exquisite make, as it seemed from the chosen fibres of some perfect wood,
and the hue was as that of a Tyrian dye. A soft light pervaded the place,
perhaps filtered through the parchment-like white skin of the Tent, for
it seemed to have no other fountain. Upon the farther side a token was
drawn in purple on the tentskin, and the girl, seeing it, turned quickly
to the curtain through which she had passed. Upon the curtain were other
signs. She read them slowly, and repeated them out loud in a low
uncertain voice, like a bird's note blundering in a flute:

"Four hours shalt thou look northward, kneeling on the Mat of Purple, and
thinking of the Camp of the Delightful Fires, around which is the Joyous
City; four hours shalt thou lie prone, thy face upon the soothing earth,
desiring sleep; and four hours shalt thou look within thine own breast,
thinking of thy sin; four hours also shalt thou go through the valley,
calling out that thou art lost, and praying the Scarlet Hunter to bring
thee home. Afterwards thou shalt sleep, and thou shalt comfort thyself
with food when thou wilt. If the Scarlet Hunter comes not, and thy life
faileth for misery, and none comprehending thy state offereth his life,
that thy soul may be free once more--then thou shalt gladly die, and,
yielding thine own body, shall purchase back thy soul; but this is not
possible until thou hast dwelt here a year and a day."

Having read, the girl threw herself face forward on the ground, her body
shaking with grief, and she cried out a man's name many times with great
bitterness "Ambroise! Ambroise! Ambroise!"

A long time she lay prone, crying so; but at last arose and, folding back
the curtain with hot hands, began her vigil for the redemption of a soul.

And while her sorrow grew, a father mourned for his daughter and called