movements were as graceful as those of the grey wreaths that rose slowly upwards from the burning spices; and they seemed rather like the fair creatures of a summer night's dream than human beings. Their long silky hair waved around their white shoulders; their eyes sparkled, even in the gloom, with excitement and passion; and their lithe limbs swayed and turned with a grace so wondrous that they might have been moved by a wanton breeze. And when they had danced and with all the others had departed, Antar and Damma walked upon the cool marble terrace in the moonlight without, and gave themselves up to communings of love.
She was deceiving him. She was trying to imagine that the brown, sinewy arm that was around her was the fairer arm of her boy lover, Arvah, grown to manhood, and thinking of her as passionately as in her wildest dreams she thought of him. And Antar was deceiving her. She thought that he was all hers, even although she was not all his; but when
