 | VIII. Visions—A Phantasy |  |
8. VIII.
I LOOKED down. We had again ascended to a tremendous height and were flying over a large city unknown to me, which was built on the side of a high hill. Church-spires rose here and there from the dark mass of roofs and gardens, a bridge arched the river-bend, everything lay in the deepest stillness, bound in sleep. Domes and crosses glimmered faintly in the peaceful light; a gray-white road ran still and straight as an arrow from one end of the city and vanished still and straight in the dim distance among the monotonous fields.
"What is this city?" I asked.
"—sow."
"—sow is in the —schen province, is it not?"
"Yes."
"Then we are a long way from home."
"For us distance is not."
"Truly?" A sudden recklessness awoke in me. Take me to South America then."
"To America—there I cannot. There it is day."
"So, we are birds o' night then, both of us. Well, wherever you can, only let it be right far."
"Shut your eyes and hold your breath," was Ellis's response, and we began to move with the swiftness of a hurricane. With stunning violence the wind rushed past my ears.
We stopped, but the rushing sound did not cease. On the contrary, it increased to a frightful roar, like a thunder peal.
"Now you can open your eyes," Ellis said.
| VIII. Visions—A Phantasy | |