THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN.
When Sir Norman Kingsley entered the ancient ruin, his head was fall of Leoline - when he knelt down to look through the aperture in the flagged floor, head and heart were full of her still.But the moment his eyes fell on the scene beneath, everything fled far from his thoughts, Leoline among the rest; and nothing remained but a profound and absorbing feeling of intensest amaze.
Right below him he beheld an immense room, of which the flag he had raised seemed to form part of the ceiling, in a remote corner.Evidently it was one of a range of lower vaults, and as he was at least fourteen feet above it, and his corner somewhat in shadow, there was little danger of his being seen.So, leaning far down to look at his leisure, he took the goods the gods provided him, and stared to his heart's content.
Sir Norman had seen some queer sights daring the four-and-twenty years he had spent in this queer world, but never anything quite equal to this.The apartment below, though so exceedingly large, was lighted with the brilliance of noon-day; and every object it contained; from one end to the other, was distinctly revealed.
The floor, from glimpses he had of it in obscure corners, was of stone; but from end to end it was covered with richest rugs and mats, and squares of velvet of as many colors as Joseph's coat.
The walls were hung with splendid tapestry, gorgeous in silk and coloring, representing the wars of Troy, the exploits of Coeur de Lion among the Saracens, the death of Hercules, all on one side;and on the other, a more modern representation, the Field of the Cloth of Gold.The illumination proceeded from a range of wax tapers in silver candelabra, that encircled the whole room.The air was redolent of perfumes, and filled with strains of softest and sweetest music from unseen hands.At one extremity of the room was a huge door of glass and gilding; and opposite it, at the other extremity, was a glittering throne.It stood on a raised dais, covered with crimson velvet, reached by two or three steps carpeted with the same; the throne was as magnificent as gold, and satin, and ornamentation could make it.A great velvet canopy of the same deep, rich color, cut in antique points, and heavily hang with gold fringe, was above the seat of honor.
Beside it, to the right, but a little lower down, was a similar throne, somewhat lees superb, and minus a canopy.From the door to the throne was a long strip of crimson velvet, edged and embroidered with gold, and arranged in a sweeping semi-circle, on either side, were a row of great carved, gilded, and cushioned chairs, brilliant, too, with crimson and gold, and each for every-day Christians, a throne in itself.Between the blaze of illumination, the flashing of gilding and gold, the tropical flush of crimson velvet, the rainbow dyes on floor and walls, the intoxicating gushes of perfume, and the delicious strains of unseen music, it is no wonder Sir Norman Kingsley's head was spinning like a bewildered teetotum.
Was he sane - was he sleeping? Had he drank too much wine at the Golden Crown, and had it all gone to his head? Was it a scene of earnest enchantment, or were fairy-tales true? Like Abou Hasson when he awoke in the palace of the facetious Caliph of Bagdad, he had no notion of believing his own eyes and ears, and quietly concluded it was all an optical illusion, as ghosts are said to be; but he quietly resolved to stay there, nevertheless, and see how the dazzling phantasmagoria would end.The music was certainly ravishing, and it seemed to him, as he listened with enchanted ears, that he never wanted to wake up from so heavenly a dream.
One thing struck him as rather odd; strange and bewildered as everything was, it did not seem at all strange to him, on the contrary, a vague idea was floating mistily through his mind that he had beheld precisely the same thing somewhere before.
Probably at some past period of his life he had beheld a similar vision, or had seen a picture somewhere like it in a tale of magic, and satisfying himself with this conclusion, he began wondering if the genii of the place were going to make their appearance at all, or if the knowledge that human eyes were upon them had scared them back to Erebus.
While still ruminating on this important question, a portion of the tapestry, almost beneath him, shriveled up and up, and out flocked a glittering throng, with a musical mingling of laughter and voices.Still they came, more and more, until the great room was almost filled, and a dazzling throng they were.Sir Norman had mingled in many a brilliant scene at Whitehall, where the gorgeous court of Charles shown in all its splendor, with the "merry monarch" at their head, but all he had ever witnessed at the king's court fell far short of this pageant.Half the brilliant flock were ladies, superb in satins, silks, velvets and jewels.And such jewels! every gem that ever flashed back the sunlight sparkled and blazed in blending array on those beautiful bosoms and arms - diamonds, pearls, opals, emeralds, rubies, garnets, sapphires, amethysts - every jewel that ever shone.But neither dresses nor gems were half so superb as the peerless forms they adorned; and such an army of perfectly beautiful faces, from purest blonde to brightest brunette, had never met and mingled together before.
