which they won on earth counts for nothing here. We are all equals."
Philip had the modesty to walk up to the dais without looking round. Here, when he had taken the place indicated for him, he waited with downcast eyes.
From the gallery at the far end of the hall soft strains of music rolled—those sweet, chaotic strains which are the prelude to a grand burst of melody.
Even now it has burst out in a joyous chorus, and Philip lifts his eyes to see his beauteous bride approaching, costumed, like Hesperia, in white, with roses on her breast and amongst her rich tresses, accompanied by Hesperia and the bevy of lovely girls, and at the sight his heart thrilled with love and pride as he advanced to meet her.
The ceremony was simple and yet impressive. When the music had ceased, Hesperia stepped upon the daïs and, after uttering a prayer of gratitude to the Creator of this perfection and felicity, gave a short address of welcome to the spirits, who were then at last united and complete.
Philip noticed that her prayer and after words differed from all earthly prayer, for she asked for no more favours from the great Source; she only expressed thanks for what had been given.
The pair were now kneeling hand in hand, when Hesperia, who acted as priestess, took from a table beside her a piece of bread, and, breaking it in two, gave a half to Philip and the other half to Adela. She next handed to them a cup of wine to drink from in solemn silence, and when they had drank she retired from the dais and, kneeling beside them, waited with bent head, as did all the spectators.
A subtle and strange perfume gradually wafting
