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Remember, remember!" and she clung closer and closer as he staggered backward half suffocated by his own emotions and the horror of her touch. "Remember the fierce word! the quick and murderous blow! the plunge of the jewelled knife up to the hilt in the passionate white bosom of Charmazel! the lonely anguish in which she died!
Ziska!" he called again wildly. "Charmazel!" answered the penetrating unknown voice; and as it thrilled upon the air like a sob of pain, a dim light began to shine through the gloom, waveringly at first, then more steadily, till it gradually spread wide, illuminating with a pale and spectral light the place in which he found himself, a place more weird and wondrous than any mystic scene in dream-land.
"And it is rather singular," went on the imperturbable savant, "that according to the legend or history whichever you please to consider it, for in time, legends become histories and histories legends Araxes should have been the lover of this very Ziska- Charmazel, and that you, who are the living portrait of Araxes, should suddenly become enamored of the equally living portrait of the dead woman!
She shall not be asked to attend to the pot-au-feu; she shall act the role for which she has dressed to-night; she shall be another Charmazel to another Araxes, though the wild days of Egypt are no more!" A sudden shiver ran through him as he spoke, and instinctively he drew the white folds of his picturesque garb closer about him.
The moon was high, as it is now! the stars glittered above the Pyramids, as they glitter now! in the palace there was the sound of music and triumph and laughter, and a whisper on the air of the fickle heart and changeful mood of Araxes; of another face which charmed him, though less fair than that of Ziska- Charmazel!
"Was he a very distinguished personage?" "He was. Old legends say he was the greatest warrior of his time; as you, Monsieur Gervase, are the greatest artist." Gervase bowed. "You flatter me, fair Charmazel!" he said; then suddenly as the strange name passed his lips he recoiled as if he had been stung, and seemed for a moment dazed. The Princess turned her dark eyes on him inquiringly.
"What is wrong with me?" he muttered. "Am I sickening for a fever before I have been forty-eight hours in Cairo? What fool's notion is this in my brain? Where have I seen her before? In Paris? St. Petersburg? London? Charmazel! ... Charmazel! ... What has the name to do with me? Ziska-Charmazel! It is like the name of a romance or a gypsy tune. Bah! I must be dreaming!
And in the second place I am interested in him because it appears he was in love with the famous dancer of his day whom the Princess represents to-night, Charmazel. I wish I had heard the story before I came to Cairo; I would have got myself up as Araxes in person to-night." "In order to play the lover of Charmazel?" queried the Doctor.
"Yes, is it not curious?" she said, and, taking the taper from her servant, she sprang lightly on one of the benches near the wall and leaned her beautiful head on the entablature, so that her profile stood out close against that of the once reputed Ziska- Charmazel. "We are, as Dr. Dean says, twins!"
Thick darkness encompassed him; he stretched out his hands in the murky atmosphere and felt nothing. "Ziska!" he cried. The name sprang up against the silence and struck out numberless echoes, and with the echoes came a shuddering sigh, that was not of them, whispering: "Charmazel!" Gervase heard it, and a deadly fear, born of the supernatural, possessed him. "Ziska!