第61部分(第6/7 頁)

the　Milky　Way　drawn　near。

Overlooking　all　these　wonders；　at　the　foot　of　the　cliff；　beyond　the　borders　of　the　lake　but　at　a　lower　level；　in　this　fantastic　dream　of　mine　stands　a　strange　and　silent　house　built　for　me　by　hands　that　I　have　known。　I　see　its　central　hall；　where　all　those　I　loved　or　love　in　life　steal　in　and　out。　I　see　a　certain　chamber；　low　and　large；　which　overlooks　the　dreaming　landscape；　and；　more　nearly；　the　walks　of　garden　trees　hung　with　bells　of　white　and　purple　blossom；　with　unknown；　golden　fruits　and　creeping　strands　of　vine。　Standing　in　the　recessed　doorway　of　this　chamber；　I　see　in　its　far　corner；　seated　at　a　desk　above　a　covered　terrace；　myself；　younger　than　I　am　now；　wearing　some　sort　of　white　garments　and　bending　over　the　desk　at　work；　with　papers　spread　before　me。

At　the　sight　a　kind　of　terror　seizes　me　lest　this　fair　place　should　be　but　a　scented　purgatory　where；　in　payment　for　my　sins；　I　am　doomed　to　write　fiction　for　ever　and　a　day！

“At　what　do　I　work？”　I　ask；　alarmed；　of　the　guide　who；　shining　steadily；　stands　at　my　side　and　shows　me　all。

“You　write　the　history　of　a　world”　（or　was　it　“of　the　world”？　—　I　am　not　sure）；　is　the　answer；　and　in　my　dream　I　breathe　again。

For　truly　it　would　be　a　horrible　fate　to　be　doomed　from　aeon　to　countless　aeons　to　the　position　of　romance。

Of　course　what　I　have　set　down　is　but　a　fancy　such　as　might　e　to　an　imaginative　child。　Still；　that　landscape；　which　I　know　as　well　as；　if　not　better　than；　any　on　the　earth；　has　charms　and　glories　of　its　own。　Therefore　I　have　wasted　half　an　hour　of　my　time　and　some　few　minutes　of　my　reader’s　in　attempting　very　briefly　to　describe　that　which　in　truth　no　words　can　carry。

I　confess　that　in　any　other　life　I　should　prefer　some　chang