The effect was marvelous; at one moment she appeared as a martyr in a sheet of flame, at another as an angel wrapped in white and muffled purity, and again as a nymph of the cerulean sea, and then suddenly a cloud of darkness seemed to descend upon her, through which for an instant her figure, as immaculate and perfect as a marble statue, showed distinctly--then the light went out and she vanished! The whole assembly burst into a rapturous cry.

Even the common Arab attendants who were peeping in at the doors raised their melodious native cry, "Alloe, Fullah! Aloe, Fullah!" again and again.
A shocked silence followed.

Then the voice of Sir Midas Pyle was heard addressing Dr.Haustus Pilgrim: "May we not presume, sir, that what we have just seen is not unlike that remarkable exhibition when I was pained to meet you one evening at the Alhambra ?" The doctor coughed slightly.

"The Alhambra--ah, yes!--you--er--refer, I presume, to Granada and the Land of the Moor, where we last met.

The music and dance are both distinctly Moorish--which, after all, is akin to the Egyptian.