The candle fell from my lantern, and
I was in darkness. As I sat there I passed into a semi-conscious
state. I saw sitting at the apex of a towering pyramid, built of
phosphorescent human bones that reached far, far above the stars, the
'Queen of Death, Nin-ki-gal,' scattering seeds over the earth below.
At the pyramid's base knelt the suppliant figure of a Sibyl pleading
with the Queen of Death:
What answer, O Nin-ki-gal?
Have pity, O Queen of Queens!
And the Sibyl's face was that of Fenella Stanley--her voice was that
of Sinfi Lovell.
And then from that dizzy height seemed to come a cackling laugh:--
'You makes me blush, an' blow me if blushin' ain't bin an' made
_t'other_ eye dry. I lives in Primrose Court, Great Queen Street, an'
my reg'lar perfession is a-sellin' coffee "so airly in the mornin',"
and I've got a darter as ain't quite so 'ansom as me, bein' the moral
of her father.'
And now in my vision I perceived that Nin-ki-gal's face was that of
the old woman I had seen in Cyril's studio, and that she was dressed
in the same fantastic in which Cyril had bedizened her.
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