the safest of servants, save to those who can read their faces and their signs.  I bred them so—­it hath taken many centuries and much trouble; but at last I have triumphed.  Once I succeeded before, but the race was too ugly, so I let it die away; but now, as thou seest, they are otherwise.  Once, too, I reared a race of giants, but after a while Nature would no more of it, and it died away.  Hast thou aught to ask of me?”

“Ay, one thing, oh Ayesha,” I said boldly; but feeling by no means as bold as I trust I looked.  “I would gaze upon thy face.”

She laughed out in her bell-like notes.  “Bethink thee, Holly,” she answered; “bethink thee.  It seems that thou knowest the old myths of the gods of Greece.  Was there not one Actaeon who perished miserably because he looked on too much beauty?  If I show thee my face, perchance thou wouldst perish miserably also; perchance thou wouldst eat out thy heart in impotent desire; for know I am not for thee—­I am for no man, save one, who hath been, but is not yet.”

“As thou wilt, Ayesha,” I said.  “I fear not thy beauty.  I have put my heart away from such vanity as woman’s loveliness, that passeth like a flower.”

“Nay, thou errest,” she said; “that does not pass.  My beauty endures even as I endure; still, if thou wilt, oh rash man, have thy will; but blame not me if passion mount thy reason, as the Egyptian breakers used to mount a colt, and guide it whither thou wilt not.  Never may the man to whom my beauty has been unveiled put it from his mind, and therefore even with these savages do I go veiled, lest they vex me, and I should slay them.  Say, wilt thou see?”

“I will,” I answered, my curiosity overpowering me.

She lifted her white and rounded arms—­never had I seen such arms before—­and slowly, very slowly, withdrew some fastening beneath her hair.  Then all of a sudden the long, corpse-like wrappings fell from her to the ground, and my eyes travelled up her form, now only robed in a garb of clinging white that did but serve to show its perfect and imperial shape, instinct with a life that was more than life, and with a certain serpent-like grace that was more than human.  On her little feet were sandals, fastened with studs of gold.  Then came ankles more perfect than ever sculptor dreamed of.  About the waist her white kirtle was fastened by a double-headed snake of solid gold, above which her gracious form swelled up in lines as pure as they were lovely, till the kirtle ended on the snowy argent of her breast, whereon her arms were folded.  I gazed above them at her face, and—­I do not exaggerate—­shrank back blinded and amazed.  I have heard of the beauty of celestial beings, now I saw it; only this beauty, with all its awful loveliness and purity, was evil—­at least, at the time, it struck me as evil.  How am I to describe it?  I cannot—­simply I cannot!  The man does not live whose pen could convey a sense of what I saw.  I might talk of