It was, in appearance, like a huge pineapple about ten or twelve feet in height. From the top sprang the broad, dark green leaves, trailing downward to the ground and enclosing the plant in a kind of cage.
Inside these leaves, at the top of its bulky body, could be seen two round, fleshy plates, one above the other. Dripping constantly from these was a golden, intoxicating nectar, the fatal lure that tempts the victim to his fate. Surrounding these plates were long green tendrils or arms like those upon an octopus. A slight pressure upon one of these disks would cause the serpent-like tendrils to enfold the victim in their deadly embrace, while the sweet fluid rendered the poor wretch oblivious to danger until it was too late.
Silvela stood for a moment silently looking at the strange plant at which I pointed.
“It is an uncanny sight,” he muttered, and a shiver ran over his body.
“Uncanny it is, indeed,” I replied. “I, for one, have no desire to make a closer acquaintance.”
“You were always ready to show the white feather,” he derided scornfully.
I did not openly resent this; I could bear insult for a little while longer.
“Silvela,” I said, “Let us leave this dreadful plant alone. I implore you to return with me now. You have seen this horrid thing, why should you care to test the legendary power of the fluid which it distills?”
“Because I love,” he replied in a dreamy voice, “and I wish to be loved beyond all men. If it be, indeed, the fountain of youth, what danger can deter me from sipping its miraculous juice?”
“Then I will say no more. Drink, then, of the fabled wonders of this tree of destiny, and may all the joy and all the happiness to which your life entitles you, come to you as you drink the nectar that drips in golden drops from its heart.”