I have never mated. I have seen fair women, but none like her whose ashes lie within the dark circle of the City of Edba and of Hed. I have heard sweet voices, but none like hers.

Astolba, a matron now, passed me by on the arm of my one time gay comrade, Gaston Lestrade. He bore himself not so lightheartedly, I thought. Neither glanced at me as they passed on, but Astolba’s face turned from rose to white. But I do not blame them. I know too much which they would have forgotten.

So I sit beside the fire alone, save for my dreams and for the ruby that hangs upon my breast. When I hold the gem, I bear within the hollow of my hand untold wealth. This I know full well, but the riches of the universe would not tempt me to sell the parting gift of Lah, the Queen.

Is this love? Again I say I know not. Only this: in life the jewel rests upon my heart, and at my death he will be a bold man and not wise, who shall dare to wrest it from me.

THE END

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

  1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling.
  2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.