“Don’t you think he ought to know?” “Why? He is not in love with me.” “Are you sure, Mrs. Cleves?” “Yes. He is wonderfully sweet and kind. But he could not fall in love with a girl who has been what I have been.” Recklow smiled. “What have you been, Tressa Norne?” “You know.” “A temple-girl at Yian?” “And at the Lake of the Ghosts,” she said in a low voice. “What of it?” “I can not tell you, Mr. Recklow.... Only that I lost my soul in the Yezidee Temple——” “That is untrue!” “I wish it were untrue.... My husband tells me that nothing can really harm the soul. I try to believe him.... But Erlik lives. And when my soul at last shall escape my body, it shall not escape the Slayer of Souls.” “That is monstrously untrue——” “No. I tell you that Prince Sanang slew my soul. And my soul’s ghost belongs to Erlik. How can any man fall in love with such a girl?” “Why do you say that Sanang slew your soul?” asked Recklow, peering at her averted face through the reddening firelight. She lay still in her chair for a moment, then turned suddenly on him: “He _did_ slay it! He came to the Lake of the Ghosts as my lover; he meant to have done it there; but I would not have him—would not listen, nor suffer his touch!—I mocked at him and his passion. I laughed at his Tchortchas. They were afraid of me!—” She half rose from her chair, grasped the arms, then seated herself again, her eyes ablaze with the memory of wrongs. “How dare I show my dear lord that I am in love with him when Sanang’s soul caught my soul out of my body one day—surprised my soul while my body lay asleep in the Yezidee Temple!—and bore it in his arms to the very gates of hell!” “Good God,” whispered Recklow, “what do you mean? Such things can’t happen.” “Why not? They do happen. I was caught unawares.... It was one golden afternoon, and Yulan and Sansa and I were eating oranges by the fountain in the inner shrine. And I lay down by the pool and _made the effort_—you understand?” “Yes.” “Very well. My soul left my body asleep and I went out over the tops of the flowers—idly, without aim or intent—as the winds blow in summer.... It was in the Wood of the White Moth that I saw Sanang’s soul flash downward like a streak of fire and wrap my soul in flame!... And, in a flash, we were at the gates of hell before I could free myself from his embrace.... Then, by the Temple pool, among the oranges, I cried out asleep; and my terrified body sat up sobbing and trembling in Yulun’s arms. But the Slayer of Souls had slain mine in the Wood of the White Moth—slain it as he caught me in his flaming arms.... And now you know why such a woman as I dare not bend to kiss the dust from my dear Lord’s feet—Aie-a! Aie-a! I who have lost my girl’s soul to him who slew it in the Wood of the White Moth!”