The flame-gatherers

by Margaret Horton Potter

After his arrangement with Churi, and the delivery of the ruby, the remaining hours of daylight passed for Fidá in swift chaos. Ahmed woke before he could leave the room; and he sat beside the boy trying to talk to him for a few minutes, though he had little notion of what he was saying. Then he returned to his duties beside the Rajah, and for the next three hours was fully occupied, though his mind wandered far from his hands, and he drifted through mists of thought. It was not till later that there came an idea that filled him with terror. Might not the King himself guard the zenana to-night? Happily this dread was of short duration. The King sat late over his wine with Manava; and Fidá himself saw him in bed and beyond apprehension. Then, at last alone, Fidá betook himself to his diminutive room, and there prepared to wait through two eternal hours.

How long the time was; and how short! He would not look back; he dared not look forward. He existed only in a consciousness that she, she, the one, was waiting for him; that to-night, at last, he should be alone with her, fearing no intrusion. This unexpressed thought he had lived with all day; and it became keener, now, till he could not be still. It grew late. The palace was quiet; but Fidá was beyond passiveness. He rose, walked swiftly through the maze of rooms and passages, and entered the silent courtyard. The moon, a little past the full, had come up from the east, and swung, like a great, yellow lantern, above the dark outlines of the palace roof. The world shone softly in the mellow light. The night air from the hills was cold; but the earth was sweet. Fidá loitered near a doorway, wrapped in his cloak. The great courtyard was empty save for the two motionless soldiers that guarded its entrance. Apparently not another soul was abroad in the palace to-night. Fidá moved languidly across and looked into the temple room of Vishnu. Darkness and silence here. The gods also slept. A great excitement, a great terror, a high ecstasy were drawing over him. Surely now it was time—time to claim the price of the ruby. Surely by this time Churi stood on guard in the antechamber. Yet nothing must be risked. If he were too early?—The thought was impossible. He waited, therefore, till the moon was halfway to mid-heaven, and then, when he could endure no more, left the outer world. A moment later he stood at the door of the antechamber.

“Is it thou?” came, in the faintest breath, from Churi, within.

In an instant Fidá was at his side, and had seized him by the arm. “Now! Now!” said he, gazing fiercely, eagerly, into the eunuch’s unmatched eyes.

“Enter then, and turn to the left hand. The way is short. It is not to be missed.”

Fidá grasped Churi by the shoulders, clasped him for a second like a madman, and then ran across the forbidden threshold—where man not of the royal house of Mandu had never set foot before. Swiftly he traversed the short, dark passage opening on his left, and presently found himself in an oblong room, lighted by a single crimson lamp that glowed through a mist of incense smoke pouring up from a metal jar on a stand, near by. Dazed by the overpowering sweetness, he shut his eyes for an instant. When he opened them again, he had a swift impression of rich tapestries, thick rugs, many cushions, and then—and then he beheld, lying on a divan at the end of the room, a slight figure, all clad in red and gold, lying asleep in the heavy air.

His heart pounded against his sides. His throat tightened till he could have uttered no sound; and he went to her, softly, and knelt at her side, and gazed at her. She was here—waiting for him. Her white lids were shut over her eyes, and the long, silky lashes curved outward a little from her cheek. Her heavy hair was pushed back from her brows; and one of her little hands lay in a mass of it above her head. Fidá studied her, hungrily, eagerly, silently. He had never seen her like this before—had, indeed, never dreamed of seeing her so. She was his, for his eyes to feast on. And oh—how fair! how fair! In that moment he dreaded to have her wake; for then she would surely send him from her. It seemed to him impossible that she could love him, could suffer him to kneel beside her. Yet, with an effort, after two attempts, he whispered her name, hoarsely: “Ahalya!” Then again, after a moment, “Ahalya!”

She sighed, and her eyes opened. Shivering slightly, she stared, and sat up, crying: “Thou art come! Ah, thou art come at last!”

That was all. It was more than mortal flesh could bear. He had touched, he had clasped her. She was lying in his arms.

Nearly two hours went by; and then Neila appeared from an inner room. Ahalya was still upon the divan, her head pillowed on the breast of Fidá, who sat upright. It seemed almost as if they slept, so motionless they were. Neila halted in the doorway, staring at them, till she encountered the glittering eyes of the Asra.