of the Church; but as they approached, nearer and nearer, three
forms seemed to melt from the back of the choir and stood on the steps;
two were figures in cloaks; the third was a priest. His surplice shone
in the shadows against the outline of the columns. He mounted the
steps of the altar and stood with his face to the cross. They seemed
to be waiting.

To Velasco the sound of his footsteps echoed and reverberated on the
marble, filling the darkness. The noise of them was terrible. He
would have covered his ears with his hands, but the girl urged him
forward. The soft fingers crept about his own like a vine, clinging,
irresistible.

"Come," she breathed, "ah, come, Monsieur--come!"

Then he followed, moving forward hurriedly, blindly, like one
hypnotized. His senses were dulled; his will was inert. When he came
to himself he was kneeling beside her on the marble, and he heard the
voice of the priest, chanting slowly in Slavonic:

"Blessed is our God always, and ever, and unto ages of ages.

"In peace let us pray to the Lord for the servant of God, Velasco, and
for the hand-maid of God, Kaya, who now plight each other their troth,
and for their salvation. . . . That he will send down upon them
perfect and peaceful love. . . . That he will preserve them in oneness
of mind and in steadfastness of faith. . . . That he will bless them
with a blameless life. . . . That he will deliver us from all
tribulation, wrath, peril and necessity. . . . Lord have mercy!

"Lord have mercy!"

He listened in bewilderment; was it himself, or his ghost, his shadow.
He tried to think, but everything melted before him in a mist. The
girl by his side was a wraith; they were dead, and this was some
strange unaccountable happening in another world. The marble felt cold
to his knees. Velasco tried to move, to rise, but the hand of the
priest held him down. The voice chanted on:

"Hast thou, Velasco, a good, free and unconstrained will and a firm
intention to take unto thyself to wife this woman, Kaya, whom thou
seest here before thee?"

And in the pause, he heard himself answering, strangely, dreamily, in a
voice that was not his own:

"I have, reverend Father."

"Thou hast not promised thyself to any other bride?"

"I have not promised myself, reverend Father."

Then he felt the hand of the priest, pressing the crown down on his
forehead; it weighed on his brow, and when he tried to shake it off he
cou