Determined to remain calm, she walked slowly around the room searching for the door or some other opening. There was no door, only high, flat walls. And all the time the Buddha smiled and the bronze apes half hidden by smoke appeared to her.

CHAPTER VI Temple Bells and Terror

CHAPTER VI

Temple Bells and Terror

In the meantime Isabelle found herself in a situation that in some ways seemed more precarious than that of her companion. Having found her way from the temple room through a narrow door, she had wandered all undisturbed down a hallway past several open doors. In one room she saw long tables with benches ranged on either side. Here, she concluded, pilgrims from distant parts were fed when they visited the shrine of Buddha. In another room their food was prepared, and in still another, on hard beds, they slept.

Realizing that it was growing late, she tiptoed back down the hall into the main temple room. She was about to join her companion, when all of a sudden she caught a gleam of light from a small room at the right.

As she looked within, she saw that a weird blue light shone upon a Buddha who sat bent over as if in silent meditation. The workmanship on this Buddha seemed quite wonderful. The face and hands were exquisitely carved.

She took three steps inside the room, studied the bowed figure for a moment, then prepared to go.

Turning half about, she uttered a low cry. The door had vanished. She faced a blank wall. This room, she discovered for the first time, was made of eight panels, each forming the side of a hexagon. Which panel was the door? She had no way of knowing, and if she knew, it would not help, for there was neither latch nor knob.

Here there was no stifling incense, only a pale, eerie light. But there was something more terrible—ABSOLUTE SILENCE!

Standing there breathing quite naturally she could hear each breath. She fancied she heard her quickening heart-beats. She had supposed that she had known absolute silence before. She now knew that she never had. The silence of the sea is broken by the rush of waters, the whisper of the wind. The silence of a vast forest is broken by the flutter of birds’ wings, the low notes of a bird’s song. Even in a vault there comes the low roar of street traffic far away. Here was neither murmur, whisper, song, nor low roar. Nothing. 

 Prev. P 30/149 next