These taken together produced a long period of semi-unconsciousness, followed by another period of fever and delirium.

All that I can recall of those weeks while we remained the guests of the Guardian of the Gate, may be summed up in one word--dreams, that is until at last I recovered my senses.
The dreams themselves are forgotten, which is perhaps as well, since they were very confused, and for the most part awful; a hotch-potch of nightmares, reflected without doubt from vivid memories of our recent and fearsome sufferings.

At times I would wake up from them a little, I suppose when food was administered to me, and receive impressions of whatever was passing in the place.

Thus I can recollect that yellow-faced old Guardian standing over me like a ghost in the moonlight, stroking his long beard, his eyes fixed upon my face, as though he would search out the secrets of my soul.
"They are the men," he muttered to himself, "without doubt they are the men," then walked to the window and looked up long and earnestly, like one who studies the stars.
After this I remember a disturbance in the room, and dominating it, as it were, the rich sound of a woman's voice and the rustle of a woman's silks sweeping the stone floor.

I opened my eyes and saw that it was she who had helped to rescue us, who _had_ rescued us in fact, a tall and noble-looking lady with a beauteous, weary face and liquid eyes which seemed to burn.