But suddenly—­more suddenly than I can describe—­a kind of change came over her face, a change which I could not define or explain, but none the less a change.  The smile vanished, and in its place there came a dry, hard look; the rounded face seemed to grow pinched, as though some great anxiety were leaving its impress upon it.  The glorious eyes, too, lost their light, and, as I thought, the form its perfect shape and erectness.

I rubbed my eyes, thinking that I was the victim of some hallucination, or that the refraction from the intense light produced an optical delusion; and, as I did so, the flaming pillar slowly twisted and thundered off whithersoever it passes to in the bowels of the great earth, leaving Ayesha standing where it had been.

As soon as it was gone, she stepped forward to Leo’s side—­it seemed to me that there was no spring in her step—­and stretched out her hand to lay it on his shoulder.  I gazed at her arm.  Where was its wonderful roundness and beauty?  It was getting thin and angular.  And her face—­by Heaven!—­her face was growing old before my eyes! I suppose that Leo saw it also; certainly he recoiled a step or two.

“What is it, my Kallikrates?” she said, and her voice—­what was the matter with those deep and thrilling notes?  They were quite high and cracked.

“Why, what is it—­what is it?” she said confusedly.  “I feel dazed.  Surely the quality of the fire hath not altered.  Can the principle of Life alter?  Tell me, Kallikrates, is there aught wrong with my eyes?  I see not clear,” and she put her hand to her head and touched her hair—­and oh, horror of horrors!—­it all fell upon the floor.

“Oh, look!—­look!—­look!” shrieked Job, in a shrill falsetto of terror, his eyes nearly dropping out of his head, and foam upon his lips. “Look!—­look!—­look! she’s shrivelling up! she’s turning into a monkey!” and down he fell upon the ground, foaming and gnashing in a fit.

True enough—­I faint even as I write it in the living presence of that terrible recollection—­she was shrivelling up; the golden snake that had encircled her gracious form slipped over her hips and to the ground; smaller and smaller she grew; her skin changed colour, and in place of the perfect whiteness of its lustre it turned dirty brown and yellow, like an piece of withered parchment.  She felt at her head:  the delicate hand was nothing but a claw now, a human talon like that of a badly-preserved Egyptian mummy, and then she seemed to realise what kind of change was passing over her, and she shrieked—­ah, she shrieked!—­she rolled upon the floor and shrieked!

Smaller she grew, and smaller yet, till she was no larger than a monkey.  Now the skin was puckered into a million wrinkles, and on the shapeless face was the stamp of unutterable age.  I never saw anything like it; nobody ever saw anything like the frightful age that was graven on that fearful countenance, no bigger now than that of a two-months’ child, though the skull remained the same size, or nearly so, and let all men pray they never may, if they wish to keep their reason.