Her hands were drooping.

And, like a saint from a shrine, she looked sadly out from her long, fair hair.

A low wail issued from her lips, and she trembled like a sound.
There were tears on her cheek, and a rose-colored pearl on her bosom.
Did I dream ?--A snow-white skin: blue, firmament eyes: Golconda locks.

For an instant spell-bound I stood; while with a slow, apprehensive movement, and still gazing fixedly, the captive gathered more closely about her a gauze-like robe.

Taking one step within, and partially dropping the curtain of the tent, I so stood, as to have both sight and speech of Samoa, who tarried without; while the maiden, crouching in the farther corner of the retreat, was wholly screened from all eyes but mine.
Crossing my hands before me, I now stood without speaking.