it, she stood amazed. Another girl like herself! But what a
strange-looking girl!--so curiously dressed too!--and not able to
move! Was she dead? Filled suddenly with pity, she sat down, lifted
Photogen's head, laid it on her lap, and began stroking his face. Her
warm hands brought him to himself. He opened his black eyes, out of
which had gone all the fire, and looked up with a strange sound of
fear, half moan, half gasp. But when he saw her face, he drew a deep
breath, and lay motionless--gazing at her: those blue marvels above
him, like a better sky, seemed to side with courage and assuage his
terror. At length, in a trembling, awed voice, and a half whisper, he
said, "Who are you?"

"I am Nycteris," she answered.

"You are a creature of the darkness, and love the night," he said, his
fear beginning to move again.

"I may be a creature of the darkness," she replied. "I hardly know
what you mean. But I do not love the night. I love the day--with all
my heart; and I sleep all the night long."

"How can that be?" said Photogen, rising on his elbow, but dropping his
head on her lap again the moment he saw the moon; "--how can it be,"
he repeated, "when I see your eyes there--wide awake?"

She only smiled and stroked him, for she did not understand him, and
thought he did not know what he was saying.

"Was it a dream then?" resumed Photogen, rubbing his eyes. But with
that his memory came clear, and he shuddered, and cried, "Oh horrible!