* * * * *

Sundown at last; and the drive, in her exalted mood, was an ecstasy no possible after-pain or disappointment could dim.  As the flaming tint of sunset faded and shafts of amethyst struck upward into the blue, buildings grew shadowy; immense vistas seemed to melt into the landscape, shrouded in a veil of desert dust.

Then—­the first flickering points of fire—­primrose-pale, in the half light; deepening to orange, as night rolled up out of the East, and the little blown flames seemed to flit along of their own volition, so skilled and swift were the invisible hands at work.

From roof to roof, from balcony to balcony they ran:  till vanished Jaipur emerged from her shroud, a city transfigured:  cupolas, arches, balconies, and temples, palace of the Maharaja and lofty Hall of the Winds—­every detail faultlessly traced on darkness, in delicate, tremulous lines of fire.  Only here and there illusion was shattered by garish globes of electric light, dimming the mellow radiance of thousands on thousands of modest chiraghs.

Aruna had seen many Dewali nights in her time; but never at a moment so charged with conflicting emotions.  Silent, absorbed, she sat by Thea in the barouche; Roy and Vernon opposite; Phyllis on her mother’s knee; the others in the car on ahead—­including a tourist of note—­outriders before and behind, clearing a pathway through the press.  Vernon, jigging on his feet, was lost in wonder.  Roy, like Aruna, said little.  Only Thea kept up a low ripple of talk with her babe....

By now, not only the city was alight, but the enclosing hills, where bonfires laughed in flame.  Jewelled coronets twinkled on bastions of the Tiger Fort.  Threads of fire traced every curve and line of Jai Singh’s tomb.  And on either side of the carriage, the crowd swayed and hummed; laughing, jesting, boasting; intoxicated with the spirit of festival, that found an echo in Aruna’s heart and rioted in her veins.  To-night she felt merged in India, Eastern to the core; capable, almost, of wondering—­could she put it away from her, even at the bidding of Roy——?

On they drove, away from crowded pavements, towards the Man Sagar Lake, where ruined temples and palaces dreamed and gleamed, knee deep in the darkling water; where jackals prowled and cranes nested and muggers dozed unheeding.  At a point of vantage above the Lake, they halted and sat there awhile in darkness—­a group of silent shadows.  Words did not meet the case.  Even Vernon ceased his jigging and baby Phyllis uttered no sound:  for she had fallen asleep.

Aruna, resting an elbow on the side of the carriage, sat lost in a dream....

Suddenly, electrically, she was aware of contact with Roy’s coat-sleeve.  He had leaned forward to catch a particular effect, and was probably not aware of his trespassing arm; for he did not shift it till he had gazed his fill.  Then with a long sigh, he leaned back again.  But Aruna’s dream was shattered by sensations too startingly real to be ignored....