y glow in which
they lay, and then with hearts far too heavy for words we left them, and
crept thence broken-down men--so broken down that we even renounced the
chance of practically immortal life, because all that made life valuable
had gone from us, and we knew even then that to prolong our days
indefinitely would only be to prolong our sufferings. For we felt--yes,
both of us--that having once looked Ayesha in the eyes, we could not
forget her for ever and ever while memory and identity remained. We
both loved her now and for all time, she was stamped and carven on our
hearts, and no other woman or interest could ever raze that splendid
die. And I--there lies the sting--I had and have no right to think thus
of her. As she told me, I was naught to her, and never shall be through
the unfathomed depths of Time, unless, indeed, conditions alter, and
a day comes at last when two men may love one woman, and all three be
happy in the fact. It is the only hope of my broken-heartedness, and a
rather faint one. Beyond it I have nothing. I have paid down this heavy
price, all that I am worth here and hereafter, and that is my sole
reward. With Leo it is different, and often and often I bitterly envy
him his happy lot, for if _She_ was right, and her wisdom and knowledge
did not fail her at the last, which, arguing from the precedent of her
own case, I think most unlikely, he has some future to look forward to.
But I have none, and yet--mark the folly and the weakness of the human
heart, and let him who is wise learn wisdom from it--yet I would not
have it otherwise. I mean that I am content to give what I have given
and must always give, and take in payment those crumbs that fall from
my mistress's table, the memory of a few kind words, the hope one day
in the far undreamed future of a sweet smile or two of recognition, a
little gentle friendship, and a little show of thanks for my devotion to
her--and Leo.

If that does not constitute true love, I do not know what does, and all
I have to say is that it is a very bad state of affairs for a man on the
wrong side of middle age to fall into.

XXVII

WE LEAP

We passed through the caves without trouble, but when we came to the
slope of the inverted cone two difficulties stared us in the face. The
first of these was the laborious nature of the ascent, and the next the
extreme difficulty of finding our way. Indeed, had it not been for the
mental notes that I had fortunately