and beat my breast; it was true; my soul within me said it was true;
the boy had not lied; the djins had heard; I was just in the flesh I
had; my common human hungers still unsatisfied where never mortal man
had hungered before; and scarcely knowing whether I feared or not,
whether to laugh or cry, but with all the wonder and terror of that
great remove sweeping suddenly upon me I staggered back to my seat,
and dropping my arms upon the table, leant my head heavily upon them
and strove to choke back the passion which beset me.




CHAPTER III

It was the light touch of the boy An upon my shoulder which roused me.
He was bending down, his pretty face full of concernful sympathy, and
in a minute said--knowing nothing of my thoughts, of course,

"It is the wine, stranger, the pink oblivion, it sometimes makes one
feel like that until enough is taken; you stopped just short of what you
should have had, and the next cup would have been delight--I should have
told you."

"Ay," I answered, glad he should think so, "it was the wine, no doubt;
your quaint drink, sir, tangled up my senses for the moment, but they
are clearer now, and I am eager past expression to learn a little more
of this strange country I have wandered into."

"I would rather," said the boy, relapsing again into his state of kindly
lethargy, "that you learnt things as you went, for talking is work,