And always the same trampling of human feet! Were they
human? Did not resilient bones tell the tale of brutes viler than men?
The glimmering lights seemed cowed, as they sobbed in vacuity and slowly
expired.
Pobloff no longer asked himself what it meant; he was become a maniac,
pursued by deathless devils. He could have flown to the end of the
universe in this Ballade; but, at last, his heart cracking, head
bursting, face livid, overtaken by the Footsteps of the Missing, he
smashed both fists upon the keys and fell forward despairingly....
* * * * *
... The gigantic, noseless negro, the grand vizier himself, sternly
regarded the prince, who stood, torch in hand, near the shattered
pianoforte. The dumb spoke:--
"Let us hope, Exalted Highness, that your masquerades and mystifications
are over forever. To-day's prankish sport may put us to trouble for a
satisfactory explanation." He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of
the prostrate composer. "And hasheesh sometimes maddens for a lifetime!"
He lightly touched the drugged Pobloff with his enormous foot.
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