Of a sudden, seemed to spring from its midst, a young form of foam, that danced into the soul like a thought.

At last, sideways floating off, it subsided into the grotto, a wave.

Evening drawing on apace, the crimson draperies were lifted, and festooned to the arms of the idol-pillars, admitting the rosy light of the even.
Yielding to the re-action of the banquet, the kings now reclined; and two mute damsels entered: one with a gourd of scented waters; the other with napkins.

Bending over Donjalolo's steaming head, the first let fall a shower of aromatic drops, slowly aborbed by her companion.
Thus, in turn, all were served; nothing heard but deep breathing.
In a marble vase they now kindled some incense: a handful of spices.
Shortly after, came three of the king's beautiful smokers; who, lighting their tubes at this odorous fire, blew over the company the sedative fumes of the Aina.
Steeped in languor, I strove against it long; essayed to struggle out of the enchanted mist.

But a syren hand seemed ever upon me, pressing me back.
Half-revealed, as in a dream, and the last sight that I saw, was Donjalolo:--eyes closed, face pale, locks moist, borne slowly to his sedan, to cross the hollow, and wake in the seclusion of his harem..