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      Chapter IX.

       Atlantis

       Table of Contents

      You will understand that the adventure of the Babylonian queen in London was the only one that had occupied any time at all. But the children’s time was very fully taken up by talking over all the wonderful things seen and done in the Past, where, by the power of the Amulet, they seemed to spend hours and hours, only to find when they got back to London that the whole thing had been briefer than a lightning flash.

      They talked of the Past at their meals, in their walks, in the dining-room, in the first-floor drawing-room, but most of all on the stairs. It was an old house; it had once been a fashionable one, and was a fine one still. The banister rails of the stairs were excellent for sliding down, and in the corners of the landings were big alcoves that had once held graceful statues, and now quite often held the graceful forms of Cyril, Robert, Anthea, and Jane.

      One day Cyril and Robert in tight white underclothing had spent a pleasant hour in reproducing the attitudes of statues seen either in the British Museum, or in Father’s big photograph book. But the show ended abruptly because Robert wanted to be the Venus of Milo, and for this purpose pulled at the sheet which served for drapery at the very moment when Cyril, looking really quite like the Discobolos – with a gold and white saucer for the disc – was standing on one foot, and under that one foot was the sheet.

      Of course the Discobolos and his disc and the would-be Venus came down together, and everyone was a good deal hurt, especially the saucer, which would never be the same again, however neatly one might join its uneven bits with seccotine or the white of an egg.

      ‘I hope you’re satisfied,’ said Cyril, holding his head where a large lump was rising.

      ‘Quite, thanks,’ said Robert bitterly. His thumb had caught in the banisters and bent itself back almost to breaking point.

      ‘I am so sorry, poor, dear Squirrel,’ said Anthea; ‘and you were looking so lovely. I’ll get a wet rag. Bobs, go and hold your hand under the hot-water tap. It’s what ballet girls do with their legs when they hurt them. I saw it in a book.’

      ‘What book?’ said Robert disagreeably. But he went.

      When he came back Cyril’s head had been bandaged by his sisters, and he had been brought to the state of mind where he was able reluctantly to admit that he supposed Robert hadn’t done it on purpose.

      Robert replying with equal suavity, Anthea hastened to lead the talk away from the accident.

      ‘I suppose you don’t feel like going anywhere through the Amulet,’ she said.

      ‘Egypt!’ said Jane promptly. ‘I want to see the pussy cats.’

      ‘Not me – too hot,’ said Cyril. ‘It’s about as much as I can stand here – let alone Egypt.’ It was indeed, hot, even on the second landing, which was the coolest place in the house. ‘Let’s go to the North Pole.’

      ‘I don’t suppose the Amulet was ever there – and we might get our fingers frost-bitten so that we could never hold it up to get home again. No thanks,’ said Robert.

      ‘I say,’ said Jane, ‘let’s get the Psammead and ask its advice. It will like us asking, even if we don’t take it.’

      The Psammead was brought up in its green silk embroidered bag, but before it could be asked anything the door of the learned gentleman’s room opened and the voice of the visitor who had been lunching with him was heard on the stairs. He seemed to be speaking with the door handle in his hand.

      ‘You see a doctor, old boy,’ he said; ‘all that about thought-transference is just simply twaddle. You’ve been over-working. Take a holiday. Go to Dieppe.’

      ‘I’d rather go to Babylon,’ said the learned gentleman.

      ‘I wish you’d go to Atlantis some time, while we’re about it, so as to give me some tips for my Nineteenth Century article when you come home.’

      ‘I wish I could,’ said the voice of the learned gentleman.

      ‘Goodbye. Take care of yourself.’

      The door was banged, and the visitor came smiling down the stairs – a stout, prosperous, big man. The children had to get up to let him pass.

      ‘Hullo, kiddies,’ he said, glancing at the bandages on the head of Cyril and the hand of Robert, ‘been in the wars?’

      ‘It’s all right,’ said Cyril. ‘I say, what was that Atlantic place you wanted him to go to? We couldn’t help hearing you talk.’

      ‘You talk so very loud, you see,’ said Jane soothingly.

      ‘Atlantis,’ said the visitor, ‘the lost Atlantis, garden of the Hesperides. Great continent – disappeared in the sea. You can read about it in Plato.’

      ‘Thank you,’ said Cyril doubtfully.

      ‘Were there any Amulets there?’ asked Anthea, made anxious by a sudden thought.

      ‘Hundreds, I should think. So he’s been talking to you?’

      ‘Yes, often. He’s very kind to us. We like him awfully.’

      ‘Well, what he wants is a holiday; you persuade him to take one. What he wants is a change of scene. You see, his head is crusted so thickly inside with knowledge about Egypt and Assyria and things that you can’t hammer anything into it unless you keep hard at it all day long for days and days. СКАЧАТЬ