In the night, Dr. Trefusis came to me by the fire, his frame involved in the most violent agitations.

“Pray, sir,” said I. “What ails you?”

He could not still his trembling. Said he, “I stepped backward into our tent.” He sat upon the ground next to me, and demanded, “Know you my assertion that there is no matter, that all is a void, could we but perceive it?”

I said that I did.

“Aye,” said he. “Aye.” I waited, and at long last he continued: “But ten minutes since, I stepped backward into our tent,” he said, his eyes closed, “and I fell. Then all resumed, and I was standing upon solid ground. But for a moment, Octavian, for a moment, there was nothing in the world. Nothing at all.”