Those silver bells broke out of infinite space, so exquisite and perfect that no mortal words could have been fitted to them.

That was the music, I expect, that the morning stars made when they sang together.
Slowly, very slowly, it changed.

The glow passed from blue to purple, and then to an angry red.

Bit by bit the notes spun together till they had made a harmony--a fierce, restless harmony.

And I was conscious again of the skin-clad dancers beckoning out of their circle.
There was no mistake about the meaning now.