The procession passed through the one to the left, and Sir
Norman started in dismay to find himself in the most gloomy
apartment he had ever beheld in his life. It was all covered
with black - walls, ceiling, and floor were draped in black, and
reminded him forcibly of La Masque's chamber of horrors, only
this was more repellant. It was lighted, or rather the gloom was
troubled, by a few spectral tapers of black wax in ebony
candlesticks, that seemed absolutely to turn black, and make the
horrible place more horrible. There was no furniture - neither
couch, chair, nor table nothing but a sort of stage at the upper
end of the room, with something that looked like a seat upon it,
and both were shrouded with the same dismal drapery. But it was
no seat; for everybody stood, arranging themselves silently and
noiselessly around the walls, with the queen and the dwarf at
their head, and near this elevation stood a tall, black statue,
wearing a mask, and leaning on a bright, dreadful, glittering
axe. The music changed to an unearthly dirge, so weird and
blood-curdling, that Sir Norman could have put his hands over his
ear-drums to shut out the ghastly sound.
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