Still, the display that followed for an enchanted hour or so was
such as I find it hopeless to describe in language which shall
convey to others the beauty and splendour of what I saw.
I picked up a book lying on the table before me. A pale
blue-violet shadow floated across the page before me, leaving an
after-image of pure colour that was indescribable. I laid down
the book and closed my eyes. A confused riot of images and
colours like a kaleidoscope crowded before me, at first
indistinct, but, as I gazed with closed yes, more and more
definite. Golden and red and green jewels seemed to riot before
me. I bathed my hands in inconceivable riches of beauty such as
no art-glass worker has ever produced. All discomfort ceased. I
had no desire to sleep--in fact, was hyper-sensitive. But it was
a real effort to open my eyes; to tear myself away from the
fascinating visions of shapes and colours.
At last I did open my eyes to gaze at the gasjets of the
chandelier as they flickered. They seemed to send out waves,
expanding and contracting, waves of colour. The shadows of the
room were highly coloured and constantly changing as the light
changed.
Senora Barrios began lightly to play on the piano the transposed
Kiowa song, emphasising the notes that represented the
drum-beats.
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