“Go thou down the dark paths of Death, and, since even my thought may not reach to where he sleeps tonight, search out my lord and say to him that the feet of his spouse Ayesha are following fast.  Bid him have no fear for me who by this last sorrow have atoned my crimes and am in his embrace regenerate.  Tell him that thus it was appointed, and thus is best, since now he is dipped indeed in the eternal Flame of Life; now for him the mortal night is done and the everlasting day arises.  Command him that he await me in the Gate of Death where it is granted that I greet him presently.  Thou hearest?”

“I hear, O Queen, Mighty-from-of-Old.”

“One message more.  Say to Atene that I forgive her.  Her heart was high and greatly did she play her part.  There in the Gates we will balance our account.  Thou hearest?”

“I hear, O Eternal Star that hath conquered Night.”

“Then, man, begone!”

As the word left Ayesha’s lips Simbri leapt from the floor, grasping at the air as though he would clutch his own departing soul, staggered back against the board where Leo and I had eaten, overthrowing it, and amid a ruin of gold and silver vessels, fell down and died.

She looked at him, then said to me—­“See, though he ever hated me, this magician who has known Ayesha from the first, did homage to my ancient majesty at last, when lies and defiance would serve his end no more.  No longer now do I hear the name that his dead mistress gave to me.  The ‘Star-that-hath-fallen’ in his lips and in very truth is become the ‘Star-which-hath-burst-the-bonds-of-Night,’ and, re-arisen, shines for ever—­shines with its twin immortal to set no more—­my Holly.  Well, he is gone, and ere now, those that serve me in the Under-world—­dost remember?—­thou sawest their captains in the Sanctuary—­bend the head at great Ayesha’s word and make her place ready near her spouse.

“But oh, what folly has been mine.  When even here my wrath can show such power, how could I hope that my lord would outlive the fires of my love?  Still it was better so, for he sought not the pomp I would have given him, nor desired the death of men.  Yet such pomp must have been his portion in this poor shadow of a world, and the steps that encircle an usurper’s throne are ever slippery with blood.

“Thou art weary, my Holly, go rest thee.  To-morrow night we journey to the Mountain, there to celebrate these obsequies.”

I crept into the room adjoining—­it had been Simbri’s—­and laid me down upon his bed, but to sleep I was not able.  Its door was open, and in the light of the burning city that shone through the casements I could see Ayesha watching by her dead.  Hour after hour she watched, her head resting on her hand, silent, stirless.  She wept not, no sigh escaped her; only watched as a tender woman watches a slumbering babe that she knows will awake at dawn.