"Well, now, have I not been very good?" she asked suddenly of Rivardi--"Did I not say you should fly with me to the East, and are you not here? I have not come alone--though that was my wish,--I have even brought Gaspard who had no great taste for the trip!"
Gaspard moved uneasily.
"That is true, Madama,"--he said--"The art of flying is still in its infancy, and though in my profession as an engineer I have studied and worked out many problems, I dare not say I have fathomed all the mysteries of the air or the influences of atmosphere. I am glad that we have made this voyage safely so far--but I shall be still more glad when we return to Sicily!"
Morgana laughed.
"We can do that to-morrow, I dare say!" she said; "If there is nothing to see in the whole expanse of the desert but dark emptiness"-"But--what do you expect to see, Madama?" enquired Gaspard, with lively curiosity.
She laughed again as she met Rivardi's keen glance.
"Why, ruins of temples--columns--colossi--a new Sphinx-all sorts of things!" she replied--"But at night, of course, we can see nothing--and we must move onward slowly--I cannot rest swaying like this in mid-air." She put aside the dinner things, and served them with hot coffee from one of the convenient flasks that hold fluids hot or cold for an interminable time, and when they had finished this, they went back to their separate posts. The great ship began to move--and she was relieved to feel it sailing steadily, though at almost a snail's pace "on the bosom of the air." The oppressive nervousness which affected her had not diminished; she could not account for it to herself,--and to rally her forces she went to the window, so-called, of her luxurious cabin. This was a wide aperture filled in with a transparent, crystal-clear material, which looked like glass, but which was wholly unbreakable, and through this she gazed, awe-smitten, at the magnificence of the starry sky. The millions upon millions of worlds which keep the mystery of their being veiled from humanity flashed upon her eyes and moved her mind to a profound sadness.
"What is the use of it all!" she thought--"If one could only find the purpose of this amazing creation! We learn a very little, only to see how much more there is to know! We live our lives, all hoping, searching, praying--and never an answer comes for all our prayers! From the very beginning--not a word from the mysterious Poet who has written the Poem! We are to breed and die--and there an end!--it seems strange and cruel, because so purposeless! Or is it our fault? Do we fail to discover the things we ought to know?"