"Now, as she proceeded with the ceremony, which was a very long one, I thought that that pale face of Drorathusa's grew paler still and that a distraught look was coming into her eyes. Then I told myself that it was only a fancy. But it was not fancy. For of a sudden her lip began to tremble, her voice faltered, the look in her eyes suddenly became wild and helpless—and she broke down.
"A moment or two, however, and that extraordinary woman had got control over herself again.
"She motioned the attendant priestesses and priests aside; a wan smile touched her lips as she pressed a hand to her side and said:
"'It was just my heart—but I am better now.'
"She at once proceeded with the ceremony, voice and features under absolute control. Again she was Drorathusa the Sibylline.
"And so they were married. And may they live happy and very happily ever after!"
And then, after the great nuptial banquet in the palace, off went the happy pair in the queen's barge for Lella Nuramanistherom, a lovely royal seat some thirty miles down the river; whilst I betook myself to the solitude of my rooms, there to ponder on the glad-sad lot of man, to hear over and over, and over again, those low tragic words:
"It was just my heart—but I am better now."
"Amor," says Saint Jerome, "ordinem nescit."
Beautiful, Sibylline, noble, poor Drorathusa!