"Kalmim," he exclaimed earnestly, "do you believe there is nothing I would shrink from that you bade me undertake? Are you assured that I am constant and true as your own shadow on the wall? Do you trust me as I trust you?"
She had an object; and laid her hand on his arm with a pressure that implied a world of confidence, while she answered,
"Stanch as string to bow, hound to slot, a woman to her mirror, and a man to his desire. We have never been less than friends, Beladon, why should we? Perhaps, at last, we may be something more."
He had an object too; therefore, resisting the impulse that prompted him to pass his arm round her waist without farther ceremony, he assumed an air of respectful devotion and observed,
"I have no secrets from Kalmim; I trust her without reserve. There is not a question she could ask me I would hesitate to answer from my heart. Will she do as much for me in return?"
"Of course!" she burst out frankly, while her bold black eyes looked him through and through. "What do you desire to know?"
"Arbaces was my friend," he replied abruptly. "The Great King's chief captain fell shamefully murdered in his own dwelling. His daughter was carried off by force into the desert. What has become of her now?"
"You love her!" she exclaimed, turning her head away in feigned vexation. "You love Ishtar, the cunning white-faced wanton! I ought to have known it; I did know it all along! And yet you, Beladon—I thought you so different from the others. O, it is hard to bear! How could I have been so weak? How can I be so foolish now?"
She had put him thoroughly in the wrong. Surprised, alarmed, perplexed, perhaps not a little softened and flattered, he hastened to excuse himself with more ardour than discretion.
"It is for Assarac," he stammered, "not for me. The chief priest saw her awhile ago in the market, and she has escaped him—him who can track a bird in the air surely as a camel on the sand! He bade me trace her. That is why I came to you."