secretly into the Night, to
discover that Lesser Pyramid, and rescue those poor thousands; and above
all, as may be thought, had I the thought of that sweet moment in which
I should step forward out of the night and all mystery and terror, and
put forth mine arms to Naani, saying: "I am That One." And knowing, in
my soul, that she that had been mine in that bygone Eternity, should
surely know me upon the instant; and call out swiftly, and come swiftly,
and be again unto me in that age, even as she had been in this.

And to think upon it, and to know that this thing should never be; but
that, even in that moment of thought, she that had been mine in these
olden days of sweetness, might be even then suffering horror in the
Power of some foul Monster, was like a kind of madness; so that nearly I
could seize the Diskos, and run forth unprepared into the evil and
terror of the Night Land, that I should make one attempt to come to that
Place where she abode, or else to cast off my life in the attempt.

And oft did I call to Naani; and always I sent the Master-Word beating
through the night, that she might have assurance that it was indeed I
that did speak unto her spirit, and no foul thing or Monster, spelling
evil and lies unto her.

And oft did I make to instruct her that never should she be tempted
forth from the shelter of that Redoubt in which she did live, by any
message out of the night; but always to await the Master-Word; and,
moreover, to have a sure knowledge that none that was her Friend would
ever seek to entice her into the night.

And this way and that way would I speak with Naani, sending my words
silently with my brain-elements; yet was it doleful and weariful and
dreadful always to have speech into the dark, and never to hear the
answering beat of the Master-Word, and the sweet, faint voice whispering
within my soul. Yet, once and again, would I have knowledge that the
aether did thrill about me, weakly, and to mine inward hearing it would
seem that the Master-Word did beat faintly in the night; and thereafter
would my heart have a little comfort, in that I had assurance, of a
kind, that the love-maid of my memory-dreams did still live.

And constant, I put forth my soul to hark; so that my health failed me,
with the effort of my harking; and I would chide my being, that I had
not a wiser control; and so make a fight to do sanely.

Yet, day by day, did my heart grow more weary and restless; for, indeed