With a gesture of baffled wrath and rage Basil bowed low. A sudden light leaped into his eyes as he raised her hand to his lips. Then he retreated into the shadow of the kiosk.
A moment later Tristan came within view, walking as one in a trance. Mechanically he passed towards the banquet hall. Then he paused, seeming to wait for some signal from within.
A hand stole into his and drew him resistlessly into the shadows.
"Why do you linger here? Behold where the moonlight calls."
"Where is your mistress?" Tristan turned to the Circassian.
A strange smile played on Persephoné's lips.
"She awaits you in yonder kiosk," she replied, edging close to him. "Take care you do not thwart her though—for to-day she strikes to kill."
"It is well," Tristan replied. "It must come, and will be no more torture now than any other time."
Persephoné gave a strange smile, then she led him through a cypress avenue, at the remote end of which the marble kiosk gleamed white in the moonlight.
Pointing to it with white outstretched arm she gave him a mock bow and returned to the palace.