THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
came up over the Sphinx's shoulder. Here a great sigh breathed upon them out of that mouth of darkness. A sudden draft, a sharp drawn line where all that was known ended. They stood on the edge of the window of the Sphinx, and the short locks on his forehead were stirred by a wind from nowhere.
The rock closed in on three sides of them. It was strange to be thus pressed upon by walls after miles of a wide open, but it was not grim as he had anticipated. It was like dipping into black velvet. The footing was firm and only a little slanted. He went forward easily, keeping one hand on the solid rock. The wind blew steadily in his face, and it was no caverned air, but dry, chilly and smelling of forests. At first he could see nothing. Blanche was present only as an echo and the flutter of a skirt; but presently he began to distinguish the outline of her body, moving on in front of him, against a faintly bright distance; suddenly above his right shoulder shone a star. He felt a thrill at his heart. His eyes were ready for the long-fancied unimaginable sight. To peer at the edge of the unknown, the high sensation of the expectant soul! He felt a lightening of the air above him. His companion stopped. She was no longer in front of him, but beside him. In front of him was a sheet of deep blue hazed with white.
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