“Of course,” said Leo, “looked at in the right way, that is in thy way, the thing is simple.”  I think he would have liked to add, “as lying,” but as the phrase would have involved explanations, did not.  “Yet, Ayesha,” he went on, “hast thou thought that this discovery of thine will wreck the world?”

“Leo,” she answered, “is there then nothing that I can do which will not wreck this world, for which thou hast such tender care, who shouldst keep all thy care—­for me?”

I smiled, but remembering in time, turned the smile into a frown at Leo, then fearing lest that also might anger her, made my countenance as blank as possible.

“If so,” she continued, “well, let the world be wrecked.  But what meanest thou?  Oh! my lord, Leo, forgive me if I am so dull that I cannot always follow thy quick thought—­I who have lived these many years alone, without converse with nobler minds, or even those to which mine own is equal.”

“It pleases thee to mock me,” said Leo, in a vexed voice, “and that is not too brave.”

Now Ayesha turned on him fiercely, and I looked towards the door.  But he did not shrink, only folded his arms and stared her straight in the face.  She contemplated him a little, then said—­“After that great ordained reason which thou dost not know, I think, Leo, that why I love thee so madly is that thou alone art not afraid of me.  Not like Holly there, who, ever since I threatened to turn his bones to gold—­which, indeed, I was minded to do,” and she laughed—­“trembles at my footsteps and cowers beneath my softest glance.

“Oh! my lord, how good thou art to me, how patient with my moods and woman’s weaknesses,” and she made as though she were about to embrace him.  Then suddenly remembering herself, with a little start that somehow conveyed more than the most tragic gesture, she pointed to the couch in token that he should seat himself.  When he had done so she drew a footstool to his feet and sank upon it, looking up into his face with attentive eyes, like a child who listens for a story.

“Thy reasons, Leo, give me thy reasons.  Doubtless they are good, and, oh! be sure I’ll weigh them well.”

“Here they are in brief,” he answered.  “The world, as thou knewest in thy—­” and he stopped.

“Thy earlier wanderings there,” she suggested.

“Yes—­thy earlier wanderings there, has set up gold as the standard of its wealth.  On it all civilizations are founded.  Make it as common as it seems thou canst, and these must fall to pieces.  Credit will fail and, like their savage forefathers, men must once more take to barter to supply their needs as they do in Kaloon to-day.”

“Why not?” she asked.  “It would be more simple and bring them closer to the time when they were good and knew not luxury and greed.”

“And smashed in each other’s heads with stone axes,” added Leo.

“Who now pierce each other’s hearts with steel, or those leaden missiles of which thou hast told me.  Oh!  Leo, when the nations are beggared and their golden god is down; when the usurer and the fat merchant tremble and turn white as chalk because their hoards are but useless dross; when I have made the bankrupt Exchanges of the world my mock, and laugh across the ruin of its richest markets, why, then, will not true worth come to its heritage again?