I asked, as I came within speaking distance of her.  She stood motionless against the tree and apparently did not hear me.  I waited till I was within ten feet of her and repeated the question, but, although she fixed her unfathomable eyes full upon mine, she made no reply, and gave no evidence of having heard me.  I stood as if petrified.  A nameless dread was settling upon me, paralysing my faculties.  She had always before sprung forward at sight of me and thrown herself with a bewitching little pirouette into my arms, now she stood coldly aloof, silent and motionless, on this, our wedding night!  I waited for some word of explanation, but none came.  The suspense became unbearable—­I could endure it no longer!

“For God’s sake, what has happened?” I cried, rushing forward to seize her in my arms.  She raised her right hand above her head and, as I had almost reached her, threw something full in my face!  Instinctively I struck at it with my walking-stick, and it fell in the grass at my feet,—­it was a young Indian cobra—­Naja tripudians—­a serpent of the deadliest sort.  I did not pause to reason how this sweet angel had been so quickly changed into a venomous fiend, although the thought that somehow she had been led to think me false to her, and that this act was the swift vengeance of her hot Eastern blood, flashed momentarily through my mind,—­all that could be explained as soon as I had her nestling in my arms.  I reached forward to embrace her, but she struck me in the face and fled!  For an instant my heart stood still.  It seemed to me it would never start, but it soon began to throb again like a thing of lead, and the blood it pumped was cold, for the winter had closed in upon it.  The elasticity of my life, that ineffable resiliency of the soul which makes us more than beasts of burden, was gone forever.  An automaton, informed only with the material life, remained,—­the spirit followed that fleeting figure down the hill.  More than twenty years have passed and still the unrewarded chase continues!

But it is to facts I have to call your attention, rather than to their effects.  A flutter of white muslin in the moonlit distance was all that was visible of the retreating girl when I started mechanically, and without any particular purpose in view, in pursuit of her.  My path lay by the banyan tree under which we had so often sat, but every air-root seemed changed to a writhing serpent.  As I threaded my way among them, a man stepped from behind the trunk and disputed my passage.  His gigantic form was silhouetted against the mass of rock forming the entrance to the little cave.  The bright moonlight did what it could to illumine that sinister face.  It was Rama Ragobah!  For fully a minute we stood silently face to face, each expecting the assault of the other.  It was Ragobah who spoke first.  “She is mine, body and soul; and the English cur may find a mate in his own kennel!” He bent toward me and hissed these words in my very face.