Chapter IV: A Temptation and a Vision

Gentola ēmana:—The mortal—immortal is a marvelous combination of the God and the human: 'inheriting all the characteristics of all the humans who have preceded him, truly he is multum in parvo.

No, I am not acquainted with the Latin tongue, but De L'Ester is; and through his instruction I am coming more nearly in touch with the language and thought of some of the peoples of your planet. So be not surprised should 'my Ento tongue attempt to utter a word or phrase of some one of your astonishingly numerous languages.

I have been told that thinkers of your planet recognize the fact, 'that as peoples progress from lower to higher stages of civilization they incline to simplicity of expression and oneness of language. On our side of life we observe that the 'language or languages of the peoples of any planet positively indicate the stage of their civilization.

On Ento, as you are aware, but one language is 'spoken. True, among the less cultured of our people there are what De L'Ester terms provincialisms and inelegancies of speech; but really we have but one language.

You will pardon me if I say that your own language is very difficult of application, many words offering meanings so varied as to be confusing to a foreigner like myself; but time will accomplish for your planet what it has already accomplished for Ento and for other worlds, and in some coming age Earth’s greatly progressed peoples will speak but one language.

You, I perceive, are wondering why I am prefacing to-day’s recital with extraneous expressions. I do so not without motive. We found you too disquieted to concentrate your attention upon our work, and we must request you in future to suppress all emotion, as it seriously interferes with our control of your organism.

Now you are tranquil. Strive to be attentive, so that you may grasp not only my meaning but also my construction of sentences, which, I am aware, are not so clearly expressed as I could desire.

SPIRIT GENESSANO ALLIS IMMO.

Koidassa̤, the estate of the Nyassa̤s, which is still the home of a near descendant of that family, verged on the limits of an opulent city of Ento, known then, as now, as Lēonita Tylû, which for a considerable distance extended along the shore of Lake Shama̤ (egg-shaped), near which was the residence of the brothers Lûvon and Damma̤ Nyassa̤. In Lēonita Tylû were a number of beautiful temples which are still reckoned among Ento's finest expressions of architecture. One especially noticeable, which still is known as Yaffa a Lûvitos (truth and duty), stood amid a lovely garden of shrubbery and blooming plants. At intervals beautiful statues, singly or in group, added their snowy whiteness to the scene. Fountains of exquisite loveliness threw into the quiet air myriad jets of sparkling water, whose falling spray caught, as in silvery meshes, the fragrance of the wealth of many-hued blossoms. Pairs of majestic Flûētas (resembling peacocks), the sacred birds of the Deific Ones, strayed through the spacious grounds, their widespread plumage glowing like jewels amid the verdure. Overhead, among the towering Bûda̤s trees, bright plumaged, sweet throated birds sang love songs to their mates, while droning Eydas (large and beautiful insects resembling humming birds) sucked from the hearts of odorous blooms their stores of nectar.

Intruders into this secluded spot were of rare occurrence; none, save its keepers being privileged to enter it unbidden. Now, along its quiet pathways a stately form clothed in priestly garments paced to and fro. A strikingly handsome man was this priest, who, with bowed head, loosely clasped hands, and apparently unseeing eyes, walked as though lost to all save his thoughts, which at last impelled him to exclaim in accents of intense emotion:

“So beautiful! So beautiful! She has grown so wondrously beautiful! May the gods be merciful to me,—for I love her, I madly love her! I, Zeydon, whose vows set me apart from the love of woman; I, Zeydon, who have deemed myself as passionless, as cold as the snows upon Tēmos Ita̤ (one of Ento's loftiest mountains)—aye, as passionless as the breathless dead—I, Zeydon, find my traitorous heart so rent assunder by conflicting emotions that I stand dazed and trembling in the presence of an influence so overwhelming that I know not where or which way to turn for safety!”

Panting as though in terror of some threatened danger, he for a moment looked about him, then he resumed his restless pacing to and fro, to and fro. Suddenly he paused threw up his hands and with eyes turned towards Astranola̤, in a voice full of anguish, he prayed: “Oh ye Deific Ones, who know naught of the passions of men and women; ye messengers between the Creator and the created; ye who alone may approach the presence of the Supreme One, I implore your pity for one who is the most wretched of Andûmana̤’s children! Bear to Him my humble supplication that He may call me into the Silence ere, in my despair, I may go thither unbidden!”

While this agonizing entreaty issued from his quivering lips his dark luminous eyes and trembling hands remained upraised towards Astranola̤ (abode of Deific Ones), and like a statue he stood motionless.

Across the beauty of verdure and bloom the last golden beams of Andûmana̤’s shining abode pierced the shadows of approaching twilight. Deeper, denser, grew the shadows, and the dark veil of night enshrouded the white beauty of the temple, the groups of snowy statuary and the loveliness of the flowers. One by one, golden gleams of the Lamps of Astranola̤ stole through the fleecy clouds, screening the portals of the glorious home of the Shining Ones, and the hush of night was everywhere.

Still Zeydon, with upraised hands and wide open eyes, stood motionless. Suddenly a violent tremor shook him as the wind shakes the white, frail Roing blooms. Arousing as though from a profound stupor, he stared about him in a bewildered manner; then, like a torrent, consciousness rushed in upon his senses, and in tones of awe and amazement he breathlessly whispered.

“Can it be? Can it be? Ah, no, it can not be true! For not even in the Inner Sanctuary, where I have been shown glimpses of Astranola̤, have I seen aught more wondrously beautiful than was this land of my marvelous dream, which seemed as real as aught my eyes ever have gazed upon. Ah me! I am growing strangely fanciful,—my disturbed senses are misleading me into a realm of unrealities. May the merciful gods preserve me from an utterly lost mind! * * * But alas! I deserve no good thing through their beneficence.

“But I will not, I dare not, think of the deplorable state into which I have fallen! No: I will think of my dream, if dream it was; and ere the memory of it may vanish as has vanished my peace of mind, I will strive to recall what I may of its incomparable loveliness.

“As I walked I drew near the sculptured form of the sylvan god Dēonada̤s; and, as through the intervening shrubbery I caught a glimpse of the joyous smile on his curved lips, I asked my tortured self, Shall I ever again on my lips wear a smile of serene content? Then into the agony of my waking stole a blessed sleep, and I seemed to behold a land diversified by mountains, hills and vales, over which rested a soft, silvery radiance so wondrous that no poor words of mine can describe its matchless beauty. Through the verdure-clad vales flowed streams of sparkling water bordered by innumerable blooming plants, whose loveliness and exquisite fragrance shame into insignificance these poor blooms I have thought so admirable. And, wonder of wonders, I seemed to behold everywhere men, women and children clothed in white, shining raiment of exceeding beauty. They were engaged in pursuits too manifold to be enumerated; but all had countenances expressive of supreme happiness and contentment.

O land of my dream where I seemed to find the loved and lost ones of my sinless, happy childhood and of later years, during which my only thought was of the glory of our holy religion! Wert thou as real as this sorrowful Ento world not for one moment would I hesitate to enter unbidden thy portals, and thus end this torture of body and mind which consumes me."

At that moment the musical notes of Temple bells smote the stillness of the night, and Zeydon, arousing from the reverie into which he had fallen, with a sigh walked slowly away through the darkness towards his residence, through whose windows lights were pouring their soft radiance into the outer darkness.