corpse-like whiteness which Alexander had tried to represent in his
picture of Korinna. Again the thought that she was risen from the dead
sent a chill through his blood--that she would make him follow her,
perhaps to the tomb she had quitted. He cared not! If his senses had
cheated him--if,--in spite of what he had heard, that pale, unspeakably
lovely image were indeed a lamia, a goblin shape from Hecate's dark
abode, yet would he follow wherever she might lead, as to a festival,
only to be with her.

Agatha thanked the deaconess, and as she spoke raised her eyes to the
woman's face; and they were two large, dark orbs sparkling through tears,
and as unlike as possible to the eyes which a ghost might snatch from
their sockets to fling like balls or stones in the face of a pursuer.
Oh, if only those eyes might look into his own as warmly and gratefully
as they now gazed into the face of that treacherous woman!

He had a hard struggle with himself to subdue the impulse to put an end,
now and here, to the fiendish tricks which guile was playing on the
purest innocence; but the street was deserted, and if he had to struggle
with the bent old man, whose powerful and supple limbs he had already
seen, and if the villain should plant a knife in his ribs--for as a
wrestler he felt himself his match--Agatha would be bereft of a protector
and wholly in the deceiver's power.

This, at any rate, must not be, and he even controlled himself when he
heard the music of her words, and saw her grasp the hand of the pretended
graybeard, who, with an assumption of paternal kindness, dared to kiss
her hair, and then helped her to draw her kerchief over her face. The
street of Hermes, he explained, where the deaconess dwelt, was full of
people, and the divine gift of beauty, wherewith Heaven had blessed her,