Plucritus started at the sound, then moved hastily across the room to where I still sat. “Come with me,” he said shortly. And as I rose he placed his hand within my arm. I remember well the clasp of those iron fingers as he led the way across the room out into the hall. We passed out by a side entrance into the palace grounds, and then on to a high balcony at some short distance. It was darkest night, and yet the view around was clear as day. To one side ran the great river, threading its winding course for miles as far as eye could see. It was very black, and very wide, and very strong, and the swish of its waters against the heavy reeds was loudly audible; by now I was beginning to understand the sounds of hell. The most glorious sight was the great palaces that rose high among the trees in every direction, their graceful architecture and brilliant lights, together with the pure marble of the steps and terraces that led up to them, making a perfect dream of transcendent beauty. Moreover, the heavy foliage of the trees threw the more into relief their exceeding brilliancy. Then as I listened I could perceive the sound of voices laughing, talking, and as I watched I saw figures moving on the terraces, till it seemed the whole scene was filled with life and animation. Below us I recognised the wide avenue along which I had come, and it was to this avenue that all eyes were bent. Just then there came the same cry which we had heard before, this time nearer. Plucritus laughed softly, and from the neighbouring terraces I heard one general laugh follow the sound. Presently from a sudden bend in the road dwarfed forms sprang up on every side. Shouting, leaping, making inarticulate cries like wildly-excited animals, half whine, half scream. They were hideous and horrible demons whose unrestrained excitement lent that swollen fulness to their features which was more disfiguring than their leanness heretofore had been. And in the midst the cause of all this wild, unbounded joy was the body, or what looked like the body, of a very lovely woman. It was lying bound stiffly to a funeral car shaped like a coffin, and all round there shone a clear red light. And on the one side was printed in letters of gold, “With care—Perishable.” And on the other side, “Fragile.” Plucritus read these words and laughed. “I wonder whose little joke that was,” he remarked. “There is a good deal perishable and a good deal fragile, no doubt, but beyond that there is a good deal durable and strong.” “Is that the soul of a sinful woman?” I asked, as the screaming, howling procession came along.