That night in her desolation Angela cast herself upon the floor withoutstretched arms and wept for her dead lover, and for the shame whichovershadowed her. And the moon travelling up the sky, struck her,shining coldly on her snowy robe and rounded form--glinting on thestormy gold of her loosed hair--flooding all the room with light: tillthe white floor gleamed like a silver shrine, and she lay there aweeping saint. Then she rose and crept to such rest as utter wearinessof body and mind can give.