It seemed only a few minutes later when, without warning, the golden orbs above us flickered, grew dim, and flashed into blackness. Then, while I was wondering whether we were to be left in total gloom, other lights gleamed from the city’s unseen pinnacles; and their rays darted in long streamers against a blank glass wall directly across from us, illuminating it with fantastic and unbelievable designs. Unlike the searchlights that had amazed me at the Pageant of the Good Destruction, these lights were not without apparent purpose; they shed definite patterns, I might almost say pictures, upon the broad glass screen. First one could make out the form of a man, life-sized and with pale-colored robes, moving in agile cinematograph fashion; then a woman or a child would advance across the screen to meet him; then the two would engage in various significant motions or gesticulations, to be joined perhaps by others; and in the swaying and blending of the lights, the weird mingling and intermingling of a myriad shades and colors, the background of shadows and the foreground of lithe and active figures, I realized that I was witnessing the representation of scenes from Atlantean life! What those scenes were I cannot recall. But I have the impression that they aimed to present life symbolically rather than literally; that beauty was their purpose rather than accuracy, and that a pleasing harmony of color, tone and proportion was deemed more important than a stringent realism. I fear that I was not sufficiently advanced in the native art to appreciate them, for they left little more effect upon my mind than an exhibition of mere technique with the violin or piano would leave upon one untrained in music. But, at the time, the spectacle certainly did have its influence. Although vaguely aware that the seats about me were being silently occupied, I could scarcely give a thought to my surroundings; and under the enchantment of the shifting and pictorial lights, I felt as if Aelios and I were alone together; and I pressed close to her, until not a fraction of an inch divided us and it seemed that we breathed not as two persons but as one. Very cautiously, as though it were a clandestine and forbidden act, I reached out my hand till it touched hers and the palm closed softly over her fingers. She did not return the pressure and yet did not withdraw her hand, nor even seem to notice what I was doing; and, in my confusion, I scarcely knew whether to feel encouraged or repulsed. Then, by that wavering and uncertain light, I caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were bright and shining--and did they merely reflect her joy at the colored display? Not a word was spoken between us, nor was I anxious that a word be spoken; I had sudden visions of a tomorrow fairer than I would once have dared to hope for. CHAPTER XX Farm and Factory