It’s hard for me to tell what followed—everything came together and I couldn’t see or think. I remember trying to scream, to give one shriek for Babbitts, and no sound coming, and that the thing, as if it knew what I was doing, made a sudden crashing close at my back. The brightness of the sky flashed in my eyes. I saw the clouds broken open, and the moon, big and white, whirling round like a silver plate. I tried to run but the earth rose up in waves and I staggered forward over them, wave after wave, with the moon spinning close to my eyes, and then blackness shutting down like the lid of a box. The next thing I remember was the sky with clouds all over it and in one place an opening with a little star as big as a pinhead set in the middle. I looked at that star for a long time, having a queer feeling that I was holding on to it and it was pulling me up. Then I felt as if something was helping the star, a strong support under my shoulders that raised me still further, and while I seemed to be struggling out of a darkness like water, I heard Babbitts’ voice close to my ear: "Thank God, she’s coming out of it." I turned my head and there was his face close to mine. A strong yellow light shone on it—afterward I saw it came from a lantern on the ground—and without speaking I looked into his eyes, and had a lovely feeling of rest as if I’d found something I was looking for. "You’re all right?" he said; "you’re not hurt?" "I’m very well, thank you," I said back, and my voice was like a whisper. The support under my shoulders tightened, drew me up against him, and he bent down and kissed me. We said no more, but stayed that way, looking at each other. I didn’t want to move or speak. I didn’t feel anything or care about anything. It seemed like Babbitts and I were the only two people in the whole world, as if there _was_ no world, just us, and all the rest nothing. After that—he’s often told me it was only a minute or two, though if you’d asked me I’d have said it was hours—I began to look round and take notice. I heard queer sounds as if someone was groaning in pain, and saw the shrubs and grass plain by the light of two lanterns standing on the ground. Near these was a man, lit up as far as his knees, and close by him, all crumpled on the earth, another person. The lanterns threw a bright glow over the upper part of that figure, and I saw the head and shoulders, the hair with leaves and twigs in it and round the neck a red bandanna. Then I made out it was a man and that it was from him the sounds were coming—moans and groans and words in a strange language. "What is it?" I whispered to Babbitts. "What’s happened?" And he whispered back: "I’ll tell you later. You’re all right—that’s all that matters now."