And now, remote and
holy, in the dress that is of all most sacred, the Prince,
standing by the monk, turned to his mother and looked with grave
eyes upon her, as the child Buddha looked upon his Mother - also
a Queen. But Dwaymenau stood by silent and lent no help as the
Queen folded the Prince in her arms and laid his hand in the hand
of the monk and saw them pass away among the pillars, she
standing still and white.
She turned to her rival. "If you have meant truly, I thank you."
"I have meant truly."
She turned to go, but the Queen caught her by the hand.
"Why have you done this?" she asked, looking into the strange
eyes of the strange woman.
Something like tears gathered in them for a moment, but she
brushed them away as she said hurriedly:
"I was grateful. You saved my son. Is it not enough?"
"No, not enough!" cried the Queen. "There is more. Tell me, for
death is upon us."
"His footsteps are near," said the Indian. "I will speak. I love
my lord. In death I will not cheat him. What you have known is
true. My child is no child of his. I will not go down to death
with a lie upon my lips.
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