ge illuminations, full of terror
and despair. Blood-red lights and purple shadows alternated in my
vision. Then came the dreams.

* * * * *

There was always Berna. Through a mass of grimacing, greed-contorted
faces gradually there formed and lingered her sweet and pensive one. We
were in a strange costume, she and I. It seemed like that of the early
Georges. We were running away, fleeing from some one. For her sake a
great fear and anxiety possessed me. We were eloping, I fancied.

There was a marsh to cross, a hideous quagmire, and our pursuers were
close. We started over the quaking ground, then, suddenly, I saw her
sink. I rushed to aid her, and I, too, sank. We were to our necks in the
soft ooze, and there on the bank, watching us, was the foremost of our
hunters. He laughed at our struggles; he mocked us; he rejoiced to see
us drown. And in my dream the face of the man seemed strangely like
Locasto.

* * * * *

We were in a bower of roses, she and I. It was still further back in
history. We seemed to be in the garden of a palace. I was in doublet and
hose, and she wore a long, flowing kirtle. The air was full of fragrance
and sunshine. Birds were singing. A fountain scattered a shower of
glittering diamonds on the breeze. She was sitting on the grass, while I
reclined by her side, my head lying on her lap. Above me I could see her
face like a lily bending over me. With dainty fingers she crumpled a
rose and let the petals snow down on me.

Then, suddenly, I was seized, torn away from her by men in black, who
roughly choked her screams. I was dragged off, thrown into a foul cell,
left many days. Then, one night, I was dragged forth and brought before
a grim tribunal in a hall of gloom and horror. They pronounced my
doom--Death. The chief Inquisitor raised his mask, and in those gloating
features I recognised--Locasto.

* * * * *

Again it seemed as if I were still further back in history, in some city
under the Roman rule. I was returning from the Temple with my bride. How
fair and fresh and beautiful she was, garlanded with flowers and
radiantly happy. Again it was Berna.

Suddenly there are shouts, the beating of drums, the clash of cymbals.
The great Governor of the Province is coming. He passes with his
retinue. Suddenly he catches sight of her whom I have but newly wed. He
stops. He asks who is the maid. The