"If I am queen, I will it," said Kathlyn firmly. "If I am only a
prisoner, end the farce at once."
"Your majesty's word is law," and Umballa bowed, hiding as best he
could his irritation.
The next afternoon he began to enact the subtle plans he had formed
regarding Kathlyn. He brought her certain documents and petitions to
sign and went over them carefully with her. Once, as she returned a
document, he caught her hand and kissed it. She withdrew it roughly,
flaming with anger. He spread his hands apologetically. He was on
fire for her, but he possessed admirable control. He had the right to
come and go; as regent he could enter the zenana without being
accompanied by the council. But, thereafter, when he arrived with the
day's business she contrived to have Pundita near and Ramabai within
call. On the sixth day he cast all discretion to the winds and seized
her violently in his arms. And, though she defended her lips, her
cheeks and neck were defiled. She stepped back; the hidden dagger
flashed.
"A step nearer," she cried, low voiced, "and I will strike."
Umballa recoiled. This was no longer Sa'adi's houri but the young
woman who had mastered the lion in the railway train. Rage supplanted
the passion in his heart. Since she would not bend, she should break.
As her arm sank he sprang forward like a cat and seized her wrist. He
was not gentle. The dagger tinkled as it struck the marble floor. He
stooped for it.
"Since you will not bend, break!" he said, and left the chamber, cold
with fury.
Kathlyn sank weakly upon her pillows as Pundita ran to her side.
"What shall I do, Pundita?"
"God knows, Mem-sahib!"
"Are you a Christian?"
"Yes."
And so they comforted each other.
[Illustration: So they comforted each other.] There was a garden in the palace grounds, lovely indeed. A fountain
tinkled and fat carp swam about in the fluted marble basin. There were
trellises of flowers, too. Persian roses, despite the fact that it was
still winter. It was called the garden of brides.
Kathlyn, attended by Pundita, awaited there the coming of Umballa and
the council. Her heart ached with bitterness and she could not think
clearly. The impression that all this was some dreadful nightmare
recurred to her vividly. What terrors awaited her she knew not nor
could conceive. Marry that smiling demon?--for something occult told
her that he was a demon. No; she was ready to die . . . And but a
little while ago she had been working happily in the outdoor studio;
the pet leopard sprawled at her feet; from the bungalow she heard the
nightingale voice of Winnie, soaring in some aria of Verdi's; her
father was dozing on the veranda. Out of that, into this! It was
incredible. From time to time she brushed her forehead, bewildered.