Page:Weird Tales Volume 02 Number 2 (1937-02).djvu/87

 quite as lovely as this. His eyes were as bright as the eyes of one who has not learned to reason. He sat there immobile. His breath came audibly from his lips as though some great internal commotion were going on within him. His temples throbbed, the muscles of his mouth grew set as he gazed upon that gorgeous little pagan.

Guy had followed Jolly Cauldron. He, too, crouched in the sand, but the emotion within him differed from that which swept Jolly Cauldron. To Guy it seemed as though he were living the supreme artistic moment of his life. The dancing of Kum-Kum was like rhythmic poetry. Each wave of her hand was a quatrain, the lithesome swaying of her body a roundelay and the gentle rise and fall of her golden breasts were lyrics of enticement. After all, poetry need not be rendered in words. It is simply a mood, a series of harmonies, cadences, or a blending of soft-toned colors.

Even the peculiar attributes of the night served to act as a wild, weird frame to that brilliant picture. Above the palms, the sky was as black as the earth before day was created. The air was lifeless-still. Not a leaf stirred, not a flower trembled. All nature had paused to watch the charming spell of Kum-Kum, who danced with the abandon of one who lived each moment to the full. Her body swayed and undulated. When she gazed at Jolly Cauldron she smiled as though she were making sport of him. She seemed to lead him on for the sheer pleasure of ultimately repulsing him. But still he did not move; still he crouched ape-like in the sand.

Then came the storm. The thunder ripped the heavens in two and the rain poured down in sheets of chilling coldness. A sharp wind rose from nowhere and played havoc with the veranda lights. In a few moments the full fury of the storm struck and the lights went out. Reluctantly he rose to his feet and entered the house. He went at once to the room assigned to him. He wanted to be alone. He did not wish to talk.

The storm increased in violence. Its ferocity appalled him. He walked over to the open window. The rain crashed in in shrieking floods, but he did not care. Its coolness was like balm upon his forehead. It soothed his nerves. His fears vanished. Once more he was in tune with the witchery of the night. The air was charged with poetry, with charm, with haunting fragrant melodies.

The verses of Symons' poem kept running through the current of his thoughts. Even as they did so there came a blinding flash of lightning and by its illumination he beheld Kum-Kum, a thing of golden glory, dancing in the rain. She had thrown aside her single garment and now she danced with more utter abandon than ever. She might have been a pagan fire-worshipper dancing a religious epic to the storm.

Entranced, Guy waited for the next flash of lightning. When it came, so vivid it was, it seemed as if day had prematurely broken. Kum-Kum's dripping golden body glowed as though it were new-cast metal, still burning hot. But now she had paused in her dancing, for Jolly Cauldron stood over her. He had seized her in his arms and his lips were pressed to hers. Then the lightning died. The curtains of night swept down again.

Guy uttered an oath. For a moment only he hesitated, then he sprang through the window.

Blindly he plunged toward the spot where he had beheld Kum-Kum dancing. The last vestige of civilization had