But first I took up Ayesha's
kirtle and the gauzy scarf with which she had been wont to hide her
dazzling loveliness from the eyes of men, and, averting my head so that
I might not look upon it, covered up that dreadful relic of the glorious
dead, that shocking epitome of human beauty and human life. I did this
hurriedly, fearing lest Leo should recover, and see it again.

Then, stepping over the perfumed masses of dark hair that lay upon the
sand, I stooped down by Job, who was lying upon his face, and turned him
over. As I did so his arm fell back in a way that I did not like, and
which sent a chill through me, and I glanced sharply at him. One look
was enough. Our old and faithful servant was dead. His nerves, already
shattered by all he had seen and undergone, had utterly broken down
beneath this last dire sight, and he had died of terror, or in a fit
brought on by terror. I had only to look at his face to see it.

It was another blow; but perhaps it may help people to understand how
overwhelmingly awful was the experience through which we had passed--we
did not feel it much at the time. It seemed quite natural that the poor
fellow should be dead. When Leo came to himself, which he did with a
groan and trembling of the limbs about ten minutes afterwards, and I
told him that Job was dead, he merely said, "_Oh!_" And, mind you, this
was from no heartlessness, for he and Job were much attached to each
other; and he often talks of him now with the deepest regret and
affection. It was only that his nerves would bear no more. A harp can
give out but a certain quantity of sound, however heavily it is smitten.

Well, I set myself to recovering Leo, who, to my infinite relief, I
found was not dead, but only fainting, and in the end I succeeded, as I
have said, and he sat up; and then I saw another dreadful thing. When we
entered that awful place his curling hair had been of the ruddiest gold,
now it was turning grey, and by the time we reached the outer air it was
snow white. Besides, he looked twenty years older.

"What is to be done, old fellow?" he said in a hollow, dead sort of
voice, when his mind had cleared a little, and a recollection of what
had happened forced itself upon it.

"Try and get out, I suppose," I answered; "that is, unless you would
like to go in there," and I pointed to the column of fire that was once
more rolling by.

"I would go in if I were sure that it would kill me," he said with a
little