But
as she turned her upraised face a little towards us, I saw upon it
such a look as I have never seen on human countenance before, nor
have ever seen (save upon hers) since. A light seemed to shine
either from it or upon it--how can I tell which?--a light so pure
and heavenly that no words can fully describe it, but which seemed
like the radiance of heaven itself. Her eyes were raised towards
the sky, her lips parted, and through the breathless hush of
silence which had fallen upon the wood, we heard the soft, sweet
tones of her voice.
"Speak, my Lord--Thy servant heareth!"
It was then that our horses showed the signs of terror of which I
have before spoken. For myself, I saw nothing save the shining face
of the Maid--I knew who it was--there was no need for Bertrand's
breathless whisper--"It is she--herself!"--I knew it in my heart
before.
She knelt there amid the fallen leaves, her face raised, her lips
parted, her eyes shining as surely never human eyes have shone
before. A deep strange hush had fallen over all nature, broken only
by the gentle music of the bell.
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