THE GARRET OF THE RED TOWER I felt my temples, my ears, my neck tingling with cold.

I seemed to have fallen into a sea of ice.

I think I would have fallen and fainted but that at that moment my master sat down beside the Bishop, and I was left free to retire into a darksome corner, where I staggered against a beam, slimy with black sweat, and hung over it with my hand clasping my brow, trying to think what had happened.
I do not know how long I remained in this position, nor yet when I came to myself.

All was a dream to me, a nightmare of horrid whirlings and infinite oppressions.

The faces of the folk that watched, the garmentry of the Bishop and his priests, the red robes of the young Duke and his assessors, spun round me in a hideous phantasmagoria.
At last I was conscious that a trumpet had blown.