Yes, far in the distance was an oasis ... an oasis with limpid water,

which reflected the iron trees! ... Tush, it was the scene of the

mirage ... I recognized it at once ... the worst of the three! ... No

one had been able to fight against it ... no one... I did my utmost to

keep my head AND NOT TO HOPE FOR WATER, because I knew that, if a man

hoped for water, the water that reflected the iron tree, and if, after

hoping for water, he struck against the mirror, then there was only one

thing for him to do: to hang himself on the iron tree!

So I cried to M. de Chagny: "It's the mirage! ... It's the mirage! ... Don't believe in the water!

... It's another trick of the mirrors! ..."

Then he flatly told me to shut up, with my tricks of the mirrors, my

springs, my revolving doors and my palaces of illusions! He angrily

declared that I must be either blind or mad to imagine that all that

water flowing over there, among those splendid, numberless trees, was

not real water! ... And the desert was real! ... And so was the

forest! ... And it was no use trying to take him in ... he was an old,

experienced traveler ... he had been all over the place!

And he dragged himself along, saying: "Water! Water!"

And his mouth was open, as though he were drinking.

And my mouth was open too, as though I were drinking.

For we not only saw the water, but WE HEARD IT! ... We heard it flow,

we heard it ripple! ... Do you understand that word "ripple?" ... IT IS

A SOUND WHICH YOU HEAR WITH YOUR TONGUE! ... You put your tongue out

of your mouth to listen to it better!

Lastly--and this was the most pitiless torture of all--we heard the

rain and it was not raining! This was an infernal invention... Oh, I

knew well enough how Erik obtained it! He filled with little stones a

very long and narrow box, broken up inside with wooden and metal

projections. The stones, in falling, struck against these projections

and rebounded from one to another; and the result was a series of

pattering sounds that exactly imitated a rainstorm.

Ah, you should have seen us putting out our tongues and dragging

ourselves toward the rippling river-bank! Our eyes and ears were full

of water, but our tongues were hard and dry as horn!

When we reached the mirror, M. de Chagny licked it ... and I also

licked the glass.

It was burning hot!

Then we rolled on the floor with a hoarse cry of despair. M. de Chagny

put the one pistol that was still loaded to his temple; and I stared at

the Punjab lasso at the foot of the iron tree. I knew why the iron

tree had returned, in this third change of scene! ... The iron tree

was waiting for me! ...




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