I have but to think the journey, and it is accomplished." I held out my hand and said, "The light lies upon it; think it into a glass of wine, Satan." He did it.

I drank the wine.
"Break the glass," he said.
I broke it.
"There--you see it is real.

The villagers thought the brass balls were magic stuff and as perishable as smoke.

They were afraid to touch them.
You are a curious lot--your race.

But come along; I have business.