“All gods, even Osiris, bless thee, Esther.”
So the twain were charmed comrades, till watch fires were dim and the palm shadows were creeping in, like funeral attendants, to carry away the spirit of the dying revel. Here and there was heard anon the voices commending this one and that to pleasant slumbers. The stars were withdrawing behind dawn’s feathery curtains, and over all, at intervals, was heard the voice of the chanticleer, triumphantly proclaiming the coming day.
Charleroy and Rizpah were left alone with each other at the end of the last game.
The maiden gave a coy, furtive glance and tardily drew away from the knight. The language of the drawing-room of the day, is as old as the centuries, and that maid of the wilderness used it as finely as a queen, to say without words, “it’s time we part; please say so first, nor leave to me, the hostess, the first suggestion of a wish to have thee go——”
Still the knight spake not.
He was delighted and averse to breaking the first pleasure spell of years.
The Jewish maiden, with fine courtesy, renewed the subject: “King, methinks, thou art anxious to exchange the grove for the palace.”
“I can never think of weariness when restful Esther is nigh.”
“But thy life is precious to thy subjects; care for it, and go with freshness to to-morrow’s cares of state.”
“Ah, queen, I too keenly realize that with thy departure my kingdom fades to nothingness.”