Swiftly she placed her hand upon my heart, saying,

“Stay!  What meanest thou?  Dost love me, Allan?”

“I think so—­that is—­yes,” I answered.

She sank back upon the couch away from me and began to laugh very softly.

“What words are these,” she said, “that they pass thy lips so easily and so unmeant, perchance from long practice?  Oh!  Allan, I am astonished.  Art thou the same man who some few days ago told me, and this unasked, that as soon wouldst thou think of courting the moon as of courting me?  Art thou he who not a minute gone swore proudly that never had his heart and his lips wandered from certain angels whither they should not?  And now, and now——?”

I coloured to my eyes and rose, muttering,

“Let me be gone!”

“Nay, Allan, why?  I see no mark here,” and she held up her hand, scanning it carefully.  “Thou art too much what thou wert before, except perhaps in thy soul, which is invisible,” she added with a touch of malice.  “Nor am I angry with thee; indeed, hadst thou not tried to charm away my woe, I should have thought but poorly of thee as a man.  There let it rest and be forgotten—­or remembered as thou wilt.  Still, in answer to thy words concerning my Kallikrates, what of those adored ones that, according to thy tale, but now thou didst find again in a place of light?  Because they seemed faithless, shouldst thou be faithless also?  Shame on thee, thou fickle Allan!”

She paused, waiting for me to speak.

Well, I could not.  I had nothing to say who was utterly disgraced and overwhelmed.

“Thou thinkest, Allan,” she went on, “that I have cast my net about thee, and this is true.  Learn wisdom from it, Allan, and never again defy a woman—­that is, if she be fair, for then she is stronger than thou art, since Nature for its own purpose made her so.  Whatever I have done by tears, that ancient artifice of my sex, as in other ways, is for thy instruction, Allan, that thou mayest benefit thereby.”

Again I sprang up, uttering an English exclamation which I trust Ayesha did not understand, and again she motioned to me to be seated, saying,

“Nay, leave me not yet since, even if the light fancy of a man that comes and goes like the evening wind and for a breath made me dear to thee, has passed away, there remains certain work which we must do together.  Although, thinking of thyself alone, thou hast forgotten it, having been paid thine own fee, one is yet due to that old wizard in a far land who sent thee to visit Kor and me, as indeed he has reminded me and within an hour.”

This amazing statement aroused me from my personal and painful pre-occupation and caused me to stare at her blankly.

“Again thou disbelievest me,” she said, with a little stamp.  “Do so once more, Allan, and I swear I’ll bring thee to grovel on the ground and kiss my foot and babble nonsense to a woman sworn to another man, such as never for all thy days thou shalt think of without a blush of shame.”