"Come to me, my darling, my beautiful, my beautiful!"
At those words, with a little muffled scream, like that of a scared night-bird, the figure turned and flitted through the doorway.
When I was quite certain that she had gone, I gasped aloud.
What might this mean, I wondered, in a very agony of bewilderment. This could certainly be no dream: it was real, for I was wide awake. Indeed, what did it all mean? Who was the ghastly, mummy-like thing which had guided us unharmed through such terrible dangers; the Messenger that all men feared, who could strike down a brawny savage with a motion of its hand? Why did it creep into the place thus at dead of night, like a spirit revisiting one beloved? Why did its presence cause me to awake and Leo to dream? Why did it draw out the tress; indeed,
