their place were great high buildings
with lofty porticos, broad columns and carved friezes, but flames were
leaping round them, intenser and greater than before, and the noise of
the fire had increased. In front of me was an open court, in the centre
of which was an altar, and to the right of this altar stood an old
bay-tree. An old man and a grey-haired woman were clinging to this
altar; it was drenched with blood, and on the steps of it lay several
bodies of young men clothed in armour, but squalid with dust and blood.

I had scarcely become aware of the scene before a great cloud of smoke
passed through the court, and when it rose I saw there had been another
change: in that few moments' space the fire seemed to have wrought
incredible havoc. Nothing was left of all the tall pillared buildings,
the friezes and the porticos, the altar, the bay-tree and the
bodies--nothing but the pile of logs which vomited a rolling cloud of
flame and smoke into the sky. The moon was still shining calmly, and the
sky was softer and greener. On the ground there were hundreds of dead
and dying men; the dying were groaning in their agony. Far away on the
horizon there was a thin line of light, a faint trembling thread as
though of foam, and I seemed to hear the moaning of the sea.

All at once a woman walked in front of the burning pile. She was tall,
and silken folds clothed the perfect lines of her body and fell straight
to the ground. She walked royally, and when she moved her gestures were
like the rhythm of majestic music. The firelight shone on her hair,
which was bound with a narrow golden band. Her hair was like a cloud of
spun sunshine, and it seemed brighter than the flames. She was walking
with downcast eyes, but presently she looked up. Her face was calm, and
faultless as skilfully-hewn marble, and it seemed to be made of some
substance different from the clay which goes to the making of men and
women. It was not an angel's face; it was not a divine face; neither was
it a wicked face, nor had it anything cruel, nor anything of the siren
or the witch. Love and pleasure seemed to have moulded the flower-like
lips; but an infinite carelessness shone in the still blue eyes. They
seemed like two seas that had never known what winds and tempests
mean, but which bask for ever under unruffled skies lulled by a
slumber-scented breeze.

She looked up at the fire and smiled, and at that smile one thought the
heavens must open and the