ody? Was this feast of passion that I beheld
her obsequies, or could it be some occult incantation to raise her
from the dead?

The thought fired my brain with madness! Oh, that it might be possible
for her to live again, if only for one hour, that she might hear of
victory! All at once I seemed to know that Lyone was laid in the heart
of the helix held by the hehorrent. I knew, oh, I knew that the
spectacle I beheld was the ceremony of reincarnation. I knew that the
goddess was being swathed with currents of life from her votaries. How
I blessed those living batteries, so faithful in their glorious work!
How I blessed the adorable sorcerer who conducted this precious
ministry of life, who focussed the love of thrilling souls upon the
person of their goddess!

I stood transfixed to the floor, watching with straining eyes those
flamens of life perform their ritual of reincarnation. The air of the
temple grew warm as blood, and infinitely holy. Soft and piercing
music rose from unseen chambers of the temple, which, mingling with
the blessed storm of life that beat upon the mouth of the helix,
seemed to whirl away my senses.

The first circle of souls around the dragon comprised the votaries of
Bishano, or Sorcery; Hielano, or Magic; Nidialano, or Astrology;
Padamano, or Soothsaying.

The second circle embraced the adepts of Niano, or Witchcraft;
Redohano, or Wizardry; Biccano, or the Oracle; Kielano, or Augury;
Tocderano, or Prophecy; Jiracano, or Geomancy; Jocdilano, or
Necromancy.

The third circle embraced the hierophants of Orphitano, or
Conjuration; Orielano, or Divination; Pridano, or Clairvoyance;
Ecthyano, or Mesmerism; Cideshano, or Electro-Biology; Omdolophano, or
Theosophy; Bishanamano, or Spiritualism.

How shall I describe the spell of that hour? Glimmering figures, clad
in robes of finest gossamer of the rarest colors, powderings and
embroiderings, sang the songs of pained and enraptured sensibility.

They loved, they wept, they supplicated Harikar!

I saw twin-souls embrace in infinite tenderness, and again with
ecstatic enthusiasm. It was a sea of supernatural emotion. It was an
abyss of affection, filled with a whirlwind of bold, delicate,
enormous love.

A _religieuse_ of Tocderano shouted, "She will live again!"

A priest of Biccano sang, "She will be born again of mystical,
chivalrous love!"

As the enraptured host sang of life and love, I felt a million
exaggerations of the delicacies