"I am in the dark, and see nothing."
"Hold my hand and wait, thou wilt see more plainly anon. Now that thine eyes are accustomed to the darkness, describe to me the place in which thou standest."
There was another interval. Then she began again:
"I am in a dark and gloomy cavern. The roof is supported by heavy pillars, and they are carved in a style I have never seen before. On the ceilings and walls are paintings, and lying on a slab of stone—a dead man!"
Once more there was a long silence, until I began to think that I must have missed the next question and answer, and that this extraordinary catechism had terminated. Then the voice of Pharos recommenced:
"Place thine hand in mine and look once more."
This time the answer was even more bewildering than before.
"I see death," said the voice. "Death on every hand. It continues night and day, and the world is full of wailing!"
"It is well, I am satisfied," said Pharos. "Now lie down and sleep. In an hour thou wilt wake and wilt remember naught of what thou hast revealed to me."
Unable to make anything of what I had heard, I rose from the place where I had been sitting and began to pace the deck. The remembrance of the conversation to which I had listened irritated me beyond measure. Had I been permitted another insight into the deviltry of Pharos, or what was the meaning of it? I was still thinking of this when I heard a step behind me, and turning, found the man himself approaching me. In the dim light of the deck the appearance he presented was not prepossessing, but when he approached me I discovered he was in the best of humours, in fact in better spirits than I had ever yet seen him.