Nor did the head tell us, for the hair also was hidden beneath the mantle and the face might have been that of either man or woman.

It was terrible in its solemnity and calm, and its expression was as remote and mystic as that of Buddha, only more stern.

Also without doubt it was blind; it was impossible to mistake the sightlessness of those staring orbs.

Across the knees lay a naked sword and beneath the cloak the arms were hidden.
In its complete simplicity the thing was marvelous.
On either side upon the pedestal knelt a figure of the size of life.

One was an old and withered man with death stamped upon his face; the other was a beautiful, naked woman, her hands clasped in the attitude of prayer and with vague terror written on her vivid features.
Such was this glorious group of which the meaning could not be mistaken.
It was Fate throned upon the sun, wearing the constellations as his garment, armed with the sword of Destiny and worshipped by Life and Death.