Suddenly with one wild scream Dominga flung herself face downwards on the track, and abandoned her soul to an outbreak of passionate Oriental despair. Truly, she was no Chandos now, this woman who lay in the dust, beat her head upon the ground and shrieked aloud in piercing Hindustani. Zorah stood far off, holding the extinguished lamp, but Verona, who was nearer, viewed the spectacle with horror. Dominga had gone mad with grief--could that dreadful, writhing, shrieking thing be her very own sister? By and by the syce approached--next Jaggerie (still groaning and shaking from the effects of his devilish experience); attention was diverted, Zorah beckoned, and in another moment was joined by her fellow conspirator, and together they hurried home, maintaining a somewhat guilty silence. "So you have done it arl-right?" said Nani, as Verona entered. "Yes, and I am--so sorry now--her grief was awful. Oh, Nani, I feel as if I had killed Dominga!" and overcome with emotion and excitement, the girl burst into tears. "Pah--pah! no fear you kill Dom! More like she kill _you_. And what says your proverb--'A cat has nine lives.'" Verona sat up till one o'clock, anxiously listening until she heard the stealthy return of her sister, and then she at last went to bed, and fell into an uneasy sleep. The next afternoon Dominga appeared, looking terribly pale and shattered. Her face was badly cut, her temples bruised, her lips were lacerated. She was really a startling sight, but in reply to her mother's anxious questions she replied: "I fell in the garden last night--in the dark." "Oh, my! it looks more than that--you make so little of your hurts, Dom. What has happened?" "It is as I say," she answered savagely. "Let there be no more talk." Later, after the household had retired, Dominga, lamp in hand, came trailing into Verona's room, and stood and stared at her as she lay--with glaring, glittering eyes. She seemed to be the incarnation of some wounded tigress. After an alarmingly long pause-- "_You_ know what it was," she declared in short gasps, "yes, you were there and stole the light! The syce saw you! Oh, you deceitful devil! you envied me my love, and so you snatched it away. I know, too, that it was _you_ who begged Captain Haig to take Jimmy tiger shooting. Yes, _he_ told Jimmy and Jimmy told me! We both hate you. May you be accursed! May you go to Hell for ever, and be the prey of serpents. And accursed you will be--even now--for I shall make your life a torment!" Here was indeed the raw stuff of poor human nature illuminated by a blaze of passion. Dom, with her fierce white face and furious eyes, was the very embodiment of hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. Her lips were quivering and bloodless; she seemed scarcely able to breathe, and shook with the vehemence of her feelings.