Here Leo jumped up and hastily changed his seat.  However the reminiscence might affect Ayesha, it clearly had few charms for him.

“I brought you,” went on Ayesha presently, “that ye might look upon the most wonderful sight that ever the eye of man beheld—­the full moon shining over ruined Kor.  When ye have done your eating—­I would that I could teach you to eat naught but fruit, Kallikrates, but that will come after thou hast laved in the fire.  Once I, too, ate flesh like a brute beast.  When ye have done we will go out, and I will show you this great temple and the God whom men once worshipped therein.”

Of course we got up at once, and started.  And here again my pen fails me.  To give a string of measurements and details of the various courts of the temple would only be wearisome, supposing that I had them, and yet I know not how I am to describe what we saw, magnificent as it was even in its ruin, almost beyond the power of realisation.  Court upon dim court, row upon row of mighty pillars—­some of them (especially at the gateways) sculptured from pedestal to capital—­space upon space of empty chambers that spoke more eloquently to the imagination than any crowded streets.  And over all, the dead silence of the dead, the sense of utter loneliness, and the brooding spirit of the Past!  How beautiful it was, and yet how drear!  We did not dare to speak aloud.  Ayesha herself was awed in the presence of an antiquity compared to which even her length of days was but a little thing; we only whispered, and our whispers seemed to run from column to column, till they were lost in the quiet air.  Bright fell the moonlight on pillar and court and shattered wall, hiding all their rents and imperfections in its silver garment, and clothing their hoar majesty with the peculiar glory of the night.  It was a wonderful sight to see the full moon looking down on the ruined fane of Kor.  It was a wonderful thing to think for how many thousands of years the dead orb above and the dead city below had gazed thus upon each other, and in the utter solitude of space poured forth each to each the tale of their lost life and long-departed glory.  The white light fell, and minute by minute the quiet shadows crept across the grass-grown courts like the spirits of old priests haunting the habitations of their worship—­the white light fell, and the long shadows grew till the beauty and grandeur of each scene and the untamed majesty of its present Death seemed to sink into our very souls, and speak more loudly than the shouts of armies concerning the pomp and splendour that the grave had swallowed, and even memory had forgotten.

“Come,” said Ayesha, after we had gazed and gazed, I know not for how long, “and I will show you the stony flower of Loveliness and Wonder’s very crown, if yet it stands to mock time with its beauty and fill the heart of man with longing for that which is behind the veil,” and, without waiting for an answer, she led us through two more pillared courts into the inner shrine of the old fane.