"I thought some foul thing was in the room!"said the librarian,casting a glance around him;but instantly he turned a leaf or two,and again read:--"For I had bathed in milk and honey-dew,In rain from roses shook,that ne'er touched earth,And ointed me with nard of amber hue;Never had spot me spotted from my birth,Or mole,or scar of hurt,or fret of dearth;Never one hair superfluous on me grew.
"Fleeing cold whiteness,I would sit alone--
Not in the sun--I feared his bronzing light,But in his radiance back around me thrown By fulgent mirrors tempering his might;Thus bathing in a moon-bath not too bright,My skin I tinted slow to ivory tone.
"But now,all round was dark,dark all within!
My eyes not even gave out a phantom-flash;
My fingers sank in pulp through pulpy skin;
My body lay death-weltered in a mash Of slimy horrors----"With a fearsome yell,her clammy fur staring in clumps,her tail thick as a cable,her eyes flashing green as a chrysoprase,her distended claws entangling themselves so that she floundered across the carpet,a huge white cat rushed from somewhere,and made for the chimney.Quick as thought the librarian threw the manuscript between her and the hearth.She crouched instantly,her eyes fixed on the book.But his voice went on as if still he read,and his eyes seemed also fixed on the book:--"Ah,the two worlds!so strangely are they one,And yet so measurelessly wide apart!
Oh,had I lived the bodiless alone And from defiling sense held safe my heart,Then had I scaped the canker and the smart,Scaped life-in-death,scaped misery's endless moan!"At these words such a howling,such a prolonged yell of agony burst from the cat,that we both stopped our ears.When it ceased,Mr.Raven walked to the fire-place,took up the book,and,standing between the creature and the chimney,pointed his finger at her for a moment.She lay perfectly still.He took a half-burnt stick from the hearth,drew with it some sign on the floor,put the manuscript back in its place,with a look that seemed to say,"Now we have her,I think!"and,returning to the cat,stood over her and said,in a still,solemn voice:--"Lilith,when you came here on the way to your evil will,you little thought into whose hands you were delivering yourself!--Mr.Vane,when God created me,--not out of Nothing,as say the unwise,but out of His own endless glory--He brought me an angelic splendour to be my wife:there she lies!For her first thought was POWER;she counted it slavery to be one with me,and bear children for Him who gave her being.One child,indeed,she bore;then,puffed with the fancy that she had created her,would have me fall down and worship her!Finding,however,that I would but love and honour,never obey and worship her,she poured out her blood to escape me,fled to the army of the aliens,and soon had so ensnared the heart of the great Shadow,that he became her slave,wrought her will,and made her queen of Hell.How it is with her now,she best knows,but I know also.The one child of her body she fears and hates,and would kill,asserting a right,which is a lie,over what God sent through her into His new world.Of creating,she knows no more than the crystal that takes its allotted shape,or the worm that makes two worms when it is cloven asunder.Vilest of God's creatures,she lives by the blood and lives and souls of men.She consumes and slays,but is powerless to destroy as to create."The animal lay motionless,its beryl eyes fixed flaming on the man:
his eyes on hers held them fixed that they could not move from his.