ng desolation. Ah! I can see her dark
face now lowering o'er me like a storm, but she could not hurt me, and
I--I know not if I could hurt her. I did not try; it was naught to me
then; so together we bore thee hence. And afterwards I sent her--the
Egyptian--away through the swamps, and it seems that she lived to bear
a son and to write the tale that should lead thee, her husband, back to
me, her rival and thy murderess.

"Such is the tale, my love, and now is the hour at hand that shall set
a crown upon it. Like all things on the earth, it is compounded of evil
and of good--more of evil than of good, perchance; and writ in letters
of blood. It is the truth; naught have I hidden from thee, Kallikrates.
And now one thing before the final moment of thy trial. We go down
into the presence of Death, for Life and Death are very near together,
and--who knoweth?--that might happen which should separate us for
another space of waiting. I am but a woman, and no prophetess, and I
cannot read the future. But this I know--for I learned it from the
lips of the wise man Noot--that my life is but prolonged and made more
bright. It cannot live for aye. Therefore, before we go, tell me, oh
Kallikrates, that of a truth thou dost forgive me, and dost love me from
thy heart. See, Kallikrates: much evil have I done--perchance it was
evil but two nights ago to strike that girl who loved thee cold in
death--but she disobeyed me and angered me, prophesying misfortune to
me, and I smote. Be careful when power comes to thee also, lest thou
too shouldst smite in thine anger or thy jealousy, for unconquerable
strength is a sore weapon in the hands of erring man. Yea, I have
sinned--out of the bitterness born of a great love have I sinned--but
yet do I know the good from the evil, nor is my heart altogether
hardened. Thy love, Kallikrates, shall be the gate of my redemption,
even as aforetime my passion was the path down which I ran to evil. For
deep love unsatisfied is the hell of noble hearts and a portion of the
accursed, but love that is mirrored back more perfect from the soul of
our desired doth fashion wings to lift us above ourselves, and makes us
what we might be. Therefore, Kallikrates, take me by the hand, and lift
my veil with no more fear than though I were some peasant girl, and not
the wisest and most beauteous woman in this wide world, and look me in
the eyes, and tell me that thou dost forgive me with all thine heart,
and that will