All else so dark,--shrouded, veiled and larva-like.

But that burning glare so intense, so livid, yet so living, had in it something that was almost HUMAN in its passion of hate and mockery,--something that served to show that the shadowy Horror was not all a spirit, but partook of matter enough, at least, to make it more deadly and fearful an enemy to material forms.

As, clinging with the grasp of agony to the wall,--his hair erect, his eyeballs starting, he still gazed back upon that appalling gaze,--the Image spoke to him: his soul rather than his ear comprehended the words it said.
"Thou hast entered the immeasurable region.

I am the Dweller of the Threshold.

What wouldst thou with me?
Silent?
Dost thou fear me?
Am I not thy beloved?
Is it not for me that thou hast rendered up the delights of thy race?
Wouldst thou be wise?
Mine is the wisdom of the countless ages.