"You will notice," she continued, "that the other side of the room is blank. That space is kept for the scenes yet to come."
"But if he should die—" his gaze traveled to the middle of the room where reposed a marble sarcophagus with its maw gaping wide for the dead.
She read his thoughts, "Yes, this is my father's tomb. The lid was removed when we thought we would have to bring him here. He must not see it in this condition. I dared not bring the servants to shut it, for they talk. You are strong, will you not lift the lid back into place?"
The missionary bent his shoulders to the task. He clutched the marble slab in his arms, rocked for a moment under its weight, then closed it down on the tomb.
"So it is cheated of its occupant," he finished.
"I hope it stays sealed a long time," sighed Alla.
The torch flickered out and they stumbled out of the musty tomb into the garden scented with honey suckle blooms. They found their way to the rose garden whose charms Ammon had never known before. The excitement of the day had not yet worn off and the allurement of the tropics got into his blood. Seeing the city gone wild with pleasure, gave rise to resentment that he should be cheated of it. With parched lips he thirsted to quaff this sweet cup that was held to his lips. He glanced at his companion, natural and more fair than any wild thing in the woods. Seized with moon madness the couple wandered down to the sluggish waters of the lake.
"Yonder is my chinampa,—my floating garden." She indicated a black oasis. "When I grow weary of the world I flee to it and while the day away on the bosom of the waters. I have there a little chapel filled with the images of our Lamanite gods. Would you like to see them?"
Ammon assented, so she clambered over the rocks and shot out her canoe. They took their places in it and the man drove it across the lake with broad strokes.
Alla fell silent. What availed all her little vanities in the presence of this man who read her very soul. He was her master; already she worshiped him. The calm also gave Ammon time to think of where his folly led him. Even if he should marry, this creature of impulse was not the woman for him. Linked with his austere life she would beat her brilliant wings out and become a limp, draggled thing. He could not spoil her life. On the other hand, if he made her happy, his mission would have to be abandoned. If she were only different. Then he reflected a little sadly that if she were anything but what she was he would not love her.