Her whole frame was wrapped in pleasant languor.  Just so had she felt once before-she remembered it well—­and she remembered when it was.  She had felt just as she did now after her lover had for the first time clasped her to his heart, when, as night came on, she had sat by his side on the marble bench, while the Christian procession passed.  She had taken the chanting train for the wandering souls of the dead and—­how strange!  No—­she was not mistaken.  She heard at this moment the selfsame strain which they had then sung so joyfully, in spite of its solemn mode.  She did know when it had begun, but again it filled her with a bitter-sweet sense of pity.  Only it struck deeper now than before, for she knew now that it applied to all human beings, since they were all the children of the same kind Father, and her own brethren and sisters.

But whence did the wonderful music proceed—­Was she—­and a shock of alarm thrilled her at the thought—­was she numbered with the dead?  Had her heart ceased to beat when the Saviour had taken her in His arms after her ride through blood and darkness, when all had grown dim to her senses?  Was she now in the abode of the blest?

Andreas had painted it as a glorious place; and yet she shuddered at the thought.  But was not that foolish?  If she were really dead, all terror and pain were at an end.  She would see her mother once more; and whatever might happen to those she loved, she might perhaps be suffered to linger near them, as she had done on earth, and hope with assurance to meet them again here, sooner or later.

But no!  Her heart was beating still; she could feel how strongly it throbbed.  Then where was she?

There certainly had not been any such coverlet as this on her bed in the Serapeum, and the room there was much lower.  She looked about her and succeeded in turning on her side toward the evening breeze which blew in on her, so pure and soft and sweet.  She raised her delicate emaciated hand to her head and found that her thick hair was gone.  Then she must have cut it off to disguise herself.

But where was she?  Whither had she fled?

It mattered not.  The Serapeum was far away, and she need no longer fear Zminis and his spies.  Now for the first time she raised her eyes thankfully to Heaven, and next she looked about her; and while she gazed and let her eyes feed themselves full, a faint cry of delight escaped her lips.  Before her, in the silvery light of the bright disk of the young moon lay a splendid blooming garden, and over the palms which towered above all else, in shadowy masses, in the distance the evening star was rising just in front, the moonlight twinkled and flashed in the rising and falling drops of the fountain; and as she lay, stirred to the depths of her soul by this silent splendor, thinking of kindly Selene moving on her peaceful path above, of Artemis hunting in the moonlight, of the nymphs of the waters, and the dryads just now perhaps stealing out of the great trees to dance with sportive fauns, the chant suddenly broke out again in solemn measure, and she heard, to deep manly voices, the beginning of the Psalm: