The moon no longer stood forth in sharp outlines against the deep azure
of the vaulted sky, but, robbed of its radiance, floated in a circle of
dimly illumined mists.

Not only the feelings which stirred Ledscha's soul, but the scene around
her, had gained a totally different aspect.

Since every hope of the happiness awaiting her was destroyed, she no
longer sought to palliate the wrongs Hermon had inflicted upon her.
While dwelling on them, she by no means forgot the trivial purpose for
which the artist intended to use her charms; and when she again gazed up
at the slightly-clouded sky, the shrouded moon no longer reminded her of
the silver orb between the horns of Astarte.

She did not ask herself how the transformation had occurred, but in its
place, high above her head, hung a huge gray spider. Its gigantic limbs
extended over the whole firmament, and seemed striving to clutch and
stifle the world beneath. The enormous monster was weaving its gray net
over Tennis, and all the islands in the water, the Pelican Island, and
she herself upon the seat of turf, and held them all prisoned in it.

It was a horrible vision, fraught with terrors which, even when she shut
her eyes in order to escape it, showed very little change.

Assailed by anxious fears, Ledscha started up, and a few seconds later
was urging her boat with steady strokes toward the Owl's Nest.

Even now lights were still shining from the Alexandrian's tent through
the sultry, veiled night.