lars of
stone.

Now, when those steps were heard, a faint colour rose in the cheek of
the Lady Arjemand; but she did not raise the heavy lashes, or move her
hand. And he came up beside her, and the Shadow of God, who should kneel
to none, knelt, and his head fell forward upon her breast; and in the
hush the women glided out like ghosts, leaving the husband with the wife
excepting only that her foster-nurse stood far off, with eyes averted.

So the minutes drifted by, falling audibly one by one into eternity, and
at the long last she slowly opened her eyes and, as from the depths of
a dream, beheld the Emperor; and in a voice faint as the fall of a
rose-leaf she said the one word, "Beloved!"

And he from between his clenched teeth, answered, "Speak, wife."

So she, who in all things had loved and served him,--she, Light of
all hearts, dispeller of all gloom,--gathered her dying breath for
consolation, and raised one hand slowly; and it fell across his, and so
remained.

Now, her beauty had been broken in the anguish like a rose in storm; but
it returned to her, doubtless that the Padishah might take comfort in
its memory; and she looked like a houri of Paradise who, kneeling beside
the Zemzem Well, beholds the Waters of Peace. Not Fatmeh herself, the
daughter of the Prophet of God, shone more sweetly. She repeated the
word, "Beloved"; and after a pause she whispered on with lips that
scarcely stirred, "King of the Age, this is the end."

But still he was like a dead man, nor lifted his face.

"Surely all things pass. And though I go, in your heart I abide, and
nothing can sever us. Take comfort."

But there was no answer.

"Nothing but Love's own hand can slay Love. Therefore, remember me, and
I shall live."

And he answered from the darkness of her bosom, "The whole world shall
remember. But when shall I be united to thee? O Allah, how long wilt
thou leave me to waste in this separation?"

And she: "Beloved, what is time? We sleep and the night is gone. Now put
your arms about me, for I sink into rest. What words are needed between
us? Love is enough."

So, making not the Profession of Faith,--and what need, since all her
life was worship,--the Lady Arjemand turned into his arms like a child.
And the night deepened.

Morning, with its arrows of golden light that struck the river to
splendour! Morning, with its pure breath, its sunshine of joy, and the
koels fluting in the Palace gardens! Morning, divine