PAGE 19
The New Gulliver
by
Standing on the crest of the hill I made my plans. It was in my mind to get away from this island as soon as might be. In a forest of that extent I might easily lie hidden for weeks, and I doubted if, with all his knowledge and cunning, the Professor would be able to find me. Meanwhile I would establish friendly relations with some of the second class. Living as they did upon the sea-shore, I expected that they would have contrived boats for their own use, and thus I might make my escape. I had the whole day before me, and began now to explore the forest, intending to go on to the village on the shore when the workers had returned in the evening.
I followed the course of the stream that trickled down the hill-side. There was no wind, and except for the burble of the stream and the call of the birds all was still in the forest. Here and there the stream broadened out into wide shady pools, where it seemed to me there might be the chance of tickling a trout. Presently I heard below me a loud splashing. The trees and undergrowth were so thick that I could see but a very little way before me. I still followed the stream in the direction of the sound, but I went with extreme caution, taking care that my footsteps should not be heard. I did not know what danger might not be awaiting me below.
Presently I reached the pool from which the sound had come. Peering through the bushes I saw, seated in a dejected attitude by the edge of the pool, a very beautiful woman. In spite of the fact that she had been swimming, and her long dark hair hung dankly about her brown shoulders–wet hair is ever unbecoming to a woman–her beauty was amazing. The brown shoulders peeped from the heavy folds of the garment which she had thrown round her after her swim. It was of the colour prescribed for beings of the second class. The women of that class wear but one garment–a long piece of stuff like a plaid, that they drape about them. As I came into view she started up and gave a scream of terror.
“Do not be afraid,” I called. “I mean you no harm. I will not hurt you.”
As she looked at me further she seemed reassured. “I thought,” she said, “at first that one of the gods had come to take me.”
“What gods?” I asked.
“The gods that walk on four legs and against whom no man can do anything. Your dress is of the same colour that they wear.”
“I am no god, but an ordinary man enough–a shipwrecked mariner cast up on this island a few weeks ago, and now planning to escape from it again.”
“There is no escape,” she said mournfully. “The gods know everything.”
“Let me come down and speak with you.”
“Come,” she said. “I am not afraid any more.”
“What do you do here?” I asked, as I sat beside her.
“I have fled from death. It was ordained by the gods that I should die at sundown seven days ago. I escaped and hid myself here. But there is no escape really. Sooner or later they will find me. They never fail. In their coming and going they are unseen. Suddenly before you stands one of the gods, and he points his rod at you and you are dead. It is not possible to hide from those whom one cannot see in their approach.”
“Has no one ever escaped?”
“Years ago a girl like myself fled to the forest, and for three months in the summer she lived there. It was I myself who found her lying dead. Her garment over her breast was scorched by the lightning of the gods, and her heart was burned within her. It was all one; for in the winter she would have perished of cold and starvation. I love life. I want every day and hour that I can get. But I have no hopes.”