ay the body of the Khan, draped
in a black garment. Yet he looked better thus than he had ever done, for
now death had touched this insane and dissolute man with something of
the dignity which he lacked in life.

Thus then we met. At the sight of our guide's white form, the horse
which the Khania rode reared up so violently that I thought it would
have thrown her. But she mastered the animal with her whip and voice,
and called out--"Who is this draped hag of the Mountain that stops the
path of the Khania Atene and her dead lord? My guests, I find you in ill
company, for it seems that you are conducted by an evil spirit to meet
an evil fate. That guide of yours must surely be something hateful and
hideous, for were she a wholesome woman she would not fear to show her
face."

Now the Shaman plucked his mistress by the sleeve, and the priest
Oros, bowing to her, prayed her to be silent and cease to speak such
ill-omened words into the air, which might carry them she knew not
whither. But some instinctive hate seemed to bubble up in Atene, and
she would not be silent, for she addressed our guide using the direct
"thou," a manner of speech that we found was very usual on the Mountain
though rare upon the Plains.

"Let the air carry them whither it will," she cried. "Sorceress, strip
off thy rags, fit only for a corpse too vile to view. Show us what thou
art, thou flitting night-owl, who thinkest to frighten me with that
livery of death, which only serves to hide the death within."

"Cease, I pray lady, cease," said Oros, stirred for once out of his
imperturbable calm. "She is the Minister, none other, and with her goes
the Power."

"Then it goes not against Atene, Khania of Kaloon," she answered, "or so
I think. Power, forsooth! Let her show her power. If she has any it is
not her own, but that of the Witch of the Mountain, who feigns to be a
spirit, and by her sorceries has drawn away my guests"--and she pointed
to us--"thus bringing my husband to his death."

"Niece, be silent!" said the old Shaman, whose wrinkled face was white
with terror, whilst Oros held up his hands as though in supplication
to some unseen Strength, saying--"O thou that hearest and seest, be
merciful, I beseech thee, and forgive this woman her madness, lest the
blood of a guest should stain the hands of thy servants, and the ancient
honour of our worship be brought low in the eyes of men."

Thus he prayed, but although his hands were uplifted,