Hairbrained were the risks he ran, wild the chances that he took, though all the time it seemed that he was protected by a scandalous providence. Churi and Neila spent days and nights of dread; but Ahalya was as blind to caution as the Asra; and together they overran advice or pleadings; and recklessly they laughed with Fate. Two months—a little more—went by: to the lovers, months of ecstasy and despair, of joy inexpressible, and keenest agony; for love like theirs carries constantly its own punishment. But the man and the woman were young, of Oriental blood, the desire for affection in each rendered abnormal by the restraint to which both had been subject. Fidá went without sleep and without food, and yet seemed to suffer no untoward effects from his nerve-destroying existence. Indeed, so remarkable was his vitality, so strong his power of recuperation after the longest service and watchfulness, that he, and Churi also, began in their minds to scoff at the Asra curse, and wonder whence the quaint legend had originated. Ahalya, who had little to do, save in so far as Rai-Khizar-Pál demanded her companionship, spent all the hours in which she and Fidá were apart, in dreaming of their next meeting. Never had she been so beautiful as now. Every line of weariness and discontent had disappeared from her face. Her eyes, under the light of their new knowledge, shone like stars. Her face took on a new glow of color, more clear, more pure, more rose-and-white than ever. Her voice had gained a new and tender richness; and, as she dreamed over the Persian harp that she loved to play, Neila used to listen in amazement to the beauty of her singing. Her increased charm had its penalty, however; for the Rajah was not slow in perception, and seemed more and more to delight in her, keeping her at his side oftener than of old. And the suffering entailed by this was nearly enough to drive the loveliness away. Varied as were the duties of Fidá’s life, pleasant, or dull, or interesting as they might otherwise have been, he performed all save one apathetically, as so much dull labor to be got through willy-nilly. Everything in him, every thought, every wish, was under Ahalya’s sway. Body and heart and brain she ruled him, as, indeed, he ruled her. There was now scarcely a suggestion of remorse or regret in either of them. The lower natures of both were in the ascendant; and there were numberless hours when the flesh reigned supreme. In his saner moments Fidá sometimes paused to analyze himself, doubtfully, wondering if he could be the Fidá of Delhi and of Yemen. But during the last month he was not often sane; and when, with the glare of the day, other thoughts, truths, reproaches, came to him, he fought them off, refusing to consider, not daring to remember, his code.