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<h2> CHAPTER XXII. BULIKA </h2>
<p>I had lost all notion of my position, and was walking about in pure,
helpless impatience, when suddenly I found myself in the path of the
leopardess, wading in the blood from her paw. It ran against my ankles
with the force of a small brook, and I got out of it the more quickly
because of an unshaped suspicion in my mind as to whose blood it might be.
But I kept close to the sound of it, walking up the side of the stream,
for it would guide me in the direction of Bulika.</p>
<p>I soon began to reflect, however, that no leopardess, no elephant, no
hugest animal that in our world preceded man, could keep such a torrent
flowing, except every artery in its body were open, and its huge system
went on filling its vessels from fields and lakes and forests as fast as
they emptied themselves: it could not be blood! I dipped a finger in it,
and at once satisfied myself that it was not. In truth, however it might
have come there, it was a softly murmuring rivulet of water that ran,
without channel, over the grass! But sweet as was its song, I dared not
drink of it; I kept walking on, hoping after the light, and listening to
the familiar sound so long unheard—for that of the hot stream was
very different. The mere wetting of my feet in it, however, had so
refreshed me, that I went on without fatigue till the darkness began to
grow thinner, and I knew the sun was drawing nigh. A few minutes more, and
I could discern, against the pale aurora, the wall-towers of a city—seemingly
old as time itself. Then I looked down to get a sight of the brook.</p>
<p>It was gone. I had indeed for a long time noted its sound growing fainter,
but at last had ceased to attend to it. I looked back: the grass in its
course lay bent as it had flowed, and here and there glimmered a small
pool. Toward the city, there was no trace of it. Near where I stood, the
flow of its fountain must at least have paused!</p>
<p>Around the city were gardens, growing many sorts of vegetables, hardly one
of which I recognised. I saw no water, no flowers, no sign of animals. The
gardens came very near the walls, but were separated from them by huge
heaps of gravel and refuse thrown from the battlements.</p>
<p>I went up to the nearest gate, and found it but half-closed, nowise
secured, and without guard or sentinel. To judge by its hinges, it could
not be farther opened or shut closer. Passing through, I looked down a
long ancient street. It was utterly silent, and with scarce an indication
in it of life present. Had I come upon a dead city? I turned and went out
again, toiled a long way over the dust-heaps, and crossed several roads,
each leading up to a gate: I would not re-enter until some of the
inhabitants should be stirring.</p>
<p>What was I there for? what did I expect or hope to find? what did I mean
to do?</p>
<p>I must see, if but once more, the woman I had brought to life! I did not
desire her society: she had waked in me frightful suspicions; and
friendship, not to say love, was wildly impossible between us! But her
presence had had a strange influence upon me, and in her presence I must
resist, and at the same time analyse that influence! The seemingly
inscrutable in her I would fain penetrate: to understand something of her
mode of being would be to look into marvels such as imagination could
never have suggested! In this I was too daring: a man must not, for
knowledge, of his own will encounter temptation! On the other hand, I had
reinstated an evil force about to perish, and was, to the extent of my
opposing faculty, accountable for what mischief might ensue! I had learned
that she was the enemy of children: the Little Ones might be in her
danger! It was in the hope of finding out something of their history that
I had left them; on that I had received a little light: I must have more;
I must learn how to protect them!</p>
<p>Hearing at length a little stir in the place, I walked through the next
gate, and thence along a narrow street of tall houses to a little square,
where I sat down on the base of a pillar with a hideous bat-like creature
atop. Ere long, several of the inhabitants came sauntering past. I spoke
to one: he gave me a rude stare and ruder word, and went on.</p>
<p>I got up and went through one narrow street after another, gradually
filling with idlers, and was not surprised to see no children. By and by,
near one of the gates, I encountered a group of young men who reminded me
not a little of the bad giants. They came about me staring, and presently
began to push and hustle me, then to throw things at me. I bore it as well
as I could, wishing not to provoke enmity where wanted to remain for a
while. Oftener than once or twice I appealed to passers-by whom I fancied
more benevolent-looking, but none would halt a moment to listen to me. I
looked poor, and that was enough: to the citizens of Bulika, as to
house-dogs, poverty was an offence! Deformity and sickness were taxed; and
no legislation of their princess was more heartily approved of than what
tended to make poverty subserve wealth.</p>
<p>I took to my heels at last, and no one followed me beyond the gate. A
lumbering fellow, however, who sat by it eating a hunch of bread, picked
up a stone to throw after me, and happily, in his stupid eagerness, threw,
not the stone but the bread. I took it, and he did not dare follow to
reclaim it: beyond the walls they were cowards every one. I went off a few
hundred yards, threw myself down, ate the bread, fell asleep, and slept
soundly in the grass, where the hot sunlight renewed my strength.</p>
<p>It was night when I woke. The moon looked down on me in friendly fashion,
seeming to claim with me old acquaintance. She was very bright, and the
same moon, I thought, that saw me through the terrors of my first night in
that strange world. A cold wind blew from the gate, bringing with it an
evil odour; but it did not chill me, for the sun had plenished me with
warmth. I crept again into the city. There I found the few that were still
in the open air crouched in corners to escape the shivering blast.</p>
<p>I was walking slowly through the long narrow street, when, just before me,
a huge white thing bounded across it, with a single flash in the
moonlight, and disappeared. I turned down the next opening, eager to get
sight of it again.</p>
<p>It was a narrow lane, almost too narrow to pass through, but it led me
into a wider street. The moment I entered the latter, I saw on the
opposite side, in the shadow, the creature I had followed, itself
following like a dog what I took for a man. Over his shoulder, every other
moment, he glanced at the animal behind him, but neither spoke to it, nor
attempted to drive it away. At a place where he had to cross a patch of
moonlight, I saw that he cast no shadow, and was himself but a flat
superficial shadow, of two dimensions. He was, nevertheless, an opaque
shadow, for he not merely darkened any object on the other side of him,
but rendered it, in fact, invisible. In the shadow he was blacker than the
shadow; in the moonlight he looked like one who had drawn his shadow up
about him, for not a suspicion of it moved beside or under him; while the
gleaming animal, which followed so close at his heels as to seem the white
shadow of his blackness, and which I now saw to be a leopardess, drew her
own gliding shadow black over the ground by her side. When they passed
together from the shadow into the moonlight, the Shadow deepened in
blackness, the animal flashed into radiance. I was at the moment walking
abreast of them on the opposite side, my bare feet sounding on the flat
stones: the leopardess never turned head or twitched ear; the shadow
seemed once to look at me, for I lost his profile, and saw for a second
only a sharp upright line. That instant the wind found me and blew through
me: I shuddered from head to foot, and my heart went from wall to wall of
my bosom, like a pebble in a child's rattle.</p>
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