The dark maiden started at the sound, and a happy smile parted her lips.

But she did not turn to look; only her hand stole out behind her on the marble where she knew her lover's would meet it.

There was in the movement all the certainty of conquest and yet all the tenderness of love.

The Persian trod quickly and laid his hand on hers, and bent to her, trying to meet her eyes: for one moment still she gazed out straight before her, then turned and faced him suddenly, as though she had withheld her welcome as long as she could and then given it all at once.
"I did not call you," she said, covering him with her eyes in the moonlight, but making as though she would withdraw herself a little from him, as he drew her with his hand, and with his arm, and with his eyes.
"And yet I heard you call me, my beloved," answered Zoroaster.

"I heard your voice singing very sweet things in your own language--and so I came, for you did call me." "But did you pride yourself it was for you ?" laughed Nehushta.