ready to strike,—­and as I saw this, a wild yearning arose in me to save the threatened life of the bound and helpless victim.  If I could only rush to defend and drag him away from impending peril, I thought!—­but no!—­I was forced to stand helplessly watching the scene, with every fibre of my brain burning with pent-up anguish.  At this moment, the crowned and veiled woman on the throne suddenly rose and stood upright,—­with a commanding gesture she stretched out her glittering sceptre—­the sign was given!  Swiftly the dagger gleamed through the air and struck its deadly blow straight home!  I turned away my eyes in shuddering horror,—­but was compelled by some invincible power to raise them again,—­and the scene before me glowed red as with the hue of blood--I saw the slain victim,—­the tumultuous crowd—­and above all, the relentless Queen who, with one movement of her little hand, had swept away a life,—­and as I looked upon her loathingly, she threw back her shrouding golden veil.  My own face looked full at me from under the jewelled arch of her sparkling diadem—­ah, wicked soul!—­I wildly cried—­pitiless Queen!—­then, as they lifted the body of the murdered man, his livid countenance was turned towards me, and I saw again the face of Santoris!  Dumb and despairing I sank as it were within myself, chilled with inexplicable misery, and I heard for the first time in this singular pageant of vision a Voice—­slow, calm, and thrilling with infinite sadness: 

“A life for a life!”—­it said—­“The old eternal law!—­a life for a life!  There is nothing taken which shall not be returned again—­ nothing lost which shall not be found—­a life for a life!”

Then came silence and utter darkness.

* * *
* *
*

Slowly brightening, slowly widening, a pale radiance like the earliest glimmer of dawn stole gently on my eyes when I again raised them.  I saw the waving curve of a wide, sluggishly flowing river, and near it a temple of red granite stood surrounded with shadowing foliage and bright clumps of flowers.  Huge palms lifted their fronded heads to the sky, and on the edge of the quiet stream there loitered a group of girls and women.  One of these stood apart, sad and alone, the others looking at her with something of pity and scorn.  Near her was a tall upright column of black basalt, as it seemed, bearing the sculptured head of a god.  The features were calm and strong and reposeful, expressive of dignity, wisdom and power.  And as I looked, more people gathered together—­I heard strains of solemn music pealing from the temple close by—­and I saw the solitary woman draw herself farther apart and almost disappear among the shadows.  The light grew brighter in the east,—­the sun shot a few advancing rays upward,—­suddenly the door of the temple was thrown open, and a long procession of priests carrying flaming tapers and attended by boys in white garments and crowned with flowers made