“Legend had it that this was the temple built by Zoroaster and preserved intact by that wonderful secretiveness of the Orient through the generations, by a cult who awaited the coming of Zoroaster’s successor, of that Fire-Tongue who was to redeem and revolutionize the world.

“I was afraid to move too far from the mouth of the tunnel, but nevertheless was anxious to obtain a good view of the little city at my feet.  Gingerly I moved farther forward and forward, ever craning out for a glimpse of the buildings more immediately below me, forgetful of the fact that I walked upon the brink of a precipice.

“Suddenly my outstretched foot failed to touch ground.  I clutched wildly at the bushes around me.  Their roots were not firm in the shallow soil, and, enveloped like some pagan god in a mass of foliage, I toppled over the cliff and fell!”

CHAPTER XXXIII.  STORY OF THE CITY OF FIRE (CONTINUED)

“My awakening was as strange as anything which had befallen me.  I lay upon a silken bed in a pavilion which was furnished with exquisite, if somewhat barbaric, taste.

“A silken shaded lamp hung upon a golden chain near to my couch, but it was dimmed by the rosy light streaming in through the open door—­a light which I believed to be that of dawn.  I ached in every limb and felt weak and ill.  There was a bandage about my head, too, but this great physical weakness numbed my curiosity, and I just lay still, looking out through the doorway into a lovely garden.  I could form no impression of what had happened, and the ceaseless throbbing in my head rendered any attempt to do so very painful.

“I was lying there, in this curious and apathetic state, when the curtains draped in the doorway were pulled more widely aside and a woman came in.

“Gentlemen, I will not endeavour to describe her, except to say that she was so darkly lovely that I doubted the evidence of my senses; tall and lithe, with the grace of some beautiful jungle creature.

“When she saw that I was awake, she paused and lowered her head in confusion.  She wore a gossamer robe of sheeny golden silk, and, standing there with the light of the dawn behind her, she made a picture that I think would have driven a painter crazy.

“I am supposed to be an unimpressionable man, and perhaps it is true; but there at that moment, as the glance of her dark eyes met the wondering look in mine, I knew that my hour had come for good or ill.

“This is not the time nor the place for personal reminiscences.  I am here for another purpose.  One of those accidents which are really due to the hand of fate had precipitated me into the garden of the house of Naida, and she in her great compassion had tended me and sheltered me, keeping my presence secret from those who would have dealt with me in summary fashion, and, indeed, who were actually on the look-out for my arrival.