own cloak that was all in rags and he
seemed to have been walking all night, and he walked hurriedly but
appeared weary, so we offered him food and drink, of which he
partook thankfully. When we asked him where he was going, he
answered 'Babbulkund.' Then we offered him a camel upon which to
ride, for we said, 'We also go to Babbulkund.' But he answered
strangely:

'Nay, pass on before me, for it is a sore thing never to have seen
Babbulkund, having lived while yet she stood. Pass on before me and
behold her, and then flee away at once, returning northwards.'

Then, though we understood him not, we left him, for he was
insistent, and passed on our journey southwards through the desert,
and we came before the middle of the day to an oasis of palm trees
standing by a well and there we gave water to the haughty camels and
replenished our water-bottles and soothed our eyes with the sight of
green things and tarried for many hours in the shade. Some of the
men slept, but of those that remained awake each man sang softly the
songs of his own country, telling of Babbulkund. When the afternoon
was far spent we travelled a little way southwards, and went on
through the cool evening until the sun fell low and we encamped, and
as we sat in our encampment the man in rags overtook us, having
travelled all the day, and we gave him food and drink again, and in
the twilight he spoke, saying:

'I am the servant of the Lord the God of my people, and I go to do
his work on Babbulkund. She is the most beautiful city in the world;
there hath been none like her, even the stars of God go envious of
her beauty. She is all white, yet with streaks of pink that pass
through her streets and houses like flames in the white mind of a
sculptor, like desire in Paradise. She hath been carved of old out
of a holy hill, no slaves wrought the City of Marvel, but artists
toiling at the work they loved. They took no pattern from the houses
of men, but each man wrought what his inner eye had seen and carved
in marble the visions of his dream. All over the roof of one of the
palace chambers winged lions flit like bats, the size of every one
is the size of the lions of God, and the wings are larger than any
wing created; they are one above the other more than a man can
number, they are all carven out of one block of marble, the chamber
itself is hollowed from it, and it is borne aloft upon the carven
branches of a grove of clustered tree-ferns wro