downward, by the side of the brook, and Maskull was not long in
following her example. She refused to quench her thirst until she
had seen him drink. He found the water heavy, but bubbling with gas.
He drank copiously. It affected his palate in a new way--with the
purity and cleanness of water was combined the exhilaration of a
sparkling wine, raising his spirits--but somehow the intoxication
brought out his better nature, and not his lower.

"We call it 'gnawl water'," said Joiwind. "This is not quite pure, as
you can see by the colour. At Poolingdred it is crystal clear. But
we would be ungrateful if we complained. After this you'll find
we'll get along much better."

Maskull now began to realise his environment, as it were for the
first time. All his sense organs started to show him beauties and
wonders that he had not hitherto suspected. The uniform glaring
scarlet of the sands became separated into a score of clearly
distinguished shades of red. The sky was similarly split up into
different blues. The radiant heat of Branchspell he found to affect
every part of his body with unequal intensities. His ears awakened;
the atmosphere was full of murmurs, the sands hummed, even the sun's
rays had a sound of their own--a kind of faint Aeolian harp.
Subtle, puzzling perfumes assailed his nostrils. His palate lingered
over the memory of the gnawl water. All the pores of his skin were
tickled and soothed by hitherto unperceived currents of air. His
poigns explored actively the inward nature of everything in his
immediate vicinity. His magn touched Joiwind, and drew from her
person a stream of love and joy. And lastly by means of his breve he
exchanged thoughts with her in silence. This mighty sense symphony
stirred him to the depths, and throughout the walk of that endless