Mardi: and A Voyage Thither, Vol. II | Page 4

take him, then, for our guide," cried they; and all drew near.
But upon accosting him; they were told, that he guided none without
recompense.
And now, being informed, that the foremost of the pilgrims was one
Divino, a wealthy chief of a distant island, Pani demanded of him his
requital.
But the other demurred; and by many soft speeches at length abated the
recompense to three promissory cocoanuts, which he covenanted to
send Pani at some future day.
The next pilgrim accosted, was a sad-eyed maiden, in decent but scanty
raiment; who without seeking to diminish Pani's demands promptly
placed in his hands a small hoard of the money of Mardi.
"Take it, holy guide," she said, "it is all I have."
But the third pilgrim, one Fanna, a hale matron, in handsome apparel,
needed no asking to bestow her goods. Calling upon her attendants to
advance with their burdens, she quickly unrolled them; and wound
round and round Pani, fold after fold of the costliest tappas; and filled
both his hands with teeth; and his mouth with some savory marmalade;
and poured oil upon his head; and knelt and besought of him a blessing.
"From the bottom of my heart I bless thee," said Pani; and still holding
her hands exclaimed, "Take example from this woman, oh Divino; and
do ye likewise, ye pilgrims all."
"Not to-day," said Divino.
"We are not rich, like unto Fauna," said the rest.
Now, the next pilgrim was a very old and miserable man; stone-blind,
covered with rags; and supporting his steps with a staff.
"My recompense," said Path.
"Alas! I have naught to give. Behold my poverty."
"I can not see," replied Path; but feeling of his garments, he said, "Thou
wouldst deceive me; hast thou not this robe, and this staff?"
"Oh! Merciful Pani, take not my all!" wailed the pilgrim. But his
worthless gaberdine was thrust into the dwelling of the guide.
Meanwhile, the matron was still enveloping Path in her interminable
tappas.
But the sad-eyed maiden, removing her upper mantle, threw it over the
naked form of the beggar.
The fifth pilgrim was a youth of an open, ingenuous aspect; and with an

eye, full of eyes; his step was light.
"Who art thou?" cried Pani, as the stripling touched him in passing.
"I go to ascend the Peak," said the boy.
"Then take me for guide."
"No, I am strong and lithesome. Alone must I go."
"But how knowest thou the way?"
"There are many ways: the right one I must seek for myself."
"Ah, poor deluded one," sighed Path; "but thus is it ever with youth;
and rejecting the monitions of wisdom, suffer they must. Go on, and
perish!"
Turning, the boy exclaimed--"Though I act counter to thy counsels, oh
Pani, I but follow the divine instinct in me."
"Poor youth!" murmured Babbalanja. "How earnestly he struggles in
his bonds. But though rejecting a guide, still he clings to that legend of
the Peak."
The rest of the pilgrims now tarried with the guide, preparing for their
journey inland.

CHAPTER III
They Pass Through The Woods
Refreshed by our stay in the grove, we rose, and placed ourselves under
the guidance of Mohi; who went on in advance.
Winding our way among jungles, we came to a deep hollow, planted
with one gigantic palm-shaft, belted round by saplings, springing from
its roots. But, Laocoon-like, sire and sons stood locked in the serpent
folds of gnarled, distorted banians; and the banian-bark, eating into
their vital wood, corrupted their veins of sap, till all those palm- nuts
were poisoned chalices.
Near by stood clean-limbed, comely manchineels, with lustrous leaves
and golden fruit. You would have deemed them Trees of Life; but
underneath their branches grew no blade of grass, no herb, nor moss;
the bare earth was scorched by heaven's own dews, filtrated through
that fatal foliage.
Farther on, there frowned a grove of blended banian boughs, thick-
ranked manchineels, and many a upas; their summits gilded by the sun;
but below, deep shadows, darkening night-shade ferns, and mandrakes.

Buried in their midst, and dimly seen among large leaves, all halberd-
shaped, were piles of stone, supporting falling temples of bamboo.
Thereon frogs leaped in dampness, trailing round their slime. Thick
hung the rafters with lines of pendant sloths; the upas trees dropped
darkness round; so dense the shade, nocturnal birds found there
perpetual night; and, throve on poisoned air. Owls hooted from dead
boughs; or, one by one, sailed by on silent pinions; cranes stalked
abroad, or brooded, in the marshes; adders hissed; bats smote the
darkness; ravens croaked; and vampires, fixed on slumbering lizards,
fanned the sultry air.

CHAPTER IV
Hivohitee MDCCCXLVIII
Now, those doleful woodlands passed, straightway converse was
renewed, and much discourse took place,