that at a distance assumed the form of elephants or garuda-birds, changed aspect when approached, and revealed as the secret of their design an interplaiting of the bodies of women; while one divinity rode all the monstrous allegories,—­one divinity or demon, eternally the same in the repetition of the sculptor, universally visible as though self-multiplied.  The huge pillars themselves were symbols, figures, carnalities; the orgiastic spirit of that worship lived and writhed in the contorted bronze of the lamps, the twisted gold of the cups, the chiselled marble of the tanks....

How far had he proceeded?  He knew not; the journey among those countless columns, past those armies of petrified gods, down lanes of flickering lights, seemed longer than the voyage of a caravan, longer than his pilgrimage to China!  But suddenly, inexplicably, there came a silence as of cemeteries; the living ocean seemed to have ebbed away from about him, to have been engulfed within abysses of subterranean architecture!  He found himself alone in some strange crypt before a basin, shell-shaped and shallow, bearing in its centre a rounded column of less than human height, whose smooth and spherical summit was wreathed with flowers.  Lamps similarly formed, and fed with oil of palm, hung above it.  There was no other graven image, no visible divinity.  Flowers of countless varieties lay heaped upon the pavement; they covered its surface like a carpet, thick, soft; they exhaled their ghosts beneath his feet.  The perfume seemed to penetrate his brain,—­a perfume sensuous, intoxicating, unholy; an unconquerable languor mastered his will, and he sank to rest upon the floral offerings.

The sound of a tread, light as a whisper, approached through the heavy stillness, with a drowsy tinkling of pagals, a tintinnabulation of anklets.  All suddenly he felt glide about his neck the tepid smoothness of a woman’s arm. She, she! his Illusion, his Temptation; but how transformed, transfigured!—­preternatural in her loveliness, incomprehensible in her charm!  Delicate as a jasmine-petal the cheek that touched his own; deep as night, sweet as summer, the eyes that watched him. “Heart’s-thief,” her flower-lips whispered,—­“heart’s-thief, how have I sought for thee!  How have I found thee!  Sweets I bring thee, my beloved; lips and bosom; fruit and blossom.  Hast thirst?  Drink from the well of mine eyes!  Wouldst sacrifice?  I am thine altar!  Wouldst pray?  I am thy God!”

Their lips touched; her kiss seemed to change the cells of his blood to flame.  For a moment Illusion triumphed; Mara prevailed!...  With a shock of resolve the dreamer awoke in the night,—­under the stars of the Chinese sky.