et how to describe it I know not unless it be by
simile.

Once in Thibet we were imprisoned for months by snows that stretched
down from the mountain slopes into the valleys and oh! how weary did we
grow of those arid, aching fields of purest white. At length rain set
in, and blinding mists in which it was not safe to wander, that made the
dark nights darker yet.

So it was, until there came a morning when seeing the sun shine, we went
to our door and looked out. Behold a miracle! Gone were the snows that
choked the valley and in the place of them appeared vivid springing
grass, starred everywhere with flowers, and murmuring brooks and birds
that sang and nested in the willows. Gone was the frowning sky and all
the blue firmament seemed one tender smile. Gone were the austerities of
winter with his harsh winds, and in their place spring, companioned by
her zephyrs, glided down the vale singing her song of love and life.

There in this high chamber, in the presence of the living and the dead,
while the last act of the great tragedy unrolled itself before me,
looking on Ayesha that forgotten scene sprang into my mind. For on her
face just such a change had come. Hitherto, with all her loveliness,
the heart of Ayesha had seemed like that winter mountain wrapped in
its unapproachable snow and before her pure brow and icy self-command,
aspirations sank abashed and desires died.

She swore she loved and her love fulfilled itself in death and many a
mysterious way. Yet it was hard to believe that this passion of hers was
more than a spoken part, for how can the star seek the moth although the
moth may seek the star? Though the man may worship the goddess, for all
her smiles divine, how can the goddess love the man?

But now everything was altered! Look! Ayesha grew human; I could see
her heart beat beneath her robes and hear her breath come in soft, sweet
sobs, while o'er her upturned face and in her alluring eyes there spread
itself that look which is born of love alone. Radiant and more radiant
did she seem to grow, sweeter and more sweet, no longer the veiled
Hermit of the Caves, no longer the Oracle of the Sanctuary, no longer
the Valkyrie of the battle-plain, but only the loveliest and most happy
bride that ever gladdened a husband's eyes.

She spoke, and it was of little things, for thus Ayesha proclaimed the
conquest of herself.

"Fie!" she said, showing her white robes torn with spears and stained by
the dust a