astily flung open the door, and
stopped short in astonishment.

A woman, covered from head to foot in a large dark veil, stood in the
centre of the chamber.

'Who are you? This is no place for you!' cried he, after a minute's
pause. She replied only by a shudder and a sob.... He caught sight,
beneath the folds of the veil, of a too well-known saffron shawl, and
springing upon her like the lion on the lamb, clasped to his bosom his
sister.

The veil fell from her beautiful forehead. She gazed into his eyes
one moment with a look of terrified inquiry, and saw nothing there but
love.... And clinging heart to heart, brother and sister mingled holy
kisses, and strained nearer and nearer still, as if to satisfy their
last lingering doubts of each other's kin.

Many a minute passed in silent joy.... Philammon dare not speak; he dare
not ask her what brought her thither--dare not wake her to recollect
the frightful present by questions of the past, of his long forgotten
parents, their home, her history.... And, after all, was it not enough
for him that he held her at last?--her, there by her own will--the lost
lamb returned to him?--and their tears mingled as their cheeks were
pressed together.

At last she spoke.

'I ought to have known you,--I believe I did know you from the first
day! When they mentioned your likeness to me, my heart leapt up
within me; and a voice whispered.... but I would not hear it! I was
ashamed--ashamed to acknowledge my brother, for whom I had sought and
longed for years.... ashamed to think that I had a brother.... Ah, God!
and ought I not to be ashamed?'

And she broke from him again, and threw herself on the floor.

'Trample upon me; curse me!--anything but part me from him!'

Philammon had not the heart to answer her; but he made an involuntary
gesture of sorrowful dissent.

'No! Call me what I am!--what he called me just now!--but do not take me
away! Strike me, as he struck me!--anything but parting!'

'Struck you? The curse of God be on him!'

'Ah, do not curse him!--not him! It was not a blow, indeed!--only a
push--a touch--and it was my fault--all mine. I angered him--I upbraided
him;--I was mad.... Oh, why did he deceive me? Why did he let me
dance?--command me to dance?'

'Command you?'

'He said that we must not break our words. He would not hear me, when I
told him that we could deny having promised. I said that promises made
over the wine need never be kept. Who ever h