In a little while, I felt stronger, and put out my hand for the
matches. I groped about, for a few moments, blindly; then my hands lit
upon them, and I struck a light, and looked confusedly around. All about
me, I saw the old, familiar things. And there I sat, full of dazed
wonders, until the flame of the match burnt my finger, and I dropped it;
while a hasty expression of pain and anger, escaped my lips, surprising
me with the sound of my own voice.
After a moment, I struck another match, and, stumbling across the room,
lit the candles. As I did so, I observed that they had not burned away,
but had been put out.
As the flames shot up, I turned, and stared about the study; yet there
was nothing unusual to see; and, suddenly, a gust of irritation took me.
What had happened? I held my head, with both hands, and tried to
remember. Ah! the great, silent Plain, and the ring-shaped sun of red
fire. Where were they? Where had I seen them? How long ago? I felt dazed
and muddled. Once or twice, I walked up and down the room, unsteadily.
My memory seemed dulled, and, already, the thing I had witnessed came
back to me with an effort.
I have a remembrance of cursing, peevishly, in my bewilderment.
Suddenly, I turned faint and giddy, and had to grasp at the table for
support. During a few moments, I held on, weakly; and then managed to
totter sideways into a chair. After a little time, I felt somewhat
better, and succeeded in reaching the cupboard where, usually, I keep
brandy and biscuits. I poured myself out a little of the stimulant, and
drank it off. Then, taking a handful of biscuits, I returned to my
chair, and began to devour them, ravenously. I was vaguely surprised at
my hunger. I felt as though I had eaten nothing for an uncountably
long while.
As I ate, my glance roved about the room, taking in its various
details, and still searching, though almost unconsciously, for something
tangible upon which to take hold, among the invisible mysteries that
encompassed me. 'Surely,' I thought, 'there must be something--' And, in
the same instant, my gaze dwelt upon the face of the clock in the
opposite corner. Therewith, I stopped eating, and just stared. For,
though its ticking indicated most certainly that it was still going, the
hands were pointing to a little _before_ the hour of midnight; whereas
it was, as well I knew, considerably _after_ that time when I had
witnessed the first of the strange happenings I have just described.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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