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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



Fiction genre suitable for people of all ages. Everyone will find something interesting for themselves. Our electronic library is always at your service. Reading online free books without registration. Nowadays ebooks are convenient and efficient. After all, don’t forget: literature exists and develops largely thanks to readers.
The genre of fiction is interesting to read not only by the process of cognition and the desire to empathize with the fate of the hero, this genre is interesting for the ability to rethink one's own life. Of course the reader may accept the author's point of view or disagree with them, but the reader should understand that the author has done a great job and deserves respect. Take a closer look at genre fiction in all its manifestations in our elibrary.



Read books online » Fiction » The Coming Race by Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton (sites to read books for free .TXT) 📖

Book online «The Coming Race by Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton (sites to read books for free .TXT) 📖». Author Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton



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lakes and rivulets which seemed to have been curved
into artificial banks; some of pure water, others that shone
like pools of naphtha. At my right hand, ravines and defiles
opened amidst the rocks, with passes between, evidently
constructed by art, and bordered by trees resembling, for the
11most part, gigantic ferns, with exquisite varieties of feathery
foliage, and stems like those of the palm-tree. Others were
more like the cane-plant, but taller, bearing large clusters of
flowers. Others, again, had the form of enormous fungi, with
short thick stems supporting a wide dome-like roof, from which
either rose or drooped long slender branches. The whole scene
behind, before, and beside me far as the eye could reach, was
brilliant with innumerable lamps. The world without a sun was
bright and warm as an Italian landscape at noon, but the air
less oppressive, the heat softer. Nor was the scene before me
void of signs of habitation. I could distinguish at a
distance, whether on the banks of the lake or rivulet, or
half-way upon eminences, embedded amidst the vegetation,
buildings that must surely be the homes of men. I could even
discover, though far off, forms that appeared to me human
moving amidst the landscape. As I paused to gaze, I saw to the
right, gliding quickly through the air, what appeared a small
boat, impelled by sails shaped like wings. It soon passed out
of sight, descending amidst the shades of a forest. Right
above me there was no sky, but only a cavernous roof. This
roof grew higher and higher at the distance of the landscapes
beyond, till it became imperceptible, as an atmosphere of haze
formed itself beneath.

Continuing my walk, I started,- from a bush that resembled a
great tangle of sea-weeds, interspersed with fern-like shrubs
and plants of large leafage shaped like that of the aloe or
prickly-pear,- a curious animal about the size and shape of a
deer. But as, after bounding away a few paces, it turned round
and gazed at me inquisitively, I perceived that it was not like
any species of deer now extant above the earth, but it brought
instantly to my recollection a plaster cast I had seen in some
museum of a variety of the elk stag, said to have existed
before the Deluge. The creature seemed tame enough, and, after
inspecting me a moment or two, began to graze on the singular
herbiage around undismayed and careless.


12
Chapter IV.


I now came in full sight of the building. Yes, it had been
made by hands, and hollowed partly out of a great rock. I
should have supposed it at the first glance to have been of the
earliest form of Egyptian architecture. It was fronted by huge
columns, tapering upward from massive plinths, and with
capitals that, as I came nearer, I perceived to be more
ornamental and more fantastically graceful that Egyptian
architecture allows. As the Corinthian capital mimics the leaf
of the acanthus, so the capitals of these columns imitated the
foliage of the vegetation neighbouring them, some aloe-like,
some fern-like. And now there came out of this building a
form- human;- was it human? It stood on the broad way and
looked around, beheld me and approached. It came within a few
yards of me, and at the sight and presence of it an
indescribable awe and tremor seized me, rooting my feet to the
ground. It reminded me of symbolical images of Genius or Demon
that are seen on Etruscan vases or limned on the walls of
Eastern sepulchres- images that borrow the outlines of man, and
are yet of another race. It was tall, not gigantic, but tall
as the tallest man below the height of giants.

Its chief covering seemed to me to be composed of large wings
folded over its breast and reaching to its knees; the rest of
its attire was composed of an under tunic and leggings of some
thin fibrous material. It wore on its head a kind of tiara
that shone with jewels, and carried in its right hand a slender
staff of bright metal like polished steel. But the face! it
was that which inspired my awe and my terror. It was the face
of man, but yet of a type of man distinct from our known extant
races. The nearest approach to it in outline and expression is
the face of the sculptured sphinx- so regular in its calm,
intellectual, mysterious beauty. Its colour was peculiar, more
13like that of the red man than any other variety of our species,
and yet different from it- a richer and a softer hue, with
large black eyes, deep and brilliant, and brows arched as a
semicircle. The face was beardless; but a nameless something
in the aspect, tranquil though the expression, and beauteous
though the features, roused that instinct of danger which the
sight of a tiger or serpent arouses. I felt that this manlike
image was endowed with forces inimical to man. As it drew
near, a cold shudder came over me. I fell on my knees and
covered my face with my hands.


Chapter V.


A voice accosted me- a very quiet and very musical key of
voice- in a language of which I could not understand a word,
but it served to dispel my fear. I uncovered my face and
looked up. The stranger (I could scarcely bring myself to call
him man) surveyed me with an eye that seemed to read to the
very depths of my heart. He then placed his left hand on my
forehead, and with the staff in his right, gently touched my
shoulder. The effect of this double contact was magical. In
place of my former terror there passed into me a sense of
contentment, of joy, of confidence in myself and in the being
before me. I rose and spoke in my own language. He listened
to me with apparent attention, but with a slight surprise in
his looks; and shook his head, as if to signify that I was not
understood. He then took me by the hand and led me in silence
to the building. The entrance was open- indeed there was no
door to it. We entered an immense hall, lighted by the same
kind of lustre as in the scene without, but diffusing a
fragrant odour. The floor was in large tesselated blocks of
precious metals, and partly covered with a sort of matlike
14carpeting. A strain of low music, above and around, undulated
as if from invisible instruments, seeming to belong naturally
to the place, just as the sound of murmuring waters belongs to
a rocky landscape, or the warble of birds to vernal groves.

A figure in a simpler garb than that of my guide, but of
similar fashion, was standing motionless near the threshold.
My guide touched it twice with his staff, and it put itself
into a rapid and gliding movement, skimming noiselessly over
the floor. Gazing on it, I then saw that it was no living
form, but a mechanical automaton. It might be two minutes
after it vanished through a doorless opening, half screened by
curtains at the other end of the hall, when through the same
opening advanced a boy of about twelve years old, with features
closely resembling those of my guide, so that they seemed to me
evidently son and father. On seeing me the child uttered a
cry, and lifted a staff like that borne by my guide, as if in
menace. At a word from the elder he dropped it. The two then
conversed for some moments, examining me while they spoke. The
child touched my garments, and stroked my face with evident
curiosity, uttering a sound like a laugh, but with an hilarity
more subdued that the mirth of our laughter. Presently the
roof of the hall opened, and a platform descended, seemingly
constructed on the same principle as the 'lifts' used in hotels
and warehouses for mounting from one story to another.

The stranger placed himself and the child on the platform, and
motioned to me to do the same, which I did. We ascended
quickly and safely, and alighted in the midst of a corridor
with doorways on either side.

Through one of these doorways I was conducted into a chamber
fitted up with an oriental splendour; the walls were tesselated
with spars, and metals, and uncut jewels; cushions and divans
abounded; apertures as for windows but unglazed, were made in
the chamber opening to the floor; and as I passed along I
15observed that these openings led into spacious balconies, and
commanded views of the illumined landscape without. In cages
suspended from the ceiling there were birds of strange form and
bright plumage, which at our entrance set up a chorus of song,
modulated into tune as is that of our piping bullfinches. A
delicious fragrance, from censers of gold elaborately sculptured,
filled the air. Several automata, like the one I had seen,
stood dumb and motionless by the walls. The stranger placed me
beside him on a divan and again spoke to me, and again I spoke,
but without the least advance towards understanding each other.

But now I began to feel the effects of the blow I had received
from the splinters of the falling rock more acutely that I had
done at first.

There came over me a sense of sickly faintness, accompanied
with acute, lancinating pains in the head and neck. I sank
back on the seat and strove in vain to stifle a groan. On this
the child, who had hitherto seemed to eye me with distrust or
dislike, knelt by my side to support me; taking one of my hands
in both his own, he approached his lips to my forehead,
breathing on it softly. In a few moments my pain ceased; a
drowsy, heavy calm crept over me; I fell asleep.

How long I remained in this state I know not, but when I woke I
felt perfectly restored. My eyes opened upon a group of silent
forms, seated around me in the gravity and quietude of
Orientals- all more or less like the first stranger; the same
mantling wings, the same fashion of garment, the same
sphinx-like faces, with the deep dark eyes and red man's
colour; above all, the same type of race- race akin to man's,
but infinitely stronger of form and grandeur of aspect- and
inspiring the same unutterable feeling of dread. Yet each
countenance was mild and tranquil, and even kindly in
expression. And, strangely enough, it seemed to me that in
this very calm and benignity consisted the secret of the dread
which the countenances inspired. They seemed as void of the
lines and shadows which care and sorrow, and passion and sin,
16leave upon the faces of men, as are the faces of sculptured
gods, or as, in the eyes of Christian mourners, seem the
peaceful brows of the dead.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder; it was the child's. In his
eyes there was a sort of lofty pity and tenderness, such as
that with which we may gaze on some suffering bird or
butterfly. I shrank from that touch- I shrank from that eye.
I was vaguely impressed with a belief that, had he so pleased,
that child could have killed me as easily as a man can kill a
bird or a butterfly. The child seemed pained at my repugnance,
quitted me, and placed himself beside one of the windows. The
others continued to converse with each other in a low tone, and
by their glances towards me I could perceive that I was the
object of their conversation. One in especial seemed to be
urging some proposal affecting me on the being whom I had first
met, and
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