To a broad avenue, banked by sculptured terraces and crowned with towering mansions, I had come, yet in this city of the night no living form appeared, till, looking up above to some alabaster steps carved by some magic hand, I beheld a spirit woman watching me. Even as I looked she moved toward me, with all the grace and lightness which spirits may possess. “You are dull of seeing, dull of hearing, dull at recognising,” she said, and I heard the siren’s voice and remembered my lost ring. I had no voice to answer, till with an effort I had roused myself. “And you, it seems, are duller at receiving.” “How so?” she asked, and laughed and drew much nearer, so that I recognised the more this spirit beauty. “I come like an unwelcome guest, finding no preparation at the end of travel.” “Indeed,” she answered, “all has been prepared, but it was done in silence. We knew your hatred of display. And is it true that you are here without one bite, one ugly serpent twist to mar your strength or beauty? Then indeed you are welcome. Come this way.” She led me by the steps of alabaster under the shade of heavy drooping trees. We passed along the margin of a river, by many statues of exceeding beauty, whose images were reflected in its bed. But to me, foreign to this nature, the gloom and heavy grandeur were oppressive. Even to my feet the hard, unbending marble brought weariness and pain. “Lady,” I said at last, “this kingdom is in need of something. It lacks a joyful element of sound.” At this she laughed, and there was beauty in it, maybe some merriment. “You are dull of hearing,” she repeated, and looked back at me and stayed, then laughed again. She pointed toward the river. “Come nearer,” she went on. “Now listen, listen.” And she raised a finger. “Does it not run so? Gurgle, gurgle! Is there no rhythm in that?” And as I listened I could hear the sound. “There is no joyousness in it,” I said. “You are dull of understanding,” she repeated, and laughed again and moved along. Her dress, now that I came to see it more distinctly and follow it more closely in the unnoticeable haze, was of the clearest shade of twilight inlaid with many a shining gem. And still we passed along, till on a sudden we lit on a great and glorious building among the trees and jewel-spraying fountains. From every window sparkled brilliant light. “That is my home,” she said, and pointed to it. At length, when I had looked some time and viewed its every pinnacle and spire, buttress and gable, tower and minaret, I turned to her. “Is this a church or palace, pleasure house or prison?” I questioned. “Oh, stranger, you are dull at seeing,” she replied, and shook her head. And then, for the first time since coming there, I smiled; this creature’s fascination told on me, the only seeming-living thing about the place.