A Voyage to Arcturus

by David Lindsay

  Chapter 6. JOIWIND

  IT WAS DENSE NIGHT when Maskull awoke from his profound sleep. A windwas blowing against him, gentle but wall-like, such as he had neverexperienced on earth. He remained sprawling on the ground, as he wasunable to lift his body because of its intense weight. A numbing pain,which he could not identify with any region of his frame, acted from nowonward as a lower, sympathetic note to all his other sensations. Itgnawed away at him continuously; sometimes it embittered and irritatedhim, at other times he forgot it.

  He felt something hard on his forehead. Putting his hand up, hediscovered there a fleshy protuberance the size of a small plum, havinga cavity in the middle, of which he could not feel the bottom. Then healso became aware of a large knob on each side of his neck, an inchbelow the ear.

  From the region of his heart, a tentacle had budded. It was as long ashis arm, but thin, like whipcord, and soft and flexible.

  As soon as he thoroughly realised the significance of these new organs,his heart began to pump. Whatever might, or might not, be their use,they proved one thing—that he was in a new world.

  One part of the sky began to get lighter than the rest. Maskull criedout to his companions, but received no response. This frightened him. Hewent on shouting out, at irregular intervals—equally alarmed at thesilence and at the sound of his own voice. Finally, as no answering hailcame, he thought it wiser not to make too much noise, and after that helay quiet, waiting in cold blood for what might happen.

  In a short while he perceived dim shadows around him, but these were nothis friends.

  A pale, milky vapour over the ground began to succeed the black night,while in the upper sky rosy tints appeared. On earth, one would havesaid that day was breaking. The brightness went on imperceptiblyincreasing for a very long time.

  Maskull then discovered that he was lying on sand. The colour of thesand was scarlet. The obscure shadows he had seen were bushes, withblack stems and purple leaves. So far, nothing else was visible.

  The day surged up. It was too misty for direct sunshine, but before longthe brilliance of the light was already greater than that of the middaysun on earth. The heat, too, was intense, but Maskull welcomed it—itrelieved his pain and diminished his sense of crushing weight. The windhad dropped with the rising of the sun.

  He now tried to get onto his feet, but succeeded only in kneeling. Hewas unable to see far. The mists had no more than partially dissolved,and all that he could distinguish was a narrow circle of red sand dottedwith ten or twenty bushes.

  He felt a soft, cool touch on the back of his neck. He started forwardin nervous fright and, in doing so, tumbled over onto the sand. Lookingup over his shoulder quickly, he was astounded to see a woman standingbeside him.

  She was clothed in a single flowing, pale green garment, ratherclassically draped. According to earth standards she was not beautiful,for, although her face was otherwise human, she was endowed—orafflicted—with the additional disfiguring organs that Maskull haddiscovered in himself. She also possessed the heart tentacle. But whenhe sat up, and their eyes met and remained in sympathetic contact, heseemed to see right into a soul that was the home of love, warmth,kindness, tenderness, and intimacy. Such was the noble familiarity ofthat gaze, that he thought he knew her. After that, he recognised allthe loveliness of her person. She was tall and slight. All her movementswere as graceful as music. Her skin was not of a dead, opaque colour,like that of an earth beauty, but was opalescent; its hue wascontinually changing, with every thought and emotion, but none of thesetints was vivid—all were delicate, half-toned, and poetic. She had verylong, loosely plaited, flaxen hair. The new organs, as soon as Maskullhad familiarised himself with them, imparted something to her face thatwas unique and striking. He could not quite define it to himself, butsubtlety and inwardness seemed added. The organs did not contradict thelove of her eyes or the angelic purity of her features, but neverthelesssounded a deeper note—a note that saved her from mere girlishness.

  Her gaze was so friendly and unembarrassed that Maskull felt scarcelyany humiliation at sitting at her feet, naked and helpless. She realisedhis plight, and put into his hands a garment that she had been carryingover her arm. It was similar to the one she was wearing, but of adarker, more masculine colour.

  “Do you think you can put it on by yourself?”

  He was distinctly conscious of these words, yet her voice had notsounded.

  He forced himself up to his feet, and she helped him to master thecomplications of the drapery.

  “Poor man—how you are suffering!” she said, in the same inaudiblelanguage. This time he discovered that the sense of what she said wasreceived by his brain through the organ on his forehead.

  “Where am I? Is this Tormance?” he asked. As he spoke, he staggered.

  She caught him, and helped him to sit down. “Yes. You are with friends.”

  Then she regarded him with a smile, and began speaking aloud, inEnglish. Her voice somehow reminded him of an April day, it was sofresh, nervous, and girlish. “I can now understand your language. It wasstrange at first. In the future I’ll speak to you with my mouth.”

  “This is extraordinary! What is this organ?” he asked, touching hisforehead.

  “It is named the ‘breve.’ By means of it we read one another’s thoughts.Still, speech is better, for then the heart can be read too.”

  He smiled. “They say that speech is given us to deceive others.”

  “One can deceive with thought, too. But I’m thinking of the best, notthe worst.”

  “Have you seen my friends?”

  She scrutinised him quietly, before answering. “Did you not come alone?”

  “I came with two other men, in a machine. I must have lost consciousnesson arrival, and I haven’t seen them since.”

  “That’s very strange! No, I haven’t seen them. They can’t be here, or wewould have known it. My husband and I—”

  “What is your name, and your husband’s name?”

  “Mine is Joiwind—my husband’s is Panawe. We live a very long way fromhere; still, it came to us both last night that you were lying hereinsensible. We almost quarrelled about which of us should come to you,but in the end I won.” Here she laughed. “I won, because I am thestronger-hearted of the two; he is the purer in perception.”

  “Thanks, Joiwind!” said Maskull simply.

  The colors chased each other rapidly beneath her skin. “Oh, why do yousay that? What pleasure is greater than loving-kindness? I rejoiced atthe opportunity.... But now we must exchange blood.”

  “What is this?” he demanded, rather puzzled.

  “It must be so. Your blood is far too thick and heavy for our world.Until you have an infusion of mine, you will never get up.”

  Maskull flushed. “I feel like a complete ignoramus here.... Won’t ithurt you?”

  “If your blood pains you, I suppose it will pain me. But we will sharethe pain.”

  “This is a new kind of hospitality to me,” he muttered.

  “Wouldn’t you do the same for me?” asked Joiwind, half smiling, halfagitated.

  “I can’t answer for any of my actions in this world. I scarcely knowwhere I am.... Why, yes—of course I would, Joiwind.”

  While they were talking it had become full day. The mists had rolledaway from the ground, and only the upper atmosphere remained fog-charged. The desert of scarlet sand stretched in all directions, exceptone, where there was a sort of little oasis—some low hills, clothedsparsely with little purple trees from base to summit. It was about aquarter of a mile distant.

  Joiwind had brought with her a small flint knife. Without any trace ofnervousness, she made a careful, deep incision on her upper arm. Maskullexpostulated.

  “Really, this part of it is nothing,” she said, laughing. “And if itwere—a sacrifice that is no sacrifice—what merit is there in that?...Come now—your arm!”

  The blood was streaming down her arm. It was not red blood, but a milky,opalescent fluid.r />
  “Not that one!” said Maskull, shrinking. “I have already been cutthere.” He submitted the other, and his blood poured forth.

  Joiwind delicately and skilfully placed the mouths of the two woundstogether, and then kept her arm pressed tightly against Maskull’s for along time. He felt a stream of pleasure entering his body through theincision. His old lightness and vigour began to return to him. Afterabout five minutes a duel of kindness started between them; he wanted toremove his arm, and she to continue. At last he had his way, but it wasnone too soon—she stood there pale and dispirited.

  She looked at him with a more serious expression than before, as ifstrange depths had opened up before her eyes.

  “What is your name?”

  “Maskull.”

  “Where have you come from, with this awful blood?”

  “From a world called Earth.... The blood is clearly unsuitable for thisworld, Joiwind, but after all, that was only to be expected. I am sorryI let you have your way.”

  “Oh, don’t say that! There was nothing else to be done. We must all helpone another. Yet, somehow—forgive me—I feel polluted.”

  “And well you may, for it’s a fearful thing for a girl to accept in herown veins the blood of a strange man from a strange planet. If I had notbeen so dazed and weak I would never have allowed it.”

  “But I would have insisted. Are we not all brothers and sisters? Why didyou come here, Maskull?”

  He was conscious of a slight degree of embarrassment. “Will you think itfoolish if I say I hardly know?—I came with those two men. Perhaps I wasattracted by curiosity, or perhaps it was the love of adventure.”

  “Perhaps,” said Joiwind. “I wonder... These friends of yours must beterrible men. Why did they come?”

  “That I can tell you. They came to follow Surtur.”

  Her face grew troubled. “I don’t understand it. One of them at leastmust be a bad man, and yet if he is following Surtur—or Shaping, as heis called here—he can’t be really bad.”

  “What do you know of Surtur?” asked Maskull in astonishment.

  Joiwind remained silent for a time, studying his face. His brain movedrestlessly, as though it were being probed from outside. “I see.... andyet I don’t see,” she said at last. “It is very difficult.... Your Godis a dreadful Being—bodyless, unfriendly, invisible. Here we don’tworship a God like that. Tell me, has any man set eyes on your God?”

  “What does all this mean, Joiwind? Why speak of God?”

  “I want to know.”

  “In ancient times, when the earth was young and grand, a few holy menare reputed to have walked and spoken with God, but those days arepast.”

  “Our world is still young,” said Joiwind. “Shaping goes among us andconverses with us. He is real and active—a friend and lover. Shapingmade us, and he loves his work.”

  “Have you met him?” demanded Maskull, hardly believing his ears.

  “No. I have done nothing to deserve it yet. Some day I may have anopportunity to sacrifice myself, and then I may be rewarded by meetingand talking with Shaping.”

  “I have certainly come to another world. But why do you say he is thesame as Surtur?”

  “Yes, he is the same. We women call him Shaping, and so do most men, buta few name him Surtur.”

  Maskull bit his nail. “Have you ever heard of Crystalman?”

  “That is Shaping once again. You see, he has many names—which shows howmuch he occupies our minds. Crystalman is a name of affection.”

  “It’s odd,” said Maskull. “I came here with quite different ideas aboutCrystalman.”

  Joiwind shook her hair. “In that grove of trees over there stands adesert shrine of his. Let us go and pray there, and then we’ll go on ourway to Poolingdred. That is my home. It’s a long way off, and we mustget there before Blodsombre.”

  “Now, what is Blodsombre?”

  “For about four hours in the middle of the day Branchspell’s rays are sohot that no one can endure them. We call it Blodsombre.”

  “Is Branchspell another name for Arcturus?”

  Joiwind threw off her seriousness and laughed. “Naturally we don’t takeour names from you, Maskull. I don’t think our names are very poetic,but they follow nature.”

  She took his arm affectionately, and directed their walk towards thetree-covered hills. As they went along, the sun broke through the uppermists and a terrible gust of scorching heat, like a blast from afurnace, struck Maskull’s head. He involuntarily looked up, but loweredhis eyes again like lightning. All that he saw in that instant was aglaring ball of electric white, three times the apparent diameter of thesun. For a few minutes he was quite blind.

  “My God!” he exclaimed. “If it’s like this in early morning you must beright enough about Blodsombre.” When he had somewhat recovered himselfhe asked, “How long are the days here, Joiwind?”

  Again he felt his brain being probed.

  “At this time of the year, for every hour’s daylight that you have insummer, we have two.”

  “The heat is terrific—and yet somehow I don’t feel so distressed by itas I would have expected.”

  “I feel it more than usual. It’s not difficult to account for it; youhave some of my blood, and I have some of yours.”

  “Yes, every time I realise that, I—Tell me, Joiwind, will my bloodalter, if I stay here long enough?—I mean, will it lose its redness andthickness, and become pure and thin and light-coloured, like yours?”

  “Why not? If you live as we live, you will assuredly grow like us.”

  “Do you mean food and drink?”

  “We eat no food, and drink only water.”

  “And on that you manage to sustain life?”

  “Well, Maskull, our water is good water,” replied Joiwind, smiling.

  As soon as he could see again he stared around at the landscape. Theenormous scarlet desert extended everywhere to the horizon, exceptingwhere it was broken by the oasis. It was roofed by a cloudless, deepblue, almost violet, sky. The circle of the horizon was far larger thanon earth. On the skyline, at right angles to the direction in which theywere walking, appeared a chain of mountains, apparently about fortymiles distant. One, which was higher than the rest, was shaped like acup. Maskull would have felt inclined to believe he was travelling indreamland, but for the intensity of the light, which made everythingvividly real.

  Joiwind pointed to the cup-shaped mountain. “That’s Poolingdred.”

  “You didn’t come from there!” he exclaimed, quite startled.

  “Yes, I did indeed. And that is where we have to go to now.”

  “With the single object of finding me?”

  “Why, yes.”

  The colour mounted to his face. “Then you are the bravest and noblest ofall girls,” he said quietly, after a pause. “Without exception. Why,this is a journey for an athlete!”

  She pressed his arm, while a score of unpaintable, delicate hues stainedher cheeks in rapid transition. “Please don’t say any more about it,Maskull. It makes me feel unpleasant.”

  “Very well. But can we possibly get there before midday?”

  “Oh, yes. And you mustn’t be frightened at the distance. We thinknothing of long distances here—we have so much to think about and feel.Time goes all too quickly.”

  During their conversation they had drawn near the base of the hills,which sloped gently, and were not above fifty feet in height. Maskullnow began to see strange specimens of vegetable life. What looked like asmall patch of purple grass, above five feet square, was moving acrossthe sand in their direction. When it came near enough he perceived thatit was not grass; there were no blades, but only purple roots. The rootswere revolving, for each small plant in the whole patch, like the spokesof a rimless wheel. They were alternately plunged in the sand, andwithdrawn from it, and by this means the plant proceeded forward. Someuncanny, semi-intelligent instinct was keeping all the plants together,moving at one pace, in one direction, like a flock of migr
ating birds inflight.

  Another remarkable plant was a large, feathery ball, resembling adandelion fruit, which they encountered sailing through the air. Joiwindcaught it with an exceedingly graceful movement of her arm, and showedit to Maskull. It had roots and presumably lived in the air and fed onthe chemical constituents of the atmosphere. But what was peculiar aboutit was its colour. It was an entirely new colour—not a new shade orcombination, but a new primary colour, as vivid as blue, red, or yellow,but quite different. When he inquired, she told him that it was known as“ulfire.” Presently he met with a second new colour. This she designated“jale.” The sense impressions caused in Maskull by these two additionalprimary colors can only be vaguely hinted at by analogy. Just as blue isdelicate and mysterious, yellow clear and unsubtle, and red sanguine andpassionate, so he felt ulfire to be wild and painful, and jaledreamlike, feverish, and voluptuous.

  The hills were composed of a rich, dark mould. Small trees, of weirdshapes, all differing from each other, but all purple-coloured, coveredthe slopes and top. Maskull and Joiwind climbed up and through. Somehard fruit, bright blue in colour, of the size of a large apple, andshaped like an egg, was lying in profusion underneath the trees.

  “Is the fruit here poisonous, or why don’t you eat it?” asked Maskull.

  She looked at him tranquilly. “We don’t eat living things. The thoughtis horrible to us.”

  “I have nothing to say against that, theoretically. But do you reallysustain your bodies on water?”

  “Supposing you could find nothing else to live on, Maskull—would you eatother men?”

  “I would not.”

  “Neither will we eat plants and animals, which are our fellow creatures.So nothing is left to us but water, and as one can really live onanything, water does very well.”

  Maskull picked up one of the fruits and handled it curiously. As he didso another of his newly acquired sense organs came into action. He foundthat the fleshy knobs beneath his ears were in some novel fashionacquainting him with the inward properties of the fruit. He could notonly see, feel, and smell it, but could detect its intrinsic nature.This nature was hard, persistent and melancholy.

  Joiwind answered the questions he had not asked.

  “Those organs are called ‘poigns.’ Their use is to enable us tounderstand and sympathise with all living creatures.”

  “What advantage do you derive from that, Joiwind?”

  “The advantage of not being cruel and selfish, dear Maskull.”

  He threw the fruit away and flushed again.

  Joiwind looked into his swarthy, bearded face without embarrassment andslowly smiled. “Have I said too much? Have I been too familiar? Do youknow why you think so? It’s because you are still impure. By and by youwill listen to all language without shame.”

  Before he realised what she was about to do, she threw her tentacleround his neck, like another arm. He offered no resistance to its coolpressure. The contact of her soft flesh with his own was so moist andsensitive that it resembled another kind of kiss. He saw who it was thatembraced him—a pale, beautiful girl. Yet, oddly enough, he experiencedneither voluptuousness nor sexual pride. The love expressed by thecaress was rich, glowing, and personal, but there was not the leasttrace of sex in it—and so he received it.

  She removed her tentacle, placed her two arms on his shoulders andpenetrated with her eyes right into his very soul.

  “Yes, I wish to be pure,” he muttered. “Without that what can I ever bebut a weak, squirming devil?”

  Joiwind released him. “This we call the ‘magn,’” she said, indicatingher tentacle. “By means of it what we love already we love more, andwhat we don’t love at all we begin to love.”

  “A godlike organ!”

  “It is the one we guard most jealously,” said Joiwind.

  The shade of the trees afforded a timely screen from the now almostinsufferable rays of Branchspell, which was climbing steadily upward tothe zenith. On descending the other side of the little hills, Maskulllooked anxiously for traces of Nightspore and Krag, but without result.After staring about him for a few minutes he shrugged his shoulders; butsuspicions had already begun to gather in his mind.

  A small, natural amphitheatre lay at their feet, completely circled bythe tree-clad heights. The centre was of red sand. In the very middleshot up a tall, stately tree, with a black trunk and branches, andtransparent, crystal leaves. At the foot of this tree was a natural,circular well, containing dark green water.

  When they had reached the bottom, Joiwind took him straight over to thewell.

  Maskull gazed at it intently. “Is this the shrine you talked about?”

  “Yes. It is called Shaping’s Well. The man or woman who wishes to invokeShaping must take up some of the gnawl water, and drink it.”

  “Pray for me,” said Maskull. “Your unspotted prayer will carry moreweight.”

  “What do you wish for?”

  “For purity,” answered Maskull, in a troubled voice.

  Joiwind made a cup of her hand, and drank a little of the water. Sheheld it up to Maskull’s mouth. “You must drink too.” He obeyed. She thenstood erect, closed her eyes, and, in a voice like the soft murmuringsof spring, prayed aloud.

  “Shaping, my father, I am hoping you can hear me. A strange man has cometo us weighed down with heavy blood. He wishes to be pure. Let him knowthe meaning of love, let him live for others. Don’t spare him pain, dearShaping, but let him seek his own pain. Breathe into him a noble soul.”

  Maskull listened with tears in his heart.

  As Joiwind finished speaking, a blurred mist came over his eyes, and,half buried in the scarlet sand, appeared a large circle of dazzlinglywhite pillars. For some minutes they flickered to and fro betweendistinctness and indistinctness, like an object being focused. Then theyfaded out of sight again.

  “Is that a sign from Shaping?” asked Maskull, in a low, awed tone.

  “Perhaps it is. It is a time mirage.”

  “What can that be, Joiwind?”

  “You see, dear Maskull, the temple does not yet exist but it will do so,because it must. What you and I are now doing in simplicity, wise menwill do hereafter in full knowledge.”

  “It is right for man to pray,” said Maskull. “Good and evil in the worlddon’t originate from nothing. God and Devil must exist. And we shouldpray to the one, and fight the other.”

  “Yes, we must fight Krag.”

  “What name did you say?” asked Maskull in amazement.

  “Krag—the author of evil and misery—whom you call Devil.”

  He immediately concealed his thoughts. To prevent Joiwind from learninghis relationship to this being, he made his mind a blank.

  “Why do you hide your mind from me?” she demanded, looking at himstrangely and changing colour.

  “In this bright, pure, radiant world, evil seems so remote, one canscarcely grasp its meaning.” But he lied.

  Joiwind continued gazing at him, straight out of her clean soul. “Theworld is good and pure, but many men are corrupt. Panawe, my husband,has travelled, and he has told me things I would almost rather have notheard. One person he met believed the universe to be, from top tobottom, a conjurer’s cave.”

  “I should like to meet your husband.”

  “Well, we are going home now.”

  Maskull was on the point of inquiring whether she had any children, butwas afraid of offending her, and checked himself.

  She read the mental question. “What need is there? Is not the wholeworld full of lovely children? Why should I want selfish possessions?”

  An extraordinary creature flew past, uttering a plaintive cry of fivedistinct notes. It was not a bird, but had a balloon-shaped body,paddled by five webbed feet. It disappeared among the trees.

  Joiwind pointed to it, as it went by. “I love that beast, grotesque asit is—perhaps all the more for its grotesqueness. But if I had childrenof my own, would I still love it? Which is best—to love two or three
, orto love all?”

  “Every woman can’t be like you, Joiwind, but it is good to have a fewlike you. Wouldn’t it be as well,” he went on, “since we’ve got to walkthrough that sun-baked wilderness, to make turbans for our heads out ofsome of those long leaves?”

  She smiled rather pathetically. “You will think me foolish, but everytearing off of a leaf would be a wound in my heart. We have only tothrow our robes over our heads.”

  “No doubt that will answer the same purpose, but tell me—weren’t thesevery robes once part of a living creature?”

  “Oh, no—no, they are the webs of a certain animal, but they have neverbeen in themselves alive.”

  “You reduce life to extreme simplicity,” remarked Maskull meditatively,“but it is very beautiful.”

  Climbing back over the hills, they now without further ceremony begantheir march across the desert.

  They walked side by side. Joiwind directed their course straight towardPoolingdred. From the position of the sun, Maskull judged their way tolie due north. The sand was soft and powdery, very tiring to his nakedfeet. The red glare dazed his eyes, and made him semi-blind. He was hot,parched, and tormented with the craving to drink; his undertone of painemerged into full consciousness.

  “I see my friends nowhere, and it is very queer.”

  “Yes, it is queer—if it is accidental,” said Joiwind, with a peculiarintonation.

  “Exactly!” agreed Maskull. “If they had met with a mishap, their bodieswould still be there. It begins to look like a piece of bad work to me.They must have gone on, and left me.... Well, I am here, and I must makethe best of it. I will trouble no more about them.”

  “I don’t wish to speak ill of anyone,” said Joiwind, “but my instincttells me that you are better away from those men. They did not come herefor your sake, but for their own.”

  They walked on for a long time. Maskull was beginning to feel faint. Shetwined her magn lovingly around his waist, and a strong current ofconfidence and well-being instantly coursed through his veins.

  “Thanks, Joiwind! But am I not weakening you?”

  “Yes,” she replied, with a quick, thrilling glance. “But not much—and itgives me great happiness.”

  Presently they met a fantastic little creature, the size of a new-bornlamb, waltzing along on three legs. Each leg in turn moved to the front,and so the little monstrosity proceeded by means of a series of completerotations. It was vividly coloured, as though it had been dipped intopots of bright blue and yellow paint. It looked up with small, shiningeyes, as they passed.

  Joiwind nodded and smiled to it. “That’s a personal friend of mine,Maskull. Whenever I come this way, I see it. It’s always waltzing, andalways in a hurry, but it never seems to get anywhere.”

  “It seems to me that life is so self-sufficient here that there is noneed for anyone to get anywhere. What I don’t quite understand is howyou manage to pass your days without ennui.”

  “That’s a strange word. It means, does it not, craving for excitement?”

  “Something of the kind,” said Maskull.

  “That must be a disease brought on by rich food.”

  “But are you never dull?”

  “How could we be? Our blood is quick and light and free, our flesh isclean and unclogged, inside and out.... Before long I hope you willunderstand what sort of question you have asked.”

  Farther on they encountered a strange phenomenon. In the heart of thedesert a fountain rose perpendicularly fifty feet into the air, with acool and pleasant hissing sound. It differed, however, from a fountainin this respect—that the water of which it was composed did not returnto the ground but was absorbed by the atmosphere at the summit. It wasin fact a tall, graceful column of dark green fluid, with a capital ofcoiling and twisting vapours.

  When they came closer, Maskull perceived that this water column was thecontinuation and termination of a flowing brook, which came down fromthe direction of the mountains. The explanation of the phenomenon wasevidently that the water at this spot found chemical affinities in theupper air, and consequently forsook the ground.

  “Now let us drink,” said Joiwind.

  She threw herself unaffectedly at full length on the sand, facedownward, by the side of the brook, and Maskull was not long infollowing her example. She refused to quench her thirst until she hadseen him drink. He found the water heavy, but bubbling with gas. Hedrank copiously. It affected his palate in a new way—with the purity andcleanness of water was combined the exhilaration of a sparkling wine,raising his spirits—but somehow the intoxication brought out his betternature, and not his lower.

  “We call it ‘gnawl water’,” said Joiwind. “This is not quite pure, asyou can see by the colour. At Poolingdred it is crystal clear. But wewould be ungrateful if we complained. After this you’ll find we’ll getalong much better.”

  Maskull now began to realise his environment, as it were for the firsttime. All his sense organs started to show him beauties and wonders thathe had not hitherto suspected. The uniform glaring scarlet of the sandsbecame separated into a score of clearly distinguished shades of red.The sky was similarly split up into different blues. The radiant heat ofBranchspell he found to affect every part of his body with unequalintensities. His ears awakened; the atmosphere was full of murmurs, thesands hummed, even the sun’s rays had a sound of their own—a kind offaint Aeolian harp. Subtle, puzzling perfumes assailed his nostrils. Hispalate lingered over the memory of the gnawl water. All the pores of hisskin were tickled and soothed by hitherto unperceived currents of air.His poigns explored actively the inward nature of everything in hisimmediate vicinity. His magn touched Joiwind, and drew from her person astream of love and joy. And lastly by means of his breve he exchangedthoughts with her in silence. This mighty sense symphony stirred him tothe depths, and throughout the walk of that endless morning he felt nomore fatigue.

  When it was drawing near to Blodsombre, they approached the sedgy marginof a dark green lake, which lay underneath Poolingdred.

  Panawe was sitting on a dark rock, waiting for them.