About her rolled a vision of many colours, such hues as the rainbow has fell upon her face and about her hair.

And yet it was the same Stella that he had known made perfect and spiritual and, beyond all imagining, divine.
Once more he addressed--implored her, and once more no answer came; nor did her face change, or that wondrous smile pass from her lips into the gravity of her eyes.

This, at least, was sure; either that she no longer had any understanding knowledge of his earthly tongue, or that its demonstration was to her a thing forbidden.

What was she then?
That double of the body which the Egyptians called the _Ka_, or the soul itself, the {preuma}, no eidolon, but the immortal _ego_, clothed in human semblance made divine?
Why was there no answer?
Because his speech was too gross for her to hearken to?
Why did she not speak?
Because his ears were deaf?
Was this an illusion?
No! a thousand times.

When he approached she vanished, but what of it?
He was mortal, she a spirit; they might not mix.
Yet in her own method she did speak, spoke to his soul, bidding the scales fall from its eyes so that it might see.