watched fixedly with interested face, and then amazement wiped
out all other expression and he sat motionless, breathless, looking,
intently looking. For the white object came straight toward the water
and at the very edge unhesitatingly stepped upon the bridge of gold and
lightly, easily advanced in his direction. The man waited. On came
the figure and as it drew closer he could see that it was a very tall,
extremely slender woman, wrapped in soft robes of white. She stepped
along the slender line of the gold bridge with grace unequalled.

From the water arose a shining mist, and behind the advancing figure
a wall of light outlined and rimmed her in a setting of gold. As she
neared the shore the Harvester's blood began to race in his veins and
his lips parted in wonder. First she was like a slender birch trunk,
then she resembled a wild lily, and soon she was close enough to prove
that she was young and very lovely. Heavy braids of dark hair rested
on her head as a coronet. Her forehead was low and white. Her eyes were
wide-open wells of darkness, her rounded cheeks faintly pink, and her
red lips smiling invitation. Her throat was long, very white, and the
hands that caught up the fleecy robe around her were rose-coloured and
slender. In a panic the Harvester saw that the trailing robe swept the
undulant gold water, but was not wet; the feet that alternately showed
as she advanced were not purple with cold, but warm with a pink glow.

She was coming straight toward him, wonderful, alluring, lovely beyond
any woman the Harvester ever had seen. Straightway the fountains of
twenty-six years' repression overflowed in the breast of the man and all
his being ran toward her in a wave of desire. On she came, and now her
tender feet were on the white gravel. When he could see clearly she was
even more beautiful than she had appeared at a distance. He opened his
lips, but no sound came. He struggled to rise, but his legs would not
bear his weight. Helpless, he sank against the casing. The girl walked
to his feet, bent, placed a hand on each of his shoulders, and smiled
into his eyes. He could scent the flower-like odour of her body and
wrapping, even her hair. He struggled frantically to speak to her as she
leaned closer, yet closer, and softly but firmly laid lips of pulsing
sweetness on his in a deliberate kiss.

The Harvester was on his feet now. Belshazzar shrank into the shadows.

"Come back!" cried the man. "Come back!