noon
Fairest among women had been her form , now it was fairer yet , and now -- now she was Beauty 's self , and like to swoon at the dream of her own loveliness . `` So , ah , so must the Hathor seem , '' she said , and lo ! her voice rang strangely in her ears . For the voice , too , was changed , it was more soft than the whispering of wind-stirred reeds ; it was more sweet than the murmuring of bees at noon . Now she must go forth , and fearful at her own loveliness and heavy with her sin , yet glad with a strange joy , she passes from her chamber and glides like a starbeam through the still halls of her Palace . The white light of the moon creeps into them and falls upon the faces of the dreadful Gods , on the awful smile of sphinxes , and the pictures of her forefathers , kings and queens who long were dead . And as she goes she seems to hear them whisper each to each of the dreadful sin that she has sinned , and of the sorrow that shall be .