“That is your path,” said Catice, “and I shall not come any farther.”
Maskull detained him. “Say just this, before we part company—why does pleasure appear so shameful to us?”
“Because in feeling pleasure, we forget our home.”
“And that is—”
“Muspel,” answered Catice.
Having made this reply, he disengaged himself, and, turning his back, disappeared into the darkness.
Maskull stumbled down the staircase as best he could. He was tired, but contemptuous of his pains. His uninjured probe began to discharge matter. He lowered himself from step to step during what seemed an interminable time. The rustling and sighing of the trees grew louder as he approached the bottom; the air became still and warm. Inky blackness was all around him.
He at last reached level ground. Still attempting to proceed, he began to trip over roots, and to collide with tree trunks. After this had happened a few times, he determined to go no farther that night. He heaped together some dry leaves for a pillow, and immediately flung himself down to sleep. Deep and heavy unconsciousness seized him almost instantly.