The many-coloured rays darted across the white waters and sought the face of the irised Veil.

As they touched, it sparkled, flamed, wavered, and shook with fountains of prismatic colour.
The light increased--and in its intensity the silver air darkened.
Faded into shadow that white mosaic of flower-crowned faces set in the amphitheatre of jet, and vast shadows dropped upon the high-flung tiers and shrouded them.

But on the skirts of the rays the fretted stalls in which we sat with the fair-haired ones blazed out, iridescent, like jewels.
I was sensible of an acceleration of every pulse; a wild stimulation of every nerve.

I felt myself being lifted above the world--close to the threshold of the high gods--soon their essence and their power would stream out into me! I glanced at Larry.

His eyes were--wild--with life! I looked at Olaf--and in his face was none of this--only hate, and hate, and hate.
The peacock waves streamed out over the waters, cleaving the seeming darkness, a rainbow path of glory.