As he did
so the air again darkened and the figures of the magician and his
assistants were discernible only as flitting shades in the obscurity.
Suddenly a soft pure light overflowed the room, the perfume of flowers
filled the air, and music seemed to steal out of the very walls.
Heiligenstern whispered to the governor and between them they lifted the
little prince from his chair and laid him gently on the bed. The
magician then leaned over the boy with a slow weaving motion of the
hands.
"If your Highness will be pleased to sleep," he said, "I promise your
Highness the most beautiful dreams."
The boy smiled back at him and he continued to bend above the bed with
flitting hands. Suddenly the little prince began to laugh.
"What does your Highness feel?" the magician asked.
"A prickling...such a soft warm prickling...as if my blood were sunshine
with motes dancing in it...or as if that sparkling wine of France were
running all over my body."
"It is an agreeable sensation, your Highness?"
The boy nodded.
"It is well with your Highness?"
"Very well."
Heiligenstern began a loud rhythmic chant, and gradually the air
darkened, but with the mild dimness of a summer twilight, through which
sparks could be seen flickering like fire-flies about the reclining
prince. The hush grew deeper; but in the stillness Odo became aware of
some unseen influence that seemed to envelope him in waves of exquisite
sensation. It was as though the vast silence of the night had poured
into the room and, like a dark tepid sea, was lapping about his body and
rising to his lips.
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