d the same gloomy twilight which had startled him in the
vestibule.

The dim, shrouded form lying motionless on the couch before him, with a
heavy wreath of lotus-flowers and white roses encircling it from head
to foot, was the subject for his brush. He was to paint here, where he
could scarcely distinguish one plant from another, or make out the form
of the vases which stood round the bed of death. The white blossoms
alone gleamed like pale lights in the gloom, and with a sister radiance
something smooth and round which lay on the couch--the bare arm of the
dead maiden.

His heart began to throb; the artist's love of his art had awaked within
him; he had collected his wits, and explained to the matron that to
paint in the darkness was impossible.

Again she bowed in reply, but at a signal two waiting women, who were
squatting on the floor behind the couch, started up in the twilight, as
if they had sprung from the earth, and approached their mistress.

A fresh shock chilled the painter's blood, for at the same moment the
lady's voice was suddenly audible close to his ear, almost as deep as a
man's but not unmelodious, ordering the girls to draw back the curtain
as far as the painter should desire.

Now, he felt, the spell was broken; curiosity and eagerness took
the place of reverence for death. He quietly gave his orders for the
necessary arrangements, lent the women the help of his stronger arm,
took out his painting implements, and then requested the matron to
unveil the dead girl, that he might see from which side it would be best
to take the portrait. But then again he was near losing his composure,
for the lady raised her veil, and measured him with a glance as though
he had asked something strange and audacious indeed.

Never had he met so piercing a glance from any woman's eyes; and yet
they were red with weeping and full of tears. Bitter grief spoke in
every line of her still youthful features, and their stern, majestic
beauty was in keeping with the deep tones of her speech. Oh that he had
been so happy as to see this woman in the bloom of youthful loveliness!
She did not heed his admiring surprise; before acceding to his demand,
her regal form trembled from head to foot, and she sighed as she lifted
the shroud from her daughter's face. Then, with a groan, she dropped
on her knees by the couch and laid her cheek against that of the dead
maiden. At last she rose, and murmured to the painter that if he we