eet, bolted out of the house and
vanished into the night.

"It seems, Allan," said Ayesha slowly, "that yonder yellow ape of yours
is very bold at throwing sticks when the leopardess is not beneath the
tree. But when she comes it is otherwise with him. Oh! make no excuse,
for I know well that he was speaking ill things of me, because being
curious, as apes are, he burns to learn what is behind my veil, and
being simple, believes that no woman would hide her face unless its
fashion were not pleasing to the nice taste of men."

Then, to my relief, she laughed a little, softly, which showed me that
she had a sense of humour, and went on, "Well, let him be, for he is a
good ape and courageous in his fashion, as he showed when he went out to
spy upon the host of Rezu, and stabbed the murderer-priest by the stone
of sacrifice."

"How can you know the words of Hans, Ayesha," I asked, "seeing that he
spoke in a tongue which you have never learned?"

"Perchance I read faces, Allan."

"Or backs," I suggested, remembering that his was turned to her.

"Or backs, or voices, or hearts. It matters little which, since read I
do. But have done with such childish talk and lead me to this maiden who
has been snatched from the claws of Rezu and a fate that is worse than
death. Do you understand, Allan, that ere the demon Rezu took her to
wife, the plan was to sacrifice her own father to her and then eat him
as the woman with her was eaten, and before her eyes? Now the father is
dead, which is well, as I think the little yellow man said to you--nay,
start not, I read it from his back [Ha!--JB]--since had he lived whose
brain was rotted, he would have raved till his death's day. Better,
therefore, that he should die like a man fighting against a foe
unconquerable by all save one. But she still lives."

"Aye, but mindless, Ayesha."

"Which, in great trouble such as she has passed, is a blessed state, O
Allan. Bethink you, have there not been days, aye and months, in your
own life when you would have rejoiced to sleep in mindlessness? And
should we not, perchance, be happier, all of us, if like the beasts we
could not remember, foreknow and understand? Oh! men talk of Heaven, but
believe me, the real Heaven is one of dreamless sleep, since life
and wakefulness, however high their scale and on whatever star, mean
struggle, which being so oft mistaken, must breed sorrow--or remorse
that spoils all. Come now."

So I preceded her to the