“I must note him down in my book. He is a bad disciplinarian—he gives them too many chances. It is too relaxing for the morals. If he’d drawn them up pretty sharp when Adam fell he’d have spared himself a great deal of—well, pleasure, perhaps.”
And now the scene darkened, and the whole thing began to crumble, and the nimble demons ran hither and thither the sounds of weird and magic music from beneath.
CHAPTER VIII
“Now,” said Plucritus, as the scene cleared, “I think it is time for lunch. Neither of us enjoyed our breakfast, and we shall eat all the more heartily.”
We were by this time in a large, light, comfortable room, and on looking through the window I saw it faced on to a wide and handsome street, so long that I was unable to tell the length of it. On either side were mansions of great beauty, built in different styles and material, so that the effect was most strange and interesting.
Many beautiful statues and worked columns ran down the centre, and arched colonnades, twined with rich creepers, ran nearer to the sides.
Plucritus came and stood beside me. “It is a pity,” he observed. “You should witness some of our convocations and assemblies. We have a special roof designed to arch across from side to side. And it is worked from wealth and loveliness that all the nations of the earth could never buy. We do not meet again for some considerable time, and you may miss the sight.”
“You think it probable I may leave you, then.”
He smiled.