Chase could no more have restrained the hand that went out suddenly in quest of hers than he could have checked his own heart throbs.  A wave of exquisite joy swept over him—­the joy of a temptation that knew no fear or conscience.  He found her cold little hand and clasped it in tense fingers—­fingers that throbbed with the call to passion.  He drew her close—­their bodies touched and sweetly trembled.  His lips were close to her ear—­the smell of her hair was in his quivering nostrils.  He heard her quick, sharp breathing.

“Are you afraid?” he whispered in tones he had never heard before.

“Yes,” she murmured convulsively—­“of you!  Please, please, don’t!” At the same time, she tightened her clutch upon his hand and crept closer to him, governed by an unconquerable craving.  Chase had the sensation of smothering; he could not believe the senses which told him that she was responding to his appeal.  His brain was whirling, his heart bounding like mad.  Her voice, soft and appealing, turned his blood to fire.

“Genevra!” he murmured—­almost gasped—­in his delirium.  Their bodies were pressed close to each other—­his arms went about her slender figure suddenly and she was strained to his breast, locked to him with bonds that seemed unbreakable.  Her face was lifted to his.  The blackness of the passage was impenetrable, but love was the guide.  He found her lips in one wild, glorious kiss.

A door creaked sharply.  He released her.  Their quivering arms fell away; they drew ever so slightly apart, still under the control of the influence which had held them for that brief moment.  She was trembling violently.  A soft, wailing sigh, as of pain, came from her lips.

Then the glimmer of a light came to them through the half open door at the end of the passage.  They gazed at it without comprehension, dumb in their sudden weakness.  A shadowy figure came out through the door and Selim’s voice, low and tense, called to them.

Still speechless, they moved forward involuntarily.  He did not attempt to take her hand.  He was afraid—­vastly afraid of what he had done, unaccountable as it may seem.  That piteous sigh wrought shame in his heart.  He felt that he had wronged her—­had seized upon a willing, hapless victim when she had not the power to defend herself against her own impulses.

“Forgive me,” he murmured.

“It is too late,” she replied.  Then his hand sought hers again and, dizzy with emotion, he led her up to the open door.  As they passed into the huge, dimly lighted chamber, he turned to look into her face.  She met his gaze and there were tears in her eyes.  Selim was ahead of them.  She shook her head sadly and he understood.

“Can we ever forget?” she murmured plaintively.

“Never!” he whispered.

“Then we shall always regret—­always regret!” she said, withdrawing her hand.  “It was the beginning and the end.”