“Look not in front nor around,” said Ayesha.  “Look, like him, on the caldron below.  The circle and the lamps are yet bright; I will tell you when the light again fails.”

I dropped my eyes on the caldron.

“See,” whispered Margrave, “the sparkles at last begin to arise, and the rose hues to deepen—­signs that we near the last process.”

IX

The fifth hour had passed away, when Ayesha said to me, “Lo! the circle is fading; the lamps grow dim.  Look now without fear on the space beyond; the eyes that appalled thee are again lost in air, as lightnings that fleet back into cloud.”

I looked up, and the specters had vanished.  The sky was tinged with sulphurous hues, the red and the black intermixed.  I replenished the lamps and the ring in front, thriftily, heedfully; but when I came to the sixth lamp, not a drop in the vessel that fed them was left.  In a vague dismay, I now looked round the half of the wide circle in rear of the two bended figures intent on the caldron.  All along that disk the light was already broken, here and there flickering up, here and there dying down; the six lamps in that half of the circle still twinkled, but faintly, as stars shrinking fast from the dawn of day.  But it was not the fading shine in that half of the magical ring which daunted my eye and quickened with terror the pulse of my heart; the Bush-land beyond was on fire.  From the background of the forest rose the flame and the smoke—­the smoke, there, still half smothering the flame.  But along the width of the grasses and herbage, between the verge of the forest and the bed of the water creek just below the raised platform from which I beheld the dread conflagration, the fire was advancing—­wave upon wave, clear and red against the columns of rock behind; as the rush of a flood through the mists of some Alp crowned with lightnings.

Roused from my stun at the first sight of a danger not foreseen by the mind I had steeled against far rarer portents of Nature, I cared no more for the lamps and the circle.  Hurrying hack to Ayesha I exclaimed:  “The phantoms have gone from the spaces in front; but what incantation or spell can arrest the red march of the foe speeding on in the rear!  While we gazed on the caldron of life, behind us, unheeded, behold the Destroyer!”

Ayesha looked and made no reply, but, as by involuntary instinct, bowed her majestic head, then rearing it erect, placed herself yet more immediately before the wasted form of the young magician (he still, bending over the caldron, and hearing me not in the absorption and hope of his watch)—­placed herself before him, as the bird whose first care is her fledgling.

As we two there stood, fronting the deluge of fire, we heard Margrave behind us, murmuring low, “See the bubbles of light, how they sparkle and dance—­I shall live, I shall live!” And his words scarcely died in our ears before, crash upon crash, came the fall of the age-long trees in the forest, and nearer, all near us, through the blazing grasses, the hiss of the serpents, the scream of the birds, and the bellow and tramp of the herds plunging wild through the billowy red of their pastures.