“Is this hypocrisy?” muttered Jack. “Can any one be deceived by it?”
He turned to fix his eyes upon Zarga. She sat there, drooping, like a lovely flower torn from its stalk; the glow and brilliance of the beauty that had been so vivid in the hall of crystal had faded as if beaten upon by storms, but she was only the more appealing to him for that reason. She did not return his look; she seemed unconscious of his presence, though she must have known he was there; but she was gazing at Argon with an expression of affection which seemed to Jack incomprehensible in the circumstances. There must be in her nature a sweetness and nobility far greater than he had hitherto imagined if she could not only forgive the attack her brother was about to make, but appear to be grateful for it!
“It is no palliation of her offense,” Argon went on, “that he whom she sought to beguile was a stranger newly arrived among us; rather should that have been for her a precious opportunity to show a kindness and forbearance beyond the strict obligations of fellowship. Moreover, as you all know, and as she knew, he was already betrothed to another woman who had arrived here but a short while before him. But she was not restrained by these circumstances. She was only the more stimulated by them to pursue her course. And now I must reveal certain grievous facts which to many of you have been unsuspected.”
His voice became husky, and he paused to recover himself. Zarga’s face was pale and expressionless; she trembled uncontrollably, as if under a freezing wind.
“During a part of the last circuit,” the speaker resumed, “she had been a pupil with me in a study of the earth from which these two strangers came. By chance, she was attracted to a youth there”—he indicated Jack—“and, through the medium of the planetary mirror used in our school, was able to follow his career closely. At first she often spoke to me of him, but latterly had seemed indifferent, her apparent change dating from the time when Miriam, our other guest, unexpectedly reached us. In truth, she had divined, by means available to initiates, that the youth was to follow, so enabling her to meet him personally; and this discovery caused what had till then been a merely fanciful and imaginative interest to kindle to a wayward and unruly passion. In spite of her knowledge of another’s prior claim, she resolved, in the secrecy of her heart, to take him for herself!”
A low murmur passed through the assembly. Argon’s face became stern as he manned himself for the sequel.
“My sister’s relations with our highest, who loved and trusted her, gave her facilities for carrying out her project. I need not enlarge on these; but she also accepted aid from a source not only unlawful, but treasonable. She entered into a conspiracy with our hostile neighbor, the Prince of Tor, to render mutual services. He, by methods of his own, had somewhat familiarized himself with the planet of our guests, and had resolved to attempt the capture of Miriam. Zarga gave him information and aid which enabled him to succeed—after several failures—in his effort, and thus removed from her path the rival whom she feared. She was left free to practise upon the youth she pursued arts both native and magical, and by false illusions sought to persuade him that she whom he loved had betrayed him. Fortunately for all—even for her—his resistance proved invincible. Guided by intimations received from a wise friend who has long since held communication with us, we overcame the magical obstacles put in our way, and found her in the crisis of her iniquity.”
The audience had listened to this narration with an interest manifestly intense. Argon, perhaps, had more to say; but he cast an imploring look at Lamara, who replied with an acquiescing and compassionate gesture which permitted him to sink back, overwrought, in his chair. Jack restrained himself for the present, perceiving that Lamara was about to speak. Would she justify Argon’s cruel exposure?
Her eyes traveled over the audience, and at length rested with tenderness upon Zarga. Then she seemed, for a few moments to commune with herself.
“Evil is a false friend,” she said. “Man is born asleep, and dreams in his sleep that evil is good. Only when he wakes does he recognize evil as his enemy. He begins to live when he learns that he and evil are twain. Then those twain join battle, and until the last day the issue is in doubt. The power of the enemy lies in this—that he never ceases to wear the guise of the dearest and most intimate companion, to oppose whom is to destroy life itself. And in order to win the struggle, man must plunge his sword into his inmost heart. Nothing less than that can set his true self free.