Darkness.'"

An odd sensation of familiarity with the name of "Myrmentis"
startled Gervase as he heard it pronounced, and he looked at the
girl who was so called in a kind of dread. But she did not meet
his questioning regard,--she was already bending over her lute and
tuning its strings, while her companion likewise prepared to
accompany her on a similar though larger instrument, and in an-
other moment her voice, full and rich, with a sobbing passion in
it which thrilled him to the inmost soul, rang out on the warm
silence:

In the darkness what deeds are done!
What wild words spoken!
What joys are tasted, what passion wasted!
What hearts are broken!
Not a glimpse of the moon shall shine,
Not a star shall mark
The passing of night,--or shed its light
On my Dream of the Dark!

On the scented and slumbrous air,
Strange thoughts are thronging;
And a blind desire more fierce than fire
Fills the soul with longing;
Through the silence heavy and sweet
Comes the panting breath
Of a lover unseen from the Might-Have-Been,
Whose loving is Death!