He approached
the elaborate facade of the solemn portals, climbed the pairs of steps,
and paused at each of the many landings with a prayer for the success
of his mission, not for the repose of the royal soul, after the custom
of other visitors. With trembling hands he pushed the doors, rough
with inscriptions, and the great stone valves swung ponderously inward,
the bronze pins making no sound as they turned in the sockets.
Kenkenes entered and closed the portals behind him.
Instantly all sound of the outside world was cut off--the sound of the
wind, the chafing of the sands on the hills above, the movement and
cries of night-birds, beasts and insects. Absolute stillness and
original night surrounded him.
With all speed he lighted his lamp, but the flaring name illuminated
only a little space in the brooding, hovering blackness about him.
The atmosphere was stagnant and heavily burdened with old aromatic
scent, and the silence seemed to have accumulated in the years. Even
the soft whetting of his sandal, as he walked, made echoes that shouted
at him. The little blaze fizzed and sputtered noisily and each throb
of his heart sounded like a knock on the portal.
He did not pause. The darkness might cloud and tinge and swallow up
his light as turbid water absorbs the clear; the silence might resent
the violation.
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