rose, puffing himself out like a great turkey-cock, and, taking
her hand, kissed it, gobbling some words which we did not catch.

Wild cheering followed, and in the momentary silence which followed
Oliver spoke.

"Lady," he said, in a cold and bitter voice, "we 'Gentiles' have heard
your words. We thank you for your kind acknowledgment of our services,
namely, the destruction of the idol of the Fung at the cost of some
risk and labour to ourselves. We thank you also for your generosity in
allowing us, as the reward of that service, to depart from Mur, with
insult and hard words, and such goods as remain to us, instead of
consigning us to death by torture, as you and your Council have the
power to do. It is indeed a proof of your generosity, and of that of the
Abati people which we shall always remember and repeat in our own land,
should we live to reach it. Also, we trust that it will come to the
ears of the savage Fung, so that at length they may understand that
true nobility and greatness lie not in brutal deeds of arms, but in the
hearts of men. But now, Walda Nagasta, I have a last request to make of
you, namely, that I may see your face once more to be sure that it is
you who have spoken to us, and not another beneath your veil, and that
if this be so, I may carry away with me a faithful picture of one so
true to her country and noble to her guests as you have shown yourself
this day."

She listened, then very slowly lifted her veil, revealing such a
countenance as I had never seen before. It was Maqueda without a doubt,
but Maqueda changed. Her face was pale, which was only to be expected
after all she had gone through; her eyes glowed in it like coals, her
lips were set. But it was her expression, at once defiant and agonized,
which impressed me so much that I never shall forget it. I confess I
could not read it in the least, but it left upon my mind the belief that
she was a false woman, and yet ashamed of her own falsity. There was the
greatest triumph of her art, that in those terrible circumstances she
should still have succeeded in conveying to me, and to the hundreds of
others who watched, this conviction of her own turpitude.

For a moment her eyes met those of Orme, but although he searched
them with pleading and despair in his glance, I could trace in hers no
relenting sign, but only challenge not unmixed with mockery. Then with
a short, hard laugh she let fall her veil again and turned to talk with