ul,
especially when the lady of your choice has just shown a certain
lamentable want of appreciation in regard to your person and
propositions.

"It's one o'clock, fair lady; you must unmask."

And he uttered a cry of astonishment.

Zulannah had lifted her veil.

And the moments sped as she wove the golden web of beauty and desire
and love, into which, however, the clumsy fly refused to be enticed.

But Ben Kelham, for all his slowness, was no fool, and understanding
that the woman was offering him something outside her usual wares, and
understanding also the danger of rousing the wrath of such a woman, he
dealt with the matter as delicately as he could.

"--Come but once to my entertainments," she urged. "My girls shall
dance for thee, my animals fight for thee."

The man shuddered, sick to the soul at the thought of the means by
which this woman enslaved her suitors.

"Am I not beautiful?" she added.

She made her last bid; she stepped back into the moonlight and unwound
her veils from about her, standing, palpitating, trembling under the
possession of her strange love.

Beautiful! She was a dream--yet beside her beauty the pure loveliness
of Damaris Hethencourt would have shown like the work of an Old Master
beside a coarse copy.

But what will you?

Some like the snow-peaks and some the stretching plain; others the
turbulent ocean, and yet others the farmyard with its rural sights and
sounds. Thank goodness for it! Just imagine the lamentation
throughout the world if love, like the _couturiere_ set fashions for
the seasons!

"Love dictates that women, this season, shall resemble the dazzling
peaks of the Himalayas."

And we looking as the majority of us _do_ look!

Not that we should really be downhearted about it. Not a bit. Only
let the decree go forth, and every one of us, at the end of a week or
so, would by hook or by crook have acquired a distinctly peak-like
appearance.

But Kelham looked up, looked long, and smiled.

"You _are_ beautiful--very beautiful--the most beautiful woman I have
seen--save one."

Zulannah recognised her defeat and in a whirl of rage and scented veils
disappeared through the _talik_ palms.

And, arrived at her house, she stormed through court and rooms and down
to the bottom of the scented garden, leaving a trail of terror-stricken
servants lying face downwards in her wake.

She leant over the marble balustrade and looked down into the huge pit
with m