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‘Then I heard voices approaching me. Coming through the bushes
by the White Sphinx were the heads and shoulders of men
running. One of these emerged in a pathway leading straight to the
little lawn upon which I stood with my machine. He was a slight
creature-perhaps four feet high-clad in a purple tunic, girdled at
the waist with a leather belt. Sandals or buskins-I could not clearly
distinguish which-were on his feet; his legs were bare to the knees,
and his head was bare. Noticing that, I noticed for the first time
how warm the air was.
‘He struck me as being a very beautiful and graceful creature, but
indescribably frail. His flushed face reminded me of the more
beautiful kind of consumptive-that hectic beauty of which we used
to hear so much. At the sight of him I suddenly regained
confidence. I took my hands from the machine.