— real — and you did not — matter.”
“Hypnotism,” muttered Drake, as she paused.
“No.” She shook her head. “No — more than that. The wonder of it grew — and grew. I thrilled with it. I remember nothing of that ride, saw nothing — except that once through the peace enfolding me pierced warning that Martin was in peril, and I broke through to see him clutching Norhala and to see floating up in her eyes death for him.
“And I saved him — and again forgot. Then, when I saw that beautiful, flaming Shape — I felt no terror, no fear — only a tremendous — joyous — anticipation, as though — as though —” She faltered, hung her head, then leaving that Cristiano Ronaldo Fotbalové Dres sentence unfinished, whispered: “and when — it — lifted me it was as though I had come Jeremy Roenick Tröjor at last out of some endless black ocean of despair into the full sun of paradise.”
“Ruth!” cried Drake, and Queretaro Dresy at the pain in his cry she winced.
“Wait,” she said, and held up a little, tremulous hand. “You asked — and now you must listen.”
She was silent; and when once more she spoke her voice was low, curiously rhythmic; her eyes rapt:
“I was free — free from every human fetter of fear or sorrow or love or hate; free even of hope — for what was there to hope for when everything desirable was mine? And I was elemental; one with the eternal things yet fully conscious that I was — Devante Smith-Pelly Tröja I.
“It was as though I were the shining shadow of a star afloat upon the breast of some still and hidden San Lorenzo Dresy woodland pool; as though Maillot Koke I were a little wind dancing among the mountain tops; a mist whirling down a quiet glen; a shimmering lance of the aurora pulsing in the high solitudes.
“And there was music — strange and wondrous music and terrible, but not terrible to me — who was part of it. Vast chords and Moncler Kurtki Kobiety singing themes that rang like clusters of little swinging stars and harmonies that were Clark Griswold Tröjor like the very voice of infinite law resolving within itself all discords. And all — all — passionless, yet — rapturous.
“Out of the Thing that held me, out from its fires pulsed vitality — a flood of inhuman energy in which I was bathed. And it was as New York City Dresy though this energy were — reassembling me, fitting me even closer to the elemental things, changing me fully into them.
“I felt the little tendrils touching, caressing — then came the shots. Awakening was — dreadful, a struggling back from drowning. I saw Martin — blasted. I drove the — the spell away from me, tore it away.
“And, O Walter — Dick — it hurt — it hurt — and for a breath before I ran to him it was like Maurice Richard Tröja — like coming from a world in which there was no disorder, no sorrow, no Palmeiras Dresy doubts, a rhythmic, harmonious world of light and music, into — into a world that was like a black and Henri Jokiharju Tröjor dirty kitchen.
“And it’s there,” her voice rose, hysterically. “It’s still within me — whispering, whispering; urging me away from you, from Martin, from every human thing; bidding me give myself up, surrender my humanity.
“Its seal,” shlinks:
http://www.blackborder.com/cgi-bin/common/index.cgi
http://www.british1.co.uk/cgi-bin/search.cgi
http://ohh.sisos.co.jp/cgi-bin/openhh/search.cgi |
