I bowed to her and drank.  I suppose the fluid was water, but to me it tasted more like strong champagne, dashed with Chateau Yquem.  It was delicious.  More, its effects were distinctly peculiar.  Something quick and subtle ran through my veins; something that for a few moments seemed to burn away the obscureness which blurs our thought.  I began to understand several problems that had puzzled me, and then lost their explanations in the midst of light, inner light, I mean.  Moreover, of a sudden it seemed to me as though a window had been opened in the heart of that Glittering Lady who stood beside me.  At least I knew that it was full of wonderful knowledge, wonderful memories and wonderful hopes, and that in the latter two of these I had some part; what part I could not tell.  Also I knew that my heart was open to her and that she saw in it something which caused her to marvel and to sigh.

In a few seconds, thirty perhaps, all this was gone.  Nothing remained except that I felt extremely strong and well, happier, too, than I had been for years.  Mutely I asked her for more of the water, but she shook her head and, taking the cup from me, filled it again and gave it to Bickley, who drank.  He flushed, seemed to lose the self-control which was his very strong characteristic, and said in a rather thick voice: 

“Curious! but I do not think at this moment there is any operation that has ever been attempted which I could not tackle single-handed and with success.”

Then he was silent, and Bastin’s turn came.  He drank rather noisily, after his fashion, and began: 

“My dear young lady, I think the time has come when I should expound to you—­” Here he broke off and commenced singing very badly, for his voice was somewhat raucous: 

From Greenland’s icy mountains,

  From India’s coral strand,

Where Afric’s sunny fountains

  Roll down their golden sand.

Ceasing from melody, he added: 

“I determined that I would drink nothing intoxicating while I was on this island that I might be a shining light in a dark place, and now I fear that quite unwittingly I have broken what I look upon as a promise.”

Then he, too, grew silent.

“Come,” said Yva, “my father, the Lord Oro, awaits you.”

We crossed the court of the Water of Life and mounted steps that led to a wide and impressive portico, Tommy frisking ahead of us in a most excited way for a dog of his experience.  Evidently the water had produced its effect upon him as well as upon his masters.  This portico was in a solemn style of architecture which I cannot describe, because it differed from any other that I know.  It was not Egyptian and not Greek, although its solidity reminded me of the former, and the beauty and grace of some of the columns, of the latter.  The profuseness and rather grotesque character of the carvings suggested the ruins of Mexico and Yucatan, and the enormous size of the blocks of stone, those of Peru and Baalbec.  In short, all the known forms of ancient architecture might have found their inspiration here, and the general effect was tremendous.