Love Instigated | Page 3

thrown back.
And as we Sat Beneath the Iridescent Glow Of the Keely-Motor
Electric Lamp, which
Glistened and Shimmered Its Stained-Glass Iridescence on all about it,
and gave its hue to The Invigorating Beverage, we heeded not the
Elemental war waging upon the Queen Anne Exterior of the Hospitable
Mansion of my Friend.
And when we were left to our Coffee and our Pipes, we talked of
Daggers, and Epitaphs, and Tombs!
And as he told me in a Mysterious Whisper the Story of the Malay
Dagger, "Guiltless of all Guile," the Vitreous Eye of that Quaintly
Carved Odalisque--for such my fevered fancy Pictured it--was ever
Glaring at me with its Sinister Glare!
And when our Ghostly Talk was Interrupted By the Entrance of other
Guests, I Quaffed Another Crystal Goblet of My Friend's
Brain-Maddening Concoction, and casting a long, lingering Look at the
Persian Rug which hid the Graeco-Romanesque Architecture of the

vaulted Ceiling, I passed from the Gothic Portals of this Esthetic Shrine
into the outer darkness--beyond the glamour of the Seven Lamps of
Architecture.
But,--Oh Fitful Fate!--as I passed though The Long, Quiet Hall and by
the wine-colored Plush Corner from whose Voluptuous Shadow The
Sinister-Eyed, Carved-Ivory-Handle Odalisque cast an Alluring,
Appealing Look toward Me, and all Unconsciously, Unintentionally,
and Unresistingly I Took it from its Hand-Painted China Receptacle,
and closing the Heavy doors of Rolled, Cathedral Plate Glass After me,
I Unfurled its Sun-Tanned Gingham Folds to the aforementioned
warring elements. And as I Wended my Desolate Way to the Sainted
Shrine of Pendennis, my Seething Brain Peopled the Valley of Unrest
with Elfs, And Ravens and Brahman Gods, and the Dagger whose
blood-stain belonged to a Venetian Duke. When I Presently Entered the
Resounding Cloisters of the Order of ST. PENDENNIS--when I
entered this "House without a Woman" I sought the seclusion of a dark,
Wine-Colored, Plush-Lined Cell, and carelessly placing the Tanned
Gingham, Vegetable-Ivory-handled Umbrella on the Eighteenth
Century Hearth before me,
I threw my mentally-exhausted frame into a a Massive,
Damask-covered Chair with heavily-carved Arms of highly-polished
Oak, and sounded the Tiny, Tintinnabulating Call-Bell for Something
to Counteract the Effects of the Too-exhilerating Potables of my Friend,
and his no less Harrowing Stories!
But while I thus sat waiting, with my feet to The Comfortable Fire, all
at once my Gaze was Unconsciously, Unintentionally and
Unresistingly Transfixed by the Sinister Glance of The Dexter Eye of
the Carved-Ivory Odalisque.
And as I sat there in the Twilight Glare of the Slowly-Consuming
Embers on the Wide and Deep, Old-Fashioned, Open Fire-place, with
Lacquered-Brass Fire-Dogs--beneath the Spell of those Stealthy,
Roguish Glances, I, against My Wish and Will, was led to Think of The
dark, strange and weirdly grotesque things of which My Friend had
Told me.

And finally, as under the Strange Fascination of the Vitreous Dexter
and Sinister Eyes of The Carved-Ivory Odalisque, which Held me
Spell-Bound, I Learned from the Thin, Curled Lips of the said
Carved-Ivory Odalisque its Own Story.
It was not Created by Love.
Nor was it in Itself the Embodiment of Love. But it Bore in one of its
Flexible Ribs the Tangible Evidence of the Adhesive Qualities of a
Love Driven Back upon itself,--the Concentration of an Otherwise
Wasted Force.
Less than a Thousand Years ago, a Dudish Roderick Dhu stood
Flustrated with Fiery Indignation, face to face with a Maiden
Priestess--a Prideful, Haughty Woman!
It was on the Rue Quatrieme. It was at the Intersection of two great
Thoroughfares.
The Clouds had Parted their Bangs in the Middle, and were
Shimmering their Crystal Drops of Distilled Ocean in torrental volume
upon the Luckless Wayfarers.
It chanced that the Prideful Maiden Priestess Was Hurrying adown the
Boulevard with the Self-same Carved-Ivory-Handled Umbrella Closely
Clasped in Her Delicate Marie Antoinette fingers. She was thus
Ensconced Behind the Sheltering Tautness of the Stout-ribbed
Gingham Umbrella With the Carved-Ivory Handle, when she passed
out of the Shadow of The Massive Marble Edifice of Gothic
Architecture and turned into the Rue de la Chataigne--and
Unconsciously, Unintentionally and Unresistingly Punched a Tear out
of the Dexter Eye of the Resistless Roderick Dhu!
I am sure that Carved-Ivory, Oggling Odalisque was to Blame! I am
sure that it Wantonly Drove the Spare Rib of the Stout Gingham
Umbrella to the Accomplishment of its own Foul Purpose!
The Prideful Maiden Priestess had great Commiseration for the Ardent

Roderick.
She Frankly Told him so.
And in a Tacit but Potent--Oh, so Potent--Way, bade him, if he liked, to
go with her to her Shrine and there have his Weeping Wounds Bound
up with "a Bit of East India Silk,"--at her Shrine, whose Doors should
ever be Open to Him.
Oh! Chance, Fortuitous Chance! How many Followers of St. Pendennis
are Annually Ensnared in thy Name!
Ere Long,--within a