"This must be under the cap," said Maskull.
"It is; and within five minutes you will see Sullenbode."
When he spoke his words, Maskull's lips surprised him by their tender sensitiveness. Their action against each other sent thrills throughout his body.
The grass shone dimly. A huge tree, with glowing branches, came into sight. It bore a multitude of red fruit, like hanging lanterns, but no leaves. Underneath this tree Sullenbode was sitting. Her beautiful light - a mingling of jale and white - gleamed softly through the darkness. She sat erect, on crossed legs, asleep. She was clothed in a singular skin garment, which started as a cloak thrown over one shoulder, and ended as loose breeches terminating above the knees. Her forearms were lightly folded, and in one hand she held a half-eaten fruit.
Maskull stood over her and looked down, deeply interested. He thought he had never seen anything half so feminine. Her flesh was almost melting in its softness. So undeveloped were the facial organs that they looked scarcely human; only the lips were full, pouting, and expressive. In their richness, these lips seemed like a splash of vivid will on a background of slumbering protoplasm. Her hair was undressed. Its colour could not be distinguished. It was long and tangled, and had been tucked into her garment behind, for convenience.
Corpang looked calm and sullen, but both the others were visibly agitated. Maskull's heart was hammering away under his chest. Haunte pulled him, and said,
"Your colour changed to white," said Corpang. "What happened?"
"I passed through torture to love," replied Maskull simply.
He stood up. Haunte gazed at him sombrely. "Will you not describe that passage?"
Maskull answered slowly and thoughtfully. "When I was in Matterplay, I saw heavy clouds discharge themselves and change to coloured, living animals. In the same way, my black, chaotic pangs just now seemed to consolidate themselves and spring together as a new sort of joy. The joy would not have been possible without the preliminary nightmare. It is not accidental; Nature intends it so. The truth has just flashed through my brain.... You men of Lichstorm don't go far enough. You stop at the pangs, Without realising that they are birth pangs."
"If this is true, you are a great pioneer," muttered Haunte.
"How does this sensation differ from common love?" interrogated Corpang.
"This was all that love is, multiplied by wildness."
Corpang fingered his chin awhile. "The Lichstorm men, however, will never reach this stage, for they are too masculine."
Haunte turned pale. "Why should we alone suffer?"
"Nature is freakish and cruel, and doesn't act according to justice.... Follow us, Haunte, and escape from it all."
"I'll see," muttered Haunte. "Perhaps I will."
"Have we far to go, to Sullenbode?" inquired Maskull.
"No, her home's under the hanging cap of Sarclash."
"What is to happen tonight?" Maskull spoke to himself, but Haunte answered him.
"Don't expect anything pleasant, in spite of what has just occurred. She is not a woman, but a mass of pure sex. Your passion will draw her out into human shape, but only for a moment. If the change were permanent, you would have endowed her with a soul."
"Perhaps the change might be made permanent."
"To do that, it is not enough to desire her; she must desire you as well. But why should she desire you?"
"Nothing turns out as one expects," said Maskull, shaking his head. "We had better get on again."
They resumed the journey. The ledge still rose, but, on turning a corner of the cliff, Haunte quitted it and began to climb a steep gully, which mounted directly to the upper heights. Here they were compelled to use both hands and feet. Maskull thought all the while of nothing but the overwhelming sweetness he had just experienced.
The flat ground on top was dry and springy. There was no more snow, and bright plants appeared. Haunte turned sharply to the left.
"This must be under the cap," said Maskull.
"It is; and within five minutes you will see Sullenbode."
When he spoke his words, Maskull's lips surprised him by their tender sensitiveness. Their action against each other sent thrills throughout his body.
The grass shone dimly. A huge tree, with glowing branches, came into sight. It bore a multitude of red fruit, like hanging lanterns, but no leaves. Underneath this tree Sullenbode was sitting. Her beautiful light - a mingling of jale and white - gleamed softly through the darkness. She sat erect, on crossed legs, asleep. She was clothed in a singular skin garment, which started as a cloak thrown over one shoulder, and ended as loose breeches terminating above the knees. Her forearms were lightly folded, and in one hand she held a half-eaten fruit.
Maskull stood over her and looked down, deeply interested. He thought he had never seen anything half so feminine. Her flesh was almost melting in its softness. So undeveloped were the facial organs that they looked scarcely human; only the lips were full, pouting, and expressive. In their richness, these lips seemed like a splash of vivid will on a background of slumbering protoplasm. Her hair was undressed. Its colour could not be distinguished. It was long and tangled, and had been tucked into her garment behind, for convenience.
Corpang looked calm and sullen, but both the others were visibly agitated. Maskull's heart was hammering away under his chest. Haunte pulled him, and said,