ts with
breathless interest; she longed to call out to him, to follow him as
he mounted the ladder, to fall on his neck and keep him from committing
such sacrilege--not out of fear of the ruin he might bring upon the
world, but only because she felt that the first blow he should deal to
this beautiful and unique work of art might wreck her love for him, as
his axe would wreck the ivory. She was not afraid for him; he seemed
to her inviolable and invulnerable; but her whole soul shuddered at the
deed which he was steeling himself to perpetrate. She remembered their
happy childhood together, his own artistic attempts, the admiration with
which he had gazed at the great works of the ancient sculptors--and
it seemed impossible that he, of all men he, should lay hands on that
masterpiece, that he, of all men, should be the one to insult, mutilate
and ruin it. It was not--could not be true!

But there he was, at the top of the ladder; he passed the axe from his
left hand to his right, and leaning back a little, looked at the head
of the god from one side. She could see his face plainly, and note
every movement and look; she watched him keenly, and saw the loving
and compassionate expression with which he fixed his gaze on the noble
features of Serapis, saw him clutch his left hand to his heart as if in
pain. The crowd below might fancy that he lacked courage, that he was
absorbed in prayer, or that his soul shrank from dealing the fateful
blow to the great divinity; but she could see that he was bidding a
silent farewell, as it were, to the sublime work of an inspired artist,
which it pained and shocked him to destroy. And this comforted her;
it gave her views of the situation a new direction, and suggested the
question whether he, a soldier and a Christian, when commanded by his
superior to do this deed ought to shrink or hesitate, if he were indeed,
heart and soul, what, after all, he was. Her eyes clung to him, as
a frightened child clings to its mother's neck; and the expectant
thousands, in an agony of suspense, like her, saw nothing but him.

Stillness more profound never reigned in the heart of the desert than
now in this vast and densely-crowded hall. Of all man's five senses only
one was active: that of sight; and that was concentrated on a single
object a man's hand holding an axe. The hearts of thousands stood
still, their breath was suspended, there was a singing in their ears,
a dazzling light in their eyes--eye