Now this hot, shadeless plain seemed to be the very home and dwelling-place of the False Water.  It sparkled and danced all round him so close that there only appeared to be a small space of dry ground for him to walk on; only he was always exactly in the centre of the dry spot; for as he advanced, the glittering whiteness, that looked so like shiny water, flew mockingly before his steps.  But he hoped to get to it at last, as every time he flagged in the chase the mysterious figure of the day before appeared again to lure him still further on.  At length, unable to move another step, Martin sat right down on the bare ground:  it was like sitting on the floor of a heated oven, but there was no help for it, he was so tired.  The air was so thick and heavy that he could hardly breathe, even with his mouth wide open like a little gasping bird; and the sky looked like metal, heated to a white heat, and so low down as to make him fancy that if he were to throw up his hands he would touch it and burn his fingers.

And the Mirage—­oh, how it glistened and quivered here where he had sat down, half blinding him with its brightness!  Now that he could no longer run after it, nor even walk, it came to him, breaking round and over him in a thousand fantastic shapes, filling the air with a million white flakes that whirled about as if driven by a furious wind, although not a breath was stirring.  They looked like whitest snow-flakes, yet stung his cheeks like sparks of fire.  Not only did he see and feel, he could even hear it now:  his ears were filled with a humming sound, growing louder and louder every minute, like the noise made by a large colony of bumble-bees when a person carelessly treads on their nest, and they are angered and thrown into a great commotion and swarm out to defend their home.  Very soon out of this confused murmur louder, clearer sounds began to rise; and these could be distinguished as the notes of numberless musical instruments, and voices of people singing, talking, and laughing.  Then, all at once, there appeared running and skipping over the ground towards him a great company of girls—­scores and hundreds of them scattered over the plain, exceeding in loveliness all lovely things that he had ever beheld.  Their faces were whiter than lilies, and their loose, fluttering hair looked like a mist of pale shining gold; and their skirts, that rustled as they ran, were also shining like the wings of dragon-flies, and were touched with brown reflections and changing, beautiful tints, such as are seen on soap-bubbles.  Each of them carried a silver pitcher, and as they ran and skipped along they dipped their fingers in and sprinkled the desert with water.  The bright drops they scattered fell all around in a grateful shower, and flew up again from the heated earth in the form of a white mist touched with rainbow colours, filling the air with a refreshing coolness.

At Martin’s side there grew a small plant, its grey-green leaves lying wilted on the ground, and one of the girls paused to water it, and as she sprinkled the drops on it she sang:—­