She spanned his neck with the outspread thumbs and little fingers of both hands, and laughed as he pulled them apart and buried his face in his arms.

“Dost fear?” she said.  “Dost fear that I shall strangle thee? Dost fear?” she repeated with a certain sharp note in the voice which caused the man to look up quickly and straight into her eyes, upon which she laughed quietly.

“Tell me,” he insisted gently, “tell me what thou thinkest of me!”

“Ah!” she whispered, “thy shoulders are like the head of an elephant and thy long arms are as the trunk, and the strength of thy breast is even as that of a fastened door—­which love perchance may open,” the heavy lids half-closed over her eyes as she slowly drew the finger-tips of both hands down towards the slim waist, and the man’s teeth drew blood from his under lip.

“Thy middle is like a lion’s, so slender is it, and——­”

He stopped her fiercely as he twisted on to his right elbow and seized both her hands in his left.

“And the suppleness of thy arms, and the softness of thy limbs are like the young plaintain tree, and thy fingers are the buds of the champaka flower.”  He spoke rapidly, crushing her hands cruelly.  “The bone of thy knee showing whitely through thy garment is shaped even as the shell of a crab, and the whiteness of the bone from thy knee to thy slender ankle is like a full-roed fish——­”

“And thy feet and thy hands, O Lord, are as the young leaves of plants!”

To which he replied through the teeth that were closed.

“And thine so small, so dear, are as lotus buds—­lotus buds swaying at dawn in the wind of love.”

She smiled divinely as she stretched one perfect bare foot from under her garment, and bent her head to catch the words as he passionately whispered the Vega hymn.

“Want thou the body of me, the feet; want thou the eyes; want the thighs; let the eyes, the hair of thee, desiring me, dry up in love.

“I make thee cling to my arm, cling to my heart; that thou mayest be in my power, come unto my intent.

“They——­”

He stopped, convulsed with passion, and bending kissed her feet.

“Ah! thy hands, thy feet, are like lotus buds—­lotus buds which I love, even if they be drenched in blood.”

He leapt to his feet and caught Leonie’s wrist in the vice of his hand as she sprang upright in one movement, laughing as she pointed at his mouth.

“Blood,” she whispered, “blood—­it is warm—­it drops slowly—­slowly——­”

She ran her fingers across his mouth, and shook with hideous silent laughter as she showed him the tips stained red.

“Come,” she said, “come—­she is calling—­calling——­” and she struck at the hand which gripped her shoulder, and tried to shake herself free.

“Come!” said the man, looking straight into her eyes, “come with me.”

She slid her hand into his, and followed him docilely as he lifted the reed purdah and entered her bedroom.