d white as
the Lotus of the Blessed One. What power had Dwaymenau to hurt her when
that other Power walked beside her? She seemed to float above her in
high air and look down upon her with compassion. Strength, virtue flowed
in her veins; weakness, fear were fantasies. She could not understand,
but knew that here was perfect enlightenment. About her echoed the words
of the Blessed One: "Never in this world doth hatred cease by hatred,
but only by love. This is an old rule."

"Whereas I was blind, now I see," said Maya the Queen slowly to her own
heart. She had grasped the hems of the Mighty.

Words cannot speak the still passion of strength and joy that possessed
her. Her step was light. As she walked, her soul sang within her, for
thus it is with those that have received the Law. About them is the
Peace.

In the dawn she was told that the Queen, Dwaymenau, would speak with
her, and without a tremor she who had shaken like a leaf at that name
commanded that she should enter. It was Dwaymenau that trembled as she
came into that unknown place.

With cloudy brows and eyes that would reveal no secret, she stood before
the high seat where the Queen sat pale and majestic.

"Is it well with the boy?" the Queen asked earnestly.

"Well," said Dwaymenau, fingering the silver bosses of her girdle.

"Then--is there more to say?" The tone was that of the great lady who
courteously ends an audience. "There is more. The men brought in the
body and in its throat your dagger was sticking. And my son has told me
that your body was a shield to him. You offered your life for his. I did
not think to thank you--but I thank you." She ended abruptly and still
her eyes had never met the Queen's.

"I accept your thanks. Yet a mother could do no less."

The tone was one of dismissal but still Dwaymenau lingered.

"The dagger," she said and drew it from her bosom. On the clear, pointed
blade the blood had curdled and dried. "I never thought to ask a gift of
you, but this dagger is a memorial of my son's danger. May I keep it?"

"As you will. Here is the sheath." From her girdle she drew it--rough
silver, encrusted with rubies from the mountains.

The hand rejected it.

"Jewels I cannot take, but bare steel is a fitting gift between us two."

"As you will."

The Queen spoke compassionately, and Dwaymenau, still with veiled eyes,
was gone without fare well. The empty sheath lay on the seat--a symbol
of the sharp-edged hate that had