A Voyage to Arcturus, David Lindsay [book recommendations for teens TXT] 📗
- Author: David Lindsay
Book online «A Voyage to Arcturus, David Lindsay [book recommendations for teens TXT] 📗». Author David Lindsay
“No, her home’s under the hanging cap of Sarclash.”
“What is to happen tonight?” Maskull spoke to himself, but Haunte answered him.
“Don’t expect anything pleasant, in spite of what has just occurred. She is not a woman, but a mass of pure sex. Your passion will draw her out into human shape, but only for a moment. If the change were permanent, you would have endowed her with a soul.”
“Perhaps the change might be made permanent.”
“To do that, it is not enough to desire her; she must desire you as well. But why should she desire you?”
“Nothing turns out as one expects,” said Maskull, shaking his head. “We had better get on again.”
They resumed the journey. The ledge still rose, but, on turning a corner of the cliff, Haunte quitted it and began to climb a steep gully, which mounted directly to the upper heights. Here they were compelled to use both hands and feet. Maskull thought all the while of nothing but the overwhelming sweetness he had just experienced.
The flat ground on top was dry and springy. There was no more snow, and bright plants appeared. Haunte turned sharply to the left.
“This must be under the cap,” said Maskull.
“It is; and within five minutes you will see Sullenbode.”
When he spoke his words, Maskull’s lips surprised him by their tender sensitiveness. Their action against each other sent thrills throughout his body.
The grass shone dimly. A huge tree, with glowing branches, came into sight. It bore a multitude of red fruit, like hanging lanterns, but no leaves. Underneath this tree Sullenbode was sitting. Her beautiful light—a mingling of jale and white—gleamed softly through the darkness. She sat erect, on crossed legs, asleep. She was clothed in a singular skin garment, which started as a cloak thrown over one shoulder, and ended as loose breeches terminating above the knees. Her forearms were lightly folded, and in one hand she held a half-eaten fruit.
Maskull stood over her and looked down, deeply interested. He thought he had never seen anything half so feminine. Her flesh was almost melting in its softness. So undeveloped were the facial organs that they looked scarcely human; only the lips were full, pouting, and expressive. In their richness, these lips seemed like a splash of vivid will on a background of slumbering protoplasm. Her hair was undressed. Its colour could not be distinguished. It was long and tangled, and had been tucked into her garment behind, for convenience.
Corpang looked calm and sullen, but both the others were visibly agitated. Maskull’s heart was hammering away under his chest. Haunte pulled him, and said, “My head feels as if it were being torn from my shoulders.”
“What can that mean?”
“Yet there’s a horrible joy in it,” added Haunte, with a sickly smile.
He put his hand on the woman’s shoulder. She awoke softly, glanced up at them, smiled, and then resumed eating her fruit. Maskull did not imagine that she had intelligence enough to speak. Haunte suddenly dropped on his knees, and kissed her lips.
She did not repulse him. During the continuance of the kiss, Maskull noticed with a shock that her face was altering. The features emerged from their indistinctness and became human, and almost powerful. The smile faded, a scowl took its place. She thrust Haunte away, rose to her feet, and stared beneath bent brows at the three men, each one in turn. Maskull came last; his face she studied for quite a long time, but nothing indicated what she thought.
Meanwhile Haunte again approached her, staggering and grinning. She suffered him quietly; but the instant lips met lips the second time, he fell backward with a startled cry, as though he had come in contact with an electric wire. The back of his head struck the ground, and he lay there motionless.
Corpang sprang forward to his assistance. But, when he saw what had happened, he left him where he was.
“Maskull, come here quickly!”
The light was perceptibly fading from Haunte’s skin, as Maskull bent over. The man was dead. His face was unrecognisable. The head had been split from the top downward into two halves, streaming with strange-coloured blood, as though it had received a terrible blow from an axe.
“This couldn’t be from the fall,” said Maskull.
“No, Sullenbode did it.”
Maskull turned quickly to look at the woman. She had resumed her former attitude on the ground. The momentary intelligence had vanished from her face, and she was again smiling.
Chapter 19. SULLENBODE
Sullenbode’s naked skin glowed softly through the darkness, but the clothed part of her person was invisible. Maskull watched her senseless, smiling face, and shivered. Strange feelings ran through his body.
Corpang spoke out of the night. “She looks like an evil spirit filled with deadliness.”
“It was like deliberately kissing lightning.”
“Haunte was insane with passion.”
“So am I,” said Maskull quietly. “My body seems full of rocks, all grinding against one another.”
“This is what I was afraid of.”
“It appears I shall have to kiss her too.”
Corpang pulled his arm. “Have you lost all manliness?”
But Maskull impatiently shook himself free. He plucked nervously at his beard, and stared at Sullenbode. His lips kept twitching. After this had gone on for a few minutes, he stepped forward, bent over the woman, and lifted her bodily in his arms. Setting her upright against the rugged tree trunk, he kissed her.
A cold, knifelike shock passed down his frame. He thought that it was death, and lost consciousness.
When his sense returned, Sullenbode was holding him by the shoulder with one hand at arm’s length, searching his face with gloomy eyes. At first he failed to recognise her; it was not the woman he had kissed, but another. Then he gradually realised that her face was identical with that which Haunte’s action had called into existence. A great calmness came upon him; his bad sensations had disappeared.
Sullenbode was transformed into a living soul. Her skin was firm, her features were strong, her eyes gleamed with the consciousness of power. She was tall and slight, but slow in all her gestures and movements. Her face was not beautiful. It was long, and palely lighted, while the mouth crossed the lower half like a gash of fire. The lips were as voluptuous as before. Her brows were heavy. There was nothing vulgar in her—she looked the kingliest of all women. She appeared not more than
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