Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (48 page)

"Yet
every
now
and
then
one
would
come
straight
towards
me, setting
loose
a
quivering
horror
that
made
me
quick
to
elude
him.
At one
time
the
flames
died
down
somewhat,
and
I
feared
the
foul
creatures
would
presently
be
able
to
see
me.
I
was
even
thinking
of
beginning
the
fight
by
killing
some
of
them
before
this
should
happen;
but the
fire
burst
out
again
brightly,
and
I
stayed
my
hand.
I
walked
about the
hill
among
them
and
avoided
them,
looking
for
some
trace
of Weena.
But
Weena
was
gone.

"At
last
I
sat
down
on
the
summit
of
the
hillock,
and
watched
this strange
incredible
company
of
blind
things
groping
to
and
fro,
and making
uncanny
noises
to
each
other,
as
the
glare
of
the
fire
beat on
them.
The
coiling
uprush
of
smoke
streamed
across
the
sky,
and through
the
rare
tatters
of
that
red
canopy,
remote
as
though
they belonged
to
another
universe,
shone
the
little
stars.
Two
or
three Morlocks
came
blundering
into
me,
and
I
drove
them
off
with
blows of
my
fists,
trembling
as
I
did
so.

"For
the
most
part
of
that
night
I
was
persuaded
it
was
a
nightmare.
I
bit
myself
and
screamed
in
a
passionate
desire
to
awake.
I beat
the
ground
with
my
hands,
and
got
up
and
sat
down
again,
and wandered
here
and
there,
and
again
sat
down.
Then
I
would
fall
to rubbing
my
eyes
and
calling
upon
God
to
let
me
awake.
Thrice
I
saw Morlocks
put
their
heads
down
in
a
kind
of
agony
and
rush
into
the flames.
But,
at
last,
above
the
subsiding
red
of
the
fire,
above
the streaming
masses
of
black
smoke
and
the
whitening
and
blackening tree
stumps,
and
the
diminishing
numbers
of
these
dim
creatures, came
the
white
light
of
the
day.

"I
searched
again
for
traces
of
Weena,
but
there
were
none.
It was
plain
that
they
had
left
her
poor
little
body
in
the
forest.
I
cannot
describe
how
it
relieved
me
to
think
that
it
had
escaped
the
awful fate
to
which
it
seemed
destined.
As
I
thought
of
that,
I
was
almost moved
to
begin
a
massacre
of
the
helpless
abominations
about
me, but
I
contained
myself.
The
hillock,
as
I
have
said,
was
a
kind
of island
in
the
forest.
From
its
summit
I
could
now
make
out
through a
haze
of
smoke
the
Palace
of
Green
Porcelain,
and
from
that
I
could get
my
bearings
for
the
White
Sphinx.
And
so,
leaving
the
remnant of
these
damned
souls
still
going
hither
and
thither
and
moaning,
as
the
day
grew
clearer,
I
tied
some
grass
about
my
feet
and
limped on
across
smoking
ashes
and
among
black
stems,
that
still
pulsated internally
with
fire,
towards
the
hiding
place
of
the
Time
Machine.