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Updated: June 25, 2025
After feeling them for a long time, Nightspore got down from the embrasure, and continued his ascent, having meanwhile grown very serious. The climbing became still more laborious, and he was forced to stop at every third or fourth step, to rest his muscles and regain breath. When he had mounted another twenty stairs in this way, he came to a second window. Again he saw nothing.
Nightspore seemed unwilling to answer, but, finding Maskull's eyes still fixed on him, he brought out: "Unless light pulled, as well as pushed, how would flowers contrive to twist their heads around after the sun?" "I don't know. But the point is, what are these bottles for?"
"You came here on my account?" "Surely. On your account and Nightspore's. We three are to be fellow travellers." Maskull now lit his pipe and puffed away coolly for a few moments. "I'm sorry, Krag, but I must assume you are mad." Krag threw his head back, and gave a scraping laugh. "Am I mad, Nightspore?"
Starting in awful mystery, it ended with such a note of low and sordid mockery that he could not doubt for a moment whence it originated. It was the voice of Crystalman. Krag was waiting for him on the island raft. He threw a stern glance at Nightspore. "Have you seen everything?" "The struggle is hopeless," muttered Nightspore. "Did I not say I am the stronger?"
"Do all men escape from that ghastly world, or only I, and a few like me?" asked Nightspore. "If all escaped, I shouldn't sweat, my friend... There's hard work, and anguish, and the risk of total death, waiting for us yonder." Nightspore's heart sank. "Have I not yet finished, then?" "If you wish it. You have got through. But will you wish it?" The drumming grew loud and painful.
"Shall I remember?" he muttered. "Yes, you'll remember." "Accompany me, Krag, or I shall be lost." "There is nothing for me to do in there. I shall wait outside for you." "You are returning to the struggle?" demanded Nightspore, gnawing his fingertips. "Yes." "I dare not." The thunderous clangor of the rhythmical beats struck on his head like actual blows.
His nature is rhythm as he loves to call it or dull, deadly repetition, as I name it." "I remember," said Nightspore, biting his nails in the dark. The throbbing became audible; it now sounded like a distant drum. A small patch of strange light in the far distance, straight ahead of them, began faintly to illuminate the floating island and the glassy sea around it.
"This isn't promising," growled Maskull "There's no one here..... Now you try the shed, while I go over to that tower." Nightspore, who had not spoken half a dozen words since leaving the train, complied in silence, and started off across the yard. Maskull passed out of the gate again.
"Where in the devil's name have you come from, Krag?" "The great point is, I am here." "Where's Nightspore?" "Not far away." "It seems a hundred years since I saw you. Why did you two leave me in such a damnable fashion?" "You were strong enough to get through alone." "So it turned out, but how were you to know?.... Anyway, you've timed it well. It seems I am to die today." Krag scowled.
Almost before the words had left his mouth, Krag sprang back on to the island raft. Nightspore involuntarily started after him, but at once recovered himself and remained standing where he was. Krag was completely invisible; everything outside was black night. The moment he had gone, a feeling shot up in Nightspore's heart like a thousand trumpets.
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