CHAPTER V

* * * * * When we entered, the place seemed to me almost as high-pitched as a church, bare, austere, but beautiful, for from the roof hung curtains of some thin yellow stuff controlling the light and dividing the great length into what I felt to be antechapels leading up to some inner shrine—these themselves peopled with dreams made visible, but yet a highway to the supreme expression of some one perception . . . something that would be neither marble nor alabaster nor any medium, but ne…