Churi’s hand closed slowly on the stone. His eyes were glittering as he rose at last. “Come, then, to the antechamber, to-night,” he murmured. Fidá’s face grew radiant. “Wilt thou tell her?” “I will tell her.” “At midnight to-night—oh, my beloved!” Churi stared at him still. “Truly thou aspirest greatly,” he said, with envy in his heart. CHAPTER VII THE POWER OF THE FLAME After his arrangement with Churi, and the delivery of the ruby, the remaining hours of daylight passed for Fidá in swift chaos. Ahmed woke before he could leave the room; and he sat beside the boy trying to talk to him for a few minutes, though he had little notion of what he was saying. Then he returned to his duties beside the Rajah, and for the next three hours was fully occupied, though his mind wandered far from his hands, and he drifted through mists of thought. It was not till later that there came an idea that filled him with terror. Might not the King himself guard the zenana to-night? Happily this dread was of short duration. The King sat late over his wine with Manava; and Fidá himself saw him in bed and beyond apprehension. Then, at last alone, Fidá betook himself to his diminutive room, and there prepared to wait through two eternal hours. How long the time was; and how short! He would not look back; he dared not look forward. He existed only in a consciousness that she, she, the one, was waiting for him; that to-night, at last, he should be alone with her, fearing no intrusion. This unexpressed thought he had lived with all day; and it became keener, now, till he could not be still. It grew late. The palace was quiet; but Fidá was beyond passiveness. He rose, walked swiftly through the maze of rooms and passages, and entered the silent courtyard. The moon, a little past the full, had come up from the east, and swung, like a great, yellow lantern, above the dark outlines of the palace roof. The world shone softly in the mellow light. The night air from the hills was cold; but the earth was sweet. Fidá loitered near a doorway, wrapped in his cloak. The great courtyard was empty save for the two motionless soldiers that guarded its entrance. Apparently not another soul was abroad in the palace to-night. Fidá moved languidly across and looked into the temple room of Vishnu. Darkness and silence here. The gods also slept. A great excitement, a great terror, a high ecstasy were drawing over him. Surely now it was time—time to claim the price of the ruby. Surely by this time Churi stood on guard in the antechamber. Yet nothing must be risked. If he were too early?—The thought was impossible. He waited, therefore, till the moon was halfway to mid-heaven, and then, when he could endure no more, left the outer world. A moment later he stood at the door of the antechamber. “Is it thou?” came, in the faintest breath, from Churi, within.