Suddenly a wave of fear crept over me like the flow of icy water. Would the living marble, as it warmed to life, moved by some long pent-up passions, raise its hand and strike me dead?
Gathering myself together, I glanced toward a group of maidens at play beneath the shade of a leafy roof of arched branches and interlacing vines.
Quicker than it takes to tell it, I sprang forward and fixed my gaze upon their faces.
Death could not hold the human form in attitude more motionless than theirs.
And yet their eyes were filled with strange light.
Upon their fair faces the red tint of life glowed, bright and warm!
Where was I?
A strange feeling of half dread, half delight, now swept over me.
And still I dared not speak. My voice will break the spell by which all these breathing children of earth’s flinty breast keep their hold on life, and they will fade away to nothingness.
And now the eyes of her nearest me—of deeper black than polished coal, appeared bent full upon me. I could see, I thought, the glisten of those ebon orbs, as if a tear had broken over them.