And when our Ghostly Talk was Interrupted By the Entrance of other Guests, I Quaffed Another Crystal Goblet of My Friend's Brain-Maddening Concoction, and casting a long, lingering Look at the Persian Rug which hid the Graeco-Romanesque Architecture of the vaulted Ceiling, I passed from the Gothic Portals of this Esthetic Shrine into the outer darkness—beyond the glamour of the Seven Lamps of Architecture.
But,—Oh Fitful Fate!—as I passed though The Long, Quiet Hall and by the wine-colored Plush Corner from whose Voluptuous Shadow The Sinister-Eyed, Carved-Ivory-Handle Odalisque cast an Alluring, Appealing Look toward Me, and all Unconsciously, Unintentionally, and Unresistingly I Took it from its Hand-Painted China Receptacle, and closing the Heavy doors of Rolled, Cathedral Plate Glass After me, I Unfurled its Sun-Tanned Gingham Folds to the aforementioned warring elements. And as I Wended my Desolate Way to the Sainted Shrine of Pendennis, my Seething Brain Peopled the Valley of Unrest with Elfs, And Ravens and Brahman Gods, and the Dagger whose blood-stain belonged to a Venetian Duke. When I Presently Entered the Resounding Cloisters of the Order of ST. PENDENNIS—when I entered this "House without a Woman" I sought the seclusion of a dark, Wine-Colored, Plush-Lined Cell, and carelessly placing the Tanned Gingham, Vegetable-Ivory-handled Umbrella on the Eighteenth Century Hearth before me,
I threw my mentally-exhausted frame into a a Massive, Damask-covered Chair with heavily-carved Arms of highly-polished Oak, and sounded the Tiny, Tintinnabulating Call-Bell for Something to Counteract the Effects of the Too-exhilerating Potables of my Friend, and his no less Harrowing Stories!
But while I thus sat waiting, with my feet to The Comfortable Fire, all at once my Gaze was Unconsciously, Unintentionally and Unresistingly Transfixed by the Sinister Glance of The Dexter Eye of the Carved-Ivory Odalisque.
And as I sat there in the Twilight Glare of the Slowly-Consuming Embers on the Wide and Deep, Old-Fashioned, Open Fire-place, with Lacquered-Brass Fire-Dogs—beneath the Spell of those Stealthy, Roguish Glances, I, against My Wish and Will, was led to Think of The dark, strange and weirdly grotesque things of which My Friend had Told me.
And finally, as under the Strange Fascination of the Vitreous Dexter and Sinister Eyes of The Carved-Ivory Odalisque, which Held me Spell-Bound, I Learned from the Thin, Curled Lips of the said Carved-Ivory Odalisque its Own Story.
It was not Created by Love.
Nor was it in Itself the Embodiment of Love. But it Bore in one of its Flexible Ribs the Tangible Evidence of the Adhesive Qualities of a Love Driven Back upon itself,—the Concentration of an Otherwise Wasted Force.
Less than a Thousand Years ago, a Dudish Roderick Dhu stood Flustrated with Fiery Indignation, face to face with a Maiden Priestess—a Prideful, Haughty Woman!
