" St. Barbara started a little, I thought, and turned
as if to say something; but changed her mind, and gathered up her
train, and went out. And Neith bent herself again to her loom, in
which she was weaving a web of strange dark colors, I thought; but
perhaps it was only after the glittering of St. Barbara's
embroidered train: and I tried to make out the figures in Neith's
web, and confused myself among them, as one always does in dreams;
and then the dream changed altogether, and I found myself, all at
once, among a crowd of little Gothic and Egyptian spirits, who
were quarreling: at least the Gothic ones were trying to quarrel;
for the Egyptian ones only sat with their hands on their knees,
and their aprons sticking out very stiffly; and stared. And after
a while I began to understand what the matter was. It seemed that
some of the troublesome building imps, who meddle and make
continually, even in the best Gothic work, had been listening to
St. Barbara's talk with Neith; and had made up their minds that
Neith had no workpeople who could build against them. They were
but dull imps, as you may fancy by their thinking that; and never
had done much, except disturbing the great Gothic building angels
at their work, and playing tricks to each other; indeed, of late
they had been living years and years, like bats, up under the
cornices of Strasbourg and Cologne cathedrals, with nothing to do
but to make mouths at the people below.
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