And the Veil flashed as though all the rainbows that had ever shone were burning within it.

Again the mighty sound pealed.
Into the centre of the Veil the light drew itself, grew into an intolerable brightness--and with a storm of tinklings, a tempest of crystalline notes, a tumult of tiny chimings, through it sped--the Shining One! Straight down that radiant path, its high-flung plumes of feathery flame shimmering, its coruscating spirals whirling, its seven globes of seven colours shining above its glowing core, it raced toward us.
The hurricane of bells of diamond glass were jubilant, joyous.

I felt O'Keefe grip my arm; Yolara threw her white arms out in a welcoming gesture; I heard from the tier a sigh of rapture--and in it a poignant, wailing under-tone of agony! Over the waters, down the light stream, to the end of the ivory pier, flew the Shining One.

Through its crystal _pizzicati_ drifted inarticulate murmurings--deadly sweet, stilling the heart and setting it leaping madly.
For a moment it paused, poised itself, and then came whirling down the flower path to its priestess, slowly, ever more slowly.

It hovered for a moment between the woman and the dwarf, as though contemplating them; turned to her with its storm of tinklings softened, its murmurings infinitely caressing.