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And
they
fled
down
the
long
passage
that
opened
before
them
.
After
a
few
seconds
,
that
seemed
to
them
like
long
minutes
,
they
stopped
.
"
He
doesn
’
t
often
come
this
way
,
"
said
the
Persian
.
"
This
side
has
nothing
to
do
with
him
.
This
side
does
not
lead
to
the
lake
nor
to
the
house
on
the
lake
.
.
.
But
perhaps
he
knows
that
we
are
at
his
heels
.
.
.
although
I
promised
him
to
leave
him
alone
and
never
to
meddle
in
his
business
again
!
"
So
saying
,
he
turned
his
head
and
Raoul
also
turned
his
head
;
and
they
again
saw
the
head
of
fire
behind
their
two
heads
.
It
had
followed
them
.
And
it
must
have
run
also
,
and
perhaps
faster
than
they
,
for
it
seemed
to
be
nearer
to
them
.
At
the
same
time
,
they
began
to
perceive
a
certain
noise
of
which
they
could
not
guess
the
nature
.
They
simply
noticed
that
the
sound
seemed
to
move
and
to
approach
with
the
fiery
face
.
It
was
a
noise
as
though
thousands
of
nails
had
been
scraped
against
a
blackboard
,
the
perfectly
unendurable
noise
that
is
sometimes
made
by
a
little
stone
inside
the
chalk
that
grates
on
the
blackboard
.
They
continued
to
retreat
,
but
the
fiery
face
came
on
,
came
on
,
gaining
on
them
.
They
could
see
its
features
clearly
now
.
The
eyes
were
round
and
staring
,
the
nose
a
little
crooked
and
the
mouth
large
,
with
a
hanging
lower
lip
,
very
like
the
eyes
,
nose
and
lip
of
the
moon
,
when
the
moon
is
quite
red
,
bright
red
.
How
did
that
red
moon
manage
to
glide
through
the
darkness
,
at
a
man
’
s
height
,
with
nothing
to
support
it
,
at
least
apparently
?
And
how
did
it
go
so
fast
,
so
straight
ahead
,
with
such
staring
,
staring
eyes
?
And
what
was
that
scratching
,
scraping
,
grating
sound
which
it
brought
with
it
?
The
Persian
and
Raoul
could
retreat
no
farther
and
flattened
themselves
against
the
wall
,
not
knowing
what
was
going
to
happen
because
of
that
incomprehensible
head
of
fire
,
and
especially
now
,
because
of
the
more
intense
,
swarming
,
living
,
"
numerous
"
sound
,
for
the
sound
was
certainly
made
up
of
hundreds
of
little
sounds
that
moved
in
the
darkness
,
under
the
fiery
face
.
And
the
fiery
face
came
on
.
.
.
with
its
noise
.
.
.
came
level
with
them
!
.
.
.
And
the
two
companions
,
flat
against
their
wall
,
felt
their
hair
stand
on
end
with
horror
,
for
they
now
knew
what
the
thousand
noises
meant
.
They
came
in
a
troop
,
hustled
along
in
the
shadow
by
innumerable
little
hurried
waves
,
swifter
than
the
waves
that
rush
over
the
sands
at
high
tide
,
little
night
-
waves
foaming
under
the
moon
,
under
the
fiery
head
that
was
like
a
moon
.
And
the
little
waves
passed
between
their
legs
,
climbing
up
their
legs
,
irresistibly
,
and
Raoul
and
the
Persian
could
no
longer
restrain
their
cries
of
horror
,
dismay
and
pain
.
Nor
could
they
continue
to
hold
their
hands
at
the
level
of
their
eyes
:
their
hands
went
down
to
their
legs
to
push
back
the
waves
,
which
were
full
of
little
legs
and
nails
and
claws
and
teeth
.
