demure, spotless, spiritless, with shorn hair,
priestesses of the ritual of the home.

"Peace, O Melisselda," he replied involuntarily.

"Nay, wherefore Melisselda?" she cried, ascending to the _leewan_ on
which he stood.

"And wherefore Messiah?" he answered.

"I have seen thee in visions--'tis the face, the figure, the prophetic
beauty--But wherefore Melisselda?"

He laughed into her eyes and hummed softly:--

"'From her bath she arose,
Pure and white as the snows,
Melisselda.'"

"Ay, that did I, when I washed off the convent. But my name is Sarah."

"Nay, not Sarah, but Sarai--my Princess!" His voice was hoarse and
faltering. This strange new sense of romance that, like a callow-bird,
had been stirring in his breast ever since he had heard of her quest
of him, spread its wings and soared heavenwards. She had been
impure--but her impurity swathed her in mystic seductiveness. The
world's law bound her no more than him--she was free and elemental, a
spirit to match his own; purified perpetually by its own white fire.
She came nearer, and her eyes wrapped him in flame.

"My Prince!" she cried.

He drew backward towards the divan. "Nay, but I must know no woman."

"None but thy true mate," she answered. "Thou hast kept thyself pure
for me even as I have kept myself passionate for thee. Come, thou
shalt make me pure, and I will make thee passionate."

He looked at her wistfully. The cool plash of the fountain was
pleasant in the silence.

"I make thee pure!" he breathed.

"Ay," and she repeated softly:--

"'Pure and white as the snows,
Melisselda.'"

"Melisselda!" he whispered.

"Messiah!" she cried, with heaving bosom. "Come, I will teach thee the
joy of life. Together we will rule the world. What! when thou hast
redeemed the world, shall it not rejoice, shall not the morning stars
sing together? My King, my Sabbatai."

Her figure was a queen's, her eyes were stars, her lips a woman's.

"Kiss me!" they pleaded. "Thy long martyrdom is over. Now begins _my_
mission--to bring thee joy. So hath it been revealed to me."

"Hath it been indeed revealed to thee?" he demanded hoarsely.

"Yea, again and again, in dreams of the night. The bride of the
Messiah--so runs my destiny. Embrace thy bride."

His eyes kindled to hers. He seemed in a circle of dazzling white
flame that exalted and not destroyed.

"Then I am Messiah, indeed," he thought, glowing, a