I listened to this dialogue with great anxiety.  Was this Morhange?  Had he been faithful to me, after all?  Had I suspected him unjustly?  He had wanted to see me and been unable to!

My eyes never left Antinea’s.

She was no longer the haughty, mocking princess of our first interview.  She no longer wore the golden circlet on her forehead.  Not a bracelet, not a ring.  She was dressed only in a full flowing tunic.  Her black hair, unbound, lay in masses of ebony over her slight shoulders and her bare arms.

Her beautiful eyes were deep circled.  Her divine mouth drooped.  I did not know whether I was glad or sorry to see this new quivering Cleopatra.

Flattened at her feet, King Hiram gazed submissively at her.

An immense orichalch mirror with golden reflections was set into the wall at the right.  Suddenly she raised herself erect before it.  I saw her nude.

A splendid and bitter sight!—­A woman who thinks herself alone, standing before her mirror in expectation of the man she wishes to subdue!

The six incense-burners scattered about the room sent up invisible columns of perfume.  The balsam spices of Arabia wore floating webs in which my shameless senses were entangled....  And, back toward me, standing straight as a lily, Antinea smiled into her mirror.

Low steps sounded in the corridor.  Antinea immediately fell back into the nonchalant pose in which I had first seen her.  One had to see such a transformation to believe it possible.

Morhange entered the room, preceded by a white Targa.

He, too, seemed rather pale.  But I was most struck by the expression of serene peace on that face which I thought I knew so well.  I felt that I never had understood what manner of man Morhange was, never.

He stood erect before Antinea without seeming to notice her gesture inviting him to be seated.

She smiled at him.

“You are surprised, perhaps,” she said finally, “that I should send for you at so late an hour.”

Morhange did not move an eyelash.

“Have you considered it well?” she demanded.

Morhange smiled gravely, but did not reply.

I could read in Antinea’s face the effort it cost her to continue smiling; I admired the self-control of these two beings.

“I sent for you,” she continued.  “You do not guess why?...  Well, it is to tell you something that you do not expect.  It will be no surprise to you if I say that I never met a man like you.  During your captivity, you have expressed only one wish.  Do you recall it?”

“I asked your permission to see my friend before I died,” said Morhange simply.

I do not know what stirred me more on hearing these words:  delight at Morhange’s formal tone in speaking to Antinea, or emotion at hearing the one wish he had expressed.

But Antinea continued calmly: 

“That is why I sent for you—­to tell you that you are going to see him again.  And I am going to do something else.  You will perhaps scorn me even more when you realize that you had only to oppose me to bend me to your will—­I, who have bent all other wills to mine.  But, however that may be, it is decided:  I give you both your liberty.  Tomorrow Cegheir-ben-Cheikh will lead you past the fifth enclosure.  Are you satisfied?”