“Prince Kasam!”
“Since you must hear me, pray rob your voice of its scorn, my love. Be sweet and fond as a woman should. Let your real soul peep out of your beautiful eyes—let your heart bound wild and free in unison with my own. We are man and woman, fitted to sweet communion one with the other and destined to be happy in the passionate union of our lives.” His voice was broken and excited; his eyes sparkled with fierce intensity; the conventionality of the Western civilization he had once known was all forgotten. “I love you—I adore you, my Janet! And I am a prince—soon to be Khan of all this great land. Speak to me, dear one! Promise to leave all else and cling to me alone—to follow my fortunes until I can place you in the palace where you shall be queen!”
“You have taken me by surprise, Prince Kasam,” said Janet, gravely. “I am sorry you have spoken in this way.”
“And why?” he cried. “Can love be denied when it clamors at the door of an eager heart? Why should I not love you? Why should you not accept my love?”
She looked into his animated face and smiled sadly.
“Because I do not belong to myself,” she answered, trying hard, as a true woman will, to soften the blow. “Can I give you what another claims as his right?”
She should have said more, or not so much; but she did not know the Baluch temper.
He drew a quick breath at her words and reined his horse to a sudden halt. Her own horse stopped at the same time, and for one long moment Kasam gazed steadily into the fair face she turned pleadingly upon him.
With an exclamation and a passionate gesture he spurred forward. The black gelding was off like the wind across the plain, and Janet was left to stare wonderingly after him.
Dirrag swore heartily; but the native oaths, lacking translation, did not offend the ears of the American girls. The warrior dared not leave his companions to pursue the prince, who circled around and made straight for the hillside in the direction of his encampment.