“Say, then, Queen, do you remember me?”

“We have met in dreams,” she answered, “I think that we have met in a past that is far away.  Yes; I knew it when first I saw you there by the river.  Stranger with the well remembered face, tell me, I pray you, how you are named?”

“Leo Vincey.”

She shook her head, whispering—­“I know not the name, yet you I know.”

“You know me!  How do you know me?” he said heavily, and seemed to sink again into slumber or swoon.

She watched him for a while very intently.  Then as though some force that she could not resist drew her, I saw her bend down her head over his sleeping face.  Yes; and I saw her kiss him swiftly on the lips, then spring back crimson to the hair, as though overwhelmed with shame at this victory of her mad passion.

Now it was that she discovered me.

Bewildered, fascinated, amazed, I had raised myself upon my bed, not knowing it; I suppose that I might see and hear the better.  It was wrong, doubtless, but no common curiosity over-mastered me, who had my share in all this story.  More, it was foolish, but illness and wonder had killed my reason.

Yes, she saw me watching them, and such fury seemed to take hold of her that I thought my hour had come.

“Man, have you dared——?” she said in an intense whisper, and snatching at her girdle.  Now in her hand shone a knife, and I knew that it was destined for my heart.  Then in this sore danger my wit came back to me and as she advanced I stretched out my shaking hand, saying—­“Oh! of your pity, give me to drink.  The fever burns me, it burns,” and I looked round like one bewildered who sees not, repeating, “Give me drink, you who are called Guardian,” and I fell back exhausted.

She stopped like a hawk in its stoop, and swiftly sheathed the dagger.  Then taking a bowl of milk that stood on a table near her, she held it to my lips, searching my face the while with her flaming eyes, for indeed passion, rage, and fear had lit them till they seemed to flame.  I drank the milk in great gulps, though never in my life did I find it more hard to swallow.

“You tremble,” she said; “have dreams haunted you?”

“Aye, friend,” I answered, “dreams of that fearsome precipice and of the last leap.”

“Aught else?” she asked.

“Nay; is it not enough?  Oh! what a journey to have taken to befriend a queen.”

“To befriend a queen,” she repeated puzzled.  “What means the man?  You swear you have had no other dreams?”

“Aye, I swear by the Symbol of Life and the Mount of the Wavering Flame, and by yourself, O Queen from the ancient days.”

Then I sighed and pretended to swoon, for I could think of nothing else to do.  As I closed my eyes I saw her face that had been red as dawn turn pale as eve, for my words and all which might lie behind them, had gone home.  Moreover, she was in doubt, for I could hear her fingering the handle of the dagger.  Then she spoke aloud, words for my ears if they still were open.