It proved to be an effectual, though temporary remedy for she soon became so absorbed in her employment, and in watching its effect upon various members of her daft audience, that she did not hear the door as it opened near one end of the long ward to admit a couple of visitors. Monsieur Arnot was with them, and they appeared to be distinguished people—people toward whom he exhibited considerable deference. They came slowly down the room together, and all three were earnestly discussing some interesting questions. Salome’s back was toward them, and she was not aware of their presence, and kept on with her story, although some of her listeners rose and moved down the room toward the strangers. This often happened, however, for she could not always hold the interest of every one, and so she paid no heed to them. They gathered around the visitors, regarding them curiously, and Dr. Arnot called the attention of his guests to one or two peculiar cases, and then some slight movement—or was it a familiar tone that was wafted toward her?—made Salome turn and look behind her. That one glance was like a galvanic battery to her. She sprang from her chair, with a low cry of mingled joy and terror; then she suddenly buried her face in her hands, as if to hide it from observation; for, as we know, since she had been in the asylum, she had discarded all her head-gear, also her unsightly spectacles, which had so completely disguised her, believing that in that place she was in no danger of having her identity discovered. For one moment she stood like a statue thus, then she turned her back again upon the strangers, and glided with drooping head and a hopeless air into the remotest corner of the vast room where she remained motionless, scarcely appearing to breathe, and, as if looking from the window. The attendant, who was in the habit of watching Salome closely, had observed her strange deportment, so different from her usual nervous, eager interest when there were strangers present, and wondered at it. Hitherto, she had been one of the first to come forward and watch with a keen eye and intense interest every movement of visitors. Now, all at once, she appeared terrified and anxious to shun observation, while her colorless, averted face and despairing attitude, plainly indicated that something had occurred to alarm her, which might develop her peculiar phase of insanity. He was standing near Dr. Arnot and his guests as he observed this. “How very strange!” he remarked in an earnest tone. One of the gentlemen turned to him as he said this; then his glance followed his and caught sight of that motionless figure by the window. “To what do you refer?” he asked with some curiosity. “To that girl yonder; it’s a peculiar case, very,” the attendant replied. “She belongs to a fine family, is lovely, cultivated, and remarkably amiable, but strangely enough, she imagines herself to be a nun—one of the gray nuns——”