Oh! she was--nay, I will not describe her. I knew her at once, for thus
had I seen her last before the Fire of Life, and, strangely enough,
through the mask of unutterable age, through that cloak of humanity's
last decay, still shone some resemblance to the glorious and superhuman
Ayesha: the shape of the face, the air of defiant pride that for an
instant bore her up--I know not what.
Yes, there she stood, and the fierce light of the heartless fires beat
upon her, revealing every shame.
There was a dreadful silence. I saw Leo's lips turn white and his knees
begin to give; but by some effort he recovered himself, and stayed still
and upright like a dead man held by a wire. Also I saw Atene--and this
is to her credit--turn her head away. She had desired to see her rival
humiliated, but that horrible sight shocked her; some sense of their
common womanhood for the moment touched her pity. Only Simbri, who, I
think, knew what to expect, and Oros remained quite unmoved; indeed, in
that ghastly silence the latter spoke, and ever afterwards I loved him
for his words.
"What of the vile vessel, rotted in the grave of time? What of the flesh
that perishes?" he said. "Look through the ruined lamp to the eternal
light which burns within. Look through its covering carrion to the
inextinguishable soul."
My heart applauded these noble sentiments.
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