Its back is towards me, and I do not see its face.

Another figure glides from out the shadows.

I look upon its face, and I see it is the face that the woman's eyes gazed up into and worshipped long ago, when my dream was just begun.

But the fairness and the purity are gone from it, and it is old and evil, as the woman's when I looked upon her last.

The figure in the gaudy rags moves slowly on.
The second figure follows it, and overtakes it.