realm of sleep.
After that extraordinary interview with Don Hypolito in the prison, Jack ceased to take any interest in earthly matters, and went for a space into shadow-land. He was not dead, but delirious. As a captive balloon is anchored to earth, so Jack’s soul had flown into the realms of dream, yet was held to his body by a small amount of life.
Yet curiously enough he retained a dull impression of earthly events. All things actually done to his body coloured his dreams and decided his visions. As the fancies of the sleepers are determined by external actions, so as through a veil the wounded man faintly perceived the every-day life going on around his inert body. Through the chain extending from body to soul which held the latter captive to earth passed the thrills hinting at corporeal-existence, and these dominating his spirituality whirled him hither and thither, according as they happened. We in health feel in slumber the power of the unseen world guiding our every action; this man, in sickness dwelt, spiritually speaking, in the world of shadows, whereof we have no knowledge, and therefrom felt rather than saw the happening of earthly events which coloured his ghostly being.
Oh those dreams, those visions apocalyptical, what agonies, what ecstacies, what feelings did they not beget? Now of earth, now of heaven, frequently of hell. Years afterwards, Jack remembering portions of these fantasies, would shudder and turn pale at the mere thought of having endured them. Wild as the visions of Ezekiel, gorgeous as the Arabian Nights, hideous as De Quincey’s dreamings, delicate and spiritual as the songs of Aeriel, those chimeras, at once terrible and fascinating, racked his spiritual being with the pangs of pleasure and pain. As thus:—
… Darkness! the infinite darkness of chaos, before the light-creating word was spoken by the Deity. Ages and ages and ages of gloom, of horror, of thick opacity. No light, no glimmer, no glow to break this all-pervading blackness. No earth beneath, no sky above, nothing but clinging gloom on all sides. So chill, so freezing—surely hell were not more terrible….
Ha! a burst of light penetrating the gloom. The word is spoken, the light is here…. Day divides itself from night … from the womb of the darkness springs the faint radiance of dawn. Then the sun, the glorious sun, rises like a god to conquer the foul fiends of shadow. See how his arrows fly, golden and swift, from his never-empty bow … east, west, north, south … and the glory of light spreads over all creation…. I am borne along on the wings of a mighty wind blown from the gates of the dawn … faster and faster and faster…. I swim through the crystalline air…. I poise myself like a bird in the opaline glories of a whirling sphere…. In the heart of the rainbow … still no earth … but air and the coruscation of infinite colours—red and yellow and green and blue…. They swirl in circles, they shoot on all sides from a spot of brilliance as the spokes of a wheel…. They range themselves in lines of ever-changing hues … and now I am blown resistlessly onward by that mighty wind….
The sea! gloom once more! I can see nothing but darkness, yet penetrated by faint gleams of light…. The wash of many waves break on my ears…. Overhead a sky veiled in clouds, beneath the black breast of ocean, heaving restlessly in white lines of foam…. I smell the salt brine of the ocean…. The keen wind lashes my face as with a whip…. Ho! yeo, ho!… the sailors are at work…. Hark! the throb of a heart. Beat! beat! beat! beat! It is the beating of the propeller blades now striking the water … I am in the engine-room … the pistons slide silently in and out of the cylinders…. Now the giant cranks rise and fall with monotonous motion … and yon gleaming steel shaft, revolving rapidly, turns the screw in the dark waters without … the hiss of escaping steam … the whirling of wheels … the sudden burst of red flame from the furnace … I am carried across the ocean … whither?
Earth! at last the land…. Mother of all things, I salute thee … this bleak beach on which dash the waves … the soft odour of the wind sways the trees on yonder promontory…. I hear the measured dip of oars … the grating of the boat’s keel on the stones…. Ha! I am in the hands of demons … their eyes glare as they lift me from boat to litter…. The curtains are dropped, and I feel the swing and sway of the litter being carried up steep heights….
This is a primeval forest … green as the sea … scarcely so restless … the warm wind stirs the giant branches … what crowded hues … and lo! the flash of brilliant flowers … the odour of spices…. Brilliant birds flit from branch to branch like flying gems…. I hear the singing of choirs invisible … the birds!… Yes, birds only…. Garlands of flowers trail from the trees … beneath their shadow the grass is crowded with blossoms … wherever I step a flower springs to being … those pools of still water blue as turquoise … the Indian conjurer!… I see him hiding amid the frondage … look!… the saurian!… Oh, the frightful monster…. Preadamite!… begotten in chaos slime…. Trees! trees! trees without end…. The earth is one vast forest, and I alone wander therein….
Snow!… a vast expanse of snow … for miles and leagues…. No! it is salt lying in thin flakes on the brown earth … the surface glitters in the moonlight as if it were ice…. Far and wide whirl thin white pillars of salt in the grip of the wind…. Lot’s wife! Ha! Ha! Nay, no woman do I see, but salt on all hands … like snow … and moon freezing crystals….
The forest again … more trees … birds … odours…. Hark! a song … ‘tis the dancing-girls who sing … I heard them call … I see them shake their anklets of gold … the cymbals crash … the trinkets shine. Can you not hear the roll of the serpent-skin drums?…
Oh, this interminable avenue of stone gods … on either side the faces of solemn sphinxes…. I am in Egypt … I go up to offer sacrifice to the god Thoth … lines of sphinxes … statues of kings with their hands placed on their knees … then this great flight of steps…. Up, and up and up…. Are we going to heaven?… I will bow down to my God…. Horror! Huitzilopochtli…. This is not my God…. I sacrifice to Thoth…. To Isis…. Ah, you would make of me the victim…. Oh, foul priest, knife in hand … the stone of the sacrifice … you raise the obsidian knife … Again the chant of the priests … the light clash of the dancing-girls’ anklets … drums … cymbals and death….
I am in the tomb … yes; fold my hands on my breast, for I have done with life … straight and white I lie, with cerements swathing my form … this is a king’s tomb … these walls are painted with many colours … yonder are gods and kings and heroes walking in long files … here they sacrifice to their god … there they lead captive trains of prisoners…. A splendid tomb, but the roof crushes me down … oh, Heaven! can those pillars, those caryatides support the cyclopean architecture?… It will fall and crush me, like Samson…. Yes, I thirst! I am dead, but I thirst…. Dives in hell … give me….
… What! a woman’s face?… I have seen that face before … those dark eyes, that smiling mouth … it is thou! Dolores! Oh, my heart’s best love, I again find you,—in the tomb?… we have done with life … then we were divided; but Death, more merciful, has joined us again…. Place your cool white hand on my brow … it burns … it burns…. No, no! do not leave me … oh, I see you fade in the darkness like a vision … and this phantom which rises between us?… Oh, Xuarez! liar! thief! murderer!… thus do I slay thee!… So weak; so weary; I know nothing … where am I?… what am I?… whither have my visions fled?… I am dead! not in hell, nor heaven … but where? I know not … I am dead … you, Dolores … you, Xuarez … you all, dreams…. I lie here dead and still … in my ear the chant of a slave…. Could I only turn my head … ah! the slave rises … he bends over me…. Cocom!…
“Yes, Señor, it is Cocom,” said a well-known voice, as a gentle hand skilfully adjusted the bandages.
“Cocom!” repeated Jack, in a weak voice. “Am I dead? Do I dream? Am I dead?”
“No, Señor Juan. You were nearly dead, and
