At last, however, those feelings which she had not power to define began to torment her; she wanted to sleep, but being tortured by alarm she could not.

Thinking that Lygia, threatened by so many perils and uncertainties, was not sleeping either, she turned to her to speak of her flight in the evening.

But Lygia was sleeping calmly.

Into the dark cubiculum, past the curtain which was not closely drawn, came a few bright rays, in which golden dust-motes were playing.

By the light of these rays Acte saw her delicate face, resting on her bare arm, her closed eyes, and her mouth slightly open.