There was
a trace of moisture in them still, for a low flame sprang up immediately
at the bottom of the dish, and a thick vapour filled the room. It had a
singular and pungent odour that Margaret did not know. It was difficult
to breathe, and she coughed. She wanted to beg Oliver to stop, but could
not. He took the bowl in his hands and brought it to her.
'Look,' he commanded.
She bent forward, and at the bottom saw a blue fire, of a peculiar
solidity, as though it consisted of molten metal. It was not still, but
writhed strangely, like serpents of fire tortured by their own unearthly
ardour.
'Breathe very deeply.'
She did as he told her. A sudden trembling came over her, and darkness
fell across her eyes. She tried to cry out, but could utter no sound. Her
brain reeled. It seemed to her that Haddo bade her cover her face. She
gasped for breath, and it was as if the earth spun under her feet. She
appeared to travel at an immeasurable speed. She made a slight movement,
and Haddo told her not to look round. An immense terror seized her.
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