But where did the dragons come from? Are they a confused recollection of
the monsters that existed before the flood? Were they conceived from the
contemplation of the carcasses of the ichthyosaurus and pteropod, and
did the terror of men hear the sound of their feet in the tall grass and
the wind howl when their voices filled the caves? Are we not, moreover,
in the land of fairies, in the home of the Knights of the Round Table
and of Merlin, in the mythological birthplace of vanished epopees?
These, no doubt, revealed something of the old worlds which have become
mythical, and told something of the cities that were swallowed up, of Is
and Herbadilla, splendid and barbaric places, filled with the loves of
their bewitching queens, but now doubly wiped out, first, by the ocean
which has obliterated them and then by religion, which has cursed their
memory.
There is much to be said on this subject. And, indeed, what is there on
which much cannot be said? It might perhaps be Landivisian, for even the
most prolix man is obliged to be concise in his remarks, when there is a
lack of matter. I have noticed that good places are usually the ugliest
ones.
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