And Bhanavar smote her palms in the moonlight, and exclaimed, ’How then shall I escape this in me, which is a curse to them that approach me?’

And he replied: 

     Long we the less for the pearl of the sea
     Because in its depths there ’s the death we flee? 
     Long we the less, the less, woe’s me! 
     Because thou art deathly,—­the less for thee?

She sang aloud among the rocks and the caves and the illumined waters: 

     Destiny!  Destiny! why am I so dark? 
      I that have beauty and love to be fair. 
     Destiny!  Destiny! am I but a spark
      Track’d under heaven in flames and despair? 
     Destiny!  Destiny! why am I desired
      Thus like a poisonous fruit, deadly sweet? 
     Destiny!  Destiny! lo, my soul is tired,
      Make me thy plaything no more, I entreat!

Ruark laughed low, and said, ’What is this dread of Rukrooth my mother which weigheth on thee but silliness!  For she saw thee willing to do well by her; and thou with thy Jewel, O Bhanavar, do thou but well by thyself, and there will be no woman such as thou in power and excellence of endowments, as there is nowhere one such as thou in beauty.’  Then he sighed to her, ‘Dare I look up to thee, O my Queen of Serpents?’ And he breathed as one that is losing breath, and the words came from him, ’My soul is thine!’

When she heard him say this, great trouble was on the damsel, for his voice was not the voice of Zurvan her betrothed; and she remembered the sorrow of Rukrooth.  She would have fled from him, but a dread of the displeasure of the Chief restrained her, knowing Ruark a soul of wrath.  Her eyelids dropped and the Chief gazed on her eagerly, and sang in a passion of praises of her; the fires of his love had a tongue, his speech was a torrent of flame at the feet of the damsel.  And Bhanavar exclaimed, ’Oh, what am I, what am I, who have slain my love, my lover!—­that one should love me and call on me for love?  My life is a long weeping for him!  Death is my wooer!’

Ruark still pleaded with her, and she said in fair gentleness, ’Speak not of it now in the freshness of my grief!  Other times and seasons are there.  My soul is but newly widowed!’

Fierce was the eye of the Chief, and he sprang up, crying, ’By the life of my head, I know thy wiles and the reading of these delays:  but I’ll never leave thee, nor lose sight of thee, Bhanavar!  And think not to fly from me, thou subtle, brilliant Serpent! for thy track is my track, and thy condition my condition, and thy fate my fate.  By Allah! this is so.’

Then he strode from her swiftly, and called to his Arabs.  They had kindled a fire to roast the flesh of a buffalo, slaughtered by them from among a herd, and were laughing and singing beside the flames of the fire.  So by the direction of their Chief the Arabs brought slices of sweet buffalo-flesh to Bhanavar, with cakes of grain:  and Bhanavar ate alone, and drank from the waters before her.  Then they laid for her a couch within the cave, and the aching of her spirit was lulled, and she slept there a dreamless sleep till morning.