torn from my side by three masks; who, stifling her cries, rapidly bore her away; and as I pursued, disappeared in a cave. Next morning, Hautia was surrounded by her nymphs, but Rea was absent. Then, gliding near, she snatched from my hair, a jet-black tress, loose-hanging. ‘Ozonna is the murderer! See! Rea’s torn hair entangled with his!’ Aghast, I swore that I knew not her fate. ‘Then let the witch Larfee be called!’ The maidens darted from the bower; and soon after, there rolled into it a green cocoa-nut, followed by the witch, and all the damsels, flinging anemones upon it. Bowling this way and that, the nut at last rolled to my feet.—‘It is he!’ cried all.—Then they bound me with osiers; and at midnight, unseen and irresistible hands placed me in a shallop; which sped far out into the lagoon, where they tossed me to the waves; but so violent the shock, the osiers burst; and as the shallop fled one way, swimming another, ere long I gained land. “‘Thus in Flozella, I found but the phantom of Ady, and slew the last hope of Ady the true.’” This recital sank deep into my soul. In some wild way, Hautia had made a captive of Yillah; in some one of her black-eyed maids, the blue-eyed One was transformed. From side to side, in frenzy, I turned; but in all those cold, mystical eyes, saw not the warm ray that I sought. “Hast taken root within this treacherous soil?” cried Media. “Away! thy Yillah is behind thee, not before. Deep she dwells in blue Serenia’s groves; which thou would’st not search. Hautia mocks thee; away! The reef is rounded; but a strait flows between this isle and Odo, and thither its ruler must return. Every hour I tarry here, some wretched serf is dying there, for whom, from blest Serenia, _I carry life and joy. Away!_” “Art still bent on finding evil for thy good?” cried Mohi.—“How can Yillah harbor here?—Beware!—Let not Hautia so enthrall thee.” “Come away, come away,” cried Yoomy. “Far hence is Yillah! and he who tarries among these flowers, must needs burn juniper.” “Look on me, Media, Mohi, Yoomy. Here I stand, my own monument, till Hautia breaks the spell.” In grief they left me. Vee-Vee’s conch I heard no more. CHAPTER XC. Taji With Hautia As their last echoes died away down the valley, Hautia glided near;— zone unbound, the amaryllis in her hand. Her bosom ebbed and flowed; the motes danced in the beams that darted from her eyes. “Come! let us sin, and be merry. Ho! wine, wine, wine! and lapfuls of flowers! let all the cane-brakes pipe their flutes. Damsels! dance; reel, swim, around me:—I, the vortex that draws all in. Taji! Taji!— as a berry, that name is juicy in my mouth!—Taji, Taji!” and in choruses, she warbled forth the sound, till it seemed issuing from her syren eyes. My heart flew forth from out its bars, and soared in air; but as my hand touched Hautia’s, down dropped a dead bird from the clouds.