Потерянный континент: история Атлантиды
18. Storm Of The Sacred Mountain
Thenailsofherfingershadgrowntosuchagreatlengththattheyweretwistedinspirals,andthefingersthemselvesandherhandsweresowaxyandtransparentthatthebonycoreuponwhichtheywerebuiltshoweditselfbeneaththefleshinplaindulloutline.Herclay-coldlipsweresowhite,thatonesighedtorememberthefullbeautyoftheircarmine.Hershouldersandneckhadlosttheircomelycurves,andmadebonyhollowsnowinwhichthedustofentombmentlodgedblackandthickly.
ReverentlyIsetaboutpreparingthosethingswhichifallwentwellshouldrestoreher.Iheatedwaterandfilledabath,andtinctureditheavilywiththoseessencesofthelifeofbeastswhichthePriestsextractandstoreagainsttimesofurgentneedandsickness.Ilaidherchin-deepinthisbath,andsatbesideittowatch,maintainingthatbathataconstantbloodheat.
AnhourIwatched;twohoursIwatched;threehours—andyetsheshowednoflickeroflife.Theheatofherbodygivenherbythebath,wasthesameastheheatofmyown.ButinthefeelofherskinwhenIstrokeditwithmyhand,therewassomethinglackingstill.OnlywhenourLordtheSunroseforHisdaydidIbreakoffmywatching,whilstIsaidthenecessaryprayerwhichisprescribed,andquicklyreturnedagaintothegloomofthehouse.
Iwastornwithanxiety,andasthetimewentonandstillnosignoflifecameback,thehopethathadoncebeensohighwithinmebegantosickenandleavemedowncastanddespondent.Fromwithout,camethedinoffighting.
