The last scene of this “Problem of a Wicked Soul” takes place beneath the Great Pyramid. Why and how the modern Araxes and the modern Ziska-Charmazel come together in the end in this strangest of meeting-places, we will leave the reader to discover for him or herself.

But we may at least record our admiration for the feat of imagination of which “Ziska” is the result, and indicate the lesson that is to be learned from its pages. “Ziska” teaches that sin shall not escape punishment, that a man shall not play fast and loose with women’s hearts and yet go scotfree. “Ziska” shows how the mutilated soul of the beautiful dancer arises after many centuries and exacts vengeance from its enemy; and again “Ziska” shows how, when Araxes, in his modern painter guise, cries for pardon, the eyes of his one-time victim soften and flash with love and tenderness.

Truly a fragrant passage is this, wherein the old story is once again told of man’s repentance and woman’s sweet forgiveness.

CHAPTER XII
“THE MASTER CHRISTIAN”—IF CHRIST CAME TO ROME!

There had been a considerable pause in the writings of Miss Corelli, for reasons which have already been discussed, when, in August, 1900, “The Master Christian” appeared.

Miss Corelli commenced “The Master Christian” at Brighton on All Saints’ Day, 1897, in the hope that she would get through it before the terrible illness she had been suffering from for seven years reached an acute stage. The novelist, however, was almost dying on Christmas Eve of the same year, and on December 29th the surgeons took her in hand. She was dangerously ill during January, February, and March, 1898. In April and May Miss Corelli was just beginning to recover when the shock occasioned by her stepbrother’s death on June 2d produced a relapse, and she very nearly died from grief and weakness combined. She was ill all the rest of the year, and, a long period of convalescence following, she did not resume “The Master Christian” till the spring of 1899.

“The Master Christian” is Marie Corelli’s longest work, containing, as it does, over six hundred and thirty-four closely printed pages. While occupied upon it, the novelist had also to fulfil a long-standing engagement with Messrs. Hutchinson & Co. “Boy” and “The Master Christian” were, therefore, claiming her attention practically at the same time.

The writing of the two books under the circumstances was a stupendous undertaking. The effort required was so great that she often had to lay down her pen and lean back in her chair almost fainting from nervous exhaustion caused by the severity of the work and its effect upon her in her still weak condition.

It is a painfully interesting proceeding to read “The Master Christian” and then a large number of the reviews of the book which appeared. The conclusion is forced upon one that many of the critics had not taken the trouble to perform the obvious duty of reading a book that was to be “slated,” but had merely glanced at a page here, and quoted a passage, without the context, there. Either this was what happened or there was misconception of the book through ignorance or deliberate misrepresentation. It is really astounding to realize the manner in which Miss Corelli has been “criticised,” and one notable incident of many within our experience will serve to indicate what is a too frequent sin.

It was at the dinner of a well-known literary club, and ladies had been invited. One lady sat beside a gentleman who, years ago, was editor of a great daily newspaper, whose name is familiar to all as a notable and experienced journalist and critic, and who has arrived at an age when discretion, if not fairness, should be practiced. The lady was a friend of Marie Corelli’s, and upon the works of the novelist, who was also at the dinner, the conversation turned. The critic expressed the utmost contempt for her books, and used language so bitterly sarcastic and so grossly unfair that the lady gently asked: “Have you really ever read any of her works?” The question was natural. The answer was astonishing: it was the bald admission, “No.” Surely comment is unnecessary.