“We are going through them. . . .”
“I see nothing. . . . Below, land; around, clouds, as everywhere. But no lands of light. . . . And yet there, in the distance, very far away what is that, Chimera? I see, as it were, a purple desert on a sea of golden water, with winding borders of soft mother-of-pearl; in the desert are oases like pale emerald, palms with silvery waving tops, azure bananas; and over the purple desert trills ether of light crimson, with streaks of topaz. . . . Chimera, Chimera, what is that country? What is that beautiful country? The golden sea with its foam forms a pearly fringe along the shore; the palms wave their tops to a rhythm of aerial music, and the bananas, blue, pink, glow in the ether till all is light there. . . .! Chimera, is that the rainbow?”
“No. . . .”
“Chimera, is that the land of happiness? Is that the kingdom of happiness? Chimera, are you king there?”
“Yes, that is my country. And I am king there.”
“Are we going thither?”
“Yes.”
