And how did
they spin their web? Ferval, student of the occult, greedy of
metaphysical problems, at first set it down to Indian Yogi magic. But
the machinery--the hideously discordant human orchestra, the corybantic
dancing! No, he rejected the theory. Music is sometimes hypnotic, but
not such music; dancing is the most alluring of the spatial arts, and
Debora's miming was a delight to the eye; but could it have so obscured
his judgments as to paint upon the canvas of his fancy those prodigious
frescoes of time and space?
In the iron solitude of his soul he tortured himself with these
questions. His stupor lasted for days--was it the abrupt fall or was it
the result of his absinthe-like dreams? He was haunted by an odour that
assailed his brain like one tune persistently played. The odour! Whence
did it come with its sickly sweetness? Perhaps therein lay the secret of
his hallucinating visions. Perhaps a drug had perverted his brain. But
within the week the dangerous perfume had become dissipated, and with it
vanished all hope of solving the riddle.
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