not he found me
sleeping.

"For when my beloved cometh, he is like the beam of the morning;[2]
Ev'n as the dawn in a strange land to the sight of a man journeying.

"Yea, when my beloved cometh, as dew that descendeth from heaven,
No man can hear when it falleth, but as rain it refresheth all
things.

"In his hand bringeth he lilies, in his right hand are many flowers,
Roses hath he on his forehead, he is crowned with roses from Shinar.

"The night-winds make sweet songs for him, even in the darkness soft
music;
Whithersoever he goeth, there his sweetness goeth before him."_

[Footnote 2: "Thou art to me as the beam of the east rising in
a strange land."--_Ossian_.]

Her young voice died away in a soft murmuring cadence, and the
nightingale alone poured out her heartful of lore to the ancient moon.
But as Nehushta rested immovable by the marble balustrade of the
terrace, there was a rustle among the myrtles and a quick step on the
pavement. The dark maiden started at the sound, and a happy smile parted
her lips. But she did not turn to look; only her hand stole out behind
her on the marble where she knew her lover's would meet it. There was in
the movement all the certainty of conquest and yet all the tenderness of
love. The Persian trod quickly and laid his hand on hers, and bent to
her, trying to meet her eyes: for one moment still she gazed out
straight before her, then turned and faced him suddenly, as though she
had withheld her welcome as long as she could and then given it all at
once.

"I did not call you," she said, covering him with her eyes in the
moonlight, but making as though she would withdraw herself a little from
him, as he drew her with his hand, and with his arm, and with his eyes.

"And yet I heard you call me, my beloved," answered Zoroaster. "I heard
your voice singing very sweet things in your own language--and so I
came, for you did call me."

"But did you pride yourself it was for you?" laughed Nehushta. "I sang
of the desert, and of tents, and of whirling sand--there is none of
these things here."

"You said that your beloved brought roses in his hand--and so I do. I
will crown you with them. May I? No--I shall spoil your head-dress. Take
them and do as you will with them."

"I will take them--and--I always do as I will."

"Then will to take the giver also," answered Zoroaster, letting his arm
steal about her, as he half sat up