But there was something more than her beauty that attracted me -- there was a strange mystery about her that troubled me often on those moonlit nights.

When she came into my room to tidy up, she would sometimes pause in her work, her red laughing smile compressed into a narrow line, and she would stare with fear into the sunlight. She reminded me of  Iphigenia as played by some great tragedienne. Then I would take the child in my arms and feel an imperative need to protect her from some unknown danger.