hill, I caught the first gleam of the morning star. I listened for the wailing of the woman beneath the tree. It had stopped. Worn out with her long vigil, sobbing, she had taken her way homeward. As my eyes wandered over the hill to the garden and the tomb, I started, involuntarily, for a strange glow was there. At first, I thought the soldiers had kindled a fire, for the night was chill, and it was the glow of firelight on the branches that I saw, but then I saw there was no flickering, as of firelight, but rather a kind of golden cloud that hung over the spot like a halo, and strange perfumes, such as travellers observe in the Valley of Perfumes in Araby, were floating on the breeze. I breathed deep of them. My feet took wings as I hurried to the garden. Mysterious thoughts possessed me. Wonderful emotions stirred my soul. I ran faster and knew not why I ran. I seemed obeying some primary instinct of my nature and leaped from rock to rock, or clambered over walls, or tore through hedges of roses, or pushed under trees. Nothing could be permitted to impede my progress. Halfway there, I met a soldier, fleeing, wild-eyed. I drew my sword. The man cowered at my knee. He was speechless. Some vague horror possessed him. He cast terrible looks backward and muttered incoherent sounds. I could have slain him but that some wide spirit of peace seemed brooding over all. There was a spirit of life in the air and I could not kill. I sheathed my sword. The man rose up and cast one lingering, terrified look backward and stumbled on. He was fleeing in the opposite direction from the Antonian tower. Panic had possessed his soul. He knew not whither he was going nor cared.
