And now she grew thoughtful. She must hoard this splendour! What a
little ignorance her gaolers had made of her! Life was a mighty bliss,
and they had scraped hers to the bare bone! They must not know that
she knew. She must hide her knowledge--hide it even from her own eyes,
keeping it close in her bosom, content to know that she had it, even
when she could not brood on its presence, feasting her eyes with its
glory. She turned from the vision, therefore, with a sigh of utter
bliss, and with soft quiet steps and groping hands, stole back into
the darkness of the rock. What was darkness or the laziness of Time's
feet to one who had seen what she had that night seen? She was lifted
above all weariness--above all wrong.

When Falca entered, she uttered a cry of terror. But Nycteris called
to her not to be afraid, and told her how there had come a rumbling
and a shaking, and the lamp had fallen. Then Falca went and told her
mistress, and within an hour a new globe hung in the place of the old
one. Nycteris thought it did not look so bright and clear as the
former, but she made no lamentation over the change; she was far too
rich to heed it. For now, prisoner as she knew herself, her heart was
full of glory and gladness; at times she had to hold herself from
jumping up, and going dancing and singing about the room. When she
slept, instead of dull dreams, she had splendid visions. There were
times, it is true, when she became restless, and impatient to look
upon her riches, but then she would reason with herself, saying, "What
does it matter if I sit here for ages with my poor pale lamp, when out
there a lump is burning at which ten thousand little lamps are glowing
with wonder?"

She never doubted she had looked upon the day and the sun, of which
she had read; and always when she read of the day and the sun, she had