Shap, the bodily Shap in
London, forgot the train to town.
Until a year ago he had never imagined at all; it is not to be
wondered at that all these things now newly seen by his fancy should
play tricks at first with the memory of even so sane a man. He gave up
reading the papers altogether, he lost all interest in politics, he
cared less and less for things that were going on around him. This
unfortunate missing of the morning train even occurred again, and the
firm spoke to him severely about it. But he had his consolation. Were
not Arathrion and Argun Zeerith and all the level coasts of Oora his?
And even as the firm found fault with him his fancy watched the yaks
on weary journeys, slow specks against the snow-fields, bringing
tribute; and saw the green eyes of the mountain men who had looked at
him strangely in the city of Nith when he had entered it by the desert
door. Yet his logic did not forsake him; he knew well that his strange
subjects did not exist, but he was prouder of having created them with
his brain, than merely of ruling them only; thus in his pride he felt
himself something more great than a king, he did not dare to think
what! He went into the temple of the city of Zorra and stood some time
there alone: all the priests kneeled to him when he came away.
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