There was in all this, however, no solution to the sound of dancing; and
now I was aware that the influence on my mind had ceased. I did not
go in that evening, for I was weary and faint, but I hoarded up the
expectation of entering, as of a great coming joy.
Next night I walked, as on the preceding, through the hall. My mind was
filled with pictures and songs, and therewith so much absorbed, that
I did not for some time think of looking within the curtain I had last
night lifted. When the thought of doing so occurred to me first, I
happened to be within a few yards of it. I became conscious, at the same
moment, that the sound of dancing had been for some time in my ears. I
approached the curtain quickly, and, lifting it, entered the black hall.
Everything was still as death. I should have concluded that the
sound must have proceeded from some other more distant quarter,
which conclusion its faintness would, in ordinary circumstances, have
necessitated from the first; but there was a something about the statues
that caused me still to remain in doubt. As I said, each stood perfectly
still upon its black pedestal: but there was about every one a certain
air, not of motion, but as if it had just ceased from movement; as if
the rest were not altogether of the marbly stillness of thousands of
years.
It was as if the peculiar atmosphere of each had yet a kind
of invisible tremulousness; as if its agitated wavelets had not
yet subsided into a perfect calm. I had the suspicion that they had
anticipated my appearance, and had sprung, each, from the living joy of
the dance, to the death-silence and blackness of its isolated pedestal,
just before I entered. I walked across the central hall to the curtain
opposite the one I had lifted, and, entering there, found all the
appearances similar; only that the statues were different, and
differently grouped. Neither did they produce on my mind that
impression--of motion just expired, which I had experienced from the
others. I found that behind every one of the crimson curtains was a
similar hall, similarly lighted, and similarly occupied.
The next night, I did not allow my thoughts to be absorbed as before
with inward images, but crept stealthily along to the furthest curtain
in the hall, from behind which, likewise, I had formerly seemed to hear
the sound of dancing. I drew aside its edge as suddenly as I could, and,
looking in, saw that the utmost stillness pervaded the vast place. I
walked in, and passed through it to the other end.