But now his time was drawing nigh, and he was weak, and took her hand in his and gazed on her face, sighing, and said, ’There is nothing shall keep me by thee now, O my betrothed, my beautiful!  Weep not, for it is the doing of fate, and not thy doing.  So ere I go, and the grave-cloth separates thy heart from my heart, listen to me.  Lo, that Jewel! it is the giver of years and of powers, and of loveliness beyond mortal, yet the wearing of it availeth not in the pursuit of happiness.  Now art thou Queen over the serpents of this lake:  it was the Queen-serpent I slew, and her vengeance is on me here.  Now art thou mighty, O Bhanavar! and look to do well by thy tribe, and that from which I spring, recompensing my father for his loss, pouring ointment on his affliction, for great is the grief of the old man, and he loveth me, and is childless.’

Then the youth fell back and was still; and Bhanavar put her ear to his mouth, and heard what seemed an inner voice murmuring in him, and it was of his infancy and his boyhood, and of his father the Emir’s first gift to him, his horse Zoora, in old times.  Presently the youth revived somewhat, and looked upon her; but his sight was glazed with a film, and she sang her name to him ere he knew her, and the sad sweetness of her name filled his soul, and he replied to her with it weakly, like a far echo that groweth fainter, ‘Bhanavar!  Bhanavar!  Bhanavar!’ Then a change came over him, and the pain of the poison and the passion of the death-throe, and he was wistful of her no more; but she lay by him, embracing him, and in the last violence of his anguish he hugged her to his breast.  Then it was over, and he sank.  And the twain were as a great wave heaving upon the shore; lo, part is wasted where it falleth; part draweth back into the waters.  So was it!

Now the chill of dawn breathed blue on the lake and was astir among the dewy leaves of the wood, when Bhanavar arose from the body of the youth, and as she rose she saw that his mare Zoora, his father’s first gift, was snuffing at the ear of her dead master, and pawing him.  At that sight the tears poured from her eyelids, and she sobbed out to the mare, ’O Zoora! never mare bore nobler burden on her back than thou in Zurvan my betrothed.  Zoora! thou weepest, for death is first known to thee in the dearest thing that was thine; as to me, in the dearest that was mine!  And O Zoora, steed of Zurvan my betrothed, there’s no loveliness for us in life, for the loveliest is gone; and let us die, Zoora, mare of Zurvan my betrothed, for what is dying to us, O Zoora, who cherish beyond all that which death has taken?’