Francis Worcester Doughty, Mirrikh, or, A Woman from Mars… (1892)
“ Closing the drawer, Padma now led us to the altar and pointed to Maurice. “Touch the face,” he said quietly, “You will find it like the other—yet he lives! ” We both touched it. Here was the same clammy coldness, and my heart, which was beginning to feel a ray of hope, again sank in despair. Could I doubt that Maurice was dead ? Could I credit the aged lama’s claim? Meanwhile the flame in the dish was blazing away as brightly as ever, shooting upward in slender tongues of crimson light. ”
