h
me so!"

"Because," came the metallic voice, softly--"you are beautiful with a
beauty given but rarely to the daughters of men. The Sublime Order
has acquired many pretty women--for they are potent weapons--but none
so fair as you. Miska, I would make life sweet for you."

"Ah! you do not mean that!" she whispered fearfully.

"Have I not clothed you in the raiment of a princess!" continued
Fo-Hi. "To-night, at my urgent request, you wear the charming national
costume in which I delight to see you. But is there a woman of Paris,
of London, of New York, who has such robes, such jewels, such
apartments as you possess? Perhaps the peculiar duties which I have
required you to perform, the hideous disguises, which you have
sometimes been called upon to adopt, have disgusted you."

Her heart beating wildly, for she did not know this mood but divined
it to portend some unique horror, Miska crouched, head averted.

"To-night the hour has come to break the whip. To-night the master in
me dies. My cloak of wise authority has fallen from me and I offer
myself in bondage to _you_, my slave!"

"This is some trap you set for me!" she whispered.

But Fo-Hi, paying no heed to her words, continued in the same rapt
voice:

"Truly have you observed that the Chinese wife is but a slave to her
lord. I have said that the relation of master and slave is ended
between us. I offer you a companionship that signifies absolute
freedom and perfect understanding. Half of all I have--and the world
lies in my grasp--is yours. I offer a throne set upon the Seven
Mountains of the Universe. Look into my eyes and read the truth."

But lower and lower she cowered upon the _diwan._

"No, no! I am afraid!"

Fo-Hi approached her closely and abject terror now had robbed her of
strength. Her limbs seemed to have become numbed, her tongue clave to
the roof of her mouth.

"Fear me no more, Miska," said Fo-Hi. "I _will_ you nothing but joy.
The man who has learned the Fifth Secret of Rache Churan--who has
learned how to control his will--holds a power absolute and beyond
perfectability. You know, who have dwelt beneath my roof, that there
is no escape from my will." His calm was terrible, and his glance,
through the green veil, was like a ray of scorching heat. His voice
sank lower and lower.

"There is one frailty, Miska, that even the Adept cannot conquer. It
is inherent in every man. Miska, I would not _force_ you to grasp the
joy I offer; I