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"But that is because you are a slave to words. If you called that plant an animal, you would find its occupation perfectly natural and pleasing. And why should you not call it an animal?" "I am quite aware that, as long as I remain in the Ifdawn Marest, I shall go on listening to this sort of language." They trudged along for an hour or more without talking. The day became overcast.

Luckily you are not looking at Alppain itself. It's invisible here. You would need to go at least as far as Ifdawn, to set eyes on it." "Why do you say 'luckily'?" "Because the agony caused by those opposing forces would perhaps be more than you could bear.... But I don't know." For the short distance that remained of their walk, Maskull was very thoughtful and uneasy. He understood nothing.

"Why should you imagine that I can't read your mind? Is it so extremely complex?" She spoke in a rich, lingering, musical voice, which delighted him to listen to. "No, but you have no breve." "Well, but haven't I a sorb, which is better?" And she pointed to the eye on her brow. "What is your name?" "Oceaxe." "And where do you come from?" "Ifdawn."

If one could see the portrait of a ghost, painted with a hard, firm outline, in substantial colors, the feelings produced by such a sight would be exactly similar to Maskull's impressions as he studied the Ifdawn precipices. He broke the long silence. "Those mountains have most extraordinary shapes. All the lines are straight and perpendicular no slopes or curves."

"A sort of gladness came over me," said Maskull, "but perhaps I am mistaken." They passed on. The scenery gradually changed in character. The solid parts of the land grew more continuous, the fissures became narrower and more infrequent. There were now no more subsidences or upheavals. The peculiar nature of the Ifdawn Marest appeared to be giving place to a different order of things.

We shall arrive before dark." The sun then disappeared behind the far-distant ridges that formed the western boundary of the Ifdawn Marest. The sky blazed up into more vivid colors. The wind grew colder. They passed some pools of colourless gnawl water, round the banks of which were planted fruit trees. Maskull ate some of the fruit.

I therefore made up my mind to travel into my mother's country, where, as she had often told me, nature was most sacred and solitary. "One hot morning I came to Shaping's Causeway. It is so called either because Shaping once crossed it, or because of its stupendous character. It is a natural embankment, twenty miles long, which links the mountains bordering my homeland with the Ifdawn Marest.

She dropped her head again to the ground, but did not at once close her eyes. "What are you doing here?" he interrogated. "Oh, we Ifdawn folk occasionally come here to sleep, for there often enough it is a night for us which has no next morning."

"As you've come from the south, I suppose you'll go north." "Well, that's right enough," said Maskull, staring hard at him. "But how do you know I've come from the south?" "Well, then, perhaps you haven't but there's a look of Ifdawn about you." "What kind of look?" "A tragical look," said Polecrab. He never even glanced at Maskull, but was gazing at a fixed spot on the water with unblinking eyes.

"And that means..." "New strings for my harp, Maskull. A wider range of passions, a stormier heart..." "For you, yes But for them?..." "I don't know. The victims don't describe their experiences. Probably unhappiness of some sort if they still know anything." "This is a fearful business!" he exclaimed, regarding her gloomily. "One would think Ifdawn a land of devils."