Vast--colossal--like a dense, dark, shapely cloud, stood that reflected being in the sky; for several minutes it remained thus, and though Wagner could trace no particular outline of features, yet it seemed to him as if the female were standing in a pensive attitude. But as the twilight gradually subsided, or rather yielded to the increasing obscurity, the image was absorbed likewise in the growing gloom; until the dusky veil of night made the entire vault above of one deep, uniform, purple hue. Then Wagner once more returned to the cavern, with the resolution of crossing the range of hills on the ensuing morn. CHAPTER XLI. THE ISLAND QUEEN. Oh! how beautiful--how enchantingly beautiful seemed Nisida, as her delicate feet bore her glancingly along the sunny banks of the crystal stream, to the soft music of its waters. How the slight drapery which she wore set off the rich undulations of that magnificent form! How the wreaths and garlands of fantastically woven flowers became the romantic loveliness of her person--that glowing Hebe of the South! Holding in her fair hand a light, slim wand, and moving through the delicious vale with all the soft abandonment of gait and limb which feared no intrusion on her solitude, she appeared that Mediterranean island's queen. What, though the evening breeze, disporting with her raiment, lifted it from her glowing bosom?--she cared not; no need for sense of shame was there! What though she laid aside her vesture to disport in the sea at morn?--no furtive glances did she cast round; no haste did she make to resume her garments; for whose eye, save that of God, beheld her? But was she happy? Alas! there were moments when despair seized upon her soul; and, throwing herself on the yellow sand, or on some verdant bank, she would weep--oh! she would weep such bitter, bitter tears, that those who have been forced to contemplate her character with aversion, must now be compelled to pity her.