The Witch of Prague Part 3

"I have."

"Then, if you will accept a humble suggestion from me, you will go back to her at once."

"I know very little of her. I do not altogether trust her--"

"Trust! Powers of Eblis--or any other powers! Who talks of trust? Does the wise man trust himself? Never. Then how can he dare trust any one else?"

"Your cynical philosophy again!" exclaimed the Wanderer.

"Philosophy? I am a mysosophist! All wisdom is vanity, and I hate it!

Autology is my study, autosophy my ambition, autonomy my pride. I am the great Panegoist, the would-be Conservator of Self, the inspired prophet of the Universal I. I--I--I! My creed has but one word, and that word but one letter, that letter represents Unity, and Unity is Strength. I am I, one, indivisible, central! O I! Hail and live for ever!"

Again the little man's rich ba.s.s voice rang out in mellow laughter. A very faint smile appeared upon his companion's sad face.

"You are happy, Keyork," he said. "You must be, since you can laugh at yourself so honestly."

"At myself? Vain man! I am laughing at you, and at every one else, at everything except myself. Will you go to Unorna? You need not trust her any more than the natural infirmity of your judgment suggests."

"Can you tell me nothing more of her? Do you know her well?"

"She does not offer her help to every one. You would have done well to accept it in the first instance. You may not find her in the same humour again."

"I had supposed from what you said of her that she made a profession of clairvoyance, or hypnotism, or mesmerism--whatever may be the right term nowadays."

"It matters very little," answered Keyork, gravely. "I used to wonder at Adam's ingenuity in naming all living things, but I think he would have made but a poor figure in a tournament of modern terminologists. No.

Unorna does not accept remuneration for her help when she vouchsafes to give it."

"And yet I was introduced to her presence without even giving my name."

"That is her fancy. She will see any one who wishes to see her, beggar, gentleman, or prince. But she only answers such questions as she pleases to answer."

"That is to say, inquiries for which she is already prepared with a reply," suggested the Wanderer.

"See for yourself. At all events, she is a very interesting specimen. I have never known any one like her."

Keyork Arabian was silent, as though he were reflecting upon Unorna's character and peculiar gifts, before describing them to his friend. His ivory features softened almost imperceptibly, and his sharp blue eyes suddenly lost their light, as though they no longer saw the outer world. But the Wanderer cared for none of these things, and bestowed no attention upon his companion's face. He preferred the little man's silence to his wild talk, but he was determined, if possible, to extract some further information concerning Unorna, and before many seconds had elapsed he interrupted Keyork's meditations with a question.

"You tell me to see for myself," he said. "I would like to know what I am to expect. Will you not enlighten me?"

"What?" asked the other vaguely, as though roused from sleep.

"If I go to Unorna and ask a consultation of her, as though she were a common somnambulist, and if she deigns to place her powers at my disposal what sort of a.s.sistance shall I most probably get?"

They had been walking slowly forward, and Keyork again stopped, rapping the pavement with his iron-shod stick, and looking up from under his bushy, overhanging eyebrows.

"Of two things, one will happen," he answered. "Either she will herself fall into the abnormal state and will answer correctly any questions you put to her, or she will hypnotise you, and you will yourself see--what you wish to see."

"I myself?"

"You yourself. The peculiarity of the woman is her duality, her double power. She can, by an act of volition, become hypnotic, clairvoyant--whatever you choose to call it. Or, if her visitor is at all sensitive, she can reverse the situation and play the part of the hypnotiser. I never heard of a like case."

"After all, I do not see why it should not be so," said the Wanderer thoughtfully. "At all events, whatever she can do, is evidently done by hypnotism, and such extraordinary experiments have succeeded of late--"

"I did not say that there was nothing but hypnotism in her processes."

"What then? Magic?" The Wanderer's lip curled scornfully.

"I do not know," replied the little man, speaking slowly. "Whatever her secret may be, she keeps it, even when speaking in sleep. This I can tell you. I suspect that there is some other being, or person, in that queer old house of hers whom she consults on grave occasions. At a loss for an answer to a difficult scientific question, I have known her to leave the room and to come back in the course of a few minutes with a reply which I am positive she could never have framed herself."

"She may have consulted books," suggested the Wanderer.

"I am an old man," said Keyork Arabian suddenly. "I am a very old man; there are not many books which I have not seen and partially read at one time or at another, and my memory is surprisingly good. I have excellent reasons for believing that her information is not got from anything that was ever written or printed."

"May I ask of what general nature your questions were?" inquired the other, more interested than he had hitherto been in the conversation.

"They referred to the principles of embalmment."

"Much has been written about that since the days of the Egyptians."

"The Egyptians!" exclaimed Keyork with great scorn. "They embalmed their dead after a fas.h.i.+on. Did you ever hear that they embalmed the living?"

The little man's eyes shot fire.

"No, nor will I believe in any such outrageous impossibilities! If that is all, I have little faith in Unorna's mysterious counsellor."

"The faith which removes mountains is generally gained by experience when it is gained at all, and the craving for explanation takes the place, in some minds, of a willingness to learn. It is not my business to find explanations, nor to raise my little self to your higher level, by standing upon this curbstone, in order to deliver a lecture in the popular form, upon matters that interest me. It is enough that I have found what I wanted. Go and do likewise. See for yourself. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. You are unhappy, and unhappiness is dangerous, in rare cases fatal. If you tell me to-morrow that Unorna is a charlatan, you will be in no worse plight than to-day, nor will your opinion of her influence mine. If she helps you to find what you want--so much the better for you--how much the better, and how great the risk you run, are questions for your judgment."

"I will go," answered the Wanderer, after a moment's hesitation.

"Very good," said Keyork Arabian. "If you want to find me again, come to my lodging. Do you know the house of the Black Mother of G.o.d?"

"Yes--there is a legend about a Spanish picture of our Lady once preserved there--"

"Exactly, it takes its name from that black picture. It is on the corner of the Fruit Market, over against the window at which the Princess Windischgratz was shot. I live in the upper story. Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

CHAPTER IV

After the Wanderer had left her, Unorna continued to hold in her hand the book she had again taken up, following the printed lines mechanically from left to right, from the top of the page to the foot.

Having reached that point, however, she did not turn over the leaf. She was vaguely aware that she had not understood the sense of the words, and she returned to the place at which she had begun, trying to concentrate her attention upon the matter, moving her fresh lips to form the syllables, and bending her brows in the effort of understanding, so that a short, straight furrow appeared, like a sharp vertical cut extending from between the eyes to the midst of the broad forehead. One, two and three sentences she grasped and comprehended; then her thoughts wandered again, and the groups of letters pa.s.sed meaningless before her sight. She was accustomed to directing her intelligence without any perceptible effort, and she was annoyed at being thus led away from her occupation, against her will and in spite of her determination. A third attempt showed her that it was useless to force herself any longer, and with a gesture and look of irritation she once more laid the volume upon the table at her side.

During a few minutes she sat motionless in her chair, her elbow leaning on the carved arm-piece, her chin supported upon the back of her half-closed hand, of which the heavy, perfect fingers were turned inwards, drooping in cla.s.sic curves towards the lace about her throat.

Her strangely mismatched eyes stared vacantly towards an imaginary horizon, not bounded by banks of flowers, nor obscured by the fantastic foliage of exotic trees.

Presently she held up her head, her white hand dropped upon her knee, she hesitated an instant, and then rose to her feet, swiftly, as though she had made a resolution and was about to act upon it. She made a step forward, and then paused again, while a half-scornful smile pa.s.sed like a shadow over her face. Very slowly she began to pace the marble floor, up and down in the open s.p.a.ce before her chair, turning and turning again, the soft folds of her white gown following her across the smooth pavement with a gentle, sweeping sound, such as the breeze makes among flowers in spring.

"Is it he?" she asked aloud in a voice ringing with the joy and the fear of a pa.s.sion that has waited long and is at last approaching the fulfilment of satisfaction.