What I could say is that I saw little trickles uniting to form
brooks, and brooks to form rivers, which ran down the sides of the
flesh-mountain, and mingled in an ocean on the floor.
Also I observed that flesh-mountains when exposed to heat do not
stand up of their own consistency, but have a tendency to melt and
flatten; it was necessary that this bulk should be supported, so
there were three attendants, one securely braced under each armpit,
and the third with a more precarious grip under the mountain's chin.
Every thirty seconds or so the heaving, sliding mass would emit one
of those explosive groans: "O-o-o-o-o-oh!" Then it would collapse,
an avalanche would threaten to slide, and the living caryatids would
shove and struggle.
Said Madame Planchet, in her stage-whisper: "The serveece of the
young god of beautee!" And my fancy took flight. I saw proud vestals
tending sacred flames on temple-clad islands in blue Grecian seas; I
saw acolytes waving censers, and grave, bearded priests walking in
processions crowned with myrtle-wreaths.
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