The cuirassed dwarfs led us through the aisle. Within the arc of the inner half--circle was another glittering board, an oval. But of those seated there, facing us--I had eyes for only one--Yolara! She swayed up to greet O'Keefe--and she was like one of those white lily maids, whose beauty Hoang-Ku, the sage, says made the Gobi first a paradise, and whose lusts later the burned-out desert that it is. She held out hands to Larry, and on her face was passion--unashamed, unhiding. She was Circe--but Circe conquered. Webs of filmiest white clung to the rose-leaf body. Twisted through the corn-silk hair a threaded circlet of pale sapphires shone; but they were pale beside Yolara's eyes. O'Keefe bent, kissed her hands, something more than mere admiration flaming from him. She saw--and, smiling, drew him down beside her. It came to me that of all, only these two, Yolara and O'Keefe, were in white--and I wondered; then with a tightening of nerves ceased to wonder as there entered--Lugur! He was all in scarlet, and as he strode forward a silence fell a tense, strained silence. His gaze turned upon Yolara, rested upon O'Keefe, and instantly his face grew--dreadful--there is no other word than that for it. Marakinoff leaned forward from the centre of the table, near whose end I sat, touched and whispered to him swiftly. With appalling effort the red dwarf controlled himself; he saluted the priestess ironically, I thought; took his place at the further end of the oval. And now I noted that the figures between were the seven of that Council of which the Shining One's priestess and Voice were the heads. The tension relaxed, but did not pass--as though a storm-cloud should turn away, but still lurk, threatening. My gaze ran back. This end of the room was draped with the exquisitely coloured, graceful curtains looped with gorgeous garlands. Between curtains and table, where sat Larry and the nine, a circular platform, perhaps ten yards in diameter, raised itself a few feet above the floor, its gleaming surface half-covered with the luminous petals, fragrant, delicate. On each side below it, were low carven stools. The curtains parted and softly entered girls bearing their flutes, their harps, the curiously emotion-exciting, octaved drums. They sank into their places. They touched their instruments; a faint, languorous measure throbbed through the rosy air. The stage was set! What was to be the play? Now about the tables passed other dusky-haired maids, fair bosoms bare, their scanty kirtles looped high, pouring out the wines for the feasters. My eyes sought O'Keefe. Whatever it had been that Marakinoff had said, clearly it now filled his mind--even to the exclusion of the wondrous woman beside him. His eyes were stern, cold--and now and then, as he turned them toward the Russian, filled with a curious speculation. Yolara watched him, frowned, gave a low order to the Hebe behind her.