Pulp Fiction, 1919 · page 124 of 192
All-Story Weekly, March 1, 1919 — page 124: what you’re looking at
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= = © asthe at some decision, and Von Hetz- __._ dorp, fairly beaming with delight and satis- _ faction, thrust his hand to him. And only a 2. Flan Mee eo “ny +e Se ¥ “© A eo ary a as XS ‘ - is ae , a ie Se pe, oe x . z = “tm - af =) ~; < Se Se sae Pan a. — nae Serre T could have noticed Larry’s shrinking, his microscopic hesitation before he took it, and his involuntary movement, as though to shake off something unclean, when the clasp had ended. Von Hetzdorp, without another look at me, turned and went quickly within. The - guards took their places, and we passed on to face whatever it was that fate held for us. I looked at Larry inquiringly. “ Don’t ask a thing now, Doc!” he said tensely. “Wait till we get home. But we've got to get damned busy and quick— I'll tell you that now—” * CHAPTER XXII. THE TEMPTING OF LARRY. E paused before thick curtains, through which came the faint. mur- mur of many voices. They parted; out came two—ushers, I suppose, they were—in cuirasses and kilts that reminded me somewhat of chain-mail —the first armor of any kind here that I had seen. They held open the folds, bowed, and as we entered fell in behind us. The chamber, on whose threshold we stood, was far larger than either anteroom or hall of audience. hundred feet long and half that in depth, from end to end of it ran two huge semi- circular tables, paralleling each other, divided by a wide aisle, and heaped with flowers, with fruits, with viands unknown to me, and glittering with crystal flagons, beakers, goblets of as many hues as the blooms. And on the gay-cushioned couches that flanked the tables, lounging luxurious- ly, were scores of the fair-haired ruling class. | Their eyes were turned upon us, and there rose a little buzz of admiration, oddly mixed with a half-startled amaze, as their = = ~ gaze fell upon O’Keefe in all his silvery magnificence.. Everywhere the light-giving globes sent their roseate radiance. The cuirassed dwarfs led us through the aisle. Within the arc of the inner half- — “ALL- STORY WEEKLY. -eyes. O'Keefe bent, Not less than three pr tas - - SO Pe OD oe = ee ing ee OTe 8 pal ft Y a oe <— : aa ge _—- LZ Leg > ee er, a : _ - ‘ ~ circle was another glittering board, an oval. But of those seated there, facing us—I had eyes for only one—Yolara! She swayed up to greet O’Keefe—and she was like one of those white lily maids, whose beauty Hoang-Ku, the sage, says made the Gobi first a paradise, and whose lusts. later the burned-out desert that it is. She held out hands to Larry, and on her face was passion —unashamed, unhiding.- She was Circe—but Circe conquered. Webs of filmiest white clung to the rose- leaf body—like rosy morning mists about a nymph of Diana. Twisted through the corn- silk hair a threaded circlet of pale sapphires shone; but they were pale beside Yolara’s kissed her hands, something more than mere admiration flam- ing from him. She saw—and, laughing, drew him down beside her. It came to me that of all, only these two, Yolara and O’Keefe, were in white—and I wondered; then with a stiffening of nerves ceased to wonder as there entered—Lugur! He was all in scarlet, and as he strode for- ‘ward the voices were still; a silence fell— a tense, strained silence. His gaze turned upon Yolara; rested upon O’Keefe, and instantly his face grew ——dreadful—there is no other word: than that for it. Satan, losing heaven and find- ing an usurper on his throne in hell, could have held in his eyes no more of devilish malignity. It flashed through my mind, fancifully, that his face was like the pitch- black cloud hovering over a volcano’s crater lit by the crimson flames below! I had not noticed Von Hetzdorp, but now I saw him lean forward from the center of the table, near whose end I sat, touch Lugur, and whisper ‘to him swiftly. With an appalling effort the red dwarf controlled himself; his rage slowly gave way to a sinister saturninity, coldly malefic as the rage had been hotly menacing. He saluted the priestess ironically, I thought; took his place at the further end of the oval. And now I noted that the figures bétween were the seven of that council of which the Shining One’s priestess and Voice were the heads. The tension relaxed, but did not pass—as though a storm-cloud should turn away, but still lurk, threatening. a for the 1 * wry aS | : Seu eet, Tens