The time went on; in another quarter of an hour I knew that, according to their habit, the Queens would retire. As yet, Sir Henry had had no chance of saying a word in private: indeed, though we saw much of the royal sisters, it was by no means easy to see them alone. I racked my brains, and at last an idea came to me.
‘Will the Queen be pleased,’ I said, bowing low before Sorais, ‘to sing to her servants? Our hearts are heavy this night; sing to us, oh Lady of the Night’ (Sorais’ favourite name among the people).
‘My songs, Macumazahn, are not such as to lighten the heavy heart, yet will I sing if it pleases thee,’ she answered; and she rose and went a few paces to a table whereon lay an instrument not unlike a zither, and struck a few wandering chords.
Then suddenly, like the notes of some deep-throated bird, her rounded voice rang out in song so wildly sweet, and yet with so eerie and sad a refrain, that it made the very blood stand still. Up, up soared the golden notes, that seemed to melt far away, and then to grow again and travel on, laden with all the sorrow of the world and all the despair of the lost. It was a marvellous song, but I had not time to listen to it properly. However, I got the words of it afterwards, and here is a translation of its burden, so far as it admits of being translated at all.
SORAIS’ SONG As a desolate bird that through darkness its lost way is winging,As a hand that is helplessly raised when Death’s sickle is swinging,So is life! ay, the life that lends passion and breath to my singing.
As the nightingale’s song that is full of a sweetness unspoken,As a spirit unbarring the gates of the skies for a token,So is love! ay, the love that shall fall when his pinion is broken.
As the tramp of the legions when trumpets their challenge are sending,As the shout of the Storm-god when lightnings the black sky are rending,So is power! ay, the power that shall lie in the dust at its ending.
So short is our life; yet with space for all things to forsake us,A bitter delusion, a dream from which nought can awake us,Till Death’s dogging footsteps at morn or at eve shall o’ertake us.
Refrain
Oh, the world is fair at the dawning — dawning — dawning,But the red sun sinks in blood — the red sun sinks in blood.
I only wish that I could write down the music too.
‘Now, Curtis, now,’ I whispered, when she began the second verse, and turned my back.
‘Nyleptha,’ he said — for my nerves were so much on the stretch that I could hear every word, low as it was spoken, even through Sorais’ divine notes — ‘Nyleptha, I must speak with thee this night, upon my life I must. Say me not nay; oh, say me not nay!’
‘How can I speak with thee?’ she answered, looking fixedly before her; ‘Queens are not like other people. I am surrounded and watched.’
‘Listen, Nyleptha, thus. I will be before the statue of Rademas in the great hall at midnight. I have the countersign and can pass in. Macumazahn will be there to keep guard, and with him the Zulu. Oh come, my Queen, deny me not.’
‘It is not seemly,’ she murmured, ‘and tomorrow –‘
Just then the music began to die in the last wail of the refrain, and Sorais slowly turned her round.
‘I will be there,’ said Nyleptha, hurriedly; ‘on thy life see that thou fail me not.’
CHAPTER XVI
BEFORE THE STATUE
It was night — dead night — and the silence lay on the Frowning City like a cloud.
Secretly, as evildoers, Sir Henry Curtis, Umslopogaas, and myself threaded our way through the passages towards a by-entrance to the great Throne Chamber. Once we were met by the fierce rattling challenge of the sentry. I gave the countersign, and the man grounded his spear and let us pass. Also we were officers of the Queens’ bodyguard, and in that capacity had a right to come and go unquestioned.