“Well, my daughter,” said Barbillus, raising his right hand to heaven, “I swear by Isis of the thousand names, by the happiness of my life and the future bliss of my soul; the ruler of the world himself will vouchsafe to appear to you, the mighty lord before whom all grovel in the dust, from the rising to the setting of the sun.” “Oh! I thank thee!” cried Cornelia in a transport. “Let me kneel, holy Father, and wait in all humility till your words are fulfilled.” The priest left her. Cornelia sank on to the purple cushions with a sigh, and bowed her head; her long hair fell in a waving stream over her face and down to the ground. She clasped her hands and prayed. Then she heard once more that wonderful music, that seemed to come out of the ceiling and out of the walls, and yet sounded so distant, so appealing, so dream-like. Suddenly the lamp went out; a terrific peal of thunder shook the air, and the room quivered under her feet.[44] At the same instant an intense and intolerable light, which gradually became milder, filled the room. When Cornelia looked up again, trembling, the curtain in front of her had been drawn back. Not far beyond she saw a magnificent _pulvinar_,[45] as it was called; a stuffed couch, such as the priests made ready, when they offered the food of the gods to the sacred images of the immortals. Over the head of this couch hung a light cloud, which again flashed into vivid light, then gradually died out, till at last it looked merely like a mist, dim and ghostly. Then an icy breath fanned Cornelia’s burning brow, the mist parted, and the figure of some unknown creature slowly advanced towards the terror-stricken girl--mysteriously, shrouded in some sheeny blue drapery that made the outlines indistinct, like an image in a dream. “Fear nothing,” said a voice in a whisper. Cornelia looked upwards; the voice was soft like the murmur of waters, and seemed to come from above. “Fear nothing,” it repeated. “Thy prayer is heard. Thou shalt be blest above all mortal women.” The figure came nearer, and Cornelia, with an awe-stricken shudder, recognized the grotesque hawk-head that she had so often seen in images. Yes, it was the same guise that Osiris wore down in the temple, where he stood on his plinth of ivory and sardonyx, an inscrutable combination of hideousness and dignity. A god with the head of a brute creature! How could she so ignore her sense of beauty! How could she do such violence to the instincts of her nature? By degrees her pious delusions had gained the mastery; but now--now, when the statue seemed to have come to life, when the god himself in the hawk mask had stepped down from his pedestal, what a shiver chilled her blood! She shuddered, as if a snake or a scorpion were creeping towards her. By this time the shadowy form--which almost seemed to float in the air, so noiselessly had it moved--was standing close before her. A hand was softly laid upon her shoulder.