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Chapter 32

           Hefeltthathehadtobalancecarefully(thoughitwasdifficult)sothatthisairystructureshouldnotcollapse;butneverthelessitkeptcollapsingandagainslowlyrisingtothesoundofwhisperedrhythmicmusic—“itstretches,stretches,spreadingoutandstretching,”saidPrinceAndrewtohimself.Whilelisteningtothiswhisperingandfeelingthesensationofthisdrawingoutandtheconstructionofthisedificeofneedles,healsosawbyglimpsesaredhaloroundthecandle,andheardtherustleofthecockroachesandthebuzzingoftheflythatfloppedagainsthispillowandhisface.Eachtimetheflytouchedhisfaceitgavehimaburningsensationandyettohissurpriseitdidnotdestroythestructure,thoughitknockedagainsttheveryregionofhisfacewhereitwasrising.Butbesidesthistherewassomethingelseofimportance.Itwassomethingwhitebythedoor—thestatueofasphinx,whichalsooppressedhim.

           “Butperhapsthat’smyshirtonthetable,”hethought,“andthat’smylegs,andthatisthedoor,butwhyisitalwaysstretchinganddrawingitselfout,and‘piti-piti-piti’and‘ti-ti’and‘piti-piti-piti’...?That’senough,pleaseleaveoff!”PrinceAndrewpainfullyentreatedsomeone.Andsuddenlythoughtsandfeelingsagainswamtothesurfaceofhismindwithpeculiarclearnessandforce.

           “Yes—love,”hethoughtagainquiteclearly.“Butnotlovewhichlovesforsomething,forsomequality,forsomepurpose,orforsomereason,butthelovewhichI—whiledying—firstexperiencedwhenIsawmyenemyandyetlovedhim.

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