ire so much as to feel your kiss upon me. For it
and it alone I am ready to risk my spirit's death and torment. But for
you I fear. Twice have I sworn myself to this goddess and she is very
jealous of those who rob her of her votaries. I fear that her curse will
fall not only on me, but on you also, and not only for this life but for
all lives that may be given to us. For your own sake, I pray you leave
me. I hear that Pharaoh my uncle is dead or dying, and doubtless they
will offer you the throne. Take it, Shabaka, for in it I ask no share.
Take it and leave me to serve the goddess till my death."

"I too serve a goddess," I answered hoarsely, "and she is named Love,
and you are her priestess. Little I care for Isis who serve the goddess
Love. Come, kiss me here and now, ere perchance I die. Kiss me who have
waited long enough, and so let us be wed."

One moment she paused, swaying in the wind of passion, like a tall reed
on the banks of Nile, and then, ah! then she sank upon my breast and
pressed her lips against my own.

AND AFTER

For a few moments I, Shabaka, seemed to be lost in a kind of delirium
and surrounded by a rose-hued mist. Then I, Allan Quatermain, heard a
sharp quick sound as of a clock striking, and looked up. It was a lock,
a beautiful old clock on a mantelpiece opposite to me and the hands
showed that it had just struck the hour of ten.

Now I remembered that centuries ago, as I was dropping asleep, I did not
know why, I had seen that clock and those hands in the same position and
known that it was striking the second stroke of ten. Oh! what did it all
mean? Had thousands of years gone by or--only eight seconds?

There was a weight upon my shoulder. I glanced round to see what it
was and discovered the beautiful head of Lady Ragnall who was sweetly
sleeping there. Lady Ragnall! and in that very strange dream which I had
dreamed she was the priestess called Amada. Look, there was the mark
of the new moon above her breast. And not a second ago I had been in a
shrine with Amada dressed as Lady Ragnall was to-night, in circumstances
so intimate that it made me blush to think of them. Lady Ragnall!
Amada!--Amada! Lady Ragnall! A shrine! A boudoir! Oh! I must be going
mad!

I could not disturb her, it would have been--well, unseemly. So
I, Shabaka, or Allan Quatermain, just sat still feeling curiously
comfortable, and tried to piece things together, when suddenly Am