One night, when talk was impersonal and general, I sat gazing
through the folding doors into the dimly lighted dining-room
beyond. I noticed a curious red light shining upon a picture and
got up to see where the red light came from. It was the picture of
an Indian and as I came near it slowly vanished. When I returned
to my seat, Madame Blavatsky said, 'What did you see?' 'A
picture,' I said. 'Tell it to go away.' 'It is already gone.' 'So
much the better,' she said, 'I was afraid it was medium ship but
it is only clairvoyance.' 'What is the difference?' 'If it had
been medium ship, it would have stayed in spite of you. Beware of
medium ship; it is a kind of madness; I know, for I have been
through it.'
I found her almost always full of gaiety that, unlike the
occasional joking of those about her, was illogical and
incalculable and yet always kindly and tolerant. I had called one
evening to find her absent, but expected every moment. She had
been somewhere at the seaside for her health and arrived with a
little suite of followers. She sat down at once in her big chair,
and began unfolding a brown paper parcel, while all looked on full
of curiosity.
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