imself and could not. Then he spoke again in his broken,
stumbling Greek, "You are the lady who saved me from the water. Say, are
you also that queen whom I have sought so long and endured so much to
find?"

"I know not," she answered in a voice as sweet as honey, a low,
trembling voice; "but true it is I am a queen--if a Khania be a queen."

"Say, then, Queen, do you remember me?"

"We have met in dreams," she answered, "I think that we have met in a
past that is far away. Yes; I knew it when first I saw you there by the
river. Stranger with the well remembered face, tell me, I pray you, how
you are named?"

"Leo Vincey."

She shook her head, whispering--"I know not the name, yet you I know."

"You know me! How do you know me?" he said heavily, and seemed to sink
again into slumber or swoon.

She watched him for a while very intently. Then as though some force
that she could not resist drew her, I saw her bend down her head over
his sleeping face. Yes; and I saw her kiss him swiftly on the lips, then
spring back crimson to the hair, as though overwhelmed with shame at
this victory of her mad passion.

Now it was that she discovered me.

Bewildered, fascinated, amazed, I had raised myself upon my bed, not
knowing it; I suppose that I might see and hear the better. It was
wrong, doubtless, but no common curiosity over-mastered me, who had my
share in all this story. More, it was foolish, but illness and wonder
had killed my reason.

Yes, she saw me watching them, and such fury seemed to take hold of her
that I thought my hour had come.

"Man, have you dared----?" she said in an intense whisper, and snatching
at her girdle. Now in her hand shone a knife, and I knew that it was
destined for my heart. Then in this sore danger my wit came back to me
and as she advanced I stretched out my shaking hand, saying--"Oh! of
your pity, give me to drink. The fever burns me, it burns," and I looked
round like one bewildered who sees not, repeating, "Give me drink, you
who are called Guardian," and I fell back exhausted.

She stopped like a hawk in its stoop, and swiftly sheathed the dagger.
Then taking a bowl of milk that stood on a table near her, she held
it to my lips, searching my face the while with her flaming eyes, for
indeed passion, rage, and fear had lit them till they seemed to flame.
I drank the milk in great gulps, though never in my life did I find it
more hard to swallow.

"You tremble," she said; "have