for the desert women that have wandering souls and pine in Babbulkund,
and one for the princesses of his own kith, whose brown cheeks blush
with the blood of ancient Pharaohs and who exult with Babbulkund in
her surpassing beauty, and who know nought of the desert or the jungle
or the bleak hills to the north. Quite unadorned and clad in simple
garments go all the kith of Nehemoth, for they know well that he grows
weary of pomp. Unadorned all save one, the Princess Linderith, who
weareth Ong Zwarba and the three lesser gems of the sea. Such a
stone is Ong Zwarba that there are none like it even in the turban of
Nehemoth nor in all the sanctuaries of the sea. The same god that made
Linderith made long ago Ong Zwarba; she and Ong Zwarba shine together
with one light, and beside this marvellous stone gleam the three
lesser ones of the sea.

'Now when the King sitteth in his opal alcove by the sacred lake with
the orchids blooming around him all sounds are become still. The sound
of the tramping of the weary slaves as they go round and round never
comes to the surface. Long since the musicians sleep, and their hands
have fallen dumb upon their instruments, and the voices in the city
have died away. Perhaps a sigh of one of the desert women has become
half a song, or on a hot night in summer one of the women of the hills
sings softly a song of snow; all night long in the midst of the purple
garden sings one nightingale; all else is still; the stars that look
on Babbulkund arise and set, the cold unhappy moon drifts lonely
through them, the night wears on; at last the dark figure of Nehemoth,
eighty-second of his line, rises and moves stealthily away.'

The traveller ceased to speak. For a long time the clear stars,
sisters of Babbulkund, had shone upon him speaking, the desert wind
had arisen and whispered to the sand, and the sand had long gone