so."

"I have seen him, my mother; I have spoken to him. I spent hours with
Sir Jasper Kingsland last night."

"Thou didst?" Her words came pantingly, while passion throbbed in
every line of her face. "And there is a son--an heir?"

"There is."

She snatched her hand away and threw up her withered arms with a
vindictive shriek.

"And I lie here, a helpless log, and he triumphs! I, Zenith, the Queen
of the Tribe--I, once beautiful and powerful, happy and free! I lie
here, a withered hulk, what he has made me! And a son and heir is born
to him!"

As if the thought had goaded her to madness, she leaped up in bed,
tossing her gaunt arms and shrieking madly:

"Take me to him--take me to him! Zara! Pietro! Take me to him, if ye
are children of mine, that I may hurl my burning curse upon him and his
son before I die!"

She fell back with an impotent scream, and the man Pietro caught her in
his arms. Quivering and convulsed, she writhed in an epileptic fit.

"She will kill herself yet," Pietro said. "Hand me the drops, Zara."