Gianapolis.
"My dear sir," he said, speaking in French, "you suffer. I perceive
how grievously you suffer; and you have been denied that panacea
which beneficent nature designed for the service of mankind. A certain
gentleman known to both of us (we brethren of the poppy are all
nameless) has advised me of your requirements--and here I am."
"You are welcome," declared M. Gaston.
He rose and grasped eagerly the hand of the Greek, at the same
time looking about the Palm Court suspiciously. "You can relieve my
sufferings?"
Mr. Gianapolis seated himself beside the Frenchman.
"I perceive," he said, "that you are of those who abjure the heresies of
De Quincey. How little he knew, that De Quincey, of the true ritual of
the poppy! He regarded it as the German regards his lager, whereas
we know--you and I--that it is an Eleusinian mystery; that true
communicants must retreat to the temple of the goddess if they would
partake of Paradise with her."
"It is perhaps a question of temperament," said M. Gaston, speaking in a
singularly tremulous voice. "De Quincey apparently possessed the type
of constitution which is cerebrally stimulated by opium. To such a being
the golden gates are closed; and the Easterners, whom he despised for
what he termed their beastly lethargies, have taught me the real secret
of the poppy.
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