r scorn had failed: she would kill me with her beauty!

Despair restored my volition; the spell broke; I ran, and overtook her.

"Have pity upon me!" I cried.

She gave no heed. I followed her like a child whose mother pretends to
abandon him. "I will be your slave!" I said, and laid my hand on her
arm.

She turned as if a serpent had bit her. I cowered before the blaze of
her eyes, but could not avert my own.

"Pity me," I cried again.

She resumed her walking.

The whole day I followed her. The sun climbed the sky, seemed to pause
on its summit, went down the other side. Not a moment did she pause, not
a moment did I cease to follow. She never turned her head, never relaxed
her pace.

The sun went below, and the night came up. I kept close to her: if I
lost sight of her for a moment, it would be for ever!

All day long we had been walking over thick soft grass: abruptly she
stopped, and threw herself upon it. There was yet light enough to show
that she was utterly weary. I stood behind her, and gazed down on her
for a moment.

Did I love her? I knew she was not good! Did I hate her? I could not
leave her! I knelt beside her.

"Begone! Do not dare touch me," she cried.

Her arms lay on the grass by her sides as if paralyzed.

Suddenly they closed about my neck, rigid as those of the
torture-maiden. She drew down my face to hers, and her lips clung to my
cheek. A sting of pain shot somewhere through me, and pulsed. I could
not stir a hair's breadth. Gradually the pain ceased. A slumberous
weariness, a dreamy pleasure stole over me, and then I knew nothing.

All at once I came to myself. The moon was a little way above the
horizon, but spread no radiance; she was but a bright thing set in
blackness. My cheek smarted; I put my hand to it, and found a wet spot.
My neck ached: there again was a wet spot! I sighed heavily, and felt
very tired. I turned my eyes listlessly around me--and saw what had
become of the light of the moon: it was gathered about the lady! she
stood in a shimmering nimbus! I rose and staggered toward her.

"Down!" she cried imperiously, as to a rebellious dog. "Follow me a step
if you dare!"

"I will!" I murmured, with an agonised effort.

"Set foot within the gates of my city, and my people will stone you:
they do not love beggars!"

I was deaf to her words. Weak as water, and half awake, I did not know
that I moved, but the distance grew less between us. She took one step
back