. The time is measured in minutes."

Then the Queen perceived, standing by the pillar, a monk of a stern,
dark presence, the creature of Dwaymenau. For an instant she pondered.
Was the woman selling the child to death? Dwaymenau spoke no word.
Her face was a mask. A minute that seemed an hour drifted by, and the
yelling and shrieks for mercy drew nearer.

"There will be pursuit," said the Queen. "They will slay him on the
river. Better here with me."

"There will be no pursuit." Dwaymenau fixed her strange eyes on the
Queen for the first time.

What moved in those eyes? The Queen could not tell. But despairing,
she rose and went to the silent monk, leading the Prince by the hand.
Swiftly he stripped the child of the silk pasoh of royalty, swiftly
he cut the long black tresses knotted on the little head, and upon the
slender golden body he set the yellow robe worn by the Lord Himself on
earth, and in the small hand he placed the begging-bowl of the Lord.
And now, remote and holy, in the dress that is of all most sacred, the
Prince, standing by the monk, turned to his mother and looked with grave
eyes upon her, as the child Buddha looked upon his Mother--also a Queen.
But Dwaymenau stood by silent and lent no help as the Queen folded the
Prince in her arms and laid his hand in the hand of the monk and saw
them pass away among the pillars, she standing still and white.

She turned to her rival. "If you have meant truly, I thank you."

"I have meant truly."

She turned to go, but the Queen caught her by the hand.

"Why have you done this?" she asked, looking into the strange eyes of
the strange woman.

Something like tears gathered in them for a moment, but she brushed them
away as she said hurriedly:

"I was grateful. You saved my son. Is it not enough?"

"No, not enough!" cried the Queen. "There is more. Tell me, for death is
upon us."

"His footsteps are near," said the Indian. "I will speak. I love my
lord. In death I will not cheat him. What you have known is true. My
child is no child of his. I will not go down to death with a lie upon my
lips. Come and see."

Dwaymenau was no more. Sundari, the Indian woman, awful and calm, led
the Queen down the long ball and into her own chamber, where Mindon, the
child, slept a drugged sleep. The Queen felt that she had never known
her; she herself seemed diminished in stature as she followed the
stately figure, with its still, dark face. Into this room the enemy w