Before her rose the palm-grove, distinct in all its beauty of feathery-topped trees, against the gorgeous starlit sky.  By her side gleamed now the line of the river, silver in the starlight; smooth and lovely, studded with its fierce black rocks, flanked by its orange sand, and here and there, on its edge in the radiant darkness, rose a lofty palm lifting its swaying branches towards the jewelled sky.  Silka looked at the river curiously.  Now she was keenly alive; life was sharp and alert in every fibre, but it was the last.  This night of life was also a night of good-byes.  To-morrow she would look on the river again, but she would be dead then—­dead to joy and to love; it would only be Doolga who would be living rich in both these gifts—­gifts given by her.  The thought ran through her with a tumultuous gladness.

She entered the palm-grove and went straight to the tree that Doolga had told her of, a withered palm.  A figure sat at the foot of the tree.  The starlight gleamed on its white clothing.  Silka’s feet stopped mechanically as she saw him; her heart beat so that she could scarcely breathe; but he had caught sight of her, and sprang to his feet and came towards her.  How wonderful he was with his fine head set on that long, firm throat, and how sweet the face when his beautiful mouth broke into smiles as he saw her!

“Doolga!” he exclaimed, and then paused.  She heard the little note of wonder, of joy, in his voice, as she looked up at him in the soft starlight, filtered through the palms.  She was close to him, and his voice, his presence was a new wonder to her.

“You are lovelier to-night than ever before.  You have a new beauty, what is it?” and he stretched out his arms passionately to her and enfolded her in them close to his breast and kissed her.  Then in one moment did the rose of life, that unfolds slowly for most mortals petal by petal, bloom suddenly for her whole and complete, and fill her with its wild fragrance, overwhelming her senses.  The happiness of a hundred lives was compressed into that one perfect moment when his lips touched hers, and she saw his face hang over hers in the starlight, blazing with the fires of love.

“This then is life,” she thought, as she put her arms round his neck.  “This is what I am giving to Doolga.”

“Am I really more beautiful to-night than I have been?” she asked presently, as they sat crouched close side by side at the foot of the palm, looking towards the silver river.

“A thousand times!” he answered passionately.  “I have never loved you, never seen you as I do to-night.”

“Then you must always remember me as you see me now.  However Doolga looks to you in the future, always remember this night, and how you loved her then.”