CHAPTER XX
For some days after her adventurous voyage to the Great Desert and backMorgana chose to remain in absolute seclusion. Save for Lady Kingswoodand her own household staff, she saw no one, and was not accessibleeven to Don Aloysius, who called several times, moved not only byinterest, but genuine curiosity, to enquire how she fared. Many of theresidents in the vicinity of the Palazzo d'Oro had gleaned scraps ofinformation here and there concerning the wonderful air-ship which theyhad seen careering over their heads during its testing trials, and as amatter of course they had heard more than scraps in regard to itswealthy owner. But nowadays keen desire to know and to investigate hasgiven place to a sort of civil apathy which passes for good form--thatabsolute indifferentism which is too much bored to care about otherpeople's affairs, and which would not disturb itself if it heard of aneighbour deciding to cross the Atlantic in a washtub. "Nothingmatters," is the general verdict on all events and circumstances.Nevertheless, the size, the swiftness and soundlessness of the "WhiteEagle" and the secrecy observed in its making, had somewhat moved theheavy lump of human dough called "society," and the whispered noveltyof Morgana's invention had reached Rome and Paris, nay, almost London,without her consent or knowledge. So that she was more or less delugedwith letters; and noted scientists, both in France and Italy, thoughall incredulous as to her attainment, made it a point of "business" tolearn all they could about her, which was not much more than can beusually learned about any wealthy woman or man with a few whims togratify. A murderer gains access to the whole press,--his look, hismanner, his remarks, are all carefully noted and commented upon,--but ascientist, an explorer, a man or woman whose work is that ofbeneficence and use to humanity, is barely mentioned except in the wayof a sneer. So it often chances that the public know nothing of itsgreatest till they have passed beyond the reach of worldly honour.
Morgana, however, had no desire that her knowledge or attainment shouldbe admitted or praised. She was entirely destitute of ambition. She hadread too much and studied too deeply to care for so-called "fame,"which, as she knew, is the mere noise of one moment, to be lost insilence the next. She was self-centered and yet not selfish. She feltthat to understand her own entity, its mental and physical composition,and the possibilities of its future development, was sufficient to fillher life--that life which she quite instinctively recognised as bearingwithin itself the seed of immortality. Her strange interview with the"Voice" from the City in the Desert, and the glimpse she had beenpermitted to see of the owner of that voice, had not so much surprisedher as convinced her of a theory she had long held,--namely that therewere other types of the human race existing, unknown to the generalityof ordinary men and women--types that were higher in their organisationand mental capacity,--types which by reason of their very advancementkept themselves hidden and aloof from modern civilisation. And sheforthwith plunged anew into the ocean of scientific problems, where shefloated like a strong swimmer at ease with her mind upturned to thestars.
Yet she did not neglect the graceful comforts and elegancies of thePalazzo d'Oro, and life went on in that charming abode peacefully.Morgana always being the kindest of patrons to Lady Kingswood, anddiscoursing feminine commonplaces with her as though there were noother subjects of conversation in the world than embroidery andspecific cures for rheumatism. She said little--indeed almostnothing,--of her aerial voyage to the East, except that she had enjoyedit, and that the Pyramids and the Sphinx were dwarfed into mereinsignificant dots on the land as seen from the air,--she hadapparently nothing more to describe, and Lady Kingswood was notsufficiently interested in air-travel to press enquiry. One brightsunny morning, after a week of her self-imposed seclusion, sheannounced her intention of calling at the monastery to see Don Aloysius.
"I have been rather rude"--she said--"Of course he has wanted to knowhow my flight to the East went off!--and I have given no sign and sentno message."
"He has called several times"--replied Lady Kingswood--"and I think hehas been very much disappointed not to be received."
"Poor reverend Father!" and Morgana smiled--"He should not bother hismind about a woman! Well! I'm going to see him now."
Lady Kingswood looked at her critically. She was gowned in a simplewhite morning frock with touches of blue,--and she wore a broad-brimmedTuscan straw hat with a fold of blue carelessly twined about it. Shemade a pretty picture--one of extraordinary youthfulness for any womanout of her 'teens--so much so that Lady Kingswood wondered if voyagesin the air would be found to have a rejuvenating effect.
"They do not admit women into the actual monastery"--she wenton--"Feminine frivolities are forbidden! But the ruined cloister isopen to visitors and I shall ask to see Don Aloysius there."
She lightly waved adieu and went, leaving her amiable and contentedchaperone to the soothing companionship of a strip of embroidery atwhich she worked with the leisurely tranquillity which such anoccupation engenders.
The ruined cloister looked very beautiful that morning, with itscrumbling arches crowned and festooned with roses climbing every way attheir own sweet will, and Morgana's light figure gave just the touch ofhuman interest to the solemn peacefulness of the scene. She waited buttwo or three minutes before Don Aloysius appeared--he had seen herarrive from the window of his own private library. He approached herslowly--there was a gravity in the expression of his face that almostamounted to coldness, and no smile lightened it as she met his keen,fixed glance.
"So you have come to me at last!" he said--"I have not merited yourconfidence till now! Why?"
His rich voice had a ring of deep reproach in its tone--and she was fora moment taken aback. Then her native self-possession and perfectassurance returned.
"Dear Father Aloysius, you do not want my confidence! You know all Ican tell you!" she said--and drawing close to him she laid her hand onhis arm--"Am I not right?"
A tremor shook him--gently he put her hand aside.
"You think I know!" he replied--"You imagine--"
"Oh, no, I imagine nothing!" and she smiled--"I am sure--yes,SURE!--that you have the secret of things that seem fabulous and yetare true! It was you who first told me of the Brazen City in the GreatDesert,--you said it was a mere tradition--but you filled my mind witha desire to find it--"
"And you found it?" he interrupted, quickly--"You found it?"
"You know I did!" she replied--"Why ask the question? Messages on aSound-Ray can reach YOU, as well as me!"
He moved to the stone bench which occupied a corner of the cloister andsat down. He was very pale and his eyes were feverishly bright.Presently he seemed to recover himself, and spoke more in his usualmanner.
"Rivardi has been here every day"--he said--"He has talked of nothingbut you. He told me that he and Gaspard fell suddenly asleep--for whichthey were grievously ashamed of themselves--and that you took controlof the air-ship and turned it homeward before you had given them anychance to explore the desert--"
"Quite true!" she answered, tranquilly--"And--YOU knew all that beforehe told you! You knew that I was compelled to turn the ship homewardbecause it was not allowed to proceed! Dear Father Aloysius, you cannothide yourself from me! You are one of the few who have studied thesecrets of the approaching future,--the 'change' which is imminent--the'world to come' which is coming! Yes!--and you are brave to live as youdo in the fetters of a conventional faith when you have such a farwider outlook--"
He stopped her by a gesture, rising from where he sat and extending ahand of warning and authority.
"Child, beware what you say!" and his voice had a ring of sternness inits mellow tone--"If I know what you think I know, on what ground doyou suppose I have built my knowledge? Only on that faith which youcall 'conventional'--that faith which has never been understood by theworld's majority! That faith which teaches of the God-in-Man, done todeath by the Man WITHOUT God in him!--and who, nevertheless, by thespiritual strength of a resurrection from the grave, proves that thereis no death but only continuous renewal of life! Th
is is no mere'convention' of faith,--no imaginary or traditional tale--it is purescientific fact. The virginal conception of divinity in woman, and thetransfiguration of manhood, these things are true--and the advance ofscientific discovery will prove them so beyond all denial. We have heldthe faith, AS IT SHOULD BE HELD, for centuries,--and it has led us, andcontinues to lead us, to all we know."
"We?" queried Morgana, softly--"WE--of the Church?--or of the BrazenCity?"
He looked at her for some moments without speaking. His tall finefigure seemed more than ever stately and imposing--and his featuresexpressed a calm assurance and dignity of thought which gave themadditional charm.
"Your question is bold!" he said--"Your enterprising spirit stops atnothing! You have learned much--you are resolved to learn more!Well,--I cannot prevent you,--nor do I see any reason why I should try!You are a resolved student,--you are also a woman:--a woman differentto ordinary women and set apart from ordinary womanhood. So I say toyou 'We of the Brazen City'--if you will! For more than three thousandyears 'we' have existed--'we' have studied, 'we' have discovered--'we'have known. 'We,' the selected offspring of all the race that ever wereborn,--'we,' the pure blood of the earth,--'we,' the progenitors of theworld TO BE,--'we' have lived, watching temporary civilisations riseand fall,--seeing generations born and die, because, like weeds, theyhave grown without any root of purpose save to smother their neighboursand destroy. 'We' remain as commanded, waiting for the full declarationand culmination of those forces which are already advancing to theend,--when the 'Kingdom' comes!"
Morgana moved close to him, and looked up at his grave, dark facebeseechingly.
"Then why are you here?" she asked--"If you know,--if you were ever inthe 'Brazen City' how did it happen that you left it? How could ithappen?"
He smiled down into the jewel-blue of her clear eyes.
"Little child!" he said--"Brilliant soul, that rejoiced in theperception that gave you what you called 'the inside of asun-ray,'--you, for whom the things which interest men and women of themoment are mere toys of poor invention--you, of all others, ought toknow that when the laws of the universe are understood and followed,there can be no fetters on the true liberty of the subject? IF I wereever in the 'Brazen City'--mind! I say 'if'--there could be nothing toprevent my leaving it if I chose--"
She interrupted him by the uplifting of a hand.
"I was told"--she said slowly--"by a Voice that spoke to me--that if Iwent there I should have to stay there!"
"No doubt!" he answered--"For love would keep you!"
"Love!" she echoed.
"Even so! Such love as you have never dreamed of, dear soul weightedwith millions of gold! Love!--the only force that pulls heaven to earthand binds them together!"
"But YOU--you--if you were in the Brazen City--"
"If!" he repeated, emphatically.
"If--yes! if"--she said--"If you were there, love did not hold YOU?"
"No!"
There was a silence. The sunshine burned down on the ancient greyflagstones of the cloister, and two gorgeous butterflies danced overthe climbing roses that hung from the arches in festal wreaths of pinkand white. A luminance deeper than that of the sun seemed to encirclethe figures standing together--the one so elfin, light anddelicate,--the other invested with a kind of inward royalty expressingitself outwardly in stateliness of look and bearing. Somethingmysteriously suggestive of super-humanity environed them; a spirit andpersonality higher than mortal. After some minutes Aloysius spokeagain--
"The city is not a 'Brazen' City"--he said--"It has been called so bytravellers who have seen its golden towers glistening afar off in asudden refraction of light lasting but a few seconds. Gold often lookslike brass and brass like gold, in human entities as in architecturalresults." He paused--then went on slowly and impressively--"Surely youremember,-you MUST remember, that it is written 'The city liethfour-square, and the length is as large as the breadth. The wallthereof is according to the measure of a man--that is, of the Angel.And the city is of pure gold.' Does that give you no hint of themeasure of a man, that is, of the Angel?--of the 'new heavens and thenew earth,' the old things being passed away? Dear child, you havestudied deeply--you have adventured far and greatly!--continue yourquest, but do not forget to take your guiding Light, the Faith whichhalf the world and more ignores!"
She sprang to him impulsively and caught his hands.
"Oh, you must help me!" she cried--"You must teach me--I want to knowwhat YOU know!--"
He held her gently and with reverent tenderness.
"I know no more than you,"--he answered--"you work by Science--I, byFaith, the bed-rock from Which all science proceeds--and we arrive atthe same discoveries by different methods. I am a poor priest in thetemple of the Divine, serving my turn--but I am not alone in service,for in every corner of the habitable globe there is one member of our'City' who communicates with the rest. One!--but enough! To-day'scommercial world uses old systems of wireless telegraphy and telephonywhich were known and done with thousands of years ago--but 'we' havethe sound-ray--the light which carries music on its wings and createsform as it goes."
Here he released her hands.
"Knowing what you do know you have no need of my help"--hecontinued--"You have not found happiness yet, because that only comesthrough one source--Love. But I doubt not that God will give you thatin His own good time." He paused--then went on--"As you go out, enterthe chapel for a moment and send a prayer on the Sound-Ray to theCentre of all Knowledge,--the source of all discovery--have no fear butthat it will arrive! The rest is for you to decide."
She hesitated.
"And--the Brazen City?" she queried.
"The Golden City!" he answered--"Well, you have had your experience!Your name is known there--and no doubt you can hear from it when youwill."
"Do YOU hear from it?" she asked, pointedly.
He smiled gravely.
"I may not speak of what I hear"--he answered. "Nor may you!"
She was silent for a space--then looked up at him appealingly.
"The world is changed for me"--she said--"It will never be the sameagain! I do not seem to belong to it--other influences surroundme,--how I live in it?--how shall I work--what shall I do?"
"You will do as you have always done--go your own way"--hereplied--"The way which has led you to so much discovery andattainment. You must surely know in your own soul that you have beenguided in that way--and your success is the result of allowing yourselfto BE guided. In all things you will be guided now--have no fear foryourself! All will be well for you!"
"And for you?" she asked impulsively.
He smiled.
"Why think of me?" he said, gently--"I am nothing in your life--"
"You are!" she replied--"You are more than you imagine. I begin torealise--"
He held up his hand with a warning gesture.
"Hush!" he said--"There are things of which we must not speak!"
At that moment the monastery bell tolled the midday "Angelus." DonAloysius bent his head--Morgana instinctively did the same. Within thebuilding the deep voices of the brethren sounded, chanting,--
"Angelus Domini nuntiavit Maria Et concepit de Spiritu sancto."
As the salutation to heaven finished, the mellow music of the organ inthe chapel sent a wave of solemn and prayerful tenderness on the air,and, moved by the emotion of the hour, Morgana's heart beat morequickly and tears filled her eyes.
"There must be beautiful music in the Golden City!" she said.
Don Aloysius smiled.
"There is! And when the other things of life give you pause to listen,you will often hear it!"
She smiled happily in response, and then, with a silent gesture offarewell, left the cloister and made her way to the chapel, part ofwhich was kept open for public worship. It was empty, but the hiddenorganist was still playing. She went towards the High Altar and kneltin front of it. She was not of the Catholic faith,--she was truly of nofaith at all save that
which is taught by Science, which like a dooropened in heaven shows all the wonders within,--but her keen sense ofthe beautiful was stirred by the solemn peace of the shut Tabernaclewith the Cross above it, and the great lilies bending under their ownweight of loveliness and fragrance on either side.
"It is the Symbol of a great Truth which is true for all time"--shethought, as she clasped her hands in an attitude of prayer--"And howsad and strange it is to feel that there are thousands among itsbest-intentioned worshippers and priests who have not discovered itsmystic meaning. The God in Man, born of purity in woman! Is it only inthe Golden City that they know?"
She raised her eyes in half unconscious appeal--and, as she did so, abrilliant Ray of light flashed downward from the summit of the Crosswhich surmounted the Altar, and remained extended slantwise towardsher. She saw it,--and waited expectantly. Close to her ears a Voicespoke with extreme softness, yet very distinctly.
"Can you hear me?"
"Yes," she replied at once, with equal softness.
"Then, listen! I have a message for you!"
And Morgana listened,--listened intently,--the sapphire hue of the Raylighting her gold hair, as she knelt, absorbed. What she heard filledher with a certain dread; and a tremor of premonition, like thedarkness preceding storm, shook her nerves. But the inward spirit ofher was as a warrior clothed in steel,--she was afraid ofnothing--least of all of any event or incident passing for"supernatural," knowing beyond all doubt that the most seemingmiraculous circumstances are all the result of natural movement andtransmutation. There never had been anything surprising to her in thefact that light is a conveyor of sound; and that she was receiving amessage by such means seemed no more extraordinary to her mind thanreceiving it by the accepted telephonic service. Every word spoken sheheard with the closest attention--until--as though a cloud had suddenlycovered it,--the "Sound-Ray" vanished, and the Voice ceased.
She rose at once from her knees, alert and ready for action--her facewas pale, her lips set, her eyes luminous.
"I must not hesitate"--she said--"If I can save him I will!"
She left the chapel and hurried home, where as soon as she reached herown private room she wrote to the Marchese Rivardi the following note,which was more than unpleasantly startling to him when he received it.
"I shall need you and Gaspard for a long journey in the 'White Eagle.'Prepare everything in the way of provisioning and other necessarydetails. No time must be lost, and no expense need be spared. We muststart as quickly as possible."
This message written, sealed and dispatched by one of her servants tothe Marchese's villa, she sat for some moments lost in thought,wistfully looking out on her flower-filled gardens and the shimmeringblue of the Mediterranean beyond.
"I may be too late!" she said, speaking aloud to herself--"But I willtake the risk! He will not care--no!--a man like that cares for nothingbut himself. He would have broken my life--(had I given him thechance!)--for the sake of an experiment. Now--if I can--I will rescuehis for the sake of an ideal!"