Читать книгу The Perfect World. A romance of strange people and strange places онлайн

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It was a weirdly picturesque scene. Purple light shone from purple trees that were planted at regular intervals everywhere. The light seemed to evolve from nothing, as it showed under the large purple leaves that acted as shades—yet Alan believed it was partly natural, and partly controlled by the power of the purple people he had seen.

A wide passage went to the right, and in front of him Alan saw a large chamber, bounded on one side by the lake. Branching off in all directions were other passages which seemed to open out into other chambers and roadways, in fact the whole place seemed like a veritable warren.

Suddenly an awful crash sounded, followed by the beating of drums and the clashing of cymbals and away in the distance he saw a procession of purple folk passing rapidly, all in the same direction. Cloaks of the same purple hue fell from their shoulders, and the women wore veils on their heads. He watched them with interest. The figures passed in quick succession, then they became less and less frequent, until only one or two stragglers came hurrying up. The sound of singing rose on the air, and Alan conjectured that it must be some religious service to which they all were bent. After the last one had disappeared Alan waited some minutes to see if any more would pass, but as no one else came he walked slowly in the direction from which the multitude had appeared.