He thought he felt once more the soft touch of the woman's hands, that he saw the glowing flower of her lips, the soft yielding figure, the white arms, the rippling fair hair, the tiny feet, and he stood still clasping his hands over his burning eyes. Why had he not torn the bandage from her brow, and pressed his lips upon that tempting mouth, crushing it beneath his own? Indeed he had been a fool! And no doubt it was thus she considered him, and was now deriding his memory amongst those shameless guests who crowded around her tables; those tables that were bending under the weight of the costly dishes, and where the brilliant poppies were shedding their petals as they faded and drooped amongst hundreds of lighted candles. Eric groaned in his distress; he longed to go back before that golden throne and tell the beautiful woman that he hated her ... hated her!... But now he must escape--but why was the moon so bright? Why could he not find his way to the snow-white hall, and from there, over the deep water, past the mysterious well, out into the wide world once more? Why did his head ache and throb? Why did his throat feel dry with ill-contained sobs? What had come to him? Never had he felt thus. All the sweet peace of his soul had been replaced by waves of unknown sensations and desires; and beneath it all, that burning pain at his heart, that unsatisfied yearning for something he could not grasp. The moon flooded everything in a hard, merciless light; he ran from place to place seeking an issue, only to find everywhere blank walls to stop him. He knew that he was losing his head, the blood beat in his temples, his eyes could no more clearly see.... With a stifled cry of distress he dropped down, and all became dark around him. X For in much wisdom is much grief; and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow. ECCLESIASTES. After a short time Eric's senses came back; he looked up and saw that he was in a small, very dark chamber. How he got there he did not know, he had never seen the place before. Then he rose to his feet with a start. A curtain had been quietly drawn aside, and he could see now into an inner chamber out of which a faint light shone. Forgetting all his fear and misery he ran forward, hoping to find an outlet whence he could reach the old moaning bell, and thence escape to liberty under God's great sky, free like a bird once more to wander wherever he would. But the sight he saw riveted his feet to the ground: upon a low narrow couch lay the woman he had learnt to hate. She was stretched motionless, asleep on her back, her wonderful face only faintly discernible--and oh! marvel, her eyes were no longer covered. All about her seemed wrapped in grey vapours; the soft draperies with which her body was covered were also grey, like finely woven cobwebs. At each side of her couch, close to her head, stood large jars of tarnished silver, filled with irises the colour of autumn clouds.