A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, December 1949 — page 46: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Me BoE pe BY nS et) ate SY oe dan o)" pay sy i . ‘i * eh a> Mees, rte Py . ‘y r, Ag LOUNGE 7 : 7a) he st A. MERRITT’S FANTASY "was dimly lit, but I glimpsed carven chests here and there, an astrolabe, and ——s great table strewn with leathern and _ vellum covered books. _I turned just in time to see the door _ slip back in place, leaving the panelling apparently unbroken. Nevertheless, I thought I could find it again in case of need, _The two men led me across the room, toward its right hand corner. Again they drew a tapestry aside, and a mellow golden glow bathed me. They bowed, and I passed into the glow. T stood in an octagonal room not more than twenty feet across. Its eight sides were covered with silken hangings of ex- quisite texture. They were sea-green and woven in each was an undersea picture— fishes strangely shaped and colored, swim- ming through a forest of feathery kelp . + . anemones waving deadly tentacles over mouths that were like fantastic flow- ers . . . a gold and silver school of winged snakes guarding their castles of royal coral. In the center of the room a table was set with antique crystal, translucent porcelain and archaic silver gleaming under the light of tall candles. I thrust my hand into the hanging by which I had entered, drew it aside. There was no sign of door. . . I heard laughter, like the laughter of little ruthless waves, the laughter of Dahut.. . FE, Demoiselle was at the far side of = the octagonal chamber, holding one of the hangings half aside. There was an- other room there, for light streamed through and formed a faint rosy aureole around her head. And the beauty of her made me for a dozen heart-beats forget everything else in the world—even for- get that there was a world. From white shoulders to white feet she was draped in a web-like gown of filmy green in flowing folds like the stola of the women of ancient Rome. Her feet were sandaled. Two thick braids of her pale gold hair dropped down her shoulder. She wore no jewels—nor needed any. Her eyes both caressed and menaced me—and there was both tenderness and menace in her laughter. She came toward me and put her hands on my shoulders. Her fragrance was like ies struggle against each other . that of some strange flower of the sea, and touch and fragrance rocked me. She said, and in the Breton tongue: “So, Alain—you still are cautious. But tonight you go only when it is my will that you go. You taught me my lesson well, Alain de Caranac.” I asked, stupidly, still under that numb- ing spell of her beauty: ‘When did I teach you anything, Demoiselle ?”’ She answered: “Long ... and long ... and long ago.”” And now I thought that the menace nigh banished the tenderness in her eyes. She said, absently: “T had thought that it would be easy to say that which I have to say when I met you tonight, Alain. I thought the words would pour from me... as the waters poured over Ys. But I am con- fused ... I find it difficult . . . the memor- . . hate and love battle...” By now I had gotten myself a little in hand, I said: “T, too, am confused, Demoiselle. I do not speak the Breton as you, and that, perhaps, is why I am dull to your mean- ing. Could we not speak French or Eng- lish ?” The truth was that the Breton was a little too—intimate ; brought me too close to her mind. The other languages would be a barrier. And then I thought: a barrier against what? She said, fiercely : “No. And no longer are you to call me Demoiselle, nor de Keradel. You know me!” | I laughed and answered: “If you are not the Demoiselle de Keradel, then you are the sea-fay Melu- sine ... or Gulnar the Sea-born .. . and I am safe in your’”—I looked at the hangings—“aquarium.”’ She said, somberly: “I am Dahut.. . Dahut the White, Dahut of the Shadows . -. Dahut of ancient Ys. Reborn. Re- born here—” she tapped her forehead. “And you are Alain de Caranac, my an- cient love . . . my great love ... my treacherous love. So beware!” Suddenly she leaned toward me; she pressed her lips to mine, savagely; so savagely that her small teeth bruised them. oO comicbooks.com @ s “4 7 4 7 : 7