That sacred word was his last. He died.
In the Kingdom of the Present, that once had been as a smiling garden, everything was now dead. . . .
Then . . . . in the mist, which hung over the ridge of the mountains, something seemed to be creeping near, something with feet that could only move slowly. From many sides, over the hill-top, the strange creeping came nearer. . . . Gigantic, hairy feet of monstrous spiders were walking over it; they came nearer and nearer; they were spiders with big, swollen bodies and feet always in motion. . . .
They were the sacred spiders of Emeralda, Princess of the Past. Eagerly they ran to the dead garden of the Present. . . .
They surrounded the garden and threw out their filaments to the crystal roof of the palace. Then they wove over the Present, that lay dead, one single gigantic web. . . .
And whilst they wove, the dead Present went to dust.
