That made her sick, it was so faint; and then
She had fear, and after she had certainty,
For all did scorn her.  “Nay,” they cried.  “O fool! 
If this be so, and on a watery world
Ye think to rock, what matters if a wife
Be free or bond?  There shall be none to rule,
If she have freedom:  if she have it not,
None shall there be to serve.” 
                               And she alit,
The time being done, desponding at her door,
And went behind a screen, where should have wrought
The daughters of the captives; but there wrought
One only, and this rose from off the floor,
Where she the river rush full deftly wove,
And made obeisance.  Then Niloiya said,
“Where are thy fellows?” And the maid replied,
“Let not Niloiya, this my lady loved,
Be angry; they are fled since yesternight.” 
Then said Niloiya, “Amarant, my slave,
When have I called thee by thy name before?”
She answered, “Lady, never”; and she took
And spread her broidered robe before her face. 
Niloiya spoke thus:  “I am come to woe,
And thou to honor.”  Saying this, she wept
Passionate tears; and all the damsel’s soul
Was full of yearning wonder, and her robe
Slipped from her hand, and her right innocent face
Was seen betwixt her locks of tawny hair
That dropped about her knees, and her two eyes,
Blue as the much-loved flower that rims the beck,
Looked sweetly on Niloiya; but she knew
No meaning in her words; and she drew nigh,
And kneeled and said, “Will this my lady speak? 
Her damsel is desirous of her words.” 
Then said Niloiya, “I, thy mistress, sought
A wife for Japhet, and no wife is found.” 
And yet again she wept with grief of heart,
Saying, “Ah me, miserable!  I must give
A wife:  the Master willeth it:  a wife,
Ah me! unto the high-born.  He will scorn
His mother and reproach me.  I must give—­
None else have I to give—­a slave,—­even thee.” 
This further spake Niloiya:  “I was good,—­
Had rue on thee, a tender sucking child,
When they did tear thee from thy mother’s breast;
I fed thee, gave thee shelter, and I taught
Thy hands all cunning arts that women prize. 
But out on me! my good is turned to ill. 
O, Japhet, well-beloved!” And she rose up,
And did restrain herself, saying, “Dost thou heed? 
Behold, this thing shall be.”  The damsel sighed,
“Lady, I do.”  Then went Niloiya forth.

And Amarant murmured in her deep amaze,
“Shall Japhet’s little children kiss my mouth? 
And will he sometimes take them from my arms,
And almost care for me for their sweet sake? 
I have not dared to think I loved him,—­now
I know it well:  but O, the bitterness
For him!” And ending thus, the damsel rose,
For Japhet entered.  And she bowed herself
Meekly and made obeisance, but her blood
Ran cold about her heart, for all his face
Was colored with his passion.