Her little bare feet, as they dimpled the cushions, were more perfect than Aphrodite's, softer than a swan's bosom.

Every swell of her bust and arms showed through the thin gauze robe, while her lower limbs were wrapped in a shawl of orange silk, embroidered with wreaths of shells and roses.

Her dark hair lay carefully spread out upon the pillow, in a thousand ringlets entwined with gold and jewels; her languishing eyes blazed like diamonds from a cavern, under eyelids darkened and deepened with black antimony; her lips pouted of themselves, by habit or by nature, into a perpetual kiss; slowly she raised one little lazy hand; slowly the ripe lips opened; and in most pure and melodious Attic, she lisped her huge lover's question to the monk, and repeated it before the boy could shake off the spell, and answer....
'Asgard?
What is Asgard ?' The beauty looked at the giant for further instructions.
'The City of the immortal Gods,' interposed the old warrior, hastily and sternly, to the lady.
'The city of God is in heaven,' said Philammon to the interpreter, turning his head away from those gleaming, luscious, searching glances.
His answer was received with a general laugh by all except the leader, who shrugged his shoulders.
'It may as well be up in the skies as up the Nile.

We shall be just as likely, I believe, to reach it by flying, as by rowing up this big ditch.

Ask him where the river comes from, Pelagia.' Pelagia obeyed....