But the third pool lay more in shadow, and by that, as it seemed to Beatrice, a light was shining.
Yes, a light was shining and a voice was calling.

"Mother," it called, "little Mother.

I am waiting for you.

Here, little Mother.

Here by the water-lilies we could not gather." Beatrice, following the voice, stepped along the causeway and sank among the lilies; and as she sank she seemed to see Antony bending over the pond, saying: "How beautiful she looks, how beautiful, lying there among the lilies!" * * * * * On the morrow, when they had drawn Beatrice from the pond, with lilies in her hair, Antony bent over her and said:-- "It is very sad--Poor little Beatrice--but how beautiful! It must be wonderful to die like that." And then again he said: "She is strangely like Silencieux." Then he walked up the wood, in a great serenity of mind.