As before, he noted the maze of splendid, dazzling opalescence, all the colours of the spectrum blending, weaving, vibrant, like a vast plain of smooth, Gargantuan jewels. Then he made out innumerable round domes, spread out in rows and in curves, without seeming order or system; BUILDINGS, every roof a perfect gleaming dome, its surface fairly alive with the reflected light of that amazing sun. Of such was the landscape made. As before, he could hear the incessant undertone of vague music, of rhythmical, shimmering and whispering sound. And the whole air was laden with the hint of sweet scents; tinged with the perfume of attar and myrrh--of a most delicate ambrosia. He opened the window. For a moment he stood still, the air bathing his face, the unknown fragrance filling his nostrils. The whole world seemed thrumming with that hitherto faint quiver of sound. Now it was resonant and strong, though still only an undertone. He looked below him; as he did so, something dropped from the side of the window opening--a long, delicate tendril, sinuous and alive. It touched his face, and then--It drooped, drooped like a wounded thing. He reached out his hand and plucked it, wondering. And he found, at its tip, a floating crimson blossom as delicate as the frailest cobweb, so inconceivably delicate that it wilted and crumbled at the slightest touch. Chick thrust his head out of the window. The whole building, from ground to dome, was covered--waving, moving, tenuous, a maze of colour--with orchids! He had never dreamed of anything so beautiful, or so splendid. Everywhere these orchids; to give them the name nearest to the unknown one. As far as he could see, living beauty! And then he noticed something stranger still. From the petals and the foliage about him, little clouds of colour wafted up, like mists of perfume, forever rising and intermittently settling. It was mysteriously harmonious, continuous--like life itself. Chick looked closer, and listened. And then he knew. These mists were clouds of tiny, multi-coloured insects. He looked down farther, into the streets. They were teeming with life, with motion. He was in a city whose size made it a true metropolis. All the buildings were large, and, although of unfamiliar architecture, undeniably of a refined, advanced art. Without exception, their roofs were domed. Hence the effect of a sea of bubbles. Directly below, straight down from his window, was a very broad street. From it at varying angles ran a number of intersecting avenues. The height of his window was great--he looked very closely, and made out two lines of colour lining and outlining the street surrounding the apartments.