The air was intensely cold;
I looked round--the wood had vanished behind me. I took a few strides
more--and around me reigned the silence of death; the ice whereon I
stood boundlessly extended itself, and on it rested a thick, heavy
fog. The sun stood blood-red on the edge of the horizon. The cold was
insupportable.
I knew not what had happened to me. The benumbing frost compelled me
to hasten my steps; I heard only the roar of distant waters; a step,
and I was on the icy margin of an ocean. Innumerable herds of seals
plunged rushing before me in the flood. I pursued this shore; I saw
naked rocks, land, birch and pine forests; I now advanced for a few
minutes right onward. It became stifling hot. I looked around--I
stood amongst beautifully cultivated rice-fields, and beneath
mulberry-trees. I seated myself in their shade; I looked at my watch;
I had left the market town only a quarter of an hour before. I fancied
that I dreamed; I bit my tongue to awake myself, but I was really
awake. I closed my eyes in order to collect my thoughts. I heard
before me singular accents pronounced through the nose. I looked up.
Two Chinese, unmistakable from their Asiatic physiognomy, if indeed
I would have given no credit to their costume, addressed me in their
speech with the accustomed salutations of their country. I arose and
stepped two paces backward; I saw them no more. The landscape
was totally changed--trees and forests instead of rice-fields.
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