fe. In that thin
nothingness, crowd and move the distributors of death, disease, health,
vigor--existence itself. The water you have just tasted is pure and
clear in the glass? Pure? Each drop is an ocean of inhabitants clean and
unclean. I speak commonplaces. But is there no knowledge not yet
commonplace? Oh man, with all the unfathomed universe about us, _dare_
you pronounce what is real?"

"What is natural," I began.

She interrupted me.

"Doubtless what is not natural cannot and does not exist. Have you,
then, measured Nature? He was a great thinker, one of deep knowledge,
who compared Man to a child wandering on the shore of a vast ocean and
picking up a pebble here and there."

"Of what would you convince me? And, why?"

"Of what? Danger! Why? Would you watch a man enter a jungle where some
hideous beast crouched in ambush, while you neither warned nor armed
him? I am here to turn you back. I am the native of that country who
runs to cry warning to a stranger; to put into his hand the weapon of
understanding."

So solemn, so urgent a sincerity was in her voice, that again chill
touched me. The clammy dampness of my garments hung on my limbs as a
reminder of the Thing, real or unreal, that twice had made Its presence
felt beyond denial. Wild as her words might be, their incredible
suggestion was matched by my experience. I sought with my eyes for her,
before answering. The room was dark, yet the darker bulk of furniture
loomed out enough to be distinguishable. No figure was visible, even
traced by the direction of her voice. I was certain that any movement to
seek her would mean her flight.

"Do you mean that you want me to go away from this place?" I questioned.

The sigh came again, just audibly.

"Yes. Why should you die?"

Was I wrong in fancying the sigh regretful? Did I not hear a wistful
reluctance in her tone? Excitement ran along my veins like burning oil
on flowing water. The woman hidden in the dark, the association of her
voice with the strange, exquisite fragrance I breathed, the thought of
beauty in her born of that lovely braid of hair I had seized--all
blended in a spell of human magic. I have said I was a man much alone,
and a lame man who craved adventure.

"Just now," I said, "you spoke of some victory. You called me--soldier."

"Is it not victory to have driven back the Dark One? Is he not a soldier
who, aroused in the night to meet dreadful assault, sets his face to the
enemy an