At the entrance of the fort there was a kind of a temple made of jet-black stone. A few steps led up to a door.
“These walls,” said my companion, “are the remnant of what was once a city built by a now extinct race of demons,” and pointing to the temple, she added, “Here is the temple of him who knows that which is not, and does not know that which is.”
“And what is to be seen in there?” I asked.
“Who knows?” exclaimed the princess. “This place is shunned by every gnome, and no one dares to enter. It is said, however, that it is inhabited by insane spooks, and by the remnant of a certain class of people who have spent their lives in doing many useless things. They are said to follow their accustomed occupations in an automatic manner, doing the same things over and over again without coming to an end.”
“And who were they, when they lived?” I asked.
“Nobody knows,” answered Adalga. “None of these creatures knew himself while he lived; how could anybody know him after he died?”
I expressed my determination to enter, upon which the princess grew very much alarmed, and begged me to desist; but the more she sought to dissuade me from my purpose, the greater grew my curiosity to investigate the mysteries of Lucifer’s temple.
“Do not enter, O Mulligan!” cried the princess. “It will destroy your light.”
“I have no light to lose,” I answered. “I am not a gnome.”
“Woe to me!” she cried. “Shall I lose you and my life even before our union has become completed! Stop this rash undertaking! Stop, O Mulligan, stop!”