PHILOSOPHIC ANTS 195 



versal music was to him of course merely a hideous 

 babel of sound. 



At last, as the workings of his body approached 

 the rapidity of light's own oscillations, he entered 

 on a new phase — surrounded on every side by an 

 ocean of waves which lapped softly against his body 

 — waves, waves, and still more waves. . . . 



He was in that region not unlike that from which 

 life has escaped when it ceased to be infinitely little, 

 a region in which none of the events that make up 

 our ordinary life, none of the bodies that are our 

 normal environment, have existence any more — all 

 reduced to a chaos of billows ceaselessly and mean- 

 inglessly buffeting his being. 



"Mi ritrovai in una selva oscura." 



Life is a wood, dark and trackless enough to be 

 sure; but Mercaptan could not even see that it was a 

 wood — for the trees. 



Yet it was soothing: the very meaninglessness of 

 the wave-rocking released one of responsibility, and 

 it was delicious to float upon this strange etheric sea. 



Then his scientific mind reasserted itself. He real- 

 ized that he had magnified his rate of life and was 

 consuming his precious days at an appalling speed. 

 The lever was thrown into reverse, and he passed 

 gradually back to what he had been accustomed to 

 think of as reality. 



Back to it; and then beyond it, slowing his vital 

 rhythm. This time he was able by an ingenious 

 arrangement to eliminate much of the disturbing 



