Suddenly the pyramidal flame was cloven asunder, and there appeared in
its centre a form, smaller than that of humanity, but perfect in feminine
loveliness. Wavy wreaths of golden flame fell around her like a woman’s
beautiful hair, and about her semi-transparent form twined an amber
vesture, resembling in hue and airy substance the fire from which she
sprung. Her hands were folded submissively on her breast, and her eyes
were fixed earnestly on the young student’s face as she again repeated,——
“Dost thou fear me now?”
“How should I fear thee, beautiful vision?” cried Basil in ecstasy; “and
what am I, that thou shouldst deign to visit me thus?”
“Thinkest thou that this is the first time I have visited thee?” said the
Form. “I have been with thee, unseen, from thy childhood. When, in thy
boyish days, thou wouldst sit gazing on the beautiful element which I
rule, and from which I proceed, it was I who made it assume in thy fancy
strange and lovely shapes. It was my voice thou heardest in the musical
breathing of the flames, until thou didst love the beautiful fire; and it
became to thee the source of inspiration. All this was my doing.”
“And now at last I behold thee, glorious creature!” exclaimed the
student with rapture. “How shall I thank thee for thus watching over me
invisibly, and at last revealing thyself to me!”
“We do but the will of our Creator,” answered the Salamandrine. “I and
my kindred are His offspring, even as man; but our being differs from
thine; superior and yet how inferior! We tend thee, we influence thee,
we guide thee,——in this doing alike His command who made us, and our own
pleasure; for our natures are purer and better than thine.”
“I feel it,” said Basil. “I cannot look upon thy all-perfect loveliness
without knowing that such a form must be the visible reflection of a soul
equally pure and beautiful.”
“A _soul_!” sighed the fire-spirit; “alas! this blessing is not ours. We
see generation after generation of men perish from the face of earth; we
watch them from their cradles into their graves, and still we are the
same, our beauty unfaded, our power unchanged. Yet we know there must
come a time when the elements from which we draw our being must vanish
away, and then we perish with them, for we have no immortal souls: for us
there is no after-life!”
As the Salamandrine ceased, the vapors of the fire encircled her as with
a mist, and a wailing came from the red caverns of flame, as of spirits
in grief, the burden of which was ever,——
“Alas for us!——we have no after-life.”
“Is it even so?” said the student. “Then are ye unhappy in the midst of
your divine existence.”
The mist which veiled the Salamandrine floated aside, and she stood once
more revealed in her superhuman beauty.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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