And above it, tangled in the plumes and spirals that throbbed and whirled were seven glowing lights.
Through all the incessant but strangely ordered movement of the--_thing_--these lights held firm and steady.

They were seven--like seven little moons.

One was of a pearly pink, one of a delicate nacreous blue, one of lambent saffron, one of the emerald you see in the shallow waters of tropic isles; a deathly white; a ghostly amethyst; and one of the silver that is seen only when the flying fish leap beneath the moon.
The tinkling music was louder still.

It pierced the ears with a shower of tiny lances; it made the heart beat jubilantly--and checked it dolorously.

It closed the throat with a throb of rapture and gripped it tight with the hand of infinite sorrow! Came to me now a murmuring cry, stilling the crystal notes.