“The Sahib’s will is my law; but even if I wished, I could think of nothing else but him till I see him again,” she responded, her eyes fixed upon his face.  Hamilton gazed upon her.  She made such a lovely picture standing there:  he thought he had never seen beauty so perfect, so exquisitely fresh.  The soft transparent tunic did not conceal it, only lightly veiled its bloom.  Her breasts, rounded and firm, stood out as a statue’s.  They seemed to express the vigour of her buoyant youth:  they had never known artificial support, and needed none.  The waist was naturally slight, the hips also, the straight supple limbs and round arms were the most richly-modelled parts, perhaps, of the whole perfect form.

Hamilton slipped his arm down to her yielding waist and drew her closer.  Then he bent his head and kissed the wonderfully-carved and glowing mouth.  With a little cry of joy the girl threw both arms about his neck and kissed him back with a wealth of fervour in her lips, pressing her soft bosom against his in all the natural, unrestrained ardour of a first and new-found love.

“Sahib, Sahib! do not leave me long.  Come and take me away soon!  I am all yours!  No other shall see me till you come again.”

Hamilton was satisfied.  He raised his head, his whole ardent nature aflame.

“Dear little girl, let us go then to the old woman, and perhaps I can pay her enough to make her take you away from here, and keep you safe till I can come for you.”

“Come, Sahib, come!” she answered, joyfully drawing out of his arms and running across the room; she unbolted the door and pulled it open, nearly causing the old woman who was crouched just outside, and apparently leaning against it, to roll into the room.

“Saidie, Saidie! you have no respect for me,” she grumbled, getting on her feet with some difficulty.  Hamilton came up, and helped to balance her as she stood.

“Your Saidie pleases me very much,” he said, drawing out a pocket-book.  “I want to take her away from here altogether.  How much do you ask for her?”

The old woman’s beady-black eyes twinkled and gleamed, and fixed on the pocket-book.

“It is not possible, Sahib,” she said in a grumbling tone, “for me to part with her and her services.  A girl like that with her beauty, her dancing, her singing!  She will earn gold every night.  Let the Sahib come here each evening if he will and take his turn with the rest.  For a girl like that to go to one man alone is waste and folly.”

The colour mounted to Hamilton’s face.  His brows contracted.

“What I have to say is this,” he answered sternly and briefly, “I want this girl, and if you take her with you to some place of safety for to-night, I will come to-morrow or the next day and give you 2000 rupees for her—­no more and no less.  I have spoken.”

“Two thousand rupees!” replied shrilly the old woman, “for Saidie, the star of the dancers, and not yet fifteen!  No, Sahib, no! a Parsee will give more than that for a half hour with her.”