i threw myself on the bed, and began to turn over in my mind the tale she had told me. she had forgotten herself, and, by a single incautious word, removed one perplexity as to the condition in which i found her in the forest! the leopardess bounded over; the princess lay prostrate on the bank: the running stream had dissolved her self-enchantment! her own account of the object of her journey revealed the danger of the little ones then imminent: i had saved the life of their one fearful enemy!
i had but reached this conclusion when i fell asleep. the lovely wine may not have been quite innocent.
when i opened my eyes, it was night. a lamp, suspended from the ceiling, cast a clear, although soft light through the chamber. a delicious languor infolded me. i seemed floating, far from land, upon the bosom of a twilight sea. existence was in itself pleasure. i had no pain. surely i was dying!
no pain!—ah, what a shoot of mortal pain was that! what a sickening sting! it went right through my heart! again! that was sharpness itself!—and so sickening! i could not move my hand to lay it on my heart; something kept it down!
the pain was dying away, but my whole body seemed paralysed. some evil thing was upon me!—something hateful! i would have struggled, but could not reach a struggle. my will agonised, but in vain, to assert itself. i desisted, and lay passive. then i became aware of a soft hand on my face, pressing my head into the pillow, and of a heavy weight lying across me.
i began to breathe more freely; the weight was gone from my chest; i opened my eyes.
the princess was standing above me on the bed, looking out into the room, with the air of one who dreamed. her great eyes were clear and calm. her mouth wore a look of satisfied passion; she wiped from it a streak of red.
she caught my gaze, bent down, and struck me on the eyes with the handkerchief in her hand: it was like drawing the edge of a knife across them, and for a moment or two i was blind.
i heard a dull heavy sound, as of a large soft-footed animal alighting from a little jump. i opened my eyes, and saw the great swing of a long tail as it disappeared through the half-open doorway. i sprang after it.
the creature had vanished quite. i shot down the stair, and into the hall of alabaster. the moon was high, and the place like the inside of a faint, sun-blanched moon. the princess was not there. i must find her: in her presence i might protect myself; out of it i could not! i was a tame animal for her to feed upon; a human fountain for a thirst demoniac! she showed me favour the more easily to use me! my waking eyes did not fear her, but they would close, and she would come! not seeing her, i felt her everywhere, for she might be anywhere—might even now be waiting me in some secret cavern of sleep! only with my eyes upon her could i feel safe from her!
outside the alabaster hall it was pitch-dark, and i had to grope my way along with hands and feet. at last i felt a curtain, put it aside, and entered the black hall. there i found a great silent assembly. how it was visible i neither saw nor could imagine, for the walls, the floor, the roof, were shrouded in what seemed an infinite blackness, blacker than the blackest of moonless, starless nights; yet my eyes could separate, although vaguely, not a few of the individuals in the mass interpenetrated and divided, as well as surrounded, by the darkness. it seemed as if my eyes would never come quite to themselves. i pressed their balls and looked and looked again, but what i saw would not grow distinct. blackness mingled with form, silence and undefined motion possessed the wide space. all was a dim, confused dance, filled with recurrent glimpses of shapes not unknown to me. now appeared a woman, with glorious eyes looking out of a skull; now an armed figure on a skeleton horse; now one now another of the hideous burrowing phantasms. i could trace no order and little relation in the mingling and crossing currents and eddies. if i seemed to catch the shape and rhythm of a dance, it was but to see it break, and confusion prevail. with the shifting colours of the seemingly more solid shapes, mingled a multitude of shadows, independent apparently of originals, each moving after its own free shadow-will. i looked everywhere for the princess, but throughout the wildly changing kaleidoscopic scene, could not see her nor discover indication of her presence. where was she? what might she not be doing? no one took the least notice of me as i wandered hither and thither seeking her. at length losing hope, i turned away to look elsewhere. finding the wall, and keeping to it with my hand, for even then i could not see it, i came, groping along, to a curtained opening into the vestibule.
dimly moonlighted, the cage of the leopardess was the arena of what seemed a desperate although silent struggle. two vastly differing forms, human and bestial, with entangled confusion of mingling bodies and limbs, writhed and wrestled in closest embrace. it had lasted but an instant when i saw the leopardess out of the cage, walking quietly to the open door. as i hastened after her i threw a glance behind me: there was the leopardess in the cage, couching motionless as when i saw her first.
the moon, half-way up the sky, was shining round and clear; the bodiless shadow i had seen the night before, was walking through the trees toward the gate; and after him went the leopardess, swinging her tail. i followed, a little way off, as silently as they, and neither of them once looked round. through the open gate we went down to the city, lying quiet as the moonshine upon it. the face of the moon was very still, and its stillness looked like that of expectation.
the shadow took his way straight to the stair at the top of which i had lain the night before. without a pause he went up, and the leopardess followed. i quickened my pace, but, a moment after, heard a cry of horror. then came the fall of something soft and heavy between me and the stair, and at my feet lay a body, frightfully blackened and crushed, but still recognisable as that of the woman who had led me home and shut me out. as i stood petrified, the spotted leopardess came bounding down the stair with a baby in her mouth. i darted to seize her ere she could turn at the foot; but that instant, from behind me, the white leopardess, like a great bar of glowing silver, shot through the moonlight, and had her by the neck. she dropped the child; i caught it up, and stood to watch the battle between them.
what a sight it was—now the one, now the other uppermost, both too intent for any noise beyond a low growl, a whimpered cry, or a snarl of hate—followed by a quicker scrambling of claws, as each, worrying and pushing and dragging, struggled for foothold on the pavement! the spotted leopardess was larger than the white, and i was anxious for my friend; but i soon saw that, though neither stronger nor more active, the white leopardess had the greater endurance. not once did she lose her hold on the neck of the other. from the spotted throat at length issued a howl of agony, changing, by swift-crowded gradations, into the long-drawn crescendo of a woman’s uttermost wail. the white one relaxed her jaws; the spotted one drew herself away, and rose on her hind legs. erect in the moonlight stood the princess, a confused rush of shadows careering over her whiteness—the spots of the leopard crowding, hurrying, fleeing to the refuge of her eyes, where merging they vanished. the last few, outsped and belated, mingled with the cloud of her streamy hair, leaving her radiant as the moon when a legion of little vapours has flown, wind-hunted, off her silvery disc—save that, adown the white column of her throat, a thread of blood still trickled from every wound of her adversary’s terrible teeth. she turned away, took a few steps with the gait of a hecate, fell, covered afresh with her spots, and fled at a long, stretching gallop.
the white leopardess turned also, sprang upon me, pulled my arms asunder, caught the baby as it fell, and flew with it along the street toward the gate.
