"Ah!" cried the girl, rising and standing over him, "is it so? I tell thee, Moro Trimmul, I will follow her and fawn on her like a dog—I will abase myself before her—I will lick the dust from her feet, if that will help thee to do this."
"Listen to what I say," he continued, raising himself on his arm. "I am calm now—quite calm—I burn no longer. I was mad when she—when Radha—came. I thought I had a chance through her; but she defied me, and there is none."
"Women know women best," said the girl. "I told thee so long ago, but I was not believed."
"I believe thee now," he replied; "and we have only ourselves to rely upon. Ah, surely this is a strange calmness which has come over me. It is not before death, Gunga?"
"No, fear not," returned Gunga. "Love is passing into revenge; I know what it is. Yes, thou wilt act now, Moro. Take her hence but for a day, and she is thine for ever, and will become a Moorlee like me—like the rest of us. Enough, Moro Trimmul. No other harm shalt thou do to her than this? Hast thou the spirit—the courage?"
"I will do it," he said gloomily. "That is what I had determined on myself. When can it be done?"
"On the last night of the ceremonies," she said; "I can get the key of the postern, and keep it open unobserved; and as Maloosray and others went that night, so canst thou take Tara; and I have friends among the Ramoosees, who will help us. I am their priestess, and they dare not refuse me. Take us both; I must see her humiliation. O Shakti powers!" she cried, stretching out her arms, "aid me in this. Ye are more powerful than the Mother, and ye hate her. Art thou determined, Moro Trimmul?"
"I will not change," he said; "the illusion is past."
"Swear on my throat and feet, and I will believe thee."
"I swear," he replied, touching her neck.