As by degrees her sense returned to her, she looked about her with strange eyes and tried to think. But every effort was a sword that pierced her heart. One morning, peering dully through her lattice, she saw a gay pavilion in the yard, and leading to it rows of masts with lanterns hung between. They were erected for the meytam, or reception for the dead. She had seen them often when she visited great houses; but now her mind attached no meaning to them. It was two hours later, in the middle of the function, that her sense returned. A mighty gust of grief, a cry of “O calamity!” swept through the crowd of black-clad women in her great reception-room. It roused her mind. She saw, and was alarmed. What was she doing? What was all this crowd of people? Were they human?