Shewasthewomanofwhom，yearsago，IhaddreamedonthenightonwhichIbrokeintotheWanderer’stombatAar！
NeverforonemomentdidIdoubtmeofthistruth。Iwassure。Iwassure。Itdidnotevenneed，whilesheturnedtowhispersomethingtohercompanion，thatthecloaksheworeshouldopenalittle，revealingonherbreastanecklaceofemeraldbeetlesseparatedbyinlaidshellsofpaleandancientgold。
Shewaswatchingtheprocessionwithinterest，yetsomewhatidly，whenshecaughtsightofme，whom，fromwhereshestood，shecouldscarcelyhaveseenbefore。Ofasuddenherfacegrewdoubtfulandtroubled，liketothatofonewhohasjustreceivedsomehurt。Shesawtheornamentaboutmyneck。Sheturnedpaleandhadshenotgrippedthearmofthemanbesideher，would，Ithink，havefallen。Thenhereyescaughtmine，andFatehadusinitsnet。
Sheleanedforward，gazing，gazing，allhersoulinthosedarkeyes，andI，too，gazedandgazed。Thegreatcathedralvanishedwithitsglitteringcrowds，thesoundofchantingandoffeetthatmarcheddiedfrommyears。InplaceoftheseIsawamightycolumnedtempleandtwostonefigures，tallerthanpines，seatedonaplain，andthroughthemoonlitsilenceheardasweetvoicemurmuring:
“Farewell。Forthislife，farewell！“