He stood there: caught in some white blaze that seemed to end at the rim of him. Some dream? Some vision? Such as once must have been glimpsed (by those below) as a nimbus not to be fully borne without flinch of sight. There was no Garden. There was no Mount. No dumbfounded multitude or kneeling few. only a room -- in a fractional split from Time itself -- unearthily still.