that evening, in the groves, came to me three gliding forms:—hautia's heralds: the iris mixed with nettles. said yoomy, "a cruel message!"

with the right hand, the second syren presented glossy, green wax- myrtle berries, those that burn like tapers; the third, a lily of the valley, crushed in its own broad leaf.

this done, they earnestly eyed yoomy; who, after much pondering, said—"i speak for hautia; who by these berries says, i will enlighten you."

"oh, give me then that light! say, where is yillah?" and i rushed upon the heralds.

but eluding me, they looked reproachfully at yoomy; and seemed offended.

"then, i am wrong," said yoomy. "it is thus:—taji, you have been enlightened, but the lily you seek is crushed."

then fell my heart, and the phantoms nodded; flinging upon me bilberries, like rose pearls, which bruised against my skin, left stains.

waving oleanders, they retreated.

"harm! treachery! beware!" cried yoomy.

then they glided through the wood: one showering dead leaves along the path i trod, the others gayly waving bunches of spring-crocuses, yellow, white, and purple; and thus they vanished.

said yoomy, "sad your path, but merry hautia's."

"then merry may she be, whoe'er she is; and though woe be mine, i — turn not from that to hautia; nor ever will i woo her, though she woo me till i die;—though yillah never bless my eyes."