I looked down, and saw as I did so that a thin stream of water crawled upon the floor and now had reached and wet the sole of my sandal.
“What does this mean?” I asked, with strange foreboding, and again the Queen laughed noiselessly at the question.
The stream slowly widened; now it lapped the foot of the altar of stone; a little further and an ingot of gold blocked its course, but only for an instant. The emerald-eyed god looked on, serenely pitiless.
Then the horrible truth flashed across me. I seized the Queen by the arm, and she swayed backward and forward in my grasp.
“Woman,” I cried in my despair, “what devil’s work is this?”
Then, because I could not bear the terrible joy in her eyes, I became by a mighty effort calm once more.
“Little by little, and this rock-hewn chamber shall be filled even to the roof with water, as thou seest,” said Lah, smiling. “I was passing by a secret way, and I heard the noise of a fall in this the treasure house. Without delay I touched the spring that sets free the waters that they may do their work, avenge the gods, keep clean from the touch of thieves, this my heritage and theirs. Then! O stranger, it was borne in upon me that I should see the face in life of him who thus boldly dared entrance to this place. The face was thine.” She was silent for a moment. “And there was time for flight, for freedom before the waters came.”
“And you?” I asked.
“The first thin stream locked fast the door behind me,” she calmly answered. “What matters it? I also meet my doom.” She turned and held forth her hand. “We die—together.”
There was silence for a space, and then her voice fell again on my ear, and now sweet beyond human fancying.