In the velvet pall of blackness before alluded to, its small, wan ray
pierced but a few inches, and only made the darkness visible. But Sir
Norman groped his way to the wall, which he found to be all over green
and noisome slime, and broken out into a cold, clammy perspiration, as
though it were at its last gasp. By the aid of his friendly light, for
which he was really much obliged--a fact which, had his little friend
known, he would not have left it--he managed to make the circuit of his
prison, which he found rather spacious, and by no means uninhabited; for
the walls and floor were covered with fat, black beetles, whole
families of which interesting specimens of the insect-world he crunched
remorselessly under foot, and massacred at every step; and great,
depraved-looking rats, with flashing eyes and sinister-teeth, who made
frantic dives and rushes at him, and bit at his jack-boots with fierce,
fury. These small quadrupeds reminded him forcibly of the dwarf,
especially in the region of the eyes and the general expression of
countenance; and he began to reflect that if the dwarf's soul (supposing
him to possess such an article as that, which seemed open to debate)
passed after death into the body of any other animal, it would certainly
be into that of a rat.
He had just come to this conclusion, and was applying the flame of the
candle to the nose of an inquisitive beetle, when it struck him he
heard voices in altercation outside his door. One, clear, ringing, and
imperious, yet withal feminine, was certainly not heard for the first
time; and the subdued and respectful voices that answered, were those of
his guards.
After a moment, he heard the sound of the withdrawing bolts, and his
heart beat fast. Surely, his half-hour had not already expired; and
if it had, would she be the person to conduct him to death? The door
opened; a puff of wind extinguished his candle, but not until he had
caught the glimmer of jewels, the shining of gold, and the flutter of
long, black hair; and then some one came in. The door was closed; the
bolts shot back!--and he was alone with Miranda, the queen.
There was no trouble about recognising her, for she carried in her hand
a small lamp, which she held up between them, that its rays might fall
directly on both faces. Each was rather white, perhaps, and one
heart was going faster than it had ever gone before, and that one was
decidedly not the queen's. She was dressed exactly as he had seen her,
in purple and ermine, in jewels and gold; and strangely out of place she
looked there, in her splendid dress and splendid beauty, among the black
beetles and rats. Her face might have been a dead, blank wall, or cut
out of cold, white stone, for all it expressed; and as she lightly held
up her rich robes in one hand, and in the other bore the light, the
dark, shining eyes were fixed on his face, and were as barren of
interest, eagerness, compassion, tenderness, or any other feeling, as
the shining, black glass ones of a wax doll. So they stood looking at
each other for some ten seconds or so, and then, still looking full at
him, Miranda spoke, and her voice was as clear and emotionless as her
eyes, "Well, Sir Norman Kingsley, I have come to see you before you die."