He felt himself alone with Nature. A sacred stillness came over his
heart. Past and future were forgotten. The forest, the sun, the day
did not exist for him. He was unconscious of himself--he had no
thoughts and no feelings. Yet never had Life had such an altitude
for him.

A man stood, with crossed arms, right in his path. He was so clothed
that his limbs were exposed, while his body was covered. He was
young rather than old. Maskull observed that his countenance
possessed none of the special organs of Tormance, to which he had not
even yet become reconciled. He was smooth-faced. His whole person
seemed to radiate an excess of life, like the trembling of air on a
hot day. His eyes had such force that Maskull could not meet them.

He addressed Maskull by name, in an extraordinary voice. It had a
double tone. The primary one sounded far away; the second was an
undertone, like a sympathetic tanging string.

Maskull felt a rising joy, as he continued standing in the presence
of this individual. He believed that something good was happening to
him. He found it physically difficult to bring any words out. "Why
do you stop me?"

"Maskull, look well at me. Who am I?"

"I think you are Shaping."

"I am Surtur."