"Enrages?"
"Yes, because it upsets the trees where he is painting landscapes, and tilts them in every direction. Which, of course, ruins his picture; and he is obliged to start another, which vexes him dreadfully."
I think I must have gaped at her in sheer astonishment.
"But there is something more singular than that for you to investigate," she said calmly. "Look down at that circle of steam which makes a perfect ring around the bowl of the crater, halfway down. Do you see the flicker of fire under the vapour?"
"Yes."
She leaned so near and spoke in such a low voice that her fragrant breath fell upon my cheek:
"In the fire, under the vapours, there are little animals."
"What!!"
"Little beasts live in the fire—slim, furry creatures, smaller than a weasel. I've seen them peep out of the fire and scurry back into it.... Now are you sorry that I wrote you to come? And will you forgive me for bringing you out here?"
An indescribable excitement seized me, endowing me with a fluency and eloquence unusual: