“I rejoice that you do,” returned Zoroaster coldly.  “I would not have your admiration, if I might be paid for receiving it with the whole world and the wisdom thereof.”

“Not even if you might have for your wife the woman you loved in your poor, insipid way—­but you loved her nevertheless?  She is pale and sorrowful, poor creature; she haunts the gardens like the shadow of death; she wearies the king with her wan face.  She is eating her heart out for you—­the king took her from you, you could take her from him to-morrow, if you pleased.  The greater your folly, because you do not.  As for her, her foolishness is such that she would follow you to the ends of the earth—­poor girl! she little knows what a pale, wretched, sapless thing you have in your breast for a heart.”

But Zoroaster gazed calmly at the queen in quiet scorn at her scoffing.

“Think you that the sun is obscured, because you can draw yonder curtain before your window and keep out his rays?” he asked.  “Think you that the children of light feel pain because the children of darkness say in their ignorance that there is no light?”

“You speak in parables—­having nothing plain to say,” returned the queen, thrusting a golden pin through her hair at the back and through the folds of her linen tiara.  But she felt Zoroaster’s eyes upon her, and looking up, she was fascinated by the strange light in them.  She strove to look away from him, but could not.  Suddenly her heart sank within her.  She had heard of Indian charmers and of Chaldean necromancers and wise men, who could perform wonders and slay their enemies with a glance.  She struggled to take her eyes from his, but it was of no use.  The subtle power of the universal agent had got hold upon her, and she was riveted to the spot so long as he kept his eyes upon her.  He spoke again, and his voice seemed to come to her with a deafening metallic force, as though it vibrated to her very brain.

“You may scoff at me; shield yourself from me, if you can,” said Zoroaster.  “Lift one hand, if you are able—­make one step from me, if you have the strength.  You cannot; you are altogether in my power.  If I would, I could kill you as you stand, and there would be no mark of violence upon you, that a man should be able to say you were slain.  You boast of your strength and power.  See, you follow the motion of my hand, as a dog would.  See, you kneel before me, and prostrate yourself in the dust at my feet, at my bidding.  Lie there, and think well whether you are able to scoff any more.  You kneeled to the king of your own will; you kneel to me at mine, and though you had the strength of a hundred men, you must kneel there till I bid you rise.”

The queen was wholly under the influence of the terrible power Zoroaster possessed.  She was no more able to resist his will than a drowning man can resist the swift torrent that bears him down to his death.  She lay at the priest’s feet, helpless and nerveless.  He gazed at her for a moment as she crouched before him.