A little later on I gathered from what they said that some imperious
and ghastly thing was looking for the Sphinx, and that something that
had happened had made its arrival certain. It appeared that they had
slapped the Sphinx to vex her out of her apathy in order that she
should pray to one of her gods, whom she had littered in the house of
Time; but her moody silence was invincible, and her apathy Oriental,
ever since the deed had happened. And when they found that they could
not make her pray, there was nothing for them to do but to pay little
useless attentions to the rusty lock of the door, and to look at the
deed and wonder, and even pretend to hope, and to say that after all
it might not bring that destined thing from the forest, which no one
named.

It may be said I had chosen a gruesome house, but not if I had
described the forest from which I came, and I was in need of any spot
wherein I could rest my mind from the thought of it.

I wondered very much what thing would come from the forest on account
of the deed; and having seen that forest--as you, gentle reader, have
not--I had the advantage of knowing that anything might come. It was
useless to ask the Sphinx--she seldom reveals things, like her
paramour Time (the gods take after her), and while this mood was on
her, rebuff was certain. So I quietly began to oil the lock of the
door. And as soon as they saw this simple act I won their confidence.
It was not that my work was of any use--it should have been done long
before; but they saw that my interest was given for the moment to the
thing that they thought vital. They clustered round me then. They
asked me what I thought of the door, and whether I had seen better,
and whether I had seen worse; and I told them about all the doors I