le that no phantom figure haunted this abode. Some
woman's form, the embodiment of a star, had no doubt but shortly left
the altar. Enveloped in this atmosphere of mute adoration the mind
pictured an Amphitryon, a Tethys, some Diana capable of passion, some
idealistic figure formed of light, looking softly down in the
surrounding dusk. It was she who had left behind in the cave this
perfumed luminosity, an emanation from her star-body. The dazzling
phantom was no longer visible, she was only revealed by the invisible,
and the sense of her presence lingered, setting the whole being
voluptuously a-quiver. The goddess had departed, but divinity remained.

The beauty of the recess seemed made for this celestial presence. It was
for the sake of this deity, this fairy of the pearl caverns, this queen
of the Zephyrs, this Grace born of the waves, it was for her--as the
mind, at least, imagined--that this subterranean dwelling had been thus
religiously walled in, so that nothing might ever trouble the reverent
shadows and the majestic silence round about that divine spirit.

Gilliatt, who was a kind of seer amid the secrets of nature, stood there
musing, and sensible of confused emotions.

Suddenly, at a few feet below him, in the delightful transparence of
that water like liquid jewels, he became sensible of the approach of
something of mystic shape. A species of long ragged band was moving
amidst the oscillation of the waves. It did not float, but darted about
of its own will. It had an object; was advancing somewhere rapidly. The
object had something of the form of a jester's bauble with points, which
hung flabby and undulating. It seemed covered with a dust incapable of
being washed away by the water. It was more than horrible; it was foul.
The beholder felt that it was something monstrous. It was a living
thing; unless, indeed, it were but an illusion. It seemed to be seeking
the darker portion of the cavern, where at last it vanished. The heavy
shadows grew darker as its sinister form glided into them, and
disappeared.

BOOK II

THE LABOUR

I

THE RESOURCES OF ONE WHO HAS NOTHING

The cavern did not easily part with its explorers. The entry had been
difficult; going back was more difficult still. Gilliatt, however,
succeeded in extricating himself; but he did not return there. He had
found nothing of what he was in quest of, and he had not the time to
indulge curiosity.

He put the forge in opera