And now in the magic mirror a third figure showed itself, a
figure of youth incarnate, brave, passionate, thrilling with the joy
of life. He watched it, how coldly, although he felt its charm, the
rays of fire that came from it, as sunbeams come from the sun! And
apprehension stirred within him. And presently in the night, by ebony
waters, and by strange and wandering lights, and under unquiet stars,
he told Hermione something of his fear.
Africa--and the hovering flies, and the dreadful feeling that death's
hands were creeping about his body and trying to lay hold of it! A
very lonely creature lay there in the mirror, with the faint shadow of
a palm-leaf shifting and swaying upon the ghastly whiteness of its
face--himself, in the most desolate hour of his life. As he gazed he
was transported to the City of the Mosques. The years rolled back. He
felt again all, or nearly all, that he had felt then of helplessness,
abandonment, despair. It was frightful to go out thus alone, to be
extinguished in the burning heat of Africa, and laid in that arid
soil, where the vipers slid through the hot crevices of the earth, and
the scorpions bred in the long days of the summer.
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