Oh! those robes were red, and those lips were ashen.

It was Masouda, whose spirit had passed him in the desert; Masouda, slain by the headsman's sword! This was the evil jest that had been played upon him, and thus--thus they met again.
Godwin rose to his feet and stood over her still shape as a man stands in a dream, while words broke from his lips and a fountain in his heart was unsealed.
"Masouda," he whispered, "I know now that I love you and you only, henceforth and forever, O woman with a royal heart.

Wait for me, Masouda, wherever you may dwell." While the whispered words left his lips, it seemed to Godwin that once more, as when he rode with Wulf from Ascalon, the strange wind blew about his brow, bringing with it the presence of Masouda, and that once more the unearthly peace sank into his soul.
Then all was past and over, and he turned to see the old imaum standing at his side.
"Did I not tell you that you would find her sleeping ?" he said, with his bitter, chuckling laugh.

"Call on her, Sir Knight; call on her! Love, they say, can bridge great gulfs--even that between severed neck and bosom." With the silver lamp in his hand Godwin smote, and the man went down like a felled ox, leaving him once more in silence and in darkness.
For a moment Godwin stood thus, till his brain was filled with fire, and he too fell--fell across the corpse of Masouda, and there lay still..