“Then is it not the duty of the Lord Rajah to provide for those whom he has deprived of a means of livelihood?” Bhavani flushed, deeply; and Zenaide burst into a ringing laugh. “My lord, thou art reproved!” she said, looking at Oman for the first time with interest. “Yea, I am reproved, and deservedly. Hermit, thou art wise and just also. Alas! all my life of training hath never led me to this simple perception of the truth. But it shall be as thou hast said. Henceforth, every one that hath been deprived of his means of livelihood through me, shall by me be provided for. This mother and child shall be pardoned, and shall live together.” “But have I not said that the boy should enter my service?” demanded Zenaide, suddenly displeased. Oman opened his lips to speak, but Bhavani was before him: “This man, Zenaide, hath shown more wisdom than either thou or I. Let us acknowledge the truth of his words without any anger or false pride. Thus it seems good to me.” He turned a gentle look on Oman as he spoke; but the woman, her face obstinately set, turned away and walked to the parapet at some little distance, and stood leaning upon it, staring moodily off upon the darkening world. A faint, half-anxious smile curled Bhavani’s lips; but Oman, who was far from smiling, felt moved to say: “Lord Rajah, you do me too much honor. My word should not be accepted at once against that of the beautiful woman. Least of mortals am I.” “Most humble, but most wise!” exclaimed Bhavani. Then, after an instant, he added: “Fruitful hath been my walk to-night. Thou shalt be my guest at the palace, Oman, and later I will come to thee and we will talk. For I would know much more of this life of thine.” Then, with a little gesture that put Oman from him, he went to Zenaide and stood beside her for a moment, speaking to her; though what he said and whether she spoke at all, Oman could not tell. Finally Bhavani drew Oman to him again, and the two moved slowly away, through the star-spangled dusk, to the palace. The next half hour was to Oman a dream. How much of what he felt was memory and how much revelation, he had no means of knowing; but there seemed to be no unfamiliar corner in this great building. They entered the central courtyard, where, as of old, a fire burned by night. Before them was the open entrance to the carved and pillared audience hall. To the left, rose the north wing, with its long corridor and tiny entrance to the triangular zenana courtyard; and, on the right, the south wing, with its temple room, official suites, and barracks. Behind it, Oman knew, without any doubt, lay the slave-house. Bhavani, guessing nothing of what his companion was undergoing, presently left him, with a slave to whom he had given directions concerning Oman’s lodging and entertainment.