to her at the mention of her favourite pupil.

She loved Leonie with a love quite separate from her affection for all
the young souls in her charge, and secretly admired the strength of
will which more than once had been pitted against her own; moreover,
accustomed to the quiet monotonous passage of time, she suddenly
realised that she needed someone young and energetic in this emergency.

And the girl she needed in her distress was kneeling on her bed with
arms upraised above her head.

The dying moon was slowly withdrawing her waning silvery light from the
billowing mass of tawny hair, tumbling in lavender-scented masses
around the girl; lingering for a moment on the eyes staring from under
the unblinking eyelids, and for a second upon the glint of even teeth
showing through the lips moving in prayer.

And then she spoke, in the eerie tones of those who talk in their
sleep; and the words were even those of India's most holy writ,
sonorous and full of a surpassing dignity, rising and falling as she
knelt motionless, her eyelids slowly closing upon the terrible staring
eyes.

"The sacrifice . . ." she chanted monotonously, "with voice, hearing,
mind, I make oblation. To this sacrifice . . . let the gods come well
willing!"

And as the moon sank to rest there was no sound save for a little sigh
as Leonie, with closed eyes and white hands clasped upon her breast,
stretched herself upon the bed, then with a violent movement sat up,