neath these evil-omened
words, saw also a tinge of grey touch the carmine of her lips and her
deep eyes grow dark and troubled. But in a moment her fears had gone and
she was asking in a voice that rang clear as silver bells--"Why ravest
thou, Atene, like some short-lived summer torrent against the barrier
of a seamless cliff? Dost think, poor creature of an hour, to sweep away
the rock of my eternal strength with foam and bursting bubbles? Have
done and listen. I do not seek thy petty rule, who, if I will it, can
take the empire of the world. Yet learn, thou holdest it of my hand.
More--I purpose soon to visit thee in thy city--choose thou if it shall
be in peace or war! Therefore, Khania, purge thy court and amend thy
laws, that when I come I may find contentment in the land which now it
lacks, and confirm thee in thy government. My counsel to thee also is
that thou choose some worthy man to husband, let him be whom thou wilt,
if only he is just and upright and one upon whom thou mayest rest,
needing wise guidance as thou dost, Atene. Come, now, my guests, let
us hence," and she walked past the Khania, stepping fearlessly upon the
very edge of the wind-swept, rounded peak.

In a second the attempt had been made and failed, so quickly indeed that
it was not until Leo and I compared our impressions afterwards that we
could be sure of what had happened. As Ayesha passed her, the maddened
Khania drew a hidden dagger and struck with all her force at her rival's
back. I saw the knife vanish to the hilt in her body, as I thought, but
this cannot have been so since it fell to the ground, and she who should
have been dead, took no hurt at all.

Feeling that she had failed, with a movement like the sudden lurch of
a ship, Atene thrust at Ayesha, proposing to hurl her to destruction
in the depths beneath. Lo! her outstretched arms went past her although
Ayesha never seemed to stir. Yes it was Atene who would have fallen,
Atene who already fell, had not Ayesha put out her hand and caught
her by the wrist, bearing all her backward-swaying weight as easily as
though she were but an infant, and without effort drawing her to safety.

"Foolish woman!" she said in pitying tones. "Wast thou so vexed that
thou wouldst strip thyself of the pleasant shape which heaven has
given thee? Surely this is madness, Atene, for how knowest thou in what
likeness thou mightest be sent to tread the earth again? As no queen
perhaps, but as a peasant's