Part 46 (2/2)
”And thine so small, so dear, are as lotus buds--lotus buds swaying at dawn in the wind of love.”
She smiled divinely as she stretched one perfect bare foot from under her garment, and bent her head to catch the words as he pa.s.sionately whispered the Vega hymn.
”Want thou the body of me, the feet; want thou the eyes; want the thighs; let the eyes, the hair of thee, desiring me, dry up in love.
”I make thee cling to my arm, cling to my heart; that thou mayest be in my power, come unto my intent.
”They----”
He stopped, convulsed with pa.s.sion, and bending kissed her feet.
”Ah! thy hands, thy feet, are like lotus buds--lotus buds which I love, even if they be drenched in blood.”
He leapt to his feet and caught Leonie's wrist in the vice of his hand as she sprang upright in one movement, laughing as she pointed at his mouth.
”Blood,” she whispered, ”blood--it is warm--it drops slowly--slowly----”
She ran her fingers across his mouth, and shook with hideous silent laughter as she showed him the tips stained red.
”Come,” she said, ”come--she is calling--calling----” and she struck at the hand which gripped her shoulder, and tried to shake herself free.
”Come!” said the man, looking straight into her eyes, ”come with me.”
She slid her hand into his, and followed him docilely as he lifted the reed purdah and entered her bedroom.
”Lie down!”
He lifted the netting and pointed to the bed.
As he towered above her the scarlet mouth in the uplifted face was on a level with his shoulder, as she smiled distractingly and raised her hands palm upwards in a little supplicating gesture.
”My Lord!” she whispered. ”My Lord!”
The temptations of all the ages, and the overpowering pa.s.sion of his own glowing East rose about him like a flood; he shook from head to foot as she laid herself down and drawing the sheet about her whispered again, ”My Lord!”
They were alone in the jungle, and his will was hers; she was as a bit of wax upon which he might imprint his seal; there was no one to say him nay if he should draw her unto his intent.
And he loved her.
Yes! he loved her, and because of the overpowering strength of this love he knelt beside her and placed his fingers upon her temples.
”Sleep, beloved,” he whispered, ”sleep--the women that are of pure odour--all of them--we--make--sleep.”
And Leonie slept peacefully and undisturbed until the dawn, because Madhu Krishnaghar, with his face buried in his arms, who lay across the threshold of her bedroom, was one of the splendid type that India breeds--an Indian n.o.bleman.
CHAPTER XLVI
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