They passed in silence into the palace in which Daphne had lived since she came to the mysterious city.

The pigmies hailed their arrival with their usual satisfaction, but Thoth dismissed them for the first time sternly. They entered the garden, in which the means for their flight had been placed.

“We have no time to lose,” he said. “Very soon I must return and restore my kinsmen. Before nightfall the great king will be in full command of the resources of the city.”

“And then?” Daphne asked.

“And then,” he replied, “his vengeance will begin.”

“Dost thou not think he will be convinced as thou wert?”

“I have made an irreparable error,” said Thoth. “My ancestor is swayed by all the natural passions of man. He has slept unaffected by time. His first thought will be to give us over to the most cruel destruction. If thou still desirest to live a little longer, we must flee at once.”

“I regret,” she said, “the failure of thy plans.”

He looked at her passionately, and said, “Thou canst never now be queen of the world, but a little love is sufficient recompense for me.”

“Dost thou love me so much?” she said.

“Above everything,” he replied.

Then she went close to him, and twined her arms about him, and kissed his eyes and lips, and said—

“Dearest heart, thou art greater and more godlike than all thy dread ancestors. Why wilt thou sacrifice thyself and me to them? Why should they ever awake?”

Thoth started back from her, and said, “It cannot be. I cannot destroy at one blow the men I have worshipped—and the generations of my race, and their work of hundreds of years. Far easier is it for me to perish alone.”

“Thou dost not love me,” said Daphne, “or thou wouldst prove thyself greater than this ancient tyrant. He is unworthy of thee.”

Thoth only replied, “I cannot do this thing.”

“Then,” said Daphne, “choose between me and them. Unless they perish, my love for thee shall be changed to hate and loathing. Choose!”

He looked at her face, and felt his will quail before hers.

“What wouldst thou have?” he said. “I alone cannot carry out the scheme of destruction, and without it thou canst not become queen of the earth.”

“I would rather,” she replied, “tend sheep with thee on a lonely islet of Greece, than be the shadowy queen of a desolate world. Choose between my living love and this impious deed, which I am certain can never be accomplished. Thou hast failed already,—thou hast made serious errors; chance and nature have baffled thee in the most unexpected manner. Awake! arise! and leave this city and all its horrors, as thou wouldst throw off a horrible dream. Come with me! Treasures thou hast beyond estimation, and wisdom and courage. Thou shalt become a leader of living Greeks, and in a few short years the last remnant of these dreadful scenes shall fade away.”

Again she approached him and kissed him.

“See,” she said, “I will not let thee go. The crime is not thine but mine.”

He said, “Leave me,—it cannot be. I will break their trance, and then we will flee away, as before thou didst agree. Time presses. Thou seest this shadow slowly creeping along. Before it reaches the spot on which we stand it will be too late.”

He pointed to the shadow of a huge column, covered with curious signs and symbols.

Daphne clung to him and whispered, “Let it be to them who hate me and thee the shadow of death!”

She looked into his eyes with eager passion, and saw signs of yielding. She redoubled her caresses, and whispered wild words of love.

The shadow came nearer and nearer.

She covered his eyes with her hands, and showered hot kisses on his face.

The shadow was close to them.

“This,” she said, “is love such as the world has never seen. Let me lose myself in thee.”

The shadow had passed, and then in her anxiety Daphne became cold and still.

Thoth roused himself and looked. Then he uttered a great cry—“Too late; all is over!”

“Art thou certain?”

“Every one by this time is dead beyond recall. Thus ends the greatest scheme ever planned by man.”