The world, and she with it, swam in the tears he no longer tried to stay. Stretching his arms toward her, he fell upon his knees, then upon his face; and that the face was in the dust, he never minded. When he looked up, she was gone on, the last of the procession. And he knew she had not seen him.
He followed after. Everybody stood aside to let her enter the door first. The friar received her; she went in, and directly the linkman stood alone outside.
"Stay!" said the linkman, peremptorily. "Who art thou?"
Thus rudely challenged, the Emir awoke from his daze—awoke with all his faculties clear.
"A gentleman of Otranto," he replied.
"What is thy pleasure?"
"Admit me to the chapel."
"Thou art a stranger, and the service is private. Or hast thou been invited?"
"No."
"Thou canst not enter."