"There was nothing to alarm?" put in Dr. Silence briefly.

"Absolutely nothing," said Vezin; "but you know it was all so
fantastical and charming that my imagination was profoundly impressed.
Perhaps, too," he continued, gently explanatory, "it was this stirring
of my imagination that caused other impressions; for, as I walked back,
the spell of the place began to steal over me in a dozen ways, though
all intelligible ways. But there were other things I could not account
for in the least, even then."

"Incidents, you mean?"

"Hardly incidents, I think. A lot of vivid sensations crowded themselves
upon my mind and I could trace them to no causes. It was just after
sunset and the tumbled old buildings traced magical outlines against an
opalescent sky of gold and red. The dusk was running down the twisted
streets. All round the hill the plain pressed in like a dim sea, its
level rising with the darkness. The spell of this kind of scene, you
know, can be very moving, and it was so that night. Yet I felt that what
came to me had nothing directly to do with the mystery and wonder of the
scene."

"Not merely the subtle transformations of the spirit that come with
beauty," put in the doctor, noticing his hesitation.

"Exactly," Vezin went on, duly encouraged and no longer so fearful of
our smiles at his expense. "The impressions came from somewhere else.
For instance, down the busy main street where men and women were
bustling home from work, shopping at stalls and barrows, idly gossiping
in groups, and all the rest of it, I saw that I aroused no interest and