It would seem, then, that I must be in a river
(in fact, it was a little bay or creek, on either side of which these
trees appeared).
Noting these and the creeping plants with beautiful flowers, such as I
had never seen, that climbed up them, and the sweet scents that floated
on the air, and the clear light, now I grew sure that I was dead and had
reached Paradise. Only then how came it that I still lay on the ship,
for never had I heard that such things also went to Paradise? Nay,
I must dream; it was nothing but a dream that I wished were true,
remembering as I did the terrors of that gale-tossed sea. Or, if I did
not dream, then I was in some new world.
While I mused thus I heard a sound of soft footsteps and presently saw
a figure bending over me. It was Kari, very thin and hollow-eyed, much,
indeed, as he had been when I found him on the quay in London, but still
Kari without doubt. He looked at me in his grave fashion, then said
softly:
"Master awake?"
"Yes, Kari," I said, "but tell me, where am I?"
He did not answer at once but went away and returned presently with
a bowl from which he bade me drink, holding it to my lips.
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