“Come nearer,” she went on. “Now listen, listen.” And she raised a finger. “Does it not run so? Gurgle, gurgle! Is there no rhythm in that?” And as I listened I could hear the sound.
“There is no joyousness in it,” I said.
“You are dull of understanding,” she repeated, and laughed again and moved along.
Her dress, now that I came to see it more distinctly and follow it more closely in the unnoticeable haze, was of the clearest shade of twilight inlaid with many a shining gem.
And still we passed along, till on a sudden we lit on a great and glorious building among the trees and jewel-spraying fountains. From every window sparkled brilliant light.
“That is my home,” she said, and pointed to it.
At length, when I had looked some time and viewed its every pinnacle and spire, buttress and gable, tower and minaret, I turned to her.
“Is this a church or palace, pleasure house or prison?” I questioned.
“Oh, stranger, you are dull at seeing,” she replied, and shook her head.
And then, for the first time since coming there, I smiled; this creature’s fascination told on me, the only seeming-living thing about the place.