"My year is born," Valentine said.
"Your year?" the doctor repeated.
"Yes. I feel that in this year I shall culminate; I shall touch a point;
I shall put the corner-stone to the temple of my ambition. No one can
prevent me now, no one. Look, she has fainted!"
He had been watching Cuckoo, and had seen her posture of mere rest
change, almost imperceptibly, to the prostration of insensibility.
The doctor sprang up from his chair. Julian uttered an exclamation.
Valentine only smiled. The door was opened. A fan was used. Air was
let into the room. Presently Cuckoo stirred and sat up. The three men
were gathered round her, and suddenly Valentine said:
"My trance over again. The lady of the feathers imitates me."
Julian turned round to him with abrupt irritation.
"That's not so," he said. "Cuckoo is herself always." He turned again to
her.
"Are you better?" he asked, touching her hand gently.
"Yes, I'm all right. It was--them."
She glanced vaguely round at the tulips, as if searching for the cause of
the scent which filled the room.
"There are hyacinths somewhere," the doctor said.
"Yes, they are hidden!" said Valentine. "A hidden power is the greatest
power. But now you may see them.
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