All-Story Weekly, March 1, 1919 — page 116: what you’re looking at

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

= AG hi esp nk Na ty 3 7 %j ie * YW re. ON EY SAT Ee a} rs ip Wer sh * oo Pao SI RD 7 ” 7) wit rt | Te ‘ uy , i Se OY fy 15,5) liad NA ANOS RIAU ON PE RN ROR Hess MaDe SNE OR, ON RT eA tae ga A AR ea At LAU waterfalls in the hidden places, could see a flare of consuming hatred. So he sat alone, and my ae went out to him. O’Keefe’s face softened. “ Bring him here,” he said to Rador. The green dwarf was looking at the Norseman, too, a shade of pity upon his mocking face. He shook his head. “Wait!” he said. need to do anything,” he added; but I could feel that there was little of conviction in his words. oe CHAPTER XX. THE MADNESS OF OLAF. OLARA drew herself up; threw her white arms high. From the moun- ~ . tainous tiers came a mighty sigh; a ripple ran through them. And upon the moment, before Yolara’s arms fell, there issued, apparently from the air around us, a peal of sound that might have been the shouting of some playful god hurling great suns through the net of stars. It was like the deepest notes of all the organs in the world combined in one; summoning, ma- jestic, cosmic! It held within it the thunder of. the spheres rolling through the infinite, the birth-song of suns made manifest in the womb of space; echoes of creation’s super- nal chord! It shook the -body like a pulse from the heart of the universe—pulsed— and died away. On its death came a_blaring as_of all the trumpets of conquering hosts since the first Pharaoh led his swarms—triumphal, compelling! Alexander’s clamoring hosts, brazen-throated wolf-horns of Czsar’s le- gions, blare of trumpets of Genghis Khan and his golden horde, clangor of the locust levies of Tamerlane, bugles of Napoleon’s armies—war-shout of all earth’s conquer- ors! And it died! Fast upon it, a throbbing, muffled tumult of harp sounds, mellownesses of myriads of wood horns, the subdued sweet shrilling of multitudes of flutes, Pandean pipings—in- viting, carrying with them the calling of rushing i ——— = j re — -. 4: —_—— - a = SE = aS Ee ~ — ees 7 See = es el a ig ee hr “You can do noth- ing now=-and it may be there will be no ALL-STORY WEEKLY. brooks and murmuring forest winds—call- ing, calling, languorous, lulling, dripping into the brain like the very honeyed essence of sound. And after them a silence in which the memory of the music seemed to beat, to eat, ever more faintly, through every quiv- ering nerve. Fr rom me all fear, all apprehension, had fled. In their place was nothing but joy- ous anticipation, a supernal freedom from even the shadow of the shadow of care or sorrow; not now did anything matter— Olaf or his haunted, hate-filled eyes; Throckmartin or his fate—nothing of pain, _nothing of agony, nothing of striving nor endeavor nor despair in -that wide outer world that had turned suddenly to a trou- bled dream. And in that moment, as,the muscles of my face grew rigid with inhuman emotion, in my subconsciousness stirred understand- ing of that element in the Murians that had so perplexed me—for what to those who ex- perienced in such sounds the emotions of universal Nature herself could be either the joys or sorrows of mankind? And yet— My eyes sought the crowded tiers, sens- ing there in multitudinous form the same reaction of those stupendous vibrations that had so shaken me—and yet—again that furtive doubt— Once more the first great note pealed out! As once more it died, from the clus- tered spheres a kaleidoscopic blaze shot as- though drawn from the majestic sound it- self. The many-colored rays darted across the white waters and sought the face of the irised veil. As they touched, it sparkled, flamed, wavered, and shook with fountains of prismatic color. The light increased—and in its intensity the silver air darkened. Faded into shadow that white mosaic of flower-crowned faces set in the amphitheater of jet, and vast shadows dropped upon the high-“ung tiers and shrouded them. But on the skirts of the rays the fretted stalls in which we sat with the fair-haired ones blazed out, iri- descent, like jewels. I was sensible cf an acceleration of every pulse; a wild stimulation of every nerve. I felt‘myself being lifted above the world a“ : COME Y RCo