But he still laughed on, an hyena laugh.

“What have you heard?” she said, “that makes you so merry?”

“What have I heard?” Rassen gurgled out between his screams of hideous glee.  “Oho!  I have heard the Khania, the last of the true blood, the first in the land, the proud princess who will not let her robes be soiled by those of the ‘ladies of the court’ and my wife, my wife, who asked me to marry her—­mark that, you strangers—­because I was her cousin and a rival ruler, and the richest lord in all the land, and thereby she thought she would increase her power—­I have heard her offer herself to a nameless wanderer with a great yellow beard, and I have heard him, who hates and would escape from her”—­here he screamed with laughter—­“refuse her in such a fashion as I would not refuse the lowest woman in the palace.

“I have heard also—­but that I always knew—­that I am mad; for, strangers, I was made mad by a hate-philtre which that old Rat,” and he pointed to Simbri, “gave me in my drink—­yes, at my marriage feast.  It worked well, for truly there is no one whom I hate more than the Khania Atene.  Why, I cannot bear her touch, it makes me sick.  I loathe to be in the same room with her; she taints the air; there is a smell of sorceries about her.

“It seems that it takes you thus also, Yellow-beard?  Well, if so, ask the old Rat for a love drink; he can mix it, and then you will think her sweet and sound and fair, and spend some few months jollily enough.  Man, don’t be a fool, the cup that is thrust into your hands looks goodly.  Drink, drink deep.  You’ll never guess the liquor’s bad—­till to-morrow—­though it be mixed with a husband’s poisoned blood,” and again Rassen screamed in his unholy mirth.

To all these bitter insults, venomed with the sting of truth, Atene listened without a word.  Then, she turned to us and bowed.

“My guests,” she said, “I pray you pardon me for all I cannot help.  You have strayed to a corrupt and evil land, and there stands its crown and flower.  Khan Rassen, your doom is written, and I do not hasten it, because once for a little while we were near to each other, though you have been naught to me for this many a year save a snake that haunts my house.  Were it otherwise, the next cup you drank should still your madness, and that vile tongue of yours which gives its venom voice.  My uncle, come with me.  Your hand, for I grow weak with shame and woe.”

The old Shaman hobbled forward, but when he came face to face with the Khan he stopped and looked him up and down with his dim eyes.  Then he said—­“Rassen, I saw you born, the son of an evil woman, and your father none knew but I. The flame flared that night upon the Fire-mountain, and the stars hid their faces, for none of them would own you, no, not even those of the most evil influence.  I saw you wed and rise drunken from your marriage feast, your arm about a wanton’s neck.  I have seen you rule,