Mardi: Chapter 77

Chapter 77

The House Of The Afternoon

For the most part, the House of the Afternoon was but a wing built
against a mansion wrought by the hand of Nature herself; a grotto
running into the side of the mountain. From high over the mouth of
this grotto, sloped a long arbor, supported by great blocks of stone,
rudely chiseled into the likeness of idols, each bearing a carved
lizard on its chest: a sergeant's guard of the gods condescendingly
doing duty as posts.

From the grotto thus vestibuled, issued hilariously forth the most
considerable stream of the glen; which, seemingly overjoyed to find
daylight in Willamilla, sprang into the arbor with a cheery, white
bound. But its youthful enthusiasm was soon repressed; its waters
being caught in a large stone basin, scooped out of the natural rock;
whence, staid and decorous, they traversed sundry moats; at last
meandering away, to join floods with the streams trained to do
service at the other end of the vale.

Truant streams: the livelong day wending their loitering path to the
subterraneous outlet, flowing into which, they disappeared. But no
wonder they loitered; passing such ravishing landscapes. Thus with
life: man bounds out of night; runs and babbles in the sun; then
returns to his darkness again; though, peradventure, once more to
emerge.

But the grotto was not a mere outlet to the stream. Flowing through a
dark flume in the rock, on both sides it left a dry, elevated shelf,
to which you ascend from the arbor by three artificially-wrought
steps, sideways disposed, to avoid the spray of the rejoicing
cataract. Mounting these, and pursuing the edge of the flume, the
grotto gradually expands and heightens; your way lighted by rays in
the inner distance. At last you come to a lofty subterraneous dome,
lit from above by a cleft in the mountain; while full before you, in
the opposite wall, from a low, black arch, midway up, and
inaccessible, the stream, with a hollow ring and a dash, falls in a
long, snowy column into a bottomless pool, whence, after many an eddy
and whirl, it entered the flume, and away with a rush. Half hidden
from view by an overhanging brow of the rock, the white fall looked
like the sheeted ghost of the grotto.

Yet gallantly bedecked was the cave, as any old armorial hall hung
round with banners and arras. Streaming from the cleft, vines swung
in the air; or crawled along the rocks, wherever a tendril could be
fixed. High up, their leaves were green; but lower down, they were
shriveled; and dyed of many colors; and tattered and torn with much
rustling; as old banners again; sore raveled with much triumphing.

In the middle of this hall in the hill was incarcerated the stone
image of one Demi, the tutelar deity of Willamina. All green and oozy
like a stone under water, poor Demi looked as if sore harassed with
sciatics and lumbagos.

But he was cheered from aloft, by the promise of receiving a garland
all blooming on his crown; the Dryads sporting in the woodlands
above, forever peeping down the cleft, and essaying to drop him a
coronal.

Now, the still, panting glen of Willamilla, nested so close by the
mountains, and a goodly green mark for the archer in the sun, would
have been almost untenable were it not for the grotto. Hereby, it
breathed the blessed breezes of Omi; a mountain promontory
buttressing the island to the east, receiving the cool stream of the
upland Trades; much pleasanter than the currents beneath.

At all times, even in the brooding noon-day, a gush of cool air came
hand-in-hand with the cool waters, that burst with a shout into the
palace of Donjalolo. And as, after first refreshing the king, as in
loyalty bound, the stream flowed at large through the glen, and
bathed its verdure; so, the blessed breezes of Omi, not only made
pleasant the House of the Afternoon; but finding ample outlet in its
wide, open front, blew forth upon the bosom of all Willamilla.

"Come let us take the air of Omi," was a very common saying in the
glen. And the speaker would hie with his comrade toward the grotto;
and flinging himself on the turf, pass his hand through his locks,
and recline; making a joy and a business of breathing; for truly the
breezes of Omi were as air-wine to the lungs.

Yet was not this breeze over-cool; though at times the zephyrs grew
boisterous. Especially at the season of high sea, when the strong
Trades drawn down the cleft in the mountain, rushed forth from the
grotto with wonderful force. Crossing it then, you had much ado to
keep your robe on your back.

Thus much for the House of the Afternoon. Whither--after spending the
shady morning under the eastern cliffs of the glen--daily, at a
certain hour, Donjalolo in his palanquin was borne; there, finding
new shades; and there tarrying till evening; when again he was
transported whence he came: thereby anticipating the revolution of
the sun. Thus dodging day's luminary through life, the prince hied to
and fro in his dominions; on his smooth, spotless brow Sol's rays
never shining.

Back to chapter list of: Mardi