His voice faltered a little—but he quickly controlled his emotion, and continued—
“I must ask you to sit down again and hear me out patiently to the end of my story. At present I have only told you what concerns yourself—and how the failure of my experiment upon the spiritual part of your nature obliged me to seek for another subject on whom to continue my investigations. As far as you are personally concerned, no failure is apparent—for your spirit is allowed frequent intervals of supernatural freedom, in which you have experiences that give you peculiar pleasure, though you are unable to impart them to me with positive lucidity. You visit a Star—so you say—with which you really seem to have some home connection—but you never get beyond this, so that it would appear that any higher insight is denied you. Now what I needed to obtain was not only a higher insight, but the highest knowledge that could possibly be procured through a mingled combination of material and spiritual essences, and it was many a long and weary day before I found what I sought. At last my hour came—as it comes to all who have the patience and fortitude to wait for it.”
He paused a moment—then went on more quickly—
“You remember of course that occasion on which we chanced upon a party of Arab wanderers who were journeying across the Syrian desert?—all poor and ailing, and almost destitute of food or water?”
“I remember it perfectly!” and Féraz, seating himself opposite his brother again, listened with renewed interest and attention.
“They had two dying persons with them,” continued El-Râmi—“An elderly woman—a widow, known as Zaroba,—the other an orphan girl of about twelve years of age named Lilith. Both were perishing of fever and famine. I came to the rescue. I saved Zaroba,—and she, with the passionate impulsiveness of her race, threw herself in gratitude at my feet, and swore by all her most sacred beliefs that she would be my slave from henceforth as long as she lived. All her people were dead, she told me—she was alone in the world—she prayed me to let her be my faithful servant. And truly, her fidelity has never failed—till now. But of that hereafter. The child Lilith, more fragile of frame and weakened to the last extremity of exhaustion—in spite of my unremitting care—died. Do you thoroughly understand me—she died.”
“She died!” repeated Féraz slowly—“Well—what then?”
“I was supporting her in my arms”—said El-Râmi, the ardour of his description growing upon him, and his black eyes dilating and burning like great jewels under the darkness of his brows—“when she drew her last breath and sank back—a corpse. But before her flesh had time to stiffen,—before the warmth had gone out of her blood,—an idea, wild and daring, flashed across my mind. ‘If this child has a Soul,’ I said to myself—‘I will stay it in its flight from hence! It shall become the new Ariel of my wish and will—and not till it has performed my bidding to the utmost extent will I, like another Prospero, give it its true liberty. And I will preserve the body, its mortal shell, by artificial means, that through its medium I may receive the messages of the Spirit in mortal language such as I am able to understand.’ No sooner had I conceived my bold project than I proceeded to carry it into execution. I injected into the still warm veins of the dead girl a certain fluid whose properties I alone know the working of—and then I sought and readily obtained permission from the Arabs to bury her in the desert, while they went on their way. They were in haste to continue their journey, and were grateful to me for taking this office off their hands. That very day—the day the girl died—I sent you from me, as you know, bidding you make all possible speed, on an errand which I easily invented, to the Brethren of the Cross in the Island of Cyprus,—you went obediently enough,—surprised perhaps, but suspecting nothing. That same evening, when the heats abated and the moon rose, the caravan resumed its pilgrimage, leaving Lilith’s dead body with me, and also the woman Zaroba, who volunteered to remain and serve me in my tent, an offer which I accepted, seeing that it was her own desire, and that she would be useful to me. She, poor silly soul, took me then for a sort of god, because she was unable to understand the miracle of her own recovery from imminent death, and I felt certain I could rely upon her fidelity. Part of my plan I told her,—she heard with mingled fear and reverence,—the magic of the East was in her blood, however, and she had a superstitious belief that a truly ‘wise man’ could do anything. So, for several days we stayed encamped in the desert—I passing all my hours beside the dead Lilith,—dead, but to a certain extent living through artificial means. As soon as I received proof positive that my experiment was likely to be successful, I procured means to continue my journey on to Alexandria, and thence to England. To all inquirers I said the girl was a patient of mine who was suffering from epileptic trances, and the presence of Zaroba, who filled her post admirably as nurse and attendant, was sufficient to stop the mouths of would-be scandal-mongers. I chose my residence in London, because it is the largest city in the world, and the one most suited to pursue a course of study in, without one’s motives becoming generally known. One can be more alone in London than in a desert if one chooses. Now, you know all. You have seen the dead Lilith,—the human chrysalis of the moth,—but there is a living Lilith too—the Soul of Lilith, which is partly free and partly captive, but in both conditions is always the servant of my Will!”
Féraz looked at him in mingled awe and fear.
“El-Râmi,”—he said tremulously—“What you tell me is wonderful—terrible—almost beyond belief,—but, I know something of your power and I must believe you. Only—surely you are in error when you say that Lilith is dead? How can she be dead, if you have given her life?”