But lo! what is that?
Does it not seem to me as though I were listening to gentle sounds of music, and as though a clear stream of light had flitted before me? I rub my eyes, and try to get up. In a few moments I succeed.
I see that I am standing in an arched corridor; there is a door, only half shut, in front of me, and a stream of light comes in through the opening. I really hear music. I advance staggering toward the door. Through the opening I look into a brightly illuminated hall. But my eyes are so dim that I cannot distinguish anything in the hall. But my consciousness is returning. I try to advance, but I stagger again, and have to lean against the wall. In that position I remained about five minutes; then I opened the door a little more, and glanced into the hall.
I now first became fully satisfied that I was standing at the secret door so well known to me, and that the music I heard was coming from the hall, where I saw a considerable number of guests. But how it could have happened that I had wandered for about three hours, as it seemed to me, in the simplest labyrinth of four corridors forming a regular parallelogram; that I had been unable to find the door which was so near,—this I could not explain. At that time, however, I did not trouble myself about solving the enigma; my unusual excitement had not yet ceased, and I was curious, too, to learn who was in the hall, and what would happen next. Putting off my overcoat, and throwing away my hat, I slipped through the door, and remained standing on the sill, leaning against the door-posts.
The large, high hall was splendidly decorated, and illuminated with numberless lights, so that a person could find a grain of poppy-seed on the floor. The first look convinced me that there
