Momo wasted no time. Taking this as a good omen, she hurried over to the pipe and climbed inside.
She lost her footing almost at once, because the pipe sloped downwards at a steep angle,
twisting and turning so sharply that she slithered back and forth like a child on a helter-skelter.
She could see and hear almost nothing as she hurtled ever deeper into the ground,
sometimes sliding on her bottom, sometimes rolling head over heels,
but never letting go of the tortoise and the hour-lily.
The deeper she went, the colder it became. She began to wonder how she would ever get out again,
but before she could give the problem any real thought the pipe abruptly ended in an underground passage.
It wasn't as dark here. The tunnel was bathed in a gray twilight that seemed to ooze from its very walls.
Momo scrambled up and ran on. Her bare feet made no sound, but she could hear footsteps ahead of her.
Guessing that they belonged to the men in gray, she allowed herself to be guided by them.
To judge by the innumerable passages leading off her own in all directions,
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