mp above us flickered and felt a draught strike upon my face.
Then I looked round, and became aware of another presence. For yonder
in the shadow showed the tall form of a man. See! it shambled forward
silently, and I saw that its feet were naked. Now it reached the ring of
the lamplight and burst into a savage laugh.

It was the Khan.

Atene, his wife, looked up and saw him, and never did I admire that
passionate woman's boldness more, who admired little else about her save
her beauty, for her face showed neither anger nor fear, but contempt
only. And yet she had some cause to be afraid, as she well knew.

"What do you here, Rassen?" she asked, "creeping on me with your naked
feet? Get you back to your drink and the ladies of your court."

But he still laughed on, an hyena laugh.

"What have you heard?" she said, "that makes you so merry?"

"What have I heard?" Rassen gurgled out between his screams of hideous
glee. "Oho! I have heard the Khania, the last of the true blood, the
first in the land, the proud princess who will not let her robes be
soiled by those of the 'ladies of the court' and my wife, my wife,
who asked me to marry her--mark that, you strangers--because I was her
cousin and a rival ruler, and the richest lord in all the land, and
thereby she thought she would increase her power--I have heard her offer
herself to a nameless wanderer with a great yellow beard, and I have
heard him, who hates and would escape from her"--here he screamed with
laughter--"refuse her in such a fashion as I would not refuse the lowest
woman in the palace.

"I have heard also--but that I always knew--that I am mad; for,
strangers, I was made mad by a hate-philtre which that old Rat," and he
pointed to Simbri, "gave me in my drink--yes, at my marriage feast. It
worked well, for truly there is no one whom I hate more than the Khania
Atene. Why, I cannot bear her touch, it makes me sick. I loathe to be
in the same room with her; she taints the air; there is a smell of
sorceries about her.

"It seems that it takes you thus also, Yellow-beard? Well, if so, ask
the old Rat for a love drink; he can mix it, and then you will think her
sweet and sound and fair, and spend some few months jollily enough. Man,
don't be a fool, the cup that is thrust into your hands looks
goodly. Drink, drink deep. You'll never guess the liquor's bad--till
to-morrow--though it be mixed with a husband's poisoned blood," and
again Rassen screamed in