It became a lonely vigil, my thoughts unhappy.  I had much to reflect upon.  The extreme difficulty of our present situation, encompassed and separated as we were:  De Noyan was bewitched by a siren who had already bound him by silken cords to any nefarious scheme her unscrupulous desires might compass; Cairnes was as helplessly entangled in her power, although held to his fate by ropes of a different nature; while Madame was scarcely less a prisoner, powerless to escape the ruthless grasp of a false-hearted woman whose jealousy might at any instant lead to measures of extremity.  I alone of all our little company remained somewhat my own master.  My hands and heart at least were free from all visible bonds.  Yet what hideous mockery was such freedom!  I realized that I could venture no step beyond the door of the lodge without becoming the focus of spying eyes; that all about was evidence of the despotic power of this renegade white queen, who deigned to spare me merely because she deemed I was utterly powerless to interfere with her cruel purposes.  Saint Andrew! it was an environment of evil to chill the blood of any man, nor amid its gathering gloom could I distinguish any gleam promising dawn.  About us watched impatiently a horde of ruthless savages, eager to make us victims of their torture, held back temporarily only by the imperious will of this self-styled “Daughter of the Sun,” who ruled through appeal to their grossest superstitions.  She, I believed, in spite of fair face and evidences of culture, was as vindictive, barbarous, and relentless as the wildest in that savage band.

Over and over I turned such unhappy thoughts in my seething brain, until the faintest sound from without had died away.  I may have spent hours thus, while De Noyan slept on peacefully as a tired child.  At last a wild desire for action overcame my lassitude, conquered all lingering discretion.  There arose before me, clearly as a painted picture, the pleading face of her I loved.  I knew that to no other was she looking for aid in her despair.  There might be little I could accomplish for her succor, yet it would bring her new courage even to exchange a brief word with some faithful friend, as proof that she was not forgotten.  Besides, I longed, as no expression can make clear, to gaze again, if only for an instant, into her clear gray eyes, to listen to the gentle murmur of her trustful voice.  In brief, I was in the mood for a desperate venture.

I crept to the open door, peering cautiously forth into the darkness.  It was a heavy night, the little basin was wrapped in shadow, and not even a star peeped forth from the rifts of low-scudding clouds.  In no direction could I distinguish any twinkling of lights except a single fitful flash from off the altar, where black-robed priests guarded the sacred fire or worshipped before the Puritan.  Encouraged by the darkness I crept along the outer wall, unchallenged by the skulking guard, and finally attained the upper corner.  Here I observed a second glimmer, which I instantly recognized as coming from the other great house upon the summit of the mound—­that house in which I understood dwelt Queen Naladi, and where De Noyan said his wife remained prisoner.