Even in the gloom of the starlight Zoroaster could see that something had offended her, and a cold weight seemed to fall upon his breast and chilled the rising words of loving greeting.
Zoroaster followed her and laid his hand upon her shoulder.
Unresponsive, she allowed it to remain there.
"My beloved," he said at last, trying in vain to look into her averted face, "have you no word for me to-night ?" Still she answered nothing.
"Has your sorrow made you forget our love ?" he murmured close to her ear.

She started back from him a little and looked at him.

Even in the dusk he could see her eyes flash as she answered: "Had not your own sorrow so utterly got the mastery over you to-day that you even refused to look at me ?" she asked.

"In all that long hour when we were so near together, did you give me one glance?
You had forgotten me in the extremity of your grief!" she cried, scornfully.

"And now that the first torrent of your tears has dwindled to a little stream, you have time to remember me! I thank my lord for the notice he deigns to give his handmaiden, but--I need it not.