he
Hesea had done, Leo bade me judge and choose. Then into my mind there
came a clear command, from my own conscience or otherwhere, who can
say? This was the command, that I should bid her to unveil, and let fate
declare its purposes.

"Decide," said Leo, "I cannot bear much more. Like that woman, whoever
she may be, whatever happens, I will not blame you, Horace."

"Good," I answered, "I have decided," and, stepping forward, I said: "We
have taken counsel, Hes, and it is our will, who would learn the truth
and be at rest, that thou shouldst unveil before us, here and now."

"I hear and obey," the Priestess answered, in a voice like to that of a
dying woman, "only, I beseech you both, be pitiful to me, spare me your
mockeries; add not the coals of your hate and scorn to the fires of a
soul in hell, for whate'er I am, I became it for thy sake, Kallikrates.
Yet, yet I also am athirst for knowledge; for though I know all wisdom,
although I wield much power, one thing remains to me to learn--what is
the worth of the love of man, and if, indeed, it can live beyond the
horrors of the grave?"

Then, rising slowly, the Hesea walked, or rather tottered to the
unroofed open space in front of the rock chamber, and stood there quite
near to the brink of the flaming gulf beneath.

"Come hither, Papave, and loose these veils," she cried in a shrill,
thin voice.

Papave advanced, and with a look of awe upon her handsome face began the
task. She was not a tall woman, yet as she bent over her I noted that
she seemed to tower above her mistress, the Hesea.

The outer veils fell revealing more within. These fell also, and now
before us stood the mummy-like shape, although it seemed to be of less
stature, of that strange being who had met us in the Place of Bones. So
it would seem that our mysterious guide and the high priestess Hes were
the same.

Look! Length by length the wrappings sank from her. Would they
never end? How small grew the frame within? She was very short now,
unnaturally short for a full-grown woman, and oh! I grew sick at heart.
The last bandages uncoiled themselves like shavings from a stick;
two wrinkled hands appeared, if hands they could be called. Then the
feet--once I had seen such on the mummy of a princess of Egypt, and even
now by some fantastic play of the mind, I remembered that on her coffin
this princess was named "The Beautiful."

Everything was gone now, except a shift and a last inner veil abo