Then had come an unfamiliar nausea and dizziness, an
uncomfortable recognition of the fact that she was making a fool
of herself, and finally a semi-darkness through which familiar
faces loomed up and were quickly lost again. There was the soft,
musical voice of Lou Chada reassuring her, a sense of chill, of
helplessness, and then for a while an interval which afterward
she found herself unable to bridge.
Knowledge of verity came at last, and Lady Pat raised herself
from the divan upon which she had been lying, and, her slender
hands clutching the cushions, stared about her with eyes which
ever grew wider.
She was in a long, rather lofty room, which was lighted by three
silver lanterns swung from the ceiling. The place, without
containing much furniture, was a riot of garish, barbaric colour.
There were deep divans cushioned in amber and blood-red. Upon
the floor lay Persian carpets and skins of beasts. Cunning
niches there were, half concealing and half revealing long-necked
Chinese jars; and odd little carven tables bore strangely
fashioned vessels of silver. There was a cabinet of ebony inlaid
with jade, there were black tapestries figured with dragons of
green and gold. Curtains she saw of peacock-blue; and in a tall,
narrow recess, dominating the room, squatted a great golden
Buddha.
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