First he seemed to be standing
upon a high mountain peak with eternal snows stretched all about
him. He looked down, past the snow line, past the fir woods,
into the depths of a lovely lake, far down in the valley below.
It was a lake of liquid amber, and as he looked it seemed to
become two lakes, and they were like two great eyes looking up at
him and summoning him to leap. He thought that he leaped, a
prodigious leap, far out into space; then fell--fell--fell. When
he splashed into the amber deeps they became churned up in a
milky foam, and this closed about him with a strangle grip. But
it was no longer foam, but the clinging arms of Madame de
Medici! . . .
Then he stood upon a fragile bridge of bamboo spanning a raging
torrent. Right and left of the torrent below were jungles in
which moved tigerish shapes. Upon the farther side of the bridge
Madame de Medici, clad in a single garment of flame-coloured
silk, beckoned to him. He sought to cross the bridge, but it
collapsed, and he fell near the edge of the torrent. Below were
the raging waters, and ever nearing him the tigerish shapes,
which now Madame was calling to as to a pack of hounds. They
were about to devour him, when------
He was crouching upon a ledge, high above a street which seemed
to be vaguely familiar.
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