All at once Dolios stood beside her, and silently lifted her up. He asked no questions. "Dolios," she said, trying to compose herself, "give me the light! I must see what was there; what is there now." She took the torch and walked with a firm step round the corner of the sarcophagus. There was nothing to be seen, but by the light of the torch she now perceived that the monument was not old like the others, but newly erected; so unsoiled was the white marble, so fresh the black letters of the inscription. Irresistibly impelled by the strange curiosity which is inseparable from terror, she held the torch to the socle of the monument, and by its flickering light read these words: "Eternal honour to the three Balthes, Thulun, Ibba, and Pitza. An eternal curse upon their murderers!" With a scream Amalaswintha staggered back. Dolios led her, half fainting, to the carriage. She passed the remaining hours of her journey in an almost unconscious state. She felt ill in body and mind. The nearer she came to the island the more the feverish joy with which she had looked forward to reaching it was replaced by a mysterious fear. With apprehension she saw the shrubs and trees at the road-side fly past her faster and faster. At last the smoking horses stopped. She let down the shutters and looked out. It was that cold and dreary hour in which the first grey of dawn struggles for the mastery with the still pervading night. They had arrived, it seemed, at the shore of the lake, but nothing was to be seen of its waters. A dismal grey mist lay, impenetrable as the future, before Amalaswintha's eyes. Of the villa, even of the island, nothing could be seen. On the right side of the road stood a low fisher-hut, half-buried in the tall, thick reeds, which bent their heads to the soughing of the morning wind. Singular! they seemed to warn and beckon her away from the hidden lake behind them. Dolios had gone into the hut. He now returned and lifted the Princess out of the carriage. Silently he led her through the damp meadow to the reeds. Among them lay a small boat, which seemed rather to float on the mist than on the water. At the rudder sat an old man in a grey and ragged mantle; his long white hair hung dishevelled about his face. He seemed to sit dreaming with closed eyes, which he did not even open when the Princess entered the rocking boat and placed herself in the middle upon a camp-stool. Dolios entered the boat after her, and took the two oars; the slaves remained behind with the carriage. "Dolios!" cried Amalaswintha anxiously, "it is very dark. Can the old man steer in this fog, and no light on either shore?" "A light would be of no use, Queen. He is blind." "Blind!" cried the terrified woman. "Let me land! Put back!" "I have guided the boat for twenty years," said the aged ferryman; "no seeing man knows the way as well as I." "Were you born blind then?"