Up the great staircase, now wrapped in mysterious gloom, we passed in
silence with bitter-sweet memories of that day of days when we had first
trodden its steps together: through the Central Saloon, the Mediaeval
Room and the Asiatic Saloon, and so into the long range of the
Ethnographical Galleries.
It was a weird journey. The swaying lantern shot its beams abroad into
the darkness of the great, dim galleries, casting instantaneous flashes
on the objects in the cases, so that they leaped into being and vanished
in the twinkling of an eye. Hideous idols with round, staring eyes
started forth from the darkness, glared at us for an instant and were
gone. Grotesque masks, suddenly revealed by the shimmering light, took
on the semblance of demon faces that seemed to mow and gibber at us as
we passed. As for the life-sized models--realistic enough by
daylight--their aspect was positively alarming; for the moving light and
shadow endowed them with life and movement, so that they seemed to watch
us furtively, to lie in wait and to hold themselves in readiness to
steal out and follow us.
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