meadows; past the city of Ctesiphon, where the Parthian
emperors reigned, and the vast metropolis of Seleucia which
Alexander built; across the swirling floods of Tigris and the
many channels of Euphrates, flowing yellow through the
corn-lands--Artaban pressed onward until he arrived, at
nightfall on the tenth day, beneath the shattered walls of
populous Babylon.

Vasda was almost spent, and Artaban would gladly have
turned into the city to find rest and refreshment for himself
and for her. But he knew that it was three hours' journey yet
to the Temple of the Seven Spheres, and he must reach the
place by midnight if he would find his comrades waiting. So
he did not halt, but rode steadily across the stubble-fields.

A grove of date-palms made an island of gloom in the pale
yellow sea. As she passed into the shadow Vasda slackened her
pace, and began to pick her way more carefully.

Near the farther end of the darkness an access of caution
seemed to fall upon her. She scented some danger or
difficulty; it was not in her heart to fly from it--only to be
prepared for it, and to meet it wisely, as a good horse should
do. The grove was close and silent as the tomb; not a leaf
rustled, not a bird sang.

She felt her steps before her delicately, carrying her
head low, and sighing now and then with apprehension. At last
she gave a quick breath of anxiety and dismay, and stood
stock-still, quivering in every muscle, before a dark object in