They no longer belonged to the man, but had taken separate
life: and merely the absolute symmetry of their loops and circles, and
the _click-click-click_ on boards, regular as ever, told of the art that
informed them.
"Faster!"
They crossed and re-crossed now like small flashes of lightning, or as
if the boards were flints giving out a score of sparks at every touch of
the man's heel.
"Faster!"
They seemed suddenly to catch the light out of every sconce, and knead
it into a ball of fire, that spun and yet was motionless, in the very
middle of the floor, while all the rest of the room grew suddenly
dimmed.
Zeb with a gasp drew his eyes away for a second and glanced around.
Fiddlers and guests seemed ghostly after the fierce light he had been
gazing on. He looked along the pale faces to the place where Ruby
stood. She, too, glanced up, and their eyes met.
What he saw fetched a sob from his throat. Then something on the floor
caught his attention: something bright, close by his feet.
Between his out-spread legs, as it seemed, a thin streak of silver was
creeping along the flooring. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again.
He was straddling across a stream of molten metal.
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