ey vanished.

On the edge of the pavement, not far from where he was standing, Lucian
noticed a tall and lovely young woman who seemed to be alone. She was in
the full light of a naphtha flame, and her bronze hair and flushed cheeks
shone illuminate as she viewed the orgy. She had dark brown eyes, and a
strange look as of an old picture in her face; and her eyes brightened
with an urgent gleam. He saw the revelers nudging each other and glancing
at her, and two or three young men went up and asked her to come for a
walk. She shook her head and said "No thank you" again and again, and
seemed as if she were looking for somebody in the crowd.

"I'm expecting a friend," she said at last to a man who proposed a drink
and a walk afterwards; and Lucian wondered what kind of friend would
ultimately appear. Suddenly she turned to him as he was about to pass on,
and said in a low voice:

"I'll go for a walk with you if you like; you just go on, and I'll follow
in a minute."

For a moment he looked steadily at her. He saw that the first glance has
misled him; her face was not flushed with drink as he had supposed, but
it was radiant with the most exquisite color, a red flame glowed and died
on her cheek, and seemed to palpitate as she spoke. The head was set on
the neck nobly, as in a statue, and about the ears the bronze hair
strayed into little curls. She was smiling and waiting for his answer.

He muttered something about being very sorry, and fled down the hill out
of the orgy, from the noise of roaring voices and the glitter of the
great lamps very slowly swinging in the blast of wind. He knew that he
had touched the brink of utter desolation; there was death in the woman's
face, and she had indeed summoned him to the Sabbath. Somehow he had been
able to refuse on the instant, but if he had delayed he knew he would
have abandoned himself to her, body and soul. He locked himself in his
room and lay trembling on the bed, wondering if some subtle sympathy had
shown the woman her perfect companion. He looked in the glass, not
expecting now to see certain visible and outward signs, but searching for
the meaning of that strange glance that lit up his eyes. He had grown
even thinner than before in the last few months, and his cheeks were
wasted with hunger and sorrow, but there were still about his features
the suggestion of a curious classic grace, and the look as of a faun who
has strayed from the vineyards and olive gardens.