traces of former beauty.

"How wonderful! I must stay here, Leone, and sketch those old statues.
We need go no farther."

The day was beginning to get intensely hot, so the men were nothing
loth to seek shelter in the cool temple, to sleep away the sunny
hours.

Sketch-book in hand, the girl chose a shady retreat outside, and was
soon lost in her work.

Presently the dreamy silence was broken; faint cries from afar reached
her; and looking hastily up, Lianor saw a sight which made her stand
rooted to the spot in speechless horror.

In the distance, pouring from out the mountains, were a multitude of
Indians clad in divers costumes, carrying in their hands fantastic
idols, and followed by a train of Brahmins, singing a low, monotonous
chant, which had warned the girl of their approach.

Recovering her self-possession, and calling to the startled servants,
Lianor entered the temple, where Panteleone and the men were quietly
dozing.

"Leone, awake! The Indians are coming!"

The youth sprang to his feet, and, flinging one arm round his cousin,
he drew a sharp poignard from his sash, and clutched it. firmly.