It was the laughter of delirium and not of mirth.
The echo answered back.
The whole cave seemed peopled with laughing demons.
“Fiends!” he shouted, and his head fell back with stunning force on the rock.
When he recovered consciousness, a calmly sweet breath of air was blowing on his face.
He was being fanned.
He dare not speak for fear that the delicious breeze might cease.
The fanning continued until at last he could bear the silence no longer.
“Thou art an angel!” he exclaimed.
“I know not what thou meanest. If I am thy houri, wilt thou follow me?”