77. CHAPTER LXXVII.
THE HOUSE OF THE AFTERNOON.
For the most part, the House of the Afternoon was but
a wing built against a mansion wrought by the hand of Nature
herself; a grotto running into the side of the mountain.
From high over the month of this grotto, sloped a long
arbor, supported by great blocks of stone, rudely chiseled into
the likeness of idols, each bearing a carved lizard on its chest:
a sergeant's guard of the gods condescendingly doing duty as
posts.
From the grotto thus vestibuled, issued hilariously forth
the most considerable stream of the glen; which, seemingly
overjoyed to find daylight in Willamilla, sprang into the
arbor with a cheery, white bound. But its youthful enthusiasm
was soon repressed; its waters being caught in a large
stone basin, scooped out of the natural rock; whence, staid
and decorous, they traversed sundry moats; at last meandering
away, to join floods with the streams trained to do
service at the other end of the vale.
Truant streams: the livelong day wending their loitering
path to the subterraneous outlet, flowing into which, they
disappeared. But no wonder they loitered; passing such
ravishing landscapes. Thus with life: man bounds out of
night; runs and babbles in the sun; then returns to his
darkness again; though, peradventure, once more to emerge.
But the grotto was not a mere outlet to the stream.
Flowing through a dark flume in the rock, on both sides it
left a dry, elevated shelf, to which you ascend from the
arbor by three artificially-wrought steps, sideways disposed,
to avoid the spray of the rejoicing cataract. Mounting
these, and pursuing the edge of the flume, the grotto gradually
expands and heightens; your way lighted by rays in
the inner distance. At last you come to a lofty subterraneous
dome, lit from above by a cleft in the mountain;
while full before you, in the opposite wall, from a low,
black arch, midway up, and inaccessible, the stream, with a
hollow ring and a dash, falls in a long, snowy column into
a bottomless pool, whence, after many an eddy and whirl, it
entered the flume, and away with a rush. Half hidden
from view by an overhanging brow of the rock, the white
fall looked like the sheeted ghost of the grotto.
Yet gallantly bedecked was the cave, as any old armorial
hall hung round with banners and arras. Streaming from
the cleft, vines swung in the air; or crawled along the
rocks, wherever a tendril could be fixed. High up, their
leaves were green; but lower down, they were shriveled;
and dyed of many colors; and tattered and torn with
much rustling; as old banners again; sore raveled with
much triumphing.
In the middle of this hall in the hill was incarcerated
the stone image of one Demi, the tutelar deity of Willamilla.
All green and oozy like a stone under water, poor
Demi looked as if sore harassed with sciatics and lumbagos.
But he was cheered from aloft, by the promise of receiving
a garland all blooming on his crown; the Dryads sporting
in the woodlands above, forever peeping down the cleft,
and essaying to drop him a coronal.
Now, the still, panting glen of Willamilla, nested so
close by the mountains, and a goodly green mark for the
archer in the sun, would have been almost untenable were
it not for the grotto. Hereby, it breathed the blessed
breezes of Omi; a mountain promontory buttressing the
island to the east, receiving the cool stream of the upland
Trades; much pleasanter than the currents beneath.
At all times, even in the brooding noon-day, a gush of
cool air came hand-in-hand with the cool waters, that burst
with a shout into the palace of Donjalolo. And as, after
first refreshing the king, as in loyalty bound, the stream
flowed at large through the glen, and bathed its verdure;
so, the blessed breezes of Omi, not only made pleasant the
House of the Afternoon; but finding ample outlet in its
wide, open front, blew forth upon the bosom of all
Willamilla.
“Come let us take the air of Omi,” was a very common
saying in the glen. And the speaker would hie with his
comrade toward the grotto; and flinging himself on the
turf, pass his hand through his locks, and recline; making
a joy and a business of breathing; for truly the breezes of
Omi were as air-wine to the lungs.
Yet was not this breeze over-cool; though at times the
zephyrs grew boisterous. Especially at the season of high
sea, when the strong Trades drawn down the cleft in the
mountain, rushed forth from the grotto with wonderful
force. Crossing it then, you had much ado to keep your
robe on your back.
Thus much for the House of the Afternoon. Whither—
after spending the shady morning under the eastern cliffs of
the glen—daily, at a certain hour, Donjalolo in his palanquin
was borne; there, finding new shades; and there tarrying
till evening; when again he was transported whence
he came: thereby anticipating the revolution of the sun.
Thus dodging day's luminary through life, the prince hied
to and fro in his dominions; on his smooth, spotless brow
Sol's rays never shining.
