ing in that life. Indeed I seem to see an
ugly philosopher clad in a dirty robe and filled both with wine and the
learning of others, who disputed with Alexander till he grew wroth with
him and caused him to be banished, or drowned: I forget which."

"I suppose that I was not called Diogenes?" I asked tartly, suspecting,
perhaps not without cause, that Ayesha was amusing herself by fooling
me.

"No," she replied gravely, "I do not think that was thy name. The
Diogenes thou speakest of was a much more famous man, one of real if
crabbed wisdom; moreover, he did not indulge in wine. I am mindful of
very little of that life, however, not of more indeed than are many of
the followers of the prophet Buddha, whose doctrines I have studied and
of whom thou, Holly, hast spoken to me so much. Maybe we did not meet
while it endured. Still I recollect that the Valley of Bones, where
I found thee, my Leo, was the place where a great battle was fought
between the Fire-priests with their vassals, the Tribes of the Mountain
and the army of Rassen aided by the people of Kaloon. For between these
and the Mountain, in old days as now, there was enmity, since in this
present war history does but rewrite itself."

"So thou thyself wast our guide," said Leo, looking at her sharply.

"Aye, Leo, who else? though it is not wonderful that thou didst not know
me beneath those deathly wrappings. I was minded to wait and receive
thee in the Sanctuary, yet when I learned that at length both of you had
escaped Atene and drew near, I could restrain myself no more, but came
forth thus hideously disguised. Yes, I was with you even at the river's
bank, and though you saw me not, there sheltered you from harm.

"Leo, I yearned to look upon thee and to be certain that thy heart had
not changed, although until the alloted time thou mightest not hear my
voice or see my face who wert doomed to undergo that sore trial of thy
faith. Of Holly also I desired to learn whether his wisdom could pierce
through my disguise, and how near he stood to truth. It was for this
reason that I suffered him to see me draw the lock from the satchel on
thy breast and to hear me wail over thee yonder in the Rest-house.
Well he did not guess so ill, but thou, thou knewest me--in thy
sleep--knewest me as I am, and not as I seemed to be, yes," she added
softly, "and didst say certain sweet words which I remember well."

"Then beneath that shroud was thine own face," asked Leo ag