d _She_, "he has gone, the white-bearded old fool! Ah, how
little knowledge does a man acquire in his life. He gathereth it up like
water, but like water it runneth through his fingers, and yet, if his
hands be but wet as though with dew, behold a generation of fools call
out, 'See, he is a wise man!' Is it not so? But how call they thee?
'Baboon,' he says," and she laughed; "but that is the fashion of these
savages who lack imagination, and fly to the beasts they resemble for a
name. How do they call thee in thine own country, stranger?"

"They call me Holly, oh Queen," I answered.

"Holly," she answered, speaking the word with difficulty, and yet with a
most charming accent; "and what is 'Holly'?"

"'Holly' is a prickly tree," I said.

"So. Well, thou hast a prickly and yet a tree-like look. Strong art
thou, and ugly, but if my wisdom be not at fault, honest at the core,
and a staff to lean on. Also one who thinks. But stay, oh Holly, stand
not there, enter with me and be seated by me. I would not see thee crawl
before me like those slaves. I am aweary of their worship and their
terror; sometimes when they vex me I could blast them for very sport,
and to see the rest turn white, even to the heart." And she held the
curtain aside with her ivory hand to let me pass in.

I entered, shuddering. This woman was very terrible. Within the curtains
was a recess, about twelve feet by ten, and in the recess was a couch
and a table whereon stood fruit and sparkling water. By it, at its end,
was a vessel like a font cut in carved stone, also full of pure water.
The place was softly lit with lamps formed out of the beautiful vessels
of which I have spoken, and the air and curtains were laden with a
subtle perfume. Perfume too seemed to emanate from the glorious hair and
white-clinging vestments of _She_ herself. I entered the little room,
and there stood uncertain.

"Sit," said _She_, pointing to the couch. "As yet thou hast no cause to
fear me. If thou hast cause, thou shalt not fear for long, for I shall
slay thee. Therefore let thy heart be light."

I sat down on the foot of the couch near to the font-like basin of
water, and _She_ sank down softly on to the other end.

"Now, Holly," she said, "how comest thou to speak Arabic? It is my own
dear tongue, for Arabian am I by my birth, even 'al Arab al Ariba' (an
Arab of the Arabs), and of the race of our father Yarab, the son of
Kahtan, for in that fair and ancient city Oza