d penetrated the ghost of this ancient garden for a thousand
yards the light from the opening was no longer of any service. I lighted
a candle; and its yellow rays fell upon a square portal into which led
another flight of steps. And I went down.

"There were eighteen steps descending into a square stone room. Strange
gleams and glimmers from wall and ceiling flashed dimly in my eyes under
the wavering flame of the candle. Then the flame grew still--still as
death--and Death lay at my feet--there on the stone floor--a man, square
shouldered, hairless, the cobwebs of his tunic mantling him, lying face
downward, arms outflung.

"After a moment I stooped and touched him, and the entire prostrate
figure dissolved into dust where it lay, leaving at my feet a shadow
shape in thin silhouette against the pavement--merely a gray layer of
finest dust shaped like a man, a tracery of impalpable powder on the
stones.

"Upward and around me I passed the burning candle; vast figures in blue
and red and gold grew out of the darkness; the painted walls sparkled;
the shadows that had slept through all those centuries trembled and
shrank away into distant corners.

"And then--and then I saw the gold edges of her sandals sparkle in the
darkness, and the clasped girdle of virgin gold around her slender waist
glimmered like purest flame!"

Burke, leaning far across the table, interlocked hands tightening,
stared and stared into space. A smile edged his mouth; his voice grew
wonderfully gentle:

"Why, she was scarcely eighteen--this child--there so motionless, so
lifelike, with the sandals edging her little upturned feet, and the
small hands of her folded between the breasts. It was as though she
had just stretched herself out there--scarcely sound asleep as yet, and
her thick, silky hair--cut as they cut children's hair in these days,
you know--cradled her head and cheeks.

[Illustration: "'As though . . . scarcely sound asleep as yet.'"]

"So marvelous the mimicry of life, so absolute the deception of
breathing sleep, that I scarce dared move, fearing to awaken her.

"When I did move I forgot the dusty shape of the dead at my feet, and
left, full across his neck, the imprint of a spurred riding boot. It
gave me my first shudder; I turned, feeling beneath my foot the soft,
yielding powder, and stood aghast. Then--it is absurd!--but I felt as a
man feels who has trodden inadvertently upon another's foot--and in an
impulse of repara