s, and underneath its body was
a forest of legs. Tydomin gave one malignant look at it, and sent it
crashing into the gulf.

"What have I to offer, except my life?" Maskull suddenly broke out. "And
what good is that? It won't bring that poor girl back into the world."

"Sacrifice is not for utility. It's a penalty which we pay."

"I know that."

"The point is whether you can go on enjoying life, after what has
happened."

She waited for Maskull to come even with her.

"Perhaps you imagine I'm not man enough--you imagine that because I
allowed poor Oceaxe to die for me--"

"She did die for you," said Tydomin, in a quiet, emphatic voice.

"That would be a second blunder of yours," returned Maskull, just as
firmly. "I was not in love with Oceaxe, and I'm not in love with life."

"Your life is not required."

"Then I don't understand what you want, or what you are speaking about."

"It's not for me to ask a sacrifice from you, Maskull. That would be
compliance on your part, but not sacrifice. You must wait until you feel
there's nothing else for you to do."

"It's all very mysterious."

The conversation was abruptly cut short by a prolonged and frightful
crashing, roaring sound, coming from a short distance ahead. It was
accompanied by a violent oscillation of the ground on which they
stood. They looked up, startled, just in time to witness the final
disappearance of a huge mass of forest land, not two hundred yards in
front of them. Several acres of trees, plants, rocks, and soil, with all
its teeming animal life, vanished before their eyes, like a magic story.
The new chasm was cut, as if by a knife. Beyond its farther edge the
Alppain glow burned blue just over the horizon.

"Now we shall have to make a detour," said Tydomin, halting.

Maskull caught hold of her with his third hand. "Listen to me, while I
try to describe what I'm feeling. When I saw that landslip, everything I
have heard about the last destruction of the world came into my mind.
It seemed to me as if I were actually witnessing it, and that the world
were really falling to pieces. Then, where the land was, we now have
this empty, awful gulf--that's to say, nothing--and it seems to me as
if our life will come to the same condition, where there was something
there will be nothing. But that terrible blue glare on the opposite side
is exactly like the eye of fate. It accuses us, and demands what we have
made of our life, which is no more. At