There were two statues on either side of her, a pair of battered round-limbed nymphs, glorified by the moonlight into a grace and poetry not theirs by day.

They seemed to be looking down upon the woman at their feet in a soft bewilderment--wondering at a creature so little like themselves; while from the terrace came up the scent of the garden, heavy with roses and bedrenched with dew.
Suddenly it seemed to Lucy as though that white face, those intolerable eyes, awoke--turned towards herself, penetrated her room, pursued her.

The figure moved, and there was a low sound of words.

Her window was in truth inaccessible from the terrace; but in a panic fear, Lucy threw herself on the casement and the shutters, closed them and drew the bolts; as noiselessly as: she could, still not without some noise.

Then hurrying to her bed, she threw herself upon it, panting--in a terror she could neither explain nor compose..