the past would lie before him like an open book.

"Judge his anguish then, and my disappointment, when, seven days before
her twenty-first birthday, she was bitten by a cerastes, and her body
died. Had she been near her home, her knowledge would have defied the
powers of this most deadly serpent's bite; for she knew antidotes for
every poison. As it was, however, the same kind of serpent that had laid
the beautiful Cleopatra low, likewise set at liberty the soul of Ilfra.
Do not think Abou grieved because of her death. Death was not death to
him--his eyes pierced that dark barrier; he suffered because the
glorious knowledge he longed for was rudely snatched from him."

"'Thou man of the West who bearest the name of a Jewish king,' he said
to me, 'this is a heavy blow.'

"'Not too heavy for you, Abou,' I said. 'The soul has flown, but when
the three times seven years is complete you can call her back and learn
her wisdom.'"

"'I can call her back, but the secret--ah, I know it not,' he said."

By this time there was a deadly silence in the room. Every ear was
strained, so that not one sound of Voltaire's voice might be missed. As
for him, he sat with his eyes fixed, as if he saw beyond the present
time and place, while his face was like a piece of marble. Kaffar, I
noticed, fixed his eyes upon his friend, and in his stony stare he
seemed possessed of an evil spirit.

None of the English guests spoke when Voltaire stopped a second in his
narration. All seemed afraid to utter a sound, except Kaffar.