his unholy mirth.

To all these bitter insults, venomed with the sting of truth, Atene
listened without a word. Then, she turned to us and bowed.

"My guests," she said, "I pray you pardon me for all I cannot help. You
have strayed to a corrupt and evil land, and there stands its crown
and flower. Khan Rassen, your doom is written, and I do not hasten it,
because once for a little while we were near to each other, though you
have been naught to me for this many a year save a snake that haunts
my house. Were it otherwise, the next cup you drank should still your
madness, and that vile tongue of yours which gives its venom voice. My
uncle, come with me. Your hand, for I grow weak with shame and woe."

The old Shaman hobbled forward, but when he came face to face with the
Khan he stopped and looked him up and down with his dim eyes. Then he
said--"Rassen, I saw you born, the son of an evil woman, and your father
none knew but I. The flame flared that night upon the Fire-mountain, and
the stars hid their faces, for none of them would own you, no, not even
those of the most evil influence. I saw you wed and rise drunken from
your marriage feast, your arm about a wanton's neck. I have seen you
rule, wasting the land for your cruel pleasure, turning the fertile
fields into great parks for your game, leaving those who tilled them to
starve upon the road or drown themselves in ditches for very misery.
And soon, soon I shall see you die in pain and blood, and then the chain
will fall from the neck of this noble lady whom you revile, and another
more worthy shall take your place and rear up children to fill your
throne, and the land shall have rest again."

Now I listened to these words--and none who did not hear them can guess
the fearful bitterness with which they were spoken--expecting every
moment that the Khan would draw the short sword at his side and cut the
old man down. But he did not; he cowered before him like a dog before
some savage master, the weight of whose whip he knows. Yes, answering
nothing, he shrank into the corner and cowered there, while Simbri,
taking Atene by the hand, went from the room. At its massive, iron-bound
door he turned and pointing to the crouching figure with his staff,
said--"Khan Rassen, I raised you up, and now I cast you down. Remember
me when you lie dying--in blood and pain."

Their footsteps died away, and the Khan crept from his corner, looking
about him furtively.

"Have that Ra