For a moment he was abashed,—but only for a moment; in himself he considered Doubt to be the strongest part of his nature,—a positive shield and buckler against possible error.
“You cannot wait,”—went on Lilith, speaking slowly and with evident sadness—“Neither can we. We have hoped,—in vain! We have watched—in vain! The strong man’s pride will not bend, nor the stubborn spirit turn in prayer to its Creator. Therefore what is not bent must be broken,—and what voluntarily refuses Light must accept Darkness. I am bidden to come to you, my beloved,—to come to you as I am, and as I ever shall be,—I will come—but how will you receive me?”
“With ecstasy, with love, with welcome beyond all words or thoughts!” cried El-Râmi in passionate excitement. “O Lilith, Lilith! you who read the stars, cannot you read my heart? Do you not see that I—I who have recoiled from the very thought of loving,—I, who have striven to make of myself a man of stone and iron rather than flesh and blood, am conquered by your spells, victorious Lilith!—conquered in every fibre of my being by some subtle witchcraft known to yourself alone. Am I weak!—am I false to my own beliefs? I know not,—I am only conscious of the sovereignty of beauty which has mastered many a stronger man than I. What is the fiercest fire compared with this fever in my veins? I worship you, Lilith! I love you!—more than the world, life, time and hope of heaven, I love you!”
Flushed with eagerness and trembling with his own emotion, he rained kisses on the hands he held, but Lilith strove to withdraw them from his clasp. Pale as alabaster she lay as usual with fast-closed eyes, and again a deep sigh heaved her breast.
“You love my Shadow,”—she said mournfully—“not Myself.”
But El-Râmi’s rapture was not to be chilled by these words. He gathered up a glittering mass of the rich hair that lay scattered on the pillow and pressed it to his lips.
“Oh Lilith mine, is this ‘Shadow’?” he asked—“All this gold in which I net my heart like a willingly-caught bird, and make an end of my boasted wisdom? Are these sweet lips, these fair features, this exquisite body, all ‘shadow’? Then blessed must be the light that casts so gracious a reflection! Judge me not harshly, my Sweet,—for if indeed you are divine, and this beauty I behold is the mere reflex of Divinity, let me see the divine form of you for once, and have a guarantee for faith through love! If there is another and a fairer Lilith than the one whom I now behold, deny me not the grace of so marvellous a vision! I am ready!—I fear nothing—to-night I could face God Himself undismayed!”
He paused abruptly—he knew not why. Something in the chill and solemn look of Lilith’s face checked his speech.
“Lilith—Lilith!” he began again whisperingly—“Do I ask too much? Surely not!—not if you love me! And you do love me—I feel, I know you do!”
There was a long pause,—Lilith might have been made of marble for all the movement she gave. Her breathing was so light as to be scarcely perceptible, and when she answered him at last, her voice sounded strangely faint and far-removed. “Yes, I love you”—she said—“I love you as I have loved you for a thousand ages, and as you have never loved me. To win your love has been my task—to repel my love has been yours.”