ter.

But she was not seen. And no one saw her set the jar down by the door.
No one except the prisoner inside heard her knock.

"Have you water, Jaimihr-sahib?" she inquired.

The East has a hundred florid epithets for one used in the West; and
in a land where water is as scarce as gold and far more precious the
mention of water to a thirsty man calls forth a flood of thought such
as only music or perhaps religion can produce in luckier climes. Jaimihr
waxed eloquent; more eloquent than even water might have made him had
another--had even another woman--brought it. He recognized her voice,
and said things to her that roused all the anger that she knew. She had
not come to be made love to.

She thought, though, of his thirst. She remembered that within an hour
or two he might be raving for another reason and with other words. The
big beam lifted on her hands with barely more effort than was needed
to lift up the water-jar; the door opened a little way, and she tried,
while she passed the water in, to peer through the darkness at the
prisoner. But there were no windows to that cell, and such dim light as
there was came from behind her.

"They have bound me, sahiba, in this corner," groaned Jaimihr. "I cannot
reach it. Take it away again! The certainty that it is there and out of
reach is too great torture!"

So she slipped in through the door, leaving it open a little way--both
her hands busy with the brass pitcher and both eyes straining their
utmost through the gloom--advancing step by step through mouldy straw
that might conceal a thousand horrors.

"You wonder, perhaps, why I do not escape!" said a voice. And then she
heard the cell door close again gently.

Now she could see Jaimihr, for he stood with his back against the door,
and his head was between her and the little six-inch grating that was
all the ventilation or light a prisoner in that place was allowed.

"So you lied to me, even when I brought you water?" she answered. She
was not afraid. She had nerve enough left to pity him.

"Yes. But I see that you did not lie. I am still thirsty, sahiba."

He held out both hands, and she could see them dimly. There were no
chains on them, and he was not bound in any way. She gave him the jar.

"Let me pass out again before you drink," she ordered. "It is not known
that I am in here, and I would not have it known."

She could have bitten out her tongue with mortification a moment
afterward for letting any