Before the door of the cottage, in the full radiance of the moon, a tall woman stood, clothed in white, with her back toward me. She was stooping over a large white animal like a panther, patting and stroking it with one hand, while with the other she pointed to the moon halfway up the heaven, then drew a perpendicular line to the horizon. Instantly the creature darted off with amazing swiftness in the direction indicated. For a moment my eyes followed it, then sought the woman; but she was gone, and not yet had I seen her face! Again I looked after the animal, but whether I saw or only fancied a white speck in the distance, I could not tell.—What did it mean? What was the monster-cat sent off to do? I shuddered, and went back to my bed. Then I remembered that, when I lay down in the sandy hollow outside, the moon was setting; yet here she was, a few hours after, shining in all her glory! “Everything is uncertain here,” I said to myself, “—even the motions of the heavenly bodies!”
I learned afterward that there were several moons in the service of this world, but the laws that ruled their times and different orbits I failed to discover.
Again I fell asleep, and slept undisturbed.
When I went down in the morning, I found bread and water waiting me, the loaf so large that I ate only half of it. My hostess sat muffled beside me while I broke my fast, and except to greet me when I entered, never opened her mouth until I asked her to instruct me how to arrive at Bulika. She then told me to go up the bank of the riverbed until it disappeared; then verge to the right until I came to a forest—in which I might spend a night, but which I must leave with my face to the rising moon. Keeping in the same direction, she said, until I reached a running stream, I must cross that at right angles, and go straight on until I saw the city on the horizon.
I thanked her, and ventured the remark that, looking out of the window in the night, I was astonished to see her messenger understand her so well, and go so straight and so fast in the direction she had indicated.
“If I had but that animal of yours to guide me—” I went on, hoping to learn something of its mission, but she interrupted me, saying,
“It was to Bulika she went—the shortest way.”
“How wonderfully intelligent she looked!”
“Astarte knows her work well enough to be sent to do it,” she answered.
“Have you many messengers like her?”
“As many as I require.”
“Are they hard to teach?”
“They need no teaching. They are all of a certain breed, but not one of the breed is like another. Their origin is so natural it would seem to you incredible.”
“May I not know it?”
“A new one came to me last night—from your head while you slept.”
I laughed.
“All in this world seem to love mystery!” I said to myself. “Some chance word of mine suggested an idea—and in this form she embodies the small fact!”
“Then the creature is mine!” I cried.
“Not at all!” she answered. “That only can be ours in whose existence our will is a factor.”
“Ha! a metaphysician too!” I remarked inside, and was silent.
“May I take what is left of the loaf?” I asked presently.
“You will want no more today,” she replied.
“Tomorrow I may!” I rejoined.
She rose and went to the door, saying as she went,
“It has nothing to do with tomorrow—but you may take it if you will.”
She opened the door, and stood holding it. I rose, taking up the bread—but lingered, much desiring to see her face.
“Must I go, then?” I asked.
“No one sleeps in my house two nights together!” she answered.
“I thank you, then, for your hospitality, and bid you farewell!” I said, and turned to go.
“The time will come when you must house with me many days and many nights,” she murmured sadly through her muffling.
“Willingly,” I replied.
“Nay, not willingly!” she answered.
I said to myself that she was right—I would not willingly be her guest a second time! but immediately my heart rebuked me, and I had scarce crossed the threshold when I turned again.
She stood in the middle of the room; her white garments lay like foamy waves at her feet, and among them the swathings of her face: it was lovely as a night of stars. Her great gray eyes looked up to heaven; tears were flowing down her pale cheeks. She reminded me not a little of the sexton’s wife, although the one looked as if she had not wept for thousands of years, and the other as if she wept constantly behind the wrappings of her beautiful head. Yet something in the very eyes that wept seemed to say, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”
I had bowed my head for a moment, about to kneel and beg her forgiveness, when, looking up in the act, I found myself outside a doorless house. I went round and round it, but could find no entrance.
I had stopped under one of the windows, on the point of calling aloud my repentant confession, when a sudden wailing, howling scream invaded my ears, and my heart stood still. Something sprang from the window above my head, and lighted beyond me. I turned, and saw a large gray cat, its hair on end, shooting toward the riverbed. I fell with my face in the sand, and seemed to hear within the house the gentle sobbing of one who suffered but did not repent.
XVI
A Gruesome Dance
I rose to resume my journey, and walked many a desert mile. How I longed for a mountain, or even a tall rock, from whose summit
