My bride, whom I saw now for the first time, was robed in garments far more costly and magnificent than any I had ever seen on my regal wife, Sumro Begum. The fine clothes and gew-gaws concealed the contours of her form, and a heavy gold-embroidered veil completely hid her face. The priest made us repeat the marriage service backward; and when he bade us inscribe our names in the register I took good care to look closely at my wife's hands. They were encased in gloves, but I could see that the finger nails were long and sharp—which did not augur favorably for me should there arise any domestic differences between us.
Her voice was youthful enough; she did not pronounce P like M, from which I concluded that she still had teeth.
We left the church to the music of the organ. I led my bride on my arm to the wagon waiting for us at the entrance to the cavern. It was a large, heavy vehicle, roomy enough for a dozen persons, and harnessed to it were six stag-beetles.
"How in the devil's name are these beetles going to drag such a heavy vehicle?" I cried angrily. "Six horses couldn't move it."
"No, of course they couldn't!" assented my wife. "The axles need greasing. Here, rub some of this ointment on them."
I obeyed, and greased the axles with the contents of an agate box Lilith held in her hand. The entire wedding company now sprang on the wagon, leaving only the driver's seat for me and my bride. Lilith took the reins; the six beetles spread their wings, and off we went—the heavy wagon with its heavier load flying as swiftly and lightly through the air as thistle-down before a gale.
I thought it an excellent chance to get a sight of my bride's face while both her hands were occupied with the reins, and quickly flung back her veil.
Horror! the blood froze in my veins. They were the repulsive features of the witch I had heard boast on the kempenei, that she would catch me yet, and prepare me for the bridle.
Beyond a doubt she was Father Adam's temptress, for there were wrinkles enough on her hideous face to represent the many centuries which had passed since her little affair with the first man; while, for the development of such a moustache from the delicate peach-down, which makes a woman's lips so kissable, would require many a cycle of time!
"I will jump from the wagon!" I cried in terror.