The other chambers gave still deeper utterance to days remote, for it was there that the king's library had been collected in case after case, filled with parchment rolls preserved and copied from age to age.

What might not be there, they wondered--annals, State documents, the Phoenician originals of histories preserved elsewhere only in fragments of translation or utterly lost, the secrets of science and magic known to men the very forms of whose names have perished; and not only the longed-for poems of Sido and Jopas, but of who could tell how many singing hearts, lyric with joy and love and still voiceful here in these strange halls?
These were chambers such as no one has ever entered, for this was the vexing of no unviolated tomb and no buried city, but the actual return to the Past, watching lonely on the mountain.
"Clusium," said Amory softly.

"I had actually wanted to go to the cemetery at Clusium, to see some inscriptions!" "No, you didn't, Toby," said St.George pleasantly, "you wanted to go somewhere and you called it Clusium.

You wanted an adventure and you thought Clusium was the name of it." "I know," said Amory shamelessly, "and there are no end of names for it.

But it's always the same thing.