“One can see you’re disgusted,” she replied, stifling a yawn. “But that is because you are a slave to words. If you called that plant an animal, you would find its occupation perfectly natural and pleasing. And why should you not call it an animal?” “I am quite aware that, as long as I remain in the Ifdawn Marest, I shall go on listening to this sort of language.” They trudged along for an hour or more without talking. The day became overcast. A thin mist began to shroud the landscape, and the sun changed into an immense ruddy disk which could be stared at without flinching. A chill, damp wind blew against them. Presently it grew still darker, the sun disappeared and, glancing first at his companion and then at himself, Maskull noticed that their skin and clothing were coated by a kind of green hoarfrost. The land was now completely solid. About half a mile, in front of them, against a background of dark fog, a moving forest of tall waterspouts gyrated slowly and gracefully hither and thither. They were green and self-luminous, and looked terrifying. Tydomin explained that they were not waterspouts at all, but mobile columns of lightning. “Then they are dangerous?” “So we think,” she answered, watching them closely. “Someone is wandering there who appears to have a different opinion.” Among the spouts, and entirely encompassed by them, a man was walking with a slow, calm, composed gait, his back turned toward Maskull and Tydomin. There was something unusual in his appearance—his form looked extraordinarily distinct, solid, and real. “If there’s danger, he ought to be warned,” said Maskull. “He who is always anxious to teach will learn nothing,” returned the woman coolly. She restrained Maskull by a pressure of the arm, and continued to watch. The base of one of the columns touched the man. He remained unharmed, but turned sharply around, as if for the first time made aware of the proximity of these deadly waltzers. Then he raised himself to his full height, and stretched both arms aloft above his head, like a diver. He seemed to be addressing the columns. While they looked on, the electric spouts discharged themselves, with a series of loud explosions. The stranger stood alone, uninjured. He dropped his arms. The next moment he caught sight of the two, and stood still, waiting for them to come up. The pictorial clarity of his person grew more and more noticeable as they approached; his body seemed to be composed of some substance heavier and denser than solid matter. Tydomin looked perplexed. “He must be a Sant man. I have seen no one quite like him before. This is a day of days for me.” “He must be an individual of great importance,” murmured Maskull.