After gazing upon it for some ten minutes, Dhamaphat began to tremble, and turned deadly pale; feeling that he was in the presence of a supernatural being, he once more prostrated himself, and withdrew. Some secret influence from the priest had for the moment benumbed into icy coldness and even indifference his ardent love for Smâyâtee. It was almost dawn when he sought his couch for rest. A DREAM OF THE NIGHT. Meanwhile the prisoner Rama had had a plentiful repast, and was sleeping heavily, with fatigue and despair for a pillow, on the damp floor of his cell. Towards morning a cold sweat broke out on his brow. He felt creeping over him an indefinable horror, a sort of nightmare, which he struggled in vain to shake off. He groaned, panted, and at length sat up with a tremendous effort. In a niche in the wall he fancied he saw a pale, blue, misty outline of a human figure, so indistinct that at first he could only distrust his own vision, but gradually it began to take form; at length it was as clear and palpable as a shape of life. It was the face and figure of the priest P'hra Chow Sâduman, whom he had met a year ago in the mountains of P'hra Batt. He was dressed in a loose robe of cloudy yellow; his legs were crossed, his arms folded across his breast, his eyes cast down; he seemed to be praying. The shadow of the shade in the background grew darker, and the form grew lurid, as if surrounded by fire. Rama stared, rubbed his eyes; plainer did the figure of the priest appear, until it seemed to rise and swell and fill the whole cell. A dark, heavy mist settled on the prisoner's face, but the apparition grew brighter. He could bear it no longer; shuddering with horror, he cried: "Speak, whoever thou art, and tell me thy commands; they shall be obeyed." Suddenly he felt a violent shaking of the ground on which he was seated; each moment he expected to be hurled into an abyss below; he clung to the earth, and cried again: "Speak! For by the gods Dâvee and Dhupiyâ I vow to fulfil thy behest, even if it be to offer thee a human sacrifice." He then perceived a soft cloud filling the cell, and in the centre of the cloud were luminous characters, which he read thus: "Sell not thy daughter to the duke." The apparition vanished almost as soon as he had deciphered the words. Rama fell back against the wall of his cell, and awoke. It was long before he could collect his scattered faculties, and what were left to him seemed steeped in illusion; he could only wonder, and bow in mystified adoration before the niche in his cell. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 8: Dharma padam, the "Path of Virtue."--Buddhist Bible.] CHAPTER XI. THE HEROISM OF A CHILD. It was morning. All were assembled once more in the great hall, eager for a termination of their work. Fresh troops of men to be enrolled and branded arrived every moment.