"You have heard nothing," said she, slowly; "and all that you have seen and heard is as nothing compared with what lies before us. For you and for me there is a fate--inconceivable, abhorrent, tremendous!--a fate of which I dare not speak or even think, and from which there is no escape whatever." As Almah said this she looked at me with an expression in which terror and anguish were striving with love. Her cheeks, which shortly before had flushed rosy red in sweet confusion, were now pallid, her lips ashen; her eyes were full of a wild despair. I looked at her in wonder, and could not say a word. "Oh, Atam-or," said she, "I am afraid of death!" "Almah," said I, "why will you speak of death? What is this fate which you fear so much?" "It is this," said she hurriedly and with a shudder, "you and I are singled out. I have been reserved for years until one should be found who might be joined with me. You came. I saw it all at once. I have known it--dreaded it--tried to fight against it. But it was of no use. Oh, Atam-or, our love means death; for the very fact that you love me and I love you seals our doom!" "Our doom? What doom?" "The sacrifice!" exclaimed Almah, with another shudder. In her voice and look there was a terrible meaning, which I could not fail to take. I understood it now, and my blood curdled in my veins. Almah clung to me despairingly. "Do not leave me!" she cried--"do not leave me! I have no one but you. The sacrifice, the sacrifice! It is our doom the great sacrifice--at the end of the dark season. It is at the amir. We must go there to meet our doom." "The amir?" I asked; "what is that?" "It is the metropolis," said she. I was utterly overwhelmed, yet still I tried to console her; but the attempt was vain. "Oh!" she cried, "you will not understand. The sacrifice is but a part--it is but the beginning. Death is terrible; yet it may be endured--if there is only death. But oh!--oh think!--think of that which comes after--the Mista Kosek!" Now the full meaning flashed upon me, and I saw it all. In an instant there arose in my mind the awful sacrifice on the pyramid and the unutterable horror of the Mista Kosek. Oh, horror, horror, horror! Oh, hideous abomination and deed without a name! I could not speak. I caught her in my arms, and we both wept passionately. The happiness of our love was now darkened by this tremendous cloud that lowered before us. The shock of this discovery was overpowering, and some time elapsed before I could rally from it. Though Almah's love was sweet beyond expression, and though as the time passed I saw that every jom she regained more and more of her former health and strength, still I could not forget what had been revealed. We were happy with one another, yet our happiness was clouded, and amid the brightness of our love there was ever present the dread spectre of our appalling doom.