under the horizon--a kind of dreamy well-being as of old Together,
unquestioning Acceptance. Suddenly aroused, each might have cried,
"For the moment--it was for a moment only!" Then, for the moment,
there was return, with addition. It came like a winged force from the
bounds of doing or undoing. While it lasted it imposed upon them
quieted minds, withdrew any seeming need for question. They sought for
egress from this place where their bodies moved, explanation of this
material labyrinth. But they did not seek explanation of this mood,
fallen among pride and anger, wrong and revenge. It came from at
large, with the power of largeness. They were back, "for the moment,"
in a simplicity of ancient, firm companionship.

They spoke scarcely at all. It had been a habit of old, in their much
adventuring together, to do so in long silences. Alexander had set the
pace there, Ian learning to follow.... It was as if this were an
adventure of, say, five years ago, and it was as if it were a dream
adventure. Or it was as if some part of themselves, quietly and with a
hidden will separating itself, had sailed away from the huge storm and
cloud and red lightnings.... What they did say had wholly and only to
do with immediate exigencies. Behind, in pure feeling, was the unity.

Down in this underground place the air began to come more freshly.

"Look at the flame," said Ian. "It is bending."

They had left behind rooms and passages lined with unbroken masonry.
Here were newer chambers and excavations, softer walled.

"They have been opening from this side. That was dug not so long ago."

Another minute and they came into a ragged, cavern-like space filled
with fresh night air. Presently they were forth upon a low hillside,
and at their feet Tiber mirrored the stars. Rome lay around. The
carnival lights yet flared, the carnival noise beat, beat. This was a
deserted strip, an islet between restless seas.

Ian and Alexander stood upon trodden earth and grass, about them the
yet encumbering ruins of an ancient building, pillars and architraves
and capitals, broken friezes and headless caryatids. Here was the
river, here the ancient street. They breathed in the air, they looked
at the sky, but then at Rome. Somewhere a trumpet was fiercely crying.
Like an impatient hand, like a spurred foot, it tore the magician's
fabric of the past few hours.

Ian laughed. "We had best rub our eyes!" To the fine hearing there was
a catch of the