The procession passed on, and all once more relapsed into gloom: the Char Minar was no longer visible to the eye, dazzled as it had been by the lights; but as it became more accustomed to the darkness, the building gradually revealed itself, dim and shadowy, its huge white surface looking like a spectre, or, I could fancy, like one of the mysterious inhabitants of the air whom, we are told, Suleeman-ibn-Daood and other sages had under their command, and were thus enabled to describe. Again, as we gazed, another procession would pass, and a sudden flash as of lightning would cause the same effect; interior and exterior of the edifice were as bright, far brighter they seemed, than at noonday. I was enraptured. Zenat had left us to ourselves, and we sat, my arm around my beloved, while she nestled close to me, and we murmured to each other those vows of love which hearts like ours could alone frame and give utterance to. Long did we sit thus--Sahib, I know not how long--the hours fled like moments. "Look!" cried Zora, "look at that mighty gathering in the street below us; they are now lighting the torches, and the procession of the Nal Sahib will presently come forth." I had not observed it, though I had heard the hum of voices; the gloom of the street had hitherto prevented my distinguishing anything; but as torch after torch was lighted and raised aloft on immense poles, the sea of human heads revealed itself. There were thousands. The street was so packed from side to side, that to move was impossible; the mass was closely wedged together, and we waited impatiently for the time when it should be put in motion, to make the tour of the city.