In an instant Fidá was at his side, and had seized him by the arm. “Now! Now!” said he, gazing fiercely, eagerly, into the eunuch’s unmatched eyes. “Enter then, and turn to the left hand. The way is short. It is not to be missed.” Fidá grasped Churi by the shoulders, clasped him for a second like a madman, and then ran across the forbidden threshold—where man not of the royal house of Mandu had never set foot before. Swiftly he traversed the short, dark passage opening on his left, and presently found himself in an oblong room, lighted by a single crimson lamp that glowed through a mist of incense smoke pouring up from a metal jar on a stand, near by. Dazed by the overpowering sweetness, he shut his eyes for an instant. When he opened them again, he had a swift impression of rich tapestries, thick rugs, many cushions, and then—and then he beheld, lying on a divan at the end of the room, a slight figure, all clad in red and gold, lying asleep in the heavy air. His heart pounded against his sides. His throat tightened till he could have uttered no sound; and he went to her, softly, and knelt at her side, and gazed at her. She was here—waiting for him. Her white lids were shut over her eyes, and the long, silky lashes curved outward a little from her cheek. Her heavy hair was pushed back from her brows; and one of her little hands lay in a mass of it above her head. Fidá studied her, hungrily, eagerly, silently. He had never seen her like this before—had, indeed, never dreamed of seeing her so. She was his, for his eyes to feast on. And oh—how fair! how fair! In that moment he dreaded to have her wake; for then she would surely send him from her. It seemed to him impossible that she could love him, could suffer him to kneel beside her. Yet, with an effort, after two attempts, he whispered her name, hoarsely: “Ahalya!” Then again, after a moment, “Ahalya!” She sighed, and her eyes opened. Shivering slightly, she stared, and sat up, crying: “Thou art come! Ah, thou art come at last!” That was all. It was more than mortal flesh could bear. He had touched, he had clasped her. She was lying in his arms. Nearly two hours went by; and then Neila appeared from an inner room. Ahalya was still upon the divan, her head pillowed on the breast of Fidá, who sat upright. It seemed almost as if they slept, so motionless they were. Neila halted in the doorway, staring at them, till she encountered the glittering eyes of the Asra. “Oh, thou must go! It is time,” she murmured. “No!” Ahalya, feeling the intruding presence, roused herself, and convulsively tightened the clasp of her arms about Fidá’s neck. “Krishna!” mourned Neila, “we shall all be killed!” Fidá, however, conquered himself, and loosened the Ranee’s arms. “Beloved, I must go—that I may return,” he whispered.