[XVII]
A SONG AND ITS SEQUEL
Narva’s forbidding presence promised little in the way of cheer or warmth of welcome to her wearied companions. The singular dwelling into which the latter were ushered recalled, at first glance, the gloomy abode of some medieval anchorite to whose theory of existence anything approaching luxury was to be shunned, rooted out, as an obstruction to the soul’s growth. Whether or not Narva’s mode of living was actually based on these mystical considerations, her home, at least, in its lack of visible comforts, seemed the typical hermit’s cell. Here was neither superfluous ornament nor evidence of the slightest touch of feminine grace or care. The blackened walls of granite rose with uncompromising abruptness, unbroken by niche or shelf, to a ceiling whose vague outlines were lost in darkness. A truss of straw was thrown in one corner of the apartment, and upon it was spread a rough woolen counterpane. Three flattened blocks of stone, placed at intervals along the walls, served as benches; in the center a rock-table, carefully smoothed and large enough for a banquet fairly regal in its dimensions, rose four feet from the floor. Upon this table, with its suggested possibilities of entertainment, stood a large jug, curiously fashioned of a single crystal, within which faintly gleamed an opalescent liquid. There were also two stone platters, one containing heaped-up cubes of a white substance resembling bread, and the other certain broiled fish—they looked like fish—whose globular bodies and reddish-blue flesh aroused misgivings, if not a more decided feeling of repugnance, among those unfamiliar with subterranean bills of fare.
But the explorers were famished enough to attack anything. The dangers they had escaped, the fatigue arising from prolonged exposure and unwonted exercise, the bracing air of the cave, would have corrected the most fastidious taste and made even boot-leather palatable. But Narva’s fish, notwithstanding their sickly hue, were not to be classed, by any means, with boot-leather. After the first wave of disgust, even the suspicious Miranda scented a welcome repast in the dishes spread before him, while the others were in this only too eager to follow his lead. Their hostess, aware of their hunger, gave a reassuring gesture of invitation.
“Eat!” she said solemnly; “it is for you.”
They needed no second bidding. Scorning the absence of chairs and the ordinary dishes and utensils that go with a meal, they fell to and, with the first mouthful, expressed approval by varying grunts and exclamations. Even the fish was voted a delicacy of superlative excellence. In flavor it recalled the sweet succulence of rare tropical fruit, like the cirimoya, with a soupçon of spice that gave it the fillip of a genuine culinary masterpiece. As for the bread, it was not bread at all, but some mysterious compound of flesh and vegetable, the nutritive qualities of which were eagerly explained and extolled by the ravenous doctor.
Una, however, was denied participation in this unexpected and singular feast. From the first Narva had shown a special interest in the girl; caused, doubtless, by the latter’s early expression of confidence in her offer to protect them. This interest, it now appeared, had a distinct purpose in view, which Narva lost no time in carrying out. Satisfied that the others were provided with the entertainment they desired, she took Una by the hand and led her to a distant corner of the apartment.
“Will you go with me?” she asked her in a whisper.