I took Leo by the arm, and pulled him from the prostrate mute, and he, half bewildered, obeyed the pressure.  Then we all set out for the cave across the plateau, where a pile of white human ashes was all that remained of the fire that had lit the dancing, for the dancers had vanished.

In due course we gained Ayesha’s boudoir—­all too soon, it seemed to me, having a sad presage of what was to come lying heavy on my heart.

Ayesha seated herself upon her cushions, and, having dismissed Job and Billali, by signs bade the mutes tend the lamps and retire—­all save one girl, who was her favourite personal attendant.  We three remained standing, the unfortunate Ustane a little to the left of the rest of us.

“Now, oh Holly,” Ayesha began, “how came it that thou who didst hear my words bidding this evil-doer”—­and she pointed to Ustane—­“to go hence—­thou at whose prayer I did weakly spare her life—­how came it, I say, that thou wast a sharer in what I saw to-night?  Answer, and for thine own sake, I say, speak all the truth, for I am not minded to hear lies upon this matter!”

“It was by accident, oh Queen,” I answered.  “I knew naught of it.”

“I do believe thee, oh Holly,” she answered coldly, “and well it is for thee that I do—­then does the whole guilt rest upon her.”

“I do not find any guilt therein,” broke in Leo.  “She is not another man’s wife, and it appears that she has married me according to the custom of this awful place, so who is the worse?  Any way, madam,” he went on, “whatever she has done I have done too, so if she is to be punished let me be punished also; and I tell thee,” he went on, working himself up into a fury, “that if thou biddest one of those dead and dumb villains to touch her again I will tear him to pieces!” And he looked as though he meant it.

Ayesha listened in icy silence, and made no remark.  When he had finished, however, she addressed Ustane.

“Hast thou aught to say, woman?  Thou silly straw, thou feather, who didst think to float towards thy passion’s petty ends, even against the great wind of my will!  Tell me, for I fain would understand.  Why didst thou this thing?”

And then I think I saw the most tremendous exhibition of moral courage and intrepidity that it is possible to conceive.  For the poor doomed girl, knowing what she had to expect at the hands of her terrible Queen, knowing, too, from bitter experience, how great was her adversary’s power, yet gathered herself together, and out of the very depths of her despair drew materials to defy her.

“I did it, oh She,” she answered, drawing herself up to the full of her stately height, and throwing back the panther skin from her head, “because my love is stronger than the grave.  I did it because my life without this man whom my heart chose would be but a living death.  Therefore did I risk my life, and, now that I know that it is forfeit to thine anger, yet am I glad that I did risk it, and pay it away in the risking, ay, because he embraced me once, and told me that he loved me yet.”