The Last American | Page 4

stairway into the head of the image, and from the top looked down upon us; that Ad-el-pate, in the dark, sat to rest himself upon a nest of yellow flies with black stripes; that these flies inserted stings into Ad-el-pate's person, causing him to exclaim loudly and descend the stairs with unexpected agility; that Bhoz-ja-khaz and the others pushed on through the upraised arm, and stood at last upon the bronze torch itself; that the city lay beneath them like a map, covering the country for miles away on both sides of the river. As for illuminating the harbor, Bhoz-ja-khaz says Nofuhl is mistaken; there are no vestiges of anything that could give a light--no vessel for oil or traces of fire.
Nofuhl says Ja-khaz is an idiot; that he shall go himself.

13th May

A startling discovery this morning.
By landing higher up the river we explored a part of the city where the buildings are of a different character from those we saw yesterday. Nofuhl considers them the dwellings of the rich. In shape they are like bricks set on end, all very similar, uninteresting, and monotonous.
We noticed one where the doors and shutters were still in place, but rotting from the fantastic hinges that supported them. A few hard blows brought down the outer doors in a dusty heap, and as we stepped upon the marble floor within our eyes met an unexpected sight. Furniture, statues, dingy pictures in crumbling frames, images in bronze and silver, mirrors, curtains, all were there, but in every condition of decay. We knocked open the iron shutters and let the light into the rooms sealed up for centuries. In the first one lay a rug from Persia! Faded, moth-eaten, gone in places, it seemed to ask us with dying eyes to be taken hence. My heart grew soft over the ancient rug, and I caught a foolish look in Lev-el-Hedyd's eye.
As we climbed the mouldering stair to the floor above I expressed surprise that cloth and woodwork should hold together for so many centuries, also saying:
"These Mehrikans were not so unworthy as we think them."
"That may be," said Lev-el-Hedyd, "but the Persian rug is far the freshest object we have seen, and that perchance was ancient when they bought it."
On this floor we entered a dim chamber, spacious and once richly furnished. When Lev-el-Hedyd pushed open the shutters and drew aside the ragged curtains we started at the sight before us.
Upon a wide bed in the centre of the room lay a human form, the long, yellow hair still clinging to the head. It was more a mummy than a skeleton. Around, upon the bed, lay mouldering fragments of the once white sheets that covered it. On the fingers of the left hand glistened two rings which drew our attention. One held a diamond of great price, the other was composed of sapphires and diamonds most curiously arranged. We stood a moment in silence, gazing sadly upon the figure.
"Poor woman," I said, "left thus to die alone."
"It is more probable," said Nofuhl, "she was already dead, and her friends, departing perhaps in haste, were unable to burn the body."
"Did they burn their dead?" I asked. "In my history 'twas writ they buried them in the earth like potatoes, and left them to rot."
And Nofuhl answered: "At one time it was so, but later on, as they became more civilized, the custom was abandoned."
"Is it possible?" I asked, "that this woman has been lying here almost a thousand years and yet so well preserved?"
"I, also, am surprised," said Nofuhl. "I can only account for it by the extreme dryness of the air in absorbing the juices of the body and retarding decay."
Then lifting tenderly in his hand some of the yellow hair, he said:
"She was probably very young, scarce twenty."
"Were their women fair?" I asked.
"They were beautiful," he answered; "with graceful forms and lovely faces; a pleasure to the eye; also were they gay and sprightly with much animation."
Thereupon cried Lev-el-Hedyd:
"Here are the first words thou hast uttered, O Nofuhl, that cause me to regret the extinction of this people!" There is ever a place in my heart for a blushing maiden!"
"Then let thy grief be of short life," responded Nofuhl, "for Mehrikan damsels were not of that description. Blush-ing was an art they practised little. The shyness thou so lovest in a Persian maiden was to them an unknown thing. Our shrinking daughters bear no resemblance to these Western products. They strode the public streets with roving eyes and unblushing faces, holding free converse with men as with women, bold of speech and free of manner, going and coming as it pleased them best. They knew much of the world, managed their own affairs, and devised their own marriages, often changing their minds and marrying