She raised them above their two heads and slowly, slowly drew him with her into a circling, graceful step, tendrillings delicate as the slow spirallings of twilight mist upon some still stream.
As they swayed the rippling arpeggios grew louder, and suddenly the slender pinnacles of moon fire bent, dipped, flowed to the floor, crept in a shining ring around those two--and began to rise, a gleaming, glimmering, enchanted barrier--rising, ever rising--hiding them! With one swift movement Yolara unbound her circlet of pale sapphires, shook loose the waves of her silken hair.

It fell, a rippling, wondrous cascade, veiling both her and O'Keefe to their girdles--and now the shining coils of moon fire had crept to their knees--was circling higher--higher.
And ever despair grew deeper in my soul! What was that! I started to my feet, and all around me in the darkness I heard startled motion.

From without came a blaring of trumpets, the sound of running men, loud murmurings.

The tumult drew closer.

I heard cries of "Lakla! Lakla!" Now it was at the very threshold and within it, oddly, as though--punctuating--the clamour, a deep-toned, almost abysmal, booming sound--thunderously bass and reverberant.
Abruptly the harpings ceased; the moon fires shuddered, fell, and began to sweep back into the crystal globes; Yolara's swaying form grew rigid, every atom of it listening.