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88 ARIADNE.snatched by some passing hand from death,hasblamed his saviour. She had only awakened toagony, like the patient under the knife when theanæsthetic has too soon ceased its spell. Ionlymade her suffer more a thousandfold by liftingup that cloud uponher brahi. YetIhad clonefor the best, andIhad praised heaven for itsmercies when she had looked with eyes of consciousnessupon the moonlit Tiber, andhad criedaloud the name of Rome!Ihad clone for the best: so hadIdone whenIhad gone up to the Golden Hill,and told thestory of my dream toMaryx.As my memories went back to him, thinkingdully there in the dark, not daring to enter thechamber again, for there was no sound, andIthought perhaps she slept in the gloom and thewarmth of the heat, a footfall that was familiarcame upon the stairs, a shadow was between meand the dull lamp swinging down below, thevoice of Maryx came through the silence and thedarkness to myear."Are you there? "he said to me, "are youthere ? "