“For the last—the very last, last time!” he ejaculated, in a hoarse breathless voice. And the world turned round them both, and they both went down headlong into the boiling whirlpool. Both loved passionately, as they once had loved before—fainting, swooning, near to death. As once—as of old—as in the past! They forgot all—all save the tempest of fire that was carrying them away—all save their own insatiable desire. As the thunderbolt unites with the tree which quenches its fire and is itself consumed, so they each destroyed the other’s passion in the tempest of their own. And for that one short minute of a rapture soon to expire for ever, after this last exuberant outburst, their former love had revived. A moment afterwards, they were again seated side by side, feeling their souls very dark within them. Each glanced at the other by stealth, and as if in terror: each shunned meeting the other’s eyes that spoke of shame and regret. Once more, with lips eager for kisses, he sought her lips, but without success: she turned away from him with aversion. In vain he whispered in her ear the sweet names of endearment he had once given her. She looked up at the moon, and replied not a word. In him, this bearing of hers aroused resentment, cooled passion down, and brought petulance and ill humour in its stead. They sat together, unable to speak, each impatient of the other’s presence, each waiting for the other to rise and go. Yagna’s flame was out to the last spark; nothing was there but ashes now; and she spoke first, with barely concealed animosity. “In truth, ye did take me like a robber—by sheer might and main.” “Well, Yagna, and are you not mine—mine?” He would have embraced her again, but she pushed him violently from her. “Neither yours nor anyone’s!—Understand that!—No, nor anyone’s!” She fell a-crying once more, but this time he neither fondled nor soothed her. After some time, however, he asked her very seriously: “Yagna, will you flee with me?” “And whither?” she returned, her wet eyes looking him full in the face. “Why not to ‘Hamerica’? Would you go, Yagna?” “But what would ye do with your wife?” He started as though stung. “Tell me true: will you give her poison?” He caught her round the waist, showered kisses over all her face, and begged and entreated her to run away with him—somewhere—and be with him for evermore. He spoke a long while of his plans and hopes; he had suddenly caught hold of that idea—flight with her—as a drunken man catches at a fence to steady himself. He talked, too, like a drunken man, for he was carried away by his feverish excitement. She heard him out, and then said, with frigid scorn: “Because ye have forced sin upon me, do ye think me such a fool as to believe this nonsense?” And though he swore he was but telling her the truth, and swore it by all holy things, she would not even listen, but shook herself free of him, and said: