ght, because there have
been greater men than he. Thyself thou saidst it, and I turn thy words
against thee. Well, thou dreamest that thou shalt pluck the star. I
believe it not, and I think thee a fool, my Holly, to throw away the
lamp."

I made no answer, for I could not--especially before Leo--tell her that
since I had seen her face I knew that it would always be before my eyes,
and that I had no wish to prolong an existence which must always be
haunted and tortured by her memory, and by the last bitterness of
unsatisfied love. But so it was, and so, alas, is it to this hour!

"And now," went on _She_, changing her tone and the subject together,
"tell me, my Kallikrates, for as yet I know it not, how came ye to seek
me here? Yesternight thou didst say that Kallikrates--him whom thou
sawest--was thine ancestor. How was it? Tell me--thou dost not speak
overmuch!"

Thus adjured, Leo told her the wonderful story of the casket and of the
potsherd that, written on by his ancestress, the Egyptian Amenartas, had
been the means of guiding us to her. Ayesha listened intently, and, when
he had finished, spoke to me.

"Did I not tell thee one day, when we did talk of good and evil, oh
Holly--it was when my beloved lay so ill--that out of good came evil,
and out of evil good--that they who sowed knew not what the crop
should be, nor he who struck where the blow should fall? See, now: this
Egyptian Amenartas, this royal child of the Nile who hated me, and whom
even now I hate, for in a way she did prevail against me--see, now, she
herself hath been the very means to bring her lover to mine arms! For
her sake I slew him, and now, behold, through her he hath come back to
me! She would have done me evil, and sowed her seeds that I might reap
tares, and behold she hath given me more than all the world can give,
and there is a strange square for thee to fit into thy circle of good
and evil, oh Holly!

"And so," she went on, after a pause--"and so she bade her son destroy
me if he might, because I slew his father. And thou, my Kallikrates, art
the father, and in a sense thou art likewise the son; and wouldst thou
avenge thy wrong, and the wrong of that far-off mother of thine, upon
me, oh Kallikrates? See," and she slid to her knees, and drew the white
corsage still farther down her ivory bosom--"see, here beats my heart,
and there by thy side is a knife, heavy, and long, and sharp, the very
knife to slay an erring woman with. Tak