- end_line
- 1629
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:09.927Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 1527
- text
- Like a Hindoo pagoda, this bamboo edifice rose story above story; its
many angles and points decorated with pearl-shells suspended by cords.
But the uppermost story, some ten toises in the air, was closely
thatched from apex to floor; which summit was gained by a series of
ascents.
What eremite dwelleth here, like St. Stylites at the top of his
column?—a question which Mohi seemed all eagerness to have answered.
Dropping upon his knees, he gave a peculiar low call: no response.
Another: all was silent. Marching up to the pagoda, and again dropping
upon his knees, he shook the bamboos till the edifice rocked, and its
pearl-shells jingled, as if a troop of Andalusian mules, with bells
round their necks, were galloping along the defile.
At length the thatch aloft was thrown open, and a head was thrust
forth. It was that of an old, old man; with steel-gray eyes, hair and
beard, and a horrible necklace of jaw-bones.
Now, issuing from the pagoda, Mohi turned about to gain a view of the
ghost he had raised; and no sooner did he behold it, than with King
Media and the rest, he made a marked salutation.
Presently, the eremite pointed to where Yoomy was standing; and waved
his hand upward; when Mohi informed the minstrel, that it was St.
Stylites’ pleasure, that he should pay him a visit.
Wondering what was to come, Yoomy proceeded to mount; and at last
arriving toward the top of the pagoda, was met by an opening, from
which an encouraging arm assisted him to gain the ultimate landing.
Here, all was murky enough; for the aperture from which the head of the
apparition had been thrust, was now closed; and what little twilight
there was, came up through the opening in the floor.
In this dismal seclusion, silently the hermit confronted the minstrel;
his gray hair, eyes, and beard all gleaming, as if streaked with
phosphorus; while his ghastly gorget grinned hideously, with all its
jaws.
Mutely Yoomy waited to be addressed; but hearing no sound, and becoming
alive to the strangeness of his situation, he meditated whether it
would not be well to subside out of sight, even as he had come—through
the floor. An intention which the eremite must have anticipated; for of
a sudden, something was slid over the opening; and the apparition
seating itself thereupon, the twain were in darkness complete.
Shut up thus, with an inscrutable stranger posted at the only aperture
of escape, poor Yoomy fell into something like a panic; hardly knowing
what step to take next. As for endeavoring to force his way out, it was
alarming to think of; for aught he knew, the eremite, availing himself
of the gloom, might be bristling all over with javelin points.
At last, the silence was broken.
“What see you, mortal?”
“Chiefly darkness,” said Yoomy, wondering at the audacity of the
question.
“I dwell in it. But what else see you, mortal?”
“The dim gleaming of thy gorget.”
“But that is not me. What else dost thou see?”
“Nothing.”
“Then thou hast found me out, and seen all! Descend.”
And with that, the passage-way opened, and groping through the
twilight, Yoomy obeyed the mandate, and retreated; full of vexation at
his enigmatical reception.
On his alighting, Mohi inquired whether the hermit was not a wonderful
personage.
But thinking some sage waggery lurked in the question; and at present
too indignant to enter into details, the minstrel made some impatient
reply; and winding through a defile, the party resumed its journey.
Straggling behind, to survey the strange plants and flowers in his
path, Yoomy became so absorbed, as almost to forget the scene in the
pagoda; yet every moment expected to be nearing the stately abode of
the Pontiff.
But suddenly, the scene around grew familiar; the path seemed that
which had been followed just after leaving the canoes; and at length,
the place of debarkation was in sight.
Surprised that the object of our visit should have been thus abandoned,
the minstrel ran forward, and sought an explanation.
Whereupon, Mohi lifted his hands in amazement; exclaiming at the
blindness of the eyes, which had beheld the supreme Pontiff of Maramma,
without knowing it.
The old hermit was no other than the dread Hivohitee; the pagoda, the
inmost oracle of the isle.
- title
- Chunk 2