were shapely and black and polished, and
ran about here and there on the floor, just like intelligent little
horseless carriages; then they would pause with their immovable eyes
fixed on me, seeing or in some mysterious way divining my presence;
their pliant horns waving up and down, like delicate instruments used to
test the air. Centipedes and millipedes in dozens came too, and were not
welcome. I feared not their venom, but it was a weariness to see them;
for they seemed no living things, but the vertebrae of snakes and eels
and long slim fishes, dead and desiccated, made to move mechanically
over walls and floor by means of some jugglery of nature. I grew skilful
at picking them up with a pair of pliant green twigs, to thrust them
into the outer darkness.

One night a moth fluttered in and alighted on my hand as I sat by the
fire, causing me to hold my breath as I gazed on it. Its fore-wings
were pale grey, with shadings dark and light written all over in
finest characters with some twilight mystery or legend; but the round
under-wings were clear amber-yellow, veined like a leaf with red and
purple veins; a thing of such exquisite chaste beauty that the sight of
it gave me a sudden shock of pleasure. Very soon it flew up, circling
about, and finally lighted on the palm-leaf thatch directly over the
fire. The heat, I thought, would soon drive it from the spot; and,
rising, I opened the door, so that it might find its way out again
into its own cool, dark, flowery world. And standing by the open door I
turned and addressed it: "O night-wanderer of the pale, beautiful wings,
go forth, and should you by chance meet her somewhere in the shadowy
depths, revisiting her old haunts, be my messenger--" Thus much had I
spoken when the frail thing loosened its hold to fall without a flutter,
straight and swift, into the white blaze beneath. I sprang forward with
a shriek and stood staring into the fire, my whole frame trembling with
a sudden terrible emotion. Even thus had Rima fallen--fallen from the
great height--into the flames that instantly consumed her beautiful
flesh and bright spirit! O cruel Nature!

A moth that perished in the flame; an indistinct faint sound; a dream
in the night; the semblance of a shadowy form moving mist-like in the
twilight gloom of the forest, would suddenly bring back a vivid memory,
the old anguish, to break for a while the calm of that period. It was
calm then after the storm. Nevertheless,