He had passed the marts and the marketplaces of ideas, and was still smiling, when he saw an elongated glow in the distance moving towards him. Because of the glow he noticed the peculiarly ancient and velvet quality of the night.
The air was very warm and it smelt of old stones. It smelt also of marble, of the serenity that comes after centuries of turbulence, and curiously, also, of fragrant earth. He sensed that a divine mother ruled the night of the city. Her warm presence was both protective and enduring.
He seemed to float through the warm air. Thrilling to the melody of enigmas, he was nonetheless troubled by the approaching glow. It was like an omen. As the glow in the distance came closer he was able to distinguish four shining lamps in the air, moving without support, borne aloft and floating along with a stately majesty. There was something ceremonial about the way the lamps glided through the air, shedding a bright light which cast no shadows.
Then he heard the solemn music of the lute. The quiet tones dispelled the darkness with their ritual sounds. The music was sad and funereal. As he listened a tragic mood came over him, followed by a plaintive breeze which made him quiver. It was as if he had sensed the symmetry of fate.
The elongated glow became a litter. Lying flat on the decorated litter, as if dead, was a woman dressed in white and gold. Her horizontal form dazzled in the night. It dazzled with sequins and sparkling jewellery. A resplendent triangle of light hung just above her head. Wrapped around her, as if made from the breeze, was a muslin cloth. She had flowers round her flowing hair, flowers between her breasts, and about her legs. She was very beautiful, like a lost angel, and a great unhappiness made her beauty shine. An amazing light shone all about her. She looked like a princess being borne off to her nocturnal bridegroom, or to her gilded resting place among the fragrant marble of a royal tomb.
He heard light funereal singing in front of her, accompanying the paradoxically joyful lutes. She was on the litter, floating in the air, with nothing bearing her aloft, except the night and the fateful breeze. The sweetly mournful music changed the air around and resounded gently off the listening stones and the ancient houses.
Filled with curiosity, he broke off from his invisible guide and followed the floating litter. He stared with fascination at the first visible being he had seen since his disembarkation.
As he stared with wide-eyed amazement, the woman suddenly opened her eyes. When she saw him she screamed piercingly into the night. The footfalls around her hurried on, and she glided more speedily through the air. The music sped on too. And the singing remained faithful to its solemnity.
He ran after her. She was sitting up now on the litter of gold brocade and rich green velvet. Flowers poured down her face like tears. She stared at him with terror and sadness in her eyes. When he got close enough to her he said:
‘Where are they taking you?’
She seemed surprised that he had spoken. He asked the question again. This time she heard him clearly, and a sigh escaped her lips. Then with a sad voice, she cried:
‘I am going where I can see people, and where people can see me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I am going where there is some illusion,’ she cried again.
He was puzzled.
‘Too much beauty is bad for the soul,’ she said. ‘I want illusion. I want some ugliness. I want some suffering. I want to be visible.’
‘But I can see you,’ he shouted.
‘That’s because I’m leaving. Besides, you are the only one who can.’
‘Why?’
‘You are doomed.’
‘How?’
‘Doomed, or a bringer of doom.’
He stopped running after her. He was a little out of breath. He was also bewildered.
‘I hope I never meet your type again,’ she screamed, as if distracted.
‘I want to be visible!’ she wailed. ‘I want to be seen!’
He watched the litter grow smaller. His guide, in a cool voice, said:
‘Do you want to carry on to the square, or do you want to follow her?’
He watched as the litter stopped in front of a huge set of marble columns. Then, with mounting apprehension, he watched as it disappeared into the splendid facade of a granite temple.
Her wailing had ceased. The music was gentler. And the singing became more beautiful as it grew fainter.
Just before she vanished into the temple, he thought he saw her smile. It occurred to him that maybe she too was a paradox. Unaccountably, he sensed that somewhere in the future, in another realm, he would see her again.
Conscious for the first time that his guide had been communing with him all along, and feeling the awesome mystery of the night stealing into his bones, he continued with his journey towards the square.