was flying straight towards me, and it was really not walking but flying. At last I saw its outlines; I could distinguish its figure; I could see its legs—I saw how they stretched out one after the other . . . and immediately after I fell rapidly from joy into despair. Yes: this was no mirage—I saw it too clearly—but it was also no man, nor was it a wild beast. On the whole earth there was no creature made of flesh and blood, that resembled this enchanted, fantastic apparition, approaching towards me as if it were condensing, forming, or, as our modern spiritualists say—materializing out of the playful tints of the frozen air. Either my sight and my imagination were deceiving me, or could it be a spirit? What spirit? Who are you?
Can it be Father Kiriak, hastening to meet me from the Kingdom of the dead? . . . But perhaps we were both already there . . . is it possible I have already finished crossing the bar. . . . How wonderful! How curious this spirit is, it is my co-inhabitant in this new life. I will describe him to you as well as I can: a gigantic winged figure floated towards me, clad from head to heels in a chiton of silver brocade, which sparkled all over; on its head it had a head-dress that seemed to be seven feet high and glittered as if it were covered all over with diamonds, or, more precisely, as if it were a whole diamond mitre. . . . It was like a
