FLORRIE. Oh, yes—yes.
L. Isabel—or Lily—run up to my room and fetch me the little box with a glass lid, out of the top drawer of the chest of drawers. (Race between LILY and ISABEL.)
(Re-enter ISABEL with the box, very much out of breath. LILY behind.)
L. Why, you never can beat Lily in a race on the stairs, can you, Isabel?
ISABEL (panting). Lily—beat me—ever so far—but she gave me—the box—to carry in.
L. Take off the lid, then; gently.
FLORRIE (after peeping in, disappointed). There's only a great ugly brown stone!
L. Not much more than that, certainly, Florrie, if people were wise. But look, it is not a single stone; but a knot of pebbles fastened together by gravel: and in the gravel, or compressed sand, if you look close, you will see grains of gold glittering everywhere, all through; and then, do you see these two white beads, which shine, as if they had been covered with grease?
FLORRIE. May I touch them?
L. Yes; you will find they are not greasy, only very smooth. Well, those are the fatal jewels; native here in their dust with gold, so that you may see, cradled here together, the two great enemies of mankind,—the strongest of all malignant physical powers that have tormented our race.