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Updated: June 11, 2025
The primal charmers affrighted his vision: Lilith, Ourania, Astarté, Ashtaroth, Belkis, Ishtar, Mylitta, Cotytto, and many immemorial figures from before the Flood streamed by and melted into the woven paces of Debora this new Jephtha's daughter dancing to her doom as her father fingered the Tune of Time.
"Nay, Mary hath not had time to grow heavy-hearted, for since the winter gave place to spring hath she been in the garden searching a warm spot for some chicken yet wet from the shell, or scratching the sod from some struggling seed. This is Mary," and Martha laughed good-naturedly as she finished rubbing the palms. "Debora would see the garden," Anna said. "Such a lovely garden!"
But it was rhythmic, and at intervals the edge of a tune could be discerned, cutting sharply through the dense cloud of vibrations, like the prow of a boat cleaving the fog. Baki, his face red and swollen by his exertions, moved to the spot where waited the girl. "Ai, Debora!" cried a boy, "here's the old man. Pass the plate, pass the plate!"
The witching, enigmatic Debora haunted his memory; and with dismay he recalled the blistering vision evoked by the music, through which she had glided like some tremulous Lamia. Decidedly his imagination had carried him far. He cursed his easy credulity, he reviled his love of the exotic.... Ferval made inquiry of the authorities, but received little comfort.
I seldom go out; and when I do, all the young and cheerful faces seem to have hidden themselves." The abbess regulated her invitations for the evening by this speech. Sisters Debora and Marie, one the youngest, and the other the merriest of the family, were requested to bring their work-bags, and join the party in the parlour.
Baki regarded his wretched orchestra on the grass, then spoke to his daughter. "Debora," he said in English, and his listener wondered if it were Celtic or Scotch in its unusual intonations, "Debora, you must sing something for the gentleman. He loves our art," there was indescribable pathos in this phrase, "so sing something from Purcell, Brahms, or Richard Strauss."
No man could live after this terrific peep at the Ancient of Days. Debora's eyes peered into Ferval's, filled with the music that enmeshes. And now sounded the apocalyptic trumpets even unto the glittering edges of eternity.... Amid this vertiginous tempest of tones Debora danced the Dance of Space.
"For a week hath the ring of the hammer sounded over the hills where the roadways are made safe, and tombs are fresh whitened that none be rendered unclean. All Jerusalem is a guest chamber. Where is Mary?" and she glanced about the room. "She is in the garden with Anna and her Capernaum guest Debora.
For this did I send him over the wall, and no more will he do this evil thing when I am nigh." "Blessings on him," laughed Debora, clapping her hands. "My heart goeth out to such a lad," Mary said. "What for?" Huldah asked. "For making bloody another lad's nose?" "If so be that to bloody a nose is the only way to stay the hand of oppression."
In the whirling patterns of her dance, Ferval discerned, though dimly, the Veil of Maya, the veil of illusion called Space, on the thither side of which are embroidered the fugacious symbols of Time.... ... As the delirious music faltered and fainted, he watched the tragic eyes of Debora yellowing cat-like.
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