“O Malec, Angel of Terror, vanquished by a woman’s beauty, let the eyes of this friend of thy conqueror witness the sight which is forbidden, so that he may drink of the fountain of truth, and repose in the radiance of her countenance.” Tiamo was thumping his kalango and grinning hideously.
Bewildered, and only half-conscious of my surroundings, I felt Azala dragging me forward. Though the objects swam around me and I had a curious sensation as if I were treading on air, I advanced to within an arm’s length of the slowly-moving prism. My eyes were cast down to the green carpet, for in the sudden terror that had seized me I feared to look.
“Speak!” cried Azala, in a voice that seemed afar off. “What beholdest thou?”
But no answer passed my lips.
“Gaze long and earnestly, O Zafar, so that the image of things revealed may be graven upon the tablets of thy memory for use for our well-being hereafter,” she urged in a voice sounding like the distant cry of a night-bird.
The thought of her peril flashed in an instant across my unbalanced mind. Her appeal, I remembered, was for our mutual benefit, in order that I should be enabled to elucidate the Mystery of the Asps and bring peace upon her. What, I wondered, was the nature of this strange revelation which she herself had already witnessed.
Ashamed at this terror that branded me as coward, and determined to strive towards the solution of the remarkable mystery that bound me in a bond of love to the beautiful daughter of the Sultan, I held my breath and slowly raised my head.
Next second my heart stood still as, fascinated in amazement and aghast in horror, I gazed deep into the prism’s crystal depths, where an omination, wondrous and entrancing, met my eyes.
There was indeed revealed unto me a marvel of which I had not dreamed.