“It’s one o’clock, fair lady; you must unmask.”

And he uttered a cry of astonishment.

Zulannah had lifted her veil.

And the moments sped as she wove the golden web of beauty and desire and love, into which, however, the clumsy fly refused to be enticed.

But Ben Kelham, for all his slowness, was no fool, and understanding that the woman was offering him something outside her usual wares, and understanding also the danger of rousing the wrath of such a woman, he dealt with the matter as delicately as he could.

“—­Come but once to my entertainments,” she urged.  “My girls shall dance for thee, my animals fight for thee.”

The man shuddered, sick to the soul at the thought of the means by which this woman enslaved her suitors.

“Am I not beautiful?” she added.

She made her last bid; she stepped back into the moonlight and unwound her veils from about her, standing, palpitating, trembling under the possession of her strange love.

Beautiful!  She was a dream—­yet beside her beauty the pure loveliness of Damaris Hethencourt would have shown like the work of an Old Master beside a coarse copy.

But what will you?

Some like the snow-peaks and some the stretching plain; others the turbulent ocean, and yet others the farmyard with its rural sights and sounds.  Thank goodness for it!  Just imagine the lamentation throughout the world if love, like the couturiere set fashions for the seasons!

“Love dictates that women, this season, shall resemble the dazzling peaks of the Himalayas.”

And we looking as the majority of us do look!

Not that we should really be downhearted about it.  Not a bit.  Only let the decree go forth, and every one of us, at the end of a week or so, would by hook or by crook have acquired a distinctly peak-like appearance.

But Kelham looked up, looked long, and smiled.

“You are beautiful—­very beautiful—­the most beautiful woman I have seen—­save one.”

Zulannah recognised her defeat and in a whirl of rage and scented veils disappeared through the talik palms.

And, arrived at her house, she stormed through court and rooms and down to the bottom of the scented garden, leaving a trail of terror-stricken servants lying face downwards in her wake.

She leant over the marble balustrade and looked down into the huge pit with marble walls and sanded floor.  All around it were cages in which were confined great beasts; and alcoves in which she and her guests, behind iron bars, would sit, when sated with love and feasting, to watch the animals fight to the death.

Then she ran quickly down the flight of marble steps, and clapped her hands.