We passed from the palace to the ruins of the temple, through what, as she said, had been a pleasure-garden, pointing out where a certain avenue of rare palms had grown, down which once it was her habit to walk in the cool of the day.  Or, rather, there were two terraced temples, one dedicated to Fate like that in the underground city of Nyo, and the other to Love.  Of the temple to Fate she told me her father had been the High Priest, and of the temple to Love she was the High Priestess.

Then it was that I understood why she had brought me here.

She led the way to a marble block covered with worn-out carvings and almost buried in the debris.  This, she said, was the altar of offerings.  I asked her what offerings, and she replied with a smile: 

“Only wine, to signify the spirit of life, and flowers to symbolise its fragrance,” and she laid her finger on a cup-like depression, still apparent in the marble, into which the wine was poured.

Indeed, I gathered that there was nothing coarse or bacchanalian about this worship of a prototype of Aphrodite; on the contrary, that it was more or less spiritual and ethereal.  We sat down on the altar stone.  I wondered a little that she should have done so, but she read my thought, and answered: 

“Sometimes we change our faiths, Humphrey, or perhaps they grow.  Also, have I not told you that sacrifices were offered on this altar?” and she sighed and smiled.

I do not know which was the sweeter, the smile or the sigh.

We looked at the water glimmering in the crater beneath us on the edge of which we sat.  We looked at heaven above in which the great moon sailed royally.  Then we looked into each other’s eyes.

“I love you,” I said.

“I know it,” she answered gently.  “You have loved me from the first, have you not?  Even when I lay asleep in the coffin you began to love me, but until you dreamed a certain dream you would not admit it.”

“Yva, what was the meaning of that dream?”

“I cannot say, Humphrey.  But I tell you this.  As you will learn in time, one spirit may be clothed in different garments of the flesh.”

I did not understand her, but, in some strange way, her words brought to my mind those that Natalie spoke at the last, and I answered: 

“Yva, when my wife lay dying she bade me seek her elsewhere, for certainly I should find her.  Doubtless she meant beyond the shores of death—­or perhaps she also dreamed.”

She bent her head, looking at me very strangely.

“Your wife, too, may have had the gift of dreams, Humphrey.  As you dream and I dream, so mayhap she dreamed.  Of dreams, then, let us say no more, since I think that they have served their purpose, and all three of us understand.”

Then I stretched out my arms, and next instant my head lay upon her perfumed breast.  She lifted it and kissed me on the lips, saying: