REALMAH VISITS TALORA.

There are few words more abused than the word “love.” It is the most commonly-used word in all languages, except the word “money,” and some short emphatic word, or other, signifying a curse. But as to the substance, it is rare. Now Talora was a girl incompetent to love any person supremely but herself.

In that age of the world beautiful women must have suffered from the loss of one great source of pleasure. They had no looking-glasses. This want they endeavoured to supply, in a very dim and poor manner, by burnished shells. And there was always the glassy water from which the fair dwellers on the lake could gain some indistinct notion of their beauty.

From what has been said above, it must not be supposed that Talora was a peculiarly heartless person. She was fond of her father, when he did not thwart her, and very gracious and good-natured to her companions when they submitted to her rule. Greatly admired in her own section of the city, she put a high value on herself, and was much afraid of contracting any marriage that should not be fully worthy of her.

In personal appearance she was tall, shapely, and bright-looking; with crisp, wavy hair, brilliant eyes, that had not much meaning in them, a pleasant smile, and some very engaging dimples. Her high rank, for she was the only daughter of the chief of the North, entitled her to be sought for by the noblest youths of the city.

This was the maiden in whose favour Realmah had placed all his future hopes of happiness. She regarded him with a certain kindliness, and even perceived that he was the most intelligent man she had ever seen; but his infirmity, which she naturally thought would surely prevent his attaining the highest rank, rendered her very careful of giving him encouragement.

Athlah, the second son of the chief of the South, was also one of her suitors. He was a coarse, violent man, who, as far as bravery was concerned, had already distinguished himself in war; and he looked with supreme contempt upon the presumption of Realmah, whom he held to be a poor feeble creature, destined for ever to partake of the occupations of women.

Athlah was not a man of sound judgment, or far-seeing sagacity; but he had considerable gifts of Nature, which gained for him credit and high standing amongst the men of his own town. Besides being a brave warrior, he was a bold, fluent, and forcible speaker. His speeches abounded in strong metaphors, quaint similes, and homely proverbs; and, in speaking, he was ever most powerful when most abusive.

In the Council of the Four Hundred he was always gladly listened to, and men renowned for state craft rejoiced to see Athlah rise in the debate; for they felt certain that somebody was then going to be soundly chastised, and that there would be fun and life and real battle.

It is a strange thing to say, but when the number of any public body exceeds that of forty or fifty, the whole assembly has an element of joyous childhood in it, and each member revives at times the glad, mischievous nature of his schoolboy days.

Amongst themselves the first-rate statesmen spoke depreciatingly of Athlah, as a man whose opinion in public affairs was worth very little; but, as I said before, they were all (all but the victim who probably foresaw his fate) delighted when the tall form of Athlah rose in the assembly, for they knew that something was coming which would break through the pattering monotony of dull, though wise, debate.

Athlah was a perfect master of the art of sneering, which, however, is not an art that demands the highest ability.

It was to the apartments of Talora that Realmah betook himself after his speech in the council. He told her what he had done, and she sympathised with him to a certain extent. She also made many inquiries about the dress of the ambassador from the Phelatahs, and how he wore his beard. Then she amused herself and Realmah, by making ugly faces--as far as Talora could make ugly faces--to imitate the grim chief of the South; and walked about the room with pompous step, and head thrown back, to imitate the dignified gestures of the proud chief of the West. For Talora was a great mimic. Realmah, deep in love, mistook this mimicry for wit.

At this moment Athlah coming in, and not being over-pleased to see Realmah there, sarcastically inquired whether he had come to help Talora to spin, whereupon she smiled pleasantly at the new comer, and seemed to enjoy the jest. She then told Athlah that Realmah had been present at the great council, and recounted the advice he had urged upon the chiefs.

Athlah was provoked at what he considered the presumption of Realmah, in venturing to enter a council-room where he (Athlah) would not have dared to intrude.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, “I see we are going to borrow an arrow from the sheaf of that wise tribe, the Doolmies. When they go to war, there is always a band of girl-warriors; and these are found to be very useful in killing those who are too badly wounded to make any resistance, and in despoiling the dead. Indeed, they are serviceable in many ways after a battle, and we call them the Doolmie she-crows, birds not quite as noble as vultures, but nearly as useful. I suppose” (turning to Realmah) “you will take the command of this redoubtable band, and they will doubtless be called the Realmahras. Oh, it is not for nothing that you stay at home with the women, and that your knitted brows bear the signs of such deep thought. Your subtle wit becomes almost equal to that of the other girls. The council must have been delighted with this wise advice which they received from one so skilled in war.”

Then Athlah went on to say, “Set a weasel to catch a rat. I do not wonder that Realmah sees through the deep designs of the false Phelatah. Even with my poor wit, I have observed that these emissaries, called ambassadors, are not so very unlike old women, being taken from the ranks of those elderly warriors who have not been greatly renowned in war, and have somehow from excess of bravery no doubt, managed, through a long career of warlike service, to return from battle without such vulgar signs of it as wounds. We, mere rough men of war, often fail to understand those sage ambassadors; but feminine craft, when matched against theirs, from its kindred nature, easily discovers their false designs and cunning purposes. Realmah dear,[5] I congratulate you upon your rendering such great service to the state.”

Footnote 5:

Athlah used the word _klava_, the feminine form of the word “dear.”

Realmah had not attempted to interrupt this sneering tirade of Athlah’s, nor did he show, by look or gesture, that it affected him in the least. It was not quite the same when Talora, after laughing heartily at Athlah’s sayings, maliciously added, “That Athlah must recollect that, if Realmah had not had much practice in the art of war, he had invented two or three new ways of playing mikree.[6] Besides, with his clever tongue, he would out-talk even the girls, and so keep them in order.”

Footnote 6:

A sort of game like prisoner’s bars.

Realmah laid his hand lightly upon Athlah’s arm, and said, “The All-powerful One, not to be named, has given you strong arms and brave ones, Athlah; He has also given you a strong and cruel tongue; but He has not blessed you with a big heart; for if He had, you would not pour insult upon one who has been weak and maimed from his birth, and who cannot answer you in the only way in which you deserve to be answered, and which you would best understand.”

Athlah, who, though coarse and violent, was not really a bad-hearted fellow, and a thoroughly brave man, felt the rebuke keenly, and blushed a blush that was quite visible even under his dusky skin, stammering out something about people not understanding what was merely spoken in jest.

Realmah then approached Talora, and said, “Always as witty as beautiful; but still I think Talora might have been kinder to her poor slave, remembering too that it was to please her, when they were boy and girl together, that he invented the new ways of playing mikree, which he is proud to see still find favour with the mikree-playing boys and girls of Abibah.”

He then smiled, bowed, and began to retire.

As he reached the matted hanging which was at the entrance of the apartment, he found that Athlah had intercepted him, and in an awkward way was holding out his hand. Realmah grasped it warmly, for he felt that the rude soldier meant to offer an apology, which was a great effort of good nature for him. While still retaining Athlah’s hand in his, Realmah said, “You have a bigger and a better heart than I supposed, Athlah; forgive me for having spoken so unjustly and unkindly.”

Realmah then took his departure, and walked wearily back to his own home, where he neither expected, nor sought for, consolation.

As he walked he muttered to himself, “The she-spider for fierceness, and the she-adder for spite” (a proverb of the Sheviri, probably directed against women). “I suppose the proverb is true,” he added; “and that the same thing holds good throughout all nature.”

But not the less did he love Talora. Her faults were the faults of her sex; her merits all her own. If the tolerance that is created by love could be carried into other relations of human life, what a happy world it would be!--almost realizing Christianity.

When he had returned to his own home, he was kindly greeted by his wives, the Varnah and the Ainah. The Ainah looked wistfully at him, expecting and hoping to hear some account of his success. But he was silent upon that subject.

The good Varnah scolded him heartily for being late for his meal, and said that he was like no other person in Abibah, but was always late. She had, however, prepared for him, knowing that he would be tired, what she had heard him say that he liked best. Realmah thanked her, and praised her for her thoughtfulness, and then, during the meal, chatted pleasantly about household matters and household goods, to the great delight of the Varnah, who said to herself that some day Realmah might become quite like other people, which was the greatest praise that she could give to anybody.

The Ainah said nothing, fearing to ask the questions which she longed to ask, and conjecturing his failure at the council from his silence.

Realmah’s heart and soul were far away from household stuff, meditating battles, sieges, and surprises, in which Realmah himself was not to take a small or unimportant part.